To the Past
A/N- Yep, this is another reworking of an old story, hope you enjoy and if you have any ideas feel free to leave them in a review.
In the wake of utter devastation, a young man stood as a witness to the destruction that had torn apart his world. A sense of helplessness weighed heavily upon him, knowing that he was powerless to prevent the cataclysmic events that had unfolded. What remained of his once vibrant world now lay in ruins, a somber reflection of the tragedy he had borne witness to.
Gohan's gaze was drawn to the intricate console before him, his eyes narrowing as he absorbed the wealth of data displayed on its panels. The information painted a grim picture of the state of affairs, a testament to the gravity of the situation. Despite the overwhelming despair that clouded his thoughts, an unyielding determination surged within him. He recognized the urgency of his departure from this desolate place, the pressing need to find solace and purpose elsewhere, to channel his energy into something meaningful.
Closing his eyes, Gohan allowed his mind to drift back to the days that preceded this calamity, replaying the memories like vivid fragments of a past life. His thoughts wandered to a time when training with Trunks was a daily ritual, an aspiration that brought them together. The echoes of their camaraderie resonated as he embarked on his journey to West City.
As Gohan traversed the path to West City, a sense of foreboding gripped him, a sudden disturbance in the flow of ki catching his attention. An unsettling wave of deaths swept through the direction he was headed, prompting him to quicken his pace. Among the ominous energy signatures, a familiar surge stood out—Trunks' power level, fluctuating wildly as it surged to new heights. Gohan's heart clenched at the realization that something grievous had transpired, something that had driven Trunks to unleash the power of a Super Saiyan.
The sensation was all too familiar, invoking memories of his own transformations. While he had believed those days were behind him, the raw surge of energy now pulsed through him as he accelerated towards the city. The sight that greeted his eyes was one of nightmarish proportions—the once-thriving city now reduced to smoldering ruins, ravaged by merciless androids.
Determined to confront the source of the destruction, Gohan pushed forward, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he zeroed in on the vanishing power signature. His anger mounted as he touched down, eyes fixated on the lifeless form of his student, Trunks, who lay before him. The androids responsible for this atrocity stood in cold defiance, their presence igniting a fury within Gohan that eclipsed his memories of past rage.
Then, a shroud of darkness blanketed his consciousness, his memory fragmented by the surge of uncontainable rage that consumed him. The events that unfolded in that fleeting moment were lost to him, a testament to the primal fury that had taken hold of his being.
When clarity eventually returned, Gohan found himself resting, his body miraculously unscathed despite the chaos that had transpired. The androids were conspicuously absent, leaving behind an eerie emptiness. The realization struck him that he had been thrust into an unfamiliar reality—one devoid of those he held dear. The absence of Bulma and Dr. Briefs, prominent figures in his past, served as a stark reminder of the loss he had suffered.
With a heavy heart, Gohan ventured into the ruins of Capsule Corp, the destructive path having forged a gaping hole that extended to the basement. His search yielded no remains, and a haunting emptiness pervaded the air. Among the wreckage, he discovered the machine—the very time machine Bulma had once worked on, its significance amplified by the futility of changing the course of time.
Gohan's gaze settled on the time machine's interface, contemplating the damaged state it might have incurred. Yet, in the grand scheme of things, did it truly matter? Could any effort rewrite the past or resurrect those who had been lost? These thoughts swirled within his mind, a turbulent mix of grief and resolve. With a determined resolve, he pressed the button, initiating a journey through the continuum of time, his destination unknown, his hopes for solace flickering like a distant star.
As Gohan's descent through time concluded, he found himself in a vibrant cityscape, a stark contrast to the desolation he had known. However, a gnawing suspicion clawed at his consciousness, a sense that something was amiss. As he disembarked from the time machine, he noted the peculiarities—the weapons, the scouters—adorned by the pedestrians who ambled through the bustling streets. The newfound tranquility bore an undercurrent of tension, signaling that his journey had yet to reach its end.
"Um, greetings," Gohan's voice resonated across the barren landscape, drawing the attention of the men who stood nearby. With a cautious yet determined stride, he approached them, a blend of uncertainty and hope etched into his expression. "I seem to have lost my bearings, and I'm unsure of my whereabouts. Please understand, I'm not here to cause harm; I come in peace."
The elder of the two men regarded Gohan with a weathered countenance, his gray hair and bearded features conveying a sense of rugged experience. His eyes bore a steady curiosity, seeking to comprehend the stranger who had appeared before them. Beside him, a younger man stood, his flowing blonde hair shimmering in the peculiar light of the environment. Green eyes fixed upon Gohan, appraising him with a mixture of scrutiny and intrigue.
The elder spoke first, his tone cautious yet welcoming. "Indeed, we can understand your words. However, traversing these lands is perilous, especially when nightfall heralds the potential arrival of monstrous creatures." His concern was palpable, genuine worry for the safety of the newcomer interwoven with his words.
Gohan's brows furrowed as he absorbed the information, processing the implications of the danger lurking in the shadows. "I appreciate your warning," he replied, his voice laced with gratitude. "You see, I find myself here unintentionally—I'm a traveler who became lost on his journey."
As Gohan engaged in the conversation, his senses remained attuned to the surroundings. The ground beneath his feet felt foreign, as did the sky above—a strange hue of crimson draped the heavens, casting an eerie, blood-red ambiance over the terrain. The land itself was marked by jagged rocks and a haunting stillness that contrasted with the vibrancy of the city he had arrived in.
The mention of "Planet Plant" and the "Saiyans" struck a chord within Gohan's memories. The pieces began to fall into place, a chilling realization dawning upon him. This was the world he had heard tales of, a realm once devastated by the very Saiyans he had once encountered. He felt a mixture of emotions surge within him—anger, sadness, and a resolute determination to prevent history from repeating itself.
In the distance, Gohan sensed surges of immense power, far surpassing those of the two Tuffles before him. These energies bore the mark of Saiyans, a haunting reminder of the ruthless conquerors who had ravaged this land. Memories of Raditz, Nappa, and Vegeta flooded his thoughts, intertwining with the torment they had inflicted on his past self.
Gohan's gaze darkened as he took flight, ascending into the crimson-hued sky. The two Tuffles watched in awe and trepidation, their uncertainty palpable as they scrutinized the stranger who defied gravity with ease. The taller of the two activated his scouter, the device whirring to life before erupting in a shower of sparks and smoke.
"I can't be certain what this signifies," the taller Tuffle muttered, his voice a mixture of amazement and concern. The scouter's shattered remnants lay in his grasp, unable to provide any tangible analysis of the extraordinary power emanating from Gohan.
Hovering in the air, Gohan's thoughts were a tempest of conflicted emotions. The power he wielded could lay waste to the Saiyans that threatened this world, a power born of pain and perseverance. Yet, he grappled with the ethical dilemma—whether to extinguish these oppressors or to seek a path that diverged from the cycle of violence.
The sky above him burned like an angry fire, mirroring the inferno that churned within Gohan's heart. He understood that defeating the Saiyans wouldn't absolve him of the choices they made; it wouldn't heal the wounds they inflicted. As his gaze pierced the horizon, thoughts of the past mingled with the present, guiding him toward a decision that would shape not only his destiny but the fate of this world as well.
Gohan descended into the midst of the gathering of the strongest Saiyans, his arrival eliciting a collective mixture of astonishment and wariness among the assembled warriors. The tableau before him was a stark display of ruggedness and primal existence, the Saiyans adorned in crude furs and emanating an air of untamed ferocity. With keen eyes, Gohan surveyed the surroundings, absorbing the spectacle of their crude attire juxtaposed against their unmistakable strength.
The words flowed effortlessly from Gohan's lips, his voice carrying a measured blend of conviction and authority. "It's becoming clear why the term 'barbarian' is aptly applied here," he stated, his gaze sweeping over the assemblage of Saiyans, a congregation of power yet draped in uncivilized attire. He found himself positioned amidst the elite, a sea of formidable faces bearing expressions ranging from curiosity to caution. Among them stood the figure who drew his focused ire—the unmistakable King Vegeta. A current of recognition surged within Gohan; this was the patriarch, the progenitor of the man he had known as Vegeta, or perhaps even his forebear.
Gohan took a deliberate step back, his instinctive reflexes guiding him to evade with ease the twin attacks that came his way. The Saiyan's attempts were futile against his superior speed and perception. His body danced through the onslaught, evading the blows as if they were telegraphed from miles away. Throughout the skirmish, Gohan's unflinching gaze remained locked onto King Vegeta, an unspoken challenge issued through his unwavering stare.
With a dismissive tone tinged with anger, Gohan voiced his appraisal of the Saiyans before him. "Your people are a shadow of what they could be—a tribe driven by a brutal cycle of violence and arrogance, clinging to their barbaric ways. You wear the veneer of power, yet your souls are as impoverished as your attire."
As the skirmish continued, Gohan's movements were an intricate dance of grace and precision, an embodiment of fluidity that contrasted the unrefined aggression of his adversaries. His words reverberated with a potency that seemed to pierce through the very essence of the Saiyan psyche, exposing the fragility of their identity built upon dominance and might.
King Vegeta's retort was infused with defiance and pride, his voice laced with the fervor of conviction. "Strength is our legacy, our birthright. We, the elite, dictate the course of our existence. We are Saiyans—the dominant force on this planet, and our might will bend all to our will."
Gohan's gaze remained unyielding, his voice a steady counterpoint to the King's bravado. "Your pride is a veil that blinds you to your own downfall. Your obsession with dominance will lead to ruin—your people, your world."
The confrontation escalated as Gohan's voice swelled with raw emotion, the depths of his anger resurfacing, stirred by the familiar image of Vegeta's arrogance. His words crackled with the fervor of a truth that he believed with every fiber of his being. "I am not a Tuffle, nor a mere freak. I am a half-Saiyan, a Super Saiyan, bearing the legacy of both my bloodlines. My power eclipses yours by magnitudes."
The transformation came with a blaze of radiant gold, a testament to Gohan's assertion. His hair ignited in brilliance, his eyes aflame with an otherworldly luminescence. The very atmosphere seemed to quiver in response, the air electrified by the incandescence of his presence.
Stunned by the spectacle, the Saiyans bore witness to the apotheosis of power incarnate. Gohan's proclamation reverberated with undeniable weight as his voice carried a resonance that echoed throughout the battlefield. "I possess the strength to challenge the very foundation upon which you stand, King Vegeta. Call off your hounds or bear the consequences."
King Vegeta's visage contorted between awe and anger, a maelstrom of emotions roiling within his expression. Yet, he recognized the imminent threat before him, the disparity in power laid bare by the manifestation of Gohan's golden aura. The words that followed were fraught with both begrudging acceptance and vindictive resolve. "Fine, I cede the title to you, for now. But mark my words, this is not the end. I shall ascend to greater heights, and when the time is ripe, I shall take back what you've stolen from me."
Gohan's gaze remained fixed upon King Vegeta, a potent mixture of determination and resolve burning within his eyes. "Change is inevitable, and I intend to be the catalyst. Your tyranny ends here, King Vegeta. The path to a new future begins with breaking the chains of your past."
With that, Gohan had set in motion a transformation of more than just power; he was steering the course of destiny itself. The battlefield, illuminated by the radiance of his Super Saiyan form, bore witness to a pivotal moment—one that would alter the trajectory of a world marred by bloodshed, one that would pave the way for a future unlike any other.