Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Where do I belong? ❯ Chapter 20 ( Chapter 20 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball/Z/GT, it characters, or anything in it; nor do I own any other licensed product/item that may appear throughout this fan fiction piece.

AN: Sorry it took so long. This isn't really edited much, so if you see something wrong, please let me know. I'm posting this in a rush before I go out of town, and just wanted to get it up. Just let me know if you see something horribly wrong.

~*~

Chapter 20

The air buzzed with energy, the anticipation high. Crowds gathered to watch as a dark haired boy dealt another punch to a struggling blonde. The Regional Martial Arts Competition was known for the extensive crowds that came to watch the rising youths, each holding an immense amount of skill and passion for the fight. However, one youth stood above others. Every opponent was defeated, effortlessly, but never did he gloat his triumphs. With every fallen adversary, the teen would help them to their feet and escort them to the bench so that they could catch their breath after their devastating defeat. The youth's face was a cold, emotionless mask, his voice near dead. Every move was quick and perfectly planned, every punch precise, every kick landing effortlessly.

Sighing, Gohan lifted the fallen blonde from the mats, gently carrying him to the awaiting bench. Dark eyes glanced at the clock on the wall, a gentle frown playing upon his lips. Two hours after the matches had begun; his family still had not arrived. It had not been his choice to compete, but sent as one of the representatives of his family's dojo. Another trophy to add to his wall.

It had been about three years since he and his sister had returned from their summer adventure . . . three years studying under the dream tutelage of Piccolo. At sixteen years old, Gohan was tall, his slender build possessing long sinewy muscles that molded his entire form. His long ebony hair was carefully bound into a braid that hung to his waist, a few random loose ebony strands framing his lean face. His black gi, with the his family's symbol in blood red upon his back, brought out his healthy tan, his obsidian eyes sparkling under the generic lights of the coliseum. Underneath the long shirt of the uniform, he could feel his slender tail twitch in irritation with the lack of a challenge he found.

Sighing, he sat upon the bench, waiting for his next fight. Blowing the long strands of awry hair away from his face, Gohan surveyed the other fights. He had known that the probability of finding any sort of equal opponent had been very low. His strength, technique, and abilities had flourished under Piccolo's excellent tutelage. It was in his dreams that he found his most challenging adversary, but even that had begun to change. Slowly, he was gaining his edge upon his harsh instructor. In the physical world, only his sister could compare. He had taught her everything, even sharing his instructions with their father. He had brought a new style of fighting to his martial arts family. But the two could hardly compare to the strength he possessed.

Worry had set in deep, his mind straying to the many things that could have occurred. In a daze, Gohan competed, his mind never upon his fighting, but on the clock that ticked the time away, on the empty spot in the line up for his sister, and the empty places upon the bleachers of cheering fans for his parents. He had spent so much time infusing into the family that was not his own by blood, he was lost without them. His mind was never on winning in battle, never on the fight, but on making his family proud.

Competition swiftly came to a close, Gohan safely securing the winning title and trophy. Used to ins and outs of the martial arts world, he was unsurprised when he was surrounded by adults and reporters. Most were looking for comments on the gym he was associated with, stemming out to his family's legacy within the martial arts. Businesses looked for a chance to sell their equipment to his dojo as well as gaining their name on the long list of his personal sponsors. Gohan greeted them with his casual demeanor, passing out information sheets as well as contact cards while handling the reporters.

Out of the mass of questions that he was barraged with, a single question seemed to pop out to his mind. "Young man, you've proven yourself quite well here, but tell me, what do you think of Mister Satan and his sensation that is sweeping the world?"

Gohan visibly flinched, his eyes darkening as they narrowed in the reporter's direction. Once the question had appeared, the others seemed to ask the same.

"What do you think of the savior of earth?"

"Our sources tell us that you and your family's dojo do not support Mister Satan and refuse to buy his products or even advertise anything of his line. We were even told that anything that is associated or pictured with our Savior, you refuse. Is this true and why?"

Rolling his eyes, Gohan waved his hand, asking for quiet. Peering above the cameras that were trained upon him, he was met with the site of many fans and people interested a great deal in his answers to the question. He knew that a number of people were upset with their refusal to utilize anything made or used by Mister Satan and his associates. A few people had even left their dojos because of this. Though, this refusal was not only at his father's gym, but at every one owned by the Daemon family line everywhere. The recent arrival of a Mister Satan sponsored gym within their city limits had only brought the animosity of the Daemon family against Mister Satan to a head, turning the quiet refusal into a publicized mess . . . Of course, Mister Satan's visit to his father's gym hadn't really helped things . . . especially when Gohan himself had thrown him out of their doors.

"Thank you for your attention. Each of my opponents here were truly worthy, and my abilities are born of hours of practice at the hands of my own teachers. My win here is all because of them. As for Mister Satan, it is true that our family gym does not incorporate any of his techniques, tactics, or equipment. However, I have shown you what you can learn at our dojos."

A small smirk played upon his lips as he glanced around, locking eyes with a pair of obsidian orbs shrouded in the shadows that had he seen watching him for so long. "On a personal note, my opinion of the great Mister Satan is that he is nothing more than an idiotic fake who is bastardizing the true abilities of the martial artist. His moves and technique are nothing but exaggerated basics with extra flourish that does nothing but prove that he is a bumbling idiot with a hero complex. The example he sets for potential martial artists everywhere makes me ashamed to carry my titles, a shame born of knowing that I will be compared to him when he is not even worthy of the credit given him. As for his regale of destroying Cell, I will only ask you this. If we feared Cell of destroying Earth, can we truly believe that a man like Mister Satan defeated him with such little effort? If you do believe this, I can only wonder if you were ever granted an education. Thank you."

With a small bow, he turned on his heel, exiting the room swiftly while his audience stood stunned at his words. Once outside, he carefully searched the parking lot for his parent's vehicles. Finding none, he pulled out his keys, moving over to his waiting sleek black sports car, his birthday gift. Settling into the plush leather interior, he drew out his cell phone, finding his voice mail with many messages.

As the messages sounded, he allowed his eyes to wonder as he felt the burning sensation of someone looking at him once more. He had felt those dark eyes on him for years now. For so long he had believed it to be nothing more than paranoia of his oddities being discovered, but enough glimpses of the shadowy figures had convinced him he was not insane. Just as he notice a figure leaning against the building, draped in the cascades of shadows, the voice of his father flowed through the phone, speaking in short shaky sentences.

It was as if the world had faded, his senses dulled, only hearing his fathers voice which cut through the thick layers of silence more skillfully than the finest of knives. "Go, I-I'm at the hospital . . . oh Kami-sama . . . Gohan . . . there was an accident . . . your sister . . . I . . . just get here as soon as you can son."

Without hesitation, never thinking of the mysterious figure that was within reach, he revved his car's engine, peeling out of the parking lot without a glance to those exiting with him. On instinct, he weaved through the busy streets, ignoring the wail of police sirens behind him, before pulling into the emergency entrance of the hospital. Shutting the car off, he rushed from the vehicle and into the hospital.

Following his sense to one of the many lobbies within the medical institution, he was soon met with the weary faces of his parents. As the two turned, Gohan zeroed in on the reddened eyes of his mother, trailing down the paths her tears had fallen. A sense of foreboding fell over him as he felt his mother's arms wrap around him, his father coming from behind to embrace him as well. Turning his head, looking past the wired spectator's glass, he watched as his sister, swathed in white bandages, surrounded by blinking machines, struggled for every breath.

Moving away from his parents, he approached the glass, one pale hand extending, reaching out for his sister only to be met by resistance, the painful realization crashing upon him in waves. Tears, the crystalline droplets of water that he had not felt for so long, trailed down his face. Amazed, he allowed them to fall upon his fingers, gazing in wonder at the feel of the tiny droplets. It had been so long . . .

A nearby nurse led him into the room, the gentle hum of machinery and the beep of the heart machine echoing through the silent room. Approaching the silent form of his sister, Gohan allowed his nimble fingers to trail over the thick bandages that covered the left half of her face before moving down her arm, grasping her cold unresponsive hand. Breaking down, a rough sob escaped him, breaking the gentle silence as he cradled her hand to his cheek, begging for the warmth to return, wishing for a spark of life within her. His whispers for her safety grew frantic as he fell to his knees beside her, unable to support his weight any longer.

Looking up, his ebony eyes meeting with the pale lids rather than sparkling sapphire, he trailed his hands through the few strands of black silk that peeked out of the bandages. Overwhelmed by the sea of helplessness, guilt, and grief that he was drowning within, his tears fell upon her prone form.

A heavy hand fell upon the young man's shoulder, muscular arms wrapping around him. Turning, Gohan buried his head into the older man's chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his father. Erik simply held his son, trailing his over the teen's back, soothing him in the only way he knew how. Angel merely watched father and son from her place at the doorway, each member of the family well aware of the steady sound of the machines that supported the young girl's life.

Hours passed the news upon Cassandra's condition vague from the callous mouths of cold, impersonal hospital staff, slowly wearing upon Gohan's every nerve. His mind had been racing, steadily working out the events of that evening. His parents and sister had been coming from Cassandra's weekly meeting with a therapist; a compromise between the family members after the two siblings had cracked under the pressure of questions regarding their summer training in the forest, when a drunk driver had passed through the median, slamming into their SUV. While both Erik and Angel had suffered only a few abrasions and lacerations, Cassandra had been flung out of the door that had opened during the wreck.

Gohan couldn't help but think that it should have been him in the accident, blaming himself for the fact that he had failed to protect his sister . . . again. The guilt and anger slowly built up within him, threatening to over run his senses as the doctor approached him, providing them with the hourly status of Cassandra. However, no news was given, only that she was stable and there was no idea about when she would regain consciousness. Unable to handle the cold impersonal atmosphere of the hospital, Gohan stalked from the building, slamming the doors behind him as he trudged through the woods, walking until he was out upon the neighboring cliffs.

A loud cry of rage and anger broke the silence of the night as a deep golden glow appeared around the boy's body. With only the stars and moon within the velvet embrace of the night as his witness, he allowed his emotions to run free, enveloping his mind, body and soul. Ebony locks bled gold, the short front locks spiking up as obsidian eyes swirled to bright aqua. However, unlike all transformations before, the simple change was not enough for him. Unable to gain a hold of the flow of emotions he emitted, his hold upon the door to his very power loosening, he broke through the barriers he had felt for so long.

Screaming with rage towards the world that had cursed him, his golden aura expanded, the trees surrounding him disintegrating to nothing but dust, the very rocks beneath him trembling as he released the power. His eyes and hair darkened, his entire being taking a bit more of a dangerous feel as white lightening cracked around the gold orb that surrounded him.

Slightly relaxing, Gohan simply closed his eyes, feeling the power flow through his body. There was so much power, it was intoxicating. Simply knowing that he held it stormed his sense, a rush of desire running through his body. A desire to see just what the power could do . . . a want to feel warm thick blood fall from those who had wronged him . . . a need for vengeance.

Shocked by the trail his mind had taken, he quickly shut off those emotions, allowing the power to slowly leave him. Stumbling, Gohan fell to the ground, the light that had surrounded him falling to the black of night. Wrapping his arms around his knees, he slowly rocked himself, back and forth, taking in the quiet melody that flowed with the wind, soothing him as he fell into a trance-like state, neither asleep nor awake, within the confines of the charcoaled earth and trees, a new clearing created by his power, born of vengeance and desire for revenge against something he could not control.

~*~

Sighing, Gohan placed his hand upon the rusted and battered piece of machinery in the rear building on what was formerly the Daemon property. The past month had been a flurry of activity as they prepared to move to Satan City. It was not that any of their family wanted to leave their quiet home to move nearly halfway around the world into the namesake of the world's hero. No, instead they were being forced to move in order to keep their sanity.

After Gohan had left the hospital and found the new level of his power, he had awoken to the rough kick of a short tempered male with malicious obsidian eyes. No name had even been given, only a firm kick to his stomach awakening him from his self imposed state of constant guilt and turmoil. Of course, Gohan had simply glared at the man, his emotions overriding any other thought, causing him to physically attack the stranger.

His entire life, Gohan had held back his strength against other opponents, keeping his abilities and force in check despite everything. It was rare that he had ever allowed his true strength known. However, the rage he felt consuming him had been too great for him to think past the desire for vengeance, causing his well aimed punch to move at the full extent of the strength he possessed in his normal form.

However, the man had simply caught his fist, twisting his arm behind his back, dislocating his shoulder in one simple move. With a growl, he had released Gohan, threatening him with a further beating if he did not remove his `pathetic carcass from the land and go back where he came from.' Gohan, still in shock from having been injured, stumbled back to the hospital where he was swiftly treated.

Cassandra awoke days later and her slow improvement increased. Even one year later, the only difference was a small limp from where the broken femur had lost time in growth, causing a slight difference in the length of her legs. However, the thought of the stranger had haunted him . . . at least until he met the man in the forests behind the Daemon residence. From that point on, the two would meet and spar, imparting knowledge on one another, incorporating new moves into their technique. But never once did the two speak of their personal lives, nor even of their names.

As strange as this may have sounded, if he had told anyone that is, Gohan could not help but think that it felt normal for it to occur like it did. Just two fighters taking out aggression upon one another in brutal combat, never holding back. Gohan never transformed into his stronger states, merely content to battle it out in his most basic nature.

But now those battles would have to stop. All because of one girl.

It had been a simple game of truth or dare; none of the Daemon's even involved . . . directly. It was not until days later that anyone at their residence was able to understand the sight of an unconscious girl at the base of a tree in their back yard.

Apparently, the young woman had been dared to spy on Gohan and report back to her friends if the popular martial artist wore boxers or briefs. In order to complete her dare, she had climbed up the tree, eventually finding the one that looked straight into Gohan's room where she only had to wait a brief moment before the handsome teen entered the room. Unfortunately, Gohan had just gotten out of the shower, exiting his personal bathroom in the nude.

The usual teenage girl might swoon over seeing the perfectly sculpted muscles covered in smooth tan skin, radiating heat, water droplets making their trail over his body. Of course, the girl could not help but be drawn to watching him as he paraded around his room, searching for what she assumed to be his pajamas. Yet, when he bent over, she had noticed a very obvious difference between Gohan Daemon and other boys his age.

A tail.

Shocked, the girl had fallen out of the tree, unconscious, at its base, only to be discovered the next morning by Gohan himself. It had not taken very long for word to spread throughout the area, rumors of the `tailed freak' falling from the mouths of almost everyone. Gohan was unable to hide from them, having to fight off the mocking words and sneers with cold indifference, batting the hands that reached in attempt to expose or find the tail that he was rumored to hold.

As much as he could have denied the rumor, he would have been asked for proof. This was something he could not give, thus rendering himself unable to battle the negative slurs that were focused upon him.

The Daemons soon found themselves accepting an offer to go head to head against Mister Satan with a new martial arts dojo in Satan City. The house was quickly put up for sale, as well as their furniture and vehicles. The rest were boxed up and shipped out to the house that Erik and Angel had found on one of their many trips to the area in search of both home as well as gym.

And now, as he stared at the rubble in front of him, the remains of the machinery he was found in as a toddler, he knew he would miss the only place he knew as home. Gold light flared about him as he destroyed the remains of one of the few links he still had to his origin. Returning to normal, he headed towards the waiting taxi, unable to look back, the threat of the memories his childhood home held overwhelming him.

Climbing into the taxi cab, he seated himself beside his sister, one hand carefully squeezing around one of hers as the other hand drifted to the single link he now held: his dog tags. Scenery passed by as the family headed to the airport, moving into their unknown future.

Deep down, Gohan couldn't help but feel that instead of walking away from everything he had ever known, he was headed home.

~*~

AN: And yes, that was Super Saiyan Two he moved into. Sorry if it seemed to jump around, but that is just how it worked out. I didn't even plan on having the whole car accident thing, it wrote it on its own. Same for the discovery . . . REVIEW!!!!!