When she entered the café, Videl still expected Gohan to sit at the table.
Her instinct never failed her or carried her so far off track. All logic dictated for him to be him. Gohan equaled Saiyaman: simple equation.
No stupid blue eye would change that.
The stranger surveyed the menu, sat in a booth on the far end of the room. His bleached hair clashed against his monochromatic getup. If not for the flashy feature, he would fade in the cream color of the couch with his plain grey shirt, tie, and pants—only a slightly different shade each for a speck of eccentricity.
Videl closed the glass door, and the bell rang for the second time. If he ignored her first, he stared right through her now. His brows, already set in a frown, creased deeper. His glare, as this look could only be one, left her to glare harder at the paper.
Videl folded her umbrella in the box next to the door. She walked with a stop at each step, her eyes on him. The same face, if she disregarded the blond locks taunting her. A bit of hair dye wouldn't throw her off. She slid in the seat opposed to him while he raised his lens-less blue eyes.
"Isn't it?"
Videl shook her head. "Sorry?"
"I said it's excessive." He circled the caramel macchiato. "A thousand and two hundred zenni for coffee? It sounds like a waste."
"Those are regular prices."
He raised one of his brows while they stayed in a frown—did his eyes have no pupils? "Right, regular prices." He set down the menu to cross his arms.
"Have you already ordered?" Videl prepared the money for a mocha.
"No, I haven't."
She counted her bills. "And… you'll take?"
"I'm not a fan of coffee."
"I can pay for something else for you, like a croissant."
"Thank you, but I would like it if you don't."
The Gohan she knew never turned down an opportunity to eat. She stuck a smile on her face and slid off the booth to the counter. If he made so much effort to act the opposite of himself, then she'd give him props for that.
Videl plunked down the bill while the barista already went to prepare her usual. She rested her cheek on her fist. If it kept up that way, she would get nothing out of him. She stole a glance at him; his eyes hadn't left the window. Videl snatched her eyes forward with the thud of a cup against the counter. The cup warmed her gloved hands. With a mouthed 'Thank you', she turned back to her table. The coffee scent didn't calm her for long.
What could be so interesting outside that he would stare at it so much? Only rain battered against the glass and mist blurred the street. Videl plopped her cup down, the coffee barely spiling. He rested his head against the wall and his eyes darted to her. Videl cleared her throat. "I guess proper introductions are in order. I'm Videl."
"Yeah, I know."
She sipped her coffee. When she set her cup down, he turned back to the window.
"Maybe you could introduce yourself too. Put a name on a face."
"I'm not obligated to."
"How am I supposed to call you? I can't just go around calling you, "the great Saiyaman"."
His glare pierced right through her, brows furrowed even more in an uncharacteristic display of irritation. While opposite, the shy expression he wore in class or this one both belonged in a weird way on his face, which made her frown.
Was "Son Gohan the high schooler" a persona or did he act now? Both faces had the disgusting underlayer of deception, but not enough to be lies about his personality. She raised her spoon out of the cup for the coffee to spiral before it stilled.
He sighed and looked back outside. "I guess you can't."
A smirk etched on the corner of Videl's lips.
"Call me whatever."
She blew the steam off her hot mocha. "Then you won't mind if I call you Gohan."
His eyebrows shot to his hairline, another row of crease wrinkling his face above his brow. Her smirk only grew larger on the cup rim.
"Oh? Did I guess well?"
Gohan scoffed. "I'm surprised you'll call me by the name of your classmate while I proved to you I'm not him."
"You have proved nothing."
With a deadpan, he gestured to his face.
"Same face. I know there's a trick behind it." Her hand waved over his eyes and hair. Videl almost snorted at his dumbfounded look. "But I'll humor you; take it as a stand-in name until I get your real one."
His face distorted in poorly concealed annoyance. She might have believed he wanted to clearly show her his disdain, but Gohan was too polite for that. Or maybe his façade crumbled, and she faced the real deal. She snorted; of course not, he already settled back in his neutral frown.
"I told you I don't want to get interrogated: that was my condition for coming. You won't have my name."
She already knew it. Videl sipped the last of her coffee. It was almost funny how he lied to hide it.
"No interrogation then. Do you want to do something in particular?"
"I don't know the city well," he said. The tension on his shoulder line relaxed. "You wanted to improve our teamwork, so choose something."
Her eyes flickered to the clock. "There's a nice exposition at the Satan museum. We could go there."
Gohan stood. In a swift motion, he pulled his blazer on. "Let's go then." He dropped a few coins in the tip jar and waited at the glass door.
He opened the door for them and Videl opened her umbrella once she stepped out. A distant bell chime traveled to her, covered by the rattle of the rain.
Amidst the sea of umbrellas, his blond head glowed from afar. The rain pattered above her head on the translucent fabric. He didn't walk fast or try to lose her, but people opened a way for him while they closed in on her. Her boots splashed on the street with her hurried step as one step for him took three out of her. Her umbrella blurred his face. She lifted the rim enough to see his jaw.
For someone new to the city, he strolled without a falter. A particular purpose guided his steps as he took the lead. Videl dropped her umbrella and looked forward. They crossed a street light, their footsteps drowned by horns and screeches. When she gazed up, she only saw a faded yellow blur.
They reached the museum faster than she expected. Gohan took off his drench blazer and passed a hand in his spiky locks. A lone stubborn one dangled on his forehead. Even after his walk without an umbrella, his clothes looked dry, while Videl's bare legs were soaked. Water slipped in on her boots to damp her socks.
"A martial art exposition?" Gohan eyed the desk, wallet in hand.
She folded her umbrella. "Why not? You may like it because you're strong and stuff."
His glare—always a glare—set back on her as he weaved the money necessary for two tickets. She took her own wallet and paid for herself. The receptionist held out two audio guides for them which she turned down. Gohan followed then settled his messenger bag and blazer in a locker. She rubbed her arm when a breeze brushed her. Maybe they could tone down the air conditioner, as she chose the only stormy day in July to go out.
The hallway branched out to two circular rooms. Videl first went over the section on the world martial art tournament. If not for pictures, it contained all the champion's and noteworthy participant's names. Of course, her father had the biggest picture.
Gohan skimmed over the photos. One of his brows raised in front of her father's outlandish photo. "You must be proud."
"He is too much."
He hummed. "I can't say I relate."
Without waiting, he went to the next picture. His eyes trailed on the description. The crease of his brow disappeared for the profit of an apathetic face. Without the frown, or the mean face, he looked more his age.
She skidded next to him. A smirk twitched her lips. "Son Goku against Ma Junior, huh?" It didn't take a genius to figure out the link between them.
"They destroyed the entire ring." He tapped against the description. "It's not written."
"Because it couldn't happen. No one can destroy an entire ring."
He cooked his head. No frown. "Like no one can destroy a planet."
Videl snorted. "Yeah, duh."
His eyes glazed behind her. "Then I wonder: what did he save us from?"
She turned around. Dotted light through the window glass lit the pompous pose of her father in the poster. When she faced him, he stood at the entrance of the next room, frozen in mid-step. He leaned against the frame; the tension on his back relaxed.
"You've done your research."
Videl scurried to his side. Other posters of her father, more outlandish than the first, littered the wall, but on the side, in a tiny nook, another photo laid.
"With a few added years, you can't deny the resemblance."
"There's nothing to deny."
She hummed. "It's funny: one of the fighters changed hair color on the footage."
His gaze burnt on her neck but she kept her own on the picture. Gohan scoffed. "Right, my hair really is purple."
"If hair can go from purple to gold, who can refute the possibility of it going from black to gold?"
She startled at a lightning spark. His eyes gleamed in the shadow. Without a breeze, the stray lock still dangled above his forehead. The faded yellow of his hair flickered to pure gold.
The temperature increased. A hot gust fanned her face, but his gaze gave her the chill.
"You've got a funny definition of holding your end of the bargain."
The heatwave dropped. The chill from the air conditioner grazed her arms. Only the light pitter-patter of the rain filled the room.
Gold dulled to light blond.
"I'm going home."
He stormed off the room. Videl stood, stunned. She shook her head. Before he went far, she ran to the reception. He pushed the door open. She followed.
With one step outside, the rain soaked her all. Droplets stuck to her lashes and glided down her cheeks when she blinked. Her hair stuck to her face as her two hairbands slipped off. She caught them before she lost them. Loose strands flew before her eyes.
He turned to an alley.
"I already know it's you, Gohan."
Her voice echoed in the empty street.
He stopped.
Videl's boots slogged at each step as they soaked in more water than they expelled.
He didn't turn around. While droplets slid on her face, they evaporated before they touched him. "Trust me, you know nothing about me."
She scoffed. "Of course, a liar is always hiding his cards."
He clenched his fist. This time, she didn't imagine the small lighting spark around him or how a halo flickered around him. She pressed her lips. Did he try to intimidate her?
Gohan unclenched his hands. "You're saying it as if I enjoy lying."
"You wouldn't be lying so much otherwise."
The rain softened. Videl shivered and wrapped her damp gloves around her arms. He turned, his pupil-less eyes looking down on her. "Are you doing it on purpose?"
"I'm just asking for the truth."
"You manipulated me, ambushed me, and lied to me." He raised a finger at each count. A dry chuckle escaped him. "And I should tell you the truth?"
She trembled, but not from the cold.
The sheer audacity.
"I wouldn't need to if you would just tell me!"
"And why should I?"
"I have a right to know!"
"No, you don't."
"Why?"
"Because we are not friends, Videl." He snapped. This time, his face didn't contort with disdain. Instead, only tiredness slipped through his mask. "I'm not some criminal: you're in no position to ask me about my personal life. So please, act like a decent person and respect my boundaries."
Videl bit down her lips. She hated how her tone escalated while his stayed neutral, or how her eyes watered, but not from the rain. She hated the tone of his voice, how his eyes pierced through her, and the unconcealed disappointment she heard from him.
She was a decent person; the more decent person out there even. She took time off her day to save people, put others before herself, and put herself in danger for others. Although, with a swallow, she decided to be the bigger person there. "Very well! If that's a friend that you want, let's become friends! You choose the next destination."
"And you are still not listening!" He threw his arms up. With a lazy hand in his hair, he cut her before she replied, "Leave me alone, okay. Just—leave me alone."
He spun on his heel, hands buried deeps in his trousers pockets. Videl didn't let him get a lead on her. She stormed her feet on the street, her boots splashing. "Son Gohan, I swear if you—"
He took a sharp turn in an empty alley and leaped in the air. A sharp golden streak followed him as he disappeared on the horizon. The strength of his departure sent her hair battering in her face. She clenched her fist.
"Fine! If that's the game you want to play!"
Videl took out her jet copter and flew back to Satan mansion. She'd make him eat up those words. Son Gohan, out of all people, had no right to lecture her.