For a world wrapped in destruction, in chaos, in death, it was a surprisingly pleasant day. Trunks sat on the ground, leaning back on his arms for support. The grass danced between his fingertips, enticed into movement by the summery breeze that flowed across his skin. The sun shone with benevolence, casting upon them not a harsh burning, merely a lively warmth. The clouds floated across the sky, twisted and wrapped into unknowable patterns, unburdened by the strife of those who sat beneath their pilgrimage. Trunks took in a deep breath, sucking the wonderful summer air deep into his lungs, and hoping that he could hold it there forevermore. It was a pleasant day, the first in a long time.
Gohan had excused him from training this afternoon. He said that a kid like him should have the chance to enjoy a nice summer day. He had said he didn't often have the chance to do so himself, book to nose as he was most of the time in his early life. Trunks was skeptical at first, but after the feeling had passed, he took the time to truly enjoy what he had been given. He watched his mentor off in the distance. He wore oranges and blues, colors that were wrapped in legacy and spirit, the colors of his father and his father's mentors before him. The man flowed between forms, feet and fists striking at empty air. His limbs moved at a speed that would be imperceptible to most alive. Sometimes Trunks still had trouble catching his movements.
Trunks had never really taken the time to sit back and look at the way Gohan fought. It was different, working the forms oneself. From an outside perspective, it was almost insightful. There was a clear purpose to the way Gohan moved, fluid but ferocious. Tenacious, yet purposeful. His arm flowed through the air, like a turtle swimming through a stream, before striking with fervor, a demon's claw tearing its enemy's throat. Trunks watched keenly, but he had to wonder one simple thing. Gohan only ever trained at his base level, his hair dark and wild. He was always bereft of the wondrous glow of the Super Saiyan. It wasn't, of course, because he was scared that the androids would find them. They couldn't sense their energy, after all. Trunks shrugged to himself and reasoned that it couldn't harm to ask. If his training went the way it was meant to, the form would be disposable to himself. He would need to know these things. Trunks tucked his knees in and hopped to his feet.
"Gohan!" He called out, approaching the man with a relaxed stride. Gohan's eyes flitted over towards his pupil, and he fell out of stance to regard him.
"What's up, Trunks? Don't tell me you're ready to go home already, it's only midday," Gohan asked, eyebrow quirked in an inquisitive manner.
"Huh? No, no. I just had a few questions," Trunks said. He was careful with his words. Gohan could be somewhat sensitive about the topic of the saiyan transformation. It was clearly a difficult thing for him to discuss. Trunks wasn't entirely sure as to why, but he presumed that accessing the form was preceded by much emotional turmoil on Gohan's end.
"Oh yeah, like what? If it's about hair growing places it shouldn't be, take it to Bulma. That's not my business." Gohan said with a small grin. Trunks rolled his eyes and snorted.
"No. I was actually wondering if I could ask you some things about your Super Saiyan form," Trunks said, dancing carefully about the words. Gohan eyed him curiously for a moment, before gracing him with a sympathetic smile.
"Hey, listen buddy. You'll get there, I promise. It's difficult, without the proper emotional catalyst, but it has to be possible." Gohan said. Trunks sighed. He had heard this all before, time and time again. If you asked him, Trunks was likely to never achieve Super Saiyan at this right. At the moment, though, he wasn't concerned with his own strength. Gohan was stronger. He always would be, and he could be stronger still. There had to be something they were missing.
"No, not me. Your Super Saiyan form. Why…don't you train as a Super Saiyan?" Trunks asked, finally letting the question fall upon his breath. Gohan's eyes snapped away, and his mouth formed a thin line as he tried to form a response.
"I…I have tried a few times. I've figured, from a logical standpoint, that there must be some way to manipulate the energy of the transformation, but…it's hard to maintain." Gohan explained. There was a hesitation in his eyes, a catch in his breath. It was like he wanted to say more but didn't know how.
"How so? I just think, if there's some key we can figure out to the whole thing, maybe we can push you further. Maybe we can find a way to make you stronger than the androids!" Trunks exclaimed, almost regretting it. Gohan saw something there, in the young man's eyes. A glimmer of hope, a vestige of something lost to him. Gohan had lost hope years ago that he would ever gain the strength to defeat the androids. These days, he fights just to fight another day. Maybe one day Trunks would ascend and join him. Maybe then, the playing field would be leveled. Now, Gohan just fought to hold the line, to save who he could. Looking into Trunks's eyes, shining with hope, he felt a feeling lost. He felt, perhaps, there was hope.
"There's a few reasons, and they're both part of why I try to use the form for battle, mainly. The first is the energy loss. Going Super Saiyan, it's like… a dam breaking. You feel the dam cracking, the pressure, the power trying to escape its confinement. When it breaks, there's a massive influx of power. It all but devastates everything in its path, but eventually the water spreads out, seeps into nooks and crannies, and drains away. Super Saiyan is the same, the power is hard to hold on to. It slips away so fast, and if you're not careful it's just…gone." Gohan said, lifting his hand up to the air and unclenching a fist. A visual representation of his words. Trunks nodded. It made sense. Every time he'd seen Gohan fight, he always transformed right away, and fought as quickly and ferociously as he could. He must have always been doing his best to use the power to its fullest extent while he could.
"And the other reason?" Trunks questioned.
"The rage." Gohan said simply, quietly. The words left his lips like a haunting. His brows furrowed, and muscles tensed. This was something Trunks knew about. The catalyst for transformation. The complete and utter rage. Gohan told him that for his father, Goku, it was when the tyrant Frieza had murdered the man's best friend. Gohan never spoke of it, but Trunks imagined that he transformed at a young age. When the androids first attacked, and destroyed almost everyone he knew.
"It's hard enough, most times, to force the transformation without rage as the catalyst. When I face the androids, it's easy. Nothing has ever brought me as much wrath as those two do. Outside of battle? I've done it, but it's hard. It's like trying to unlock a door with the key in your teeth. You can make it happen, but when you've got your hands it's better." Gohan explained. Gohan always had weird metaphors. He wondered if that's how the namekian Piccolo had taught him, or if he just ended up being weird on his own. Trunks thought for a moment, scratching his chin.
"But…if you practiced with the key in your teeth every day…eventually you'd be just as good as with your hands, right? I mean, you might prefer the hands, but you could use the teeth just as well." Trunks reasoned, grudgingly going along with his mentor's silly metaphor. Gohan raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised to see Trunks's interest in the subject.
"Sure, yeah. I see where you're going with this. I could practice every day, trying to trigger the transformation without the catalyst. It could work, but that doesn't help with the energy loss." Gohan said. Then he gazed into the distance, eyes narrowing in thought, "Maybe…"
"What, Gohan? You figure something out?" Trunks asked.
"Maybe you're right Trunks. It might work if train as a Super Saiyan…no. I can't just train, I have to be a Super Saiyan, at all times. That could work." Gohan said, his eyes still were unfocused, dashing back and forth as if following some equation only he could see.
"Just be a Super Saiyan? What are you talking about, Gohan?" Trunks asked, hopping around to try and make the man's eyes meet Trunks's own. Finally, they did, and a grin split across Son Gohan's face.
"You're a genius, Trunks." Trunks grinned at the words. His mom said them often, but usually the tone erred more on the side of sarcasm than genuine praise, "I've been going about this the wrong way. I've been trying to solely raise the power of my natural state, so that the power multiplier of the Super Saiyan form is greater as well. But, what if Super Saiyan was the natural state? If I can get a handle on triggering the transformation whenever I want, then the next logical step would be to stay transformed as long as I'm able. If I continue to adjust my body to the power of the form, and practice control to minimize the energy loss. Well…I don't know what will happen but it sounds like a step in the right direction!" Gohan said. He brought his calloused, scarred hand up and laid it down upon Trunks's head, ruffling the young saiyan's hair.
"Wow, I mean…do you really think that's possible Gohan? I figured maybe using Super Saiyan while training could make you a little stronger, but you think that you could do that with it?" Trunks asked earnestly. A spark flared to life in his chest. After all this time maybe there was something that could beat androids, and not just hold them off long enough to survive another day.
"I have no idea." Gohan said with a slight chuckle, his hand retracting to the back of his head and scratching it in embarrassment. "But, all we can do is try, right? And before you go getting any funny ideas, you're not out of the dog house yet! You'll be a Super Saiyan as well, if I have anything to say about it!" Gohan said firmly, trying his best to act like an intimidating mentor. Trunks tried not to crack a smile as he nodded along.
"So…what now?" Trunks asked. Gohan made no verbal response. Instead, he closed his eyes. His brows furrowed in concentration, and his lips twitched in the beginning of a snarl. Trunks heard a growling rising out of the back of his throat. He was trying to force himself to transform. It was working, too. Trunks felt the warm energy radiate from Gohan, like a furnace slowly building up heat. With a final roar of effort, the golden energy exploded out of Gohan, revealing the Super Saiyan beneath. Hair aglow, and blue-green eyes filled with an icy determination, Gohan turned towards Trunks.
"Now, we begin."
Months passed by, with the two half-saiyans managing to avoid any major scraps with their twin terror nemeses. Gohan's power had certainly increased as he acclimated his body to the Super Saiyan form, but they hadn't broken down the wall they were hoping to. Gohan was able to hold the form for much longer, up to an hour now, but fighting in the empowered state still wore him out faster than was optimal.
"I have something." Gohan said allowed, causing Trunks to fall out of his stance and glance over at his teacher.
"You think…this is it?" Trunks asked. His shoulders fell when Gohan shook his head.
"No, it's not quite what I've been trying to figure out, but it's definitely a step in the right direction. The power is there, it might even be enough to.. " Gohan shook his head again, "No, I won't take them on until I'm sure it's enough." He said with a finality that maybe Trunks sigh. He understood, of course. After all this time running from the androids, they had to be sure that they had the proper power. Especially since they had no way to gauge the androids' true power.
"So, what is it?" Trunks asked.
"I haven't mastered staying in the Super Saiyan state naturally. It's harder than I thought, to be honest. So, I've been toying around with another way to contain the energy. I tried taking the energy, and well, forcing it into my body, expanding my muscles with the energy." Gohan took a deep breath, and the golden aura began flaring wildly around him. His muscles expanded rapidly, and Gohan's gi struggled to stay in one piece. Trunks even swore he could hear it begin to tear In a few places. He had to take a step back as Gohan's power flooded over him in a wave of energy. It was almost like he was being physically repelled by Gohan's ki.
"Woah…" Trunks murmured dumbly, unable to find any other words that fit better. How could you fault him? He had never felt power like that before him in his entire life. Gohan pulled back a hand, murmuring a familiar mantra as an azure energy began to glow in his palm. With a shout, he thrust his arm forward like a cannon and the Kamehameha exploded out of his hand. It shot past the cliffside and barreled outwards towards the sky before fading off into the distance.
"It's powerful, I can't deny that, but it feels…unsustainable. The anger…I can feel it tearing at me from the inside, even stronger than before. I feel arrogant. I feel like I have something to prove. This isn't what I'm looking for, but I know I can get there. If the androids try something in the meantime, I think this power boost should be enough to send them packing." Gohan said with a grin. Trunks returned the grin with an eager smile of his own.
More months found Gohan slamming his fist into the ground in frustration. Trunks looked over at his mentor worriedly, finding the man kneeled down, fist trembling against the grassy earth. His progress maintaining Super Saiyan had diminished, showing less and less results over the months. Lately, he'd been trying to see if he could refine Super Saiyan Second Grade, as he'd taken to calling it. Trunks thought it was a bit of a mouthful, he'd just been calling it Ascended Saiyan. Gohan said it wasn't scientific enough, and that this was a form of research after all. Trunks had grimaced at that, imagining his mother echoing the same words.
"This isn't it either!" Gohan roared. Trunks was going to ask what he meant, but Gohan seemed to take it as a show moment and not a tell moment. Already Gohan was Ascended, but the flood of power that burst out of him was all but oppressive. It choked Trunks, forcing him to his knees as the power crushed him. The skies darkened, and lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a ground-shaking crack of thunder. Gohan's muscles inflated even further, the top of his gi bursting into shreds from the sheer force of the expansion. His pupils rolled back into his head, eyes blank and terrifying. The power was…incredible. Trunks had no other words to describe it.
"It's not enough. The more power I gain, the slower I get, the angrier I grow! I'm not meant for this. I'm not meant to fight, to train, to discover the hidden depths of my power! Why did you leave me here dad?! I'm not strong enough!" Gohan bellowed, his words shaking the sky itself. Trunks couldn't say anything to try and reason with him. He could barely lift his head up to look at Gohan with the power washing over him. Eventually, the blazing storm of gold disappeared, and Gohan's hair drained itself of its color. The man sat in the same position, a look of failure and contempt streaked across his face. Trunks recognized the look. He often wore it himself, each day that he failed to turn Super Saiyan and join his teacher in the fight.
"What do I do Trunks?" Gohan asked, his voice barely a whisper. "I can't do it." He said simply. Trunks sat for a while, trying to think of a response.
"I think the anger is still getting to you, Gohan." Trunks admitted. Gohan looked over at him, shaking his head.
"No, I can transform without it. I got past that part." Gohan insisted.
"It's different, I think, seeing it from the outside. You can transform without being enraged, but the transformation is still affecting you. You've been trying to stay transformed nonstop, but over time the anger returns, and eats at you." Trunks said. He hoped his words didn't inspire any sort of anger in Gohan. He was only trying to help. Gohan's eyes locked with his, and they stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Gohan sighed and shook his head.
"You're right again, Trunks. I suppose the longer I feel the power coursing through my veins, the more I get angry. Despite all this energy, this power…it's still not enough. It just makes me think back to that day…" Gohan shuttered, and turned away. "I'm sorry, Trunks. This isn't your burden to bear. I shouldn't be pawning this grief onto you."
"We're in this together, Gohan." Trunks said, offering a hand. Gohan hesitated, staring at what was held out before him. He had fought alone for so long. It had always been his battle. Gohan standing tall, like a beaten and battered barricade, before the assault of the androids. He didn't want to drag Trunks, young and impressionable as he was, into this hellish war he'd been thrust into. He'd also realized something not long ago. It was impossible for Trunks not to wind up in the fight. If Gohan died, Trunks would be the only one left to defend the planet. With a resolution dawning inside of him, Gohan accepted the hand.
"Maybe I don't have to fight, to train, every time I'm a Super Saiyan. If I want to acclimate my body to it, truly, maybe I should just be a Super Saiyan. All the time. Fly around as a Super Saiyan, read a book as a Super Saiyan, sleep as a Super Saiyan." Gohan extrapolated. Trunks raised an eyebrow at the last suggestion. Gohan noticed his critical gaze, and chuckled. "Okay, yeah, maybe that last one is a bit of a stretch, but I think it could work." Gohan said. Trunks shrugged.
"If you say so. I can't see any reason not to try it. Tomorrow, that is. After you get a new shirt and all." Trunks snickered. Gohan nodded as he gazed down at his unclothed chest, covered in scars.
"Right, tomorrow." Gohan conceded. Gohan had labeled this new step of Super Saiyan to be "Third Grade", but as soon as Trunks had seen the sky begin to shake, he already had a name in mind, Ultra Super Saiyan.
"Woah, that's a pretty wicked storm over that way." Seventeen said with a whistle. He stood in the sky, hands on his hips as he surveyed the lightning crackling in the distance. "Was there a storm predicted for today?" He asked. Eighteen glanced over to where the West City Broadcasting station used to be. In its place was a pile of rubble.
"Yeah, I don't think anything was predicted for today." Eighteen replied lazily. Seventeen glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of the broadcasting station.
"Hm, yeah that tracks. Just doesn't feel like a stormy day, you know? I mean, there's not even any rain." Seventeen said, holding his hand up to the sky to see if any droplets were descending. Eighteen scoffed and shook her head.
"What, are you some sort of meteorologist now?" She asked snidely. Seventeen rolled his eyes.
"I'm just making an observation. It's a little weird, that's all." Seventeen said, holding his hands up in a gesture of mock surrender.
"What, you wanna go check it out?" Eighteen asked. Her tone conveyed a hidden message, being that she really didn't feel like doing that. Seventeen shook his head in answer.
"Nah, let's just go back to East City. This place is basically a scrap heap, no fun anymore." The android replied nonchalantly.
"Whatever you say."
It was approaching close to a year since Gohan had begun testing the limits of his alien blood's ascension. Today he sat in a meditative pose, donned in a new gi. It was a dark royal blue with no undershirt, and a red belt wrapped around the waist. Gohan had honored his father for a decade and a half, but with this new training he had decided it was time for him to be his own man. He only hoped that his father would understand. Trunks bore new attire as well, standing in a pair of gray pants accompanied by a purple jacket with a black tank top beneath.
That day, the shift in Gohan's energy was almost imperceptible. He was sitting cross-legged with a book in his hand, the golden aura of Super Saiyan swarming him, flaring like a bonfire every so often. It was calmer than it used to be by far, but still prone to bouts of erratic eruption. Today, though, the energy stilled. Rather than a blazing corona around Gohan's body, it was a warm golden glow that settled over his skin. His hair was different too, not so violently golden anymore, rather a pale blonde than fluttered softly in the breeze. Trunks had winked an eye open from his sun nap to say something to his mentor when he noticed.
"Hey, uh, how do you feel, Gohan?" Trunks asked, his voice cracking as puberty attacked his vocal cords. Gohan shrugged, barely glancing up from his novel.
"I'm fine. This book is quite captivating. I didn't think I'd be a big fan of Science Fiction, having been to space and fought evil alien dictators, but it's actually pretty interesting. I think they made some movie adaptations of this when I was a kid, I'll have to see if I can find any tapes…" Gohan said, trailing off as his eyes absorbed the words on the page. Trunks shook his head.
"No, like Super Saiyan wise." Trunks corrected. Gohan brought his nose out of the novel and thought for a second. He stretched his shoulders and sucked in a deep breath, exhaling slowly.
"Peaceful. It's strange to say, and even stranger to feel. I don't feel angry, or out of control. I don't feel like I'm bursting at the seams with power. The power feels nestled deep in my core, waiting to be drawn out. I feel…more powerful, even. It's like the energy has been purified, distilled to its most powerful form." Gohan explained, standing and dropping his novel without even saving the page. "I barely even feel like I'm a Super Saiyan. It's incredible. Trunks…this is it." Gohan said with a finality, a truth that hung in the air and resonated like an angel's song. They were words that Trunks had been waiting his entire life to hear.
"We have to go tell mom! This is our chance, it's what we've been waiting for." Trunks said, pumping his fist in the air in excitement. He hopped off of the ground, his ki holding him in the air with a grin that split his face and wide eyes that threatened to implode from excitement.
"Alright, alright. Don't fly off without me." Gohan said. He tried to keep a cool demeanor, but inside he was a storm. So many emotions clashed within him like warring armies hurling spears and firing arrows. He felt an elation, he felt a power deep inside that he thought could finally be the end to all of their nightmares. He also felt a nervousness, a small feeling of doubt that told him he was still the same child that watched all of his friends laid to slaughter before him, too powerless to do anything. He had a hope that his father would be proud of what he achieved, and yet, still a wonder at what sort of man he would be in the new world he would leave behind in his victory.
He and Trunks joked and tousled in the air all the way to West City, where they landed outside of the ruined Capsule Corp building. They ducked inside, looking around to make sure there were no android spectators, and trekked the long and dusty concrete path to Capsule Corp's underground bunker. They snaked their way to the depths of the compound, where Bulma made her laboratory. The workspace was cluttered with blueprints and half-finished mechanical creations. Currently the woman was scribbling away at a sheet that had the diagram for some strange ovaloid machine. As the two half-saiyans entered, Bulma's head shot up from her work. She was a beautiful woman, in spite of her growing age, with luscious turquoise hair and bright cerulean eyes. Of course, her face was covered in swathes of grease and her eyes had bags beneath them that were the color of ancient shadow.
"Oh, hello Gohan. Hi sweetie." Bulma greeted them, bringing her head up long enough to rest it tiredly upon her shaking arm. Trunks smiled sadly at his mom. She worked just as hard as he and Gohan did, in a completely different way. Littered around the room were plans for machines to help rebuild once the androids were gone, schematics for a cybernetic arm to replace Gohan's missing limb, and hordes of other things Trunks didn't even recognize.
"Bulma, I've got it." Gohan said without preamble. Bulma squinted her eyes at him and looked around.
"Got what, kid. The flu? It's going around right now. Well, not really I guess, but I had it the other week. Can saiyans even get the flu?" Bulma murmured, obviously still trying to figure out what Gohan was talking about.
"I've mastered Super Saiyan. I can take down the androids." Gohan said. Bulma looked taken aback. She blinked her eyes a few times, measuring the weight of Gohan's words. The late Vegeta would have made such a brag upon a good day's rest. Gohan, though? He hadn't claimed anything like that in over a decade. The most they got from him was 'I'll make it back alive.', and even then he didn't sound so sure. For him to be saying this now could only mean that he was sure. He was sure he could save them all. It sent a shiver down Bulma's spine.
"So, the day has finally come? I've got to say, I've had my doubts I would ever live to see it." Bulma admitted. She was a calm and collected woman, at least these days she was. She was pragmatic, and sensible, but this sent her head spinning.
"Are you okay, mom?" Trunks asked, putting a hand on his mother's shoulder. Bulma nodded and cleared her throat, trying to collect her thoughts.
"Gohan, I have a favor to ask of you." Bulma stated. To ask what she was about to ask was hard for her, and was a heavy burden to lay on the young man's shoulders, but it had to be done.
"Of course, Bulma, what is it?" Gohan questioned, curious as to what it is Bulma could find important to ask him to do.
"Don't kill the androids." Bulma said. The words hung in the air, and no one could quite figure out the proper way to respond to them. Trunks's hand recoiled from his mother's shoulder, with a look akin to betrayal in his eyes. Gohan looked utterly confounded, mouth trying to sound out words that wouldn't come out. "Now, hold on, let me clarify. I was a little bit vague. I'm tired. Kill the androids all you want, don't destroy them. I want to study them. Try to keep them as intact as possible, if you don't mind." Gohan and Trunks looked much more relieved after the woman had explained herself.
"Study them? What are you hoping to find out by studying them?" Gohan inquired.
"Loads of stuff, kid. The two of them claim to have infinite energy, right? Well, obviously they don't, unless they've somehow broken the laws of physics. However, for them to be capable of what they are without tiring or shutting down somehow, they have damn near as close as we've ever seen. I have to say I have no idea how Doctor Gero ever figured out the complexities of something like it. If I could figure out how to replicate it, though, then it could be a miracle for society, and I figured I could also study them and figure out how to make a cybernetic arm capable of withstanding your power Gohan." Bulma admitted. The woman had attempted to make him a replacement for his lost arm multiple times over the years, but unfortunately, none had ever withstood the test of Gohan's strength. Gohan had learned, difficultly, to manage with just the one, but he wouldn't mind being evened out once again.
"Yeah, I'll see what I can do Bulma. It shouldn't be too big of a deal, now that I've reached this level." Gohan admitted. As soon as the words left his mouth, as if reacting to Gohan's confidence, the radio on Bulma's desk crackled to life.
"Please, please help! Anyone! The androids are here, they found our camp! Orange City, please-" The radio abruptly cut off. Whoever was broadcasting was either dead, or their equipment had been destroyed. Gohan's face darkened, and without a word or a twitch, a soft golden glow flowed forth from his body.
"I'm going." He said simply. It was a truth, utter and complete. Bulma and Trunks had both heard him say those words time and time again, but for the first time, neither of them worried that they might be the last words they would hear him say. Trunks nodded and raised his power level, ready to rush out the door with his mentor and best friend. Gohan rested a hand on the young man's shoulder and softly shook his head.
"What? Gohan, I'm going with you!" Trunks said, confused at his mentor's sudden unwillingness in letting him tag along on this mission. Defeating the androids meant just as much to Trunks as it did to anyone else, and in their past year training he had never mentioned anything about forcing him to stay behind. "Is it because I'm not a Super Saiyan, because I'm not good enough? Gohan, I swear that I'm ready!" Trunks insisted, fists clenched and jaw tightened with a determination racing through his veins. Gohan only shook his head.
"There are two of them, and as sure as I am about my power now, I still can't allow you to be in harm's way. The androids are crafty and dishonorable, and I don't know if I'll be able to protect you if they go after you." Gohan explained. His tongue was leaden as he spoke to the boy, as he knew that the words battered at Trunks's heart. Trunks understood his logic, he couldn't pretend not to, but he could see through the veneer at the truth behind the words. Trunks wasn't a Super Saiyan. He wasn't strong enough. He was a liability. The young man sighed ruefully and dropped himself into a bench in his mother's workshop. Bulma gave her son a sympathetic smile. She knew how he felt, but she couldn't help but be relieved that Gohan had forbidden Trunks's participation in the fight.
"Come back alive, Gohan." Bulma said.
"I always do."
"Ugh, humans are so gross with all these fleshy, bloody bits. It's filthy, and unsanitary. I can't say I'm sad that we're not like that anymore." Eighteen said with a sickening nonchalance as she inspected the severed human leg that still bled freshly, gripping it firmly by the ankle. The woman that it had formerly belonged to sobbed in pain as she dragged herself across the shattered concrete, blood still spurting from veins and arteries that had been torn apart by Eighteen's vicious glee. Seventeen laughed at his sister's antics while he sniped fleeing humans with a finger shaped like a gun.
"Be careful, sis. You're getting those bits all over your skirt." He mocked. Eighteen scoffed in disgust as she noticed the reddened stains on her denim skirt.
"That's it, she's dead." Eighteen growled. She dropped the leg, which splattered to the ground with a sickening noise. Her hand began to glow with a sinister violet energy as she leveled her arm towards the woman that had recently been bereaved of her limb. With a violent hiss, the energy raced towards the woman with a singular goal of eradication. Eighteen smirked as the attack neared her target, thankful for the justice she had served her ruined clothing. She never heard the woman's death cry, though. She must have instantly incinerated her. She didn't think that she had used that much power. She squinted her eyes to get a better view of where the woman would have been before she died. Standing there like a brick wall was none other than Son Gohan, son of Goku and the biggest pain in her ass since her own brother.
"You have got to be kidding me!" Eighteen seethed. Seventeen turned away from his game and took notice of the warrior clad in blue and red. He sighed deeply, and rolled his eyes.
"Oh, this guy again. Is something different about him? Looks like he, like, dyed his hair. Oh, and he's significantly less orange." Seventeen observed. Eighteen ignored him, lest she begin an assault on her own brother as well as the saiyan nuisance. With a sneer, Eighteen fired off an attack of moderate power, but incredible speed. It collided with Gohan's chest before he even had time to react. The beam struck his chest with full force, drilling against his skin. Gohan simply stood there, eyes raising to lock with Eighteen's, shaded with a cold hatred.
"What the hell?" Eighteen complained. That attack should have at least sent the idiot flying a hundred yards. She supposed it had been a long while since she had seen the man now. He had shown his face around them much less than usual in the past year, and rarely did he even confront them head on. Rather, he had elected to grab a bunch of injured humans and fly off as fast as possible. They never even bothered flying after him, the man was too much of a damn hassle. Now, though, he stood before their energy with an unrelenting will that pierced the air and washed over them like a cold wind. Eighteen wasn't fond of the feeling.
Rather than confront the androids, Gohan turned away from their sight and crouched down to inspect the brutalized woman. She had lost a lot of blood, but she was still breathing, labored as the breaths were. He fished out a small object that had been tucked into his belt, a senzu bean. He had been saving it as a precaution, but this was a far more important matter. He cupped his hand around the woman's face, and gently dropped the bean into her mouth.
"Chew this. It won't grow back your leg, but it will have you feeling better in no time." Gohan explained softly. The woman groaned and chewed on the senzu. In a flash, her pale skin flooded with a wash of pink, and she opened her eyes to reveal a beautiful blue coloration. She stared at Gohan, a fear settled in her eyes. "I'm going to stow you some place safe while I deal with these two." Before the woman could even replay, Gohan had pushed her up over his shoulder. He lifted off of his feet and blasted off to an awning a few miles away, and set the woman down. Her eyes were wide and her mouth fell open as she tried to comprehend the slew of events that had happened to her in the past minutes. Gohan gave her a sympathetic smile and a small wave. Before she found the first word to say, he was gone again.
Gohan stood before the androids once more, glaring up at them without a word.
"You have some audacity, Gohan. Stealing our prey like that and then coming back to look us in the eye." Android Seventeen growled. Gohan didn't respond to Seventeen's anger. He strode towards the androids, calm and collected, each step firm and purposeful.
"You really are tired of living, aren't you? Figured you'd finally step up to the plate and get the rest of your limbs torn off?" Eighteen asked.
"Your reign of terror is over androids. I am the rising sun of this long and dark night that you've cast on this world. I am the hope unbridled in the heart of man, begging for justice that is long overdue. I am a storm of fury, tempered on the edge of a blade. Androids, I am your end." Gohan roared. With each word, the pure golden glow of his aura grew brighter, flared stronger. The sky above them darkened with grey clouds, heavy with rain that began to pour upon them. It began in a spray of tiny droplets that quickly transformed into furious downpour. Lightning struck, and the crackle of thunder signified the beginning of the showdown.
For Gohan, this was their final fight. It was time to end this cruel nightmare that plagued their world once and for all.
For the androids, this was their final fight. It was time to rid themselves of the nuisance that had pestered them for years on end.
After all the years of torment and pain, the fight was over faster than Gohan could have ever expected. After the years of nightmares where he sobbed over the bodies of Piccolo and Krillin. After all of the days where he stared out into the endless night sky, wondering if the nightmare would end by his death or theirs. After all of the minutes he spent pushing his body to the absolute limit, the fires in his heart fading like an ember in a strong breeze. It didn't feel like vengeance. It didn't feel like a storybook ending, where the knight saved the kingdom and rode off into the sunset. It felt like Android Seventeen's windpipe crushed in Gohan's iron grip, and Android Eighteen's neck snapped with a single, ferocious kick. It was a single, fluid motion. It took less than a second. Fifteen years of pain and suffering, and in a single second it was all over.
He had won.