Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Crowned Evil ❯ Stay In School ( Chapter 2 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Chapter 2: Stay In School!

"I don't think it would be such a bad idea!" Chichi exclaimed with a bright smile as she sat down a large plate on the table. Gohan glared at the large plate lathered with meat, as if it was the cause of all his problems. "I mean, you could go for a few months and get back into your studies, and then if it's moving to slow for you then you can quick and come back and do your studies at home again. It's not permanent. I think Bulma is right though. You need friends your own age. The only people around that are close to your age is Trunks and Trunks. Um… you know what I mean," she giggled with a smile, sitting across from her son. Gohan forced himself to smile, but inside he was doing nothing but screaming curses in every language that he knew, fluent or not. Chichi smiled. "Bulma said she would help you adjust. For the first week or so you can go to Capsule Corporations after school, maybe have a snack and play with Trunks and Trunks, or spar with Vejita if you need to work out some… aggressive problems. You could do your homework there, and then come home and continue your own studies so you can keep ahead of the class. Doesn't that sound like a great idea?"

No, it doesn't. Gohan lied with a smile and a nod. He couldn't argue with Chichi. She had everything planned out. She'd been shopping that afternoon and had bought him new clothes. Gohan frowned, folding his arms over his destroyed purple gi. He would have to hide it each day to make sure she didn't throw it away. He could see the anger in her eyes with the fact he hadn't thrown it out yet. Gohan couldn't bear the idea at getting rid of the outfit. It was all he had keeping him sane.

~*~

Gohan looked through the doors that stood on either side of him. In his arm he carried a thin notebook. Over his shoulder hung a backpack filled with two books and countless pens, pencils, and other things that he probably wouldn't use. He'd been put a few grades ahead of what he would normally been put in because of an entrance test that he'd taken. Currently he was a freshman in Orange Star Junior High. Moving through the hallways, Gohan caught a glance at a normal number system and was able to make sense of it, finally locating his classroom at the end of that long hall. Every preteen in the room was at least twice his size, and Gohan made sure to mentally note to himself that if he ever got out and had to come back in, to stay with his appropriate grade level.

He took a seat in an empty desk in the back room and watched as the teacher entered a few moments later. It was a rather tall and elder looking man with balding white hair and wrinkly skin. He stepped in front of his desk and pulled out a stack of papers from within his brown imitation leather briefcase. "Class, we have a new student today: Son Gohan. Please make him feel at home. Now, take out your textbooks and turn…" Gohan frowned at the introduction. He saw a good thirty pairs of eyes turn and look at him with obvious dislike. Ducking his head, he reached into his backpack and pulled out of the book. Stay in school kids - you'll never again have the chance to be more miserable.

~*~

"Kami, Gohan, that looks hard," Bulma muttered, looking over the demi-Saiyajin's shoulder as he worked on the pre-calculus homework that his mother had given him. He'd been going to school for three days, and even though he'd been put grades ahead of the one he should be in, he was bored. He was able to finish any and all assignments during the class or during lunch, since he obviously couldn't eat lunch at the school due to the lack of enough food and the lack of friends. He enjoyed staying at Capsule Corporations, but Chichi wanted him working for at least a certain amount of time, so she assigned him work to do before he played with the two versions of Trunks. Gohan shrugged carelessly as he finished factoring the cubic polynomial. "It's not that difficult," he said, shoving the papers into the book and closing it. He looked up to Bulma, itching for a fight. "Where's Mirai Trunks?"

Bulma smiled. "Oh, well, since he heard you were in school now he went to go sign up. He's testing to take his junior and senior year in high school, and then he'll be going to college." She laughed brightly. "Think! My son will be in college. I hope Trunks will take after… himself." She laughed again. Gohan frowned. He didn't understand why everyone found the play on Trunks' name so funny. Why didn't everyone just call Mirai Trunks by Mirai Trunks instead of confusing the two versions? Shaking his head, Gohan turned to gather his books and return home, but he paused when he sensed Vejita. Turning, he saw the Saiyajin no Ouji leaning against the doorframe, looking rather intrigued. Gohan paused, suddenly overwhelmed with all the anguish that he'd been taking for the last three days. Constant teasing by his peers about him being so young and nerdy, persistent stares of everyone that he was around, the continuous mental anguishes that his conscious plagued him with - all of it tormented him every waking moment. Gohan turned to Vejita, ignoring Bulma's stare of confusion. If people didn't quit staring at him he was going to scream. "I accept."

~*~

Bouncing against the wall within the gravity chamber, Gohan used the area to push himself up and dodge the upcoming blow. It crashed against the wall, sending an explosion that caused both him and Vejita to stumble back with. Vejita was quick, though, to rise to his feet - quicker than Gohan. He always seemed a step ahead. Gohan felt a foot on his throat, and looked up to see Vejita smirking down at him. "I win," he said with a chuckle. Gohan moaned and grabbed the ankle, removing it from his neck. Vejita allowed it and stepped back. "What's the score now, gaki?" he demanded.

"Eight to five - you," Gohan responded with a frown. He looked out the window to see the sun slowly descended over the horizon. It was a Friday afternoon, and this play of games had been going on for nearly a month. Every single day he and Vejita would train, spar, and just plan beat each other senseless. Then, on occasion, they would have a spar to see who would win. Their curiosity was always peaking, wondering if they could defeat each other. Like Gohan had thought, his power and Vejita's skills canceled each other's weaknesses out, and it was always impossible to tell who would win. Currently, Vejita was ahead by three wins. Gohan didn't know why Vejita kept winning, but he always did. It was hard for Gohan to unleash himself, because when he did, he couldn't reclaim control. He'd nearly killed Vejita once, and he didn't want it to happen again. He didn't like having blood coat his hands, even if it was the blood of his father's rival.

Vejita nodded with a displeased look, which just shocked Gohan. He frowned at the royal man, only to have his look ignored. Vejita looked to the window, watching as darkness overtook the world. Gohan knew he should be getting home. Chichi was going to lecture him for hours about making her worry. It seemed he was staying later and later at Capsule Corporations, though. He knew it, and knew he shouldn't be doing it, but he enjoyed the constant spars with the Saiyajin no Ouji. He enjoyed being able to dig into his Saiyajin side, and although he feared it, the nagging of his soul for murdering his father was slowly fading, being replaced by something more animalistic and simple. His Saiyajin instincts were telling him not to fear the blood coating his fingers.

"Have you accepted it yet?" Vejita asked suddenly. Gohan frowned, staring at Vejita. "Accepted what? I accepted your offer, you know that…"

"No," Vejita cut him off by raising his hand. Gohan fell silent. "I mean, Kakarrotto's death. Have you gotten over it? Have you accepted what happened?"

Gohan glared angrily at him. "You're implying something. What is it?"

"You want bluntness?" Vejita snarled, stepping forward. "Fine. I don't like to sugarcoat things. Have you accepted the fact you killed Kakarrotto?"

Finding himself silent, Gohan stared at horror at the Saiyajin. He'd never expected Vejita to blame him for his father's death. If anything Vejita should be blaming himself for allowing Cell to absorb the cyborgs, but here he stood, pointing an accusing finger at Gohan. His lip trembled as he felt the tears filling his eyes. He saw disgust fill Vejita's façade. "Vejita," he sobbed, but refused to allow the tears to escape. "How could you say that?"

"It's what I've been trying to teach you, boy!" Vejita roared, shoving the Saiyajin back. Gohan stumbled, staring with complete confusion and fear. He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't take it if Vejita blamed him for his father's death. Vejita smirked as if he sensed Gohan's thoughts. "It's normal for a Saiyajin boy to kill his father. It's normal for Saiyajins to kill. Gohan, it's normal! Had Vejita-sei never been destroyed, I would have been forced to kill my father to take his place as Saiyajin no Ou! It's a custom! You've been blinded by your father's goodness! You've been taught that weakness is strength - that mercy achieves mightiness. It's all a lie, and you believe it!" Vejita paused, staring at him. "I'm not blaming you for killing Kakarrotto. Even I played a part in his death. However, when facts come down to facts, you could have saved your father. When you accept that fact, and come to terms with it, and see that it's normal for us to be responsible for death, you'll be a perfect warrior. Until then, I can't teach you anything."

Vejita turned and left the gravity room. The door slammed shut behind the Saiyajin. Gohan heard it echo in the empty room, bouncing off the white walls until it faded and there was nothing but silence. Gohan stared at the surrounding whiteness, lost inside his mind.

~*~

Dawn was slowly approaching, and the streets were at their darkest. The only break was the occasional street lamp that illuminated the path of the walking demi-Saiyajin. There was no one on the streets expect for an occasional homeless, and even those hygiene-impaired men stared at him, gazing at his ripped outfit, wondering why the murderer wasn't at home sleeping in his cozy bed while his father's body floated in space. Gohan paid those men no mind. He shouldn't be their concern. Piccolo floated above him, waiting for him to seek shelter from public eyes so they could speak, but Gohan didn't feel like speaking to his sensei at this moment. He didn't care if he ever spoke to Piccolo again.

Piccolo, however, wasn't a patient man once a limit of time passed. After a few moments he soared down from the black sky and grabbed Gohan, shoving him into an alleyway. Gohan stumbled as he hit a dumpster. Piccolo glared angrily at him. "What do you think you're doing? You could be killed wondering around out here."

Gohan laughed. He couldn't help it. It was too damn funny. The simple idea that one of those homeless men who walked the streets would be able to kill a man who had not only murdered the most powerful demon in the world, but in process had been able to rid himself of his father all in one faithful afternoon, was too much. He could see it too. A simple gun shoved against his head and the trigger pulled and down fell his body with a sickening thud as blood coated the streets. Beautiful! The perfect punishment, was it not?

Staring at him like he lost his mind, which was very possibly true, Piccolo growled, grabbing Gohan by the throat. "You're losing it, boy," he snarled in a heavy whisper. Gohan looked up to the large green man with a smile and a careless shrug. "Very possibly, but don't worry, Piccolo. I'll be okay." He saw the shock fill the eyes of the alien before they narrowed in disbelief, but Gohan pushed him back and nodded to an observer that stood in the alley, shaking. With a smile, Gohan vanished beneath his old sensei and reappeared behind the human, shoving him into the alley. The man stumbled forward and fell onto his knees on the ground. He was probably in his early or mid twenties with a head full of wavy blonde hair. He wore a business suit, showing that he was some important businessman with a possible life, perhaps a family and friends, and a bright future. Gohan stepped around the man once, circling him, learning the details. He had faint freckles doting his darkly tanned skin and he needed to shave. The suit he wore was expensive and stylish. His shoes were made of leather. Gohan paused as he stood behind the man. His hands reached out and grabbed the man's cheeks, caressing the sweaty flesh. The man was begging silently. He was afraid, trembling with that fear. Piccolo stared at Gohan in complete shock and horror. "Gohan, no, this isn't you."

"Nope," Gohan responded with a frown. "No, this isn't me. It's who I should have been. It's who you trained me to be. It's who Vejita thinks I should be. It's who I would have been had Raditzu successfully kidnapped me years ago. This is who fate wanted me to be." Gohan looked down to the man, running his fingernails against the soft flesh. The man gave a cry as his cheek was slit. Blood flowed down, staining Gohan's chipped nails. With a twist of his hands, bones snapped like twigs, and the body collapsed on the pavement. Gohan looked up to Piccolo, seeing the cape snap in the breeze. Piccolo stared in horror, watching; the body grew cold in the night air. "Gohan…"

"Don't be angry, Piccolo," Gohan said with a frown, turning away in disgust. Vejita was right. Mercy didn't achieve mightiness. Goodness wasn't strength. Power was strength. "You used to kill too. You were evil, once. You can't honestly tell me that you enjoy peace. It's weakness, being peaceful, isn't it? Every time you turn around, something evil and vicious is attacking you, killing those you love, and because you are peaceful, you can't stop it." Gohan stepped around the body and before his sensei, staring up at him with admiration. He missed having Piccolo as someone he could trust and confide in. "Promise me something, Piccolo? I don't want to ever lose you. Promise me that I'll never lose you, no matter what."

The eyes of the insane - that was what Piccolo saw as he stared into those callous black eyes of the boy who had filled his heart with warmth. No longer was he sweat and innocent, controlled by his mother and loved by his father. The Saiyajin within him had been awoken. It was so obvious, and Piccolo knew why: Vejita. It was the only answer, the only possible solution. Vejita had inserted himself in the boy's blood like a virus, corrupting the way he thought and destroying his common sense. Piccolo stared into those insane eyes, watching Gohan's cold expression. Still, despite the horrible visage that he was confronted with, Piccolo couldn't deny the fact he still saw that little boy with the gelled hair smiling up at him. Somewhere inside the cold demon that stood before him with an expression of indifference while requesting a promise that he would always be loved the little boy still had to be in there… somewhere. Piccolo gave a single nod. He would always love Gohan, even if evilness overtook that small little boy. If Gohan became evil… Piccolo knew he would follow. Turning, he took to the sky with only one thing on his mind: Vejita.

~*~


tbc



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