The days came and passed, turned into weeks, and finally, a month. The boy and Namekian sparred every day with the exception of Saturdays, which was a day of rest for the muscles and a day spent to strengthen the mind. On occasion, Krillin would drop in on these days and he and Gohan would play some board games the kid had. Piccolo had played but once, became insulted by the idiocy of the simplicity of the game, and sulked in the corner of the room while Gohan and Krillin laughed. An insult to his intelligence indeed.
It was on the Saturday that marked one month since their return from Namek that Piccolo realized Gohan, in truth, was no closer to transformation than he had been on Namek. Sure, he showed plenty of promise, but Piccolo couldn't quite figure out how to get the boy to tip past the point of reservation. He tried what he thought was everything, but alas, nothing worked.
This Saturday was no different than the others. Piccolo was meditating in the corner of the kitchen while Gohan munched on a sandwich he had made from the fish he had caught the previous night. Suddenly, a sharp ringing noise barraged Piccolo's ears and he growled, clenching his jaw.
"I got it!" Gohan exclaimed, pushing his chair back and rushing to the device making the awful noise. He picked up a part of it and held it to his ear. "Hello, Daimao residence, Gohan speaking," he said chirpily. Piccolo's head snapped up at the sound of his last name. The hell?
"Huh? Daim-okay then... Hey Gohan, it's Bulma!" Piccolo heard the woman's voice over the device perfectly clear. "So, you know that this coming Thursday is Thanksgiving, yeah?"
"Sure do!" Gohan replied.
"Excellent. What do you say you and Piccolo come over to my place for dinner? Krillin, Master Roshi, and Oolong are coming as well. Then it's me, my parents, and Vegeta."
"That sounds great, Bulma! Yeah, I think we come! Let me ask Mr. Piccolo really quick," Gohan said, lowering the device. "Hey, Mr. Piccolo, can we-"
Piccolo glared at the boy.
Gohan sighed. "Bulma, can I call you back, please? Okay, what's your number? Okay, got it. Talk to you again in a couple minutes!" he finished, and put the device down.
"Question number one: what the hell is that blasted device?" Piccolo asked, pointing to the vile machine.
"That's a phone, Mr. Piccolo. You use it to call other people."
"What's Thanksgiving?"
"It's the day we give thanks for everything we have! Family, friends... ya know?"
"Hm. Final question. Where the hell did you hear my last name, and why is this suddenly my residence?"
"Oh, the Lady told me. I know a lot about you, Mr. Piccolo! I know a lot about everyone, really. She taught me many things while I was with her. And well, this place isn't really the Son residence anymore. Because my parents aren't...aren't here anymore."
"You are. This is still your house."
"Yeah, but... you're my guardian now. So, I changed my name."
"Hm. I don't like it."
"Don't you want me to be like your son?"
Piccolo deflated. "Call Bulma back. I suppose we're going to Thanksgiving..."
Gohan beamed and quickly picked up the phone, dialing furiously. "Hey Bulma, it's Gohan."
"Oh hey sweetie! Did you get your answer?"
"Yup! We'll be there!"
"Oh, good! Been missing you, little man! Stop by here around five o'clock, okay? We'll have a delicious home cooked meal! And a lot of it. Especially since I have two Saiyans coming."
If there was one thing Gohan was confident about, it was his speed. While Piccolo could still phase in and out a hair faster, when it came to dead-straight flying, Gohan reigned supreme.
In truth, it annoyed the Namekian to no end.
And so, as the pair flew to Capsule Corp, Gohan zipped ahead to-and-fro in front of his mentor. Piccolo debated grabbing his ankle and yanking him back.
Gohan was already at the door and knocking by the time Piccolo landed. He sensed two larger kis and five smaller ones already at the large compound.
The door flung open and there stood Bulma. "Gohan! Hey there kiddo! Been far too long! Boy, do you need a haircut. I guess I know what we're doing after dinner," she rambled happily, first embracing the boy and then pushing him inside. "Hello Piccolo! Good to see you too. Come on in. Everyone's here!"
Piccolo stood apprehensive at the door, really wishing to not be involved. But, at one look from Gohan, he begrudgingly entered, only to be barraged by noise.
"Gohan!" the inhabitants sounded as the boy entered the room. Krillin was the first one up and the two embraced. Krillin then shook hands with Piccolo. As the others began to encroach on his space, Piccolo looked around somewhat frantically for a way out. He bristled when he say Vegeta standing in a corner, but made his way over, stalking over to the Saiyan.
"Dragged you to this too, hm?" Vegeta asked, snarky. "I don't even know what this stupid holiday is. All I know is the woman promised lots of food," he said, more to himself than to Piccolo. Things were still quite tense between the Namekian and the Saiyan.
Piccolo's nose was suddenly made aware of a cacophony of smells, all of which were revolting. Two smelled highly meaty, the others more like tainted wild produce, as well as some things sickeningly sweet.
"This food smells incredible!" Gohan exclaimed, bounding over to the pair. "Hiya, Vegeta! How are you?"
The Saiyan raised his lip slightly. "Go away, brat," he snapped.
Gohan's head cocked to the side and he pressed again. "How. Are. You?"
The Saiyan produced a sound deep in his chest and Piccolo prepared himself to yank the boy away from the impending hit. Instead, he was vaguely surprised when Vegeta relaxed his stance and huffed.
"I'm fine, pest," he growled. "Now go away." Gohan merely shrugged and made his way back over to Krillin. Vegeta watched him before relaxing back against the wall with a hmph. His eyes flitted around the room before coming to rest on a blonde woman bustling over. "Oh no," he ground out through now-clenched teeth. However, he relaxed quickly when he realized he wasn't the target, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, smirking.
Piccolo had no idea what to do as the woman barraged him with questions. "So you're the one taking care of little Gohan! My oh my, you certainly are tall, aren't you? And your skin is the loveliest shade of green! Here, let me feel your skin." Her hands brushed over his arms before he could protest. "Oh, so soft! Not reptilian-like at all! Do you use lotion? No? We need to get Vegeta to use lotion, His skin is so rough! Not soft and smooth like yours!"
By now, Piccolo was blushing so hard, his face was nearly purple. He sent a pointed look at Gohan, who thankfully got the hint. The boy tugged on Bulma's shirt at the elbow, pointing to the woman.
Bulma scowled and stomped over. "Mom! For God's sake, leave him alone! You're embarrassing him and me! Go take the pie out of the oven or something!" She gently shoved her mother away, sending Piccolo an apologetic look as she moved to follow her.
"And that, my ugly green non-friend, was Bunny Briefs. Quite possibly the most annoying being on this planet."
"Dinner's ready, guys! Saiyans at the back of the line!" Bulma called from the kitchen. Both Vegeta and Gohan sighed, staying back as the others surged forward. Piccolo followed the others with their plates to the dining room, preparing to stand in the corner. Gohan bounding in from the kitchen with two plates heaped full of food, Vegeta following.
Bulma plopped himself down between Bulma and Krillin, Vegeta on Bulma's other side. Piccolo shifted to stand behind Gohan. Gohan tilted his head back to stare at his mentor. "Want some?" he asked through a mouthful of food.
"Even if I did, I don't know what any of that is...And I've told you over and over again not to talk with your mouth full. It's disgusting."
Gohan swallowed. "Well, this is turkey, this is ham, these are mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, a roll, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, and my favorite, stuffing!" he rambled happily, pointing to each item on his plates.
The conversations were peaceful. Krillin and Gohan held a pleasant conversation about training and fishing, occasionally prompting Piccolo to speak as well. Roshi and Oolong spoke to the Briefs about trivial things, like the weather and news. The most stunning conversation was that between Bulma and Vegeta. Bulma spoke softly of meaningless things, and Vegeta would nod, occasionally smirk through a mouthful. And, surprisingly, he would offer his own input. He even hurled a few comments at Krillin and Gohan, one of which caused Piccolo to slap his hands over Gohan's ears. This action caused the others at the table to all laugh and signaled the migration back to the kitchen for dessert. Gohan came back out with two more plates stuffed with sweets. He named them off to Piccolo again (cherry, apple, and pumpkin pies), offering bites that were refused.
As things began to die down, Bulma began to cut Gohan's hair as the other pitched in with the dishes. Well, besides the warriors of course. Vegeta deemed he had spent enough time in forced socialization and retreated to his room. Krillin supplied a steady, highly controlled wave of ki that disintegrated the snips of Gohan's hair before it hit the floor.
"There you go, little man. Much shorter. You look so handsome," Bulma said, satisfied. He did look much better. His now short hair spiked up in all manners and directions. Piccolo tried to picture him blonde. He felt his stomach twist just a little, and silently hoped that they could go home soon.
The sun was still shining brilliantly when they left, which seemed unusual. Usually the moon was beginning to make her entrance.
Halfway home, clouds seemingly came out of nowhere and took over, though Gohan did not seem to notice. Upon their arrival home, Piccolo bade the boy to shower and go to bed, surprisingly with no objections. He was asleep within minutes of his head hitting the pillow and Piccolo went outside to wait.
Sure enough, after only a few minutes, the air before him shimmered and Tsuki appeared before him. She smiled at him, though she looked disheveled.
"You're getting better at sensing my arrivals," she said, smoothing her hair and straightening the askew neckline of her navy dress, dark as the night sky itself.
"You were fighting with your brother, yes? The sun was quite intense at such a late hour."
Tsuki did not answer. "How far along is the boy? Has he transformed?"
"No, not yet. No closer, really."
Tsuki sighed in exasperation. "Push him. I don't care how you do it. Make that boy ascend."
"Why? What's going on?"
Her eyes met his, pearly blue to onyx.
"Broly is coming to Earth."
Yeah, I realize this is mostly filler again, but hey, we're getting into the action next chapter! If you can't tell, I started this chapter around Thanksgiving (and then epically failed at keeping at it). So, I don't know exactly WHERE DBZ is set as no continent is ever mentioned, just cities. I mean, you'd assume Japan, yeah, but no one really KNOWS for sure. So I figured hey, wherever they are, they're celebrating Thanksgiving and we're calling it a day. That is my creative license. :P