EDITED - 05/01/2014
…
Hey, there!
Thank you so much for all your kind reviews.
Since this next chapter came out so big, I've decided to split it in half (well, not really in half, but you get the point) and I'm going to release the second part of it as a new chapter on Friday or Saturday, so you guys don't have to wait that long.
As always, I look forward to hearing your opinions. Enjoy!
Chocolate or cheese? Chocolate or cheese?
A wry expression took over the young Saiyan's thoughtful face. His mom's cheesecake was mouthwatering to say the least, but Mrs. Briefs' chocolate cake... So moist and so chocolaty... He stood there, plate in his hand, looking at both desserts side by side like they were taunting him, and promising to take only one piece so this wouldn't be like every other get-together in which the Saiyan raiders would come in and take over, leaving next to nothing for the rest of the poor party-goers. Chocolate won, eventually, so he cut himself a reasonably-sized piece of about a quarter of the massive cake before picking up a fork and moving towards the line of tables by the side.
The Halloween Masquerade was usually just a corporate event, meant to be yet another occasion for Capsule Corp. to meet up with business partners and influential people from all over, keeping them "hooked in", so to speak. You couldn't just send spaceships to wherever and not be thoroughly harassed regarding your intentions without being on a first-name basis with the people in charge of national security, who just so happen were out on a meeting during those particular moments.
Politics were never his thing, but he could understand their importance; most of it, at least.
This year, however, Bulma had decided to "snob it down" - her words - and invite her family and friends to join in as well. They used to celebrate it too, back in the day, though only within their little group, since Bulma would always make an effort to organize a get-together at least every couple of months, but it all started fading down after Dad and Vegeta died. She'd still take a shot at gathering the gang on occasion, but her attempts would usually fall flat. It had definitely been a while since he'd seen all these people in the same place, at the same time. Couple of years maybe?
Halloween and getting all dressed up had also lost its appeal to him personally a long time ago, so nowadays, his overall participation in the festivities was limited to walking the kids around for trick or treating, and he was pretty much fine with that. This particular celebration was costume-obligatory though, and apart from a few "anarchists" - Bulma's word again - everyone else was more or less dressed up for the occasion.
Eighteen was by the catering table, serving herself some punch in her golden-sequin flapper outfit, complete with feathered head-piece, while Master Roshi, unsurprisingly, tried to take a better look at her leaning figure, dressed in a matador costume, red to match his shades - neither the indoors nor night-time would prove enough for him to ditch the things. Gohan couldn't help but roll his eyes as he passed by the two, and wonder if Eighteen still smacked him in the head whenever he was caught staring or if she just ignored it now. He hoped for the latter but couldn't really care, in the end.
He slid onto the upholstered seat that served the large square table closest to him, a little away from its previous occupants whose conversation slowly but surely died down. It was surprising seeing Tien here, since last time he'd heard of the guy he'd gone away to an undisclosed location for some long-lasting segregated training. Yet... come to think of it, how long ago had that been? A month or two after Cell, if he wasn't mistaken, so maybe he'd been training under the radar and only recently resurfaced or something.
Yamcha, on the other hand, he'd see from time to time, though their interactions had never ventured outside the forced formalities and dull chit-chat. Both guys looked very much the same, though Yamcha's hair was a little longer, he noticed, tied up loosely behind his head. They acknowledged his presence with a nod and a polite smile, and after a little more small-talk, excused themselves to go to the bathroom, taking to the right side area of the large ballroom-like venue.
A vampire Krillin remained. "So, Gohan," he said, "how've you been? I haven't seen you in forever."
Trunks' birthday, two years ago, a big pool-party for all of his little friends and baby Marron had also been invited, though Krillin himself didn't stay for long. "I'm doing okay, thanks," he said in between bites.
"I've heard from Bulma you're attending college."
"Yeah. For a couple of months now."
"That's cool. That's cool." Krillin looked around the room to nothing in particular, the silence growing more and more awkward for the small man, as proven by the way he was nervously twiddling his fingers.
"You can go too. I don't mind," the young Saiyan told him after a while, completely committed to the cake on his plate. It was truly delicious.
"W-What...?" Krillin stuttered. "Oh, you mean to the bathroom? Nah, they'll be right back. There must be a line or something."
Still not looking up, Gohan responded, pointing his thumb outwards to the left side of the giant room. "Bathroom's that way." The opposite way, he meant.
There was no response for a moment, but then a sigh escaped the guy's lips as he looked at his glossy fingernails. A soft smile came next. "Your dad would always tell me how you could easily make out what people were feeling or thinking," Krillin almost whispered. "He called it a gift."
Yeah, because it was just super to realize how much people didn't want anything to do with him, how much things had changed over the years to the point of making comrades-in-battle turn complete strangers. Like they'd only tolerate his presence nowadays out of respect for Dad's memory.
It was a true gift to see so obviously how they wished him dead instead of their friend, but truth be told, he'd long wished for the very same.
Wow… dramatic much?
"Can you believe it's been close to twelve years since Namek?" Krillin asked, lazily chipping off some of the black nail polish.
Time flies when you're having fun, was what his heart told him to answer back, the sarcastic little bastard. His brain, however, knew those words could come out as offensive, and he was just not in the mood for the implications of it, so silence was his response. And a curt nod.
"Quite the adventure, huh?" Krillin chuckled. "Oh, boy, I still dream about it sometimes."
"Yeah." It'd been the ultimate trial by fire of their young friendship, a whole month's journey to get there - and respective unforeseen setbacks - and then a nerve-wracking game of cat and mouse to basically keep themselves alive, since it'd quickly became clear they weren't just outnumbered but also severely outclassed. Back on Earth, they'd still talk and hang out occasionally, even more so during those three years before the Androids after Dad had returned. His father's best friend had easily become also his own, and in his childish eyes, it made him feel like a part of something bigger, like a special club, members only.
Retrospection was a such bitch… This was Dad's friend; he just came along with the package.
His mother had raised him better than just responding in one-syllable words, though, so he made an effort to contribute to the conversation. "How's Marron?"
"Oh, she's doing great. Just keeps growing and growing. She'll surpass me in no time if she keeps this up."
"That's not really that great of an achievement." And considering her mother's genes, she'd probably end up being much taller than her dad.
Krillin chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He looked around again. "Now that you mention it, I should go check on her." Slowly, he got up from the long upholstered seat, waving a lazy, "I'll see you around," while stepping away.
"Sure." Maybe that was exactly what the guy intended to do, but right now he couldn't care to analyze the words to brand them truthful or not; the chocolate cake was just too amazing.
He kept reminding himself to take small bites so it would last longer, but it was getting really hard. Valiantly, he refused the satisfaction of stuffing his face on the current piece and going for some more, and although his stubbornness would normally fall short against his appetite, today he was feeling like he would make it. Maybe he could pig out on the leftovers after everyone was gone. That'd be awesome.
"You can sit down, you know? You're suppose to relax at parties," he spoke quietly to nowhere in particular, fully aware that even the lowest whisper would reach this one specific destination.
The movement he felt behind him brought along the back of what one would think was a ghost - given the holiday - but he knew his sensei's white cape like he knew his father's gi; he'd recognize them anywhere. Piccolo took his meditative position on Krillin's former seat, occupying its entire length, just as the young Saiyan whispered once again. "I'm glad you came." Piccolo responded with a microscopic nod alone, but they both knew Gohan would never be needing anything more than that.
The Namekian had been the one thing in his life he was certain would never change. Wherever he was, whichever the circumstances or the shit that'd come down in his life, if a time were to come when he'd need his presence, Piccolo would be there. It crossed his mind how downright ironic it was that his father's enemy had turned out to be more of a friend to him than his father's best friend, but he wouldn't be mad at the former monk. Contrary to Krillin, his friendship hadn't been imposed on Piccolo, so he kind of understood if the human had chosen to not nourish theirs after Dad died.
"I thought you were supposed to bring a costume," Gohan teased, unable to deny a smirk.
"I'm a green man from outer space," Piccolo stated matter-of-factly.
He snorted. "Touché."
"You're one to talk, anyway."
Gohan's eyebrows rose, trying his best to keep an innocent face. "What do you mean?" He pointed at his black t-shirt, adorned only with a big yellow symbol. "I'm Batman."
They shared an amused staring contest that was short lived, interrupted by Gohan's decision to return to his amazing cake. He wished all his social interactions could be like the ones he shared with Piccolo; simple, explanations not necessary, actions, most of the times, superfluous. There was a word for them: "'Laconic". Like the Spartans.
"How're you doing, Kid?" Piccolo's question clinched something in his gut. His sensei knew him, and he most certainly was watching what took place previously. Those words would rarely come out of his mouth, but it wasn't the first time he'd heard them, so there was no denying where this was going. He decided to play naive.
"I'm okay," Gohan responded, refusing to take his eyes off his cake.
When nothing else came from the other's mouth, he hesitated to look up from his plate, but eventually did, just for a second. The look on Piccolo's face was one he'd see from time to time ever since the Games, and in the back of his mind, the young Saiyan knew that the words that were to follow were his sensei's way of trying to make him believe them, but it didn't make them any easier to listen. He sighed, telling him defeatedly, "You don't have to say it."
"It's not your fault." And there it was; always the same sentence, always the same tone.
"I know that."
"Your brain knows it, your heart still doesn't."
"There's nothing I can do about that," Gohan whispered to himself.
"You're as stubborn as your damn father," Piccolo almost scolded, "but he'd never let his guilt hide the truth from him."
Gohan frowned. "You don't need to keep reminding me how I'm nothing like my father." If he was, then things wouldn't have happened the way they did.
"You're not a child anymore, so you can stop being childish." He tried not to roll his eyes at the other's words, mainly because it would only serve in rendering them true, but also because Piccolo had never hesitated on punishing him physically for such lack of respect, not even after he'd gotten older. "Longing for what you cannot have won't bring you anything good. Your heart would see it too if you stopped letting the past cloud your judgement."
Gohan leaned back into the seat, chewing on yet another piece of cake while avoiding all eye contact with the Namekian. Try as he might to think otherwise, Piccolo's words were probably right, but how would that fact help out any? Should they just ask Shenron to disconnect his brain from his heart, so only the former would be running the show? 'Cause that was a good plan, not an imaginary finger-snapping that would somehow make him stop thinking of how he'd gotten his father killed.
Potentially the most powerful being in the universe and yet so powerless against fate. His dad's fate back then, his own right now, it was the same old story. How could that not wreck a person?
Luckily, a mini Saiyan-torpedo zeroed in on his chest then, taking him as its target and brushing all other thoughts aside. "Hey, Big Brother!" It made him smile.
The littlest Son was, without a doubt, his most adorable self today. He'd chosen the cutest blue dinosaur costume, and his round little face was the only thing that allowed him to be recognized, sticking out of what would be the dinosaur's mouth. His massive mane was still pretty much secure inside the dinosaur's head so far, so he took that as a win, since it'd been a nightmare to get it tamed in there in the first place. Goten plopped himself on his lap, wearing a big grin that instantly brightened his free-falling mood, as it would every single time.
"Hey, Mr. Dinosaur," he told the him, putting on a serious face. "Have you seen my little brother? I've been looking everywhere for him."
Goten's full-hearted laugh was music to his ears. "You silly goose! It's me! Goten!"
"Hmm, I don't know. You look nothing like him. Are you sure?"
"Yes! Yes! Look! It's me, Big Brother! Look!" his little guy shouted through his giggles, trying to open the dinosaur's mouth to further show his face.
Gohan's tone turned overly-dramatic and outraged. He gasped. "Mr. Dinosaur! Have you eaten my little brother? Shame on you!"
A shimmer started to gather around his buddy's big eyes while his laughter got increasingly louder. "No, Gohan! It's me! It's really me!"
"Oh, well. I guess I'll just have to... tickle him out of you," Gohan proclaimed just before engaging in a full-out tickle attack, the mightiest weapon in his big brother arsenal. Right before fried bacon.
"No! No! Stop it, please!" He was laughing desperately and shouting without restraint, tears pouring down his flushed cheeks in rivers. "Stop it! Stop it! I'm out! I'm out!"
"Oh, hey, Buddy! You've missed Mr. Dinosaur, he was just here."
Goten wiped his face on the back of his hands as the last laughs and giggles escaped his tired lungs. In a jump, he latched onto his big brother's neck, hugging it extremely tight. "I love you so much, Big Brother," he ended up whispering through an audible grin.
Gohan's heart skipped the tiniest beat and he bear-hugged him back with a sigh. This, right here... this was it. The meaning of life. The reason why every single artificial breath he'd take on this thing he called "life" but was actually some sort of lethargic subsistence was not entirely pointless. This was his power, his purpose, his religion. He kissed the velvety blue dinosaur's head and sung the most meaningful words that were allowed out of his mouth, nowadays. "I love you too, Buddy."
It was so easy to diminish his little brother sometimes, see him as Dad instead of his own person, not trusting him with the same stuff he'd trust Mia with, for example, but he'd never done anything to deserve such unfairness. In a way, his brother was the one he loved the most, and in the very same way, he was the one he'd never be able to show just how much.
And then, with the flick of a switch, the Saiyan in his little man took over. "Can I have some more cake, Big Brother? Pleeeease?"
"You can, but just half, okay? You've already had two whole ones."
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Goten's fleeing figure shouted, jumping off of him and running for the buffet table.
Gohan stared at him for a while, unable to stop smiling. His happiness was everything, and at that very second, he couldn't care less what anyone else thought of him, or what he had done in the past. His little dinosaur loved him, and that was all that mattered. Absentmindedly, he looked back at his sensei, deepening his undying smile into a grin at the sight that greeted him. "Piccolo... are you smiling?"
The green man didn't bother to respond but didn't try to hide his facial expression either, which was surprisingly odd. Were it any other occasion, he'd be denying such a weakness, discarding it as useless human emotions that he'd never understand. "You're more like your father than you think, Kid." He got up and started walking away. "Glad to see I haven't lost you yet."
Under a soft, puzzled frown, Gohan's eyes followed the Namekian as he left, probably to somewhere a little less crowded, as he tried not to over-analyse the other's words. That would certainly end up giving him nothing more than a stupid headache.
Focusing back on the buffet area, he was about to get up to help his clumsy little Saiyan get his serving without breaking the table in the process, when Bulma, in all her heavenly glory - that angel outfit suited her perfectly - stepped in to help. He let himself plop back onto his seat as he watched his brother return to the table, scooting over a little for his buddy to sit to his left.
Goten took no time and separated a big chunk out of his portion, tossing it directly into his eager mouth. Gohan used his fork and started to disassemble it into smaller pieces. "Use your fork, okay, little man?"
"Aww, can't I just eat it with my hands?"
"You can, but then you'll get cake all over your costume and you'll have to take it off."
"Hmm... okay." He took a small, already cut piece with his own fork as Gohan continued carving away. With the way he adored that costume, Goten would certainly make an extra effort to keep it on until the night were to end, and Gohan was mostly sure he'd beg to wear it tomorrow too. No harm done in allowing it, he reckoned; all of his three little monkeys would have the longest childhood he could provide them, and that innocence was to be protected at all costs.
Damn hormones were gonna wreck them enough come those glorious teen years… God help us.
Back at the buffet table, Krillin was eating a couple of pigs-in-blankets, cleverly renamed "Frankenweenies", while eyeing the two brothers. Bulma was beside him, serving herself a cup of delicious "Boozy Blood Bath" - otherwise know as punch.
"It's nice to see Gohan taking care of his brother like that," he told the blue-haired woman. "At least Chi-Chi has had some help around the house, huh?"
Bulma almost dropped her beverage, staring at him dumbfounded while her resident smile vanished in a flash of plain shock and freshly-acknowledged disappointment. She shook her head softly, lips parted, and responded in a whisper. "I can't believe you right now, Krillin..."
The small man looked back at her, semi-apprehensive. "What did I do?"
"How long has it been since you've last seen Gohan?"
"Hum, I'm... not sure. A few years?"
She shook her head again. "If Goku was still alive, you would've been there every month," Bulma said almost to herself. "If not every week." They'd be fishing, sparring, going on camping trips. They'd have thoughtful conversations and reminiscences of their past adventures, laughing for hours about anything and everything. That's how it'd always be with Goku, but it shouldn't have ended just because he was dead; Gohan was a part of that too.
"But Bulma, I..."
"No, Krillin! You've fucked up," she interrupted harshly. "At most, Chi was the one who helped him, not the other way around. She broke down really hard since Goku died, and Gohan had to take over. He practically raised the kids himself. Heck, he helped raise Trunks too!"
Krillin didn't say anything, but there was really nothing he could say to take away this bitterness in her heart. "You should've known that," she continued, placing her full cup on the table because she didn't want it anymore. "You should've at least visited. He's supposed to be your friend too, not just Goku."
"You're right. It's just..."
"'It's just' what?"
"It's... hard. You didn't see what I saw."
The turning point, he meant. She knew exactly what he was referring to; it changed all their lives. "I did see it. We had Baba's crystal ball."
"It's not the same," he insisted. "I saw... the magnitude of it. Of his power."
And that was it. Something snapped loudly inside her at what his stupid words were implying, because contrary to him, she was around after Goku died. She saw what it did to Gohan; it'd been hell to him! Seven years later and he still had nightmares about it, for fuck's sake; how was that deserving for a kid who'd saved the world?
She knew exactly what Gohan thought. How he blamed himself for having been vindictive, for having wasted time. For his father's death and his decision not to return. For everything! The mere realization that he was physically strong enough to have slaughtered his enemy, but had been overly-childish to simply make it happen... It broke him.
A child should have the opportunity to be childish, but he'd long been forced to skip that liberty. His overwhelming power surge had come with the freedom of being himself, of reclaiming that right, even if all those around him would selfishly classify that raw, animalistic Gohan as not the real one. But he was just as real as the kind-hearted Gohan they knew and loved; a hidden part of him, but him nonetheless.
His "other side" was just as childish as his normal one should've been at the time, so he'd had every right to react the way he did. How much mistakes did she make at eleven years of age? But again, that liberty was not for him to have, not since he was four and a half, so he'd basically killed his inner-kid right then and there so it wouldn't be confusing his grown-up judgement ever again.
Unfortunately, he'd ended up making Cell a presence in his life instead of a bad memory, and there were times when it was hard to know if he'd ever be able to learn how to live with it, but he'd always been the most amazing kid in the world - strong, courageous, brilliant - worthy of everything good life could offer, not constant reminders of his flaws. She was elated with pride of the newly accomplished baby-steps out of this disease that'd been haunting him - living by himself, attending college, even making friends! This was something to be nurtured, this was what he should be acknowledged for, not his past. She wouldn't have it with egocentric, unforgiving people. Enough was enough.
"You know what I saw?" she told that selfish bastard. "I saw a kid. Not a fighter, a kid. A scared little boy who was thrown into the front-line to face what he knew to be the perfect warrior. Something made to kill, engineered for destruction. A creature that even his own father couldn't beat. Can you imagine what it's like to be under that much pressure? 'You have to kill that monster, Gohan.' 'You have to be stronger than your hero, Gohan.' His dad was his whole world! He would do anything for him, but he was eleven... years... old, Krillin. Did you save the fucking world when you were eleven?"
"I know he was just a kid, Bulma," he said lowly, looking down. "I was the one who comforted him, even after Goku decided not to return."
Bulma didn't dignify his words with the snort she would normally produce. "Words are meaningless if your eyes are saying something different." She walked away.
"Good job, Buddy. Not even a stain," Gohan praised as he inspected his little dinosaur's fabric skin, but as he looked up to see a pretty unhappy Bulma coming his way, he switched plans and decided to evacuate the premises. "Are you going back to play with Trunks?"
"Yeah! We're gonna play Rock Band with Mimi. And Marron too, but she's still too little so she'll probably just sing or something. I'll be on the drums!"
"Wow, that's awesome. Can I come see in a little while?"
"Yes! Yes! And you can play too, if you want," Goten shouted as Bulma sat lazily down next to them and sighed, putting on a tired smile. It reassured the older Saiyan a bit, realizing he wasn't the cause of her out-of-character frown.
"Sure," he told his little brother, patting his head since ruffling his hair was out of the question. "You go on ahead, okay?"
"'Kay! See you later. Bye, Auntie Bu."
"Bye, Sweetheart. Have fun."
Gohan watched him leave for a second, and then looked back at the woman with a worried expression, just as she scooted closer. She seemed really worn out. "Hey there, Batman," Bulma said warmly.
He smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder, gently massaging it. "Are you okay?"
Even her nod seemed weary. "Just a little tired," she said. "But enough about that. Talk to me. Tell me about college. How's the football practice?"
He brought his hand back down and snickered. "Pretty much exhausting, which is awesome."
Bulma giggled. "I guess the cuff is working, huh?"
"Yeah." Their last batch of tests had been extremely conclusive regarding his power. There had been no consequences of the Ki suppressor's influence, and so, even though Bulma had suggested he'd only use the thing for the purpose of playing football, he ended up wearing it all the time. Maybe it had some sort of placebo effect on him, but even if the weight lifted from his chest was only imaginary... No harm, no foul, right?
"If you want, later on we can apply it directly to your wrist," she added.
His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Well, you've seen the blueprints. The little copper disk on the inside surface is the only important component of the whole cuff, so with a few modifications and a simple microsurgery, we can implant it beneath your skin."
"But... how would I be able to turn it off then?"
"That would be the 'few modifications' part." She signaled him to wait a second with a straightened palm, and got up for a paper napkin and a pen from the nearby caterer as he was stocking up on cream puffs. Sitting back down, she immediately started drawing what turned out to be the complex schematics of a simple design concept. Gohan couldn't help but wonder how many of Capsule Corp.'s revolutionary projects had started out in the exact same manner, drawn on a napkin.
"I was thinking we could apply a thin blade to the edge of the disc," she explained, "and with a basic lever mechanism, you'd be able to shut it on or off just by pressing it through your skin. Initially I thought of a simple button on its top surface instead of the side, but it would probably stick out too much and you could unawarely press it, so I think this would work better."
The young man inspected the scribbled napkin, nodding absentmindedly. "I get it." It was basically a switch, and as with any other switch, its function was breaking the circuit at one's will, though in this particular case, since the whole thing worked by turning the outer surface of his body into some sort of Faraday cage, it'd be more like a microwave door, or the lid on a metallic box. With the door closed, the circuit would become complete, and the energy available to his body would be limited. All with the push of a button.
"You don't have to decide right now," Bulma said. "Just think about it."
"I will."
Staring down at the napkin, he continued going through the science in his head, but after a while felt her fingers threading through his hair very caringly. He looked up to a loving smile and twinkling eyes. "What is it?"
"Oh, nothing," she said, removing her hand from his head for a dismissive wave. "Just my usual shit." With those tears swelling up, it was the "I'm so proud of you" type of shit, he was sure, though he didn't realize he'd been doing anything worth such a feeling. Just analyzing some scribbles on a paper napkin.
"So, have you scored any touchdowns yet?" she continued to ask.
Gohan chuckled. "Not any real ones. Our first actual match isn't until next month."
"I'm sure you'll kick their asses." She grinned.
"We'll see. The practices are great, but I'm told that the other teams have one guy for each position, unlike us. I don't know if that's good or bad."
"'One spartan was worth several men from any other state,' if I remember correctly," she said. "Never been too keen on ancient history, back at highschool, but that sentence stuck with me."
"Yeah, that's what coach Leon tells us too. He even ordered we have a team hangout at least once every month to encourage the 'unit's cohesion', as he put it. My first one was just the other day."
"Oh, awesome! How did it go? Are they cool?"
"Yeah, pretty much," he told her, playing with one of the forks left on the table. "Well, most of them, anyway. I apparently have to come up with a 'subtle yet meaningful gesture' to do if I score a touchdown during a match." Gohan recalled the specific words his teammates had used. "It's kind of our thing," Shin had said. "We all have one. Rick does the bodybuilding crab pose, Guile salutes, Kal does Superman's flying pose." A stupid stance, Gohan thought. Two hands might help the drafting and reduce wind resistance, even if just minutely, but one hand? Might as well don't bother at all.
Let it go, brain! It's just a comic.
"A subtle yet meaningful gesture, huh?" Bulma repeated with a big grin on her face.
"Yeah. All the guys have one."
"Oh, my God, that's so cool!" She paused for a moment, looking up in thought. "How about a somersault or something?"
"Yeah, because that's really subtle," he said sarcastically. "They said coach doesn't mind us doing it but only if it's toned down."
"I'm sure you'll think of something," Bulma concluded with a smile, checking their surroundings. He followed her gaze mindlessly, spotting the moving headlights of an arriving car through the window. Probably a late guest.
"Oh, I haven't told you yet!" she suddenly spoke again, turning her head harshly his way and sending her shoulder-length hair flying. "I was talking to my dad the other day, about you and how you're on the football team, and one thing led to another, he suggested we could start a new inter-college championship. He called it 'the Capsule Cup'. I'm gonna meet some people about it in a couple of months. Isn't that exciting?"
"I thought there already was a championship."
"The matches you guys participate in are arranged by the universities themselves, but it's nothing official or anything. The only existing championship is within the pro's teams."
"Oh." He felt like he should know that, for some reason. Maybe coach could enlighten him, come next practice.
"We're always trying to come up with new ways to contribute to the community, and I think this is a great idea. So... I guess next year you'll be playing for the Capsule Cup!" Bulma's radiant grin seemed wider than ever before. Her love for football was greater than he knew it to be, and now he could understand why. The football bug, as she had once put it, has also bitten him now that he joined the Tigers, and winning that cup would be kind of great.
"Can't wait," he told her.
A sudden commotion on the far end of the venue demanded their attention, and their two gazes complied. Gohan's left eyebrow rose. "Is that...?"
"Yep," Bulma exhaled. "Our saviour."
If the raised index and middle fingers in the form of a "V" and the loud boasting weren't enough for a clear identification, the massive afro-like do was a dead give away. Mr. Satan.
Most of the very important lambs that graced the ballroom with their presence flocked over to meet him in a congregation of eager meets and greets. The tall man was wearing his normal brown and white attire, complete with cape and golden championship belt. Another anarchist... Was "Earth's savior" considered a costume if you wore it all year round?
"Unfortunately, it would bring too much attention to us if I didn't invite him to these things," Bulma explained. "I mean... what would be my excuse? He is an influential guy in this city. The mayor's one of his greatest fans."
"Yeah, I understand," Gohan responded. He had nothing against the man apart from that one thing. He didn't mind that the guy was living a lie, or that all the fame and glory was supposed to be his own, because he truly didn't want any of it. He didn't even mind that the man milked the whole thing for all that he could with publicity stunts, movie deals, and overall public appearances. But that one thing...
Hercule was probably afraid of people realizing that the rest of the Games' participants were much stronger and faster than he was, and the young Saiyan understood the need for the big man to cover his tracks and protect his lie, but did he really have to attack them like that?
Ki control in all its forms, be it flying, blasts, and everything else, was now considered worldwide as "tricks". Unreal fabricated stunts, discredited as fraudulent and lies. But he wasn't a liar. His three little guys, Dad, Vegeta, Piccolo. Even Krillin and Yamcha and all the others. Their abilities weren't lies.
The so-called world savior insisted on it to this day, and Gohan's heart would always rearrange the man's words into one simple statement. If Ki was a lie, then this pathetic life of his was all messed-up for no reason. All his hard work, all his adventures, all the death he'd witnessed and all the mistakes he'd made since he was four years-old... Fruits of a lie, apparently.
His father was a good man, not a trickster. Even if Gohan had been the one responsible for his death, he'd ultimately died to save this planet, and he was forever labeled as "the blond guy with the tricks" because of that buffoon. It'd made him livid once. Now... just depressed. "Maybe I should go."
"Oh, I don't think that's necessary," Bulma told him. "You were much younger, not to mention blond. Krillin now has hair, Yamcha and Tien already left, and Piccolo is probably somewhere on the roof." She paused, maybe considering if she should include Future Trunks and the two dead Saiyans in her words. In the end she didn't. "There's no one here he would recognize. And besides, I think he's too busy feeding his own ego to even acknowledge your presence."
Gohan looked down at his hands. "Yeah, I know." But that wasn't really the point. He just didn't want to be around the guy, probably just as much as she didn't, considering he was basically the face of the Cell Games, the face of that day, and inescapably, the face of that tragedy. It was something he kept forgetting because she was always so happy and cheery, but in a way, Bulma had been the one who'd lost the most that day.
Her connection with Dad had always been so special. It was obvious in the way they spoke about each other, or in the way they'd stare at each other for a second before sharing a warm smile. Krillin was his father's best friend, but she was in a league all of her own. Like an older sister, or even a mother sometimes, though she'd kill him for even suggesting such a thing - "I'm not that old!" he could just imagine her shouting.
His dad was more than a best friend to her, and losing him would've been painful enough, but she'd also lost her lover that day, the father to a son he'd never even know about. Not only that, Gohan knew she lived with her own burden of guilt for having waited to let Vegeta know she was pregnant, stubbornly telling herself he'd have to stay with her because of what they had together after Cell had been taken care of, and not because of some sort of entrapment growing inside her belly.
Bulma was an amazing woman, trudging ahead despite such a wound in her heart, and pulling him and his mother right along. She was the strongest of them all.
Her hand came to meet his and gave it a squeeze, so he looked up back at her, trying to smile like she was. "I get it, Hon," she told him, detecting his musings. "I have to go welcome the prick, but maybe you should go meet the kids. Have a little fun with them."
"Yeah. I guess I will." It'd certainly take his mind off things, something he'd definitely need if he was to get through the night without looking like a brainless zombie due to all the shit bombarding his mind. Although, given the holiday… Zombie Batman would actually be kinda cool.
Maybe next year.
Bulma stood up and immediately spread her arms wide. Gohan followed her lead and put on that tired smile he'd normally produce whenever his head was too full to manage a truer one. Not that he wouldn't want to make it more believable; she knew it was hard. They hugged real tightly, and she allowed herself a deep sigh from the contact. His hugs were amazing, she had to admit. Like damn magic. They parted with a sympathetic gaze and Gohan went away to Trunks' room to meet the kids.
For a moment she just stood there, watching as he left and preferring a thousand times to go with him rather than staying around all these stuck-up snobs, but alas this night was work just as much as leisure. Taking a deep breath, she put on President Briefs' polite smile, and turned around, immersing herself in the crowd. She spotted the jackass immediately and walked his way, forcefully extending her right hand upon reaching him. "Welcome, Mr. Satan. I'm glad to see you managed to join us."
"Wouldn't miss it, Ms. Briefs," the guy said, taking her hand but not exactly shaking it. "And I'm glad I didn't, 'cause you look heavenly." He leaned down and kissed her hand, his expression a little too satisfied at the oh-so-original pun he'd managed to come up with.
Bulma fought the upper-lip muscle that wanted to show disgust. "Thank you. How's your daughter?"
"She's just fine. Couldn't make it 'cause of some big test or somethin' next week. She's a very hard worker, my Videl, a chip off the old block." His booming laugh was heard throughout the room.
"You must be very proud." She'd met the girl a couple of times before, although they'd never exchanged more than a couple of socially pre-determined pleasantries. From what she could understand, Videl tried to keep her personal life away from the limelight as much as possible, only attending with her father to a couple of events per year, and the more exclusive, the better; Bulma could relate, since "exclusive" meant private. True she didn't really know her, but the girl did gain some points in Bulma's scorecard that one time she caught her rolling her blue eyes at one of her father's boastful speeches. Thank goodness he didn't manage to fool everyone.
"I am," he said, his eyes slitting into a sly gaze that made Bulma shiver internally; she knew that look. She'd always been a beautiful woman, and that, mixed with her power and presumed single status, insured that she got plenty of those throughout her life. More that she cared for and most unwanted, of course, let alone from this man, a well-known and fully-fledged playboy. "Just hopin' this is the night ya finally agree to have dinner with me. I'm feelin'… sushi, how 'bout it? There's this new place downtown with a private VIP room. Grand opening's next weekend. It's invitation only but I'd be happy to take ya as my date."
She'd gotten an invitation too, thank you very much, and if she ever became mad enough to abide spending an hour or two with this man, hearing him talk about himself non-stop and how she was so lucky to be sharing a meal with him, then maybe she could just skip the middle man and simply put a drill right through her head. The headache would be about the same, she reckoned. And he's even talking about "dating"? Oh, God, that's just too creepy. Fuck this shit! She just wanted to run away and hide under the bed for the rest of the night. Oh, God...
"Where's your strength, Woman?" Vegeta's voice sung in her mind. Those words were something he'd only ever told her once in their time together, and yet she knew she'd never forget them. It'd happened the week before the Androids were to arrive, and just thinking about those monsters would make her tremble in fear and throw up her lunch all over the floor - the pregnancy hormones might not have been helping the case either. He'd caught her crying about it, one time, and after his usual jackass remark about how tears were for weaklings - if only he knew Goku had told her all about what happened on Namek - he'd told her those very words, and she knew it'd been his own twisted way of making her believe that everything was going to turn out just fine
There were no illusions that her prince was a complete asshole most of the times, especially when there were other people around, since it would be a sign of weakness to display any sort of feelings towards her. Even after he'd chosen her as his mate and marked her - something he did on his own accord, since he was always very clear that the male Saiyan chose the female, and not the other way around - she was lucky if he'd allow her to touch him when in public, let alone show any more explicit affection.
But when they were alone in their bedroom, curtains shut, doors locked, that place ceased to exist in the world, as she'd explained to him long ago when they first got together. "Nobody can see us here, Vegeta. This room is home." And when they were home, she knew he was her asshole, and she knew he cared.
That sentence was all she needed right now. Her strength... was him.
"I'm flattered, Mr. Satan, but my heart already has an owner. And my schedule is always so full that I prefer to spend all my free time with my son. I'm sure you can relate," she responded, purposefully and skilfully while making it seem she was talking only of Trunks. She didn't need this loud-mouth to go and blabber to some reporter, alerting the paparazzi that there was indeed a man that owned her heart. The headlines wrote themselves: "Who is the mystery man?" "What is she hiding?"
"Sure. Sure." His tone sounded so fake it probably had a nosejob. After spotting another eager fan on their surroundings, he continued, saying, "If ya change your mind, ya know where to find me."
"Of course. Please, enjoy yourself." She extended her hand again and he kissed it. Again. Was a normal handshake too much to ask?
"I will." He walked away with a full grin and a loud greet towards the delighted fan; the owner of a big law firm in the city, Bulma recognized. Another deep breath filled her lungs with some much needed peace, but there was just one thing she needed to know right now.
Where the hell did that caterer hide the whisky?
It was a cold wintery night as Gohan made his way back to his room from the library, thanking the cuff on his wrist for not messing with his above average body temperature of one hundred and three. He wasn't really in the mood to go shopping for a warmer winter coat.
The day had been a long one, and he was more than overdue for a nice hot shower and a one-on-one five-rounder of the latest Mortal Kombat to choose who would be in charge of cleaning their room this time around. He and Sharpner used to do it by turns, but... where's the fun in that?
It crossed his mind how this would be one game that Vegeta would probably enjoy, with all the blood and unwarranted violence. He thought of the older Saiyan often, for some reason, sometimes when wondering about his alien heritage, since no one else would be able to elucidate him other than Vegeta himself, and other times when thinking of his father. They'd been told that both Dad and Vegeta got to keep their bodies, and were hanging out with King Kai somewhere in Other World, which was cool; at least they were keeping each other company up there. Poor King Kai, though.
He hadn't been too sure when Mom had insisted to know why Dad had refused to come back, urging a visit to Dende so the guardian would get in touch with the Kai telepathically, but it was a good call, in retrospect. It took them both some time to come to terms with Dad's decision, and even if they'd never gotten to speak to him personally, it was easier to go on knowing he was okay up there, knowing why he chose to do what he did.
That kind of resolution was just like him, staying dead so as not to attract trouble. A sacrifice for the bigger cause.
"Hey, hot stuff!" he heard a girl's voice shout out in the distance. He didn't recognized it right away, all immersed in his thoughts, but a wide smile came to him when turned around to see who it was.
"Hey, Videl," he said, stopping his motion while he waited for her to reach him.
"Are you going home?" she asked just a few steps away, her arms tightly crossed and her hands under her armpits.
"Yeah."
"Oh, thank God. Hug me."
Hug…? "Huh?"
"I'm so cold. Hug me," the young woman insisted, not waiting for any acknowledgement on his part to curl her body further into itself and lean against his chest. The tip of her nose was gaining a soft shade of pink, as were her cheeks, and her knees were rubbing against each other in an attempt to produce some extra warmth. With the way the wind was blowing, though, strong and cutting and making a mess out of the locks that her slouchy knit hat didn't cover, "cold" seemed like a severe understatement.
Gohan chuckled quietly and did as he was told, hugging her with one arm around her back and rubbing shoulder to forearm for the added heat as they walked towards their building. "What are you doing out with such a thin jacket anyway?" he asked. That thing was flimsy. Fitted and made of dark denim, it probably didn't even have any lining, let alone a warm one.
"Well, duh, I'm a girl." If her words hadn't been so serious and matter-of-factly, he'd laugh it off as a joke, but now he just wasn't sure if she was actually trying for humour or not.
He furrowed his eyebrows. "So?"
"So, girls would rather freeze than walk around with a big chunky coat on."
They would? That didn't seem… sane. "Why in the world would they do that?"
"Because big chunky coats are not sexy, Gohan. They don't show off your waist."
"But... they're warm." He'd never even consider this to be an issue. If the weather was cold, then you put on a coat; wasn't that just common sense?
"Yes, and I am more than happy to wear one, but I'll hold it off as long as I can."
O… kay... It reminded him of those high-heeled shoes Bulma wore on Halloween; those things were huge! Lean and elegant, but extremely high. When she'd come over to Trunks' bedroom to meet them, dropped herself on a beanbag chair and took the heels off to violently rub her feet, he'd asked her how she'd managed to walk around in those for the whole night. It just seemed like a very uncomfortable, very unnecessary health hazard, since she'd surely break her damn neck if she'd ever fall from those stilts. Her answer was a simple and clearly rehearsed mantra of sorts. "Beauty over comfort. Sexy over warmth. Fitted over walking or breathing properly. It is the Girl Way."
How many times had she produced that specific speech before, he wondered, absurd as it might have been. Adding a few more curse words and gratuitous name-calling into the mix, she'd had the same interaction with Vegeta many a time before, no doubt. He could just imagine it. "What in God's name are those ridiculous things, Woman? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Because I'll gladly make it quicker and painless, unlike those stupid contraptions." Classic Vegeta.
"You girls are weird," he ended up telling her.
"Shut up! We're not!"
"You most certainly are." Defend it as she might, the proof was in the pudding.
"No, we're not! We just want to be pretty."
Well, he couldn't really say much about the matter, since he'd long lost his ability to accurately measure beauty from amidst all the rest, but he'd bet a whole lot she didn't need to follow the Girl Way to attain it. "You would be just as pretty with a big chunky coat on."
"No, I wouldn't."
"Yes, you would."
"Shut up and hug me tighter!"
Gohan chuckled again, admitting defeat. Videl was not a girly-girl like Erasa, and she didn't pull out all the stops with her attire and makeup as much as Bulma would, but that didn't mean she wouldn't suffer from the same girly logic. He'd see it in Mia too, from time to time, although, being from the city, Videl was probably still much more experienced when it came to what constituted being "sexy" or "pretty" or whatever she'd called it. His sister's drama was usually more hair related, though. He wondered if the two of them would get along.
"Hold on," he said as he made them pause their walking, sliding down his jacket's zipper. He resumed their hug, wrapping it around her as much as it would go - it didn't open up as far as he'd wished, but it'd be better than nothing, no doubt - while Videl did the same to his waist, surrounding it with her thin arms. Her limbs were now perfectly covered under his fleece-lined garment, so they'd be much warmer, and since they were still somewhat away from their student residence, she'd probably be able to refrain from freezing to death this way, or at least from dislocating her jaw by the way her teeth were loudly crashing against each other.
She sighed in contentment. "Mmm, you're so warm. Thank you."
He smiled. "You're welcome."
They arrived within a few minutes of awkward walking and a couple of laughable stumbles, and got in, undoing their knot. Even though they were indoors, his chest actually felt colder in the spot where she'd been pressing her cheek; he zippered his jacket back closed to warm it up again.
"Thank you so much, Gohan. You're a life-saver."
"No, problem." He pushed the button for the elevator. "But please, wear your big chunky coat tomorrow. I don't see this cold going away anytime soon."
She giggled. "I'll try. But I won't promise anything."
A smile. "Fair enough. Can't compete with girl logic." As illogical as it might be.
"No man ever could," she told him with a straight face that she didn't manage to keep for long, chuckling at her own words as they entered the elevator. He pushed the button labeled "three". "No man" indeed, and he certainly wouldn't be the one to pioneer in the expedition to combat that logic; the path seemed just way too treacherous.
"Oh, my God, I can't tell you how excited I am for moving day," she continued to tell him. "Finally, my own room! I love Erasa, but I think that a whole year of sharing one is more than enough." He wouldn't know. It'd been seven years since he had his own room, ever since Goten was born, and apart from occasionally wishing to be alone during his teen years, he'd never felt the actual need for that kind of privacy. Well, truth be told, it might have helped that Goten basically died during the night instead of sleeping, so he'd always been able to have his privacy all the same.
"Only a couple more weeks to go," he said to add to the conversation.
"Yeah. And surprisingly enough, we're almost ready and everything. I thought it'd be a much more vicious pain in the ass to get things all packed up."
Gohan smiled. "Let me know if you need any help."
"You're already helping enough as it is. But thank you."
The elevator stopped and Gohan started exiting it. "Okay, so I'll see you..." He stopped in his tracks, lost of further words to finalize that thought upon seeing that damn pink ring hanging innocently from number thirty-four's doorknob.
"What is it?" Videl asked from behind him. The door between them was about to close but she held it open.
For a moment he couldn't respond to her simple question, numbly staring at the thing while mourning the loss of his short-term dreams with a deep, defeated breath. "The bracelet..."
"Bracelet?" she repeated, but he was just too bummed to elaborate on the matter. She must've spotted it though, adding, "That pink thing? Why is it there?"
"To keep me from coming in." He turned back to her, a wry expression semi-rolling his eyes from the annoyance. "It's the Bro Code, apparently."
"Oh…" she said, her eyebrows arching steeply above understanding wide eyes. Yeah… it was a "do not disturb" sign, basically, mocking him and taunting his misery with its pink supremacy. Couldn't Sharp and Erasa just "take care of things" while he was in class? He had his weekly schedule pinned right there on the wall above his desk. Inconsiderate perverts... "Erasa usually just texts me or something."
He sighed, resigning himself to the fact that his life was being bested by a puny silicone-gel hoop. A pink one, for that matter. "I just wanted a nice hot shower…"
Videl giggled. "If you want, I'll scold Erasa so she won't come over during week days."
Yeah, like they'd be able to keep it in their pants for five whole days. He didn't really know what was worst: being homeless for an hour or so, or hearing his roommate take matters into his own hands - quite literally - during the night, just a couple of steps across from him. ... Scratch that, he most certainly knew! "Don't bother," he told Videl, a teasing smirk tilting up a corner of his lip. "I think I can handle it until you guys move. Then they're your problem."
"Oh, thanks a lot!" She grinned and punched him playfully in the shoulder.
Gohan chuckled but then couldn't keep another sigh from escaping him, eyeing his room's door once again. He just hoped they were quick this time. Maybe someday he'd put the pink bracelet on the doorknob just to mess with his roommate, just to make him taste his own wicked medicine for once. And it would buy him some alone time, which wasn't that bad of an idea, but then he'd have to go through the "Sharpnish Inquisition", being incessantly and thoroughly harassed into spilling who he was there with. Well, the guy did say one just had to "walk away" when that thing was on the doorknob. He didn't specify the nature of what had to be going on inside.
Oh, semantics...
Videl hooked her arm on his. "Come on. You can hang out with me until they finish."
"That seems to be a recurring thing between us."
"True." She giggled as they walked back into the elevator, ascending three more floors to hers. "But this time I have some yummy pastries for us. I just bought them this morning."
Gohan gasped, not even embarrassed at how loud it'd came out. "Really?" Sweet, delicious pastries were just what the doctor ordered for his poor wounded heart. There were people screwing each other in his own damn bedroom; he deserved a treat or ten. "Are they those…?"
"Yes," she heavenly confirmed, "those little ones with sprinkles from that place just outside campus."
"Mmm..." Oh, dear God, those things were orgasmic in their own right. Let those two fuck each other to death, for all he cared.
Videl giggled, sliding her key into its crevice at number sixty-six and opening the door.
"Hey, you guys!"
The young Saiyan was all but startled at the unexpected figure in front of them. After a silent moment to gather their bearings, Videl was the one to voice their surprise, whispering, "E?"
"Well, sure, who else were you expecting?" a bubbly Erasa responded, unfazed while continuing to pack some colorful bed linens into one of many cardboard boxes that covered the floor.
"Huh... no one," Videl told her, sharing in his thoughts. Literally no one, because if she was here, then… who was with Sharpner back at his room?
"You guys can come on in," Erasa said, deep into her boxing. "I'll be done in a jiffy."
Her roommate slowly let her satchel drop from her shoulder, placing it on her chair before taking the white plastic bag that'd been sitting on top of her desk. "Don't worry, E, we're not staying. I just came for this. I'll be over in a while to help you, okay?"
"Oh, okay. No problem," Erasa responded without even looking their way, as committed as she was with what she was doing. "See ya, Gohan."
"Bye," he told her weakly, following Videl out the room and towards their floor's recreational area on the far end of the corridor. This was just too… weird. And so extremely confusing. He knew they weren't exactly dating, but he really thought Sharpner liked Erasa, so what in the world was he doing with someone else that required the privacy the pink bracelet enforced?
His head shook slightly, not quite in discontent, since it wasn't really his place to be happy or sad about what was happening with his friends, but because he just didn't comprehend it. It was obvious they cared for each other, and it was obvious they were attracted to each other and enjoyed spending time together. What else was he missing on the checklist that didn't allow a proper romantic relationship to be possible between the two?
If only there was a book he could read about the subject... He didn't considered himself a dummy per se, but a "Romance for socially-challenged mountain boys" book would surely come in handy when it came to understanding those two.
Videl pushed aside the two-way door to the rec room, holding it for a moment until he was close enough to catch it, before walking inside and taking a seat on the wide window ledge. Gohan mirrored his friend, assuming his favorite cross-legged position right in front of her, while she took the big paper box from the bag she'd been carrying and opened it, exposing the sweet delicacies. He absentmindedly took one and promptly gave it a bite, but Videl stayed put, looking out the window. "Dammit, Sharpner," she half-whispered after a while.
"You know what? I don't think it's fair that all the blame goes to him," Gohan found himself saying. It's not that he didn't like Erasa, because he truly did, but his allegiance was first and foremost with his roommate, and even if he'd surely be best keeping his opinion to himself, he couldn't really let his friend take a hit for something that wasn't entirely in his control. Or at least that was his reasoning, what the barely discernible logic on the matter allowed him to comprehend.
The effect was instantaneous, deepening Videl's soft frown into a full-out scowl that reminded him of his mother. "Why the hell not?" she almost barked at him. "You mean that if she doesn't want to put out, he's more than welcome to go search for the first bimbo he sees?"
"What? No! That's not what I meant!"
"Then what did you mean, exactly?" It was almost a dare, in the way she'd said it, like whichever answer he'd give her next would be the ultimate decision on whether or not he got to keep his head.
Well, either way, the facts were undeniable and legitimate arguments on his behalf. He sighed before explaining, "The first time we met at Pancakes... he said something."
Videl's eyebrows sunk, her words turned cautious and slow. "What did he say?"
"I asked him if they were dating, and he said 'no' just like you'd told me earlier, but..." He paused, shaking his head a bit. "I saw disappointment on his face, and when I asked him why not, he said that she didn't want to because he wasn't 'boyfriend material', whatever that means."
"Not boyfriend material?" Videl repeated to herself, blankly staring down at the colorful contents of the box between them.
"Yeah. I just don't think she should expect him to be exclusive with her when she isn't willing to make their relationship exclusive either." It was really the only conclusion he'd manage to get from his beginner-level thought process regarding the matter, but it only seemed fair. As far as he knew, Sharpner had been trying to make her give him a chance at becoming actual boyfriend and girlfriend for ages yet to no avail, so why would he be monogamous and committed to a relationship that'd never be?
"I didn't know about that. You're right," Videl said lowly. "I'll talk to her."
"What are you going to say?" Gohan asked while eyeing her warily, taking a second and final bite at his tiny pastry.
"I don't know. I just don't want her to get hurt."
"Just don't throw him under the bus, either." Despite all the logic that defended Sharpner's actions, labeling them as expected and completely reasonable, the whole thing didn't sit quite right with him, but he could tell that neither himself nor Videl had the full scoop on what was really going on between their blond friends, and there was no easier way to jump into unfair conclusions.
He'd came to know his roommate better and better with each passing week, and it wasn't like him at all to blatantly and carelessly try to hurt Erasa like that - assuming she'd actually be hurt by what he was doing - but if Erasa didn't want anything but sex with him, while knowing full well he urged for something more meaningful, was he really doing anything wrong by going to search for it somewhere else?
"If anything I'm going to help the guy," Videl responded, a big grin plastered across her face and a gleam back in her bright blue eyes.
"How do you figure?"
"I'm gonna get him the girl!"
Gohan pursed his lips a little to the side. "I don't know how I feel about matchmaking..."
"And you don't have to decide because it's not what I'm doing. The match is already made. At most I'm a... a nudger."
"A nudger?" The word amused him. Behold The Amazing Nudger, gently pushing Satan City's most vile criminals into the grasp of the law. He'd see that movie; it sounded awesome!
Sometimes he wondered if he was right in the head...
"Yep, you'll see," Videl concluded, finally taking a pastry for herself. "If she truly likes him, you can start planning the bachelor party 'cause those two are mine now."
Gohan just stared blankly at her. "I can't tell if you're a genius or just simply insane."
She smirked. "Why not both?"
"That's... just terrifying."
Just to be clear, I'm not going to turn this story into a Krillin bash. Or Yamcha, or Tien, so don't worry. It's just that, as it affected the Sons and Briefs families, Goku's death also affected all others, and it's not always easy to put a life-changing event like that behind you.
It's important for it to happen this way to show you wonderful readers how lonely it is for Gohan. Apart from his family, he has very few friends. I'm planning to address the issue further in the future so your patience is much appreciated. :D
Please review, etcetera. :P