So last chapter FF fought with me so, here's the amazing piece that I tried to link to last time:
the - - aquarian . tumblr post / 148933731471 / this - isnt - everything - you - are
www . fanfiction u / 8087653 /
Check it out by removing the spaces.
Also this chapter was proof read, etc. But then FF crashed on me and destroyed it all.
: ' )
Chapter
"Similar"
"Ah, Mrs. Son!" Kami greeted her in the morning. She was alone at the breakfast table, she noticed. Last night, Junior had told her to hurry inside the moment they'd gotten home. He'd told her that he wouldn't mention her name at all in the morning, so long as she "kept her big trap shut".
"Hey, Kami," she greeted. He appeared busy, humming some odd tune under his breath as he brought a bowl of cereal over to her. She blinked. It was odd—to have someone serving her. She was used to handling all of the food. "Oh. Thank-you."
"Of course," Kami smiled, the lines on his face creasing. "It's almond milk—I hope you don't mind. While my species doesn't eat all that much, most of the people that stay here are ah, Vegan? Yes. So I accommodate. It's also food my people can actually ingest." He sat down with his own serving. "Actually, since I started providing for guests, I find that I enjoy eating!" He chuckled to himself.
"Where's… ah, where's Junior…?" Chi Chi cocked her head to the side, and she watched Kami's grip tighten around his spoon.
"He's currently outside," Kami said, rather tight-lipped. It was the closest she'd seen him to anger. "He's cleaning Mori's truck that he apparently stole last night. I… well, I thought he'd changed, but. I suppose not."
"He has changed!" Chi Chi interjected, flushing as Kami looked to her. Surprise colored his features. "I mean—well… last night, he was just upset. Sure, he's a jackass, but Kami. He really has changed. For the better. He's not some teenage snot running loose on the streets."
Kami frowned. "I suppose."
"What's… what's wrong, Kami?"
"I guess I just…" he sighed, finishing off his cereal. He took her bowl as well—she hadn't really been done, but he looked distracted enough that she allowed it. "I'm just a bit bitter, I suppose. And that's awful of me. I always hoped that I would be able to guide Junior along in this life. Be there for him, do you understand? Yet all of his growth happens while I'm not there." His smile was sad as he glanced out the window. "Ah, listen to an old man complain."
"You're all right," Chi Chi said, standing to join him. "I understand completely." He looked at her, confused. Outside the window, she could see Gohan assisting Junior cleaning the truck, while a grumpy old Namek stood nearby. "I've been trying for so long to work with Gohan. To make sure he always felt special. But," she licked her lips, "Junior's the one that drew him out. It wasn't me. It wasn't his mother. In the end I—well, I didn't really do anything." She looked to him, and saw some expression dawning on his face. She placed a soothing hand on his frail shoulder. "But sometimes it takes someone from the outside. Someone who's not personally involved. Someone that can bring something new and vibrant into their lives."
"I believe I understand," Kami said slowly, closing his eyes. "I guess you are right. I am too intrinsically twined with all of Junior's problems." He gave a soft chuckle. "I was fighting a losing battle from the beginning."
"They're both healing," she said, inclining her head to the boys. "Give it time."
Junior was soaking wet—but at least Mori wasn't breathing down in his neck in disapproval any longer. His pants clung tightly to his form and squished with each movement. Beside him, he heard Gohan giggling, his own attire in a similar fashion.
"C'mon, brat," Junior grunted, grabbing the boy by the scruff. Gohan squealed and threw his arms out, happily going along with the ride. Junior soon positioned them at a solar port in Kami's backyard. It was much more natural than the one in Dende's apartment—plant life covering it as it was secluded in shrubs. The harsh metallic shell was completely green, making it blend in. Junior flopped down on the bench, ignoring the squelch that came from it. He plopped Gohan down beside him, but was careful to nudge the boy with his foot to the very edge.
Gohan frowned, and puffed of his cheeks.
"Trust me, kid, our skin can't take the heat of this thing," Junior said, smacking the button to start it up. A loud hum filled the air. "You'll be burnt to a crisp. Sit on the edge—there should be enough heat to dry you off anyways."
"Ok…" Gohan scooted to the edge of the metal plating, his soft little Namek shoes still dripping into the grass. "Hey, Mr. Junior?" He grunted in response. "Well… did you really steal that man's truck?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I wanted to."
"But why? Stealing's wrong."
Junior groaned and rolled his eyes upwards. "Kid—what the hell difference does it make? I just did something stupid. So what?"
"So the Mr. Junior that I know isn't stupid," Gohan protested, his little fist pummeling the metal. He hissed, pulling his singed palm up to his mouth. Junior knew it wasn't enough to have really hurt the boy—it had probably just stung a bit.
"I wanted to steal it. So I did. I used to do this shit all the time, brat," Junior grumbled, his clothes growing hot around him as water slowly evaporated. He tried to enjoy the warmth, but he couldn't with Gohan's petulant face still glowering at him.
"But you're not like you used to be," Gohan protested.
"I apparently haven't changed that much."
"Yes, you have!" Gohan's face was looking a little red, though something told Junior it wasn't from a sunburn.
"No, I really haven't," Junior snarled. "Look, it doesn't matter, does it?"
"It matters to me! You're real smart! And you think stuff through! And—and—well, you're supposed to be super rad… but you're not acting rad. You're acting bad."
"Are you a poet now?" Junior was growing frustrated, glowering at the boy.
"Stop being a booger-face!"
"Stop using that words like it means something!"
"Stop being one then!"
They both glared at one another, eyes boring into the other. Junior set his jaw. He was beginning to prefer the silent kid that Gohan had been originally. He was wondering why in the hell the kid had grown a backbone, but then he recalled that was his own fault.
He cursed inwardly.
And outwardly for that matter, much to Gohan's chagrin.
"You've been acting like a total jerk here." Gohan frowned. "This isn't Mr. Junior."
"Mr. Junior isn't a real person!" Junior snapped, as he slammed a fist into the bench. The little boy took a step back, fear present as he bit his lip. Junior was certain he saw tears boiling up in his eyes. He felt as if he'd been punched square in the chest. What did he look like, right now? He couldn't see himself reflected in Gohan's eyes, but he could just imagine.
A monster.
Junior dropped his head, his eyes clenched tight.
"Mr. Junior…" Gohan's voice was a whisper, and Junior didn't look to see him standing there. Alone and sad in the grass, just now drying off. "You are a real person. You're real to me. Just because," his voice broke off, "just because you were Ma, or Piccolo, or whoever—that doesn't mean anything to me. You're my Mr. Junior."
Junior pressed his lips into a thin line. "Kid." He sounded so ragged. So beat down. He forced a broken laugh out of his mouth. "How'd you get so smart? I know your parents. That's not genetics."
"I'm not in the mood for jokes," Gohan stated. His tone was frosty, and Junior grimaced. "I know that's what you do. You do it to mom, don't you? And to Kami? You say something mean, or try to shrug it off. Well, you're not doing it to me!" His lips trembled. "I've had enough of being deceived."
Junior felt thoroughly shamed—and the fact that it was coming from a small child was not lost on him. He could feel his antennae practically drooping from the weight of it. The kid had definitely inherited his lecturing skills from his mother. Milk and Gohan had an inherent ability to make you feel like absolute shit, he decided.
"Fine," Junior grumbled. "What do you want me to say? That I'm stressed about being here. That having to look Kami's wrinkled, ugly mug in the face makes me want to hurl? That having you and your mother here while my brother is running rampant is making me want to rip my skin off?" He pressed his fingers to his temple.
"Yes," Gohan spoke. He looked like he desperately wanted to hug Junior, but knew that if he got too close he'd be burned. "Me 'n mom are here for you, Mr. Junior. You're not alone." He bit the inside of his mouth. "And I think if you'd give Kami a chance, he'd be there for you, too…"
"What the hell do you know?" Junior snarled, but his voice lacked any fire.
"Kami thinks me 'n you have more in common than you think." Gohan crouched down, fingers tugging at the blades of grass.
"Oh, yeah? And what could that old shit have possibly conjured up?"
"He thinks that we both know what it's like to have dads that aren't that great," Gohan murmured. "Dads that maybe don't show their love the best of ways."
Junior didn't really have a response for that.
Bulma was at work, bent over a computer that she was working on. It was something military based—she hadn't bothered with specifics. She didn't need them. Her father was personally handling that little fiasco, and thus she hadn't really felt compelled to know more. Her parents had been insufferable here lately, anyways, so the less time she'd spent during the briefing, the better.
She wanted to punch Vegeta in his stupid face for daring to tell her family. Now they were insistent upon butting their noses into everything.
Growling, she slammed her screwdriver down. She pushed her stool, the wheels carrying her across to the other side of the room, where she hastily scribbled down some notes. She was distracted as a series of loud thuds were heard in the hall, along with hysterical screaming. Bulma frowned, and stood up, just to have her door shoved open.
Rule One of Capsule Corp—don't fuck with Dr. Briefs (either of them).
She immediately had her hands on her hips, eyebrows scrunched low, mouth open, ready to screech and fire whoever it was that had assumed that they were important enough. She had just gotten back to work—Chi Chi's restaurant had slowly taken up more and more of her life, and just for the week she'd hired a nice little staff to run things for her break—and she was not looking to have it jeopardized.
Her rant was cut short, however, as the intruder was Vegeta. Several of her workers stood behind him, faces flushed as they scrambled to their feet. Their lab coats and suits were all dirty, obviously from a scuffle. Vegeta, however, stood triumphant—though he didn't really seem bothered by the scientists that had tried to halt him. He was hyper-focused on a catalog of some sort.
"Uh—Dr. Briefs," a young alien stood, his odd blue eyes gazing at her. "We uh—tried to stop him. He did not cooperate."
"He rarely does," Bulma grumbled to herself, as Vegeta continued to ignore everyone, and had instead plopped down on her stool. Cursing her luck, Bulma ran her hands through her hair, before waving a dismissive hand at the alien. "It's fine, Jaco. Go back to patrolling the area, please."
"Yes… uh, Dr. Briefs?"
"Yes, Jaco?"
"This won't result in a pay-cut, will it?" his laughter was nervous as he fiddled with the gun hanging at his side.
"No, Jaco," Bulma replied, crossing her arms. "Now, if you will—,"
"Yes ah… will you be safe, Dr. Briefs…?" he looked pointedly to where Vegeta had taken up residency. He finally seemed to notice Jaco, however, and his features dropped to a deep scowl.
"Beat it, pest. I have business with my wife." He made a jerking motion with his thumb, while Jaco's jaw hit the floor.
"Vegeta!" Bulma shrieked. "Look," she whirled to Jaco, "he's not my husband. Please ignore him. He's just an ass that's staying with me for a while."
Jaco gave a quick succession of blinks. "A-all right, Dr. Briefs. Just let me know if we need to add him to the banned list, like the last one." He saluted, then, and was off, tiny legs carrying him away as fast as possible.
Fuming, Bulma kicked the door shut, and whirled on Vegeta.
"What the hell is the—,"
"Who is the last one?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow up.
Bulma paused, flushed. She hadn't expected that. She didn't really want to tell him. But then she decided—why the hell would it matter if Vegeta knew?
"My first husband," Bulma said. "It was a joining of two families." She waited, expecting… something. Instead, Vegeta just inclined his head.
"Profitable marriages are normal."
Like ours.
"As for why I'm here," Vegeta flapped the catalog pointedly. "Your mother gave me this, and I must say we've been looking through here. She told me exactly what you can afford—which is everything. She has highlighted the ones that she prefers in yellow," he said distastefully, "mine are in pink. I do expect you to look over this. Your mother said it's very important to you Earth people that the ring be magnificent. Regardless of culture I refuse to be mocked." He tossed the waxy papers at her, and she caught it out of reaction more than anything.
"Vegeta," she ground out, "I don't care your reason, you can't just come barging into my work like this! And what the hell was that outside—did you physically attack my workers? Do you know that's paper work for me?"
Vegeta scoffed. "They tried to stop me, and I merely incapacitated them. You should be grateful. I'm trained to kill."
She frowned. "Well, not anymore, buddy-boy! You're going to be a well-adjusted citizen now. That means not wearing gym clothes everywhere," she pointed at his body, "and you can't just attack people anymore. You have to speak."
Vegeta sneered. "Then what should I have done, woman?"
"Said—I dunno, can I set up an appointment with Dr. Briefs. Something along those lines."
"An appointment!" Vegeta squawked. "I'm not some plebian! I'm not setting up an appointment!"
"I'm busy," Bulma argued, hands on her hips. "You'd be put on the list."
"I—," he was spluttering with indignation, "I'm your husband."
"Another thing—stop telling people that! I know you like to piss me off, but there are real world consequences to the shit you spout off." Bulma flicked her bangs. "I kind of like to use it to my advantage that I'm super-hot and single. It's great publicity—magazines eat it up. I can't have you trampling through that with your pride."
Vegeta's face was red, all five foot of him practically quivering as he glared up at her. "You vain, vulgar woman—,"
"Finish that sentence, buddy," Bulma snarled, stepping forward. Her finger prodded him in his chest as her lips puckered up into a menacing scowl. She knew he could probably kill her, but she'd be damned if he disrespected her in her own lab. There were enough electrical cords—she could probably zap enough to get him to back off if push came to shove.
Instead of fighting more, though, Vegeta seemed to calm himself—though not without effort, if the strain on his face was evidence enough. His teeth were gritted as he hunched his shoulders up, crossing them over his chest as he glared at her feet.
She released some of the tension out of her own shoulders, and placed a pacifying hand onto his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," she grumbled. "I was a bit harsh. I'll let my secretary know that you have free passage to see me."
"I don't want to come visit you often," Vegeta griped. "You just needed the catalog."
"Of course," Bulma smiled, tipping her head to the side. She knew she could never tell him, but his diminutive size made him all the more adorable. In her high ass heels, the sight of him pouting couldn't be taken as intimidating. It was amazing thinking that this man in front of her had probably killed someone. "I'll look over the catalog." She held up her pinky to him, and he gave her a befuddled look.
"The hell…?" His nose wrinkled up, and she rolled her eyes.
"A pinky promise," she said. "Wrap your pinky around mine—and if you break a promise you have to break your pinky."
"A blood oath," he said solemnly, lifting his finger to hers. She almost retracted, her face twisting.
"Ew—Vegeta, no. It's just something you teach little kids. Don't be a weirdo." Bulma couldn't help the smile on her face though as Vegeta huffed, his thick pinky meeting hers. His skin was such a sharp contrast to her, and she could feel the callouses. His eyes latched onto her own, and she licked her lips.
"I expect a good ring," Vegeta said, pulling his finger away from hers. She coughed, and nodded. "Also… I let your mother mark her own so as to keep her quiet. Don't pick any of the stuff that doesn't have pink." He left then, tail trailing behind him, giving one final flick of good-bye as he exited.
Sighing, she bent over, picking up the catalog. She perused the pages—until she saw one, with pink and yellow clashing together on one particular ring. She chuckled, and picked up her own blue highlighter, smashing it in with the other colors.
With that done, she quickly tossed it onto the table, and got back to work.
It was late at night. Chi Chi had spent the day with Kami, perusing the old man's romance novel collection. He apparently had an inane amount—one that rivaled Chi Chi's own. Upon his request (and her lingering gaze) he'd leant her a few of the alien ones. Judging by the cover of one, it specifically dealt with a Namek male. He had warned her that Namekian copies had everything "distasteful" removed.
Gohan was snoring in the bedroom. She didn't know what had happened, but Junior and Gohan had come inside, despondent looks on their faces. Dinner had passed in stony silence, before everyone retired separately to their rooms. Chi Chi had taken the opportunity to grab one of the books—The Nameless Namek—and had taken up residence in the living room.
She had been reading for an hour or so when she was startled by the smell of smoke. She dropped her novel and shot down the hall, following her nose to Junior's room. Without thinking, she'd busted through the door, just to catch him sitting there with a cigarette in hand.
"Junior!" she hissed, and rushed over. He was startled, laying across his bed comfortably when the cigarette was snatched out of his hand. Chi Chi snuffed it out on the bottom of her shoe, before hastily tossing it out the window. She ignored his angry looks as she frantically waved her hand in the air. "I could smell this in the living room," she whispered angrily.
Junior gave her a bored look. "The hell were you in there for? I thought you went to bed with the kid?"
"No," Chi Chi frowned. "I was up reading. Gohan went to bed early, and I wasn't tired. Why are you in here smoking?"
Junior shrugged. He glanced at the ceiling, and Chi Chi huffed.
"What?" she demanded.
"I was expecting you to leave."
"Well, I'm not!"
"Obviously."
She stuffed her knuckles into her mouth to stifle a scream.
"What's your problem?" she demanded. "Last night you were being nice and then you…" she tapered off. "And then today, you were having fun with Gohan—next thing I know you're both coming in with sad faces. What the hell?" She approached the bed. It earned her a dismissive snort.
"You're reading too much into things."
"No, I'm really not. So what the hell?"
Junior shifted, the bed springs creaking underneath him. It wasn't an invitation, but she took it. Her rump perched carefully on the edge, as she twisted her torso to look at him. He gave her a discomfited look.
"Milk—,"
"Junior." Chi Chi's palm pressed into the mattress. "Look I—," she broke off, then continued, "you may be a complete ass but… you're a friend now. I'm worried about you."
He stared at her for a long moment, and she felt her anger mounting again. But then he dropped his head suddenly.
"Yeah. I guess you're a friend, too. Probably the first one I've ever had." His chuckle didn't sound nearly as tried as she thought it might. Something warm blossomed in her, though, at his words. She quickly reigned it back in, trying to focus.
"Well, since I'm you're first friend… Friends talk to one another about what's bothering them." She tilted her head. "You listen to me blubber about Goku—and my troubles about Gohan. Why don't you try opening up for once…?"
He stared at the ceiling. "I don't know what to say," he admitted, frank honesty on his face. His palms were splayed wide, facing upwards as they rested on his thighs. He was back in his Namek garb.
"That's okay," Chi Chi murmured. She could see him relaxing, and she didn't want to jeopardize that. "Why don't you start with why you and Gohan are fighting?"
"The kid pointed out some hard truths." Junior's smile was bitter. "Your little bastard is one smart kid." He shushed her whenever she rose to Gohan's defense. "I'm not pissed at the kid. I certainly lashed out at him… I…" His brow furrowed. "I don't want to admit to the things that he's saying."
Chi Chi lifted a hand to his shoulder. It was small, and the chill of his arm almost made her retract. He seemed to tense momentarily from her touch, but didn't fight her.
"I have been acting like a boogerface since we've been here." Junior shifted, lurching forward. The contact was broken, but he swung his legs out over the edge of the bed. His elbows went to his thighs as he hunkered forward. "I hate this place. I hate the way it makes me feel." His voice was low, but soft. "It brings back every memory I've tried to destroy. It breaks down the façade of Junior. Here I'm—I'm Piccolo, and everyone knows it." His words came out jagged, like knife cutting him. "I've tried so hard to destroy everything Piccolo, and being back here just drags it out."
"Why…" Chi Chi didn't want to sound accusatory, but it was almost her default by now. "Why did you choose to stay then? You could have gotten the bike and left."
"Gohan wanted to stay," he murmured, as if embarrassed. "You two looked at me with your stupid eyes and I didn't know—I just—," He clenched his eyes and fists tight, face scrunching up. "I don't want to disappoint anymore people in my life."
Chi Chi was shocked. "Junior," she admonished. She was off the bed like a rocket, her hands grasping his. He was startled as she held him, kneeling in between his legs as she looked into his eyes. Her knees bit into the carpet, peering up into his much larger face. "You aren't a disappointment," she scolded, releasing one of his hands in favor of giving him a sharp prod to the chest. "Gohan loves you, and I… well…" her grip tightened and her pointer finger faltered. She was almost certain she heard his breath stutter. "I like you. I guess we've been through enough hell for me to admit that."
Junior stared at her. "Chi Chi," the use of her real name gave her pause, "you don't understand. When I lost to your husband…" She didn't think about the fact that she was still holding his hand, even as his grip tightened compulsively around her, "I lost everything. My father he—I was disowned. I became worthless. I couldn't avenge him, Chi Chi—I was his strongest child and I failed him, I—,"
"Junior," she whispered. He looked panicked, like he was on the verge of breaking down. She rose, and just like she would do with Gohan, she slowly pulled him in. He jerked as his cheek touched her collar bone, and her arms were wrapped around him. "Junior. I'm telling you right now—if any parent thinks that way, then they're shit, and you don't owe them anything anyways. Any parent that's willing to tell you that wasn't worth pleasing in the first place."
His shoulders sagged, and she felt his hands clumsily grasp at her waist. He seemed incredibly unsure of what to do, but he let her hold him. She wished that she could truly let him feel the love that she and Gohan held for them—and she could admit that, to herself at least, couldn't she? That she couldn't imagine life without this strange man? It was wrong… she thought of Goku, but right now… Junior needed her more.
Chi Chi didn't know if he cried, or if he merely sat there. She didn't know, and she didn't want to. She merely held him until he seemed fit enough to pull lightly from her grasp, looking thoroughly embarrassed. She found she actually hadn't minded it that much—it was exactly like comforting a child.
Because that's all Piccolo and Ma Junior were—the remnants of a child. A child scorned and left behind.
She didn't ask him if he was okay. Instead, she held her hand out once more, but he shook his head. He seemed fine now, and when she stood again, it was with a soft smile on her face.
"I told you, that nobody is born for another person," she said, voice barely above a whisper, "but your actions certainly affect people. Your actions now—as who you are now, Junior—speak far greater than whatever your father said or did. But there is someone in your life that's been trying to tell you this for a very long time."
Junior said nothing, but she knew that he understood.
"I'm going to get some shut-eye," Chi Chi said, and Junior gave a minute nod. "Sleep tight, Green Bean."
"Shut the fridge when you leave, Milk." Junior's half-hearted response still brought a snort out of her. She hastily covered her nose, but when she turned to close the door, she saw that Junior had a half-smirk spread across his face.
Junior seemed in better spirits when the morning rolled around, and he even came out of his bedroom, holding up a swaddled piece of cloth as he approached the table. He knelt down beside Gohan, and proffered it to the boy.
Gohan stared at him, before slowly taking the cloth into his hand. It unrolled, revealing a cape with a neck kerchief sewn onto it. His eyes widened as he jumped from his seat, practically squealing as Junior quickly helped him into it. The little boy was over the moon with delight, and Chi Chi felt a smile grace her features. She met Junior's gaze, both of them sharing a private smile as Gohan twirled around. She was glad that her baby was young—young enough to forgive transgressions, and move on.
"It looks wonderful," Kami said happily, his wizened hands clasping one another. He tilted his head to Junior. "Ah, did you make it?"
"Yeah." Junior shifted, and scuffed his shoes against the tile. "I borrowed your sewing stuff. I hope you don't mind."
Kami blinked. "Oh, of… of course not, Junior. You are family. It is all yours."
Junior gave a curt nod, and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked like he swallowed something bitter—his pride, Chi Chi assumed.
"Why don't we take Gohan into town today? I'm sure he'd love to check out the local shops with you." Junior's face was set in a grimace, while Gohan's grin only grew larger. Chi Chi gave him an encouraging smile. She knew how much this was hurting him inside.
"Yes, of course," Kami stood, still looking completely befuddled. "Mrs. Son, please ensure your neck is covered before we leave," he said absentmindedly to her, taking off to grab his own kerchief to wind tight around his neck. Chi Chi rolled her eyes, but complied.
It wasn't long before they were in town, Gohan eagerly hanging on to Junior's finger as he gaped and pointed at everything. Chi Chi barely paid attention; Kami was explaining architecture and plant-life, and she honestly didn't care. She was more than happy watching Gohan soaking it all in, and Junior's face of abject disgust with himself.
She elbowed him, earning her a nasty look.
"I'm fine," he muttered.
"Come, young one!" Kami said with sudden enthusiasm. "I will show you Porunga's Statue! It is quite magnificent." With vigor Chi Chi hadn't known the man possessed, he'd taken off, cane clipping against the sidewalk as Gohan followed. Junior and Chi Chi, both with similarly exasperated look, lingered.
"You look like you're hating every minute of this," Chi Chi said.
Junior snorted. "That obvious?" His mouth tipped down into a frown, as he shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever. I'll probably be back to myself tomorrow. Don't get used to this easy life-style."
"Don't worry—I don't expect to be spoiled." She laughed, tipping her head back to look at him. The sunlight was nice and warm on them—and Junior's skin was looking particularly vibrant. For once, his surly face was at least somewhat at ease, the brows not scrunched into harsh lines.
"Let's hurry up. I'm sure the brat is going to be over the moon about seeing Porunga." Junior rounded the corner with Chi Chi, just in time to see a gathering of Nameks all around a giant statue. It took her a moment to realize that everyone was keeping their distance. Then she noticed—Tambourine was sitting on the pedestal.
Behind him, a huge statue rose up, a huge marble monstrosity that looked like a dragon. Its snout was curled inwards, and its musculature was terrifying. It was larger than any monolith she'd seen, with large orbs carved down by its tail. That was where Tambourine sat, his jaw jutted forward.
Chi Chi approached, her and Junior coming to stand in front of Gohan and Kami.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, a red hot pulse building behind her eyes. She wasn't a forgiving person. She did take pride in the fact that his face was still incredibly swollen. He glanced at her, one of his eyes bulbous and shut.
"I'm allowed to sit here. It's a public space, lady," Tambourine snapped. He turned sharply, his knees up by his chest. He glared at the stone, his hands formed into fists by his side. Beside her, Junior placed a hand on her shoulder, motioning for her to go with Kami and Gohan.
He walked up to Tambourine, his shoulders squared. He was much larger than his brother—she felt rather deceived. Other than her beat-down on him, he'd always been in the air. He'd looked massive, something inhuman. But his face had been flesh when she'd brought her fist down, and now she could see he wasn't intimidating at all.
Junior reached out, and grasped Tambourine by the back of his shirt. His wings popped out as he struggled in Junior's grasp. The Namekian merely jerked, dragging him to his feet.
"We're going to go talk, brother," Junior snarled.
Tambourine glared up at him. "Nice try, Ickle Pickle, but you can't exactly make me, can you? Just a soft, pathetic lump—gave it all up for some human pussy—,"
Junior slammed his fist into Tambourine's stomach. She felt her own hands clench up, and she wished she could see Junior's back. As it was, she was just left staring at his broad back. Tambourine doubled over, practically choking on his words.
"Gohan's promise only exists so long as someone doesn't threaten them," Junior said, tone even, "which, I'll count that as you hurting Milk. I'm sure she won't complain."
"My only issue is I didn't get to clock him myself," she ground out.
Junior tilted his head back. "Is that all right, Gohan?"
Gohan nodded sharply, his mouth puckered into a pout as he grasped at the back of Chi Chi's pants.
"Mr. Vegeta's used that word. It's not nice."
"Good ear, kid." Junior returned to his brother, hefting him up high enough to where his toes left the ground, and he was eye-level with him. "Now, brother, we're going to talk. Kami—Gohan's been real eager for Porunga. Make sure he enjoys it."
"Of course," Kami promised, inclining his head.
Junior pulled Tambourine towards a deserted street, releasing his brother. He shoved him backwards, and crossed his arms to stare down at Tambourine.
"Speak."
"About what?" Tambourine sneered.
"About this will or what the hell ever you're harassing me over."
Tambourine balked. "Are you shitting me? The will—our father's will! When the old bastard kicks it, you're the only one written in."
Junior blinked, attempting to hide his shock. Inside, he could practically feel the rising urge to vomit. "You're mistaken. He disowned me after my fight with Son Goku."
"The hell? No, you moron! I've seen it!" Tambourine balled his hands up into fists. "You—you're not even what he wanted!" he cried out, the eye Chi Chi had wounded looked sickening. "You're actually Namekian, fully! Like, how disgusting can you be!"
Junior lowered the lids of his eyes, giving his brother a disparaging look. "Glad to see you're still as pleasant as ever. But our father's decisions have nothing to do with me. Last I heard, I wasn't even a part of his family anymore." Again, he felt queasy, as Tambourine squawked in indignation.
"It has everything to do with you! I want to know what you did to weasel your way back in with him? What the hell did you say to him to get him to put you back in?" Tambourine pointed an accusatory finger his way, wings splayed out. Junior saw that one of them was looking a little worse for wear.
"I didn't do anything," Junior threw his arms out in exasperation, his ears flicking. "I haven't spoken to the bastard in—hell, years! I've been getting harassed by Kami to go see his carcass, but I couldn't even be bothered to do that. I don't want shit to do with this family. I have enough money anyways, without him or his will."
Junior felt a headache practically bursting at his temples. He hated this. Hated his brother, and his whole damn family. But of course it had to be Tambourine that came to visit. Piano he could have easily handled, Drum was just a moronic brute… but no, it had to be Tambourine that came to be a thorn in his side.
Tambourine seemed unconvinced, his jaw set at a mutinous angle.
"Fine, little brother. Keep being a money grubbing brat for all I care."
"Aren't you the one harassing me because you didn't get enough money?"
"Shut your mouth!" Tambourine snapped. He flapped once, twice, and lumbered into the sky. He looked rather ungraceful as he wobbled through the air. Junior watched him go.
"The great dragon Porunga leads our souls," Kami was talking to Gohan, who was listening. He seemed enraptured. Chi Chi, however, was bored. She crossed her arms, and stared after where Junior had disappeared with Tambourine. She wished she could pummel him down a little more. They'd been gone for a minute, and Chi Chi was growing concerned.
"What are those giant things at the bottom," Gohan reached out and touched the stone.
"Those are the Dragon Balls. It is said that a Namekian hand-crafted them, and Porunga bestowed upon them the gift of wishes. When gathered, you may have three wishes."
"Gather them?"
"Well, they had to be scattered. A gift from Porunga may not be called upon every day. A meeting and wish from him would be an honor—finding the balls would be a test of your mettle, to prove that you were so loyal and persistent in your need." Kami smiled, his gaze lifted to the sky.
"That's pretty rad," Gohan whispered in awe. He turned around, catching sight of Junior returning. He shot forward, throwing himself to Junior for a hug. "Hey! Did you know about Porunga?! Do you think we could get a wish?!"
"There's no way you could carry all the luggage your mother would pack for that trip," Junior snorted. He looked to her, an infuriating smirk on his face. She shoved her tongue out.
That night, they huddled up in Junior's room. Chi Chi felt giddy—like a child, as Junior set the projector up, casting the large picture onto a sheet that he'd hung. After the fiasco (and Kami's anger) from Junior's theft escapades the previous night, he'd opted, instead, to turn the volume real low and have it set up in his room.
With Gohan tucked in, Chi Chi had come over. Junior had thrown a pillow and blanket on the ground, which Chi Chi gladly took over. She'd found out that Kami had actual kernels to make popcorn with, and had immediately made her favorite movie treat.
"Come on," Chi Chi whispered, wagging the bowl at Junior as he took his seat next to her. He gave it a disdainful look, but she tutted. "Nuh-uh. You might actually like this," she pushed. "You can eat it, too. Kami said Namekians handle vegan food perfectly fine."
Junior curled up his nose. "I've had your human food," he muttered, glancing at the bowl. "My father made it a point to eat steaks." Junior looked revolted. "He would throw up all the time—anything to keep up with Freeza, though." He rolled his eyes, but relented, taking some of the popcorn into his hand.
The movie rolled, and Chi Chi saw in her peripheral vision that Junior had dipped his hand back into the bowl for a second handful. She smiled, and realized how comfortable she was. For all of her frustrations with Junior… he was there. No matter how surly, no matter how tired, he always managed to be there for her and Gohan. Nothing seemed to distract him from them.
She thought, briefly, of after she had divorced Goku. As painful as it was to think about it, she was set on doing it. And there was going to be an after… she looked at him, watching the light flicker across his sharp features. She thought, fleetingly, of what it would be like with him. He certainly showed that he was a capable father. He was attentive to her, even though they were friends—in spite of their harsh words to one another.
But he was young. She swiftly turned away, staring down at her lap. Young compared to her, and too young to involve himself in her and Gohan's mess. It was certain to be a disaster field with Goku officially gone, too. She didn't know how Gohan would handle it. Hell, she didn't know how she would handle it when time came to put pen to paper.
She was too old, and a mother now. She couldn't go throwing caution to the wind because something seemed like a good idea. And she certainly wouldn't drag someone else into it behind her.
"Careful Milk," Junior whispered, catching her attention, "you're going to boil over thinking so hard."
"Oh stuff it, green bean," she retorted, without much heat. "I'm capable of thought."
"Just not often," he smirked, and she punched his shoulder.
"Very funny. And you're one to talk—you don't seem to be thinking at all! What the hell was that mess with your brother?"
"He thinks I pushed my way into my father's graces since I'm on the old shit's will." Junior shrugged.
"The—The Demon King's will?" Chi Chi forgot herself for a moment, and said it out loud. Junior shushed her, flicking his ears as he glanced to the door.
"Geez, you harpy—was that necessary?"
"Was name-calling?" she huffed.
He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "But, yes. The Demon King's will. Whatever. I told you, I have plenty of money. It's not an issue."
"You're so nonchalant about money," she chastised. "You and Bulma! And ohh that Goku—he couldn't care less whether or not he gets a pay check!" She wrung her hands together. "How are you all so okay with this?"
Junior shifted, and looked slightly guilty. "I've never had to," he grumbled. "Is that such a bad thing?"
"Of course it is!" she hissed, forcibly reminding herself to keep her voice hushed. "How can you not realize that some people don't have money?"
Junior flushed. "I know people don't have money," he argued.
"I mean—I run the restaurant until I can't move anymore, all so I can send Gohan to a good college. In the meantime, I'm looking into academies for him while he's still young. I have to pay for all of my father's medical bills, too. All with money that I work hard for." Chi Chi glared at him.
"You could have money for Gohan's school, if you—,"
"I don't want your hand outs," she spat. He physically recoiled. "I work hard because I have to. Because I need to. Because it's how I was raised. My father works his fingers to the bone out on his farm, and I plan to do him proud in turn." She crossed her arms since she couldn't plant them on her hips while sitting.
"I worked for my money," Junior protested. "I fought."
"Nice try, dear. I know how much fighters make."
Junior crinkled up his nose. "Exactly. Fighters make an asinine amount of money. I don't understand why your husband doesn't make more."
Chi Chi grimaced. "I… didn't get to read Goku's contract before he signed it. He said he didn't care about the money, and his manager Roshi listened…" She sighed, rubbing at her temples. "So I'm keeping this family afloat."
"It's…" Junior shifted, flexing his hands. "It's not a hand out," he said. "I'm not offering you this out of charity, or because I don't think you can handle this. I know you work hard—I've… I've seen you sweaty and gross and smelly, working in that dump."
Chi Chi pursed her lips. "Gee. Thanks."
He snorted, and waved her off. "Whatever. My point is—this isn't a handout. I won't help with your father, fuck him, I don't know him. But I will help with Gohan. That little boy…" His voice trailed off, and he cleared his throat, attempting to bring back his gruff tone, "he deserves the best. And I want to do anything that would give him that."
Chi Chi stared, and fidgeted with her hands in her laps. "I mean… you didn't have to say 'fuck him' about my father," she finally whispered. "That part was a little unnecessary."
"Milk. Did you just ignore everything good that I said?"
"I mean. It's so rare that it happens," she smiled, "I couldn't quite respond properly."
He groaned, and dropped his chin into his hands. His knees were up, and he glared at her. "Regardless. If you end up finding some place to send Gohan. I'll help. I mean it."
"I believe you," she said, nodding at him. "But I did mean what I said. You need to be warier of your money. It's not going to last forever."
"Excuse you," he tutted, "I'm apparently in a will."
Chapter
"I Didn't Ask for This"
"I don't understand." Vegeta stared, blank faced, at Bunny. She had seated herself across the table from him, and was currently interrupting his third lunch—and he didn't appreciate it. However, unlike her shrieking daughter, Bunny didn't chastise him when food dribbled out of his mouth while he talked, so he could continue to eat during the interaction.
It was the one saving grace.
"Well, honey," Bunny tittered, pointing at the glossy pages, "you can't expect to get married in your spastic shorts, huh? I mean, while you look fabulous in them, it's not very fitting."
He shoveled more food in his mouth, and pointedly glared at her. "Why should I have to dress up? The woman agreed—that's all there is to it. We just need to sign the documents, correct?"
"No, no!" Bunny gasped, as she covered her mouth with her hand. "Bulma is an heiress to her father's company, honey! She can't just run off and sign some sheet at a courthouse! We're going to have the huge white wedding," she began ticking off her fingers, "we'll need to invite the paparazzi. Bulma got married once before, so I'm hopin' to really wow them this time, so they don't go bad mouthin' her!"
Vegeta looked offended. "Who would bad-mouth a queen?"
Bunny squealed. "Oh—what a cute nickname! You two are gonna be so sweet! So now, honey, do you wanna pick your tux, or would you like me or Bulma to choose it?"
He scoffed. "I don't care. You or the woman do it."
"I'm not doing shit." Bulma entered the room, and Vegeta choked on his food. She was wearing nothing but a sports bra and workout shorts, and he could feel his face practically glowing as he ducked his head down. "What are you guys talking about?" She grabbed poptarts off the top of the fridge, giving Vegeta's plates a look of distaste.
"Oh, Bulma, honey, I cooked food!" Bunny protested.
"Yeah. I can see it," she wrinkled up her nose. "No thanks. So what were you talking about?"
"Veggie's tux," Bunny said, lifting the magazine. "D'you wanna pick, honey?"
Bulma shrugged. "Anything that'll make him look less like…" she was staring at him, and Vegeta growled in her direction. He tucked his tail tightly around his waist, attempting to hide the weird feeling in his gut. Vegeta didn't have feelings, dammit.
"Well, I guess I'll pick it," Bunny huffed, obviously frustrated with their lack of interest. "Have you picked your dress yet?"
"No, I'm waiting til Chi Chi gets back," Bulma replied, snagging a water bottle. She unwrapped her Poptarts, and shrugged. "I figured she'd like to a part of it. I'll snag her bridesmaid dress while I'm at it, too."
"Good, good. Now, I invited a lovely photographer! I'm sure the paparazzi will love a few shots. Remember to keep your chin up and your dress wrinkle free, especially for the kiss. We don't want any bad photos… Say, Veggie-dear, do ya think you could wear stacked shoes?"
Vegeta dropped his fork, shooting rapid gazes in between the two women. "What?"
"Stacked shoes, honey, y'know… Just to add some height for the photos—,"
"Not that!" he snarled, hand forming a fist on the table. "A kiss?!"
"Well, duh," Bulma rolled her eyes, brushing crumbs off of her chest. Vegeta stared. "It's kind of part of the ceremony."
He remained dumbfounded. "But. Why should I?!"
Bunny looked distraught. "Wha—Veggie-dear, she's gonna be your wife! You'll be doing a lot more than that… well… I figured you already had and…"
"Mom," Bulma cut in. "Let me have a moment alone with him."
Bunny stood up and left the room, and Bulma set her food down, crossing to where Vegeta sat.
"Dude—you're the one that went and blabbed your mouth to mom," Bulma muttered. She was keeping her voice low, in case her mother was listening in. "We could have just gotten some papers signed, but now you went and told my mom, my workers… It's gotta be legit now."
Vegeta could feel himself panicking, but he maintained his anger outwardly. "This is a human practice, then! I have no need to participate!"
"Too bad, bub. Should've kept your mouth shut." She planted a hand on the table, bending to give Vegeta a rather surly look. "Now you get to pucker up, prince." She sighed, though, and leaned back. "Look. If you're nervous about it, or scared, I can probably find a way to talk about it. We'll tell the press you're real old-fashioned."
Vegeta snarled. "I am not nervous. That is a despicable emotion that I do not feel." He tossed his head up, food abandoned in favor of glaring imperiously at Bulma. He didn't appreciate her insinuations—true or not. Vegeta was no coward, and he certainly couldn't back down from what he perceived as a direct challenge.
Bulma threw her hands up. "Whatever you say, short stack. I'm giving you an out."
"I don't need your out. I can kiss you. I can kiss anybody. Fuck it, I'd kiss my damn self. That's how unafraid I am." He crossed his arms, giving her a smug look.
Bulma stared. "How do you kiss yourself Vegeta?"
He hesitated, furrowing his brow. "You're struggling on the semantics," he snapped. "The point of this is that I am fully capable of any such stupid ritual!"
"Fine, fine," Bulma rolled her eyes, and strode back over to her abandoned breakfast. "Whatever you say. Just remember, when it's time to make the fish face don't cry."
"I would never," Vegeta growled, as Bulma took her leave. The moment she left though, he sat back in the chair, and inwardly cursed himself. What the hell was he thinking? He had never kissed another person before—well, technically Freeza that one time when they were younger but they didn't acknowledge that. One peck on the cheek and Vegeta still had nightmares.
But Bulma—that was a different matter. He still didn't understand what it was about the heiress that kept him here. Yes, she'd offered him freedom recently, but that didn't account for being in her presence, and going out of his way to interact with her. Sometimes, he felt as if he hated her, yet other times… he imagined being without her. Returning to a life of fighting, and a life without Bulma or her family seemed unimaginable. It was something out of the scope of reason for him.
To kiss Bulma meant… well, he didn't know what exactly it meant.
He glared down at his meal, as if it were to be personally blamed for his rampaging mouth and ego. He picked up his fork, and stabbed the meat, stuffing it in his mouth with a vengeance. There had to be a way to find out about kissing without alerting Bulma.
"So, you are all leaving tomorrow?" Kami stood on the porch, his hands folded amicably behind his back as he stared out at the sunset. Junior frowned, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he glared at the horizon. He didn't know whatever serene horse shit the old man got from it, but Junior was determined to rebel against it. Chi Chi may have chastised him thoroughly for being a complete ass, but old habits die hard.
"Yeah," he grunted. He shifted on his feet. He knew Gohan was presumably in the room, curled up with some mammoth book. Chi Chi was occupied with some weird novels that Kami had leant her. He was alone for once on this trip, and he found it had been spoiled by Kami.
"Mrs. Son told me about Tambourine," Kami said. He moved, slowly and creakily to sit on the porch steps, each movement looking as if it pained him. His cane followed shortly thereafter, placed across his lap as he grunted. "I'm not surprised at his pettiness."
"Well, father always was the best at making assholes." Junior had known from a young age that he and his siblings were complete fuck ups as far as Namekians went. Even Junior—who was born the "proper" way, had never been quite right. Never mind his brothers, who were all freak hybrids that his father had made to be strong.
"I believe you turned out all right," Kami chuckled, his face soft and open as he looked to Junior. Junior thought briefly of decking the old man.
"Then you're a fool."
"Look at you with Mrs. Son, and Gohan. You seem so lovely with them. It is rare to see you happy with anybody." Kami hummed, his ears flapping. "It is nice to see you have found people with whom you feel like you belong."
Junior thought of something bitter, mean, and nasty to say. But instead, he slumped his shoulders forward. "Yeah. I guess you're right. I sure as hell didn't want them but… I'm glad to have them."
"Sometimes the best blessings are the ones you didn't know you wanted," Kami said. He sat there, in amicable silence. Junior thought, fleetingly, of telling the old man that he hated him. That he hated that Kami was still alive and breathing when he didn't deserve it. He wanted to scream and rant—to blame the old man. Because Kami was his punching bag.
He knew it. Knew he didn't truly hate the old man. But there was so much anger that needed to be directed somewhere—and Kami had always been convenient, hadn't he? He'd always been there. And the fact that Kami allowed it filled him with the utmost disgust.
The more Junior thought of his emotions for Kami, and the more he attempted to pin down what he wanted to say (i'm sorry i hate you i wanted to love you i want you to die why can't you be sick instead) the closer he came to a decisive "fuck it". At this point in his life, he didn't really much care to change it.
"I'm going to head in," Junior said, and turned on his heel. He was going to say good night to Gohan, and possibly see if Chi Chi wanted one final movie night before the road. There was something nostalgic about holing up in a bedroom, watching movies with her, desperately keeping quiet like they were children. He knew it was pathetic, clinging to these small moments with the woman, but he wasn't going to stop. It all had to come crashing down one day, but in the moment, for once, Junior was concerned with his own happiness.
"Junior, would you like to sit with me? The sunset is quite beautiful," Kami spoke. His voice was strained, tentative. He seemed to croak, as if he realized this might be the last time Junior ever saw him. With his infrequent visits to the colony, and the fact that Kami's age was showing dramatically, there was no doubt that the old man was going soon. Junior's father would probably go first—but Kami was certainly following on a short lead.
"No," Junior said. He kept his back to Kami, and headed inside.
"I'm sad to see you all go," Kami sighed, as Junior, Chi Chi, and Gohan stood in the lawn. It felt odd, Chi Chi thought, to be leaving here. They'd been in the colony for about a week, and to see it gone so soon was disconcerting. Beside her, Gohan was sniffing back tears. The front of Kami's robe had already been thoroughly soaked earlier, and Chi Chi could see crusted snot drying on the outside of Kami's robes.
"Ukatz has a hitch ready for us," Junior said, ushering Chi Chi and Gohan along. She gave Kami a farewell wave, while Gohan gave a wet good-bye over his shoulder. Junior remained stoic as they went along.
It didn't take much time at all for them to receive their outside wear. Chi Chi was grateful to return once more to her human attire. Giant, baggy Namekian clothes were certainly not her choice of garment, and it felt lovely to feel wind on her neck again. Junior seemed satisfied as well with his grubby Converse and sweatpants. The only one unhappy was Gohan, who pouted until Junior fastened the cape over his shoulders, assuring him that he could keep it.
The Namekians seemed far laxer on those leaving the colony, and they were bundled up into the car. Gohan was soon fast asleep, his forehead smushed against the window as he drooled down the side of Junior's door.
Chi Chi made sure to take pictures. She glanced at her phone—apparently Bulma had some sort of huge announcement to make. Chi Chi had to admit her curiosity. She thought of calling her friend, but instead, she simply reclined her seat, and stared at the puffy clouds that rolled by.
Sweet tones of 80s hits rolled from the speaker. She glanced over, shooting Junior a rather poignant grin at his obvious distaste.
"The kid's asleep—can't I turn the junk off?" he asked, his fangs showing as he curled his mouth in disgust.
"No way, big boy," Chi Chi chuckled. "He's like an old lady with her soaps. If you touch the dial he's gonna snap awake."
"No," Junior said, tone disbelieving as he leaned forward. He clicked the button, rock pouring from the speakers. As soon as two notes came out, Gohan was up, staring blearily around the car.
"Hey… why'd'ja change it?" he demanded, voice muzzy through sleep.
Chi Chi smirked, as Junior reluctantly returned the other station. "Told ya," she chuckled. "What is that—33 to 28?"
Junior blinked. "Seriously—you're still doing that and… wait, when did I get such a boost in score?"
Chi Chi shifted. "Well, you've done a lot of things."
She saw Junior smile; a tiny, covert one. Gohan ripped a loud snore from the backseat, and Chi Chi burst into laughter. Junior managed a sneer.
Junior dropped the Son family off, and focused on unhitching the bike. With Nail and Dende being carless, and Chi Chi's hunk of junk being in the shop terminally, there were plenty of open spots out front. He pushed the bike into one of them, popping the kick stand as he did so. He gripped the handles, wondering when the next time he'd be able to get Chi Chi on it.
Smiling to himself, he walked to the car, and noticed she'd left one of her bags. He reached in, grabbing at the strap. He slung the tiny pink sack over his shoulder, and glanced towards her place. The restaurant was closed for the evening—she'd told him that it'd be up and running like normal the next day.
He dug into his pocket, and pulled out his copy of the key. He might as well run it over to her. He shut the car door, and headed over to Chi Chi's, making his way inside. As predicted, the place had been locked up. It was eerily quiet inside, dim and dark with no bustle from Chi Chi, or Bulma squawking.
He picked his way through the booths. Whoever Bulma had hired to maintain the place while they'd been gone had been doing an excellent job—though, with Bulma, he wasn't surprised. The heiress had probably done everything possible to hire only the best to manage the restaurant.
Upstairs, he heard voices, and he made his way up the flight. He inwardly cursed. He should have gone back inside to grab a movie or something. It felt odd—not to have Gohan and Chi Chi just with him, after their stay in the Namek colony. Not having a movie night, or tucking Gohan in felt somehow criminally wrong now.
He managed to feel some disgust at himself with how soft he sounded.
Junior reached the top of the steps, knuckles ready to rap on the door. He paused, however, as he recognized Chi Chi was—she was crying. He tensed, ready to rush in, when he realized he could hear another voice as well.
"Gee, Cheech! C'mon—don't cry! I missed ya, too!"
Junior felt his blood turn to ice. He was suddenly hit with a strong sense of nausea as he stared at the wood, as if the whorls could save him from this feeling. His whole body numb, Junior slowly set the bag down at the top of Chi Chi's steps, before making his way down.
He'd known it was coming. A time when Goku would return, and Chi Chi wouldn't just be a woman next door. When Gohan wouldn't be a bastard kid. And as fun as it had been to talk to Chi Chi about her potential divorce…
Junior was certain that he'd heard the smack of lips meeting clumsily behind closed doors. Doors that he shouldn't have been at—that he should never have even known to exist. He hadn't asked for this, but it had been given to him, just to be cruelly yanked away.
Because while he'd known it was coming, he hadn't been able to accept that it would be anytime soon.
He locked up behind him, and made his way back to Porunga's Post. He stared up at the sign, the carved wood reminding him of doors—doors where things that shouldn't be happened.
Porunga's had never been his home, the colony had always been foreign, his father's mansion a hellhole, and now the one place where he'd felt comfortable—Chi Chi's—wasn't viable anymore. A fake name, a fake home, fake family and friends that he'd convinced himself he actually deserved to have.
Junior stuffed his hands into his pockets, and shuffled in doors. He saw Nail and Dende, sitting at the living room table, talking amicably about their day. They invited him to join in, but he by-passed them in favor of heading up to his room.
As he sat on his bed, he caught sight of Xuanzang.
A symbol of Gohan's love for him—which in turn had been a symbol for Goku. With no anger behind it, Junior swung a hand out, and knocked the dragon from its perch. He was tired of dragon divinity and symbolism all together.
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