Future Trunks had arrived shortly after the battle royale began.
With his appearance causing a distraction, Yamcha and Gohan were able to successfully relocate Goku. After picking up the heart virus medicine at their home, Gohan convinced Yamcha to take Goku to Capsule Corp. It was only logical to assume that their home would be the Androids' first stop, should their friends be unable to hold them off.
Gohan's living grandfather, the Ox King, met them there after not being able to find his family in their mountain home. He kept Gohan and Goku company while Yamcha stayed on high alert, following the energy signals of his friends from Goku's bedside.
Mere minutes later, the Androids finally made their escape. After crushing all the fighters to within an inch of their life, the brother and sister flew off, bored and moody. Thankfully, they were unable to sense energy, otherwise Goku's location would have been discovered immediately.
The Z-Fighters eventually recovered enough to eat some senzu beans. Following their revival, they sensed their comrades out and immediately regrouped at Bulma's house.
They had just finished talking strategy when Goku's screams had finally subsided. With him now in a fitful sleep, Piccolo was able to catch a sound byte from the television in the other room. He rushed out of the kitchen without warning, and the others followed him.
To their horror, they saw dozens of clothes scattered across empty streets.
Thousands of people missing, gone, vanished- suddenly, and without any reason.
"Could this be the Androids' doing?" Krillin asked, eyes glued to the large screen.
Vegeta shook his head, as did Trunks.
"No, this isn't the Androids," the teen muttered.
"Which means, we have yet another adversary," Vegeta confirmed.
"Where did this all go wrong?" Trunks wondered aloud. He slouched down in a chair, tanned hands obscuring his face.
Gohan sat across from his father, cross-legged. A day had passed since the forlorn newscast, and he had been meditating non-stop, trying to induce a vision or otherwise contact Bardock.
"Why did they suddenly stop?" He demanded. The room was silent save for his father's light tossing and turning. No one was present to answer. "What happened? Or rather, what will happen? I thought I'd be cursed with those damn visions until I-
A thought suddenly struck him.
"Until I die," he mumbled, frozen in place. "I'm… no, no, no. I'm… going to die soon."
The 10-year-old boy slumped forward in a daze, the stress from the situation finally causing him to break down and cry.
Piccolo had left for the lookout to speak with Kami. He wouldn't give Gohan any more details than that.
Krillin, Yamcha, and Trunks had gone off to investigate the mysterious ghost towns popping up everywhere.
Tien disappeared to gather Chiaotzu and Roshi, in case they needed all the help they could get.
Vegeta went off in search of the Androids.
Gohan could feel Bulma and baby Trunks still downstairs, with his mother. Thankfully, his mother wasn't experienced enough to feel the more subtle, emotional changes in someone's energy.
And his father was busy dying…
Alone, Gohan let his emotions take control. He cried until his stomach ached as much as his heart.
Piccolo's life force was fading. Twenty-something hours had now passed since Vegeta and Trunks had entered the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, yet Cell seemed to be growing stronger by the hour.
Gohan couldn't wait any longer.
"No! I can't do this!" He yelled, voice cracking.
He turned to face his father. "Forget the plan. Stay if you want to," he snarled, his eyes flashing teal in his rage. "I'm done being your secret weapon! I'm going. Now."
Aura springing up around him, Gohan powered up in the thin air of the Lookout. Concentrating on Piccolo's energy, he raised two fingers to his head.
"Gohan!"
He heard footsteps behind him. Too enraged to be able to properly lock on to Piccolo's energy, Gohan instead leapt into the air, ready to fly from the Lookout-
And out of nowhere, his father's fist came crashing into his face.
Flying backwards onto the white tiled floor, Gohan shook the haze from his eyes.
"Long time no see," a voice said.
Perking up, Gohan met a pair of dark eyes.
"Bardock!" He shouted, overwhelmed with joy to see his paternal grandfather again.
He ran up to the man and, despite Bardock's vehement protests, hugged him around his waist.
"Yeah, yeah, enough with that, alright?" Bardock said, clearly agitated by the affection.
"I thought you were gone forever," the boy said. "I thought… I thought I was gone forever."
A hand ruffled his long, wild hair. Beneath Gohan's soft-soled shoes, he could feel the slight crunch of gravel. Turning to look at his surroundings, they appeared to be in the same place he had last seen Bardock. But instead of a tournament stage, it was a battlefield.
The precise, off-white tiles had been blown to bits and scattered across the grassy plain. The nearby mountains had crumbled into themselves, seemingly from outside forces. The ground itself was bare of grass and littered with craters and scorch marks.
"And to think, you would've never seen it like this," Bardock mused.
"What?" Gohan said, blinking up at the Saiyan.
"You should know by now to think further ahead in terms of consequences," the man reprimanded. "You're a smart boy, Gohan. Are you sure you don't know what I'm talking about?"
The boy gasped. "Mr. Piccolo!" He stammered. "I was going to go help him and then- my dad, he- I couldn't quite sense his energy, so I tried to fly- but Dad-"
"Yes," Bardock surmised. "Had he not punched you, you would've teleported to Piccolo, faced Cell, and then died. But with your impatient decision to fly, your father was able to intercept you."
"So all this time, it was true," Gohan said, suddenly feeling very small in the grand scheme of the universe. "The visions, they had stopped. I really was going to die."
Bardock nodded. "And I can't let that happen," he said, voice hard. "My fate very literally depends on your survival."
"Wait, what?"
When Bardock didn't reply, Gohan pressed him again. Grabbing onto the straps of his grandfather's armour, he shook the older man. "What do you mean, your fate depends on me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" the child demanded.
With a single palm strike, Bardock shoved the preteen away.
"You'll find out," he said, a sarcastic smile curling into his lips. "But only if you live. So stay alive, will you, boy?"
"What are you- Bardock?" Gohan paused, frantic as his grandfather faded from view. "Bardock? Bardock!"
"What's a Bardock?"
Gohan opened his eyes to see Mr. Popo fawning over him, and his father standing nearby with a confused look on his face.
"What?"
"You were unconscious, just for a minute," Goku clarified. "And you said- nevermind."
An uncomfortable look crossed the Saiyan's face, before he grew angry again. "Look, either way, you are not helping Piccolo right now, understood?
Mr. Popo helped Gohan sit up. "It's okay, Gohan," the dark man said. "You're alright."
"Dad-"
"You would've been killed, son," Goku snapped. Gohan reeled back in surprise. He couldn't recall the last time his father had been angry with him.
His blood burned, and almost in defiance, Gohan spat, "I'd rather die than do nothing to help Piccolo." Though as soon as the words left his mouth, some small part of him detested the claim. And Gohan felt ashamed. "Piccolo would never turn his back on us, Dad," he said, his voice more controlled.
Jaw clenched tightly, Goku turned away.
"Gohan," Mr. Popo said gently. "Your dad is hurting, too."
His dad? Hurting? But his dad had never been anything but strong, anything but determined, anything but optimistic and carefree and-
"Just as much as you and I," the genie continued. "You must know that. And you must know that Piccolo wouldn't want you to die- he'd want you to live. Hasn't he proven that time and time again?"
Tears formed in the corners of Gohan's eyes. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, and he tried to stifle the rising feelings within him.
A burst of power knocked Gohan out of his despair. He and Mr. Popo looked up to see a glow engulfing Goku, despite him still standing in his base form.
"Daddy," Gohan whispered.
"I know it's hard to believe, Gohan," Mr. Popo continued. "But it's just as hard for him to wait as it is for you. He may be your father, but he is first and foremost a person of his own. He lives and feels, just as you do."
For the first time in his life, Gohan saw his father as more than just his father. Looking past the familial term, he saw an individual in pain. Based on his own age, Gohan figured his father to be around 28 years old. Goku was still fairly young, despite all the things he's experienced in life.
"I guess you don't stop learning and growing as a person, just because you're an adult," Gohan silently realized.
He stood up, quietly thanking Mr. Popo for his help. Then he stepped toward his father.
"Daddy?" he said. "I'm sorry. For everything."
"It's okay, Gohan," his father replied, still facing away. "I'm sorry I knocked you out. But I need you to promise me something."
"What?"
Goku turned to face his son. He lowered himself on one knee, his face pinched tightly as if he was in pain.
"Promise me that you'll help me do whatever it takes to defeat Cell," he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
And for Gohan, it was.
"I promise."
When Vegeta and Trunks finally emerged from the Hyperbolic Time Chamber hours later, Goku and Gohan entered.
They were training when the announcement aired, completely unaware that the stakes had just been raised.
"I am Cell."
The majority of Z-Fighters crowded around the television on Kame House.
"I have a message for all the people of Earth. Now pay close attention, little ones…"
Chi-Chi shivered at the sound of his smooth baritone voice. His speech was disturbingly charismatic.
"For those of you who don't recognize me, take a closer look at my face- do you remember the big, bad monster of Nickytown? I am the evolved form of that creature."
Trunks closed his eyes, remembering the deafening silence of Nickytown.
"I am here to announce my decision to hold a martial arts tournament. I'm calling it… The Cell Games."
Yamcha leaned forward, a hand partially covering his mouth in horror.
"The Cell Games will be held nine days from today, in area S.5, 28 miles northeast of Eastern City. Bring me your best fighters…"
Krillin bit his lip, committing the coordinates to memory.
"You must fight for your planet. Because if I win… you are all mine."
Bulma clutched her infant closer to her chest.
"Standard World Martial Arts Tournament rules apply. I do hope you'll find the courage to come play."
As Cell began to destroy the television studio in a demonstration of power, Roshi turned off the television.
And for the first time ever at Kame House, all was still.
The week before the Cell Games, Gohan's visions returned with regularity, as they were nearly two years ago.
The break in their appearance seemed to have altered how far in advance he could see- that, or they were in more trouble than they realized. Gohan caught a few glimpses of the self-proclaimed Perfect Cell, though none of the episodes were truly enlightening. They would have to wait and see.
His father insisted they take the week off from training. His mother had- with a lot of insistence, and much less enthusiasm- gone into the Hyperbolic Time Chamber with Piccolo after her boys had come out. That day, Goku and Gohan had spent with some father-son bonding. And the day after, Gohan was sent to Chazke Village for groceries while Goku and Chi-Chi had some alone time. The days passed, quickly and without much fuss.
Mr. Popo came strolling out of the ivory palace, a small model of the dragon on a silver display. He lifted the glass lid to the delicate statue, and he set the piece in front of Piccolo.
Bulma came forward and set the now-stone set of dragon balls next to the statue.
"Are you sure about this, Piccolo?" she asked, knowing the Namek preferred a more active role in their gang.
"We do not have much of a choice," Piccolo griped. "If this means that we'll still have dragon balls… I'm willing to sacrifice my freedom."
"It is indeed fortunate that the Nameless Namekian was of the Dragon Class," Mr. Popo stated absently. "Otherwise, you would not have this unique ability, Piccolo."
With a grunt of acknowledgement, Piccolo raised one hand above the carved dragon. He spoke several long sentences in the Namekian language and white light radiated from his hands in strobe-like patterns. Finally, yellow beams shot forth from his hands, curving into the air before plummeting back down and into each of the wish-granting orbs.
All at once, lightning clashed through the sky, and every orb flashed until the stone balls changed from the inside out. Not a second later, the set of red-starred dragon balls returned to its active state.
"Wow, that was fast," Bulma noticed.
"Indeed," Mr. Popo said, collecting the balls once more to store them inside.
Piccolo spent the night on the lookout for the first time, his stomach twisted into knots about his choice.
Just as he did the morning of the Android's arrival less than a month ago, Gohan woke up early on the morning of the Cell Games. Still in his constant Super Saiyan form, he dressed in his gi, ate breakfast with his parents, and helped his mother wash the dishes.
Chi-Chi would be attending the Cell Games- a compromise she and Goku came to when Goku insisted on bringing their only child to the stage of the very literal end-of-the-world. Hence, why she agreed to train with Piccolo. By design of the Room of Spirit and Time, he needed a second person to ensure the alternate dimension wouldn't swallow him alive, and she needed every weapon in her arsenal in order to protect her family.
Taking flight with his family, Gohan suppressed a smile at the recollection of her inviting Piccolo over for dinner the previous night. And he couldn't help but laugh out loud when he remembered the look on his mentor's face as the Namekian blushed before agreeing.
"What's so funny?" his mother asked, flying next to him amongst the clouds.
The boy simply smiled. He knew his father planned to have him fight Cell. And judging by the return of his visions, they would all survive the Cell Games.
Ordinarily, he would have thought his mother's familiarity toward Piccolo would mean the end of the world. But he knew for a fact that the Earth was going to be okay.
"Nothing," Gohan answered, large, lopsided grin still stuck to his young face.
His mother smiled at his childish antics, the growing lines around her eyes crinkling slightly.
"We're here," Goku called back to them.
The smiles fell.