Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Morning After ❯ Gohan Gets Lessons ( Chapter 2 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

THE MORNING AFTER
By animegrrrl

Ch. 2 - Gohan Gets Lessons

Son Gohan wiped the sweat from his brow. "Ready or not, here I come." He dug his foot into the mound, winding up for the pitch. Yamucha grinned and crouched slightly, leg muscles singing tensely in anticipation. The demi-Saiyan let loose a scorching fastball! "Yatta!" Gohan triumphantly whispered to himself. The period of diligent study with Yamucha, learning intricately the ins and outs of the noble sport(a.k.a baseball), had truly paid off. The teen watched his fastball as it rocketed through the air. Gohan was convinced, with its unbelievable kinetic motion, that no one, nobody in any league, could possibly touch it.

Which it why Gohan's elation sank like the Titanic as Yamucha's titanium bat connected solidly. *CRACK!* The ball sped out of the park and far, far away.

Gohan held up a limp finger to point unbelievingly at his opponent. "You. Hit. It."

Yamucha shrugged. "Looks like you need a little more practice." The former desert bandit held up the cracked remains of his titanium bat and sweatdropped. "Oy," he said mournfully, "and this cost a good $275 zenni, too."

"Man, I'm sorry Yamucha. I'll pay for it."

"Don't worry about it. I should have enough left in my savings to replace it. I hope." The last sentence was muttered only to himself. "But anyway, Gohan," said Yamucha with a visible rally, and pointing to the broken bat as evidence, "that's why your power is so dangerous and you need to learn more control." Gohan's vigorous nodding froze in midmotion as a horror-stricken shriek rent the the air.

Quick as a flash they followed the source of the continuous screams. And there, beside a pathway in a woodsier part of the area, was an old lady screaming her frizzy little head off. "Oh, Foo Foo! Fee Fee!"

Gohan ran up to her. "What's wrong, Ma'am?!"

The old woman pointed in horror at the pair of poodles before her. One had a pink bows on its forefeet and the other blue, respectively, and were yapping excitedly. Gohan narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. He couldn't see what was possibly wrong them, other than that they were annoying- OH NO. His eyes widened in realization. The holes in those poodles' 'fros. They were baseball sized.

Something moving caught his attention. It was Yamucha's rear- er, I mean bent form, rummaging through several broken branches. Gohan sweatdropped. Sending a ball out like that was like letting loose an old fashioned musketball! They were lucky they hadn't taken someone's head off.

Yamucha dislodged the battered ball from a wedge in a tree trunk and held it up. "Found it!" he said, waving.

"That's your ball?!"

"Uh, yeah, why... Ow!" With a vengeful cry, the old lady set upon Yamucha like a harpy!

Or, at least, like a really mad old lady with a really heavy purse... Gohan put a hand on her shoulder. "Now hold on. There's no need- Hey!"

"Hooligans!" The old lady shrieked at the top of her lungs. "Help! Heeelp!"

"Ma'am, really there's no need- Yeesh! You don't have to hit me!" Yamucha grabbed the elbow of a cringing Gohan.

"Yap! Yap! Yap!" went the poodles.

"Whack! Whack! Whack!" went the old lady.

"Bye! Bye! Bye!" went the hooligans. And off they ran into the woods, pausing only when convinced of their safety beneath the shade of a willow tree. They looked at each other and simultaneously cracked up. "What a crazy old woman!" said Yamucha.

"I know, right?! Hee hee hee."

"I can't believe she thought we were criminals or something."

"Well..." Gohan eyed the man before him. Scuffed blue jeans, rolled up sleeves, muscular and slightly sweaty arms, one hand holding the jagged end of a broken bat...

"Well, what?"

"Well, the way you're dressed, especially with those scars on your face, you do look kinda rogueish."

Yamucha smiled charmingly and raised an eyebrow. "Rogueish?"

"I mean, uh, uh... Trust me, it's a good thing!" Laughing, Yamucha pulled Gohan's baseball cap over the teen's blushing ears, put an arm around his shoulders and shook him affectionately. They started walking out of the park.

"What about you though?" asked Yamucha. "What made her think that you were a punk?"

"Hmm, I postulate that with this city's crime rate, and the majority of petty crimes that are commited by persons of my age group, it would not be too hard for an old and confused lady to mistake my lawful intentions, since I was clearly with your shady self." Yamucha shook his head in wonder.

"Kid, you've got one helluva vocabulary."

*****
The sound of keys rattling, then the sound of an opening door. A certain blue-haired kitty's ears perked. Yamucha walked into his apartment. He was, of course, immediately glomped. "Yamucha!" squealed an enthusiastic Puar. "Welcome home."

"Thanks." smiled Yamucha. "I feel welcome." The former bandit reached up between his friend's ears and scratched. She purred appreciatively. "Hey, you got a pitcher for me ready?"

Puar blinked. "Yeah, but it still needs to have the sugar mixed in. I'll go do that now."

Seeing Gohan's confused look, Yamucha laughed. "Pitcher, as in Puar makes a killer homemade lemonade. Not pitcher as in baseball."

"Oh, I guess I've got baseball on the brain." Gohan said sheepishly.

Yamucha turned Gohan toward the direction of his living room couch. "Make yourself at home. I'll join you in a minute." Gohan sat down. Yamucha paused to turn on his answering machine, then joined Puar in the kitchen.

Gohan looked around shyly. This was the first time he had ever been in his 'instructor's' apartment. Boy, was he glad Yamucha had air conditioning. Gohan wiped the sweat off his brow and leaned back against the cool fabric of the couch. Relaxed, with his eyes closed, the demi-Saiyan became aware of a city's constant background noise, cars honking, traffic moving, and the nearer noise of a an answering machine in the apartment. "Yamucha sure has a lot of messages." observed Gohan. After listening to the sixth message left by a woman, Gohan grinned. "Yup, same ol' Yamucha." Then the phone rang.

"Yamucha. The phone's ringing." Puar informed.

"I kno-ooow." he answered from the kitchen.

"Should I pick it up?"

"No. It might be you-know-who."

"Oh, okay."

Then a smooth man's voice came on. "Yamucha... it's me. It wasn't nice ditching me at the cafe like that. Now I know we've had our disagreements, but we can work this out. I know you'll come back to me. We weren't together long for long, but the few nights we spent together were... special. I love you, Yamucha, and I'm looking forward to more." BEEP! That was the end of the message.

Gohan's mouth dropped in surprise. "Who?"

Puar helpfully answered. "Oh, that's just Yamucha's boyfriend."

"BOYFRIEND?!"


NEXT: Ch.3 - Gohan Gets Spooked


July 3, 2003: Oh, shit, Allison. I can't believe how many errors there are in PFK3!! I just reread it(which I haven't done in a long, long time) and I can't believe how much shit I have to change! Geez! And to add insult to injury I realized how corny some parts of the story were. Ugh. How embarrassing. To think I thought this was one of my better stories... *glowers darkly*

July 6, 2003: Sigh. I really wish I had the internet right now. I'd so be building a website.

July 7, 2003: Wahhh! I'm listening to the most beautiful song in the entire world and it's tugging on my heartstrings yet again!! I've listened to this song 5 million times and it still gets to me every time!! Gah, I wish my life was that beautiful(but not that tragic).

July 14, 2003: I HATE TRAVELOCITY.COM.

August 13, 2003: I STILL HATE TRAVELOCITY.COM.

May 19, 2004: I HATE HUB.

Aug. 12, 2004: I HATE HUB.

Sept. 26, 2004: I STILL HATE HUB.