Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Edge ❯ ficlet ( Chapter 1 )

He stirs in his sleep. He's always restless nowadays. Never at peace.

Have I done this to him? Have I driven my own son to the edge of sanity?

I keep forgetting that it shouldn't be this way. That I should be the one protecting him. Not the other way around. But I know what is hidden inside of him. Deep down within his growing power. Somehow, I've always known. I know now he can unleash far more than I ever could, and as much as it pains me to have to do this to him, I know it's our only hope. I must tap into his potential.

But over the past several months, I've been able to see what this complete isolation has been doing to him. He's just an eleven year old boy. An eleven year old boy! This awesome responsibility on top of having to push himself past what his body is capable of is taking it's toll on his mind. Nightmares - night after night. He can barely focus anymore, lost in a world I'm pushing him deeper and deeper into the longer we're in here. Making him ascend past his potential and draw forth ungodly power no boy his age should ever have to harness. I don't even know if his body will be able to take it.

I often wonder what will become of all this. Wondering if he can go back to being the son I once had. Will all of this fighting and violence I'm preparing him for have it's price on his sanity? Will he ever go back to being the Gohan that his mother remembers? The Gohan that I remember?

He screams out. Limbs thrash in his troubled sleep. He cries out my name.

I run to him and calm him with a touch to his face. His eyes barely open, only to reveal the horrors and torment he's been living though over and over in his head; The fear of losing everyone he loves because he won't be strong enough to save us. The very seed I've planted in his head. I can see him starting to crack. The fragile, crumbling shreds of what's left of my son, lost in an over-developed body that barely resembles that of my son's before we came in here.

Slowly, he drifts back to an unconscious sleep. Exhausted. Drained. Significantly stronger, but weakened severely from the mental torture he's been putting himself through in order to defeat an enemy no child should be preparing for.

We still have almost three weeks left in here, amounting to little over an hour on the outside. But I'm afraid that even that short amount of time will destroy him. My big plan to make him strong enough to fight my enemy. My battle...

I've made my decision -- We're leaving this place tomorrow.