Chapter V

It was a nice day for a picnic, and since there was no school today because of a holiday—Satan Day, apparently, so Gohan decided to take his family out to enjoy the outdoors. Though the rest of the world celebrated a day of triumph, Gohan just wanted one to spare for fun and tranquility. The sun in the country was way more pleasant than in the city, especially with the soft breeze that smelt of dew and pines. Chi-chi sat on her wooden wheelchair as the wind blew through her cheeks, unresponsive as always, while the brothers lounged on the soft grass with a relish.

Goten had put a crown of wildflowers on their mother's head. The little boy had entwined the small delicate stems of the dandelions with his nimble fingers, all the while chattering jovially about Toto, the nice pterodactyl who lived in the cliff not too far from their home, his wife, and his newly born chick Goten named Chibi. His smile was contagious and the cheer in his voice was unmistakable, another similarity he inherited from their late father. He made the wonderful adornment on Chi-chi's head with practice precision, and despite the power of the Super Saiyan pulsing within him in disciplined constrain, the little flowers remained beautiful and undamaged in his gentle palms.

Gohan watched him with the pride of a mentor and a brother, and Goten gave him a smile when the boy caught him doing so.

"I've been training, just like you told me to," Goten said, almost bragging. "I can control it better now."

"I always knew you could do it, squirt," Gohan replied, smiling back at him while he patted the blanket on the grass to straighten it. "How did you learn to do that?" he asked curiously, pointing at the weaved flowers in his little brother's hands.

"Nana taught me," Goten answered, "We do it every time we went out to pick flowers in the meadow for Mommy's room."

"I see," Gohan said. He observed the kid's stubby little fingers as it coiled and swerved the stems to a complicated knot. "You know, that's hardly manly, Goten. Are you a fighter or a florist?" he teased.

"Manly?" The little boy paused, pondering what his big brother meant.

"Yeah," Gohan replied, smirking at the smaller Son boy. He fell down on his back on the picnic cloth, his arms cradling his head. "Making that is for girls."

Goten pouted. "You're mocking me," he said, his shoulders sagging.

Gohan snickered. Goten puffed his cheeks, getting irritated. He abandoned his work and flew at his still laughing brother, landing on his stomach and bouncing on it to show his displeasure. Gohan grunted, retaliating by tickling the little kid's sides with his fingers.

"Stop, stop!" Goten exclaimed in surrender. "I give! I give!"

"Oh, no, you can't!" Gohan replied, intensifying his attacks.

Goten squirmed and guffawed, wiggling in every which way to free himself from his brother's unmerciful tickles until they ended up wrestling on the grass. In a little more than a minute and it had grown into an all-out spar between the brothers, Gohan easily matching the mini-Super Saiyan in strength as he had a better grasp of his ki control.

Goten was like their father in more than just physical appearance and disposition, more than anything, he had Goku's love for adventure and lust for battle in spades. Goten was born a prodigy. He achieved the Super Saiyan form at the age of six, five years younger than even Gohan himself who was once the youngest to achieve the form. While he and his father, and even Vegeta and Future Trunks, needed a painful and strong emotional stimulus to trigger their transformation, the little boy achieved it in an almost mockingly effortless manner. Gohan wondered what the so-called Prince of all Saiyans would think when he found out that a six-year-old child had denigrated their race's great legendary ancestry to a mere plaything, no doubt he would have aneurisms all over.

The first thing Gohan taught him when he learned to ascend was control, just as his father had done. It was the hardest thing to grasp when one had the power to rend a planet to dust with an accidental slip, or destroy a chair and table with an unrepressed sneeze, or shatter a glass unintentionally with a wrong grip… or worse, fortuitously end a life when all he wanted was a gentle touch. Gohan was grateful that his little brother understood. He was a smart boy; he knew how fragile their mother was and how easily they could break her bones with an incautious caress.

Gohan sparred with him whenever he had the chance. For one, it helped the boy control the form and bleed out the little kid's excess energy, and secondly, sparring with Goten gave Gohan the reason to keep training himself and improve his own strength beyond what he could achieve during the Cell Games. Not excessively, just enough to handle his own power and be prepared enough if/when a threat ever came. He took it as one of his responsibilities to his father as well; one part was to protect the Earth, and the rest to keep his father alive in his heart, and in some way, in Goten's, too.

Goten did not meet Son Goku in life, but Gohan made sure the boy knew who he was. He told Goten stories about him, about everything he'd done in his life, all the adventure he'd been through, and the people he'd met and befriended. Sometimes, Gohan thought that he might have betrayed the hero-worship he had for the man while he narrated, for Goten had significant echoes of it himself. The boy who never knew his father, a man whom he'd known in all but tales that might as well have been just myths, and yet Gohan still wanted him to believe. If not for Goten, then at least for himself; it was one of the ways he learned to cope, he supposed, a self-comforting reassurance that his father wasn't just an effigy in his mindscape; that he really did exist once, and the legacy he had left in his heart was real.

Today was actually his 7th death anniversary. It was the reason why the rest of the planet was celebrating, because today was the same day seven years ago when they saw the terror of a powerful being, and survived. It was ironic, he supposed. If he thought about it in a logical way, the people shouldn't be celebrating anything at all. Why? Because Mr. Satan told them that Cell was just a trickster, a con artist that posed no real threat. In their minds, Cell wasn't really a destructive terrorist, then Mr. Satan had saved them from nothing, and therefore had no reason to praise and worship him. Still, the world celebrated because no matter what lies and falsehoods Mr. Satan spewed, they still felt the danger; that heart-stopping moment when you just knew you were supposed to die by the hands of a being beyond one's comprehension, and there would be nothing they could do to stop it. Every creature had that survival instinct, and he supposed the people of Earth had it too. Otherwise, they would have treated the whole affair of Cell's broadcasted threat and powers as nothing but bullcrap; a nonsense propaganda that had no weight. He knew he shouldn't care about what they think, but there was just too many contradictions in the way they think. He'd never thought other people to be so puerile and one dimensional, but the rest of the world just made it too easy for him to hold them in the lowest of esteem. There was a time that he resented them, to be honest. He hated them because they were all happy when his family and friends grieved. A great man, a hero—their hero, had just been lost, and they didn't even know. How could his father even desire to protect these gullible people?

But then, he realized that his father did not die for them. He died for his family and friends. Goku had never really thought about the world beyond what was in front of him. He fought and faced insurmountable odds and powerful villains for the challenge of it and for the people important to him he wanted to protect, not for the recognition, the fame, or the gratification. The rest of the world can think whatever they wanted, and Goku wouldn't care as long as the people he loved were well and safe.

Gohan had planned for the three of them to visit his Grandpa's shrine this afternoon. Goten helped him clean it at least once a month, and then bring flowers to put on a vase below the platform where the Four Star Dragon Ball laid. Today was a special tradition because it's another one of their father's anniversaries in the Otherworld.

The shrine was a traditional structure not too far from their house. A twisting concrete stairs lead up to it; a small house with a high red-tiled roof. The insides were bare and spacious, containing but a single raised platform where a pillow with the Four-Star Dragon Ball was placed on it. Below it was Grandpa Gohan's black-and-white picture with a child Goku, another with Goku, Chi-chi, and baby Gohan, and the last was a latest picture with the catatonic Chi-chi and Gohan while he cradled little Goten.

As Gohan lit up the few candles in the shrine, Goten arranged the flowers in the vases. Then, they would offer a prayer for their father and Grandpa.

"Gohan," Goten called his big brother's attention, "what's the shrine really for? I know Daddy and Grandpa's bodies aren't in this shrine, so why are we praying for them here? Would they be able to hear us?"

Gohan smiled at him. "That's a good question, squirt," he replied, patting the boy's head while he mulled over the answer. "Well, you see, building a shrine isn't only for the dead, it's also for those who are left behind, like you and me, and Mom. It's for us to remember those who passed and went to the Otherworld. It doesn't matter that their bodies isn't here, as long as their memories are in our hearts, they will be able to hear our prayers. Dad and Grandpa Gohan is always looking out for us. Always."

Goten only looked confused.

"It's hard to explain, Goten," Gohan added. "Here, let me tell you a secret," he said, gesturing for the boy to come closer. Goten duly did so curiously.

"When Dad died, I was devastated," Gohan confessed; the little boy listened with rapt attention. "In fact, during the first few months knowing that he would never come back, I was ready to follow him in the Otherworld. Dad was a huge part of my life, you know. He was like my beacon, and when he was gone, I felt like my life had lost its meaning and purpose. I could have been like Mom, perhaps, but then, I stumbled into this shrine.

"It was old and decrepit," he said, looking about the decorated and tidied room, "and the shrine was empty because the Dragon Ball was used for a wish. I didn't know yet that Mom was pregnant with you then, squirt," he told the boy.

Goten giggled. "Yeah, I was a miracle, you always remind me."

"And you are," Gohan affirmed fondly. "But without this shrine, I might've not been able to move on from Dad's passing. This shrine listened when I cried, when I rambled about my hardships and dilemmas. It took a long time for me to realize that I'm just talking to myself, but by then, it made me understand that I've already let Dad go.

"Losing Dad was so painful, Goten, it was almost physical. This shrine helped me empty that burden. The scar probably wouldn't go away, but time heals all wounds. Rebuilding this shrine and making it a part of our lives, I'm hoping that it could help Mom and you, too."

Goten smiled at him, and for a moment, Gohan saw his father in the flesh. Gohan smiled back and Goten knelt in front of the shrine to pray.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the shrine. When the sun started to bath the horizon in pale hues of orange, Gohan decided to take Goten and Chi-chi home. After a meal of pot-roast, he made to tuck in Goten. The boy was yawning sleepily though his hair and eyes remained gold and teal respectively. Gohan had trained Goten the same way his father had trained him, maintaining the Super Saiyan form steadily even in mundane everyday life to help master and control it. They made it a contest to see who could last longer in the ascended form during weekdays; Gohan in Super Saiyan 2 while Goten maintained his basic ascended Super Saiyan form.

After making sure his little brother was well lost in the land of dreams, Gohan went and took care of his mother next. He helped her wash up and change in her pajamas, and then tucked her in her bed. Just as he'd always done, he'd hold her hand and wait for her to close her eyes, making sure that she's comfortable and breathing evenly before leaving the room.

Laying down on his own bed parallel from the one Goten was sleeping on, now freshly bathed and in his own pajamas, Gohan was content. He snuggled his pillow, and smiled. His life wasn't perfect, but it had a rhythm, one that he was able to get used to. He knew it could be better, but for now, a life that was predictable was better than an adventurous yet destructive one.

.oOo.

Gohan's day had started the same way as it did yesterday. Today was an extension of yesterday's holiday, as was the whole week, so there was no need to get ready for school. He had woken up two hours before sunrise to hunt and fish, gathering enough to last for the day. Goten was unsurprisingly early as well, offering to help him around the house in any way he could.

The Son Household had fallen into clockwork, Chi-chi, opening her eyes in the exact same hour she always did and began her everyday task to stare down the walls and ceilings. Gohan would prepare the meals and feed his brother and mother, and then complete the chores and maintain the garden. Lunch with his family was usually spent outside, appreciating the beautiful scenery especially when the weather was nice.

The rest of the afternoon was filled of just lounging around the house; helping Goten with his homework, playing video games, sparring, or watching the news. As this moment, Goten was doing the latter after finishing his assignment while Gohan swept and cleaned the floor until it sparkled to pass the time.

"Hey, Gohan, look," Goten called excitedly, "it's the funny man with the big hair!"

Gohan peered at him from his place on the floor. "You mean Mr. Satan?" Gohan asked absentmindedly as he went back to his task. "What's he saying?"

"It's just his picture," Goten answered, pausing to watch the television for more info. "Oooh, wow! The pretty lady says he passed away yesterday! Does that mean he'll finally meet Daddy in the Otherworld?"

"What?!" Gohan almost slipped as he rushed towards the TV.

Disbelief coursed through him as he listened at the news anchor detailing the circumstances of the World Champ's death. He was shot in the head during his supposed speech in the eve of the Satan Ball, dying immediately. The lady in the TV seemed out of it, like she just cried with her puffy, red-rimmed eyes. The video changed to that of in front of the Satan Mansion, a multitude of reporters loitering around, trying to get a shot of the grieving daughter. Gohan felt himself clench his fist.

He still couldn't believe it. Mr. Satan was dead. Despite the things he'd done against his family and friends, Gohan had no grudge against the man. Mr. Satan had a good heart, though misplaced; all he wanted to do was help. He might have lied to the world, but if he'd never done so, the whole planet could have descended into mass panic. Cell was a being of power, an indomitable creature that could destroy the world if he so wished. If Mr. Satan had not claimed the credit and deceived the world, they would have realized the existence of a lot more beings like him. Like Gohan and his family, like Vegeta, Krillin, and all their friends. Public knowledge of beings like them, people could treat them in only two ways; to revere or abhor, both conditions introducing a plethora of turmoil and madness that Gohan didn't want to deal with. In a way, he should be the one grateful for what Mr. Satan had done. He's not condoning his deception of the world, he just understood and accepted that the circumstances he was handling now could have been a lot worse.

All over the globe, Mr. Satan was venerated as the World Savior. He was an iconic hero, a beacon of hope that Gohan could never be. Now that he's dead, Gohan could only guess what chaos would soon follow.

And Videl.

Gohan winced. Videl was his classmate; she wasn't his friend, but he knew her. More importantly, he knew what it was like to lose someone special to him. Videl might deny it, but he also knew that she loved her father so much. To lose him abruptly and so suddenly, it would be like being crushed by heaven and earth itself.

"Gohan, are you alright?" Goten asked worriedly.

Gohan took a deep breath, reigning in his ki, the wind and pressure around him slowly subsiding. "I'm fine, squirt."

"Do you know Mr. Satan, Gohan? Will he be okay, too?"

"I'm sure he'll be okay, Goten," he replied. "Besides, I'm sure he'll have fun in the Otherworld."

"I know, like Dad," Goten said, returning his attention to the television, "They'll have lots of fun adventures and meet tons of amazing strong people."

Gohan chuckled. "Goten, do you mind if I leave you for a bit? There's someone I want to talk to."

"Who?"

"An old friend of Dad's and I," Gohan answered.

"Oh, can't I come?" Goten looked at him pleadingly. It broke Gohan's heart to refuse him.

"I'm sorry Goten, but someone has to stay home and watch over Mom," Gohan explained. Goten's shoulders sagged, but he nodded. "Next time, okay? We'll even take Mom with us."

Goten's face lit up. "Really? Promise?"

Gohan nodded.

"That's awesome! I can't wait!" the little boy exclaimed as he pumped his fist in the air with a joyful expression. "I can finally meet Daddy's friends!"

"I'll see you in a bit, Goten," Gohan bid his little brother with a salute, before flying away from the door of their quaint home in the 439 Mountain Area.

He soared the sky towards a place he knew well. It took him a shorter time than he expected, and in just a few minutes, he could already see the tall tower that extended up beyond the clouds. He followed the tower's ascending pillar, peering into Korin's Tower for a second, whose resident had caught his eye and gave him a nod, before flying further up and up to the floating structure above; Kami's Lookout.

The place had not changed since the seven years he'd last seen it, and he doubt it would change for all eternity. The floating stronghold appeared heavenly as clouds fleeted on its concaved base, the walls a stark white with its gigantic pylons and foundations. On its flat top was an extending and luscious garden, a massive manse built in white marble its centerpiece. The whole place seemed pristine, clean and untainted by the world's filth and malevolence as it looked over everything below it; a fitting home for the guardian of Earth.

Before Gohan could even land on its edge, Piccolo was already there with his arms crossed on his chest. He was not the least bit surprised; just as the Namekian could feel his ki, so too could he. He knew his former mentor was expecting him.

"Hey, Piccolo," Gohan greeted, smiling at the brusque green-skinned warrior. He had long since grown out of calling him 'Mr. Piccolo'.

"Gohan," Piccolo welcomed, giving the boy the fond smirk reserved only for him. "It's been a long time. I see you've grown a lot."

"Yeah, I guess I did," Gohan replied, scratching the back of his head in the familiar Son way. "I'd love to catch up but I need to talk to Dende."

"I know, kid," Piccolo said, his smirk growing. "He's expecting you as well. I just want to see you for myself again."

Gohan chuckled. "It's not like you don't watch over me every day, anyway," he replied knowingly.

They exchanged a meaningful look. Gohan gave him one last smile before walking towards Dende's energy signature. The Guardian was at the front of the manse, looking over the small pond where beautiful white butterflies flitted on the surface in an ethereal dance, their luminescent scales making the air glitter when light hit them just right.

Dende's face split into a grin at the sight of one of his first friends in this planet. The little Namekian that was once almost the same size as Gohan was taller than he'd last seen him; he was now in just a little bit beyond Gohan's armpit. Not much, he consigned, but still a lot taller than when they were both just kids. In his hand was Kami's old wooden staff and he was garbed in the traditional Namekian robes.

"Gohan!" he greeted, enveloping the tall half-breed in a hug.

"Dende," Gohan said, hugging back. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"Likewise, old friend," the Namekian replied. He had to crane his neck up to look at Gohan's face. "You've grown so tall! Like your Dad!"

Gohan scratched his nape, grinning and not the least bit bothered anymore that his father was discussed by people other than his immediate family.

"Wow! The resemblance really is uncanny," Dende added with a jovial smile at the familiar Son gesture.

"I wish I came here to reacquaint with you Dende, but there's something I wanted to ask," Gohan said.

"I know, Gohan. You don't have to explain," Dende replied. "You came here concerning the death of the World Champ, right?"

Gohan hesitated, gazing at the clear and calm pond with a contemplative look. "Is there anything I could do about it, Dende? Is there anything I should do?"

Dende patted his shoulder with his free hand, gazing at the pond as well. "Is there something you want to do?" Dende asked. "You know we are beyond the troubles of the mundane. The people of the Earth are blessed with freewill, the freedom to choose between what is right and what is wrong; and the intelligence and wisdom to know its difference. What they do with that gift is their own responsibility, just as yours and mine are our own. Unless they threatened the world as a whole, it is not our place to intervene."

Gohan understood that. He was a witness to crimes every day when he travelled to school in Satan City. He knew it went against his principles and morals, but he fought the urge to interfere. Petty thieves, bank robberies, gang fights, and meaningless political squabbles were beyond his authority to just swoop in and save the day. There was a reason why the world has leaders, organizations, and departments to handle such disorder in their system. Only when the world as a whole was put into danger could he actively and effectively do anything to help them. That was his job along with the Z Fighters as the world's sword and shield, and only that. The rules had long since changed from the time Goku and his gang was running around the world willy-nilly as they wasted Shenron's powers for pointless wishes. The Earth was just a speck of dust in the entirety of the universe, and they'd need every hope they could get in the face of the likes of Frieza or Cell, just in case. So, they learned to treat the Eternal Dragon's ability to grant wishes as a Deus Ex Machina—a power that was reserved and could only be used in the most grievous of circumstances. Without the approval of the rest of the Z Fighters, and, of course, Dende, the Dragon Balls couldn't be used.

"Do you know the man well, Gohan?" Dende inquired.

"Not as well as I would have preferred," Gohan replied sadly. "He was an okay guy, I supposed."

"Mr. Satan had a good heart," Dende said. "His sins could be easily forgiven, and his place in the Upperworld would be well-deserved."

"He's a special person to the world," Gohan reasoned. "Doesn't that mean anything?"

"A well-known hero, I gather," the guardian agreed, "albeit a fraudulent one. His death was a repercussion of corruption and a greed for more political power. It was men who killed him, and so it's in their hands to resolve it on their own. Though it could cause a ripple along the world's shared tranquility in the morrow, it is not our problem to solve today. The people of the Earth would just have to learn to adapt and move on without their Champion."

Simply said, Dende was telling him to leave the situation alone and they'll eventually get over it. Gohan mulled it over. Would they really? Mr. Satan was their hero; their icon of peace and strength. The world had celebrated his existence for seven years unabated. Could they really move on without withdrawing into chaos and disarray?

Maybe he was just being sentimental. He was thinking about his classmate, about Videl. He remembered what he had to go through after his father's death. The unending pain that hollowed his heart, the emptiness that was eating him inside out. His mother died within because of that pain; she left them behind and stared into oblivion because a part of her soul was ripped out when Goku departed. Gohan knew that hurt so well he had the scars to show for it.

Videl reminded him of his mother. She was fiery and stubborn, had a singlemindedness that belied only her tenacity to be recognized as her own person. Chi-chi's fire was extinguished when Goku died and refused to come back. Maybe Gohan was afraid to witness it once again in the form of Videl Satan knowing he could do something about it.

"Do you have a personal stake in it?" Dende asked again, breaking his train of thought.

Gohan only frowned.

"Do not worry yourself, Gohan. Let time take its course. Earth has fickle inhabitants, but they are tenacious beings and adapts to changes accordingly. The tragedy they faced today could might as well be just a myth to them tomorrow."

The Saiyan half-breed finally let out a small pained smile, sighing resignedly. "You're right," he consented half-heartedly. "I… I just…"

Dende patted his back, soothing. "It is alright," he said. "Go to her, tell her your condolences. It might just lessen her sorrow."

Gohan looked at him questioningly. Dende just smiled serenely.

.oOo.

The sky was solemn. Leaded clouds blocked the sun, casting a grey and dreary atmosphere. Droplets of rain showered in minuscule amounts, as if the sky itself was grieving along the masses. Satan City was like a ghost town. Shops were closed, the streets were empty. Even crickets refused to make a sound. There was not a soul within its grounds, not even the bums and beggars or thugs and criminals.

The Satan City Memorial Park was filled to the brim. A crowd of unending masses trailed from its gates in varying degrees of sorrow. Temporary shrines were built in its every corner for the public where they could put their letters of appreciation, their gifts, and whatever else they wanted to put there as their condolences for the deceased World Champion. Reporters loitered everywhere, blips floating steadily up above to air the happenings of the sad occasion to the rest of the world. Mr. Satan's funeral was a melancholy event. So many important people gave speeches, as if they knew him so well. They identified themselves as his friends, his colleagues, his partners, and so on, but their words seemed more hollow than comforting.

Gohan observed from his vantage point not too far from the park, just watching. He watched as the people cried their sorrows for the death of the man they idolized. It didn't surprise Gohan at all to see that they'd built a grand statue in Hercule Satan's likeness in just a little more than nine days. The funeral passed in relative uneventfulness, and all Gohan wanted to see was how his classmate was doing.

The event was over just as the sun started to descend over the horizon, the crowd slowly dispersing back to their homes. It took an hour for the Memorial Park to empty, but a lone person remained. Her butler stayed outside the park, waiting patiently and unwilling to leave his young mistress to get home on her own.

Gohan flew down the park's edge, away from anyone's view, and slowly walked towards his classmate's unmoving form in front of her father's grave. She was the only one draped in white among the crowd of strangers since she's his only close of kin, but she was also the only one who didn't cry. She didn't talk when she was asked to give a speech; she just… stared. Gohan's heart clenched at the sight of her, almost a mirror of his brokenhearted, empty husk of a mother.

"Hey," he called quietly when he was just a couple of feet away from her. She turned at his voice, her usually sharp blue eyes glossed and distant, and he offered her a white rose.

Videl Satan stared at him for a long time. It felt like a long time but it might just be a second. He wished she would look at him with suspicion, nag him about something, tell him offending things just as she used to in OSH—anything really. He wanted her to react, to wake up, to not turn into something his mother has become, but she didn't.

Gohan smiled bitterly, and she blinked.

"You," she spoke.

Gohan waited with baited breath for what she had to say, but it only turned into a roar of anguish. She suddenly lunged at his throat, clawed, punched, and kicked at him. Gohan either rolled with her blow or dodged her attacks, lest she hurt herself when she hit him. He made her vent, let her take out all her sorrow, grief, and sadness on him. It was okay for her to hate him, he supposed, as long as she felt anything and acted out on it.

The two of them stayed like that under the light shower, Videl attacking while Gohan evaded; it was almost like a dance, until she drained her energy and got exhausted. Gohan caught her in his arms when she fell, cradling her gently just as he'd always done with his fragile mother.

"Why?" she sobbed, and then she cried, her tears finally falling. He patted her head in a comforting manner as she buried her face on his chest, wailing her anguish for the first time since she saw her father fall from the stadium.

Gohan let her empty herself of her burden. He comforted her in his embrace until her wailing turned into pained hiccups. She was so fragile, like his mother. He thought she was so pretty and brave when they first met during the 25th WMAT, now she was just a grieving girl. Holding her like this, it made him feel like he was at least easing her lament.

"It hurts," she said between hiccups, "it hurts so much. Does it ever go away?"

Gohan hugged her closer, placing his chin atop her raven-haired head. She smelled like rosewater and vanilla. "No," he answered. "No it doesn't."

Videl renewed her sobbing, clutching his black shirt in a white-knuckled grip.

"It just becomes a part of you, I guess," Gohan said, his hand tracing circles on her back.

They remained like that even when the shower turned into a downpour. Gohan held onto her as she cried her heart out.

.oOo.

A day had passed after the funeral, a week, a fortnight. Gohan thought everything would settle back to normal once the world got over Mr. Satan's death. How wrong he was.

At first, all the people demanded was justice, for the World Champ's assassin to see the light and suffer for what he'd done. Their rallies and protests in front of the Justice Hall and the Municipal Hall were always the highlight of the news. The WMAT had been canceled this year, so there naught to distract them anymore, and even if they went on with the tournament, Gohan doubt the people would bite it with Mr. Satan's killer still on the loose.

Then, the criminal rates all over the world rose exponentially. Cities descended into lawlessness, felons and criminal masterminds thought it was the perfect time to wreak havoc and chaos. The civilians were oppressed, leading into mass panic and evacuations. School wasn't reopened since the holiday, and he had decided to make it a reason to shy away from Satan City until announced otherwise, instead relying on the television for news. All Gohan ever saw broadcast on it were more deaths of innocents, arson of varying degrees caused intentionally, and criminality in every level. Still, he thought it was beyond his place to intervene.

Dende was right. The world will right itself in time. At least, that's what he told himself to alleviate the overwhelming urge to just gather the Dragon Balls and revive Mr. Satan. It did get him some sleep at night, but it gave him bad dreams.

That was until one night, he was woken by a knock on his door. Gohan glanced at his brother, still asleep. He rubbed his eyes and stole a quick look at his clock; it was 1:25 in the morning. Who would come calling in such an ungodly hour?

He heavily rose from his bed and climbed down the spiraling stairs that led to the living room, scratching his bare chest as he traced the familiar kis waiting at the opposite side of the door.

Gohan squinted when he opened the door ajar, his jaw hitting the floor in a gob smacked expression at his unannounced guests. Videl's jetcopter dematerialized with a puff of smoke, Erasa's hungry eyes drinking his half-naked form, and Sharpener raising an eyebrow at the sight of him.

"You have a mountain to answer for, buster," Videl said resolutely. "And I'm beating it out of you if I have to."