CHAPTER ONE: A Change of Pace
"How much are we training under?" enquired Trunks.
Vegeta had strapped on his deep blue spandex, and was pulling the stark white Saiyan boots on.
"Four hundred and fifty times normal gravity."
His twenty-six year old son nodded numbly. The last time he'd entered with his father, the Saiyan Prince had toggled it up to four hundred and twenty five. Trunks had lasted barely two minutes, and then spent two days recuperating. However, he knew better than to argue with the man. If you wanted to train with him, you did so at his whims and fancies. And privately, Trunks knew that if he wanted to have anywhere near the power and responsibility his father did, he needed to push himself.
Silently, they made their way to the dome shaped Gravity Chamber.
Upon entering, it was completely dark. Vegeta flicked a switch on the side of the room, bathing the room in a very dim red light.
Trunks bent to touch the ground, hoping to commence a warm-up routine, when his father immediately went over to the machine in the middle and turned the dial all the way up to a hundred and fifty.
Trunks almost immediately felt a dull pang in his centre of gravity, near the small of his back. He didn't utter a word however, after all, Vegeta didn't even seem to register it as he collapsed onto the index digit of his right hand and commenced a set of finger push-ups.
Trunks wasn't big on weight-based exercises in general, as his advantage had always been quickness on his feet and reaction time.
Instead, he stretched all four limbs as hard as possible, and threw some warm up punches into the air.
"If you're done with borrowing routines from your mother's gym DVDs," growled Vegeta. "We'll begin."
Trunks went a light shade of red but said nothing as the Prince turned back to the gravity machine and toggled it all the way up to four hundred.
Trunks felt like he had been hit by a train. He immediately collapsed onto one knee, and felt it difficult to breathe.
Vegeta seemed like he didn't even feel it. He stretched his arms out.
"Are you going to attack me, or what?"
Trunks let out a growl and forced himself up. Every step was a labour, but he crossed the distance between them in a short second and threw the first punch, a right jab to the head.
Vegeta ducked to the left with ease, and slammed his elbow upward. Trunks brought his left hand up to block it, but the sheer force was jarring, and almost knocked him off his feet once more.
Almost immediately, it was followed up by a right hook, which Trunks avoided by inches by shifting his body, and then an uppercut which he managed to block again. He raised his hand for a jab, but almost immediately found himself having to fend off a rain of perfectly co-ordinated blows his father was throwing with absurd ease.
He was on the absolute defensive right now. His lavender hair was flying around as he concentrated back to the basic defensive drills his father had instilled in him before the World Tournament before the Majin Buu incident. It all came down to technique. Even a year ago, one in every two blows would have found its mark. Now, Trunks was actually doing a decent job of keeping his eye on his father's fist well and either dodging or blocking every blow.
A small smirk crossed Vegeta's face. Almost instantly, though inevitably, his next blow went crashing through his son's defenses and found it's mark at his chin.
Trunks fell backward in a heap, but immediately sprung upward, ignoring the blood trailing the cut on his chin.
Vegeta was after him like lightning, this time using his right foot in a deadly effective drop-kick maneuver he had more or less trademarked.
Trunks had encountered it enough times to know how to counter though. He crossed his arms across his chest, where the kick landed. Then, immediately, ignoring the pain, he leaned forward and delivered a powerful head-butt smack in his father's face.
Vegeta landed back perfectly on his feet and gave a full grin.
He then immediately charged forward again. This time, Trunks was too slow. He tried to catch the punch, but it hit him full in the gut. Vegeta followed it up with an elbow to the collar-bone, and then a smashing roundhouse kick which threw Trunks to the floor.
Trunks staggered to his feet and let out a snarl of frustration. A faint golden aura appeared around him for a moment.
Vegeta looked at him, bemused.
"Come now, boy. If you transform, I'll just do the same, and then you're screwed fifty times worse than you originally were."
Trunks shook his head vigorously. "Despite what you may think, Father, I do have a trick or two up my sleeve you don't know about."
Vegeta shook his head patronizingly. "Ok, boy, it's your funeral."
Trunks smirked back, and clenched his fists tight. He let out a subconscious battle cry, and suddenly his hair began to stand up and turn golden. His eyes turned blue as well.
Vegeta didn't even clench his fists. His arms remained crossed around his chest. He just closed his eyes for a second, but when he opened them he was already in the fabled Super Saiyan state.
The two rushed at each other again. Right now, the four hundred times normal gravity was almost nothing to them. Being in the superior version of their race's physiological state increased their speed and power by numerous times. It meant that even though Vegeta's power advantage had increased dramatically past what it had been, Trunks' own strength, not relative to his opponent's, was now enough for him to actually put into action the theoretical moves he had devised to fight against his father.
They sparred on for another ten minutes. Trunks landed a few more blows, but Vegeta's advantage was still very apparent.
When they split apart, Trunks decided to put his plan into action.
He closed his eyes, still keenly aware of his father's position, not that he needed to be. It wasn't like Vegeta to take advantage of someone in that situation, he wanted to beat people at their strongest.
He could feel the Super Saiyan energy within him, like warm water. He tensed his muscles, and began to force the energy into them. He let out a deep, primal roar as his muscles began to expand past their normal limits. His biceps, normally a respectable seventeen inches, erupted to over twenty-two. His training vest strained as his chest expanded as well, and his hair grew even stiffer. Each strand was standing up in a different direction. His aura exploded.
When he opened his eyes, he saw a rare thing in his father's eyes. Approval.
"The Ascended Super Saiyan transformation. Well done, boy. You're nine years ahead of me."
Trunks was tempted to reply that his original Super Saiyan transformation was a good twenty-five years ahead of his father, but he knew better.
"Gohan helped me with it," he explained. "I knew there was something beyond Super Saiyan, I could feel it, but…"
Vegeta nodded. Earlier, he'd have been infuriated that Trunks had taken the help of Kakarot's brat to further his own strength.
But ever since the foolish Saiyan had left for Yemma knew where, Vegeta had been forced to re-evaluate his opinion of Gohan. The hybrid Saiyan had taken his role as his father's son quite seriously, and immersed himself in training whenever he was not handling the role of a family man, a balancing act Vegeta knew only too well.
It was strange considering the boy, no, man, he was thirty five after all, Vegeta reminded himself, had not thrown a practice punch since he had defeated Cell. However, the apparently permanent departure of his father had left a massive, gaping hole in the structure of Earth's Z-fighters. It was a hole not one of them could fill by himself, and the prospect of it intimidated all of them. In less than a year, Kakarot had killed a vengeful Tuffle, an android that made Cell look weak, and a bunch of pure energy negative dragons that were more powerful than anything they had ever faced before. It had taken the Z-fighters a few days to realize that few of them had lifted a finger in the Earth's defense recently. That had to change. This resulted in everyone, from Vegeta to Tien, throwing themselves into their workouts as often as possible.
And for those to whom Goku was more than just a friend, a father in the Son brother's case, and a lifelong rival, an ideal to strive toward, and the last remaining member of his race, in Vegeta's case, the training was also a means of coping with loss. Vegeta would never admit it, but Kakarot's departure had hit him very hard on a personal level. It was not that he missed the joyful clown's personality, dear God, no. It was that he had never gotten to test himself one more time.
So, internally, Vegeta resolved that when he ran into Kakarot again one day, he'd be prepared for the fight that he never got.
As for Gohan, he had somewhat handled this before. Immediately after Goku's death in the battle against Cell, the responsibility of being Earth's most powerful had been thrust on his young shoulders. However, it had been different back then. He was coming off a massive confidence boost; killing the perfect fighter was no easy feat. He had a baby brother to occupy him, his mother helped him by immersing him in academics, and more importantly, he already had a literal father standing by him in Piccolo.
The double blow of losing Piccolo and Goku one after the other had been hard on Gohan. It was a burden neither his wife nor his mother could understand. Gohan's academic life had dissolved into a lot of training with Goten and Pan. He internally seemed to have decided to focus on fighting, as his father did, but not to neglect his child. It worked pretty well. His wife, unlike Chi Chi, was a former professional fighter too and didn't mind his training their child. This way, he spent time with his daughter and was able to do the only thing that helped ease his mind.
Once every two months, Vegeta, Trunks, and Bra (when he was able to get her out of the mall), met Gohan, Goten and Pan for an evaluation. Typically, Gohan took on Vegeta, Goten did Trunks, while Pan and Bra sat in a corner and gossiped about Yemma knew what.
Vegeta had initially been quite disinterested in the idea of a corny group spar, but after fighting the rejuvenated (in a fighting sense) Gohan a few times, he realized that the first son of Kakarot was easily his biggest challenge on the planet. He could deal with the disgusting concept of a reunion (Pan and Bra had taken to calling it that), as long as he got to test himself.
"All right, boy," he replied to Trunks, finally. "Let me see what you've got. You do remember this form is a last resort?"
Trunks shook his head. "I know my history, dad. The Ascended Super Saiyan state is one that gives the user a massive boost in power in return for a very small loss in speed. It's the type of loss that would be significant only if you're fighting someone like Cell, who could really be anywhere he wanted if I correctly remember what you told me about his fighting style."
Vegeta nodded. "And the Ultra Super Saiyan….?"
"Is a transformation I should never touch," recited Trunks from memory. "Unless my opponent is a Broly-like freak of nature, and the extra muscle is the only way to survive."
He shuddered to himself at the thought of the Legendary Super Saiyan. Fighting him at the age of eight was the worst introduction to the Super Saiyan world possible.
"So you seem to know your theory pretty well," replied Vegeta dryly, though a grin was still present on his face. "Let me see you put it into action."
He drew his right fist back to his chest, and extended his left one to lead with, the traditional fighting stance. Trunks adopted the same pose, and the fighters locked eyes.
Just as the younger Saiyan was about to throw the first punch, there was a dull thud on the door of the Gravity Chamber.
Vegeta let out a low curse. Trunks looked bemused.
"We'll be there in a second, mom!"
Both of them dropped out of their transformations, and Vegeta switched off the gravity machine. This let out a loud beep, which was a cue for the door to open.
Bulma was standing there in her regular white T-Shirt and pants.
Vegeta gave her a glare. "Why are you bothering us?"
She rolled her eyes, very used to his tantrums.
"There's a video message for the both of you from Mr. Satan."
Vegeta looked even more infuriated. "You interrupt our training session because that idiot wants to talk to us? I'll light his goddamn wig on fire-…."
Bulma interrupted him again. She was the only person around now that Goku was gone who dared to speak to him out of turn. Of course, she did it because he didn't dare voice his displeasure to her considering she maintained the Gravity Chamber. Goku did it out of sheer obliviousness.
"I don't think you'll be looking to do that considering the fact that he wants to invite you'll to an intergalactic tournament on New Namek he's hosting as a part of his attempt to further the Satan brand to other planets."
She said the last part with a dry sarcasm neither of them noted. Vegeta's eyes shot open. Trunks looked very surprised too.
"An intergalactic tournament?"
She nodded vigorously. "Come on, let me show you the full video."
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Gohan ducked underneath his daughter's right cross, and grabbed her fist in his right hand. Before she could react, he had thrown her backward into the oncoming Goten with a flick of his wrist. Uncle and niece landed on the ground at the top of Mt. Paozu, which had become their usual workout spot. It reminded Gohan of his father and Piccolo training him for the arrival of the androids, almost thirty years ago.
Gohan was still in his base form, while Goten was at his max in regular Super Saiyan. Pan hadn't transformed yet, but was pushing it to the absolute limit. It was still nowhere near enough though. If there was anyone who had slacked off more than Gohan before Goku left, it had been Goten. Gohan privately estimated that by the end of the battle with the Shadow Dragons, Goten probably was only a bit stronger than Goku had been when he transformed into a Super Saiyan for the first time against Frieza.
It was not as if Gohan blamed him though. All of them had been occupied with other things, and when someone as powerful as Goku was around to keep things in order, it almost felt redundant trying to help him. Of course, now that was that, and the important thing was to try to correct that attitude.
"Come on, Goten," growled Gohan. "Trunks hit Ascended Super Saiyan the other day. He's left you behind in the dust."
It was good-natured ribbing of course, but Goten took it as motivation.
He gently moved Pan off and clasped his fists. He knew he was as at his limit, but it wasn't anywhere near enough. Even though Gohan hadn't trained for a long time either, the amount of latent power he had was gigantic. It was the sole reason he could almost go toe to toe with Vegeta, a workout maniac, just a few weeks after getting back into fighting.
"Get him, Uncle Goten," said Pan gleefully, sliding into a fighting stance.
Goten nodded, and flared out his aura further. As hard as he pushed it, he just couldn't find that next level of strength that pretty much everyone else had achieved.
He let out a growl of frustration.
"What the hell, I'm not getting better by just standing here…"
He was about to charge forward again, when a holler came from behind the trees framing the clearing they were using.
It was Videl. "Gohan, Pan, Goten, come back to the house! My dad's got a message for you guys!"
Gohan and Goten met each other's eyes with a dismayed look that Pan was oblivious to. Fact was, neither of them really cared much for Hercule. The Z-fighters tolerated his extravagant ways from time to time, but less so now that the tempering presence of Goku was gone. Deep down, they were extremely annoyed with the fact that the true hero of the Universe was going to be forgotten forever, and that irascible human was getting all kinds of plaudits he never deserved in the first place.
Of course, Gohan kept silent about this in his wife's presence, because he knew that deep down, Satan was not a truly bad man. Though prone to cowardice and greed, he did care about protecting the innocent, and it seemed he actually believed that his almost God-like status on Earth provided the people of Earth with a kind of hero to look up to in a positive way. This was why Gohan kept quiet about his irritation.
"We're coming," he called back.
He nodded to Goten, who reluctantly dropped out of Super Saiyan.
The trio lifted slightly into the air and made their way to back to their home. Chi Chi and Videl were sitting in front of the TV, ready to hit play on the DVD player which contained the much bally-hooed message.
Gohan bent down to hug his mother good morning, a gesture she appreciated. She had dealt with the loss of her husband not once, not twice, but five times. That didn't make it any less painful. If Gohan ever met his dad again, the first thing he would do would be to hug the pure blooded Saiyan, then punch him twice: once for himself, once for his mother.
The fifty-five year old lady had dealt with a lot of hardships in life. Gohan knew that it was now his responsibility to make it easy for her here on out. Her dream of his being a reputed scholar was already fulfilled, so whenever he wasn't training, he made it a point to spend time with her.
"I've got some new rice cakes for my boys," she said gleefully. "Sit yourselves down, and I'll give it to you once we watch this."
Both Gohan and Goten immediately brightened up at this. No situation was too dire to enjoy their mother's admittedly brilliant cooking.
Videl smiled at her husband as their daughter leapt onto the couch between them, and then clicked on the video.
The unmistakable bearded face of the seven time World Martial Arts champion appeared grinning on the screen. He was dressed in his usual brown fighting garb.
"Right, so you're probably wondering why I, Martial Arts champ on the world, have decided to contact little old you!"
Gohan rolled his eyes and the others tried to stifle laughs.
"Well, it's just because I've seen something in you! That's right boys and girls, I think you've got potential, and I'm going to give you an opportunity to show it!"
He stood back with a flourish. The screen now depicted a hologram of New Namek, a perennially green planet behind Satan.
"In exactly two weeks, Satan Incorporated will be flying you," he pointed his finger dramatically to the camera, "to a world you couldn't even dream about! Sunlight all day, every day! Endless forests, water you can see your reflection in!"
A grin plastered itself across his face.
"But all that fairy-tale stuff is so overrated, don't ya think? Of course! The main event is going to be round after round of butt-kicking, jaw-breaking, ass-whooping fights!"
The camera changed to a scene from the latest edition of the World Martial Arts tournament, featuring the final between Satan himself and Uub. Every Z-fighter was very familiar with this, because it was probably the sixth final in a row between Satan and Majin Buu in some form or another which had been purposely thrown for Satan to retain his crown.
As Satan prepared for the 'final blow' to knock his young opponent out of the ring, the voiceover continued.
"The only difference is, this time we've got fighters from all over the galaxy! Yeah boys and girls, that's right, we're going to see aliens of every breed duking it out for one thing…"
His voice paused dramatically, as he posed triumphantly in the video after his 'knockout' of Uub.
"The honour of fighting the champ himself, Hercule Satan, in his last fight ever!"
Everyone was a bit taken aback by this.
The camera changed back to Satan's face. He looked grave. "Yeah, you heard! This is my swansong tournament, like it or not. So, to all my loyal fans, don't miss this!"
He flashed his massive grin again. "And to the fighter who's eventually gonna win and face me…. Don't think this means I'm going to take it easy on ya!"
He flashed a victory sign, and then the screen went blank.
Gohan and Goten stared at each other.
Normally Goten wouldn't have said this in front of his sister-in-law, but this time he couldn't stop himself. "What does he think? We've thrown fights to him every single tournament, but some damn alien from a star system light years away isn't going to care how famous he is."
Videl looked mortified as well but then a smile crept onto her face.
"He knows you've been training, Gohan," she chuckled. "I think this is a vote of confidence that either you or Vegeta would be able to take care of any extra-terrestrial fighter you came across who could pose a threat to him."
Gohan chuckled at this as well. "Yeah, I've got to admit this would be an interesting test. We've been working ever since Dad left, maybe now we can see how far we've actually progressed."
Goten looked affronted though. "What do you mean, Gohan or Vegeta?! I've been training too!" he informed Videl.
His mother, brother and sister-in-law all tried to stifle laughs.
Pan obliviously jumped in. "Uncle Goten, Dad told me he thinks I'm stronger than you in base!"
The young hybrid got even more annoyed. "Yeah? Well come on then, kid, let's take this outside!"
Everyone began laughing in full swing now. It was the first time in a long time, and Gohan had to admit, it felt good.
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Raditz curled his fingers into a spiny fist, and narrowed his eyes. The green shape was materializing and dematerializing tantalizingly, just a few meters from him, almost daring him to strike. He knew, however, his timing had to be perfect. He had to strike just as soon as Piccolo Daimao reappeared, otherwise he'd get an extended hand slashing right into his gut.
He blocked out the general noise of Hell's other inhabitants going about their daily lives, and concentrated only on his opponent. He allowed the ki to flow into every part of his body, particularly his eyes. As he did so, the green shape seemed to slow. After a few more seconds, it almost seemed like it was spending an extended amount of time in one place.
That was his cue. The next time the shape reappeared, he snapped forward and unleashed a massive uppercut, knocking the Demon King out of his dance and down to his feet.
The evil Namekian immediately got to his feet.
"Took you long enough," he growled.
Raditz flexed his knuckles. They'd been at it for two and a half days. He was hungry.
As if on cue, his stomach let out a massive growl.
Piccolo Daimao gave him a withering look.
"Try and come within five feet of me when you're hungry and I'll hit you with a Special Beam Cannon through your heart."
"I'm always hungry!" snapped back Raditz. "The food in this place sucks."
"What do you expect?" replied King Piccolo dryly, sitting down on a rock. "Those blue buffoons would serve you anything other than their skull soup speciality? Even your delinquent brother didn't get anything better."
Raditz let out a small snarl.
"I'm just sick of this dump. It's been forty-one goddamn years. If your damn son wasn't so powerful…."
King Piccolo's fist tightened but he shook his head.
"Guardian of Hell he may be… But it doesn't matter one bit. Yemma's got seals on this place like you wouldn't believe. It doesn't matter how strong you are, the seals only differentiate between the living and the dead. The only way out is if you're alive or some freakshow shows up, like that demon Janemba, who is powerful enough to warp the seals with his mere presence. Figure out a way to get us alive, and we'll be out of here."
"Well you're the one who was able to become eternally young," snapped back Raditz. "Figure it out for yourself!"
He gave a cruel smile. "Well, not really eternally…"
King Piccolo drew back his hand. "If you want to go there, boy, believe me, I'd be only too glad…"
"Oh, shut up, old man," sighed Raditz. "I'm done for now, I'm going to find something to eat."
With that, he stalked off, rubbing his knuckles. King Piccolo continued to sit where he was, seething at first, but then absorbed in some deep thought.
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Raditz returned some two hours later, chewing on an unusual looking meat attached to a bone. He didn't know what it was, but after over forty years in Hell, he had learnt that one was better off not asking. Came down to whether or not you preferred your gastric system to remain intact by refraining from excessive regurgitation. Not that one needed to eat when one was dead, per say, but the Saiyan desire for nutrition carried over very clearly.
"So, old timer," he rasped, dropping the bone and cracking his knuckles. "Ready to go again?"
The Demon King didn't respond immediately.
Raditz cleared his throat. "Are you up for a spar or not?"
King Piccolo looked up at him.
"I've been thinking."
Raditz stared at him. "Yeah, so was I, about something I could sink my teeth into. Now I'm not, so let's-…"
"Shut up you fool," hissed King Piccolo.
Raditz narrowed his eyes. "Ok, about what, old man?"
The other man drummed his fingers on the rock he was sitting against.
"You told me to figure out how we could be alive again."
His face broke into a grin. "I think I did just that."
Raditz stopped short of another sarcastic remark. If he wasn't already dead, his heart would have stopped beating right then.
"You think you can get us alive again?"
King Piccolo nodded, slowly.
"When you were gone stuffing your face, I was bored, so I decided to lucid dream."
Raditz nodded numbly. He knew of the incredible Namekian intellect, which at times allowed them to sift through any and all memories they had ever had. It was on a purely random basis though. The Namekian mind was like a die with dozens of sides, and when they decided to indulge in lucid dreaming, the die was rolled and any memory was pulled out of the filing cabinet depending on which side came up. In essence, every experience a Namekian underwent was stored subconsciously in his mind. This was a part of their evolutionary design because during the incredibly long, though rare, Namekian winter, hibernation was often the only solution for survival, and lucid dreaming helped keep them in a state of unconsciousness.
"So, I chanced upon a rather interesting memory. It wasn't really mine, per say."
Raditz nodded. The Namek had recounted the story of his prior existence as one being, along with Kami, the former Guardian of Earth, before they were separated.
"My previous form, the Nameless Namek, as he's known to others, engaged in some rather interesting activities before he gave way to my glory. Activities that involved certain spheres."
His grin widened.
"Seven spheres, specifically."
Raditz's jaw dropped. "Are you saying…. He created a set of Dragon Balls?!"
King Piccolo's razor-like teeth were showing. "As a matter of fact, he did. And with the experience I just recounted through my memory, I think I know how to make a set for myself."
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So there you have it! Told you it'd be longer. It feels really refreshing to be able to write with such carefree abandon. Please tell me what you think, guys!