Time In Chapter 1: The Paozu Stalk, a dragon ball z fanfic

A/N: Hey everyone! Would you believe I've had the idea for this fanfiction since 2010? I'm so happy that I've found the opportunity to write fanfics again. I went through my old documents from way back when, and this idea still really appealed to me. I think it's fascinating to think of how Gohan and Videl would meet if Videl had known that her father hadn't actually defeated Cell. So I brushed it up, created a spanking new outline, and here it is! I hope you all enjoy this idea as much as I do!

I'm angling for a more whimsical atmosphere here, sort of reminiscent of the OG Dragon Ball series, with more reliance on fantasy elements that are just there, not a lot of background explanation for them. I'm hoping it works out!

Chapter 1: The Paozu Stalk

Videl clutched the yellowed sheet of advertisement she had ripped off of a newspaper like it was her last piece of hope. In many ways, it was, though most people would probably turn their noses up at an opportunity to work in a backwater village tucked away in the mountain ranges. Yes, it was true that the Ox Kingdom had a resurgence, and it was also true that there was a burgeoning industry there. But it was nowhere near the grandeur of West City nor of a powerhouse business like Capsule Corps.

Which was why it might be the only job posting that could be open to someone like Videl Satan.

The bus carrying her towards the foothills of Mount Paozu hit a bumpy part in the dirt road and the passengers jostled against one another. There was only one public bus a day that made the trip there and back, and this one was packed like a can of sardines. She was lucky she managed to find a spot to stand near the window where she could watch the sceneries pass by.

Videl resettled her cap over her head. She hadn't yet shirked the urge to hide her face in its shade, even though she rarely had the intention of hiding the fact that she was the daughter of the most hated man in the world. There would be no point. Still, the few moments of calm before the storm, the sliver of chance that she could be overlooked, were blessings she'd learned to cherish in the last two years.

Blessings that seemed to be running out for her right now, judging by the way one elderly man was making double takes at her. He was sitting adjacent to her, on one of the chairs facing inward. The corners of his eyes wrinkled with every squint in her direction. Videl's hand gripped the pole tighter, and she tried not to give away any signs that she knew she was being watched. She was used to this.

Whispers bloomed across the seats. Heads leaned closer to one another, and surreptitious glances shot her way. Before long, there was an eager buzz rivalling the hum of the bus's engine and the rolling of its wheels.

"Hey, you there!"

Videl exhaled, a mixture of adrenaline and resigned acceptance simmering in her chest. Her luck had run out.

She turned to the voice. It was a portly woman, standing by a pole on the opposite side of the bus. Her cat's-eye glasses and pink wide-brimmed hat made her stand out among a sea of people clad in the more neutral tones and simpler garb of rural life. "Are you Hercule Satan's daughter? You are, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," was all Videl said, and she calmly looked back to the forest out the window. The buzzing stopped for a tense, breathless moment. Even the bus itself paused. It was always interesting to observe how people reacted to her admittance. Sometimes they were more surprised by how easily she confirmed the truth than they were to find her there in their midst. Perhaps they expected her to deny it, expected her to pretend she was someone else by badmouthing her own self. Her father had whipped out that move plenty of times during the weeks they'd been caught in the maelstrom of his fraud exposure. They'd been able to retreat to a seaside cottage soon after, but not before a very painful, very humiliating time in the public eye.

The tension in the bus broke, and the previous silence was buried in an avalanche of scandalized shouts, overzealous scoffs, and inventive name-calling. The man standing next to Videl elbowed her in the ribs, another passenger pulled at her backpack, and more than several pairs of feet stepped on her toes, not quite by accident. A heavy, persistent wave of pushes and pulls transported Videl towards the door of the bus, and although her latent martial skills helped prevent any grave injuries, the last set of hands deposited her roughly out of the door. She landed ungracefully on her rump on the dirt road.

"Hey!" she cried. "I paid my fare!"

Metal coins hit her on the head and slid down her cap's visor.

"Have it back then!" the driver shouted. "It's probably fake, anyway." The decisive shut of the door walled off the echoing cheers from the passengers. The bus tutted away, and Videl scrambled to her feet before the belch of smoke from its exhaust could blast her in the face.

She watched the bus grow smaller as it climbed the inclined path up the mountain. On either side of the road were tall trees and bushy undergrowth. She'd been so close to getting all the way up to the Mount Paozu village.

Heaving a sigh, Videl patted the dust from her clothes and readjusted her skewed cap over her short hair. Once upon a time, when she had brandied about the torch of justice, she wouldn't have allowed those people to land even a single slap on her. But two years had blunted her rigid sense of justice. After all, these people who had once been fooled by her father most likely felt that harassing her was payback for the lies she had unjustly benefited from.

She stooped to collect the coins from the ground. It was the full fare, all 22 zennis of it. How the driver could have known which coins had come from her, she didn't know, and it was a testament to just how loathsome he considered her that he would rather lose 22 zennis of very likely real money than have her in his bus for just forty-five more minutes.

Videl shrugged. At least she had 22 zennis more pocket money again. Not a bad trade, not at all. 22 zennis was nothing to laugh at.

Now, she had better start walking. It would take her just short of two hours to trek to the village by foot, and she wanted at least a chance to meet the Ox Prince before she could be turned away for being so late.

-o-

The newly established Ox Kingdom in Mount Paozu was something of a marvel. From Videl's research, the old Ox Kingdom used to be situated in Mount Frypan, which bore the nomenclature of Mount Pleasant before it had been engulfed in flames from a fallen fire spirit. About twenty years ago, the flames were eradicated along with most of the mountain and the Ox King's treasure, but the kingdom managed to persist.

Then two years ago, right around the time Hercule Satan's heroics at the Cell Games had been exposed as fraudulent, Videl caught news that Mount Frypan had once again been destroyed by another fire spirit. Sensing that this could be a regular occurrence henceforth, the Ox King and the villagers he ruled over had packed up their things and resettled in Mount Paozu where the Ox King's daughter was starting to make a name for herself as a culinary genius.

The village of Mount Paozu, cradled lovingly in a valley between two towering rocky peaks, bore the marks of its culinary genius bold and clear. The wooden welcome signage at the entrance to the village and the various paraphernalia being sold at the stalls lining the main road were all decorated with carvings or paintings of the Paozu Stalk: a thick, edible climbing vine found at the tips of the mountains.

A cool breeze swept past, bringing with it a sweet, savoury scent most likely emanating from the grand restaurant at the farthest edge of the village. Videl popped up her jacket collar, bracing against the cold and the possibility of running into one of the bus passengers here.

Fortunately she didn't see any of them as she treaded the main path through the village. Vendors peddled windchimes in the shape of the Paozu Stalk, or ladled hot water steeped with its leaves. A group of village children gathered at a wonky puppet stall where a broad-faced doll scaled a paper-mache mountain.

"Without the Ox King's treasure, the widowed Ox Princess combed through the forests and the mountains to find a way to feed her starving family," the puppeteer said. "And up at the very top of one of Paozu's mountains, that's where she found-"

"The Paozu Stalk!" the children yelled in a chorus. It seemed to be a well-known story. Perhaps the Ox Kingdom's reversal in fortunes was a legend in the making.

"Through trial and error and brilliant talent in the kitchens, the Ox Princess was able to turn the bitter, tough stalk into a tasty delicacy!" The puppeteer switched the background of the small stage from a mountainous painting to one depicting a humble kitchen. He pushed a miniature cauldron onto the stage. "And to her surprise, the stalk wasn't simply something to pass hunger. No, it is full of nutrients! A single serving can keep an ordinary person full for an entire day!"

The puppet play went on, and Videl resumed her walk through the village. It was tempting to linger, as she didn't know the whole story about the Ox Kingdom and the royal family yet. But if she missed her chance at an interview, she couldn't afford an overnight stay at an inn, and she wasn't particularly keen on camping in the mountainside.

It wasn't long until the pride of the kingdom appeared before her. It loomed in the form of a large wooden structure fashioned after the traditional houses, with a triangular roof made of ceramic tiles. A large sign hung just below the roof: Stalk in the Frypan. Circular windows with stylish designs adorned the walls of the structure, and a wide porch surrounded the entire thing. People crowded the tables and chairs laid out on the porch, and Videl knew, despite being unable to peek inside the restaurant, that the inside would be just as packed. Walking farther down the path, she glimpsed an enormous platform where several jetcopters were parked.

Humble though the actual Mount Paozu village was, the reputation of the Paozu Stalk attracted many people from the lowlands. And because the stalk was supposedly difficult to extract from the mountains, its supply was kept limited by nature. It meant that getting to sample the delicacy fetched exorbitant prices. After all, it wasn't just a superfood. It was an ultra-superfood. Which was lucky for the Ox Kingdom. That stalk was now its lifeblood, its new treasure.

Videl took out the job ad from her jacket pocket and looked at the black-and-white image printed in low resolution below the hiring announcement. It wasn't a picture of the Stalk in the Frypan restaurant, nor of the village. Instead, it showed an elaborate series of houses and pavilions connected by a serpentine flow of bridges, all crouched against the wall of a mountain. It was the Ox Palace. That was where her potential job would be.

Videl rounded a bend in the road and found the real-life version of the palace before her. But the inky picture hadn't prepared her for the grandeur of the real thing. Outlined by the intense glow of the afternoon sun, framed by luscious green trees and blooming plants, the palace looked like a vision from a fever dream. There were even falls flowing down from higher up that the printed version hadn't been able to depict at all.

Her heart raced. This place looked like it could more than afford to be picky with its servants. Would she even have a chance at all of securing a job?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

-o-

The staircase to the palace, built into the mountain face, took Videl over an hour to climb. If she was still the hale, well-fed teenager she'd been two years ago, it wouldn't have been a problem. She would have skipped over half the steps on the way up. But having a simple diet of mostly millet and fish nowadays — and not even in abundance — the climb had left her breathless.

There was a gate before her, manned by a guard. He wore a helmet with horns, much like the images she'd seen of the Ox King from her research. Videl brushed down the dust and dirt from her clothes, hoping she didn't look too pitiful. Then she approached him.

"Hello, good evening," she said, holding up the job ad. "I'm here for this."

The guard squinted at the paper, then nodded, barely taking a look at her. "All right, miss. Wait here." He opened the gate and disappeared on the other side. He hadn't closed it behind him, and now that she thought about it, it hadn't even been locked. Strange that there would be a guard here that didn't seem to be doing a very good job guarding. But then again, the Ox King did once have a brutish reputation, so perhaps that would deter anyone up to no good.

Videl waited, but thirty minutes passed, and still the guard did not return. Restless with impatience, feeling like an opportunity was passing through her fingers, she crept to the gate and peeked inside. There was a wide courtyard decorated with potted plants. A couple of pavilions blocked her view of the rest of the estate.

Just then, a young girl of about ten years old passed by and noticed her. She was carrying a bucket of water, and the apron hanging around her waist was stained with flour and some orange sauce. Probably a kitchen servant.

"May I help you, miss?" the young girl asked.

Seizing her chance, Videl pushed through the gates and tried once again. "Yes, actually, I'm here for this ad." She showed the girl the newspaper clipping. "I'm supposed to present myself to the Ox Prince, it says here."

"Ah, the prince!" the girl brightened. "Yes, yes, follow me. I can show you to him."

Videl grinned and strode into the courtyard. "Thank you! I'm so glad for your help."

For a moment, Videl steeled herself, a familiar habit to her now. She waited to see if the girl would recognize her and suddenly decide not to help her after all. But the girl only sent her a smile and led her past the pavilions. They continued down a cobbled path that seemed less maintained than Videl had thought the estate would be. But perhaps that was why they were hiring. There was work to do here, it seemed, and she ought to be grateful for that.

Strangely enough, the kitchen servant didn't lead her anywhere near the palace, the roofs of which she could see above the lychee and mango trees surrounding the paths. The servant led her down some dirt tracks, the grass around them uncut.

"So, you've been working here long?" Videl tried for a conversation.

"Not at all, I only started yesterday."

"Did you also have to present yourself to the Ox Prince?"

"Nah, miss. I got the job by word of mouth. See, my cousin's husband's brother works here already and heard of a position in the kitchens. Lucky for me, the kitchen matron agreed to take me on. But I met the Ox Prince this morning. He's very friendly, miss."

Well, that's good news. Perhaps Videl would have an easier time trying to persuade him to take her on.

They dirt tracks ended in a large garden, but one that hadn't seen the sharp edge of pruning shears in a long while. Tall grass and dandelions choked the ground, and wild snowball viburnums lined the sides against the mountain wall along with various other bushes and shrubs that Videl didn't know by name. Butterflies and dragonflies and bees flitted from one flower to another, while small colourful birds whipped past tree branches.

And there, hopping from one spot to another, chasing after the insects with a net, was a boy who was a few years younger than the kitchen servant.

Videl looked around in a hurry, trying to find if there was anyone else in this garden, but the leaping boy was the only one there.

"That's the Ox Prince?" she said, the tremor in her voice betraying the confusion and disappointment brewing in her.

"That's him!" the servant confirmed. "I served him breakfast this morning."

The boy must have heard them, because he turned around and performed his jumpy walk towards them. "Oh, hello!" he greeted. "What's this?"

The little boy had large, black eyes, an eager smile, and dishevelled black hair that spiked in all directions. His chubby cheeks, ruddy with physical activity, would have given Videl the urge to pinch them if she wasn't overly aware that her livelihood was now apparently in this boy's hands. Because clearly, he was the prince; his clothes attested to that. He wore a light blue silken tunic with a fine embroidery of herons, and matching pants that were grass-stained at the knees. This was no servant boy or page.

"Hello, Ox Prince," Videl said, a little uncertainly. "I'm here for this ad."

The Ox Prince grabbed the clipping from her, stared at it for a long moment, then grinned. "Ah, this looks familiar!"

The fact that he was holding it upside-down did not inspire much confidence in her.

Still, he said, "All right, come along. I have to ask you questions now."

"And I must go back to the kitchen," the servant girl said, starting to step back down the path they'd taken. "Best of luck with your interview."

Oh yes, Videl would certainly need that luck now. This was not at all what she'd been expecting.

She found herself again being led around the estate, but this time, she hardly paid any attention. Her stomach was in knots. On one hand, perhaps her reputation wouldn't be much of a hindrance to a child. On the other hand, perhaps it would be and no amount of logic or rationalization would change his mind.

But why would a little boy be in charge of hiring servants for the palace anyway?

It wasn't the first time Videl wished she had consulted a few more resources on the Ox Kingdom. But the seaside village she and her father had cooped up in didn't have the best library. Only select books were available to borrow. She would have needed to travel fifty kilometres to the nearest town that had a network, and she was already scrimping all the coins she could for food, necessities, and the journey to Mount Paozu.

She took a deep breath. There must be a logical explanation to this. Perhaps there was a printing error at the newspapers. Yes, that must be it! Maybe what it actually meant to say was Present yourself to the Ox Princess. Somehow the last two 'ss' were missed. That made more sense, didn't it? It was the Ox Princess who was in charge of the business here, after all.

"Um, Ox Prince-"

"Call me Goten," the boy replied. "Wait, no. Make that Sir Goten. Or actually, maybe Mr. Goten. That has a better ring to it. Like Mr. Piccolo!"

"Uh, all right Sir Mr. Goten," Videl ventured. "Where is your mother?"

"Mommy's at the restaurant, of course!"

"Er, should we wait for her, then? Or how about your grandfather, the Ox King?"

"No need, we're here!"

'Here' was a side entrance to the palace, which now loomed over Videl. Goten opened the sliding door and ushered her inside.

The room they entered was spacious, panelled by gleaming wood. The only furniture was a large, bulky table on one side, piled high with folders and papers and books. One chair was behind it, another one in front of it. The room had an air of both formality and boredom.

"Take a seat, please."

Videl took the chair opposite the table, feeling like she'd entered a completely different dimension and wasn't quite sure how to get out. Perhaps she was having a fever dream. Maybe she'd never left their cottage. Maybe she'd never left her bed. That questionable fish her father had caught for dinner must have been a powerful hallucinogenic.

Goten ruffled through the papers, snatched a pencil and looked at hear with zeal. "What is your name?" he asked, but in a tone that suggested it was a question he'd heard too often and was reciting in a similar manner; not that he was genuinely curious.

"Videl Satan," she answered. Again, she felt the familiar stiffening of her shoulders, anticipating his reaction.

But the boy only hovered his pencil above the paper, frowning. "How do you spell that?"

"Uh, v-i-d-e-l, space, s-a-t-a-n."

"And how old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Wow, that's old. Where do you live?"

"82 Seaside Cliff. Actually, about that... the ad implies that there would be room provided here, and—"

"What is your favourite kind of dinosaur?"

"Uh, what?" Favourite dinosaur? How was that relevant to the job? Was this kid playing a prank on her? Her entire life — and her father's — depended upon this job, and this child was treating it as a game! Maybe he did know who she was. Maybe he wanted to see her squirm, get her hopes up, then dash it. He wouldn't be the first one.

However, what if this child really was the person in charge of hiring, for some unfathomable reason? Or what if the real test was to see how potential applicants treated a young prince? And only people who passed it could see the Ox Princess or the Ox King?

Suddenly, the door slid back open so hard, the edge of it rattled against the wall. Videl almost jumped out of her skin.

In the doorway was a young man, tall and broad-shouldered, clad in a similar silken outfit as the Ox Prince. He had the same big dark eyes, but his hair was a bit more tidy, cut in shorter spikes from his scalp. A lone fringe fell across his forehead.

"I'm so sorry about this, miss! I got held up by other duties and I only heard about your arrival a few minutes ago," the young man declared, rushing into the room and glancing between Videl and Goten. "I... um, Goten, what are you doing? You should have led her to the guest quarters."

"Aww, but you always get to ask our visitors questions. You have tons of entries in your slam book! It's my turn!"

"It's not a slam book, Goten. It's the applicant records. Now, hop along."

"But—"

"Tell you what. Next time we get a visitor who isn't applying for a job, you can ask them all the questions you want."

"Promise?"

"Yes, now go on." The young man gently lowered Goten to the ground and patted him on the back on the way out the door. With a sigh, he turned back to Videl. "I really must apologize. I hope my little brother didn't bother you too much."

It took Videl awhile to find her voice. Brother. Of course, that made even more sense. There was more than one Ox Prince. Heavens above, she was more exhausted than she thought.

She cleared her throat. "It's fine," she said, still a bit dazed. "It's all cleared up now, I suppose."

The elder Ox Prince rummaged through the files and books on the desk, stacking them in some attempt at organisation. "Ah, there's the book of records." He opened a spiral-bound notebook with a black cover, and sat down on the chair.

"I'm not sure if my little brother asked you for some personal information already, but I'll have to repeat them. We're still working on his letters, as you can see." He lifted one page with messy pencil marks, but as far as Videl could tell, no discernible words or numbers. "Name, please?"

Videl took a silent inhale. "Videl Satan."

This time, her mental preparation paid off. The Ox Prince froze, then raised his head.

"Videl... Satan?" he repeated.

"Yes, sir," she said, in a tone not at all different from the one she'd used with the woman on the bus.

"Satan. As in... Hercule Satan? That Satan?"

"He's my father," she replied in the same tone.

"Oh?" The corners of his lips lifted in an amused smile. "Fascinating. I didn't realize he has a daughter."

Videl's eyes almost bugged out of her head. The Ox Kingdom must be more secluded than she realized; or at least, it had been two years ago. While she had managed to eschew much of the limelight her father had basked in as saviour of the world, she hadn't at all been sheltered from the infamy of his downfall.

She steeled herself for the Ox Prince's next move. Likely, he would write down a note in his book about who she was, and shortly after, show her to the door. If he had a mean streak like many employers she had approached over the years, he would keep her for a few more minutes and poke her with pointed comments about her father and his crimes and possibly hers; how ashamed their family should be, what audacity she had showing up here in a respectable place. He didn't look very mean, but she'd met angel-faced humans before who had the tongue of creatures that could rival her last name.

The Ox Prince didn't do any of those. He blinked, then asked, "Do you have a resumé?"

"A... a resumé? Yes, I have it right here!" Videl swung her backpack to her lap and dug below the clothes and other travelling gear she'd brought. The folded sheet of paper that held her past experiences met her fingers, and she pulled it out. She had rarely ever been asked for her resumé.

Videl stood and handed it to him. It was a one-pager, hardly impressive. The bulk of it referenced her time volunteering for the Orange City police force. But after her father's secrets had been revealed, the chief had highly discouraged her help; it would look hypocritical, he'd said, if the daughter of a fraudster tried to enact justice.

The more recent experiences she'd listed were various chores and errands she'd run in the seaside village. She figured those would be more relevant to whatever position she could fill as a servant in a palace.

"You used to fight crimes," the Ox Prince observed. "You have martial training then?"

"The basics, yes. Then self-taught after that."

He placed the resumé down on the table, walked to the door and slid it closed. He glanced back at her, appraising her from head to toe. "You seem on the scrawnier side, but that doesn't tell me much. One of the strongest men I know is half my height. What do you say to a demo?"

For the second time in as many minutes since he'd stepped into the room, the Ox Prince caught Videl off-guard again. She balked at his suggestion. She hadn't been able to keep up with her training these last couple of years. And although deep in her bones martial arts still called to her like a friend, it was difficult now to associate positively with something that caused so much turmoil in her life.

"I... I haven't trained a lot lately," she said.

"No worries, I'm sure it'll come back to you." The Ox Prince popped the buttons on his silken tunic from their loops, and in a graceful shrugging of his shoulders, he discarded the tunic to lay it over the back of the chair. Beneath, he only had a tight black tank top, which afforded Videl a generous view of his muscled shoulders, chest and arms.

Clearly, this was no simpering royal she was dealing with.

She must have taken too long to respond, because the Ox Prince backed up a step and raised his hands. "The reason I ask is because we have a position that recently opened up, but... well, it's a bit dangerous. So if you're in good physical form and have a bit of athleticism, it could be the perfect position. Plus, it pays three times more than any other spots in the palace."

Videl got up from her chair faster than her mind had time to think things over. The Ox Prince waved to the vast empty space in the rest of the room, and she chose a position far from the table. She settled into an alert stance, arms up, fists closed in front of her. The prince did similarly, and as soon as he signalled to start, Videl launched herself to strike.

She aimed for his chest, and he blocked her punch just as she expected. But she followed up quickly, swinging a foot against the crook of his knee. To her surprise, his posture stayed sturdy, as if she hadn't hit him at all. Videl had little time to think it through, as she raised her arms to swat away his oncoming hit. Though it looked like there had been no effort on his part, it sent her crashing to the ground.

Damn, this was what she got for thinking she could perform a decent martial arts demonstration while half-starved, exhausted, and out of practice.

Still, Videl's instincts kicked in, and she somersaulted back to her feet. As she surged upward, she delivered an upper-cut to the prince's chin, but he managed to grab her wrist in time. His grip was so tight she was able to hang her weight on it, helping her leverage a kick right against his stomach.

It was her first successful hit. He released her and backed away a few steps, but he still remained unfazed. Adrenaline was pulsing through her body now, and Videl knew that it was just a matter of time before her energy drained out of her, so she pressed on. She poured all strength and speed into every punch, kick, swipe, jab, and dodge, but she could count on one hand all the hits that actually landed. In a last desperate attack, she hooked her ankles over his neck, dropped her weight to the floor, and took him down in a roll.

The prince didn't even land next to her. She blinked and there he was, standing several feet away. If she accounted for his height and weight and the force behind her move, it was mind-boggling that he'd gotten that far that fast.

Videl staggered to her feet. Well, she had tried her best. She had been honest upfront, managing his expectations. Yet it was her own expectations she hadn't calibrated well. Her heart lodged at the top of her belly, her eyes stinging with the urge to shed frustrated tears. She'd known she wasn't prepared. This was the Ox King's grandson after all, the Ox King who'd cultivated a fearsome presence for many decades back in Mount Frypan. What other outcome could she expect? Still, it was difficult to face just how poorly she'd done, just how rusty she'd allowed herself to become.

"Excellent!" The Ox prince clapped. "Strong attacks, graceful form, snappy reflexes."

Videl stared at him, slack-jawed. Was he mocking her now?

"You say you haven't practised lately? With some good food in you and regular exercises, you'll be in tip-top shape in no time!" He dashed back to the desk, picked up the applicant notebook and wrote down a few notes.

"Are you serious?" Videl asked. This entire day felt like a skit from a sitcom.

"I'm putting you among the Stalk Gatherers."

"Wait, you're hiring me?"

"Of course!" He looked up just then, and his guileless expression made him look much younger than Videl initially thought he was. He seemed to be just around her age. "You performed well, you have the experience, and we could certainly use the help. Will you need lodgings?"

"I, uhm, yes," Videl replied, mind still reeling from how quickly things were happening.

"All right, I'll need you to sign some papers. Your salary will be 80k zennis per annum, and as part of the compensation package, you will be provided with a room and 3 meals a day. You'll have access to the medical team in the palace — very important for your line of work — and you'll have fifteen days of paid time-off per year adjusted to your starting day. Which will be tomorrow."

The Ox Prince presented her with half-a-dozen papers, pointing out the blank lines on which her signatures were required. He handed her about a dozen more, outlining the terms of her employment in more detail, a map of the palace and the village below, more forms that needed to be filled out later — emergency contacts, dietary requirements, non-disclosure agreements related to the family's restaurant business, etc.

Videl collected these in her arms, ensuring she didn't drop a single one as the Ox Prince led her out of the interview room. Her mind was still short-circuiting on being hired. It was looping over her salary. Eighty thousand zennis, goodness gracious, if she could keep this job she and her father would be quite comfortable.

"I'll show you to the residential wing for employees," he said.

They exited the room, crossed a courtyard and several bridges, then entered the palace once again through a different entrance. Maze-like corridors greeted them, all lined with dorms. Videl's stomach knotted at the idea of having to share a room with someone, but she managed to peek inside one open room, and it seemed to be big enough for just one person.

The Ox Prince turned down a few more corridors, until they seemed to reach a very tucked-away corner of the house. He slid open the door and revealed a clean, square room furnished with a cot, a dresser, a table and a lamp.

"Room 121, let me jot that down," he mumbled to himself.

Humble though it was, the room was more than Videl had hoped for. The cot was padded with a cozy looking mattress, the window opened to a group of mango trees, and there were no other rooms in this corner. She could have some privacy.

"Communal bathrooms are down the hall to the left," the Ox Prince said. "Now, I'll take you to the dining area and introduce you to the other Stalk Gatherers. Leave your things here. Is that all you brought?"

Videl glanced at her backpack. "Uh, yes, I didn't know if I was going to get…" A job.

"Right, well I suppose there would be time enough for you to get more things from your house on your days off."

She dropped her backpack and papers on the desk hastily, and followed the Ox Prince back out of the residential wing and into the largest part of the palace. All the while, he related to her the nature of her new job.

"The Stalk Gatherers are responsible for harvesting the Paozu Stalk from the mountain tops and keeping Mother's restaurant well-stocked with the ingredient. It's not easy to gather them, as you'll see, so you'll be outfitted with the appropriate gear. Steban will see to that. He's the leader of the team, a native of Paozu, so he knows his way around really well.

"The Stalk in the Frypan is open six days a week, so you'll have to make the morning trip to the mountains six times a week as well to keep the ingredient as fresh as possible. That means you only have one full day off a week, but most of the time your days would be pretty light after the morning. Outside of gathering stalks, your team just operates as floating help."

Not too bad, Videl thought. For eighty thousand zennis, not bad at all.

They were now traversing a long, spacious hallway that was occasionally punctuated by large potted plants and what Videl assumed were the Ox Family's fighting accessories in glass display cases. There was a large axe with a handle half as tall as her, a helmet with ivory horns protruding out of its temples, an armour made of leather and steel.

Next to it was a large portrait of the Ox King, posing on a beach with a big turtle on one side and a short older man on the other. Behind them was a bright pink house.

"Ah, that's Grandpa with my great-Grandpa," the Ox Prince said, noticing where Videl was looking. "On my father's side, that is. They studied martial arts together. I'm named after him, Mother told me."

Videl read the inscription beneath the portrait. Ox King and Son Gohan on Kame Island.

Son Gohan. So that was this prince's name.

"Wait, the surname Son…" she mumbled, and the next portrait appeared in her view as if to answer her question.

A man with black spiky hair much like Goten's stood behind a beautiful woman sitting on a chair with a baby on her lap. Videl's eyes went immediately to the inscription. Son Goku, Son Chichi, and Son Gohan in Mount Paozu.

"Son Goku." Videl had heard of that name before. And the man's black-and-orange gi triggered exactly the memory she needed to identify him. "He was the winner of the 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament, wasn't he?"

She had learned of Son Goku much earlier than she had of the Ox King; the man had been an admirable figure in her lessons of martial arts history. But none of the resources about the Ox King she'd read mentioned that Son Goku had married the Ox King's daughter. Another drawback of the limited materials in Seaside Cliff, it seemed.

Videl looked back at the Ox Prince with a somewhat renewed understanding. The fighting skills she had attributed to being the Ox King's grandson now seemed more likely the result of being the son of whom the martial arts community considered to be the most talented winner of all the world tournaments in history.

"Is he Prince Consort now?" she asked. Was the incredible Son Goku lurking around in this palace at this very moment?

"Oh, he passed away many years ago," Gohan replied.

Videl blanched. "I'm so sorry. I didn't hear about it." Her own mother had passed on several years ago as well, and she knew first hand how deep the grief could go, how resonant the echo of that loss could be.

"It's all right." He gave her a small smile as they resumed their trek through the palace.

The dining area was not too far from the grand hallway. It almost looked like a school canteen, with tables and benches occupying most of the space. Servants and guards were eating their meals in companionable conversations. A few glanced at their entrance, and many of the younger women smiled eagerly at the prince.

One wall had an aperture to the connecting room, which Videl assumed was the kitchen. Through there, servers ladled different dishes into small reusable containers and packed them with utensils.

"You can grab a meal now," the Ox Prince told her.

"Even if I'm only starting tomorrow?" Videl found the bravery to ask, despite the stinging pinch of her stomach. She only had a sandwich on the bus, and that had been hours ago.

Gohan chuckled. "We're not so bureaucratic here that we can't feed our guests. Go on, take a box."

Videl approached the servers almost tentatively and took one of the packages they'd just finished. Through the clear plastic, she found a heap of rice, chunks of stir-fried chicken and vegetables, one large spring roll, and what appeared to be a tub of soup.

"Thank you," she said shyly.

The server directly in front of her smiled, then blinked and stared for a bit longer. "You look familiar," she replied. She was a middle-aged woman with frizzy hair and motherly eyes. Oh, how Videl hated to be scorned by motherly women.

"Oh, perhaps," was all she said, before she made her way back to Gohan.

He was standing by a door opposite the one they'd come through. This one led to a patio surrounded by a cluster of trees, which parted on the west side to afford those sitting on the benches a perfect view of the setting sun.

A group of assorted folks sat on the benches, leaning towards their shared table as they ate their dinner. One man stood upon noticing Videl and Gohan, and he stepped towards them. He was around the same height as her, with lightly tanned leathery skin that spoke of someone who was used to labouring under the sun. His dark brown hair and beard framed a face that was neither young nor old.

"Ox Prince, what can I do for you?" he asked. He had the same mountain accent as the princes.

"Hello, Steban. I finally found someone for your team," Gohan replied. Ah, so this was the leader of the Stalk Gatherers that the prince had mentioned.

Videl peeked at the others on the table, wondering if they were the rest of the group. There were four of them. One was a slender young woman with long black hair dyed red near her face and large round spectacles sitting on her nose. Videl didn't think she looked very athletic, which was one of the requirements that the Ox Prince had named for this job, but who was Videl to judge? There was another woman too, but older, middle-aged. She had a deep tan, salt-and-pepper hair pulled up in a bun, and the build of someone who probably once served in the army. The other two were men, one similar in stature and features to Steban, though younger; and the other was an even younger man who was probably around the same age as Gohan. He had luscious blonde hair that fell to his back. His crisp flannels and deep blue denim jeans gave him an air of a city boy.

The blonde boy's eyes met hers and they widened. He leaned across the table quickly, gesturing for the rest to get closer to him. With a sinking feeling, Videl knew she'd been recognized.

"Aha, fresh blood, I see!" Steban commented, and he swung a hand in her direction. "What's the name, lass?"

Videl took a deep breath, and balanced her dinner box on one hand, while the other reached for Steban's. "Videl, sir."

"Videl... ah, Satan?"

Gohan laughed. "That's right! Would you believe that, huh?"

Steban's handshake went limp, and so did his smile. He turned around to look at the others on the bench. They were now conversing in low tones, their faces in various states of shock and distaste. The blonde boy was positively glowering at her.

"Well, I'll leave you all to get acquainted," Gohan said, and Videl barely stopped herself from grabbing his arm and begging him to stay. She didn't need someone else to fight her battles for her, no matter how exhausting it was to have to fight them everyday, multiple times a day.

The Ox Prince went back inside, and Videl gritted her teeth against the awkward atmosphere that descended upon them.

"It's good to meet you," she forced herself to say with a final firm shake of Steban's hand. She did mean it; after all, she had come here on the very thin hope of getting a job, and that hope miraculously came to fruition. Now that she'd secured a position, she was intent on keeping it.

"Quite," Steban said. There was an air of anticipation behind him among the others on the bench. They probably wanted to see what their leader would do. A strong leader could sway the behaviour of his subordinates without losing face, and Steban didn't look like a pushover. But he might also stand by his team against a troublesome newcomer to consolidate support.

Videl silently wished he would behave like the first.

"We start work at 4:30 in the morning," Steban replied. "Meet us in the garage at that time, and I'll give you all the proper equipment. Then we'll head out to the mountain tops. I always say the best way to learn is on the job, so I'll be guiding you through the tasks tomorrow. Might be a good idea to retire early for tonight. I'm sure you've had a tiring day."

Videl knew a dismissal when she heard one, no matter how politely it was delivered, and her soft wish evaporated. She didn't know why she even bothered to think otherwise. Perhaps, despite everything, she still wanted to believe that some people were good and would do the kind thing. Because she was trying so hard to do the same.

Well, she'd take what she could get. Son Gohan had already shown her more kindness than she'd received from others in a week.

"Thank you, I'll be there," she promised. She turned around and headed back indoors, but not before she heard the burst of whispering from the benches.

"You sure it's her?" One of the women asked.

"There can't be more than one Videl Satan. I saw her all the time on the news back when I lived in Orange City." Ah, so one of them — must be the blonde boy — used to be an Orange City resident. Videl understood his vitriol, then. Shame spread so easily, and the previously named Herculopolis city had not been immune to it.

"I wonder if she faked her resumé." Snickers and giggles.

Videl pushed through the doors. If she had a zenni every time somebody thought she'd faked her experience to get work, well, she wouldn't quite be a millionaire, but she'd have about two hundred extra zennis in her wallet.

It wasn't too difficult for her to trace her steps back to her room. She found solace in its privacy, and it was all she could do not to slump in the bed. Instead, she sat by the desk, opening the bento box. The food was still warm, and she forced herself to take slow bites and sips, really savouring the taste of well-made food.

The sun had fully set by the time she finished. In the blue glow of early night, Videl unpacked her meagre belongings from her bag. A quick bath and then she would slip into bed. Steban was correct: it had been a very tiring day.

As she was fishing out soap and her pajamas, a laminated newspaper clipping fell on the cot. Not the job ad, but something much older. It shouldn't have taken Videl by surprise, as she brought the thing everywhere. It was a reminder, a memory made concrete, of the day everything changed.

Hercule Satan proven a FRAUD. Anonymous hacker releases PROOF with excavated footage of the Cell Games.

And there, accompanying that bold header was an image of Cell disintegrating from a powerful blast, all the while her father and the rest of the TV crew were cowering behind a boulder. It had been captured by a camera, still recording, left behind on the ground during one of the many chaotic moments of the games.

Videl stuffed it back into her backpack. As grim as it may seem, it reminded her exactly why she was doing all of this, doing all she could to care for her father. The important thing was that she made one step forward today. There was hope.

A/N: When I first tried to write this premise fourteen years ago, I was angling for a more mature, saucy type of story, more heavily focused on court intrigue, relationships, and scandals. But these days, I gravitate more towards comforting stories with hijinks type of conflicts and ample space for character work. I hope I've set the stage appropriately with this first chapter.

You know, I always found it a little strange that the Son Family was on the brink of poverty, when Chichi seemed to be a hardworking, creative woman with a somewhat privileged background. I understand that the narrative needed her to be on the sidelines, but I figure I give her a bit of spotlight here. I think there's definitely enough canon material to suggest that she could be a top chef if she really wanted to and she had the opportunity for it!