Back at it with my first Dragon Ball story in quite a while! Shaking off the rust. Dragon Ball/Z/GT/Super/Ultra/Blue/Super Dragon Ball Super Dragon Ball aren't mine.

It wasn't exactly neuroscience. He'd seen his mentor do it under waterfalls for years. With how stoic and calm he remained even during the direst of situations, it obviously worked.

So why couldn't Gohan focus and meditate?

The teenaged half-Saiyan floated cross-legged, eyes closed, before the vast stream of water flowing throughout the forests of Mt. Paoz. It was a mimic of Piccolo, sure, but it didn't measure up. Whatever sense of tranquility filling Gohan's mind only lasted a fleeting moment. Most of his "meditation" was spent twitching restlessly and wondering what in the hell was wrong with him.

A decade of planting his nose in textbooks should have provided the obvious answer – he was fourteen. The absolute prime year for teenage angst, outburst of anger, bad acne and unfounded hatred of parents. Yet Gohan sensed something deeper.

It had been three years since the Cell Games. In fact, the anniversary of the exact date was closing in. Every day, Gohan's mind drifted to the events; not so tough since his father's permanent absence was an easy reminder. The combination of his frightening sadism and arrogance against Cell, Goku's absent-minded battle junkie behavior, the crying two-and-a-half year-old Goku clone responsible for permanent bags under his and his mother's eyes, and the Goku-sized void in his life reduced Gohan to a guilt-ridden shell of himself.

Throwing himself into books sounded like an easy solution to distract his mind, but that only reminded him of Goku's old tries at sneaking him away from his studies for a training excursion. And he sure as hell wouldn't find peace from playing with his baby brother Goten - again, his smile and hair was a daily dose of Goku-Face. Shit, this waterfall was the same one he was dangling precariously from ten years ago when he tried escaping from a tiger, the day everything changed.

It sure seemed like the universe was set on reminding Gohan of the mess he'd made. Sheesh, Piccolo, how do you do it?

"Oh, there you are, Gohan!"

The boy's eyes instantly flicked open. He dreaded even looking at the scolding face accompanying that voice. "Uh…sorry mom, I didn't mean to be out long! I'll go back to stu-"

"Oh no, you're fine! There's something else I want to tell you!" Chi-Chi stood atop a cliff, looking down below at her son. There was relieved smile on her face. Goten was asleep for once, ergo she could actually see the outside world!

His mother's assurance gave Gohan a relieved breath. Seconds later he floated back up to the land to face her. "What's up?"

"I just got off the phone with Bulma. Did you know they actually started doing the World Martial Arts tournaments again?" Chi-Chi asked.

"Huh, really?" Gohan feigned interest, but the whole tournament business was before his time. He'd only heard of it in stories, and with his present strength he and the rest of his comrades were far beyond that level of competition. But whatever subject took his mother's mind off schoolwork was a welcome one.

Chi-Chi clasped her hands together as her smile grew more anxious, almost a negotiating look. "Now, promise you won't get annoyed…"

"Okay…?" asked Gohan with an arched eyebrow.

"Well, the 25th one is coming up in a week. I know I'm always 'study this' and 'study that', buuuut…." Chi-Chi cautiously twiddled her thumbs.

Gohan sighed, predicting the next sentence…

"I think you should join!" Chi-Chi braced herself for one of the harsh rebukes that became a little more commonplace from the teenager, but received a pensive frown instead.

"But mom, I'm way too strong for those guys," Gohan grumbled "You might as well have just bought me a punching bag or something…"

"I know, I know, I was expecting that. But Bulma said she's getting the whole gang to come along, too!" Chi-Chi assured. While that got a smile out of Gohan, it was a sour one.

"Oh, okay…" Gohan mumbled, eyes drifting to the grass.

"Why the long face, son?" Chi-Chi queried with a concerned hand on her hip. She figured Gohan wanted a reprieve from the eternal hours of reading and babysitting. "Those tournaments were probably the most fun your father ever had."

His father. His father had fun with the tournaments. Sure, Gohan liked the occasional spar, but Goku was a different animal. The boy knew his father well enough that the real wonder of those tournaments was discovering the huge array of martial artists across the world, back in a time where Goku wasn't thousands of tiers above them. What sense of wonder would there have been for a studious pacifist like him?

"It's just…fighting's not really my thing," Gohan muttered to an eye-roll from Chi-Chi.

"I know a green alien and a creaky window that would disagree," Chi-Chi answered with a sly smile. Gohan's crooked, guilty smile affirmed her stance (although it had been quite a while since he sparred with Piccolo!). "But c'mon, I know you must be tired of staying around here all day. A little socializing won't kill you."

After Gohan's dreary glance towards the wilderness, Chi-Chi opted for a more direct approach. "Look, Gohan, I know fighting's a sore subject for you these days. I don't blame you for being antsy about it. But, I think over the years I've gone kinda overboard with the whole schoolwork stuff. You need some balance. Plus, Bulma said the future Trunks should be coming back any day now!"

"Oh, really?" Gohan asked excitedly. Maybe he'll be in the tournament…

That might actually be interesting.

Gohan scratched the back of his head, shrugging. "I'll think about it, I guess."

"Just give it a shot." Chi-Chi smiled wearily and headed back to her house. She expected Gohan resisting the idea, but it didn't quell her concerns. While Gohan wasn't the temperamental, emotional wreck that would be expected of somebody who lived his life, his disposition had soured since Goku made his choice to remain dead. The unpredictable drifts to the outdoors betrayed a soul trying to find itself.

With a frustrated sigh, Gohan looked the heavens. Maybe Goku was watching. Heck, maybe he could hear his thoughts. I guess tournaments can't get me hyped up like you…


With all of the bizarre occurrences at the Capsule Corporation dome, a yellow pod appearing out of thin air should have likely failed to raise any alarm from the citizens of West City. Yet when the tall man with lavender hair emerged from it's glass seal, he was met with startled stares and motorists skidding in the streets.

Not that Trunks minded, of course. He was just glad to see a healthy, thriving city. It certainly beat the hell out of a dwindling population attempting to rebuild it.

The Androids that annihilated his timeline were defeated. The Cell that was fated to kill him and steal the time machine he was now reducing to capsule form couldn't even lay a finger on him. Safe to say, Bulma's plan to save two timelines was a rousing success; now Trunks just wanted to tell the gang whose lives it saved how things went on his end.

After announcing his name to the Capsule Corp. door's automated voice, Trunks beamed as the door swung open. The same blue hair he'd just bid farewell in another dimension was greeting him.

"Trunks! Oh, thank God, you stuck with short hair!" Bulma gleamed as she pulled her big son in for a hug.

"Pretty sure I survived Cell and the Androids, too," Trunks replied, chuckling.

"Well duh, that was obvious," Bulma rebuked, playfully punching Trunks in the shoulder. A proud smirk decorated her face. "I wouldn't expect anything less of my son. Now come on in!"

It seemed like present and future Bulma were both on the save wavelength about their own hair, too, because this one sported a shorter cut as well. She led Trunks inside and down the hall, muttering about how excited she was for him to see everyone again.

"Hey, mom! Guess who came to visit!" Bulma called as she and Trunks arrived in the living room. Her eccentric, blonde mother gasped in pleasant surprise.

"Oh, it's Big Trunks!" she exclaimed, running up to him. Trunks blushed as she gave him a hug; doting no matter what timeline. "How's my other favorite grandson doing?"

Big Trunks. Other favorite grandson. Trunks hadn't even thought about that can of worms until he looked over his grandmother's shoulder and found a rather frazzled miniature clone of himself watching from the couch with his mouth gaped open.

The little Trunks could only grunt and blink rapidly at the tall, jean jacket-clad man with hair just like his own who his mom and grandma greeted like an old friend (and looked him with a weary smile on his face). He turned right to look at himself in the mirror on the wall. Then he whipped his head back to "Big Trunks." The face was awfully familiar. Little Trunks looked at his own face in the mirror once more. Then back to Big Trunks. Then back to the mirror. Then back to Big Trunks again.

It was certainly like, well…looking in the mirror.

"Um…uh…um…" was all Trunks could get out before bursting into a spring of confused tears.

"Aw, Trunks, don't cry! You're just confused, that's all" Bulma cooed as she held the little one in her arms.

"B-But he looks too much like me, mom!" the four-year-old whimpered.

Future Trunks choked out a few laughs as he glued his eyes to the floor. "Looks like" was certainly an understatement.

"Well, that's because he is you! He came all the way from the future!" Bulma proudly declared.

"Mom!" Future Trunks bellowed. Was she crazy?!

"Oh c'mon, did you have a better story? He's a sharp kid – you should know." Bulma shrugged as she patted little Trunks on the head.

Whelp, there went the cousin story.

Little Trunks wiped away snot as he tried to stifle his whimpers. Things were starting to make a bit more sense. "That's really me?"

"Uh huh," Bulma nodded as Future Trunks lifted a hand and waved. Little Trunks blinked a few more times.

"HOLY SHIT!"

Future Trunks stumbled. His face smacked against the well-waxed marble floor. While grandma laughed, Bulma seethed.

"Trunks!" she scolded, smacking the younger of the half-Saiyans on his arm. "What have I told you about your language?!"

"S-Sorry!"

"So from the sound of it, father's still around?" Trunks deduced as he picked himself up from the floor. He could hardly stand straight before the little one zipped to his feet at startling speed.

The frowning and tears were long gone, replaced by a smile that the older Trunks hadn't seen on himself in a good decade. The younger Trunks had his fists clenched in wonder and excitement as he looked up at him. "Ooh, does this mean you can boss Goten around?! I bet he's still weaker than you in the future, right?!"

"Goten?" Trunks asked Bulma, an eyebrow raised.

"Goku and Chi-Chi's second son!" Bulma answered. "Guess Chi-Chi wanted to keep him pumped up before the Cell Games, if ya know what I mean."

Trunks' face painfully contorted, shoulders slumping under the weight of embarrassment. Different timelines, same vulgar mouth. Did she forget about her toddler in the room whom she just scolded for bad language?!

That couldn't stop the smile that spread on his lips, however. If fiddling with the space-time-continuum and changing history was a crime, Trunks would gladly plead guilty.

"That's great to hear, mom!" Trunks beamed. "I'd love to meet him!"

Bulma reached down to grab the younger Trunks by his shoulders. "If you thought this little tyke is a clone, wait 'till you see Goten. You'd think Goku got reincarnated!"

That last part stung just a bit. "Man, it's a shame Goku wound up dying, anyway," he murmured. "Now he has a kid he'll never see."

Bulma placed a soothing hand on her elder son's cheek. He always tended to take on everybody else's worries. "It's nothing to be down about. In your time, he didn't even live long enough to have him. Now he's got a kid that'll grow up and not even know what an Android is!"

Now that was something to smile about at. Future Trunks' cerulean eyes glowed as they watched the energetic doppelganger before him.

"And you have one, too."

Bulma nodded proudly. Her son certainly inherited her way with words.

"Ooh, Mom, can I show Big Me my room?!" Little Trunks pleaded, jumping up and down like his shoes had cushions on them. He paused after confusing himself, however, and turned back around to his older self. "Oh wait, you already know what my room looks like anyway."

"No, that's fine. I'm sure you've got plenty of toys that I never had in my time," Trunks replied, turning on his heel to lead the way to his, well, their room. Bulma followed them, laughing at the thought of the younger Trunks finding a big brother in the form of himself. He definitely wasted no time in firing off questions.

"Do they have mind-reading phones in the future? Can you watch TV in your brain?!" The toddler jumped up to the adult's wrist and grabbed his watch. "Ooh I bet this can fire lasers!"

Trunks laughed to himself; future gadgets were a welcome change in question subjects from dead fathers, that was for sure. Although that placed the subject of Vegeta on his mind. Tuning out the boy's hyperactive questionnaire, Trunks turned to Bulma.

"Hey, where's father, anyway? I can't sense his Ki around here."

Bulma's angry grunt wasn't the first response Trunks wanted to hear. "Oh, probably off being depressed and staring at mountains, as he's been wont to do for the last few years. I swear, between Gohan and Vegeta, the Saiyan race has replaced fighting with moping. Can't blame 'em, I guess."

Trunks found himself frowning again as they reached his room. "Goku?"

"Goku." Bulma echoed. "They're both shaken up about it for completely different reasons and coping the exact same way. Vegeta still comes around and gives little Trunks some drills, but his passion for fighting's all dried up. As it has in other areas…"

Trunks could've done without the last part, although his mind trailed off while he rested on the space-ship covered bedsheets and observed a picture framed on his dresser, Sure enough, there was Vegeta, sporting his trademark snarl as the infant Trunk tugged one of the many spikes in his hair. It was a snapshot that filled Trunks with as much regret as it did happiness. Vegeta and Gohan certainly weren't the only Saiyans weighed by loss, even in the face of victory.

As the little Trunks emptied his closets with a virtual armory of toys to display, his adult self gazed across, only absent-mindedly nodding at his motor-mouthed action figure expositions. The Gohan of his time bore the pain of losing not just his father, but every single friend. But he had no time to mourn it with the threat of the Androids constantly looming. It was a chaotic life that had to have taken a mental toll on his instructor. There weren't many people to confide in, a girl whose name escaped in being the only other person Trunks recalled hearing of. This era had plenty, but its Gohan desired space above all.

"Hey, Big Me, is Gohan still a dork in the future? I hope he doesn't end up as my teacher or somethin'" Little Trunks suddenly asked, snapping Future Trunks out of his trance. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought their minds were connected. Future Trunks only offered a dour smile in response.

"I-I'm sure he is, Trunks," Bulma stammered to the younger one. Young or old, Bulma could read her son's facial expressions like a research paper. Her future son clearly remained apprehensive about that subject.

"Anyway, speaking of Gohan, I'm actually glad you've come now," Bulma said, switching subjects. "There's a World Martial Arts Tournament coming up, and Chi-Chi talked him into joining! It's not much of a competition, but the whole gang's entering, too. Should be fun, maybe."

"Oh really?!" Trunks asked, his eyes lighting up. "That would be a great way to reconnect with everybody. When is it?"

"Three days."

"Oh, I wanna go, too!" squealed the younger Trunks. "Can I enter, mom?!"

Bulma and Future Trunks both laughed as Bulma answered, "I think you'll need another three years before you're ready for that."

"Oh c'mon, papa's been givin' me lotsa training," the boy insisted. "I can compete with the grown-ups no problem!"

"The answer's final, Trunks," Bulma ordered as the boy groaned. "But I'm sure they'll appreciate you cheering along!"

Little Trunks mumbled "whatever" as Bulma left the room. Trunks glanced up to make sure she was gone and raised a hand to his pampered past counterpart. "Hey kid, let's see what ya got."

The young Trunks gulped as he watched his older self. His presence was certainly exciting, but also overwhelming on the young one's mind. That was literally himself who was talking to him. It made him amped, jealous, nervous…every emotion bottled up into one. But he could tell this one was strong; why wouldn't he be? He was him, after all.

Finally, Little Trunks firmly nodded. He balled up his tiny fist and punched Big Trunks' palm as hard as he could.

And he actually rocked Future Trunks backwards. There was no exaggeration on his part, either. Vegeta was certainly making an impact on him. It was more than just his power, however. Future Trunks was never a bold kid even from a young age; the circumstances he was raised into were far too melancholy. They frightened him more than anything.

This Trunks, on the other hand? Vibrant, confidant, and playful. A luxury of the lack of weight on his shoulders.

"You're pretty strong, Kiddo! You'll grow up like me in no time." Future Trunks recoiled just slightly at that one. Hopefully that was in power only.

As Trunks took off to the hallway, he spotted an unoccupied room. Judging from the armor left discarded on the floor, it was his father's. The first thing that struck him was his father and Bulma still having separate rooms, revealing a clear distance still present between the two. The other thing was, the armor being on the floor and not wherever Vegeta was staying. Another warrior shying from combat.

Saiyans had fighting in their blood, but for the strongest ones remaining, it was flowing to a heavy heart.


Gohan sighed as he looked through the window, chin buried in his hand. Chi-Chi was piloting her hovercar, one of the many headed to the tournament's host, Papaya Island. Her road (sky?) rage and Goten's naïve observations were the only things keeping Gohan awake.

"Ooh, can we hop on the bird too, Gohan?" Goten asked. The boy was two-and-a-half and loaded with questions.

"I don't think he's big enough, Goten," Gohan answered, his eyes not leaving the window. It was hard to not tune him out most times. Gohan wondered if he was just as hyperactive at that age.

As much as he couldn't get enthused for the tournament, Gohan at least looked the part in his father's signature orange & blue uniform. Piccolo made it on his request months prior to at least keep some trace of his father…not that he ever found much use for it, since the idea of fighting made him squirm most of the time.

After an hour of traversing among hundreds of cars, what was left of the Son Family landed. Chi-Chi stirred at the heavy urbanization Papaya Island had taken on. What was a once a sacred ground of martial artists now looked like any other city around the world. Far more children running around, too, amplifying the noise a few decibels higher. The ex-competitor couldn't move her head in either direction without finding a merchandise stand, either, most of them dedicated to the alleged savior of the world.

"Sheesh, looks like the corporations got their hands on the tournament. Where's the authentic fighting spirit?!" Chi-Chi lamented. Gohan withdrew any of his comments of the "told ya so" variety. With every step he took, the more Gohan doubted he'd find anything to ease his emptiness.

Not even the familiar group that stopped to greet him.

"Hey, Gohan! Chi-Chi! Nice to see ya made it!" Called the short guy with a full (!) head of hair that Gohan may not have recognized if not for the lack of nose.

"Hey, Krillin!" Chi-Chi greeted.

Gohan put on his most convincing smile and mumbled a quick "Hi." Krillin's hair threw him off, but the rest of the crew looked the same – Roshi, Oolong, Puar, and Yamcha, who wasn't in his fighting gear. Not surprisingly, the gang turned their attention to Goten.

"Hey, little guy! I swear you look more and more like your pops every day!" Krillin said to the toddler.

Goten pointed and laughed at Krillin. "Hey, it's no-nose again!" Krillin huffed while the crew erupted with laughter, although the most Gohan could muster was a light chuckle. Master Roshi marched over to greet him.

"Hey, Gohan; how's it holdin' up, young man?" Roshi asked.

"I'm fine, thanks," came Gohan's automated response. "This tournament must back some memories for you."

"Indeed. And you wear the uniform well, I might add."

Gohan nodded, although he began to regret his choice of outfit since it ensured that the shadow of Goku would cast over everything. Then again, why was he even there to begin with? That shadow would loom regardless of his clothes.

"I prefer the purple look, personally."

Gohan spotted a nearby tree, although he didn't need to look over there to identify that voice. It gave him his first genuine smile in a while. "Hey, Piccolo."

Piccolo was his usual stone-faced, cross-armed self, preferring the isolation the leaves and shade of the tree provided. "Everything alright, kid?"

Gohan suspected Piccolo already knew the answer, but he at least attempted a fib. "Yeah, sure, I guess."

"You haven't sparred in a while."

"I know," Gohan hastily replied. "I can't find any reason to get excited about fighting these days…some hero I am, huh?"

Piccolo shrugged. Gohan was as tough on himself as always. His biggest strength, and his biggest weakness, was his big heart. Always burdening himself.

"Well if you have no reason to fight, what brings you here?" Piccolo inquired.

Gohan observed his friends as they laughed and caught up with each other. Enjoying themselves. Sure, they all missed Goku at least as much as he did, yet they could live happy regardless. Envy and regret filled his eyes.

"Looking for an answer, I guess."

"Hn."

The rest of the gang joined the mentor and student. Chi-Chi wasn't surprised that Gohan immediately took to Piccolo, and was honestly grateful. She could say a lot about Piccolo – kidnapper, fighting maniac, monster, corrupter, whatever – but her son looked up to him and always received his guidance. And she was sure his insistence on internalizing all of his turmoil meant he was sorely lacking it.

"Dammit, Piccolo! I at least wanted to make the finals!" Krillin groaned, drawing a smirk from the Namekian.

"Just try not blowing up the ring, 'Ma Junior,'" Yamcha snickered.

"No promises."

As everybody laughed at a rare moment of humor from ol' Big Green, they were joined by another group. "Getting the party started without us, eh?"

"Bulma!" Krillin called. "And Trunks! And Trunks!"

Pause.

"Holy crap, Trunks, you're back!" The friends gathered around the Briefs family to catch up with the warrior who helped save their fates. Krillin cringed when he glanced at the younger Trunks, however. "Oh wait, excuse me. Boxers, visiting your cousins, I see!" Krillin fibbed, carefully watching the younger Trunks. Future Trunks could only weakly chuckle. Boxers?

"Save it Krillin, he knows," Bulma said with a dismissive wave. She could hardly stifle her laughter. "But seriously, Boxers?"

"Yeah, I can't lie under pressure," Krillin said, scratching his newfound head of hair.

"So I take it the Androids in your timeline are done for?" Yamcha asked.

"Yup," Trunks answered, smiling broadly. "I waited another three years for Cell to wake up and took care of him, too. When Bulma told me about this tournament, I was glad; 'bout time I got a chance to fight without anything important on the line."

"We can all agree on that one."

Trunks shifted his attention to the one person who probably couldn't agree. "Hey, Gohan!"

Gohan smiled back at Trunks. He was noticeably taller since the warrior of the future had last been in this era, and with his outfit of choice it gave Trunks intense déjà vu. Gohan was growing up into the man his master wished he was.

"Glad to see you back, Trunks," Gohan replied, with genuine joy. "I guess I'm not the only to defeat Cell, now."

Krillin laughed a bit, but quickly grew annoyed. "And now with both of you in the tournament my victory's even more of a pipe dream. At least my wife can't compete with the pregnancy and all, or else I might as well not even enter!"

"Wife?" Trunks asked. Not that he thought that little of Krillin, but he settled down with a fighter, apparently? One that was strong enough to be considered a serious contender in the tournament at that? "Oh yeah, I remember mom mentioned you getting married. I didn't know she was a fighter, too. Who is she?"

Trunks felt like the butt of a practical joke when Krillin merely responded with a smirk and a shrug of his shoulders, while Yamcha, Bulma, Roshi, and even Gohan tried to hold back laughter. "Oh, I think you know her a little bit," Yamcha said in between snorts.

Trunks narrowed his eyes in confusion, "Who…?"

"Dammit, Krillin, the food around here is awful."

Without thought, Trunks instantly tensed up and squared his shoulders for battle. That voice he'd just heard to his right was one he could never forget, and sent a chill down his spine. He swiftly shifted to the object of the voice. It was unmistakable – the blonde hair, those icy, pale, blue eyes, and…

…a belly the size of a balloon?

On Android 18?

The Android that helped destroy his timeline, the very reason he traveled to this era?

The same Android that Krillin seemed unusually interested in, which led to him ruining their plan to stop Cell by brea - Oh, right.

But still.

"What the fuck?!" Trunks shrieked, hardly recognizing the high-pitched whine that escaped his mouth. That brought the biggest laugh of the day, by far.

Android 18 shifted her aloof stare to the quivering, purple-haired mess. "Oh, I remember you. You were another one of the Saiyans, right?"

"Yes," Trunks replied, more tersely than he intended.

"What's your deal, anyway?" #18 probed. Krillin wasn't sure if it was the hormones or her usual disposition, but whatever the case was, he hastily jumped between the two to smooth things over. She connected the dots on her own, however. "Ah, right. Krillin gave me the scoop. You must be here to tell us you finally killed me in the future, right?"

Trunks nodded. It wasn't particularly warm out, yet his forehead was damp with sweat.

"Well you're lucky I've got this baby in me, or else I'd have to get some payback," she said with a challenging smirk, reaching over to give him a light, playful jab to the cheek.

Trunks looked at #18 like she'd grown a third eye, his face as red as Krillin's shirt. A friendly, playful exchange with Android 18. I sure did a number on this timeline, huh? He said to himself. Was this what it felt like to have one's life come full circle?

Well, whatever the case was, Trunks was glad to see that the newfound peace was very favorable to Krillin and gave him a family. Even if the result provided Trunks with a lethal cocktail of nausea and existential crisis.

As everyone laughed at the painfully awkward meeting, Piccolo felt a distinct Ki makes it arrival. "Well, I'll be damned,"

Just as Gohan was about to ask Piccolo what he was talking about, he felt it too. He nearly echoed Piccolo's sentiments. Those amongst them who could sense Ki felt it hit too, and they all swung around to face the familiar flame-haired figure leaning nonchalantly against the wall, arms folded.

"F-Father?!" Trunks stuttered.

"Hn."

Both versions of Trunks approached Vegeta, who looked off to the side, feeling what could almost be called embarrassment. While the younger Trunks opted to parade around his legs while screaming hyperactively, the elder smiled and nodded. There wasn't much that needed to be said between the two.

"Well look who decided to show his face again," Bulma sneered. "You probably just wondered why there were so many power levels gathered up."

"That would be correct," Vegeta replied evenly, although his half-smirk showed he was mostly teasing to spite her.

"Are you joining the tournament, too?" Trunks asked.

"Is that what all of these festivities are for? What a joke," Vegeta scoffed. Krillin silently cheered.

Trunks immediately knew what button to press. "Oh, well I'm joining too. So's Gohan."

Vegeta looked clean past his son to observe the younger half-Saiyan. The boy obviously hadn't trained since the battle, although he'd be a hypocrite to scold him for it. Since the Cell Games ended, Vegeta had excruciatingly stuck to his vow to never fight again, save for training Trunks. As much as the subject of battle had soured for him, it was the only way of connecting to his son that wasn't a foreign concept.

Besides that, Gohan was considerably stronger than him.

He was the son of low class. How much could Vegeta let that stand?

The prince closed his eyes.

"Feh. Guess I'll give it a shot."

As Krillin slumped in despair, Trunks smiled. Mission accomplished. As annoyed as Bulma was, she was content to hear the news.

"You still have my armor, woman?" Vegeta asked. The three-day old white tank-top and black jeans certainly weren't suitable fighting attire.

"I didn't bring your stuff since I didn't expect you to show up," Bulma said with just a slight trace of resentment. "Besides, I don't think they allow armor in competition."

Vegeta rolled his eyes at such an absurd notion. But he supposed he could make this attire work – it wouldn't be the oddest outfit he'd worn to battle in his life.

Nobody was more surprised by Vegeta's sudden appearance than Gohan. He very clearly hadn't come to join in on the tournament, and judging from the light shade of red in his eyes, he'd been out and about for a while. Perhaps he sensed Trunks' arrival earlier on but chose to wait to reunite with him. The fact that he made the gesture spoke volumes about where he and Trunks stood with each other, although his outburst against Cell made that clear enough. Gohan once again looked towards the clouds – the barrier keeping him from a reunion he desperately needed.

As Gohan lost himself in his thoughts, a siren caught his alarm.

"Check-in closes in five minutes!" announced a short man sitting at a table.

"We never were the types for punctuality," Krillin said. "Let's hurry up." The gang got in line…


"Junior Division?!"

Never had two words irritated Gohan so much before. "What do you mean?!"

The tournament employee nonchalantly shrugged. "Sorry, but all competitors aged seven through fifteen have to fight in the junior division. It's for your safety, kiddo."

Kiddo? Okay, Bulma and the others used that word affectionately with him, but Gohan wasn't about to be patronized by some stranger with no clue of where he stood on the power food chain. The step that he took towards the table was just a smidge too threatening for Chi-Chi's taste, so she nudged him back and marched forward in his place.

"I'll have you know my late husband - who was the last champion before you all revived this tournament, I might add – was even younger than our son when he entered and finished runner-up of the whole thing," Chi-Chi argued on her son's behalf. "So, save me this crap about 'safety!'"

"Sorry, but rules are rules," the man said with a meek smile, attempting to defuse the situation.

"Oh, whatever," Gohan said, turning on his heel. There was absolutely no purpose for being there if he couldn't even fight the only ones who stood a chance of aiding him in igniting his father's competitive flame. He'd probably get an earful from Chi-Chi when she made it back home, but he decided flying off was for the best. He began to gather his Ki, when…

"Hey! Don't act like you're so special, you heard the guy. You're not the only one who wishes he could fight the grown folks, so just deal with it."

Gohan halted his escape at the sound of that provocative voice. It was feminine, but imposing. He swung back around, curious of who was speaking to him so rudely…

It was a girl, alright. One that froze him for reasons he'd never had a chance to think about in his short life. For one thing, she looked to be around his age, a youthful exuberance lighting her blue eyes…eyes that immediately made the word "pretty" ring off in Gohan's scattered teenage mind. Although she was almost mimicking Vegeta with her fierce glare and cross-armed stance.

"Um, yeah…I guess," Gohan absent-mindedly replied.

Chi-Chi wanted to address this girl and her pigtail-hairstyle who was speaking so rudely to Gohan, but upon seeing the somewhat glazed look in her son's eyes, she simply smiled and chose to let this little quarrel play out.

The fiery young lady snapped her fingers in Gohan's face. "Anybody home?"

The gesture earned an abrupt, alert glare from the half-Saiyan. "What was that for?"

"Just getting your attention," she said with a coy smile that dared to send Gohan back to the daze he had fallen victim to. "Anyway, the rules are rules, and besides, if you're my age and want to fight, you're gonna have to get through me." She boastfully pointed her gloved thumb at herself.

"Really?"

The pigtailed teen was left befuddled. "Uh, do you even know who I am?"

"Nope," Gohan bluntly replied. He certainly wished he did, though.

"Well, the name's Videl, and I'm the reigning Junior Division Champ," she proclaimed, a smirk painting her features. She extended her hand expecting a shake, although Gohan didn't react. He found the gesture more arrogant than salutary. Besides, he seemed more captivated by the way her pigtails waved whenever she moved.

"…Well?!" Videl glared, growing flustered with the boy.

Gohan briskly shook his head, restoring his mind to the regular world. "Oh…um, sorry. I just don't have much to prove here." On one hand, he was preparing to turn back around to leave the island for good, but on the other hand, he wanted to keep looking at her.

"And what's that supposed to mean? Are you saying you're better than me?" Videl snarled.

Gohan's shrug and apologetic expression was enough of an answer for Videl. She nearly felt steam come out of her nose.

"Just who…who…?!" Videl's words trailed off, her anger giving way to concentration as she narrowed her eyes. There was something about the boy's wild, spiky hair and outfit that was striking her.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" she finally asked.

"Maybe?" Gohan said with another shrug. He was just humoring her; if they'd met before, he would've been more prone to mysterious dazes throughout his lifetime.

The light bulb went off in her head. "Wait, it's you!" She firmly pointed her index finger at Gohan's face. "You're the 'Delivery Boy' who fought Cell!"

At that, Gohan laughed internally, though he chose to stretch this game out. "You think so? Didn't that kid have blonde hair and blue eyes?" Green eyes, but he didn't want to sound too knowledgeable.

"You can't fool me, there were guys there who could change their hair color," Videl argued. Now that she mentioned it, she recognized some of the folks who signed up before Gohan. She triumphantly folded her arms. "I've got you figured out!"

Gohan closed his eyes and snickered. When they opened, his pupils were a brilliant shade of teal. "Ya got me."

Videl's knees buckled. Just slightly, of course.

Regaining her composure (his eyes going back to normal certainly helped) she resumed boldly pointing at him. "N-No wonder you're acting like such a hotshot." Really? "I bet you think you have me fooled with all of those silly magic tricks. Well I've got news for you, buddy – not only am I the reigning Junior Division champion, but I'm Mr. Satan's daughter!"

"Who?"

Now Videl was genuinely upset. "What do you mean, 'who?' He's the guy who bailed you phonies out when Cell was beating you down! You owe him your life!"

Tried though he might have, Gohan couldn't fight his laughter at the thought of the musclebound Afro-head. "Oh, that guy?" The smirk on his face could've rivaled Vegeta's. "Well tell him I said thanks."

Like a warrior prepared for mortal combat, Videl squared her shoulders and fiercely squeezed her fists. "I'm not gonna let you disrespect my family like that! If you're too chicken to join the tournament, then I guess I'll teach you a lesson right here instead!"

The two teens caught the attention of the crowd around them. At that point, Gohan had enjoyed the most amusement in quite a few years. More importantly, he found Videl captivating. Giving into impulse and attempting to defuse the confrontation, Gohan strode past her at lightning speed, reached the check-in desk, and signed his name.

Videl relaxed her posture, arching an inquisitive eyebrow. When Gohan turned to face her, his friendly smile brought that same weakness to her as his alluring eye trick.

"On second thought, I think I'll join. I look forward to facing you in the finals," Gohan said, extending his hand to her as she'd done earlier. "I'm Son Gohan, by the way."

Videl glared at the hand presented before her. On immediate thought, she wanted to turn her back and ignore it. Instead, she gripped it and squeezed with every ounce of strength she could muster. Less a friendly shake, and more of a vice grip. She pushed her head towards his until their noses were nearly touching. "If you make the finals," she seethed through clenched teeth.

Surely, Gohan was intimidated.

Only problem was, his face didn't look so much as flustered, even as she clutched his hand so tightly. Not even a bead of sweat. Worse yet, he was still smiling. She withdrew her hand from his in shame and tucked it behind her back – she didn't want him to see her wringing it off. It felt like she was clutching a stone.

The fourteen-year-old Saiyan made a peace sign with his fingers and strut past her, returning to his friends. Chi-Chi nodded in approval. And thought about ideal wedding locations that would still be in good condition four years from then.

What? You can never be too prepared.

With a sly grin, Krillin extended his hand to Gohan. "Put 'er there, Gohan! I see you putting on the moves!"

"Huh?"

Yamcha joined in on the teasing. "Oh c'mon, we all saw it! Why else would you waste your time in a tournament like that?"

"Yeah, it sure looked to me like you were about to leave until she showed up," Bulma added, thoroughly committed to torturing the boy. She overheard Vegeta's snort of disgust, but she was sure he knew. Probably Saiyans being drawn to strong women or something like that.

"It's not like that…" Gohan muttered, though he couldn't argue. He stopped to glance at the girl again, only to find her looking at him and quickly turning away, folding her arms. They had a point, after all. Even before being relegated to little kids, Gohan was dreading this day. Not even the prospect of duking it out with Piccolo, Trunks, or Vegeta could inspire even a shred of battle thirst from the Saiyan boy. Yet the allure of a human girl did the trick.

The fight was a foregone conclusion, but perhaps the experience could be the first thing Gohan actually enjoyed in three years.


Thoughts? This is the first time I've really tried to write Gohan closer to his canon character, so I hope I did it justice!