Chapter VI
She saw it, right in front of her—his death. Her father's death. The exact moment when the bullet buried itself in the middle of his forehead; drilling a hole through his skull, rupturing his brain, and lodging itself on the wall behind him a second before he fell on his back—dead. It was his head that was sniped by a bullet, but she felt like it was her heart that burst instead. Even with all her pride in her strength, she couldn't do anything to save him.
It was like a horrible dream, a sick fantasy that couldn't be real.
She just couldn't accept it to be real—she refused to accept it to be real. Still, no matter how much she denied the truth within herself, the reality of it just stared back in her eyes.
He's dead. ~No, it can't be.
Dad got killed; no, no one would even dare.
Hercule Satan. Is. Dead.
The thought ran in loops inside her head, a never-ending cycle of truth and denial. The world seemed to have dimmed, fading in the background—a cacophony of inconsequential details that failed to prove as important as the emotional chaos wreaking havoc in her mindscape.
Videl felt lost. For the first time in her life, she was lost.
She had never known her mother. If not for the dismal number of pictures and broken tales her father told her of the woman who bore Videl in her womb, she might as well believed that it was Hercule Satan whom had borne her to this world. Callous, true, but who could blame her when she knew close to nothing about the woman? How could she love someone she had never known? How can she feel the loss of something she'd never had? Videl did seek a mother's loving touch when she was younger, but the woman in her dreams had always been faceless. She could have been anyone, and Videl wouldn't care as long as she had a mother to call her own.
Her father, however, was Hercule Satan. She knew him like the back of her hand. He was a buffoon with an ego that shadowed the sun. He was ridiculous, a braggart in every sense of the word with a propensity to exaggerate the tales of his triumphs. He wasn't a perfect father—heck, he had tons of faults, but he was the only thing that was constant in her life since the day she first opened her eyes. He was her stone, her rock—that irritating immovable figure in her life who would love her no matter who or what she became. And now, he's gone.
Why?
A single word—a question that was perhaps never to be answered. No, in the deepest recesses of her mind, she knew she could find the answer to that question if she so wished, because, well, she was anything but not stubborn and determined to get what she wanted. Yet, she couldn't muster the will nor the courage to find its answer.
The following days after his death was like a blur. It was like as if the world around her was on the opposite side of a murky glass, and she was floating above it all. Her sense of touch was numb, her palate bland, her eyes were unseeing, the scents had no smell, and the sounds inaudible.
The world felt weightless. Everything around her was distant, insignificant, and unimportant.
It was only when she saw his face again that everything tilted into focus.
Son Gohan. It all began with him, she knew. Though logically, it didn't make sense because her father had admitted having only one conversation with him all his life. However, her trusty intuition pointed him as the root behind his death, and her intuition had never been wrong could almost vividly picture the discussion she had with her father the morning before the gala. They had an argument, and her father told her something vague that pertained his connection to the mysterious boy. Hercule Satan had been troubled ever since.
There was no one else to blame, so it had to be him. Her Dad died because of him. It was all his fault!
She couldn't believe his gall to show up at the funeral, offering her a pristine white rose as if he was innocent and well-intended. The mere sight of him had stoke the buried wrath in her chest, lighting a spark to an inferno of anguish and sorrow.
Videl was angry—she was so angry. She was angry at Son Gohan, at herself, a her father's killer, at the world in general. She was also broken with grief and misery, but she didn't want to admit it. So, she attacked had this irrational belief that if she could just claw out his deep fathomless eyes, his throat, and his heart, perhaps the pain she felt would abate. She lunged and punched and kicked, and yet he was like a phantom; she couldn't touch him. She half-thought he was just an effigy she conjured.
When she got exhausted with her pointless thrashing, he caught her easily in his arms. Surprised but too drained to fight, Videl tucked her fingers in her palm, as if the mere touch of him would burn her.
"Why?" she spoke for the very first time since his death. It was a quiet whisper, not a question posed to be answered, but a word that was lodged heavily in her chest with the weight of uncertainty and despair. And, like a key to the locked feelings she'd bottled inside, she felt the whole reality of the past few days come crashing down on her.
A dam broke, and she cried, her senses finally returning.
She fisted the cotton of his dark shirt in her hands, grasping it tightly in her hands as if her life depended on it. She buried her face on his shoulder, her tears streaming like an endless river. She felt the droplets of rain as it landed on her skin; they were light and fleeting, almost compassionate and comforting. Her eyes were closed, but she could smell the musky scent of the boy she clung to—he smelled like the fresh dewdrops in the morning dawn and sandalwood. He is real, she understood, clutching him closer to her.
That day felt like a dream. Unreal, as unreal as Hercule Satan's death. Videl couldn't remember anything beyond the comfort of his embrace and the safety it offered; she must have fallen asleep while crying. It was Alistair who drove her home, and with the maids' assistance, she was put to bed back in the Satan Mansion.
When Videl awoke the following morning, she felt disoriented—confused and out-of-place. She blinked slowly, taking in the sight of her room. She hurriedly showered and dressed, rushing down the stairs with her jetcopter clutched in her palm, only to be stopped by Alistair.
"Miss Videl," the head butler called, taking a moment to bow in her direction, "a pleasant morning, milady."
"Alistair, I told you so many time to just call me Videl," the raven-haired girl said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yeah, and good morning to you, too. It's already, " she glanced at her watch, her eyes widening, "whoah, I'm late! Why didn't anyone come wake me up?"
The butler met her eyes, his eyebrows raised. "Forgive me, Miss Videl. I would have woken you early if I had known you have business to attend to this morning," he apologized.
"It's okay, Al," Videl replied, waving her hand dismissively. "It's just school. My profs are used to my tardiness, anyway."
"School?" Alistair asked, "But you don't have school today, milady. Orange Star High is temporarily closed still."
"What?"
Videl was thoroughly confused. School was out? Why?
And then, everything came back to her. Her father's death. The funeral. Son Gohan.
It wasn't a dream. Real. It was all real.
How could she forget? Her father died. She had been mourning through his nine days of lament; the tenth was the day of his burial. Hercule Satan was shot through the head, and if her memory was totally in tuned with reality, the assassin wasn't caught as of yet. Whoever planned and done the deed was both cowardly and dishonorable. They didn't even give him a chance to defend himself, attacking when the World Savior's guard was down.
How dare they? Videl clenched her hands into tight fists. She's going to make them pay.
.oOo.
Videl slammed the door open, her entrance garnering everyone's attention. The police department was sparse of officers, most were on patrol all over the city, what with the rising crime rate. Luckily, the person she came here for was in. Lieutenant Foster was in his cramped office, filing in something or other.
"Hm, so you finally decided to show up," the man drawled, not looking at her direction. "I thought you'd just give me the slip again as you've done for the past few times you've visited the station."
Videl sighed, grabbing a chair and taking a seat in front of the lieutenant's table.
The past few days had been hectic. She'd admit that she had been nothing but a little nuisance ever since she'd started actively pursuing the case of her father's unfortunate demise. She had been pestering her seniors, barreling into the crime scene and demanding questions that couldn't be answered as of yet. Videl was a great martial artist—It's what she was good at, and she might be a pseudocop, but she wasn't a detective. If the professionals couldn't find an answer, then she, who was just a teenage girl, could do less.
She was so busy trying to find out anything about her father's assassin that she'd neglected her duties as a member of the police force. She'd been dropping by every once in a while, but just to inquire about the progress of the case. It was the reason why she'd never realize how out of control her city has become.
Violence all over the city had been increasing steadily since the burial, escalating from mere rallies, to confrontations between civilians and authorities, and to the increase in crime rates and lawlessness. It was the reason why school hadn't reopened ever since the World Champ's burial. It might seem calloused but she could care less. Videl didn't care anymore, even if the world itself descended into ruin. It all mattered so little as long as Hercule Satan's killer still ran free. She would make him pay… she would make them all pay.
It was her resolve, her main objective. Nothing else mattered.
However, with the past week passing without any progress about the case, Videl felt like she wasn't doing anything at all. She'd been trying so hard to find her father's killer, but it seemed like it was an impossible crime. Seeing the reports and investigation results herself from the police detectives had concluded such. There was no sniper; it was impossible for anyone to shoot the World Champ from any angle since the ballroom was enclosed. The man could have been inside the room, but security had been tight and everyone had been questioned and interrogated after the crime; they all checked out. The murder weapon had not been found nor was it identified; the rifling left in the bullet was too unique, the police had no record of anything similar to it. Whoever committed the crime was a professional assassin, a person who killed for a living and had the means and honed skills to efficiently execute it; that was the conclusion the detectives came to. They named no suspect because there was nothing, not even a shadow.
Videl was at her wits end. She didn't even know who would dare to kill the man who beat Cell, the man who saved the world! He was supposed to be invincible, but he was downed by a single bullet.
How ironic, she thought bitterly.
"I don't know what else to do, Lt," Videl confessed, resigned. "I can't—I don't know what to do…"
Lieutenant Foster looked up from his work, glancing at the teenage girl for the first time since she came into his office and took a blink at her appearance. She had cut her hair short, getting rid of her twin pigtails that was usually associated with her. Her eyes were sunken and dark lines circled around them. She looked haggard and tired, as if she'd just competed in a marathon and lost. The man's face softened.
"You don't have to run yourself ragged because of this, Videl. The police is doing everything they can to solve the case. You should take the time to rest and relax," Lieutenant Foster said, almost with paternal affection.
"I can't," Videl replied. "I have to find out who killed him. I have to make him pay."
Lieutenant Foster remained quiet, waiting for her to say more. Videl clenched her fist.
"I, but I can't find anything that would push it forward. I don't know anything. There's no suspect, no weapon, and why? Why would they kill him, Lieutenant? My father was a braggart and had an ego the size of a planet, but he'd never stepped on anyone's toes. All the tournaments he won was won fair and square. He had no questionable deals that I had heard of and he even saved the world! Why would anyone want to kill him?" Videl demanded, her voice cracking with emotion.
The lieutenant sighed. "Maybe you're searching the wrong place," he answered. The girl in front of him snapped her attention at him fully.
"What do you mean?"
"The answer you seek might just be closer than you think, Videl," Lietant Foster said. "You just have to find the right clues. Maybe it's all in you. Have you ever considered asking yourself?"
Videl snorted cynically. "You can't possibly be accusing me of killing my own father."
The lieutenant rolled his eyes. "I wasn't implying that. I just think that you might have the clues. You knew your father well; in fact, you lived with him in the same house. You were with him that day, you saw him die before your eyes. You've seen it from the very beginning. If anything, you're the most eligible witness for this case."
He's right, she thought with a realization. She knew what made that day so eventful. She argued with her father during breakfast about Son Gohan. Son Gohan. That guy, she just knew that it was all because of him. Her father had confessed about a debt he owed to Gohan's family from seven years ago, and his resolve to pay it in full that night. Seven years ago. Seven years ago was when Videl's world suddenly flipped upside down. Seven years ago, Hercule Satan saved the world.
Videl jerked awake from her reverie, suddenly standing from her seat.
Lieutenant Foster let out a satisfied smile. "I see you've found what you're looking for. 'When you eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable must be the truth,' as Holmes would say, I suppose."
"I have to go," the girl said, a determined expression back on her face. She started to march towards the door that lead out of the room.
"Wait," the lieutenant called. Videl turned back to face him. "Why did you really come to my office, Videl? You can't have come to me just to whine, can you?"
"Oh," Videl intoned, remembering the reason why she came to the HQ in the first place. "I want to officially resign from the police force," she said, taking out an envelope from her pocket, her psuedocop badge and handcuffs, and putting it down on his table. "I wasn't much of a help this past few days anyways."
"Very well," Lieutant Foster replied, accepting the letter and, to Videl's surprise, ripped it in two, pushing back the badge and metal cuffs to her. "Keep those. I'll be waiting for when you're ready to be back on action, but for now, I accept your leave of absence from active duty."
Videl smiled gratefully at him. "Thanks," she said, glancing at the plaque where his name was carved (she hadn't even known his name all through the three years he'd been her superior), "Lieutenant Johann Foster."
The man just nodded.
.oOo.
As Videl strode out of the police station, she was suddenly surrounded by a horde of paparazzi. Apparently, someone had seen her go in and had blabbed it out in the media. While she was inside and talking to the Lieutenant, the reporters had camped outside of the station.
"Can you comment anything about the progress of your father's case?"
"Miss Satan, have your father's killer been identified?"
"Are you personally investigating his death?"
"You haven't been fighting crime since the incident happened, are you still grieving, Miss Satan? Is that why you cut your hair?"
Videl gritted her teeth. She fought the urge to punch anyone's face, but it was getting hard to resist. Had they no respect for her personal space, shoving their microphone towards her and bombarding her with questions. Her fist clenched around the dinocap she held in her palms. If they didn't back off, she'll just crush them all with her jetcopter.
Get the hell out of my face, Videl wanted to shout. Fortunately, Erasa and Sharpener interfered before she could tarnish her public image.
"Yes, she's still grieving," Sharpener said with a charming smile, stepping right in front of her and shielding her from the horde with his stocky figure. "So please, give her some space."
Erasa threw her arm around Videl, snagging the dinocap from her hand with a wink.
"That's right!" she seconded. "We need to take her back home. Please clear grounds for her jetcopter."
The crowd of paparazzi was taken aback by the two blondes' sudden intrusion, pausing for a second.
"Oh, oh, right. You two are her friends from school, right?" one of the reporters asked.
"Yeah," Sharpener answered.
A few of them squinted.
"Are you dating Videl Satan?" another one of them inquired conspiratorially.
Sharpener was about to answer the question with a suggestive innuendo but Erasa kicked his shin. "Uh, no, no," the jock admitted with a grunt. "Can you guys give us space now or do we have to ask for Videl's colleagues for some help?"
The reporters luckily did what they asked and just quietly filmed as the trio materialized the jetcopter and boarded it. When the three of them were finally soaring the skies, Videl asked them how'd they know she was in the station.
"We saw on the news, silly," Erasa answered, as if it was something so obvious.
Videl huffed. "I really hate being my father's daughter sometimes. Can't people just stay out of my freaking business every once in a while?"
"It comes with the territory, babe," Sharpener said from the backseat. "I thought seven years is enough to get used to it."
"Oh, please," Videl said with a roll of her eyes, "I can never get used to having my every move scrutinized. It's like my privacy is nonexistent." She glance at her friends. "Thanks for the save back there, guys."
"Eh, what are friends are for," Sharpener answered with a shrug.
"Tell me about your hair, V. Why didn't you tell me you're getting a new haircut? No, you don't talk to me about anything anymore since, well, you know, that night," she sadly told her best friend, her tone laced with a pinch of betrayal. Videl bit her lip.
"Yeah, you're really starting to worry us. You've been shutting us out recently," Sharpener added. "We had to find out about your whereabouts from the news."
"I'm fine, really," Videl answered, giving her friends a smile to alleviate their worries. "I'm fine now. I cut my hair because it's getting in my way. The reason why I haven't been able to spend time with you guys is because I've been busy pitching in with the investigation. Sorry about that."
"We understand, V," Erasa said, accepting but still solemn. "Just please don't shut us out again."
Videl felt like a jerk. She'd been wallowing in self-pity and drowning herself in the investigation of her father's case to distract herself from her grief that she'd unknowingly became insensitive to the people who truly cared for her. Erasa and Sharpener had been her friends for the longest time and the way she ignored them must have caused them endless anxiety.
"I'm sorry, E," Videl said, "really. I swear this time I won't be leaving you out of my plans, whatever or wherever it takes us."
Erasa giggled, finally accepting her sincere apology. Sharpener just smirked.
"So, where are we headed?" Sharpener asked, looking out the window of the jetcopter.
Videl furrowed her brows, her mind running a mile a minute. "Home. I need to check something first."
Landing on the front lawn of the mansion, Videl led her friends up to her father's office. The large room was extravagant and roomy, exuding an atmosphere of professionalism, but in truth, Hercule Satan barely used this room. It was all just for show, and the line of bookshelves that were filled with heavy tomes were nothing but mere decorations for the owner of the room had touched not even a single one of them ever since he had claimed this office. However, the adjoining room was different. The home theatre was where he spent most of his free time—training, or more accurately, watching his victories from the previous tournaments.
Videl unceremoniously opened the door to the home theatre, and much to Sharpener and Erasa's confusion, proceeded to rummage through his shelves of films, the tapes and CD's falling on the carpeted floor in a series of clatters.
"Videl, what are you doing?" Erasa shrieked in surprise.
The girl seemed to have not heard her at all, continuing on turning the place into a mess.
"It's gotta be here," Videl muttered, "it should be here."
"What are you looking for?" asked Sharpener.
"The footage from the Cell Games, the real one," Videl finally answered, giving her friends a glance. "You know what my father and I argued about that day he died? It was about Gohan."
Sharpener scoffed. "What has Brains got to do with this?"
"I don't know," Videl replied, her eyes narrowed, "but I'm gonna find out. He's in the middle of all this, I just know it. My father mentioned something about a debt he owed to his family, a big debt, I think—something he couldn't simply settle with money, which was seven years overdue. And you know something major happening seven years ago that has anything to do with my Dad?"
Erasa's blue eyes widened with realization. She had always been quick with the uptake, deducing things faster than she let on. For someone who was blonde, Erasa wasn't dumb—well, unlike Sharpener who will never be the brightest crayon in the box even if he dyed his hair. "You can't be talking about—"
"I am," Videl cut off with a nod. "Here it is," she said, clutching the VHS tape.
Sharpener alternated glancing at the two girls. "Wait, I'm out of the loop here, what are you two talking about?"
"We're talking about the Cell Games, Sharpie, keep up," Erasa supplied condescendingly.
The blonde jock was still confused. "I stand by my question, what has Brains got to do with that?"
Erasa crossed her arms over her generous assets, a finger on her lower lip and her eyes looking up contemplatively. "Sharpener has a point, Gohan's involvement in all this is just based on conjuncture on your part, how can you be so sure?"
Videl busied her fingers by operating her father's home theatre, taking a seat on one of the plush chairs after running the tape as she tried to reorganizing her thoughts. The large monitor switched to life, bathing the dim room in lights as the film began. Videl had watched the beginning of it a hundred times before, so she absentmindedly pushed the forward button to skip it.
"It seem like it doesn't make sense, I know, but I have all the pieces, and I just have to put them together right," she said, clenching her fist. "My father talked about his debt to Gohan's family, and it was incurred seven years ago. The debt was something huge, something he couldn't pay with money, and we have those to spare for more than five lifetimes, mind you, or maybe Gohan's family was just extremely noble and had no use for money, which I doubt. Seven years ago was when he became the World Savior because he beat Cell. Cell was a 'trickster', but he's dangerous, so the debt my father was talking about must be a life—maybe those guys who fought Cell right after Dad had a stomach flu saved his life somehow before he ultimately defeated the cockroach and saved the world. One of those guys might be Gohan's family—"
"Again, these are all just supposition, Videl—" Erasa protested again.
"No, hear me out, first. Remember that kid that time? The Delivery Boy, as my father had called him?"
"Yeah," Erasa answered, her lips stretching into a sultry smile, "I had a crush on him when I first saw the live footage. He's really cute. Damn, I wonder what he looks like now. He's probably all grown up."
Videl smirked at Erasa's last sentence. Erasa's eyes widened again, realizing where Videl was leading the conclusion.
"You can't mean Gohan's that boy, can you?" Erasa asked with disbelief.
"If anything, the age matches up," Videl said smugly. "Gohan enrolled in OSH four years ago, appearing out of nowhere with my Dad's recommendation. That was probably after my Dad met him again accidentally, and thus their sole conversation. I thought it was weird back then that Dad suddenly stopped badmouthing the 'tricksters' in the Cell Games, but I easily dismissed it. Now that I think about it, I think that change only came right after Gohan appeared. It's actually as if Dad was suddenly afraid to disrespect them."
Sharpener raised a brow, finally catching up. "But Brains' hair isn't blonde."
Videl pushed the pause button in the remote console, freezing the image of the short guy with spiky black hair as it turned into a brilliant gold. "See that? I don't know how that guy did it, but it proves that the hair color is inconsequential when they could change it at will."
Sharpener looked at the image, and then just shrugged. "I guess you're right."
"Still," Erasa butted in, "supposing that Gohan really is the Delivery Boy, and his friends somehow saved Mr. Satan back then, then isn't Mr. Satan saving the world meant he already paid the debt? The world includes everyone, after all. And besides, even if we proved that Gohan really is the Delivery Boy, what's that got to do with your Dad's assassination?"
"I don't know yet," Videl said answered with a sigh. "All the more reason why I must see Gohan. Whatever happened seven years ago, it was what killed Daddy now. Gohan has all the answers that I need, and I'll be damned if I didn't get it from him."
Videl thought back to her argument with her Dad that morning and what he told her about Son Gohan.
"Listen, sweetie," the Savior of the World earnestly pleaded, gazing into her eyes. "That boy, Son Gohan, is a very special person. When you are in grave danger, when the world is ending, or if everything around you starts crumbling, go to him. Seek his help, and I know he will never turn you away."
I guess I'll take you up on that, Dad, she thought.
"So, are we moving or not?" Sharpener asked, his arms crossed. "We don't even know where Brains lives."
"He's in the 439 Mountain Area," Videl answered with a shrug.
Erasa giggled. "That can't be right. The 439 Mountain Area is like, a five hour drive from Satan City. And it's totally uninhabited 'cause that place is really dangerous. How'd you think he got to school every day?"
Videl frowned. "Well, let's go and find out."
.oOo.
After boarding Videl's jetcoopter again, the trio of friends took to the skies towards the 439 Mountain Area. The journey had passed over the stretch of Satan City, a sprawling metropolis of towering skyscrapers and extending highways, to the vast expanse of green scenery.
Videl could never remember the last time she went out of Satan City before, and even if she did, she doubt she'd ever been as astounded at the view as she was right then. The rays of the setting sun bathed the horizon with a colorful hue, its rays extending from its core as if it wanted to reach for the whole world. Mountains loomed in every direction, rivers and falls streaming freely in its expanse, and the bounties of nature in the ever thriving forests.
As they flew further and further towards the east, civilizations thinned and cemented roads disappeared through forest canopies. Wild animal's sightings became more frequent (animals as in dinosaurs and wolves, not doe and bunnies), much to Sharpener's amusement. Erasa passed the time doing and redoing her makeup, trimming her nails, and taking a catnap.
Videl remained glued on her console, relying in her GPS for direction. The 439 Mountain Area was a series of mountain ranges that encompassed the entirety of the east border of the East District. Besides the fact that it was still mostly uncharted, the mountain range was huge. It's true that it'll take five hours just to get at the foot of the 439 Mountain Area, but it'll take more to find something in it—significantly more. She thought it was going to be easy to spot a lone house in a sea of trees; how wrong she was. Before she even realized it, they had spent almost all night just looking for Son Gohan's house in the middle of nowhere. The darkness certainly wasn't helping their case, in fact, it was getting irritating. Videl slammed her fist on the GPS in frustration, glaring at the blaring screen as it flashed the time; it was past one o'clock in the morning already. Her two extra baggage were fast asleep—lucky them. Her loss of sleep was just another thing to add on her growing list of reasons to strangle Son Gohan.
Erasa jerked awake at the noise she made, sitting upright and looking around in a daze. "Wha—are we there yet?" she asked as she rubbed her eyes sleepily.
"No," Videl replied tersely.
Sharpener shifted on his seat, apparently awake as well. "It's already 1 am. What happens when still not see the nerd's house tomorrow?"
"Then we keep looking," Videl said with finality, which garnered a sigh from the jock.
"Hey, over there," Erasa called, pointing a finger on the glass window of the jetcopter like a kid outside of a candy store. "I think I see something."
Videl stared at where the blonde girl was pointing, squinting her eyes to find what she was pointing at.
A rolling plain of grass was spread on the slope of a mountain, its sides smoothened by jutting hills and the occasional tree while a river flowed at its side. On top of one of the hills was a small dome house; its lights were turned off so Videl wasn't able to notice it. She let out a sigh of relief, veering her jetcopter in that direction. She was getting worried about the amount of fuel her jetcopter had; it was a good thing that they finally found their prospect's house.
Landing her jetcopter in front of the structure, Videl knocked on the door. Erasa and Sharpener stood behind her, curiously looking about the house and their surroundings. When a minute passed and no one answered still, Videl knocked again.
"Aren't we being a bother? Gohan's family might be already asleep," Erasa said.
"Might? They are already asleep, Erasa. It's past one in the morning," Sharpener deadpanned.
Videl ignored them and knocked again.
"V, you forgot to capsulize your jetcopter," Erasa commented once another minute passed and no one still answered the door.
Videl gritted her teeth, but did as her best friend had said just so she could distract herself from the unrelenting urge to just break down the freaking door. Just as the large contraption disappeared in a cloud of smoke, the lights inside the house turned on and the door suddenly opened.
The trio of friends stayed stock still, surprise and disbelief freezing them on the spot at the sight of a half-naked Gohan. Muscles rippled as rubbed sleep from his eyes, sinews and toned flesh disappearing at the hem his pajamas. Videl could almost hear Erasa's gulp and the way the girl's beady eyes raked the poor boy's naked torso. Videl couldn't fault her best friend.
So this is what he hides underneath that shabby, oversized shirt of his. Videl felt her cheeks burning but fought to ignore it.
If the boy was half asleep then, he was certainly awake now. He stared at the three of them for a second, and then a blush of embarrassment creeped to his ears. He didn't shy away though; he held his ground and asked,
"What are you doing here?"
"We're here for answers, Gohan," Videl reiterated, taking half a step closer as her eyes burned with determination.
"Answers for what?" the boy asked, playing innocent. "I told you I can't tutor you. I have other things to do."
Videl growled, the sound resonating in her throat. Gohan visibly flinched. "I know you know what I'm talking about. My father is dead, Gohan. Tell me what you know about his death!"
"I—I," Gohan hesitated, Videl could see the guilt in his wide eyes.
"V," Erasa butted in, putting a hand on her shoulder, "lay it easy on him. We're intruding in his home in an unappropriated hour." She glanced at the boy. "And Gohan, it's impolite to make ladies stay outside. Aren't you inviting us in?" she asked, her lips stretching into a sweet smile.
Gohan shoulders fell, conceding the point to Erasa. "Yeah, you can come in," he said, opening the door wider. "Let me just grab a shirt."
Gohan led them inside, showing them in their quaint living room. The decoration was sparse; just a long sofa in front of an old model television, a love seat and a coffee table. A wooden spiraling staircase led to the second floor of the house, and the adjoining room went to the dining room and kitchen. There was a faint musk in the air, smelling like pines, milk, and jasmine; it was a pleasant scent of home. As Videl and her friends took a seat on the sofa, Gohan ran upstairs for his aforementioned shirt.
Taking the time to admire the pleasant atmosphere in the Son home, Videl glanced around the living room. Framed pictures lined the top of a wooden bookshelf, and the raven-haired girl crept closer to it to see it more clearly. Videl frowned at the photos, her curiosity and intrigue mounting at every image. Grabbing on of the frames, she stared at the people featured in the photo, half-smug at her infallible intuition and half disbelieving.
It was that moment that Gohan chose to come down, taking a seat on the love seat and clasping his hands in front of him in a submissive gesture. His deep black eyes roamed towards his classmates, shifting from person to person. When his sight landed on his ever fiery raven-haired girl, he raised an eyebrow at her.
"So, what do you guys want to know?" he asked inquisitively.
Videl clutched the picture tighter, glaring at the boy.
"Everything," Videl answered resolutely.
.oOo.
a/n: Hey guys, sorry for the late update. This chapter was really hard to write; I've been scrapping a whole bunch of words just to get this done, but I still don't like how it came out. I write these chapters in alternating PoV of Videl and Gohan, so it's kinda a challenge to just stay in one perspective at a time and then explain the whole scenario. And to be honest, I'm quite tempted to change the genre of this story to family/drama. I mean, this is already halfway through and there is still no romance to be found! Lol. Also, my laptop crashed because of a virus, so I had to reformat it. A lot of my files had been deleted; I had to start from scratch. And what more, summer's over! I had to go back to school. This whole month had been really hectic.
Anyway, till next time! Ciao!