Chapter Two

A Girl Named Lime

It was seven am, and Gohan's alarm clock was screaming at him. Literally.

"GOHAN! GOHAN! IT'S TIME TO GET UP! WAAAAAAKE UUUUUUUUUP!"

Gohan groaned, ignoring his younger brother by burying his head further into the pillow, scrunching up his face in attempt to will himself back to sleep; but to no avail.

Currently, Goten was jumping up and down on his back, his chubby fists embedded in his long hair; tugging on the mane relentlessly in an effort to pull him from his slumber.

After twenty minutes of what only could be described as Monday morning hell, the teenager decided to put an end to his brother's onslaught.

"GOTEN!" Gohan snapped, shooting up in bed and causing the boy to let go.

"Yes?" Goten asked innocently, as remnants of the teenager's hair fell from his fingers.

The young saiyan sighed, pressing his hand to his head as he tried to adjust to the brightness of his bedroom, "How're you this much of a morning person?"

"Morning's?!" Goten's eyes widened with glee, "Morning's are the bestest big bwother! There's birdies and bweakfast and sunshine and cartoons and-"

Goten stopped suddenly, when Gohan pushed a finger to his lips.

"No Goten," Gohan breathed, ignoring the boy's befuddled expression, "just no."

"But-" he stared, yet Gohan shushed him, clamping his whole hand over Goten's mouth.

"Look, why don't you go and let Mummy know how much you love mornings?" urged the teenager, "I bet she'll love it so much that she'll let you watch all your cartoons before your school work!"

"She will?!" the younger halfling beamed, once Gohan removed his palm.

"I don't know," he pondered mockingly, "why don't you go and find out?"

"YAY!" the little boy cried, jumping from his brother's bed and hurtling out of the room.

Gohan waited for his retreating footsteps to reach the kitchen, before letting out a huge sigh and crashing back into his pillows for five more blissful minutes of undisturbed sleep.

Unfortunately for Gohan, five minutes of extra peace and quiet turned into fifty; subsequently making him horridly late for school. With a piece of toast stuffed in his mouth and his mother's voice ringing relentlessly in his ears; Gohan made the short flight over the mountain to school in Chazke Village.

At first, his mother was reluctant to send him to the local comprehensive; instead piling his desk with prospectuses from the likes of high achieving institutes such as Orange Star High School and West City Academy. In reality, the young saiyan was rather unenthusiastic about attending any school; yet his mother and Bulma had insisted, especially after he had spent the following months after the Cell Games holed up in his bedroom.

So Gohan and Chi-Chi had compromised; and to his delight she had allowed him to attend school with the friend he had made right before he had faced Cell, the green grocer's granddaughter; Lime Lao. He had in fact, seen the girl a few times in the summer before school had started, and Lime was sharp enough to know that it was not Hercule Satan that had beaten Cell. Still, she had kept his secret, along with her grandfather; and the two had been almost inseparable since beginning their were due to start their fifth year this September coming, which meant their teacher's were coming down hard on them in the lead up to their examinations.

Gohan blasted quickly over the small village; the Monday morning hustle and bustle thriving beneath him on the cobbled streets. Old, stone farming buildings span out beneath him, the teenager following the path up the rolling hills to the school.

Chazke Village Comprehensive was small, hosting a student capacity of just over a hundred, even though it's catchment area spread all across the Eastern Mountains. The majority of students were locals, though some; like Gohan, made the long trek from their rural homes to be educated.

Like the other buildings in the Village, the school was made of cold stone with an old thatched roof. It looked rather quaint, but was surrounded by large playing fields that were used for sports and break times.

Gohan landed carefully around the back of the school; where several students had parked their bicycles. Double checking there was no one around, the young halfling jumped over the back gates and into the empty gymnasium. He hurtled down the corridor to his classroom, skidding to a halt as he nearly missed the doorway.

Swearing under his breath as he realised the class had well and truly started, Gohan opened the rickety door when all heads suddenly snapped towards him.

"Ah, Mister Son, late again I see," Mister Paisley called from his desk.

Gohan forced a grin, "Sorry Sir, I overslept."

Paisley pursed his lips, dipping his head so that his spectacles slid to the end of his long nose. He was an older gentleman, perhaps nearing his retirement; and always wore brown tweet suits and reeked of peppermints and tobacco. He taught literature, and seemed just as bored with it as everyone else in fourth year; every month's beginning he would whip out a new book and assign every student to 'read in silence' and 'make notes'. It was the most pointless lesson Gohan had experienced, it didn't help that he had read most of the syllabus by the time he was seven.

What? He had to do something on the way to Namek.

"Indeed," Paisley said snidely, "Perhaps investing in an alarm clock would be most advantageous. We wouldn't want any more of my students to be subjected to that bed head of yours."

"Yes Sir," said Gohan through gritted teeth, ignoring the titter of laughter from his classmates as he attempted to flatten his hair and made his way to his seat.

"And need I remind you again Son to tuck that shirt in," Paisley called again.

The young saiyan rolled his eyes and did as he was told before sliding into his seat.

"Now," Paisley stated, clearing his throat, "if we could all continue to read in silence, we will be moving forward in our efforts to complete the Epilogue of 'War and Peace'. That is if you can stay awake this time Mister Son."

"I'll try my best Sir," chirped Gohan, earning him a few laughs and a scowl from Paisley.

A couple of minutes of silent reading from the humongous textbook in front of him, and Gohan felt himself being nudged in the ribs.

"He's right you know," came a girlish whisper in his ear, "maybe you do need a new alarm clock, Goten obviously isn't working."

The halfling looked to his right with a wry smile, "Are you suggesting that I trade in my little brother for a new one?"

"I'm just saying," shrugged Lime, "Kid wakes you up at dawn on a Sunday, who would want an alarm clock like that?"

Gohan grinned at his best friend as she smiled back, flipping her long auburn hair over her shoulder. Lime had fully outgrown her pigtails; her curly locks now falling to her waist. Like Gohan, she had made a few alternate adjustments to her appearance, more noticeably the streak of violet she had running through her messy fringe.

Her pretty turquoise eyes were still framed by small freckles underneath, something that Gohan had first noticed about her when he saved her from the ravine over four years ago. She wore her school uniform in the same scruffy manner as he, her tie loose around her neck and her buttons undone around her collar. Her blazer was discarded due to the heat of the day; and she wore her school skirt short with knee high grey socks and chunky black biker boots.

She sighed deeply, chewing on the end of her purple gel pen; because 'biro was too conformist'. Bangles of many colours and ties of fabric adorned her wrists; they clacked heavily on the table as she flipped through the pages in her textbook. Her eyes had barely skimmed the page she was reading when she turned to him again, "So how was yesterday?"

"Rubbish, like always," grumbled Gohan, resting his chin on his hand.

They jumped slightly, when Mister Paisley made a harsh shushing noise in their direction.

"Oh I don't know," Lime whispered after Paisley had returned to his reading, "It seemed like you had a more interesting day than me, or at least The Gold Fighter did."

Gohan groaned, "Oh no, not you too."

"What do you mean?" she scoffed, "It was all over the national news!" She straightened up, putting on a reporter-like voice, "The Gold Fighter escapes again! Superhero? Or Supervillian? You decide! DUN DUN DUUUUUUN!"

"I'm not a-!"

"Son! Lao!" The teenagers quickly snapped their heads back to their reading, as Mister Paisley scolded them; his eyebrows knitted into a deep frown. "Don't make me separate you two again."

"Yes Sir," "Sorry Sir," they mumbled, as Paisley gave them a satisfied nod.

"I'm not a superhero, or a supervillian," whispered Gohan after a moments silence, "I told you, I'm a vigilante, it's different!"

Lime snorted, her gaze still on her work, "Whatever, you still wear tights."

"I do NOT wear tights!" Gohan fumed, before realising that the class had become eerily silent. Sure enough, all heads had turned towards him; including Mister Paisleys.

"Thank you, Mister Son, for informing the entire class of your state of dress," he said shortly, his eyes narrowed in disapproval, "Now if you would be so kind as to stand outside, we will discuss the matter of your cross-dressing after the lesson has concluded."

Ignoring Lime who was struggling to contain her laughter, Gohan grabbed his rucksack and stormed out of the classroom. Once the door had slammed behind him, he dropped his bag on the floor and leaned against the wall in a huff.

But the young saiyan's solitude didn't last long, as no more than five minutes later did the classroom door swing open, and Lime skipped happily out into the corridor.

"What are you doing?" he asked, as the girl took her place beside him against the wall. She was about a head shorter than he, which he was particularly pleased about, as up until the new year, she had spent the majority of their friendship being taller than him.

Lime looked up at him with a wicked smile, "Making sure you're not getting too lonely out here by yourself."

Gohan raised his eyebrows at her.

"What?" she scoffed, folding her arms across her chest, "Be thankful you've got such a good friend that will get into trouble especially for you."

Gohan laughed, "What did you say to get sent out?"

"Tcchh, I'm not telling you all my secrets," she winked, tapping her nose with her finger.

"That's not fair, I've told you all mine," he pouted.

Lime grinned, "I don't see how thats my problem, blondie; come on, lets get a shift on and get out of this hell hole."

Lime pulled on his arm, leading them up the corridor and away from the classroom.

"But we've only been here half an hour!" Gohan stated in a harsh whisper, stopping the pair in their tracks.

"And have you learned anything useful?" she asked, whirling around and placing her hands on her hips.

"No…"

"Well then!" She beamed, linking his arm with her own, "I say that we've fulfilled our education for today, lets go!"

Escaping the old building wasn't nearly as difficult as Gohan had originally thought; lessons were still in progress which meant the hallways were empty of staff and students alike. They made the twenty minute walk to the outskirts of the Village, making a short stop to one of the local chip shop's. It was Lime's treat, as usual; as she made some earnings working with her grandfather in his business, although Gohan never really felt comfortable with her buying things for him.

After she had forcibly shoved a cone of chips in his hands, the two teenager's headed to a small lake at the edge of the forest that ran around the outside of the settlement. Their shoes and socks were discarded as they dipped their feet in the cool spring water; the mid-morning sun beating down heavily upon them as they ate and chatted.

"Ahh, this is the life," Lime cooed, chucking her empty cone over her shoulder and laying down on the emerald green grass. Her long hair shone brightly in the sunshine, strands of gold and copper fanning out around her as she breathed in the pine scented air of the forest.

Gohan chuckled, kicking his feet so that ripples rocked the waters edge. "Yeah," he breathed, casting his gaze over the cloudless sky, before a cigarette was thrust into his hand.

"Want one?" asked Lime, her lips holding her own as she propped herself up on her elbow.

"Thanks," he smiled, taking it from her and lighting them both with a small spark of ki from his finger.

They smoked in silence for a while, the tranquil sounds of the trickling water and rustling of the surrounding trees filling their senses.

"So I didn't have such a great day yesterday either," said Lime, flicking some ash onto the ground.

"Oh?" he pressed, tilting his head to look at her.

"Yeah," she sighed heavily, "My Dad rang."

Gohan raised an eyebrow, taking another drag of his cigarette. Lime very rarely spoke of her parents, it was a rather touchy subject. The young saiyan had thought it curious that the girl's parents were never around, as he distinctly remembered her grandfather mentioning that an imperfect Cell had killed them when he arrived at Chazke Village.

When he had asked, his best friend became very defensive. And as it turned out, the only reason her mother and father were in the village that fatal day, was to ask her grandfather for more money. Gohan was surprised to find that they had abandoned Lime with her grandfather when she was a baby, in favour of continuing their dangerous lives as bandits.

Apparently, they needed more money for supplies, so had stopped off at Mr Lao's shop; and when he had refused them they left, running directly into Cell's murderous path.

Death, apparently, had no effect on them by means of wanting to stay with their family. They had soon up and left the girl again, and Lime hadn't heard from her parents for a couple of years now.

"What did he want?" asked Gohan, frowning.

Lime shrugged, throwing her cigarette stub on the ground, "I dunno, I answered the phone and once I realised it was him, I hung up."

"Probably for the best," he concluded, as the girl's features suddenly became deflated. "You know, the offers still there if you want me to rough them up a little.." he smirked, causing Lime to chuckle.

"No thanks," she smiled, looking towards him, "Even though it would probably scare the life out of them, they're still my parents I suppose."

Gohan nodded, offering her a small smile.

"Besides, I don't think The Gold Fighter needs any more bad publicity."

Gohan scoffed, tossing his cigarette stub into the lake and folding his arms across his chest, "Any publicity is good publicity Miss Lao."

"And who the bloody hell do you think you are?" she laughed heartily, "Mister sodding Satan?!"

"Oi!" he growled, "That's not fair! You never know, a Gold Fighter action figure might soon be available at a local supermarket near you."

Lime roared with laughter, "Imagine that! A Gold Fighter doll!"

"Not a doll," Gohan scowled, "An action figure. For manly fighting games."

"Yeah yeah, call it want you want, its still a doll."

"You are not my favourite person today," he stated.

"Now we all know thats a lie," she beamed offering him another cigarette.

Gohan glared at her, but took one anyway, "You can't bribe my friendship you know."

"Yes I can," she smirked as he lit up again.

The halfling rolled his eyes, taking a long drag of his fix.

"So tell me," quirked Lime, reaching over and flicking his earlobe with her finger, "What did your mum say when she found out about your stretcher?"

"Ow!" he whined, rubbing his ear, "It's still sore you know."

Lime snorted, "I told you you had to build up to a four, you can't just ram one in your ear; super-powered half-alien or not."

Gohan glared at her, as she smoothed her hair behind her own ear. Lime in fact, had both of her ears stretched; although her grandfather hadn't really noticed. The young saiyan wasn't too sure whether Mister Lao was going a little bit blind or had just ignored them altogether; he had a reputation of being too soft on his granddaughter.

"So come on, how was it?" she pressed, cocking her head to one side.

Gohan sighed, "It was bad, I thought she was going to rip my earlobe off when she saw it."

"Ouch," she replied, taking in another drag, "Worse than when she found that pack of cigarettes in your sock draw?"

"Give or take," he shrugged, pulling his rucksack towards him and taking out a can of cola.

Lime sighed deeply, "You know, I've been thinking…"

"Of what?" he asked, before taking a huge swig.

"Of getting my nipples pierced."

Gohan choked on his drink, his eyes watering immensely as he turned towards her in shock.

"What?" she asked, surprised, "It's nothing you haven't seen before."

"Well… yeah…" the young saiyan spluttered, "But I mean, Kami Lime.."

"Yeah I suppose you're right," she continued indifferently, grabbing Gohan's can and taking a huge swig. Slowly, she frowned, turning her head towards him with a look that he wasn't sure he was comfortable with, "Hang on, are you saying you wouldn't like it?"

He stared at her, feeling a bit warm all of a sudden, "Well, I don't know… I mean er… they always look… nice…, I just don't know what they'd look like with metal things in them…"

Gohan studied her reaction, for which she seemed deep in thought at present. Lime wasn't the sort of person to beat around the bush as it were, and Gohan learned that first hand about a month ago when she had kissed him.

It was safe to say that Gohan had thought about doing just the same for a while, but could never build up the guts to do such a thing. He would never dream of going to any of his friends for advice, Bulma would be beside herself and squeal relentlessly in his earholes about how much he was growing up; and he would be forever on the receiving end of teasing from the likes of Krillin and Yamcha. As for Roshi…well, he'd rather not go there altogether.

So he was more than thrilled when Lime had first kissed him when he had dropped her off at her house after another night of loitering around the village. It was forceful and rather heated; and all Gohan could do was stand there and stare numbly after her as she skipped over the threshold. Since then, Gohan's courage had proven to be more daring, and the teenager's had now done a lot more than just snogging around the back of Mister Lao's cornfields. The young saiyan was well aware it wasn't something that 'normal' friends did, but for the most part, Gohan couldn't care less.

Despite this new endeavour they had both embraced, neither of them seemed to pursue anything further; and barely spoke of what they had gotten up to on their nightly wonderings. Gohan was simply contented of following Lime's philosophy of 'just going with it'; it seemed to have worked for him so far, without getting into the overcomplicated mess that were teenage relationships. Gohan had had enough of hearing about such drama's from their fellow classmates.

"Hmm, maybe I should just get the one done then," Lime said thoughtfully, "Which one do you prefer?"

"You what?" he blinked.

"Come on, don't be shy!" She urged, pointing at her bosom, "Lefty or righty? Which one do you like better?"

Gohan laughed, "I don't mind, honest!"

The girl rolled her eyes at him, "Kami you're so boring, maybe I should ask one of the other boys in fourth year, see what they think."

"Now you're just teasing," Gohan pouted.

"Why, you jealous?" She smirked, "Jealous if I wonder up to Jamie Yang at break time and ask him what he thinks of my knockers?"

"Jamie Yang?" He scoffed, trying to hide his laughter, "Why him?"

"I dunno," she shrugged, "He seems like he would know a thing or two, have you seen the way he handles a rugby ball?"

As Gohan touched down in his usual spot in the grounds of Capsule Corporation, he wasn't sure just how long he and Lime had spent in the secluded corners of the lake; but one thing he did know for certain was that Jamie Yang wouldn't be getting a look in.

Still, it was too early for him to head home without his mother getting suspicious, so the teenager had wisely made a detour to West City with the hope of sampling some of Mrs Briefs' delicious baking; a small cone of chips was certainly not enough to satisfy a half-saiyan stomach, and Gohan was starting to get hungry.

Pressing the doorbell with his index finger, he waited patiently for the distant chime to cease before the door was forcibly swung open and he was met with a pair of fierce blue eyes.

"Please tell me that you got let out of school early because of a flood or fire."

Gohan grinned, "Would you believe me if I said yes?"

Bulma sighed in distain before stepping aside to let him over the threshold. The young saiyan smiled at her gratefully before following her through the long corridors to her office. Bulma's personal laboratory slash office was situated deep inside the complex, furthest away from the family living quarters and closer to the research labs. Gohan loved visiting the labs, and when Lime was busy with her grandfather; he would spend the majority of his free time poking his nose about in there.

The research facilities fascinated him, especially the hundreds of people in long white lab coats that would smile and nod at him when he walked with Bulma. The respect the blue haired woman had from her employees was intense, especially as she had recently taken over the company in place of her retired father.

"Well?" Bulma asked, once they were seated in her office. One half of the room was brightly lit and adorned with brown leather furniture. The other half was flanked with a complex looking switch board with large, state of the art television screens. Flashing lights and a high pitched beeping sound alerted him that it was analysing something; more than likely new capsule models as complicated graphics that sped across the screens. The office had a wall made entirely of rectangular windows that overlooked the main shipping complex, where currently around fifty employees were inspecting a hover car prototype.

Bulma leaned against her large oak desk, which was adorned with important looking documents and pictures of her family. She flicked her short hair out of her eyes, before placing one hand on her hip in annoyance; the other came to rest on her very prominent baby bump.

Gohan was just as amazed as everyone else when Bulma had announced her second pregnancy. It seemed Vegeta had really settled into his life on Earth, even though he still spent the majority of his time holed up in his gravity room. After Gohan had finished his homework last night, he had only managed to spend an hour with the gang before heading home; and the saiyan prince was still nowhere to be seen.

Bulma had stated he was training, with a somewhat saddened look in her eye. It wasn't particularly unusual to see Vegeta at reunions nowadays, but he simply refused to do anything but train himself into the ground on the anniversary of the Cell Games. The Z-gang had guessed that he wasn't over Goku's death, but Gohan had a theory that it ran deeper than that.

But once the anniversary was over, the proud prince would once again resume his usual balance of training and family life. Gohan had even heard rumours that Vegeta had gone to the baby scan with Bulma at the local hospital; albeit it was the ever gossiping Yamcha he had heard such rumours from.

Now Bulma was five months pregnant and positively glowing; but like her husband and training, she showed no signs of slowing down with her work, despite Gohan's mother's insistence.

"Well what?" Gohan asked as he plonked himself into one of the soft leather armchairs opposite her, resting his legs over one of the arms.

Bulma's eyes narrowed at the halfling, "Well Gohan, what am I supposed to say to your school this time? Your 'grandmother' has died three times already!"

The teenager shrugged, looking up to the whirring fan on the ceiling, "Dunno, can't you say I was helping you out on a project or something?"

"It's not as simple as that kiddo," she sighed, sitting on the armchair closest to him.

"Oh come on," Gohan mused, "What's so hard to believe that a multi-billion Zeni, scientifically pioneering company is in desperate need of the brains of a fifteen year old school boy?"

"It's not funny Gohan," Bulma glowered, pursing her lips, "Look at you, I mean there's no denying your a smart kid; but how long is this truanting going to go on for?"

The teen rolled his eyes, "You don't call it that when I'm missing school as The Gold Fighter, what's the difference?"

Her eyes glinted fiercely, "The difference is that The Gold Fighter is going out to help people, whereas Son Gohan is arseing around the village doing who knows what with who knows who!"

"Urgh, you sound like my mother," he grumbled.

"I'm as good as," she shot back, "and you know it."

Gohan averted his eyes to his hands, suddenly ashamed.

"And don't give me that hoo-hah of acting as The Gold Fighter today, because I know for a fact that you weren't!" Bulma cried.

"Oh?" He wondered, "How?"

"Vegeta," she stated smugly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Vegeta?" he quirked, confused as how the prince would know such a thing, let alone be remotely interested.

"Yep," said Bulma, "I know exactly when your donning your alter ego because every time you power up, Vegeta barges in here and informs me that 'the brat is playing superhero again'.

"I'm NOT a superhero!" Gohan protested, "I'm a-"

"Vigilante," interjected Bulma smoothly, "I know, I know."

The teenager scowled, but still a question played on his mind, "But why would he tell you that?"

"Not sure," Bulma shrugged, "Guess he knows about the communication device I implanted in your head gear so we can talk; I think he expects me to make sure you don't do anything too reckless and destroy something. Not while he's still on the planet anyway," she finished nonchalantly.

"Makes sense," said Gohan.

Although he could see the saiyan prince saying such a thing, he wouldn't have put it past Bulma to have constructed some kind of obscure tracking device into his suit. In fact, The Gold Fighter was all Bulma's idea in the first place; even though the actual title of Gohan's alter ego had steamed from the hyped up media.

It had all started about two years after the conclusion of the Cell Games, when Gohan had been out shopping in West City for a suit for Krillin and Eighteen's wedding. Although the ceremony was months away, his mother and Bulma had insisted on picking out a suit for him. He had been dragged around what felt like a million clothing shops; with every personal shopper - male and female - pinching at his cheeks exclaiming how he would 'make all the girls swoon'.

Finally, he had managed to find a bench to rest his aching limbs as Chi-Chi and Bulma left in search of matching accessories for their own outfits. The newly turned thirteen year old was left rocking the pushchair of an irritated Goten, whilst resting a sleep deprived Trunks on his lap; when a sudden explosion rocked the shopping centre.

Debris fell all around them and screams filled the air. But Gohan was fast, and sped the two toddler's to safety. With his ears ringing from the explosion, the teen burst into his super saiyan form and sprang into action. It took him all but a split second to find and disarm the terrorists; crackhead thugs of an older generation that weren't all to happy with the peace Mister Satan's supposed victory had brought.

He tied them up in a broken piece of metal scaffolding and deposited them in front of the complex's entrance; where the emergency services were waiting. It was due to Gohan's quick rescue, did people escape with only minor cuts and bruises; he picked up his mother and Bulma, along with Goten and Trunks and made his way home.

The young saiyan thought he had gone pretty much unnoticed; until he watched the news that evening. It seemed the nation had gone wild for the boy journalist's had dubbed 'The Gold Fighter', and even matched him to the delivery boy at the Cell Games; something that Gohan was particularly irked about.

Not wanting to be recognised if he was put into such a situation again, Bulma came up with the idea of a disguise; something that Gohan was reluctant to do at first. But after a few months, terrible outfits and various electric shocks in the most sensitive of areas; The Gold Fighter of the present was born and had been fighting crime ever since.

"I know school isn't as…challenging for you as the other kids," Bulma continued, her eyes softening at the guilty look on his face, "but that doesn't mean that you can just come and go whenever you feel like it. I can't keep covering for you forever, if your mother finds out, she'll kill me."

"Sorry Bulma," he breathed, "I just get so bored."

"I know that kiddo," she smiled, "That's why geniuses like us have to stick together. You told me once that you wanted to work here right?"

Gohan nodded. She was right, he told her that years ago; a few weeks after the battle with Frieza when the Namekian's were staying at Capsule Corp waiting for their planet to be wished anew. He and Dende had been caught sneaking into one of the aerospace engineering labs; and a seven year old Gohan had informed an irate Bulma that he wanted to build rockets, something that had both shocked and humbled her.

"Well then," she said, ruffling his hair affectionately, "You have to go to school to get the grades mister."

"Can't you just let me in anyway?" he pouted, "I'll be really quiet and good and no one will notice!"

Bulma scoffed, "I don't think it will go unnoticed if I suddenly let a teenager start managing half my staff."

Gohan groaned; they both knew he could build a jumbo jet engine with his eyes closed.

"Sorry Gohan, it's company policy," she stated, "You have to go through the same slack as all the other apprentices; which includes passing your high school exams next year."

"Fine," he huffed, accepting his fate, "but could you please just cover for me this time? I promise I'll try not to skip school again."

"See there's that word there; try." Bulma tutted, getting up and reaching for the phone at her desk. Placing her receiver to her ear she looked him up and down, "Honestly Gohan its a wonder I haven't had security called about a ruffian in my office. Look at the state of you! You've got grass stains everywhere, have you been rolling around in the mud or something?"

"Something like that…" Gohan blushed, averting his eyes.

"Oh hello there, this is Bulma Briefs calling for Son Gohan; yes hello again," said Bulma, covering the speaker before shaking her head at him, "Go on, off you go, there's some spare clothes washed and pressed for you in your guest room."

Gohan gave her a winning smile, earning him another glare; although this time Bulma failed to hide her amusement. The teenager didn't know what sort of excuse she had used this time, but he was glad she had covered for him again. He couldn't help but feel a little bad, but Bulma seemed happy to do it the first few times; apparently, she herself was a bit of a rebel when she was not much older than him.

Pelting down the corridors back towards the living quarters, Gohan was blissfully unaware of the large metal door opening to his left - until he ran headfirst into it.

"Ow! Mother f-!"

"Oh hi Gohan! Watcha doin' down there?"

Gohan looked up from where he had hit the ground, clasping a hand to his forehead that he was certain would be sporting a magnificent looking bruise in a couple of hours. When his vision stopped spinning, he realised that the purple blur he was looking up at was indeed Trunks, who was staring at him with a curious expression.

"Oh you know," Gohan mused, "Just trying to keep my head."

"You're weird Gohan," sniffed the younger halfling.

"Cheers Trunks," he replied dully, "What are you doing opening doors on innocent people huh?"

"Oh," Trunks beamed, "Dad and I are training, he just sent me out to go tell grandma to bring food."

Gohan raised an eyebrow; indeed, father and son looked as though they were having quite the training session. Trunks' short lavender hair was wet with sweat, his green and orange gi torn at the knees and burnt off at one shoulder. A few scrapes and bruises littered his small body; but Gohan couldn't help but grin at the plaster that was oh so lovingly placed on Trunks' right cheek.

Gohan was about to ask the young boy where he too could find some snacks, when a loud bellow came from inside the chamber, "Trunks! Is that the servant woman you're talking to? Tell her I want another one of those fairy cakes she made last week!"

"Dad!" Trunks hollered back, placing his hands on his hips so that he scarily resembled Bulma. "I already told you, Grandma isn't a servant, she lives here! Besides, I'm not talking to Grandma, it's Gohan!"

"What?" Vegeta called, "What the hell does he want?"

"I dunno," Trunks shrugged, looking back at the teenager.

"Well ask him boy!"

"I already did," said Trunks, "But I kinda hit him with a door; he's been lying here for a while now."

Gohan scowled, as Vegeta's sudden outburst of laughter echoed around the gravity chamber. After a while, the prince's footsteps drew closer to the door and he emerged with a wicked smirk.

"What's the matter brat?" he quirked, "Can defeat Cell but can't handle a four year old with a door?"

"Piss off," Gohan growled, clambering up from the ground to face the prince.

Due to his growth spurt, he and Vegeta were now at level eye with each other. But that did not deter from the prince's overbearing presence; especially as he was currently sporting nothing but spandex shorts and training shoes, a light sheen of sweat glistening over his scarred muscle torso; his obsidian eyes suddenly narrowed.

"Watch your mouth in front of the boy," he warned in a dangerous tone, causing the teenager's glare to falter.

"Dad I'm hungry," Trunks whined from between them, having been completely oblivious to Gohan's language, "Can I go get food now?"

Vegeta sighed, turning towards his son, "Trunks, what did we discuss?"

The young boy pouted, before reciting perfectly; "Saiyan's don't whine, we purge, conquer and destroy until nothing but glooooorious victory remains. Saiyan pride does not …wafer? We are the super-elite! HOO HAH!"

At the end of his small speech, Trunks made a solute by punching his chest and throwing his arm into the air, before looking to his father for approval.

"Very good," said Vegeta, "Now run along before your bulbous mother ransacks the kitchen again."

"Yay!" The boy cried, before zooming down the corridor at lightening speed.

Gohan stared at the older saiyan, "Bit much don't you think?"

Vegeta scoffed, "And who are you to give parenting advice brat? Your father was hardly present to teach you anything useful."

The teenager grit his teeth in anger; their meetings were always like this. It would start with casual banter before Vegeta would insult his father. But Gohan wasn't stupid, he knew the prince was only doing it to get a rise out of him.

It was a mutual understanding between the Z-Fighter's that they would never ask Gohan to train with them seriously. A friendly spar from time to time wouldn't go amiss; but an all out fight was off limits. Why? It was because Gohan would flip if he was pushed too far, and for that reason the teenager simply refused to ascend past super saiyan. In fact, he hadn't done so since the Cell Games; although Piccolo had tried to help him control the form, Gohan was afraid of making the same mistakes again and be blinded by his power.

But one thing about the Prince of all Saiyan's, was that he couldn't just drop it. Gohan's theory was evidentially sound in his opinion; in that Vegeta wasn't satisfied with being the second strongest on the planet. The fact of the matter was that the full bloodied saiyan hadn't managed to achieve what the gang had dubbed 'super saiyan two'; and he knew just which buttons of Gohan's to push.

"So why aren't you at that godforsaken institute you call an education facility?" Vegeta continued, looking him up and down, "The thrill of playing superhero not doing if for you anymore?"

Gohan said nothing, instead began wishing that he hadn't come down this way; Capsule Corp. was so big he could of gotten to the bedroom he used via five different corridors.

"Tell me brat," Vegeta smirked, "Apart from those weaklings you roughed up, how many cats did you rescue yesterday?"

"Shut it Vegeta," he growled, causing the prince's smirk to grow ever wider.

"You seem angry boy," he observed mockingly, "Why not let it out and get some real training in instead of running around after pathetic thieves?"

Although Gohan was tempted to slug the gloating prince in the face, he knew that if he stepped into that gravity chamber that only one of them would come out unscathed; and it wouldn't be him. The teenager hadn't exactly been as relentless with his training as Vegeta had these last few years.

Luckily for him, did Bulma's cheerful voice penetrate the tension of the two saiyan's.

"There you are Gohan!" she huffed, holding onto her belly, "I wondered where you had got to, and your still not changed!"

"Sorry Bulma," Gohan smiled, "I bumped into Trunks and Vegeta on the way."

"Woman," Vegeta cut across them before she could reply, "What on earth are you doing running around the corridors after the brat in your condition?"

"Aww, you're worried Vegeta?" Gohan teased, knowing the prince could do nothing in front of Bulma without facing a day without the gravity room, "That's cute."

Vegeta shot him a murderous glare as Bulma reached them.

"Oh Gohan stop teasing him," she giggled, earning herself a small noise of disgust from the prince; "I just was looking for you because I wanted to know what your doing three Friday's from now."

"Wow Bulma, that's a bit specific," the teenager stared, "Why?"

The blue haired heiress rolled her eyes, "because I wanted to know if you would accompany me to Capsule Corp.'s charity ball that Friday!

"A ball?" Gohan scoffed pointing accusingly at her husband, "Why can't he go?"

Bulma snorted, nudging Vegeta in the ribs, "Because my charming prince here threatened to blow up the swing band if he was made to dance, that's why."

Behind his wife, Vegeta smirked.

"Typical," said Gohan, "But Bulma, I can't dance."

"Don't you lie to me Son Gohan," she frowned, poking him in the chest, "Your mother told me about those ballroom dance lessons she got you in between training for the androids."

Gohan groaned, "She did?"

"Oh she showed me home video's Gohan," Bulma informed him smugly, "and I must say you are quite the dancer."

"This is so embarrassing," the teenager sighed, as Vegeta started to snicker. He absolutely hated the lessons his mother had enforced on him in those three years of training, stating that he had to do something other than solid fighting to enrich his mind.

He had a choice at first; learn to play the violin or ballroom dancing classes. Eventually the late night practising of a very screechy Mozart's concerto three was enough to make Piccolo, his father and his mother choose for him; so ballroom dancing it was.

"Anyway, I'm not asking you to go Gohan, I'm telling you," Bulma stated forcibly, "I need to do a bit of networking with our sponsors and I need someone sensible to make sure I get round everybody and do some mingling. Being pregnant and wearing platform heels isn't easy you know."

"Aww," Gohan pouted, "but do I really have to?"

"Yes," she smiled triumphantly, "All the biggest engineering companies will be there, along with some big names with big bank accounts willing to flash the cash, and I'll need to scope out the competition. Plus, I think it will be good for me to introduce one of our future protégées don't you?"

He smiled, as Bulma winked at him. Maybe it would be good for him to do a bit of networking too and meet his future competitors.

"Great!" she beamed excitedly, shoving Vegeta to the side and grasping Gohan's face in her palms, "Oh it's going to be wonderful Gohan! We can fix you all up and show you off! Ooh, you'll need a brand new suit! You'll look so handsome!"

"I have to wear a suit?" he whined under her grasp.

Suddenly, Bulma's hands retreated from him, and he was met with her pricing stare, "I just got you out of a months worth of detention kid, you'll wear whatever I tell you to wear."