Heya! I got chapter 2 ready a LOT sooner than I had originally anticipated, so here you are! It's a bit shorter than the previous one, but I hardly think it'll matter.

I kinda wanna make this one out to nancy103. I hope it won't freak you out, nancy, but every now and again I have to do a shout out to my oldest and, not to forget, most consistent and loyal fan.

Now, the emotional stuff aside, off we go!

Please read, review and enjoy!

Chapter 2.

Capsule Corps wasn't too far away from their new house. It would only take about ten minutes of walking to get there, so Goten and Chi-Chi had opted to take the scenic route and go by foot. Goten used the majority of the trip to get acquainted with the neighbourhood, trying to find landmarks that could help him navigate through this part of the city. He had a horrible sense of direction, so he would clamp on to every bit of help that he could get.

So far they had passed a lot of fast food restaurants -a lot- and your usual wine and cheese stores. Goten did his best to remember the names, but much like his ability to walk around without getting lost, his skills in French were beyond atrocious. Thank the heavens for GPS.

His mother was an explosive bundle of cheer today, and it proved to be infectious to Goten's mood. It had taken a while, but as time progressed Chi-Chi was having more and more of what Goten called 'good days'. She still had a long way to go, but in a few years she would be back to the stern, but loving woman that had done such a fabulous job of raising him.

So, today was one of her better days. Goten saw this reflected in every little thing about her. She had thrown on her favourite summer dress to go with the good weather, a turquoise one with lily flowers along the ribcage. She looked absolutely radiant in it, and image that was fortified by the happy tune that she was humming. Goten lagged back a little, content to just listen and watch her skip along the sidewalk in the warmth of the sun.

"Ooh, Goten, look!" his mother exclaimed. He followed her pointing finger. "How about we go out for some ice cream over there once we're done at Capsule Corps? It looks like they have a few hundred flavours to choose from."

"Sure," Goten agreed. "But if they don't have Caramel-Choco-Nut-Blast we're going someplace else."

"Deal!" Chi-Chi cheered.

Goten got about five more minutes of enjoying Chi-Chi's company before Capsule Corps came into view. The main building was gigantic and shaped like a dome, and, not to mention, an architectural masterpiece. Hundreds upon hundreds of windows provided a constant influx of light. A massive field of grass lay behind it, cobblestone paths dividing it and leading to smaller buildings. And, though Goten could've been mistaken, he thought he spied an elephant stomping around the grounds.

Holy tits, they even have a zoo.

It wasn't the most impressive, though. No, what baffled Goten the most was the house at the end of the street. It was humongous and easily ten times the size of the ones around it. It drew a stark contrast with the other residences that seemed to be meant for families in the middle class. It was most likely were Bulma Briefs lived.

There was a bustle of people around the main building. Most of them looked professional in their white labcoats, but others gave of the distinct impression of mad scientists. Nearly all of them were either carrying random trinkets or pieces of fragile machinery. Goten did not envy them; it appeared that superior intelligence came with a never-ending state of stress. Thanks, but no thanks.

The interior was easily as stunning as the outside. The entrance hall alone was big enough to fit Goten's house in. The entire floor consisted of tiles in a deep blue hue that reminded Goten of Banshee. For a second his fingers gave that usual involuntary twitch that came to be whenever his guitar slipped into his mind.

Gohan was already waiting for them. He was standing in the middle of the room with his arms wide, a gesture that almost seemed to scream 'Look at how fucking awesome this place is!'. A smile took over his face when Goten and Chi-Chi approached him.

"Mom, Goten, I'm so glad you guys could make it!" he said, hugging his mother and ruffling Goten's hair. The younger sibling feigned an annoyed glare that made Gohan laugh.

"Oh, Gohan, you know we wouldn't miss it for the world!" Chi-Chi said. "I've been wanting to visit here ever since you got your job."

Goten shrugged. "I'm just here for the free food."

Gohan laughed out loud. "Well I'm sure we can take care of that. But before we do, how about I show you guys around? Bulma should be waiting in her office and she'll take over the tour from there."

"Sounds like a plan," Goten said.

"Alright, then we're off!" Gohan exclaimed. He marched off with Goten and Chi-Chi following his steps. He led them through a door on the right. In here they were immediately greeted by the sound of heavy machinery. Contraptions that Goten did not even want to try and figure out were scattered across a room the of a football field.

"This is the industrial room," Gohan began to explain. "There's two more of these rooms somewhere around the compound, but I'm not going to bore you with those. In here the products are made that you can buy in stores. Whenever we get another patent approved we produce a few hundred of whatever item we want to sell, and we try to market them. If they're a success they go to one of the other factory halls, where they will be mass-produced."

Gohan nudged his head and walked away again, treading along the width of the hall. On the far end was another door that they passed through, which led them into a room that was a splendid white. To Goten it resembled the sterile operating rooms in hospitals. It even smelled the same. He scrunched his nose, not feeling very pleased to be here. He despised hospitals; he had inherited his father's fear of needles. That he wanted to be covered in tattoos one day was an entirely different matter, of course.

"This is the place where we do our nano research. Any idea what that is?" Gohan arched his eyebrows up high and gave an encouraging smile. Both Goten and Chi-Chi shrugged.

"Well, nanotechnology is basically another word for 'damn, that's small'," Gohan told them. "We use the term 'nano', because here we invent microchips that are only a few nanometers long. To put it to proper scale, one nanometer is a billionth of a regular meter."

"So what if you get a hair or something in there?" Goten asked. "Wouldn't that mess up all of the hard work?"

"Good question!" Gohan complimented him. "Look over there and you'll see."

Goten looked in the direction where Gohan was pointing towards. A man was hoisting himself into what appeared to be a radiation suit. A thick helmet with a layer of triplex across the eyes was at his feet. His arms had been stuffed away into latex gloves that reached up to his elbows.

"Those suits are sterilized every time someone leaves the research room," Gohan explained. "In order to do their work properly our scientists can't have anything contaminating their research, not even a single particle of dust."

"I'd hate to be in charge of the laundry here," Chi-Chi said, taking note of the few dozen people working here alone.

Gohan chuckled. "Eh, we don't have anyone in charge of the laundry. We just put them in this machine that cleans them off in under five minutes."

"Ooh!" Chi-Chi cooed. "Could I get one of these for at home?"

"I'll see what I can do," Gohan replied, winking at her.

After that Gohan brought them into a deserted hallway. They walked through it and climbed a staircase at the end. They continued their journey for a good five minutes, nothing of particular interest found along the way. They eventually halted in front of a door made of heavy wood. Gohan marched inside without even knocking. The plaque on the door informed Goten that this was his office, as well as Bulma's.

The woman in question was sitting behind a gigantic desk when they entered. She looked up from her paperwork and broke out into a smile. Bulma rose from her seat and moved towards them, a hand outstretched.

"Hi!" she cheered. "It's so great to finally meet you! I've only been waiting for what, eight years is it now?"

"I'm pretty sure it's been nine by now," Gohan corrected her.

"See?" Bulma said. "Case in point." She extended her hand towards Chi-Chi. When the mother of two grabbed it to give a polite shake, Bulma pulled her into a bone-crushing hug.

"I take it that you are Chi-Chi?" Bulma asked when she had released the other woman from her lethal grip.

"I am," Chi-Chi replied, a small smile adorning her features.

"So you are the woman responsible for putting this wonderful set of brains on the Earth," Bulma said, nudging Gohan in the ribs with her elbow. "Honestly, I wouldn't know what I'd do without him. He makes sure I don't lose my mind on a daily basis."

"Yeah, he's pretty good at that," Chi-Chi remarked. "Though it really wouldn't hurt him to read up on some more feminine subjects. Videl is always complaining to me how much of a typical man he can be, with his loud machines and all."

"Boys will be boys," Bulma pointed out. "Which makes we wonder, what was he like as a kid, anyway?"

Chi-Chi laughed loudly. "Oh, not much different, really. Always with his nose in the books and never paying attention to something that didn't explode if you looked at it funny."

"I bet he was a cute one too."

"You're damn right, he was. Hey, if you want to, you can come over for a cup of coffee sometimes. I'll show you all of his baby photos."

"Make it tea and you've got yourself a deal."

"Mom, Bulma, could you please stop discussing my baby years?" Gohan pleaded. "Really, I'm not a kid anymore."

Chi-Chi tutted her lips. "Oh, Gohan, I think I remember us having this exact conversation last Monday. You'll always be my little boy, and you would do well to keep that in mind."

Goten was following the whole exchange with an enormous grin stretched over his gums. Truly, it never got old to see his mother bluster over Gohan. The way he would start to mumble and blush was just too funny to let slide.

"And that would make you Goten, am I right?" Goten was snapped from his musings by the sound of Bulma's voice. He shook the hand that she extended and before he knew it he too was dragged into a hug that squeezed every bit of air from his lungs. With the final remainder of oxygen in his body he managed to confirm that yes, he was indeed called Goten.

"Oh, I've been waiting to meet you too, sweetie," she told him. "Did you know that Gohan never, ever shuts up about you?"

Goten gave a chuckle. "Really? I hope he's not soiling my good name."

"Ugh, if only he did," Bulma laughed. "All he does is praise you, seriously. It's 'Goten is so good at this', and 'You should've seen Goten do that'. Really, it pisses me the hell off sometimes."

"Yeah, he's really good at kissing ass," Goten agreed. He ignored Gohan's sputters of protest.

"Oh totally," Bulma continued to chip in. "I even considered tattooing his lips on my butt cheek at one point. Too bad my husband hated the idea."

Goten couldn't help himself. Before he knew it he was laughing so hard that he was turning red in the face. He had just met this woman and he already loved her to bits. Perhaps he could ask her if he could come over for coffee and a chat every once a while, God knew he needed more laughs like this one.

Meanwhile Gohan stood to the side, pouting his lip and clearly not enjoying the jokes at his expense. Chi-Chi assured him that they weren't being serious, but Gohan did not seem to want to believe it.

"But honestly, Gohan does praise you a lot," Bulma went on. "From what I hear you have knack for playing the guitar."

Goten nodded. "Uh-huh. Gohan got me one like nine years ago, when he first started working for you. It was the best present I ever got."

"And what do you play?" Bulma asked.

"Well, Banshee plays the blues," Goten replied. "I just sing along a bit and try to make it look like I know what I'm doing."

"Oh, sweet!" Bulma cried out. "You know, there's some great music joints in the area. A lot of them have blues artists playing throughout the weekend, you should check it out."

"Oh, killer," Goten said. "We didn't have any bars back at home. Guess it's a downside of living in the mountains."

"Now Goten, living at Mt. Paozu wasn't all that bad, you know," Chi-Chi interjected.

"It wasn't," Goten said, smiling at her. "But now that we've been here for a few days I have to admit that the city does have its perks."

"Right, Mom," Gohan agreed. "You'll get used to it soon enough."

"Oh, I guess you're right," Chi-Chi relented. "It's just that I've been so worried about everything turning out okay, with my new job and Goten going to school and all."

"Well you shouldn't," Goten soothed her. "I'll do great in school, just you watch."

Suddenly he was very aware of Bulma's observing eyes, trimmed solely on him. He was about to ask her if something was wrong, but she voiced her question just before that.

"Will you be attending South City High?" she asked, a hint of curiosity in her tone.

"I am, actually," Goten answered.

"And would you happen to know which class you'll be in?"

"Uh, I'm pretty sure it's class 3A."

"Oh goodness!" Bulma replied, giving a loud, whooping cheer. "That means you'll be in the same class as my son! His name is Trunks, and I'm sure the two of you will get along."

"Bulma," Gohan said. "Don't you think it's a little early to start pushing Goten into a social life?"

"Oh, what do you know," Bulma shot back, slapping Gohan's upper arm. "Besides, I think my Trunks can use a few friends who are down to earth like Goten is. The poor kid is constantly swarmed by people who only want him for his money."

"Ouch," Goten remarked. "Well if you want to I can keep an eye out for him."

"Oh, would you?" Bulma gasped. "Oh, Goten, come here." She pulled him into another one of her bone-shattering hugs. "Now I see why Gohan adores you so much."

Goten wheezed a reply that she probably did not hear.

When she released him she had a determined smile on her face. "Now, how about we take the rest of that tour?"

"Geez, what's got you so happy today?"

Trunks looked to the side and saw Marron, a quizzical look on her face as she shifted her position in the grass beneath their usual hang-out tree. She had opted for pink ribbons in her hair today, adding to the sugar-sweet image that Trunks already had of her. Normally he would give a little shudder, partially because it was Marron and mostly because he despised the colour pink, but he let it be. She was right. He was happy.

Trunks shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing much, how come?"

"Because," Marron said, holding up a hand and making it quite clear that she was about to fire off into a massive explanation. "I haven't seen you smile like this since, I dunno, ever. Not to mention that you haven't made any nasty remarks for the whole day, which is kind of sketchy if you ask me. You're supposed to be a sourpuss, Trunkie, don't ruin the image I have of you."

"Why, would that make you upset?"

"Hmmmm, no," Marron replied. "But I don't like change."

Trunks rolled his eyes. "What else is new." He took a cigarette from the carton in his pocket and lit it. "But nah, I guess I've been pretty cheery the past few days. It's because I destroyed my record on BlasterSmash."

Marron gave a deep sigh and plucked the cigarette from between his fingers. "I should've known," she said between puffs. "It's always that damn video game with you, isn't it?"

"Hey, don't hate," Trunks laughed a genuine laugh. He honestly couldn't recall the last time he had done that in Marron's presence, but today he would make an exception. "Besides, I didn't do it alone, you know. I met a guy in the game and we've been playing together pretty non-stop."

A devilish smile curled around Marron's lips. "Ooh, what is this I hear? Has Trunkie got himself a boyfriend?"

Trunks snatched the cigarette back from her, simultaneously flipping her off. Marron laughed out loud.

"Oh, c'mon Trunkie, you know I'm just teasing."

"Sometimes it's not all that clear with you."

"Tsck," Marron scoffed. "Like you are Mister Pleasure To Be Around all of the time."

"I never said I was."

"True, but I thought I should remind you."

A new voice reached Trunks's ears. "Hey! Marron, Trunks! What's up?"

Both of them looked up to see a boy of around Trunks's age coming towards them. Marron's mouth immediately gapped a little upon seeing his features, and even Trunks, who refrained from judging people on their appearance, had to admit that the guy looked pretty good. A lot of girls at their school were usually swooning over his green eyes and his waving, rust-coloured hair. He was a little too dolled up in Trunks's opinion, but hey, nobody was perfect.

Even so, Jasper, as the boy's name was, was a pretty cool dude. Jasper was on the list, the incredibly short list, of people who Trunks could stand to be around. Jasper was a drummer and this was clear in everything about him. Whenever the two of them were in the same room, he was always tapping his hands or fingers on whatever surface available. Trunks had since learned to block out the sound.

Jasper had never even tried to bring up the subject of money around Trunks. Perhaps he knew how much the purple-haired boy despised it. Either way, Trunks was very grateful for this. It had cemented Jasper as a true friend in his point of view, or at least a very friendly acquaintance. Without doubt, Jasper was the best non-feathered friend that he could think of.

Said boy joined them underneath the tree. Trunks offered him a cigarette, but he declined. Jasper immediately fired off into a conversation.

"So, what's this I hear about a new kid in our class?"

"Oh, yeah, Clearwater told us all about it," Marron replied without hesitation. "Apparently he'll join you starting next Monday."

"Lucky," Jasper said, nudging Trunks on the shoulder with his fist. "I haven't had any new classmates for years now."

"Eh," Trunks shrugged his shoulders. "I guess he'll be alright."

"I hope he's more than alright," Marron said, a hazy smile spreading over her face. "I need a cute new guy to ogle."

"Can you not think about anything else?" Trunks complained.

"I can, but I choose not to."

Both Trunks and Jasper rolled their eyes at the same time.

"Anyway," Jasper picked up the conversation. "I think this guy's a musician like me, which is pretty damn awesome. I saw that he already signed up for the musical course for next semester." He let his gaze travel across the field of grass, the look in his eyes contemplative. "God, I hope he plays the blues. We could use a new guitarist."

"So he plays the guitar, huh?" Marron smirked. Trunks swore he could see the lust in her eyes triple. Great, so she was one of those people who would do anything to bang the singer of the band. "That's so cool. Did you happen to remember his name?"

"I think he's called Goten Son, but that's all I know," Jasper replied.

"Ooh, a mystery boy," Marron cooed. "I'm sure he's a hottie, I just know it."

"Yeah, I kinda hope so too," Jasper replied. "I'd love a guitarist boyfriend."

Trunks raised his eyebrows at this. Sometimes he completely forgot that all the girls swooning over Jasper didn't have a chance in hell of being with him. Probably because Jasper defied all the stereotypes of a gay man; he enjoyed horror movies and banging stuff with wooden sticks, not rainbows and unicorns and talking like an aristocrat woman. That, and he loathed pink as much as Trunks did.

"Oh right, I forget you're a poof sometimes," Marron poked Jasper in the ribs. "Okay, fine, let's have a bet. Whoever bags the new guy gets treated to dinner."

"Oh, you're on!" Jasper said, shaking her hand. "Trunks, you'll be our ref, right?"

Trunks lit another cigarette. "Sure, why not."

"Then it's a deal," Marron declared. "I guess I have luck on my side, though. Who could resist a pretty face like this?"

"I know I can," Jasper replied.

Trunks laughed so hard that he felt he might rupture something. "And you're not alone there."

Marron huffed and crossed her arms. "I hate you guys so much right now."

Trunks smiled. "And we wouldn't have it any other way."

South City Park was a magnet for everything annoying. You had your lovey dovey couples that turned your stomach into a swirling mess of bile. Overweight, middle aged men clad in running gear, who were always stretching but never jogging. And children, oh god, the children. They were everywhere, with all their screaming and squalling and crying and ugh.

Still, Trunks was here every day. His nose would be scrunching for most of the route to his destination, since he had no intention of hiding his disgust. People wouldn't mind either, they read every expression on his face as if it were a smile. The ones that didn't exactly enjoy his presence always considered him to be a smug little shit, nice and comfortable in his rich little estate.

Too bad they weren't here to see him now, walking with a plastic bag full of stale, dry bread. This would be his only trip out of the house for the entire day, so he hadn't bothered much when it came to presenting himself to the public. His hair was a mess, a tracksuit and runners old and worn down. His father would say that he looked like a pauper.

The pond was not too far away anymore. Trunks felt like sighing in relief. This was the part of his daily routine that he always dreaded, so leaving it behind him was almost a blessing. Although, truth to be told, he hadn't done a whole lot of scowling the past few days. Strangely enough he also felt guilty about that.

He hadn't visited the ducks since Tuesday. He had wanted to go, obviously, but the past few mornings he had overslept several times. He had spent his nights playing BlasterSmash and it had tired him out. So he had skipped out on feeding the ducks for a few days. It was somewhat ridiculous that he felt like he owed something to several dozen ducks, but he still did. He would make sure to go sleep at a bit of a proper time next week, so he could keep up the daily trips.

He had reached the pond and he dropped himself down on one of the benches along its bank. Immediately about twenty ducks began to swarm him. Trunks grinned. See, they were counting on him. Or at least they had by now learned to recognize him and knew that a head of purple hair meant food. Damn you, Pavlov...

His little bout of absence did have its merits, though. Today he had been able to gather a lot more scraps than usual, and his feathered little buddies would be delighted to know that. He ruffled through the bag and retrieved an end piece of bread, He tore it into a handful of pieces and began tossing them into the water one by one. He made sure to scatter the bits as much as he could, so all the ducks would get about an equal share.

They scattered like madmen, diving after the bread and tossing their heads back to drop it down their gullets. And then his mom had the nerve to call him a messy eater.

Something quaked to his right and Trunks flinched. He had hoped that Beaker would be occupied at the moment, because if he was feeling particularly guilty towards anyone, it was him. The other ducks also had enough reason to be pissed at him, he reasoned, but then again, Beaker was special.

"What's up?" Trunks tried to keep it casual, shoving a hand into his pocket and swinging the bag of bread around. Why he was trying so hard to keep it cool around a fuck-mothering duck was way beyond him.

Beaker quacked again, ruffling his wings and plucking out a stray feather or two. He then jumped on the bench and remained still, aiming his red eyes at Trunks and lulling his head back and forth, as if studying him with great interest.

"What?" Trunks threw his hands up. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

Beaker said nothing.

"Ugh, okay, I know!" Trunks sighed, rolling his eyes. "I haven't been around a couple of days, I know. And I'm really sorry, honest!"

If someone were to pass by him now, they would be very much confused as to why there was a purple-haired boy arguing with an albino duck. Trunks knew it looked ridiculous. There was no sense in trying to explain himself to the animal, but a part of him felt obligated, even if Beaker was not able to comprehend human language. He had let down a friend after all.

"Can you at least say something?" Trunks pleaded. "Like, I get that you're pissed at me, I do, but the silent treatment isn't helping anyone, ya know."

Beaker gave a loud quack.

Trunks broke into a smile. "Okay, better." He reached into the bag in his hand and retrieved a full slice, because Beaker always got special treatment. The albino's eyes followed it back and forth, much like a dog awaiting a treat. Trunks tossed the slice at Beaker. It was gone before he could even blink.

"I knew you would forgive me," the boy mused. He reached out and stroked Beaker's feathers, who hopped onto his lap without argument. Like always he nestled himself in between Trunks's thighs, content to watch his comrades devour the bread that Trunks tossed into the pond.

"I really am sorry, though," Trunks said. "I've just been a little busy. Or, well, busy, we can argue about that all day. I've been playing BlasterSmash a lot, I told you about it, right?"

He could almost swear that he saw Beaker give a quick and curt nod.

"Okay cool. So I'm playing BlasterSmash, right, and I'm this friggin' close to breaking my all-time record. I was playing as a Saiyan, of course, and just before I kill another Tuffle -I only needed two more after that one- I get stabbed in the back."

Beaker listened along as he regaled his heroic massacre of the Tuffle population.

"So I'm royally pissed off, you get that. So I'm laying there, dying, and I'm thinking about how hard I can toss my controller into the wall, right? But just before I respawn this guy helps me out, so I got to keep on playing without losing my shot at my record. I totally aced it, of course. Shot them all to fucking hell like it was nothing.

When the game was done I go to shoot this guy a message, cause he helped me break my record. Turns out he did a lot better than I did, which is, like, almost impossible. Cause I rule at that game, you know. Anyway, I message the guy and before I know it we're playing two vs. two. We fucking slayed everyone we came across, we're pretty much indestructible. Only downside is that I've been missing out on sleep big time."

It was strange, this explanation of his. It was weird that he felt the mere necessity to justify himself to a duck, of all things. But, truth to be told, who else did he have? No one. Marron would much rather listen to the sound of her own voice than pay any attention to his problems. His mother was a good enough listener, but something about having your mommy as your most trusted confidante just didn't sit right with him. He needed someone who could give him a more neutral point of view.

But all he had was Beaker.

Not that Beaker was a bad friend, but his advice wasn't as riveting as Trunks would have hoped. It most likely boiled down to 'gimme another slice of bread. It'll make you feel better, promise'.

Sighing, Trunks gave Beaker another pet across the head, then gave him another slice of bread. The duck might not have been a good consultant, but he could listen like the best of them.

Ah, Trunks Briefs, friendless but for an albino duck, a drummer with OCD and a screen name without even a face to go along. Not too bad if you considered it. He could be a drug addict. His parents should be grateful, oh so grateful.

There were not a whole lot of things in life that Goten truly enjoyed. There was BlasterSmash, of course, and playing Banshee was also a great way to pass the time. But after that his list of hobbies was reduced to almost nothing. Aside from the usual things there was one more activity that Goten could do for hours on end.

Goten figured that he was a decent enough writer. Not poetry or anything, cause he would do enough of that crap whenever he tried to write lyrics to a song. No, when he was busy on what he called 'writing', he would be working on a story that had been on his computer's hard drive for at least four years now. He had started it right after turning twelve, because little Goten had figured that he had struck gold with the idea that blasted into his brains that one random night.

He had been obsessed with fleshing his imaginary world out ever since. He would make sure to write on it at least an hour a day, because else he feared that he would lose touch with the reality that he was creating. Some days were easier than others, though, and right now he found himself cursing at the little dash blinking on the screen. He had been staring at it for at least thirty minutes, but his mind would not produce the words for his fingers to spur into existence. It was excruciating.

Really, he knew what was holding him back. Even though he had told everyone the opposite, Goten was becoming quite anxious about going to South City High. Over the past few days he had begun to realize that he did want to fit in, as much as he tried to deny it at first. He blamed Captain Underpants. That ass had showed him how pleasant it was to be able to talk to someone without having to feel the social pressure, to just be able to discuss everything and nothing. He had shown Goten friendship. And now he was hooked.

His addiction had rid anything else from his mind, like the novel that he was now facing, not a word to be added today. Just that realization alone made him want to grumble; arrogant as it may have been, Goten knew for a fact that he was working on one hell of an epic world.

The story followed the exploits of a boy who steps through a mirror and into an alternate reality. The idea itself was nothing new, but once Goten had begun writing it out, there had been no stopping. He just kept finding these awesome new facts about this parallel universe that was entirely his creation. It wasn't until he was fourteen that he had found out that literally everything in the mirror world was backwards. Everything. From the numbers on the clock to the colour scheme of daffodils. It was all upside down.

Much like his head. He couldn't make this work, not today. Goten powered down his computer and scooted his chair backwards. Out of habit more than anything else he took Banshee from her hooks, laying himself on his bed with his guitar crossed over his chest. His body had long since learned the sensation of Banshee near his heart, so his arms curved to accommodate. He found the amplifier within reach, so he plugged his baby in and made her sing the blues.

Today she was howling, long searing notes blaring through the room and lifting every hair on Goten's skin. Her song was one of sorrow, of a love lost that hasn't even been discovered. She sang of the pain of hindsight, about not realizing something before it is too late. The sound of it was raw, her deep tones rising in a crescendo of hurt.

Playing Banshee was so easy now, it just came to him. He did not have to think about what string to hit next, or which chords to use to progress a musical heartache that filled the room and bounced off the walls. It was just second nature. It surprised Goten still, because he had never faced a pain so great that it could match the tears that Banshee was crying. Maybe he just had an old soul.

He closed his eyes and let his fingers slide along her neck, enjoying the mild prickle of used wood and fibery string. The years passed behind his lids as he tried to draw from the source of Banshee's pain. It had to be inside him somewhere, he just knew it. The past three years had been the hardest of his life; they were the pinnacle of loss. But that wasn't what Banshee was singing about. It wasn't a mourning song.

What was it then, he questioned himself as a new tune seemed to slip from his fingertips. Could it be hurt of a physical kind?

No, that didn't seem right. No, Banshee had other things to tell him. This time he listened really hard, trying to discern any emotion in his own playing.

She was singing of... solitude. Goten opened his eyes wide, realizing what he was thinking. Banshee was playing the song of loneliness, an anthem for a man who has nobody to call his own, no one to hold. But admitting that she was singing for him, through him, was too painful to admit right now.

His fingers halted halfway down her neck, Banshee's wailing dying and bathing the room in total silence. Goten sighed and sat back up, ready to put her away.

"Why did you stop?" Gohan was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and half a smile on his face. "I haven't heard you play this well in ages, please go on."

Goten didn't even bother to ask what Gohan was doing here; probably over for dinner or coffee or something. Videl and Pan were probably downstairs too. Goten stayed perfectly still for a moment, Banshee sitting in his laps and keeping quiet.

"Pretty please?" Gohan asked, pouting his lower lip. Goten sighed. He couldn't say no when someone asked him to play for them. There was hardly anything he excelled at, so he took whatever chance he could at showing off. Resigning to himself, he began to strum.

He played for what seemed like hours, until his fingers were chaved with the friction and the piercing notes from Banshee's high register where pounding in his ears. All the while Gohan just stood in the doorway and watched him with that smile of his.

When he could play no more, he laid Banshee down beside him. He looked up at Gohan, hoping to get some explanation about why his brother was here. He didn't get one, though. Instead, Gohan chose a different topic of conversation.

"Something's bothering you," he said matter-of-factly.

Goten raised his brows, surprised at Gohan's observational skills. "Huh, how come?"

"Because the last time you played that good you were wearing funeral clothing."

Goten sighed and turned his gaze away, letting it glide over the instrument. He plucked her heavy E-string and she filled the room with a melancholic baritone. "Please don't talk about it," he mumbled.

Goten had learned how to play Banshee like a true artist during the past two years. He had been decent for a long time, but it wasn't until he had to walk down the gravel, straightening his tie and hoping that the tears wouldn't wreck his voice while he sang at the ceremony, that he had learned how he could convert suffering to music. Gohan had once told him something that stuck to him until this day. He had said that you cannot gain without first suffering the pain of loss.

"Okay, I won't," Gohan promised. He stepped into the room and sat down on Goten's bed, Banshee between them like a wall that they weren't allowed to break. The members of the Son family weren't strangers to showing affection, but as soon as someone put on a sad face, they had the tendency to freeze in place. That Gohan was going out of his way to talk to Goten about his worries was something exceptional. That hadn't happened since Goten was eight.

"Still though, I can tell that something's got your panties in a twist. Fess up."

Goten rolled his eyes. "It's nothing, really," he said, staring at the mess in his closet and musing to himself that he should straighten it out before his mother made him. "I suppose I'm just a little more worried about school than I first thought."

"Oh, how come?"

"I dunno," Goten mused. "I guess I'm concerned that the people there won't like me, is all. I'm afraid that they won't want to deal with the new kid from the mountains. They'll probably think I'm some brute caveman or something."

Much to his surprise, Gohan laughed out loud. "Well I think that too sometimes. I've seen you play BlasterSmash and I'll tell you what, it's nothing pretty."

That made Goten chuckle, although it did nothing to untie the nervous knot in his stomach. "Thanks, Gohan, but I'm serious. What if they all decide to give me the cold shoulder?"

Gohan fidgeted with Banshee's tuning pegs. Goten considered slapping him across the fingers, but a glare was enough to have Gohan draw in his hand like it was on fire. He then resumed their little therapy session.

"Well, the best advice that I can give you is to be yourself, even though it sounds like a total cliché. You're a great kid, Goten. You just need to show them that as well."

Goten wanted to thank him for his input, but it was like Gohan had said: It was the oldest trick in the book. Of course he would try to be himself, but only because he didn't have the energy to play charades all of the time. So instead of voicing his gratitude, Goten smiled at his brother, knowing the gesture to be sufficient.

"Okay, I will," he said. "But if it doesn't work, just remember, I know where you live."

Gohan laughed and rose from the bed. "Sure thing, Squirt." He took a look at himself in the full-length mirror on the wall, perhaps making sure that his tie was on straight, then turned back to Goten.

"So, any plans for the rest of the weekend? You know, before all hell breaks loose?"

"Oh yeah," Goten replied, a bubble of happiness swelling up inside him. "I met some guy on BlasterSmash. He's an amazing player and we've decided to join forces in the game. I'm pretty sure that we're the strongest tag team in the entire online community. We'll be playing two vs. two matches tonight and tomorrow."

"See?" Gohan pointed out, smiling. "You can make new friends, so what's got you so worried?"

Goten could see no flaw in that logic. Fair enough, he guessed he could call Captain Underpants a friend by now. They sure had been talking a lot ever since meeting each other. He hardly knew anything about the guy, but that wasn't necessary. They had bonded over their mutual disgust of the Tuffle Race, and that was all that mattered.

Although Goten did know that the Captain was only a year older than he was. And that he lived in a big city too, even if he couldn't tell where. Oh, and the Captain was as socially inept as he was, judging by the way he spoke about his school. He had used terms along the lines of 'fucking idiots' and 'suck-ups, every one of them'.

And he had told the Captain that his own screen name was derived from the beautiful piece of craftsmanship lying beside him. That, and because she played the blues. And he would talk to the Captain every night, as well as wreak havoc with him.

So yeah, the Captain was his friend. That was at least somewhat reassuring. Goten returned the smile Gohan sent him, now a little less scared out of his mind about the Monday to come.

"Are you staying for dinner?" he asked his brother.

Gohan nodded. "Uh-huh, Mom and Videl are in the kitchen cooking away. We're having lasagna, for your information."

"Hell yeah!"

"Dinner should be done in an hour or so," Gohan informed. "but if you wanna come downstairs sooner, that's fine. I bet Pan would love to have some play time with her favourite uncle."

"I'm also her only uncle," Goten pointed out.

Gohan sighed and rolled his eyes. "Okay, if you're gonna try to make friends at school, maybe you shouldn't act like such a smartass."

"...No promises."

Okay, so I never could've imagined how much of a freaking goldmine the ducks turned out to be. I fucking love them. So. Freaking. Much. And Banshee too, by the way. I really hit my stride in the final scene, but maybe it's just the blues in me :)

Your thoughts are always appreciated!

Till the next one.