The Horse with No Name
Chapter Seventeen
Audience
Planet XXX
Age 780
The horizon stretches into a plethora of amber and gold as the neighbouring star begins to set. Its large body glows brilliantly, completely unaware of the past horrors it's highlighting with positive rays. As the scape shimmers with the nigh of day, bodies upon bodies of varying species lay atop on another in a haphazard array, piling quite impressively if one were to think with such macabre. The city around is but crumbled concrete now. Grey meets amber, and that amber meets silence as one lone figure watches from atop the tallest remaining building.
The figure sees the cracks of force zigzag along roads, and he notices clouds of black from the ruins climb ever higher in the background. It curls around the hectic scene, coursing far and reaching high, blackening the sky. And still, the bodies can be found across the scene; more and more appear in huddled hideaways and nooks. There's no point in looking for survivors –there's rarely ever any to begin with.
He sighs, turning to move, only to pause upon hearing crunching beneath his boots. To his relief, it's not bone, but instead, glass and metal. They litter the decayed earth, and poke out between misfortunate concrete remnants. Yet, underneath it all, something stands out; something delicate…
"A doll," he breathes, noting its crispier appearance. One of the eyes is missing.
His filthy hand scoops it up, immediately colouring it a murky brown. But it remains unbothered, staring back with its one eye as a lock of cotton hair curls around its captor's fingers. The longer it's held, the heavier it becomes.
The star's light has long since disappeared before the man drops it, his expression cold. The doll tumbles over the dirt, falling until it's lost to the massacre, as if to leave little trace that it'd ever existed in the first place.
"I'm sorry."
Suddenly, a swill of energy relights the area with renewed glory. His hair courses high and his eyes burn gold as he surveys the land lost to evil –an evil he couldn't stop in time.
Even as a god, he couldn't save them.
Frustrated, he raises a hand and burns the audience of bodies to the ground. He'll give them the respect of a cremation –stop the pillaging, perhaps put off local pirates. It's… the least he can do now; one thing as to mark a sad end here. The crackling of ki rings as the applause he deserves.
As the city burns, he breathes in the smoke, enjoying how it hurts his lungs just a little, relishing the ache. Rixas said all this… fighting gets easier, but it really doesn't.
The days that come with happier endings, with the spoils of victory, with the smiling faces of children with their dolls, are ones which make him understand his value. He helps people. He helps those facing the disgusting slew of tyrants, warlords and bandits of all varieties, marking an uncountable amount of times that he's saved city after city –planet after planet. Still, there are so many times when he fails, much like today. The warlord has been and gone, and will be hungry for another city at another time, no doubt. All he can do is… try again. Whilst he knows that not every villain can be beaten through power alone, he always knows that most can, and so he tries. He has continued to try and try and try, using his training and understanding –using godly knowledge, just so he can help those in need around the universe.
But it's not enough… it never is.
The mask slips down from off of his face, smoke waspish as the ki swallows it into obscurity.
"Something needs to change," Gohan breathes.
When Gohan returns home to the estate he's not surprised to find Myra waiting for him. He doesn't fight it at all when she thrusts him in the direction of a warm shower, citing that he smells like a sewer, something she's mistaken the cadaver reek for on several occasions. Rixas, a person regularly familiar with it, has never once commented; a small mercy, he supposes.
She's still in his room when he emerges from the shower, fast at the ready with fresh dress robes for him.
"Am I going somewhere important?" he asks her, surprised. He'd hoped for bed.
"It's your final appointment with Doctor Jivel."
"That's today?"
"Yes, an hour ago, in fact."
Gohan's brows pull together and he quickly takes the robes from her. "I'm not going to the Spire. We can do the appointment online."
"I've already set up the computer, my lord."
He pauses with only one arm through the sleeve as he then offers her his warmest, most charming smile. "You're a good one, aren't you?"
As impervious as always, Myra cocks her head, smug. "Respectfully, sir, I don't think you would cope without me." He snorts, and as if to prove her point, he next gestures her to assist him in fastening his robes. As she threads the buttons, her expression sobers. "Are you going to tell me where you were today?"
Gohan smiles again. "No, I'm not."
She nods, plaits bobbing.
"Are you worried about me?" he teases, trying to keep it light. "I'd have thought you'd finally be able to give yourself that much needed holiday should I happen to go missing again."
Her eyes churn up back onto him, making his smile falter. "Don't say such things, sir."
"You know, I think you'd sleep a little sounder if I disappeared for a bit."
"My lord!"
"Tch. Myra, I'm kidding." The robes are then pulled a little too tightly around the throat. "I'm kidding."
She pats his shoulders, face tight. "There, you're all finished, my lord."
"Are you in a mood with me?"
Ignorant, her tone is pinched. "Do you need anything else, sir?"
"Yeah, an assistant with a better sense of humour."
"Absolutely not. You don't need to be further encouraged," she reprimands when she reaches the door, at least choosing to close it softly, instead of slamming it as she so often does when Gohan winds her up enough.
It's funny really, in a not at all kind of way, because he has very little memories of his interactions with Myra as Mori. And Gohan just can't imagine it –can't imagine how the two would have got on in a room for longer than five minutes without killing one another. If Gohan is stubborn then Mori was something else entirely. That bastard listened to no one.
It's a question he actually poses when he finally gets in contact with Doctor Jivel.
"I don't recall you having an ill relationship with her," the doctor tells him from over the computer, "but I do feel like you have a much friendlier affiliation these days, which is nice to see."
Gohan scoffs, but he's smiling. The girl has grown on him, after all. "You get used to her."
"I suppose she says the same about you, my lord."
"I suppose," he laughs. "Anyway, how are you, doctor? Are you well?"
He's looking extra tired today, his scraggly beard showcasing that he must be yet again inducting new doctors into the fold. They speak on a semi-regular basis, and have done so as to monitor Gohan's… sobriety, or rather, limited use of alcohol. In this house, everyone drinks. Whether it's wine with lunch or something harsh and tangy before bed; there's always casual sipping around here. Except now, Gohan doesn't drink to excess, and sometimes doesn't drink at all when detoxing for training.
"Why do you ask? Do you think I look unwell?"
"A little, if I'm being honest."
Doctor Jivel chuckles, scraping a hand through his thinned hair and then along his beard. "The Spire has been busy as of recent. There has been a lot of activity –injuries, attacks; these sort of things."
"The Zealites?"
"Maybe. Who am I to say?"
"Quell is running himself ragged with them these days," Gohan sighs, "apparently they've been becoming more active in recent seasons, appearing here, there and everywhere and pulling Quell away at every opportunity. You know, he tells me so little..."
"Probably wise of him. It must be frustrating for you, but your brother has your best interests in mind." Doctor Jivel says, and then raises a knowing brow. "Lord Quell worries for you."
Gohan holds the look. "I know."
"Good." There's a brusque cough. "So let us get down to business. It's our final scheduled appointment so I suppose we should get the more distasteful topics out of the way. Let me just… ah, where are our notes? Ah… ha. Here we are. Alright then, so, my lord, can you tell me, for the record's sake, when you last found yourself, let's say, merry?"
"…Merry?"
"Inebriated, drunk, sloshed; whatever you want to call it."
Gohan can't help but feel cheeky. "I was last sloshed years ago –way back before my training with Quell. I've not had more than a glass or two over the course of a night since our last appointment."
"Two a night, every night?"
"No."
The scratching of a pen against paper distorts through the speakers of Gohan's computer. "Right, well then, that's good, isn't it? How about drugs?"
"None."
"Excellent, excellent." More scratching sounds. "Had any temptation as of recent?"
"No, I think your advice on staying busy has kept me focused."
"All good vices, I hope?"
"I suppose."
"Hmm…"
"Honestly, I'm doing fine."
More questions follow in the same suit. They've had many a session about his physical and psychological health, about depression, about anxiety, and even about adapting to godhood, something which had brought about its own challenges after Gohan consumed the elixir many a moon ago. The effect had been immediate. At once, Gohan had felt a rush of adrenaline so powerful he'd thought his heart had stopped, thought that he was about to spit it out right then and there in front of Quell. Instead, he'd slumped to the floor, falling to the lull of darkness before waking up at the Spire several days later.
Rixas had been present when he'd woken up, eyes moist and pink. His wet garbling had had to be translated by Doctor Jivel, who had then proceeded to tell him about how Quell had brought him in, and how things were going to change now. Gohan was mortal no more.
Gohan hadn't understood –perhaps even regretted his actions at first, because he really hadn't known exactly what he'd put into his body. How naïve he'd been. The elixir had stripped the mortality from his soul, warped it; revived it whole. Gohan would now never be able to take the route of mortality… he'd never die, not traditionally. There's no Otherworld for him, only the infinite duty of his role as a Lord of Revelation… whatever that meant.
And as Gohan had started to learn, it meant a great deal actually. But before that, he'd needed his body to adjust to the small changes. The world had felt different, reduced perhaps. His energy, which had always burnt strong within, now soared with fierce power. Gohan had never felt so alive (ironic, considering) –he'd never felt so… complete. He can recall, sitting alone in the hospital bed hours later, flexing and releasing his fist, watching as sparks of ki fizzled, bubbled with agency; hungered for release.
It'd been amazing because it'd been then and there that he knew that he could be the real difference –he could use this power for good.
Gohan smiles, recalling it. "I'm well, doctor."
"You look well," Doctor Jivel says, sounding like he means it. "Although, it wouldn't hurt for you to see Doctor Hezk once or twice more."
Hands rise. "No, I'm done with that. I don't want any more guidance with memories or being Mori. Quell isn't pushing the matter either, so I think I'm done with this journey. I've remembered enough."
"Doctor Hezk believes-"
"Wonderful for her. Excellent. But no thanks."
There's a pause as the doctor stares into the camera, and finally; "Noted. I've marked it down in your notes. Should you change your mind then you can contact me and I'll have her recommence the appointments."
Not that Gohan wants to say it, but the specialized candles Doctor Hezk uses to induce a memory response is so very clearly a hallucinogen, and he's still avoiding anything that might have him (in Quell's words) relapse. Even then, Gohan believes he's remembered plenty to get a grasp the situation Mori has put himself in here –anything else remembered will just complicate things further. Really, Gohan's just done. And he tells Doctor Jivel that just to drive the message home.
"I'm not going to push you on it," he goes on to say in response, shuffling the notes away. "Where you are right now is already the result of phenomenal step-making, my lord. Whilst you're still very much influenced by your reincarnated personality, I can see a clearer picture of the person you once were as Lord Mori –which doesn't reassure you, I'm sure, but makes things easier with you taking up your godhood."
Gohan's face sours, lips puckering like he'd sucked a lemon. "I'm not entirely him."
"Right. And you're not just the Earth boy, either."
"Sure, right. I guess… I'm both."
"Then I suppose that concludes our very long game," Doctor Jivel hums, looking naughty. "After all this time, you've not been able to convince us that you're not Lord Mori, and we've not been able to convince you that you're not Gohan Son. Shall… we call it a stalemate?"
The young man, the god, tilts his head, looking hard at the doctor through the computer screen. A sudden smile cracks Gohan's face wide.
"Goodbye, doctor." The young man has to contain a laugh. "Give my best to Doctor Yuluk."
Doctor Jivel shares in the humour, beetle-like eyes bright. "Of course. Goodbye, Lord Gohan."
The screen dies, leaving Gohan to stare back at his own reflection, feeling the most comfortable in years upon seeing it.
The World Martial Arts Tournament Grounds, Earth
Age 780
It's a rainbow of people, shirts, umbrellas and merchandise available from the surrounding stalls which plugs the ever-filling stands. Goten watches from his seat, hotdog half wedged into his mouth, as the chairs' occupants find their places and ready themselves for the show at hand. The day is moderately nice, with it being perfectly overcast and with a hint of sun, thusly ideal for those taking part in today's spectacle - one of those participants is the reason Goten is here in the first place.
Videl Satan is adamant on winning this year, and with the World Martial Arts Tournament having never looked livelier, he thinks she might be in with a chance.
On her back, Goten spots her number (#23), bounce up and down as all the participants jogs on the spot. Videl appears extra determined today. Her hair is scraped back into a tight ponytail, emphasizing the sharpness of her glare as she runs between posts. Whilst she's always been the victim of a resting bitch face, it looks particular vicious, ready for anyone stupid enough to underestimate her.
Goten is not one of those people. He knows her, knows how strong and fierce she is. Even watching her now, he feels his chest tighten. How hadn't he realised before? Of course he likes her; she's great, something the crowd agrees with. Wolf-whistles and heckles are called out to her, with some fans even wearing masks of her. Goten knows she doesn't like it though as she looks about ready to pop. At one point, she takes the time to turn and flip one brazen asshole off after he shouts something particularly obscene.
That'll be trending tomorrow, no doubt. It'll be front page worthy. Goten can see it now. Videl Satan as Unladylike as Ever or Videl Satan: Embarrassing Herself Yet Again. The press are not as kind to her, even with someone like the World Champion as her father.
Even with how awkward it was with their last meeting, Videl had reassured that nothing between them needs to change, just that Goten needs to work on moving on from his feelings –which is hard when she's so… so great! At the restaurant, once Goten had felt the dismal fight between his dad and Vegeta end, she'd promised that she wouldn't go anywhere, would always be his friend… Even though Goten had had his heart crushed, he can't help but still feel the need to still come and support her today. They're still friends, after all.
From his spot, he watches her as she performs some stretches down in the ring area amongst the other contestants, heart warm.
"Think she'll get far?" Trunks asks from the chair beside him after already having devoured his own collection of snacks. "I don't think anyone decent has signed up this year, and the lack of comic-relief fighters this year is disappointingly low. Tch, there's not even one fatty."
"Videl hasn't really been training much either, though," Goten puts out there, suddenly more dour, "she's been too busy with work stuff and the… ugh, the…"
"Wedding?"
It's like swallowing vomit. "Yes, that."
"I don't wanna' hear you bitching about it again. You decided to come today so you have no right to complain."
"I couldn't exactly say no to supporting her, could I?"
In response, Trunks takes an obnoxious slurp of his cola and shrugs. Goten wants to slap it out of his hands but knows better. Even if the crowds want to see a fight today, it's not going to be between the two of them… although it's pretty tempting with how sulky Trunks looks about it all. He hadn't even wanted to come in the first place, only agreeing after Goten applied the puppy eyes hard –that and having promised him a batch of his mother's home-baked cookies when she next makes them.
Whereas Goten isn't keen on fighting, Trunks has come to loathe it in recent times, and that extends to even watching it or to so much as even talking about it. Having a talent for the sport doesn't equate enjoyment; something both their dads could do with learning. Sometimes, they bicker about who has it worse. Sure, Vegeta is a Class A asshole, but at least he has common sense –he at least understands that Trunks doesn't live for the fight. Goten's dad on the other hand…
Goten shudders.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Trunks practically chokes on his straw. "Look, there's Old Man Satan!"
They both leap up to look over the railings, grinning. Several others do too, with some of them cheering and chanting the champion's name. In the ring, the geezer gives an awkward sort of wave before flashing a victory sign. The crowd loves it. Whistles and screams follow. Even Trunks gives the old goat a holler.
"Yeah! You go, Mister Satan!"
Goten quickly collects his noisemaker and puts it to use. "Yeeeeah!"
Mister Satan, of course, loves the attention. He flexes and gives the crowd some of his finest moves to date. Videl, meanwhile, looks like she's enjoying none of it and her discomfort fuels Goten and Trunks' glee even more. They cheer the moment she shields her face in embarrassment, and then high-five.
"Objective achieved!" Trunks calls. Goten gives another whistle to rub the salt in.
"We love you, Mister Satan!" cries the woman behind them. Hideously, she's completely decked out in his merchandise, giant-foam finger and all.
"Thank you!" another wails.
"The world won't ever forget! We love you!"
"Cell was TOAST!"
Goten rolls his eyes, taking his seat and trying to look anywhere but at Trunks (who's most likely scrutinizing him right now), and stuffs another hotdog into his mouth. Trunks takes a seat beside him, but continues to lean over the railings, staring down into the mass of fighters.
"Y'know," he eventually says when the screaming dies down, "he really isn't looking too hot. I know Videl said that he's got stomach problems or whatever but he's about as white as a ghost."
"Eh?" Goten takes a peek too. They're pretty high up but just about close enough to see that, indeed, Mister Satan does look rather grisly. The guy is sweating more than usual, and that balding spot atop his head is extra shiny under the pale sheen. "Oh, he does."
"Think he's dying?"
"Trunks," Goten scolds, trying not to laugh. "No, I… I think… is it me or does he just look really nervous?"
"Nervous? How can you tell? He's always been a bit dodgy-looking."
Goten's point is eventually proven when Mister Satan finally takes a microphone to address his devoted fans. His voice shakes more than that badly-styled wad of afro hair when he bumbles forward. As he shouts, gesturing for the crowd to return his awful shrieking in waves, it all comes across as extra-forced; extra-strained.
"Yeaaaaah! Hey, everyone! I'm so happy to be heeeeere!" he bellows, jogging forward, "yeee-uuuuu—uwah— OOF!"
The nearby announcer rushes forward to help him up when the champion falls flat on his face. Credit to Videl, she doesn't move. She just shakes her head, absolutely devoid of any available emotion. "Ooh, Champ, are you okay? That was a nasty fall you just-"
"Bwah ha ha ha! Just a bit of comedy for the kids in the audience! YEEEEAH!"
Trunks claps for the audacity. "Wow, just imagine the mental gymnastics you'd need to do to believe a dolt like him…"
"Uwah, Mister Satan is just so giving," says the same woman from behind, teary. Her friend nods, and both Trunks and Goten turn to find themselves very alone in their beliefs. One man actually runs over to throw a rose over the railings.
Trunks has another quip at the ready. This time, however, he just sounds defeated. "Who knew? Majin Buu was actually trying to do us a favour by eradicating the Earth."
More and more filter into the stands below and it becomes too loud for general chit-chat. Trunks, at one point, disappears and reappears with more snacks before going on his phone as the fighters line up. Goten watches as each one looks as disappointing as the last, strutting around and embarrassing themselves on a grand scale. Videl, in contrast, is poised, standing next to a couple of other female fighters and talking. He tries to give her a wave when she looks in his direction but she's unable to see him. She does, however, wave to Haruto down in the stands.
With his mood soiled, Goten sulks for a while. He watches with a lack of enthusiasm as the opening ceremony of the finals starts to come to a close. As his eyes drift, he notices something of immediate interest near one of the entry ways.
"Woah, woah, is that Piccolo?"
"Ah?"
"It's Piccolo! Look, down there! He's there! Look, by the far right entrance –with Buu!"
"Why would Piccolo be here?—Oh, it is him!" Trunks, now a lot more interested, leans back over the railings for a better look. "That's so weird. Why's he here? You think he's competing?"
"No, otherwise he'd be onstage, right? Surely he's not here to watch. Why would he be?"
"Then why else would he be here? He's down in the VIP section," Trunks counters, "although… he's looking pretty serious."
And he is. From what Goten can see from this high up, the namekian has his eyes firmly onstage. His arms are in a tight knot across his chest as he surveys the situation, body so stiff that Goten's sure the guy hasn't moved the once in minutes. His ki is suppressed too, so low that Goten wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been looking for it. Is he hiding?
"He does," Goten agrees. "Has something happened? Do you think something's wrong?"
"I don't know. But… I do know that since my dad got back after that fight with your dad, he's been a bigger asshole than usual. I think something has him freaked out or something."
Goten swallows against the dryness of his throat, and turns back to see that the namekian still hasn't moved an inch. "Something big, you think?"
"I don't know."
"The Supreme Kai came and bothered my dad about something a while ago; remember? Think it has something to do with that?"
His best friend tightens his grip on his phone, jaw clenched. "I said that I don't know."
Goten notices the aversion right away. "Trunks… Are you scared? I doubt anything is going on. We'd know. I think you're over-re-"
"Let's drop it."
"Okay then..."
Now that Trunks mentions it, Goten has noticed a shift in atmosphere at the Brief place recently. Since breaking up from school for the summer, he's been going round more and more and noticing even less of Vegeta than usual. The muscle-head has been locking himself in that gravity room of his, only coming out for sustenance and not even sparing Goten a single glance when he does so. Goten might as well be invisible to the asshole, although he doesn't treat Trunks much better. Their relationship has been rocky at best recently.
And that makes Goten think about his own dad –especially after seeing Piccolo. If he's here, does that mean…?
The screeching from a microphone has them both recoil, flinching.
"—And to finish off our opening ceremony, our wonderful champion has something he wants to share… for this year, we have a special prize to mark this year's tournament!" The announcer tells all, voice echoing throughout the stadium. Cheering commences again, with several leaning forward to get a better view of their saviour. Even Goten's curiosity has been piqued.
"Th-That's right," Mister Satan bumbles, damp with perspiration. "Th-This year, we have a p-prize for the lucky winner of this here tournament! Y-Yeeeah!"
As loyal as ever, his fans cheer back.
"Ech hem, oh man, it's hot today, r-right?" He pulls at his collar, coughing. "So yeah, this, uh, this prize; it's real special-like, real… erm… godly." Every syllable is a strain for the poor guy. Nearby, Videl looks like she's suffering through it on his behalf, hands covering a red face.
"He's totally freaked out," Goten feels the need to add.
"You think he's having a stroke?"
Mister Satan waves his arms around, spinning them. "Yeah, it's, uh, super godly, and really powerful, and uh, one of a kind so any one collecting special artefacts like this would be…" he coughs again, "would be real lucky to have this one!"
"Wow, he's finally lost it," Trunks says.
Goten would be quick to agree if not for what happens next. Two orange-clad tournament workers climb the stage with a glass box, transparent for all those to see what's inside it. At first, the teenagers don't realise what they're looking at, but then it hits.
"No way!" Goten balks.
Trunks is equally as shocked. "It is!"
"This here," Mister Satan calls out to his mass, "is the Spectacular Power Pole Extraordinaire! Y-Yeah, that's right! It's a specialized w-weapon, accredited by me, Mister Satan, and is set as the grand prize alongside the ten million zeni award! Yeah! That's right! TWO PRIZES! Yeeaaah!
Heh, heh. Of c-course, the tournament prohibits the use of weapons but that doesn't mean it's worthless. Look at its beauty. Its s-splendour is magnificent –it's godly!" He takes a moment to dab away the river of sweat atop his brow. "Y'know, s-some say that if you use this then you can reach God himself. The tales of this special… artefact… knows no bounds! Heh, heh. So, y-yeah! Let's hear it for the Power Pole! Yeaaaaaah!"
As the crowd goes wild with applause, Trunks and Goten can only stare at one another, speechless. Hundreds of questions run through his mind as he faces the blank expression of his best friend, for why the hell would his dad give up something so precious? Why would he give away something akin to a family heirloom –as a prize?
Twisting his attention back to the stage, Goten considers it fate when his eyes directly connect with that of his father's. He's down at the base of the stage alongside the Supreme Kai and Vegeta, looking more serious than the teenager's seen him in years. It's like being doused in ice, and suddenly, Trunks' fear doesn't seem like that much of an over-reaction anymore.
What the hell is going on?
Ringside, the World Martial Arts Tournament Grounds, Earth
Age 780
Goku Son doesn't know it right now, but today is that day that things change for him. He does, however, feel the electricity of tension in the air –knows that something will happen. As he faces down the crowds of spectators at the World Martial Arts Tournament, the cheering feels hollow, feels flatter than it ever has in the past, and he feels any nostalgia he has for the tournament fizzle away. As Mister Satan goes on to talk about the Power Pole's merits, Goku tries to keep a focus on the surrounding area as is the plan. Vegeta does the same, along with Piccolo and Buu, who watch from the far right.
The Supreme Kai stands beside him, tense and completely fixated on Goku's Power Pole centre stage. After a bout of audience roaring, the saiyan leans down to his friend.
"Can you really guarantee all their safety?" he asks, eyes flittering over individual faces in the crowd. "There are thousands of people out there today."
"We'll try our best," the Supreme Kai says grimly, "Kai Champion warriors are posed as guests and spectators here. Some are hidden, waiting for any sign of activity. If anyone can protect the inhabitants here, they can –and you, too. I know you'll do what you can for the people of Earth."
"I will."
"And there are no guarantees that your plan will work so who knows if they will show up," the kai continues, "This Power Pole of yours is a bit of a hard sell, despite this man's… best efforts."
In the distance, Mister Satan's exaggerated laughing commences.
"I promise, the people love him," Goku assures, gesturing to centre stage. "If there's anyone on Earth that can get the word out there about the Power Pole then it's him. Soon, everyone will know about such a… powerful relic being here at the tournament."
Shin sighs, considering him. "I sure hope so –I really do hope that this works, because if not… I surely will have to take up Lord Beerus on his offer and have him assist me. Maybe I can work something out with him, something which ensures Earth's safety."
The saiyan swallows the bad feeling, mouth dry as he remembers the night when Vegeta and he had come to blows. "I… understand. The dragon balls are already gone… and so are Namek's –I didn't realise how serious all this was getting. I… I should have helped sooner."
Another sigh, one drawing from somewhere even deeper, is pulled from his friend. "Goku, I understand your frustration. I do, my friend, but with reason in mind, we both know that Gohan would not want you to sacrifice Earth's safety for him."
"I know," he mutters. "I just… I, uh," a laugh, one most sheepish, escapes him, "you know, sometimes I think I'm going crazy with it. Like, what extent would I really go to, to find out the truth?"
There's a stretch of quiet as neither speak. Goku knows that Shin wants to say more on it (about accepting truth, no doubt), and also that he dares not to. Today is no day for a disagreement.
Shin coughs. "Whatever the case, we need to focus on the happenings of today. Let's hope the Zealites turn up after hearing about the Power Pole. It all was rather last minute. I hope this bit of advertising is enough."
"Doesn't it just mean that if they show up, it goes to show that they were watching the Earth all the more closely?"
"That's… hardly reassuring."
"They know what they're doing here," Goku next points out, "especially if they aimed straight for the dragon balls. If they're still here, do you think they're after other stuff too?"
There's a hum. "Quite possibly. We long ago realised that they are after special artefacts, of which the dragon balls most definitely qualify. The Earth does have its treasures. Even with it being such a secluded planet, it has been a beacon for activity –some of that in thanks to your battles."
"Heh, you make it sound like it's my fault."
"N-No, that's not at all what I mean! I am just saying that after Buu, eyes became drawn your way –Earth's way, even. That victory made quite the statement."
"Oh wow, do I have a rep or somethin' up there?"
"Or something," the Supreme Kai replies, lips pulled upwards. "But I do not think the Zealites are coming to Earth because of you. I have found in my experience that they avoid confrontation when they can so I doubt they'd be chasing trouble incarnate. No, if anything, I think they are sniffing out the planet with the hopes of another find."
"Another relic?"
"Yes. With Majin magic having a history here, surely there might just be something of value."
Goku groans, hand running through his mess of hair. "I don't get it. It's not like they're collecting them. They're trying to get rid of them; destroy them, right?"
"That's right."
"But why?"
"Why indeed." Shin folds his arms, watching with a piercing gaze as Mister Satan propels the Power Pole forward, vigorously displaying it to the masses. "I've only ever known of one instance, millions upon millions of years ago, of the true mass extinction of the relics –and the reason today why we have so few… but, that's impossible for them to do it again. The perpetrators are long since dead."
That's interesting. "Huh, there used to be more?"
"Oh, yes. The universe was once rife with them. Many people equipped themselves with such instruments, until the great purging of them. There were weapons, wishing devices like the dragon balls, sceptres, amulets and all sorts of magical-enchanted devices. How different the universe would have looked had they still been around."
"Wow, I can't imagine it. It sounds kind of dangerous though, right? I mean, it sounds exciting, but also, if these relics got into the wrong hands…"
Shin smiles, eyes not entirely shining with mirth. "Yes, you're not the only person with such a mind-set. You have good company, even amongst the kais, and especially the gods."
"Sounds kinda' political."
"It is, a bit." Then, Shin realises something. "Oh, I do say, Goku, you have actually come into contact with a relic, other than the dragon balls, at least once. Do you remember the Z Sword?"
Of course he does. Gohan had wielded it. "From the Kai planet?"
"Yes! Now, that's a relic. It was a famous sword wielded by gods long before it came into kai possession and then was, uh, possessed by a kai. Its tradition and history is long-lost, but it still holds importance until this day."
"Still?" He scratches at the back of his head, awkward. "Uhm, didn't Gohan and I break it?"
Shin's face puckers briefly. "You did. However, after Buu, I had it restored and now it sits back where it did before Gohan pulled it free from the ground."
"Uwah, really?"
"Yes, no-one's been able to free it since."
Goku grins. That's my boy.
"I've actually been waiting for the Zealites to make their move against it, you know," Shin continues, slow. "Perhaps its legend scares them off. Maybe they think they won't be able to free it."
Maybe they'd need Gohan.
The thought feels darker than it should, like he's naughty for daring to think of such a thing, as if Goku could maybe ask for their hel—
No.
Goku wouldn't go against the Supreme Kai like that. And besides, who's to say that they'd know anything about Gohan's disappearance in the first place? They probably wouldn't even want to help him. No, Goku'll put his faith in Shin. Even if he's adamant in his beliefs that Gohan's soul has… well, has evaporated or whatever, Goku knows that he'll still help him regardless… right?
He swallows, suddenly more nervous about the situation. What would happen if they didn't show up? What would happen if they did? With all this worrying about Gohan and the relics, he'd forgotten about one very important thing.
Up in the crowds of spectators, Goku had felt it almost instantly upon its arrival; the subdued energy of his son. And since then, he's been subconsciously staring up in that direction, on and off, after being stationed at the base of the ring with the hope that Goten would notice him. It's been weeks since last seeing his son and Goku's missed him a whole lot. He hadn't realized how much those little visits had meant to him, how much they had grounded him in some ways. Goten was his routine, outside of training. And so, with no Goten, Goku's been training a lot, more so in preparation for what's been going on with the Supreme Kai, but also because the idea of losing another son (especially without the dragon balls) terrifies him.
Even Vegeta is more on edge. Goku's made sure not to let the word spread as no to upset the other fighters, but it really is a worry. Any wrong slip and everyone is gone… for good.
This time, when Goku looks up at the audience, he catches Goten's gaze and the result is electric. There's an open horror present on his face, a fear which makes Goku want to fly up high and reach out for him, to tell him that it's all going to be okay, but he doesn't –he can't, not right now.
Goten isn't stupid. He must have figured out something is askew, especially with the Power Pole being paraded about as a prize. Damn it. If Goku had known Goten was going to attend the tournament then he would have given him some kind of warning. Alas, it's too late.
Gawkily, he raises a hand and gives a docile wave.
Goten looks shocked by the action, and then more shocked at himself for reciprocating it. His wave is equally meek, paired with a small smile.
Goku, in turn, is delighted and grins. He goes to give him a proper wave and—
BOOM!
"Goku! We've got company!"
Before Goku can make sense of things, smoke atop the stadium blinds the sun, encasing the tournament in a sheet of black. Hundreds scream as an explosion rips out from the sky above. Ripples of ki press against the world, pulling and pushing with a rapid force. Then there's another explosion, a combustion of light and energy, and then, it's at this time that Goku finally decides to make his move.
He's high up, flying and chasing a phantom when his eyes refuse to focus. It's still dark, and he senses very little. Piccolo, Buu and Vegeta are on the move too, and in the background, he feels Goten and Trunks on the approach. Yet, with so little to go on, the only thing he realises that he can do is to reach for the Power Pole. And so, rapid on the uptake, he soars towards where Mister Satan and the weapon last were, only to crash headfirst into the thief already carrying it. He feels the cool material of the pole against his palm before the assailant registers what's happening.
Whether it's because dark, or because of shock of the collision, Goku doesn't take the combat advantage. He trips and skids along the ground, barely catching himself before the first swing flies at him, connecting immediately and sending him rocketing backwards. Eventually, he lands against something hard -and vocal.
"Watch it, you idiot! Get off of me!" snarls Vegeta.
But it's difficult to get bearings. In the smog, everyone's energies feel so far away, even Vegeta's and he's right next to him, or rather, under him.
"I can't see a blasted thing!"
Goku speaks quickly. "They've got the Power Pole, and the boys are somewhere around here. Make sure they don't bite off more than they can chew. I think these guys might be pretty strong."
"Don't stick me with babysitting duty," he snaps, but then Goku hears the dark smile in his next choice of words, "that's what we have the namek for."
Goku lets it slide, knowing full well that Piccolo probably will just take the role naturally. Perhaps he's the only responsible one here; at least he knows to prioritize the kids' safety –he always has. With that thought, returns the guilt. Goku knows he should take charge of Goten more but he has to get the Power Pole back and help stop these guys for good.
The chance comes quickly enough. Goku bounces high, taking to the sky. He stays within the dome of smoke, not out of choice, but because the sticky substance doesn't permit him to leave. It pulls at him like an orbit, dragging with ferocious gravity when he tries to get a vantage point.
Darn it. What can I do nex—
An explosion sounds from somewhere in the dark, and instead of the smoke being flushed away, it sets on fire, burning and stealing the oxygen in their tight enclosure whilst only offering the stingiest bit of light.
His heart sinks.
"Goten!"
As Goku dashes down, blind, he comes into contact with another fighter, one without the Power Pole. There's a brief exchange of hand to hand combat, with Goku taking a nasty punch to the face, before he realises the common sense approach to all of this.
They can clearly see in the dark.
And so, Goku powers up to super saiyan. The transformation creates a humble flashlight effect, and finally, he can see.
In front of him, the fighter is decked out all in black, with wisps of smoke swamping the form, sticking and loyally following its master's moves. The clothes themselves look to be made from an indescribable material, like they too could be smoke itself. Are these people ghosts?
"Why are you destroying the relics?" he asks of the person, this Zealite.
The Zealite says nothing, instead choosing to attack. Goku sees the fist, registers what's happening and strikes down hard. The fighter falls fast and before he can get up, Goku moves on in the aim of finding Goten -and also the Power Pole.
It's Goten who he finds first, right near where the explosion took place. The terrible stench of burnt flesh has him concerned straight away upon seeing him but apparently it's for nought. His son is also a super saiyan, after he must have realised it's the best way to see in the darkness, but otherwise, he looks normal. Only upon noticing a very singed Trunks on his back, does Goku realise what happened.
"He tried to blast his way out," Goten explains, "and then… and then-"
"He'll be alright. Has anyone tried to hurt you?"
"N-No. What's going on? Why can't we get out? Why's it so dark?" Eyes a manic teal, they grow as they look towards him for comfort. Angry with him or not, Goten needs the reassurance. "It's not going to be like Buu again, is it? Is it?"
"Goten, listen. Hey, Goten. I need you to stay calm. Okay, son?" There's a stiff nod in reply, but he looks unsure and so very anxious. "It's not going to be like Buu. Just stay down, alright? If you stay out of the way, I don't think anyone will hurt you."
"What's going on?"
"Just stay here."
On Goten's back, Trunks suddenly gives out a pathetic cough, lethargically looking around with pressed eyes. "Wha' happened?"
"Both of you; stay here," Goku says, firmer this time. "You need to-"
There's another explosion from the far right. Hot winds blow against them, sending the encumbered Goten down to the floor. Goku has to hold onto him to keep him still. There's another gust of air, and then the knowing clattering of something against the tiled floor.
The Power Pole!
But before Goku has a chance to retrieve it, a boot presses firmly against his face and he's forced to kiss cold tiles. They crunch from the force, cracking something in Goku's jaw during the collision. When he rises, he feels a trickle of blood discharge from over his lips.
"Dad!"
He wipes the red against his wristbands. "Stay down, Goten."
The Zealite is already on the move, being swallowed into the darkness, Power Pole in his grip. Goku spares Goten one last look and follows him, disappearing into the darkness, his thin aura of gold being the only spectre of light in the entire space. The Zealite doesn't have a ki reading so it makes him difficult to track, and with the various sounds of explosions and fighting surrounding them, he's also struggling to rely on his ears.
Finally, however, he's rewarded when he ascends to the second state of super saiyan, growing his golden light. Cracks of electricity lick out at the darkened Zealite.
I've got you now!
But he doesn't. When Goku makes a move for the thief, several other black-clad fighters descend upon him like the night. There's four, no, five… six, seven… eight?
Goku battles two away from him when they charge in unison, and then ducks under the third when they attempt to barrel kick him. He's not as prepared for the fourth or fifth. One backhands him left, whilst the other catches him and propels him back to the ring floor.
He's not thinking when he goes to prepare a ki attack. After witnessing the last explosion, he should have known better. Right away, the smoke around him catches fire and Goku's hands are left scalded, wristbands destroyed.
"Kakarot! Look right!"
Vegeta?
He does so, just in time for him to manoeuvre away from an oncoming attack. He rolls and jumps up, already preparing a block from yet another Zealite. It's the one with the Power Pole! So Goku grabs his wrist, turning back on itself and before sending him off with his finest headbutt. The pole drops and clatters, but before Goku can find it, another Zealite comes for him.
Vegeta catches this one, now also a super saiyan. He kicks them away. "What the hell? Is there an infinite amount of these bastards?!"
Goku notices that he's taken more damage than he has. He must have been fighting from the start. "Where's Piccolo?"
"He's helping the trapped earthlings. Where are the boys?"
"Just over there. They're hiding. Woaah—to your left!"
Vegeta doesn't duck in time. A blade then rips from out of the black, piercing his shoulder and poking free from the other side. Goku can see the dark steel tip. But it doesn't stop the prince. No, if anything, it infuriates him. He twists furiously, angling himself as to pull the blade out. It tears free, blood raining down in its loss, with Vegeta quick to put it to use. He drives it straight back from whence it came; into the chest of its owner.
At first, the Zealite stumbles, wobbling for a short instance, before crumbling to floor.
"That's one," Vegeta huffs, sweating.
Three more are quick to take the dead's place.
"You've gotta' be kidding me," Goku breathes.
Behind, there's another explosion. He can only hope that it's not Goten…
When the hot air rushes from behind, the Zealites take charge from the front. Sensing that Goku's the bigger threat, two go for him whilst the final takes on Vegeta. The previous force of Zealites makes their move too. And soon, Goku is dodging flurries of fists, blades and studded boots that aim to maim or kill. Still, with the lack of clear vision, in both eyesight and energy senses, it proves to be difficult to keep any sort of advantage.
He doesn't even have a chance to transform into the third ascension of super saiyan –he doesn't have chance to do much of anything. Vegeta is fairing similarly. At one point, Goku is splashed with the fellow saiyan's blood splatter after taking another knife to the shoulder. This Zealite doesn't make the same mistake of leaving the blade there. He takes it back and attempts another slashing. Goku only stops him at the last second, striking him so hard that he doubts the guy will be getting back up after it.
"There's too many!" Vegeta pants.
Goku agrees. "Any ideas?"
Before he can reply, Vegeta kicks another two of them away. He grunts and falls when another slashes at him again.
"Vegeta!"
"Don't get cut," he growls, "the blades are laced with something."
Goku plummets an attacker south before they get a chance to even make their move. The rattling of a blade against the floor makes him feel nervous. Some of these are getting close.
"Kakarot!"
It's as if the darkness had spewed forth a small army. No less than ten Zealites pour free from the black, charging straight in Goku's direction. There's a glistening of gold, reflected from Goku's very own aura, bouncing from their blades, ones which are raised high. The sharp edges come at him like a tide. There's no avoiding it.
And so, Goku prepares himself for the worst. He charges up his ki to dispel their line of action, to throw them off their balance, and at first, he thinks it's working because he doesn't feel the piercing of skin whatsoever. And then, he realises what's really happening.
The dome of smoke above starts to fracture. Like an eggshell being broken open, the cracks course down from the top, sunlight charging into their prison. The lines are almost too much to look at. The white shock of it has both the Zealites and Goku covering their eyes. It's just so bright.
It hurts.
Soon, the lines all come together. They craft a sort of brilliant jigsaw, one which crumbles completely, freeing them. Fresh air has never tasted so fresh.
Black disappears completely. The smoky substance is swallowed by day, by the sun… and by the opposing figure atop of the stadium. His hand is still raised in the direction of the stage, and most evidently the reason to why they're all free.
And finally, there's a reaction from the Zealites. Goku hears one of them say something but it's not in a language he's ever heard before. He does recognize the tone as panicked, however. One of them starts shouting at another, with the other shouting something in return.
And then, to Goku's horror, all the Zealites start disappearing. One by one, they fizzle away –even the dead ones! There are at least fifteen of them which dissolve. Or, that's at least what Goku originally thinks because that's when he notices something. The disappearing Zealites all sway in the direction of one, the one nearest to Goku, the one that is shouting –the leader.
What… what is this? Is it a technique?
Eventually, that leaves them with just two lone Zealites. And then, when they disappear into a puff of smoke, they're left with none.
"Vegeta, did you see that? Hey, Vegeta…?"
Goku turns back to his friend to see that, whilst he's bloodied and beaten, he looks relatively fine. Well, except for the look of horror upon his face.
"What? What… is it?"
The prince doesn't even wipe the trickle of blood from his lips. His eyes are wide, his pallor pale as he stares up at the person who'd just helped them destroy the dome.
"Kakarot," he says, voice small, "that's him… That's Lord Beerus."
The Estate, the Realm of the Almighty
Age 780
The occasion comes with a thin sheet of snow; the tell-tale sign that winter has started to take a hold of the realm. Still, the days continue as normal. Gohan has been kept busy as of recent. Between attending the meetings, training and going on his own ventures, he's had little time for himself. Over the years, he's found strength beyond that of physical –trained in more ways than one and rediscovered past transformations thought lost.
Quell faces him, brow moist and breath thin. His energy-laden sword disappears into speckles of ki as his boots touch the earth. But this isn't Gohan's present opponent.
"Hyahh!"
A current of electric energy propels Rixas forward, sword at the ready. Gohan has long since lost his in the mountain side and has been on the defence as a result. He drops low as a flurry of shockwaves course overhead when Rixas moves again. There's a stench of singed hair and he knows he must have lost a few strands to the latest dash. That means he's not fast enough, didn't duck far enough –it also means Rixas is definitely close enough to press on with a physical attack. He prepares himself. His fingers stretch out, grasping before anything appears. Instead of catching air, he ensnares a hand. The sword drops.
"Got you," he gloats, mouth drawn in mirth.
He twists the hand until he feels the bones snap beneath his own. Each finger cracks with satisfaction.
Rixas grimaces, but doesn't cry.
Gohan is yet again prepared against another physical attack, so when the other fist swings at him, Gohan catches that too. His knee rips upwards in a brutal assault. It hooks Rixas in the jaw, not stopping even upon feeling the crunching from impact, crashing hard and without restraint.
And that's when they all hear that fatal shattering of bone.
A moment of silence follows until…
Clap, clap, clap.
"Very nice," Quell praises.
Gohan finally moves back, and then immediately reaches for Rixas. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Apparently still in shock, Rixas flatly waves his good hand at him. Fat pools of blood dribble down from his chin.
Gohan reaches for him. "Let me see it-"
"S' 'ine," Rixas tries through the gush of red.
"I'm sorry-"
"Don't coddle him," Quell says from the side lines. "His cockiness was his own downfall."
"Stay," Rixas demands, ignoring the eldest, "t'ain 'nore."
Gohan has no idea what he's saying.
But at least the idiot has enough common sense to know when to seek some medical aid. As Rixas goes in the direction of the salve, he flashes Gohan a thumbs-up job well done. Even with his bottom five teeth missing, the guy still manages to look like he's just had the time of his life.
Gohan scratches at the back of his head, frowning.
He's not going to be happy until we kill one another…
"That was a rather satisfying conclusion," Quell says, "especially after all that bravado he spewed this morning."
"Don't be such a sadist," Gohan scolds, still feeling a little bad about it all. It's not that Rixas hasn't done worse to him, but still…
Quell then approaches, pulling his hair out of his tight braid as if to signal the end of the training session. Gohan watches as his brother threads his fingers through the locks before setting his eyes one Gohan's. "You know, Mori, I don't understand why you insist upon keeping your current bland style. The blonde hair suits you more so, the black is garish. I don't like it."
"It's not a fashion choice. This is my original hair colour –it's what I look like. Unless you want me pottering about with hair dye then I can't change that."
"Don't saiyans have that transformation of theirs –the one where they turn gold? I would be fine with that."
"Yes, some of them do. I don't anymore –I outgrew it, I suppose."
"Pity."
"It could have been worse. Saiyans usually have tails. I'm surprised it hasn't grown back at least once since arriving here."
"A smell mercy. If you had returned a great ape, I think I might have had to put you down myself, that or gift you as a pet to Rixas."
Gohan laughs. "Well, at least he would have had the happy ending of a friend who's finally on his level. But alas, you got me, black hair and all."
Quell crosses his arms, unappeased. "You were blonde before."
"That was a different body."
"How ghastly."
Gohan laughs and collects his under-robe from the ground. He fastens each intricate clip. "Do you want me to attempt reaching the super saiyan state to make you feel better?"
"It's far more godly-looking so I'm not opposed to it."
"I bet you're not. Are mortals really that disgusting to you?"
"We're different species," Quell goes on to say, nose in the air. "When you returned in such a form I was mortified for you. No deity such as yourself should be walking around packaged as a fragile flesh bag unworthy of divinity. How would I be expected to look the kais in the face knowing my brother had sunk so low? Tch. Thank the Almighty that's over with."
Gohan shakes his head, but he's still smiling. The guy is absolutely awful. What a terrible personality.
"Mori, it's time for you to stop humbling yourself. I hate seeing you run around with the commoners as much as you do."
"You mean that you don't like me saving them as much as I do," he tells him bluntly as that is the best way to deal with Quell. "You think I should let them all get murdered by the roaming tyrants plundering the universe."
"Mortals killing mortals; standard practice."
"They need help. I've already intervened and stopped so many already."
"Yes, yes, so lovely of you. Really, Mori, it's a cute habit you've forged for yourself." Quell laughs. "We have our very own superhero in the midst. I'd rather you hurry and get all this out of your system as to be done with it."
"Don't patronize me…" Gohan huffs.
"Then stop wearing your heart on your sleeve," he reproaches, "You always give everything away. Remember: always smile. Don't let anyone read your thoughts. Don't let anyone know what you're against and what you're for. I've said this time and time again, little brother."
"Then nothing ever changes, no difference will ever be made."
"Tch, and what difference have you made so far?"
"Millions have been spared because I've stepped in. Imagine the change we could make if we intervened more often."
"You mean by killing them? You think we should use our time killing the mortals as to save them?"
"W-Well…"
Quell taps his cheek, eyes lighting up with faux realization. "Oh, that's right. You're not fond of that word, are you?"
"Quell…"
"That's what it is, sweet brother," the fellow god continues. "You're going around slaying them after passing judgement, and by doing so; you're committing the same crime as them, are you not? Killing in the name of something?"
Gohan knows Quell is just trying to difficult now. "Tch, that's completely different."
"You're right, and that only difference is status. Do you think it your divine right to squander life because of your own beliefs? You think it's wrong of mortals to kill…"
"Well… I…" Gohan swallows. "I'm a god. I want to make a difference… What's the use if I don't?"
Quell's face lights up, bright with victorious energy. "So you do know your superiority. At least that's finally sticking. With how much you run around after the mortals, I've been worried."
"You say that but Rixas is always around mortals and you never complain."
"Yes," he lowly replies as he passes Gohan the forgotten cloak he'd long ago shed. He hadn't wanted to get it dirty whilst training. "But his head is so thick that no matter how much I request it of him to stop he'll simply do as he wishes, at least with the mortals."
"Then what do you suppose I do? There must be a way we could stop all this warring for good."
Quell snorts and then jokes. "They are but toddlers who love to fight; they simply use magic and ki as they tantrum."
"Some people just shouldn't be allowed ki…"
"So true, but unless you want to run around disarming them then it is something you should accept. Mortals are selfish fools with little understanding of it."
"There's nothing wrong with mortals, brother," Gohan sighs as a sea of fastenings on the cloak take his concentration. "Argh… I don't think my opinion will –damn- I think I'll always –ugh- mortals are fine! Rixas agrees, too! Argh! Quell, please can you help me?"
Quell hauls him by the collar and non-too-gently starts clipping the cloak together. "Rixas is weak to the mortal plight, and that's down to the very fabric of his nature. You shouldn't be. We're the same, you and I. We don't need to deal with them in the same way he does. As the God of War, he's always had a very…"
"Human element to him," Gohan finishes, enjoying the tongue-in-cheek of it.
Quell tugs hard on the cloak. "Yes, sure, that. Famis had not, I do not, and you should not. As much as I don't mind you being in his company, I don't want his influence to lead you astray again."
"That… that was all me."
"Hmm."
"Don't blame Rixas for my being reckless."
"I don't. At least, not entirely. I blame myself too." Hands clap against shoulders. "There, you're done."
"Ah, thanks."
Gohan pulls away and admires Quell's handiwork. He'd wanted to wear this cloak because he knows Quell likes it when he dresses smart. But it's new and Gohan has zero idea how to deal with it even after Myra showed him no less than five times. The colour is blue as usual, but there's a lot of gold and browns weaved in and hidden between seams and the stitch. The buttons are a fine brass colour and even if Gohan doesn't appreciate it, he knows Quell would.
"Of course not. Myra did."
"Not bad," he says, "I know you didn't pick it out. Your taste is nearly not as refined. Speaking of taste, have you so much as looked at the book I loaned you? I think it's suited to your reading palette."
Gohan pulls a face. Yes, he has looked at it, and then he chucked it to the back of his bookcase as for it not to offend him again. If anyone's taste needs to be questioned, it's Quell's. "It's just propaganda material –a fiction full of hateful rhetoric and reckless ki abuse."
Quell scoffs, amused. "I knew you would say that. You're so dull." A pair of gloved hands clap together as Gohan notices the approaching figure in the distance. "Oh, oh, look who it is. The Great Battle Lord has returned from the medical bay."
Rixas is completely sodden in blood, but his teeth have returned, appearing oddly white against their stained brothers. The guilt lessens for Gohan upon seeing that his jaw has also been fixed –the salve is amazing. It works so quickly.
Still, he looks a bit grumpy upon the arrival. His expression is accusatory. "What are you two doing?"
"Scheming," Gohan says because Rixas will accuse them of that anyway.
At the exact same time, Quell replies, "We're talking about books. I'd invite you but you'd need to be able to read."
Rixas pulls a face and flips a finger. "It sounds like a gay old time. As much as I'd love to talk about the jollies of a ravishingly filthy smut book, I've actually returned to you with business. I just ran across your lovely assistant, Quell; always such a charming and charismatic chap. He was on his way here but I said I'd deliver the exciting news myself because I'm such a nice guy."
"Yes, you're so wonderful," Gohan dryly comments.
"So I've been told… brat."
Quell leans back against the wall, arms crossing, nose high. "By all means, don't keep us in suspense. What is this news?"
But Rixas seems suddenly a touch more playful. "Do we have any guesses? Any at all? Yes, you, the little lady with the powerhouse, teeth-destroying kick."
Gohan lowers his hand. "Is it to do with Zealites?"
"Eh-er! Nope."
"Of course it's not," Quells brusquely tells the two, snooty. "If it was, I'd already know. Let me hazard a guess. Is it to do with the kais? Have they already arrived for the meeting?"
Gohan leans forward. "They're coming here?"
"Oh, it's to do with the kais! They're not here yet but you're not far off," Rixas praises, "Very nice. Very nice, big bro."
"Why are they coming here?"
Quell admonishes Gohan with a wave of a hand. "Hush, I'm thinking… Oh, oh. Rixas, do tell me, they've dragged along Grand Zeno, haven't they? I have been expecting a visit."
Rixas wags a finger only inches from Gohan's face. "Noh-uh."
"Is it time for the Grand Sacrifice of the Plains again?"
Gohan chokes. "Wh-What?! Sacr-"
"Another tournament?"
"Nooope."
"Oh no, it's the Destroyers… They're coming, aren't they?"
"Nope. Tell you what. How about I just help ya?" He moves in close to give Gohan a pointedly big squeeze of the cheek. "What was this one always going on about a few years ago? His precious Earth and-?"
"My family," Gohan growls, pulling away and slapping the idiot. "My friends? My girlfriend?"
"Psk, you never had a girlfriend."
"Yes, I did."
"You probably had some mouldy magazines and your right hand. You were a total vi-."
"Virgin, yes, yes. We've heard it all before."
"…Sounds like something a virgin would say." He narrowly avoids a slap to the back of the head. "Okay, another clue. There are seven of them."
Quell clicks his fingers. "You're referring to the dragon balls, aren't you? Also, don't be disgusting. I'm sure Mori was suitably popular on Earth amongst the mortals."
When Rixas points an affirming finger at Quell, Gohan calls out, surprised. "They're bringing dragon balls?"
"Just the one. They're leaving it in our charge."
"They're super dragon balls, Mori," Quell next informs him. "They're more powerful than the usual counterparts you're familiar with. The wishes they're able to grant are without restriction. It's a total barbaric display of power –terribly miscalculated in their creation. Not to mention that the size of the balls themselves is just ridiculous. What terrible design." He weaves his fingers through his long locks. "You know, I'm not surprised they want us to guard one what with all the mayhem that's been surrounding dragon balls over the last millennia or so. It's about time they took them more seriously."
Rixas hums. "I'm kinda' surprised they're asking us."
"Me too," Quell agrees. "Though, I suppose they have little choice if they want to appear unbiased against the gods."
"Dragon balls…" Gohan breathes, "To think I'll get to see one again so soon."
Quell sends him a look. "Don't be getting any ideas. I really cannot be bothered extracting you from that backward planet of yours should you get a little too nostalgic. If I end up there, then my hand will be forced and heads will roll."
"Eh, you're like a possessive boyfriend," Rixas tells him and for effect, reaches to ruffle at Gohan's mess of spikes. "You gotta' treat him gently or else he'll run away again. Ain't that right, bud?"
Gohan pulls away, tempted to snap another selection of fingers.
"Stop it," Quell reprimands, pushing himself up from the wall. "Don't give Mori another complex. I cannot deal with any more insecurities from his bleeding heart, that and we have much to do. If the kais are bringing the dragon ball today then I do not want them to hover whilst we secure it away. Rixas, have your captain and her men take it to the far east section of the realm and to the particle specialist once it arrives. I want it shrunk so we can store it here at the estate. Mori, mask on, you're with me."
Gohan nods and slides a hand across his face. With a cloud of smoke, his mask appears. Rixas, too, has his mask on. It's an aggressive-looking thing, matching how brutishly violent he's demonstrated his fighting to be. Back on Yardrat, Gohan saw first-hand Rixas' vicious streak. However, right now, he's harmless and ready to please.
"I'll come to the meeting as soon as I'm able to," he tells them, voice warped by the mask. And just like that, Rixas disappears into the white day, snowfall colouring the patch of ground where he once stood.
Quell turns to him next, eyes mischievous. "You want to make a difference for your beloved mortals? Then watch. We make little difference on the battlefield. It's in the boardrooms and meeting halls where words pass into law, for the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting."
Once upon a time ago, Gohan might have agreed with that. But these days, he's not as sure. The difference can never come about from the politics of those who don't understand the people they're representing. But… Gohan understands –he was one of them.
But he follows Quell to the meeting anyway, is quiet as they talk, is hidden away, watches as Quell uses language that conveys nothing of what he really means. Gohan sees the kais, faces blank, eyes empty, and feels that frustration return. None of these people care.
"With the dragon ball safely in your careful hands, we can sleep easier at night," one kai, Zamasu, lies through his teeth.
Quell smiles back at his audience, empty, and Gohan is reminded of words earlier said to him.
"Always smile. Don't let them read your thoughts. Don't let them know what you're against and what you're for."
And Gohan gets it –he has for a while now. Quell is in a room of people who'd be rid of him if they could, and yet he seems in control, seems powerful. Many a time Gohan has played audience, watching as his brother held his cards close to his chest, not revealing anything until it was too late for anyone to do anything about it. This time, the lesson seems to really find solidarity with him.
And so, Gohan does as Quell asked him to. He's quiet, and he watches.
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Hello, all! I'm back and with a chapter that's a third the size bigger than planned because I hate myself (and Kag hates me by making me extend it). I've been so horribly busy all April. I'm currently working a six day work week, doing my part time job on top of my full time job, arranging birthdays and travel, and also trying stop my cat from being a plague of pedigree illness (never get pedigree, folks. I rescued her and she's depleting my bank as thanks, haha). So yeah, on that note, sorry for not getting back to people as quick as usual.
Also, a massive thanks to Kags for being my beta, especially for this chapter. It was quite hard in some places. Writing combat isn't very fun and she made me do it -gun to head, I swear ;') (Also this has somehow become my longest chapter? -so far.)
And another thanks for all your reviews, follows and favs! They mean a lot! I adored writing the Quell chapter last time and the feedback was lovely. You guys are so patient with my OCs (I still need to post background stuff on them too...). Sob.
As for this chapter, we're now seeing some progression with the Earth plot (finally). The next time we see them is gonna' be fun! There's going to be lots of drama. First, we've got some bits to cover with our favourite half-saiyan god however. The next chapter shouldn't be as long a wait. A review would absolutely be smashing if you could. Let me know thoughts! Until next time!