Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Crowned Evil ❯ Epilogue ( Epilogue )

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

Epilogue:

A/N: Some people were confused by this on ff.net. This chapter returns to the normal timeline, where Gohan accepted the death and didn't become a man more demonic than Cell. I am currently writing a sequel to this story titled Warui no Ou (meaning: King of Evil) that continues the evil Gohan's story.




They said it wasn't his fault. An eleven-year-old Gohan lay on his bed, his arm thrown over his eyes, watching the darkness inside his eyelids as he tried to again fall asleep. He had lessons he needed to do, but he wasn't going to do them. He couldn't bear to move, the pain inside his soul ached so badly. He kept seeing his father's smiling face as the man said his goodbyes. It was his fault! He knew it was! He ignored the lies that he was told. Had he not been so damn cocky his father wouldn't have died! If he'd just killed Cell when he'd had the chance… his father would still be alive.

He was the reason Gokou hadn't wanted to return to Chikyuu. Gokou didn't want to confront his murderer! Gohan rolled onto his side, burying his head beneath his pillow. Sure, outside he was pretending to be okay. He went on those stupid walks with his grandfather, but he couldn't bear it anymore. For about two weeks he'd been able to maintain the calm collected attitude of sweet, innocent, and guilt-free Gohan, but he couldn't take it! He couldn't force himself to do it once again.

Chichi's pounding footsteps echoed down the hall. She knocked on his closed door before stepping in, pretending to be a good mother. "Gohan, breakfast is ready," she said with a morning smile. Gohan knew it was ready. He could smell it from where he laid, the burnt toast and the undercooked eggs. How could anyone not smell his mother's horrible cooking? It was a mystery to him. He had heard Chichi when she'd woken at dawn to begin cooking for the Saiyajin boy. Still, he didn't move from the bed, pretending to be asleep beneath his pillow.

"Gohan? Wake up, honey," she begged him, stepping into the filthy and unclean room and sitting at the edge of the bed. Her eyes wondered over his form. Gohan had changed back into the nearly destroyed purple gi he had worn while fighting Cell. For weeks he'd been staring at the outfit, wondering, and he couldn't bear to not wear it. It was a symbol to him, in some twisted way. Hey, everyone, look at me. I killed my father and didn't even get my clothes bloody! He snickered mentally, knowing he was going insane. How could he not? He was the reason his father was dead and his mother was the demon-queen, herself. He was surprised he hadn't broken years ago. He'd been kidnapped by his uncle as a boy, had been beaten up countless times by an endless array of enemies, battled face-to-face the two most evil and powerful demons in the universe… what child wouldn't break?

"Oh, Gohan," Chichi said somberly, patting his arm as if he was some four-year-old that could have his problems solved with a cookie and a promise that would never be broken. Why did everyone think he was still a child? Could a child kill their father? He removed his head from beneath the pillow and glared at his mother. He didn't respect the woman any more. Why shouldn't he show her just how much he hated her? Of course, he didn't really hate Chichi, but why not just get in trouble? He felt like he needed to be punished. After all, he had killed the man she loved most. At least he should be grounded, right? Apparently, Chichi didn't agree, and she didn't realize that Gohan's sanity depended on her punishment. "Gohan, Bulma called me last night." No big news to Gohan. He'd heard the phone ring last night. "So?" he muttered, turning back onto his side, facing the window. It was bright outside. The sun was high in the sky, mocking him with its cheeriness, telling him how happy the rest of the world was that he had killed his father.

"Vejita wants you to come over to Capsule Corporations this afternoon," Chichi said with a sigh. Gohan paused and looked over his shoulder, knowing his sanity had just broken. There wasn't a chance in hell that his mother had really just said what she'd just said. "What?" Chichi looked up at him as he asked the question and repeated herself. Gohan sat up, staring at her as if she'd grown a second and third head. "Why?"

Chichi shrugged and stood, brushing her hands down upon a dirty apron that circled her waist. "I don't know, Gohan. I truly don't know. I wish I did. Bulma said that Vejita asked if you'd come over." She looked up at him with a frown. "It's probably a good idea. Maybe if you go over there he can beat some sense into you or something. I don't know. You Saiyajins confuse me." She shrugged and stepped to the door before turning back to him. "You don't have to go if you don't want to. I don't care. Come eat if you want. It will be on the table." She turned and left, leaving the young boy alone. Gohan frowned deeply, leaning back into the pillows again as he stared at the paste-colored ceiling. His mother was such a caring person, and yet she knew nothing about a Saiyajin's mental state. Gohan had failed. He'd failed to save himself, his father, and Chikyuu. If Gokou hadn't been there, if he hadn't known how to teleport himself and Cell to safety, then everyone that Gohan knew and loved would have died. The entire planet, if not for Gokou, would be ash floating in space's non-existing wind. Gohan had failed.

Why would Vejita want to see a failure?

After some long period of thinking, Gohan couldn't deny his curiosity. He rose from his bed a few hours before noon and…

He paused. Floating around the sun a little crow soared, its wings flapping quietly in the wind as it moved around, little black eyes looking down at Gohan. It was just a little bird, a quiet little silent crow with feathers and tiny little feet, flapping his wings in the breeze. The bird soared downwards suddenly and perched itself on the windowsill, black eyes looking up at Gohan. He returned the stare of the bird, expecting it to glare angrily at him and whisper "Murderer" but for some reason, the bird only remained there, watching him with his large black eyes, fluttering his wings as he settled there. Gohan stared at that bird for a long time before tears and sorrow overwhelmed him. He collapsed on the floor, curling into a ball, sobbing fitfully. He cried curses, he cried for his father, and he even cried for Piccolo.

Everything within him ached with his sorrow as he clutched his knees to his chest, fingers digging into the purple material of his destroyed gi. He sobbed, the tears flowing like rivers from his black eyes. Against his doorway his mother stood, hugging herself as she tried not to join in with the sobs. Somewhere atop Kami's Lookout Piccolo winced as he hovered above the ground, trying to allow the boy to cope with the emotions that had slowly been building up without rushing to his aid. Gohan needed to accept what had happened, to accept the rage and anger and hatred that had been overwhelming him with days.

Outside of the Son home, the sun looked through the window, watching with happiness as the little boy crawled from the floor and ripped the gi to pieces with his sorrow and rage. Never would blood fall from the sky. Never would death outnumber life. Beauty continued with life, grass grew from the fields and no valleys of ashes littered Chikyuu's beautiful land.

The birds in the sky joined together as they flapped through the heavy winds in the bright peaceful sky, no ki blasts exploding in the distance, no shrieks of death echoing out for miles. They smiled in happiness as they moved about their peaceful planet with few worries of death, pain, and suffering. A murderer lived amongst them… and that murderer had saved the world.

They loved their murderer.


THEND




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