The Horse with No Name
Chapter Five
Monster in the Woods
When Gohan had been a kid he'd been a much heavier sleeper than he is now. Those typical school anxieties of studying for a test, or being late in the mornings, often have him tossing and turning midweek. Even before he'd started school Gohan's sleeping had grown lighter and lighter. Sometimes he only gets five or six hours a night, seven if he's lucky, which only begs the question; why the heck did Gohan just manage to sleep like a rock all the night through?
Sure, he contemplates as he stares past the curtain's crack of light, this bed is like sleeping on a cloud consisting entirely of feathers, but he's still in a new place and Gohan should really be more cautious than this. The bed then draws him in deeper, blues and silvers nestling softly against his skin with its padded luxury as if to persuade him otherwise. Gohan groans, flagging into its silky embrace. Gosh, it's so good. He's only ever seen something like this in movies; beds so huge and spreading so wide that Gohan could roll over thrice and still not fall off. Being treated to its cushy glory makes him believe that those movies have never done it justice.
Then it's all ruined with a knock at the door.
Gohan stiffens, unsure what to do. He's only in his underwear after not being able to find where Mori keeps his night clothes last night, and considering how long it took him to learn how to fasten his robes yesterday he may as well not bother answering the door for another hour. When the knock comes again the teenager wilts even more into his bedding.
There's only one more knock, one which yet again goes ignored, making Gohan feel guilty as a following silence lingers on afterwards. Whoever it was must have gone now because the teenager can't hear or sense anyone beyond the walls. Actually, Gohan can't sense anyone, period. There's an uncomfortable flatness of ki around him making him wonder if the Realm of the Almighty holds a special ability that conceals people's energy readings. After being able to feel the intricacies of individuality in people's ki for so long it feels kind of weird not being able to do so now; maybe a bit lonely if he's honest…
Now feeling it safe to do so, Gohan slips out from his nest of covers. His toes tap against the cool of wood and he admires his surroundings. There'd been little chance to last night what with Rixas hovering around. After he'd left, Gohan had crashed immediately, soaking into the bed and floating through the night in comfortable bliss. Now that he's looking around the room he can see how truly big it is; the sea of bookshelves, the cool blues and silvers of the fabrics complimenting the forever sprawling walls… Really, it's something to look at, especially with all the different alcoves leading who knows where. There's a nook hidden behind the fireplace, one Gohan hadn't noticed last night, and home to a stash of papers and instruments the teenager can't recognize with their strange shapes and colourful designs. Beyond them, scattered pens and books lay askew on the floor. The urge to pick them up and clean overcomes him and he spends the first ten minutes of his morning clearing up Mori's clutter.
"What a messy guy," Gohan comments as he fishes a dust-clad book from under a desk.
He picks up several but this one really stands out to him. Even under the layers of grey Gohan can see the shiny gloss of letters wink back him. They protrude from the cover, feeling bumpy to the touch, and when he opens it, dust takes to the sky in a sheeted cloud, causing Gohan to splutter and cough into the crook of his elbow. When the smog clears he flicks through the fragile pages. The content is dense with miniscule scrawl he wouldn't be able to decipher even if he was able to write in Lanit-Tongue. Words curve in around diagrams and complicated drawings, some of which have been labelled in even smaller, messier writing.
One picture he's able to recognize is of an abstract drawing of a humanoid like figure, one standing adjacent a box of text in its crude silhouette. A swooping tail flows from behind its back.
"A… saiyan?"
Suddenly, there's another knock at the door. Gohan drops the book and the collection of pencils.
"I –uh…"
Instead of a knock it's a loud banging.
"I-I'm coming!"
He'd completely forgotten that someone had earlier been calling for him. It sounds serious now, unhappy. Could it be Rixas, or worse yet… could it be Quell?
Gohan grabs the cloak he'd folded up last night, throwing it over him for modesty's sake. As he goes to answer the door something in his gut tells him to secure the notebook. He does so, hiding it under a stack of intimidating-looking books near the nook.
Once he's fumbled with the lock, the door swings open outwards with a dramatic flail and the person on the other side can be heard crying out from the shock.
His hands reach out. "Ah, I'm sorry! Are you alright?"
"I'm sorry!" replies the knocker, one Gohan quickly recognizes as one Doctor Hezk. Her face is bright red and she looks so dizzy that she might just fall over right then and there. "I –I just… I was told to come knock again but this time louder because you might still be asleep, but then once I started knocking I just couldn't stop and that must have sounded like something crazy in there because you had to have ran from wherever you were in your room which I know is private, but still I–"
"W-Woah there. You're talking way too fast–"
"Ah, I'm sorry! I—I just… uh…"
"Are you okay?"
"Er… yes –sorry, yes, my lord… No, I mean –I forgot, you don't like that- I…"
Gohan considers her, scratching the back of his head. Still growing ever redder the poor doctor just stares back, zapped.
Her eyes close and a long stream of air leaves through her nostrils. "Okay, let's try this again…Good morning, I'm h-here to check up on you as Doctor Jivel requested, a-and I'm here to perform some examinations."
"Oh, er, sure." They both stand there for a moment until Gohan realises that he should probably invite her in. "Oh, I'm sorry. After you…"
Oh. No, Gohan's wrong. It's definitely after him. She doesn't budge an inch until the teenager awkwardly shuffles backwards into Mori's room. After he shuts the door behind her he leads her back to where he and Rixas had been sitting last night. Next to the two arm chairs there sits a deep blue sofa, it faces the fireplace in wonderful opposition to the bronze and looks to be far older than Gohan. He gestures her to sit there and she does without question.
The doctor has a decently sized book with her. Flashes of paper appear from various angles under a prim cover, contrasting the surrounding antique books of Mori's room. She places it on the coffee table in front and stares up at him with tinted cheeks.
"I can wait for you to…"
Gohan tilts his head. "Huh, what?"
Her eyes trail down to his bare chest. It's peeking out from the badly tied robe.
"AH! Okay, yes, er, okay." His face burns. Doctor or not this is still a young woman. Gohan should know better. He awkwardly bounds into the more private section of the space, nearing the bed but stopping short of the huge wardrobe and mirror.
You really are a fancy lord, huh?
It's far more extravagant than Gohan's ever seen, even at Videl's. The wardrobe opens up to a fine selection of robes and cloaks. They're shaded in rich and dark colours with the brightest garment being an optimistic shade of purple. With creaks, they slide across the railing as Gohan looks for something that may be easy-to-wear. Buttons and clips of varying difficulty face back and he feels himself pale.
Finally the teenager spots a baggy pair of dark pants hidden at the back. There's a silver top to go with them, one which luckily sits on the top of a folded gold obi, one patterned with that familiar horse silhouette. Gohan closes his eyes and thanks his lucky stars.
The fit is pretty good actually. The pants are only a little long, but the top fits perfectly. It's maybe a bit too tight for Gohan's taste, reminding him unpleasantly of Namek and clingy spandex, but otherwise he counts it as a win.
"Sorry about that," he says as he emerges from the curved partition.
The doctor looks less red, glaring hard at the book on the table. "No, no. This is your room. You could walk around here naked if you– Wah, I mean–" She looks up at him, flustered, just to stop midsentence. Her words desert her as she appraises his newly chosen outfit …and then she says something which makes his stomach sink. "Oh, you really do look like him in his colours."
Gohan's brows knit together and his mouth opens. She catches the disappointment and clasps a hand over her mouth.
"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said that! That was really unprofessional of me."
He wrings his hands together and lowers himself into the armchair facing her. "No… It's fine, I guess. I think I'm going to have to get used to it at some point."
"Right," she replies, sounding unsure. Another deep breath is taken.
She's really nervous, the teenager notices. Just what kind of guy was Mori to be able to strike this level of fear into someone? Was it just Mori? Because even Doctor Jivel seemed nervous at the idea of Quell, and he'd played formal with Rixas when he'd dropped Gohan off at the estate last night. Who the heck are these brothers?
Gohan takes the initiative. "So my name's Gohan, and I'm from planet Earth. I know Doctor Jivel told you a bit about me but I thought it'd be nice to start from the beginning seeing as we're going to working together. Can you tell me anything about yourself?"
The smile he offers seems to calm her just a bit. She folds over, leaning on her knees as she responds in kind. "Of course, my lor—Gohan. Er… let me see… My name is Hezk of the Seventh, and I was assigned as a doctor at the Spire Infirmary nearly fifteen years ago–"
"Fifteen years ago? Jus—oh, wait, years are recorded differently here? Ah, sorry, continue. Please continue!"
Doctor Hezk actually smiles. "Yes, I believe we use different measurement systems. I'm sure you'll become accustomed to our system in due time."
"So are you from around here?"
"Oh no, I'm from a small planet in the East Quadrant, nearing the Central Universal Station. You know where that is?"
"Er… no."
"Oh, well, it's quite a modern planet, one I miss but you can't really say no when you're handpicked by gods to work in the Realm of the Almighty, can you?"
Gohan leans forward. "Huh? What do you mean?"
Her eyes widen. "O-Oh, sorry. I need to be more careful with my words. Doctor Jivel said-"
"Handpicked by gods?"
She appears sheepish. The robe around her knees comes together as she knocks her legs. "We're in a sacred place. The Realm of the Almighty only lets few registered mortals in. I'm one of those mortals. It's standard to choose special mortals for their knowledge in whatever specialist field they excel in. I work with patients who have magical-related memory issues mostly, but I also happen to be a gifted researcher too."
He remembers her face from the other day. It'd bubbled in excitement at the mere prospect of analysing him.
"And this Mori guy…"
"Lord Mori is a residing god in this realm, one of several which exist both in this realm and outside of it."
"And what's he a god of?"
Doctor Hezk's forehead creases thickly behind a fringe of brown. "I shouldn't really say at this stage, not until we unearth some prior memories or personality quirks."
It's like a cold smack to the face. "Personality?! What do you mean–"
"It's just part of the parcel, Gohan," she explains. "Most reincarnated patients just experience cases of déjà vu now and then."
He has to remind himself that he's not actually this Mori guy and so he doesn't need to worry, but there's something about the entire thing which makes him feel uncomfortable. His arms fold up neatly against his chest; less out of defiance and more out of an awkward reaction. "You really do think I'm Mori, huh?"
The doctor quirks her lips at him. "If we're going off your records then yes."
"You know I don't agree, right?"
She nods and then proceeds to open up the book before her. Her fingers trail the bent corners of yellowing documents, and she looks between Gohan and the pages as she speaks. "I'm not here to prove one thing or another. The truth will become the result of the exercises we'll work on together, and we'll know down the line whether or not you're actually the reincarnated soul of Lord Mori."
"But you think he's still rattling about my brain…"
There's a plucking of paper from the book and she turns, looking up with an anxious smile, one which hides the fire of burning scientific curiosity. "I sure hope so."
So the activities start off small and non-threatening. Gohan is tasked with recounting small details about his life, the miniscule day-to-day moments which make up his fairly mundane routine. He can't help but excitedly tell her the stories of the Great Saiyaman when that comes up, but her reaction is hardly worth his built up dramatics.
"You don't think it's cool?"
She doesn't say anything and just scribbles something down in her notebook, smiling blandly. With much ado, next he talks about his history with martial arts, ki and just general experiences with the wickedly strong.
"You went up against Frieza?" she says, pen flattening against the page.
"Er… yeah. I was young so some of it is a bit blurry these days."
"That's impressive for a mortal."
Gohan's brows drop. She's said that numerous times now, as though mortals aren't anything worth writing home about, like the only people deserving of strength are the gods themselves. He doesn't say anything because it's not really his place. Once this is all straightened out then he can go home and get on with his wonderfully mortal life.
"Okay, my next question… Let's see here… Oh, Gohan, have you ever experienced any black-outs?"
"Black-outs? Like from fighting?"
Doctor Hezk runs the pen along her lips. "No, more like… bouts of missing memory. Maybe you've been fighting and things get too much and –bam– you wake up and you don't know what's just happened."
The effect is immediate. His lips roll inwards and his eyes bulge, and before he can hide the reaction she waves her pen at him.
"Oh, do tell!"
"I-I… It wasn't like that," he brushes off, "I've always had a special kind of power within me. It often came out when my friends were in danger or something bad just happened." The hungry look about her has returned in full force, but he's having none of it. "Well, it doesn't matter anyway. The Elder Kai unleashed the power within me. I'm stronger for it now."
"The kais…?"
"Yes! I've been trying to tell you guys but no-one's listening –but I know the Supreme Kai. He's a friend. If someone could put me in touch with him then this could all easily be resolved."
Doctor Hezk coughs into her hand, quick to appear uneasy. She then writes a long paragraph in her notebook in her neat and pointed handwriting. Gohan can't read any of it but by her expression the content isn't good. In fact, there's a confliction about how she progresses her next paragraph, practically killing the teenager as he waits in apprehension.
"What?" he asks when he can't take it anymore. "Just what is it? What's wrong about knowing the kais?"
"Nothing." She slams the book shut. Pah, like he can read it anyway… "Don't worry about it. It's just worth noting that you've had experience with kai magic. Okay, let's leave that there. Tell me about these blackouts. When was the last time you had one? Most people generally stop around childhood."
Gohan's lips pull tight. "Yeah, probably around about nine or ten I'd say. Childhood."
"And you remember nothing at all from these events?"
"I'm told about what happened after but–"
"Nothing?"
"No."
Doctor Hezk aims the pen back in his direction. "Did anyone note any personality changes in you during these times?"
It's like she's asking all the right questions to trip him up. He sighs raggedly as he scratches the back of his head. It's all getting a bit annoying now.
"Is this really necessary, Doctor? With all due respect, I long ago dealt with this side of myself. My dad and Piccolo really helped me learn how to overcome these hurdles, and with the help of the Elder Kai I finally managed to unlock this hidden power."
She hums non-committedly. "Okay then, well, let's leave this here today, Gohan."
He blanches. "Huh? What? Already?"
"We've spoken a lot about your past today and I want you to consider what we've just spoken about." The doctor rises from her chair and collects her things. "In the meantime, before tomorrow's session, I want you to try and recollect the strong emotions you were feeling before your blackouts as a child. I know it might be difficult but I'd appreciate it if you tried."
Gohan goes to follow her to the door. "But we didn't do anything other than talk? I thought you'd want me to do some hypnosis stuff or something. Are we really finished for the day?"
"Yes," she replies, somewhat amused. "The process will take longer than a day, sir."
I'm never going to get home at this rate…
"And," Doctor Hezk continues as she reaches for the door handle. "There's not much more we can accomplish if you're so closed off to the idea of being Lord Mori. Cooperation will help us seek the truth."
His cheeks burn, he doesn't mean to come across rude yet it's hard to be passionate about something you don't believe in. The doctor then bows, stirring discomfort in his stomach, before exiting through Mori's chamber doors. They close with a resounding clink and he's once again left alone, that is until Rixas comes knocking at his door a further twenty minutes later.
Rixas had excitedly dragged Gohan out of the confines of Mori's room the moment he got the chance. Starry eyed, he'd first admired the teenager in the gi before routing around the wardrobe and chucking a pair of black boots at him. It's a bit of a shame because Gohan had been somewhat enjoying himself at the time, exploring the grand quarters and peering through the dust-clad books.
"Now that's a sight I'm used to," Rixas had said upon spotting Gohan perusing a brick-like book.
After being pried from the haven, Gohan is then led through the estate and into an impressive garden. It spans far into the distance, meeting the morning horizon with a soft kiss of green and yellow. The earlier seen forest from last night goes on just as immeasurably. The dewy specks glisten atop trees and fields of emerald as the sun peaks behind branches and vines.
It's a breath-taking sight, one which makes him yearn for his mountain home and his family. Passing through a thick of trees and vast collection of flowers Gohan's next led to where he can just about make out the flow of a river. He soon hears the hush of water as they approach.
"I've barely slept," Rixas says as he stops near the bank. He'd been carrying a bag with him filled with water and what Gohan recognizes as nutrition bars (they come in a vast amount at the Spire). One of these bars is thrown to Gohan before the man helps himself to one. "I've been super excited to see what you can do."
"Er… I'm not sure if this is a good idea."
Rixas appears affronted. "And why not?" A finger jabs into Gohan's chest and he grins. "I refuse to let you take this from me!"
The teenager's brows knit together.
"Let's warm up," Rixas says after a bout of stretches. "I wanna' see your hand-to-hand stuff first."
For some reason the teenager's got a bad feeling about this.
That feeling is justified when Gohan kisses the dirt for the third time in a row. The 'warm up' is hardly such a thing, what with Rixas wasting zero time in pummelling Gohan at every given opportunity.
Gohan's never seen anything like this. Sure, he's never prided himself on being the strongest warrior out there but Gohan knows that he's no push-over. The fight with Buu (despite losing) proved that. Even his dad doesn't hold back.
But now…
Streams of red pulse out from Gohan's deeply inflicted cuts across the bridge of his nose. He spits out the phlegmy taste of metal as he gazes up at his opponent.
"Uwah, I thought saiyans were strong," then complains Rixas. With rapt horror, Gohan realises that there's not even a bead of sweat from atop the man's forehead.
This guy…
The teenager swivels in the dirt. He jumps up in attempt to land his boot into the man's ribs. Rixas catches it as though he'd just been tickled with a feather.
…is a monster.
"You've got girly legs."
Gohan twists hard and manages to kick Rixas in the neck. The brute doesn't move but he does however laugh. He laughs and laughs as he twirls Gohan around like a mid-air ballerina, all before launching the teenager back down into the dirt. Gohan skids even further than before.
"Oooh," Rixas goads, clapping his hands. "Bravo! That almost hurt! I think if you keep it up you may actually give me a cramp."
They've been swapping strikes for the last forty or so minutes. It hadn't taken Gohan long to realise how severely outmatched he is. This guy is something else. It's like going against a tank when you're riding a bicycle; each punch swung is enough to make the teenager's head explode.
"There are ballads about saiyans, you know; folk songs, legends, stories, all sorts of things. I've never met a real saiyan though. Ya know, I've gotta' say that I'm kind of disappointed."
"This is pointless!" Gohan tells him, "You're just too strong! What's the use?"
"Mori…" He wags his finger, clicking his tongue and shaking his head like a disappointed father. "What a poor attitude you have. Don't you think you should try harder?"
"You're a god. I'm not exactly a good enough match for you, am I?"
"Hogwash excuse. Get up. I can sense that you're stronger than this pitiful performance. You've never been one for the physical prowess of fighting but you are a talented ki-user."
"Rixas," Gohan grunts as he drags himself up. Doctor Jivel would be so annoyed if he could see him now. He'd told Gohan to avoid physical activities yet here he is; Rixas' personal punching bag on this fine morning. "Rixas, come on, you're clearly leagues above me here, and the doctor did sa-"
"You're so lazy," Rixas chides, "saiyans are supposed to enjoy the thick of a fight-"
"I'm half."
"Oh? And what's your other half? Sloth?"
"Human," he tells the lumbering concoction of energy. "Humans live on Earth."
Gohan then stretches his legs out, frowning. They're not girly at all…
"Human…" Rixas tests out. "Hooman. Hewmen?"
He then can't help but laugh at the strange faces Rixas makes with his childish attempts. Funnily enough, Rixas reminds Gohan a lot of his dad in some ways. He's a positive kind of guy, upbeat and fun. There's an air of not taking things too seriously, and there's also the boundless supply of energy that comes with him. Unlike his dad, however, comes something needier and deeper. He's caught Rixas staring at him at least a few times just this morning, staring at him as though Gohan might just disappear any second.
He's just happy to have his brother back…
That thought doesn't ease him.
"Okay," Rixas begins, "your form sucks. Sorry, it does." He punches a fist against his hand. "I hate it and we'll have to change it."
Gohan bristles. "What? I'm not changing anything."
"Eh? And why not? I just told you that it sucks."
Another thing Gohan's discovered with this guy; somehow he just manages to say all the right things to get a reaction from him.
"My dad and my teacher helped me wi–"
"Yeah, and they must suck too."
Something in his forehead twitches and Gohan has to swallow his bubbling anger. "My dad's the strongest person I know."
Rixas, like a puppy, tilts his head, looking as innocently lost as Goten would be over a maths equation. "Eh? But… you know me now?"
So arrogant!
Really, it's like he's doing it on purpose but Gohan truly suspects this guy is just that full of himself. As he completes another batch of stretches, the man flashes Gohan his shiniest smile whilst the teenager just steams and bites his tongue. Talk about being thick-headed. Gohan's not sure how much longer he can take of this guy without losing his mind; he's never been very good at dealing with characters like Rixas. They drain him.
Smearing the blood away, he gazes back over the glorious landscape to try and take a minute for himself. With the sun waking up fully, the area is gleaming with a renewed kind of beauty. The lilac of the sky is almost too rich to look at as it backdrops the rolling hills and spots of greenery.
"It's nice, right?"
Gohan turns back to see Rixas softly smiling, no longer hungry for chaos. The gold flecks catch the sun and the man shines like the god he is.
"It's calming to look at. I thought the same on the Planet of the Kais –the sky, I mean."
"What colour is it on your Earth?"
"Blue on a good day, but usually it's grey where I live."
"Sounds depressing."
Gohan sighs, brows pressing low. "It's beautiful there. Earth is beautiful."
The man gestures upwards to the sky with a nod. "And here? How about the Realm of the Almighty? The estate?"
The teenager knows Rixas is looking for a particular answer. There's no use in deceiving the guy. With a titter, he replies; "Yeah, it's pretty."
A pause passes and then Rixas snorts a laugh. His eyes are bright as he mimics Gohan's tone; "Pretty, huh?"
With a forming headache, Gohan wants to thump the guy, but is grabbed by the back of the scruff before he can do anything.
"Okay, princess, let's continue this before you start breaking into song about the birds and the flowers."
The teenager feels his head really pound.
What a piece of work you are.
Age 780
Mount Paozu, Earth
Goten Son doesn't like many a thing. He doesn't like English class, he doesn't like leeks, and he certainly doesn't like homework. But there are really only a few things which he hates. Training is one of those things. Call him lazy, call him whatever; Goten didn't ask to be born a half-saiyan. The fact that he can fly is pretty cool. That comes in use sometimes, and the super strength can be helpful, but really, Goten would trade it all for a normal life any day.
If being super-powered comes with all the baggage he has to deal with then no thanks.
He slouches against his schoolbag as he sits atop the plush of a floating yellow cloud. The ever-loyal Nimbus cushions him as they glide over mountaintops and trees. Angrily, the summer heat has discoloured some of the tree's upper leaves an unhappy brown, parching them without the usual humidity. Rain is long overdue and Goten half expects there to be a thunderstorm around the corner any day now. He wonders, daring to hope, if the thunderstorm will strike whilst he visits his dad. Any reason to skirt out of training sounds wonderful to him.
When the Mausoleum appears in its hub of trees and overgrown grass Nimbus knowingly descends.
"Thanks, bud," Goten says to the little cloud as he jumps off. Nimbus rejoices, giving Goten the show of a flip before flying up and disappearing against the blue.
Goten sighs, pulling his backpack up as he opens the front door. As usual it's unlocked.
"Dad," he calls. An empty hallway faces back. "Dad, are you home?"
…Of course not.
Goten groans when he notices a pile up of letters by the door. Usually the cleaner would at least put them in the kitchen where Goten would go through them to see what's junk and what's not. For being in the middle of nowhere, his dad gets a surprising amount of mail. The teenager suspects that the letters are still on the floor because yet another cleaner quit. They usually do after a few months, becoming sick of cleaning up the trails of blood weeping from his dad's wounds after his more vigorous training sessions.
Goten flicks through the letters as he makes his way to the kitchen. Junk. Junk. Junk. Pizza coupons…? Who would actually deliver pizza out here? Jesus, he might just give them a call tonight just to see what happens.
When Goten arrives to the kitchen he knows that the last cleaner must have indeed quit.
"Eugh…"
Bandages lay strewn across the tiled floor, splodges of blood tell a journey of a man hurrying to and from the kitchen sink, and Goten even spots bloodied used rags littering the area near the bin. He grimaces. The attempt to put them in the bin hadn't even been made. Yes, Goten thinks, he would have quit too. Hopefully Bulma has someone else that would be willing to take the journey all the way out here.
Unceremoniously, he throws the letters down against the red stain on the counter. Goten knows a lost cause when he sees one and so just heads up to his room. A lingering smell of dust accompanies him as he creaks up the stairs. His room, at least, is respectfully clean. It's not tidy, but it's clean. There's a difference. Goten throws his backpack on his bed and contemplates the sparse belongings about his room. Many of his childhood toys still live here, and there is a collection of books and boxed games he used to enjoy. Yes, apart from a handful of things there isn't much here to reflect his teenage self. Yet, Goten doesn't bother bringing any of his stuff from Fire Mountain here, even though it would help with the boredom. It's just too much effort for how little time he actually spends in this rotting museum.
His phone is the real hero of this story. Thank God for online streaming (when the Internet even works out here).
However, after staring at his lock screen for a good five minutes Goten finds he can't concentrate on much of anything at all. After managing to persuade his mother that he needed the phone for 'homework' purposes, he'd managed to bring it. Yet, he can't even bring himself to use it. He closes his eyes slowly. School today had been just awful. On any normal day he'd be more thankful that it's Friday, but Goten's been dreading this day all week after his mother sentenced him to training with his dad. Whilst the newly graded maths test sits unhappily in his bag with a fat F written in the corner this hadn't been the worst news of the day.
He sulks, scowling as he draws his curtains closed.
Videl had sent out her wedding invitations this afternoon. It took three or four times of Goten reading it for it to seem real. For a start, he can tell that Videl had zero input on then invitations because they're far too classy and pink for them to come across as anything remotely her. It must have been her friend, the ditzy one –what's she called? – Ah, Erasa. She must have been the one to put this together, and he blames her because he hates everything from the horrible script writing to the nasty colour used for the font. Most importantly, however, what he really hates is the groom's name.
Haruto Orange.
Seriously. His last name is Orange.
Goten seethes as he flops onto his bed. His bag jumps in greeting, the test paper falling out just to spite him. He throws it –and the bag– against the wall before curling up against the mountain of stuffed bears of which still live atop his bed.
Videl shouldn't be getting married. It's not right. It's too soon. Besides…Goten l—
The door bangs open.
"You're here!"
"Dad!"
"Finally," his dad goes on to say, "C'mon, let's get going before it starts to rain."
Dad has clearly been training already. His clothes are astonishingly filthy and Goten spots the hint of blood sporting beneath the fabric of his gi. The guy's relentless. When Goten hides his head under his pillow he feels the man tugging at his legs.
"No getting out of it today, kiddo," Goten hears his dad say, slightly muffled courtesy of the lump of fabric over his ears. He kicks out and buries his head deeper. "Nuh-uh, your mum specifically said that you've gotta' come out and train with me today."
"But the weeeather."
"A little water's never hurt anyone."
Goten uncovers his head. "Maybe you should tell that to yourself. When was the last time you were even home? You smell like a locker room."
His dad drops his legs and goes to scratch at the back of his head, appearing sheepish. "I guess it's been a while. This week I was training in Deadman's Desert and that's pretty far from here. Showers are kinda' hard to come by in a desert, you know."
Goten pinches at the bridge of his nose. "Deadman's Desert…"
"It's not as bad as it sounds. I didn't see any dead people."
"Right… Look, Dad, I'm not going anywhere with you until you take a bath or a shower."
His dad pouts. "Uwah… We're just gonna' get mucky again…" Goten gives him a firm look. "Uh, fine, fine. But when I'm out of the shower you've gotta' be ready to leave. Pack an overnight bag."
"What? No! That wasn't the plan!"
Dad flashes him his cheekiest grin before disappearing through the door, smell lingering. Goten groans when he hears the shower running. He wouldn't even be able to call his mum and get her to talk his dad out of it because this is supposed to be a punishment. She'd just tell Goten to suck it up and think about his previous actions. What a joke. Just to add insult to injury the teenager notices the first specks of rain flicker against the window. Dark grey looms in the backdrop.
I'd pack waterproofs but what's the point? Dad'll just destroy them as usual.
This is why Goten doesn't have nice things. A sigh leaves him as he considers the pile of burnt and holey clothing residing in the corner of his room. Knowing he doesn't want his current outfit to become the next victim, Goten changes into one of his dad's gis. Dad's wardrobe is full of them. Orange after orange; the guy is like a cartoon character.
His dad comes into the room, laughing as he tightens his own obi around a fresh pair of gi pants.
"Still too big for you, huh?"
Goten looks in the mirror. The trousers pool around his feet.
"I'm sure you'll singe the bottoms off by the end of today anyway," Goten replies a bit unkindly.
Dad doesn't hear the tone and laughs again, thinking it as a joke. "Ha-ha, maybe. Perhaps I could ask Piccolo to make you some training clothes… I don't want you trip up on the bottom bits again."
"Oh, that sounds great. I'm sure he loves being your personal tailor."
The man scratches the back of his head, finally having the decency to look somewhat ashamed. "Bulma only sends me fifteen new gis every month now. She refuses to send anymore, what can I do?"
Stop destroying them.
Goten doesn't say it but he really wants to. He can imagine Piccolo's consistently sour expression only worsen as his dad grovels for the namekian's handiwork. Of course, Goten doesn't have to wait too long to see such reaction because, with great enthusiasm, Goten is later presented to Piccolo. His dad's request holds awkwardly in the air as the three of them stand in a clearing of the forest.
The rain is moderately heavy now. Goten and his overnight bag are already soddened as are both his dad and Piccolo, though neither seem to mind. In fact, his dad's never looked sunnier.
"Can't he just wear yours?" Piccolo grumbles.
"That's what I said," Goten adds.
"C'mon, Piccolo, help us out here."
Piccolo sneers a monstrous sound. He eyeballs Goten with growing dislike, something not new to the teenager, and the exact reason Goten hadn't wanted to bother Piccolo with this in the first place.
"If I had clothes magic I'd use it all the time," his dad unhelpfully says as though it could actually persuade his friend, "I'd be making all sorts of clothes for everyone and myself."
"Goku…"
"You'd be really helping us out here, Piccolo."
Piccolo looks like he couldn't care less about helping anyone out. His green lip is pulled high, appearing as though he's currently sniffing something foul in the air.
"I'm not a damn seamstress!"
Goten folds his arms, awkward. He hates it when the two bicker. Rain pelts down uncomfortably as the little remaining light starts to be consumed by thick clouds of grey-black. By the time his dad unsurprisingly gets what he wants once again the dark night sky has fully presented itself.
It looks to physically pain Piccolo to give Goten some clothes. Energy washes over him in a sharp splash and he feels the ruffle of material sway around him. When the energy and its light fades, the orange and blue of a fresh gi can just about be seen against the darkness. This time the gi fits comfortably.
"Thanks," Goten says to the namekian just for it to go ignored.
Piccolo does offer a cutting glare at his father though, one his dad returns with a grin. Part of the teenager thinks that Dad must enjoy winding Piccolo up just so he can get a better response whilst sparring. He wouldn't put it past the man.
"Now that's dealt with I'd say that we're ready to get the show on the road."
Goten hears a rumble of thunder in the distance.
Great timing.
His dad then powers up to Super Saiyan. The gold flash is almost too much to look at against the shadowy night. The hum of energy circulates the area as the shine of power illuminates. Goten follows suit, transforming and feeling the swirl of ki boost to the next level. It's easy for him to ascend, it's always been easy. He's never understood the emotional hurdles apparently needed to attain the power.
Dad had told him the story of Namek, and of how it took the death of his best friend for him to be able to transform into the 'legend'. It's not much of a legend considering that both he and Trunks had managed it without too much effort, though Trunks did once say that it'd been hard for Vegeta to do it.
It'd been hard for him too.
Goten slaps at his cheeks, jumping on the spot. There's no point thinking about that at a time like this.
"You've gotten weaker," Piccolo then points out.
Goten frowns as the rain slaps down. "We haven't even started yet!"
"Even worse that I can sense it so easily then."
"Ugh, what's your problem?"
Dad is quick to intervene. He steadies Goten's rolling shoulder with a hand. "Hey, c'mon guys, let's not do this again. I'm sure Goten's been training back at Fire Mountain like he said he would, right?"
"Er…"
Piccolo snorts and the sound makes Goten see red.
"Y-Yeah, I have," the teenager snaps. His dad smiles and claps him on the back. Piccolo looks less sure, giving him a hard and long look. Those beady eyes of his narrow something ugly.
It's been like this for a while between them. Goten can't really remember when it used to be better, but he knows it must have been. Around the time of Buu, Piccolo had spent plenty of time training him and Trunks to face the monster. As stressed as the namekian had been he still hadn't been unkind to Goten, yet for the longest time now Piccolo's been short with him, quick to snap at him –even going as far to avoid being near him. Whatever Goten's done must have pissed the guy off something fierce.
Still, his dad tries to encourage these spar dates between them at any given opportunity.
"Okay, son, you can sit the first one out as Piccolo and I stretch our legs. Why don't you keep a close eye on our footwork? I noticed last time that you've gotten kinda' sloppy with it."
"Right, sure."
"Watch me, okay."
"…Okay."
And he does… for a bit. Goten takes shelter under one of the larger evergreen trees neighbouring the clearing, hating the dripping of water splashing across his forehead as it continues to shower. The hiss of weather is only broken from the sounds of energy whooshing around the grassland. Gold zips about, acting as his dad's usual chaotic but tight form, literally running circles around Piccolo as they exchange fists.
The footwork is far beyond Goten. He's always been bad at it. Anything that requires rhythm and precision involving Goten's two left feet is a lost cause. Bad dancing is a Son family trait but Goten feels like he's exceptionally bad, enough so that he's actually broken a girl's toe at a school party when he took a turn too fast. It's fair to say that Goten didn't get her number after the incident.
When a stray ki blast sets a nearby bush on fire Goten jumps.
"Are you watching, Goten?"
The teenager scratches the back of his head, a clumsy smile donning his face as his dad studies him. It's not returned.
"You're not gonna' get any better if you don't watch."
Goten doesn't care about getting better. He hates training. What's the point in all this? What, to protect the Earth? His dad is the strongest person alive. No-one is ever going to be able to even touch him.
The teenager groans, scraping his soaked back into a messy pile of tangles. "You guys are too fast for me to see."
"I told you that he's not interested, Goku," bitterly intervenes Piccolo, unwelcome. He's a bit more beat up than a short while ago. A nasty cut lip bleeds purple and even through the rain Goten can spot a sprouting bruise. "Just leave him to play on that miniature computer of his."
Goten palms the outline of his phone from within his bag out of reaction. His dad notices and so his frown pulls tighter.
"You know, Goten, I do think you spend too much time on that thing. You're gonna' make your muscles turn to jelly if you're not careful."
Goten turns away, trying his upmost best not to roll his eyes. Piccolo would throw him through a mountain if he saw.
"I haven't even touched it out here. I've been watching like you asked." Piccolo clicks his tongue, and his dad looks equally as uncertain – which annoys Goten to no end because it is the truth. "I haven't!"
"Er, whatever you say..." Sheepish, Dad scratches at the back of his head. His awkward nature does eventually placate Goten, especially when the big goof gives him that lopsided grin of his. Jeez, talk about making a guy feel guilty.
A hand reaches towards Goten. "Say, why don't you come and show me what you've got then?"
Equally awkward, Goten offers a small smile and takes the upturned palm. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap or whate –you know what, sure. Okay, let's do this."
Good thing Goten is still transformed because his dad gives him zero breathing room. From the moment he takes that hand the teenager is whisked from the comfort of his shelter and into the brutality of the storm. There's a roar of thunder as Goten dodges his dad's first strike, his typical starting move of punching Goten in the gut. It's always performed in dutiful expectation because when Goten had been really little it'd always been the thing to send him down. But it's different now. He grabs a hold of his dad's stretched arm and pulls hard. The saiyan falters but doesn't fall down, instead twisting and planting his boot into Goten's calf. It's another testing move because his dad knows how terribly he performs after taking a knock to the leg. With already bad footwork it only worsens.
"Crap!"
Goten swears he hears his dad laugh but he's too focused on not taking a second hit to be sure. By the time the teenager notices his father's goofy face grinning away he's already weaving between punches. One clips him in the shoulder, knocking him askew in the line of attack. His dad is quick to react. His leg furies forward and Goten is swept from under his feet, plummeting to the ground and into a pool of wet dirt.
His dad goes to pull him up. "Wake up, wake up! Get your head in the game!"
Goten's now completely covered in mud. It's like tar from the rain, suctioning his bottom back down as he's dragged back into the fight. When Goten goes to swipe at the pelting rain he ends up smearing a long line of filth across his face. Dad doesn't even give him the chance to clean it off, to remove the streak of brown from his vision; he punches Goten so hard in the gut that the teenager buckles over. His hands are curled around his middle when his dad lands another blow to the torso.
Goten is launched upwards this time. The sky catches him with its harsh and wet embrace as a crack of lightning whitens the clearing. Just as a second flash assaults his vision Goten is yet again struck by his dad's flurry of fists. It's only seconds later that Goten tastes the dirt once more.
I hate this.
Hues of blues and greys shine from his dad's approaching face, if only from the harsh reflection of wet glued to his cheeks. He's muddy too, but nothing compared to Goten. The man doesn't look best impressed with the teenager's display.
I really hate this.
"You can do better than this, son."
God, he sounds so disappointed. Goten flops his head down. Dirt splatters.
"Send him back to the house," Piccolo comments from nearby. "He's clearly not interested in training."
"C'mon, get up, Goten."
Goten contemplates how he ended up in this situation and if the chalk drawing of his teacher had really been worth it after all. When Dad forces him up yet again Goten decides that it unquestionably hadn't been, especially when, after who knows how long, he still hasn't managed to land a single blow.
"Focus!" his dad orders, but Goten's struggling now.
His head pounds from taking too many hits and his ribs are in absolute agony. He spirals when his dad roundhouses his cheek. The stretch of pain is followed by angry throbs and the taste of budding metallic.
Goten spits and wipes at his lips, shaky. The rain is hot and thick, feeling like lava against fresh wounds.
"The kid's done," Piccolo calls from the side lines. He's been doing it ever since their spar had begun.
"I'm fine!" Goten insists.
His dad clearly agrees with Goten because before he knows it, he's knocked free from his feet once more and into the sharp edge of a neighbouring boulder. When he screams, more from the shock than the pain, his dad sees the opportunity and several ki blasts are sent his way. Goten dodges the first few but ends up taking some nasty burns from the latter ones. They sting, and even in the dimness of night Goten can see his skin bubble an immediate red under the flare of Super Saiyan.
The teenager gets a second wind and bends under the oncoming fist. The meld of yellow glow between them becomes blinding, making Goten work sightless as he stumbles away from his father.
"You gotta' advance! Don't show weakness!"
But Goten can't find an opening, he can barely see straight –the weather is against him, and the rapid beating in his chest from the adrenaline of it all is starting to make him feel woozy.
"Goku! He's done!"
No he's not! Just to spite the asshole, Goten flies forward and swings hard, and true if his dad's damning grunt is anything to go by.
"That's more like it," his dad then praises.
Goten tries to withhold his smile, feeling proud. It's wiped off quickly as his dad's fist connects with his lower jaw. His head then pivots dramatically, body following, just before he strikes down into the ground with ferocity. A crater forms around him, and if not for the rain then he's sure he'd be able to see a cloud of dust circling overhead.
Okay… Goten hurts. He hurts pretty badly now.
This doesn't seem to stop his dad however. His golden aura positively dances in the delight of his son's misfortune; pulsing majestically as it draws ever closer to his resting spot. Knowing what's coming next, Goten flinches and balls up. His knees knock against his chin and he attempts his best block.
"Goku, knock it off!"
There's no deterrent strong enough to pry his dad away from a fight. Goten can only hope that it doesn't hurt too much.
"Hyahh!" cries Dad; a war cry.
A ball of blue pistons from his hands and soars in the teenager's direction. It's so fast that Goten isn't sure that it even flew to begin with, instead choosing to teleport directly in front of him before exploding.
The searing of skin makes Goten grit his teeth. He refuses to cry, no way, not this time. The light carries out over his body and he feels his arms in particular blister. His block is weak, he knows that, but he didn't expect the attack to be so heated. There's a rush of ki from him as he tries to push back. Yet, the thing has got one more kick to it with one last burst of energy ripping from the sender.
Goten manages to power through the onslaught. It endures to pierce through his defence in some places, but otherwise the teenager wards the bulk of it off with an impressive display of stubbornness.
He breathes hollowly as he watches the rejected ki rocket into the sky, the rain short of blinding him.
"Real good," his dad praises once again. He hovers above Goten with a warm smile, one which Goten offers back tenfold.
"Let's stop here," Piccolo speaks. Is it Goten or does he sound relieved? "Let's make camp."
Actually, Goten agrees with him. He's very much done after that attack. His bones ache and his battered head is ready to explode itself. So it's at that point then that his father's next words send a shock of cold nausea to his stomach.
"Huh? What? No way. We're just getting started! Get your butt up!"
"Goku!"
He's whirled up by his arm. God, no.
When released, then teenager stumbles until he manages to regain his terrible footing. The slippery mud beneath slickly tests his awful boot grips. It's not an understatement to say that he's dizzy as hell, so dizzy that he's looking at two of his dads wobbling around.
"Are you ready?"
"I –uh-"
It doesn't matter. His dad charges, fist high –knee higher as it clips at Goten's already bludgeoned shoulder. Strike after strike follows and Goten dodges next to none of them. Yet again he can't seem to land a single blow against his father. When he tangles his feet together in a nest of nettles, he falls both against the man and against a tirade of jabs.
There's a hoarse cry. "Gok-"
Goten doesn't hear much more. He takes a hard whack to his temple, making the world fuzzy. Sound distorts with crackles, and Goten can't make out what are the fresh lines of lightning and what's the streaking colour his brain's setting out. They merge together chaotically.
He takes another punch to the face, and then another, and another.
His dad's eyes are hyper focused. They pierce into his own, so intently that he can't bear to look at them a moment longer. It hurts to look, it hurts to feel. The only thing he starts to feel besides the pain is a sudden rush of fear.
He's going to kill me.
There's another punch.
I'm going to die!
The next rattles his head.
Please-
Then—there's no more.
Goten holds his breath, daring to turn back. The next fist is only inches away from his face. There it's held in the iron-like grip of Piccolo's hand, shaking as it still steams with unburned energy.
"That's enough, Goku," Piccolo says, voice low, threatening.
Goten's mouth feels dry despite the copious amount of blood filling it. There's nothing he could ever say to make any difference, especially when his dad's face looks like that. It's strewn tight with rigid determination, determination to land that next punch. He looks to want it more than anything he's ever wanted before.
"That's enough."
Finally, his dad speaks. "He's fine. Let go, Piccolo."
Piccolo growls, clenching harder. Those pointed nails of his pierce skin. "Fine? Fine? Look at him, Goku. He's a mess!"
The only sign of movement is the spell of rain between the three of them, although Goten can see his father's itch for movement. The man can't stay still for a second. The vibrations from his insistent fist say otherwise.
"Let go, Piccolo."
"He's done, finished!"
"He's fine! Stop panicking!"
"He can't do this!"
"Yes, he can!"
"No, he can't, Goku!" Piccolo twists the hand backwards, forcing his dad to fall with it. "You continue this and you're going to kill him!"
His dad pushes forward, a cold swill of anger bubbling deep within those icy eyes of his. Goten hates that look. He's only seen it a handful of times but it's enough to make him wish he'd been born blind.
"I know his limits."
"You don't even know your own limits, never mind his!"
His dad doesn't like this. Uncharacteristically heated, he clenches his fists and aims a particularly nasty look at his supposed friend. "We're not going over this again. We're not doing this with Goten here."
Piccolo spares the teenager a look, grunting.
"We're finished for tonight, Goten. Grab your stuff. You're going home."
Goten goes to nod. He likes that idea very much actually. It's only when there's a grasping at his arm does he feel something in his stomach sink.
"We're not done," Dad says. "I know you've got more in you yet, son."
Panic runs through Goten. The nausea doubles, his vision wavers –he wants to be sick.
And then a hand slaps his dad's away. Piccolo appears furious.
"Knock it off, Goku," he snaps, "he can't do this, he doesn't want to. You need to understand that he's not as strong as you believe him to be. Goten is not a fighter. He's not that way inclined. He just doesn't have the strength." It's not nice listening but it's true, Goten admits it.
However, the next bit stings.
"He's not Gohan."
Silence follows. It's silent for so long that Goten doesn't know what to expect next. It hurts, of course. It hurts in a variety of ways, but Goten's too hung up on whether or not his dad is about to explode to care.
Nothing of the sort comes. Instead, his dad quietly powers down. The gold fades, making the world appear even darker than it feels. Goten hadn't noticed but he'd long fallen out of Super Saiyan. The dour rain continues to fall as the thunder shouts and screams for them, especially for Goten who feels as if he wants to hurl the worst swear words he knows into his pillow at home.
"Goten…" his dad attempts. It's quick to die on his tongue. "I…"
It's silent once again.
"Go home, kid," Piccolo next instructs when the emptiness draws on too long. "You're done here."
Goten looks back towards his dad for a sign of something, anything. He doesn't know what he wants to hear from Dad but he just knows that he needs to hear something.
The only thing Goten hears, however, is the hush of rainfall.
.
.
.
.
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FIRST! Thank you so very much to the lovely and wonderful KagariAsuha for the amazing art for this story. It's perfect and I love it -although it's been hard writing this current chapter because I just keep finding myself staring at its beauty. Such a talented artist, right? Please check out her stuff. She also kindly edited this chapter for me. What a star. Thanks so much, girl!
Also, thanks for the reviews (and for the guest reviews which I can't reply to) and PMs so far. The feedback is so encouraging, especially your not immediate dislike of the OCs, haha! Rixas is going to be about like a bad smell for our favourite god-not-god-maybe-god and so we'll learn about him and the other brothers, and their roles. Please let me know if you have any ideas on to what you think they are...
And with poor Goten... ah well... Hey, at least we finally go to Goku. It's all a massive clusterfuck with these guys. Super sad. So much to uncover yet too, and I can't wait.
On that note, thanks so much for taking the time to read this chapter. I would absolutely dig a review for this chapter if you can spare the time. I was going to say that this chapter is a big one but to be honest I don't know if I have it in me to write smaller ones these days. I always aim for 6K... Sigh...
See you on the next one. Happy Halloween!