The Horse with No Name
Chapter Thirty-Four
Goten's Consequence
Goku holds the Power Pole. Its lightweight and nimble design allows it to be quickly equipped, and with its impressive ability to extend indiscriminately, Goku has always found himself able to trust in it. Goten, too, had found himself relying upon its dependable assistance. But, for the first time, Goku wants to snap it into twiglets, for without the pole, Goten wouldn't have found himself the opportunity to be so reckless, to be so stupid; to… be such a chip off the old block.
Goku blames himself entirely. He crouches in the wreckage of the basement, bringing his hands and the blasted pole up to his face, breathing in its smoky aroma.
He knows it's bad when Vegeta's hand takes his shoulder. There's a squeeze.
Goku closes his eyes and prays. Whatever god is out there, whoever may be listening – please let them do Goku a good turn and give him the strength to bring his sons home, please let them be okay… Wherever they are…
There's a soggy breath, wrangled.
"Goten…"
XXX XXX?
It's cold.
A shrill breeze rattles his bones. It smells of something rich and smoky, bringing with it a heavy lull of disquiet as it echoes throughout crimson-lined valleys. Thorny trees are dotted sporadically along the dusty scape; dead, dry and crisping into oblivion, marring the umber sky with peppered bark. No one is around as to witness the two Zealites dragging Goten along the sand. The barren wasteland bleeds on well into the distance, with faraway dusty clouds dancing an aggressive waltz and buzzing with electricity; Goten's never seen a sandstorm before. Is that where they're going?
Everything feels so empty here. He can't sense anyone.
Goten doesn't have much time to get his bearings however. Both Zealites are clearly very unimpressed with his display of quick thinking back at Capsule Corporation. They're arguing, or at least Goten thinks as much. Their voices bounce with each syllable heatedly, the nasal tones ranging in pitch so much that they could be singing and Goten wouldn't know the difference. One grabs him by the scruff when he doesn't walk fast enough, the other clicks a tongue when he trips on a gathering of rocks; neither so much as bother slowing when the pace becomes too fast.
A strange twitch in his stomach has Goten reach towards it. He coughs and more sparkles appear. The pace picks up even more, until Goten has to stop when the twitch becomes an ache. That orb doesn't like where it is.
"We must hurry," says the Zealite Goten suspects to be in charge. "You likely do not have much time."
"Much time until what? Just… Just take me to my brother. Is he really…" Goten swallows, examining the hellish scape. "…here?"
"'Much time until what?' he asks; the foolish boy." The other Zealite scoffs and then gives Goten a swift shove. "Faster."
The first Zealite also gives him a push. "Until you die," he elaborates. "That relic is cursed. Your mortal body will not put up much of a fight against the infused magic placed upon it to protect itself."
Goten goes numb.
"Do you want to perish where you stand? Walk."
"I'm going to die?" Panic swells up in his throat. He hadn't thought about that. It'd just been some glass ball-thing! "I-I…!"
The other Zealite seems fed up with Goten's deliberating. He snaps something incomprehensibly foreign before then giving a less reserved thrust than before. Goten falls, tasting sand, and the leader wastes no time in dragging him back up. There's immediate discontent and he barks in that language of theirs – something unpleasant, by the sounds of it – the other one shrinks against the bleakness, his smoky aura spitting.
"Should you cooperate, Goten Son, then your life is salvageable."
"His, perhaps. Ours… who can say?"
The leader doesn't miss a beat. "Steel yourself. This idiotic boy shall live to see another day and that is what our lord will value most. He will forgive this."
"If he lives. Did you hear that, Goten Son? You must survive so hurry up."
Unfortunately, the terrain has other ideas. As they fumble forward, it ensnares Goten's foot in a grainy swallow, suctioning him where he stands until it engulfs him up to his knee. Above, it's cold, but beneath and in the mouth of the soil and sand, his leg hums with uncomfortable heat. It pulls and pulls and nothing Goten does makes a difference as it seems the more he shuffles the more edible he becomes. He yelps, trying to fly free but this just makes the desert hungrier; Goten soon starts to sink faster and faster until it's nearing his groin.
The leader has to slash at it with a barrage of smoke. Breathing in the misty black feels like swallowing powdered ice, and not only does Goten dislike it but so does the sand. It hastily hacks Goten back up as though it'd just been poisoned.
"Now, walk faster."
Goten does.
Just what the hell is this place?
Another twist in his guts – whether from the relic or not, he doesn't know – has Goten all the more anxious. Fog emerges next, momentarily blinding the group. Goten falls to it but the Zealites drag him onwards, as though they expected such conditions and have traversed it at least thirty times before. The ominous haze tastes of burnt meat, tears threaten the corners of his eyes, and his throat closes; his body revolting at whatever they're entering through. It's all so foul. Goten wants to be sick.
And then, through the fog, a coliseum emerges.
Or is it an amphitheatre? Goten can't tell the difference. They'd studied mythology in school last term but so much has happened since then; his brain has gone to rot.
It's a ghoulish building, whatever it is. Unlike the similar structures Goten has seen in his textbooks, this one isn't a heavenly white but instead stone grey. Markedly, it's foreboding, with ancient-looking columns guarding the entry point facing them. The thorny trees from earlier spiral the stone with its un-dead embrace, it curls around and around with fingers most sharp and shrivelled like they could belong to a hag. They gesture in welcome.
Goten's first instinct is to run.
The night is encumbered with the sound of wailing; they howl and sing and chorus in a nightmarish performance that has Goten grapple at his ears. He walks along a stone path, sticking firmly to it if only because of what lies beyond; granular faces press up from the dirt – they, too, wail – with mouths wrenched open in perpetual anguish, their expressions melting into the earth. They speak to him. Some beg. Goten doesn't understand the words but he understands their desperation when hands reach up for him. They claw and grapple for his attention, soil fingers crumbling when they dare to reach too close to the sun.
Goten tries to keep his chin high and remembers that he chose this. He'd wanted this.
Another harrowing scream calls out, this time much closer and Goten's knees buckle instantly. Vomit rises in his throat – his stomach aches. This place feels so… evil.
The Zealite leader collects him up.
He's scared. He's so scared. Why on earth did he swallow that stupid orb? God, he's such an idiot. Trunks' had been right. He's an absolute moron! What had Goten expected? This has been one of the most stupid things he's ever done in his entire life! He's never going to see Gohan. Hell, he's never going to see Mum again, or Dad or Videl, or Trunks. He's going to die here because he's so stupid. Dark eyes press closed as the Zealite carries him under his arm, much akin to how one would carry luggage. Goten bounces along, and keeps his eyes shut until he doesn't hear the crying from the floor creatures anymore. He must have held his breath too because at the end of the walkway, he splutters violently, swallowing the murky air like he's never had any before.
Goten feels his body vibrate. "Those… wh-what were they?"
Neither answers. They press on until they're past the first set of columns and then a second set. At the third, sitting beyond a garish, broken statue looking most indistinguishable, is an elaborate door unbefitting the surrounding decay. It's presented between two fire-lit torches and the crumbled rocks that lead up to it; rock of which echoes with sporadic clatters as the Zealites kick them away.
With a creeeak, the door opens.
The wind beats back.
And Goten is immediately lambasted with nausea. The screams are now so loud. They ricochet around the space, threatening to burst his eardrums; his body shakes even harder – his head turns to goo. He hates this place. Wherever they are is wrong. God, Gohan can't be here. If Gohan has been stuck here then… then Goten wishes him gone, wishes him eternally dead because this place is torture. He can't stand the horror of it.
Goten whimpers but the Zealites don't halt.
Strangle them, a voice whispers in his head.
Kill. Eat their flesh, says another.
Feast on their bones.
Dance on their bodies.
Scream with me. Let's scream together!
Goten slaps at his head. There're so many. Who are they? Why are they in his head?!
The Zealite carrying him realizes there's a problem because he does something with a flick of the wrist and the voices thankfully drown out. Goten nearly cries from the relief, never being so happy to see the signature Zealite smoke at work. The ashy residue now shields them, circling like a guard dog as they pass through an empty courtyard (spare the red river passing through) and along and upwards a set of stairs to the peak. At one point, from having been held for too long at an awkward angle, Goten squirms as they near the river just for the leader to slap him about the head.
"You fall in that, you die," he says in reference to the lapping crimson water. Or at least, Goten hopes it is water because it smells metallically familiar.
Goten stills as best he can from then on out. He silently absorbs the scene around, pretending not to exist. He'd love to be anywhere but here, but this hell. They continue onward, however, passing more broken statues and devastation. Tiled stones lay in ruin, cracks streak liberally all the way to the roof which spews dust clouds and excess rockery that had long since grown tired of crowning the building. Everything looks like it could cave in at any moment, well, all except for that colossal, grit infused recreation of an hourglass that stands atop all.
It's hideous. Like the coliseum walls, tree branches course around the base, journeying all the way up until it curls around the head. These branches, however, pulse with life. They're not the tired, crispy brown he'd seen before but instead a bold gold; blooming yellowing leaves, and spherical fruit that seem to be fat with life. Inside the hourglass, sand trickles. The bottom is eternally hollow and black, but the top is generously full. Grey sand sits within the upper section in hills, sprinkling out its collection into the nothingness below. Curiously, at the top of the hourglass is an open hatch in which sand falls from a spiralling ball of gold energy above; it rains ceaselessly.
Another scream sounds. Goten jostles – it's incredibly close. He wants to look away but the Zealites and thus him advance closer towards the sound, or rather, sounds. Goten sees many unfortunate creatures tied up along rows of concrete beams, as if to recreate the tales of crucifixion. Some moan upon seeing him, others weakly clamber but most just flail forward, as if the will had long since been stolen from them. They mark the walkway either side as if to surround Goten; they stare with heavy, haunted expressions that follow like a creeping shadow. These people are depleted. Goten can't recognize humanity behind their gazes… but, he does recognize something atop their heads.
Halos…
It surprises him momentarily. He hadn't expected it but these people are already dead.
God, are they in…?
The bile in his throat makes a much anticipated return. Long since has Goten forgotten about the pain in his stomach, it's now the ache in his heart that hurts most.
I'm scared.
Soon enough, the Zealites stop and Goten realizes why. Two figures stand in the nearby distance, ominously cloaked. The first, Goten recognizes instantly as one of the Gods of Revelation. He's wearing darkened armour with a cape-heavy robe sitting on top, but more recognizably, like Rixas, this one is censored by a mask all too similar to what Goten's seen before. Rixas' is red – Goten would know. The image burned into his mind and he sees it over and over every time he remembers that horrid snow pervaded day. This mask is black however. Only muted golden cracks run throughout the surface, and then above the cheekbones like eyeliner, to bring subtle contrast. Still, even from here, Goten can see the dreadful radiance of gold from his eyes from beneath the mask. Smoke obscures much else; it breathes from the mask and hides any definitive attributes.
This must be their leader, the other one; the last brother. Goten can't remember the name.
The other guy looks equally if not more menacing. He's tall, perhaps taller than even Piccolo, with a long, swooping black cloak that trails the floor as he slowly meanders. Illuminated by the surrounding torches, his skin is sallow, tinted grey almost, with protruding snake-like yellow eyes that peer emptily from sunken sockets. They pierce where they focus. Above, rooted deeply in black, slick hair is what Goten believes horrifyingly to be horns – shaped startlingly like those of a ram's – they twist around and curl into his elongated face, appearing blunt to the touch but nonetheless intimidating.
The two are conversing quietly.
The non-leader Zealite makes a sound at the back of his throat, almost a groan but not quite.
The Zealite leader drops Goten and forces his head down as they also lower, dropping a knee either side of him. "Lord Mori," he calls out.
Lord Mori and the other creepy guy still, and for a second, times seems to halt. The cold air drops several degrees cooler.
"Lord Mori," the leader repeats, equally confident, before then tumbling into a slew of foreign words.
This time, it sounds different. No longer is it the singing tones, but now it's wispier, the syllables roll in quicker succession than ever before and Goten finds it harder to decipher the context. It becomes less difficult when Mori charges at them. His warped voice is burdened with fast fury, the cloak flutters, agonized, in gesture of Goten as the shouts carry eternally.
The Zealites are silent.
Another gust of chill passes and Goten shakes, his gut wrenches, his heart cries.
Mori speaks again, and this time it's measured even through the distortion. The mask conceals all.
The leader now stands but his head remains bowed. He replies in a soft drawl; it's the apology of a man failing his boss; the sound universal. The other Zealite stays quiet as is his place. Goten can only watch as the cool mask faces down all of them – including Goten – with ambiguous measure. From having seen the ever terrifying Quell and the monstrous Rixas, Goten expects that failure might mean a death sentence for these fighters, and possibly even for him, too.
They want us alive, Goten has to remind himself. It's hard to focus. It's hard to remember things. This place has him spiralling, his emotions in a consistent state of limbo between one hot feeling and another, as if his body and mind are conspiring against him. There's that sharp twinge in his stomach once again. He buckles, cringes and burps hot pink glitter this time.
Mori dislikes the display.
He thunders a one word order, and the Zealites disappear. They vanish. Goten thinks they must be thankful to be spared because they're out of here faster than one could blink – Goten just wishes he could have gone with them, out of this wretched place.
"M-My b-brother," Goten demands, attempting defiance. "I w-want—ahh!"
Goten's snatched from the ground once again, to be held exactly as the Zealite had carried him. He is tightly drawn into the god's side, wedged under his arm in a dangle, arms and legs in their now practiced lull. He kicks out but it's like paper battling the wind.
"Let me— Let me go!"
Mori does no such thing. The grasp is so tight that it hurts.
Booted footsteps approach. "Ahhh… Mori, what delicacy are you harbouring within your grasp? Such green life, such youth… How… exceptional it is to witness in my sanctum so dark."
Chills run down Goten's spine. He stops fighting. The hold on him squeezes the air from his lungs.
"What is your name, little one?" asks this other person, or creature or whatever the hell he is. His face spreads in a thinned albeit slimy smile. His fingers reach out, tentative, coiling.
Mori thankfully pulls him back. He replies in that silky language – the second one – and takes a step backwards, his own boot pressing into the dust and decay of the land.
The other person laughs like it's the funniest thing he's ever witnessed.
Still amused, he says something in that foreign tongue, only for the god's ears. Whatever he's saying Goten wishes he'd stop because the hold grows tighter and tighter. Despite the death grip however, Mori replies leisurely.
"I see," says the person, leaning back on his heels and staring between them. It looks like he's enjoying the view. "Dust from a soul like yours, mortal, would be a shame to let slip through my fingers. It is almost a crime to let you leave…"
Goten nearly coughs up his heart.
He advances and Goten wills Mori to move but he doesn't. The person gets so close that Goten can smell the musk from his robes. From the lowered angle, he can just about see that crooked smile through the flurry of black cloth, and then the emerging hand that reaches towards Mori's mask. At first, he thinks the person is going to pull it down but he doesn't, instead sitting his hand at the side where Mori's ear would be.
"Consider my devotion, Mori," he says, soothed, "Think of my gift. Perhaps you should trust me more… You do run the risk of hurting my feelings, I hope you understand."
Whether or not Mori understands, Goten will never know. Whatever he says isn't for his ears.
There's a pause – a stilted lilt in the air – before the man steps back. His rotten odour lingers.
"Goodbye, little one. I hope one day you will visit me again. Lord Haed is always a gracious host, after all."
It's appropriate when Goten hears another scream from wayward in the background.
Haed disappears next, walking towards the gargantuan hourglass before dissolving into grains. He's picked up on a breeze and carried away, lost to the barren land.
What a creepy—ugh.
Mori doesn't waste another second. He turns on his heel and takes the steps Goten had climbed earlier at double the speed the Zealites had taken. He jumps the last few and speeds along the courtyard and towards the river. It's here that Goten feels more than just sparkles and glitter wanting to emerge.
He splutters, striking at Mori's legs until he's dropped. Goten retches into red dirt, bile pouring. It could be the orb, or just as likely, it could be from suffering this evil fucking place. He hates it. It's wrong and malevolent and disgusting and… and…!
He vomits. His stomach squeezes and he cries out.
Mori goes to pick him back up but Goten scrambles backwards. He doesn't want to be touched. No – no, he doesn't want anyone else to touch him.
"Where is he?" Goten wails, "You have Gohan!"
He's still moving, stumbling and standing and falling in quick succession on repeat. The gushing of the river grows loud and he knows he must be near it by now.
"Give him to me!"
It most certainly catches Goten off-guard when Mori shouts at him. "Stay still. Do not move, Goten!"
Goten rotates. The river is less than a few feet away now. The red laps up in keenness to taste him, splashing and reaching with its thick texture. What was it the Zealites had said? This river can kill him?
Just dip your toes, returns the voice embedded in his skull.
The water's great.
When was the last time you swam?
I'm sure you taste divine.
Goten cries, cradling his head. He wants to bash it. Yes, he should bash it until his brain spills and his head is the same colours as the river.
"Stay still," Mori commands through the sea of whispers, "Don't listen to anyone but me."
His stomach flips, his brain fries and Goten screams. He just wants to swim! Why can't Mori see that he needs to wade through the current; that he needs to be consumed?
Your brother is with us, silly.
"Gohan is?"
He wants to see you. Are you going to keep him waiting?
"N-No – I, I want to see my brother. I…" He's crying now, blubbering really, which is ridiculous because the blood river just wants him to have a paddle. Turning on to all fours, he starts crawling to it. His fingers stretch out. "Gohan is…"
"Goten! Stop it! Stop it right now!"
"I-I…"
That's right, sweetheart… Just a little closer now. I haven't touched skin in eons…
Mori must be progressing closer – but he'll never stop Goten! He speeds up and leans over the bank. It's so close now. Gohan is within reach…
And then, his heart skips a beat.
"Goten!"
Goten freezes. That wasn't the warped voice from behind a mask, that wasn't Mori. He whisks around, his chest beating a mile a minute.
The mask is gone, the voices gone; the world, gone.
Goten stares up into the deep, molten richness of gold, and then stares past that. He recognizes it. Gohan. It's Gohan. He's looking at Gohan.
It's him but not him; the same but not. Gohan but…
Is it a trap, a mirage?
"Goten," Not Gohan says, gently like how the real one would, "You're very sick and I need to take you to a hospital."
Goten stares at the hand outstretched to him. It's gloved. Gohan doesn't wear gloves.
Drown him, too, the voice demands, returning with a vengeance.
But it's too late. Goten is ensnared when he allows the hand too near to him, and he's hauled backwards and away from the river and away from the voices. His guts throb, he wants to be sick again even though there must be nothing left of him by now.
"Gohan is in the river," he instead manages, weakly, telling the imposter, "It told me."
His gaze is hazy now. Goten wobbles. Just as he succumbs to the welcome embrace of the void, familiar arms wrap around him.
Goten doesn't dream.
If he did, it would have been laden with nightmarish voices, un-dead watching eyes from the dirt and screaming – so much screaming – as Goten waited upon his crucifix for the river to wash over him. Haed and his claw-like fingers would finally reach him, they'd hook into ears, his mouth, his eyes and yank until Goten's skeleton summersaults free and into a heap of bones. Mori and Gohan would stand above, holding hands whilst instructing that Goten should listen to him and only him, and Goten wouldn't know which one to choose because they're possibly the same person but not, yet all Goten would want to do is go for a swim.
No, no, this is better; the black is so much more comforting. He actually feels rested.
Well, until he's rudely awoken by the incessant nattering by his bed.
Why are people in his room, anyway?
He peels his eyes open.
Oh. This… This isn't his room at all. Everything is sterilely white, from the floor to the tiles along the walls, all except for the silver curtain circling in a crescent moon shape around a good half of his bed. No, this definitely isn't his room. And it's not Capsule Corporation, either. There are strange machines all fitted neatly atop one another, whirring away. The hum of them would be able to be better heard if not for the, what must be, arguing just outside the room.
Goten props his head for a better look but can't see past the chic silver.
This must be a hospital, he realizes. It's hard to recall why or how because the last thing he remembers is swallowing the orb and being dragged to that horrible place and…
Gohan.
Had that been real? Was it delirium? A hallucination?
Goten springs up, pulling his legs tight against his chest. But it's all too fast. The speed of it makes him dizzy, and something must have ripped from him because a wire flings free, splattering wetness everywhere and sending a machine spiralling in beeping fury.
Immediately, the curtain draws back and Goten is face to face with what most certainly isn't a hallucination.
He nearly falls out of bed. "G-Gohan!"
Then he recalls the river, the Zealites, Mori – and then—
"You IDIOT," his brother snarls, golden eyes flashing, "You stupid boy!"
Goten's still trying to process what's happening when another person emerges from behind, pulling at Gohan's arm. "He's still impossibly weak," the man pleads; a doctor if the white and pristine uniform is anything to go by. "Murdering him now defeats the point of his surgery, does it not?"
Surgery?
Goten looks down at his gut in reaction and then trails his fingers there. He's surprised to feel the padding of something foreign. Did they operate on him? What happened? How long has he been here? There's a bandage, Goten understands, feeling the soft familiarity of fabric; it trails around and around a swollen belly. God, the idea that he'd been cut open is enough to make him lightheaded.
"We retrieved the orb," the doctor informs levelly. "It'd bonded rather unpleasantly with your flesh, burrowed into it really, but, our team is good at what they do and so you should find yourself recovered in record time. You're one lucky boy."
Goten is horror struck. "You opened me?"
"You nearly died," Gohan boils. "Just what the hell were you thinking? You—"
"Please, temper yourself otherwise—"
"Be quiet." Gohan isn't done. His brows knit tightly. "In what world—"
"Sir—"
"You know what? Just get out. Go. I'll talk with him alone."
The doctor looks as anxious as Goten feels. He swallows audibly before then reaching forward. "…My lord? You mustn't wear the boy out or—"
"Jivel, I swear by the Almighty, get out of this room before I set the entire hospital ablaze."
My lord?
This person… Gohan; is it Gohan? Goten's never seen him act like this. Not only that, but as opposed to the family inherited black, this person has furious golden eyes, ones that glow and burn with the might of something completely inhuman. Whoever this guy is looks about ready to strangle Goten with how his hands tear at the curtain's fabric. These are the eyes of Quell and Rixas, Goten knows, he remembers. He remembers the person who killed his brother and this guy, well, he looks like Gohan even with those eyes, but just different; he looks… older.
And then, Goten remembers something Videl had said and how well it fits.
'He's definitely Gohan… Just, crank him up to twenty-three.'
Twenty-three… This person could be twenty-tree.
A soft click sounds, indicating the doctor closing the door after himself, leaving Goten and this… this possibly twenty-three year old person.
"So, let me get this right," 'Gohan' very delicately starts, "You charge into the middle of a fight against individuals – the Zealites – you know nothing about and then take a cursed relic, and not only take it, but you taunt the notably dangerous Zealites with it before then… then, I literally cannot believe I'm saying this, SWALLOWING it. Goten Son, in my short absence, did you either evolve into unhinged stupidity or contract fucking brain damage? Because damn well I did not raise you to do something so reckless – so perilous – as to disregard your own life like this! What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you even… even consider something so… so senseless?!"
Goten shrinks back as this Gohan/maybe not Gohan grows taller over the bed.
"They took your appendix! The orb had symbiotically attached itself to your body – does that mean nothing to you? It was leeching your life! Don't you care? Don't you care about your own fucking health?! And in Hell of all places I'm approached with the lump of a brother who thought it clever to eat things off of the floor, like an infant! Just who does that? Who would…? Ugh! I knew you weren't exactly a scholar but I didn't realize you were so mentally diminished!"
"I—I…"
He walks away just to then spin on his heel, apparently not done. "Another thing! I told you! I said for you not to get involved! I wrote it all down and even stuffed it under your bed. Could you not read it? Did your eyes fall out? For God's sake… You weren't supposed to be the problem. You… You were supposed to keep Dad in line, and now he's going to… " There'd been a lone vase on a nearby table; one seen fit to be slapped to the floor in his rage. It smashes, shrill. "Fuck!"
No. No way. This… isn't his Gohan.
Those eyes glitter dangerously, emitting their deep, royal glow.
Goten needs to say something. "Y-Your eyes…"
There's a flash of confusion, and then annoyance. He shirks a shoulder and moves to look out of the window. Goten hears several breaths. "I…" Another breath… "I told you… to… not get involved." From the height of rage to borrowed whispers, this stranger looks to the ceiling for strength. "Now, it's all so much more complicated."
Goten is frozen. He's melded into the bed, a lump lodged in his throat.
A knock at the door saves him. He's never been made so relieved so quickly.
From the window, there's a snappish "What?"
And in walks someone Goten does recognize. It's the fighting woman that'd accompanied Rixas back on Earth days ago, the one that had saved Dad. Goten can't remember her name. She pays him zero mind before then addressing this enraged version of his brother. It's that strange language from back at that place – from Hell – recognized immediately from the quicker nature and breathiness of it. Whatever she's saying must be important because the gold-eyed imposter turns to face her, before then responding in suit; a strange spectacle Goten watches with morbid fascination. They converse at length, with several times Goten being gestured at as though he's a lump of meat wrapped in bed sheets and little else. When the woman turns to Goten, she runs her hand along her face, looking like she'd rather be any place else right now, as though Goten's presence is an utmost burden.
"You were with…" Goten's mouth runs dry and he tries again. "You saved Dad."
Her lip curls. She remains silent.
The other does not. "Shut up, Goten."
It's like looking through fogged glass. The image looking back at him is a distortion of what he expects to see, except it's different in every capacity in what makes Gohan Gohan. Warmth is replaced by arctic anger; Goten's seen it only once before; and even then it had been for Majin Buu and most definitely not for him. It's chilling.
This Gohan is unquestionably older; Goten's sure now that he's focusing on it. He's also taller, if that's even possible, thicker too, wearing a sleek, strange robe that suits him too well. It's not like something Goten's seen in old-timey or fantasy films, it's regal, possibly fashionable. It makes Gohan look far more important than he is. But what catches Goten most off guard (aside from the eyes) is the lone, dangling, orange earring from his left ear. The Gohan he knows would never wear such a thing – their mother would have killed him!
"I… What's going on here? I don't get it!" Goten balls his fists around bunched cotton. "Are you even my brother? You look so… so… I don't know, and you're being so horrible! I just…" The tears are threatening. "I just wanted to find you! You left us. You died. You – you…!"
"If I wasn't your brother then I would have left you to drown yourself, you little idiot! Honestly, I can't believe you. You think waterworks are going to help right now? I'm glad you're upset. Maybe then you'll learn your lesson—"
"My lord," the woman interrupts. Why lord? The doctor had also called Gohan that, too! "Perhaps he should be left to mull on his foolhardy transgressions."
"Roarg…" The tone is threatening. Oh, right, that's her name.
"My lord, I require your assistance with Lord Rixas about a matter of security. I do not wish to levy one importance against the other but a snotty child can entertain himself for a few hours, I'm sure."
What? No!
"N-No, don't go!" Goten scrambles against the wires. "Please, Gohan, Gohan, right? You're Gohan. I don't understand. Why are they calling you 'lord'? I don't get it! Please, don't go. You can't leave me here alone."
If this is not Gohan then this guy does a masterful impression of Gohan's exasperated nose pinch.
Roarg says something in that awful language and Goten wants to throttle her. Best he can do is to throw a pillow.
"Don't listen to her!" He throws another for good measure, only narrowly missing chucking it out of the window. Neither looks very impressed. "Gohan, did they do something to you? W-Why are you being like this? Why do you look so weird?"
Gohan stares at him for a measured length of time, cool.
"My lord?"
"Yes, I'm coming," he says, and Goten cries out, reaching desperately but achieving nothing.
Just before the door shuts, Gohan gives him one last look. "I'll be back. Try not to swallow any other hazardous artefacts whilst I'm gone."
Goten had tried to follow Gohan, naturally. As a result, he'd fallen out of bed and three doctors had rushed to collect him while he'd scrambled to the door, strength zapped. One spindly doctor with polka dots, who most certainly doesn't take prisoners, had strapped him down to the bed having likely never heard of a doctor's supposed gentle, medical touch. Goten had yelped something fierce when they had buckled his legs to the metal frames.
"When you earn our trust then we will remove your shackles," the original doctor, Doctor Jivel, had said diplomatically. "Now, please settle. You need to rest."
There'd also been a female doctor, one frazzled with wrapt interest, with dark skin and eyes who had watched from the door. She'd said nothing and had left with the others, leaving only Goten and Doctor Jivel.
He's a strange man; this Doctor Jivel. As he types on the computer left to Goten's beside, he likes to whistle a chipper little tune to himself, as though it's any other sunny afternoon – like he sits witness to such violent hijinks on a daily basis. Perhaps he does. There'd been not a single flinch upon dealing with Gohan's outburst earlier.
It's stressful. He wants to know more, but everyone he comes into contact with is so tight lipped. Goten has tried now multiple times to get some information out of Doctor Jivel, passing nurses – even a random five eyed, glowing woman Goten suspects to be a visitor. She'd definitely not understood a word he'd said.
The doctor definitely enjoyed the display. "I'm sorry to inform you, young man, that Lanit-Tongue is the language of choice in the Realm of the Almighty. Though, I think Celestinese would also get you by here. Perhaps, Words of Gélt too. So very rarely does Common get used these days; you know, it's all rather nostalgic hearing you speak it so earnestly…"
"Lanit-Tongue…"
"It's a bestowed language. One cannot simply learn it. It's bequeathed by the divine realm and the gods who serve it; a bit political, really. Don't you worry about it."
"What? What do you mean you can't learn it?" Goten flops his head against his pillow as that's all he can do. "That doesn't make any…"
Doctor Jivel waves something familiar. "These were found in your articles of clothing. Notes. I cannot read some of them, unfortunately, but I recognize the scrawl."
They're the scraps of charred paper from Gohan's notebook; the ones he'd torn out back at Capsule Corporation. He'd wanted to keep them safe. The fact they'd managed to survive this long is astounding.
"I'm sure you've read them," the doctor continues, "And that you found something precarious about how the lettering may change from time to time. How queer it must have been for you to witness the divinity in written form – did you get a headache? Nausea? Steelier individuals have felt worse from prolonged exposure, I assure you."
So it was Lanit-Tongue; the strange language Gohan had written in. The gods, Rixas and Quell, and those Zealites, too, had spoken that language. Gohan, just now, with that woman…
"What does it say; the bit you can read?" Goten needs to know.
The doctor looks down at the well-cooked paper, peering over moon-shaped glasses. "Nothing atypical. Most of it is lost to smoke, but from what I can see, I'm happy to report that I would be revealing nothing incriminating by telling you that it's a shopping list. Oh, look at that, you also get eggs on Earth. How lovely. Very protein rich."
It'd been just more chores.
Jivel sighs and places the notes next to Goten's bedside. "Yes, he hadn't been best pleased with himself either when he'd found the notes."
There's no question to who 'he' is in reference to.
"Can you tell me something? Please? I… you kept calling him 'lord'? Why? Gohan's not a lord. Or… Maybe, I mean… Is that even my brother?" Something in his chest hitches. "I… I have no idea what's going on and he killed himself but didn't and… and he died again and… and—"
"Goten, please do calm down. I would hate to increase your anaesthetic dose should you overwork yourself."
"Calm down? Where the hell am I? What's wrong with my brother?!"
"You are in a delicate situation," he tells, slowly, "And right now, your brother is under a heightened state of pressure, and is not quite handling the situation with the decorum he usually expects of himself. He will calm down soon enough. Understand; you frightened him a great deal."
"Then why—?"
"Goten Son." The doctor smiles. "I cannot divulge anything to you that is above my station. I am a mere doctor here at the Spire and nothing more. You'll have to wait for your brother to return to answer your questions for I have neither the jurisdiction nor the patience. For now, rest. Assimilating to the Realm of the Almighty is no joke, and after an invasive surgery such as yours, you will need the least amount of stress as possible."
"Just tell me—"
The doctor hovers a finger over a button-less panel. "I just press this here and so many inconceivably potent chemicals flood your body instantly. You'd be out in seconds."
"Where—"
It turns out the doctor doesn't bluff. He sees out his threat and Goten falls into yet another dreamless slumber.
When Goten next wakes, the spindly doctor that had strapped him down is in the room. Amongst the sheen of white appliances, the silver curtain and the chorus of machinery singing, he gives a faint smile when he notices Goten's groggy eyes watching him. There must be a chart above Goten's head because the doctor consults it several times before checking under the bed sheets and under Goten's hospital-given shirt. Absently, Goten feels bumps of fingertips press over the swollen knot of his stomach. There's an ache.
He then pulls away, writes on his clipboard and gives Goten a pat on the head like he's five. The door shuts behind him and Goten subsequently drifts off once more.
Goten doesn't fully wake up the time following that. He just hears foreign nattering above him. It's a man and a woman, and occasionally they prod at him or wiggle his wires. One of them presses something on the panel, a beep sounds, and the next thing Goten realizes, it's morning. Or at least, he thinks it's morning. The sky outside is purple as it had been in its daytime hours yesterday, but the soft pink undertone makes him believe it's either really early morning or early evening. Regardless, he can hear the birds singing.
He comes and goes a few times after that. Doctor Jivel is sometimes there but not always. More often than not, it's that other doctor, the one who had patted his head, Doctor Yuluk (as Goten learns) that's around tinkering with the machines and jotting whatever down. Goten has become used to his presence despite the guy not having a lick of Common to communicate to him with. There has also been another doctor coming in to take photographs for whatever reason.
Mostly, however, he's alone.
How long has he been stuck here?
They operated on him. They stole his appendix. Days, weeks, months; how long has he been confined to this bed? Goten feels like it's been an eternity already, and what? Is he dutifully expected to sit here in lonely solitude until Gohan finds it within himself to turn up – or for when Dad gets wind of where he is?
God… His dad must be going nuts. For that, Goten does feel bad. In finding Gohan, Goten's probably pushed Dad past his breaking point; both of his kids are now gone and are at the mercy of these impossibly strong gods. Gods… Now that Goten thinks about it, that Roarg woman had wanted Gohan to talk to Rixas, a god; the god who killed Gohan back on Earth. She'd said it was something about security. Why would Gohan be dealing with that? This 'lord' business is so totally messed up – the Zealites and Haed had called Gohan 'Lord Mori', too. It's all… It's all driving him nuts! In finding Gohan there are actually more questions than answers!
He grumpily refuses his first offering of food by the time breakfast rolls around. The doctor who brings it to him practically shoves the bread roll into his mouth, a point in which Goten chews on instinct and relishes the undertones of tomato and onion. He wants to spit it in the doctor's face yet the idea of parting with the food brings sorrow. The bread roll goes down a treat, followed by some meaty vegetables, a generous steak of meat and a glass of fruit juice. They even give him some jelly presumably because he's being such a good boy today. And worst of all, everything is delicious. He'd eat it again and again. Even though the portion was small, he's completely full. It'd been magic.
Absolutely devastated by the betrayal of a saiyan appetite, Goten huffs as the sanitizer sprays do their job as they shower him in their chemical-wash. It smells of rose thus Goten smells of rose. So now, Goten smells of old people and for him that's yet another reason to sulk.
By now, he's no longer strapped to the bed but he doesn't see much of a point in fighting. He's still fatigued and his legs shake not dissimilarly to a newborn calf's every time he even bothers trying to go faster than a glacial stroll. It's on one of these strolls that Goten gets a visitor. He's leaning against the wall, shoulder aching, with hand spooning against the swell of the incision, when he hears the scraping of a chair being moved back.
Upon turning, his hand slips down the wall and him with it.
Well, finally.
"This is overdue," Gohan says, poised in an armchair beside the bed. "Sit down and I'll talk to you about what's going to happen next."
If there's one thing Goten's realized in his time here it's that running his mouth only gets him strapped down to a bed, incapacitated, or worse yet; ignored. It takes every ounce of him not to fumble over and demand Gohan answer every one of Goten's burning questions, but he manages. Swallowing his frustration, Goten slowly returns to his bed and sits on the end of it, dignified, ready; obedient.
Gohan is not in any fancy robes today. Instead he's dressed down, presumably for him, as though he's doing a cosplay of himself. His shirt is white and loose, the pants comparable to black pants one could find in any Satan City mall; today, he looks completely harmless, not lord-like at all.
"How long have I been here?" Goten tries small. That surely can't be a damning question.
Apparently, it's not as simple as that. Gohan looks like he has to think. "About… five, possibly six Earth days."
Oh… Oh, wow. I'm sorry, Mum… You must be so worried.
Gohan is a mind reader now, apparently. "They're absolutely beside themselves with grief on Earth." The knife then twists deeper. "They're also livid with the Zealites, and you, deservedly, but I'm sure that goes without saying."
Goten does his best to look ashamed. It's not hard because he does feel bad.
"We've been in regular contact with them, and the kais. There are talks with getting you back to Earth after you've recovered from your… incident but you're not quite there yet. We've been sending photographs of your recovery process as a show of good faith but, well, the damage has been done. Trust is minimal. We're yet to see the consequences of your actions. Ingesting that stupid rock had so –" A gust blows from his nostrils, his creepy eyes close, "– very nearly depleted all your energy. Luckily, it didn't. You're here, just about. But from what Doctor Jivel and Doctor Yuluk told me, your body reacted negatively to the divine energy of the relic and that's taken its toll on not only on you but also your ki."
Goten nods, gaze distant.
"Are you listening to me?"
"Yes."
There's a brief pause.
"Goten, you won't ever fight again."
What?
His back straightens instantly.
It's a brick against his chest. His hands twist into themselves, nails burrowing into ready-to-prick flesh. What can he say to that? Anything, his mind supplies, but his mouth won't cooperate. In that moment, Goten feels desperately alone. He hates fighting – more specifically, training – but to have it taken from him?
"Well, not like before, at least" Gohan elaborates, "You definitely won't be able to achieve Super Saiyan. Your capacity for energy storage has been completely reduced, diminished practically to perhaps a percentage of what—"
"Shut up!" Goten suddenly barks, "Just – I…" He folds into his hands. "I… Just shut up! You sound like a robot!"
Gohan does shut up, thankfully. His brows are thickly tied together, his head dipped. Why is he being like this? He just dropped this… this bombshell and is acting like it's some minor inconvenience, like he doesn't give a crap at all.
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
"You've been lying about so much—"
"I'm not lying—"
"Yes, you—"
"Search yourself if you don't believe me." Gohan runs his hand down his face, leaning away and into the velvety cushion with an expression most shadowy. "I wouldn't lie… about this."
Neither speak to give opportunity for Goten to do as instructed. It's harrowing. He reaches for energy not quite there. Earlier, he'd thought it was because of the recovery progression, but now realizes the reason runs deeper than that…
The room feels instantly smaller.
"I-I… won't be able to…" Goten breathes hard, his chest constricts, "How… about… how about Fusion?"
"Not with Trunks, at least. The power gap—"
"—Would be too big," Goten finishes, feeling sick. A whine emerges at the back of his throat and he has to swallow it away. "F-Flying?"
"That should be okay, yes."
Nods; Goten nods. He can do that. He can fly.
The small victory doesn't last. It's a shock; really, it is when Goten's reaction turns eruptive. He splutters, sobbing suddenly so loud and hard and in a wave of throaty tears, bending against the bed and his pillow and most definitely applying pressure where he shouldn't be on his wound
But… I'm… No.
He's never going to transform into a Super Saiyan again. No fusion, no getting more powerful. Dad had once told him how strong he is… was. He'd called him a natural; "the universe's youngest Super Saiyan." Dad's never going to tell him that, again.
For the first time, he truly regrets swallowing that stupid orb.
He cries even harder.
It feels like minutes have drawn on when a warm hand finally slips into his own. Through the blur and wetness, Goten hiccoughs, staring up at the cracks forming in the stranger. There's something familiar in the gold.
"This doesn't define you," his brother quietly says, gaze averted. He looks pained to even touch him. "It's never defined you, and… it won't now."
Goten crushes that hand, he takes full advantage of the kindness, drinking it up and cradling it close. He continues to sob, not just for his lost power but for the opportunities quashed, and also for the situation he's found himself in. It's all too much and it's finally anchored him down to a depth that runs dark, Goten's suffocating in it, he's scared. God, he's confused, and angry at himself and hurting.
"Gohan," he whimpers, "Don't go. Please."
He recalls moments before Rixas killed his brother, the conversation in the blizzard. Goten had begged Gohan not to leave him then, too.
The hand does move however, sandwiched between the silky hospital robes and Goten's hot, sweaty mitts, it pulls back.
"We need to go over a few other things," Gohan follows up with, like he'd not just rocked Goten's world.
It's hard to collect himself. He sniffles. No tissues are offered to him, limited warmth; Goten just wants some comfort. What he gets is a knock at the door. This time, nobody walks in and Gohan actually goes up to the door, answering it and momentarily chatting there. Goten's scared that he's going to be left again but Gohan doesn't move; he's talking to a tall man, hair tinted silver and skin contrasting warmly. There are enough tattoos and piercings to make his mother faint. He almost makes the cut of being human, but Goten can spot those pointed ears, and the strange eyes.
This man looks over at Goten, his face drops. For some reason he looks like he'd take great pleasure in suffocating Goten under his own pillow.
Eventually, he leaves. By the time Gohan re-joins him; Goten is doing much better but is still fighting a losing battle against his own tears. Mum told him that it's okay to cry, Dad's never stopped him, Gohan had always encouraged him to get it all out in the past; today, this Gohan is less than accommodating.
"What happened, Gohan?" Goten asks, hoarse.
"With him?" He looks over his shoulder at the empty doorway. "Sorry, I've not had chance to breathe since—"
"No, with everything. Tell me, what happened from the moment you died six years ago."
Raised eyebrows settle, a cynical smile follows and Gohan contemplates how to respond. It's so diplomatic. Goten hates it. It's as if someone stole his brother and brainwashed him – maybe, they had.
"What did they do to you?" Goten instead tries, "Did they hurt you? What happened to your eyes? Why are they calling you a lord? What did that Rixas guy want? Why did he kill—?"
A hand holds up. "Ground rule; I will answer your questions however I feel comfortable but if I'm not willing to elaborate, you don't push. You do push, we stop. After that, you listen to what I have to say. Do you understand?"
"Why are—?"
"Goten."
His cheeks puff. "Yes. I understand. Why are your eyes…?"
"Vetoed. Next."
"What? But that's the first one!"
"Are you pushing?"
Goten bristles.
"Fine. Let's try something easier seeing as you're being an ass about it." At that, Goten recognizes the discreet amusement in Gohan's eyes, however gold and creepy they are. "Where are we? The doctor told me but… I don't really understand."
"This is the Realm of the Almighty. It's the plane in which the Gods of Revelation have dominion over, as opposed to the kais. You probably feel worn down because of the balance in natural energies in the air being off. It's harder to manipulate the particles correlating with our own—"
"So, I'm at the bad guy's lair."
"Yes, Goten, you're at the bad guy's lair."
"And you're here, too. Have you always been here?"
"For the most part, yes."
"Even when you first died?"
"Yes."
Gohan's not exactly being forthright with his answers, here. "And you could have come back at any time? You've been here all this time, just fine and dandy, and you didn't bother coming home to tell us that you're okay. What the hell, Gohan?"
"Ve—"
"No veto!" Goten rubs at his blotchy eyes, cheeks itchy. "You said you were stuck in some void but actually you've been here all this time. Why would you lie about that? Are you protecting someone?"
"Ah." Gohan scratches at the back of his head. It's disjointing to see. "The void was a lie, I admit. I had to lean in with what I was given by Whis and by Beerus even though it wasn't exactly the nicest thing to envision. You had all just dragged me back there, to Earth. I was thrown for a loop—"
"So you didn't even plan on coming back."
"No."
"W-What?!"
The cool façade shows to be just that and Gohan is about as exasperated as he was the other day when he'd flipped his shit. "You summoned me. Goten, I'd been away for years. I'd died. I was gone. I accepted it. I thought you all would have, too. You all should have been living your best lives, not interfering with divine relations."
"Accepted it? You killed yourself!"
"I did not kill myself!" Gohan takes a moment to collect his abnormally overactive temper. "I didn't, not in the way you're thinking. It's complicated. All this is very complicated, and neither you nor the Earth, nor Dad, especially Dad, should be involved, and… and now you've stuck your nose in when Quell is literally…" He tries to compose himself again but there's little effect, "Just… damn it, Goten, why did you come here?"
"None of it made any sense. I needed to see you. I knew you were alive. I just… Gohan, are you helping these people?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes, I am."
"And that guy who killed you?"
"Rixas is… not in my good books right now. Subsequently, I'm not in Quell's. He'd wanted to come here today but I think you've suffered enough, or at least, just the right amount, for your idiotic actions." The lack of given title is noticed by Goten. Gohan, who has always been so respectful, talks of these gods as though they're his acquaintances. "If you do see him," he continues, "Don't try anything funny because he will just kill you."
"I… Who are these people to you?"
"Vetoed."
"Then why are you helping them?"
"They're helping me."
Goten's head spins. "They called you 'Lord Mori'. The Zealites… brought me to you. Just what… Are you their leader? Why do people think you're this lord?"
"Vetoed."
"Gohan!"
"Next."
"Who… was that guy in Hell? …Haed?"
Gohan's expression darkens, hand to the velvety texture of the curtain. It tightens its grip. "Try to forget about him… It's best that you do. He's not a good person."
"He said he gave you a gift, and you were talking."
"Until you interrupted us. That man is no friend of mine, I assure you."
"He… He felt… disgusting."
There's a distant gaze. "Not everyone is a saint. I need his help."
"…God – Have you been brainwashed or something?"
Gohan doesn't even respond to that. He leans back in his armchair, rapping his fingers along the arm.
So Goten continues, "And you've known… all this time, with the Zealites… with the gods and the relics and the Supreme Kai and… You've known everything."
There's a moment of review, a deliberation of words, before Gohan leans forward. "I was brought here to achieve something, Goten," he says lowly, "Understand that neither Earth nor you nor Mum or Dad will get in the way of that. Things are different now. What I want to do will change everything."
"What are you saying? Change what?"
"…Vetoed." Gohan smiles emptily at his own secret, sitting back at leisure. "But don't worry. It's a good thing. I'm helping people. I just can't say, y'know? I can't spoil the surprise but I'm sure, out of everyone, you'd understand my plight."
The easy joy is the same that Goten saw back on Earth – had it been a mask then, too? The smile is so superficial. Goten doesn't like it at all. He gives a last sniffle and wipes the corners of his eyes as his brother pulls his hands together. 'Surprise' Gohan says – what surprise? Goten doesn't like the sound of that.
"Now, it's my turn."
Goten wants to snap and say that he's not done, though there's little room for argument with Gohan looking as he does; coolly distant and upbeat in the most faux manner imaginable. A hand rises when Goten opens his mouth.
"You're going to continue your recovery," Gohan next says as a matter of fact, "And then, you'll be overseen by one of the psyche specialists here before passing a confidentiality review. After that and once the kais have agreed to our terms, then you'll be passed on over to one of their representatives before then being securely returned to Earth. I expect the process to take a few more days at least so I need you to continue cooperating with the doctors here. They are good people who care about those they treat so do try to be a decent, well-behaved patient. Doctor Jivel is my personal doctor, so don't expect him not to report back to me anything strange you find yourself getting up to. I don't want to hear anything."
Goten's worked up so he can't help himself. "Do you normally shout at your doctor?" he snipes, remembering Gohan kicking the man out when Goten had first awoken. "Mum taught us better respect than that."
Gohan doesn't miss a beat. "Mum also taught us not to eat things off the floor."
"I did it to find you!"
"I told you not to stick your nose in!"
"You left us! Videl, Piccolo – they, too, thought it was all weird as hell!"
Gohan twitches, evidently confused more than anything. "Piccolo?" he repeats, "I'm surprised he even remembered I was ever there. Tch, look, about that – No, no, it's done, I'm not going into it with you right now – I need to go."
"W-What? You're really just gonna' leave me?" Goten asks, snappish, when Gohan stands. Angry, snotty tears re-emerge.
"I'll be back for the confidentiality review."
"Why are you being like this?" Goten tries to chase him, stumbling and actually managing to reach past the curtain at a remarkable pace. "Gohan! Gohan, don't you go!"
The door opens.
Goten growls out, slapping at the walls. "Are you even my brother?!"
There's a pause. Gohan takes a final look at him.
"…Vetoed."
The door shuts.
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Accordin' to what I'm seeing. This took a whopping million chapters (est.) to FINALLY get here to this point. I'm poppin' open the bubbly. Having a bash. Finally, we're here.
Still a lot to come to light for Goten though, and for Goku and the others in due time. So much was said and done in this chapter, and if you read between lines more is to be seen. I hope it scratched that reveal itch for you because I honestly super enjoyed writing it, more so the Hell half than anything else. But just so you know. This chapter is like a blood diamond chapter. It was made at the expense of my deadline. How the poor children suffer lmao
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Few Q's I'll answer here:
Why do the Zealites obey Mori?: They're his. They're his faction. As for Byleath, the leader, I may drop mention his personal reasons for loyalty.
Piccolo POV, please?: I want to. A couple of people have asked about what's going on his head but realistically I just can't do one. The story doesn't allow for it. One reviewer said it well that with Gohan out of the picture, there's nobody he would open up to. Piccolo is just a closed book. So I guess we'll just have to wait until they meet again... Neither are too happy with the other so it seems. It's the long game with these two but I promise results. I'm a massive Gohan & Piccolo fan so don't think I'm cheating you out of it!
Can someone slap sense into Goku?: Rhetorical, I know. But I'll see what I can do in the future lmao.
Why did you absolutely fuck up Goten this chapter?: Because it brings me great pleasure. That, and as Vegeta said last chapter, 'Stupid games win stupid prizes'.
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I'll slowly reply to PMs and reviews. I DO have to get this work done. I'm throwing this chapter to the wind for ya'll and running.
Thanks to Kags as always for being a great beta. She did this one so, so fast. And thanks to you guys for your continued support! As celebration for catching up to EmeraldSaiyan's Destroyer in number of chapters, please drop me a review! I know her word count is insanely higher but I'm ever so pleased to be passing her. Haha. Glory to Horse.
Aight', I'm off to better the minds of children in China. Until next time!