Chapter 11

"CTE?"

"Ella Enchanted?" Junior's voice was exceptionally dry and sardonic—more so than usual, as the opening scene rolled for the movie. Beside him, Chi Chi and Gohan hurriedly shushed him, both staring with a rabid intensity at the movie.

He was rather upset with himself, if he were to be entirely honest. The day had begun normally, with Gohan appearing at Porunga's Post, and the two working at their normal pace. Gohan had suckered him, once again, into practicing a different music piece with him once again. Thankfully, though, Chi Chi was nowhere present, and he was able to save himself another incredibly embarrassing moment.

Things had quickly gone south, however, whenever he walked Gohan home. The boy had started enthusing about a 'movie night' with his mom, where his bedtime was extended to 10:30 and oh boy Mr. Junior isn't that cool?! For his part, Junior had mostly given noncommittal grunts, not quite sure what all of this had to do with him.

He couldn't help but admit, though, that Gohan was much more tolerable with that big goofy grin stretching his features. Not that Junior was privy to sharing this information with anyone other than himself, him, and his reflection in the mirror.

But of course—dealing with Gohan and Chi Chi always came at a price, he discovered, as Gohan had begun poking and prodding, deftly trying to lead Junior into joining said movie night. Of course, he had been fully relying on Chi Chi's apparent dislike of him to deter him from actually having to attend, but no—Milk defied him always, until it was something he would have allowed her some leeway on.

In fact, he was disappointed to note, there hadn't even been any ribbing. She'd immediately turned her fiery gaze on him, and he'd—metaphorically—opened his arms to the deathly bellows that awaited him. He was completely and utterly prepared for the onslaught of insults, taunts, and downright nastiness she could throw his way when she didn't want him present. The only thing he hadn't planned out were his own insults and parries; if he even gave any this time.

But no—of course, in that obnoxious, unpredictable way, Chi Chi had invited him, her smile only slightly malicious as she regarded him. Gohan had been exuding joy the entire time, and once he'd turned his big brown eyes onto Junior…

He was a little ashamed at how quickly he'd given in.

Him!—a man almost tried for murder.

He'd grimaced, grumbled, and puffed, of course, as was his way. But inevitably he'd landed himself on the right side of the couch once more, with Gohan snuggling up to his rib cage in a way that Junior was certain wasn't entirely necessary. Chi Chi merely smiled and snapped a picture with her phone, rambling about how cute her 'baby' was.

Ugh. He could barf at the amount of love the diminutive woman felt for her child.

He made sure to tell her that.

"Just because you were invited along, doesn't mean you had to come," Chi Chi replied, her tone quite rude. He made his usual protest, and slumped over, ignoring the giggles coming from around his waist. Why he hadn't done away with the stupid kid yet, he'd never know.

They seemed to be able to quote this movie with the same intensity of The Princess Bride, and unfortunately sang all the words to the songs. Really—how much free time had the two had before they moved here? He didn't really know anything about the duo, other than Chi Chi and Gohan vaguely mentioning an absent father figure and a previously rural-centric life.

"You're not even watching good movies," Junior grumbled, arms crossed.

"Oh? And what exactly would you qualify as a good movie?" Chi Chi demanded, arching her brow at him. Even Gohan paused and shifted to look at him, eyes peering. They were both looking at him in such a searching way that he immediately prickled, growing uncomfortable.

"Just—not this," he said lamely, motioning at the TV, where a character was dancing around a bunch… a bunch of giants? What the hell?

"Very descriptive, I'll make sure to write that down," came Chi Chi's sardonic reply.

"Seriously, Mr. Junior! What kinds of movies do you like?" Gohan enthused, placing his small palms onto Junior's thigh. He pressed down, pushing himself up as he gave him his most hopeful look. Grumbling underneath the childish gaze, Junior gave a half-hearted shrug.

"I just… I grew up on the classics," he grunted. "My father played old horror movies on repeat." Junior shifted, he could feel Chi Chi practically honing in on that part. This woman kept prying into his personal life—he ought to be angrier than he was, but instead he found a startling amount of apathy towards it. Perhaps age had made him less bitter about the whole thing?

Then he remembered his frustrating Skype call with his uncle and thought better of it.

Gohan grimaced at that, and shifted. "Horror movies…?" His gaze was sheepish, and he scratched at the back of his head, ruffling his hair. "I'm not really allowed to watch those."

Chi Chi, however, was giving Junior a look of appreciation.

"I'm a big fan of those," she said, not without some reluctance. Her eyes slid to Gohan. "However, I don't think they're appropriate."

Junior snorted in derision. "Are you kidding? They're no worse than anything else on today."

"Well, you're a depraved jerk, so what would you know?"

"Shut your carton, Milk."

"You're really stretching this puns as far as you can go, aren't you?!"

Gohan giggled between the two adults as they came closer in proximity, angry faces looming above him. Junior gave the boy a rather rude glare, that should have effectively silenced him for the rest of the night.

He was quite miffed when the little boy only laughed more, and Junior began to question his entire existence once more. Where was the fear he used to inspire? This was becoming ridiculous.

"One things for certain, they're scarier than you," Chi Chi smirked, prodding Junior's shoulder over Gohan's head. He snarled and snapped his fingers at her familiarity and insult, to which she merely twisted her smirk even further across her face.

"Maybe you two could have a horror movie night?" Gohan suggested, drawing his knees up to his chest. He yawned—and despite his boasts of staying up past his bedtime, Junior now had suspicions that the child wouldn't even make it to 9. "Just the two of you—and I could stay with Bulma."

Chi Chi's eyes widened, and Junior immediately began spouting his complaints. The two were soon arguing—and really, he welcomed that far more than her poking him and teasing him—and Gohan had left the couch in favor of curling up on the carpet, eyes still glued to the TV.

Junior had just carried Gohan to bed, with Chi Chi delivering a follow up tucking in, before the two were soon in the living room once more, awkwardly preparing for their 'good-byes'. The Namekian had been bristly all day, but Chi Chi was once more willing to try her hand at questioning his past.

"So—," Junior gave her a rather sharp look, obviously catching on to where this talk was going. "Your father was really into classic movies, huh?"

"You have the subtlety of a brick."

"I didn't take you for the kind to enjoy beating around the bush," Chi Chi replied smoothly, crossing her arms.

Junior paused, smirked, and nodded. "Granted."

"What's your favorite movie?" Chi Chi then prompted, picking at a loose thread in her over-sized sleepshirt. It was an old one—something she'd stolen from her father as a small child, thoroughly convinced that she'd grow into its mammoth size.

Junior crossed his arms, regarding her carefully. "Dracula," he replied.

"Of course—a man seducing innocents and converting them," Chi Chi heaved a fake sigh, and gave him a rueful smile. "That is what you delinquents exist for."

"I do not seduce," Junior grumbled, crossing his arms. "It was even my high school superlative—'least likely to seduce'."

Chi Chi cracked a bit at that, hiding a tiny giggle behind her hand. His ears flicked at the sound, and he gave her a genuine smile. The man almost looked pleased that his joke had been successful. He actually looked… okay. She returned his look.

"So what's yours then, since you're being so nosy?" Junior leaned his back against a corner wall.

"My superlative? It was definitely 'most likely to aggravate aliens'." Chi Chi watched him roll his eyes. "Fine, it's Wolf-Man, if you must know."

"Seemingly normal, and then transforms into a terrible beast…" he let his eyes trail down her, before humming and nodding his head. "Definitely. Really suits your personality. You just skip the transformation part, and remain in 'wolf' form all the time."

"So clever!" Chi Chi huffed, planting her hands firmly on her hips. "I'll have you know that it was my father's favorite, so I just happened to watch it a lot."

"I'm surprised you didn't go for the Phantom."

"Was that sexist? It felt a bit sexist."

Junior hesitated. Shrugged.

Chi Chi shifted her weight, and opened her mouth once more—

"Ugh. Dammit, woman, if you're going to subject me to twenty questions at least let me have some water." Junior pushed past her, and made his way back to the couch. He sat on the left once more, not turning to look at her as he grumbled to himself.

Chi Chi gave a victorious little fist pump, before dashing into the kitchen and grabbing a water bottle. She threw it into his lap, and flopped down onto the couch next to him, watching him carefully as he removed the cap and took his first swig.

"Go ahead," he groaned, waving a bottle at her. "You get five questions, and I can veto any of them."

Chi Chi twisted her mouth, glaring at him. "That's hardly fair, you know?!"

"No, I don't know. There—one question gone. See how easy that was?"

Chi Chi felt her fists tighten in her lap. "Dick…"

"Careful, your kid is in the other room."

The bastard looked so damn cocky! And if he could just not answer any question—this would get her nowhere!

"Fine…" Chi Chi hesitated, thinking, twisting a piece of hair around her finger. "How old are you?" she prompted.

"Twenty-seven," he replied evenly, and Chi Chi convulsed, eyes wide as she looked at him. Her eyes scanned over his form, then back down to her lap. "Why are you giving me that look?"

"Nothing," Chi Chi groaned, leaning back. "I didn't realize you were so young!"

Junior arched a brow. "I think, more to the point, you're old."

"I'm only thirty-two!" Chi Chi snapped, rising up again, feeling fire boil through her veins. She was rewarded with an indifferent shrug from the Namekian, which only served to aggravate her even further.

"Three questions left."

Chi Chi pressed her thumb to her mouth, nibbling on the skin. "Okay—is Junior your real name?"

"No."

She waited for more, but nothing came. The longer she stared at him, the more he shifted, giving her a rude glance.

"What?"

"You're not going to tell me?"

"No. And now you're down to one question."

Chi Chi grabbed the nearest cushion, and muffled her angry scream into it. She tried to ignore the amused chuckle from Junior.

Once she had collected herself again, she sucked in a deep breath, trying to plan out her next question. Anything too personal, and he'd immediately veto her question, and then this Q&A session would have been for absolutely nothing—and Chi Chi had gained too many gray hairs in the process to accept that. But—something stupid and trivial would give her nothing at all, and she'd still have collected a year's worth of stress in this one sitting.

"Sometime today, Milk," he prompted, and she sighed.

She hesitated, briefly, before chugging forward. "Is your father… what is he dying of…?"

Junior's shoulders tensed up, and she heard his water bottle crinkle in his grasp. She waited for him to shoot down her question, yet he merely sat there, and swirled the water around. He stared at it, mouth tightening into a thin line.

"I don't know," he replied. "My uncle isn't sure, they just know his symptoms. He just kept saying that they wanted me back home." She saw Junior's tongue poke out, long and purple as it washed over his sharp canines. "I'm going to guess it's CTE, though. Stupid old man never did learn to sit the hell down."

"C…TE?" Chi Chi didn't recognize that, even though she wracked her brain for something that sounded similar.

Junior downed the last of his water bottle, before hunching forward, elbows digging into his knees. He seemed to be deep in thought. "Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy. It's basically dementia and Parkinson's wrapped up into one nasty little disease. Aggression, depression, memory impairment, mood swings, and suicidal tendencies."

Chi Chi covered her mouth with one hand, eyebrows pushing up in a concerned slant.

"Oh. Is he… undergoing treatment?"

"There's no proof that that's what it is," Junior replied. "It's simply a guess by my count. It's caused by concussions—and lots of them." He slowly climbed to his feet. "My uncle doesn't necessarily agree."

"But is there anyway to—,"

"It can only be diagnosed after he's dead, and there's no cure anyways. We're basically waiting for him to die, and that's it. I'd personally rather the old man just kicked the bucket already."

"That's a bit cruel!" Chi Chi snapped, hands fists in her lap as she glared up at him. He seemed impossibly tall at this angle, and she couldn't help but gulp at his looming presence. Especially once small, black eyes latched onto her.

"You're talking about things that don't concern you." His voice was deep, deeper than she'd ever heard it, and she felt as if cold water had been poured down her back. She maintained her position, though, appearance every bit of the fiery she-dragon image she had in everyone's head. "My father deserves everything that's coming his way, and more."

Chi Chi's mouth opened once more, but Junior was heading towards the door. It swung shut with a loud sense of finality. The moment he was gone, Chi Chi slumped back in her seat, back sinking deep into the cushion.

Chapter 12

"Demon King"

"Again!" Bulma threw her hands into the air, and before Chi Chi could even react, the woman was stomping over to a table, looking particularly murderous. Chi Chi quickly looked to see what was happening, and noticed that Vegeta was seated once more, menu in hand as he glared angrily at it.

When Bulma reached him, he merely gave her a disparaging look.

"I'm in no mood for you. I need Son Chi Chi."

"You need to get out of here," Bulma replied, cheeks flushing with aggravation as she glared down at the man. "We've told you this before."

"And I'm telling you that I don't have time for your stupid nagging. Let me speak to Son Chi Chi!" His voice was escalating, and he had slammed his fist into the table, looking particularly monstrous. Bulma continued to stare him down, only relenting in the slightest when Chi Chi happened to draw near.

"What do you want?" Chi Chi demanded, voice an angry hiss as she regarded him. Her arms were folding across her chest, and she cast a nervous glance to the customers, who were still there eating. None seemed to have noticed his outburst, but she didn't know for how long she could rely on that.

Vegeta quieted at her approach, and let his eyes traverse her body.

"Eugh! You creep!" Bulma grabbed her boss's shoulders, and threw one hand in front of Chi Chi's chest, as if attempting to hide her from his gaze.

Vegeta made a gagging noise and scoffed, turning his head sharply from the two. "Oh, don't flatter yourselves!" He tilted his head at an angle, and regarded them with the utmost distaste. Chi Chi had the presence of mind to be offended by that, and stood just the tiniest bit straighter—he had just insulted her looks!

She got enough of that from Junior, as of late.

"I want to order food," he pointedly said to Chi Chi, eyes narrowing as he watched her eyebrow make its way up her forehead.

"Excuse me?"

"I want to order some food. This is a restaurant, isn't it?" Vegeta's lip sneered, and he cast his gaze around. "If that's what you want to call it."

"This place is great," Bulma snapped, bending at the waist so she could glare more thoroughly. "And trust me, bub, I know!"

"If you know so much about greatness, then you'd know to be kneeling at my feet now!" Vegeta motioned his hand at the floor, clearly prompting Bulma. The heiress sucked in a deep breath, noise of disgust loud enough to actually draw attention from customers.

"You—!"

"What did you want to order?" Chi Chi interrupted, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She didn't trust this man, but she needed to get this situation under control, and fast. He settled down at her words, giving her a rather large grin.

"Good, finally some respect around here." He looked pointedly at Bulma, who gave him a flash of her middle finger. "And it doesn't matter, woman, bring me whatever." Vegeta waved a hand, as if expecting her to simply disappear.

Chi Chi, however, leaned forward, large grin in place as she flattened a hand out on the table. She made sure she was very close to Vegeta's ear. "If you don't watch how you speak to me," she muttered, lacing every word meaning, "I'm going to let Bulma slip rat poisoning into your food and pretend I didn't notice."

Bulma waved behind Chi Chi, and Vegeta hesitated, for just a moment. He grunted, finally, and Chi Chi took that as a victory. She stood, brushing off her hands, before she and Bulma disappeared back into the kitchen.

"What's his deal?" Chi Chi huffed, rubbing at her arms while Bulma began preparing something. "He's weird as hell…"

"No kidding," Bulma said over her shoulder, stuffing noodles into a pot. "Were you serious about that poisoning, because I can totally have some completely undetectable substance here in less than fifteen minutes and—,"

Chi Chi cut her off with a grimace. "No, I don't think that'll actually be necessary… wait why do you have that?"

Bulma gave her a big, innocent doe-eyed look. "Oh, no reason. Just… something for a private investor is all."

Chi Chi opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it once more, and decided—what the hell.

"What are you making him?" she asked instead, walking over to where the heiress was working.

"Chow mein," Bulma replied, and Chi Chi left her to it. She focused instead on the other orders, running them out to tables while her friend stayed back in the kitchen. Every time she came out, she could feel Vegeta's eyes following her, and she resisted the urge to throw something at him.

She kept herself occupied, and didn't notice when two familiar figures appeared in a previously unoccupied booth.

"Why here of all places?" Junior was grumbling to himself, while Gohan spread his homework across the table, thoughtfully writing away on the papers. He laughed at Junior, but remained focused. He figured eventually his mother would notice them, and she'd bring them food. Whenever he glanced up, though, she always looked harried and busy, so he left her to it.

Gohan began humming happily to the tunes of his winter recital. He was excited for it—even though it was still rather far off. Not only would his father be present, but even Mr. Junior had agreed to be present, which Gohan counted as his best achievement yet.

Junior began drumming irritably away at the table, and Gohan rolled his eyes.

"You're impatient sometimes!" the boy wagged an index finger at his friend, which earned him a snarl in response. Pouting, Gohan nibbled at the end of his pencil, and looked pointedly at Junior. "Especially here lately. I heard you and mom talking about something the other night in the living room."

"You were supposed to be asleep," Junior growled, sharp eyes locking onto Chi Chi, who was moving from table to table with plates balanced on her hands.

"Well, I was, until you dropped me in my bed," Gohan mumbled, trying to not sound too much like he was complaining. Junior was still watching Chi Chi's progression, so Gohan turned to look as well. He grinned. "Mom's cool, isn't she? She's really strong!"

"They're just plates of food!" Junior huffed, cheeks tinting purple as he quickly looked out the window, averting his gaze. "There's nothing special about a stupid balancing act."

Gohan chewed on his bottom lip, and shook his head. "But they're hot—and there's big portions! Plus, I know mom's awesome, anyways. She used to train with my dad! It's how they met!"

Junior sneered. "So? Your dad went to one of those little dojos, am I right? Probably made it all the way to—what? A brown belt?"

Gohan blinked, furrowing his brow. "What—? No, my dad's—,"

They were interrupted as Chi Chi appeared at their table, fists on her hips as she glared down at them. Her face was splattered with something, and her hair was falling down from its bun. She gave Junior an odd look, before giving Gohan one of her tender smiles.

"What are you two doing here?" she asked, sounding a little out of breath.

"The brat wanted food," Junior grunted, and motioned towards Gohan. "He said he wanted to eat here."

"Oh!" Chi Chi blinked, then looked nervously behind her. "I… well, normally I wouldn't mind all that much, sweetie, but—,"

"Woman!" a short man with spiky black hair shouted, and from his stance, it looked as if it were directed at Chi Chi. "I'm growing tired of waiting! Instead of gabbing, shouldn't you be making yourself useful?!"

Her face immediately went brick red, and both Gohan and Junior stiffened at the man's tone.

"Mom…" Gohan could feel his blood boiling as he stared at the man, who had turned back around once more. "Who is that guy?" Across the table he could see Junior's claws sharp against the table.

"A customer, honey," Chi Chi trailed off with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was very obviously counting to ten, just as Bulma erupted from the kitchen, shoving a plate onto the man's table.

He stared down at it. "What the hell is this?"

"Your food," Bulma retorted.

"I would hardly qualify this as—wait. Did you make this?"

"Yes, what of it?"

"I told you that I needed that woman over there, not you."

"And I told you to fuck off!"

"No, you didn't."

"Well I just did!"

"Bulma!" Chi Chi cast Junior and Gohan an apologetic look before she rushed over, quickly quieting both the man and heiress effectively. Gohan, however, was not appeased, and tightened his small hand into a fist. He'd never thought himself capable of violence before, but right now, he felt as if he could deck the man who'd yelled at his mother, and feel no regret.

Across the table, he heard Junior chuckle. Gohan turned sharply to the Namekian.

"Nothing, kid. Just noticed you've got some fight in you after all," Junior pointed at the tiny fist, which Gohan immediately unfurled, fingers splaying against the table.

"Um…" his voice trailed off, and he shifted in his seat. Junior was distracted once more, though, as the man who had been yelling at Chi Chi stood abruptly, and exited the restaurant. The Namekian's dark eyes followed the figure until he disappeared out of sight.

Soon Chi Chi approached them once more, looking a bit frazzled. "Sorry you two had to see that," she muttered, expression darkening as she reflected. "That guy's just been up here, making a mess of things." Her gaze fluttered to Gohan, and she quickly pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "But don't worry about me, okay? You were hungry, right?"

All of the anger seeped out of him in that moment, and he shot a beaming smile up at his mother, nodding his assent. He rattled off all of the things that he wanted, and she laughed, promising to make it with extra love.

Her gaze turned to Junior. "Did you want anything?"

"A glass of water," he grunted, eyes still focused outside the window. "Does he come here often?"

Chi Chi blinked. "Do you mean Vegeta?"

Junior grunted.

"Kind of," Chi Chi shifted, rolling her eyes. "He was just standing outside for weeks, then he finally came in and decided to harass us in person." She waved a dismissive hand. "I've got it under control though."

"I didn't ask that," Junior snapped, huffing as he glared up at her. "I could care less."

"No need to be rude!" Chi Chi snapped, then turned abruptly on her heel. She disappeared into the kitchen, and Gohan turned to Junior.

"Why are you so mean to her?" he questioned, tilting his head.

"Because I don't like her," Junior replied, tapping his claws against the table.

"Then why do you talk to her?" Gohan's head tipped the opposite way.

"Because of you."

"Because of me?"

"If I want you to pay off your debt," Junior rumbled, sounding as if this whole conversation were very trying to him, "then I have to play nice with her."

"But you don't play nice! And—well, it's just…" Gohan trailed off, twisting his fingers in his lap. "You come over to our house sometimes, too, and you don't have to. And I know you guys have texted."

"We text about you," Junior spluttered, crossing his fingers as his face took on that purple hue once more.

"But—oh, hi Bulma!" Gohan had just noticed the blue-haired girl approaching, and she was watching Junior with a strange look. He blinked in confusion, as Bulma slowly dug a pen out of her apron, along with a tiny notebook.

"Hi," Bulma muttered to Gohan, before her gaze slid to Junior. "Okay. I'm going to make this quick. I really need your autograph—but like, quickly. Before Chi Chi comes back out."

Junior and Gohan both gaped at her, before Junior made a sharp noise. He sat up straight, and jabbed a finger at Bulma.

"I remember you!" Junior's face grew stormy, and Gohan looked on in complete and utter confusion. Why did Bulma want a flower shop owner's autograph? Had he invented some new flower...? —no, definitely not Junior! "You're the one that tried to offer me—," Junior's voice broke off and his whole face turned a violent shade of fuchsia, his gaze pointedly locked on Gohan.

Bulma merely shrugged. "Yes, well... What can I say? My younger days were an interesting time in my life."

Junior was glaring at her.

"Oh, c'mon! Please!? If Chi Chi catches me out here I'll have to explain a lot and—,"

"Just give me the damn thing!" Junior snatched the book and pen out of her hands, and hastily scribbled something on the pages. Bulma squealed excitedly, phone already in her hand as she jumped forward. Her arms looped its way around a startled Junior's neck, and she hastily kissed his cheek, capturing a quick picture just a millisecond before he exploded.

"Don't tell your mom about this!" Bulma commanded Gohan, before rushing back off the kitchen.

"Don't post that on the internet!" Junior snarled after her, ignoring all of the strange looks people were giving him. He slammed back down into the booth, looking particularly murderous as his antennae twitched rapidly.

"Um—," Gohan didn't even know where to begin. Really, his mind was still clunking around with the bits and pieces, trying to make the puzzle whole. Nothing seemed to correlate, however, and when Chi Chi appeared with food to a surly faced Junior and a rather dazed looking Gohan.

"What happened to you boys?" she questioned, setting down Gohan's plate along with Junior's water. Chi Chi glanced between the two, before covering her mouth, motioning at Junior's face.

"What?" Junior snapped, glaring angrily up at the woman.

"You have some… lipstick on your cheek?" Chi Chi's voice trailed off, as Junior desperately grabbed a napkin, scrubbing mercilessly at his face. "Wait…" Gohan looked up as his mom's face clouded over, and he could practically feel the heat coming off of her. "Have you been making out with some girl while you were supposed to be watching my kid?!"

"What—?!"

And then the two were at it, both screaming their heads off.

Gohan sighed, focusing on his food instead of the fussing adults. Really, he wanted answers, and he certainly planned to get them. Junior and Chi Chi wouldn't offer anything, though… his gaze slid off to Bulma, who was rushing around, checking on customers.

Bingo.

It took forever to calm down Chi Chi and Junior—Gohan would know, seeing as even after he finished his food they were still at it, he'd felt personally responsible for resolving the issue. He'd managed to convince his mother that it was marker from Gohan's homework, even pointing at the box of colors that he had with him. Once she thought that Junior had been helping him, she'd readily settled down. Junior was still a bit prickly, but Gohan couldn't really stop that.

He'd opted to stay at his mother's, while Junior returned to Porunga's Post (though Gohan made sure he got a rather big hug for whatever mess had just happened). He waited for Chi Chi to get busy once more, before Gohan approached Bulma, who was cleaning a table.

She turned to look at him, face sheepish.

"Oh… hey, kiddo…" her voice had an awkward lilt to it, and she seemed to be purposefully placing her back to him.

"What was that earlier?" Gohan prompted, pumping as much 'childish innocence' into his voice as he possibly could.

Bulma gave him a very strained smile. "Whaaaaat? I don't know what you mean—absolutely nothing happened earlier!"

Gohan folded his arms. "Bulma, seriously! Why'd you want Mr. Junior's autograph? And—why'd you kiss him? He really didn't like that!"

Bulma turned to face him, looking very nervous as she cast her gaze over Gohan's head.

"Okay—look, kid… your neighbor… Well, he's not who he says he is. Or maybe he's just not said anything at all—that's not what's important." She bit her lip, and the wrung the rag that she held. "I… shit… Your mom's coming over." Bulma straightened up, and greeted Chi Chi.

"Glad to see Junior left," Chi Chi grumbled. "That man caused such a ruckus! An even bigger one than Vegeta!"

Gohan didn't point out that Chi Chi had quite a hand in the mess with Mr. Junior. There was no point in upsetting her further.

"But—it's getting close to bed time! You need to go upstairs and take a shower," Chi Chi mussed up Gohan's hair, before taking her leave. He sighed, looking to Bulma. She stood there for just a moment, before relenting.

"Do you know who the Demon King Piccolo is?" Bulma asked, and Gohan blinked, furrowing his brow.

"No? Should I?" He rubbed at his nose, staring at the woman as she made a pained face.

"Well…" Bulma trailed off once more, as Chi Chi called from her in the kitchen. "I have to go," she looked extremely relieved, patting Gohan on the head as she headed towards her summons. "Sorry, kid!"

Gohan watched her as she disappeared, face in full pout. Who was the Demon King…? It sounded pretty scary, as far as he was concerned! What would Mr. Junior have to do with anything like that? He was just a simple flower shop owner… albeit a rather cranky one, but still!

He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall… eight thirty… He had an hour left—perhaps he could get on the computer before his mom finished up down here?

Gohan bit his lip, and rushed upstairs.

There was the steady beep of a monitor that kept him constant company. It was such a dismal place, really, despite its size. Especially when the owner sat in a large bed, sunken green skin throwing a nasty contrast to the golden pillows and blankets surrounding him.

Piccolo looked as pitiful as he could—sallow and practically lime with age. He was forced to look at that every day, the mirrors he'd installed into the ceiling showing his reflection back at him, regardless of if he wanted to see it or not. Not for the first time he questioned the narcissism of his youth.

He heaved a sigh, chest expanding and sinking, such a simple motion paining him. Clenching his eyes, he glanced to the doorway, where he could see Dende standing there. The young boy hesitated, small hand grasping the door frame as he peered in.

"Are you all right, sir? Did you need anything?"

Piccolo sneered at him, before slashing a hand through the air. He hated that his brother had come here, guilt-tripping the rest of his family to come tagging along. The mansion was fine when he was by himself—he didn't need all of these young folks clamoring around, asking him how he was, cow-towing to his every whim.

He was certain Kami had given them all some sort of sob story, how his brother lay here dying, and there was no one to care for him. Idiotic fools couldn't figure out that with his money he'd had a plethora of staff.

The problem came down to his attitude, he supposed. One hired nurse told him that between his shitty attitude and the shit she cleaned from his sheets, that there wasn't enough money in the universe to make her stay. He'd promptly called a hitman—or at least, he thought he did—but he never got a call back on the matter.

Personally, he blamed Kami.

He looked to the door, and saw that Dende was still there.

"What?" Piccolo croaked, pissed that the command and venom he'd once been able to pour into his voice was now gone. "What the fuck do you want?"

Dende entered the room, then, and Piccolo wished desperately that he were well enough to sling something at the brat. He kept coming, though and was soon beside Piccolo, a small smile gracing his features.

Piccolo spat at him.

He saw the young boy fight to hide a grimace, and Piccolo laughed heartily at the way he side stepped the big glob on the carpet.

This idiot had come rather early on with Kami—one of the first batches. He was also, strangely enough, one of the only ones to stay for any extended period of time. His brother—Cargo, was it? —had soon left, spouting about how awful Piccolo was for everyone to hear. He'd made sure to call a hitman on that one as well, but he was certain Kami had put a stop to that one as well.

"I came to talk to you," Dende said slowly, and Piccolo bared his fangs.

"I'm sick, not deaf, you useless sack of chlorophyll."

Dende fiddled with the stole around his neck. "I do apologize. It's just that… I have a new picture from… from Piccolo."

That drew Piccolo's attention, and he attempted to push himself up, elbows digging deep into the mattress. He felt the IV in his arm tug dangerously, but he didn't care. He'd ripped it out once before, in a desperate bid to leave this wretched place and escape his family.

What was more important was—ah, yes… Dende was presenting him with a phone, and Piccolo squinted his eyes up at it. In the picture, there was his son…

"When did you get this picture?" Piccolo demanded, wanting to snatch the device from those small hands… he felt the utmost sense of revulsion for Dende. Such a insignificant creature caring for him, when Piccolo could have his son next to him—! Why wasn't he here…? Was he out smoking with his friends behind the school again!

"We were Skyping," Dende replied, "and I used the screen shot feature…" his voice trailed off. "He was telling me about my flower shop."

Piccolo sneered. "Such a disgusting career."

Dende shifted. "It's very common—,"

Piccolo waved a large hand, swatting away at Dende's words. "Yes, yes, it's a very Namekian thing to do. How pathetic! Now my son—," Piccolo thumped his chest in joy, "my son is a perfect, demonic specimen! He's going to take after his old man, just you watch! An egg from my own throat!"

Dende seemed to grow uneasy at that, just as he should! It was about time that pathetic little shell fragment learned his place. The little thing had always been too close of friends with his son—him and that Nail creature. Unreasonable company. Guru's spawn, and how pathetic was that? Who gave a shit about the priest's kids? Little goodies that would always follow Porunga's guidance—pah!

Now—! His son—despite his propensity towards human subcultures—was going to bring about Piccolo's revenge. He was going to avenge him in the Tournament! Bringing about the defeat and utter annihilation of a one Son Goku.

He was sure of it.

He began cackling, then, spitting up as he did so. Distantly, he heard Dende grabbing the phone on the nightstand, and he must have called Kami, for here came his brother, trundling in, looking horrible. Kami dug into the folds of his robes, retrieving a syringe. Piccolo tried to fight it, but soon he could feel the prick against his arm, and the medicine did its job.

Piccolo slumped back onto his pillows, furrowing his brow as he tried to figure out why his son had looked so different in that picture…

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I'm glad you're all so patient as this unfolds!