The Horse with No Name

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Seeds of Spring II

Gohan knocks three times before pushing the door ajar, revealing on the other side Videl Satan in a blaze of white satin and looking so impossibly beautiful. Her wedding dress sweeps the floor – a snowy puddle – which swishes along the hardwood as she strides her way over.

"Oh!" Mascara accented eyes crinkle in relief at the sight of him, and at the jewellery box in hand. "That's it! That's it!"

She all but snatches the box, wrenching it open and sorting through its contents until handling a particular piece. It's a silver necklace. Delicate and old-looking. Her mother's.

"Thank-you," she breathes, shaking so much that she's struggling with the thin chain. "I-I don't know what I would have done if I didn't have her with me. If you hadn't been here and… and…"

"Let me do it."

He takes it, unclips it and looks at her expectantly until she turns around. The silver sits against her skin prettily, a spherical sapphire blinking over exposed collar bone. Through an opposing mirror, she watches him as he clicks the necklace into place, resting a hand against her chest and breathing slowly, as though she's forcing herself to do so.

"Thank-you," she says. "I… can't believe I forgot my mum's necklace."

Gohan smiles at her through the mirror. "I think she'd forgive this one," he says, "It's your wedding day, after all."

Videl laughs, the sound bubbling with nerves. She's been like this all week, understandably frazzled. There are well over a hundred guests outside after all, and a handful of paparazzi vans waiting outside for the opportunity to score pictures of the newly married Videl Orange.

"Videl," he says when she seems to have frozen in place. "Videl."

"Y-Yes? Okay, Videl, you've got this. You can do this," she tells her reflection, before subsequently bursting into tears. "Oh f-fuck. T-Tissue—!"

He passes her the entire box, watching as she tries to save her previously complained about makeup ("How much for some eye shadow?"). Delicately, she dabs around the eyes as she snorts back tears in a most unladylike way, burning through multiple tissues at a time.

"Want me to fetch your dad?"

"No, are you s-stupid?"

"Okay, your friend then. Erasa."

"No, shut up. Pass me my lipstick. No. Not that one. No. No. Jesus. This one!"

Gohan smiles blandly when she rips the one of at least twenty lipsticks from the dresser herself. She applies it, struggling to stay still long enough for the job. Begrudgingly, Gohan takes refuge in the plush armchair to the left, resigning to his supportive position after she glares at him for edging towards the door. Eying the clock, he brushes his suit out. She's only got thirty minutes.

"Oh my God."

"What?"

She laughs, scaring Gohan just a little. "I just realized that I've locked myself in my dressing room with my ex-boyfriend, half an hour before my wedding!" It's manic laughter, the type that's dangerously close to devolving into tears. "How ridiculous is that?"

Gohan pinches his brows. "Do I need to leave through the window?"

"That's even worse! I… maybe… maybe you can hide in the wardrobe when Erasa comes to collect me?"

"Oh, that's much better."

"Then what should we do, Lord Mori?"

"Nothing. I'm not fucking you against the dresser, am I?"

"Right," she realizes, as though it's an easy mistake to make. "Right, of course not... You delivered my mum's necklace because I'm stupid and forgetful and – and because you intimately know the layout of my bedroom and where I keep my jewellery. Oh, oh God. That's worse! How do you think that sounds?"

Gohan stands and takes her by the shoulders. "Videl. You need to take a deep breath and listen. All right, that's good.

"One, I know your apartment because I lived there briefly, and may as well live there now. Two, you've had that same ugly jewellery box since we dated. And three, there is nothing going on between us and everyone knows that – including Haruto – so stop being a neurotic little bridezilla and – by the Almighty – breathe."

Videl wheezes, leaning against him and allowing for Gohan to wrap his arms around her. He kisses her temple and tells her how fine everything will be, how wonderful Haruto is, how beautiful she looks, how only to look at Haruto when she walks down the aisle. When she looks up at him, eyes richer than the sapphire against her chest, Gohan holds his own breath, astounded by the vision in his arms. In another world, this would have been his.

But not this world.

The same thought has crossed her mind. He sees it in how she looks at him.

Gohan kisses her cheek this time.

"I'm so happy for you," he tells her, heart full to burst, "For both of you."

"I… Gohan, you'll always be my first love, and most importantly, my always friend. Even though you broke my heart when you died, I still love you. N-Not in that way, I mean—"

"And I'll always love you, even though I broke my heart when I died too."

She splutters a wet laugh, wiping her eyes again. Gohan helps fix her veil even though he's not a bridesmaid, leaving her to it when he hears a cohort of women clacking down the corridor in their heels. He wishes her luck a final time, shuffles out and past the bridesmaids before sneaking into the ceremonial hall. He's long since lost his seat so he stands at the back, behind the mass of seated guests, and under the arched pillars that artistically directs the admirer's attention to the florally draped podium. It's there a slightly sweaty Haruto awaits his bride-to-be.

There's a cough to Gohan's right.

"Have a nice final romp in the dressing room, did you?" Rixas asks.

"Fuck off."

"How is she?"

"Terrified."

"Poor baby," Rixas coos, leaning against the wall. "It'll be over soon enough."

So true. How funny it is for such an important instance to retire into a memory so very quickly. Videl practically sprints down the aisle, stealing the breath away of a dazzled dazzling Haruto, and together they share a moment that binds them in matrimony. The people clap. A few of Haruto's friends whoop. Hercule Satan loudly blubbers and Buu has to take him aside and give him a cuddle in one of the private rooms.

Videl Satan is no more, and he tells her as much when he greets them at the reception venue. She thumps him in the arm and accepts the congratulatory hug, calling him all sorts of names but meaning none of them. Gohan also hugs Haruto and almost refuses to let go on account of how handsome he looks today.

Now in his adult body, Gohan stands an inch or so above him, and is able to easily swing an arm around his shoulder as to lead him towards the bar.

"Finally, we can drink together without being nagged at," Gohan says, "Let's try tequila. I've not tried it yet."

"Gohan, I have to pace myself – Oh, don't look at me like that – I'm not going -Fine, fine! Just one though, and just because I'm still shaking from the ceremony. Was I awful? I forgot a vow. The thing about the ocean. You know the one. Do you think anyone noticed?"

Gohan raises a brow, and then two glasses. "Okay, you definitely need this."

The man of the hour disappears into the crowd after his shot – as the bride and groom are known to do at their own service – and Gohan doesn't run into them for another couple of hours. During the time, he sits with Rixas, Goten and Trunks at a table near the back, actively avoiding the front of the room where he senses his mother and Bulma arrive together.

"She told me she's going after she gives them their well wishes," Goten sympathetically tells him.

"But I've been dying to meet her," Rixas complains, peering over the crowds, "Can't you just suck it up, Mori, and go talk to her? Here. Have another drink."

Gohan forces himself not to sulk, instead disappearing into the bathroom as to freshen himself up and definitely not to hide.

…It's not like two middle aged women are going to break their way in here, right?

He splashes himself with water, enjoying the freshness, before fixing his hair which has decided to move out of place during Gohan's familial conundrum. The dark roots are prominent now. Gohan did think about dyeing his hair dark for the occasion but Videl had complimented the blond, telling him how fashionable he looks. More importantly, it also stops the very few people from his high school from recognizing him as easily.

"You look so familiar," Videl's friend, who Gohan apparently would talk to at school, had said. "But I can't put my finger on it… I'm usually good with a pretty face like yours. Is that really your eye colour? Can I see them a little closer?"

"Their real, and the same as my older brother's," Gohan had told her diplomatically, taking a step backwards and averting his eyes away from her chest, which she'd tried to push out as best she could.

"You have a brother?" she'd purred, "Is he here?"

Gohan had gestured towards Rixas, who'd been stuffing his face at the buffest alongside Dad. Whatever had happened from there, who can say?

He splashes himself again, breathing out a sigh and willing himself back to the party. Okay. He's got this. Gohan's here for Videl and Haruto, he reminds himself. He owes them as much.

Weeks ago, he'd texted her the very night he'd received the phone. Despite lying to himself about how little he'd cared, he'd still stared at the thing until it buzzed with a reply.

[Tomorrow. 3pm. My place.]

As soon as she'd answered the door to him, she'd looked furious. Gohan hadn't known what to say because what does one say after enacting the will of God? Trying not to look too sorry for himself, he'd shoved his hands into his pockets and awaited her judgement.

"You're taller," she'd seethed, as though that'd been the pressing issue

"Yeah. I grew."

She'd stared him out until finally opening her door allowing passage. "I suppose you'll want to be quenched. Come in then before you let all the heating out."

The apartment had looked exactly as he'd left it, which is what made the experience all the odder with how different the atmosphere had felt. Gohan had sat in Haruto's spot on the sofa, nearer the door.

"So you're not seventeen," Videl had stated. "And you do remember what happened after you died, yet you lied to me, over and over."

"Videl…"

"I told you to talk to me."

"It'd been complicated."

"I thought you'd killed yourself! And that would have been easier, but no, you come back and act all innocent like, and then after you're done with us you just leap through my window – that one right over there – into a blizzard, before dying again! What the hell, Gohan!"

He'd rubbed his temples, regret building.

"Don't give me that look! I've been worried sick. Haruto's been worried sick. We—"

"Videl—"

"Don't you dare—"

"Just—"

"How could you—!"

"Damn it, I didn't come here for a fucking lecture! So shut up a minute and let me talk."

She'd did, mouth swinging in surprise at his tone.

"I'm sorry I frightened you," he'd opened with after collecting himself, "But what's happened has happened and nothing will change that. No, I'm not seventeen. Yes, I did keep things from you. You're feeling betrayed because we're friends, I understand that, but—"

"Are we friends?"

Gohan had pretended for the moment she'd not invited him to her wedding. "You tell me. Are we?"

Stubborn to the core, she'd leaned back and taken a long sip of her drink. "I don't even know you," she'd said, so painfully obvious with her snooping.

"Okay, well. What do you want to know?"

Instantly, she'd been a kid in a candy shop, shooting all kinds of obscure questions at him that must have been eating her up. They'd started very normal at first however, like "How old are you, really?" or "Where have you been all this time?"

Then came the kicker. She'd done it on purpose, trying to sound casual as she'd poured him his third glass of wine.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No," he'd said, "I don't."

"Did you ever? Not the Mori you, whatever the hell that means."

"No."

"So you're telling me I was your last girlfriend."

"Yes."

"That's cute," Haruto had said, now having joined them after hiding for the better half of an hour in the bedroom, "Don't you think—?"

Videl coughs, raising the bottle. "So you've never… y'know…"

"Videl!"

Gohan had swallowed a generous serving a wine, realizing that he'd be needing more to survive the evening. He'd tipped his glass and she'd filled it up again, for the first time grinning from the deviousness of it all. "A man can have some secrets, Videl."

"That's right. Keep drinking."

"He'sa' goo' lookin' guy," Haruto had told Videl later that night when the subject had been revisited. He'd drunkenly wobbled Gohan's chin in exhibition. "I bet 'e does well. Look at him. He'sa' fine specimen."

Flushed, Videl had waved her glass. "Rixas said you would—"

"No, don't listen to that idiot," Gohan had fumed, sick of repeating as much. "Don't even talk to him. He's a huge wind-up."

"Why aren't you drunk?"

"Why isn't your wine stronger? If you're going to interrogate me you could at least get out that over-proof you disallowed me."

Haruto had laughed so hard he'd honked, creasing over like it'd been the funniest thing that ever could have been said. They did shoot the over-proof and that did the job for Gohan, and overdid it for Haruto; he'd been asleep minutes later and so Gohan and Videl had moved the party onto the balcony. It'd been his first time out there due to how cold it'd been when he'd last been at the apartment, but that night, the spring air had felt perfect for drinks at one in the morning.

"Are you okay?" she'd asked when he'd taken a moment to appreciate the cityscape.

He'd shrugged, self-depreciative.

"I heard you lost your brother."

"Yeah, well… I lost a lot of people."

"I heard you killed a lot of people, too."

There'd been no use shirking away from it, not that he would have. "I did," he'd admitted, turning back to her fearless blue. "If the Kai spare me then I suspect I'll do so again for one reason or another."

"Gohan… You're…" The words had been sticky in her mouth, as though the horror itself had been glue. "Don't you…?"

"I won't hide that I'm as much a monster as the worst of them. Since leaving Earth, some of the things I've done… Well, I won't tell you all the details—"

"Bu—"

"They're none of your business," he'd told her, "If you can't accept that then… Well…" The words had dwindled into the night sky, and he'd stared after them in the passing clouds, "When I came back to Earth, I didn't deceive you because I wanted to, there'd just been so much was going on and I'd been scared, but mostly, with Revelation, my priorities changed and I had something to serve. It'd been so clear. Finally... And then… then it wasn't. Then it all went to shit." He'd sighed, tapping the handrail. "It's over now, anyway."

She'd joined him, also leaning against the railing. "Yeah, well. Just so you know, Haruto agreed with you about Revelation."

"Of course he did. He's a man of equity." Of fine taste, he'd also thought to himself, tipsily admiring her in the moonlight. "But you… didn't agree?"

"I don't know."

"That's okay."

"You're not going to kill me for that?"

He'd laughed like it was a joke. It hadn't been.

"Videl, I can't change what I did."

"Would you, if you could?"

"So you are cross-examining me… I don't know what I'd do differently. I'd save Quell if I could, I'd save my friends. But probably no-one else." When her faced had dropped, he'd dared a step closer and into her space. "Would you prefer me lie to you?"

"No."

"Are you scared?"

"No."

He'd taken another step and she'd taken one backwards. It'd stung. When he'd turned to lean back over the balcony, Gohan had tried not to look too hurt. "I don't begrudge you for it, Videl. You don't need to look so guilty…"

"I'm not scared," she'd said, "I just don't want my ex standing practically on my toes. Not when I've heard about what a manwhore he is."

"A what?"

She'd smirked, playful and warm.

The turn of tone had surprised him. The next time he'd laughed it'd been with his belly, giddy with the pleasure of being forgiven and brave because of it. "Ha, ha! Oh, Videl," he'd fluttered his eyes, leaning in close but not inappropriately so. "There's more chance of me hitting on him in there than you."

"Ah!"

She'd been unable tell if he was being serious or not, and he never says a word more on the topic, on any topic discussed outside on the balcony that spring evening. Gohan can't deny how much he loves her company, how hurt he'd be if she had pushed him away that evening.

Over the weeks, they'd reignited their friendship (now based off of more honest footing), and the three would often spend time together in the same way they had before Gohan had left. This time, Gohan hadn't a curfew. He'd drank with them, he'd not censored himself.

He'd felt normal, he'd felt…

"Human?" Doctor Hezk had asked when Gohan had begrudgingly bestowed the information.

"I suppose."

"Have you found yourself thinking of the Realm of the Almighty less these days?"

"What gives you that impression?"

She'd flinched as so often she does when Gohan takes a snippy tone. "W-Well, it's just—"

"The Realm of the Almighty is my rightful place."

"Yes, I know, Lord M—I mean, Gohan."

She'd called him Gohan back in the early days but she struggles now, because like Gohan, she's come to understand his positioning. A terrified doctor. What use is that to Gohan? She'd wrenched out the depravity and now she's back to finish the job, yet she can't even do that without stuttering. What other demons are lurking within Gohan's brain? Why would he ever want her to drudge him back into that dark fucking place she had last time?

No. He'll attend his sessions and tell her what she wants to hear, and then she can report to her Kai masters and tell them all about the wonderful advances Gohan is making.

Yes… advances.

Like hiding in the restroom until he feels his mother's energy leave the wedding venue.

"Gohan, they're cutting the cake!" Dad calls over when he emerges, "C'mon! Videl told me it's caramel!"

He meanders towards the crowd, which has formed a half moon around Videl and Haruto in front of the biggest cake Gohan's ever seen in any life. After they cut it together some speeches follow. Hercule Satan blubbers nonsensically for five minutes, but Haruto manages to hold the audience's attention in a self-depreciating but highly charismatic manner. He has them laughing and does a bit of back and forth with his best man, a slightly older version of himself who could only be his brother.

"That's my baby," Hercule says to Gohan, clapping, as streaming tears pool downwards. "Ain't she beautiful?"

"Definitely. She's glowing. You did good."

"I did, didn't I?" He considers Gohan, sniffling. "I'm glad you made it on accounta' everythin'. You're a good boy, aren'tcha really? You just gotta' stop dying all the time."

"No promises, sir."

Quite a few of the guests leave after the speeches, particularly the families, wheeling their sleeping babies and irate toddlers out and away from what becomes very adult only. Both the music and the drinking escalates, evolving into a lively, rambunctious party full of twenty-somethings. A group of bridesmaids fill up the bar area, so Gohan sits there and talks to some of them. Most turn out to be Haruto and Videls' colleagues.

"We're thinking of going to The One after," says a pretty woman no older than Gohan, "It's usually hard to get into on a Saturday but Mao knows the doorman. What you doing after this? Want to join us?"

"Fucking hell, Lira, you've got a boyfriend."

"No, I don't. Shut up."

Gohan breathes through his nose, amused, reliving the recent heat of a tequila shot.

"I'm here with my little brother," Gohan says, gesturing to where Goten's been dragged to the dance floor by Haruto. "Apologies."

"I thought that one over there's your brother," points out another woman, inclining her head towards Rixas, who is trying his best to get Dad to drink a shooter. "Can't he look after the little one?"

"He can barely look after himself, I'm afraid."

"Ohh, you're playing hard to get! Come out with us, we're al—Oh, Videl! Are you here to drink? Take a shot with us. We're going to do Sambuca next."

Videl shuffles awkwardly in her wedding dress towards the bar, looking exhausted. "If I drink I'll fall asleep. I'll take a water, though."

She sits on the stool beside Gohan, also turning a head to watch Haruto coerce Goten into terrible salsa dancing. "Well," she hums, "That's something."

"Tell Mori to come to The One with us," Lira asks of her, affectionately fixing Videl's hair as she does, "He's being pretty and stubborn."

"Pretty and stubborn," Videl repeats as she accepts the water, pretending to be contemplative. "Wow, how can you say no to that?"

"He won't show us his tattoo either!"

"You have a tattoo? Where?"

Gohan groans, thinking of all the ways he wants to drown Rixas for mentioning it.

"Oh, Vi-vi, where did you find him?" asks a third woman, "He's just appeared out of thin air, but he says he's known you years."

"Well, he's just some mountain boy. I didn't think it would be worth introducing him, to be honest. Mori's such a bore. Save this mystery tattoo."

They laugh, and Gohan snorts into his beverage, staying and chatting with her, her friends and then Haruto when he joins them after Rixas whisks Goten away for a second dance.

"It would be okay," Doctor Hezk says at a later date, "If you were thinking of the Realm of the Almighty less. It's natural for you to resettle into the routine of Gohan Son now that you're living that life once more."

How funny it is to feel happiness despite not wanting to.

Gohan is one of the last of the night, Dad snoozing away against his shoulder after indeed being persuaded into drinking several shooters. Goten and Trunks are bothering the poor DJ to play some of their own music, Rixas long gone with the other partiers for an "Earth night out", Videl and Haruto are meanwhile cosily nestled into a cubicle, both barely coherent after today's events. Gohan can relate. It's been a lot.

Instead, he shuffles his father into the crook of the booth and makes his way for fresh air. It must be a handsome garden in the daylight, Gohan considers; the black stretches in what seems to be a limitless expanse, likely all green and bustling with wildflowers that colour the fields wonderfully. Whilst not too far from the city, it feels a world its own. Eyes closed, Gohan breathes in the aroma. Yes, after the chaos of the party, it's a sanctum.

"You are not an easy man to find, Lord Mori."

He releases the breath, enjoyment forgotten.

When he opens his eyes it's to face someone most unsettling; Lord Liuciphour, in all his robed glory, is smirking down at Gohan from his position atop the roof.

"You realize Earth is a closed planet," Gohan responds in like, using Celestianese. "If the people see a demon walking around then it might cause quite the stir."

"You know I'm no demon. The evidence is on your back."

Gohan sneers, but remains unmoving when Liuciphour lands a mere few feet away. The other god quirks an uneven smirk, appraising Gohan from shoe to tie. "The Earth formal attire is fetching," he compliments, "Have I interrupted a celebration?"

"Yes," Gohan replies in Common, hoping it sends the message to be left alone. He's barely sober and barely patient enough to deal with more scourge from the Underworld. "Now, if you'd be so kind I was content in my contemplation. An activity best spent alone, I'm afraid."

"My visit will be brief."

"I told you the last time I saw you that I'm not to make idle chat with other gods," Gohan snaps, "It is a benefit of my banishment, to not have to deal with the politics of whatever you and the others are scheming."

"So cruel. It took great effort to bypass the wards on Earth. Surely, you're not going to turn me away so quickly? Not when I come bearing news."

News? Liuciphour knows Gohan is supposed to remain away from such temptations.

"Mori," the other god says candidly. "How would you feel about leaving Earth? To Return to the Realm of the Almighty? Tell me… is freedom enticing?

Inside the venue, the music still plays, though it's quieting measurably. Gohan only has so long until the party will come to a stop and someone will notice him missing.

But hearing this now, he can't help but step away further. A lifeline to his old life, to a place where he once stood heel to heel with Quell – no amount of joy here would rival the Connection he'd had with his brother. Just to remember that, even briefly…

"The last time I made a deal with one of your kind, it didn't end quite the way I'd hoped," Gohan informs in spite of his heart, "Do you think me so willing to fall into your grasp? Or maybe not your grasp at all, but a kai's. Is it a trap, I wonder; a test perhaps?"

Liuciphour has a barking laugh. "How Haed wrangled you."

"How indeed."

"Mori, I made myself very clear the last time we spoke – during the flesh ward application – about my feelings on the Kai. And should you have been paying attention at your hearing, you'd know of the other gods' feelings on the matter, also."

He scoffs. It's a story as old of time. There's nothing unusual in gods disliking kais.

Gohan leans against the brick wall separating him from the mortals. "Are you initiating a coup?" he asks, dry, "Am I to be your shining star after my successful Revelation?"

"So you have been paying attention."

"Only when I'm not licking my wounds."

Liuciphour gives another crooked smile. "You cannot mourn your brother forever. The world beyond is attentive to your next steps. You have topped the Kai once. You could again. You're powerful, Mori, and the gods respect power, not fear it."

"I don't believe that. Should I throw my hat in with the Kai then you'll very much fear my power then."

"Well…" Liuciphour comes to lean beside him. "I won't deny that."

Gohan hums.

"There are interested parties, but many anticipate your participation and are willing to decide only after you've agreed to the movement. I'd tell you that Revelation motivated the gods – how inspirational you were – but I feel you do not appreciate adulation, especially after the loss of Lord Quell. He'd been most exceptional during his service."

"Meaningless flattery… Are you trying to manipulate me?"

"I'm not very good at it but it's the effort that counts, right?"

Breathing out a laugh, Gohan slides against the wall until sat, the damp of the grass seeping through his trousers. The world is on a woozy axis, sparkling and warm. Couldn't Liuciphour have illegally visited him during tee-total hours?

"I don't expect a decision now," Liuciphour says, "It's just something to consider. We cannot be sure how long your detainment will last here. Months… years… You are at the Kai's whim."

"I'll give you credit, Liuciphour, you've not wasted time since taking up your role as God of the Underworld, huh? Straight into the plotting, recruiting and backstabbing."

"The coup is the only reason I accepted the role. Believe it or not, you're not the only person who wants to initiate change in the system… to want revelation."

Gohan acknowledges Liuciphour's determined edge to how he speaks. There's even an urge to believe him, but alas, Gohan doesn't trust his gut instinct these days. That's what lead him to Haed.

"We'll see," Gohan ultimately says, "I'll think about it."

Liuciphour pats Gohan on the shoulder and then pushes away from the wall. "The Supreme Kai is dancing around asking for your help with reinstating the dragon balls. Regardless of what you choose to do with the gods, you should assist him. The balls will be restored regardless so don't be afraid to buy favour."

"Noted… Is that your news?"

"There are a couple things worthy of note. Firstly, the Universal Summit will be head in Universe Seven, so expect the flesh ward's exposure to increase during that time. It'll be normal to experience fatigue. The Kai are upping all their points of security as to decrease risks, which you're one of."

Oh, lucky Gohan.

"And finally, Luxun's Domain is rioting. The government is set to collapse any day now. With that being said, rivalling parties are making it increasingly more difficult to strike a deal, and without access to the domain it's proving turbulent to negotiate. Messengers can only carry so many details at once, you understand. The waning gibbous is limiting."

Gohan sucks on the inside of his cheek, remembering the darkness of that hellhole. "Got it."

"Excellent. Let's keep in touch." Liuciphour grins. "And play your hand well, Mori. The game is afoot."

"Goodnight, Liuciphour."

"Liu is what my friends call me."

"I see. Goodnight, Liuciphour."

An echoing laugh trails along the breeze, ringing in Gohan's ears long after he's left to his solitude.

Gohan's birthday comes near the end of May – a day not celebrated in many years – and passes with the narrow escape of a birthday party. Instead, Dad settles for a father-son hike towards Kawarazu Falls, a waterfall far grander than Piccolo's, settling in the spooned out valley twenty miles northwards of the house. It's a nice day, and even Goten attends, complaining about the mosquitoes and lack of phone signal before succumbing to the acceptance of an internet-free day. When they finally reach the oasis within the forest, Gohan is the first to plunge himself into the brisk, crystal water. Dad follows; shedding his clothes until he's only in his underwear. The cannonball is inevitable.

"Waaaaah! I'm not getting in that!" Goten complains from the shoreline, avoiding the great splash. He's stood topless and shaking like a leaf. The absolute baby that he is; he recoils his toe from the water as though it'd just turned into an ice-cube. "It's freezing! What the hell is wrong with you both?"

Gohan lazes threateningly. "Want me to carry you in?"

"Don't you dare!"

"Mm?"

"Gohan! Don't!"

He doesn't because listening to Goten whine for the rest of the day runs most unappealing, so for a time, he bathes, in the water with Dad and then, hours later, the sun. Gohan did bring a book, one of the old fairy-tales from his bedroom, but never manages to finish it as the lull of a fine day cradles him. When he wakes, Dad stands above him, below the pink waves of twilight.

"Good evenin'," he greets, grinning like an idiot aside Goten, both holding a definitely homemade cake.

Gohan doesn't bother hiding his concern. "Errr… who made it?"

"Me and Trunks," Goten proclaims, "Well, mostly Trunks."

"So only marginally toxic."

"Ehhh! Don't be ungrateful! You could at least pretend to be surprised!"

"Wow... I'm so surprised. I didn't see you hiding the cooler from me the entire day, I swear."

"Really?" says his dad, "I thought you were a bit more observant than that, Gohan."

"Oh, Dad."

The cake isn't too bad, actually. Gohan would have liked it a little sweeter but the chocolate's good; they do save Trunks a slice but otherwise destroy the rest of the cake in less than five minutes. Because they forgot plates and cutlery, the three are tarry with frosting, so it's Dad who suggests a final swim in the pool even though it's pitch black.

Dad's already in there. "Eh? Come on. You're not scared are you, Gohan?"

"Of what?"

"I don't know. The dark?"

Unwillingly, Luxun's Domain is recollected, probably for Dad too, and the moment floats between them like driftwood. It's Dad who breaks the silence, paddling against the currents. "So, can you still use clean ki?" he asks, remembering Gohan's energy illuminating the domain.

"No, it comes only with a strict diet. I'd have to fast."

"Oh, so that's why Shin keeps asking about what you're eating."

That's not a surprise. The Kai will try to keep Gohan as powerless as possible, which is still comparably stronger than most – but not his dad, who's been tasked with babysitting him and making sure Gohan doesn't get any more ideas of grandeur. Ironically enough, it's Dad who's tried (without success) to persuade Gohan to train with him. Hasn't there been enough fighting already?

Yet curiousity is a kicker. Just to test the extension of his power, Gohan calls forth his ability to manifest, spinning a torch into reality much like he'd done in the domain. The fire it burns with is not clean but it's bright nonetheless.

"That's so cool," Goten praises, "Is it real? Can I touch it? Oh, wow. It feels just like the real thing. Make me something else! How about a sword?"

Gohan produces a wooden sword next, followed by a shield and a throwing spear Gohan learned how to conjure only days before the fight in Hell. By popular demand, Gohan next produces his kyoketsu-shoge – a challenging feat with the flesh ward in place – and then finally a rapier that Gohan would often use against Quell. Panting from the over-exertion, Gohan takes the hilt and leans against it, remembering the last time he'd brought it out.

"Do you know why this weapon is so dangerous?" Quell had once asked. "Underestimation. This type of blade can puncture any man foolish enough to overlook it."

Gohan repeats the advice, hollow, breathless.

And then he wipes away the tears.

"I'm twenty-four and still need my dad," Gohan complains when he's brought in for a soggy hug. "I'm pathetic."

"Shut up and be sad," Goten instructs, sitting close. "It's fine."

Gohan chokes out a laugh. "I love you both," he tells them stickily. "Without either of you… I don't know… I don't what would have happened. I'm so thankful to have you both as my family. I'm so lucky. Even without Quell… I… You… I'm sorry, I just…"

"After everything, you're still such a softie, Gohan," Dad laughs, pulling back. "And whatever happens, it's us three, 'kay? We stand by each other."

Goten nods, and then they both turn to Gohan.

"Gohan."

"I… I'm with you," Gohan ultimately tells them, "Both of you. Until the end… whenever that is."

The end feels like a long time away, but with Gohan's detention on Earth tentative it could all come crashing down at any point when they call for the final hearing. Capital punishment. How ominously imminent it feels.

Momento Mori; never truer are those words, even for Death himself.

May trickles in April, the rain condemning him to inside hobbies such as reading and playing games with Haruto or Goten, but the summer months run hot. During this time, Goten and Dad are his crutches – both managing Gohan's admittedly bipolar emotions – and he samples the simple pleasures life throws his way, allowing himself, for the first time in a long time, contentedness.

Living back on Earth is reminiscent of walking in old, comfortable shoes not used for years. The groove suits him. He might dare to say that sometimes he's comfortable, that he wants for very little when the sun shines as gloriously as it does here in 439 Mountain Area. He allows himself to disappear into this world; Dad, Goten, Rixas, Trunks, Videl, Haruto and sometimes even Piccolo; the people who accept him.

Yet, all shoes become worn out over time, and a time for new shoes is always but some steps away.

August opens with Grandpa's untimely death.

The call comes at two in the morning, having Gohan stir upon hearing his father's groggy voice answer the phone downstairs. Checking his own phone, Gohan decides that no good notice comes this early in the morning and so makes his way into the kitchen. Dad's rubbing circles just under his hairline, head low, as he hums into the receiver.

"Oh, Chi. Yeah, sure. Of course I'll come over. I'll change and—"

It's at this point that Gohan's spotted and Dad looks even more exhausted, if possible.

"I—Chi-Chi, I'll be there in just…" He swallows, looking torn. "I'm sorry. Gohan's just walked in. Give me… yeah, okay."

Gohan doesn't beat around the bush. "What is it?"

"Ten minutes. I'll be there," he promises Mother. "All right. Yeah, I love you, too."

The line goes dead and Dad wastes not a moment longer.

"Gohan, it's your grandpa."

"Oh."

He slumps into the sofa, already knowing, feeling nothing of his energy here on Earth when searching for it.

Dad's hesitant; he looks torn between comforting Gohan and wanting to run upstairs to grab his clothes. "Your mum, I've gotta'…"

"It's… fine. Yeah. Go."

There's a gust of air that brushes Gohan as Dad dashes past, sending a chill down his spine. Otherwise, he feels numb, not even sadness; his chest seems to have paused completely. Grandpa had been old. It's not entirely unexpected. Even if he'd looked the epitome of health the last time Gohan had seen him.

God… Gohan hasn't even once visited Grandpa since returning. He's been hiding from him; he's been too much of a coward and missed the chance of seeing his grandfather a last time.

The thuds along and down the stairs indicate Dad getting ready to leave.

"I'll be at Fire Mountain if you need me," he says, rushing past to grab his boots. It would've been comical to watch him hop around if not for the crushing of Gohan's heart. "I—agh, I'll, tomorrow… Goten."

Ah, yes. With Goten staying at Capsule Corporation tonight, it leaves Dad with the onerous task of breaking the news twice.

"Don't worry. I'll get Goten in the morning. I'll tell him…"

Dad looks at him – it must have been the tone of voice to give him away – and he jogs over to Gohan to give him a squeeze around the shoulders. "I'll be back. I'm sorry. I'm real sorry, Gohan… I know you've gotta' be sad, too."

"I'm fine," he lies.

The front door clicks shut.

Loss. It's a shadow that follows the light. Where there's been so much recent joy, it's a sobering reminder that death doesn't discriminate, making Gohan reflect even upon his own circumstances. How imminent it all really is. He doesn't bother sleeping the rest of the night, sitting up atop the roof and watching the sun blossom from the darkness. Circles. There will always be circles. This is not just how mortals live, but gods too. They're not so different. Gohan remembers that now, how life blesses and curses all equally, and how it all comes back around in equal balance. Between the moments of happiness is life, and between moments of sadness is much the same.

Would it be strange to say a prayer for his grandfather? Who would it be in name of? Himself?

This raw ache of loss opens old wounds, and to outrun them Gohan finds himself jogging that early morning. He'd go with Rixas many a dawn back in the Realm of the Almighty, and now, he'll jog here too, he'll have some sense of routine just to feel like he's doing more than existing. Tackling the entire length of the route to Piccolo's waterfall takes no less than twenty minutes, and it's there where he's punished with a lack of Piccolo's domineering presence. He's on the lookout. Far away with Dende and Mister Popo; people Gohan are avoiding, too.

But Gohan hates being alone, he's realized. After pushing everyone away once, he's terrified to do it once again. Dad, Goten, Piccolo… Mum… God, Mum… He misses her so much. All the time. Being at this house without her is awful. He tries not to think about her and her earnest, mothering kindness that's always made him feel loved.

He ambles home to shower and after a shower, Gohan flies the familiar trip to Capsule Corporation, arriving sometime around ten knowing that Goten and Trunks should be up by now. Walking through the entrance of the facility and past the security, Gohan keeps his head down and enters the passcode as to enter the private sector. It's been some time since he's been here. Months, even. There's a worry that the passcode wouldn't be active anymore, but it is, and Gohan very swiftly finds himself at the door of the foyer.

After debating on whether or not this is a good idea, Gohan knocks. He knows he's not exactly a welcome guest.

The door clicks open to a bedraggled Trunks, still in his nightwear. "Whoa, I didn't expect you to come over."

"Where's Goten?"

"Showering. Has something happened? What's wrong?"

Gohan rubs his temples. "I'll wait outside. Tell him he needs to hurry—"

Trunks gestures inside. "It's fine. Come in. Why does it look like you've been up all night?" There's a pause. "Are you… okay? Is it a Mori thing?"

It annoys him when they insinuate him as crazy. "It's not that," Gohan snaps, "I'll be out—"

Quite suddenly, the door opens wider and Bulma – dressed to impress in her work attire – stands behind her son, expression cutting and entirely displeased.

"About time you show your face," she says, "Come in then. Don't have me stand here all day."

"I need Goten," he says diplomatically, "And then—"

Trunks stands aside and allows for his mother to snag Gohan by his jacket, hauling him into the foyer and past the elderly Doctor and Mrs Briefs who merrily welcome him into their abode. Gohan finds his will depleted, and then his patience when Bulma manoeuvres Gohan into the sitting room, eyeballing him, hands on hips. Behind, on the television, the News plays Bulma's very own face, mute, likely relaying information about the up and coming jetcopter Gohan's heard Trunks gush about for weeks on end.

She blocks the screen. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"I assume you've come here to finally a—"

Gohan pinches the space between his eyes. "Bulma, today—"

"How long will you avoid us?" she demands, "It's not just me. Krillin – remember him, your friend? – has been asking about when you'll stop being a little chicken-shit and finally talk to—"

"You made your thoughts pretty clear last time."

"I'd been hurting. You stole Trunks—"

"He didn't steal me!"

"And you were indirectly responsible for Vegeta having to work with that asshole, and yet I've not heard a sniff of an apology or—" Gohan goes to speak but holds a hand up. "Let me finish! You don't get to go about changing the universe and ruin my life without hearing something from me, mister!"

Through an opposing archway, Goten appears, towel around his neck, sheepish as he slowly attempts to retreat from which he came. Trunks refuses to be the lone spectator however, grabbing him.

"I didn't make any decision with your life in mind," Gohan says as calmly as he's able to, "In fact, I wanted all you guys out of the way."

"For Revelation," she mocks, "Like we don't even deserve a say!"

Gohan swallows his frustration, the heat catching in his throat. How is the most intelligent person on this damn planet such a strong-headed, stubborn pain in the fucking neck? "You don't even have power," he reminds, "You're frustrated that your family situation has been changed because of my decisions. I hear that, Bulma, but there's nothing I can do now. Even if I apologized you'd never forgive me—"

"Says who? You're the coward hiding away from everyone, Gohan."

His next words stick to his mouth because that's the truth. He is a coward. He doesn't want to face them, like he didn't want to face Grandpa.

"Guys." Trunks gestures towards the News. "Uh, what?"

The sudden coverage comes with Breaking News streaming across the screen, red overlapping the familiar scene of Fire Mountain, and more precisely, the castle. Still mute, whatever the broadcaster is saying can't be heard but that doesn't matter. Along the bottom, the bulletin is as clear as day.

[OX KING DEAD – OX KING DIES OF ACUTE STROKE – OX KING FOUND DEAD AT 01:32 IN GARDEN – OX…]

It goes on and on, with Gohan not wanting to look away. He'd known very little after all; so much of this is news to him. Yet, for Goten— God, he's in shock. The towel has long since draped to the floor, and he stands with his mouth covered by his hands.

"Oh my God..." Bulma looks between both him and Gohan, understanding. "Gohan, I'm sorry, I—"

"Goten," Gohan says gently, "It's time to go."

Goten cries the moment they're out of Capsule Corporation, sobbing into Gohan's chest uncontrollably and asking a million questions. Such the good kid Goten is, he asks about Mum, about who's with her, about how she can't be alone. He demands they fly there now yet Gohan remains a coward despite everything.

"She needs you to at least try!" Goten spits at him, red faced and utterly devastated, before blasting off in the direction of Fire Mountain.

Gohan watches the white line of Goten's flight path dissolve into the clouds, suddenly exhausted. He startles when a hand presses against his arm. "Come back inside," Bulma says, "I'll order coffee."

Whilst he doesn't usually drink coffee, something warm between his hands fills him with comfort he hadn't known he was missing. Bulma drinks hers black and iced, but for Gohan she got him something sweet that he doesn't know the name of. The syrupy vanilla would have been enticing should his appetite have been present.

They are both back in the sitting room, silently watching the News broadcast the "unanticipated death of the sovereign of Fire Mountain".

"Whilst a small nation, the Fire Mountain people are a proud, strong assemblage who will not be without a monarch for long," tells the broadcaster as clips of a press heavy Fire Mountain come into focus. "It is expected that his lone daughter, Chi-Chi Son, will be act as regent for the nation until her son comes of age. We don't yet know much about the underage heir apparent but what we do know is—"

"Don't go there," Bulma advises, "Not yet. Not with all the paparazzi around, and not before you catch a few hours sleep."

Gohan stares at the screen, numb. "Mum doesn't want me there."

"Gohan."

"She doesn't. It's fine."

"You don't believe that, do you?" Bulma sighs when Gohan doesn't answer, turning to light a cigarette. When she offers him one, a look of bewilderment must have crossed his face. "Well, I don't know if you smoke or not. Really, I don't know you at all these days, so screw me for trying to be hospitable, I guess."

"I'm sorry, I don't smoke."

"Well, I do." A billow of smoke escapes the corner of her mouth, and she dabs the stick in the nearby ashtray. "Gohan, you know you could've spoken to me, right? Before everything went to shit."

"Not meaning to be rude, but Videl already gave me the same speech. It wasn't that simple."

She raises her brows, likely from his tone.

"One misstep meant for Earth's destruction."

"From that loudmouth brother of yours?"

"No."

"From the dead one?"

Gohan clenches his jaw. "Yes, the dead one."

"Yeah, your dad said you've lost a lot of people," Bulma reminds him, twisting that knife, "Is Trunks just going to be another one of those you lose?"

Gohan understands the angle now.

"He thinks a lot of you, Gohan," she says very pointedly, so slowly and deliberately for him to read into, "Very much so. Even after what happened last winter. So I need to ask… what do you think of Trunks? Should I be worried? Is he strong enough for this? I want honesty. Don't bullshit me, okay? You're smart enough to understand, and I know this isn't the time to be questioning you about this but—"

"Fuck, Bulma, what do you think of me?" Gohan scoffs, ripping the lid off of his coffee just to fiddle with something. "I…" He thinks of his next words. "He's a child," he manages, "And I'll protect him, always, as best as I can, if I am pardoned that is. Look… I… I don't want this for him but I'll support him because I had my hand in this... He's family to me."

She stares at him. "All right." Then, there's an exhale. "All right… I just…" Across the table, she takes his hand, the one with the snapped lid in it. "I really am sorry about your grandfather."

He nods once, focussing on her hand in his, focussing on how her thumb strokes his knuckle. "I wish I got… it doesn't matter… It's my own fault. It's fine."

"Gohan, look at me… Gohan." Blue eyes – so much sharper than Videl's – cut into him, wearing him down all the more. "The only person on this entire planet who's punishing you right now is you. Give people the chance to forgive you and they will."

But he's not sorry about Revelation. He'll never be sorry.

"It's not about Revelation," she says when he tells her as much, "It's about what the process did to you, who it turned you into. But today, right now, I just see Gohan Son and… he's always been some kid I've never been able to stay mad at for the life of me, even if he'd just caused the universe to be turned on its head."

"Bulma…"

"Tonight, go to Fire Mountain," she instructs, "And be there for your mum. Lord knows it'll do you both the world of good."

The family house is lonely tonight. This must be how Dad felt the last couple of years, wandering around, from room to room, with no one aside himself. Rixas is still away. He's been preparing for the Universal Summit, though Gohan would be lying to say that he's got full confidence in him; Rixas is many things but not a politician. He tries to worry about Rixas in lieu of worrying about what's happening at Fire Mountain, yet still finds himself pacing. Upon finding a smashed picture frame – the one containing the picture of him and Dad sometime before the Cell Games – Gohan sees this as a starting point to look through all the family pictures just to distract himself.

There aren't many photographs of Gohan as Mori. Gods are not supposed to be documented in picture after all. It's a bad omen, much like shedding bones; something that could set one up for failure. Perhaps that's why those divine few of the Almighty disappear in death. Quell would have too. Gohan never saw the body for very long.

Conversely, Grandpa's body will still be in Fire Mountain. He'll be buried there, in the family morgue as is tradition. Mum will be buried there one day and perhaps Goten will be too if he takes up the mantle as heir. Gohan on the other hand however won't make the mistake of parting with his bones again. When he leaves, to wherever that is, he'll make sure this body is burnt, bones and all.

It's a morbid thought, especially when the photographs on the walls look so happy. In a photo album he drudges up, Gohan finds treasures he's never seen before. Pictures of Mum and Dad, both so young, holding hands with a traditionally dressed Gohan, who can't be older than four. Grandpa is in many pictures. Those ones usually have a thumb on one corner of the picture because Dad is terrible with a camera, but it doesn't ruin the shots. The chaos is what makes them feel real. Krillin, Yamcha, Master Roshi and Bulma are seen in the beach heavy section of the photographs, and there's even one of Gohan and Piccolo chatting away, sun setting over the sea behind.

Gohan stares at the ink.

"The only person on this entire planet who's punishing you right now is you. Give people the chance to forgive you and they will."

Bulma had even hugged him. He'd suddenly felt so young, so powerless.

"So human." Doctor Hezk's voice always lives in the back of his mind, positioned to stab him where it's most vulnerable.

It's cruel of them to ask him to be just Gohan again, after everything. Quell would be spitting feathers.

"You're my brother," Rixas had said a few weeks back, "No one can erase that. Quell would rather you be mortal than dead."

It's funny. Gohan never used to put weight behind his divine identity. It took Quell's death for him to give a shit, and he knows that's why he's so reluctant on parting with it.

"He'd love that," Rixas had laughed when Gohan had told him that, "But don't become a prideful idiot like he was, the Almighty rest his wicked fucking soul. You don't need that sorta' influence. Your best quality has always been your heart, and your ability to reach others."

Ability to reach others… That's a nice way of putting manipulation.

Gohan closes the photo album when faced with a picture of him, Goten and Mother on a visit to Fire Mountain. Grandpa's warm presence can be felt from behind the camera.

He presses the book to his chest, willing the strength.

Then he flies to Fire Mountain.

It's just before midnight that he arrives. The place is swarming with guards but Gohan doesn't have a problem making his way into the castle, knowing the layout well enough to avoid the busiest sections. Staff are congregated in huddles around each corner either discussing an action plan or blatantly gossiping about the situation. No-one pays him any mind as he paces through the dim hallways, passing under imposing portraits of the legend who died less than twenty-four hours previously.

The darkness spews forth into the most humble portion of the castle; airier colours indicate his mother's tastes, and when he hears her muffled voice beyond the door to the living room he feels that he has successfully failed. Panic swills. Gohan can't move. His fingers graze the doorknob but are unable to clutch.

Swivelling around the corner, Gohan bends in two, breathing hard.

It's just his mother, he tells himself. The person who raised him, who knows him.

So that's why it'd hurt immeasurably to be rejected. Would there be coming back from that? He's scared. A coward, as he knows deep down. Gohan wants to go, far from her, to the Almighty and to Rixas and to anyone else who'd make him feel Earth was just some dream from a different time.

Shakily, Gohan sits on the nearest possible seat. A stool. Mum's stool for her piano.

She'd taught him the chords when he was young but no real songs, mostly asking him to practice scales and to learn sight-reading. He learned a few songs by himself, but by the time he got a footing in it Dad had been killed by Raditz, Gohan had been kidnapped and the world had been lurched into constant peril, threat after threat. Years went by and Gohan never picked up piano again after the age of nine, not seriously at least, but he'd enjoy it when Mum taught the local kids in the village. He'd look after baby Goten and sing the songs to him alongside the music.

Well, he would play an odd tune or two when his mother took Goten to the doctors or went shopping. It'd felt like the naughtiest thing in the world, his little crime.

Opening the lid, a small cloud of dust fans out. How long has it been ignored?

Gohan runs a finger through the grime until settling on an F key. He presses it. Okay, no, that's an E-Flat.

As Mori, he'd owned an instrument not dissimilar, but the keys had produced colourful apparitions once pressed. Never the one for musical talent, it'd been a frivolous pastime that amounted to very little except to ease the boredom of days long. Appreciation for the art came from listening, not from performing.

Still, Gohan drags his fingers across the keys. The sound bounces between the ornate, looming walls, the eyes from the many portraits his spectators. They watch as his fingers barrel over one another in order to produce a familiar tune. Whether it's from his life as Gohan or as Mori, he hasn't a clue, but the sound is nice.

Rixas would sing if he was here. He's good at it, singing. Much like Roarg had been. Maybe he should learn for her as Rixas'd suggested. To remember her.

There are so many to remember now, so many that he might forget.

The notes climb and climb until Gohan realizes it's actually him who's playing, and so then he stumbles, self-conscious, palming the keys just as the pinnacle of the piece comes into reach. The piano cries. The wail echoes. And Gohan knows that it's ruined. He admires the fact, simmering in the silence, in the weight of it.

Then, he continues.

The failure empowers him. The notes hit harder this time, reaching mezzo-forte; creating a rhythm he didn't know he was capable of. There's so much discovery, even now. There's still so much for Gohan to learn even about himself, about Mori, about this mess, about—

He stops.

Gohan spins on the stool, suddenly feeling an audience beyond the frames.

"Gohan."

Mother.

Dad is to her left, looking equally shocked. Under attention, Gohan squirms and he rushes to his feet to close the piano lid.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, "I… I don't know why I did that."

Dad's eyes volley between the two of them, pallor whitening by the second. It's not reassuring to watch someone usually so fearless panic, and so, like the sinking of a ship Gohan feels his knees start to give way.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, dipping in way of the exit. "I'll go. I shouldn't—"

Mother's crying.

His feet are cement.

Tears rain down her cheeks, though she makes no move to wipe them away; she's probably been crying all night, all day too, perhaps longer with the heartache Gohan's put her through too. When she makes her way over to the piano, finally, does she then wipe her eyes against her sleeve, only doing so as not to dampen the sheet music resting atop the music desk. She turns a page, and then her fingers glide across the keys in a ballet their own.

Gohan watches the magic, and then he hears it. It's the same song he'd played, only recreated in a much more skilful rendition. It's soft and delicate, just like her. She doesn't fumble the payoff of the song like he had; the energy blazing but still so gentle in comparison to Gohan's assault of the keys. Her chorus is encompassing and Gohan feels like he's being cocooned in the softness.

By the time she's finished, she's not only one crying.

It's a wonder the stool is strong enough to hold the both of them. He collapses onto it aside her, falling into her like an oversized dog. He crumbles. She doesn't reject him as feared, but Gohan does feel that he's miscarried in that fact that she's the one consoling him. Her hands are as soothing through his hair as they were along the keys, and he finds it impossible to pull away, to man up and be there for her.

"I'm sorry," he says, over and over, even though he'd promised himself never to be sorry for any of it, "Mum. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

He can't see her face, only the darkness of the fabric from her dress.

"Me too," she tells him, "It's okay. I'm sorry. Gohan, I've got you. Shh…"

"I did so many bad things," he confesses, unable to help himself, "I hurt so many people."

"It's okay, baby."

"Grandpa—"

The warm hand on his back is his dad's.

He continues, sheltered between both of them, feeling so immeasurably young. A child, really. "And now, Grandpa… I'm sorry, I'm so sorry… I should have come earlier. I'm sorry."

Opening blurry eyes, he sees his mother and how the anguish has aged her. She's exhausted much like him, but with a deep sadness that seems to have impressed lines into her face and darkness under her eyes.

"You've grown up to be so handsome," she murmurs, stroking away strands of blond-black. "Even if your hair…"

He manages a laugh. "It's natural."

"Your eyes?"

"Natural, too."

She smiles, sparkling with fresh sadness.

"They're beautiful."

Gohan holds his breath.

Acceptance.

It directs a swell of heat to said eyes, and he closes them, the blindness heightening the texture of her dress, the smell of her perfume; the small, unappreciated details of the most important woman in this or any life. He's thankful. So thankful in this moment, for everything. He recalls the early days at the estate where he'd cry for his family, and today is much the same. Only now, he cries from relief – from sadness, too – but mostly from the utter liberation to be held by both his parents without hiding behind his lies. They know everything. They don't hate him. They're still here.

Gohan's still here, too.

"You're home," Mum whispers into his hair. "It's okay."

Home.