He couldn't smell it, but he could see it. There was blood all over their living room floor.

A large, crimson puddle sat smeared into the beige area rug. The blood looked chunky, as though bits of flesh had been torn from whoever had been wounded.

Gohan nearly jumped a foot in the air when someone tried to push a senzu bean between his lips.

"Oh, hey, buddy," Krillin said, voice low and soft. "You're awake. Go ahead and eat this."

Recognizing his surroundings as the Lookout, Gohan took the dried up bean. His fatigue melted away as he swallowed, and he stood to look for his parents. The vision faded to the back of his mind, and right now all he wanted was the comfort of his loved ones.

Since Kami had fused with Piccolo, Kami's dragon balls had become inactive. There had been talk of finding a new Guardian before the Cell Games, but no one had the slightest idea of how to find New Namek. Thus, the moment of truth.

A hand rested on Gohan's shoulder.

"We wanted to wait until you woke up," Yamcha said. "We thought you'd want to see the new dragon balls being made."

Not really hearing the words, Gohan finally located his parents. Several yards away, the other Z-Fighters had shifted away to give the boy some privacy. Gohan approached, and for once in his life, he didn't feel anything.

He just felt… empty.

Crouching down next to his mother, he ran a finger through her long, black hair. It had come out of its tight bun and now fell freely around her shoulders. He looked at her pale face in a new light, noticing for the first time that his mother was actually quite beautiful.

Gohan looked to his father for guidance, who was lying down next to her. But the dark-haired man didn't appear to notice his presence. Extending his senses, Gohan didn't feel the familiar pressure of his father's energy against his own.

A shadow passed over his parents, and Gohan stiffened.

"Your father had a heart attack shortly after he ascended to the next level," Piccolo explained. "Perhaps the medicine only bought him some time, without actually curing him. Or, it's also possible that the strain of Super Saiyan 2 was just too much for his damaged heart. There's no real way to tell."

Shaking, Gohan stood next to Piccolo.

"I'm sorry," the Namekian said, pulling Gohan close to him in a rare display of public affection. The boy reacted immediately, clutching onto his best friend as the shock finally wore off. Despair engulfed him almost immediately, and his sobs were muffled only by the fabric of Piccolo's gi.

The Z-Fighters allowed the orphaned boy to grieve freely, respecting his space as his heartwrenching wails reached their ears. They also let their tears fall, fists clenched tightly against torn and dusty clothing. Only when Gohan had cried himself dry did they approach. And as one, they gathered around the stone dragon balls.

"I don't know enough about this type of magic to wildly alter the wishing capabilities," Piccolo said. "We have two wishes instead of one, but it still cannot bring Goku back. I'm sorry, kid- it's the best I could do."

"Piccolo," Gohan whispered through sobs. "Thank you."

"Would you like to summon the dragon?" Mr. Popo asked Gohan. The boy gave a tired smile and accepted. He sniffed, desperately trying to compose himself for this honour.

"Arise, Shenron!"

The weeks following the Cell Games were some of the hardest for Gohan.

Firstly, the Z-Fighters held two funerals, back-to-back in the following days. The first was Goku's. The world held a funeral shortly thereafter, for the legendary Ox King.

After spending so much time with Goku while he was sick, the Ox King had also contracted the deadly heart virus. His first symptoms appeared just days after Goku's memorial service. So, with all the futuristic medicine gone, the tight-knit group had been forced to watch another friend die a slow, agonizing death.

Fortunately, a physician friend of Bulma's had tested the others for any sign of the fatal condition, and everyone came back with negative results. Everyone had been particularly worried about Gohan, but Bulma hypothesised that perhaps his unique hybrid traits had saved him yet again. Watching the news carefully, Bulma only saw a handful of cases before the virus seemingly disappeared altogether. While its lifespan was short, its impact would last forever.

Another concern was the discovery that was Chi-Chi pregnant. Not only was she still grieving over the loss of her husband and father, in addition to coming to terms with her own death, but now she had to concern herself with raising a second child alone. Shenron had resurrected her as she was before her death. She had taken damage from Cell while pregnant, and no one had any idea how this would affect a half-Saiyan fetus, or if the mystical dragon would have automatically reversed that damage as well.

Either way, she knew the stress alone would kill her.

"If only I had been faster," Gohan lamented, absently doodling in his notebook. "If only I had fought harder. All that power inside of me, and I didn't even know."

Gohan had quickly taken on more responsibility in the Son household. Though true to Chi-Chi's character, the woman tried to remain strong for the sake of her son, all while making sure he didn't fall behind on the homework he'd missed. Perhaps the advanced lessons would help him get through his grief.

It was a quiet afternoon when Chi-Chi knew.

"Gohan!" she called suddenly.

The boy in question looked up from his desk, unnerved by her tone of voice. She didn't sound mad, but she didn't sound happy either. He stood from his desk and walked to his bedroom door, cautious of his mother's exceptional mood swings.

He had just reached the hallway when he realized he could barely feel her energy. He jumped down the staircase in one swift movement, racing into the living room to help her.

There was blood everywhere.

His mother lay in a heap across from the television, the bottom half of her dress soaked in blood. Thick globs stuck to the area rug beside her as she struggled to crawl away from the mess. Heart racing, he scooped her up into his arms and flew to the front door.

For as long as he lived, he would never forget that smell. The smell of death and decay.

"I'm alright, Gohan," she said, her sad eyes looking into her son's. "I'm alright, just take me to the hospital, okay?"

Full comprehension didn't dawn on him until the Super Saiyan was halfway to Orange Star City.

"The... the baby..." he realized, the slow words tumbling from his mouth before he could hold them back. He looked down at the woman in his arms.

She held him tighter, the wind stealing the whimpers from her throat.

Every television in the hospital was playing the same three interviews with Mr. Satan on repeat. Apparently, the man had taken credit for defeating Cell.

Slumping deeper into the plastic chair, Gohan waited for his mother's doctor to find him.

He supposed that in another lifetime, he could find it in his heart to forgive Mr. Satan. After all, it's probably what his father would've done.

But his father was dead, so he supposed those values didn't particularly matter at the moment.

Cell had killed his mother. And in forcing Goku to ascend, Cell had killed his father, too. And here was the world champion, belittling the 'tricksters' who truly saved the planet.

"It was a bunch of smoke and mirrors," the voice of Mr. Satan said, laughing. "They shoulda known I'd see right through them!"

Closing his eyes, Gohan tried to relax. After all, his mother may not receive the best medical care if he accidentally blew up the hospital.

"Is there a Mr. Son here?"

Gohan stood. "That's me," he said, sprinting to the tall doctor. "How is she? How's my mother?"

The doctor looked uneasy. "Where's your father, son? Are you the only one here?"

"He's dead," Gohan said flatly. "I'm the one who brought her here. Is she okay?"

Sighing, the doctor nodded. "She'll be fine."

"Thank you," Gohan breathed. "Oh, thank you." He clutched his chest, trying to mentally will his heart to slow down. He felt ready to collapse into a bundle of nerves. At the feeling of his wet gi, he vaguely remembered that he was still covered in his mother's blood.

"Though, I'm sorry to say that your little brother did not survive."

Gohan's breath caught.

"She was under a lot of stress," he mumbled, his voice cracking. "But as long as she's okay..."

The doctor looked taken aback. The woman's son couldn't have been older than ten or eleven, yet was taking the news very well. Little did he know that this was just one of many disasters the young man has had to face lately.

"Would you like to see her?"

Gohan followed the doctor's pointed finger, crossing the long hallway in just seconds. Fresh blood trickled through his fingers as his nails dug deeper into the palm of his hand.

"Mom!" Gohan practically yelled, rushing to the side of her bed. She was pale, and he could smell the lingering blood from underneath the sheets. It made him feel sick to his stomach, and he couldn't hold his tears back anymore.

"Have you seen the news, Gohan?" she raged, oblivious to her son's thoughts. "That damned buffoon-"

"I'm so sorry, Mom" he gushed. "I'm so sorry I didn't bring you here sooner! I should have noticed your energy dropping, and I should've brought you here sooner, or maybe grabbed a senzu bean instead, or maybe Bulma could've-

She tightened her grip on his hands. "Look at me, Gohan!" she commanded, her tired eyes wide with concern. Once her son's wet eyes met her own, her voice softened.

"This was not your fault," she said, gently but firmly. "If you want to blame anyone for this, blame Cell. But whatever you do, Gohan, do not put this on yourself. You brought me here, and you did everything you could."

"I'm just so sorry," the 11-year-old cried, his voice collapsing into sobs. "I didn't even know it was a boy. I was so excited to be a big brother, and I would've been so happy with a baby brother or a baby sister, and I know you always wanted a big family and now- and now you're just stuck with me-"

Chi-Chi pulled her son close to her chest, cutting off his emotional rambling with a tight hug. Her own cheeks became tear-stained seeing her son in so much distress.

"Gohan, you don't understand, sweetie," she said. "We were so lucky to even have you in the first place. Don't you get that?"

"What?" he sniffed, her face smothered against her collarbone. "What do you mean, Mom?"

"We didn't know it at the time, but your father was an alien," she told him, lovingly stroking the tears from his cheeks. "Cats and dogs can't have babies. Animal Earthlings like Oolong can't have babies with human Earthlings. Your dad was a Saiyan, and yet he was able to give me you."

Eyes wide, Gohan pulled away from her. "I never thought about it like that," he admitted, wiping his eyes with a sleeve. "I didn't even think..."

"You're one of a kind," she whispered, wiping his nose with the corner of her blanket. She smiled warmly, in the way that only a mother could. "I am so, so happy to have you, Gohan. It doesn't matter that I wanted more kids at one point. You are enough. You will always be enough."

"I love you, Mom," he said, swallowing hard.

"I love you too, Gohan."