Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Groans. People were up and walking around. Why didn’t they just sit and do what I was doing? Meditating was really the only reasonably intelligent thing you could do in a full dark, locked, empty room. Just ignore the sobs, screams, and groans, and you’d be great at it in no time.

            I knew who was walking around. “I’m so cold,” Numuco said, making what had to be her hundredth circle around the room.

            “So am I,” I heard Mydvine say softly.

            “I’m starving,” Inecosr added, and I heard her stand. She started pacing.

            Darin shifted his weight beside me, and I resisted the urge to glance at him. I wouldn’t see him anyway. “Me too,” he said softly.

            I sighed. “It’s okay, everyone. Everything’s going to be okay. We’ve gone for longer.”

            “Darin hasn’t,” countered Irrenr.

            This was true. Darin had never been thrown into our room before. He was a boy. The boys were kept with the soldiers, and fed, dressed, showed, and watered well. Girls, well, we were just shoved in the dark room, to be forgotten about until used.

            Darin, howeer, didn’t live up to Father’s standards. After Darin tried to help Mydvine, Father decided he had to be toughened up, and had to see that girls weren’t worth being protected. Six-year-old Darin. Young, confused, alone, and scared—he’d never be fit for a soldier. He was always too kind, too righteous.

            “I think we’ve been in here longer this time than we’ve ever been,” Numuco said softly. “I’ve never paced this many times around the room.”

            That started a jolt from me. Numuco always timed how long we were in the room by pacing around the room—well, circling the room, really. “How many times?”

            “More than twice the amount of our longest stay.”

            “Maybe you’re just getting faster?” I suggested.

            “No, Serazai. I’m going slower this time, because I’m losing strength more.”

            “Have we really been in here that long?” Mydvine asked softly after a brief pause.

            “I think so,” Numuco told her. “I’m almost positive we’ve been in here-!”

            There was a shuffling at the door, and then scraping of a key—and the doors opened. Light streamed in, and I heard many gasps, groans, and even a couple screams, from my sisters as the light blinded us. I turned my face away as Darin cowered against my side.

            “Get up, you lazy itines.” Itines? We’re many things, but worthless whores isn’t—or many that does describe us?

            I turned my face back toward the woman who stood, tall and glorious, in the doorway. She had long, golden-red hair piled atop her head, brilliant blue eyes, and pale, porcelain skin. Long, pointed ears, delicate, pointed chin, and high cheeks, she looked every bit as royal as she was. She wore a golden, expensive silken gown that fell to the floor to pool at her feet. She glared at us as we shambled around, like lifeless zombies gazing at the light for the first time. “Get up! We haven’t all day. Father wants you bathed, dressed, and in the ship in ten minutes, so get up!”

            I stood, helping Darin to his feet, and looked around quickly for Ahdirane. She was leaning heavily against the wall as Irrenr helped her up. Her face wasn’t swollen anymore, but there was a faint bluish-greenish look to it that told me we hadn’t been in there more than two weeks.

            “Come on!” Cedirah yelled at us again. “Get up! Now!”

            We stumbled out of our prison, forming our usual line, toward her, and she turned her back on us instantly. Numuco, the oldest, fell into step behind her. Then Irrenr, Inecosr, Ahdirane, Mydvine, me, with Darin clinging to my side.

The pure white hallway she led us into blinded me after so much black darkness, and to my surprise, instead of leading us further down the hallway, toward our bathing room, she took us toward the family bathing room. It was two doors down from our prison cell.

Cadirah paused in front of the familial bathing rooms. “You’ll notice that it isn’t your shabby bathing room that you’ll be using today. Do not take this for granted. Do not break anything. I would tell you not to touch anything, but unfortunately, that I cannot do. Bathe. Use the good soaps. Make sure to get every filthy inch of your bodies, and go into the changing room attached to the bathing rooms. You will find your own servants waiting there that will dress you, comb your ugly knotted hair, and put makeup on you to make you less . . . ugly.” She made a face. “Now go. You have limited time. Be fast. Darin, you stay here.”

I followed the others in, pausing at the doorway to take in the room. It was twice as big as our cell, and whereas our cell was empty, cold, and dark, this was bright, and beautiful. It smelled like the most amazing flower, and pure, clean water—and the water scent emanated from the perfect hot springs in the center of the room. The showering part was off to the side, with shelves upon shelves of beautifully crafted bottles of soap on them. I almost didn’t want to know what was going to happen to warrant this delicacy—I really just wanted to cherish this moment.

It only took me a second to strip out of the thin, white dress we all were forced to wear and jump into the showering area. The water was hot—I winced, pulled back, staring at the water. “Water can get hot?” I heard myself asking.

“Apparently!” Itene said, tilting her head back to revel in the warmth. “It’s amazing!”

“I’m loving it.”

I winced again, but slid under the hot water. My skin turned red, and I couldn’t stand it for very long. It made me sad, but I had to wash up as quickly as I could. I didn’t even pay attention to the scented soap I grabbed, but when I’d soaped up, it smelled amazing. It made me want to linger in the shower, but I couldn’t take the heated water on my skin.

My skin felt raw, tender, after the shower, but I felt warm—and I liked the feeling, even if it was sort of painful. I’d never been this warm before. “I’m going to go into the changing area and get . . . out. . . .” I scooped up my dress, almost pulling it over my body until I realized how badly it smelled compared to what I smelled like now. Uncertainly holding it in front of myself, I walked toward the only other door in the bathing room, assuming it was the changing room.

When I opened the door to be stared at by ten or more servants, I knew it was.

“Which one are you?” the one closest to me asked. She was elderly, looked kind, but worn down.

“Serazai. I’m Serazai.”

“You’re with me,” one from the back called. Looking up, I was greeted by a rather rough-looking, angry woman. “They tell me you are difficult to deal with. Well, we shall see.” Her eyes glinted.

I stepped toward her, holding the dress like a shield.

“Drop that nasty garb. You will not be wearing anything like that today.”

“I’d rather not-!”

“I said drop it!”

Glancing around the room, I dropped the dress. It was all female servants, so . . . okay.

“Come now, ine.” I didn’t like being addressed as “girl.” “I have limited time to dress you.”

The door opened, and I glanced back to see Numuco enter. Ignoring the woman asking which one she was, I went to the older woman, eyes falling on something I’d never thought I’d be forced into wearing.

It was a pure white gown. High-collared, long-sleeved. It looked longer than I was tall, and had so many ruffles in it, I felt it would swallow me. It looked every bit the princess gown I’d seen Cadirah wear millions of times before. Beside that were other items, things I could barely remember the names of. Corset, shift, hoop, and something else—petticoat? I couldn’t remember. I’d never worn any of that, but it all looked uncomfortable.

“Sit down here, ine. Before you can wear that, we must prettify you.” She stood, gesturing to what she’d been sitting on that I’d been ignoring. A vanity, with a mirror taller than I was. I sat in front of it, wincing when I realized I was still nude and could see every scar on the upper half of my body. And hell began.

What felt like hours must’ve only taken minutes. My hair was brushed—it hadn’t been in weeks, maybe years—and styled in an elegant updo that I instantly hated. She put makeup on me to emphasize my “icy blue eyes”, as she called them, and “luscious red lips.” She made a comment about how my lips were wasted on me, and I ignored her after that. If I thought the hair and makeup was bad, it was nothing compared to the gown.

All in all, I couldn’t breathe, move, sit, or blink, really, but I looked like a proper princess. And I hated it.

I was supposedly difficult throughout the process and had been smacked six times with the brush. It didn’t hurt, but it really irritated me.

By the time I was finished, so was everyone else. “All your squirming and struggling took too much time!” my servant told me, smacking me a seventh time.

I said nothing, only falling in line behind the others. Darin wasn’t outside the bathing room when we got there, but Cadirah was. “Where’s Darin?” I asked.

She glared at me. “I know you’re not addressing me, but I sent Darin to the ship. He’ll be bathed and fed there. Now, come. We haven’t time for pointless questions.” She whirled, and we followed.

I paid little attention to where we were going and, instead, tried to figure out how to breathe without popping a lung. Or ripping the gown. It felt expensive against my skin and I knew if I ripped it, I’d be killed. Or worse.

Though I was surprised when Cadirah led us to the big ship—the good one, and not the one we usually travelled in. I was less surprised to see everyone else waiting there. Father, Mother, and all our brothers.

“Have a seat, children, and I will begin telling you what you must already suspect.” He gazed at us, eyes taking in every movement, and stopped on me to narrow warningly. “Your birth father is dead. Broly and his father Paragus have both been murdered by enemy Saiyans.”

A chill ran down my spine. So that’s why we’ve been locked up so long! Usually they stop by to beat us or use us for something or another thing.

“This must come as a shock to you, as it did to us. We never expected anyone to defeat them. As such, these enemy Saiyans must pose a threat to us. We are going to their planet to check them out and decide what to do with them. If we deem them a threat, it will be war, as it was agreed upon with Broly and Paragus that we would be their ally to the end. If we can get them to agree to a truce,” he smiled, “then there will be no need for further violence. We will renew our treaty with the previous Saiyans with these . . . stronger ones.”

I glanced at Mydvine, who’d shifted her weight nervously, like she expected there to be more. She was usually right.

“You must be wondering, ‘oh, but, why, father, are we to accompany you on such a dangerous and important mission when we are just itines?’ This time, perchance, you are not worthless. You will be our bargaining chip. The intel I gathered stated that the enemy Saiyans have young sons with them. And if we can get them to agree to a betrothal, and be our new allies, well, then. . . . You are not that worthless after all. However, because there are so many of you,” I glanced at my sisters, “I will be giving you to them as their toys to play with to decide which they like better. We shall see how this works out.”

Heart pounding, fists clenched, Gohan stood over the fallen man, glaring into his eyes. “Why? Why would you do this?! You-you nearly killed my mom—you killed my brother! Why?!”

The man laughed mirthlessly, and Gohan knelt, yanking the mask from his face. The face of a boy not much older than he was stared back at him. Blue eyes, black hair, long, pointed ears. There was blood on his lip. He took a deep ragged breath. “If you were . . . in my position . . . you’d do the same. . . .”

“No, no, I would never do this! I would never murder an infant, and intentionally cause a miscarriage! Why would you do that?! Why are you trying to kill us?”

“Not all of you. Just the boys. They have to die, don’t you see?” He coughed. “They had to die, so she can live.”

He paused. “So who can live?”

“My father . . . he’s causing the destruction of the world I came from. He’s causing the death of innocent people. There’s only one person I know that can stop him, and she died protecting those boys from him. If they’re already dead,” he laughed again mirthlessly, “she can’t die for them. Don’t you see? To save the future, I had to change the past. I had to kill them.”

He drew back slightly.

“My sister, she was the most powerful person I’ve ever met, and I know she can kill him, if only . . . if only she had more time. And now, she does. I made sure of it.” Fire suddenly burnt in dying, glassy eyes, and he reached up to grab Gohan’s wrist in a harsh grasp, meeting his eyes. “What would you do, to save innocent lives? To save your family? Would you kill? If you knew two people would cause the death of the person you love the most, what would you do? If killing two people, no matter how innocent, meant you could save an entire planet, would you do it? Or would you be soft, and let the planet burn for two lives that mean little in the long run?” The fire burnt out quickly, his grip slackened, and his head fell back against the ground.

Gohan stared at his pale, lifeless face, eyes wide. He wasn’t sure how to answer that. If he had to kill two people to save an entire planet, what would he do?

I’d find another way.

Chapter Text

Everyone was busily sparring in the clearing. Except for grunts, yelps, and occasional shouts, it was silent. Every now and then, though, someone would make a comment.

          Goku was paired up against Vegeta, and the two of them were fighting with an intensity nobody else seemed to match. Quite a few times someone had to remind them it was a training spar, not a real battle, but they seemed to be having fun.

          Gohan fought against Goten, pushing the younger boy faster, further, though Goten knew he was no match for the older demi-Saiyan. He kept trying, and Gohan was teaching him things as they went along.        

          Trunks fought against Mirai Trunks. Mirai Trunks had jokingly said he wouldn’t mind teaching his “Mini-Me” a thing or two.

          And Piccolo sat further back, meditating. Every now and then, he’d open his eyes to watch Gohan’s fight, and to call out how both could improve their form, but mostly, he was silent. He was the one who noticed it first. The ominous Ki that was looming closer, faster. His eyes opened. He stared up toward where it was coming from. Several moments passed. Nobody else seemed to notice. “Goku, do you feel that?” he called finally.

          Goku, pausing in what would have been a vicious punch against Vegeta’s blocked form, looked over at Piccolo, then up to the sky where Piccolo’s eyes were focused. A moment passed. “Yea. I feel it.”

          “Feel what?” Goten asked, dodging a particularly heavy kick from his older brother.

          Gohan stopped, looking toward the Ki. “I feel it.”

          “Me too,” Mirai Trunks said, having paused, too.

          “I don—oh, now I do.” Trunks looked up at the sky.

          “Feel what? Feel what?” Goten asked, looking at each face.

          “Look up there. Feel for it.” Gohan pointed.

          He followed the gesture, eyes narrowing as he concentrated. “Oh. I feel it now. That’s bad.” There was something frightening about this Ki. Familiar.

          Trunks voiced it first. “It’s them,” he said softly, backing away. A chill ran up his spine. “I-it’s them! Goten, it’s them!”

          Goten’s eyes widened. He turned and ran back to his father. “Daddy, it’s them! The ones we’ve been warning you about!”

          Goku’s eyes narrowed as he pushed in front of Goten. “Kids, get behind us. Vegeta, Piccolo, Mirai Trunks, we take point. Come on.”

          “Can’t we have a few days of peace before Cell kills us?” Trunks asked dejectedly.

          Gohan glanced at him. “Oh, gee. Thanks for the vote of confidence, Trunks. We beat Cell in your timeline, didn’t we?”

          “Yea, bu-but I don’t know how! And I know Goku died there, and then they came! And everyone else died.”

          “Notice a pattern there, Goku?” a new voice asked. Everyone looked over to Kuririn, who had appeared without anyone noticing. “Every time you die, something worse comes for us, and we all die.”

          Goku smiled slightly. “Guess I’d better not die this time, then.”

          “I was coming to tell you that Burama’s father’s radar picked up a small spaceship coming this way, but it would appear you already know.” He flew down to stand beside Goku, glancing at the kids as he turned. “Is it them?”  

          “The kids say it is, yes.”

          “I didn’t think they’d come until after the Cell Games.”

          “Apparently when we went with Broly, we sped up the timeline,” Trunks said. “In the kids’ timeline, we told them we couldn’t. We had to deal with Cell.” After Cell, they’d come back with an army, and had just proceeded to kill everyone.

          “This time, we went with them.”

          “And sped things up,” Gohan finished. He stood between Goku and Vegeta, slightly curious when his father didn’t reprimand him for being up front instead of in the back with the kids. He glanced back. “Goten, Trunks, you stay back there, okay?”

          They nodded. “’Kay!”

          “No problem!”

          “Gohan, you should be back there with them.”

          He started to answer, but his father got there first. “No, it’s all right, Piccolo. We might need Gohan up here. He’s been fighting alongside of us since he was three.” He reached down to ruffle the boy’s hair. “He can handle this.”

          “Are you sure, Goku? Maybe Piccolo has a point. Gohan is still just a kid.”

          “Hey, he’s been fighting the same battles we have for years—nobody’s gone easy on him yet, but he has kept up with ease. Trust me,” he smiled, “he’s stronger than all of us were at his age.”

          “I know he’s strong for his age, but he’s still a kid, and-!”

          “Nonsense!” Vegeta spat, having had enough of the arguing. “The boy’s a Saiyan. Saiyans younger than him conquer planets. And Kakarot’s right. The boy’s been fighting since he was a child. If I recall, he even managed to get quite a hit on Nappa at a very young age. If push comes to shove, Gohan can handle himself.”

          A little surprised at the praise from Vegeta, Gohan’s face reddened, and he smiled. “Thanks, Vegeta.”

          “Don’t mention it.” He glanced back at his own kid, not really willing to have him on the front lines. “But you, Trunks, stay back. We don’t need you in the way.”

          “That’s Vegeta’s way of saying he’s lost you once, and he isn’t willing to do it again,” Kuririn said, laughing. He balked slightly at the glare the Saiyan Prince shot him. “Anyway. . . .”

          In a flash, the ship had suddenly landed. None of them had expected that. It just suddenly was there, in a flash of light. Gohan tensed, moving slightly to the side to block Goten more effectively. “Stay behind me, Goten,” he said softly.

          “Got it.”

          It wasn’t a big ship. Smaller than the one Paragus had taken to Earth, but bigger than Burama’s father’s models. It sat there for a few minutes as everyone tensed, slightly leaning toward the ship.

          And it finally started to open, after about ten minutes of silence. Trunks peered around Vegeta, who’d moved to block him from sight.

          Voices. Slight, vague. Then footsteps. And out came a man. He was tall, muscular, with short brown hair and green eyes. He wore a gold vest and dark grey pants, with boots that almost went to his knees. He held himself tall and walked with a knowledge that the world was his. Power breathed off him, though it seemed effortless, as though he didn’t even know his power engulfed those around him.

          He-he makes Cell seem small . . . ! How is that possible? Kuririn stared at the man that approached slowly, a feeling of dread in his gut.

          He’s stronger than Cell is, Goku realized, watching the man. He glanced down at his oldest son, swallowing hard. Gohan. . . . “Stay back, Gohan,” he said softly, moving in front of him.

          He looked up at his dad, eyes wide. “Dad?” He turned his attention to the man who had stopped halfway between them and the ship. He’s powerful. . . . But why is everyone on edge? He doesn’t feel that powerful to me. Nonetheless, he moved back a bit, toward Goten. “Stay behind me,” he told his younger brother.

          He nodded, swallowing hard. It was almost hard to breathe with the power rolling off the man in front of him.

          He clapped his hands suddenly, a bright smile creeping across his face. “Well, is this not a wonderful meeting? How is everyone today?”

          Goku tilted his head, appraising the main in front of him, excitement, wariness, and curiosity growing. He’s so at ease. Not afraid at all. “We’re fine. How are you?”

          His smile widened. “Ah, manners! I love it. Well, my dear ones, allow me to introduce myself, would you?” He bowed deeply, taking his eyes off the group of males in front of him for a brief moment—a way of telling them he wasn’t worried about them attacking. “I am King Kuri of Eriol. And you are?” When he straightened, he was still smiling at Goku.

          “I’m Goku, of Earth. And they are-!”

          “Oh, no, that’s enough. We’ll get to them shortly. It would be rude to introduce the others in your group without awaiting my group, would it not?”

          Goku wasn’t sure what to say to that.

          “Would you mind if I gave them the signal to come out? Then we can finish the introductions.” He smiled. “You shall find that I am a very fair man. I pride myself on manners.”

          Not Earth manners, Kuririn mused.

          “Uh, sure. Go ahead.”

          “Wonderful!” He turned toward the ship, once again taking his eyes off the men in front of him. “Come on out, darlings! They’ve given their okay. It is safe, my love.”

          Seconds later, a woman appeared in the doorway of the ship. She was smiling demurely, with a younger woman at her side. Probably around fifteen or sixteen, the younger woman was. The older woman had bright shining golden hair, and bright blue eyes. She was perfectly pale, without a wrinkle or a blemish on her exposed skin. She wore a low-cut lacy white gown that glided over the ground without ever seeming to actually touch the ground. The sleeves were short, puffy, and she wore gloves up to her elbows.

          The younger girl wore a golden gown that clung to her blossoming curves, cut low over an already abundant bosom, with elbow-length gloves. The gown fell to her feet, gliding over the ground as the older woman’s did. Her gown had off-the-shoulder sleeves, revealing pale, unblemished shoulders, collarbone, and upper part of her breasts.

She had a long, elegant neck. Atop which sat a head with a face that had high cheekbones, beautiful bright blue eyes, cupid’s bow lips, and a thin, small nose. She looked identical to her mother, except that her hair was a graceful combination of blond, red, and brown. It was pulled up in a strict, tight bun, much like her mother’s.

Both ladies were elegant and beautiful in an icy, unfriendly way, despite their bright, beautiful smiles.

Around them, a troop of about ten men filed out, and as the woman and girl stopped slightly behind the man, the troop of men formed a line on either side of them.

Lastly, a group of younger girls filed out from the ship. Roughly about eight girls, all dressed up in varying gowns, with different colors. One stood out among them, but Gohan couldn’t figure out what it was about her that made her stand out—until he saw the young boy hiding behind her. It wasn’t her that had caught his attention.

The boy was familiar, and it took him less than five seconds to figure out why. The memory flashed back, strong and painful as ever as King Kuri commanded the boy to join the line of boys on the other side.

“My sister, she was the most powerful person I’ve ever met, and I know she can kill him, if only . . . if only she had more time. And now, she does. I made sure of it.” Fire suddenly burnt in dying, glassy eyes, and he reached up to grab Gohan’s wrist in a harsh grasp, meeting his eyes. “What would you do, to save innocent lives? To save your family? Would you kill? If you knew two people would cause the death of the person you love the most, what would you do? If killing two people, no matter how innocent, meant you could save an entire planet, would you do it? Or would you be soft, and let the planet burn for two lives that mean little in the long run?” The fire burnt out quickly, his grip slackened, and his head fell back against the ground.

Gohan stared at his pale, lifeless face, eyes wide. He wasn’t sure how to answer that. If he had to kill two people to save an entire planet, what would he do?

I’d find another way.

          The memory ended, and he stared at the little boy that would become the man. He knew that was him. He could sense his power. And he knew those eyes. Eyes that had seen horrors. Eyes that still wanted to see wonders.

          And he realized, the girl he was clinging to had to be the girl, the sister, he’d spoken of.

          Goten and Trunks had told him once of a girl who’d gotten between King Kuri and them. A girl who had fought against him, died at his hands, to give them time to get away. And that was her.

          Gohan wasn’t the only one who recognized her. Trunks and Goten stared at her. She was younger now, but they knew her. The girl with the ice-colored eyes, and pale golden hair. They knew her. She’d died to save them. And they knew the boy. The boy who’d watched her die, and had then began hunting them. They knew that boy.

          “This is my family,” King Kuri said, once everyone had lined up. “This lovely creature is my wife, Queen Turian. This is our daughter, Princess Cadirah. And those,” he gestured to the group of girls behind them, “those are our other daughters. They shall introduce themselves, starting at the oldest.” He sent them a look.

          The tallest one stepped forward. “I am Numuco. I am eighteen years of age.” She had blue eyes and teal hair that was pulled into a high, tight bun. She wore a teal gown that matched her hair and revealed her small, upthrust bosom a bit too much. It was long enough to kiss the grass.

          The one next to her stepped up when Numuco stepped back. “I am Usaii. I am seventeen years of age.” She had dark brown hair and big brown eyes. She was pale, with a heart-shaped face and full, cupid’s bow lips. She looked a bit like Queen Turian, but nothing like King Kuri. She was small, with a bigger bosom than her older sister’s, and wore a gown with thin straps and a low cut bodice that exposed much of her chest. The dark green gown was long, but it had a slit up the side that ran all the way up to her waist. She wore matching slippers with a low, thick heel.

          Next to her, a smaller girl with bright red hair and blue eyes stepped forward. “I’m Irinis. I’m sixteen.” She wore a pink gown that contrasted badly against her red hair and exposed more of her amble bosom than Usaii’s. Despite not being the oldest, she had the largest chest.

          Another one stepped forward as Irinis moved back. “I’m Remayi. I’m fifteen.” She had bright gold hair and blue eyes, and looked almost identical to her mother. She wore a pink gown that fell to her feet to pool on the ground, cinched in at her waist, and was low-cut over a small chest.

          The next one stepped forward. She had black hair and black eyes, and wore a yellow gown that hugged her body nicely. “I’m Tura. I’m twelve.”

          The next to move forward had bright red hair and dark green eyes. She had high cheekbones, a delicate jaw, and rounded chin. Her eyes were wide and huge, contrastingly dark against her pale skin. Her cupid’s bow mouth was a bright pink. “I am Ahdirine. I am eleven.” She wore a brown gown that fell to her feet in ruffles and lace. Her bright red hair was down, curling around her face and shoulders in untamable waves.

          She stepped back as the girl next to her stepped up. She barely looked up. She had short black hair that covered her face as she looked down. “I-I’m Mydvine. I’m ten.” She wore a violet gown that clung to her body under her knees, where it flared down to the ground. The sleeves fell to her wrists, cinching in at her wrists. She looked up briefly, and her yellow eyes were wide. She resumed her spot.

          The last girl, who pushed the younger boy back, finally stepped up. She had icy blue eyes, and long, pale golden hair that fell around her body in waves down to her waist. Her cheekbones were high, jaw and chin set triangular, with upturned, angled eyes. She also had long, pointed ears—and, with that realization, Goku looked around to see all of them had varying types of long, pointed ears.

She wore a light blue gown with a V-neck, with long sleeves that billowed around her hands. The gown was loose around her body, falling to the ground. She looked up and around, and for a moment, Gohan was struck by her. There was something about her, like a floodgate holding back a giant flood. “I’m Serazai. I’m nine.” She stepped back, bowing slightly.

          “Now that my side has been introduced, please, introduce your side.” He smiled kindly, and Gohan pulled his eyes from the smallest girl to King Kuri.

          “All right. . . . I’m Goku. These are my sons, Gohan and Goten-”

          “I apologize for interrupting you, but would you mind making them introduce themselves? I learn much more from their way of wording.” He smiled again.

          Goku hesitated. “Uh, sure.”

Gohan nodded. Following King Kuri’s example, he bowed, only he didn’t pull his eyes from King Kuri’s. “I’m Gohan.” He straightened. “I’m eleven.”

“I’m Goten. I’m ten.”

“I’m Trunks,” Trunks went on quickly. “I’m eleven.”

“I’m Mirai Trunks, from the future. I’m eighteen.”

“I’m Kuririn. . . .”

“Piccolo.”

“Prince Vegeta.”

King Kuri gazed at each face. Only Gohan had bowed to him, and Gohan’s bow had been a bit too challenging than he’d appreciated. Something about the boy was grating him—he was much more powerful than he’d expected. And more insolent, though it was a subtle type of insolence. Like meeting his eyes any time he looked over to him. The boy refused to break eye contact with King Kuri, and he didn’t like that.

Usually King Kuri would’ve kept eye contact with the boy until he looked away first, but curiosity had propelled him to look at each face as they introduced themselves. Only Prince Vegeta and Goku had the gall to meet his eyes, and they hadn’t been nearly as insolent about it as the boy.

And an idea formed in the base of his skull. It almost made him smile to think about. “Thank you for your lovely introductions.” He bowed again, this time locking eyes with the insolent boy once more. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he wanted to continue the eye contact to prove the dominance, but he also wanted to meet eyes with what appeared to be the leader of the group, so he broke away to look up at Goku.

Goku was roughly about his own height, but not as thickly muscled as he was, though he ventured to guess that could change with any passing moment. “I assume you’re the leader of the group. Am I correct?”

He hesitated, glancing at Vegeta and Piccolo. “I wouldn’t call myself the leader, but-!”

“You are the strongest, are you not?”

Another hesitation. He glanced down at his oldest son involuntarily. King Kuri didn’t miss the glance.

“Goku is the strongest, yes,” Kuririn replied for him.

“Hah, he wishes,” Vegeta responded. “If truth be told, I am the leader of this group, as I am Prince Vegeta.”

“Right, the prince of Saiyans. I have heard much of you. Then I shall address my proposition to you, if that is okay?”

“Go ahead.” Vegeta stepped forward, and Goku seemed willing to let him take over as he closed the distance between him and the King until he stood partway between him and Goku. “These dolts don’t know the first thing about royal politics, so go on.”

“Right.” He smiled. “You recently battled a man named Paragus and his son, Broly. Am I incorrect in that assumption?”

“No, you are not. We did fight him.”

“And he perished in the fight.” A small nod from Vegeta and he went on. “I don’t know if you are aware of this, but we had a treaty with them.” The tension in the air rose, and he smiled. “Oh, dear, dear. Don’t be so tense! We were having a lovely little chat, weren’t we? Please, keep calm, loves. I didn’t come here to exact revenge on you lot. No, not at all. In fact, I came here for a much, much different reason.” His smile widened. “I came here to offer you a deal.”

“A deal?” Vegeta scoffed. “What sort of deal?”

“Well, it would be quite like the deal we made with Paragus, but reformed, if you would.” He was still smiling. “A treaty. An agreement.”

“And it would be?”

“Well, let’s see. You have, one, two, three, four children amongst you.” As he counted the children, the tension rose in the air. “And I have, well, several children. Oh, but dear me! I am getting ahead of myself.” His smile brightened. “I should start by explaining my treaty with Paragus first! You see, we had a treaty to come to one another’s aid if need be, and Broly, when he was older, was powerful enough aid us many times. Paragus was able to aid us numerous times, too.

“That, however, was only part of our deal. It was, you see, a win-win deal on both our parts—and would be again, on yours and mine. Their aid, and our aid, in times of distress was just a small part! The larger part of the deal was children. You see, I’ve always loved the power of the Saiyans. And their politics were so interesting! They were the only sort of being that rivaled our power. And Paragus had already proven himself able to produce powerful spawns with Broly’s existence.”

Tension was rising again. King Kuri smiled at it. “And Paragus wanted the Saiyan breed to live on, so it was to both our advantage to allow him and, later, his son to breed powerful spawns through my own wife.” He gestured toward the girls in the back. “They are all the results of Saiyan and Eriolian breeding. And most of the boys there are, as well. You see, I, myself, only have one daughter.” He smiled at Eril. “She’s my only daughter, but four of our boys are mine. The rest of them are not mine, though I love them as though they were.

“Now, I am not suggesting I share my wife with you, and my daughter is not well-suited to any of you, so my proposition is this. I will come to your aid, you to mine, in exchange for our children being married. I have already chosen which children would be best suited for each other, from what I know of yours, and what I know of mine,” he smiled, this time it was slightly smug and unpleasant, “and I believe the results would be quite entertaining.”

“You are proposing arranged marriage for our children.” Vegeta turned toward Goku. “He wants our children to marry his.”

Goku glanced back at his sons, shaking his head. “I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

King Kuri’s smile slipped for the first time. “You don’t think it’s a good idea. May I ask why?”

“They’re children. They don’t know anything about marriage.” Kuririn stepped toward King Kuri without meaning to. “The oldest is Gohan, and he hasn’t even hit puberty.”

“Let me add that if you turn my offer down, I will bring all my armies against your earth, and I hear that there’s already a rather nasty creature threatening your existence. If you accept my offer, then I and my army will be at your disposal to protect your planet, which means I would leave my most powerful warriors to help you deal with your current situation.”

“Are you attempting to threaten us into accepting your deal?” Mirai Trunks asked, stepping forward.

“Not at all! I’m telling you what will happen. If you do not accept, I will have no other choice but to keep true to our treaty with Broly and his father, which means I will have no choice but to annihilate you.” He smiled. “But truly, loves, I do not want to do that. I want to have peace between us.”

“Then why don’t you just walk away and we’ll forget any of this ever happened?” Mirai Trunks asked him.

“I would be seen as a traitor to my own word, thus a traitor to my people, if I walked away without exacting vengeance, or a treaty. Surely you, Prince Vegeta, understand.”

Vegeta was staring at him. “I do.”

“Father-!”

“I’m not saying I agree with him, boy, and who asked for your interference anyway!? Back off and let me handle this.”

King Kuri turned to look at his children, eyes falling on Serazai. “I see. I need to convince you.” He raised his hand, pointing his index finger toward her. “That girl there has given me nothing but trouble. She is disobedient, willful, and mouthy.” She’d looked up at him when he started talking, and now met his eyes fearlessly. “The way she’s looking at me now, so unafraid. That girl would have made a horrible wife, so to sweeten the pot, I will eliminate her for you.” Without warning, a thin, blue blast shot from his finger, toward Serazai.

Her eyes widened, and she tried to move, only tripping on the long gown she wore—before she was knocked to the ground in a blur of speed that left her gasping. The blast raced past inches from her, and she heard a sound suspiciously like a punch, a grunt, and something hitting the ground.

Serazai’s eyes had closed, and when she opened them, she was flat on the ground, on her back, and staring up at a boy as he hovered over her, angry intense eyes locked on what she assumed to be her father.

“How dare you! How dare you interfere?! Did you truly think that would go unpunished?!” Kuri sounded unharmed, and Gohan glared at the man who, seconds before, had dodged a fierce hit from Vegeta, knocked the Saiyan prince back, onto the ground, and then dodged another hit from Goku before knocking the Saiyan into a bush ten feet away. He looked angry, but the anger on his face was matched and beaten by the anger on the Saiyans’ faces.

“That’s your daughter! How could you decide to kill her on a whim!?” Goku had already gotten back to his feet, eyes fiery and determined, wiping a small trail of blood from under his lip.

Vegeta, too, had gotten to his feet, and he stood glaring at Kuri with his fists clenched, and Gohan could tell he was seeing King Kuri’s soldier killing infant Trunks all over again. It was that same tortured look.

“If you hadn’t acted so brashly, you’d find that I wasn’t planning on killing her. As a matter of fact,” he turned to look at Gohan, and the anger had faded, “what your son there did is exactly what I expected him to do. Had he not done that, I would have been disappointed.”

Piccolo had moved between Gohan and King Kuri, though Gohan had barely noticed, and now he spoke. “You were testing us?” His voice said plainly that he didn’t think that was true.

“Oh, no, not you. Just him. I didn’t expect the lot of you to react so brutishly!” He glanced around, and Gohan noticed that Kuririn stood over a fallen soldier, and Mirai Trunks had taken out three, while Goten and the younger Trunks had moved to stand in front of the other girls. “You are lucky you caused me no real harm, or I would be very angry with you lot right now. Truly, why would I kill my youngest daughter? As much a pain as she is,” he turned to look at the girl, who cowered slightly against Gohan’s arm, “she truly can be useful.”

“Why did you want to test Gohan?”

King Kuri smiled. The truth was, he’d noticed how insolent the boy was, and he wanted to see if he would disobey orders by protecting that which he’d decided should die. And if he did, King Kuri knew that he would have to dispose of the boy as quickly as possible. If he couldn’t respect his superior’s decisions, he couldn’t be trusted to stay alive. What he hadn’t counted on was everyone else reacting in a way that proved they, too, couldn’t be trusted.

Well, that changes my plans a bit.

“I wanted to see how fast he was,” he lied, “and, to be honest, I wanted to see how he would react to seeing an,” his lips twisted in an ugly sneer, “innocent die.”

Serazai winced, squirming.

Gohan sat up a bit, turning his eyes toward the girl on the ground. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. He reached out to grab her hands, tightening his hold when she struggled to pull away, and stood, pulling her up with him. “You were willing to kill your daughter to test me?”

“Oh, dear no.” He pointed his index finger toward a harmless tree, fired—and it arched around the tree to hit the tree behind it. “I can control myself well enough to hit, or not hit, whatever I want.”

“So you weren’t going to actually kill her?” Kuririn asked, a blank, confused look on his face.

“Of course not.”

Gohan stared at King Kuri a moment, and he could sense something was off. Judging by the looks on his friends’ faces, he wasn’t the only one. “I’ll do it,” he said loudly.

King Kuri turned to look at him, a look of shock covering his face. “You’ll do what, exactly?”

“I agree to your terms.”

“Gohan, you can’t-!”

“I agree!” Goten added, overriding Goku’s voice.

“Same,” Trunks added.

King Kuri turned toward the older Trunks. “And you?”

“I’m not from this timeline. I don’t count.”

“Ah, but you do.” He moved his finger toward Usaii again. “I need a yes from all children involved. Take her back to your own time if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t like this. Gohan, you can’t just-!”

“Please, trust me.” He glanced down at Serazai. “Dad, please. Let us do this.” His eyes met Goku’s, and for a moment, all was silent as they met eyes.

A slight nod. “I trust you.”

“Your son is quite smart,” King Kuri broke in. “If a little insolent. He is correct. Think of all you can gain from this union. I’ve heard of your formidable opponent Cell. We can easily help you defeat him. As a matter of fact, I will leave two of my best warriors to help you in your battle, if you agree to this union. We can help each other. And where else are you going to find other half-Saiyan spawns to help carry on your Saiyan blood?”

Vegeta considered him, then looked back toward the oldest Trunks. “Are you sure about this?”

“I think we should at least think about it,” Trunks said, and Gohan glared at him. “I’m sorry, Gohan, but I do think we need to decide this with time. At least give us a couple days to make the decision.”

“Hm. Time to consider. . . . Okay.” He turned his eyes toward his daughters. “Usaii, go with Trunks. You are his to do whatever he wishes with now. Mydvine, Ahdirine, and Serezai, you three will go along with them, too. You are no longer my toys, but theirs. Obey your new masters, or-!”

“They’re not toys,” Gohan said softly. Though his words were softy spoken, they carried far. “They’re people. And people don’t have masters.”

King Kuri stared at the boy. “They are not people. They were bred purely to breed more soldiers. They’re more like slaves, or cattle-!”

He stood, and his power pulsed through the area. “They are not slaves. They are not toys. They are people!”

“Gohan, calm down, son.”

“No, it’s not-!” He glared at the man. “He’s talking to his other children like they’re dirt. They’re not your playthings! They’re people, and they deserve to be treated like people!”

King Kuri raised his finger toward the boy, and Goku stepped in front of him. “You are insolent. I will allow this to pass this one time with nothing but one punishment. Serezai will be your charge. She will be yours from now on, and when you realize how wrong you were about them deserving respect,” Serezai winced, “let me know.” He turned away. “You have twenty-four hours to spend with your charges. I have given Usaii to Mirai Trunks, and Serezai to your Gohan. Mydvine can go with Goten, and Ahdirine will belong to Trunks. In twenty-four hours, we will meet back here and you will give us your answers.”

Chapter Text

I was exhausted. So much had happened in the past two days. First, Father reinforcing correct behavior. Then, meeting the group he’d been so excited about. And then. . . .

Numaya. . . .

I couldn’t believe she’s gone. . . . I’d been left alone in the room belonging to Gohan, and I didn’t want to even touch the bag of belongings I’d been forced to bring with me. All it held were a couple more gowns, underclothes, and sleeping gowns. Nothing useful. I’d been forced to leave behind my uniform when we’d left. I couldn’t exactly get to it before we left, having been watched so closely.

So there was absolutely nothing in there that could help me.

I was afraid. I knew that. But . . . part of me was hopeful.

“They’re people. And people don’t have masters. They are not slaves. They are not toys. They are people! He’s talking to his other children like they’re dirt. They’re not your playthings! They’re people, and they deserve to be treated like people!”

His words kept echoing in my head. Maybe he’s not like my father. . . .

The door opened, and I whirled, wincing when I saw him standing there. In an instant, I dropped to my knees, stretching my arms up high above my head and touching my fingertips to the floor as I bowed my head toward the floor so my forehead touched the floor. “Master,” I said softly. I didn’t want to do anything that would force him to send me back to my planet, so I would be as obedient as I could.

A thump, and hands touched mine, lifting my hands up. “Hey, don’t, don’t do that. It-it’s okay. Really. And don’t call me master. I’m not your master. I’m your friend.” He stood, pulling my hands up with him, forcing me to my feet. “It’s okay.” He reached forward, cupping my chin to force my face up to meet his. “I-I’m sorry, about your sister.” He moved forward, pulling me into him.

I couldn’t help it. Panic reared its ugly head in me, and I struggled against him, then shoved him hard—only he didn’t budge, I stumbled backward, a strangled scream coming from me. “Pl-please don’t,” I gasped. I stumbled again, then ended up on my ass on the floor, staring up at him in panic. Realizing what I’d done, I shook my head, and got into the position I’d gone into when he’d come into the room. “I-I’m sorry, Master.”

It was still for a moment, then there was a thump again. He’d gone back down to his knees. He touched my wrists gently, pulling me up so I knelt in front of him. “Don’t, what?” he asked softly. “Don’t hug you?”

“H-hug? What position is that?”

He blinked. “I don’t . . . understand what that’s supposed to. . . . Um, can I show you?”

My breath caught. “Sho-show me?”

“It won’t hurt,” he said softly. “It’s to comfort people. Make them feel safe.”

“How does anything that hurts make people feel safe?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” he said again. He held his arms out. “Just . . . trust me.” He got to his knees, grabbed my arm, and pulled me toward him slowly. “It’s okay,” he said softly. He pulled me in against his chest, wrapping his arms around me. Then he stopped moving. With his arms tight around me, my arms trapped between his body and mine, my head against his chest, all I could hear was his breathing, and his heartbeat.

My eyes closed. My hands fisted in his shirt, and I took a deep breath. He smells good. Earthy, with a hint of spice. And . . . warmth. A furry kind of warmth. I took another deep breath, relaxing against him when nothing else happened. He didn’t move, didn’t do anything remotely threatening, no clothes were removed. I felt . . . safe.

He loosened his arms slightly, and I quelled a sound of protest, but he didn’t let go. “Wrap your arms around me.” He’d loosened his arms so I could move mine. I wrapped my arms around his waist, heart pounding a bit. Afraid again. But he merely wrapped his arms around me again, just as tight as before. His chest was vibrating from the force of his breathing. He took a deep breath.

He smells so good. I took a deep breath again. It felt nice. Comfortable. Safe. Is this what safe feels like?

I didn’t realize I’d spoken that thought out loud until he said, “Yea, this is what safe feels like.” He took another deep breath, then pulled away from me. Once again, I wanted to protest, but I didn’t. I looked away, and he stared at me. “You’ve really never been hugged before?”

I shook my head. “No. When someone gets that close to me, it’s never for anything like that.”

He gave me look. “Your dad, he’s . . . really . . . tough, huh?”

I made a disgruntled sound. “He’s strict. Is your dad like that?”

He shook his head wildly. “No. My dad is kind. He’s my inspiration to be brave and strong.” He smiled. “I want to be like him someday.”

I almost wanted to smile back at him.

“Gohan! Gohan, mom wants to talk to us!” The boy who was apparently his brother was calling to him from outside the closed door.

Gohan’s eyes widened. He shot to his feet. “I’ll be right back. Mom probably wants to discuss—um, well, you. And Midolyn. And, please,” he smiled, “don’t call me master.” He shot me a small smile, then turned around and left, closing the door behind him.

I scooted backward to lean my back against the wall between his bed and his desk, under the open window. It felt nice—I’d never sat so close to an open window before. My eyes closed, and I hadn’t the energy to force them back open. Leaning my head against the desk, I took a deep breath. The room was saturated in his scent, and it felt . . . safe.

And, with that smell around me, I fell asleep.

Gohan’s POV

I closed the door behind me gently, leaning against it a moment. She’s never been hugged before. . . . I’d tried to act as though that wasn’t as shocking as it really was, but now, alone, I let that sink in. She looked so panicked. Like I was going to eat her or something. The fear on her face when I’d tried to hug her the first time had frozen me. I couldn’t move. It was sheer panic, like . . . like she thought I would beat her. Or something. I didn’t know.

She was so jumpy. . . .

“Gohan, you coming?” I heard Goten call up. Glancing back, I saw his head around the corner.

Sighing, I pushed away from the door and followed him to the kitchen. Mom sat at one end of the table, and my dad sat at the other. Goten and I sat in the middle.

“Gohan, Goten, I know you think you understand what’s going on here, but I don’t think that you do. Not really.” Mom was giving us hard looks. “Goku told me all about what’s going on, and I understand that you think you’re saving those girls, but you’re kids. You don’t understand marriage, or what it means. You don’t understand the implication of arranged marriages.”

“Mom,” I interrupted as soon as she took a breath, “I’m not planning on actually marrying her.” She gave me a look. “But I had to say something. He was going to kill them. Kill her. He’d already killed one of them. I had to say yes. If I said yes, if we said yes, it would give us time to think. To train. Once we take out Cell, we can take them out too.”

Dad hesitated. “Gohan, Kuri is a lot stronger than Cell.”

“But you can do it, can’t you? You beat Broly. You’re gonna beat Cell. If we can just hold off enough to beat Kuri, then they can be free. Even if we have to fake agreeing with their treaty to give us some time, we can figure out something, and we can win. We always win. Don’t we?”

He smiled then. “We always win.”

“Then we can do it, can’t we?” Goten asked, looking back and forth. “We just need time, like Gohan says.”

“And if you can’t do it, if he insists you marry too soon?” mom asked.

“Then we do it,” I replied. “We do it, but we do it with our conditions. Mom, you can write up a list of conditions that have to be met for you to agree to it. We’ll compromise, and get them to agree to as much as we can. An age requirement, to give us more time.”

“And we’ll train until we can beat them.”

“And King Kuri seems like he’d be a really good challenge,” dad supplied. I could see the gleam in his eyes and I knew he was in. “He’s really strong, Chichi. Stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. It’ll be fun.”

“So we agree? We’ll compromise, bargain, and agree. And we’ll put it off as long as we can so we can beat him. Because even if we do marry, what about his other children? Who helps them? Even if we do marry them, that’s only four kids that are freed from him. He’s horrible, mom. Sahrana panicked when I went to hug her. She’s never been hugged in her life.”

“Midolyn panicked when she tripped and bumped into me. She started begging for my forgiveness.” Goten’s brow furrowed. “Like I really care that she brushed my arm as she fell. She got hurt. I didn’t. But she panicked and started to cry. Those girls, they need help, mom.”

Mom’s eyes wavered, and I knew she was thinking the same thing we were. They needed a loving home. And I knew mom would want to give them what they needed.

Just one more push. “When she panicked about the hug, she went down on her knees. In some kind of weird bow, where she reached her hands out in front of her. And she kept saying ‘Please, don’t,’ mom. Like she thought I was going to kill her. And the look in her eyes. I-I’ve never seen such fear before.”

“Okay,” she said reluctantly. “Okay. I’m going to write up a list of demands, but I’m going to tell you what they are now.” Her eyes hardened. “You will not, ever, share a room with them. I will tell them my age requirement is eighteen. You will not slack on your studying, and they will start to study with you. We will eat meals together. And they need real clothes. Not those gowns. And, after all this is said and done,” her eyes softened, “they will stay here with us. I’m not going to get attached to them only for them to leave.”

I nodded, grinning, then jumped out of my chair to grab her in a hug. “Thanks, mom! I knew you wouldn’t let them down.”

“Gohan, Goten, we begin training more tomorrow. And Gohan . . . I think you and Goten should go back into the Hyperbolic Time Chamber.”

I looked over at dad and nodded. “Okay. I will.”

“Really? That place sucked. . . .”

Then I hesitated. “Dad, um. . . . I think . . . I think we should train the girls, too.”

His eyes widened. “Gohan, they’re just girls. They can’t-!”

“Hear me out. I feel like Sahrana has a lot of untapped potential. There’s something about her that makes me think of a floodgate holding back an enormous flood.”

“And if you recall, Goku,” I looked over to see mom’s eyes flash, “I’ve gone toe to toe with you before.”

He flustered, face getting a little red, and reached back to scratch his head. “O-okay. Fine. That’s fine.”

“Maybe,” I started, “they should take turns in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber.”

“That I don’t know about, Gohan. We’ll see.”

I nodded. “Is there anything else?” They shook their heads, and I jogged back to my room. Opening the door slowly, it took me a moment to find Sahrana. She was sitting on the floor, leaning against my desk. Sound asleep. A small smile crossed my face and I walked toward her, kicking the door softly to shut it. Kneeling in front of her, I reached out to touch her shoulder. “Hey, hey. If you’re tired, you can go to bed.”

She let out a half-asleep moan.

I chuckled softly, and reached forward to grab her.

I had just grabbed her under her arms when her eyes shot open. Panic flashed through them, and she shot to her feet, pushing me back as she did. In the same movement, she stumbled backward, and nearly fell out the window.

I shot to my feet, grabbed her around her waist, and whirled so she’d be away from the window. And immediately trapped my legs in her long, loose gown. “Dammit,” I cursed, looking down.

Her eyes were wide still, and it looked as though she was still half-asleep. She pushed at me, hard, but she was the one who ended up stumbling backward.

And that unbalanced me. We went down. “Dammit!” I cursed a bit louder, and reached out to stop our fall with one hand while clutching her tightly to my chest to keep her head from hitting the floor. My hand cupped the back of her head, pressing her face to my shoulder, and my forearm pressed against her mid and upper back to keep her from jolting much. This pushed her right up against me, and I could feel her struggling. Felt her breath hitch. Her fear rose, I could smell it on the air.

And my hand hit the floor, stopping the fall. A sigh of relief fell from me, and I wiggled my legs slightly. Still holding her up, I let her fall away from me slightly so I could see between us to my legs and started slowly working my legs free.

“I-I’m sorry,” she breathed, and I glanced up at her. Her pale face was red. “Y-you can let me fall now. It would h-help you. . . . Your arm must be getting tired.”

Tired? Why? “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry.” I flashed her a grin, then looked back down at my legs. Finally! I got one free and placed it on the other side of her leg, so it wasn’t on the gown. Then I started to work on my other leg. When I’d finally gotten it free, I placed it on the other side of her body, and realized how awkward that felt. I sat up, pulling her with me so that I ended up straddling her waist, keeping my weight off her. “You okay?”

She nodded. “I-I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. You just got startled, that’s all.” I grinned down at her and let her go slowly, then stood, backing away. Reaching my hand down to her, I smiled again. “Really. It’s okay.”

She took my hand slowly, letting me pull her to her feet, then backed away. “You’re really . . . fast.”

I smiled. “You should see my dad. He’s faster.”

She blinked. A long, tired blink.

“You should get some sleep. Come on. I’ll show you the bathroom. You can shower and get dressed for bed.” I led her from the bedroom, and she followed silently. “In here.” I opened the bathroom door, let her go in first, and followed in after. “Here’s how you turn on the shower. It’s not too hard.” I demonstrated. “This is cold; this is hot. These are my mom’s shampoos, and she said you can use them until we get you some of your own.”

“Some of my own?” she repeated. When I looked back at her, her eyes were wide.

“You’ve . . . never had your own?”

She looked away.

I blinked, then turned back to the shower. “Do you want to take a bath, or a shower?”

“What’s a bath?”

I blinked again. “Shower it is,” I muttered, turning the shower on. Feeling the water warm up, I motioned her over. “Come check it. Is it too hot?” I looked back at her to see her shifting, eyes wide. “Come on. It’s okay.”

“It-it’s fine, however you want it.”

“It’s not for me,” I told her, tilting my head. “It’s for you. I want you to be comfortable with it. If it’s too hot, it’ll burn you.”

She slowly made her way over, giving me a weird, wide-eyed look. Fear, I knew that, but there was something else. Disbelief. She reached her arm out slowly, touched the water, and drew back quickly. “It-it’s warm!”

“Yea. Is it too hot, or too cold? Do you want it hotter? Or colder?”

She gave me another weird, wide-eyed look. Confusion this time. “It-it gets hotter?”

She’s so. . . . I didn’t know the word I was looking for. “Yes, it gets hotter.” I adjusted the temperature up, almost showed her how to, but then decided against that, because if she’d decided to do it herself, she might burn herself. “Try it now.”

She reached forward again, touched the water briefly, and drew back quickly. A small laugh came from her. “It’s . . . warm. Hot? Hot, I think.” She touched the water again. The smile on her face was pure excitement.

She’s excited about hot water? With that thought, I couldn’t help it. I reached forward to hug her. There was a moment of panic in her eyes, but she didn’t fight it this time. I held her tight to me, squeezing my eyes shut as I tried not to think about what her life had been. “It’s going to be okay now,” I promised her gently. “Everything’s going to be okay. You’re never going back there again. I’m going to protect you.”

She relaxed against me. “D-do I put my arms a-around you again?”

I nodded. “Yes.” I tightened my own arms when she wrapped her arms around my waist. She smelled good. Like some kind of floral scent. White magnolia. That’s what it was. I took a deep breath and let her go. “Is this good?”

She bit her lower lip, and reached toward the water again. Another smile curled her lips upward. “It’s so weird. I didn’t know water could be so warm.”

“Is it too hot?”

She shook her head. “No, I-I think it’s good.”

“Do you want it hotter?”

She shook her head. “No. Yo-you’ve done enough. Thank you.” She looked up at me, that smile changing her eyes from an icy blue to a clear, warm, but still pale blue. Rain, the color of rain. She looked at the shampoos I’d pointed out. “W-what do I do, um, with those?”

I reached forward, not caring if I got my shirt wet, and grabbed the shampoo. “This bottle, and the white bottle, are for your hair. That one over there, it’s for your skin.” I handed her the bottle. “This one you use first. Then the white bottle.” I smiled. “And tomorrow, or the next day, we’ll get you your own soaps.” I pointed out mine. “I have my own, there. It’s been my favorite for a couple years now. Goten has his there, and my dad’s are there.”

“Thank you . . . master.”

“Don’t, don’t call me that. We’re friends, remember?” I smiled. “Really. Please, I’m not your master.”

“W-what do you want me to call you?”

“My name.”

She looked away. “I-I don’t know if I can. . . . I’m not allowed to. We’re not permitted to call anyone by their names.”

“But you’re a princess.”

“Not really. I have unclean blood. I’m not a full royal. Just half.”

“You’re still a princess.” I reached forward to tip her chin up so she would meet my eyes. “And I’m not going to give up until you say my name.” I left her there, closing the door firmly behind me, and leant against the wall to think. I couldn’t get over the fact that she was so excited about hot water. Or her own shampoo.

I shouldn’t think about what her life was like then. It’s not going to be like that now. And I don’t want to pity her, or feel bad for her, but . . . the way she looked at the water. And her calling me master! I had to break her of that. I wouldn’t give up until she called my name. Not master. Never master.

I was almost surprised at the amount of anger I had at her father. He really seemed like a horrible person. I didn’t want to agree to anything with him, but. . . . I glanced at the closed bathroom door. “But I want you safe. . . .”

The door opened. She stood there, wearing a white, floor-length, billowy nightgown. It looked silk. She looked surprised for a moment—I’m sure I did, too. I hadn’t expected her to be so fast. I was planning on doing a couple things in my room before she got out. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to take so long.”

“You were only in there two minutes.” And she called me fast. “Alright, you ready for bed?”

She fought against a yawn, and I could see the exhaustion on her face. “Yea. I-I’m tired.”

I can see that. I led her back to my room quickly. “You can take my room until we get your room fixed. I’ll be crashing on the couch. Make yourself comfortable.” I turned around, smiling at her. “Sleep well, Sahrana.”

She bowed her head. “Sleep well.”

My smile faltered slightly. “At least you didn’t call me master. That’s a step in the right direction!” With that, I left her, closing the door behind me.

A few hours passed, and I was starting to get ready for bed—only I hadn’t had the chance to get my pajamas from my room while she’d been showering. I stopped at my bedroom door, knocked lightly. “Sahrana?” I opened the door slowly, looking around. She wasn’t on the bed. It took me a moment to realize she was curled up on the floor. I blinked, closing the door quickly behind me. Slowly, I started toward her, then paused.

Instead of going straight to her, I went to the bedroom window first and closed it. I was not having another incident like that again. Then I went back toward her, slowly, and touched her shoulder as lightly as I could. When she didn’t react, I slid my arm under her head, and my other one under her knees. Pulling her slowly toward me, I stood, walked to the bed, and, supporting her weight with one arm, I threw the blankets back. Setting her down, I covered her up, and stared at her.

“Why the floor?” I asked aloud. I wasn’t sure I would like the answer. “Good night, Sahrana. . . .”

A scream. Someone was screaming. I was up on my feet and at my bedroom door before I fully woke up. Sahrana was thrashing in the bed, screaming, like someone was trying to kill her. I closed the door behind me, running to the bed. She’d already scratched a deep cut down her cheek, and I grabbed her wrists, trying to keep her from hurting herself more.

I wasn’t really sure what to do next, and my hesitation gave her time to wrench her wrists free. I climbed up onto the bed, straddled her waist, and grabbed her wrists again. She yanked away, struck out—and hit me fairly hard. I ended up on the floor, a bit dazed, and reached up to touch my already bleeding lip. She screamed again, and I quickly jumped back onto the bed to wrestle her wrists down with one hand, and covered her mouth with the other. “Sahrana! Sahrana, listen to me, it’s okay! Wake up! You’re okay! Just wake up. Wake up!”

She struggled against my hold, and though I was stronger, it was more of a struggle than I’d expected. “Please, please, don’t,” she whimpered. “Don’t, please.” She was crying. Tears had soaked her cheeks, my pillow, the hair around her face.

“Sahrana, shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay. Really. Listen to me. It’s Gohan. It’s me. It’s just me. It’s okay.”

She started to slow her struggle, then stopped. For several minutes, she lay under me, twitching, breathing hard, and I almost thought she’d start screaming again, but I kept talking softly to her.

“It’s alright. It’s me. It’s Gohan. Open your eyes. Nobody’s going to hurt you. I’m going to protect you. You’re okay.”

She lay silent, still, and I stopped talking. A couple minutes passed, and her eyes opened. I noticed, belatedly, that I’d dripped blood onto her cheek. “Y-you’re bleeding. . . . D-did I-?”

“It’s okay. You were just having a nightmare. Are you okay?”

“Nightmare. Right.” She took a deep breath. “I-.” She nodded. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

Another nod. “I think so. . . .”

I let her wrists go slowly, straightening. “That bad?”

“I always have nightmares. . . . I d-didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. We all have nightmares.” Not like that, though. I jumped off the bed. “It’s alright. Go back to sleep.” I left her there, feeling the energies at the door before I got there. I closed the door behind me, meeting my mom’s, brother’s, and dad’s eyes. “She just had a nightmare.”

“Gohan. You’re bleeding.”

I blinked, then wiped my lip. “I ran up the stairs so fast, I tripped and bit my lip. It’s fine.”

Dad gave me a look. He knew better. “Is she okay?”

I nodded. “She’s better now. I think she was just reliving her sister’s death.”

And then I felt it. Her Ki leaving the house.

I yawned. “I’m gonna go on back to bed,” I said, stretching exaggeratedly.

That did it. Everyone sauntered back to their rooms, and I turned back around and jogged back to my room. The window was open.

Sahrana was gone.

Sahrana’s POV

I showered quickly, washing my hair with the two different bottles of shampoo, then using the soaps for my skin. They smelled nice, but not something I’d necessarily choose. Almost like orchids.

Once I’d finished, I put my nightgown on and met Gohan outside the door. He really waited on me. . . . “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to take so long. . . .”

He looked up at me, eyes widening. “You were only in there two minutes.” He shook his head. “Alright, you ready for bed?”

I stifled a yawn. “Yea. I-I’m tired.”

He turned and led me back to the bedroom. I tensed, but followed him as he opened the door. “You can take my room until we get your room fixed. I’ll be crashing on the couch. Make yourself comfortable.” He turned to smile at me. “Sleep well, Sahrana.”

I bowed my head. “Sleep well.”

His smile faltered slightly. “At least you didn’t call me master. That’s a step in the right direction!” He turned and left me there.

I curled up on the floor, using my arms as pillows. The floor was softer than my bedroom’s floor, and I was exhausted. It didn’t take long for me to fall asleep.

He loomed over me, huge, sweaty, angry. I knew better than to meet his eyes. I knew better than to talk. I curled into a ball to try to make myself seem smaller. He kicked me, hard, in my stomach, and I heard my ribs crack. I did not scream. He reached down and grabbed me, and I met his angry, blank eyes. “You are pathetic!” He threw me, hard, into the wall, through the wall, and followed. “Are you going to scream yet?”

I clamped my mouth shut. I knew better.

He slammed his foot down onto my leg. I felt it snap. I did not scream. “You scream, you die!” He reached down to grab me again, holding me by my collar. “I will get you to scream. And when I do, you’re going to regret it.” He threw me again, down, onto the hard ground, and glared down at me. “Why don’t you just scream?!” He lifted his foot, and slammed it down onto my shoulder, near where my ribs had already cracked.

I still did not scream.

“Fine. If that’s what it will take, I will do it!” He knelt next to me, grabbed my legs, and dragged me toward him, fingers digging painfully into the already broken leg. He ripped at my plain white dress, ripping it from me. “I will succeed. I will!” He loomed over me, and I saw it in his face. I saw his intention. He was over me, and I whimpered. “Scream, scream!” he yelled, right into my face.

I screamed, thrashing at the weight of the body atop me. He was too heavy. Too strong. I tried to fight him off, but he pushed down harder on my wrists, keeping me pinned, then covered my mouth with his hand. I tried to fight, to scream, to call out for help. To thrash. He was heavy.

But not as heavy. . . .

That realization hit me hard. It caused me to paused, and I suddenly could hear a voice. It was dim at first, but gradually grew louder. Louder.

 “It’s alright. It’s me. It’s Gohan.” Gohan. It’s just Gohan. “Open your eyes. Nobody’s going to hurt you. I’m going to protect you. You’re okay.”

I lay silent, still, and he stopped talking. A couple minutes passed, and my eyes opened. Something wet and thick dripped onto my cheek, and I could see the split in his lip that seeped blood. “Y-you’re bleeding. . . . D-did I-?”

“It’s okay. You were just having a nightmare. Are you okay?”

“Nightmare. Right.” More like memory. I took a deep breath. “I-.” I stopped, nodded. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

Another nod. “I think so. . . .”

He let my wrists go slowly, straightening. “That bad?”

“I always have nightmares. . . . I d-didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. We all have nightmares.” Not like that, though. He jumped off the bed. “It’s alright. Go back to sleep.” I watched him leave the room.

Left on my own, I wasn’t sure what to do. I’d bloodied him, and though he’d said it was okay, I wasn’t entirely sure he was just going to let it go.

Especially if his dad found out. Or my dad found out.

That sent a strong panic through me, and I got off the bed. A few seconds passed, and I went to the window, opening it. I have to get away from here. I have to run. I climbed out the window, glanced back, and took off running. I’d never been in these woods before, so I threw my energy out to check the surrounding. I was alone, except for the house back there. So I ran. I didn’t hold back. I knew I was fast. So I ran.

All my secret training with that old sage man pushed me faster. I’d spent years training under that man in secret, every change I got. When they’d let us out of that room, I went straight to him, and spent weeks there at times. And now, that training helped me move faster. Faster.

I ducked under tree branches, jumped over fallen branches, rocks, patches of weeds, darted around thick trees, and I didn’t notice the Ki following behind me until he was closer than I wanted him to be.

Even with my full speed out, he’s faster—how? How can he be that fast?!

I’d thought he was fast before. His quick reflexes in catching our fall the way he had had attested to that. And his ability to move before father’s shot hit me had astounded me. But now, now I saw even that was slow to him, because he was easily catching up to me. For every one step I took, he’d taken ten.

I sped up, pushing my legs so fast, they started to burn. But as I sped, so did he. And now for every one step, he took twelve. I could feel him. He wasn’t even straining. I was paying way too much attention to him, because as I glanced back to see him darting through the woods, my foot met empty air. I turned in time to see the edge of a giant cliff, and I had a moment to think, Well, I’ve survived worse, before I started to fall.

I clenched my eyes closed, thought about getting my wings out, but I didn’t want him to know I had wings—and an instant later, I felt arms close around me. One under my knees, one around my shoulder, and suddenly, we were going up. I wrenched my eyes open wide to stare at him. He was looking up, a slight concentration making his brows knit together. And I tried to stop the chill that ran down my spine.

Now what? His lip is still bleeding. He-he’s not going to let that go! I have to get away-!

“Stop struggling,” he ordered calmly, and I fell still under the commanding tone. “We’re almost there.” He was flying toward the house, and I wondered vaguely how he could fly without wings. I’d never known anyone who could fly without wings. He lowered, landing in the middle of a small clearing, and set me down on a giant log. “You’re bleeding,” he said matter-of-factly, reaching for my leg as he did. He pushed the nightgown up to my knees, sat on the ground in front of me, and examined the cut I hadn’t even known I had.

I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering. It was cold, but it wasn’t the cold that made me shiver. His lip was still dripping blood slightly, and it looked like it was starting to swell.

“Why did you run?” he asked softly, reaching down to rip a long strip of cloth from the bottom of his shirt. “What were you afraid of?” He started to wrap the cloth around my wound.

I couldn’t stop shivering long enough to answer.

He glanced up at me, and in a single move, stripped his outer, long-sleeved shirt off, and, before I could react, pulled it over my head, reaching in to pull my arms through. “Better?”

It smells like him. . . . The shirt was warm from his body, and it smelled like him. It stopped the shivering almost instantly. “I-I . . . hit you.” My voice broke slightly over “hit,” and he looked back up from wrapping the cut. I looked away from him, letting my hair cover my face. “I hit you, an-and he’s going . . . he’s going to be mad. You’re mad.”

A moment passed, and he tightened the wrap, tying it closed, then reached up to pull me down into his lap. Wrapping his arms around me, he sighed, and said, “I’m not mad. And it was my own fault. I shouldn’t have hesitated in waking you, but I did. I was half asleep and I wasn’t thinking straight. It’s not your fault.” A few minutes passed as he held me, and I didn’t feel like protesting. Partially because I didn’t want to say, or do, anything to make him mad. “What were you dreaming about?” he asked softly.

At that question, I hid my face against his chest, and grabbed onto my nightgown—no, right, his shirt—and started to shiver.

“I have them, too, you know. Nightmares.” He shifted slightly. “Mine aren’t that bad, I’ve never woken up screaming, but I’ve woken up gasping. Or about to scream. I think the worst one for me is Raditz. In the dream, I’m weak, unable to help, can’t do anything. I’m trapped, afraid, and I can hear my dad screaming. I don’t really remember it well, but my dad says I attacked Raditz, and saved him. In the dream, though, I’m useless, screaming, trying to get out. Trying to help. But I can’t. I’m trapped. I’m stuck. And I don’t know how to get out.”

I looked up at him, studying him as he talked. He was looking down at me, a soft, gentle expression on his face.

“Sometimes, I think that’s a description of how I feel now, and have felt for a long time. Unable to help. Trapped, but can’t get out. Like, I’m still stuck in that spacepod, though I know I’m not. I’ve been in situations like that a lot. Unable to help. Feeling useless. Like when Frieza almost killed Kuririn—and when he did kill Kuririn, and almost Piccolo. And when Nappa killed Piccolo. I put Piccolo in that situation, and he took a blast that was meant for me. If I’d been stronger, he wouldn’t have died then. And I think about that a lot. A lot of my nightmares are about that. Piccolo dying, again and again. And I can’t stop it.”

This boy, he isn’t what he seems. “I’m sorry about Piccolo.”

He smiled slightly. “It’s alright. We used the Dragon Balls to get him back. But it still haunts me.” His smile changed slightly, becoming softer. “But I’ll tell you something, it does get better. The longer time goes by, it does fade. It never goes away, I’m sure, but it fades.”

“How?” I found myself asking. “How does it fade?”

“By making good memories. By continuing on, and making enough good memories to balance out the bad.”

“I have more bad memories than good.” And all my good memories involved training, which involved pain—and trust me, the Sage Master definitely gave me nightmares. He was a nightmare.

“We’ll just have to change that, then.” He flashed a brilliant smile, and for a moment, I believed him. “I get it, though, if you don’t want to talk to me about your dream. I mean, we just met, and you obviously don’t trust me yet,” that statement made me feel bad, “but if you ever change your mind, and you do want to talk, I’m always open. I’m always going to be willing to help you.” He stood, still holding onto me, and began walking.

“I-I can walk. . . .”

“Mm-mm. Your leg’s still bleeding. You should just rest.”

“Rest?”

“Mm-hm. Just trust me. I got’cha.”

I leant my head against his chest, letting my eyes close. I was still so tired. So exhausted. I let myself drift a bit, until I felt something soft against my back. My eyes flashed open, and, without thinking about it, I reached out and grabbed his arm. “Don’t go,” I heard myself saying. I winced at the words, at the broken voice that said them.

And he smiled, took my hand into his. “Okay. I’ll sit here with you, until you fall asleep.” He pulled his desk chair over to sit by the bed, still holding my hand. “Go to sleep, Sahrana. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Chapter Text

Deep breath. I could smell something. Something familiar, and safe. The thick scent of warmth that usually accompanied something furry, something earthy, a bit spicy. . . . What was that smell?

A small smile forced its way onto my face when I remembered what it was, and why it was familiar. The blankets smelled like him. The pillow smelled like him. I smelled like him.

My eyes flashed open when I realized I was in what felt like a bed. For a moment, I panicked, thinking he would be so angry if he knew where I was—then I remembered that he’d put me there. Twice, because I knew I hadn’t gone to sleep on the bed originally. I had no recollection of being moved the first time, but I knew he had to have moved me.

I closed my eyes slowly, shifting slightly, and my hand felt heavy. I let myself curl my fingers around whatever was holding onto my hand for a moment, before I realized it had fingers. And a palm. My eyes flashed open again, and I turned my head to look at my hand.

A hand held onto mine, and I ran my eyes up the arm belonging to that hand, and my eyes widened. Gohan, fast asleep, sat in the chair he’d pulled over from the desk. He must’ve pulled the desk over slightly, because his elbow was placed on it, his hand supporting his head as he slept. It didn’t look comfortable, and I felt a pang of both guilt and fear.

He’d stayed with me last night. He . . . stayed. Because I asked him to.

Or, my darker self countered, he wanted to make sure you couldn’t escape again.

Not really sure what his intentions had been, I stared at him. He looked peaceful, relaxed, despite the uncomfortable position. I knew his arm had to be cramped and in pain, but he still looked oh, so relaxed. He looked younger, relaxed as he was, and I realized that he never actually looked his age. Right now, asleep, he did. He looked like the kid he was—but awake, he looked much older.

And I felt another pang. This one, it seemed, to be pity, sympathy, for the boy who acted much older than he really was.

I felt that pang even knowing that I was the same way. And . . . I wanted . . . I don’t know. I wanted. . . . Not to be that way. Not to be afraid. Not to be distrustful.

This boy, he’d touched a part of me I didn’t even know I had. He made me feel safe, and secure, and comfortable. And he seemed to care about that. About how I felt, and what I wanted, and-

No, I told myself firmly. You don’t know that for sure. You don’t. He could be just like them. Just hiding it. Or too young for it to hit him.

But thinking that way would mean that every Saiyan male was like that, another side of me argued, and you know Darian’s not.

I stared at him, my inner conflict just building.

“Gohan,” someone whispered loudly, knocking softly on the door. “Gohan, mom’s coming! I’ve been covering for you all night—get up! Before she gets here! Gohan!”

I heard the nerves in his voice, and I knew it would probably not be a good idea for his mom to see him like this. Either she’d be angry that I’d made her son sleep on a chair, or she’d be angry that he’d let me sleep in the bed, or something. I didn’t know, but I also didn’t want him to get in trouble. I yanked on my hand. “Hey!” I whispered frantically. “Hey, wake up! Your mom’s coming!”

No reaction.

I growled slightly, and yanked on my hand again, hard enough to pull him off the chair.

He hit the ground and blinked dazed, sleepy eyes up at me, then looked in confusion at his hand still holding mine. He blinked several times, and I could see the effort in his face to try to think.

“Your mom’s coming,” I told him, hoping to wake him up faster.

He looked up at me, still blinking. There were dark circles under his eyes, and the blinks were long and slow.

“Your mom’s coming!” I said louder.

“Gohan! Mom’s on her way. She’s—hi, mom!”

At that, he shot up and toward his dresser, letting my hand go quickly. By the time his mom was opening the door, he was pulling out clothes from the dresser, and I turned and pretended to still be asleep. “Good morning, mom.” His voice was rough, hoarse. Still sleepy.

A moment passed. “How long have you been awake?”

“Oh, we’ve been awake about fifteen minutes, right, Gohan?”

“Yea. I just wanted to get some clothes out. Dad and I were going to train today, and I forgot to grab my Gi before she went to bed.”

Another moment. “Wake her up. Breakfast’s about to be done. I’m sure she’s hungry.” The softness in her voice startled me. “She’s too thin, and needs to eat.”

“Got it, mom. Thank you.” He sounded too insincere. Like he was hiding something—and he was.

And I’m sure his mom picked up on it, but the next thing I heard was the door closing.

Gohan sighed, and I heard the chair squeak as he collapsed into it. Opening my eyes again, I watched him rub his hands over his face quickly, into his hair, pulling his hair away from his face. And in that instant, without his hair hiding him, his eyes looked very big. Young. He stared at me, and blinked a few times, slowly. “Did you sleep alright?”

Guilt. “How’d you sleep?”

He smiled slightly. “I’ve slept better,” he said honestly.

“You didn’t have to stay,” I said softly.

His smile widened. “You wouldn’t let go of my hand, so I just pulled the desk over and waited. You never let go, so I must’ve fallen asleep.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, wincing.

He blinked, smile vanishing. “Don’t be. You slept well, right?”

Actually, yes. . . . I nodded. “I did.”

“That’s all that matters then!” He smiled again. “You heard my mom. Breakfast’s almost ready.” His smile widened. “And she’s got a point—you’re tiny. You definitely need to eat.”

I blinked.

“Oh, how’s your cut? Did it stop bleeding?” He was pulling the blankets back before I could answer, and, a second later, had already pulled the nightgown up to look at the wound.

He seemed to do that a lot. Just lift the nightgown, or gown, or whatever, without realizing how it could be misconstrued. It’s like he didn’t understand how that worked. But . . . it was kind of endearing.

“It looks good. Already starting to heal. I should change this, though.” He’d untied the cloth rapped around it already.

“It-it’s fine. Really.” I smiled at him. “Thank you for worrying, though.”

“It really should be bandaged.” Without waiting for a reply, he went to his dresser, pulled out a white teeshirt, and walked back, ripping it as he moved. “That reminds me. Do you have any clothes that aren’t, um, dresses?”

I shook my head.

“Well, that’s alright, I guess. You can borrow some of mine.” He smiled. “My purple Gi might fit you alright. I’ll have Piccolo make me a new one. That’ll work, I think.” He tied a strip of cloth around my leg, went back to his dresser, and came back with a purple one-piece outfit. “Here. It’ll work until we get you some training clothes.”

My heart leapt. “Tr-training clothes?”

A nod. “I talked my dad into training you and your sister.” He smiled then. “Maybe we can teach you to become Super Saiyans faster than I learnt.”

“Super Saiyans? What’s that?”

“Yea, I guess you wouldn’t know about that. It’s a transformed type of Saiyan.”

My blood chilled. “Like. . . . Like my. . . . Like Broly’s transformation?”

A questioning look, then a shake of his head. “No, nothing like Broly’s.”

“There’s another kind?”

He nodded. “Yup. We’ll teach you!” He smiled again. “I have a feeling you’ll learn fast.” He turned away. “Come on. I’ll get dressed, and then you can get dressed, and we’ll go eat. Then we’ll start our training.”

After grabbing underclothing from my bag, I followed him to the bathroom, clutching the purple—what had he called it? Gi? He went in first, changed, and came back out. His hair was wet, and his skin gleamed. He’d taken a fast shower.

He grinned. “Go on. I’ll wait here, in case you need anything.”

I went into the bathroom, stripped, and changed into the fresh clean clothes that did not belong to me.

And also, did not fit. I found myself clutching the sides of the chest closed, and struggling to keep the straps on my shoulders. It definitely fit him well, because he’d been wearing it the previous day, or one like it, but it was way too loose on me.

“Are you dressed?” he called.

“Yea,” I said, staring at the mirror and clutching the sides of the Gi. I didn’t know how to explain—

I didn’t need to. He’d opened the door, and was studying me with an amused smile on his face. “I didn’t realize you were so small,” he said, voice clearly dripping in amusement.

I had the urge to smack him.

He pressed his hand to his mouth, clearly trying to stop himself from laughing, but when I turned to glare at him, he doubled over laughing.

“It’s not that funny!”

After a moment, he shook his head, glanced at me, and said, “I might have an idea.” He came further into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and, while my panic already started, knelt to rummage under the bathroom sink. He straightened with something white and rolled up in his hand. “Wraps. They’re good for things like—well, that.” He handed them to me. “Do you know how to do them?”

I shook my head, taking them. “Bandages?”

“Wraps,” he corrected. “They’re for training. Usually you use them on your hands and legs, because the extra weight helps, but I think we can use them for this.” He set something metal and shiny on the counter. “And that’s a safety pin. We’ll use that to pin the chest of my Gi together. That should help the sleeves stay on.” He reached forward, grabbed the wraps, and said, “Turn around.”

I hesitated, but obeyed. An instant later, he’d pulled the Gi down to my waist. I squeaked, covering my chest with my hands. “What are you doing?” My voice was breathless.

“Wrapping,” was his reply. He reached around me, the main body of the wrap in one hand, and a strip in the other, and said, “Move your hair and your arms. Hold your hair up, above your head.”

I hesitated. “You’ll see me. . . .”

“See? Of course I see you.”

He really doesn’t understand that, does he? With that in mind, I took a deep breath, grabbed my hair in both hands, and lifted it high above my head. “Just . . . stay behind me, okay?”

“Okay? That’ll make it harder to do this, but okay, I can do that.” And he started to wrap the strip around my chest, staying right where he was.

It wasn’t until he was nearly finished that I glanced backward, and realized that he was tall enough to be able to see my entire front over my shoulder, especially how close he stood to me. My face flushed, and I looked firmly up at the ceiling as the blush worsened to the point where I felt lightheaded.

“It’s not long enough to wrap around you again, so I need to fasten it on your chest. Can I come around to do that?”

Unable to say anything to that, I just nodded. Everything was covered now—not that he hadn’t already seen it.

He walked around me, pulling the strap tight, then fastened it firmly against upper chest. He smiled at me then, but I continued to stare at the ceiling, avoiding his gaze. “You can let your hair down now.”

I did, slightly trembling.

He pulled the straps back up my shoulders, and reached for the metal thing behind us.

And I got a closer look at it. “Wait, wait!”

He paused, looking up at me. “What?”

“Th-is that metal?”

He nodded.

“I’m allergic to metal.”

A look crossed his face. “Damn,” he cursed, and my eyes widened, but he put the object down. Studying me, he tilted his head. “Move around.”

The second I relaxed my shoulders and he let the straps go, they fell straight back down.

“Well, that won’t work.” His eyes lit up. “I have another idea.” He walked around me and knelt to go into the cabinet again. A minute or so passed before he stood, holding something cloth in his hand. White. He stood behind me, and pulled the straps tight over my back. “Is that too tight?”

I shook my head. “No, that’s perfect.”

Movements. The straps tugged and loosened a couple times. Then, “Done!”

The straps stayed where they were when he walked around me, and I toyed with them a moment. “How did you get them to stay?”

“I tied a ribbon around the back of them.”

Pretty smart idea, actually. I moved experimentally. “They stay.”

“Yea. It’ll work, until we get you something that actually fits.” He tilted his head. “Though it wouldn’t have been so loose if you weren’t so thin.” He reached forward, grabbed my wrist, and looped his thumb and index finger around it, frowning. “You’re tiny,” he commented softly.

“Your hands are just big,” I replied, then widened my eyes when I realized I’d snapped at him.

To my relief, he laughed. “Maybe, but you’re still tiny.” He brushed past me. “Let’s go fix that,” he said, shooting my a grin.

I glared at him, and he laughed again. I followed him out, to the kitchen, and stood back when he sat down.

He gestured to the chair beside him. “Sit down, Serazai.”

There was already a plate there. That must’ve been someone’s spot. “Someone’s already sitting there,” I gestured to the plate.

He glanced at the plate, then me. “That’s your plate,” he told me. “Is it okay?”

I stared at it. It was piled full of food, and I winced slightly, though my stomach growled. Flushing, I sat down, finally noticing Goten and Mydvine were across us. I smiled at her, and wanted to talk to her, but I didn’t know if I was allowed to.

Gohan glanced between us, blinked, and asked, “How’d you sleep, Mydvine?”

She glanced up shyly from her plate. “I slept alright,” she said softly. “Thank you for asking, master.”

He blinked again, and opened his mouth as if to say something, but Goten beat him to it. “I told you every time you’d call someone master, I was going to poke you.” He poked her side lightly, and she let out a squeaky almost-giggle, and blushed. He caught Gohan’s eyes and said, “It tickles her. She kept calling me master, and it was weird.”

Gohan looked at me, face speculative. “I don’t think poking you would get you to say my name, would it?”

I shook my head, desperately hoping he wouldn’t try that.

He sighed. “I’ll wait. I’ll get her to call my name one of these days.”

“I’m working on it.”

Their mother suddenly appeared at the table, and their father sat down just as suddenly. “Good morning, girls,” she said, smiling brightly. “How did you two sleep?”

Mydvine glanced at me, then glanced at their mother. “I slept well. Thank you, my lady.”

“I slept well, too. Thank you for inquiring.” I glanced at Gohan as I said this.

And almost missed Goten’s poke at Mydvine. “’My lady’ counts, too,” he explained when she stared at him.

“You can call me Chichi,” his mom said, giving us both soft looks. It took me a minute to realize the looks were pitying.

“And I’m Goku,” his dad said quickly, beaming. He started eating quickly. “Eat up! You’re gonna need your energy today. We start training!”

“Training?” Mydvine asked, eyes wide. Her breath caught.

A look passed over Goten’s face. “Dad, if you don’t mind, I was going to work with Mydvine today. She’s . . . she’s going to need . . . special training.”

A confused look replaced Goku’s excited one. “’peshal trainin’?” he asked, mouth full. He swallowed. “What do you mean?”

“I just think she needs to learn the basics. I can handle that. Okay?”

He almost looked disappointed. “Well, alright.” He turned to look at Gohan. “What about you, Gohan?”

I, also, turned to look at the older boy. He glanced at me, then stared at his dad, swallowing his food. “We’re going with you today, dad, but I wanted to go get Piccolo, too. I’m letting Serazai borrow my Gi, so I need a new one, and I think Piccolo could help us with her training.”

“Piccolo?” His mom seemed worried. “You want Piccolo’s help?”

He nodded. “I know if I train her, I’m going to go too soft on her, and that won’t help her. And if dad trains her, I’ll be there to see too much of it, and I’ll . . . interfere. But if I let Piccolo take over for awhile, just to get her caught up, it’ll help her a lot.” He took another bite.

“Eat, Mydvine,” Goten said, giving her a hard look. “You need to eat. You’re going to blow away in the wind.”

At that, Gohan looked up at me, swallowed again, and said, “You eat, too. You’re gonna need it. Piccolo is . . . tough.”

I swallowed hard. “T-tough?” I remembered him using the same wording for my father.

“He trained me. He doesn’t take it easy on anyone, but if I ask him to, he’ll be easier on you than he was on me.” He met my eyes. “But I’m not going to do that. That wouldn’t be doing you any favors. So eat, because you’re going to need it.”

I stared down at my plate. It was filled to the brim. There were strange, small, round cake things, and some kind of crispy, red, thin meat, and a small dipping bowl with some sort of strange, sticky substance on the side. “What is it?” I asked softly, not wanting to offend anyone.

“It’s pancakes and bacon. With syrup.”

Goku was giving me a strange look. “You’ve never had pancakes?”

“She’s never experienced warm water,” Gohan replied, taking a bite. “I’d be more surprised if she did know what it was.”

A blink. “You’ve never had warm water?” his mother asked.

“Or shampoo and body wash.” He turned to look at his mother. “She couldn’t believe it when I told her we were going to get her soaps of her own.”

 A look crossed her face. “Gohan, would you mind putting off your training session? Just today. I’m going to go call Burama. We’re going to take the girls shopping today.” She stood immediately. “I’ll be right back.”

Gohan sighed. “Dammit, I . . . I really wanted to get started.”

I glanced at him. “If-if you want, I-I’ll stay.”

He looked at me. “No, no. Go. When you get back, we’ll start training. No matter what time it is. Besides,” he shrugged, “it’ll give me time to explain some things to Piccolo anyway.”

“Eat. It may be new to you, but it’s good.” Goku smiled kindly at both of us. “You’ll need the energy now more if you’re going shopping with Burama.”

I stifled a laugh.

“No, not like that.” Looking up, I saw Goten wiping Mydvine’s hand off with a towel. “With the chopsticks. Here.” He held out two long sticks to her.

“What are those?” I found myself asking.

Gohan looked at me then, dropping his own pair of long sticks. “You-you don’t know what-? Do you use forks?”

“What are ‘forks’?”

“What do you usually use to eat with?” Goku asked, having paused in his eating, too.

“Our hands,” Mydvine answered. “We usually only get a bit of crust of mushy poka bread.”

“That’s why you’re so skinny!” Gohan blurted out, staring at me. He shook his head, blinking, and stood to move to my other side, slightly behind me. “Here, it’s easy. I’ll show you.” He picked up the long sticks set for me up, grabbed my hand, and demonstrated how to hold them. “Try that out, get used to it. See, you move them like this.” He demonstrated, hand over mine. “And pick up the food like that. Watch.” Still using my hand to help demonstrate, he picked up a piece of the cake. “Now you try.”

It took me a minute or two to get the fingering right, and he had to correct me a couple times, but I got it. Trying to pick up the cake was another thing. That was harder, and took several tries.

He sat down once I’d managed to do it, smiling. “See, it’s not that hard!”

His mom came back in as he sat. “Burama’s on her way.” She eyed me. “Gohan, is that the only thing you have that would fit her?”

He looked at me. “Actually, it didn’t fit her. I had to tie the back of it.”

“I mean, what about sweatpants that you can tie shut, and a shirt? Or,” she looked at me, “do you have anything to wear that’s not a gown?”

I glanced at Mydvine, wondering why she was asking just me and not Mydvine, too, and saw that she was wearing a green teeshirt—and I didn’t really know what she had on the lower half of her body. Couldn’t see it. “I-I only have gowns.”

“Gohan, when you’re finished eating, why don’t you try to find her a pair of sweatpants that would fit her? And a shirt. Long-sleeved. Anything short-sleeved would be too loose around her arms.”

He nodded. “’Kay.” He glanced at me. “Eat.”

I looked down at my plate, still holding the strange sticks. “What’s the bowl for? You can use the stick there, can you?”

“Watch me,” Gohan said. I looked over to see him pick up the small cake piece and dunk it in the bowl. “Like that. It’s easy.”

I picked up a cake, staring at it. It was small, but it still seemed like so much.

Mydvine picked up a piece, dunked it, and ate it. Her eyes lit up. “They’re delicious!” she said once she’d swallowed.

“Thank you,” Chichi said, smiling at her.

“Thank you for them,” she replied back.

I looked down at the piece I held. My stomach rumbled, but I wasn’t sure if it was from hunger or distress. There’s no way I’m going to eat all this. I dunked the cake piece, fumbling a bit when I took a bite out of it. It was good. But it was still a lot of food.

Chuckling. “Hang on. Look at me.” I looked over at Gohan, and he had a napkin in his hand. He reached forward, eyes shining in amusement, lips quirked upward, and wiped the sticky goo from my lip and chin. “You’ll get the hang of it.” He drew back, smiling. “You did well, though.”

I was flushed again, and I looked away to hide it. “Th-thanks.”

Mydvine made a small sound, and I looked up at her. “I-I can’t eat anymore.” She’d eaten three of the cakes. I was surprised. I didn’t think she’d be able to eat that much. Then I looked at her face, and knew she’d forced it down, because she looked like she was going to vomit.

Chichi looked at her. “Are you okay? Are you sure? That’s all you can eat?”

“I-I tried.”

I picked at the crispy meat, a bit surprised at the pleasing taste. “It’s good. The . . . cakes, and the meat.” I looked up at their mother. “But we don’t usually get so much food.”

“They said earlier all they got was pieces of bread,” Goku added, already being on his third plate.

“Mushy bread,” Goten chimed in. “And that’s just disgusting.”

I shrugged. “You get used to it.”

“Nuh-uh!” Goku had a mouthful again. “I’d starve!”

Gohan grabbed my wrist again, looping his thumb and index finger around it again, and held it up. “She is starving.”

I shook his hand off, setting mine back on my lap. After only a couple bites, I was starting to feel full. I didn’t think it was wise to eat much more.

“Gohan and Goten will finish what you can’t, so don’t worry about wasting food.” She smiled. “Gohan, why don’t you go get some sweatpants and a shirt for Serazai now? It doesn’t look like we’ll be here much longer.”

He stood. “All right. I’ll be right back.”

“Burama’s on her way in her aircraft. She won’t be much longer, after all,” she said as he left.

I forced one more piece of cake down, and pushed my plate away. “I-I’m sorry. It’s delicious, it really is, I just can’t eat that much.”

She smiled. “It’s okay. Gohan will finish it.”

It seemed all the males at the table had huge appetites, because neither boy complained about having to finish our food off. In fact, they got refills after that, and Goku ended up getting a sixth plate by the time we started to leave. How Chichi had managed to make so much food was beyond me.

Gohan followed us to the door. “Mom, they still need shoes.”

She glanced at us, then down at our feet. “Right. What sizes do you wear?”

“Shoes? Sizes?” Mydvine asked, eyes confused. The only time she’d worn shoes had been the slippers she’d come here wearing. “We have the slippers. . . .”

“You can’t wear those all day, walking around shopping. They’ll end up killing your feet.” Gohan knelt, grabbed my ankle, and pulled the sweatpants up. “She’s got tiny feet, mom. I think she might fit some of my old boots, if I still have them?” It seemed a question to himself more than anything as he walked away. He came back a few minutes later with two pairs of boots. “These ones are smaller,” he said, kneeling. He grabbed my ankle again—at this point, I was getting used to this—and sized both pairs against me. Then slid one pair onto my feet, chuckling. “Of course you’d fit the smaller ones.”

Goten grabbed the other pair and handed them to Mydvine. “Here. Try them on.”

It almost made me laugh, the difference in them. Gohan didn’t hesitate to throw the pant leg up to my knees, or my nightgown to my knees, to put shoes on me, or check a cut. Didn’t even think about it. Just went straight for it.

Goten? Goten seemed to have more understanding about how that would look.

The boots were a bit snug on Mydvine, but the ones on me were a bit big.

“I might have a bigger pair, if you need it?” Gohan asked, glancing up at her as he stood.

“No, no. Th-they’re fine. Thank you, Ma-.” She stopped herself, glancing at Goten, who’d already raised his finger.

“Good. Good.”

“They’re a bit big, but I think that’s okay, right? I don’t have a smaller pair.”

“They’re fine. Thanks.”

He smiled. “Good. Are the sweatpants okay? They were the smallest I could find.”

They went about three inches below my feet, and were so loose on me, I felt I was swimming in them. But I nodded. They tied shut—which Gohan had done himself, again not really realizing how that would appear. “They’re big, but they’re okay.”

“And they won’t need them long.” Chichi motioned to us. “Burama’s here. Come on.”

Ahdirine and Umaii were in the back of the aircraft. Umaii was wearing a baggy sweater that fit over her chest, but was loose everywhere else, jeans that looked feminine, and sandals that even I thought were cute. Ahdirine was wearing a loose pair of jeans kept in place by a belt, and a black shirt with a jacket over it. She wore a pair of shoes I knew were too big for her, but she seemed comfortable.

Both of them looked good, actually. Shining. Ahdirine looked better than I’d ever see her. She’s happy, I realized with a start. She’s happy. “Ahdirine?”

She snapped her eyes up to me, and she was smiling. “Yea?”

“A-are you okay?”

She nodded, smiling. “Yea. I’m okay. I’m really good, actually. Burama is awesome. She did something with us called a ‘spa day,’ and I’ve never felt this good before.”

Umaii nodded. “It was . . . relaxing.”

“And they’re so nice,” Ahdirine gushed, moving closer to me. “I like them. I do. I don’t want to leave them.”

I smiled at her, thinking of Gohan, and how he’d treated me. “Do you think they mean it? Or are they acting?”

“I think they mean it,” Umaii said. “I think they’re sincere. Trunks is . . . different. I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s quiet, but . . . loud at the same time. He commands attention without meaning to, but it’s not dangerous, or angry.”

“Yea. The Trunks I’m with is loud and playful, and he’s got so many strange contraptions called ‘toys’ that he insisted I play with—and I had fun. I had a lot of fun.”

I stared at them. They seemed so trusting. “Are you sure you can trust them?”

Ahdirine nodded, eyes wide. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

 “Serazai, I think sticking with them is the only way we’re going to survive.”

Hours later, I was carrying all the bags filled with clothes, soaps, shoes, and odd things called toys and makeup that Burama and Chichi had insisted I get. Burama had paid for everything—and I’d wanted so badly to apologize to her, but I learnt a lot about her.

She was smart, and designed fighting uniforms. It got my brain into high gear, and I realized I could have her remake my training uniform. With my own twists, maybe. I would enjoy that. I would really like that.

“Here, let me,” Gohan said, having suddenly and randomly appeared behind me, grabbing the bags from my hands. “I’ve got them.” He brushed past me, shooting me a smile as he did.

“I can carry one bag.”

“Nah, it’s alright. I got it.” He turned toward me, walking backward as he did to grin at me. “Besides, Goten, dad, and I did something, and I want to see your reaction when you see it.”

“No fair—I wanna see, too!” Goten jogged into sight from the woods, just as we reached the door. “Hey, Middie,” he greeted Mydvine, grinning. “Dad wants to see, too.”

“Hey, Chichi,” Goku called, jogging from the woods with his son. “How was your day?”

“We got all the essentials—and Burama insisted on getting a few extras for them, and for Gohan, Goten, you, and me.” She kept up easily. “How did you spend your day?”

“Training, and we finished up getting their room together.” I glanced back as we walked through the kitchen to see him grin. “I think they’ll like the stuff Burama had Vegeta run over.”

“Vegeta was here?”

“You didn’t know?”

So Mydvine and I had an entourage. Er, well, Gohan and I did, since it was Gohan who’d started it. He was grinning excitedly at me as he led me to a different room than the room I’d already grown used to. He pushed the door open, and gestured us inside.

I froze in the doorway, eyes wide. There was a slight contrast in the room. There were two beds. Four poster, canopy-styled beds that I’d only ever seen in Eril’s room, and the guest rooms. One of them was violet, and the other was black. I turned my attention toward the black one. The four posters sported a black canopy with white spots—like stars. The blankets were black. The sheets were white. And the pillows were black. There was a matching black armoire with white gemstones embedded in it.

“You like it! Yes!” Gohan pumped his fist into the air, grinning, then reached out to pull me further into the room. “Come here. Come.” He pulled me toward the bed. “Get on it.”

I glanced at his family, at Mydvine’s shocked face, wincing slightly when I got on the bed. Surely he wouldn’t do anything with that many people in the room?

He climbed into the bed after me, and pulled the gauzy, yet thick curtain closed, and suddenly we were alone, in a bed, where nobody could see us, and my pulse ratcheted. “Look up,” he commanded.

I did, and froze. Above me, a lot of small, white stones glowed in the semi-darkness the curtains created. “Like stars,” I breathed.

He nodded, laughing. “Ahdirine told Burama what you would like, and what Mydvine would like, and we spent the day putting it together as a surprise for you when you got home.”

Home. He said home. I looked over at him. “H-home?”

“Home. You live here now.” He smiled. “It’s your home.”

There was a weird, burning, heavy feeling in my chest. And my eyes felt moist. Before I realized I’d even moved, I lunged forward, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my face in his chest. “Thank you. . . . Gohan.”

He froze for a second, then wrapped his arms around me. “Finally!” he cheered. “You’re welcome.” He stroked the back of my head gently. “You’re home, Serazai, and I’m not going to let you go anywhere. Got that?”

I looked up at him, eyes wide, still feeling like I was going to cry. “Why?”

“Because, everyone deserves to be happy.”

I wasn’t alone in the bedroom, but I felt alone. More alone than I’d ever felt before, and I had spent weeks sleeping alone in an icy, or spiky, climate as training. I was on my feet and at the door to my new bedroom before I realized it, and I wasn’t entirely sure where I was going, but I let my feet lead me. I ended up in front of Gohan’s bedroom. Er, well, now both brothers’ room.

I’d felt bad about that, guilty, when I found out that Goten had cleared out his stuff and moved it into Gohan’s room, to make room for us. And now, I stood there, clutching my hands to my chest, not really sure what I was doing. Or why.

And the door opened. Gohan stood there, head tilted slightly as he studied me. “What’s wrong?”

I’d flinched slightly when he’d opened the door. “How’d you know I was here?”

“I felt your Ki.”

I stared at him a moment, then looked away. “I see.”

“What’s wrong?” He left the room, closing the door behind him. “Can’t sleep?”

I shook my head. “No. . . . I don’t know why.”

He smiled. “Come on.” He reached down, grabbing my hand, and pulled me down the hall and into my room. Then, without saying a word, he pulled me to my bed, then up onto my bed. “Sit with me. Let’s talk. Goten’s too light a sleeper, and Goten says Mydvine is a heavy sleeper, so. . . . Talk.”

I stared at him, then back down at the bed. “About?”

“That nightmare you’re afraid you’re going to have?”

My face flushed. “I. . . . It’s. . . . It’s not a nightmare. It’s an old memory.”

“It might help to talk about it.” He lay back against the pillows, and patted the pillow beside him. “Tell me about it.”

I settled beside him, my shoulder touching his. “I. . . . It’s my brother, that memory. He’s just beating me. Over and over. And I can’t fight back. He broke my leg, and my arm, and several of my ribs.” I hesitated. “He kept telling me to scream, but I knew if I screamed, he’d kill me. I didn’t scream, but every time I dream about it, I wake up screaming.”

He was silent a moment, then stretched his arm out. “Sit up.” I did, and he put his arm down where my head had been. “You can relax now.” His voice was soft, and I obeyed again, and he pulled me in against his side. “I’m going to protect you. Your brother will never come near you again.”

I hesitated, but there was this horrible, deep thought in the back of my mind that this was what I’d wanted. I moved closer toward him, onto my side, arms against my chest, between my chest and his side. I took a deep breath, and he reached over to grab my wrist. I tensed for half a second, but all he did was pull my arm across his waist. My hand fisted in his shirt, and I sighed, eyes closing. “He’s like my father too much. I don’t want Darin to end up like him.”

“Darin, your brother? The younger one?”

I nodded. “Yea. He’s only five. He’s the youngest of us—the youngest that survived, anyway. And he’s so sweet, and soft. I’ve tried to protect him—I’ve tried to protect all of them. They can’t take the beatings.” I needed to shut up now.

“So you take the beatings?”

I’d nodded before I realized it. “I take them all, because I can take them.”

“But you shouldn’t have to. None of you should.”

A shrug. “We learn.”

“Learn,” he scoffed. “Beating someone isn’t how you teach them. And learning obedience isn’t-!” He stopped, took a deep breath. “You don’t learn by being beaten.” A few minutes of silence. “Serazai?”

“Hm?”

“Can you try to eat a bit more tomorrow? I know it must make you sick, but you need to eat.”

“I’ll try. . . .”

Another few minutes.

This time I broke it. “Gohan?”

“Yea?”

Silence as I thought my question over. “Why . . . why are you nice to me?”

“Everyone needs good memories. If I can be someone’s good memory, I’m happy for it.”

Another few minutes. “Gohan?”

“Hm?” His voice sounded slightly hoarse.

“Will you stay . . . until I . . . until-?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised me. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” My voice sounded small. Broken.

He shifted both of us lower, reached over and grabbed the black blankets to pull them over us, and said, “I promise. I’m not leaving you.”

Chapter Text

It’s warm, I thought, snuggling closer to the warmth. Whatever I was lying in was comfortable, and firm.

It’s breathing.

That realization made me tense. I didn’t move, didn’t open my eyes, because I didn’t feel threatened. In fact, I felt . . . comfortable. Safe.

I took a deep breath, and recognized that scent. A small smile curled my lips upward, and I realized, I trust him. I had my head on his shoulder, and his arm was under my head, hand placed protectively on my shoulder. My arm was partially around his waist, hand placed on his chest, holding tentatively onto his shirt.

And he was breathing softly. Long, deep, soft breaths, so I knew he was asleep. After a moment, he twitched, and a sense of tenseness ran through him in a shudder. I deliberately kept myself pliant and limp, so he’d think I was still asleep, because I didn’t really know how he’d react. The arm under my head twitched, and shifted; the muscles tensing and relaxing, like he was feeling it out. He lifted the hand on my shoulder, and stretched his arm out as far as he could—at least, that’s what it felt like he was doing.

I wondered briefly what he was doing, if he was going to try to get his arm back, wake me up, or move me, and he placed his hand back down on my shoulder. A couple minutes passed as I felt him stretch out various limbs. His shifts made the bed squeak and shake slightly. A sigh came from him, a deep breath, and he shifted again.

I was just about to say something—or announce my awareness in some way—when he turned, arm still under my head, hand still on my shoulder, and wrapped his other arm around me to pull me close to his chest. He held onto me tightly for several minutes, and I shifted my head a bit down his arm, on a less hard spot.

I fell back to sleep like that, breathing in his scent, held in the circle of his arms. And I don’t think I’d ever felt that safe.

The next time I woke up, I was drowsy, too comfortable to move, and warm—almost hot. And then I heard what had awakened me.

“Gohan, get up! Mom’s coming. Gohan!”

He wasn’t moving. Just breathing deeply, a slight snore at the end of his sighs. Still deep asleep.

“Gohan!” Goten sounded quite distressed. Then, after a moment, apparently deciding it was a desperate situation and wanting to solve it quickly, he jumped up onto the bed and started bouncing. “Gohan!”

Nothing. I pushed against the older boy’s chest. “Gohan?” Nothing. “Gohan? Hey! Wake up!”

“Gohaaaan!” Goten called, still bouncing. “Wake up!”

“Gohan?” I pushed against him again, shaking him lightly. “H-he’s a heavy sleeper, isn’t he?”

“Apparently—wake up!”

A slight shift. His arms tightened, and he mumbled something I couldn’t really hear. Something that almost sounded like, “Stop it, Goten, you’re gonna break the bed. . . .”

“Gohan,” I said quickly, “your mom’s coming, you gotta wake up.”

“Mm,” he groaned, not really moving.

“Gohan!”

He jerked, and his eyes opened slightly. He looked down at me, eyes heavy, blinking repeatedly as he tried to force himself to focus.

“Your mom’s coming.”

“Gohan!” I heard his mom call.

He tensed, and the sleepy look vanished as he swung up out of the bed, vaulted over me to stand by Goten—right as his mom walked into the room. I felt her energy, and heard the door open.

It’s a good thing he’s so fast, I thought.

“What are you boys doing in here?” Once again, I pretended to be asleep.

“We were waking up the girls,” Goten explained.

A moment. “You should be more worried about making your beds than waking them up. I know you’re excited about them being here, but you can’t let your chores—or your studies—go unfinished.”

“Yes, mom,” they both said.

She sighed. “Get your beds made, teeth brushed, and room picked up after you wake them up.” The door closed.

A sigh. “Gohan,” I heard Goten say, “if you’re going to start sleeping in here like that, you need to at least let me know ahead of time. I’ll cover for you, but at least let me know when I have to.”

Gohan was rubbing the back of his head when I climbed out of the bed. “Sorry, Goten. It just happened.”

“Yea, well, if you are going to sleep in here more often, you should put an alarm clock in here that wakes you up before mom wakes up. That way she and I don’t have to figure out how to wake you.”

He looked down at the floor, face a little red. “Sorry.”

“Just . . . don’t sleep so deep or something!” With that, he made his way to Mydvine’s bed.

Gohan turned to me, smiling, and started to stretch the arm I’d slept on. “My arm is numb,” he said, laughing slightly.

I looked down. “S-sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s fine. As soon as I start moving it, I’ll get the feeling back in no time, I’m sure!”

Breakfast went by pretty quickly, and it didn’t take long for me, Gohan, Goten, Mydvine, and their dad, Goku, to be on the way into the woods.

“Piccolo’s going to meet us a little further, then he’s going to take Serazai with him,” Goku was saying. “Goten, you still want to train Mydvine yourself?”

“Yea.”

“Alright. I guess that leaves me and you, Gohan.”

“Like old times,” Gohan said, smiling. He turned back toward me, walking backward, smiling leaving his face serious. “Serazai, Piccolo’s tough, and he can be a bit scary sometimes, but he’s a good guy, and he knows what he’s doing. I think his training is exactly what you need.”

“He trained you, right?”

A small nod. “Yes. He got through to me, and I think that’s exactly what you need.”

He’d said that a lot, and I wondered if maybe he was trying to convince himself of that more than me. “I’ll be fine,” I told him, smiling. “He can’t be worse than my dad.”

At that, his eyes narrowed slightly. “No, he’s nothing like your dad. I wouldn’t let anyone like that near you.”

And that was how I ended up being on a deserted island with a Namekian. Alone. “You’re not trying hard enough!” he told me, after my third “failed” attempt to create a Ki-blast.

I didn’t want him to know I’d already been trained, so he was kinda right. I wasn’t trying hard enough—or, well, I was trying hard, but I was trying hard to fail.

“Fine,” he suddenly said, and I looked up, “you don’t want to do this the easy way—we’ll do it the hard way.” And he rushed at me, fist raised.

I reacted to that too quickly to think about it. My hand came up even as my feet moved me to sidestep the attack, and a Ki-ball formed expertly in the center of my palm. I’d thrown it before I realized it.

I didn’t have time to think on that, because he was rushing at me again, this time readying with a kick. I ducked under the kick, and backed away, eyes wide, still trying to play the helpless role—even though I’d already messed up by dodging before.

And he kept coming at me, faster and faster, until I almost broke the routine, but I let him hit me. I let him knock me down. I let him win spar after spar, even though I knew I could’ve fought back, maybe even won. With the Sage Master’s training under my belt, there was a lot I was capable of.

After being blindfolded for years upon years during training to practice feeling attacks without seeing them, I knew I could dodge most attacks.

But I let it go. I let him attack. I let blow after blow hit, and I didn’t even throw in the towel when I felt blood from Ki-blasts run down my arms or legs. I’d endured worse.

Then, out of nowhere, he threw a particularly nasty kick at me, and it actually caught me off guard, and managed to take me down to my knees for real. It had connected with my abdomen, and I was fairly certain something cracked. And he glared down at me as I looked up. For a moment, I was afraid. Then he said, “If you don’t start taking this seriously, I’m going to start taking you seriously.”

And I realized, all the moves he’d used against me, they’d all been calculated. He’d been watching me from the start. “I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Your first move told me all I need to know about you. You’re either trained, or your instincts are that good. Since you haven’t dodged a single attack since,” his gaze intensified, “I’m going to guess you’ve been trained, but you’re trying to hide it.”

I looked down, away. “I. . . . If. . . . I’ve watched . . . I’ve watched my dad train new recruits. If-if he knew . . . he’d be angry.” This was true.

“I’m not your father. I’m not his lapdog. The training between you and me stays between you and me.”

I looked up at him at that, and actually believed him. With a slight nod, I launched forward and attacked. I dulled down my technique, but for the rest of the training session, I fought hard.

It was already dark by the time I ended up at Burama’s. I’d spent the day training with Piccolo, and though I hadn’t trained as hard as I was used to, my body was sore, and I felt good, but I’d used the time doing something I enjoyed to think up my uniform design. Afterward, I’d gone back to the Sons’, rummaged until I found a piece of paper, and, while everyone was out, wrote out my design for the outfit.

I hadn’t signed it, and I hoped Burama wouldn’t know it was for me, but I also hoped she would do what was asked in the note. I knocked on the door, slid the note under the door, and dart off, cloaking my Ki as best I could.

I just hoped she’d get it done by the day we had to face Cell. Two days wasn’t a lot of time, but I hoped she could managed it.

By the time I’d ended up back at the Sons’, everyone was arriving. Chichi had apparently been with Burama, and she was smiling and content when she got back. Mydvine could barely walk, and Goten was practically carrying her. I spared a moment of worry for my sister, but it was short. She needed the training, and I was grateful Goten was giving it to her.

And then, “Walk with me?”

I turned, seeing Gohan a couple feet away, smiling at me in a gentle, almost shy way. I nodded. “Okay.”

He led me into the forest, quiet as ever, and I followed just as quietly. Finally, when we’d gone about fifty or so feet, he asked, “How was training?”

“Piccolo’s tough,” I admitted, “but I enjoyed it. He taught me a lot today.”

“Good, I’m glad.” He stopped, turning toward me, not really looking at me. “Serazai, I . . . I talked my dad into something today. I don’t know how you’ll take it, but I hope you’ll be okay with it.”

I tilted my head, feeling a bit of panic, and confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“I talked my dad into letting us use the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. Together.”

“I . . . don’t know what that means?”

“It means,” he took a deep breath, “we’ll get a year of training done in a day. It’ll feel like a year to us, but only a day will pass by in this reality. We’ll come out a year older, but we’ll be a lot stronger.”

“W-why? Why would you want to do this?”

“Because,” he hesitated, “because my dad and I are going to fight your dad, and we need to get as much training in as little time as possible. Your dad shot down our demands, and he wants us to get married in less than six months. He’s giving us more time to think about it, but my dad and I already know we’re going to fight it.”

“And if you lose?” My voice was suddenly soft.

“We won’t. We never lose.”

“But if you do?”

He stepped closer to me, took my hand into his, and smiled. “I won’t lose.”

Chapter Text

Hi. Okay, as anyone who reads comments will know, this is actually an old story that I've been planning on reworking. And I've been working on doing that the past few weeks, but a lot of shit has happened since, and I haven't had a whole hell of a lot of time, so I'm going to begin now. If you're seeing this chapter, and haven't (recently) read the first few, go back and reread, because now everything's different. 

Chapter Text

Okay, so explanations are in order! Before you read this chapter, read this first!!! As stated in the prior chapter, Gohan has convinced Goku to allow the two of them to go into the HTC for some special training. AS THEY ARE VERY YOUNG, THERE WILL BE NO SEXUAL SCENES, SO DON’T GET EXCITED! This (Cell) part of this story isn’t meant to be the lengthy part, so instead of writing about the whole year (which would take several chapters,) I’m going to write certain parts, and cut in between those scenes with scenes from the outside world, checking in on the two young Demi-Saiyans throughout their year of training. If that makes no sense, it will soon. I promise.

 Ahdirine 

Mydvine

“Not many people can stand being in here for the whole year,” Gohan said, looking around the big, empty space. “It’s hard at first, but you get used to it.” His eyes settled on me slowly, and he smiled gently. “It’s okay. If it gets to be too much for you, we’ll leave early.”

            I shook my head, ignoring how heavy and empty it felt in here. A year of special training? I needed to take it. “I don’t want to leave early,” I said, a little surprised at how soft my voice was.

            He nodded, then turned more toward me, but looked away, near the floor, a troubled, almost timid look on his face. “Look, remember what I said about why I was having Piccolo train you?”

            “That you thought he wouldn’t go easy on me?” I guessed.

            A nod. “Yes. Well, I’m not . . . I can’t. . . “ He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and started over. “The reason I want you trained so badly is because I can feel your power,” I tensed, “like a dam waiting to burst. You’ve got a lot of power, but no way to tap into it, and no training,” he was wrong there, “and I think tapping into your power would help us against your father—a lot, actually.” He took another deep breath, glanced at me, then away. “Having said that, I can also feel, even with your dormant power, you’re no match for me. I can’t go all-out on you, and I can’t train you the way Piccolo—or even my dad—could, because I’m-!” He glanced at me again, looked away again, face reddening. “I’m not like them. I can’t hurt you, even to help you.”

            I shifted my weight. “So what you’re saying,” I said slowly, “is you can’t train me? You brought me here, but you can’t train me?”

            He shook his head, eyes widening as he turned to finally look at me. “No-no! I’m not saying I can’t train you. I’m just saying, I have to go easy on you when we train. I’ll train you, but I can’t go all-out.”

            “I won’t accept that.”

            “Sera-!”

            “A Saiyan only gets stronger when pushed to the brink of death. You have to train me to the point where I can barely stand, every night, or I won’t get stronger.” I walked toward him. “I can see it in your face that that idea terrifies you—no, disgusts you, but remember,” I tried to smile, “I survived years of abuse by Broly, and my father, and my brothers, and my father’s soldiers, and pretty much everyone else, so whatever you can do,” I stopped in front of him, “it can’t be worse than all that.”

            He winced. “Serazai, let me show you something.” He tensed, closed his eyes, and I felt him focus his power, felt it swell. He took a deep breath, let out a small yell, and a burst of power threw me off my feet. A golden wave shot out from him, and his hair changed to gold, eyes to a bright teal. He grew a couple inches in height, and gained about forty pounds in muscle.

            I stared up at him, heart pounding. Like-like Broly?! No. . . . No, he doesn’t—he’s not like Broly.

            His eyes widened, and he powered down. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to scare you!”

            I stood, brushing myself off, heart still pounding a bit. “I-it’s okay. It just . . . took me off guard.” I peered at him. “You don’t seem different when you change.”

            “I’m not. I’m still me. Are you okay?” He stepped toward me, hand held down.

            I stared at his hand for a minute, then reached up to take it. “Even with that, you can’t go easy on me. I’m stronger than I look, and I need the training. Imagine it like this. If you don’t give me everything you’ve got, and I get sent back home, and they find out you’ve been training me—they’ll kill me. You need to train me hard enough that I can fight back—at least enough to escape alive.”

            “You’re never being sent back there, and-!”

            “Please,” I met his eyes, “please, you don’t know my father, or his soldiers. I do. Just . . . please.”

            He wavered, took a step back, ran a hand through his hair, and blew out a sigh. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll train you as hard as I can in speed, and the day you can land a hit on me is the day I’ll hit back.”

            I tilted my head slightly, raised one brow, and narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you kidding me? Please, you’re going to have to hit back. You’re going to have to hurt me for me to get stronger. Speed might help a little, but I need strength, and endurance. I can only get that if you hit back.”

            He wavered again. “Fine, but I’m only training you in my base form. I’m not going to use my Super Saiyan form against you—at least not until you can go Super Saiyan, too.”

            My eyes widened slightly. “I-I can’t go Super Saiyan.”

            “Everyone with Saiyan blood can. I’ll show you. Is that agreeable?”

            I hesitated, then narrowed my eyes suspiciously at him. “On one condition. The day we get out of here, you go all-out against me, and I go all-out against you. Deal?”

            He also hesitated. “If I think you can handle it, we’ll have an all-out spar.”

            “No, no ‘if I think you can handle it,’ you do it, because otherwise, you’re going to use that ‘you can’t handle it’ excuse to avoid possibly hurting me. You go all out against me, to see how far we’ve both come. Deal?”

            “Fine. Deal.”

            “Let’s start now then.”

            He turned and walked about ten feet away, then turned back toward me, lowering into a fighting crouch. “I’m ready.”

            “I should warn you,” I hesitated. “I told Piccolo this, and I’m going to tell you, I had a bit of self-training from home. I used to watch the soldiers train, and I taught myself from that.”

            A small nod. “Show me what you’ve got then.”

            I nodded at him, lowered in my fighting crouch.

            He straightened, walked toward me. “Your legs need to be about half an inch closer to each other, and lower your arm about two centimeters, and bring it a bit inward, too.” He adjusted me himself, not giving me time to do it for myself, then stepped back, tilted his head, and smiled. “That’s better. Your stance is good, actually. Did Piccolo teach you that?”

            I shook my head. I hadn’t even thought about trying to disguise my stance. It was my usual stance, the one the Sage Master had taught me. I’d always been blindfolded when using it, so I’d never actually seen my placement. I’d never realized I was off. “Thanks,” I said softly.

            He smiled, resuming his crouch. “You’re welcome. Ready?”

            I nodded, shifted slightly, and waited. The Sage Master always told me that the first person who attacked was the first person to fall, so I always waited to make my first move. He, however, seemed to wait too, watching me with slightly narrowed eyes. His stance was perfect. I couldn’t see a single weak spot to hit, even if I’d wanted to attack first. I had to get him to do it first.

            Except he didn’t move. He seemed as patient as I was—more so. When I began to shift my weight, he smiled slightly, but stayed entirely still.

            So I decided to attack. I bolted toward him, fist raised, ready to drop down as soon as he moved to block.

            He didn’t block. Instead, he dropped down in a blur I could barely see and footswept my feet out from under me. “Lesson number one. Don’t let your eyes betray your thoughts. You were planning on faking me out with a punch, then ducking down and trying to kick my side, right?”

            I stared up at him.

            “You looked at my cheek, clenched your first, then looked down at my side and stretched your leg. I knew what you were going to do before you even moved.” He smiled. “It’s okay. You’ll learn.”

            I wasn’t used to fighting without a blindfold on. It suddenly made even more sense to fight blindly. If you can’t see your opponent, your eyes can’t give you away. I stood, backed away.

            He resumed his stance. “Try again.”

“Wh-where is Serazai?” Mydvine asked in a small voice.

            Goten glanced back at his smaller, female companion. “Dad told me they went to the Hyperbolic Time Chamber to train. He said we can go next.”

            “What’s that?”

            “He says it’s a room we can get a year’s worth of training in a day.” He grinned back at her. “I guess we’ll figure that out when we get there, huh?” Stopping, he turned toward her. “C’mon. This is a good spot. Let’s do it here.”

            She stopped, turning her head to look at the trees around them. They were in a large meadow, surrounded by huge trees that had sprouted beautiful white blossoms. “I-it’s beautiful,” Mydvine breathed.

            He grinned. “I know. It’s one of my favorite places to come.”

            She turned to look at him then. “Wh-what did we come here for?”

            “There you guys are! It’s about time. I thought you got lost!” A lavender-haired boy pushed through the trees on the far end of the meadow, followed by a redheaded girl. Trunks grinned at Goten as he reached toward Ahdirine to help her through the thicket of trees.

            “Did you bring it?” Goten asked excitedly.

            “I did.” He pulled a capsule out of his pocket, still grinning. “Ready for this?”

            “W-what’s happening?” Ahdirine asked, looking frantically between the boys with wide, dark green eyes.

            “Don’t be afraid,” Trunks told her, leading her toward the center of the meadow. “It’s just a capsule. Stand back, though.” He activated the capsule and threw it to the ground, about ten feet away.

            Out of the capsule sprung a small building, the door facing Trunks. Goten led Mydvine around the side to the door, grinning. “It’s an arcade. We’re going to show you the most important part of training—games!”

            Trunks opened the door, holding it open for the others as he said, “Welcome to the Briefs’ Capsule Arcade! Come on in, have some fun, stay awhile.” Inside, there were arcade games on every wall, and one other door that led to what Trunks explained was a bathroom. “It’s kinda small as far as arcades go, but it’s got all my favorite games.”

            “I-I don’t know what an arcade is.” Ahdirine’s eyes were wide as she stared around at the arcade games. “What are they? What are they for?”

            “For fun, of course! Games, arcade games. They’re the best thing in the world!” Goten grabbed Mydvine’s hand and led her to the Pacman game. “C’mon. This one’s easy. I’ll start you off on it. . . .”

I darted toward him, fist raised, and felt the air vibrate around him before he moved. He’s going left! Not hesitating, I kicked out, aiming not at where he was, but where he was moving toward.

            His eyes widened, and my kick connected. He doubled over slightly, shock widening his eyes, then straightened and—I didn’t even see him move.

            I just felt pain explode in my abdomen. I doubled over, gasping.

            “Oh! I’m sorry—are you okay!?”

            I straightened, fighting the wince, and, not answering, struck out at him.

            He ducked backwards, backflipped once, and landed on his feet, then leapt toward me, fist raised. I started to block, but he was too fast—but his fist stopped inches from my cheek, and I could see the hesitation in his eyes. “I can’t hit you,” he told me.

            So I hit him. No warning, I shoved my fist into his abdomen as hard as I could.

            He doubled over slightly, then backed away, shaking his head. “I can’t hit you. I’m sorry.”

            “Please-!”

            “No. How about we work on flying instead? Just for a little bit.”

Vegeta glanced at the reading on the gravitation chamber. 200x normal gravity was perfect for some light training. He ducked around the Ki blast he’d thrown, and started to throw another one when the doors opened. Turning to yell at whomsoever had decided to interrupt his training, he saw a very angry young Trunks striding in. Without a word, Trunks took up his fighting stance, silently asking his father for a spar.

            And Vegeta took him up on his request. Saying nothing, not even bothering to ask the kid why he was awake at three am, he jumped straight into a spar.

            Trunks’ angry energy let him keep up somewhat with Vegeta’s easy, relaxed pace—and even let him get in a good blow to his face.

            Taken aback by the strong attack, Vegeta tensed, then struck back without thinking—harder than he’d meant to.

            Trunks was thrown backward. He hit the ground hard, and didn’t move for a minute. When he got up, he looked as angry as before, only now there were tears mingling in the sweat.

            Vegeta stopped. “Trunks-”

            “Don’t stop!” his son yelled, resuming his stance. “Let’s keep going.”

            He studied the boy, knowing it wasn’t physical pain that had driven the child to tears, but not really sure what to say. “Did that girl do something?”

            Trunks blinked, then dropped his stance, dropping his eyes to glare angrily at the floor. “She has nightmares all the time. She just told me about one of them.”

            Obviously whatever it had been had to have been bad enough to cause the boy pain, and once again, Vegeta was at a loss for words.

            But Trunks wasn’t. “It was about King Kuri. He started beating the little boy. Darin, I think his name was. I don’t remember. And Serahzai defended him, so he beat her instead. And then Ahdirine tried to stop him, and he beat her, but Serazai stepped in again, and Ahdirine has nightmares about it. About not being able to help her little sister or brother, about being beaten to death. He beat Serazai so badly, they thought she was going to die, and Ahdirine has nightmares about her dying, too, and—dad, I-I can’t. . . . I want to kill him. I want to get stronger to-to protect them.”

            He looked up at Vegeta then, eyes burning. “Promise me we’ll never let him take them back. Promise me they’re here for keeps.” 

            The determination and anger on his son’s face caught the Prince of Saiyans off guard, but he nodded. “They’re here to stay, Trunks.”

“Serazai! Se! Se, wake up! It’s okay! Wake up!”

            I couldn’t breathe. Something heavy was pinning me. I could smell blood. My blood, someone else’s—

            I know that smell.

            My eyes opened, instantly meeting black, black eyes. Gohan was pinning me again, hands tight around my wrists, weight heavier on me than I remembered him being. “G-Gohan?”

            He sighed, relaxing his hold, and rolled off me to drop on the bed beside me. A few minutes of silence. He broke it. “Tell me about the dream you had. What happened in it?”

            I rolled onto my side, facing away from him. “I don’t want to.”

            He rolled onto his side, too, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Talk to me. It’ll make it go away.”

            “How do you know that?” My voice sounded broken.

            “Because I’m going to make it go away. Just tell me.”

            “I can’t-!”

            “Please.”

            It wasn’t the word. Or him. It was the brokenness in his voice. Like he felt helpless. And I could never picture him helpless. And it broke me.

            I sighed, closing my eyes. The room we were in was plain, the bed white, with white covers. It was empty, yet it felt strangely like home after these many months. Or was it weeks? It was hard to tell. “It wasn’t a dream. Just a memory. One of the earliest ones I have.”

            “Tell me about it.”

            “I was three, I think. About that age. Darin had just been born, and Broly . . . he hates babies, I think. I don’t know why, but he really hates them, especially when they aren’t his. Darin is Paragus’ son, and he’d just been born, maybe a week before. He was crying, and Broly lost it. He tried to attack Darin, and nobody stopped him, so I stepped in. I threw things at him, and called him every name I knew, and tried to fight him. He beat me so badly, I thought I was dead for days. I wasn’t unconscious, but I wasn’t conscious either. All I knew was pain, and cold, and hunger.

            “For the longest time, I thought someone had stepped in to stop him, and Paragus had, but that wasn’t what saved my life. That wasn’t why I survived—though with my injuries, I really shouldn’t have. I have this barrier that can block any attack, and it came out for the first time when Broly was trying to kill me. When I collapsed, and couldn’t fight anymore, it came up, and Broly couldn’t break it, so Paragus stopped him. He was curious about my barrier, and if I’d live or not. He thought I’d die, but when I survived, he, Broly, and my father thought it was a fun game to attack me until my barrier came out. To see if I could control it.

            “When it became obvious I couldn’t control it, and keeping it up for any amount of time drains me severely, they made it a game to beat me to the brink of death, to see if I survived. See, Eriolians have advanced healing capabilities. So do Saiyans. I was the first Eriolain-Saiyan Hybrid to be beaten that badly and survive, so they were able to figure out that the two bloodlines together made for a very efficient healer. So after that was discovered, I became the punching bag for everyone. Soldiers, family, visiting royalty, Broly, Paragus—I was used as a stress relief, basically. Because I healed so fast, and nobody cared if I’d survive or not.

            “It was that first beating, when I was defending Darin, that all this was discovered. My healing abilities, my barrier, and after that, life got worse for me. You worry about hurting me, I know, but what you don’t realize is I’ve already been hurt by everyone else—you can’t do anything that hasn’t already been done to me.”

            His arm had tightened around me as I told the story. “If I ever get my hands on King Kuri-!” He shook his head, I could feel the bed vibrate from that. “Your barrier, can you control it now?”

            I shook my head. “No. Not at all. I can bring it up sometimes, but it is really, really hard.”

            “That’s the next thing we’re working on then.”

Mirai Trunks gazed steadily at the brunette girl feet from him. She would only ever stare at her feet, and he wondered what he would have to do to get her to look at him. He’d told everyone that they needed to think about agreeing to King Kuri’s demands, but the more time he spent around Usaii, the more he wanted to agree to them. He couldn’t imagine sending timid, terrified Usaii back to that world.

            She glanced upward, not at him, but almost. She was good at that, not looking at him.

            “Are you not allowed to look at people?” The question flowed from his mouth without him thinking about it.

            “You’re a prince, master,” she said softly. She always spoke softly, and always ended with “master,” no matter how many times he’d tried to get her to stop. “You’re above me.”

            “I’m not above anyone. I’m just like anyone else.” He reached out to cup her chin, ignoring her wince, so he could lift her eyes to his. “Usaii,” she wouldn’t meet his eyes, only stared downward, “Usaii, please look at me. For once, please look at me.”

            Her dark brown eyes finally found his, but only for a second, and she stared downward again.

            “Please call me Trunks. I’m not your master. I’m not anyone’s master.”

“Keep it up!” Gohan called, slamming his fist into the blue barrier, again, and again.

            I was panting. I’d kept the barrier up for a good minute at least, and it was taking its toll on me. “I-I’m trying!”

            He hit it again, and again, and—my barrier fell—his eyes widened—and his hit landed in my abdomen.

            I doubled over, gasping. He’d been hitting hard, trying to break the barrier. I was already drained from holding the barrier so long, and trying so many times. This had been the longest I’d been able to keep it up all day, and now, after a blow to the abdomen that hard, I collapsed to my knees, arms wrapped around my torso, breathing hard, wincing at the pain.  

            He dropped to his knees, leant forward, and wrapped his arms around me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you—are you okay?”

            I nodded against his shoulder, pushing against him. “L-let go. I’m fine.”

            “You don’t sound fine.”

            “Really, I-I’m okay.” It really had hurt, but I was fine. I pulled back enough to meet his eyes. “Let’s keep going. I can keep going.”

            He nodded, let me go, and stood. “Fine, but I want to try something different. I want you to concentrate on pulling your barrier to surround just your hand. Use it like a shield, instead of a full-circle barrier like that. It’ll probably be harder, but,” he studied me a second, “if you’re faster than your opponent, but not as physically strong, it’ll be very helpful.”

            I nodded, and he stood up, helping me to my feet, too. “Okay. I’ll try.” He backed away a few feet, and I stared at my hands, pulling at that part of me that controlled the barrier. It flickered a couple times, came up once or twice, but always faded quickly. It was harder than I thought. “I-I can. . . . I can do this!” I focused everything I had on pulling my dark blue, translucent barrier out, around my hands, only around my hands, and finally, it flared to life. About a foot in diameter, it wasn’t that big, but it was exactly what I’d wanted. I looked up from my hands to grin at Gohan. “I-I got it!”

            He was grinning back. “Great! Now, I’m going to attack, keep blocking.” Though I knew he’d slowed down his movements for me, it was still hard to keep up with him, with the little energy I had. He really was fast—

            My barrier fell as he was throwing a right punch—his fist barely touched my cheek as he pulled himself to a stop. With a shaky laugh, he dropped his fist, and relaxed his pose. I collapsed to the floor. “I think that’s enough for today.”

            I was panting, barely able to breathe, and knew I wouldn’t be able to stand for a minute, but no way was I ready to stop. “No,” I told him, voice shaking. “Let’s keep going. I have to-have to keep going!”

            He backed away, staring down at me, a particular look in his eyes. “No. You’re not strong enough to keep going.”          

            That made me glare up at him. “Are you trying to imply I’m weak?”

            A second passed. “I’m not implying anything. I’m saying it. You’re too weak to keep going. You need to rest.”

            “I’m not weak,” I said from between gritted teeth.

            “You certainly seem to be,” he said smoothly. “After all, I get one hit in on you, and you nearly pass out.”

            “What was that?”

            “After all the beatings you’ve taken from your father, I’d think you could handle a hit better than that.” He shrugged. “Guess I was wrong.”

            “How-how dare you!”

            “You really are weaker than I thought you were.”

            I clenched my fists, anger rising. “I am not weak.”

            “Prove it,” he told me, staring down at me coolly. “Prove it, or I’ll send you back to your father.”

            Desperation kicked in then. “Y-you wouldn’t.”

            “I’m not going to try to save someone who’s too weak to help herself. I’ll send you back. You, Mydvine, Ahdirine-!”

            I shot to my feet, power building, glaring at him. “You leave them out of it!”

            A sly smile curled his lips upward. “So that’s your button? In that case, I won’t send you back—just Mydvine. She’ll be all alone. Nobody to protect her. Nobody to help her. Maybe they’ll find out she has a barrier like you do?”

            Pain. It hurt. My power had built too far. It felt like it was trying to rip my insides apart. I fought it back, panting hard, fists clenched—trying not to scream. My power felt like a boiling pot, ready to overflow, to explode. It burnt in my core, spiraling outward so that every part of me felt like it was on fire. I couldn’t breathe. All I could hear was my blood rushing through my veins.

            Gohan looked strangely satisfied—and proud, for some reason.

            And then it burst. My ears suddenly needed to pop, and I felt something in me snap. A scream fell from me finally, and the burning spread outward, like it was being pushed entirely from my body. A burst of power shot from me in a golden wave, and my eyes closed. The scream died in my throat, and power seemed to be ripping every which way through the air.

            And my ears popped. The power retreated back toward me, but it didn’t feel the same. It was wild, untamed, stronger. Everything suddenly seemed less—even Gohan seemed a little less powerful.

            Wait. Am-am I glowing? I looked down at my hand, lifting it so I could stare at it. “I’m glowing?”

            Gohan suddenly leapt into the air, pumping his fist. “Yes! You’re a Super Saiyan!” He darted toward me, grabbing me in a hug. “I’m sorry for everything I just said. I just sensed that you were on the brink of becoming a Super Saiyan and needed one more push toward it.”

            I looked at him then, my vision beginning to blur. “You didn’t mean it?”

            He shook his head. “No, I didn’t mean anything I said to you. You are not weak. You’re actually one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. I would never let you go back to Kuri. No matter what. And I’m mad that you believed me! How could you have believed me?! After all that we’ve been through in here together, everything I’ve said to you, how could you have believed me!?” He stared at me incredulously.

            That forced a small smile from me. A small, exhausted smile. “I’m more used to people saying what you said than what you’ve actually said.” It made more sense in my head. My vision went from blurred to black. The next thing I was aware of, Gohan was carrying me toward the bed. I could see the bed. “W-what happened?”

            “You’re tired. You need rest.” He looked down at me, smiling gently. “You’re not weak, Se, but becoming a Super Saiyan for the first time can be draining—especially after everything else we’ve done today. So rest. We’ll go further tomorrow. I promise.”

Goten jumped out of bed, grinning from ear to ear, with the perfect idea of what they were going to do today. Today was the day Gohan and Serazai would come out of the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, so why spend it training? Instead—

            He was already running toward Mydvine’s room, practicing what he was going to say. He’d dreamt about it all night, and now, it just seemed pretty perfect. Jumping onto Mydvine’s bed to shake her awake, he was greeted with sleepy black eyes and a small smile.

            “Good morning, Goten,” she said softly, yawning.

            Too excited to realize she’d finally said his name, he blurted out, “Let’s go fishing today. We’ll be lazy all day, and when Gohan and Serazai come out, we’ll go in, and by the way, since your name is such a mouthful, I’m calling you Middie from now on.”

I ducked under his kick, pulling my fist back for a vicious blow to his abdomen, but he blocked it, jumping back out of my reach.

            Flashing me a quick grin, he leapt forward, feinted to the right, and grabbed me from the left—or would’ve, if I hadn’t been expecting that.

            I twisted out of his grasp, turning to land a hit across his cheek that barely even phased him.

            He caught my next attack, fingers curling around my wrist. Twisting my wrist slightly, he turned at the waist slightly and tossed me backwards. Before I could regain my footing, he was blurring toward me—

            Why is he still so fast?! I could feel the air vibrate around me a split second before his hit, but I wasn’t fast enough to avoid it entirely. His fist brushed my cheek as I danced out of the way. Without pausing, I pivoted and kicked out, hitting his left arm as he was still mid-strike.

            Not even pausing, he grabbed my leg before I’d finished the kicking motion, then spun me once, twice, thrice, before letting me fly through the air.

            I flipped in mid-air, landed on my feet, and rushed back in, fist raised.

            He ducked, tackled me around my waist, and both of us were down. In an instant, he had both wrists pinned above my head, and he was grinning down at me. “And you’re beaten!”

            I glared up at him, pushing against his hold. “That’s not fair, pinning me! We already know you’re physically stronger.”

            “I’m also faster, but you’re faster than I expected you to be. You’re also really good. You’ll really give Kuri a good fight.” He stood, holding his hand down to me. “Ready to go? They’re waiting for us out there.”

            I took his hand, smiling. “I’m ready to go . . . Gohan.”

Chapter Text

https://youtu.be/Pa8iyHzHUSQ

Chapter Text

"You did what?!" 

I winced, having not been prepared for the extent of Chichi's wrath. I hadn't expected her to be angry at all, or surprised. I'd thought she'd known and approved of our plans.

Evidently, she had not. "Goku, I can't believe you'd let them go in alone! Why would you agree to that?!"

"Chichi, I-" 

"Goku, they are too young--and too old--to be left alone for that long a time. Gohan is reaching the age where he's going to start-!" She glanced at Gohan, suddenly silent. "Besides, I told you I didn't want him falling behind in his studies."

Silence for half a second, then Gohan stood and looked at me. "What's 12 times fourteen?"

"168."

"What's fifteen times six?" 

"90."

He pulled a piece of paper toward him, grabbed a pencil, and wrote a mathematical equation. "Solve this," he said, sliding it and the pencil toward me.

I looked down at it. 2x - 4 = 10. I quickly solved it, handed it back to him.

"2x - 4 = 10. X = 7." He looked up. "She's correct. And she did it all in her head. It wasn't a tough equation, but when we went in, she couldn't even count to five. She  couldn't read, write, or answer any scientific question I gave her.

"Now she can read two books a day, solve any mathematical equation I put in front of her, write better than I can, and yesterday, we debated on biogenetic engineering for two hours, and she brought up good points. She really likes science, and I think she'd benefit from seeing Burama's lab.

"Before we went in, she wouldn't have been able to join my studies. You would've had to start from the start. Now I've already done that, and she can keep up with my studies easily.

"Serazai is probably the smartest person I know, being able to catch up to me in a year. And we did well in training too. She's improved academically, and in combat." He looked up at Goku. "She can transform into a Super Saiyan. It took her three months."

Goku looked at me then, eyes widening. "Super Saiyan? Already?" 

"I told you she reminded me of a dam waiting to burst. You should've seen her, dad. And mom, you would've been amazed at how fast she caught on to everything. I didn't waste the year in any way. I've improved too. She helped me get better."

She was still glaring at Goku.

"Chichi, if I may," I started, everyone turned to stare at me, "Gohan is right. He really made me study. When I went in, I didn't even know things like math, science, reading and writing existed. He mentioned that I like science. I do, but he doesn't mention why. 

"The first book he had me read by myself was a science book. Imagine trying to read the words 'deoxyribonucleic acid' when you're just learning reading exists and can barely read 'boy.' He was tougher on me with studying than he was with training. 

"He really threw me in to see if I'd sink or swim. I think I did well, and so did he. He was a good teacher, and I'm glad to be able to do what I can do now. And I think both my sisters would benefit from the same training I went through."

I looked down, face burning. "Though now that I'm out, I really find myself wanting to ask you for another favor. Neither Gohan, nor I can cook, so when we were in there, we went hungry a lot. So I wanted to ask you, can you-can you teach me to cook?" 

I glanced up at her in time to see her stern, angry look change to something else. Glee, I think. "It would be nice to have someone else who can cook around here. And I always wanted to teach Gohan, but that never happened." She smiled. "Okay, but I'm not dropping this. We'll talk again after we make lunch. What would you like to learn first?"

"Well, I really wanted to make those delicious cake things you made the first morning I was here. I tried in the hbt, but it . . . well, it didn't work out well." I flushed. "Neither one of us knew the exact ingredients, and I don't know much about earthling food."

Her face lit up. "Alright. Let's get started."

Goku and Gohan left the kitchen, smiling. Gohan shot me one last smile before he disappeared from my sight.

And I waited about ten minutes, watching Chichi set aside two big bowls, two wire, metal things she called "whisks," and various other things. Flour, eggs, milk. Then, before we started, I touched her elbow lightly so she'd look at me. "I know," I hesitated. I didn't want to sound immoral. "I know what you were worried Gohan and I night do when alone."

Her face changed instantly, from happy, calm, to closed, eyes narrowed, suspicious. "And?"

"And I just want you to know, Gohan isn't like that. And I would never-! He's . . . he's innocent, and kind, and sweet. He'd never do anything like that. I thought at first maybe he didn't know about things like that, but when we went over biology, I realized he does know. He just doesn't think like that. 

"He doesn't seem to understand certain things about it all, but he does at the same time." I hesitated again. "Like when he bandaged my leg and I was wearing a nightgown and he just flipped it up--he doesn't think things like that.

"He's too innocent, and sweet, for that. Maybe he won't always be, but I think he will be for a long time. I don't want to say he's naive, but I think that's the word that describes him best. I just wanted to let you know, he's not like that."

She studied me for a minute, then hugged me suddenly. "I don't know how you know about that, and understand it, but I'm sure the answer to that question isn't something you want to talk about. Thank you, though."

I hugged her back. Pulling back, I told her, "I don't know what you've done differently from other patents I've known, but Gohan, and Goten, are good boys. You've done an amazing job with them."

She smiled again. "Thank you, Serazai." Then she turned away. "Now, to make pancakes, all you have to do is this. . . ."

Chapter Text

But I

Built a rocketship so I could get away
Take me everywhere I want to go
Maybe one day I'll look back and wish I'd stay
But even rocketships can't take me home

And now it feels kinda' strange being all on my own
'Cause a man is stuck up on his rocketship
And all I'm trying to do is get home
And I'm just sitting here looking back thinking if I had known
Would I
Would I be wishing that I made this decision instead of being alone.

Who am I? This dark place. . . . What is it? Where is it? Where am I?

Is this . . . is this me? Wait. I remember now. I died. Didn't I? Was that what happened? 

If I'm dead, then what is this place? Some sort of hell? A place of nothingness. A place memories, life, death, and pain don't exist. 

No, no, that's not it. It can't be, because I feel something. . . . Pain. Is that what this feeling is? A burning, stinging feeling that kept growing. 

Wet. I was wet, too. Cold. The more I focused, the more I felt. I missed the emptiness, but when I tried to find it again, I started to have a weird, nagging feeling. Telling me I had something to do. 

Something . . . someone to . . . protect. . . 

"Serazai," I heard a familiar, dim voice. "Serazai, pull it together!" The voice got louder. And suddenly, I knew I wasn't alone. Out of the darkness, a man appeared. An old, but sturdy man, with long, lean limbs, and piercing blue-grey eyes. He had no beard, no wrinkles, only his glistening silver hair betrayed his age. 

And I knew who he was. My memories seemed to snap back to me as soon I saw him, but I still couldn't remember how I'd gotten here.

He didn't wear his usual black Gi. Instead, he wore shining white robes, and his silver hair had been brushed until it shined. He no longer carried the staff I highly suspected he slept with, but it was him. 

I dropped to my knees in a formal bow. "Sage Master," I breathed. Glancing up at him, I asked, "Where are we?"

"We are in a place neither alive, nor dead. A place it is neither day, nor night. A place neither of light, nor dark." A deep sigh. "A place neither of us belongs, yet both find ourselves. Stand, child. There is no master or student here. Here, we are equals."

I stood, trying desperately to remember how I'd gotten here. I could only remember a brilliant flash. "What happened?"

"You'll remember in time. We have more important matters to discuss. You have a choice to make. Not many get this chance, so choose wisely."

"What are my choices?"

"To go to a new life. A place of new beginnings, new memories, and new people. A place free of pain, of hatred, of abuse. Or," he paused, " go back to your old life. You have lost much life energy, and much blood, so there is no telling how long you'll last, but you have enough to try."

"My choices are a life free of pain, or a life full of pain?" I questioned, thinking of all the abuse I'd endured. "That's not much of a choice."

"Think deeply, child. Have you nothing to go back to?"

Then I remembered the feeling I'd had before. I had someone to protect. 

No, not someone. Several someone's. 

Darin.

Ahdirine.

Mydvine.

Goku. 

Chichi.

Goten.

Gohan.

Gohan. . . .

That was it. That was what I had to do. I couldn't remember exactly what, or why, but they were in danger. They needed me. 

Wait. . . . All my life, I've always chosen to protect others. I've always thrown myself in the way to protect someone else. I've always thought of everyone else first. Maybe, maybe it was my chance to be selfish for once. To leave it all behind. To let it go. 

To choose what was best for me

A life full of pain, or a life free of it? A life of nothing bad, or a life of nothing good?

No. That's not entirely true. 

"How do you get over your nightmares?" I'd asked Gohan in the HTC.

"By filling your life with enough good to outweigh the bad."

"What if you have nothing good?"

He smiled. I remembered that smile. "There's always something good. Even in the bad."

"What's the good in being beaten?"

"You told me, you took that beating to save Darin. The good in that is you gave him two things."

"Two things?"

"Yea. You gave him another chance at life, and you taught him a lesson about sacrifice. You sacrificed yourself to save him. That teaches him the importance of protecting others."

Protecting others. That reminded me. . . . "Sage Master, you . . . you're dread." My voice was soft.

A nod. "Yes, child, but I am happy to be so. If I had not protected you, you'd be where I am. You would not get this second chance. All my training, all the years I've watched over you, would be for nothing. You would not get to find your full potential. Do not mourn me. Celebrate me."

"How can I go on without you?" I took a deep breath. "What if-"

"You never have to. I will always be with you. I will never leave you." He smiled-the only time I've ever seen him do so. "I must ask you, what is your choice?"

"Will you think less of me, if I choose not to go back?"

"No. You've lived a painful existence. How could I begrudge you a better start?"

I thought about it all. "Why do I get this chance?" 

"I made a deal with a very powerful man. I could give the last of my life's energy to you, if you choose to go back. You see, your wings protected your body enough that a big enough jolt will take you back. You've still got enough blood and energy for that, enough life left. You just need a jumpstart."

"How do you have energy if you're dead?"

He smiled again. "Make your choice, child. You only get this chance."

What would Darin do without me? What about Ahdirine, or Mydvine? 

But what's wrong with being selfish for once? 

No. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I had things to do. 

An image of Gohan appeared beside the Sage Master, though I knew he wasn't there. "Pain isn't all bad. It teaches you stuff. Without pain, there's no pleasure. Dark can't live without light."

I knew the Sage Master couldn't hear him, or see him. But I could. And looking at him there. . . .

"I need you with me. You'll be a big help defeating Cell."

I remembered now. How I got here. I'd sacrificed myself for Goku. I remember. 

Squaring my shoulders, I looked up at Sage Master. "I want to go back."

He relaxed a bit, smiling, and I knew that was what he'd hoped I'd choose. "Good choice, little one. I'll send you back." He started to fade, turning transparent. "I made the deal to give you the rest of my energy, which is the energy that powers my soul. This means, I will no loner exist in any form, but I will exist within you. My power, my soul, will become yours. As I said, I will never leave you." And he burst into thousands of tiny Ki-blasts, surging toward me before I could react. 

Before I could block.

Tiny pinpricks of burning, stinging pain erupted all over me, and I couldn't breathe. Energy was flooding my body, yet I could feel it fading at the same time. Like my body was absorbing it faster than it could hit me. Again, and again. 

Then I felt the real pain . 

Chapter Text

'Till everything burns
While everyone screams
Burning their lies
Burning my dreams
All of this hate
And all of this pain
I'll burn it all down
As my anger reigns
'Till everything burns

My arm was mostly numb at first, but slowly I felt pain returning. My head hurt, and I knew I'd hit it. I was lying on my side, and I could feel my wings. They hurt. I could feel them drenched in blood. They were sticky, in pain.

I was lying on my wing, on my side, with my other wing lying over top me. The wing I was lying on was on grass. I lay there, struggling to remember how I'd gotten here.

Twelve hours ago.

Burama was amazing. After a day giving me the tour and teaching me all sorts of cool things, she'd given me the day to myself in her lab. She wanted to take Usaii and Ahdirine shopping, and she'd wanted to take me with them, but had given me the choice to go or stay in the lab. 

I'd stayed.

After practicing making the Saiyan uniform twice, one for Mydvine, and one for Ahdirine, I'd made my own uniform. I didn't see Usaii fighting, but Ahdirine and Mydvine, I wanted to get them to fight.

I knew I'd need a Saiyan uniform when I fought for the earthlings as myself, but I'd also need a new uniform to fight as the masked warrior of Erol. I was both.

It hurt to move. Leaning against the tree, it still hurt. It had taken at least ten minutes to stand up. My clothes were soaked in blood, and I could barely move my legs.

My wings wouldn't respond more than a twitch. They were too damaged to be pulled back into my body, so they were hanging limply at my back. They were folded inward, dragging the ground painfully. 

My left leg was so bloody, I couldn't see where it was coming from, but I could feel it. It was deep and long. And not just one cut. Multiple. My arms were riddled with cuts and what felt like burns, but neither felt broken. Nothing felt broken. Just cut up, bruised. I was actually highly surprised I didn't have any broken bones.

My wings had protected me from most of it, but they were wounded, too. Bloody, and I think the left one was twisted. The left side of my body seemed the most damaged.

Taking deep breaths kinda hurt. I wondered if maybe I HAD broken something, maybe a rib. 

It hurt to move. I could barely put any weight on my left leg. 

Six hours ago. 

"Serazai, how do you feel? Are you excited, scared?" Goku asked me, looking back as he flew onward. 

Gohan was just ahead of me, a little behind Goku, with Goten beside him. Mydvine flew a little behind me. After a year in the HTC, I barely recognized her. She was far less shy, less timid, and could almost keep up with me in training--when I was going easy.

"I'm fine. A little nervous, but I'm sure it'll be okay."

"What about you, Mydvine?"

"I-I'm okay. Scared."

Goten slowed himself a bit, keeping level with Mydvine, who slowed more while they talked softly.

Gohan grinned back at me. "It'll be alright. My dad won't lose to Cell, no matter what!"

"Where the hell am I even at?" I grumbled out loud, stumbling from tree to tree. I couldn't stand under my own power, and after twenty minutes of trying to figure my location out, I realized I was too weak even to feel power levels. 

Heaving a giant sigh, I let myself collapse to the ground. Just a minute or two of rest, then I'd get up again.

I had to find the others.

Four hours ago.

Cell didn't seem that powerful. Even by comparing my own power to his, he wasn't that much more powerful than I was. 

Everyone had shown up at the tournament. King Kuri, his soldiers, my brother--his second most powerful warrior. He was about two years older than I was, about twice my power level. 

Or at least, twice of what I used to be. 

Now, he felt about even with me. 

King Kuri was pacing, glancing at the sky, waiting for his strongest warrior. His strongest warrior was actually NOT his most powerful. Just his best. The best trained, the one who won the most. 

And his best warrior had left him a note saying he would be at the tournament, but not to wait for him. 

His best warrior was already there, though he didn't know it.

"Look at all the fighters who decided to show their faces today! What a glorious sight! Shall we begin?"

My leg collapsed underneath me, and I quickly reached out to grab a tree branch to keep myself on my feet. I couldn't breathe again. 

My everything hurt. The trees looked all the same. I couldn't tell if I'd b been here before. Was I going in circles?

Three hours ago.

Goku started to step up, ready to take on Cell after that idiot Hercule had been thrown far off by a Ki barrier. That man and his "students" had no brain. 

"Wait, Goku. My soldiers can take your place for you. You needn't risk your own life."

Goku glanced at Kuri. "Nah, I want to fight him. Besides," he beamed, "I like a challenge." 

It's empty. Nobody's here at all. I'd finally found the clearing we'd fought Cell in, but nobody was here. Everyone was gone. It was barren, empty. Had they finished the fight? They must've won, or the earth wouldn't be here. 

But where were they? Where could they have gone? What if . . . ? 

What if they'd all died in the process? What if that was nobody was here? Maybe they'd all died?

No. No, they'd have to be alive. If not, what was the point of me coming back? If they'd died, I'd kill them. 

Chapter Text

Stand up, everybody look alive
Said come on come on come on
We gonna get it now
Hands up if you're ready for a fight
Said come on come on come on
We gonna win it now
I don't need you to believe in me
I know how to change my destiny
Sit down, about to rewrite our history, rewrite our history, rewrite our history

THIRD PERSON POV

It almost seemed a normal morning the day the Cell Tournament to Goten as he turned over in his bed to blink up at the ceiling. It felt heavy, though, and he realized he was both afraid and excited. Today, Cell was going down.

            After him, Kuri would go down.

            Turning his head to look toward his brother’s bed, he knew, before spying the empty bed, that he would not be in it. This seemed to be the norm anymore. Groaning, he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and climbed off the bed. “Better go wake him before mom does. . . .”

            However, when he arrived in the bedroom, nobody but Mydvine was sleeping in there. After quickly awakening her, he led her to the kitchen, where he saw his father pulling on his fighting gear. “Dad?”

            Goku jumped, turning quickly. “Oh. Goten, Middie. I thought you two were with Gohan and Se up at Kami’s?”

            So that’s where they were yesterday. “No, we just went to train with Trunks and Attie.”

            “Good thing you woke up. I would’ve left you.” He laughed lightly. “Hope you two slept well, this won’t be an easy day.”

“Come along, boy! I don’t have the patience to wait for you much longer!” Vegeta hollered, tapping his foot impatiently as Trunks and Attie finished adjusting their gear.

            “Sorry, dad. We’re ready.”

            “Vegeta’s sure in a hurry to get to the fight,” Gohan commented, nudging Dende. “He shouldn’t be in such a rush.”

            “Yea. . . . Who knows what will happen once you guys get there?”

            Serazai was silent as she watched Vegeta, Trunks, and her sister disappear. Only her clenched fists betrayed her nerves.

            Smiling lightly, Gohan reached over to touch her hand, smiling bigger when she turned her head to look at him. “My dad’ll be here any minute, and you’ll see, before the end of the day, everything will be okay again.”

It was silent as they landed. Vegeta, Cell, Android 16, and three unfamiliar people stood around. The three unfamiliar people stood inside the ring.

            Cell twitched, turning his head toward the group. “Welcome to the battle.”

            “Finally,” Vegeta muttered. “They’ve arrived.”

            The three unfamiliar men in the ring were staring at the group of people who’d flown in. “It looks like they all flew here,” one of them said softly.

            “Tsk! It looks like those tricks are getting popular,” the big one said. He stood with his arms crossed, wearing a cape, and a rather unorthodox fighting uniform. Though were any of them really orthodox?

            Android Sixteen sprung into movement, causing worrying glances from the two smaller men in the ring as he made his way toward Goku’s group.

            “Hey! Android Sixteen! You look great! Burama and her father really took care of you, huh?!” Kuririn yelled out.

            Android Sixteen stopped in front of him. “I wanted to thank you, Kuririn. Because of you, I’ve been repaired.”

            “That’s great! You look fixed.”

            Goku walked up to the giant, holding his hand out. “Hi! I’m Goku. I say we should all do our best out here!”

            Android Sixteen merely glanced down at him. “I was made to destroy you, Goku. Do not forget that.”

            Kneeling down to reach Kuririn’s ear, Goku ask, “He’s kinda glum, ain’t he?”

            “Th-they’re ignoring me! Nobody ignores me!” the large man in the ring called.

            “Well then!” Goku said, cracking his knuckles. “Shall I get this started?”

            Trunks jolted. Why is Goku so eager to go first?

            “Is that okay with you,” Goku called, looking over, “Vegeta?”

            Vegeta turned his head away from his rival. “Tsk! Go ahead. We all know it’ll be me who finishes Cell.”

            Suddenly, the big man yelled out, “Hey! You can’t determine the order without me! I’m the Champ!”

            As the Z-Fighters looked toward the unfamiliar group, the smaller man walked over to ask, “Excuse me, are you planning to fight?”

            “Yea,” Goku answered, “but not all of us will be fighting.”  

            “Stop this stupid joke!” he yelled suddenly. “You don’t know what’s going on here! This isn’t a game!”

            “I think you’re the clueless ones,” Kuririn mutered.

            “How surprising! You don’t know who I am, do you? I thought even the most ignorant hick had heard of me, Hercule Satan, the Martial Arts Champion of the World!”

            “He’s the champion of the world! He’s a genius! He’s the strongest man on Earth!” the smaller man said.

            “Goku, just let him go first, okay? Let him learn his lesson.”

            “Okay, I guess. . . .”

            “It’s time,” Cell declared softly. “Whoever wants to be first can, but have it done now!”

            “I’ll be the first, naturally,” Hercule said, lumbering forward.

            “He’s going to kill you,” Goku told him. “Back out now. That would be the smart thing to do.”

            All three turned to look at him. “Heh,” the smaller man said. “Hey, camera, focus on the idiot with the big hair, that one there!” As the camera turned, he went on. “It’s like he can hear the world rooting for Mr. Satan. Did you hear what this man said to him? He told him he’s going to lose to Cell! He said Cell would kill him, and backing out would be the smart thing to do! Well, in my professional opinion, he should take his own advice!”

            “It doesn’t matter, does it? Let the idiot get creamed. We’ll just revive him and everyone else with the Dragon Balls, right?” Kuririn pointed out.

            “Well, I guess. . . . What else can we do?”    

            “Ah! Finally, they decided to keep their ignorant noses out of it! The real fight can begin! Satan’s taking off his cape, and now . . . oh, my, he’s taken off his champion belt! The moment has arrived! The Cell Games can begin! Today, right here, right now, the fate of the world—no, the universe—will be settled!” A moment passed. “Wait. Satan’s taking out a capsule. . . . What’s he doing with that—oh, my, he’s produced a gym bag! What’s that he’s taking out? Roof tiles! He’s taking out roof tiles! He’s piling them up very carefully . . . !”

            “Oh, no. . . .” Kurirn covered his face with one hand.

            “You . . . you don’t think he’s . . . ?”

            “He’s piled them up!” the announcer continued on before Yamucha could finish his thought. “Fifteen! Fifteen roof tiles! He’s now concentrating all his strength! Oh, what does he have planned? Let’s all be quiet now. . . .”

            Satan lifted his hand with a great yell and karate-chopped the tiles, down to the fifteenth tile.

            “Ah, amazing! He’s completely shattered fourteen roof tiles! That’s so amazing!”

            “Cell!” Hercule called to a rather perturbed-looking Cell. “See how I’ve destroyed these roof tiles? That’s what I’m gonna do . . . with your face!”

            “I’m excited! I’m amazed! It’s very expected with such a brilliant man! Oh, wow! Cell is scared! He must regret being such a loudmouthed menace! Now he can’t bear to back down, but you can see, he’s quaking in his boots!”

            “What boots?” Gohan asked softly.

            “Come on!” Satan yelled.

            “Mr. Satan is certainly going to destroy Cell and get justice for all whom he’s killed! Just keep watching! I’m sure it’ll be an amazing show! Mr. Satan never disappoints!” Hercule surged toward Cell in what the Z-Fighters thought to be slow motion. “Oh, he’s done it now! He’s delivered his patented Dynamite Kick! He’s attacking Cell with such speed, Cell can’t begin to keep up to defend himself! Oh, look at that! He’s so fast! I think the fight is already-!”

            “Get lost!” Cell declared, waving one hand out to bat Satan away.

            The big man sailed easily through the air, hitting a mountain just a bit behind the ring.

            “Huh?” the announcer called.

            “Heh. To tell you the truth, Gohan, I was rooting for Cell,” Kuririn admitted.

            Yells of pain and anger erupted from the area Satan had been batted away. “Huh, he’s still alive,” Piccolo commented. “Even Cell didn’t think he was worth killing,”

            “Satan . . . has . . . lost. . . . He’s fallen out of the ring. The world is doomed, doomed, I tell you!”

            “Come on! Let’s begin the real games now. Who will be first? Will it be you, Son Goku?”

            Gohan tensed, glancing up at his father.

            “Yes, of course,” Goku said, stepping into the ring.

            “How . . . how could it be . . . the end of the world?!”        

            Ignoring the announcer, and the limping Hercule, Gohan turned to look at Serazai, who’d been silently standing behind him all this time—only to discover she’d disappeared.

Chapter Text

Little do you know
How I’m breaking while you fall asleep
Little do you know
I’m still haunted by the memory
Little do you know
I’m trying to pick myself from piece by piece
Little do you know
I need a little more time
Underneath it all I’m held captive by the hole inside
I’ve been holding back
For the fear that you might change your mind
I’m ready to forgive you but forgetting is a harder fight
Little do you know
I need a little more time

Lounging around in a ship just a few thousand miles outside Earth’s atmosphere, King Kuri and his crew watched the battle with a sick sense of pride. “There’s no way he’s going to win,” Kuri commented, a sly grin on his face. “I knew he’d need the help.”

            One person was not happy about the way the battle was going. That person, head to toe in a black outfit that covered everything, including their eyes, sat in the corner, feeling out the battle rather than watching it on the screen. He didn’t need to see the battle. Only feel it. And he could feel that Goku was losing. From the watching bystander, who didn’t know what they were looking for—or, perhaps, had more faith in the man that he did—it must’ve seemed as though Goku were winning, or at least keeping up with the monstrous Cell.

            But to an outsider with very little bias toward Goku, it was easy to see that the Saiyan was in over his head. Much as he tried, he was being overwhelmed. It didn’t matter that everyone wanted him to win. It didn’t matter that their galaxy rested on his shoulders. The Saiyan everyone looked up to would lose if this went on.

            Yet his energy didn’t feel desperate, or afraid. It felt calm, confident. If this particular person did not know better, Goku had a trump up his sleeve.

            “I think it is time to show ourselves. Do you not think so, My Lord?”

            King Kuri looked over toward his greatest half-Saiyan son. The only one born with a tail, the one whose power most resembled that of his father. Adleca, tall, black hair, blue eyes that matched his mother’s, he had excellent bone structure that made the young Demi-Saiyan handsome in many ways, but beneath that pretty picture lay a storm that likes very few had survived. This boy, and that one, whose face he’d never seen and never cared to, but knew he had Saiyan blood, they were his trump cards, and nobody had ever survived after he’d had them set on them.

            The one in the corner, wearing a brand new uniform, he knew was the product of Saiyan lineage, but due to his spectacular skills, he’d never cared to see his face. Wearing a dark Gi with a hood and blindfold on, that boy was the only person he’d ever seen fight blindfolded, and fight better than his entire army. He’d even see that boy, despite being half the power as Adleca, put Adleca on the ground with ease. The boy was talented. He didn’t even care which one fathered him.

“I agree, Adleca. I do believe it’s time to descend. Heric, you hear?” He glanced over at the pilot of the ship, who nodded mutely. “Good. Let’s get this whole thing started.”

            The masked warrior stayed sitting calmly in the corner. He’d been late to the party, and had to take another ship to meet up with King Kuri’s crew. Standing, he turned toward where he knew King Kuri would be, and bowed, gesturing toward the port where he’d parked his ship.

            “Say, that’s an idea,” Adleca exclaimed. “My Lord, instead of dirtying your hands and wasting your time—because we all know your A-Team is enough to finish this—why don’t Masky and I take his ship down to the battle? You guys can watch from a safe distance. Who knows? The ship could get damaged in the fun.”

            King Kuri studied the two. It was true, with so much debris and fists and power flying around, the ship could stand a chance at being damaged. And it was true, he was enjoying lounging around his ship in leisure instead of watching from the sidelines. So. . . . “Great idea, Adleca. You and you,” he pointed to the masked warrior, “can go using your ship. Go on. We’ll watch from here.”

            Adleca followed the masked warrior to his ship in the garage, and the masked warrior quickly started up the ship, thanking the woman who’d made it possible for him to borrow it. He set the autopilot on the battle on Earth, and sat back with his eyes closed.

            “It’ll be fun, flattening that bastard in front of all those Earthlings, don’t you think Masky?”Aldeca was saying, pacing around the small ship. “Seeing their faces when they realize just how powerful we are.” He glanced at the masked warrior. “Er, how powerful I am, and how good you are, anyway.”

            “Masky” rolled his eyes. If only you knew, Adleca. I’m a lot stronger than you know.

            “We’ll scare the pants off them,” he continued. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll be Gods to them.”

            I doubt that very much.

            “Maybe Lord Kuri will allow us to become sovereigns over the Earth. We could rule it together, you know. Easily take it over. If that little Cell can overpower that group, then I’m sure we can.”

            He shook his head. It wouldn’t be that easy to overpower the Earthling group. He knew that. Power wasn’t always everything. Something Adleca would never understand.

On the battlefield, everyone felt the approaching Ki, and looked up to see the ship quickly descending toward them. It didn’t take more than ten seconds after the ship was seen for it to land. Clouds of dust flew up around everyone, but the ship landed gently enough to not leave a dent in the surface of the Earth.

            “Who the hell could that be?” Vegeta grumbled, arms crossed. The Ki inside the ship didn’t seem to be formidable, but he knew how unreliable that could be.

            “I think that’s Kuri’s backup squad,” Gohan said softly, glancing around, a worried look on his face.

            “Hey, I’m sure she just left to clear her mind or something,” Trunks told the bigger demi-Saiyan. “I’m sure she’ll be back.”

            “That’s hardly important now,” Piccolo said, eyes on the ship as it opened. “With Kuri’s backup squad here, we might be in deeper trouble than I thought.”

            Out of the ship, a tall, lanky teenaged boy about 15-16 appeared. He had a grim look on his face, and instantly reminded everyone of Broly, with blue eyes and less size. He was wearing a deep blue Gi with a black cloth belt around his waist, and knee-high boots tucked over his pants. “Why the grim faces?” he asked instantly, breaking out a sly grin.

            Behind him, stepped a much smaller companion. Wearing a black outfit, with thigh-high boots, gloves, silver wristguards, and a hood that covered his entire face, he didn’t seem troublesome, but something about him raised the hairs on the back of Gohan’s neck. He was the first to walk toward the group of Z-Fighters, silent as he’d stepped off. His footsteps weren’t even audible.

            The larger boy followed the smaller. “I’m Adleca. Nobody knows his name, so I just call him Masky.”

            “Masky?”

            At that moment, “Masky’ noticed the extra person in the crowd. A person whose energy he hadn’t noticed until just this moment. That extra person, who’d arrived half an hour before, stepped toward the Masked Warrior. “His name is Satsugai-Sha. I know, because I trained him.” The man was old, with unwrinkled skin, long, white hair, and a long, white beard, with twinkling silver-grey eyes. He was old, but sturdy as he moved, with lean muscles under his skin. He wore a similar outfit to the masked warrior, save for the hood, and knee-length boots in place of thigh-highs. “I have not yet met you, Adleca, but I am the Sage Master. I’ve heard much of you.”

            “Satsugai-Sha? Slayer?” Gohan repeated under his breath. The masked warrior might’ve had an intimidating name, a name meant to draw fear, but he felt that Satsugai-Sha was not one they needed to fear.

            “That’s a scary name,” Goten echoed right behind him.       

            “Yea, it’s really cool!” Trunks added.

            “Satsugai-Sha is King Kuri’s prized fighter. I’ve never seen him lose,” Ahdline told everyone.

            “That’s right. He’s half my power, yet he can take me down pretty easy. He’s not bad,” Adleca said.

            That’s because you’re an idiot who relies on simple brute strength to fight. There is more to fighting than that. Satsugai-Sha glanced over at the battlefield, where Goku was just now powering down.

            Paying little mind to the newcomers, Goku had decided to end his part in the battle. “Alright, Cell! I give up. There’s no way I can beat you!”

            Cell, paying more attention to the newcomers—especially Adleca, with his enormous Ki—blinked and did a doubletake down at Goku. “What did you say?”

            “I said I give up! I can’t beat you.”

            Everyone tensed, turning back to the battlefield with baited breath. “What? Goku? You can’t give up!” Kuririn yelled. “What about the Earth?”

            “Daddy, you can do it, don’t give up now!” Goten yelled out.

            “Yea, come on, dad, don’t give up!”

            “You can beat him!”

            “Goku, what are you doing?”

            Troublesome. Even I can’t match Cell, what’s he got planned?

            Goku was smiling, despite losing, and his energy—though it had taken a dive—was still cheerful and excited. “I said I can’t win, and you know it too, but don’t worry. There’s someone here that can beat you.”

            Hercule, wholly forgotten about until now, hid behind a rock, arms over his head. Don’t choose me, don’t choose me! I can’t fight monsters like that!

            “Mr. Satan, I think he’s talking about you!” the smaller man told him.

            “Uh, hahahaha, yea, I guess he is!”

            “And who is this mysterious warrior, one of the newcomers? You realize if you don’t beat me, I’ll destroy the Earth!”

            “Oh, don’t worry about that. He’ll beat you alright.”

            “And who is this warrior? Spit out the name, Goku, the name!”

“That person is my son . . . Gohan.” Everyone paused, turning to stare at the demi-Saiyan. Goku flew off toward the group of fighters, landing before Gohan, kneeling. “Right, son?”

“What?! A child?! You’ve got to be kidding me!” Cell was yelling.

Gohan, tense and confused, glanced around, hoping that this was some sort of joke. “What, dad? I-I can’t beat him! I’m not as strong as you are!”

“Son, when I was fighting Cell, you thought I was holding back, right?”

He nodded. “Yes, but that’s because you were. If you could only-!”

“No, Gohan, I don’t know about Cell, but I was giving it everything I had. You thought I was holding back, because you were comparing my energy to the energy you feel inside you, right?”

Everyone jerked. “I-is this true, Gohan?” Piccolo asked.

Ducking his head slightly, Gohan nodded. “Yes.”

“That’s because you’re stronger than I am. Don’t you guys realize he’s been fighting alongside of us easily since he could barely walk? I know when I was his age, I wasn’t half as strong as he is.”

“Goku, we all know he’s strong for his age, but-but fighting Cell? Come on!”

“Kuririn’s right, Goku. Cell’s energy is weaker right now. Take a Sensu and go at him again. You can’t send Gohan off to-!”

“Look, whenever he’s backed into a corner, what happens? Piccolo, you know this better than anyone, you’ve seen it multiple times while training him. Kuririn, on planet Namek you saw it, too. Gohan is the last person on this planet who can beat Cell. If he can’t,” Goku stood, “then it’s hopeless. What do you say, Gohan? Give it a try?”

Gohan stared up at his father, then glanced around again, numbly hoping to see Serazai’s face among the crowd. Then looking back up at his father, he nodded. “Okay.” One last glance around, Gohan rose into the air and darted off toward the laughing Cell.

“Come on, Goku, I’m for a good joke as much as the next person, but this is ridiculous!” Cell was saying.

“Hey, Kuririn, can you hand me a Senzu bean?”

“Huh? Sure.” He tossed one toward Goku.

Goku, still smiling, tossed the bean toward Cell amid shocked and angered gasps. “Here, Cell, catch!”           

Cell caught it, looking at it.

“Eat it! It’s a Senzu bean! It’ll restore your power!”

Cell, smiling, ate the bean. “Thank you, Goku, I will take this bean gracefully. I hope you realize you’ve just signed your son’s death certificate!” His power returned in a rush, and he smiled wider. “What a foolish move!”

“Maybe,” Goku said, still smiling, “but you won’t feel that way after he beats you!”

“What?”

“I said, you won’t feel like that after he’s beaten you!”

“You have all this faith in him. I guess we’ll see.” Cell landed a few feet from Gohan. “Okay, kid, let’s start. You know, your bravery is commendable. Not many sons would finish their father’s battles for them!”

“Stop talking and let’s get this over with!” Gohan told him, slightly irritated. With nothing else to say, he began concentrating his Ki, yelling out as he did. The ground began to quake, and the air felt heavy. Parts of the ground broke off, rising into the thicker air.

“T-that’s Gohan?”

Pathetic! First Kakarrot passed me by, and now his son?

“Go Gohan!” Trunks and Goten were yelling out.

Goku, though, was now silent, watching his son with pride. Go get him, son.

Satsugai-Sha was watching the scene with his mind’s eye. He could see everything in his mind’s eye. Nobody needed to see to fight. Just feel.

Adleca was watching with a grim face, not liking the energy coming from the younger Demi-Saiyan below. How did an Earthling become so powerful?

The air became thicker, thicker—then popped. The yell died out, and Gohan, powered up and glowing gold, hair gold and eyes teal, stood watching Cell. “I’m ready if you are, you creep.”

Cell studied the boy, stifling laughter. “I see! Goku was partially right. You’re quite powerful, maybe more than Goku, but to say you’re more powerful than I am. . . . Hm. Let’s test that, shall we?”

The battle wore on, with Gohan keeping pace with Cell, until Cell kicked the Demi-Saiyan into a mountainside, collapsing a pile of rocks on the smaller boy. Turning to Goku and the others, who’d gasped as soon as that happened, he smiled. “I told you, Goku. No child is going to match me in power. Are you going to come down so we can finish where we paused?”

“Nope! Take a look behind you!”

“What now?” He turned.

There was a pause in the air, then a pulse, and a bright golden flash shot out from the pile of stones, a short yell, and a burst of power that threw the rocks away. Gohan, unscathed, stood there, scowling at Cell. Walking forward, he now understood something that he hadn’t before. “I think it’s time to end this, Cell. You should leave now.”

“What was that?”

“I said, you should leave now.”

“I don’t think so, kid. I’m not finished here. When I do leave, it’ll be to destroy this wretched planet and everything on it!”

“I’m not going to let you do that, Cell.”

“What’s he saying?” Kuririn asked, glancing at Piccolo. “He’s talking so low.”

“As evil as you are, I really have no desire to kill you.”

Cell paused. “Wait, what? Kill me? Newsflash, kid, you can’t touch me.”

“No, maybe not right now, but I understand something now. I understand why my father said I’m the only one who can kill you.”

“And why’s that?”

“Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been able to keep up with all of them, but more than that, I’ve surpassed them many times. In fits of rage, of desperation, I was able to transcend my own self-perceived limits, to be more powerful than any warrior I was facing at that time. It never lasted long, and I can barely remember any of it, it’s so blurry, but for a split second, I was the most powerful. In one of those moments, I injured a powerful Saiyan warrior when I was three, enough for my father and Piccolo to kill him.

“In another, I wounded another powerful Saiyan, a Saiyan that only my father could take on. And in yet another, I brought Frieza, the most powerful creature this universe has seen until you, to his knees. I can’t remember these moments too well, but I now feel it, that I’m capable of reaching further, of breaking those limits I’ve put upon myself. And there’s no telling what that kind of power can do,” he finished, clenching his fists.

Silence for a moment, and Cell smiled. “Sorry, but it didn’t work.”

“Huh?” Gohan looked up in surprise.

“At least not in the way you intended. Now, after that little story, I am curious. I want to see this power for myself. I think my new goal is to bring that power out of you.” Cell launched at Gohan, shoving his fist into his stomach. Gohan doubled over, and Cell reacted with a quick kick to his shoulder that sent him flying. Before he could go too far, he caught up with the demi-Saiyan, overhead pounding him back into the ground. “Get mad! Stubborn child!” He reached down, grabbing Gohan by his hair. “Get mad! Show me that dormant power you’re so sure about!”

“Goku! Do something!”

“It’s okay, Kuririn. Gohan can do this. Just have faith in him.”

Cell kicked the demi-Saiyan away, then darted toward him, grabbing him a fierce hug, squeezing. “Come on! Get mad! Get angry! I can feel your bones cracking! Does this not incite your rage!?”

“So what?!” Piccolo cried suddenly, and darted toward them, only to be stopped by Goku.

“No, don’t! You’ll just get yourself killed!”

“Getting myself killed is better than standing here watching Gohan be tortured! Goku, he may be the most powerful person in the universe, but he’s still a scared little boy, wondering why his dad is letting this happen! He’s not like you, Goku, he doesn’t thirst for battle and power! Right now, he’s scared and wondering why you’re letting this happen to him!”

Goku tensed, eyes widening, and he turned to stare at his son.

“And if you’re not going to do something to help him, then, dammit, I’m going to!”

“Wait,” Goku said softly.

“Wait for what? His bones to break?!”

“No, just wait. Kuririn, give me a Senzu. I’m going to stop this.”

But Cell suddenly dropped the screaming demi-Saiyan, fists clenched. “Stubborn child! Your own pain isn’t enough to incite your rage, I see. It must be something else.” Then he looked toward the group on the cliff. “I’ll just have to try another way.” He began concentrating his Ki.

“Wait, what are you going to do?!” Gohan asked, sitting up.

“I’m going to do whatever it takes to get you angry! And if it gets your friends killed in the process, then that’s your own fault!” He concentrated his Ki.

“No! I won’t let you!” Gohan launched at Cell.

Cell batted him away, and his tail rose into the air. “That’s it, get angry! Get mad! Show me your true power!”

“What’s happening down there?!” Kuririn asked again.

“Gohan told Cell some story about his dormant power, and now Cell’s determined to bring it out. I think he’s going to attack us in some way,” the Sage Master said.

Cell suddenly appeared before Kuririn, snatching the bag of Senzu beans from him. “These are those nifty beans, right? I think I’ll keep them safe from now on!” He darted back toward Gohan before anyone could react.

“N-no! Bring those back!”

“Dammit, I was too late!” Goku’s fists clenched, and he stared at the bag in Cell’s hand.

“Let’s see, what shall we do now? How many are there? One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen-!”

Android Sixteen suddenly wrapped his big arms around Cell. “Gohan, get to a safe distance! I am going to self-destruct and kill Cell now!”

Everyone gasped. “Cell couldn’t sense his approach because he’s an Android?”

Turning his head back to stare at Sixteen, Cell’s mouth fell slightly open. “Android Sixteen?”

“An-Android Sixteen,” Gohan stammered.

“Go, now!” Sixteen concentrated his Ki.

Kuririn clenched his fists, looking away. “Oh, no!” he mumbled.

Android Sixteen’s body glowed, and his power build as Cell struggled inside the circle of the big Android’s arms. Power built, the glow strengthened—but then nothing happened. “What?!” Sixteen cried out suddenly.

“Sixteen, you can’t blow yourself up—because your bomb . . . it was removed!”

“What?!” he yelled out again, looking toward Kuririn.

“I overheard Burama and her father talking about it. They were afraid you’d use it on Goku, and they took it out!”

Cell began laughing. “Sixteen, looks like you’re one more of Dr. Gero’s many failed experiments. If you wanted to die that much, all you had to do was ask.” He reached his hand around, a powerful Ki blast already forming, and Sixteen was blasted to pieces. “Now,” Cell continued as everyone cried out, “where was I? Right. I guess one less will be needed, though. Fourteen. Fourteen will be enough.” His tail rose, and his Ki with it. The end of his tail opened up, and something slimy and small was spat out. Once, twice, thrice, over and over and over again, until it closed back up, and Cell turned to look at what he had borne. “My children, you should be more than enough to take care of those pests.” He pointed to the cliff. “See those there on that cliff? Go play with them. Kill them, if it makes you happy.”

“No!” Gohan yelled out, standing.

“Yes! You refuse to cooperate. Now your friends will suffer that consequence!”

The Cell Jr’s flew off toward those on the cliff. Three of them didn’t make it that far, as Adleca and the Sage Master met them in midair, the Sage Master batting two down as he yelled, “Quick, Satsugai-Sha! Now!”

“Be careful! They may be small, but they’re incredibly powerful!” Goku yelled out.

Satsugai-Sha concentrated his Ki on his back, closed his eyes, and, ignoring the pain, shoved with all his might against his wings. The skin on his back tore, and all eyes turned toward him, including the two on the battlefield. And out of his back sprung two, huge, black, feathered wings. Blood decorated the ground beneath him, and more flew from his wings as he flicked them thrice to dry them, then he shot into the air and all the fighting started.

The Sage Master and Satsugai-Sha seemed to fight together, keeping each other safe as much as possible, with the Sage Master seeming to keep a more watchful eye over the smaller Satsugai-Sha. As the fighting continued onward, one of the Cell Jr.’s seeing the trouble its ally was having with Satsugai-Sha who was able to keep toe to toe with his, abandoned the fight with Mirai Trunks after knocking him to the ground, and shot at Satsugai-Sha.

“Satsu-!” The Sage Master darted forward, meeting the Cell Jr. in midair, blocking the attack aimed at Satsugai-Sha’s exposed wings—only to have a clawed hand shoved straight through his abdomen.

Hearing his name called, Satsugai-Sha knocked his Cell Jr. to the ground and turned in time to be splattered with the blood of his mentor.

Chapter Text

I won't just survive
Oh, you will see me thrive
Can't write my story
I'm beyond the archetype
I won't just conform
No matter how you shake my core
'Cause my roots, they run deep, oh

Oh, ye of so little faith
Don't doubt it, don't doubt it
Victory is in my veins
I know it, I know it
And I will not negotiate
I'll fight it, I'll fight it
I will transform

When, when the fire's at my feet again
And the vultures all start circling
They're whispering, "You're out of time,"
But still I rise
This is no mistake, no accident
When you think the final nail is in
Think again
Don't be surprised
I will still rise

Blood splattered over Satsugai-Sha. And though he couldn't see it, he could feel it. He could feel his mentor's strength fade.
"No!" he yelled, catching Adleca's attention. He'd never heard him speak before. "NO!" He delivered a vicious, angry kick to the creature who'd downed his master, and flew to grab the Sage Master from his downward fall. "It's okay," the masked warrior whispered. "It's okay, master. You're gonna be okay."
The Sage Master was smiling, despite bleeding out. "Satsugai-Sha, you are right. It is okay. Everything will be okay." His voice was weak and breathy. "I'm not worried."
Satsugai-Sha landed lightly, laying his mentor down gently. The fighting resumed after a brief pause.
"I'll keep them away!" Trunks told the masked warrior, and Goten echoed him.
"Master? What can I do?" He was still whispering. "Tell me what to do." He reached up to pull his hood away from his eyes.
The Sage Master grabbed his hands. "Do not reveal your eyes to see me. I do not want your last image of me to be of my death. There's nothing you can do, young one. Just live and learn, and keep training, but do me one favor."
He leant closer to hear his master's dying voice. "Anything, Master."
"Learn to be a kid." With that, the Sage Master smiled for the first time at his student, turned his face away, and let himself go.
"Master?" SatsugI-Sha called, feeling his life energy fade. "Master!"
All the memories he had of his master came flooding back.

I'm lost, thought the young child, huddled in a hallow tree. But at least they can't find me. It was cold, and the child was growing ever colder. Shivering so hard, it was almost guaranteed to result in a bitten tongue.
The child grew sleepy as the cold increased. Who knows how many hours had passed.
Footsteps. The child tensed, sitting upright instantly. The footsteps were coming closer, muffled in the deep, dense snow.
The child bolted out of the tree, only to be grabbed by a strong, warm hand. He struck back, ready to attack if need be. "Child, stop it! You can't win anyway. You are too cold and too tired to fight. What are you doing out here anyway?"
The child turned, not seeing the expected soldier garb, or swords, but an old, yet study man with a long white beard and long white hair, paired with pale, unwrinkled skin, and hard silver-grey eyes. He was scowling down at the child with an unwavering scowl.
"I-I-!"
He spied the child's long, pointed ears AMD the bruise upon its cheek. "I see. You're one of THOSE. King Kuri's little half breeds." He sighed. "I guess you best come along with me and get some rest and hot tea."

Grunts and whizzing sounds awakened the child. He sat up, glancing around, searching for the source of the sounds. Standing, he followed the sounds out of the small hut with a single room, a small bed, and a cot, to a small field behind the hut.
The old man was there, blindfolded and throwing some strangely shaped blades. They looked like stars. He was aiming at targets placed around the clearing, and hit each one easily. He stopped, turned toward the child. "What are you doing out here?"
Blurting out the first thing that came to mind, the child stammered, "T-train me!"
"Are you crazy? You're locked in a dark room most of the time. What makes you think you even have time to train?"
"I'll break out, just like I always do! Train me!"
"I don't think so. You don't have what it takes."
"What does it take?"
"Power, endurance, and brains."

Painfully making his way through the forest, the child ignored the cold. He was certain his left leg was broken, or at least badly injured in another way. But he continued onward. He didn't care how much pain it took. He'd reach the Sage Master's hut. He had to convince the old man to train him.
The hut came into view. The old man was in the front, meditating as he usually was in the morning. But now his eyes were open. He was watching the child with intense eyes as he made his way toward him.
"If you don't train me," the child told him, "I'm gonna keep picking fights with my father until I'm strong enough to fight back!" And then he collapsed into darkness.

"You're not trying hard enough! Come on, hit harder! Dig deep!"
The child ducked one blow after the other, panting as he desperately tried to keep up with the old man. He was getting used to the blindfold at last now, and he was getting faster, but he wasn't good enough. Not yet.
"Come on! Hit me!"
The child drew his fist back and struck quickly, but met empty air.
The Sage Master, also blindfolded, had moved out of the way before the child could even draw his fist back. "Faster! Pretend I'm your father! I'm beating Mydvine! Save her!"
This was an easy enough thing to do, as he'd seen his father do this multiple times. He remembered how he'd felt then, pinned underneath Adleca as his sister was beaten. Desperate, afraid, useless, pathetic, weak--all those things.
But he wasn't those things. Not now. Not anymore. No. He would defend his family. He would.
Desperation filled him. Desperation to protect his sisters, to prove his father wrong, to make his new master proud. Fueling his anger, fueling his power.
And he felt something inside him snap.
"That's it, that's how that's done," the Sage Master said softly. "You've begun to awaken."

Finding the Sage Master was easy now. All he had to do was put his new Gi on and he could sense his energy out easier.
He was in the clearing in front of the hut. Kneeling before the Sage Master, he bowed his head. "Master, you summoned?"
"Yes, child. I've decided on your new name. With your power, and your newfound skill, I believe you should be called Satsugai-Sha of Erol. You have been training under me for two years as of today. King Kuri has asked me to recommend any good trainees to him. You have been recruited to his army."
Excitement built in him, then fear. "Does he know-?"
"Of course not. Your secret is safe with me."

Blood was soaking into his clothes now. His master's blood would soon stain his skin, as it stained his clothes. Satsugai-Sha stood, fists clenching, and turned to glare at Cell. A thickly charged pulse ran through the air, thickening the air.
Gohan stared at Satsugai-Sha, eyes widening. His power . . . it's incredible. It's . . . familiar. . . .
Where did he get all this power from suddenly? Adleca wondered, eyes wide.
If that little guy loses it, we might be in trouble.
The ground was trembling, rocks lifting into the air. And as the storm raged on outside Satsugai-Sha, a bigger storm began inside him. Rage boiled inside him, and he could feel his power coursing through his veins, burning like lava. It seemed like every cell of his body had been lit afire. "You BASTARD!" he yelled out, following that exclamation with a long, bloodcurdling scream.
The air pulsed, once, twice, thrice, then became still. For a moment, Satsugai-Sha froze, screams dying in his throat--until something inside him snapped. Power flooded his body, and he could feel his body hardening, tensing.
Then a burst of power flung out from him, strong enough to knock the nearest Z-Fighters off their feet. He gave one last yell, then fell to his knees, mind trying to understand where all this newfound power had come from.
"That kid is a Super Saiyan?" Kuririn asked.
"I'm not sure," Mirai Trunks whispered. "It feels like he's slightly surpassed a Super Saiyan."
Satsugai-Sha gave no warning. He suddenly launched toward Cell--changing direction at the last second to fly past him and hit Gohan. Hard. Across the face. Just once, but everyone paused. "You can't reason with everyone! Some people, they have to be taken out!" With that, he launched at Cell, wings working furiously. "You bastard, how dare you?!" He swung at Cell, but Cell ducked. As Cell ducked, Satsugai-Sha brought his knee up, hitting Cell in the stomach hard.
"Wait, stop! You can't beat him!" Gohan yelled, charging after Satsugai-Sha.
Batting him away, Satsugai-Sha turned towards Cell. "Someone has to!" he yelled, launching at Cell.
"If you're in such a hurry to die, then that's fine with me, but wait your turn!" With that, Cell swung one big arm, and stuck out at Satsugai-Sha, hard enough to send him flying into a mountainside.
Rocks collapsed over him, and Gohan took off toward it, desperate to save the masked warrior--but before he got halfway there, Satsugai-Sha had blasted all the rocks off of him. He stood there, glaring angrily at Cell, fists clenched. "You can do better than that!" He launched at Cell, dodging Gohan as he reached for him, and hit the huge fighter in the face with a vicious, powerful punch. As soon as his fist connected with Cell's face, Satsugai-Sha gathered his Ki, and sent a blast straight into the monstrous being's face.
This sent Cell flying backward, and Satsugai-Sha followed, overhead pounding him into the earth when he caught up.
Cell got to his feet quickly, throwing a punch Satsugai-Sha dodged easily. "Dammit, stand still so I can hit you!" Cell yelled after a third and fourth attempt at hitting the ever-moving Satsugai-Sha.
It was useless, though. Satsugai-Sha may not babe been faster or stronger than Cell, but his training had allowed him to easily dodge his moves by feeling the air around him move first. Even a split second movement could be discerned by the way the air moved around. Though Satsugai-Sha knew, if not for that training, Cell would've finished him off already.
Cell swung again, and Satsugai-Sha ducked enough to grab Cell's arm, foot swept his l ankles, and throw him down into the dirt. As Cell lay still, Satsugai-Sha cupped his hands together at the heels. "This is for my master!" he yelled, focusing all his Ki into his hands. "Ka-Me-Ha-Me!"
"Where, and how, did he learn that technique?" Kuririn asked aloud.
"HA!" The blast took off before anyone could move, shooting out of Satsugai-Sha's cupped hands like a giant rocket.
"Ka-Me-Ha-Me-Ha!" came Cell's reply. An equally huge blast shot off from Cell, and overtook the slightly smaller one. There was a brief struggle before Cell's blast devoured Satsugai-Sha's.
"No!" Gohan called out, rushing toward the two. "Dammit, no!"
The blasts faded before Gohan could reach them, and Cell was standing alone. A strange, thick, hallow feeling fell upon Gohan.
"You're gonna have to try better than that!"
Shock fueling him, Cell looked up, followed by Gohan. Hovering in an air pocket a few hundred feet in the air, Satsugai-Sha looked none the better for wear. His Gi was torn, and his hood had fallen off--
And Gohan gasped.
The hood had disintegrated, revealing a delicate, elfin-like face with pointed ears, pale blue eyes, and pale blond hair tucked down into the rest of the Gi.
Ready to launch yet another offensive at Cell, not noticing the confused, shocked faces around, the now unmasked warrior darted toward Cell.
"Serazai?"
Hearing that name, the unmasked warrior paused, eyes turning toward Gohan, then widening when Satsugai-Sha realized sight had been granted. Reaching up to check for the hood, Satsugai-Sha stared down at Gohan, than turned pale blue eyes toward Adleca, who was staring openmouthed.
"No," Serazai whimpered. "Oh, no!"
"Take this, you little pest!" Amidst the confusion, Cell flew up, swung one big arm, and hit Serazai with all he could muster, sending him flying.
"Serazai!" Gohan flew after the girl, catching her midair before she could hit the ground. Her eyes were closed, and there was a thin trail of blood at her forehead. "Sera, why didn't you tell me?" he murmured. "Why didn't you tell me before you left?" He took her to the cliff where everyone was fighting, laying her gently between his brother and his father. "Take care of her. Please."

Chapter Text

I got a heart but it don't beat
I got a song that I can't sing
I gotta wait for you alone
I gotta love that I can't chase
The kinda mystery won't fade
I gotta wait for you alone
And I'm wasting away
You've taken everything that I want
Til there's nothing left of me
And there's no one left to be
You've changing everything that I need Cause there's nowhere left to hide
When there's nothing to believe
Would you leave me here behind
Would you love to watch me cry
Would you like to fly away
I can show you the truth
If you only let me loose
If you told me what you need
And I'm fading away

Screaming. People were screaming. "Goku, no! Don't do it!"
"Daddy, please!"
"Goku!"
I sat up, rubbing my head. I was up on a cliff. Looking through people's legs, I could see a strange, fat creature, with Goku next to it.
"Just wait til father gets his hands on you," was the first thing said to me.
Wincing at Adleca's words, I asked, "What's going on?"
"Something about Goku taking the brunt of that blast so he came save everyone, but he'll die in the process."
I stood quickly, ignoring the wave of dizziness and nausea as I did. Gohan was on the ground before the two, on his hands and knees, but he looked different. The power that breathed off him was incredibly thick. How had he gotten that powerful? What had I missed?
Wait. Goku . . . dying?
That'd destroy everyone here.
They needed him.
But me, I was as good as dead anyway.
Without even thinking about it, I had a plan. Darting past everyone, toward Goku, Gohan, and the strange creature, I realized what was about to happen. Cell, that was Cell. He was about to explode. "Move!" I yelled, causing both Goku and Gohan to look up. Knocking Goku back, I grabbed Cell's arm, and hauled him upward.
"Sera! What-what are you doing?!"
"No, that won't work! I have to-!"
I threw my blue barrier up, blocking both of their advances. Glancing back at them, I smiled. "Nothing breaks this barrier!" And off I went, flying as high and fast as I could, glancing back once more to see Goku grab Gohan to keep him from following.
That wouldn't last long, so I put on an extra burst of speed, and flew up, high, high, until I could no longer see anyone. Until Earth seemed a blue and green blur.
Cell was laughing. "You won't keep me from destroying the earth!"
"Nothing breaks this barrier!"
"But you're trapped inside. What happens to you?" He was laughing still.
"I die with you," I said softly.
I felt the blast coming. Right as Cell exploded, I pulled my wings around my body, closed my eyes, and let death take me.

(We know Gohan destroys Cell, so skipping to the Kami afterparty. After they'd summoned the dragon.

Though everyone was tired and drained from the day's events, they were also happy, content. And though Gohan felt responsible for Serazai's death, his first act would be to wish her back to life.
"Do you know your wish?" the Dragon asked.
Gohan nodded. "Yes, I want to wish my friend, Serazai, back to life!"
A moment passed. "That, I cannot do."
Gohan tensed, his heart skipping a beat. "Wh-what? Why?!"
"The one called Serazai is still alive."

(Now skipping back to Serazai in the forest.)

I'm here, I breathed, collapsing into the dirt. The clearing we'd fought Cell was clear now, nobody in it. I'd known before they wouldn't be here, but I didn't think I could make it to wherever they were. I needed to rest.
"Serazai." I tensed. That voice. . . . Turning, I saw Adleca standing a bit away from me, a slick grin on his face. "Well, well. How about that? I knew you were still alive."
I breathed a deep, painful breath. "What do you want?"
"To make you a deal. Come with me, or go back to your earthling friends, and I'll tell father you're alive. Right now, he believes you're dead. Come with me, he can go on believing that."
I was still painfully tense.
"But just so you know, your earthling friends are relieved that you're dead."
My heart gave a painful twist. "W-what?"
"Don't believe me? Come with me. I'll show you."

The Z-Fighters were happy and laughing when Adleca dropped the nearly dead Serazai in a hiding place behind the building, within hearing. Walking up to them without her, he said, "So, were you able to wish that burdensome girl back?"
The Z-Fighters glanced at each other. "Nah," said Kuririn. "We didn't want to. Too much trouble. Right, Gohan?"
Glancing around her hiding place, Serazai saw a strange, tense look slide over Gohan's face. "Right."
"Besides, it's a good thing she's dead, right?" Goten asked. "Now your king won't have to punish her. She's already dead."
"Yea, she was a pain anyway," Trunks added. "Right, Gohan?"
Another tense, almost angry look crossed Gohan's face. "Right. It's better that she's gone."
G-Gohan? Better? But . . . but I thought . . . I thought we were friends!
"I'd rather her be dead," he added.
Serazai's heart gave painful lurch. Twisting away so she couldn't see them anymore, she covered her face with her hands. "You'd rather I be dead, than there with you?" Her voice was soft, breathy. "Gohan. . . . I thought . . . I could trust you."