2.6 - First Light: Shine

Warning! The following section contains exercises that may cause burns, damage to vision and irradiation. The author is not liable and the reader proceeds at their own risk.

Prerequisites: exercises in 1.4 and throughout chapter 2. In addition, material in 1.6 and 1.7 is referenced.

I left the story of the Cell Games at a conventional point. The evil had been vanquished, there was a hero of sorts ready to collect the spoils and the world was rejoicing. Neat and tidy. But real-life is a mess, and after every story that messy life must go on.

That afternoon, as Mr Satan posed for cameras and collected his accolades, out of the spotlight my friends and I gathered ourselves and limped home. I flew back to the mountains - alone.

My solitary return did not go unnoticed. There on the veranda I had to break the news to Mom that Dad had died to save us all, and he was put into that predicament by my own recklessness. Mom collapsed on the spot. She heaved sobs into my shoulder, clinging my still-torn gi. In that moment I was her strongest connection to him. I could do no more than try and comfort her the way she would have me - by petting her head, telling her everything was okay even if it wasn't, and hoping she'd come round.

The trees' shadows grew long before she had strength enough to hold me tight and remember to reassure me in kind. She was right, he had made his own decision to treat this death as his final and I was not the cause. But the depth of her grief said otherwise. Loss is a funny thing. For my family and friends, loss of a loved one can be temporary, but the moment hurts as keenly. For Dad to make the decision to stay dead indefinitely, to hear his reasoning for doing so in his own words before his final goodbye… in some ways was harder to understand than if there was simply the expected empty silence.

The next day was declared a worldwide public holiday. West City, too, became a wall of noise and colour, although Capsule Corp was notably muted in its display of reverie. The little energy we mustered for celebration was for Trunks - a thank you and goodbye - with some of the day as a memorial service to my father. I pushed to keep that portion short. I knew wishing for others to grieve with me would be tantamount to an admission of my guilt-ridden devastation, so I kept my longing deep.

Even with constant love and reassurance from family and our friends, many years passed before I accepted that I was not responsible for shattering Mom that day. Dad had flitted in and out of my life growing up, but he always returned to us to be by our side. Now he couldn't. My little brother was on the way, and me, Mom and Grandfather would have to be all the small family he had. At first we were scared what would happen should a new menace surface, but very quickly - too quickly some would say - we relaxed. I threw myself into my studies, trying to learn all I could about the world I had worked so hard to save. That went a long way to providing me what solace I needed and would give me a taste for the career I love to this day.

Time marched on. Little Goten went from crying to babbling to non-stop chit-chattering and tugging on my writing arm at all hours to go play with him and so, sensing the valued distraction but distraction nonetheless, when I hit the right age Mom suggested I attend Orange (now Satan) City's main high school. Making friends my own age sounded wise in principle - I'd never kept in touch with those fleeting friends I had made other than a Namekian named Dende - but I was nervous. Would I score high enough to get in? Would I fit in with non-martial artists? Would my life's history be uncovered?

As is typical of me I visited the school and got into hot water twice before my real attendance.

The first time was for the entrance examinations. Coming from out of district, my tests took place on a Saturday. The six were brutal in schedule, one after the other with lunch in-between. Mom was insistent on travelling with me, and whilst I tried to argue with her on grounds that I could navigate a city I'd flown over many times just fine, I eventually caved. In truth I'd never quite believed her (or anyone else for that matter) that I was a smart kid (at least smart enough to pass these tests) and her presence on the ride over calmed me. I could read her nerves but her reassurances weren't lies. She believed that I could pass at least.

Orange Star High surprised me in its familiarity. Despite never having stepped foot in a school before, I'd read books and comics set in them, and Orange Star High was a picture-perfect representation of one. There were lockers, water fountains, places to change your shoes, signs above each classroom door and long, discoloured shadows on notice boards where class rankings must have been posted the semester before. I didn't feel as out of place as I expected to and that settled me just in time for the long slog.

To cut a long day short, my Mom's careful balancing of tutoring and letting me explore the world's knowledge at my own frantic pace paid off. I finished every exam with time to spare and was given permission to leave the final one early, an opportunity I gladly took, much to the chagrin of my fellow testees.

True to her word that she would busy herself, Mom was not where I'd waved her goodbye. My ki-sense pointed to her browsing the mall two streets back. I took a moment to stretch and breathe in on the steps bathed in sunlight - before a flash of silver caught my attention.

A switch blade.

I saw enough of the possessor before he disappeared into the sidewalk's crowds, jacket on and hood up even in the afternoon's warmth. His intent was trained on a young woman laden with bags.

My feet carried me before my tired brain had a chance to intervene.

He grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her into an alley, the tight throng of distracted pedestrians masking her silent panic to everyone but me. I followed and only then in cold shock realised I had no concrete plan.

He pressed the knife to her neck. She closed her eyes and whimpered. I had to defuse the situation of course, but a selfish part of me feared for myself. I hadn't even started school, yet I was risking exposure? I needed to hide my identity. I grabbed the first idea I could.

I concentrated my bubbling anger, forcing it to a frisson on my back. Gold light exploded over me. The Super Saiyan transformation. Blue eyes, blond hair and a mean glare doesn't sound much of a disguise I admit, but it was all I had to hand and was remarkably effective.

I snatched the blade.

Disarmed before he could fully register my presence, the mugger's anger dissolved to a primal fear, cemented when I squeezed the knife, the blade as pliant as butter. The switch mechanism snapped. The blade and handle tinkling to the floor became the only sound in the alley. Knowing he was outmatched, he ran. The woman let out a belated strangled yell.

Not wanting to risk misunderstanding I jumped to the apartment building roof faster than she could follow. From on high I watched her tentatively rejoin the crowd and find her way to a meter maid, the mugger long gone.

Assuming her safe I left to find Mom, letting my appearance snap back to normal but my heart still pounding and rattled by my boldness. I had, in the middle of the day, in the middle of town, mere metres from a crowd, transformed. And it had felt the right thing to do.

For someone who claims she can't read ki, my mother sure is accurate with her hunches. She chalked up her suspicion over my mood to me nervous about the exam results. I barely avoided having to admit my recklessness, and vowed to not let my soft-heart cloud my judgement again.

I did not keep my word.

The second time I visited Satan City was for registration. I had ("of course", according to everyone else) passed the entrance examinations with flying colours; my high score in science had even stood until they changed the exam style some ten years or so ago. I travelled alone this time. After all, a high school student shouldn't need their mother holding their hand. This ended up being a very wise decision as no sooner as I'd landed in that same alleyway, screams erupted from the street. An old man stood frozen to a crosswalk, wide-eyed, watching helplessly as an out-of-control truck careened towards him.

Without conscious thought I transformed. It gave me the speed I needed to bring the truck to a screeching stop mere centimetres from the fear-stricken man, my fingers twisting the metal of the grill despite my gentle efforts. The truck persisted, then slumped back onto its tires with a short groan. I fled in the following silence.

The rescue took three seconds at the very most but a whole street of people saw me that time. I had to hope that their distraction helping both the gentleman and clearly ill driver would make them doubt my existence, though I knew the deep gouges my heels made in the asphalt could not be waved away as pure imagination.

I stowed my green jacket in my bag for the rest of the visit. The ink hardly had time to dry on my school paperwork before I high-tailed it out of there.

You might say then that these two incidents were my first foray into heroism, marking the true beginnings of The Great Saiyaman. I'm not so sure. In both cases I left the scene as soon as the obvious risk to life was averted, but there was still grave danger - the mugger could have come back, the truck driver could have needed a short flight to the ER. Perhaps with such lofty hindsight I expect too much of myself, though I'd like to think any aspiring Heroes reading this belaboured story will do better than I did and stay the course.

The next appearance of the Super Saiyan (or Golden Fighter as he'd been named, unbeknownst to me) was on my first day of school proper. I'd fallen behind schedule by landing too far from school, feeling that alleyway to be cursed. On my suspiciously athletic run through the streets to class, a commotion caught my eye.

A car screamed around a corner on two wheels, police in pursuit. Pedestrians dived for cover. Loose cash fluttered to the ground.

A bank heist, a real-life bank heist, and a serious risk to life at that.

I knew I'd have to do something. One routine transformation, a whiplash-inducing stop for the getaway car, bullets safely disposed of then I was back on my way. I barely broke my stride. My disguise was working - no one seemed to care, I was perfectly safe.

What I did not count on, however, was Videl.

I wish I could say our first meeting had a spark, a Cupid's arrow to our hearts or a red string's tension pulling our destinies closer. I wish I could tell you a romantic story starting with me full of coy confidence and her the taken damsel that worked its way to a steady crescendo, or each of us taking a passionate disliking to the other over a misunderstanding of circumstance and falling in love suddenly, accidentally. Those would have made tidy stories to tell. But if there's one constant thread in my life, it's this: whilst the end of every life-chapter has at the very least a quiet joy, the process of getting to that sweet ending is pure, convoluted torture for everyone involved.

In truth I'd say Videl and I met four times.

The first time was in passing on that very day. She'd arrived a moment too late to see the Golden Fighter in action and accosted me, quizzing me as a bystander. Meanwhile I was in the process of sneaking from the scene with all the subtlety of the bank robbers I'd laid flat. I feigned ignorance and was fortunate enough that her ire at missing the show meant she paid me no heed and I could scamper away.

My first impression of her? Only the sigh of relief that this boisterous and intimidating girl drew more attention to herself than me.

So you see, not much of a spark to speak of.

Our second meeting and first real introduction was less than an hour later. We have Videl's old, now mutual friend to thank for that. Erasa, the social butterfly and romantic fiend, was the first person to formally welcome me into our class by pulling little lost me into the empty seat beside her. Flagrantly ignoring the class that was being led from below, she introduced herself and her friends, including Videl. It was only then I found out that the young lady searching for the block of the Golden Fighter to knock clean off was Mr Satan's daughter - the man who had taken credit, limelight and burden for my defeat of Cell. And it was also then I learnt the Golden Fighter was already a local celebrity. Whilst she recognised me from the crimescene that morning, Videl (thankfully) dismissed me as too great a goober to be the Hero. This defence has saved me an offensive number of times, actually.

Beyond my initial shock at her parentage, I didn't pay Videl much heed beyond steering clear of her suspicions, either. My first day of school was such a mess that I was preoccupied up to the eyeballs with other worries. The teachers had singled me out as having the highest entry scores and as such I was an officially-sanctioned target. By the end of first period they'd found out I supposedly commuted for ten hours every day, lived in the mountain district (my subtle accent that pops out when stressed probably didn't help me here) and was wearing the same clothes as the now infamous Golden Fighter. All that was saving my heritage and feats from exposure was the colour of my hair, natural knack for social awkwardness being mistaken for a lack of physical prowess, and the ubiquitous dimwittedness of teenagers (I include my young self in that - like I said, I was never subtle).

And slow to piece together the puzzle they were. After lunch I played baseball for the first time. In my eagerness to win social points I jumped a good ten metres to make a catch. Mom warning me to act normally was all well and good but I didn't truly understand what normal was. When you use ki all the time those amplifications are as easy as breathing. Even after limiting myself my performance was impressive and I was invited to every after-school sports club you can dream up. Thankfully my 'long commute' made declining participation reasonable and, after a hard day that my identity barely escaped intact from, I could finally relax.

So there we go. The first time Videl heard of me she wanted to flatten me. The first time she saw me she treated me with casual indifference. And both times I was terrified of her. Soulmates.

That near-disastrous first day brings me to my third meeting with Videl, and the origin story I wanted to tell you. You see, I knew I had to retire the Golden Fighter - that day had been too close for comfort and even the most self-absorbed of teenagers would have done the math eventually; Videl got close enough during our introduction. But I also knew I wouldn't be able to resist getting myself in heroic trouble again, leaving me and my family exposed.

So I did what all my friends and family do when they have a tricky problem with no obvious solution: pay a visit to Auntie Bulma and hope she can engineer you out of the hole.

In retrospect I'm sure she would have much preferred to tackle the "possible trouble with a girl" she assumed I was having at first, but at that stage even I wasn't aware of the problem brewing there. Still, she offered to help and her solution to the Golden Fighter was simple: to jerry-rig a prototype device she'd been working on, the capsule watch. Not the standard discrete-capsule-inside-watch that you all know, but a specific design that threads the shrinking matrix throughout fabric and default targets to the wearer's form, rematerialising over the wearer's body. In short, it was an instantaneous costume, one I could pop on and off to fight crime in a moment.

The Great Saiyaman's name was my idea but it was Bulma who designed his look. To this day I'm impressed she managed to pull the outfit together in one afternoon. I very much consider myself indebted to her for the success of The Great Saiyaman and all who follow. That chunky watch is not much different to the slim-line version Heroes and Shadows wear today - though theirs are discreetly hidden in jewellery and other accessories. Here's an inside scoop for you: those outfits don't replace my current clothes but shrink over them. Wearing the costume is atrocious in the heat, and what do we experience a lot of in Satan City? I have many-a-time begrudgingly hit that button when in full suit, (yes, with tie and suit jacket) and have waddled my way across the city to deal with some shoe down or another. Contrary to popular belief, there was never a meaner stand-in for me, I was just perpetually tired and sweaty on those days and therefore not in the mood to give many chances. Give a man a break, and offer your friendly neighbourhood Hero or Shadow a drink.

Bulma's disguise worked well. Within days the Golden Fighter was consigned to history and The Great Saiyaman garnered admirers and nervous detractors alike. Kids loved the look (well, Goten did - he was six) and the Hero even got a movie, my cameo in which was sadly cut out. My stuntwork on the Age 780 loose-reboot is front and centre, at least!

The Great Saiyaman gave me the breathing space I desperately needed to work out the kind of adult I wanted to be. Though my absolute secret wouldn't last long and at the time I cursed by luck for that, being unmasked turned out to be the best thing to ever happened to me. You see, the disguise worked perfectly against everyone, except the one person it needed to. The one person beside myself and family who had unwittingly the most to lose. Videl.

I spent half of my first expedition as a Hero catching up with Videl in a vain attempt to save her. I'll admit I was underestimating her; I feared both that she'd been given the title of Crimefighter purely due to her father's massaged achievements, and that she was in more danger than she realised, luck and sheer bravado carrying her safely through any previous skirmishes.

(NB in truth this was my second outing, but I don't count the reckless drivers I put to right. They had no taste in Hero names and spread the wrong one so I'm going to rewrite history if you don't mind.)

When I reached the scene she was more than holding her own, knocking down two men twice her size with admirable efficiency and methodical style.

I'd like to state for the record that I did play my part by saving her from a stray bullet, though she maintains she only got into that predicament because I was a bumbling distraction. We'll have to agree to disagree. Still, we rallied and captured the fleeing robbers before they had chance to cause more trouble. Working together the task was simple. A quick success, I thought, one that would lead to future professional collaborations.

But despite my very best efforts to play the mysterious Hero, Videl rumbled me, and that was the third time we met.

Perhaps she recognised my voice, or maybe her ki sense was more developed than I believed and her 'intuition' clued her in. Either way, within thirty seconds of interrogation she'd tricked me into explaining how I'd snuck out of class, thus undoing my night's hard work developing a cryptic Hero's persona. I had the dance down pat and everything.

Auntie Bulma was right when she said I can be all brain and no sense at times.

What was worse, Videl hadn't only seen me leaping about in a costume. I'd used enough of my abilities to both shock and intrigue Videl, and unfortunately she knew from our very brief interactions that I could be a bit of a push-over.

You see, one of Videl's greatest traits is her tenacity. If she has an idea, or a goal, or any nebulous vision that she deems technically achievable, however low the probability, she will have no qualms pursuing her desires. In this case - Videl wished to learn to fly.

Nowadays she's sweeter and more subtle than she was when we were in our teens - then being as blunt as the broad side of a tree-trunk to the face. I'd wager that anyone who's worked with her on one of her many altruistic projects wouldn't feel as though they'd been guided by her. In fact, many come away with the impression that they were the brains and muscle of the entire outfit. After watching my wife work the floor of a charity auction, it's plain to see she inherited her father's charisma with a stark upgrade in finesse. If my wife wants something, she will bend wills and even reality to get it.

I said to you a long time ago that my first student was Videl and I trained her all backwards. Let me elucidate. The choice to train Videl backwards was less a conscious choice and more the mad scrabbling of a boy attempting to save his own neck.

When she discovered I was due to compete in the Tenkaichi Budokai, she saw only one path to prove herself. I was to teach her how to fly, and then I was to fight her in the upcoming tournament. This was not up for discussion. She dangled my identity and family's safety over the precipice with casual indifference and I had to yield to her. Yes, my first student blackmailed me into giving up my secrets. That may sound horrific to you. I'm surprised it hasn't happened more often, really. But I forgave her. She'd grown up in the limelight and saw the attention at worst an irritation but with overall great benefits, so why wouldn't I learn to like the same? At that point she didn't know my last and greatest secret either, and one that I was desperate to keep from the daughter of the man who took credit for my victory. I could not in good conscience allow her to find out that I was the Golden Fighter, a Super Saiyan and therefore the young boy in the Cell Games. Her father's success back then was predicated on a lie and I did not want to be the one to drive a wedge between them, or cause the world, her world at least, to be laid to ruin with one tiny admission. So I lied through omission again.

The upside of competing in the Tenkaichi Budokai was skipping school. You wouldn't think I of all people would have taken so easily to the idea, but with the stress of keeping The Great Saiyaman secret and behaving like a normal human, absconding to work from home with a stack of books was far easier - just like old times. I don't think I could have managed my time at school juggling all that and a hot-headed Videl waiting for one misstep before blurting out my identity.

Goten was convinced that my silly foray into public school was over by then, a two week flight of fancy and I was back for good to play with him all day. My mother, despite being a stickler for academic focus, is also an extremely practical woman. She saw the benefits of the prize money that our family could sweep, so let him train. Even my father was able to attend nominally for the day - yes, that surprised us all, too.

I had to recondition myself and train Goten in that time, though I found his skills suspiciously well-honed. Not only had he been roughhousing with Trunk,s but our mother had been teaching him forms both as a reward for completing his homeschooling and for his own protection. Given that, I was confident our family could at least put in a good showing against the others. All I'd need were a few days alone with him.

But those few days were cut short by the arrival of Videl.

Videl was indeed serious about me teaching her how to fly, so much so she'd broken into the school administration office and dug out my address. Did I mention there was a five hour jetcar flight between Mount Paozu and Satan City to boot? Like I said, she chases what she wants and sinks her teeth into it until all protestations are subdued. I was the dead deer in her jaws. She chewed my ear off for leaving school to train, assuming I was ditching her. And because of that accidental transgression I was coerced into making up post-haste. So, having no time to teach the nuances of sensing ki and everything else you, dear reader, have had to learn, I had to go straight to flight.

I was an extremely fortunate teacher, however. Videl had trained her body hard her entire life and was already honed in mind enough that her ki flowed strongly, her power far greater than her father's. This observation made a weird sort of sense. Like many people she watched the Cell Games and that day learnt the "great feats" her father was capable of. Since she idolised him and wanted to make him proud, she'd spent her time striving for those dizzying heights, hoping one day she could be a worthy successor. That one lie spurred Videl on so much that by her mid-teens she had already surpassed her father.

My intention had been to fit in two weeks of solid training with my brother. Despite Goten's terrifying progress with Mom he couldn't fly. Imagine that! The kid had puzzled out the knack of the super saiyan transformation and yet had not quite worked out the ki control required for flight. I guess this speaks to the motivating power of stories with children, plus Goten's backwards-yet-ultimately-successful way of doing most things. That talent he got from Dad, I'm sure.

Thankfully then Goten took very little prompting, given he had otherwise perfect ki control. I even had to tell him to slow down and buzz off as Videl was getting snappy, her pride taking a beating; she was not used to struggling in martial arts. After enough failure to obliterate anyone's confidence, I managed to convince her to sit still and learn a few basics. Whilst I did not have the words I have now, I muddled through, teaching her the exact intent that I will now teach you.

2.6.1 - Shine

That afternoon we sat facing each other. I spoke to her of the life all around us, how energy flows within us and in the carpet of lush mountain grass unrolling beneath us to the horizons and mountains - how I could sense that life, and she would be able to too, if she took the time to listen. I needed to show her ki was real, that she too possessed it, and to do that she had to physically see it. So, I put my palms together, took that breath, and drew my ki to a focus between my hands. Then I thought of sudden understandings, the first rays of dawn, the first breath of a newborn, announcing my own presence to a room, stars, light streaming through windows chasing back shadows and the Sun appearing from behind a cloud - the mobile of ideas that in my mind support the intent to shine.

The ki transformed to visible photons - just enough to see in the daylight, and Videl's face, both literally and metaphorically, lit up. She inspected the light, shuffling close enough to touch, although her nose would have passed straight through.

I recommend you get that close, too. See shine's shape and how the light pulsates with the wavering intent, how that communicates back to you and you hear its whisper. There's no shame in marvelling at truly seeing your ki for the first time (or rather, such a direct effect of it) and you should take every moment to relish it.

Videl set to work, and she tripped through all the faults we've covered so far together (holding the breath, subconscious tensing, ki frantically clinging to its original purpose) but eventually a jewel of light appeared between her shaking hands, flickered in surprise and confusion at its manifestation, then as suddenly as the light blossomed it blinked out of existence. Videl near-collapsed through the effort, but she'd done it.

Her shining eyes, the pride swelling in them… for me that memory is as crisp as the present reality. At that exact moment I felt that same pure pride in her as her teacher.

That first session went remarkably smoothly. In another reality it may not have done. You may think shine a benign ability. And it is, if it behaves itself. Whether it does or not is less to do with runaway accidents and more a reflection of your ability to control your curiosity.

Intents are just that. Your intention. If you intend to make a soft glow and hold that confidence you will. But a slip of thought when straining your mind can overcharge the intent, making a flash grenade. If your mind treads lightly and sticks to topic then shine will come to life without you having to know the exact wavelength of light or quantity of energy required.

[ Figure 1 ]

[ groundbreakingsci-stuff dot com/post/184833555592/2point6#one ]

Given both intents work on a similar principle (conjuring photons to interact with light), then like push, shine can have similar difficulties when focusing the intent. And like push, curiosity can get the better of some users. I did think about shying away from listing these possibilities, but I believe it more prudent to flag them and the consequences of not heeding my warnings.

The visible section of the light spectrum is only a very narrow band. Other wavelengths are available; radio and microwaves at longer wavelengths (lower energies), and UV and X-ray at shorter wavelengths (higher energies). In fact a shine intent created with the Sun in mind will create a blackbody shine, meaning there will not be one pure colour but a mix of many wavelengths, some extending into the infrared and UV in very low quantities, exactly like the Sun. One has to add the idea of 'purity' to narrow the band of colour. If you can make a vibrant green I'll be very impressed.

Within that simplicity lies a danger. Creating high energy photons isn't without consequence. Go too high, even by double the energy, you'll be creating UV photons and give yourself sunburn. Go too low, think the light too faint and pump up the quantity of photons, and you may hurt yourself with infrared light.

Get even sillier and increase the energy per photon by orders of magnitude and you'll create X-ray and gamma radiation. Note, do not think radiating yourself with this light will help you develop 'superpowers'. Practising with this textbook is what will help you develop 'superpowers'. All shineing high energy light on yourself will do is cause cancerous mutations.

I know, I know. Playing with such power is tempting. Thankfully, I believe anyone interested in eventually using their newfound abilities to conjure a gamma radiation torch for their macabre amusement would have long killed themselves off by attempting the stunts in the next chapter.

Applying a direction to the light much like push can both spare you energy and accidentally blind someone, so be mindful of the intensity of light you're creating in these circumstances. Stick to an omni-directional shine until you're confident gauging the strength. Although, a laser shine can be useful. I have a feeling I will soon be strong-armed into demonstrating my abilities at work, and when I eventually relent to pressure I have decided to create my own laser pointer for use in lectures. A well-controlled laser can be fun with pets, too - I know the cats (and old dinos) at Capsule Corp got a good run-out with a flick of our fingers!

But I'm off track again. I have a story to finish.

I'm not sure when I began to fall for Videl. It would be neat of me to say I fell in exactly that moment, as the breeze trailed through the long grass, with Videl's deliberate breaths and determined muttering, her brow, temples and chest shining with the effort. In reality I only observed those things in passing, overcome with admiration only. If you would have told me then and there that I was to marry this girl I would have been beyond confused and mightily embarrassed. Given the difficult situation she'd put me in, I was more continually baffled by her sheer force of will. If I did find that as attractive as I do now, well, my frontal lobes were certainly not informed.

Videl has since admitted that she fell for me first, that she wanted to impress me by both taking to my teaching quickly and catching my eye. I wouldn't have noticed her prettied appearance if she'd kicked me in the head (which she has done many times) and my lack of social prowess at that age compounded matters. Still, reminding her she's a softie at heart is a fun tease.

Whilst Videl graduated from my cobbled-together classes we never fulfilled the second of her demands by having a one-on-one at the Tournament. I even attended as the Great Saiyaman, by then our public personas known acquaintances. Sadly, Videl was by all appearances gravely injured by an unscrupulous competitor, the damage's extent made worse by her stubbornness - she refused to throw in the towel even as her bones shattered. I had to be held back to prevent me interfering with the match. So I do know her feelings towards me were reciprocated by then, even if I denied them at the time.

And that day became the fourth and final time we met.

The unpleasant individual who nearly took Videl's life was part of a larger, far more formidable group. These outright villains were targeting me, my family and friends, then set their sights on the entire world. We had to abandon the tournament to try and save everyone from the horrors they promised would befall the planet. The Potential Apocalypse was not televised this time. I'm glad no one remembers witnessing it.

Videl wanted to take a stand too, but was unable to keep up on the journey. She knew then she wouldn't stand a chance.

Then the moment I'd been fearing for so long came and went.

She asked, ever so quietly, whether I was the golden fighter. I steeled myself, knowing this to be the end of our growing friendship. I thought a full stadium had seen me transform so there was no point hiding it. I tried to apologise for lying but she stopped me, asking if my friends and family were the ones at the Cell Games, and whether that made me the little boy, whether we were the ones to kill Cell instead of her father.

My heart was in my throat. I couldn't choke out an explanation.

But my breath was caught more by the way she looked at me.

Not in shock or fear that a mere child would have been capable of such a feat, or anger at my lies, but only a relieved peace as the final puzzle piece clicked into place.

Despite having confirmation that her father was for all intents and purposes a sham, she, above all, was proud of me.

She sent me off with good luck, a 'keep safe' and 'hurry back'. And I did indeed return to her.

She says it was then she decided to date me, as though I wouldn't have had a choice in the matter. And I really didn't, but I didn't complain. Even with The Great Saiyaman's identity in tatters, looking back to that day and many more after in those verdant meadows around Mt Paozu, I don't think I'd have life any other way.

[ Figure 2 ]

[ groundbreakingsci-stuff dot com/post/184833555592/2point6#two ]

In the next chapter we will begin to amplify genki to enhance the basic ingredients, and develop the supers - super-strength, super-stoicity and super-speed.