The gathering should've been jovial, but instead, everyone was on edge.
Goku had collected the dragon balls, had called everyone to Capsule Corp. to partake in the calling of Shenron and had tried to keep spirits up. But Bulma and Vegeta looked worse for wear, Gohan still seemed hollow and the others shared clandestine glances and whispers about the parade barreling through West City in honor of Mr. Satan.
The sounds of cheering echoed in the streets and overtop the walls of the Capsule Corp. compound, a cacophony of voices and horns and celebratory music. It was another hot day and humidity hung like a curtain.
The news had estimated that thousands had died at the hands of Cell and the unnamed terrorists. A bulletin was put out calling for their arrest, but since Cell had been bested, no one had heard or seen from them. Many speculated they were working with Cell—minions of his sent to do his work—but since Hercule had defeated the monster, people were decidedly less scared.
The Z Fighters were not scared by any means, but the high of battle is often met with the painstaking low. As each washed off the remnants of Cell's reign of terror, each had come to accept what had happened. That was until Goku came around, excitedly revealing that the dragon balls had been restored.
It had been a whirlwind morning and not everyone had a chance to really consider what would happen next. Some of the Z Fighters felt relief, others still processed their trauma. The dragon balls would make right a terrible wrong, but there would still be fallout from Cell's hateful wrath, possibly for years to come.
Krillin had trouble sleeping since the Cell Games ended, his mind consumed with the realization that he was severely outclassed in battle and that he could do nothing to save 18. Goku's strength and abilities often left him in awe, but rarely did he taste the bitterness of jealousy. It was all he could think of now: If only he had been as strong, he could've stopped Cell.
Her face burned in his mind. The look of desperation, the plea he whispered to himself, her sacrifice. She didn't deserve to die in the belly of a beast.
On the lawn, the dragon balls glistened under the noon sun. Krillin watched as the light reflected off their perfect surfaces, the glass smooth and seemingly infinite. The words danced on his tongue. Goku said Dende's dragon balls were more powerful than Kami's—they had the ability to bring back masses in a single wish. And, like the Namekian balls, had the power to grant three wishes, though Dende was unsure whether Shenron would allow it after using such a big wish.
Could it be possible that the androids would count as murdered by Cell? Shenron usually knew the wish-asker's intent instinctively, and if Goku was the one to make the wish, he might not consider the android's worthy of redemption. After all, look at what became of their arrival.
Krillin glanced over to Gohan. He was looking at the balls, too, but there was something sad about him. Whereas everyone around him watched with some sense of urgency—of eagerness—he seemed like he was somewhere else entirely.
He wanted to reach out to the young fighter and tell him it would be alright, he wanted to grab his hands and tell him that he had once experienced death and that when he came back he was better than ever. But he knew it wasn't Bulla's revival that weighed heavy on him, it was the fact he had been the one to kill her.
And Krillin did not know what that was like. He couldn't even begin to imagine it.
Instead, he turned to Goku, the request he wanted to make turning over in his head like an engine trying to catch.
"Dende said the new dragon balls have the power to bring back a mass group of people, right?" He prodded, acting as inconspicuous as he could.
"Yes," Goku confirmed. "We should be able to bring back everyone killed by Cell and the Androids."
Both of their eyes fell over Vegeta, who was standing off from the group underneath a shaded tree. He seemed uncharacteristically subdued, a calm before a storm. Krillin did not want to press too hard. The Saiyan Prince was not known for his empathy by any means, and a Vegeta stunted by emotional trauma was one Krillin did not want to piss off. But still, he knew he had to ask.
"I was thinking about it," Krillin said softly. "Do you think that would include the androids themselves?"
Heads whipped to look at him. Yamcha's jaw went slack as he looked at his friend in disbelief. He let out a small, incredulous laugh and cocked his head.
"Are you crazy, Krillin?" Yamcha asked. "Of course they wouldn't be!"
"I mean," Krillin started nervously. "They were victims of Cell as much as we were."
"I can't believe you would say that," Yamcha barked. "They murdered all of those innocent people, and they did it for fun."
"They were brainwashed!" Krillin shouted. The two men stepped toward one another as if raising a challenge. Goku quickly stepped between them.
"Hold on, guys," he said, extending his hands. "Just wait."
"Krillin, you can't seriously be suggesting that we save people who killed thousands," Yamcha said.
"Yamcha, they were kidnapped as children!" Desperation laced Krillin's voice. "They were trained to be monsters. 18—at the very end—she gave herself to Cell as a sacrifice, to spare me and Bulma and Chi-Chi."
From behind them, Bulma cleared her throat. Everyone turned to look at her-all except for Vegeta, who continued to rest against the tree. She took a few steps to bridge the gap between them. She fidgeted with her fingers and then smoothed the folds of her dress.
"I think we should bring them back to life," she said.
Everyone stared at her.
"Krillin's right," she continued. "They were pawns for Gero. They did bad things, but it doesn't mean they're bad people."
She turned to look at Vegeta. The past two weeks had been a whirlwind of emotion. From the early arrival of the androids, to meeting her future daughter and ultimately seeing her dead, Bulma had felt the tugging rush of pain and the swell of a mother's pride. And standing next to her was a man who had transformed before her eyes.
If someone like Vegeta could learn to love, she had no doubt the androids could, too.
As if reading her mind, Vegeta's eyes locked onto hers. The pull between them was tight, strengthened by what they had endured together. He could feel her, too, her spirit grabbing hold of his. He nodded his head just slightly enough for her to see it.
"Are you sure?" Yamcha asked tentatively. "Bulma, I mean…"
"They'll have to find a way to live with what they've done," she said. "But I think they deserve a chance to live."
Yamcha relented, and the others surveyed their fellow fighters. No one else piped up and with that unspoken agreement, they had decided.
"Okay," Goku said. "It's time."
Goku called out to the dragon balls and they began to glow. Light pulsated through them and their power whipped up a gust of wind that ripped through the Z Fighters. Overhead, black clouds curled in the sky and bled through the blue, covering up the sunlight ominously. From the street, the sounds of gasps and screams, confusion drifting through the crowds congregating to celebrate Mr. Satan.
Lightning bolts cracked and a brilliant, yellow light shot up from the balls. It swirled in the sky and grew larger and larger, until the yellow turned to green and Shenron emerged. His lithe body ebbed in the sky against the darkness, and with every dip his scales glittered. Volts of neon light clipped off of him as he swam against the sky.
He was suspended there for a moment, his body undulating and whirring. A low growl reverberated against the walls of Capsule Corp., and another chorus of screams emerged from the street.
"You have disturbed me from my slumber," his voice was raspy and thick. "State your first wish."
Goku nodded and stepped forward.
"Shenron!" He shouted. "My first wish is to bring all those who died at the hands of Cell and the Androids to come back to life—including the androids!"
The dragon hummed and his eyes glowed. With bated breath, everyone watched as Shenron's body clicked. He growled again before his eyes returned to normal.
"It is in motion, but will come at a cost," Shenron boomed. "I can only offer you one wish after this."
Goku smiled. He had never doubted Dende's abilities, but a small ribbon of fear flowed through him. What if after all this work, they were unable to bring everyone back? That truly was his only wish—it didn't matter if he had any wishes left.
"Thank you, Shenron," Goku said, still beaming from ear-to-ear. The Z Fighters behind him cheered and clapped, and he swore he could even see Vegeta perk up from his stance against the tree.
"What is your next wish?" Shenron asked.
Goku hadn't thought to even prepare for a second wish. Dende had told him that Earth's new dragon could grant up to three wishes, but the sheer magnitude of bringing all those who died back to life was a feat for even Shenron. Goku looked around at his friends, who sat equally as surprised.
It was Krillin once again who stepped forward.
"What if we wished for people to not remember the androids," Krillin said cautiously. Everyone exchanged strained glances to one another. Tension rose as they searched for an array of expressions. Erasing history was always a tricky thing, but if Shenron had successfully revived 17 and 18, there was no way they would live peacefully. They had been on national television, their pictures printed in the morning paper.
Cell might've eclipsed their terror, but he most certainly did not absolve them of it-especially considering many believed they were conspirators.
"Do you mean forget what they did?" Goku asked softly.
"Yeah." Krillin cast his eyes down and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Give them a clean slate, so they're not fugitives anymore. Allow them to be...to be…"
Goku grabbed his friend by the shoulder and gave a loving squeeze. He nodded his head and smiled at him.
"Yes," Goku said. "They deserve a fresh start."
He turned to Shenron and spoke the words. His red eyes glowed. As the final wish was granted, he slithered into the sky, disappearing into the glowing light before the black clouds parted and appeared blue again. Everyone's eyes remained up in the sky as they watched the flecks of golden energy burn off into the sun. Despite having summoned Shenron several times over the years, the aura and magicalness of him never seemed to dull.
"Hello." A voice behind them broke their trance. It was soft and sweet, like summer air after a fresh rain.
Bulma was the first to turn around. On the lawn stood her daughter, the glimmer in her eyes beating like the midday sun, her hair softly waltzing in the wind and her smile strong and sure. The black hole was gone, her blood washed away by Shenron's magic.
Without skipping a beat, Bulma launched herself toward her, her feet stumbling over one another as if she could not run fast enough. She tumbled into her daughter's arms, digging her fingers deep into her back. Bulla reached in return, her arms wrapping around her mother with a mixture of surprise and eagerness.
A sob ripped from Bulma's lips and she pulled herself from her daughter, her eyes flickering up. Bulla seemed brighter now, shinier than she had before. The despair from the future was smudged out with the victory she had risked everything for. Running her hands across Bulla's smooth face, Bulma smiled.
"You're alive," she whispered. "You're really alive."
"I am," Bulla said, her voice breathless but strong.
