So….. I'm gonna need a little bit more time for those first chapters I'm re-writing… Yeah, it turns out they were in BIG need of an overhaul. :D
I'll have them ready by the next one, pinky swear!
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About this chapter here… I didn't manage to include every scene I was aiming for, but as you can see, it's pretty big as it is, so I had to cut it a scene shorter.
Scene #1: I wanted to show you wonderful readers just how happy Gohan was, but I think I might have gone slightly full-retard... Please disregard it. xD
Or if not, then maybe keep an eye out for a reference or four. As I said… full-retard. :P
A shout-out to my favourite minion Dying Grin for his help on this scene, and kalebxdd for his craziness and our private joke that's embedded in there (you know the one :P)
Scene #2: You'd probably realize it without me saying anything, but just so there are no issues, the bits written in bold are snippets from Gohan's notebook.
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Aaaand…. that's it. Now go, my darlings! Enjoy!
Why did they call them "Sloppy Joes", he wondered?
Obviously the things were indeed sloppy, gushing out their delicious entrails onto one's hands like they'd been gutted in advance, seppuku-style, so no issues there. Though he assumed it'd be a more honorable death for the Joes if they'd been eaten while using actual silverware, not bare unrefined hands like some unmannered animal - as much as he'd tried not to be one. They'd been properly washed before ever going to the cafeteria for lunch, so there had been some respect in the act, of course. He wouldn't want some gargantuan being coming along to eat him with filthy hands, now would he?Who knew where those mammoth claws would've been?
Hypothetically speaking, of course.
All in all, sloppy as they were, why "Joes"? It made it a lot less yummy knowing he'd been eating some guy's man meat… even if minced and cooked into mouthwatering goodness.
Had the eight Sloppy Joes he'd eaten for lunch come from eight different Joes or one ridiculously large motherfucker? Would it be considered counterfeiting if the meat had come from a Jim instead of a Joe? Would upscale restaurants serve Untidy Josephs instead?
So many questions…
He'd long been introduced to the wonders of coffee, but never before had he realized the true potential the precious liquid entailed. Six tall-ones from the coffee cart outside the library ever since leaving Videl's place that morning, and now all these inspiring dilemmas were flooding his mind, waiting for his genius to solve them. And he was mostly sure he was hearing colors and seeing sounds, so there was that too. Why wasn't he told of this before? This was awesome!
Minus the shaking in his hands. And arms. And legs. But who cared?
Gohan navigated the crowded halls of the OSPU main building as best he could, headphones tightly in place and his playlist on shuffle as he left the cafeteria, but it's like everyone kept being attracted to his gravitational field, missing him by inches with original one-liners like, "Watch it, bud!" or, "Are you blind or something?" like it'd actually been his fault they'd bump into each other. With his stomach full and his mind even fuller from all the unanswered riddles still to uncover within the world, how could he be expected to keep a straight path or come up with complicated trajectories to avoid the passersby? He'd drank his weight in coffee to keep awake, not balanced, and definitely not aware of his damn surroundings. Couldn't they see it? Jeez…
In retrospect, maybe he should've slept those two and a half hours before class…
Nah.
At least there was only one more class to finish up the school day, and then maybe he'd pay a visit to the Gravity Room at Bulma's. Or maybe not; with the way he was feeling every atom in the air collide with his skin like burning asteroids from hell, the gravity would certainly make him its bitch today. A visit to Piccolo was probably a better thought. Or another coffee. With two or three more cups, he'd surely be high enough to finally and thoroughly discredit string theory beyond the shadow of a doubt, or find a new element no one had ever heard about. He'd call it… Saiyanium; "Sy" in the periodic table of elements. Unless it's density was over nine thousand, then he'd call it Kakarotium.
Vegeta would love that.
As he turned a corner into yet another corridor packed full of young people and a lively bouquet of body odor, his eyes quickly picked up on a cute couple by the water fountain, groping each other and sucking face like there was no tomorrow. Gohan stopped where he stood, whined loudly, and produced the biggest, most miserable pout he could drag out of his lips. Why did he get to kiss his girlfriend? Damn that guy he knew nothing about! Damn him!
If he didn't get to kiss Videl, then no one in the world should be able to kiss their girlfriends either! It'd just be fair, dammit.
Maybe he could just hop on the Super-Saiyan Express and go kiss her real quick. Just an itty bitty don't-mind-me peck on those perfect rosy petals of her lips, and then he'd be off her hair for good until her flight back. Sure, she was probably aboard a plane right now, half way to North City, but airborne planes got misplaced all the time; no one would miss it if he'd hijack the thing for an hour or so. And surely no one would…
Cue overly-dramatic gasp, eyes widened out of their sockets.
Holy black on a Popo! I love this song!
He couldn't recall what it was named, nor if he'd actually ever heard it before, but it felt like an adequate soundtrack for that particular moment in his life so he absorbed it like a musical sponge, resuming his journey and ignoring the half-horrified, half-worried-for-his-mental-health looks he'd received. Unfortunately, the song was just too perfect, which was making his path turn from a moderately-slanted straight line to full erratic in a pitiful attempt to dance his way to class.
Or at least that's what he wanted to accomplish, but his exceedingly-alert mind still managed to keep some self-awareness to refuse looking like a freak in front of the whole student body. It knew well how wonderful a dancer he was.
Good call, brain. Good call.
Nevertheless, he couldn't stop imagining everyone around him ripping off their regular street-clothes to reveal intricate costumes and jewellery worthy of the greatest Bollywood blockbusters. Some inconspicuous guys would come to roll away this mundane college backdrop only to reveal a panoply of color and bright lights flashing relentlessly and igniting all the senses.
Like the neon signs on Iguana street. Hopefully he wouldn't get mugged.
And then, as he performed a pathetic excuse of a twhirl that almost made him crash to the ground like a graceful hippopotamus, he spotted a familiar face approaching, immediately stretching out his arms and straining his lungs into a big loud shout. "The Sharpenator!"
His roommate looked terrified for some reason. Gohan gave him a strong bear-hug to make him feel better. "Jesus, Man! What the hell has gotten into you?"
"Coffee. Lots and lots. No sleep since Saturday."
"Well, that's healthy. Why?" A thick blond eyebrow lifted up. He felt like touching it since it seemed really fuzzy and cute - like a caterpillar - but his brain unceremoniously bitchslapped him to stay still.
"Life's too beautiful," he responded. "Can I touch your eyebrow?"
"W...What? No!" the other almost yelled, scrunching together his whole face, which only made him wanna touch it that much more. "God, G, at least take a chill-pill! You look like you're gonna explode!"
"Next class in ten minutes," he tried to explain. If he were to explode, though, would the lunch-ladies made Sloppy Gohan's out of his scattered flesh? He'd be yummy, for sure. With some onion and some peppers. Little bit of garlic.
"You can miss one class, you moron," Sharp went on to say. "Go home, get some shut-eye."
"Nope. Nuh-huh." Gohan threw an arm over the other's shoulders, hooking it around his neck and trudging them both on the way to his classroom. "Walk with me, Sharpzilla, Sharp Attack, Super Swaggy Sharpalicious. How're you doin'? What's new in your life?"
"Well, right now I'm terrified of my high-as-fuck roommate 'cause I can't shake the feeling he's gonna go on a murderous rampage sometime soon."
"Nah, I wouldn't do that," he assured his roommate, performing a dismissive wave that seemed more like a swat of an imaginary fly. "But if I did, you should totally film me doing it and put it online. I've always wanted to go viral."
The guy tried not to chuckle. "Always? Really?" he dead-panned.
"Uh-huh. That's the dream, Man. Do some crazy shit and be someone online." In a heartbeat, Gohan's relaxed features turned a scowl, eyes slitting menacingly. "But then that bitch just turns around and spits in your face! Slut..."
"Slut? What slut?"
"The fucking Internet! You give it everything - your time, your soul - and the bitch gives you nothing! Just taunts you with the goods, and then goes do the same to all the other pervs like it has something meaningful going on with each one of them, but it doesn't! It's all a fake! It's just porn everywhere; no romance, nothing!" Like an ominous siren of ancient mythology, luring you into procrastinating just one more minute, just one more funny cat video, but by then it's too late. How many lives would that nympho have to take before people started taking it as a serious threat?
"Oh... my God," Sharpner said, really slowly and apprehensively as they turned another corner. "Please let me take your ass home. You're freaking me the fuck out!"
"I wanna marry the Internet. Can I do that?"
There was silence for a second. "You wanna..."
"No! Fuck the Internet! I wanna marry Videl. Can I? Pleeease…?" Videl was so much hotter than the Internet; what the hell was he thinking? She was sweeter, and funnier, and smarter, and he could actually touch her magnificent plump breasts, unlike the Internet's bland two-dimensional ones on a computer screen. He could nestle between them, feel their warmth…
God… Not even six hours had passed since he'd last seen his girlfriend, and here he was daydreaming about parts of her anatomy he'd touched twice in the course of a year. Only twice! And he hadn't even been allowed by his stupid conscience to be fully committed to the acts!
Yeah, he was surely gonna die shortly without her.
Goodbye, cruel world.
"You can, G. You can marry Videl," Sharp told him calmly through an endearing smile, his arm reaching around Gohan's waist; luckily, since his feet were starting to feel like cement. It was probably the weight of all the unresolved thoughts in his head. Or the weight in his heart for missing his beautiful girlfriend.
"Will you be my best-man?" he asked his roommate. A yawn escaped his lips, and he rubbed his face and eyes, struggling to re-open them. They ultimately didn't.
"I will. I'll throw you a kick-ass bachelor party and everything."
"You're the best." His head fell gradually to the side and onto Sharp's shoulder. He could still hear his roommate's voice, muffled and uttering intelligible words, until its volume grew louder and the guy smacked him semi-softly on the back of the head. "What the fuck, G? Wake up, goddammit!"
"No," he told him bluntly, re-adjusting his cheek against the blond's padded backpack strap and anchoring his hand tighter around his neck. "Comfy. Be quiet."
"'Comfy', my ass! I'm gonna drag you home, and you're gonna sleep until tomorrow morning, ya hear?"
"I don't wanna. Videl's not there."
"Where?"
"In my bed. I don't wanna sleep without her." He'd wait the three whole gruesomely long days if he had to. How could he be expected to find any comfort in his pillow now that he'd had a taste of her smooth skin, of her hot flesh? The flowery fabric-softener that perfumed his bed-linens smelled like an actual pile of crap against the sweet green apples of her hair, against that tantalizing natural scent that drove him crazy.
How could he ever be a whole person without her now? Ever again?
Eyes closed shut, he just heard Sharp exhale wistfully in response. And then, out of nowhere, some more slurred words left his tired lips. "You talked to her. You did. I know."
"Huh?"
"You talked to Vi," he told his roommate. "And then she came to meet me at the bus stop. And then she kissed me. And then I cried like a fucking baby. And now the world makes sense again." The birds chirping outside made sense, and the rustling trees in the wind. The honking traffic, the stressed-out people on their way to work, and the laughter of little children during recess at school. All the things that made reality, all those he'd glance upon and discarded immediately as mundane and unworthy of his awareness seemed so important now, little pebbles of life, little moments in time that would never be repeated. It was all because of her, so surely nothing would ever make sense again if she wasn't around. Nothing, not a single speck. "It was you. I just know it."
"She just needed a push." He could hear him smile. "No biggie."
"Big biggie. Huge biggie." A much needed, long overdue CPR on his darkened heart. "Thank you," Gohan half-whispered, hugging tighter around his roommate's neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
"No sweat, Kiddo," Sharp responded in a fatherly tone. "Let's just get you to bed, okay?"
"M'kay." Time would go by much faster if he'd slept for most of it, that's for sure. If it wasn't for the fact that he'd already missed two practice sessions for the Tigers last week, he'd force himself to sleep all day tomorrow too, but Coach Leon would probably castrate him on sight when he'd finally lay eyes on his Saiyan ass. Just as well; that way he could wreck himself so hard during tomorrow's practice that he'd either fall over from exhaustion, or be too numb to think all that much about how he missed Vi. How he missed everything on her gorgeous, perfect body, her lame jokes, the cute way she wrinkled her nose just before sneezing… Oh, dear Lord, and her cooking. Her pancakes, her banana bread, her blueberry muffins.
Mmm… Muffins… Wouldn't it be nice to just wake up in the morning, push a button, and have muffins? God, that'd be great. Like a muffin generator. Or a muffin switch. Muffin lever? Whichever.
Totally gonna patent that shit.
The view outside was regular and expected, a vast playground covered in green grass and assorted child-oriented constructs like seesaws and swing sets, though lacking any sort of interest or movement right now. It lay vacant through the classroom window, all the kids who'd abuse it during recess either in class or undergoing preparations for yet another "Celebrate the Saviour" exhibit, like a song or a play or some poems. She could just imagine the fun...
Some of those students sat right here, though, scattered around the floor as she stood in the corner of the small classroom, hearing the big man himself as he spoke of his achievements. For the first few minutes she tried very hard to hear him too, but as her whole body, her mind was really heavy and numb, side-effects of a long night she wished would've been much, much longer. Three hours had been more than enough for her to function properly this morning - even if barely - but holdup after excruciating holdup ever since their flight had landed yesterday, had brought her to her hotel room much later than expected. It'd been close to midnight when she was finally allowed some alone time with Gohan's notebook.
Time didn't pass as she got lost in the words, but after the fifth journey into that amazing imaginary world, she regained full consciousness of her surroundings. And her body, urging for a speck of rest which she was forced to provide.
It was like the information had been imprinted in her head, though, every detail still so vivid, cover to cover. The heartbreaking story of a kid who'd lived through so much he didn't really find it heartbreaking at all, just... reasonable and normal. She couldn't recall how many near-death experiences he'd described like there was nothing to them, walks in the park for a mind that'd been so loosely exposed to violence from such an early age, but they'd been more than enough to shed some light on indecipherable bits and pieces from their past together.
Every scene in that book had a real scar attached, either on skin or in spirit. It all made sense now.
"He broke my neck, I think. At least, that's what Krillin told me later on, since my Dad always tried to steer away from the subject whenever I'd bring it up. I imagine it wasn't easy for him to see me like that, Senzu Bean or not. The guy was as ugly as they come, but that Recoome-Kick of his sure packed a wallop."
A wallop that broke my neck and almost killed me. No big deal.
Videl allowed her eyes to rest closed for a moment, rubbing her face from the tiredness and the painful thoughts. There was no doubt in her mind - and in Erasa's, and in Sharp's - that his secret would've been something big, even way before Gohan had decided come clean about it. How wrong in retrospect… His everyday routine of college and hanging out with friends and family wasn't the norm while his big secret the exception; it was the other way around.
His whole life was the "something big". Everything else was the mediocre in-betweens and filler chapters.
She shook her head softly, hoping to also shake away the feeling of misplacement right along with the action. The events in his past were all so overwhelming, so life-changing, soul-moulding; did she really have a place within them? When living one's life on a roller-coaster, ups and downs and electrifying harsh turns, everything else in the world must seem so boring and monotonous. What did she have to offer him but the love in her heart? Certainly not the measure of excitement he was used to.
Well… there was one other thing she could bring to the table, but she didn't want to go there right now. Her mind was racing enough as it was without adding his amazing naked body into the mix.
Don't think about sex. Don't think about sex. … Dammit.
With a deep breath, she let her eyes roam around the room while trying to substitute her insecurities and the shattering reality of her boyfriend's struggles - and sex, of course - with less daunting parts of his life. Honestly, she'd much prefer to think of nothing at all right now, but after reading that notebook, how could her mind ever be bothered with anything else?
She made an effort to take in the cute boys and girls in front of her, their round little faces shedding some light to their very young ages. Their big eyes were peeled, and their lips gapped at the narration of her father's final match against Jewel in the twenty-fourth World Martial Arts Tournament; always a big hit among the younger crowds. The bland walls around them came next, and it became clear this was probably not these particular kids' usual classroom, since some of the printed posters that covered the whole back area spoke of figures of speech and assorted grammar topics; too ahead of their age, if she wasn't mistaken. Alliterations, similes, metaphors… hyperboles...
"My dad was sure he could reach a level even higher than a Super-Saiyan, but he needed some time, so he decided to take us there. Vegeta went in first, all alone, of course, and then it was our turn. It was really hard simply to stand in there, at the time, since the gravity and the air pressure were all weird and just… too much.
I'm not sure why they call it the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, but I assume it's because of the temperature fluctuation, since it peaks and drops like an hyperbola, because time itself doesn't behave hyperbolically in there as the name would suggest. It passes just like outside, though at different rates."
He was so cute when he went full-nerd like that…
Whenever she'd reach those last few pages, though, even after re-reading them so many times, her gut would always turn on itself, her chest always grew heavier. Their time in that strange room - a year inside, a day outside - was described in such delightful words, urging the reader to grin absentmindedly at how wonderful he'd felt while in there, but she could only frown and rub the tears as they fell to her cheeks.
She knew how that story ended, what was to come next. A whole year with his father, only to lose him nine days after setting foot outside… No, she couldn't feel that way. It wasn't what Gohan intended for her to know when he wrote it. He meant to show her just how perfect it'd been.
Certainly it'd been incredibly demanding, that year in there, both physically and mentally - not a vacation; hard work for the ability to save the world - but that wasn't what stuck with Gohan after all these years had passed. Their baths together, the day his father had cut his hair, the bland or charred or raw meals they'd managed to cook - if you could call it that - those were the memories he'd retained. His ascension to Super-Saiyan at such a young age and the makeshift party his dad threw together to celebrate it, and of course, the respective "stone-cake" incident. If they could barely cook some beef, what in the world were they thinking, venturing into baking? It's not like it was a million times more demanding or anything…
With all the hurt and all the hardship, he had so many fond memories of his father; that was the blessing, that's what he wanted her to see. She wouldn't spoil it with pity. Gohan deserved none.
Chin up and jaw clenched so the words in her head would be more easily assimilated, her gaze floated away once more, towards the large balloon arrangement that stood right next to her, close to the improv little stage her father was currently sitting on. Balloons were so underrated, nowadays, all colorful and bright, they'd always manage to bring a smile to her face, ever since a little girl.
These particular ones were big and orange, regular pear-shaped, a single star printed in black on each their rubbery surfaces in the exact same outline as the one that symbolized Satan City - a clear homage to her father's hometown. It fitted the former name "Orange Star City" much better, though, in her opinion.
"There are seven, each one the size of a small grapefruit. They're spherical and really shiny, as if they were made of very dense orange crystal or something. The only thing that discerns them from one another is the number of red stars inside them, one through seven.
My dad's was number four. It was originally his grandfather's (Gohan, like me), and since he died when my dad was still very young, he believed the ball held his spirit in it. It became really special to my father and to our family, later on, though we never saw it again after the balls were last used.
Unfortunately, we later realized it'd been my dad himself who killed his grandfather. It was when he transformed into Oozaru (that's the Saiyan word for 'Great Ape', remember?) during a full moon, so my dad didn't even realize it. It must've been really lonely after that. For my dad, I mean."
It was like he was writing to himself just as much as to her, realizing things through the action of straightening out his memories and organizing them on paper. Of course she wanted to know everything about his life, everything in that notebook and all the rest that didn't fit in its pages, but those little things were the most important in her eyes. His remarks, his thoughts, his feelings regarding certain events or people, those spoke so much more.
Through his words, she could tell how Krillin, for instance, was a great guy and his father's best friend, but the feelings that charged every letter told her the rest. How the guy had meant a great deal to Gohan when he was a little kid, and how they grew apart after Goku had died, but most of all, it told her how Gohan tried really hard not to show how much he'd been hurt by the sudden break in their relationship.
"When the Saiyans first arrived on Earth and all the guys came over to help out in the fight, the way they all stood their ground and squared their shoulders made them seem so much taller to me than they actually were. They showed no fear, though I'm sure they were feeling it on the inside. It's one of those things you can't suppress, true fear, as much as you try.
But Namek was completely different. Krillin was always so scared there, I could see it perfectly in his face. No sane person would ever feel safe on that planet while Frieza and his men were there, and that's exactly what made me respect him that much more.
He was scared. I was scared. When we were there, we were equals. I wasn't the child and he the adult, just two guys scared out of our minds, trying to stay alive and help out as much as we could. It made me feel like I actually had a purpose there, that I wasn't just a useless child who needed babysitting. Krillin always had a way to make me feel like I belonged, wherever we were.
It was one of the reasons I often thought of visiting him after my dad died, but I always decided against it. Last thing he needed was some scary kid bothering him and his new wife simply because he felt lonely. I wouldn't want that either if I were in his shoes.
I was happy for him. Still am."
"Some scary kid"… Was that really how people saw him? No doubt it was how he saw himself.
No, it couldn't be. Gohan cared deeply about those guys, so they surely had to care about him too. He'd made them seem like they were the heroes in his story, battling the bad monsters while he remained the simple narrator, invisible, unimportant, and even if that was how he perceived things to have happened in his own self-degrading mind, that couldn't have been the case. No way could her sweet, amazing Gohan had gone through life knowing these people without producing any sort of effect on them.
They all sure had an effect on him. And on her too, now that she'd met them. Well… sorta.
Yamcha, a ladies man in Videl's first opinion, but he'd taught Gohan that it was okay to back down from a fight when you know it to be too much over your abilities. He'd helped in his own way, as much as he could, by carrying a sick Goku back home when the first Androids came along, for example.
Then there was Tien, a recluse. Taught him about devotion to his beliefs, dedicating his life to nothing but training and his close friend Chiaotzu, living long periods of time away from everything and everyone that could steer him from them.
Oh, and how could she forget Master Roshi, a complete and unadulterated pervert. Taught Gohan mostly stuff he'd rather not have learned, that much was clear. A good guy at heart, sure, a mentor to many people, but also really, really handsy when it came to girls, as it turned out.
"Never go near him. Ever. I'm serious. It'll end in death and my father really cherished the guy."
His father… Gohan explained in his notebook that he'd prefer to tell her more about him in person than in writing, which was understandable, but Goku too had had a huge effect on her. Her first impression of him was that of a shadow, mostly, since she was well aware of his hefty dominance over Gohan's life even before reading about him last night, but that faceless shadow was nothing of the sort now. For everyone around him - no exception - Goku was the embodiment of everything that's positive in the world. The poster child for second chances, starting with his own, courtesy of a rather severe bump to the head that ultimately saved the planet he'd grow to love. He was the most important person in Gohan's life, obviously, and the one who had affected it the most - both in life and in death - singlehandedly and without that much of a competition.
Other than Piccolo, of course.
Goku's mortal enemy turned ally and friend, the guy seemed scary enough in Gohan's depiction of him, and knowing he'd been born from an egg spat out by the evil King Piccolo, the same one that had terrified the world twenty-something years ago, didn't really help his case. But then again, nor did the mental image of child abuse.
"When I was a kid, I did ask Piccolo if the green pigment on his skin was actually due to chlorophyll, like plants, enabling him to produce energy through photosynthesis even though he can also do it through food just like us. He threw me into a mountain, so I never got my answer."
All things considered, from the choice of words that'd always be associated with Piccolo's name in the blue notebook, it was obvious how incredibly important he was to Gohan, so she'd make him important to her as well. Hopefully she'd manage to shake off the bad and keep only the good; he was basically family in Gohan's eyes, after all.
"My big green uncle, but never say that to his face. He'd bite my head off."
Although, she should remember to ask him about that whole... fusion stuff; that part was just plain confusing. The original Piccolo had absorbed some Namekian warrior named Nail, and then afterwards the former Earth's Guardian, Kami, who he'd been forever linked to even before that, to such extents that if one were to die the other would go right along…? Well, that was just... How was that even...?
She couldn't recall how many times her mind had knotted because of that one.
One thing had become clear about it, though, since Gohan had been really adamant on making her realize it in the whole two or three paragraphs he'd spent on that particular matter. Piccolo's present kindness hadn't come from Nail's or Kami's serene and good-hearted natures. That change had begun much sooner, according to him, way before they ever went to Namek, during their training for the Saiyans - his "boot-camp", as he'd called it.
A faint tug curved her lips. It was just like Gohan to not even realize he himself had been the one responsible for that change, though it'd been so clear to her as she read the notebook. A little boy warming a monster's heart. So sweet…
That smile faded right away, though, reshaping itself into a soft frown while recalling the initial part of the story where he'd spent a whole year away from home. Admittedly, it had been both thrilling and entertaining, written through the eyes of a child on a great quest to conquer the wilderness, but it was actually one of the hardest for her to read.
Four and a half years-old, left to fend for himself amongst the vicious beasts of some lost island - dinosaurs, tigers, wolves. These kids right here, in this classroom, wide-eyed and sitting quietly on the floor while listening to her old man's ramblings, they couldn't be much older than him at the time.
Had they ever seen a real tiger before? A wolf, face-to-face? Did they know dinosaurs were real and dangerous?
Would they ever? Maybe at the zoo, caged and disarmed of their natural instincts to kill little children on sight, but not only that, these kids right here hadn't been abducted by an alien uncle they'd never knew about. One that'd mauled their fathers and forced them to kill one hundred people in exchange for their sons' lives.
"Raditz, with a 'Z'. Vegeta was always very specific about the proper spelling and pronunciation of every Saiyan name or word that'd come up in conversation. The two of them had been partners ever since he was five years-old, I think. Ever since Frieza bundled all the remaining Saiyans together, including Nappa. Two 'P's."
And it was probably safe to assume that after that life-changing event, these kids hadn't gone through their fathers' deaths, hadn't been kidnapped yet again by another alien - this time with the stereotypical green skin and everything - and hadn't had to endure traumatic physical preparation in order to fight off two other human-like aliens that'd exterminate their planet and loved ones.
In the course of a year. At five years-old.
Okay, so it wasn't all bad, she guessed. That last encounter with the Saiyans gave them an invaluable ally, a companion to Bulma, a father to Trunks, not to mention lots of new information about their race Gohan and his family would never have known about otherwise. And, of course, the green man gave her boyfriend a mentor, a friend, the ability to stand up for himself, to rise to his potential. It may have started out as taking advantage of a defenseless child, forcefully grooming him into something he should have been simply because he could - a warrior simply because he was a Saiyan - but it ended up as nothing of the kind.
Piccolo had given him his freedom, even if through abduction. A blessing in disguise, if there ever was one.
"He taught me how to take care of myself, how to hunt, how to properly start a fire, stuff like that. Things my dad had always wanted to teach me but couldn't since my mother didn't see the point in them. Why would a scholar need to learn how to scavenge for food?
I messed up so much at first. Slept in the cold and was starving all the time since all I could find was some nasty green berries. I shiver to this day just thinking about how gross they tasted... I learned some stuff the hard way in the first six months, but things went way smoother after Piccolo came along.
I could probably name over three hundred species of birds, back then, just by looking at their plumage, but he was the one who showed me how to track them down and kill them as they flew with a spark of my Ki. After half a year of eating nothing but fruit and a very, very sporadic steak of dinosaur tail, it was a pretty big deal.
Though to be honest, that was about all he taught me in that regard. He'd give me lots of hints and nudges in the right direction, but he always prefered I learned things for myself. Through experience, not books. That right there was the best lesson he could've ever given me, at the time. Right before how to dodge."
As a young woman to whom had been given everything - even stuff she honestly didn't want - the sole possibility of being one's self, without pressure, without expectations, was more precious than she could ever put into words. She was so happy for that little kid, the hero of that somewhat sadistic fairy tale in that blue notebook; he was awesome.
Her awesome geek mountain-boy, the strongest, most amazing warrior in the whole universe. Her handsome prince… He sure behaved like one, the way he carried himself, his manners. The way he was so incredibly smart but still so completely humble about it. Prince Gohan of Mt. Frypan. Would that make her a princess, when they were to…?
Holy fucking hell, now she was thinking about marriage. No, no, no, too damn soon!
Okay, okay… Focus, damn you!
With all her might, she tried to push aside all thoughts and concentrate on what her father was telling the kids, since the whole reason she'd come along to take part in this circus was to make sure he didn't botch it up. Botch the kids up, basically. Her might was probably back at the hotel, though, still sound asleep, because every word out of the man's mouth would come out muffled by yet another thought, yet another dream for the future or another image beautifully drawn on the lined pages of that notebook, painted in a haste with magic-markers to take the place of a picture.
There were lots of little sketches adorning each sheet of paper, occupying every spot of white left blank by words in black, and also some bigger ones that took up half a page or so. Some depicted people and places, others random items, like the Dragon Radar or the old spaceship that took them to Namek. Oh, and those cute little red hearts every now and then that just made her smile and giggle like a school-girl. And miss him that much more, of course.
But what surprised her the most was how good the drawings actually were. Not uber inspired works of art that'd enable him to make a living out of it, surely, but they were still quite impressive in their own right. Simple lines yet they seemed so elaborate and sophisticated, perfectly detailing complicated things like eyes and noses. And hands! She'd always heard how those were a nightmare to draw properly, but not for her fabulous boyfriend, apparently. Who knew she was dating an artist?
What else were his gifted hands capable of, she wondered?
"... the Cell Games?"
Air got trapped inside her lungs. Muscles contracted all together, all on their own. Eyes expanded out of sockets. At that very moment, her mind became completely aware of every single sound around her, every whisper turned shout, every breath a gale of anticipation. Nothing ever felt so silent. What had that kid asked her father?
Of course she wasn't expecting the day to pass by without at least one big Q&A regarding the dreaded Games, but where once that event had made her so proud to call this man her father, had made her want to stand taller, smile deeper whenever he talked about that day, now it was simply a hard reminded of who that man actually was. A charlatan. A poser. A thief. A liar.
A big fat stinking liar.
A thunderous laugh took over the room, deafening her with the way it sounded so real while fueled by something that was so not. Did Daddy really believe he was the one who stood victorious that day? Did the lie become so palpable, so branched and woven into his spirit that it became the truth over time? Repainting memories, actions, erasing what wouldn't fit his forgery.
No… he couldn't. He couldn't be that false, please, he just… couldn't.
"Do you wanna watch that right now?" her father asked the young audience.
The kids cheered loudly, lifting their arms up, clapping their little hands to show the world just how much. Watch what? This wasn't part of the schedule, was it? Why wasn't she informed of this?
Daddy snapped his fingers at the big goon to his left, and the man stepped over to the flat screen television that stood on the corner behind him. From inside his jacket, he took out a thin DVD case, and proceeded to insert the thing into the respective slot.
Wait… It couldn't be. The kid before had said "Cell Games", she was sure. And now they were watching a DVD? Daddy wouldn't be showing them the actual footage, would he? Why… would he?
"You're a lucky lil' bunch, ya know?" her dad went on to say. "The first ones ever to watch this reenactment here."
A… reenactment? Of the… Cell Games? But they had the actual footage back at home; why on Earth did they need a reenactment? Well, truth be told, the very fact that Daddy was showing them anything was surprising, considering he'd been very strict about what he allowed and didn't allow to be broadcasted on television. The world had seen a good chunk of what had happened that day, up until the delivery bo- … up until Gohan broke the camera, releasing so much energy from his body, so much light, that charred the device completely and cut off the live feed.
That was only the official account, anyway.
After everything was over, somehow Daddy had come across the rest of the footage that had been filmed but not aired - from the cameraman, she was sure, considering the man's sudden disappearance from the face of the Earth. It held some more minutes of video, degraded as they were, right up until Gohan started fighting Cell himself, after having crushed those ugly mini-freaks. The tape was too ruined after that, and Daddy had always told her the general public didn't need to see such a shitty quality image when they had all the rest that came before. Not for only a couple of minutes more; what was the point?
And like a gullible little child, she'd eaten it all up. It was only logical. The image was really grainy and fuzzy, and they all knew how the fight had ended in victory by the hands of the Saviour. What else was there to see?
So stupid...
Dad just didn't want people to know that Gohan had killed the little Cells like they were nothing, that the blond boy had been the only one that managed to really break Cell in, punch after kick after punch, so effortlessly. If they were to know that, if they saw those grainy minutes with their own two eyes, they could make comparisons: Gohan's abilities against her father's. And after that, scary assumptions about what was the truth and what wasn't. Daddy couldn't risk that.
Nobody in the world knew how things truly ended but the ones who were there that day, and in the innocent blue eyes of a little girl, her precious Daddy could not tell a lie. Sure the blond warrior boy had landed a few good hits on Cell, but after the camera went down, it was Daddy who killed the monster, no doubt about it. "All done, Sweetpea. Your ol' man got that giant grasshopper beggin' for mercy!"
So, so stupid. So blind.
For a moment she wanted to run away from that classroom, but her feet turned cement on the ground. Eyes glued on the TV, heartrate out of control, she could just stare with morbid curiosity while waiting for the train wreck to happen, and sure enough, with the press of a button, it did. The black screen turned blue, and then an image started to form - big waves crashing against rocks, which would be the opening credits for the ZTV channel productions. She didn't even notice she was frowning until the very next moment, when her eyebrows skyrocketed, completely and utterly shocked.
A guy in a ridiculous oversized costume of Cell appeared, and - oh, boy… - many other ridiculous oversized costumes of the all other guys that were there that day. The camera panned left to right, showing the flame-haired Vegeta first, and then Goku in Super-Saiyan form with his orange training gear. The green Namekian Piccolo then, the little bald guy Krillin, and lastly… Gohan, a blond teen with green eyes.
After a nonsensical verbal exchange, Fake Goku and Fake Cell started at it, but their fight didn't even last five whole seconds, after which, the Earth Special Forces - Yamcha and Tien included, tossed haphazardly onto some rocks - were all seen scattered across the floor on top of each other, a triumphant Cell towering over them.
Until Fake Daddy appeared, a hero in a wasteland revealed from behind a cloud of dust. The room erupted in cheers in front of her, though she could only respond to it by closing her incredulous lips for a dry nervous gulp. And now Fake Cell was on his knees, begging for his life…
What... the fucking... hell?
Was that actually…? How could they even…?
There was no trace of truth in that shit! That shit! That complete piece of trash! She looked at her father, grinning like a fucking idiot as if there was nothing wrong with the world. But there was. He was! He was wrong, a liar. Liar!
Did he even know who those other guys were? The "blond guy with the tricks", and the "delivery boy", and all the others? Had he even bothered to wonder? He owed them everything, and he didn't even know their real names, what became of them after that day. He couldn't care less if Gohan came out broken from it, that Goku sacrificed himself, that Vegeta payed for his assistance with his life. They were the heroes, not him! What did he sacrifice?
"I'll tell you all the details in person, but the truth is, there isn't that much to say. Cell was going to self-destruct and take the whole Earth with him, so my dad used his Instant Transmission technique to take him away. Cell managed to come back, we got into an energy beam struggle that was ending with me losing, so Vegeta distracted him enough for me to end it. That was it.
Because I wasted time, my dad had to sacrifice himself. Because I doubted my abilities, my energy attack wasn't enough, so Vegeta had to step in and get killed to allow us the victory. Many people have recounted the events to me in their own ways, over the years, saying both of them knew what they were doing, that my dad knew he couldn't teleport back to Earth in time to save himself, and that Vegeta knew the monster wouldn't just allow him to fire an energy blast from that close range without retaliating with one of his own. It's true, they would know that, but it doesn't change anything.
There was a time when I could see the silver lining in things, analyse the different perspectives with logic and put them behind me, but not after that. That day I died too."
A tear rolled down her flushed cheek, a sign of pain and of disappointment. Her father, her only family… How could her own flesh and blood have done something this despicable and still live with himself, no cares in the world? It made her feel disgusted, right now, of herself, of the flesh burning beneath her skin, and the blood scraping against her veins. His lie was too big. Too big...
And then, in the aftermath of excitement and euphoria that had taken the room, some kid among the group spoke the words; the ones she'd been silently praying that someone - anyone - would ask. "Mr. Satan? What happened to the original footage?"
His voice was soft and mousy but her eyes darted to him instantly. Brown hair, blue eyes, a polite hand up to account for his question. He seemed a little older than the rest but it was probably just due to the maturity in him, that look of intelligence that the others didn't have. Her gaze flew back to her father who didn't break character but couldn't suppress a pitchy chuckle to leave his lips. "The one they ran on TV? Well, the people back at the channel should-"
"No, Sir," the boy interrupted, "I mean the rest."
Yes, Dad. Tell him what happened to the rest.
Her dad cleared his throat. "There's no 'rest', Son. Now, why don't we-?"
"My daddy says the camera they used should have recorded everything. He said that the camera was a new model, and that some light-shows could mess up with the transmission but not the circuits."
"Your daddy's wrong, Kid. The camera's toast," her father told him, flatly and rudely, a frown as thick as she'd ever seen on his face that brought hers right along. And then the wide flashy grin was back, as was his boisterous, self-entitled tone. "Now, who here wants to watch that movie again?"
The shouts returned, little innocent children pleading to rewatch the farce. Even the smart kid was smiling, waving his once polite hand up in the air with gusto in response to the Saviour's suggestion. The boy didn't know what she knew, his heart was still pure and uncorrupted, just like hers when she was his age. Her father could do no wrong, he'd saved the world, every single life on this planet. His word was gospel.
Watch it again? No, not her. One could only take so much poison.
She walked to the door and stepped out.
"What can I get you, Ms. Satan?"
"Strong," Videl told the bartender as she planted herself tiredly on the barstool.
"Umm… I'm sorry, 'strong' what?"
"Anything." She couldn't be bothered to choose, not with so little energy to spare for all the other operations her body needed to function. Eyes closed shut, her lungs expanded for a deep cleansing breath as she heard the man walk away, after which she let out the air as slowly as she could muster. Some relaxation did come from the action, but not nearly as much as she'd hoped.
She opened her eyes and stared numbly ahead, only snapping back to reality when a short glass of caramel liquid was placed in front of her. A curt nod thanked the tender and she took it blindly to her lips, mindlessly identifying it immediately as bourbon. It was her father's drink of choice, back home.
No, she couldn't think of him right now. She wouldn't. Her job was done in this city, an excruciatingly long day of babysitting a grown man that should know better, be better. If he'd robbed this much fame for himself, and if that, in turn, had made him a role-model for children all around the world, then the very least he could do was take that responsibility seriously.
Maybe in his own twisted mind that's exactly what he thought he did, brainwashing tweens and teens alike into growing up to be just like him. If he was perfect as according to his infuriating bloated ego, it'd surely be an honor to follow his footsteps.
Pffft… They should just build him a church already.
"Hey, babe."
It took her a while to realize she'd been the intended recipient of those words, her gaze heavy and stale as it crawled to the right. Immediately she knew what the sleazy-looking man wanted, and immediately her lips produced an unbothered, "I'm taken," that preceded a complete withdrawal back to nothing in particular in front of her. As if she'd ever give the time of day to a guy wearing that many gold chains around his neck.
"Maybe so," the man spoke again. God, that breath… Was he made of alcohol? "But I bet you've never been where I could take you."
"And where's that? The trailer park?" Her glass came up for a sip.
His body came an inch closer, his hands almost touching hers atop the wooden surface. Seven rings for only two hands. How impressive. "All the way to Nick-vana, baby."
"Classy," she told him, unimpressed. "Lemme guess. Your name's Nick."
"It sure is." He leaned further on his elbows, trying with all his might that she'd look at him, but that half-buttoned shirt showed just too much body hair for her taste. She could swear he'd actually combed his chest… "Be sure to remember it. You'll be screaming it later on."
"I don't think so."
"Aww, babe. Don't be like that."
For a second, she gave him what he wanted and spared him a look, right along with a ferocious scowl. "Look, pal, I have a boyfriend. Buzz off." This was exactly what she needed right now, after this hellish day: being harassed by a neanderthal. A groan of displeasure almost escaped her lips, but she refused to give him that satisfaction.
Were she back at home, she'd already be in her pajamas by now, her atrocious bra discarded and hopefully burned to ashes for being so damn uncomfortable. She'd be getting ready for her cozy pillow in her cozy bed, or at least surrounded by the strong arms of a very, very cozy young man, but no, she had to be all the way across the world in this stuck-up hotel, listening to this delusional playboy, while in this detestable pencil dress her father had gotten her. If she'd known there'd be a whole dinner function to honor the Saviour tonight, she would've fled from his manager's radar long before, but of course they wouldn't have told her about it - hence why she hadn't packed a dress of her own. She probably wouldn't have come on the trip entirely if they'd shared that particular detail.
Damn those tricksters… They'd been milking her presence here all day long.
"Where's he, then, this so-called boyfriend?" the sleaze asked. "Leaving a hot piece of ass like yourself all alone in a place like this…"
A hot piece of… Slowly, she returned ominous blue eyes to his figure, eyeing him up and down just to be sure this revolting ogre had been the one to associate those words with her person. In a low guttural menace, she growled at him, "He'd tear your fucking head off just because you called me that..."
"I call them like I see them, babe, and what I see is a need for a good and vigorous pounding." Heavy eyelids, he leaned even closer. She fought the urge not to headbutt him right in the nose. "You should try your luck with a real man."
"That's why I'm with him."
The bastard had the gall to laugh in her face. "A real man would be fucking you right now, all night long." Her stomach jerked. Was this savage actually saying those words to her? "If he's too limp to get the job done, I'm happy to…" He paused momentarily. His hand covered her thigh. "Fill in for him. I bet that pussy is all wet and throbbing, isn't it?"
Lighting fast, she grabbed his hand by the ring and middle fingers and pulled them violently over his shoulder. An agonizing yelp escaped his lungs while he rolled around himself and fell to his knees. She got up and leaned over his back, forcing his fingers against his spine. "You know what'll be all wet and throbbing?" she almost whispered in his ear. "Your bloody nose if you don't leave me alone right now."
"Shit! I will, I will. Please, let me go!" the sleazebag pleaded through the pain she was inflicting. With a small tug at his fingers, he was forced to jump into a stand, spun around, and was thrown into the nearby wall, his back colliding brutally onto it. Way too softly, in her opinion.
"There's more," she told him as she stepped closer and pointed a finger at his disgusting chest. "My boyfriend…" Her throat knotted for a moment, but she swallowed it down. "My boyfriend is the most amazing person on this planet. You owe him your life, and you don't even know his name!"
"I'm... I'm sorry?" The guy's hands were shaking, held up straight in a defensive position.
"You're damn right, you're sorry!" she snarled at him.
"Is everythin' okay, Sweetpea?"
For a moment, she thought the sleazeball was actually having a heart attack, shivering while staring behind her shoulder. Obviously the guy would've kept his greedy hand to himself if he'd known she was her father's daughter, but he'd have no pity from her, the bastard. Especially not today. "Everything's fine, Daddy," she said while keeping eye contact with the other man. His throat bobbed with a dry gulp. "This gentleman was just leaving."
And so he did, not a word more nor a second later. A deep sigh filled her lungs while she turned around. Her father was definitely not the company she wished for at that very moment, but she had to admit it was nice being with a familiar presence after a face-off like that.
"Do I even wanna know?" her old man asked, arms crossed over his chest and a soft little smile on his lips. It made her smile too. Normally he'd have an obnoxious grin instead, but this was his "at home" face expression. It was a sight she'd actually missed a lot, as she was now realizing.
"Nothing I couldn't handle," she told him, waving a dismissive hand while dragging herself back to her seat and her drink.
Her father sat beside her and wordlessly signaled the bartender for one of whatever she was having. The man rushed to comply. "Big day today, huh?"
The umpteenth deep sigh of the night answered for her. And a loose nod. He snickered tiredly and said nothing else, taking his beverage as it was presented to him.
The silence was actually kinda nice, she had to admit. It brought back memories of their movie sessions together, back when she was little. Just the two of them, silently cramped up in her hideous pink princess bed with a bucket of caramel popcorn while watching some old classic running on the television. They seemed so far away, those times, like another life entirely, but it only made sense considering Daddy was still just Daddy, back then, not the great Saviour of the Earth.
So many people had died that day, as it turned out. Some physically, others… in other ways.
"Thanks for comin', Sweetpea," her father's soft baritone broke the silence after a while. "I know you don't really like these things."
No, she truly didn't, but that thought became a distant whisper as soon as it surfaced in her mind. Had Daddy ever thanked her for coming to an event with him? She could honestly not recall, not even once. When she was younger, she'd just follow him around to wherever he'd bring her to, so she didn't really have a choice, but as she'd gotten older and was given the opportunity to refuse tagging along with him, she'd mostly did so, admittedly. Rarely did the public-eye see her with her father nowadays, but she'd always been very clear she didn't want that kind of life and recognition. It was nice to know her father was appreciative of her efforts to make this travel with him. "You're welcome, Daddy."
"I wish you'd come along more often," he continued to say. "We hardly see each other anymore."
"That's true." Like what… three times a year? If it weren't for their monthly phone calls, she'd probably not even know if he was alive or not. … Yeah, right. He was on TV at least every other day, attending some upscale event or random charity ball or whatever, so she was always only a click away from knowing which city was hosting him at any given moment. Thankfully, she'd long shed away the jealousy of the time his fans got to spend with their idol. "Maybe we could make an effort to get together more often," she suggested, though her heart was torn about what had left her lips, to be honest; it was something she wanted but the very last she wished for at the same time. The current world Saviour wasn't her real dad, but she still missed him, so maybe she'd be able to see some good back in him if they were to make the extra effort to be together.
"I have this gig comin' up in a couple o'weeks," he said then. "I'm sure they'd pay triple if ya came as well."
Her eyes closed on their own with the pang in her chest. "Of course," she half-whispered, dejectedly looking down at the glass in her hands. "You want me there because they pay more. I should've known."
"It's not like that, Sweetpea. It's just-"
"No, Daddy, save it." As if she'd never heard that a million times before. How stupid to think he didn't have ulterior motives embedded into his heartwarming speech. Nothing out of that big mouth was ever truthful and pure. Not a single word, damn him.
"It's my work that pays for your college, ya know?" he said lowly.
It made her snort. "This isn't work, Daddy, it's a lifestyle. One you chose, not me. I don't want anything to do with it."
"Oh, of course not," he said in mockery, a tone louder than before. "All ya care about is your blond friends and that ghost kid. God forbid you should spend more time with your ol' man."
"Fist of all, I don't spend more time with you because you hardly set foot in Satan City anymore. And second…" She paused. God, how she hated that word… "Don't call him that."
"What?"
"A ghost. His name's Gohan."
"He's a ghost, Hun," Daddy insisted with that revolting air of superiority he mastered so perfectly, like he was king and owner of all the truth. It'd make her feel like a child once, but now, only incredibly more irritated. "My investigators can't find anything else about-"
His investigators? Goddammit, old man! "I've already told you to lay off his back, Dad! Leave him alone."
"I'll leave him alone when I find out what he's hidin'."
"No! You'll leave him alone right now," she tried not to yell. "What's wrong with you? Going around harassing his friends and invading his family's privacy. What kind of person does that?"
"I don't care. I ain't trustin' him around my daughter until I have a full file, on my desk, with everythin' there is to know about him."
Her eyes slitted. Her tone lowered. "You knew everything about Rick too."
Daddy slitted his eyes as well, letting the words hang around them through the heavy stare they were sharing. "Ya can pin that on me, Sweetpea," he whispered, and even if maybe there was a thread of hurt and regret in those words, that didn't give him the right to persecute people like he was doing. Gohan had done nothing to him but allowing his life to be the way it was, so if anything, he should be thanking "the ghost", paying him generous amounts for everything he'd given the fake Saviour, not making his life worse.
"I'm not," Videl said, mimicking his hushed tone, "but I'm telling you, if you don't call off your investigators and leave Gohan and his family alone… we're gonna have a problem."
A heavy hand slapped the wooden counter, rattling every glass and bottle around them. "Stop defendin' him! You don't know anythin' about that kid."
Fuck you, was what she wanted to tell him, but she got up instead, not giving into the little girl inside her that was shivering in fear at how mad Daddy was getting. Bold blue eyes faced the ones that'd given them inheritance. Her words were calm and controlled. "Whatever I know about him, it's none of your business. Call. Them. Off." And with nothing else, she started walking away, but only managed a couple of steps.
Something stopped her, something that had cracked deep inside and that had rendered her too tired of all the injustices out of that man's mouth. Maybe she should've thought it through before turning around and walking back to her father, but it was too late now, the ball rolling, the wheels in motion. "In fact," she told him, "since you're so keen on uncovering all of his secrets, I'll tell you one right now. I'm dating him."
Seldom was her father shocked speechless. It felt like a true victory. "Ya… can't be serious," he eventually managed to vocalize, incredulous.
"He's my boyfriend now," she added. "And I'm pretty sure I love him. Put that on your file." She turned around and went away to her room.
Just a reminder, yes, Vegeta went into the HTC alone. Remember that, in this story, Future Trunks only came over to deliver the heart medicine. Nobody knows exactly who he was, not even Goku, who he talked to personally.
Is there anything else you guys would like to read about from Gohan's notebook? Any events or specifics about a person? I'm not promising anything, but if it'll fit the action and the scenes I have planned, I'll happily incorporate your opinions.
Please review!