Chapter Text
AITA: Great Saiyaman Saves the Day (But Not The City Budget)
Posted by HeckinGud 6 hours ago
(I am not The Great Saiyaman™, but this needs to be brought up, because I am shook. Have you seen the news coverage? If you haven’t, do you live under a rock??)
So two days ago, The Great Saiyaman stopped a plane (Boeing 727 according to article here ) with over a hundred passengers from crashing into the middle of Satan City. According to the pilots, the plane suffered major engine failure, and started plummeting to the ground (article here .) They were AIMING for Orange Star River to make their landing, but the plane got out of control and it was headed straight into the center of the city. It’s been estimated (article here and here ) that if the plane hit the city, there would have been a death count well into the hundreds, with hundreds of millions of zenni in damage to the surrounding buildings. AKA: bad dog no biscuit, do not pass go, these aren’t the droids you’re looking for.
Then Saiyaman appears, flies under the plane, grabs it in mid-flight, and guides it through the city, dodging buildings and skyscrapers, to slowly come to a halt in a local park. Great news, right?
Apparently the mayor doesn’t agree. The city council is fining Saiyaman for the damages to the park—despite no one being injured, including the 100+ passengers aboard, and avoiding utter catastrophe in downtown.
But hey, the Hercule statue got demolished, so clearly he didn’t Superhero well enough. Git gud Saiyaman.
Apparently the fines were originally going to be hefted on the airline buuuuuuut their lawyers blocked that shit real quick and passed the buck onto Saiyaman, because who’s going to defend someone with no legal presence? There is currently a reward for any information on the identity and whereabouts of Saiyaman. Because of course there is.
TL:DR; our dorky resident superhero saves the day, but it’s not good enough because he broke a few inane things while saving hundreds of human lives. Because, capitalism.
If there was ever any sign that this is the end times, this is it.
So here’s the question. Saiyaman: is he the asshole?
329 Comments
BasePeach - 6 hours ago
Fake. It’s a media conspiracy, people can’t fly.
DollHannah - 6 hours ago
First
LimeBaby69 - 6 hours ago
— You’re not the first idiot try again LOL
SaiyaFlan - 6 hours ago
This sounds an awful lot like what Saiyaman would say... Just saiyan (Get it, saiyan? Like Saiyaman???)
LimeBaby69 - 6 hours ago
— And we have a winner for worst dad pun
HerculeLovin - 6 hours ago
HERCULE SAVED US ALL NO ONE DESECRATES HIS STATUE AND GETS AWAY WITH IT
4ll_H4il_S4t4n - 5 hours ago
— OMG I luv Hercule ;_;
PunksPundit - 5 hours ago
Slow news day I guess if we’re debating whether some vigilante who runs around vandalizing things is an asshole or not. Have you seen those ridiculous poses? YTA
ScienceRebel621 - 5 hours ago
Did we watch the same video?!? Saiyaman saved hundreds of people, but y’all are pissed because he messed up some landscaping doing it. NTA
BookBB4Eva - 5 hours ago
— because inanimate objects are clearly more important than people's lives in the real world. Duh /s
SaveMeSaiyaman - 5 hours ago
Uuuuuuuh did you see those biceps??
ButterStutter - 4 hours ago
— And triceps and deltoids and brachioradialis and he’s basically a real life anatomy chart come to life…
StyleTigerRAWR - 4 hours ago
— Nerds. Oof. But also… oh god yes I did WOW
Chad_Da_Beast - 5 hours ago
Okay but, why the hell didn’t he just stop the plane before it even reached the city? I timed it, and Saiyaman spent almost two minutes moving the plane through the city before hitting the park. Yet, he got to the plane BEFORE it hit the city line. He was just milking it for attention and it backfired. YTA.
Smartphones were overrated. It had nothing to do with instant access to the world’s collective knowledge (which Gohan loved) and everything to do with instant access to everyone's bad opinions (which he hated.)
Specifically, everyone’s opinions on his alter ego, The Great Saiyaman. Emphasis on GREAT, thank you very much.
The outfit isn’t THAT bad… right? Gohan sighed, set the phone down on his desk, and turned it on its face so he wouldn’t have to see the notifications popping up every few seconds. He debated turning it off, but too many formative years of fights to the death and unexpected danger bred deep instilled vigilance.
Plus, who knows when mom will need anything. There had been far too many times when his mother texted him frantically about doing one errand or another in the city before he left class. Mount Paozu was far removed from the bustling city; Gohan being at classes during the week gave Chi Chi an excuse to indulge in food stuffs and sales that otherwise would have been too much of a hassle to bother with. It wasn’t uncommon to spend the hour after school searching the city for this or that.
Gohan didn’t mind. The more he explored the city, the more entranced he was with the sprawling roads filled with stopped traffic, giant skyscrapers reaching into the clouds, the noxious smell of burned gasoline, and chatter of more humans than Gohan had probably seen in his whole life before he started school. Not to mention, it helped him navigate it easier as Saiyaman.
Granted, he could never live there. He had long since accepted that the part of him that was Saiyan would always crave the wild, unknown reaches of isolated and untouched wilderness over the cold metal, and concrete confines of civilization. He liked the crowds well enough in small doses—oh god, the smells alone were an experience to someone more used to the smell of petrichor and decaying leaves—let alone the sounds of chattering that was a blanket over the backdrop of accelerating cars and angry horns blasting. But after a few hours, something ached in him for the thrumming waterfall that Piccolo liked to meditate by.
Still, it was nice to visit. Especially when it came to taking down “bad guys” that couldn’t hold a candle to his seven-year-old brother. For the first time in his life, fighting and defeating villains didn’t involve overpowered aliens, his family and friends dying to save him, or spending years frantically training day and night for an uncertain future. For Gohan, being a superhero was almost a vacation, a chance to enjoy fighting in a way he never had before. It was magical.
At least, it had been. That was before. Before Bulma gave him a top of the line myPhone for his birthday. Before Erasa had shown him how to use social media. Before Videl showed him UTube.
Before he realized that Saiyaman was alternatingly the city’s laughingstock, “Most Eligible Superhero” slash “Satan City’s Sweetheart”, or a masked vigilante and vandal with an increasingly large amount of fines from the city treasury.
Gohan glared at the innocuous device as if it were the reincarnation of Cell, then couldn’t stop a weary snort at his own thoughts. Cell. Cell phone. Oh god, dad would be proud.
At a high pitched squeal next to him, Gohan barely stopped himself from leaping off the chair into a fighting stance when he realized it was Erasa. She was fanning her face as she looked at her phone, jumping up and down in her chair. Her lips were tightly sealed, but there was a lovestruck smile on her face that pushed her cheeks into dimples as she started to frantically poke Videl sitting next to her.
For her part, Videl fired a stony glare at the over-excited blonde. Unimpressed, Erasa leaned in close, and it’s only Gohan’s enhanced hearing that allowed him to understand the frantically whispered conversation.
“Oh my god, it’s been delivered, Videl! It’s early. Oh, I can’t wait until I get home!” Erasa seemed to think this was explanation enough, stifling an excited giggle into her fist.
“Ugh, Erasa, what are you even talking about?” Videl took Erasa’s phone, the blond clearly too hysterical to form a coherent explanation. There was a pause as Videl scrolled through the phone before her neck and cheeks turned a surprising rosy pink. “Oh god, Erasa, you didn’t. Seriously?”
If Gohan wasn’t curious before, he was bursting at the seams now to subtly listen in on their conversation. Though he realized it was hypocritical of him (he is a half-alien that can fly, and defeated his first super-villain at eleven after all—none of which his friends knew) it was always difficult for him not to know the goings on in his little quartet of friends—too long of being the outsider, unaware of the goings on around him. Sometimes it was like they spoke a language he didn’t understand; one he is slowly learning, but it doesn’t prevent him from often feeling left out. In the year he’d attended Orange Star High, Videl, Erasa, and Sharpner had become close. Well, as close as he could ever be to ‘uninitiated’ humans.
And boy, did that thought sober his anxious curiosity. It’s not very fair for me to be so nosy when I’m hiding so much from them, is it?
It’s not that he hadn’t wanted to tell them; Videl if no one else, with her being around Saiyaman so much. But it had never been the right time.
Maybe it never would be.
“Oh come on, Videl. Do you know how hard it was to get a hold of one of these? They only made 500 and they sold out in fifteen minutes. It’s made by Play Arts Cai, it’s completely poseable, and look at those biceps! And how detailed it is, you can see every fold of his tunic. There’s a tiny little antennae on his helmet, see? He even talks when you press on his visor!”
Videl for her part looked more and more horrified as Erasa listed the qualities of… what exactly ?
“It’s a Saiyaman Barbie, Erasa,” Videl deadpanned. “I don’t get what the big deal is.”
Wait, what??
Erasa, seemingly aghast at Videl’s enthusiastic response, snatched her phone back and held it close to her chest. “It is not a Barbie! It’s an action figure . And you’re just mad they made one of Saiyaman and not you.”
Videl eyes narrowed, her face reddening. She speaks between clenched teeth, slowly as if talking to a child. “The only reason I don’t have an action figure is because they can’t make one without my permission. Saiyaman isn’t a copyrighted figure or a registered name, so he’s free game. That’s all! Ugh. It’s stupid. He is stupid.”
“Oh, I see,” Erasa hid her face behind her phone, but from his angle Gohan could see the mischievous glimmer in her eyes. “So you don’t want one, then? Shame.”
Videl straightened, voice tense. “You just said they sold out. Even if I wanted one— which I don’t —they’re gone.”
“Weeeeell, I may have ordered you one too,” Erasa wiggled in her seat, like she had Videl just where she wanted her and they both knew it. “But if you don’t want it, I guess I could give it to Sharpner. Hey, Sharpner!”
The blond, who had been staring off and nearly asleep next to Videl, jumped at hearing his name. He blinked, eyes darting around before realizing the teacher was still drawing on the board and that it was Erasa who had called his name. “What?” he grumbled.
Videl’s gaze turned frantically between them. “Hey, wait a minute -”
“Do you want an exclusive, limited edition Saiyaman action figure?” she sing-songed as she waved the phone in front of her.
Sharpener yawned, seemingly unimpressed and bored. “How much do they sell for? I could use some extra cash.”
“What?! No! That’s not—” Videl grabbed for Erasa’s phone but she held it out of reach.
“They’re going on ebay for over a hundred thousand yenni last I checked. Which is crazy, I only spent twenty thousand.”
Videl’s face took on a greenish palor, eyes boggling at the amount. “You spent how much ? What the fu—”
“I’ll take it off your hands, then,” Sharpener interrupted. He stretched his hands in front of him, cracking the knuckles where the clasped as if the whole conversation was already tiring him. “I’ll sell it and pay you back what you bought it for.”
Videl bared her teeth, snarled, “Hey! That’s my—”
“That’s your what, Videl?” Erasa asked, the corners of her mouth upturned in a knowing cheshire grin. “I thought you didn’t like, oh what did you call him? Saiyadork?” She sighed. “More like Saiya- dahmn. ”
“Please,” Videl started between clenched teeth, “Never say that again.” Her shoulders rose and fell with barely contained frustration.
Gohan couldn’t help but quietly agree. I didn’t need to hear that from you, Erasa. Or anyone, come to think of it.
Videl regained her composure, straightening her back and turning to Erasa with steely determination in her tone. “You bought it for me, so I’ll take it. My mother always said to be gracious when receiving a gift.” She paused. “Besides, I can yell at it when Saiyadork pisses me off.”
Erasa rolled her eyes, amusement plain on her face. “Sure you will.”
And then Erasa did something that made Gohan’s heart flutter in panic, and he gripped the table a little too tightly if the quiet cracking of wood was any indication. She turned to him and said: “What about you Gohan?”
He blinked. His eyes quickly flicked over to Videl, then Sharpner, but both of their gazes were now fixed on him. “Me?” he asked, stupified.
Erasa twirled a stray curled bang in her fingers, eyes full of curiosity as she addressed him. “You never really say anything when we talk about Saiyaman.”
“Oh,” he replied dumbly. First in your class, my ass. Think of something! “Well, I…Don’t really have any opinion I guess?” He shrugged.
Next to him Videl rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, turning her gaze to the window. “He’s just mad because I was so certain he was Saiyaman, until I realized what a bookworm he is.”
Gohan nodded, quick to jump on any excuse to move the attention away from him when it came to his alter ego. “I mean, you’re not wrong. I am a bookworm.”
“Oh! Speaking of Saiyaman, Videl.” Erasa’s face took a turn, frustration oozing from her features and she turned on her best friend with fierce concentration.
“I’ve waited for over a year for you to get me Saiyaman’s autograph,” she said, pointing an accusing finger at her. “You see him all the time , but I bet you’ve never asked, have you?”
Videl rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I see see him. He pops in, knocks the bad guys out, does some stupid poses, then flies off,” she gesticulated as she answered, rude hand gestures interspersed with what she must have deemed hand signals for the aforementioned ‘Saiyaman poses.’ “When exactly am I supposed to ask?”
Erasa pouted, then turned to face the front of the class with her arms crossed. The silent treatment lasted a full forty-two seconds (Gohan counted) before Videl acquiesced, throwing her hands up.
“FINE,” Videl said, rubbing at her eyes. “I’ll get your stupid autograph.”
Erasa squealed, and Gohan dared a gaze to the front of the class where the teacher was still droning away. Public education is pretty lax isn’t it?
“Here, I put together a page for my scrapbook,” Erasa pulled from her backpack a binder covered in glitter and magazine clippings. She opened to a page that was lined in hearts. One heart in particular was framing a photo of Saiyaman in flight from a distance. Oh my god…
“It has to be on this page!” Erasa tapped the center of the paper repeatedly for emphasis. “And don’t forget to take a photo when he’s signing it, or it doesn’t count.”
Videl had looked like she wanted to vomit when she saw the aforementioned scrapbook, but was pulled out of her stupor at the request. “Who cares about a photo? That’s only for collectors to authenticate that it was him, not just for something personal like this.”
Erasa folded her arms, chin turned up and mouth in a line. More resolved than Gohan had ever seen her before. “And who says I’m not a collector? This is serious business.”
Videl rolled her eyes. Again. “As serious as Saiyaman gets, I guess.”
Erasa sighed. Again.
Why are these two friends? Gohan thought. There has to be a story here…
“You just don’t get the appeal Videl,” Erasa said, shaking her head as if Videl was being the ridiculous party.
Videl smirked at Erasa, but it was lined with subtle fondness. “I really, really don’t.”
Erasa wasn’t mollified. She pouted, unamused at the teasing.
Videl must have realized she had gone too far. She inhaled and seemed to gather herself. Her next words were more earnest, even though they still held a trace of frustration. “Alright, alright. Why don’t you explain it to me then?”
Erasa’s face brightened, and she opened her mouth to reply—
“Why don’t you two stop chattering and listen to my explanation of the meaning behind The Catcher in the Rye , and why Salinger chose that title? Or would you prefer to write an essay about it in detention?”
Trending on Orange News:
- He Visited West City for his daughter’s wedding—and left with a half a million zenni medical bill
- Brain & Brawn: Dr. Bulma Briefs on why Saiyaman is the Hero Satan City deserves
- Surgeon General warns that social media may not be safe for kids
- Yamcha drops shocking World Martial Arts Tournament revelation amid Orange Star Baseball World Series heroics
Gohan stared at an article on his phone, his mouth slowly dropping open as his heart raced. “Oh, shit.”
Notes:
I'm posting this pre-betaing because I am IMPATIENT but if you see any proofing errors feel free to comment. But I won't be doing any major overhauls as far as plot and character development, as this is just for funsies. I have enough major editing to do for my own original fiction :/
Chapter 2: vanity and pride are different things
Summary:
"Despite what the newscaster and Videl thought, Gohan isn’t an idiot. He knows the costume is a bit much. He knows the poses are ridiculous. That’s the point... If they’re focused on his silly poses, they’re not focused on how he just held up half a building so people could escape as it collapsed around them. They’re not thinking about how he just deflected bullets from several AK-47s without breaking a sweat, then took down the half dozen criminals aiming them before anyone could blink....
All they're thinking about is how silly Saiyaman’s costume is, and oh look he’s doing those ridiculous poses, again, isn’t that nice? Our sweet, naive, oblivious superhero who wouldn’t hurt a fly even though he could destroy the planet if he wanted to."
Notes:
Why yes, I DO in fact have panels I'll be on, workshops I'll be running, and other convention stuff to worry about that I need to prepare for coming up very, very soon and I am instead procrastinating to finally finish and post the next chapter of this fanfiction why do you ask??
I don't know how I can sometimes write 4-5k in my original work in one day and it took me like a month to get this chapter out. Make this make sense. So yeah, this isn't at all abandoned. I will tell you if I do so. I'm just super slow. Like a sloth. Sloths were "in" like five years ago, right??
In good news, I have bits and pieces of other chapters written. It's not like I'm going from 1 to 60 on every chapter. I write slightly out of order, so I'll write future scenes as they come to me.
In maybe not bad news but interesting news, this absolutely started as me wanting to write a social media/crack fic for Gohan/DBZ and now I've turned it existential and emo so I guess I have a lane and I'm staying in it. Crack taken seriously anyone???
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Capsule Corporations Dr. Bulma Briefs on Saiyaman: “We’re lucky to have a hero with intellect to match his strength.”
The scientific community was flummoxed yesterday when the elusive Dr. Bulma Briefs, CEO of Capsule Corporation and heir to the company, broke her many years long social media silence to offer up a defense of The Great Saiyaman’s actions that prevented an airplane crash last Tuesday.
The article, “ Brain & Brawn: Why Saiyaman is the Hero Satan City Deserves ,” was posted on the rarely used Official Capsule Corp Blog and linked on their official BirdWord and Faceplace accounts. The main portion of the article delves into how the physical ramifications of stopping the Boeing 727 before it reached the city would have affected the passengers inside.
“Simply put, if Saiyaman had stopped the plane that fast, it would have snapped the necks of everyone on board.” Dr. Briefs writes in the article. “The whiplash would have been incredibly severe—it would be a miracle if anyone had survived. Letting the plane de-accelerate slowly was his only option. With the plane at almost a -45 ° nose dive to the ground, there was also no way to turn it closer to baseline fast enough without hurting the passengers.” ( See a clip of Saiyaman’s daring rescue here .)
“By changing the angle as the plane descended into the city, and moving it between the buildings—with very minimal damage at that—Saiyaman prevented the tragedy of a crash in the populated downtown area, and was able to save the lives of those on board at the same time. That shows not only brute strength, but a great amount of intelligence and awareness. These split second decisions are what make him such a valuable asset to Satan City.”
Dr. Briefs goes on to explain her calculations and results based on video footage of the rescue, interviews with doctors specializing in spine and brain injuries from vehicle collisions, as well as top scientists whose research focuses on physics and kinetic energy.
This discussion sparked a heated defense among the scientific community of the wayward superhero, who has been accumulating quite a bit of flak from the judicial branch of Satan City in recent months.
“There’s a lot we don’t know about what Saiyaman is able to do,” Dr. Eduard Boltzmann of West City University said in a video on the university's UTube channel. “We honestly don’t know what he’s capable of, whether the same rules apply to him as everyone else. Clearly some don’t, or he wouldn’t be able to fly at all. But we do know what normal humans are and are not capable of, and my research corroborates Dr. Briefs’ conclusion. There was no way to stop that plane before it reached the city without casualties.”
“To be honest, I’m just glad Saiyaman thought of it,” popular science educator Will Bye said in an interview on the Yesterday Show this morning. “Most people wouldn’t. Imagine going through all that effort to stop the plane, and your rescue then kills everyone on board. The guys got a brain, along with being able to defy the laws of physics.”
Yet, despite Dr. Brief’s best efforts, it may not be the science that history will report when it comes to the daring rescue. Onlookers were less impressed with his quick thinking, and more awed at the sight of Saiyaman carrying a 185 ton plane through the city without breaking a sweat.
“It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” said one witness. “Him guiding the plane through town. I don’t think I’ll ever see anything like it again.”
Don’t be so sure, citizens of Satan City. If the past year means anything, The Great Saiyaman is here to stay.
52 Comments
He4rTuR3p0rt! - 3 hours ago
Um.. ACTUALLY, if the passengers were in the brace position this wouldn’t be a worry anyway.
SaveTheSeas245 - 3 hours ago
— You really don’t think that a scientist at the level of the CEO of Capsule Corporation didn’t think of passengers being in the brace position in her calculations? But also, Saiyaman caught them BEFORE they hit the ground, so it’s likely not all of the passengers would have been in one at that point.
BugZ4pper666 - 2 hours ago
— The brace position was made to kill people quickly anyway. It’s just so passengers don’t experience pain when they die in a crash.
SaveTheSeas245 - 2 hours ago
— You know that makes no sense right? Statistically, plane crashes have a 95.7 survivability rate, and the likelihood of being in one in the first place is one in 11 million.
BugZ4pper666 - 1 hours ago
— Tell that to the people who were on that plane.
SaiyamanSaveMe! - 3 hours ago
I’ve started a group on Faceplace called Saiyaman Spotting . We’ve calculated his height and weight based on compilations of video footage, cross referencing them to nearby objects. We’re currently making a timeline of all his sightings. We’ve got almost ten thousand members. Come join us!
Hot4MapleSyrup - 2 hours ago
Why are we still talking about this? Like, seriously? We’re the generation that saw the coming and fall of Cell, and we’re getting all snippy over someone being able to pick up an airplane? Just accept that truth is stranger than fiction and move on. Tired of hearing of this crap.
ScienceRebel621 - 2 hours ago
— We’re talking about this BECAUSE we’re the generation who saw Cell, and NGL we’re low key hoping if someone like that ever pops up again Saiyaman could make a difference. At least those of us who give a damn are.
Fl4sh0fL1ght - 2 hours ago
— Cell was just some big publicity stunt. Y’all are idiots.
SatanFan123 - 1 hours ago
— Nuh uh, Hercule SAVED US! And he could take on Saiya-nah any day!
Bulm4Br13fsIs4L1z4rdPrsn - 32 minutes ago
Okay but, like, is no one else going to suggest Capsule Corp and Saiyaman being connected? Specifically to Bulma Briefs? Of anyone I think she would be able to give people superpowers somehow…
—
“You didn’t have to do that, Bulma.”
They weren’t the words Gohan wanted to say, but he was raised to have manners, and despite the effects of Bulma’s article, her intent was coming from a good place. She just wants to protect me, in the only way she can.
The residential area of Capsule Corp always felt a bit lonely this time of day. It was late Thursday afternoon, and Gohan had flown over right after classes to pick up Goten (definitely not so he could not-so-subtley chew Bulma out for her ill-timed defense.) But that meant he was earlier than normal. He usually flew around as his caped alter-ego for a while after school.
He didn’t have the heart to pull Goten away from Trunks and whatever new video game console he’d acquired. Vegeta was still smashing Bulma’s top-of-the-line and nigh—but not completely—indestructible robots to smithereens in the Gravity Chamber. Bulma’s father would be taking a nap while Bulma’s mother walked around the complex watering her plants (even though she could have had robots do that for her.)
Which left him, Bulma, and the elephant in the room. Plus a gnawing sense that he was the only person in the building with any sense despite two of them having several doctorates.
“‘Course I did, kiddo,” Bulma said as she chewed her lip. She used a tiny screwdriver to detach a computer chip from the back of a remote Gohan couldn’t identify. “You do so much for that city, and people are being ridiculous. Idiots. Sometimes people need a kick in the butt to realize they’re being unrealistic.”
When she looked up at Gohan from her workstation, her eyes were still covered by the magnifying goggles, her eyes blown out and comical behind the lenses. It made it hard to take her earnest words seriously.
“Even if they’re being jerks, you should know that I really am proud of you. I don’t know if even your father would have realized that humans aren’t as hardy as you all are.” She pulled the glasses off her head and shook her hair from where it was glued to her head from sweat. “He could be such a knuckle head sometimes.”
As she turned away to stare off into the distance, a small frown twisted her features. “It would have broken his heart if he’d hurt someone trying to help like that. I was a little worried when you started all this, but I should have known you could handle it.” The smile she aimed at him was soft and fond, yet made him feel all of five years old again. “You’re a good kid. Always have been.”
He hesitated to answer, knowing what he should say, but it warred inside him with how he really felt. I’m not a child anymore, for one. I can fight my own battles, and I’m tired of everyone having to put themselves in danger because I’m too much of a coward to stand up in the first place.
“Thanks, Bulma,” he said instead, giving in to deep instilled manners. “That means a lot.”
And yet.
“Still. You really, really didn’t have to do all that.”
Bulma froze where she had started to reach for a different tool. She turned to Gohan, head tilted, face scrunched in question—and was that a bit of amusement?
“I didn’t have to, or you didn’t want me to?”
Gohan felt the words die in his throat, choking the air from his lungs.
“I...”
Bulma leaned back in her computer chair, the harsh squeal it made grating on his already frayed nerves. “Why does it bother you?” She asked. The question isn’t accusing but curious, yet it put Gohan on the defensive all the same. “I didn’t say anything untrue.”
Gohan looked around the room—the overfull folders bursting with paperwork, tools strewn about in what Bulma called ‘organized chaos.’ Various machinery beeped at odd moments, tracking more information than Gohan could even conceptualize. This was Bulma’s personal office, the birthplace of all of her greatest inventions. It felt sacreligious to exist in this space and question the CEO’s tactics.
But if there was one thing his mother passed down to him, it was her stubbornness. And he wouldn’t be his father’s son if he didn’t have a protective streak.
“I’m just afraid they’ll trace Saiyaman back to Capsule Corp,” he said, timid and quiet. “And you. I don’t want you to get in trouble. The fines…”
Bulma waved off the rest of his words. “The fines are purely political. Security theater, to make people feel like they’re doing something when they’re actually not. If you marched over to the courthouse in your Saiyaman costume and demanded an itemized list of the charges, I guarantee you they’d go away. And they’d be shaking in their boots the whole time. The one and only reason they haven’t yet is because you’ve not done anything about it.”
She’s quieted for a moment, and Gohan could practically see the thoughts fluttering around in her (unfortunately for him) tactical and intuitive mind. “Speaking of which, why haven’t you?”
I don’t want them to fear me . The thought curled sour and dark in his gut, and he winced at the truth of it. The longer he existed in the ‘real’ world— the human world —the more he came to terms with the fact that he could never be fully accepted in it. His best bet was to hide his abilities, to feign being normal .
What he’s capable of is far too much for most humans to handle. Being honest with himself, this thought scares him the most. If he remains masked, he remains an unknown—a mystery. Separate.
Despite what the newscaster and Videl thought, Gohan isn’t an idiot. He knows the costume is a bit much. He knows the poses are ridiculous. That’s the point.
For one? They’re fun. He can be silly and make a fool of himself—which considering he usually does his “The Great Saiyaman” routine after he saved someone from dangerous criminals or certain death, they could all use the tension relief.
But the second part, the part Gohan doesn’t like to admit to himself? If they’re focused on his silly poses, they’re not focused on how he just held up half a building so people could escape as it collapsed around them. They’re not thinking about how he just deflected bullets from several AK-47s without breaking a sweat, then took down the half dozen criminals aiming them before anyone could blink. They’re not focused on how he’d stopped an out of control, fully-loaded semi truck with one hand.
All they're thinking about is how silly Saiyaman’s costume is, and oh look he’s doing those ridiculous poses, again, isn’t that nice? Our sweet, naive, oblivious superhero who wouldn’t hurt a fly even though he could destroy the planet if he wanted to. It’s safest for everyone.
But he couldn’t say all that, not out loud. And not just for Bulma’s sake. It feels like if I say it out loud…it’ll be real.
“I just… don’t want to make a fuss about it. It’s not a big deal.” He twisted his fingers into nervous knots, turned away from Bulma’s gaze to stare at his calloused hands. Compared to his mothers smooth, delicate fingers, even now showing wrinkles with age, his hands always seemed so harsh and coarse. Rough, like weapons.
“Big enough of a deal to bother you though, right?” The curiosity in her tone coaxed Gohan to look up, and he cursed those shrewd eyes as they stripped down his expression—like she was building a blueprint of his psyche in her own mind.
“Yeah, I guess so.” His shoulders climbed to hide his neck, like prey protecting its vulnerable parts. “I just don’t think it’s worth the conflict.”
“I suppose you’ve had enough conflict to fill a lifetime.” Bulma’s turned away from him to bend back over her workspace. He immediately felt some of the tension drain from his muscles.
Gohan thought that maybe the conversation was over, but then she piped up, “You can’t keep avoiding it because it makes you uncomfortable. Whether it’s a fight with words or your fists, there’s always going to be someone who disagrees with you. If you keep avoiding it, it’s only going to get worse.”
“Hmm,” he answered noncommittally—he was frustrated at the conversation, and it leaked through his good manners. Gohan looked up at the clock. Each tick seemed to take longer than the last. It was still another thirty minutes before Goten would be ready to go. This was a bad idea. When did this get out of my control? I was supposed to be guilting her, not the other way around.
Bulma shook her head wearily at Gohan’s non-answer. She straightened in her chair to crack her back. When Gohan met her gaze she was wearing a mischievous smile. “You know, the article wasn’t even my idea. Not exactly. I was fine with letting you deal with it on your own, as the adult you are now. But someone we know thought you could use some help.”
Wait, what? “Who? Mom?”
“Oh, Chi Chi does a lot of screaming, that’s for sure. Pretty sure she blames me for giving you the outfit. As if I’d dress you in that monstrosity.” Bulma seemed to find this hilarious, because she paused to stifle giggles into her hands. Gohan bit his lip to stop himself from reminding her it was her that ultimately designed the outfit, even if the suggestion for it was originally Goten’s.
“But no,” she finally said, still with a tinge of humor, “I was thinking more of a short, spikey haired, brooding monkey prince that went on for days about ‘ungrateful humans’ and ‘fighting back using their own methods.” The latter she said in a fake deep, gravely voice, head tilted back and nose upturned in an exaggerated haughtiness.
What? Gohan sat frozen for a moment, the impossibility of that scenario at odds with Bulma’s seeming certainty. She wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true but…
“Vegeta? Why would he…”
She shrugged, and Gohan got the feeling that despite having lived together for almost a decade now, Bulma may not have as much insight into the mind of the Saiyan Prince as he thought she would. “Beats me,” she said as she started setting her tools into a metal tray. “ Maybe it rankles him that you won’t defend yourself as one of the few ‘mighty Saiyan warriors’ left. You wanna know, ask him.”
He considered this for only a second before he dismissed the idea. Gohan couldn’t say that Vegeta actively hated him like he did Goku, but he had never been particularly fond of Gohan’s love of studying and insistence on interacting with humans. He had been there whenever Gohan had questions about being Saiyan, but they hadn’t interacted enough since the Cell fiasco for Gohan to know Vegeta’s stance on…well, much of anything.
Except fighting, of course. That went without saying.
Gohan waited to reply until Bulma is finished clearing her workspace, considering his words carefully. “I appreciate the thought, but I think I’d rather not. He has such a low opinion of me to begin with; this’d just confirm all his beliefs about me.”
Bulma aligned the two pieces of the remote she’d been working on, then clicked them together. Now that it wasn’t face down, Gohan was amused to see was the remote to one of the supposed ‘indestructible’ Gravity Room robots. “Well, at least don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. That article has got people thinking.”
That’s what I’m afraid of actually . “I suppose.”
Gohan pulled his phone out of his pocket. He’d put it on silent when he arrived at Capsule Corporation so he wouldn’t be tempted to keep checking it. The notifications of new articles on Saiyaman had accumulated during his time talking to Bulma. He told himself to dismiss the messages without looking—but before they cleared he glimpsed they’re now in the triple digits.
“This is such a mess,” he muttered. His screen is empty now, but he’s under no illusion that the conversation died down. He can’t decide if it’s better to know or be ignorant.
Bulma snorted, surprising Gohan—who’d thought he’d been quieter in his annoyance.
“Welcome to adulthood, kiddo.”
—
Despite having heard Erasa’s conversation with Videl, it caught Gohan—no, Saiyaman —by surprise when Videl dragged her feet over to him once the would-be bank robbers were being dragged away in cuffs. She didn’t meet his eyes, but Gohan spied the book Erasa had given Videl clasped between white knuckled hands when she stopped in front of him.
Gohan gulped in a steadying breath. Crap.
“Look. This isn’t for me, so don’t let it get to your head,” Videl started through clenched teeth. “My friend has been begging me to ask you for your autograph. I know you don’t really do that sort of thing, but my friend insisted. So I guess, do it or don’t, I don’t care.”
At that, she had thrust the book towards him, and Gohan felt every muscle in his body tighten to prepare to either fight or flee. He had to consciously remind himself to breathe, Gohan, breathe, and was suddenly thankful for his helmet so that Videl couldn’t see him close his eyes as he counted to five to gather himself like Piccolo taught him. What does it say about me that I can handle fights to the death and not bat an eye, but social interaction scares me so much?
Gohan tried to ignore Videl for the moment, tried to not to notice her losing her patience, and tried to remind himself I am safe, there’s nothing to fight, there’s nothing to flee from.
“You’re right that I don’t normally sign autographs,” Gohan started once he was calm, forgetting to alter his voice. He saw the subtle way Videl’s shoulder’s drooped, then continued. “But if it’s for your friend, that’s okay. I’ll sign it.”
She blinked, eyes trying to meet his behind his helmet but they’re hidden behind the mirrored visor. “Wait, really?” Her voice was tentative, but tinged with hope.
Gohan shrugged, feigning disinterest when really, his heart pounded in his ears and over the normally ever-present background noise of the city. “Why not? You’re such a big help to the city. And me. I’ll repay you in any way I can. A signature isn’t really much, but it’s a start.”
Videl’s face flushed pink before she turned away. She thrust the book closer—it hit him in the chest but he snatched it before the corners could bend. She muttered a sorry, tried to grab for the book again, before realizing that Gohan had caught it for her. Her hands fluttered in the air for a second, like birds unsure where to land, before she pulled them back to her chest and took a step back. It was only a few seconds of time, but by the end her face was beet red and her jaw clenched as she avoided his gaze.
Gohan tried to hide his smile at her awkwardness. Somehow seeing her fail at interacting with him made him feel…more at ease. Like maybe this was just as weird and forced for her, and it was okay for it to feel unnatural and hard. And maybe it had nothing to do with him and his being an outsider, and odd, and literally alien, and everything to do with it simply being new .
He opened to the page Erasa had shown them in class, and failed to hide a small upturn of the sides of his mouth at the thought as he started to write his name in the book…then stopped.
Crap.
Oh, oh no.
His name. His name. He had started to write his own name—Son Gohan, not Saiyaman.
“Uh…” His muscles clenched immediately, taught as a bowstring as he stared at the single black stroke on the page he’d already completed, stark and betraying against the white, unblemished backdrop of the rest of the paper.
“Is something wrong?” Videl’s voice was laced with apprehension, an edge of distrust that she could see the unease in his stance. That there was something amiss and she didn’t like that she couldn’t tell what.
“It’s just uh…” He tried to find the words, but his tongue tripped over his teeth.
She crossed her arms, and with her standing there, suddenly looking so cool, so sure of herself—suddenly he forgot the awkward camaraderie from before and he felt like he was ten years old again staring up at her from below, instead of looking down at her from a foot above. “Well? Are you going to do it or not?”
“It’s just,” He inhaled, and even though he knows it sounds silly, he can’t think of anything else he could say. “I’ve never actually signed my name.”
She raised her eyebrows at him. The moment dragged on, Gohan’s heart beating in his jaw and he added on clumsily, “As Saiyaman, that is.”
Videl blinked, then her expression uncharacteristically softened. “Oh. I guess you really
don’t
do autographs, do you?” The tension drained between them, and he’s fascinated that she moved slightly more into his space then; as if by admitting weakness, a wall had fallen between them.
Gohan scratched the back of his neck stiffly. “No, not really.”
She picked at her bottom lip with finger; looked at him sideways, like he was a puzzle and she was trying to figure out the corner pieces before she could even begin to tackle the interior. “I suppose I can give you some advice. My dad signs a lot of autographs, and he goes on and on about public image and maintaining his fan base. Drives me nuts, but I guess I’ve learned a thing or two about fame from him, whether I want to or not.”
It was Gohan’s turn to look at Videl like a puzzle—or maybe as someone he hadn’t truly seen before. I never really thought about whether fame was something Videl wanted .
She crouched down and dug into her backpack, dropping odds and ends onto the cracked concrete of the parking lot before she found what she’d been looking for. She held out a small spiral notebook to him, well worn with edges tattered and pages missing. “Here. I got a notepad you can practice on a few times.”
It was almost all used, but she flipped to the end where there were fifteen or so pages remaining. Gohan promised to himself not to snoop, as tempting as it may have been. It’s not like she’s looking for Saiyaman anymore…right?
“It needs to be simple, something that’s individual to you so it’s harder to fake. But it also needs to be something you can write again and again and again.”
“That sounds… Hard actually.” He stared down at the small, ruled notebook in one hand, Erasa’s autograph book in the other, mind twisting in a million different directions as his body froze in place.
Seeing him stuck, she gently pried Erasa’s book from his fingers. “It is. Dad used to put devil horns on his signature when he was still wrestling. Not so much anymore, it takes too much time.”
When he still doesn’t move, she tried again, voice quiet, like coaxing a cat down from a tree. So uncharacteristic that it pulled Gohan from his stupor. “But maybe you can put something that’s unique to you in it?”
Something unique to me, huh? Gohan smiled as one of his earliest, most vivid memories came back to him in a rush. How his four year old self couldn’t imagine how significant that memory would be. How at eleven it would all come full circle. How now as an adult, he sees his seven year old brother, and it’s his turn to be the one to pass on his great grandfather’s legacy.
“I’ve got it.”
It took a few tries, a few different compositions before he was satisfied with how it looks, how writing it feels, before he was ready. But when he looked at the finished design, at the name in the small, spiral bound notebook, he could feel the blooming joy in his chest.
With a nod, he closed the notebook and reached for Erasa’s autograph book. “Okay, ready.”
It’s the trick of a moment, and then it’s done. He didn’t bother to re-read it, to look it over. He handed the book to Videl with a sincere smile on his face that hurt his cheeks. He didn’t mind that no one else would understand, except maybe his family, Yamcha, Krillin, and Bulma if they saw it. No one else was meant to understand.
Videl took the book with a hungry expression, but when she looked at the signature, turning it every which way, she glowered, mouth twisted in annoyance.
“I get shortening it from The Great Saiyaman to Saiyaman, but what's that circle thing with the stars?” She turned the book towards him, and it’s when he sees Videl Satan holding an image of his great grandfather’s dragonball that he realized he had made a terrible, terrible mistake.
He started to walk away before he even realized it himself.
“It’s a dragonball,” he said, because it won’t take them long to figure that much out so there was no point in hiding it. He made sure to inflect his voice this time, deep like he’s pretending to be Piccolo— who he not so secretly always thought was the real superher o—and swept his cape back as he walked to the edge of the parking lot. “The four star one.”
“Okaaaay. What does THAT mean,” she said, shouting both in frustration and at his distance.
He shrugged, because right now he’s not Gohan. He’s not human, he’s not Saiyan, he’s not anything but the city’s bumbling vigilante. And it’s all well and good to show himself in bits and pieces but to show all he is behind the mask would be too risky.
“You’re the detective. Figure it out.”
He lifted off, flew away from the parking lot, from Satan City, and from Videl Satan.
And if he left a piece of himself there, he’ll pretend i t wasn’t a piece he needed anyway.
—
Trending on BirdApp
#Saiyaman
#TheGreatSaiyaman
#TuesdayVibe
#FourStarDragonball
#AnotherPrideAndPrejudiceMovie
#OrangeStarPlaneCrash
#Dragonball
#WorldTurtle Day
Notes:
So far we've only really seen the Orange Star gang but we abso-fucking-lutely WILL be seeing Piccolo, Vegeta, Dende, Goten, Trunks, AKA all the fun peeps, and YES they will in some way shape or form be interacting with the world wide web and social media which...well. You'll have to see.
I'll be honest, this will prob not be compliant with Buu on. Why? Because Gohan was robbed that's why. I have opinions and if you want me to stay off my soapbox don't ask.
Chapter 3: fear can’t hurt you any more than a dream
Summary:
“I’m not a bad guy. Right?”
“Oh, honey. No one thinks that,” she sat down next to her eldest and placed a hand over his. His shoulders were drooped, but more worryingly his hands were shaking, his face pale. The misery was plain in his expression—misery she knew had little do with the video and more to do with seven years ago.
“The whole internet does. And the Satan City government, apparently,” he whispered. ‘Maybe I do too’ went unsaid, and Chi-Chi’s heart broke for her sensitive, tender-hearted son that had seen too much too young. All this because of some stupid song.
She shook her head, searching for the words to explain. “Gohan, honey,” she patted his hand, “when they say bad guy in the song, they don’t mean a villain. Not like Cell or Frieza. It means something…else.”
Notes:
I write slow. Apparently. I also didn't realize how long these chapters were getting. But hey, I break when it makes the most story sense I guess so *shrugs* Am I giving EVERYONE backstory? Why yes, apparently I am. Next chapter is a (shorter) semi-humorous interlude, then Vegeta gets into the story proper. Because I love our short, hangry alien prince.
Reminder: this is not following Buu saga, and definitely not following Super. And ages have been messed around with for reasons. Don't 'at' me ;)
P.S. A silly (and shorter, only 6 chapters) VegeHan is also coming up soonish because even I need a break from the emo lol.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
IzNoBe4st — posted 32 hours ago
Caption:
Why yes, we do normally dance to Capsule Corp washing machine jingles.
No, this is not that.
Here’s our dedication to our lovable, huggable, superpowered superdork, The Great Saiyaman. It’s officially been a year since he flew in like a lost, confused goose into Satan City and decided to stay anyway. We commend you for making our city safer, inspiring us all to jump off our beds again pretending to fly, and gifting us with your Victory Saiya-dances.
#VictorySaiyaDance #DanceTok #Saiyaman
Video Loop:
Two people wearing Saiyaman costumes stood stock-still in one of Saiyaman’s signature poses as a thrumming beat began, a feminine voice humming along. They started popping as the vocalist began to sing, snapping their fingers to the beat.
“White shirt now red, my bloody nose. Sleepin', you're on your tippy toes…”
—
“ Please Videl.”
“No.”
“But—” There they were. The puppy dog eyes—the bane of her existence.
Videl hated when Erasa gave her the puppy dog eyes. It had gotten them both in a garbage heap of trouble over the years, and Videl could never quite understand how her own stony facade always crumbled under those watery blue stare. I swear she practices it in the mirror.
But they wouldn’t work. Not this time. Even friendship had its boundaries. Even for the puppy dog eyes.
“No, Erasa! What part don’t you get? I am not dressing up in… that .” Videl pointed at the offending costume, garish green tunic clashing with the cropped red cape. There was only one black leotard to wear under the gaudy outfits, there for Videl’s sake, if she had to guess. Is Erasa planning on not wearing anything underneath? !
She turned to Erasa, steeling herself in her annoyance to conquer the puppy dog eyes and for the love of god not give in again. “And I am never, ever , going to do those stupid poses. Not for some stupid video, not even for you.”
Erasa’s face twisted into a pout, but Videl held firm. Seeing she wasn’t getting anywhere with her normal weapon of mass persuasion, Erasa let out a full body sigh and collapsed into the couch next to the pile of costumes. She picked at the edges of one of the capes, staring down at her fingers twisting the bright red fabric.
“But it’s trending on the ClockApp,” she said, which honestly meant next to nothing to Videl. “I never manage to do these things before the trend has already passed. And It’s Saiyaman! I already had most of the costumes already. It just seemed like…it was my chance.”
When Erasa looked up at Videl towering over her, her face wasn’t the plastic mask of the puppy dog eyes but the genuine shadow of loneliness and isolation. It felt wrong to see on the usually bubbly blonde’s face. “I can’t do it on my own,” she paused, and Videl could tell Erasa had to pull the last words out. Like it was painful to admit. “And I don’t really have anyone else to do it with.”
“Erasa…” Videl leaned onto the arm of the couch. It was a burnished brown leather, classy and proper. The entire room was carefully designed to portray humble wealth, everything near pristine and unused. Everything in Erasa’s house had always felt unlived in, except for Erasa’s own room and the places she touched like stepping stones to get there.
‘Unlived in’ certainly wasn’t the wrong description. With ‘type A’ parents that prided themselves on remaining busy and connected, Erasa had largely been left to her own devices her whole life. Being an only child didn’t help. It was this connection, this camaraderie, that planted the seeds for their friendship in the first place as little kids.
Videl gave the pile of fabric a sideways glance, scrunching her nose.
But… I do have limits. Is it really fair to ask something of me I genuinely don’t feel comfortable doing?
The silence lingered, before Erasa suddenly jumped up to rummage behind the couch. Startled, Videl stood there frozen, waited. It wasn’t until Erasa popped back into her sight a moment later holding two disgustingly familiar helmets in either hand that she realized where this was going. “The helmet will cover your face! No one has to know it’s you.”
“There’s a helmet?” Videl eyed the monstrosity, complete with antennae on either side of the visor. I suppose that’s…better.
“Yes! I had them specially commissioned. It’s made from EVA foam! No one will guess you’re in it, you don’t have to take the helmet off at all.” Erasa’s countenance was back to bubbly, hopeful, needling . Like she could see Videl’s walls crumbling.
She held out one of the helmets to Videl, tone cajoling, and dammit those stupid, stupid puppy dog eyes. “I promise, promise, promise I won’t tell anyone,” she pleaded.
“Ugh,” Videl swiped the helmet out of Erasa’s hand, surprised at how light it felt. Certainly not sturdy enough to fight in, but for a video doing stupid dances it would do. “Fine, fine ! I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
She dropped the helmet on the couch and dug through the garbage— costume —pile to get her pieces together to change. “God, first that stupid autograph, now this.”
“Which I am very grateful for, by the way.” Videl spied Erasa’s bright grin and barely contained energy thrumming through her body, and had to suppress a smile of her own.
“You better be,” she muttered. But they’d been friends since kindergarten. Of anyone, Erasa wouldn’t be fooled by her sour mood.
“I posted on the Saiyaman Spotting Faceplace group about the signature,” Erasa babbled as she gathered her own costume in her arms. “People went crazy for it! Everyone’s searching for what the dragonball means. We haven’t had such a juicy tidbit to go from in a while. It’s so exciting!”
Videl stopped where she'd been walking to the bathroom to change, dropping the outfit in her surprise. “Seriously Erasa? Why’d you do that?”
Erasa tilted her head, taken aback by Videl’s vehemence. “What? There’s nothing wrong with it. We just want to know more, that’s all.”
For someone who claims to be a ‘Saiya-fan’ she sure doesn’t seem to respect his wishes, does she? Apparently there’s a whole group of them though.
“It just seems to me that if the guy wants to keep his identity secret, maybe you should let him,” she said through gritted teeth.
Erasa snorted, sing-songing “Oh? And where is this coming from Mrs. ‘I’ll figure out Saiyaman’s identity if it kills me’?”
Fair. “Yeah, well, that was over a year ago,” she muttered, staring at the wall as her face heated. “I didn’t trust him then.”
“And you trust him now?” Erasa bumped her shoulder against Videl, her tone edged with genuine curiosity.
Videl shrugged, hoping she seemed nonchalant— but Erasa does know me a bit too well. “He’s annoying. And goofy. And his poses are ridiculous, I don’t know how you convinced me to do this I swear. But… yeah, I guess I do. It’s been this long and he’s not really done anything terrible.”
And then there's … Videl remembered back to the autograph fiasco, how Saiyaman’s grin had evaporated from his face when she had questioned him about the dragonball. He had suddenly seemed vulnerable and out of orbit; something that felt incredibly wrong to see on the superhero’s face. What could possibly scare someone who could hold up a ten story building with no trouble and stop bullets with only his hands? What about an autograph could make him that afraid?
“Plus, I kinda feel bad for the guy. I don’t think he was really prepared for the fame thing, and the media and government is eating him alive. The police chief is on his side fortunately, but if he gets too much pressure on him, I don’t know what he can do if they ask him to arrest Saiyaman.”
Erasa seemed startled at Videl’s admission. Clearly she hadn’t taken the charges from the government that seriously, and the carelessness irked Videl. “You don’t think it will come to that, do you?”
Videl shook her head, then bent down to retrieve her costume. “I honestly don’t know. It doesn’t help that he's never made a public statement, in his defense or otherwise.”
Erasa turned her own helmet in her hands, biting her lip as she considered Videl’s words. With a sudden burst of energy, she plopped the helmet over her head and stood with fists on her waist—the iconic superhero pose from every movie poster ever. “Well, then we’ll just have to show him that there are people that are thankful for what he does, and think he’s awesome!”
Videl snorted, then knocked a fist gently into Erasa’s shoulder. “And so what, we do that by dancing?”
“Some things are better said without words,” she said softly. Under the helmet Videl could see her smile, crooked and bittersweet. That was…oddly profound for her. Videl looked down at the green, red, and black fabric in her arms, and slumped in defeat.
“I guess we should start talking then.”
—
“Hey Piccolo, how’s it going?”
Gohan didn’t miss how Piccolo stiffened as he landed on the crumbling rock ledge overlooking the waterfall. He also didn’t miss Piccolo trying to subtly hide something in the belt of his gi, and how his face flushed violet against his normally green complexion. He held back a sigh and schooled his features, hiding the hurt under a veil of joy.
“Is something wrong?” He inquired, tone careful, tip toeing. He tried not to push. He knew the surest way to make Piccolo clam up was to make it sound like a demand. He could ask, but he would never push.
Piccolo coughed into his hand, a clear indicator that he wanted to drop the conversation. It hurt that Gohan knew him that well, but not what could possibly be on his mind. “It’s fine,” the Namekian grumbled, then louder, “Everything is fine, kid. I didn’t hear you land.”
That didn’t make him feel any better. “You can usually sense me coming miles away,” he said carefully, settling into a lotus position next to Piccolo. As if he was eleven again stopping by for a meditation session to calm his fractured, frenzied mind post-Cell. Those moments had become further and further apart lately—which if he was honest, was mostly Gohan’s fault now that he spent so much time in Satan City. I guess I don’t blame him for not feeling like he can share things with me anymore.
“I was distracted. In a deep, deep meditation,” Piccolo mumbled, voice rough from disuse.
That’s never stopped you before , Gohan thought. But he knew how bitter and childish it would be to say aloud, how it would have put the onus on Piccolo instead of on him where it really rested.
So he nodded, and turned his gaze forward. Closed his eyes. Tried to focus on the water as it bracketed down the sides of the rock and down into the pool below, becoming a river further along. Not about how Piccolo may be drifting away from him like a leaf that had fallen from the tree far too soon, the season too early for the leaves to darken and become brittle like in the fall, and how it’s his fault that—
Stop .
He tried to imagine the crisp blue sky above with marshmallow clouds moving at a snail's pace above them. Tried not to reminisce about flying through them with Piccolo those first few years after Cell, holding his little brother close to his chest as Goten tried to grab at the clouds as they raced by, how he spied the slight upturn of Piccolo’s lips in that moment—
STOP .
He tried to listen to the birds fluttering between rustling leaves on the towering oaks, their songs light and airy as they—
He heard a discordant beep, grating and metallic, immediately pulling him from the meditation.
“What’s that noise?” He’d asked the question before he was even fully aware of his surroundings, the sudden bright light in his eyes splashes spots in his vision. He turned to Piccolo, just catching some movement from his arm. Then the sound was gone.
“Hmm? Nothing,” Piccolo shrugged, which felt…odd. Isn’t he usually more paranoid about this sort of thing? “Must have been a bird.”
“That sounded digital, not…” Gohan did sigh this time, but dropped it. More secrets. But if he doesn’t want to share, I don’t want to push.
Gohan closed his eyes again, inhaling five seconds, then exhaling seven. He inhaled five again—
Ding.
I know that sound! This time Gohan didn’t pause, but immediately turned to look—just in time to catch Piccolo sneaking a mobile phone back into his gi.
“Piccolo. Do you have a phone now?” Gohan noticed Piccolo’s muscles immediately tense, though he didn’t move or open his eyes. To anyone else he would have seemed undisturbed, or that he hadn’t even heard the question.
Gohan waited, patient and undeterred. Eventually Piccolo nodded.
The idea seemed extremely out of character for Piccolo. He was asocial by nature. Besides Gohan, he rarely interacted with or even talked to anyone else. His dad when he was alive. Occasionally Vegeta. Once in a blue moon Bulma, if he needed something. And Gohan.
Gohan, who he hadn’t mentioned a phone to at all.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have been calling you this whole time.” He tried to keep the hurt out of his tone, but he wasn’t sure how well he succeeded. Piccolo knew him well too.
“You’ve been busy,” he mumbled, barely audible. Still not opening his eyes. “I didn’t want to disturb your studies.”
“I don’t mind when you disturb me.” Gohan clamped his mouth shut. That was far too close to home.
The moment lingered. When Piccolo didn’t respond, eventually Gohan decided to let it go. If Piccolo didn’t want him to know he had a phone— and for what other reason would he have hid it? —then there must be a reason. Gohan just hoped the reason wasn’t that Piccolo wanted to distance himself from him. He decided to go back to attempting meditation, something he clearly needed, and figure out the puzzle that was Piccolo when he wasn’t close enough to touch (which made his brain fizzle out every time he thought about it.)
The sun neared the horizon, the sky dappled pink, red, and purple overhead, when Gohan stood up and stretched. Piccolo didn’t move as Gohan pulled out the kinks in his muscles, bones cracking in protest at his sudden movement after being stationary so long.
When he looked down at Piccolo, he was much as he had been when he got there, floating and still over the waterfall as the sun set in the west. It was admittedly a beautiful sight. So why does it make my heart ache so much in my chest?
“Can I…have your phone number anyway?” He asked, hoping he wasn’t crossing a line. Unsure where they stood anymore. “I promise I won’t bother you too much.”
Piccolo didn’t open his eyes, but there was that slight upturn of his lips that made Gohan breathe easier. “What’s to bother kid? I meditate, I train, then start it all over.” Piccolo finally looked over to him, pulling the phone out of his gi to hand to Gohan. “Of course you can have my number. You’re the only one I actually give a fuck about.”
Is that really true though? Gohan thought of how Piccolo must have been hiding his phone when he landed. He took the phone from Piccolo’s hand and searched for contacts so he could put his own in, then text his own number. Forced himself not to attempt to spy while he had the device in his hand, despite his misgivings.
Why would he hide it if there wasn’t something he didn’t want me to see?
—
Chi-Chi loved her sons.
Goten was such a sweet, energetic child. Unlike Gohan who was so timid when he was Goten’s age, he was rambunctious and fearless, always asking to be able to do more, go more places, experience more of the wide world. It was hard to let him, but as much as she hated to admit it, she was glad he had Trunks to be there for him when things got scary. To give him confidence
And Gohan? What more could a mother ask for? Intelligent, strong, caring, empathetic, kind. He loved his little brother, and Chi-Chi honestly couldn’t have raised Goten without him.
But sometimes she had to wonder if marrying a man who thought marriage was food and didn’t really know the difference between a man and a woman until he was in his late teens wasn’t her most…well thought out plan.
Oh, who am I kidding. I love them all, as oblivious and absent-minded as they can be.
So when she heard yelling from Gohan’s room, she was at first nonplussed and simply continued packing lunches for them. Gohan was ferrying off Goten and Trunks back to Capsule Corp for a sleepover so Chi-Chi could get a much needed rest. But she didn’t really trust Bulma to feed them real food and not twenty pizzas (possibly each.) Panchi might feed them but she had admittedly been a bit distractible as of late. I can’t believe she’s getting up there in years. What does that make me?
Then the yelling became louder. And louder. When the banging started, she frowned and marched up the stairs. Saiyans. Whenever Trunks is around, they all get excitable. Goten and Gohan never act like this on their own. She threw open the door to Gohan’s room, ready to shout them all down—and froze.
Goten and Trunks were hopping around the room, then on and off the bed, whooping and laughing. That wasn’t anything new.
What was new was Gohan’s utterly dejected and forlorn expression as he sat slumped and unmoving at the end of the bed. And what is that music…?
It was coming from Trunks mobile phone—which never ceased to get an eye roll out of her. What does a seven-year-old need with his own phone? The sound was tinny and screechy through the speakers, but still recognizable as one of the songs Bulma had tried to get her to listen to at some point. Something about keeping up with the times to which Chi-chi had turned up her nose. Billy Eyelash or something? Something about bad guys…
Which explained the next words that came out of Gohan’s mouth.
“I’m not a bad guy,” he muttered to the floor, his voice small and quiet beneath the chaos around him.
But she was his mother. The words didn’t need to be shouted to the rooftops for her to hear the pain in them.
“That’s enough!” she yelled, stomping one foot for good measure. “What the hell is going on here?”
Goten stopped immediately, causing Trunks to bang into him when he couldn’t stop his trajectory. The phone fell from his hands and slid closer to where Chi-Chi was standing. On the screen two men and one woman were dancing to that song . Which would have been annoying enough, until she realized all three of them were dressed as Saiyaman.
“Son Goten, Trunks Briefs, what is this? What exactly are you watching?!”
Goten’s gaze remained stuck to his feet, but Trunks had yet to learn to fear his best friend's mother.
Yet.
“We’re just watching videos on the ClockApp. There’s this stupid trend where people do those silly Saiyaman poses to that song. We were just playing around.”
Chi-Chi reminded herself that Trunks was not her child. However Bulma wanted to discipline him, that was her decision, and she would respect that. That she—
“It’s dumb. Saiyaman is dumb. But the song is fun I guess.”
She was going to murder him.
“I’m not a bad guy. Right?”
She would murder him…after she made sure her own son wasn’t having an existential crisis.
“Oh, honey. No one thinks that,” she sat down next to her eldest and placed a hand over his. His shoulders were drooped, but more worryingly his hands were shaking, his face pale. The misery was plain in his expression—misery she knew had little do with the video and more to do with seven years ago.
“The whole internet does. And the Satan City government, apparently,” he whispered. ‘Maybe I do too’ went unsaid, and Chi-Chi’s heart broke for her sensitive, tender-hearted son that had seen too much too young. All this because of some stupid song.
She shook her head, searching for the words to explain. “Gohan, honey,” she patted his hand, “when they say bad guy in the song, they don’t mean a villain . Not like Cell or Frieza. It means something…else.”
He looked up at her, and all she could see was the broken eleven-year-old that came home from the Cell Games without his father. “What does it mean then?”
Chi Chi sighed at his obliviousness. Yes, sometimes Chi-Chi did regret marrying someone so entirely naive, if only because it seemed to be genetic. Maybe I shouldn’t have homeschooled him quite that long. Where is Goku when you need him? Not that he’d be much help.
“Oh, honey,” she started. Stopped. How am I going to explain this? “Listen. They—”
“Wait, isn’t that the blond girl Gohan hangs out with at school?
“WHAT?!”
I am going to murder that child before he sees eight.
—
Their mother must have called ahead to Bulma, because Mrs. Briefs had outdone herself with a giant dinner spread by the time they’d all gotten settled at Capsule Corp.
Granted, much of it was foreign to Gohan. Mrs. Briefs had been on a ‘recipe blog’ kick as of late, so most of the dishes were things he didn’t recognize. But from Goten and Trunks stuffing everything indiscriminately into overfull cheeks, it couldn’t have been that bad tasting.
Gohan wouldn’t know. He’d done nothing but pick at his plate since they’d sat.
After he had calmed down from his utter horror back at the house, Gohan had actually stopped to look at what was being posted on the ClockApp. Which led him down a rabbit hole, and finally to the Saiyaman Spotting account. Which then led him to the realization that his dragonball blunder hadn’t just disappeared, but grown.
And now Gohan never wanted to put on the suit ever again.
“I can’t believe I did that,” he muttered to his casserole. Or what he assumed was a casserole.
Vegeta paused his eating, eyes darting up to him in a glare that said you’re being an idiot so I don’t know why I’m deigning to talk to you. “It was a stupid move,” he grumbled, picking at his soba with his chopsticks. “What were you thinking?”
Gohan deflated, curling around his plate. “Thanks, Vegeta. That helps. That really, really helps.”
Vegeta grunted and turned back to his food, seemingly satisfied he’d crushed the last bit of Gohan’s self-esteem.
Bulma jabbed Vegeta in the side and rolled her eyes. “What’s done is done,” she said to Gohan, “For now it might be best to wait and see if it blows over.”
Mrs. Briefs patted Gohan’s hand across the table. “There, there, dear,” she comforted, “I’m sure everything will work out just fine. Oh, please try the chicken and broccoli casserole. I found this recipe online and I’ve been dying to try making it!”
Gohan grimaced down at his plate. So that’s what this is. If there’s broccoli shouldn’t there be green in it somewhere? Not that it mattered anyway. His stomach felt full of lead. “I’m… not very hungry to be honest.”
He looked up at the sudden silence, bereft of chopsticks and forks clanging on plates and bowls. Everyone had paused to stare at him, Vegeta grimacing and Goten looking absolutely horrified with noodles dripping from his mouth. Gross.
“I’m fine,” he grumbled, “I’m just stressed.”
Bulma swatted at Trunks where he was trying to steal from Goten’s plate. His brother was still looking at him like he’d grown an extra head. “Don’t let your mom hear that, she’ll take you straight to the ER. And you’ve never been to a doctor in your life.” She shook her head, turning back to her plate. “God, a Saiyan not eating. This is serious.”
Vegeta grunted as he turned back to his plate. Goten was still staring at his brother, chewing again but his face still twisted in confusion.
“I don’t get it,” his brother said when his mouth was finally empty. At least he’s learned some manners. “What’s so bad about learning about the dragonballs?”
Trunks swiped a half eaten sausage (or what looked like a sausage) from Goten’s plate. His brother didn’t seem to care, even as Trunks waved it in his face when he replied. “Because no one is supposed to know about them, doofus. Now everyone’s going to be looking for them and making stupid wishes.”
“It is a little concerning,” Bulma said. “It might be worth gathering up the dragonballs ourselves and holding onto them for a bit.”
“That’s a good idea, actually. I’ll go look tomorrow after school.” Gohan finally took a bite, too distracted to taste it, but maybe that’s a good thing . “Can I borrow the Dragon Radar, Bulma?”
“‘Course, kiddo,” Bulma replied, then elbowed Vegeta. “You, go with him.”
Vegeta scoffed, dumping another giant helping of soba into his bowl. I guess Vegeta isn’t a fan of Mrs Brief's franken-recipes either. “He doesn’t need a babysitter, woman.”
Gohan silently agreed. The last thing I need is Vegeta hovering over me telling me what an idiot I am every three seconds.
Goten hopped up and down in his chair, toppling his bowl over the table and making Gohan wince. “Oooh! Can I go? Can I?”
Determined not to be outdone, Trunks jumped up, but hung suspended in the air. Goten, who hadn’t yet been allowed to learn to fly, pouted at his friend. “Yeah! Let’s all go!”
Bulma grabbed Trunks by the leg and pulled him back down to his seat. “You two are going to be busy cleaning up the greenhouse that you trashed when you were playing ‘man eating venus fly trap monster…whatever it was’, remember?”
Both the half Saiyans drooped into their seats. Trunks kicked at his chair in protest. “Awww, that’s no fun,” Goten grumbled before stuffing a giant forkful of food into his mouth.
As bratty and ridiculous as his brother and Trunks could be, they always made Gohan smile. Even with everything Saiyaman-related imploding the kids always made him feel a little lighter. I’m lucky to have them. “It’s okay. I can go alone, I doubt I’ll run into any real trouble.”
Vegeta snorted into the dredges of his soba, not looking up. “You say that, and yet you can’t even manage an autograph without causing chaos. You’ll just fuck it up somehow.” He stuffed the last bite into his mouth, not even bothering to finish chewing before he responded. “I’ll go with you, but you do as I say. No whining.”
Gohan sighed at his half eaten casserole. Great. Just what I needed. “Fine.”
He jumped when Bulma dropped a bowl of the remaining soba in front of him, winking at him. “It’s probably not a big deal. It’ll blow over in a few days anyway. I’d be more worried about the next ClockApp dance.”
—-
posted by SaiyamanSpottingOfficial
We got an extremely exciting new nugget very recently on the Saiyaman Spotting FacePlace page, so we wanted to update everyone here on our Stumblr page.
We have been able to verify the first (and as far as we know only) autograph from Saiyaman himself. In it, he draws an icon that we have positively identified as a dragonball (Side note: glad to know even superheroes have trouble drawing circles!)
Since then, a lot of us have done some deep dives into exactly what the dragonballs are. We’ve thus far learned that they are legendary magical artifacts that, when used, summon a giant dragon to give the summoner one wish.
And if that sounds… well, insane, let’s remember A) the rise and fall of Cell and B) that we’re talking about a superhero who can fly, has super strength and speed, and can stop bullets with his hands. Maybe magic isn’t too far fetched.
BUT, we are all about evidence here, not conjecture. So we dug deeper.
There is admittedly not a ton online. But once we started digging into scans of news archives, and then into actual *gasp* physical books, things got, well, interesting.
There was some question a few days back on why Dr. Bulma Briefs was so invested in clearing Saiyaman’s name. How curious it is to now find articles from when she was a teenager and young adult referring to her search for the dragonballs. Granted, there are no direct quotes from Dr. Briefs herself, only offhanded comments from her father, founder of Capsule Corp, and a few mentions in articles on other subjects. One article in particular, which was a breakdown of known events behind the fall of the Red Ribbon Army, cited Dr Briefs as being in the area at the time looking for the dragonballs, and then ‘happening’ upon the conflict. Seems a little too convenient, doesn’t it?
And that begs the question: what does Saiyaman have to do with the dragonballs, and how does that relate to Dr Briefs?
We have one theory. There are reports of a child being seen with Dr Briefs during that time, and that he had ‘unbelievable strength’ beyond anything witnesses had seen before. He was also credited with being instrumental to the fall of the Red Ribbon Army.
Did this mysterious child grow up to be Saiyaman? Then why disappear for so long? Why hide his face now? Where was he during the Cell Games?
The deeper we go the more questions we have; but the more questions we ask the closer we’ll get to the truth.
Signing out,
#1 SaiyaFan
WizeFriendoPiggie reblogged 9 hours ago
Did anyone else see this and think that maybe Saiyaman wished for superpowers?
—
If there is one thing working with Saiyaman had taught Videl, it’s that when the shit hits the fan, someone has to do something.
It might as well be her.
Videl ground her teeth, entirely unhappy with the course of action she’d decided on, but finding no other way to get the information she needed. She clicked on ‘register a new account,’ toggled through to username, and winced as she typed in ‘SaiyaFanatic666.’
After a quick search, she found her target, and clicked on the group link. Private. Of fucking course it is. It’s not that she hadn’t expected it, but she’d hoped she wouldn’t have to actively join.
“In for a penny, I guess…” she muttered, and clicked ‘Join.’
She was brought back to the front page of the group. She glared at the freeze frame of Saiyaman holding up a three story building as people climbed out to escape the burning building. She recognized it from a rescue a couple of weeks back. Below it was a few paragraphs of intro text: “Welcome to Saiyaman Spotting, the most up to date and informed group on Satan City’s Sweetheart Superhero, The Great Saiyaman. We are dedicated to….”
“You’re gonna owe me big, Saiyaman.”
Notes:
Bonus points for anyone who gets the chapter titles and the hidden related Easter eggs in each chapter (okay, they're not THAT hidden.)
Thank you everyone that's left all the sweet comments, it helps me keep writing. I'm glad I'm not the only one who loves our self-conscious sad boi ;_;
Chapter 4: perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as understood
Summary:
This chapter in three parts:
“How dare you walk away from the prince of all Saiyans.”
“All four of them? I’ll survive.”
AND—
“So you want a phone because someone is wrong on the internet? Seriously?
AND—
"Did you try measuring your height and realize your body can’t contain the size of your ego?"
Notes:
This...was supposed to be an intermission. It ended up 5.5k long. And added more plot.
Oops.
Also, I added the 'polyamory' tag future chapters. Because I am, apparently, terrible at decisions.
More notes at end of the chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The brat owed him.
Big.
Vegeta told himself he did it because Kakarott’s eldest spawn was one of the few Saiyan warriors left. Even though he didn’t train to the extent that he used to, he was still strong. That there were so few of them left, that an attack on any of their pack was an attack on all of them.
Vegeta didn’t want to admit that he had a soft spot for the brat. He was their Prince . He couldn’t afford to be sentimental.
Because when Vegeta accepted his status as an Earth citizen, he made a promise to himself that he would not become involved in the vagaries and everyday nonsense of a weakling race. That he wouldn’t lower himself to getting involved in their asinine games. Truly the only thing that could ever have made him break that promise was to protect one of the few Saiyans left being the target of unwarranted abuse, be it verbal or physical.
So yeah, the brat owed him.
A reply appeared to his comment when he refreshed the page: ‘turn off your caps lock old man lol’
Vegeta snarled down at his cellular mobile device, the screen cracking in his grip even as he attempted to contain his rage. Now I need to get another device from the woman. Damnit.
Gohan owed him big time.
—
Vegeta yelling wasn’t all that unusual an occurrence at Capsule Corp.
The content of it was.
“Cap? CAP?! I’m not wearing a hat! You can’t even see me! What does that even MEAN! Of all the idiotic, senseless, empty-headed drivel, how dare you weaklings treat me like—”
Bulma debated checking on him. Instead she shrugged and leaned back over her workbench, turning the volume up on her music to drown out the noise.
—
‘OMG da fuq is wrong with you get a grip old man‘
Those aren’t even real words , he thought, teeth grinding until his jaw ached. He had been attempting to argue his points, to prove how absurd their assumptions were. He had tried to remain calm and collected, exude the poise his father had instilled in him when it came to political negotiations.
But the Earthlings would have none of it. Their arguments were fractured, going off on unrelated tangents, nitpicking his phrasing, and even mocking his avatar rather than sticking to the subject. And the language. Vegeta had by then been on Earth for over eight years. He had thought he had the communicating with humans down, yet conversing with these cretins online made him feel untethered—which only enraged him.
There was only one real solution.
He found Trunks immersed in whatever new video game Bulma had gotten him lately, eyes trained on the screen but a bored expression on his face. Undead creatures exploded in grotesque (and frankly unrealistic) ways on the screen as the young half-saiyan shot them with machine guns (and were those grenades too? Humans.)
He towered over his son until he paused the game, and Trunks looked up at his father with subtle nervous energy.
“You will help me learn this nonsensical language that the Earthlings insist on using on the world wide web. And you will not speak a word of it to your mother.”
It took a moment for Trunks to respond, staring at his father as if waiting for him to declare it all a joke. Not that Vegeta ever joked, but that seemed a far cry more likely than him asking for help with internet slang.
Finally his face relaxed into a mischievous expression, his grin sharp (which Vegeta internally applauded him for.)
“Why? What’s in it for me?”
“Have some pride!” Vegeta snarled, and Trunks winced back into the couch. “You will be safeguarding the honor of your Saiyan ancestors and ultimately proving our superiority.”
That caught the boy's attention, looking slightly awed at the prospect of lording himself over others. Good, Vegeta thought. At least I've instilled some dignity in this one. Even if the others seem determined to prostrate themself at the mercy of the humans.
“And I’ll buy you a new video game.”
“Deal.”
–
Enlisting the Namek seemed like the obvious next step. His love for the boy was probably second only to his parents. Or superior too. It’s hard to tell with the beanstalk.
Now if only he’d cooperate.
“What do I care what the humans think of the kid?” The Namek hadn’t even opened his eyes, still and serene in the same meditation pose he was in nearly anytime Vegeta had seen him out of battle.
Vegeta wasn’t fooled. Beneath the calm and collected exterior was a viper ready to strike.
And it did.
“They called him a liar who was trying to manipulate them into a sense of security before he would attempt to overthrow the government and take over the world.”
A snort. “Good for him,” the Namek murmured, a smirk twisting his lips, but eyes remaining shut.
“They also said he wouldn’t succeed because Hercule Satan would defeat him. Because Saiyaman is clearly a weakling who doesn’t know the first thing about martial arts.”
—
“Woman! The Namek needs a cellular mobile device.”
Bulma's head snapped up from her pile of paperwork, hair askew and a smudge of ink on her cheek.
“A what? Okay, hold on just one damn second. First of all, it’s a mobile phone . Second of all, this isn’t a store! I don’t just do random orders on your whim!”
Vegeta was debating coming back another time (Bulma was always at her worst when doing paperwork, enough so that even he took caution,) but the Namek pushed past him and got in her face, growling through his teeth in his rage.
“It’s to save Gohan from verbal abuse on the world wide web. They are discrediting Saiyaman, and as much as him parading around in that ridiculous costume pains me, it’s the principle! Those humans don’t know what they have. It must be stopped.”
Bulma’s glare turns acerbic, unimpressed by Piccolo’s plea. “So you want a phone because someone is wrong on the internet? Seriously?”
“I don’t know what that means,” he replied slowly, drawing out each word through bared fangs.
Bulma glanced from him, to her paperwork, then back, before sighing.
“ I guess procrastinating a little bit wouldn’t be the end of the world.”
—
DaimaoWusRight: What is with these stupid names you gave us? Why can’t I use my own name? And what is “hangry”?
IHateEarthlings: I don’t know, don’t ask me beanstalk.
PurpleHairDunCare: staaaaahp with the full sentences geezers
PurpleHairDunCare: no one texts like that
PurpleHairDunCare: they’re screen names
PurpleHairDunCare: so ppl don’t know who you are
PurpleHairDunCare: duh
IHateEarthlings: What is “staaaaahp”? That is not even a word! This is stupid.
DaimaoWusRight: Someone said “ok boomer.” What the hell does that mean? I’m not a boomer. Or am I? What is that? What are they “okaying?”
PurpleHairDunCare: smh
IHateEarthlings: THAT’S NOT A WORD EITHER!
DaimaoWusRight: And what the hell is “lol”?
PurpleHairDunCare: *flips table*
IHateEarthlings: STOP THROWING FURNITURE YOUR MOTHER WILL BLAME ME AGAIN!
—
“This is the third phone this week Vegeta! I’m not going to keep replacing them if you can’t be careful with them.”
Despite her words (and her screaming,) Bulma didn’t hesitate to pull out a drawer containing a couple dozen phones still in their original packaging. She grabbed one and dropped it on the table, pulling off the plastic film and sliding open the box. Setting up new phones and transferring data was done by rote at this point.
“Or maybe you should just make stronger cellular devices if they’re that fragile,” Vegeta sniped back as he leaned against the table, but with no real energy behind it. Several weeks now of fighting what the world wide web called ‘trolls’ (for whatever reason) had left him emotionally exhausted. Not that he’d admit it.
“These are flimsy and the interfaces make no sense anyway. We never would have used such devices in the Planet Trade Organization, they wouldn’t last a day.”
“Like I have time to make indestructible saiyan proof phones!” she grumbled, powering up the new phone and rushing through the initial setup. “I’m too busy trying to keep this company afloat so we can keep a roof over all our heads so you all can—”
She paused, looking at the far wall with a distant gaze. Vegeta knew that gaze, and it never spelled anything good. For him, at least.
“Indestructible phone, huh?”
Bulma walked towards the door, abandoning the phone and Vegeta to his fate. He glanced down at the phone where it was blinking ‘would you like to sync data from another mobile device?’ Damnit.
“Woman! Woman, I still need a new phone!” He shuffled after her, face flushing in anger. “How dare you walk away from the prince of all Saiyans.”
“All four of them? I’ll survive.”
–
DaimaoWusRight: Vegeta
IHateEarthlings: What beanstalk
DaimaoWusRight: I may have miscalculated with this plan
IHateEarthlings: The hell did you do?!
DaimaoWusRight: It didn’t occur to me that we would be anonymous
IHateEarthlings: That’s the whole fucking point Namek!
DaimaoWusRight: Damnit carrot top, listen. I knew I'd be anonymous logically. It didn’t hit me until now what that meant.
IHateEarthlings: Stop calling me carrot top. I don’t wear that hideous orange like Kakarrott and his spawn. It makes no sense.
DaimaoWusRight: It’s not what you’re wearing, it’s your hair.
IHateEarthlings: What about my hair?!
DaimaoWusRight: It looks like a fucking carrot
IHateEarthlings: It does not! Fuck you beanstalk!
DaimaoWusRight: Oh so you can call me beanstalk but I can’t call you carrot top? What does BEANSTALK even mean?!
IHateEarthlings: You’re green like a fucking bean. And stupidly tall. Like a stalk.
DaimaoWusRight: I’m not stupidly tall. You’re just stupidly short.
IHateEarthlings: Oh for fucks sake
IHateEarthlings: Stop beating around the bush
DaimaoWusRight: I
DaimaoWusRight: It never occurred to me
DaimaoWusRight: I didn’t mean to send that
IHateEarthlings: Well?
IHateEarthlings: What is it?!
IHateEarthlings: Or for fucks sake spit it out
DaimaoWusRight: They don’t know I’m Piccolo. They don’t know I’m the Demon King.
IHateEarthlings: Psht. You haven’t been the Demon King for fucking ever
DaimaoWusRight: The humans never recognized that fact
DaimaoWusRight: It’s simply strange to be treated like everybody else
DaimaoWusRight: Like a normal person
IHateEarthlings: Don’t get sentimental on me now beanstalk
DaimaoWusRight: Ugh. Forget I said anything
–
Piccolo never understood humans before, and he doesn’t understand them now. He sat in his typical meditation pose, but his mind was all but calm. He hunched over his phone, opened to some app called Disorder. He’d installed it because he thought the name ironic, and had been told there were servers there dedicated to everything. He hadn’t known what a server was at the time (apparently it’s just another name for a community? Humans are strange) but it had piqued his interest. Surely he could find Saiyaman haters to subjugate with his logical arguments there.
He wasn’t sure how he’d stumbled upon the martial arts Disorder server. He’d certainly thought they’d be focused more on actual martial arts and less about typical human drama. He’d been wrong.
ItsRainingMen: wow that’s badass
DaimaoWusRight: What about it?
Hot4MapleSyrup: no I’m with rainingmen
Hot4MapleSyrup: not just anyone would set aside their differences to help the kid of their nemesis like that
DaimaoWusRight: it wasn’t like that
ItsRainingMen: it totally was
ItsRainingMen: you went out of your way to stop some douchebag from ruining the kid’s life even though it had nothing to do with you
ItsRainingMen: and don’t give me that ‘I wanted to be the one to take over the practice’ bullshit
ItsRainingMen: because if that was the case you wouldn’t then teach his kid how to run the family business, then sacrifice your own career for him
ItsRainingMen: that isn’t spite
ItsRainingMen: that’s legit giving a crap
If by ‘take over the practice’ you mean killing his father and destroying the entire human race…I see your point. It was times like this that Piccolo hated the obfuscation of his anonymity. Granted, he doubted that these also anonymous humans would be so encouraging if they knew exactly who he was.
And yet…they had a point.
Was it really just about wanting to take over the Earth myself? Some part of him didn’t want to admit it. But he had to wonder how much of that was his father’s ghost still haunting him.
DaimaoWusRight: that’s an oversimplification
IFight4Fun: is it?
IFight4Fun: or do you just want to keep seeing urself as a monster?
DaimaoWusRight: fuck you
IFight4Fun: anytime man
IFight4Fun: I bet you’re a real DILF
DaimaoWusRight: I don’t know what that means
ItsRainingMen: God you’re right fight4fun
ItsRainingMen: I bet he’s real monster in bed ;)
Piccolo was suddenly glad they couldn’t see him as he sputtered out loud at the sheer insanity of the statement. He was also glad no one else could see the blush sweeping his cheeks. Humans are so fucking strange.
ItsRainingMen: but yeah fight4fun is right about the first part too
ItsRainingMen: sounds to me like you’re not giving yourself enough credit
Hot4MapleSyrup: agreed
Hot4MapleSyrup: who hurt you friendo :(
Humans did, Piccolo thought, then pushed it away. The wind whistled through the sprawling dunes, kicking up little whirlwinds of sand; a stark contrast to the bustling community he’d stumbled into. A yearning filled him he didn’t understand, and he was suddenly reminded of a small half-saiyan half-human child asking him silly questions under a blanket of stars. He hadn’t understood the questions then, and he doesn’t understand this feeling now.
DaimaoWusRight: You don’t know the full story, that’s all
IFight4Fun: I mean
IFight4Fun: we would if you told us
Hot4MapleSyrup: BUT it’s okay if you’re not comfortable
Piccolo’s fingers hovered over the phone, but he stopped himself from responding. He felt teetered on the edge of a cliff, and even though he could literally fly , he felt his stomach swoop at the thought of falling anyway. Would they actually understand? For the first time in his life, Piccolo wondered if there was someone besides Gohan who wouldn’t see him as a monster.
ItsRainingMen: we cooooouuld talk about your little crush on Rice Man
DaimaoWusRight: What the hell are you talking about?
IFight4Fun: oh ho ho ho
IFight4Fun: I haven’t heard about this
DaimaoWusRight: There is no crush!
Hot4MapleSyrup: Daimao must be swimming in Diablo Desert’s largest river because he in da-Nile
The phone shattered in Piccolo’s hands.
–
DaimaoWusRight: Vegeta
IHateEarthlings: What is it now green bean?
DaimaoWusRight: You’ve killed a lot of people
IHateEarthlings: So have you. Your point?
DaimaoWusRight: And you’ve done a lot of shitty things
IHateEarthlings: You are not enamoring me to whatever plight you have imagined Namek
DaimaoWusRight: Just fucking listen carrot top
DaimaoWusRight: How do you know if you’re capable of
DaimaoWusRight: Ugh this is so stupid
DaimaoWusRight: How the hell do you know if what you feel for someone is love?
IHateEarthlings: Shit
IHateEarthlings: Whoever the hell has stolen this phone you better start running because when I find you I will end you
DaimaoWusRight: I haven’t been hacked
DaimaoWusRight: I’m fucking serious Prince of Nowhere
IHateEarthlings: Hmmm. I guess it is you
IHateEarthlings: The hell do you think you fell in love with? Have you been getting stuck on those strange pornography websites again? Click the arrow back and be done with it
DaimaoWusRight: Not in love with someone
DaimaoWusRight: Not romantically
DaimaoWusRight: I mean
DaimaoWusRight: I don’t know
DaimaoWusRight: What do you
IHateEarthlings: You imbecilic green bean if you don’t just say whatever the fuck you want to say I will stop responding
DaimaoWusRight: I don’t know what the feeling of love is supposed to be
DaimaoWusRight: I was created as a vessel of revenge against Son Goku. I have no real comprehension of what love is suppose to feel like
DaimaoWusRight: I thought you might fucking get it seems how you were a genocidal mass murderer too
IHateEarthlings: I’m pretty sure my evil category is much higher than yours, amateur
DaimaoWusRight: Be fucking serious
IHateEarthlings: I am. If I can figure out how to have some stupid, weak human emotion like love after how much Frieza fucked with me and the entire Saiyan race, you can you giant moron
DaimaoWusRight: That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me
IHateEarthlings: You’re an idiotic, weak-minded, feeble green bean with no pride or sense
DaimaoWusRight: that’s better
—
The Capsule Corporation Board was a mottle of different genders, races, and clothing styles all seated at the long oval table, eyes tracking Bulma as she tried not to fidget nervously with her papers. After the typical greetings and administrative business, it was time for her to propose any new research or products. It had been far too long since she had done so, but with patents going out of copyright and the company’s hold as the top leading technological producer, something had to be done and they all knew it.
Now if only they weren’t all so determined to double down on what has worked in the past, she thinks. She knew this proposal was going to make waves. She knew those waves would ultimately play in Capsule Corps favor. Now if she could just convince them. I always thought being CEO would give me more power in my family’s own company. Red tape is where good ideas go to die.
“Let’s cut to the chase.” She stood up, away from the temptations of the papers her fingers itched to fiddle with, posture straight and chin high.
“Modern mobile phones are throwaway technology—to be used, abused, and to break as fast as possible without consumers being unwilling to buy them due to their (short term) nature. And sure, that’s great for lining the pockets of CEOs of big tech businesses like Orange and Robot.”
She leaned forward on the table, stopping to look each board member in the eye as she spoke. “But here’s the problem.”
“Manufacturing takes raw material; which means mining non-renewable resources, fossil fuels, and deforestation.” She tapped the table with every new addition to the list, emphasizing each point. “It causes pollution from the industrial centers. In order to cut costs these materials are made all across the globe and then assembled in one place—which means even more pollution in carbon emissions.”
She straightened, slowly pacing the front of the room, glancing back every few seconds to gauge the reaction. Thank god for those negotiation courses I took years back. Thank you Dad for making me go.
“Then there’s disposal—these technologies are made to be obsolete and break quickly, so there’s a lot of refuse. Even if we recycled everything we possibly could, we’d still have leftover product—product that contributes to microplastics in our oceans. And we would still need raw materials needed for new models, as well as continued pollution, and emissions.”
She stopped, a long sigh punctuating her next words. “This model is making a lot of people rich.”
Bulma turned to the board, a mix of curiosity blending with unease on their faces. Here goes nothing.
“For now.”
—
IHateEarthlings: We have a problem
DaimaoWusRight: Did you try measuring your height and realize your body can’t contain the size of your ego?
IHateEarthlings: Shut it
IHateEarthlings: Some humans are apparently running a convention to celebrate the slaying of Cell
DaimaoWusRight: What the fuck
DaimaoWusRight: Well what do you expect me to do about it? A bunch of Hercule fans running amock, not realizing they’re worshiping an opportunistic fake with bad hair and worse morals. We have bigger problems
IHateEarthlings: Mr-I’m-Compensating-With-My-Hair-Satan isn’t the problem. They’re running events discussing us
DaimaoWusRight: Us? What do you mean us?
IHateEarthlings: They are running a series of events about the Delivery Boy and his comrades. Us.
DaimaoWusRight: Of all the deranged things they could think up
IHateEarthlings: Still up for world domination?
DaimaoWusRight: I’d much rather watch it all burn at this point. What’s left to dominate?
—
“This model is completely unsustainable.” She glanced over at their expressions, some of them shuttered but others openly grimacing at this statement. Too bad. You have to face it at some point.
“Our research shows that this model will crumble within the next couple of decades. And when it does, people will be looking for someone to blame.”
Soapbox complete, now to the really hard part. Bulma sat back down at the chair at the head of the table, clasping her hands in front of her as her tone turned from dismayed to hopeful.
“Capsule Corp has always been at the forefront of technologies that are not only innovative, but practical. By creating capsule technology we revolutionized the very foundations of our world. It’s in our company's nature to shake things up; to not take the status quo as our justification.”
Flattery never hurts, she thought, and tried to hide a deep inhale as she braced herself for the fallout of her next words.
“Which is why when we join the ranks of mobile device manufacturing, we will be doing so under a model of near indestructible devices. These phones and tablets are modular, meant to be updated both in hardware and software over many, many years without deterioration in functioning.”
She leaned back, the expected mix of shock and disdain sweeping through the room. “Now, at this point you’re probably asking: if they’re not buying new phones, where the hell are we making our money?”
A subtle shuffling at the call out, but eyes are still trained to her, to her words, to her lips as she formed them.
“Dear gentlemen, ladies, and gentle-thems, gone are the days where we monetize physical objects. Because Capsule Corp mobile devices will not only be near indestructible.”
In for the kill, Bulma thought, and struggled to keep her expression neutral.
“They will take their users places they’ve never even imagined.”
—
IHateEarthlings: Hey beanstalk
DaimaoWusRight: What is it now
IHateEarthlings: Take a look at this
IHateEarthlings: Who knew you had such shapely thighs?
DaimaoWusRight: What the fuck is that
DaimaoWusRight: Where did you find this?
IHateEarthlings: It is called cosplay. Apparently these humans dress up as other people more interesting than themselves and parade around like morons.
IHateEarthlings: This voluptuous lady is apparently preparing her cosplay for the Cell Convention.
IHateEarthlings: You should be honored, really. I saw a Trunks one that made me want to remove my own eyeballs with a rusty spoon.
DaimaoWusRight: Why are they dressing up as me? Do they think this is a joke? And why is she dressed only in underclothes?!
IHateEarthlings: Underclothes? What are you a senior citizen?
DaimaoWusRight: Everything needs to burn down
IHateEarthlings: At least wherever they’re holding the Cell Convention
—
The meeting was not going as well as Bulma had hoped.
She wanted to scream. What she was proposing would revolutionize the industry. But the investors wanted certainty, which no one could give.
“What would the price point be for consumers on the original phones and the subsequent modular aspects? And will those prices reflect the models of current phone models for consumers while netting us enough profit?” What would-”
“There are companies innovating holographic technology as we speak. How will Virtual Reality compete with that? Or will we adjust our approach as we develop our own technology? How-”
“Indestructible? How can we even claim that? This will be a legal nightmare. Why would we-”
And her favorite: “Have you lost your mind? We thought your father was the senile one.”
Don’t you realize people thought my dad was insane when he first proposed capsule technology, and see where that got us! Bulma tried to reel in her anger, not letting it appear in her expression.
“I realize you have a lot of questions; ones we will cover in detail as we iron out more details. Your input will be invaluable to making sure we are well prepared for the road ahead.” It took everything in her to not insert any venom into the white lie.
The board wasn’t buying it. She wracked her brain, trying to think of an angle she hadn’t yet tread. She knew that the company had to do something if they were going to stay relevant. They all did. That was the problem; they were scared.
Bulma thought of Trunks, of her parents, Vegeta—her strange family and how the fall of Capsule Corp would affect them. Of how it would affect whatever future world-saving nonsense they would all get up to (as was inevitable.) Of Goku, Chichi, Goten, and Gohan—
Wait.
“Of course, just as important as the technical and manufacturing aspects are how we market this innovation. We are not just providing a product, we’re selling an experience.”
“And our first experience is going to be one that will get people talking even before they see it for themselves.”
Please forgive me Gohan.
“Through the eyes of The Great Saiyaman.”
—
DaimaoWusRight: What the hell was he thinking
IHateEarthlings: Don’t ask me.
IHateEarthlings: Kakarot was a bumbling fool. Apparently the apple does not fall far from the tree
DaimaoWusRight: Why would he mention the dragonballs? He should know how dangerous that is!
VIHateEarthlings: Calm down beanstalk. Bulma is the only one who is able to create dragon radars. They’ll never gather them all
DaimaoWusRight: What about the ones she’s lost over the years, huh? What if a human finds one of those?
IHateEarthlings: Shit
IHateEarthlings: That is actually worrying
DaimaoWusRight: Now you fucking get it
IHateEarthlings: Someone needs to take the brat in hand. This is getting out of control
DaimaoWusRight: I’ll do it. I’ll talk to him
DaimaoWusRight: Where the fuck is Goku when you need him
IHateEarthlings: Isn’t that a redundant question? How many times have we spent asking ourselves why the fuck he thinks fashionable late works for a fight to the death?
IHateEarthlings: I’ll do it. You’ll be too soft on him
DaimaoWusRight: Please. I turned him from a sniveling, spoiled brat into the fighter he is today
IHateEarthlings: Tcht. How well has that gone considering the nonsense he’s pulling now?
IHateEarthlings: You had your chance to fix this shit and you failed
DaimaoWusRight: Don’t make me tear off your arm and feed it to you princey
IHateEarthlings: As if you fucking could beanstalk
IHateEarthlings: You don’t have the guts to do what needs to be done with the brat
DaimaoWusRight: The kid trusts me
DaimaoWusRight: He doesn’t trust you
IHateEarthlings: Some good that trust has done him so far, huh?
IHateEarthlings: He needs someone who is going to tell him like it is and not coddle him
DaimaoWusRight: I’ve never coddled him
IHateEarthlings: Oh? So you didn’t jump in front of him to save him the first time we met and died, leaving Earth without any dragonballs?
DaimaoWusRight: fuck you
IHateEarthlings: No thanks
IHateEarthlings: I like my sexual partners at least remotely at my power lever
DaimaoWusRight: Oh for fucks sake
DaimaoWusRight: Fine
DaimaoWusRight: You get one shot then it’s my turn
DaimaoWusRight: What are you even going to do
IHateEarthlings: Remind him of his heritage within the proud Saiyan race
IHateEarthlings: And tell him to stop fucking up
DaimaoWusRight: Great, yeah. Can’t wait to see how that goes over
—
The tone changed after that.
“Imagine Saiyaman in a commercial, saying it’s ‘Saiyman-proof’ after doing those ridiculous poses. Genius!” The board chuckled at that, but Bulma wanted to vomit from guilt.
Gone was the disdain, the criticism, the slowly simmering anger at how dare she waste their time with such an utter nonsense proposal.
Now they were excited. Now they talked about how clever she was to endear the company to Saiyaman with the article just in case the board approved the proposal. How much forethought and work she’d put into it already. How much money there is to be made with the right people saying the right things.
The meeting slowly came to a close, most of the board members deciding to meet for lunch to discuss further. As much as she should have joined them, Bulma couldn’t force herself to be excited about the prospect any longer. Not without regrouping. She gave her apologies, emphasized how she’d get to work immediately on the approved proposal—and the thought sobered her with guilt instead of the satisfaction of victory.
As she was getting ready to leave after the board filed out, stuffing her folders with less care than normal into her briefcase, Bulma jumped when she noticed Alain Sutterman standing by the door. Alain was the only board member she actively loathed, least of all because he knew more than he should about the strangeness that happened within Capsule Corp and was willing to use that information.
Before she could greet him, Alain spoke. “I admit I was surprised you would use your connection to the Son family for monetary gain.”
Bulma allowed herself a frown, but tried to keep the fear out of her voice even as her heart raced at Alain’s words. “Trunks’ friend? He’s six, what does he have to do with—”
“Things happen inside the walls of Capsule Corp,” Alain said, cutting off her excuses. “Around you. Things the general public is not ready to hear.”
Fuck.
Bulma shrugged, hoping against hope that his info was hearsay. “We have so much research going on at CC all the time; strange phenomena are bound to happen.”
Alain didn’t buy it. He huffed a laugh, then walked towards the window overlooking the sprawling complex. He didn’t meet her eyes as he spoke. “Spaceships. Time machines. A chamber able to multiply earth’s gravity hundreds of times over. People with green skin with the ability to heal wounds near instantaneously and regenerate limbs. Talking cats and pigs. Androids.”
Alain turned only his head to look directly at Bulma, his next words stealing any protest from her lips. “People who can fly.”
He took the three steps towards her, and Bulma was suddenly struck with how he towered over her, and that she couldn’t signal Vegeta to help even if that was the right choice.
“Take care, Dr. Briefs. Not all power is physical. Sometimes power is simply telling the right people the right things.”
Almost as much as Bulma’s fear at his words was the guilt that she’d thought the same thing. What kind of person does that make me?
—
IHateEarthlings: Piccolo
DaimaoWusRight: What the hell
DaimaoWusRight: You never call me by my actual name. What the fuck happened?
DaimaoWusRight: They aren’t having a Demon King Piccolo Convention now are they?
IHateEarthlings: You wish Namek
IHateEarthlings: Remember that conversation we had about stupid human emotions?
DaimaoWusRight: Yes
DaimaoWusRight: What about it?
DaimaoWusRight: Answer me carrot top
DaimaoWusRight: What the hell is going on?
IHateEarthlings: I may have fucked up
—
Saiyaman is a Student?!
posted by SaiyamanSpottingOfficial
We have FINALLY completed our timeline of all the sightings of The Great Saiyaman and holy christ on a cracker we were shook when we saw the results!! 0_0
After going through hundreds of hours of footage, scouring the internet for articles, and many, many volunteers checking and re-checking our work… The Saiyaman Spotting’s Official conclusion is that The Great Saiyaman is a high school student somewhere in Satan City.
The idea that Saiyaman is quite young has come up as a theory plenty of times before, but I’ll admit that I am personally shocked for it to be confirmed.
When the research was first leading us to that conclusion, we knew we had to document every step, every check and re-check, and present it here for all you lovely people to try to tear it to bitsies. Believe me, we have already tried ourselves.
Below you can download a PDF of our process breakdown and how we arrived at our conclusion.
This is probably the biggest breakthrough we have had when it comes to Saiyaman’s identity, and not something we expected. As we get closer to solving the mystery of Saiyaman, I want to remind us all of our purpose: to honor Saiyaman for all he has done for Satan City and the world, and be able to thank him in person.
I cannot wait for the day where I can shake his hand, face to face, and tell him what his presence in this city has meant to all of us—and to me.
Signing out,
#1 SaiyaFan
—
“Our purpose, huh?” He snorted underneath his breath, lightly tapping the edge of the computer mouse to a tune instilled in his memory.
Leaning back, the chair creaked above the low hum of the generator. He raised to clasp his arms above him, the bones cracking as he stretched his spine. The white light of the computer lit up the middle of the room, stark against the muted blues and shadows reaching from the walls. The Saiyaman Spotting Faceplace group took up one half of the screen, the other half the PDF he’d downloaded with all their research.
“How naive. To think we are the same. ‘Those who control the present, control the past. And those who control the past control the future.’”
He scrolled down the PDF, to a screenshot of the superhero tearing an AK-47 into two pieces like they were no more than paper.
“‘And if you want a vision of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face—forever.’”
Notes:
Why yes, I did quote 1984. And the mystery of the chapter titles are kind of revealed, sorta?
Digital chocolate chip cookies for anyone who spots all the little references through the previous chapters to uh...things. Because I am a book nerd.
Getting this out took longer than I wanted. I started a residency teaching for a few months and set up took a bit. My schedule is a bit better now though, so hopefully next chapter takes less time.
FYI: Your comments and kudos feed the Hungry Beast that is my muse <3
Chapter 5: six impossible things before breakfast
Summary:
SaiyaFanatic666 would like to send you a message
SaiyaFanatic666: I need to talk to you about something serious. I know something about Saiyaman you’ll want to hear.
SaiyamanSpottingOfficial: I’m always happy for more info! What can I do for you?
SaiyaFanatic666: You need to take down that PDF. Now.
Notes:
I am not dead. Yet.
I've been in and out of the hospital with neurological problems. I had no idea you could have a complicated migraine that mimicked a stroke or seizure. Or that it could last for over a month. The More You Know (But Wished You Didn't.)
Anyway, this isn't as polished as I'd like but it's also a bit of a monster at 6.2k words. I'll tweak it here and there as I spot issues. Next chapter is going to be an interlude (I mean it this time lol) and is maybe halfway done. There's also another Gohan-centric series I'm starting that's a bit out there so we'll see how the next couple of months go.
Thank you for the comments and kudos, it really means a lot.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
SaiyamanSpottingOfficial_SpottingTimeline.pdf
Lords, ladies, and gentlethems,
I am the founder of Saiyaman Spotting, and first I wanted to welcome you to our growing little corner of the internet dedicated to finding and thanking the one and only Great Saiyaman.
We started with only a couple dozen members a little over half a year ago. Only a month ago, we were proud to have broken the ten thousand member mark; but after we experienced an explosion of new members after the Great Boeing Controversy of 775™ our membership is flirting with the 100k mark. Wow!
With the extension of manpower, we were able to finish the timeline of Saiyaman’s appearances up to the “GBCo775.” This is a huge achievement—especially considering the more members we accumulated, the more footage we uncovered. By the end of the project, we almost tripled the original amount of hours of video we needed to wade through.
On top of that, after evaluating our process we not only began to add news articles and first hand accounts to our data, but created a database requiring three levels of verification in order to rate the legitimacy of the sighting. I want to give a huge thank you to SaiyaWham! and JustSaiyan for their expertise in modifying an existing AI to create infographics from the database for those of us with dyscalculia * cough* me * cough* to help us get the full picture.
The database (with names abbreviated for safety reasons,) the informational graphics, as well as a breakdown of our process is all available in this PDF. We encourage all our members to do their best to pick apart our procedure and find any weak points. The last thing we want to do is waste everyone’s time with a red herring!
(You’ve seen my explanation (see: TedTalk) about why I believe all this evidence points to The Great Saiyaman man likely being a high school student. But take a look at the receipts for yourself in this (far too overdesigned) PDF if you don’t believe me.)
Thank you to every single one of you that has made this monumental project possible. Every day we’re one step closer to the truth.
Happy spotting,
#1 SaiyaFan
–
176 Comments
M4dHatt3r1865 - 3 hours ago
I squealed in joy at my desk at work when I saw this…so loudly that I got written up. #WorthIt
ScienceRebel621 - 3 hours ago
On my tablet, but once I get on my computer at home I’ll look over a bit (ie: spend the next two nights hyperfixating and barely sleeping because Saiyaman is my current special interest and y’all will take this PDF from my cold dead hands no cap)
JustSaiyan - 3 hours ago
I am so happy to be alive right now. Glad my day job could actually come in handy for legitimate, real life, non consumer goods type things.
SaiyaWham! - 2 hours ago
— IKR??
Me in 20 years to my non-existent kids: I kept food on the table by developing marketing tech innovations to sell apparel to teenagers.
My (not real) kids: *Yawn*
Also Me: I also helped find The Great Saiyaman.
My (not real) kids: Yay!! You’re MY hero!
(Shut up I can dream…)
BookBB4Eva - 2 hours ago
Why did you have too drop this on a Monday ;_; I can’t dig my teeth into it until the weekend. Such a hard knock life =(
Bulm4Br13fsIs4L1z4rdPrsn - 2 hours ago
Whyyyyyyy is no one talking about Saiyaman’s connection to Bulma Briefs?? Like, seriously? It’s so obvious and y’all are so occupied doing unnecessary labor rather than looking at the connection right in front of you!
— SaiyaWham! - 2 hours ago
OMG dude MOVE ON. We’re looking at actual evidence rather than digging into conspiracy theories. Give it a rest.
— ScienceRebel621 - 1 hour ago
How am I supposed to take you seriously with that screen name? It’s clear you have it out for Dr. Brief’s and nothing we say or do will change your mind.
— Bulm4Br13fsIs4L1z4rdPrsn - 1 hour ago
Right, because having ‘saiya’ in your name doesn’t scream bias? For fuck’s sake
— SaiyaWham! - 57 minutes ago
Read the rules. This is a PG space, keep the F bomb’s out of here.
— Bulm4Br13fsIs4L1z4rdPrsn - 55 minutes ago
You’re all so worried about swearing and not about the real issues. Capsule Corp has MILITARY CONTRACTS. Saiyaman is just Bulma Briefs most recent weapon, and she’s testing it on US.
— ScienceRebel621 - 48 minutes ago
*slow clap* Wooooow. Such genius. So original. Except Capsule Corp’s military ‘contracts’ are because the Aeronautics program is tied to the military budget. That’s all. They’re developing tech for space shuttles. You’d know that if you didn’t trust every Angelfire website you see.
— Bulm4Br13fsIs4L1z4rdPrsn - 44 minutes ago
Screw you (see? Not a swear.) You’re all just drinking the Kool-Aid.
— SaiyamanSpottingOfficial - 27 minutes ago
Okay everyone, simmer down. Let’s step away. ScienceRebel621, SaiyaWham!, I’m sorry but you’re both on your first warning. Bulm4Br13fsIs4L1z4rdPrsn you’re on your third (and last.) Next time we have to ban you.
— Bulm4Br13fsIs4L1z4rdPrsn - 25 minutes ago
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—
SaiyaFanatic666 would like to send you a message
SaiyaFanatic666: I need to talk to you about something serious. I know something about Saiyaman you’ll want to hear.
SaiyamanSpottingOfficial: I’m always happy for more info! What can I do for you?
SaiyaFanatic666: You need to take down that PDF. Now.
—
Gohan wasn’t in denial that his alter-ego was gaining fame. Logically he knew that would mean increased interest from the public during the times he played superhero.
And yet he still froze in shock when after he finished corralling a herd of disgruntled zebras and two over-curious elephants back into their pens at the Satan City Zoo, he found himself surrounded by journalists.
“Saiyaman! Do you have a comment on the warrant for your arrest?”
“Wha? What warrant? I didn’t know there was-”
“How do you feel about taking the blame for the damage to the West Satan City Park?”
“That’s not—”
“Do you think you are as strong or stronger than Hercule Satan?”
“I mean… I can’t say I really think about it much.”
“Where were you during the fight with Cell? Why did you not participate in the Cell Games?”
“Ah, well. About that—”
“What do you have to say about the rumors that you’re a high school student?”
“ Wh-What ?! N-No comment!”
—
As mind-boggling as it seemed to him at the time, Gohan was surprisingly relieved to get back to Capsule Corporation to find the dragon balls with the Saiyan Prince. At least I know where I stand with him.
They started with the dragon balls that seemed easier to locate, tucked away in uninhabited wastelands, deserts, and even one a mile below the ocean’s surface. Vegeta was as usual quiet, speaking in grunts, sighs, and glares. Gohan couldn’t say he had been alone with him very often despite how long he had been on earth, but the times he had it has been oddly… Nice.
He loved Goten, he loved Trunks, he loved his mom and Bulma and everyone else. But sometimes the noises inside his head competed with those outside and it all became too much. If nothing else, the prince was content with silence. It suited Gohan just fine.
They waited until darkness to tackle the balls close to the cities. He’d been afraid of being spotted without his Saiyaman gear on, and he knew Vegeta wouldn’t be caught dead in his vicinity with it. Which left them darting in and out of city streets in utter darkness, the shadows their camouflage.
The last ball proved to be a challenge however. The radar said it was centered on the outskirts of a city, but no amount of rifling through the streets revealed its whereabouts.
“I just don’t get it,” Gohan said. They hovered above the tree line curved around the city limits. “We looked everywhere, but I didn't see anything.”
“Hmmm. Well, if it’s not above ground that really only leaves one other place it could be.”
Gohan wrinkled his nose, knowing where Vegeta was going with his assessment but not liking it either. “So you’re thinking the sewers?”
Vegeta shrugged. “Not really anywhere else it could be. The real question is how it got down there.”
Gohan rose higher so he could see the street the radar claimed the Dragon Ball was under. Squinting, he studied the edge where the pavement hit the sidewalk.
“There are sewer grates along the street. I guess this area floods a lot so it makes sense. The dragon ball must have gotten caught in the flooding at some point and carried into the sewers.”
“Well,” Vegeta started. “Then how the hell do we get it?”
Gohan bit his lip, rising even higher, this time studying the edge of the city. When he saw nothing, he ducked from shadow to shadow scouring the ground where the buildings became sparse.
“There,” Gohan said. He pointed at a dip in the landscape nestled underneath a rocky ridge where the edge of the street dropped off into a small pond. This time of year it was nothing more than a trickle of water coming from the large grated pipe where floodwater would accumulate in the spring.
They flew low in a burst of speed to reach the grate. It was covered in dirt and grime that Gohan didn’t want to think about. Still, there’s no other way.
“Not sure what to do about the grate. We might have to find another ent-”
He was cut off by the high-pitched squeal of metal being twisted and pulled against rock. Gohan covered his ears in reflex, only catching the tail end of Vegeta pulling the grate away from the pipe and dropping it behind him into the tepid water.
Not missing a beat, Vegeta walked into the pipe, not even having to duck down in order to make his way in. Gohan blinked in confusion—he seemed completely unconcerned about the filth.
Not for the first time Gohan wondered what exactly Vegeta had been through under Frieza’s reign.
Realizing he was alone, Vegeta looked back and raised a single brow. Nothing more needed to be said, and Gohan ducked down to follow.
The path quickly became covered in darkness, and Vegeta raised his hand to pull some ki to light the way. Gohan hoped that they wouldn’t run into any deep water.
He studied the dragon radar as they walked. When they got to an intersection in the pipes he pointed to the left. Let’s hope we don't get lost in the maze of pipes. It’s not like we can’t just blow away the pipes and the rock to get out, but I’d rather not come out of the sewers into someone’s home.
“So,” Vegeta started, voice gravely and quiet in the confines of the gloom. “Bulma tells me you’re an adult by human standards.”
To say he was surprised would be an understatement. Vegeta had only rarely discussed their heritage, and never talked about how the hybrid might be different from their Saiyan ancestors. But as out of character as it was, Gohan was immediately entranced at the subject.
“I mean, I guess.” he said, scratching the back of his neck in a move that reminded him too much of his father. “I’m eighteen. Well, technically nineteen if you include the year in the Room of Spirit and Time.”
“Hmm.”
And the conversation ends as quickly as it started. Figures. Yet, Gohan’s curiosity gave him the bravery to speak up.
“What are…What was it like? With Saiyans?”
Vegeta didn’t answer at first. Their feet slosh through the remains of spring storms, echoing into the metal and stone sewers. He was debating apologizing when the prince finally spoke.
“There is no one point in which a Saiyan is considered an ‘adult.’ That’s a human concept. A Saiyan begins training as a child. They reach a landmark on their first kill. When they join the Planet Trade Organizaion. When they win their first battle.”
Gohan tilted his head, intrigued at the vastly different culture. One he apparently shared and never knew.
“So then a lot of it has to do with fighting?”
Vegeta raised an eyebrow, barely visible in the dim light but expected enough to be easy to spot.
“Right. Warrior race.” Gohan aimed a half smile Vegeta’s way, even though it was unlikely he could see it. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
More silence, this time Gohan pointing to the right when they came to another intersection. They were getting closer and he just hoped they were in the right pipe. When the turn led them down another long expanse he gathered himself and pushed through his admittedly awkward question.
“What about… love? And marriage? And…” he blushed, not sure how to approach the subject.“You know?”
“Sex?”
Gohan sputtered, forcing his eyes down to the radar instead of whatever expression Vegeta must have had as he spit out the word. Why does him saying that word sound a lot dirtier than it should be?
“Most Saiyans didn’t… indulge until they’d established a name for themselves.” Gohan couldn’t see much of Vegeta’s expression in the wavering light, but what he could see in the tone of the older voice sounded like he was no longer in the sewer but in a different time, on a different planet
“A Saiyan attempts to prove their worth in battle through their twenties, and at that point they are assigned a profession and rank. After that they may choose a mate, or not if they’re stationed off planet.”
“That long?” Gohan blurted, surprising even himself.
The smirk Vegeta sent his way shouldn’t have been unexpected, yet it left Gohan’s heart thudding in his chest. “What? Eager?”
“N-No, it just…that seems like a long time.” Gohan forced his brain to focus on the words coming from Vegeta’s mouth and not the mouth saying them. “Doesn’t make much sense for the survival of the species.”
“We age differently than humans.”
What? This was news for Gohan.
“We age quickly until around seven or eight so we can be mobile as fast as possible, but that puts a strain on our bodies. And so we stay mostly stagnant and store energy until our late adolescence. It also helps us appear more harmless than we actually are to predators. Then we shoot up to our ultimate height and muscle mass over the following few years.”
Another intersection, and Gohan distractedly directed them to the right. It never really occurred to me that there would be so much difference between us. We look so much alike.
“We also live longer than humans. It’s not a one-to-one comparison to the way humans age.” Gohan saw Vegeta studying him out of the corner of his eye, mouth twisted in contemplation.
“You half-breeds seem to be different. You aged more steadily than a Saiyan would.”
“But more like a Saiyan than humans do,” Gohan concluded. That actually makes a lot of sense.
“Hmph. I wonder how your brother and Trunks will age.”
It was something Gohan had wondered himself; how closely himself, Goten and trunks would be biologically. What traits would be consistent and which would be individual to a specific hybrid.
“They didn’t have tails, so every half-breed seems to be different.” he frowned. Tails had been a sensitive subject with the other half breeds. “But they’re also stronger than I was at their age.”
Vegeta grunted, waved his hand dismissively.“We are all stronger though. The strength of the warriors around a growing Saiyan child makes a difference as well.”
They were getting close. According to the radar they should be within 10 feet. Gohan squinted into the shadows, hoping they would catch a hint of the ball. But Vegeta’s words had him distracted and in his own head.
“They also do not have your… temper .” Vegeta wondered out loud. He seemed to be uninterested in actually looking for the ball at this point. “How much of your strength is hidden behind a wall of forced calmness we do not know. That is strange for a Saiyan. But I suppose it has proven useful.”
Gohan couldn’t read the expression on Vegeta’s face. It made his heart thud for an entirely different reason this time; like he was being dissected.
Vegeta must have noticed his discomfort, because he turned away and started scanning the floor. They walked for a little longer, eyes peeled for any sign of orange. According to the radar they were right on top of it,
Eventually Vegeta broke the silence, surprising Gohan that he would be open enough to continue on a subject that had always been clearly painful to him.
“As for mating and bearing young—it would be irrelevant for a Saiyan at your age. Until a Saiyan is assigned rank, there’s no real way to know who they would be allowed to mate with.”
“Allowed?” He questioned, gaze back on Vegeta. Is this why he was always going about our family being lower class?
“Your father was third-class. I, being the prince, am first-class. We are only allowed to mate within our rank.”
Gohan thought that shouldn’t feel as disappointing and heartbreaking as it was considering their race and their planet was all gone
“That’s…horrible.” he whispered, shying away from the subject in his mind.
Vegeta shrugged, unconcerned at the revelation.“That’s survival.”
A thought occurred to him, and he turned fully to Vegeta, giving up all pretense of looking for the ball in lieu of learning more about his ancestors. “But I thought rank was measured at birth?”
“It is.” Another shrug, and Gohan could tell from the tension of the prince's shoulders that he was reaching his limit. “But there are…exceptions if a Saiyan proves themselves formidable. As your father has proven in achieving Super Saiyan.”
He felt a smirk twisting his own features, something he wasn’t used to letting show. “Was that a compliment to my dad?”
Vegeta glared, yet it didn’t hold a fraction of the power it used to. “Don’t push it Kakarott’s spawn.”
The smirk didn’t leave, but it did soften. It’s actually really nice to talk to him like this. He can be snarky and funny…in a rude way.
“So…does that mean I’ve proven myself? By achieving Super Saiyan, and the second form?” He tried to keep the hope out of his voice, but knowing Vegeta he doubted he succeeded
Vegeta let out a humph, rolling his eyes at the question. “Can you ascend to the second form still? Or has that fallen by the wayside like your training has?”
The smirk did fall this time, and he knew he failed to hide his disappointment.
“I’m…not sure.” He confessed. While he never stopped training, it had never been at the intensity or frequency of the years before the Cell Games. Hard to train that intensely when only a couple people on the planet are a challenge anymore. Though that may not even be true now.
“Hmph.” Was Vegeta only reply, avoiding his gaze.
Gohan finally focused on what they came for, kicking through the assorted flotsam that had accumulated in the pipe. Spare change. Broken cell phone. Lighter. A bunch of half dissolved cigarette butts. Broken glass. He cataloged each bit of debris, stacked it up one by one in his mind to build a wall between him and the prince.
“There is a…time of mourning when a Saiyan hero dies.” Gohan looked up, surprised that he had deigned to break the silence. The older Saiyan kicked through the murky water, and Gohan and had to wonder if he was even looking at all.
“I suppose it is somewhat understandable that your training has waned during that time.” The words were quieter than he had ever heard him speak, but he could see them for what they were. An olive branch.
“Yeah? What would they do? During the mourning period?” He kept his eyes peeled to the ground, making his way further down the pipe. Half an empty coffee can. A soggy plush… Something. Comb.
“Mourn,” was the unhelpful answer. He could practically hear the shrug in Vegeta’s voice.
He chuckled, and it echoed uncomfortably around them. “Yeah, but, how?”
“How should I know?” Vegeta muttered. He stopped kicking around the water, and Gohan was secretly thankful. The princess puttering around was just making it harder to see. Wait…
“But you’re a Saiyan. It’s your cultu-”
“Well there haven’t exactly been many Saiyan heroes since Frieza blew up the planet, has there?” Vegeta snapped back. He stomped a couple of feet ahead of Gohan, his back tense.
“Oh. Right. Sorry.” I’m such an idiot. Gohan looked back down at the radar. Now it was saying they had gone too far. Make up your mind, you stupid thing.
Gohan watched the radar as he walked a few steps towards one side of the wall, then back the other way. It says it’s right here along this wall. Are we in the wrong pipe?
“The title of hero wasn’t thrown around like it is among Earthlings.” Vegeta started. Gohan held back a sigh, frustrated between the dragon radar and Vegeta’s indecision on whether he wanted to talk or not. I feel like he keeps getting my hopes up that he’s ready to share, then changes his mind.
“In order to be deemed a true hero of the Saiyan race, one must have done something legendary to be declared one. It didn’t even happen every generation. It had to be something… exceptional.”
Gohan kept quiet, processing what he heard. It made sense contextually. It also made sense why the subject was a sore one for the prince. Not for the last time, he wondered what a nine-year-old Vegeta would have been like, would have felt when he heard of their planet's destruction. Sometimes I forget how much we share from our childhood, even millions of miles and decades apart.
The next words seemed pulled out of Vegeta’s mouth, tinged with bitterness. “Your father avenging the entire Saiyan race would have counted. Even if it should have been me. ”
Vegeta met his eyes, and the bitterness bled away. Like they were seeing each other for the first time beyond the trappings of their history, their family lines. Two broken people trying to make sense of what was left.
“I suppose you being the first to ascend to a form beyond that of even legends would count too. Especially at such a young age.”
He almost sounded proud when he said that. “Thanks, Vegeta,” he said quietly. The thudding in his heart was back, but he felt strangely OK with that.
They heard a crack and the sound of stone falling on metal back the way they came, and they both jumped. Already moved into a fighting stance, they both kept their eyes peeled to the intersection of pipes further down. They let our collective sigh when a soggy possum peeked around the corner, then startled back the way they’d come.
“Well, I guess that means we don’t have to worry about it flooding if even the wildlife isn’t concerned,” Gohan muttered, heart still pounding from being startled.
“It’s nice, talking about all of this,” he admitted, hoping to hear more in the future. “I like hearing about the other half of my ancestry.”
Another grunt. I think I’m starting to get to the point where I translate his different grunts and grumbles. “Don’t think that means you can rest on your laurels, brat. I expect you to start training again soon.”
Aaaaaand back to where we were.
“And stop fucking around with all this nonsense with the Earthlings. We shouldn’t need to find the dragonballs in the first place. If you could have just keep your mouth shu—”
Vegeta pinched his brow, interrupting his own tirade. “Ugh. This is…not something I’m skilled at.” he admitted into his hand.
“Wow. The prince of Saiyans, admitting he’s not good at something?”
“Don’t let it get to your head.”
Sensing that the conversation had reached its end, Gohan gave in and started tracing the edge of the metal with his hand. He tried to ignore the grit and grime coming away from it, feeling for cracks.
He was rewarded after several feet when he felt a spider crack that grew as it moved upward, a barely noticeable alcove dug into the wall of the sewer. it was covered in debris, but Gohan grit his teeth as he forced himself to dig in the sludge. A glint of orange in the light from Vegeta’s ki had him whoop out in excitement
A bit more digging, and he pulled out the surprisingly unscathed sixth star ball. If there had been any doubt in his mind before, the pristine state of the ball despite its harrowing journey underground proved the orbs were protected by magic.
“Hey, look! I found it,” he crowed, as if it wasn’t obvious. He tossed the ball up and down a couple of times, too excited at the end of their journey to worry about potentially losing it again in the grime.
“Didn’t doubt we would,” another shrug from the prince, and they both started walking back the way they came.
“That confident in me?”
“Psht. We have the dragon radar. We’d have to do a piss poor job to not find them.”
He blinked, head tilting at the Saiyan’s words.
“What?” Vegeta grumbled at Gohan's clear scrutiny. He quickly turned away, answering with a shrug of his own.
“Nothing. It’s just… well, you said ‘piss poor.’” Gohan could feel his cheeks warm, and cursed at himself in his head. Am I being creepy? I think I’m being creepy.
“And?” The prince hissed out.
How do I explain this without him taking it the wrong way? “I’ve noticed you use more Earth colloquialisms lately.” He smiled gently at the older Saiyan, trying to make it clear it wasn’t a judgment. “I think it’s nice. Like you’re accepting Earth as your home.”
“Earth will never be my real home.” Vegeta replied, and Gohan could see his expression shuttering. His mind rebuilding the walls between them.
“Oh. I mean, yeah. I guess that makes sense. I just thought with Bulma and Trunks–”
“That’s your problem, brat. Even supposedly being so smart, you don’t think when it counts.”
Gohan’s steps slowed, the words like fingers digging into the center of barely healed wounds. He couldn’t meet the prince's eyes, couldn’t formulate a response.
Couldn’t deny that he was right.
Gohan followed the Saiyan without question, the journey back towards the surface a blur. He idly thought it was good that the older man had remembered the way back, because Gohan was too deep in his own thoughts to remember. He wanted out, and didn’t know what being stuck traipsing around in the darkness would do to him in this state.
Eventually the pipe opened back into the moonlight, the same pathetic pond and twisted metal from the grate greeting them. He wasn’t sure what to say. it was like they left any bit of camaraderie bleeding out beneath the surface.
“Ugh. Look, I didn’t mean…Ugh.” Gohan couldn’t meet his gaze, but he could see the clenching of Vegeta fists and the tension deep in his muscles.
Gohan shook his head, forcing a smile when he turned to the prince.
“It’s okay,” he said, voice wavering but pushing on anyway. “You don’t have to take pity on me. You meant what you said. I don’t think when it really counts. And other people pay the price for it.”
Like now.
Gohan tucked the last ball into his bag where it clattered amongst its siblings before settling. He inhaled deeply before donning a brave face.
“Thanks, Vegeta. For help finding the dragonballs. I’m going to go to the Lookout and see if Dende can help me figure out some good hiding places.”
The quiet, silently judging Prince of the Saiyans was back, watching Gohan with cold indifference.
“And… Thank you for the other stuff too. It was good to hear about my Saiyan heritage. It was nice.”
He turned to leave, to lift off and pretend the last hour hadn’t happened when-
“Look, brat…”
Gohan froze, turning sideways to catch what Vegeta had to say. His face had twisted, like he’d bitten into something he wasn’t sure if he liked. Opened his mouth as if to speak, shut it. Sighed.
The moment dragged, and every second felt like another papercut.
“See you around, Vegeta,” he finally said, gathering the ki beneath his feet to fly.
He didn’t look back.
—
“Gohan! It’s great to see you.”
Glad someone is, was Gohan’s immediate (albeit bitter) thought. He tried to shake away the self-loathing before the smiling Namekian caught on—Dende didn’t need to be infected by his morose mood, not when Gohan’s visits had become infrequent as of late. I get to see him so rarely, I don’t want to drag him into my nonsense.
“Hey, Dende. It’s been a bit. I’m sorry,” he floundered for a moment, trying to think of a tactful way to explain without getting tangled in the weeds. “Things have been a bit of a mess on the surface.”
Dende reached to clasp his hands, and they stood close, foreheads touching for a brief moment before they broke apart again. Gohan couldn’t remember exactly why they had started greeting each other that way, but he had a feeling it was some Namekian custom the guardian never bothered to explain. Regardless, the familiarity brought warmth to his bones; a small token of camaraderie even as the years passed.
“Ah, yes, I’ve seen some of it,” Dende admitted, a small blush sweeping across his cheeks. He didn’t elaborate, thankfully, changing the subject quickly. “Did you find the dragonballs?”
Gohan tried to keep his expression nonplussed, the strange conversation and fallout with Vegeta fresh in his mind yet. “Yeah, we did,” he shrugged, feigning casualness. “We’re going to spread them around to the others, but would you be able to keep one up here?”
Dende’s smile broadened, cheeks dimpling in his excitement. “Of course! Popo will find somewhere safe to hide it.”
The smile caught Gohan in its glow, the tension draining from him at his friend’s joy. “That’s great, thanks.”
“Oh, Gohan! I wanted to show you something! It’s for Saiyaman.”
“Oh?”
They walked into one of the study rooms at the Lookout, Dende asking Gohan questions he probably already knew the answer to along the way. Or is that how it works? I guess I don’t really know.
When they approached the desk in one of the side rooms, Gohan was caught off guard at the mess was draped all over the surface—some of it spilling onto the chair and the floor.
“Comic books?” Gohan grabbed one haphazardly placed on the top, surprised that the pages had been riddled with notes and highlights. Tabs marked several pages where the notes were so garbled he couldn’t read them. He’s really into this, isn’t he?
“I’ve been doing research about superheroes. For Saiyaman!” Without missing a beat, Dende talked Gohan through all the things he’d read; from different suits, rescue tactics, the best poses he’d found. Gohan didn’t think he’d ever seen Dende so excited about anything. The thought brought a private mile to his face. At least I can bring Dende joy. And make his job easier, come to think of it.
At some point Dende seemed to have worn himself out, becoming quiet and face morphed into somber and contemplative.
“What is it?”
Dende nibbled on his lip between his fangs, a habit he must have picked up from Earthlings.“Oh, nothing, Gohan. It just… seems fun.”
“Yeah, it can be,” he said, the tone was strange even as he tried to hide his uncertainty. Gohan traced a panel in the comic, a young boy thanking the caped hero for saving his sister from their burning home. A year ago he would have thought that was also superhero's had to do: save people. If only it was always that simple. It’s never been that simple before, why would it be now?
“Sometimes,” he finally shrugs, closing the comic and starting to stack them all in a neat pile. Dende watched, eyes glazed over as he studied their covers. His expression was not unlike Goten trying to hide how eager and hungry he was as he waiting for dinner to be finished. Dende would enjoy it more than me at this point. Sometimes I think I’m doing it by rote nowadays.
With the comics at least somewhat organized, Gohan played with the idea in his head. Actually, he really would enjoy it. Maybe he could help me remember why.
“You could take a break once in a while and come with me?” he asked Dende, trying to help the glimmer of hope out of his tone. For a moment the Namekian eyes took on a fervor at the thought, before the passion dissipated with clear resignation.
“Ah, no. My duty is here. And I am not a fighter.”
Gohan tried to hide the disappointment, but couldn’t stop himself from trying one more time. “You wouldn’t really need to fight. I’m strong enough for the both of us.”
Dende twisted his fingers, avoiding Gohan’s gaze. “If I’m honest… I don’t know if I could handle the violence up close. It’s difficult enough at times to watch my charges suffer even from this distance.”
That… makes sense. Though Piccolo and Nial were warriors, many Namek’s were avid pacifists—Dende included. It’s one thing to think it looks cool and another to participate .
“Well… we could still go do something on the surface sometime,” he offered, though not sure what else would interest the guardian.
Dende didn’t seem certain. “Hmm…” he sighed under his breath. But Gohan wouldn’t push. The guardian seemed torn between his duty, morals, and desire for connection. I can understand that. But it really would do him some good to get off the Lookout, wouldn’t it? Can you really be an effective guardian if you don’t know first hand what you’re protecting?
“Think about it? Let me know if there’s something you’d want to do?”
“Okay.”
—
Saiyaman Spotting Official FacePlace
Posted by ScienceRebel621
Umm, is it just me or is the research post missing? The PDF isn’t in the files section either. I tried contacting the mod account to see if it got nuked on accident, and asked different peeps if they can see it. None of us can access it anymore, the link goes to nothing. Is it the algorithm or the app being a jerk? Or is it gone for everyone??
–
24 Comments
SaiyaWham! - 13 hours ago
Yeah, it’s down for me too. That’s really strange?? I don’t see it on the group’s cloud storage either. What is going on? Did we get hacked?
JustSaiyan - 13 hours ago
— I'll go dig and see if I can track when things were deleted/moved and who did it.
JustSaiyan - 10 hours ago
— According to changelog @/Number1Saiyafan is the one that deleted it off the cloud. Can’t find out who deleted the post though. It DOES seem to definitely be deleted however.
SaiyaWham! - 9 hours ago
— Why would they do that?? They were more excited about this than any of us.
JustSaiyan - 9 hours ago
— I dunno. It’s fishy.
ScienceRebel621 - 12 hours ago
I haven’t been able to get a hold of @/Number1Saiyafan either on here or Snipchat. They usually respond within a coupe of hours. I’m honestly getting a little worried about them.
SaiyaWham! - 11 hours ago
— Does anyone have their phone number and want to text them?
BookBB4Eva - 10 hours ago
— I do from when we had a class together. I’ll reach out just to make sure they’re okay.
ScienceRebel621 - 5 hours ago
— any news @/BookBB4Eva?
BookBB4Eva - 5 hours ago
— No hasn’t even been read yet, still on ‘delivered’ :(
BookBB4Eva - 9 hours ago
Please tell me someone has a downloaded copy of the PDF. I didn’t get a chance to.
JustSaiyan - 8 hours ago
— I do, so we’re good. Let’s hold off until we find out what’s going on.
BookBB4Eva - 32 minutes ago
I just got a text from Number1Saiyafan. They said they deleted it and will be posting about an emergency meeting tonight??
—
“Gohan?”
“Hey Dende! It’s great to hear from you. What’s up?”
“I have an idea of a place we could go on the surface...if you’re still interested.”
“Oh, awesome! What is it?”
“Please don’t laugh…”
“I won’t, Dende. I promise.”
“It’s called… SaiyaCon.”
—
Saiyaman Spotting Official FacePlace
Posted by SaiyamanSpottingOfficial
So some of you noticed that the PDF and post about our research has been removed. There is a very good reason for it, which is why we are having an emergency meeting tomorrow at 6:30pm on voice chat to discuss. If you cannot make it, the meeting will be recorded and a transcript created to review before we vote.
Thank you all for your patience, and I apologize for the confusion and worry. Safety concerns have come up regarding our research and I want us to all be on the same page moving forward. I will explain everything at the meeting and we can come to a plan moving forward.
As always happy spotting, and please be safe,
#1 SaiyaFan
–
2,872 Comments
BullmaBreefsIsALiz4rdPersin - 24 minutes ago
Told you so motherfuckers.
Notes:
I had to write part of this chapter in voice to text because my body is an asshole, but I thought y'all would like to now it kept correcting Vegeta to fajita.
You’re welcome.
Chapter 6: INTERLUDE: chasing windmills
Summary:
He got the call at exactly 2:32pm on a Thursday.
He could tell you exactly where he’d been, but he couldn’t remember what he’d been doing. Spreadsheets? Invoices? Catching up on emails? It wasn’t important.
Only two things mattered anymore: the time Before the Call and After the Call.
Notes:
Me: this fic is such crack it’ll be something fun to write
Also me (after writing this chapter): what the fuck have I done—
Shortish interlude chapter so didn't want to keep y'all waiting too long. This is the chapter we earn a few of our warnings.
Chapter Text
If you asked Dimitri (aka, the founder of Saiyaman Spotting Official) why he started the group, he would defer the question. He had been asked many times at this point—from community members to the odd journalist.
It was even a question prospective members were required to answer in order to get accepted onto the page. The answers varied; some told stories of Saiyaman’s exuberant poses and surprisingly earnest interactions with the public. These made him smile or chuckle. Our superhero is such a dork.
Others were so incredibly heartfelt and raw that they made his smile waver and eyes water. These were the ones of lives saved, of tragedy averted. These were the ones that made him question his resolve to keep his own reason silent.
Yet he still kept the secret of his hidden shame tucked under his shirtsleeve like the tattoo on his wrist: ‘2:32.’
There were only a handful of people that number meant anything to. Only a handful of people who could understand. Even their expressions turned pitying the few times he’d tried to explain.
So he stopped trying to.
He knew that Saiyman would understand, though. He couldn’t explain exactly how he knew that, but he knew it in his gut.
He also knew that someday, without a shadow of a doubt, he would know for sure.
———
He got the call at exactly 2:32pm on a Thursday.
He could tell you exactly where he’d been, but he couldn’t remember what he’d been doing. Spreadsheets? Invoices? Catching up on emails? It wasn’t important.
Only two things mattered anymore: the time Before the Call and After the Call.
Before the Call, he’d been slothful. He could admit that now. He waded through his life in a daydream, the hours and days slipping through his fingers like he was drifting his hand through a stream. His day to day consisted of office gossip, deciding which video game to binge, what he’d order out for dinner when he slumped into the ratty recliner he refused to replace. Whether Kim in marketing liked him like that.
Before the Call, he’d been living in a state of perpetual denial, and his brother was the one to pay the price.
“Mitri, get your ass down to The Sancho Panza Building now .”
2:32 was when his new life began.
—
“If I jump, you’re just going to catch me, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I will.”
“Then why bother trying to talk me down?”
“I’m hoping you’ll choose not to jump on your own.”
“Why does that matter?”
“I don’t want to force you to fight.”
———
The Sancho Panza Building was one of the tallest in the south-east sector of Satan City. It didn’t reach into the clouds like some of the skyscrapers in the north side, but at twenty stories it wasn’t exactly hard to find along the city's skyline.
He didn’t bother trekking the block and a half down to find his own car in the parking garage. He exited the building and hailed the first cab he could find; running in front of a suited businessman to claim it from under his nose.
“It’s an emergency!” he yelled at the angry office worker before slamming the door and shouting the destination at the cabbie. He’d pulled every last bill he had out of his wallet and thrust it at the man—fortunately he’d just been paid so it was enough for the driver to not ask questions and break the speed limit when possible.
Dimitri didn’t wait for the car to come to a complete stop before he’d jumped out, pushing through a wall of gawkers that had accumulated on the sidewalk. He’d watched the newscast with bated breath during the drive, as best he could when they hadn’t been in a tunnel. But he knew the video would be on a two minute delay. Anything could have happened in two minutes.
It would only have taken seconds for his brother to jump.
Half his concentration was spent pushing through disgruntled onlookers, but the other half searched the towering walls of the Sancho Panza Building, trying to figure out which window his brother had been in on the broadcast. He nearly cried out in relief when he saw he was still alive, no longer in the windowsill but bracketed between two stone decorative outcroppings. He probably moved because he didn’t want them sneaking up on him.
He finally broke through the crowd, finding himself stopped by the flashing lights of police cars and yellow caution tape. He tried to move around them, but a cop pushed him backwards towards the crowd.
“Keep back, keep back. This is police business.”
Dimitri struggled against the cop's arms; another officer saw the ruckus and moved to do the same. He felt the clench of panic is his throat, but forced the words through anyway.
“Let me through! That’s my brother up there!”
—
“Everyone else seems fine with making me fight.”
“I suppose they would be. They love you—they want you to keep going because they want to keep you in their lives. That’s not how these things work, though. From what I’ve seen, at least.”
“How do they work, then?”
“We only ever really win battles we chose to fight for ourselves.”
—
They hadn’t figured out his brother’s name. They’d barely gotten anything out of him; unsurprising considering he’d gotten himself seventeen floors up and the closest they could get was the unbarred window several yards away.
He stuttered through giving them his brother’s info, his own info, explained their sister calling him to warn him what was happening, and everything else he could think of except why his brother was doing this because he didn't know himself.
Everytime he glanced up at the ledge his chest ached, fearing that any second he’d look up and his brother would already be gone.
He started yelling at some point, the fear burning through his veins. Asking him what they’ve tried, what they were trying, why the hell they hadn’t gotten him down yet.
“We’re doing everything we can. Please try to calm down.”
“How the hell am I supposed to be calm when none of you are doing anything? ”
The cop he’d been talking to, a burly beast of a man with piercing brown eyes and short cropped blond hair, stepped aside when another pushed forward. His uniform boasted a shiny silver ‘Sheriff’ badge.
“There’s nothing we can do—Dimitri was it?” His voice was cool, pacifying, as he admitted to their utter incompetence. Dimitri wanted to strangle him.
“But we’re getting someone who can.”
—
“Can I ask you why?”
“Does it matter?”
“I think so, yes.”
“It’s… college starts back up this month. I’m supposed to graduate next year. It’s just too much. All the pressure, the expectations. Everyone wants me to be something, someone I’m not. I hate it. I can’t do this anymore.”
“What do you want to be, then?”
“I don’t know! I don’t know who I am. I feel like I’m just pretending all the time. Everyday hurts so goddamn much. It feels like there's nothing that would make it all worth it.”
“Is there someone you could talk through this with? Someone who knows you, who you trust?”
“I tried. Everyone keeps saying you have to keep going for the people who love you, because they would miss me and I can’t do that to them. But I can’t keep fighting so other people don’t have to go through pain. What about my pain? Doesn’t my suffering matter?!”
—
The Great Saiyaman. Dimitri could admit when he’d first heard about the superhero he’d been skeptical. Even more so when a compilation of his most ridiculous poses had gone viral on Utube. He hadn’t really given the hero a second thought since then.
Which probably explained why he hadn’t known the helmeted hero could fly.
—
“I can’t claim to know all what you’re going through. There’s probably so much more to it that you haven’t even said. So I won’t tell you to keep fighting for other people, or that things will get better, because maybe they don’t. There’s no way to know, really.”
“Some pep talk.”
“Is that what you’re here for? A pep talk?”
“...No.”
“I didn’t think so. I imagine you’ve had plenty of those over the years. You don’t need one from me.”
“Whatever you’re going through. Whatever you’ve dealt with. Even if you feel alone, like no one can understand. Or maybe you feel trapped, and can’t even imagine things being different someday. I can’t give you some speech or do something to change your life to make it easier on you. I can’t tell you what you should or shouldn’t do.”
“I can’t let you fall, either. And maybe that isn’t fair of me. Maybe you’ll grow to resent me. Even if you chose to jump, simply knowing I’ll catch you must feel unfair in a way.”
“I know there’s probably more to all this then you’re telling me. And that’s okay. You don’t know me, and I’m wearing a mask. It’s hard to build trust on that.”
“But I will tell you that as well as exceptional strength, I have exceptional hearing and sight. And there’s someone down there that can do things I can’t.”
—
Dimitri was in shock. The ambulance lurched through the crowded streets, sending him careening into the walls of the vehicle every couple of seconds. He barely registered any of it. He couldn’t tell you if they’d traveled under the caterwaul of the ambulance’s sirens, or if they’d remained silent. The paramedics took medical measurements, talked to his brother lying on the stretcher. If his brother responded, he didn’t remember that either.
All he could do was study the face of his amazing, terrible, alive baby brother and make a promise to both of them.
To all three of them.
—
“That’s… Dimitri. My brother.”
“I thought as much. You two look alike. He also looks worried for you.”
“I shouldn’t have tried it like this. Now he’ll be worried for no reason. I should have just quietly disappeared.”
“If you two are anything like my brother and I, all he probably wants is to help. For you to talk to him.”
“I… I can’t do that.”
“May I ask why?”
“...It’s not just school. Some things happened…that…”
“Are you afraid to talk about them?”
“If I say them out loud they’ll be real.”
“Even if you don’t say anything, the hold they’ll have on you is just as real. At least if you talk it through, you can each carry part of the burden.”
“I…. I dunno.”
—
Dimitri sometimes wondered if Saiyaman ever thought of his brother. Of what he’d stopped his brother from doing.
Luka never explained what Saiyaman said to him on that windowsill. Dimitri had asked exactly once; his brother had smiled sadly and shook his head. He couldn’t bring himself to be bitter; whatever the hero had said had saved his brother. Not just on that ledge, but in the months after.
If the price he paid for that was ignorance he’d gladly pay it.
—
“It’s my fault my dad was killed.”
“You…what?”
“You said whatever happened won’t feel real as long as you don’t say it aloud. I thought that too, for a long time. Like if I said it out loud it would become this monster that swallowed my friends and family whole.”
“But…the monster only grew in the shadows. It festered. Ate everything at everything good thing I had left in my life. Once I brought it to light, once I talked through it with the people closest to me, it started to take away its power. It never took away the pain. I miss my dad every day. Every time I see my little brother and remember he’ll never meet our dad, that my dad never even knew he exists…it still hurts. Sometimes the pain still feels unbearable. And it’s during days like that I lean on my friends. Do you know how antivenom is made?”
“I…don’t? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Antivenom is made by injecting venom into another animal, and then taking those antibodies and purifying them. By injecting that some venom into another being, we are able to find a way to essentially cure it. It binds to and neutralizes the poison.”
“You… are such a nerd.”
“I’ve been told that, yes.”
“So… I get through the pain by injecting others with it?”
“You get through the pain by sharing its weight.”
—
“Dimitri?”
It was the first words his brother had said since his admittance to the hospital, and Dimitri had never been more grateful to hear the sound.
“Yeah, Luka?”
“I want to talk to you about something.”
Chapter 7: Those who do not weep, do not see.
Summary:
“Nothing bad is going to happen to you, Goten. I’ll protect you,” he whispered, as Goten’s sobs dwindled.
“I know,” Goten murmured miserably into the cocoon of his arms. “But who’s going to protect you?”
Though the sentiment warmed his heart the same time it ached, Gohan couldn’t help but be reminded of what happened whenever people tried to protect him.
He wouldn’t lose his brother the same way.
Notes:
So, my brain broke this year. And I mean that literally.
I had a spine fusion back in June, but then actual literal brain surgery in November. I knew that our brains manage everything in our bodies but didn’t quite understand how bad that could be until I was basically glitching. I’m recovering but… oof.
Also. WTF happened to my silly little social media fic?? This chapter is almost 7k words. And I actually split it in half from my original plan.
I don’t know why I didn’t expect this to turn existential with a smattering of nonsensical humor considering it's basically my lane… but here we are.
Enjoy, I think???
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
After the success of HerculeCon, FanCon, the organization behind the event, has now announced the controversial SaiyaCon.
The event, focused on Satan City’s The Great Saiyaman, will take place in early September at the Satan City Expo Center. While some fans went to social media to show their excitement about the news, others, namely the Mayor of Satan City, have expressed concerns about celebrating the controversial hero. According to a poll conducted by—
We apologize for interrupting your regularly scheduled programming. We have just received breaking news. At 8:43am today, a level 7.6 earthquake hit Central City. In the aftermath, 374 civilians have already been found deceased, with estimates of several hundred more injured, many still buried in the rubble.
Both Videl Satan and Satan City’s The Great Saiyaman have been spotted on the scene. Law enforcement discourages visiting the city and outlying areas until…
—
Gohan had seen many end of worlds, but this was the first time he’d stuck around to see the aftermath.
As he pulled another child from beneath a slab of concrete and rebar—a pile that used to be a high-rise apartment complex—he tried to keep his tone gentle and hopeful as he passed him off to the waiting paramedics. There was no time to throw his voice into a heroic facade, no off-the-cuff poses to break the tension. There were too many missing, too many injured, and too many that had been found too late.
He wondered which was worse: the horror when everything broke, or trying to pick up the pieces afterwards.
After several hours of careful digging through the rubble to find and release survivors from their concrete prisons, one of the search and rescue leaders pushed himself and Videl to rest. He didn’t tell her that lifting entire walls from toppled buildings couldn't even make him break a sweat; that physically he could do it for days on end and not tire.
The woman looked him in the eyes, somehow finding them through his visor. The mix of pity and determination on her face said what she didn’t: he may not need the physical rest, but some hurt wasn’t physical .
The emergency response team had set up several temporary tents. Their bright orange nylon fabric was easy to spot even amongst the chaos. They were both given a bottle of water, a couple granola bars, and pointed to a corner where a few well-worn and dust-covered foldable chairs were tucked away. It was the closest thing he had gotten to quiet since he’d arrived.
They said nothing at first. Gohan didn’t bother with the granola bar, knowing that if he ate anything at that point his Saiyan appetite wouldn’t let him stop. But now was not the time. Better to wait until he got home and he could eat through anything he could get his hands on. He felt guilt at the fact that his genes guaranteed that no matter how emotionally fraught he was, he could still be ravenously hungry regardless.
“Hey,” Videl said eventually. Her voice was weak and gritty. The search and rescue team were all wearing face masks to help with the worst of the dust, but they could only do so much. He had been keeping his gaze down, and when he turned in her direction he couldn’t help but notice the shaking of her hands, cracked and raw from digging through concrete.
It was jarring to see someone normally so confident and eager be brought down to the exhausted teenager sitting next to him. Her cheeks smudged with dust and grime, flyaway hairs pulled from her pigtails, staring down at her half-drunk water with nary a glimpse of the fiery character he’d always seen her as.
“Hey,” he replied back. It felt inadequate. It was inadequate. Maybe I needed this break more than I thought.
“This wasn’t really what I thought I’d be doing when I woke up this morning,” Videl whispered, a faint glimpse of macabre humor in her tone and staining her half-smile.
“Me either,” he admitted quietly. It occurred to him that for all they were familiar with each other in a fight, he could count on one hand how many times they’d had an actual conversation, at least as Saiyaman. And none of them had held even a fraction of this weight.
“Have you...” she started, but stopped to bite at her lower lip. She rubbed at her temples, as if that would help her find the words.
When the silence dragged, Gohan took pity on her. “Have I what?”
There was quiet between them for a bit—but the cacophony of victims crying for help, the whining of heavy machinery, and the shouts and chatter of paramedics and disaster aid workers wouldn’t so easily fade away. “Have you ever done anything like this before?”
“No,“ Gohan replied after a moment. He’d finished his water, and looked down to find his hands twisting the bottle into a thin strip of plastic without him realizing it. “Somehow fighting bad guys feels a lot easier,” he offered as an olive branch. “Simpler, I guess.”
She chuckled under her breath, lips twisting into a bitter smile. “Disarming a knife or dodging gunfire I can handle. What can you do about forces of nature?”
“Not much, I guess.” he replied. And strangely, he found he meant it. Sure, there was little on Earth that could harm him. Hurricanes, tornados, tsunamis, even the earthquake they were cleaning up after wouldn’t be enough to injure him.
But there were nearly eight billion humans in the world. He saved a couple here, a dozen there. The plane he’d prevented from crashing downtown saved several hundred. If he included the Cell Games, he had collectively saved the entire human race.
And yet a natural disaster—no more than a random occurrence caused not by any super villain, but the vagaries of the planet’s tectonic plates— that he couldn’t save people from. And this was only one natural disaster in one city. What about the rest of the world? While he was in school, sleeping, doing his homework… most of them he would never even hear about. What’s the point of all my powers if I have to keep choosing who to save anyway?
“You know I feel that way about you sometimes,” Videl said. She was staring at him, an indecipherable look on her face. She studied him, like she was seeing him, really seeing him, for the first time.
“It’s like you're a force of nature and if you really wanted to… there’s nothing we could do to stop you,” she concluded. Her tone was flat—not judgmental or fearful. Matter of fact. Like she wasn’t processing what she was saying, the remark as simple and inconsequential as observing a cloudy sky.
Don’t blame her, Gohan thinks to himself. She’s exhausted, I can tell. She’s not thinking about what she’s saying. The words were meant to comfort himself. They might have worked, if he wasn’t so emotionally drained as well. Instead they only piled guilt on top of hurt, on top of resignation. A veritable shit sandwich of lies encasing an uncomfortable truth.
The silence between them felt suffocating, but Gohan couldn’t find the words to say. She was right. But also, wrong. Because even if Gohan technically could physically end all life on the planet, he couldn’t imagine a universe in which he would.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be putting that on you,” she finally conceded, voice weary but apologetic. “Especially now. I don’t even know why I said it.”
He shrugged, the motion in his shoulders so faint he wondered if he’d only imagined doing it. Like he’d intended to, but every little movement took more force than he could will into his bones. “It’s okay,” he forced himself to say—for certain this time. “You’re not wrong, really. I wouldn't . But I guess that doesn’t mean much from someone you don’t know.”
She was twisting her empty water bottle open and shut, avoiding his gaze. Embarrassed? Ashamed? Or worse—afraid? Please, anything but that. I don’t want her to fear me too.
“I guess I’ll just have to make you see me as a person then.” He tried to dig deep as he said it—as far down into his energy reserves as he could—to bring back some of that Saiyaman confidence, that carefree certainty. To write off this whole conversation is hypothetical, silly observations that had no weight.
He hadn’t known how much he truly valued Videl as—what? A work acquaintance, classmate, a fellow hero?—until their connection threatened to tear.
A friend , he decided. I don’t want to lose my friend.
To his relief, Videl stopped fidgeting with the water bottle, gaze wandering towards his own. When they met, he could see the tension start to seep from her shoulders. “As a human being?” she asked, a crooked smile blossoming on her lips.
He should have panicked. Normally, he would have. Or done his best to school his expression and affirm her assumption.
He did neither. “Not exactly,” he replied, sharing a secretive smile of his own.
For a single moment— before the search and rescue lead who had forced them to rest came tumbling in the tent in a panic, before they said goodbye to the day under the guise of floodlights and rushing survivors to the paramedics, before they both went home to their respective beds and collapsed on them fully clothed on top of the covers —for a split second in time, they shared something secret, and sacred, and just for them. And Gohan, who had so few things and people in life that were only his, wanted to keep this, and her, safe.
If that had given too much away, he was too tired to care.
—
It was late when the metallic ‘ping’ pulled Piccolo out of his meditation, the sound nearly swallowed up by the nearby roaring of the waterfall. But for all Piccolo now received many notifications throughout the day—a fact that still confused even himself at how far he’d integrated into human society—there were only a handful of people who actually texted him. And only one that would be doing so at what human’s considered an ‘inconsiderate’ time of day to be awake and communicating. Gohan.
i-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: Piccolo?
WaxOnWaxOff: Hey kid
i-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: Can I ask you something?
WaxOnWaxOff: What?
i-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: It’s going to sound stupid.
WaxOnWaxOff: I highly doubt that.
i-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: Okay. Well.
I-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: Have you ever seen someone die for no reason?
i-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: I mean. Not like in a fight. But just… meaningless.
Even a death within a battle can be meaningless, was his knee jerk thought, but he knew that wouldn't actually calm what was troubling the half-Saiyan. Humans and their existential ponderings. Or perhaps that’s just a Gohan thing.
WaxOnWaxOff: Is this about the earthquake?
i-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: Yeah. I’ve seen tons of people die. I mean, even what happened with Namek was senseless but… I don’t know. It’s different.
WaxOnWaxOff: Because there’s no enemy you can fight to stop it.
i-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: Yeah, that’s it exactly. I can’t train for this. Getting stronger won’t really make a difference. But then I feel so helpless.
Unbidden, the image of a five-year-old Gohan huddling over him as he felt his life slip away with every exhale, the child’s eyes pooled with tears and twisted in anguish.
Even if he had been the one dying at the time, he’d never forget how helpless he’d felt at being unable to stop his first friend from feeling that pain.
WaxOnWaxOff: It is worth understanding that the feeling you are experiencing right now is one that most humans experience much more than you have.
WaxOnWaxOff: They cannot fight invisible enemies, true.
WaxOnWaxOff: But most of them also cannot fight the visible ones because they are not physically strong enough.
i-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: How can they stand this? I feel so powerless. It’s like Cell, or Frieza, or the Saiyans all over again.
i-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: But I can’t get stronger and fight the bad guy to make it stop. It’s happening all the time, everywhere.
i-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: I hate that there’s nothing that I can do.
WaxOnWaxOff: I don’t think that is necessarily true. You can train for this. Or something like it.
i-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: What? How?
WaxOnWaxOff: There are humans whose job it is to mitigate the damage of natural disasters, isn’t there? Why not learn from them?
WaxOnWaxOff: They are familiar with how these things go, and what people need the most.
i-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: That’s a great idea! Thank you Piccolo. I’ll ask Videl about it.
WaxOnWaxOff: While you’re at it, ask your other question too.
i-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: Which one? I have so many.
WaxOnWaxOff: ‘How can they stand it.’
i-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: I think I kind of already did. But not so directly.
WaxOnWaxOff: I know you, Gohan. You don’t easily burden yourself upon others.
WaxOnWaxOff: Whatever you said, I doubt she understood what you were really asking.
i-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: Oh. You’re probably right.
i-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: But I can’t ask as ‘Gohan,’ can I? I’ll have to see if I can talk to her as Saiyaman at some point.
Piccolo held in a sigh, fingers hovering over the keypad as he debated whether it was sometimes kinder to lie, or if at some point kindness necessitated first being wounded.
WaxOnWaxOff: Gohan. I think you need to come clean to your friends.
He watched as three small dots blinked below his last message, then stopped. Blinked again. He could imagine in his mind’s eye Gohan biting his lip, eyes wandering as he tried to pick apart what he was feeling, what was the right thing to do, and whether he had the courage to do it.
Not for the first time, he cursed the sterile distance of digital communication.
i-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: I…know. I’m just afraid to. I know I’m being a coward.
i-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: I’ve never done this before. I don’t know what to say, or not to say.
i-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: I thought about asking Bulma, but she’s known my dad for so long I don’t know how much help she’d be.
WaxOnWaxOff: It’s worth asking.
WaxOnWaxOff: She may have known for a long time, but she is surrounded by normal humans in her work that do not. Surely she must have some insight.
WaxOnWaxOff: As much as I hate to admit it, she is quite intelligent. Or she wouldn’t be where she is today.
i-think-therefore-im-saiyaman: Okay. Thank you, Piccolo. You always know what to say. How did you get so wise?
WaxOnWaxOff: I’ve made a lot of mistakes. That’s how.
237 miles away, Piccolo let the phone drop from his fingers into his lap, Gohan’s last texted words burned beneath his eyelids.
‘You always know what to say’? If only that were true.
—
Some nights, Gohan dreamed of Radditz.
He tried explaining this to his father once, a long time ago. That even though Radditz was long dead, that even if the Saiyan were alive he wouldn’t be a threat, that it was what Radditz represented more than who he was.
Before Radditz, Gohan had a fairly normal, if eccentric childhood. Radditz was the hallmark upon which he was dragged literally kicking and screaming into a constant battle with ever changing goal posts. From when the Saiyans arrived to after the defeat of Cell, the only thing that changed was the power level of the threat they faced.
His dad never understood. Maybe it was this that set the full blooded Saiyans and hybrids apart; this object permanence that allowed the hybrids to remember the terror and pain of the fights before, while the Saiyans only remembered the glory.
At least, that’s what he’d thought. As Trunks and his brother grew, he began to wonder if it was just him cursed with the knowledge that none of them were truly invincible.
He’d been wrong.
It was some undefinable time after he’d finished texting Piccolo, eyes blurring as he counted the wood slats in the ceiling. If he closed them he would only re-witness the atrocities and desperation from the day, and he wondered how difficult it would be to learn how to sleep with his eyes open.
The door creaked, and he spied the messy spikes of his brother’s hair before he saw his face.
“Goten? You okay bud? It’s late.”
The young saiyan grabbed the top of the covers to pull himself up onto the bed next to Gohan. Tha alone spoke of how tired the little guy must have been—he had recently learned to fly and insisted on flying everywhere, inside and outside. Now, his shoulders were hunched as he curled next to his big brother like any other Earthling child would have, searching for comfort.
“Can you tell me a story?” Goten finally asked. His fingers picked at the blanket, eyes downcast. “I can’t sleep.”
There was a breath of silence where Gohan wondered if he should push. It was so hard to know the right thing to do with Goten sometimes. He feared more than anything making the same mistakes his parents did with him, but he also knew that he and Goten were so very different. Would his brother prefer his hurt be confronted, or for his elder brother to ignore what was happening underneath, barrel through like his father did?
“What kind of story?” he settled on eventually. If he wants a story, maybe he just needs a distraction. There’s no harm in that.
Goten bit his lip, turning his chin up to watch the ceiling, as if the answers to the universe were in the wood grain. “Hmm. I dunno,” he said.
Gohan tapped his finger gently on the covers, thinking through the stories Goten asked to be repeated over and over. “How about the time when Dad defeated the Red Ribbon Army when he was little?”
“No,” Goten said, dropping his head to look down at where he was twisting his fingers between each other.
Gohan frowned, before hiding his surprise behind a mask of calm. “Okay, what about a story about the dragonballs?”
“No, I don’t want to hear any stories about fighting,” he said. Goten shook his head, more forceful this time in his denial.
Gohn didn’t know what to say to that. It felt like he’d unexpectedly stepped off into empty space, but couldn’t fathom why.
“You usually love the stories about Dad’s battles,” he finally said, placing a gentle hand into Goten’s spiky hair. He traced it down his brother's neck, soothing him with small circles. “Everything okay?
Goten pouted then, pulling away from Gohan’s attempts to calm him. “I just don’t want to,” he muttered. He sat up, crossed his arms and pulled up his knees, like he could disappear into his own body to escape the emotional disquiet.
Gohan didn’t push, didn’t reach out when his brother clearly needed space. He waited until Goten’s shoulder’s lowered slightly, his brother relaxing back into the headboard. “Did something happen, squirt?”
The silence held long enough that Gohan wondered if he’d get an answer at all. “I’m… scared,” Goten eventually whispered.
Gohan tried to school his features, tried to hide his surprise, his incredulity. Goten had always been surrounded by seasoned fighters with overpowered skills, aliens able to harness legendary forms to combat foes. And he’d never seen or taken a part in any fight to the death against any supervillain. He was raised on stories of triumph, glory, and honor. The idea that Goten, who had the unbridled passion for fighting and sense of invincibility that their father had often displayed, was scared … it felt unfathomable.
“About what?” He asked, not sure what else he could say as he grappled with the reality of it.
“I dunno,” Goten shrugged. “Just. Sometimes those stories make me scared.” His brother hid it well, but Gohan could see the slight tremor in Goten’s fingers as they grasped his knees. Gohan sat up, then slowly set an arm around Goten’s shoulders, ready to be pushed away but hoping the comfort would be welcome this time. He almost let out a sigh of relief of his own when his brother leanend into the embrace. They couldn’t see each other face to face like this, but maybe that was easier for Goten. For me too, Gohan admitted to himself. Our family has never been terribly great at conceding weakness.
“Well, that’s okay,” he said after they each took comfort from each other for a few minutes. “We all get scared sometimes.”
“Nuh uh,” Goten said, voice hard in its certainty. “Trunks says his dad never gets scared, and that’s why he’s so brave.”
Gohan couldn’t stop a little huff of a laugh at that. “I don’t know if that’s true, kiddo.”
“It isn't?” Goten asked, voice sounding so hopeful it broke Gohan’s heart just a little bit more.
“I’ve definitely seen Vegeta scared,” he said, giving his brother’s shoulders a slight squeeze. “But I still think he’s very brave. Courage doesn’t mean you aren’t afraid, it means you do what needs to be done anyway.”
“Like you?” his brother asked immediately. If Gohan was honest, the lack of hesitation hurt. Just a little . “I mean, you’re scared a lot .”
Gohan bit his lip, focusing on the slight pain over the memories of Napa bearing down on them, of Piccolo dying on the ground, of being frozen in terror as he screamed internally for his body to just move. “That’s… not very nice to say,” he finally responded, though there was no vehemence in it.
“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Goten asked, and suddenly Gohan was extremely glad he couldn’t see his brother’s eyes as he asked.
“I suppose it is. I didn’t know you noticed though,” he confessed.
Gohan could feel his brother nod in the half-circle of his hug. “Mom told me. You wanted to be alone in your room for a few days and she told me not to bother you. She said that sometimes you get scared and need time to think about things.” There was no shame or accusation in Goten’s tone, which Gohan could only be thankful for. Even if part of him was cracking at the realization that he hadn’t been as subtle as he thought he had been.
“So does that mean you didn’t think I was brave? If you thought being scared was bad?” He suddenly had to know. And part of him hated that Goten’s response might color his view of a seven-year-old who’d only known peace. Pathetic, isn’t it? To put so much stock into the words of someone who doesn’t yet know any better
“Hmmmm. It’s different I think,” Goten said, explaining nothing even though he’d said it in a tone that implied it explained everything.
“How come?” Gohan pushed, tensing.
“You’re like me!” Goten finally said, though there was an air of almost-joy this time. “Not like Trunks and Mr. Vegeta. We’re not always brave.”
It took a moment for Goten’s words to fully sink in, but when they did, Gohan couldn’t stop himself from pulling his sweet, warm-hearted, wonderful little brother into a real hug. When they pulled back, he looked Goten in the eyes, hands light on his shoulders and a gentle smile on his face that pushed away the melancholy.
“I suppose we’re not,” Gohan said. And even if it was not exactly in the way Goten had intended, it was undeniably true.
But he couldn’t leave it at that, either. Because Goten saw Vegeta and Trunks as the right way to be instead of a different way, and for all Gohan wasn’t always sure how to be a brother-father figure to Goten, he knew that this if nothing else was something he needed to stop before it festered.
“You know that’s not a bad thing, right?”
Goten turned his head, not meeting Gohan’s gaze. He recognized the look in his brother’s eyes immediately. It was the same shadow burrowed into his own irises every time he looked into the mirror since Radditz landed on Earth. He was not going to let his little brother wear the same darkness.
“Hey,” he said, so soft it was almost a whisper. He ran a hand through the spikes of Goten’s hair, and his brother finally looked back into his eyes. “You’re right that we’re different from Vegeta and Trunks. But lots of people are different from each other, that doesn’t make them any less. You like Dr Briefs, Aunt Bulma, and Mrs Briefs right?”
“Uh huh!” Goten said, nodding vehemently. “Mrs Briefs makes the best cookies, and Dr Briefs is really smart but silly sometimes. And Aunt Bulma is SUPER smart and can make anything!” Goten’s clear joy at talking about some of his favorite people colored every syllable, and Gohan couldn’t help but smile at the infectious joy.
“And you love mom right?”
Goten looked momentarily confused that he even had to ask, before a grin split his face. “Of course! She makes the best food and gives the best hugs.”
I love them too, Gohan thought, and for a moment memories of Radditz, the saiyans, and even Cell were washed away by an amalgamation of all the moments he treasured with his loved ones. They’re the reason I ever fought in the first place.
“Mom and the Briefs are all human. And even humans are so very different from one another. But Dad and Vegeta were Saiyans. They look a lot like humans, but they can be very, very different on the inside.”
Goten bounced up on his feet, little hops emphasizing his words. “Yeah! Like they’re really strong!
“That too.” Gohan responded, chuckling. “But also the way they think about things and the way they feel things can be different too.”
Goten abruptly paused in his hopping. He turned his head slightly, eyebrows furrowed in consideration. “Is that why Mr Vegeta won’t tell Trunks he loves him?”
The joy was suddenly engulfed in shadow.
“That's… part of it,” he said weakly.
Goten dropped back onto the bed cross-legged, like a deflated balloon. His exuberance of a moment ago was replaced with deliberation, something that Gohan recognized so much easier in himself but seemed strange to see on Goten’s face.
“Did dad ever tell you he loved you?”
“He did, yes,” Gohan said with certainty. Because he had. “Many times.”
But Goten wasn’t finished with his reflection, apparently. “Aunt Bulma says that even though Mr Vegeta won’t tell Trunks he loves him, he tells him in other ways. Like training him and helping him become stronger.”
“That’s…true,” he replied, knowing it was so much more complicated than that, but that Goten and Trunks were too young to understand. And there was so much to Vegeta that Gohan shouldn’t be the one to explain.
“Did dad do that too?”
Gohan opened his mouth to reply, then paused. Tried again. He wasn’t even sure what words he meant to say, only that he should say something .
But even Gohan wasn’t sure the answer.
“Why all the questions tonight buddy?” he asked instead. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Goten got quiet, then. Not from contemplation, from consideration. But an echo of the darkness that had followed his little brother into the room, led him to this late-night conversation of revelations that had gotten so far out of Gohan’s control.
“Trunks said that Mr Vegeta said that dad died fighting,” Goten said finally. “Is that true?”
I’m sorry, he immediately wanted to say. And it was all my fault, and if I hadn’t been so arrogant you would be having this conversation with dad, not me.
“It’s… mostly true,” he said instead, but it hurt all the same.
“So…when people fight, people can die?” his little brother’s voice wavered on the last word. Gohan wondered if all their stories left something key out in the retelling that this reality had cut his brother so deeply.
“Yes, they can,” Gohan said, but couldn’t bring himself to explain more. Instead he pulled Goten back into a hug, and his little brother pushed his face against Gohan’s chest, small fingers grasping his nightshirt.
“I like fighting,” Goten said, voice wobbly and muffled by the fabric. “But I don’t want people to die. I don't want to hurt anyone. Not really, really hurt them.”
“You don’t have to fight if you don’t want to.” Gohan brought up a hand to rub slow circles on Goten’s back. He was determined to keep this promise. Goten would not be forced to fight like he had been. Even if Gohan had to become something else to prevent it.
“But I LIKE to fight,” Goten muttered, then pulled back enough to look up at his brother. “But does that mean people have to get hurt?”
Not if I have anything to say about it, Gohan thought. If I can be sure about anything with you it’s this.
“Not necessarily Goten. There are different kinds of fighting. There’s fighting like martial arts,” he paused, pushing down the memory of rage and thirst for revenge. To hurt . “And then there’s fighting to hurt people.”
Goten leaned back into the hug, half laying in Gohan’s lap to get closer. “When you’re fighting the bad guys, which one is that?”
I’ve never really lied to you before , Gohan thought. Not about something important. Please forgive me.
He wondered if Kinto-Un would hold it against him and let him fall next time he stepped foot on the golden cloud.
“When I’m fighting bad guys, I’m fighting like a martial artist. Even if they are fighting to hurt.”
If Goten could tell that was a lie, he didn’t let it show. There was contemplative quiet that lingered in the air, fed by sharp inhales from Goten, small shudders quaking his shoulders. Trying not to cry, probably. That was a feeling he had been all too familiar with as a child, and he hated to see it reflected back.
“And dad and Mr Vegeta?” Goten mumbled into Gohan’s chest. “Cuz they’re Saiyans. Which one are they doing?””
“Hmmm. I can’t speak for Mr Vegeta,” Gohan started, leaning his head against Goten’s, inhaling the scent of dried leaves and woodsmoke. Likely Goten and his mother had cooked fish outside in a thinly veiled attempt to distract his brother. “But I think for dad, it was as a martial artist. Most of the time.”
Gohan rocked his little brother gently in his arms, like he did when he was a baby. The familiar rhythm comforted him as much as Goten. He was so lost in the memory he almost missed Goten’s murmured question. “But sometimes not? Like with Cell?”
Gohan knew he should answer. But the words never came. Cell was a shadow that dogged his footsteps, took root in his nightmares, and was the crucible of so much disgust and guilt that even the word froze him an endless loop of terror and rage.
Sometimes I think it would be easier to be fully saiyan. Neither Dad or Vegeta ever seemed so haunted by fallen enemies.
And so, he did what he thought Goku would do.
“You’re full of questions tonight!” He said, pulling back from his brother with a pasted smile stretching his cheeks. “How about we read one of your comics together?”
The reaction was immediate. Goten pulled back, jumping to his feet to glare at his brother.
“Nooooo! Tell me!” Goten stomped his feet on the mattress in his frustration, the bed creaking in protest at the violent treatment. “Aunt Bulma and mom always say it's adult stuff, but you were little when you fought Cell. How come you get to know, but Trunks and I don’t?”
Gohan’s smile fell quickly at the pain dug underneath Goten’s outburst. So much for trying to be like dad.
“Goten. It’s because I knew so much when I was so little that I don’t want you to go through that.” He waited for Goten to stop his tantrum, the pout still there, but now with curiosity in his glare.
“You know how mom said I was scared a lot? It’s because of that.” He held his arms out to Goten, and his brother settled back on Gohan’s knee, but facing him this time. “I didn’t get to just be a kid like you and Trunks. I want you to be a kid for as long as possible and not have to deal with all the adult stuff. Not yet.”
“You’re my little brother,” he said, trying not to choke on the words. He ran a hand through Goten’s hair, the spikes pushed back then springing back again. Just like dad. “It’s my job to protect you.”
Goten leaned into Gohan’s shoulder, weary, but anger replaced with an edge of sadness. “But who will protect you ?”
I don’t need to be protected, was Gohan’s knee-jerk thought. People need to be protected from me.
Cell really did mess me up, didn’t he.
“You’re a good kid, Goten,” he whispered into the hair of his young, naive, compassionate brother. “Don’t ever doubt that.”
“I don’t understand,” Goten grumbled, pulling at the collar of Gohan’s shirt.
“I know.” He pulled Goten’s hands from his shirt to hold them in his own. They dwarfed Goten’s tiny fingers, calloused and hard. Not meant as something to hold but to hurt. “And forgive me, but I don’t want you to. Not yet.”
They sat curled together, the distant rumble of thunder and an irregular plink of rain on the window disturbing the quiet.
“Can you read me Dr. Slump?” Goten grumbled eventually. Gohan had thought he might have fallen asleep, but clearly he underestimated his brother’s energy when he had something he was focused on.
At Gohan’s nod, Goten stumbled back to his room—only needing one reminder that their mother was still sleeping so to please try to be quiet—before he wandered back with not one, but two Dr. Slump books. They had been Gohan’s when he was a kid, the pages well-worn from use despite Gohan’s tendency to be careful with his books. Now a third of the pages threatened to fall from the binding, pages torn and folded. He couldn’t find it in him to mind, though. It may not yet be well-cared for, but it was well loved.
Goten was, at this age, able to read the book on his own, but that didn’t stop him from asking his older brother to read it to him, or Gohan from treasuring the times they spent hunched over its pages. Especially when Goten was younger, sometimes reading to Goten was the only distraction that kept the shadows from pulling him in.
He would ever be grateful for the last gift his father had given him, even if it was unintentional.
They were about twenty pages in when Goten spoke again. “Trunks and I watched the video of the Cell Games.”
Gohan felt like he’d been struck. The text and images swam before his eyes.
“Aunt Bulma had a copy hidden in her office,” he confessed. “Her and mom said we shouldn’t watch it. But then we got curious and…”
Goten tucked his head into Gohan’s shoulder with such force it ached, his little brother clinging to him as if he could remove the memories if he got close enough.
“I wish we hadn’t watched it,” he whispered, voice wet with tears he gave up on holding back. “He was hu-hurting people, and you were screaming so loud, and, and then…”
Gohan dropped the book in lieu of holding Goten close, careful not to crush him as he attempted to push away the flashbacks that made his muscles twitch in reflex. “Shhh, hey. It’s okay.”
If Goten heard, he didn’t let on. Gohan could feel the damp from his brother’s tears on his t-shirt, but he didn’t care. He started humming, a lullaby his mother had sung to them both as children. A reminder that they were loved, cherished, and that not everything—not everyone —was lost.
“Nothing bad is going to happen to you, Goten. I’ll protect you,” he whispered, as Goten’s sobs dwindled.
“I know,” Goten murmured miserably into the cocoon of his arms. “But who’s going to protect you ?”
Though the sentiment warmed his heart the same time it ached, Gohan couldn’t help but be reminded of what happened whenever people tried to protect him.
He wouldn’t lose his brother the same way.
—
DaimaoWusRight : What part of talking sense into Gohan included making him catatonically depressed?!
DaimaoWusRight : You had your chance and you fucked up. It’s my turn.
IHateEarthlings : Psht. Let’s see you do better then, green bean.
DaimaoWusRight : Gladly. But you better fix what you broke between you too as well. Or I may re-think my role as a good guy just long enough to show you what real villainy looks like.
—
Blueitt
b/Saiyaman
Posted by pineapplecomposition042 - 6 hours ago
Footage from the West City Fashion Gala is slowly being leaked and OMG did Cocoa Shanel just wax poetic about Saiayman, call him a literal god, and then completely demolish his outfit in the same sentence? They are the GOAT and I'm here for it.
Link to video
“We’re here at the Premiere Fashion Gala in West City. This is the annual meeting of the greatest minds in fashion, where the top designers reveal their newest, most innovative, never seen before looks and clothing lines to the world.”
“I’m here with Cocoa Shanel, the premier designer at this year’s Gala, known for their groundbreaking haute couture designs that revolutionized the fashion industry as we know it. They are the premiere stylist for royalty and celebrities alike.”
“Cocoa, you’re premiering next season's clothing line on the catwalk this evening. I’ve heard that you had quite a unique inspiration for your newest line?”
“Why, yes. I was captivated by the image of Satan City’s Superhero, The Great Saiyaman. Truly, this line is the culmination of my life’s work. I have brought forth a vision that transcends humanity. Just as The Great Saiyaman rises into the skies to break away from the constraints of his own shattered soul, so too through these masterpieces can we ascend into a higher state of being.”
“The line has not yet been revealed, but there has been some… criticism about using Saiyaman as your inspiration. Some people call his outfit tasteless and his poses comical. How do you respond to that?”
“Those people are unable to see beneath the surface. Beneath the garish tunic and tights, I can see deep into his tormented soul. This man with the powers of a god, ravaged by darkness within, covering it with buffoonery and gaudy costume so that his inner turmoil may not be perceived. I have peeled back the crude, clashing colors and ill-fitted lines to expose the pure soul within. A reflection of the darkness and the light we all carry, but in the avatar of a preternatural deity.”
“You uh… really see all that?”
“Hmph. The fact that you do not is why you are relegated to being a cut-rate reporter posting asinine questions and gossip on a social platform that is nothing but an evolution of the most despicable gossip rags, and I am the fashion genius of our time. Leave me, your infantile nattering bores me.”
348 Comments
BigBoomies42 - 4 hours ago
Do I care about fashion now?! Because that was lit and I don’t even really know who they are, beyond that people counterfeit their bags like woah. I am invested .
cogn1tive_fat4lism - 4 hours ago
Why do I keep getting notified about shit like this? I don’t give a crap about high fashion OR Saiyaman.
cosmic_g1ow - 4 hours ago
— Okay but…now you’ve clicked on the link AND commented. You know they’re going to show you even more about it now right??
cogn1tive_fat4lism - 3 hours ago
— Quit, don't quit... Noodles, don't noodles. I get the notifications no matter what, and now the algorithm’s got me in a rage spiral. So fuck it. If I gotta suffer, everyone's going to hear about it.
cosmic_g1ow - 2 hours ago
— What a hard knock life you have *rolls eyes*
MavenSpacexDragon - 3 hours ago
Reporter: *trying to be tactful* there has been some… criticism about using Saiyaman as your inspiration.
Koko: *obliterates Saiyaman, the reporter, and an entire social platform in under a minute.*
Reporter: … *quits job and moves to Diablo Desert where they are never seen or heard from again*
ScienceRebel621 - 3 hours ago
I laughed at this for five minutes straight… and then got really, really depressed because as eccentric as they are, I don’t think they’re wrong?? Like, has anyone really really watched Saiyaman’s face during the few times he’s been caught on video not actively fighting bad guys or doing his poses? Every once in a while he looks so incredibly sad , but it’s only ever for a split second.
SaiyaWham! - 3 hours ago
— I’VE BEEN SAYING THIS FOREVER!!!
Look at these screenshots from the past six months especially. It only ever lasts a second, but especially when he doesn’t think anyone is looking, it’s like he drops the mask (under his helmet) and it breaks my heart every time.
JustSaiyan - 2 hours ago
— Holy shit. I’m so ashamed that I call myself a SaiyaFan and I never noticed =(
SaiyaWham! - 2 hours ago
— Don’t beat yourself up. I didn’t notice it for months.
ScienceRebel621 - 2 hours ago
— The few clips we’ve seen from the earthquake response were especially heartbreaking. Not much has been released, but… in what I saw he looked pretty devastated.
JustSaiyan - 2 hours ago
— I can’t believe Cocoa Shanel of all people has opened my eyes to this. I guess even a stopped clock is right twice a day.
–
Maybe he should have considered the possibility. You don’t stop hordes of thefts, bank robberies, and other miscellaneous crime without gaining some enemies.
For the first time, Dimitri wonders if he’d made a mistake.
SaiyaFanatic666: Not everyone in this group has good intentions.
SaiyaFanatic666: Someone is trying to go after Saiyaman.
SaiyaFanatic666: They’re trying to kill him
Notes:
NGL the scene with Goten was TOUGH to write. But I think it needed to be here.
Next chapter we get into people actually trying (and somewhat succeeding) in fixing the shit-show that is Gohan trying to do everything himself. And Vegeta eating crow for once in his life. And Dende learning what cosplay is, to Gohan's horror (and probably secret joy if we're being honest.)
Chapter 8: there are wounds that never show on the body
Summary:
The car careened to the left, Sharpener attempting to avoid the fallen tree blocking the road revealed by the headlights. Too quick to stop, but with little leeway between road and the clifface, they reached the end of the pavement far too soon. The car burst through the metal railing with a high-pitched screech that he would not forget for a very long time. The moment the back tires left the pavement, Gohan was suddenly, violently reminded how very human his first real friends were.
It wasn’t choice. It was a reflexive, desperate action, that despite the ramifications of he couldn’t bring himself to regret.
He was inside the car with them, and then he wasn’t.
Notes:
I’d apologize for how long this took, but uh… *points at the chapter word count, and then at the dumpster fire that is 'Murica right now*
These chapters keep wanting to be even longer, and I had to cut this down THREE TIMES because it was getting too ungainly to finish.
And then the characters kept having the sads without my express permission. It’s almost like we’re living through a *hostile government takeover* or something *shrugs*
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“ After six days around the clock to find and identify survivors, injured, and the deceased, the Central City Disaster Response Force (CCDRF) are reporting that all citizens are accounted for. Rubble has been cleared from the majority of the city, the skyline forever changed after the devastating level 7.6 earthquake.
The Mayor of Central City has announced her plans to offer assistance to individuals, families, and businesses affected by the earthquake, and an assessment of the damage and potential costs of rebuilding is underway.
Mayor Valdez has also honored The Great Saiyaman and Videl Satan Awards for Distinguished Public Service. The duo were spotted on the scene aiding search and rescue efforts since the beginning, and the CCDRF has credited their help with the speed with which rescue efforts were completed, as well as the number of lives saved.”
—
Gohan tried to ignore the irregular dirty looks of their PE Assistant as the hour of gym class passed at a trickle. Each tick on the oversized clock behind the basketball hoop seemed to reverberate through the walls over the sound of sneakers slapping on the polished wood—the world a sluggish blur as he tried to not choke on the taste of his guilt.
I have more control than this, Gohan reminded himself for the hundredth time since he’d been benched by the irate instructor. It was an honest mistake for him , but for anyone else his actions must have seemed intentional.
He’d been distracted all day, mind untethered and winding down corridors of old memories and tracing emotional scars. So he was unprepared when the ball had been passed his way. He’d acted on reflex—which unfortunately for him meant battle reflex.
He was simply glad his subconscious had chosen to deflect the ball instead of shooting it out of the air with ki.
Regardless, the ball had hit the wall with such force it had completely deflated, which didn’t surprise him. It had left a crumbling dent in the gym wall, which also didn’t surprise him but sure as hell surprised their assistant instructor.
Surprised, and infuriated. Because as far as a normal, human PE Assistant was concerned, a teenage boy doesn’t throw a ball against a wall hard enough to damage concrete unless it was on purpose.
Gohan’s shame grew as the instructor went on an (admittedly understandable) tirade before directing him to sit on the bench for the remainder of class. His head hunched into his shoulders as he sat, subconsciously making himself appear small—hoping to simply not be perceived long enough for him to reconcile for himself what had happened.
I’ve been on edge, he finally admits in his head. Too much drama, too much suffering, too many memories resurfacing. I need to get control back. I can’t afford to make mistakes like this, someone could get hurt.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat stewing in his own internal reprimands on the bench before a creak and dip of the metal indicated a visitor. When he glanced up, he was relieved to see Erasa sitting next to him, far enough to give him space in his gloom but close enough she made their connection as friends clear.
“Did something happen?” he asked, concern overtaking the regret as he scanned her for injuries.
Erasa shrugged, lifted her left leg up as if that explained everything. She leaned towards him, whispered “I pretended to twist my ankle. Figured you were lonely on your own over here. I don’t think I’d ever see you get in trouble. Lookit you, you’re a rebel!”
Gohan held back a wince, but Erasa’s mouth split in an overjoyed grin at the prospect. He huffed, shrugging deeper into himself. Unsure what to say, suddenly shy at being alone with the perky blond.
“You’re stronger than you think, aren’t you?” she said, voice bright and cheery as always. Gohan wondered if the girl ever knew a cloudy day. The only other person I knew that could be that endless positive was… well, dad.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Gohan said, swallowing back his own bitterness. “I didn’t actually mean to damage anything.”
“That’s so cool! Hey, maybe you could be Saiyaman’s sidekick. Oooh, a Saiya-Sidekick! Saiyakick?” she teased, elbowing him lightly in the side. The gentle camaraderie eased him out of his hunch, shaking loose a bit of the weariness that held him in a chokehold.
“I guess,” he said noncommittally. “Not so cool breaking equipment we need for class though.”
She giggled, the sound bright but loud. She hid it behind a hand when the assistant glared in her direction. When he turned back to Sharpner—who had been hogging the ball for the last five minutes—she met his eyes before she rolled them, the movement exaggerated and defiant.
It was silent for a while after that. Though the chatterbox was rarely quiet in the presence of Videl or Sharpner, she seemed content to simply watch the students run through the gymnasium, most of them only putting in a token effort while the more athletic students executed flashy moves, puffed up with pride at their supposed prowess.
I can’t relate to them, he thought. He couldn’t recognize himself in the posturing jocks nor the disinterested masses scattered through the spacious gym. The percussive echoes of sneakers and murmur of conversation was alien and bizarre. Will there ever be a place for me here?
“Hey, Erasa?” He asked, breaking the content silence between them. “Why do you love Saiyaman so much anyway?”
She hummed, kicking her legs carelessly in thought—including the supposedly injured one. It reminded him of swinging his legs over the rocky edge of Piccolo’s waterfall as a child, watching cotton candy clouds and declaring to his Namekian friend which clouds looked like which animal. What felt like a brief pause between Frieza and the Androids, a moment where there was breath and love and time. Like the eye of a hurricane.
“I don’t know,” she eventually shrugged. “I guess there’s always so much going on at home that I have no control over.”
Something changed in her face then, legs slowing their swing and lips bitten. “Maybe I don’t really try anymore,” she admitted, the words unnaturally subdued for her, nearly eaten up by the cacophony of the students finishing up their final play.
“But…” she inhaled, like she was pumping herself up with the words and the sentiment. “It’s… nice to think there’s someone out there, someone with supernatural strength and abilities that can make things happen. Make terrible things stop.”
Her smile returned, but it was smaller, fragile. Wistful. “I can escape from my stupid, small problems for just a little bit, watch Saiyaman take on these great big things and make an actual difference.”
She leaned into him, and a heated blush blossomed over Gohan’s cheeks. But when Erasa looked at him, it was comfortable, friendly. That of a shared secret shared in a bubble of safety underneath the shadow of so much expectation. “You’d think that would make me feel weak, or small. But really, it gives me hope.”
The shrill whistle calling the end of class startled them both. The students started lazily moving towards the bleachers to gather their things, conversations and heckling resuming without the eagle-eyed focus of the PE Assistant.
Seeing Erasa gather her jacket and backpack, Gohan gently touched her shoulder to stop her. “I don’t think your problems are stupid or small, you know,” he said below the chatter, not wanting their conversation to be public knowledge.
“I think even Saiyaman has problems like you do. Like we do, I mean. Things that can’t be fixed by punching them.” He smiled crookedly at her, trying not to wince as he fumbled over the words. An olive branch for the gift she had given him, to help calm the turmoil she didn’t know he carried.
“Probably,” she conceded after a moment. She clutched her jacket close, took in a deep breath as if she was re-adjusting her mask, her good cheer back onto her face. “I like to think he wouldn’t shy away from them like I do, though. I guess a part of me hopes that someday I can be brave like that too.”
Maybe we’re not all so different, Gohan thought suddenly. Trying to be braver than we are because we think that’s what people want us to be.
“I think you’re already brave, Erasa,” he said firmly. And there was no doubt in his mind this was true. Courage comes in many forms. Not all bravery is staring down a supervillain.
“You’re sweet, Gohan,” she said, her giggle peeking through at the end. Her smile seemed less fake and bubbly now, and Gohan hoped anything he said might help bring it back more often. “You know, I think you’d make a good Saiya-kick.”
He snorted, a smile breaking through his own gloom. But it faded as the gnawing guilt took the form of a thought. One I’ve been avoiding.
“Look, Erasa. There’s something…” The words dissolved, his mind blanking at how to say what he needed to say. It wasn’t the terror of Cell, the growing storm of the Androids, the sudden wall of cold dread he’d felt when he first met Frieza. But it was fear all the same. If only I could be as brave as she apparently thinks I am…
“Yeah?” Erasa watched his face, and Gohan briefly wondered in his confused state if what he was trying to tell her was bleeding into his face. If everyone knew but he only didn’t know that they knew. But the longer the silence dragged, the more concerned she looked, the more Gohan struggled to breathe, which only seemed to make Erasa more concerned—
“Son Gohan, follow me. We’re going to the principal’s office.”
The sudden appearance of the PE Assistant pulled Gohan from his circling thoughts. He stared blanky at the man, slightly shorter than Gohan and yet it felt like he towered over the teen in his simmering anger. Gohan nodded, not daring to attempt to speak as the Instructor guided him out of the gym.
He glanced back once to Erasa watching him, Videl now at her side, her own features twisted in concern and confusion.
“Maybe I’m not so brave,” he mouthed to Erasa, and hoped that was enough to pull the worry from her eyes.
—
“Surprise!” Bulma exclaimed, pulling him by the hands as she walked backwards through the doorway. Behind her, their odd little group of heroes waved to him around a long table overstuffed with plates and bowls of food and drink.
Gohan was thankful at least that they had opted to ease him into the ‘surprise party’ rather than pouncing on him as he opened the door. After a long, stern talk with the principal and a tense conversation over the phone with his mother, he was even more on edge than before.
But unlike at school, he’d feel no guilt for blasting Goten or Trunks for startling him if they’d tried. Children they may be, but they were terrifyingly resilient.
“What’s this all about?” he asked, though even his own self-imposed internal gloom couldn't touch the smile on his face at seeing his (very) extended family.
“What do you mean what’s this about?” Bulma asked, shaking his shoulder in mock offense. “It’s not every day my favorite nephew gets awarded by Central City’s Mayor!”
“I saved the entire planet, Bulma,” Gohan countered, torn between embarrassment and amusement. “Multiple times, if you count when it was a group effort. I don’t know that this is all that much to celebrate.”
Bulma slapped the back of his head this time—and though it would have been physically impossible for her to hurt him, he still rubbed the spot on reflex. “Son Gohan,” she started, the demi-saiyan cowering back slightly as his adopted aunt wound up for a tirade. “You will leave that imposter syndrome at the door. Let’s be real—there’s nothing on this planet that you can do that would rank higher than saving it, so you can’t exactly measure all your accomplishments from that benchmark.”
Krillin sidled up next to her, holding a beer in one hand and with another couple inches added to his already full head of hair since Gohan saw him last. “I mean, he’s not wrong,” Krillin agreed with Gohan. “After that none of the rest of our accomplishments seems like all that much, do they?”
Bulma, seemingly not willing to hold back against someone she could potentially cause actual harm to, smacked the shorter man several times on the shoulder in emphasis as she spoke. “Krillin, you will leave that cynical attitude at the door too,” she said with a final whack. “And I’ll have you know I am very proud of my work that I’ve done with WCASA and on Capsule Corporation's newest project.”
“And you!” She gestured at Krillin, who hunched down a little bit in anticipation of more violence. “ You got promoted on the force. And you got married and have a little girl. We all need to stop letting ‘saving the world’ be the only celebration-worthy accomplishment.”
“Here, here!” Master Roshi called from where he was sitting at the table, clearly already halfway to drunk if the way he wobbled in the chair was any indication.
“You’re only saying that because it’s been a damn long time since you saved anyone,” Yamcha yelled back across the table, Puar covering their face to avoid seeing any fallout.
Gohan was saved from being witness to the most un-epic of showdowns between the old martial arts master and martial-artist-turned-baseball-star by a gentle tugging on his shoulder. Turning around, his mother eyed him with a mix of love and displeasure before pulling him into a hug.
“You and I are going to have a talk about your detention,” his mother said into his shoulder. ”But not now.”
She pulled back from the embrace, patting his cheeks with a fond exasperation. Gohan averted his gaze, both shamed and grateful she was letting it slide for now.
“ Now is for celebrating my baby boy,” she murmured, the sound just for the two of them. She grabbed a hold of the lapels of his jacket, occupying her fingers smoothing out the wrinkles.
“I know we don’t always agree on what you want to do with your life. I was against you playing superhero when you first started, but I think it’s been good for you.” She finally looked him in the eye, gaze distant like she was looking at something through him. “Healing, even.”
“I’m so proud of you,” she paused, a barely noticeable wet inhale giving away her feelings on the matter, “And I know your father would be too.”
Words fled Gohan. He wanted to pull her in for another hug, to push her back to have some space, to let all the words he kept locked behind his teeth flow out but afraid they’d find a spark in the open air. He didn’t want to say anything because silence was so much easier. But he knew firsthand just how much silence hurt.
Then the moment was gone—and maybe silence was the only thing he had to give.
“Enjoy your moment,” his mother murmured, so quiet it was almost swallowed by the noise around them. Warmth and pride brimmed in her watery eyes before she swept it away on her sleeve.
“Punishing my delinquent teen will come later,” she summed up, pulling away. Gohan, still overcome with uncertainty of what he was meant to say or do, simply nodded in acknowledgement.
Lying sleepless in his bed that night he would play in his mind over and over the most shameful parts of the party—where he avoided his proud mother in lieu of denial.
The party had started raucous and lively, food disappearing with alarming speed followed up by beers and shots for the adults. The night was highlighted by Goten and Trunks—offended at being rebuffed when they asked for a taste—snuck a bottle of vodka under the table but were revealed by their sputtering of disgust at the taste.
But after the excitement of the kids' discovery and the conclusion of Chi Chi and Bulma’s stern lecture, the noise died down to a content hum as the night stumbled on.
When Gohan finally found himself alone for a breather in a folding chair along the edge of the lawn, he traced the constellations he could see with his eyes. Most of the stars were blotted out from the light pollution from the city and the Capsule Corporation complex, but the few stubborn glints of light that pushed through brought a somber smile to his face—wondering what stars his father was watching, or if there were any where he was at all.
He heard Vegeta’s steps as he catalogued the sky. He didn’t turn to look, but the careful quietude of the prince’s steps were unmistakable. Not for the first time, Gohan wondered what kind of life he’d led that he yet felt the need to hide his presence from even those closest to him.
He wondered what it meant that he still heard the prince anyway.
The chair next to him creaked as the saiyan sat, the air long since gone cold without the sun to warm it. Remembering the last time they spoke, it felt dense and stifling in his lungs, tinged with an iciness that had nothing to do with the temperature. Even had he drank—at Krillin’s behest—it would have been enough to sober the melancholic contentment of his solitude.
With every second that passed he felt the tension creep further into his limbs—but conflict had never been Gohan’s forte. I suppose that’s unsurprising considering how many people I grew up around used violence as their main conflict resolution strategy.
Surprisingly, it was Vegeta that broke the silence.
“I’m sorry.”
The words, so quiet and laced with uncertainty, take a while for Gohan to process. The stillness in their hushed corner stumbles on before the weight of the words hit, tackling him into an unbelieving stupor.
“I… don’t understand,” he finally says when his ability to speak returns.
“I’m sorry for what I said,” the prince clarifies, words unpracticed and gangly. “When we were looking for the dragonballs.”
Gohan shook his head, the reality so startling and unexpected he isn't sure he’s not imagining it. “You don’t have to apologize, Vegeta. You weren’t wrong .”
“Hmph. Fine,” Vegeta shrugs. “Then I won’t. Because I was right.“
“Okaaaaay?” Gohan replies, face twisted in confusion at Vegeta’s simultaneous arrogance and vulnerability in the last three minutes.
“‘Okay,” the saiyan says, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back to look up at the stars.
The silence drags on long enough that Gohan starts to think the uncharacteristic outburst is over with, when Vegeta sighs theatrically.
“Fine,” he grumbles to the night sky. “It’s not okay. Or so I’m told.”
Gohan waits for the prince to continue, but the words hang just over the edge. It’s the prince’s choice to pull back or take the leap, and though Gohan is sure that someday Vegeta will, it wouldn’t surprise him if there were still too many chains to his old self to break free quite yet.
As the silence wandered into the stage of awkward, Gohan began with “Vegeta, you don’t have to—”
“Shut. Up,” Vegeta interrupted.
He did. His mouth closed over the words, watching the saiyan prince from his periphery as the man shrugged deeper into his seat, arms crossing protectively over his heart like he could stem it from its want to connect.
Gohan could relate to that.
“I have been… informed that sometimes things that seem true are only true in isolation,” a deep breath, the saiyan settling deeper into his hunch. “What I said may not have been wholly wrong , but it wasn’t the whole story.”
“So like, how there’s three truths to every story? Yours, mine, and what actually happened?”
Gohan asked, turning fully to the man despite his heart’s paralysis. My brain always does seem to try to fit into the spaces my heart is too afraid to.
Vegeta’s head tilted, as if surveying the words in his mind for weaknesses. “Hmmm. Yes, that,” he said after a moment, finding no fault in the logic.
“Apparently,” he added, far grumpier and less thoughtful this time, with a low growl underneath.
Gohan couldn’t help it. The giggles— yes, giggles , he was embarrassed to admit even in his own mind—bubbled up from his throat without his permission.
“What?” Vegeta said, the growl front and center this time. His shoulders hunched further, but this time rather than trying to disappear in the chair he was poised to pounce.
“I’m sorry, Vegeta,” Gohan said, desperately trying to pull back the laughter from his voice and failing. “You’re not great at apologizing. Just for the record.”
To Gohan’s surprise, the saiyan relaxed into the back of the chair, tension draining. A slow-building smirk graced his face, and though it was intimidating for most other people who had met Vegeta—always just on this side of feral —it was a welcome sight.
“Pst. I don’t usually have need to,” he says, words dripping with uncontained arrogance that somehow sounded self-critical at the same time. Three sides to every story.
“Because you’re always right, right ?” Gohan said, his humor easing into something softer at the unexpected understanding between them.
“Right. You get it,” Vegeta huffed. He turned his head back upwards to the night sky, a companionable silence filling the space between them.
Now this is familiar territory, Gohan thought. For all Vegeta was powerful and intimidating, Gohan’s favorite moments were when his ego bled into sarcasm and dark humor. It felt fitting, for a child soldier turned annihilator of worlds, and someone for whom growing up was more an origin story than a proper childhood, that in these precious few moments nothing needed to be said.
“You… get a lot of things that most people don’t,” the prince said eventually, so quiet it was almost swallowed by the night. “Even Kakarot. Especially KAkarot.”
Gohan couldn’t decide if he was glad the prince had realized this, or sad that it needed to be said at all. I’ll never be him. No matter how hard I’ve tried.
“I’m not my dad, Vegeta,” he settled on after some time, hoping Vegeta of all people would understand even if he didn’t know how to say it.
“I know that. Thank the gods,” the saiyan huffed, rolling his shoulders as if to disperse the idea of it. “I wouldn’t be willing to spend a moment with that oaf when he isn’t fighting.”
This pulled a laugh from Gohan’s throat, something that he would have apologized about in most any other company. But Vegeta had always been so intrinsically different from his father, or anyone else he knew—with the exception of Piccolo. He didn’t feel like he had to perform guilt in front of either of them. It was freeing.
Maybe if my friends at school knew… I could be open with them too.
“You are… not so bad to be around. I suppose,” Vegeta murmured, still watching the stars. Gohan wondered if he even realized he’d said it.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Gohan said. And he did. Just from what he knew of the saiyan’s past, he could imagine how much it cost him to say.
“You should. It was the best you’ll get out of me,” the prince said. Gohan could see him pull the shutters up again in the tension in his muscles, but that was okay. Vegeta had been more open with him that was probably comfortable, and he would take any baby steps he could.
Still.
“I feel I should mention you’re not great at compliments either,” Gohan whispered back, like sharing a secret they both knew the Saiyan could only hear because of what he was. What Gohan was too, in half.
Vegeta’s reply was no more than an amused huff before returning to his stargazing. Gohan followed his lead, trying to trace the constellations again but the clouds had begun to cover the sky. Figures. Whenever things start to look good, the other shoe falls. It always does.
“Do you ever miss Radditz, Vegeta?”
In the silence that followed— tense now , Gohan noted—he wanted to reel the words back in. He hadn’t meant to say them, something about the camaraderie and quiet dragging his more maudlin thoughts to the surface.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Vegeta said, suspicion twisting into the words.
“I dunno,” Gohan shrugged, not fully understanding why he thought now was the time to ask. Or if I should ever ask at all .
“I guess I was just…curious,” he finished, the words sounding silly even to his own ears.
The quiet stretched in the seconds that followed, seemingly content to leave Gohan mulling in his own self-recriminations. We were just making progress.
But to Gohan’s surprise, Vegeta replied without malice.
“Yes. I do. But also, no.”
Risking a look at the prince, the man was yet watching the sky, a strange longing tangled with anger exposed in his eyes, the way he clenched his fingers along his arms, the subtle heaviness to his breath.
Gohan turned back to where the stars once shone, now a murky grey bleeding into splotches of black as the clouds took their due.
“Three truths to every story, huh?” Gohan whispered to the cloud cover.
“You have no idea.”
—
It was when he was corralling Goten onto Nimbus alongside their mother when Bulma approached him. Her expression was tight, a thin smile attempting to cover underlying anxiety that Gohan couldn’t think of a reason for.
“Gohan? Before you go. I have to ask you a favor.”
—
“The Mayor Valdez of Central City has announced she will be honoring both The Great Saiyaman and Videl Satan at a ceremony giving the duo the Keys to the City for their service after the devastating 7.6 earthquake that struck earlier this month.
Though Mayor Valdez has been criticized for her support of Saiyaman due to the charges levied against the superhero, she has remained unwavering in her support. Here is our investigative journalist, Noah Augusta, with an interview with her after the announcement.”
Mayor Valdez:
“I’ve seen the charges. I’ve heard the propaganda from Mayor Walter, I’ve seen all the evidence they have, and more. And I can’t help but think that Mayor Walter of Satan City is taking actions based on the whims of lobbyists and his own bank account more than with his brain. Saiyaman is an asset to our cities, no matter how they wish to spin it. I cannot thank him and Ms Satan enough for their aid during one of our most trying times in recent memory.
Interviewer Augusta:
There have been those seriously questioning your staunch support of our anonymous hero. Some have said you’re being blackmailed, or that Saiyaman has bought your support. What do you say to such allegations?
Mayor Valdez:
I’m not even going to deign to answer that. I have a better question. Why do you think unfounded conjecture and hearsay is newsworthy in the first place?
Interviewer Augusta:
That, uh, wraps up our report. This is Noah Augusta from WXYZ Channel 42.
“There you have it, from the mouth of Mayor Valdez herself.
In related Saiya-News, we have an inside report that Capsule Corporation has hired a defense attorney to defend The Great Saiyaman against recent allegations. The Mayor of Satan City recently put out a warrant for…”
Posted by HeckinGud 7 hours ago
Mayor Valdez (CC) stans Saiyaman and Mayor Walter (SC) loses his shit…
1,672 Comments
SaiyaFlan - 7 hours ago
I don’t know what’s more amazing. The drama, or that it’s over SAIYAMAN. I am living my best life, y’all. This is a great time to be alive.
PunksPundit - 7 hours ago
I am sooooo sick of hearing about this guy. Every other post on this forum is about this clown.
BookBB4Eva - 7 hours ago
— Do you NOT realize this is a sub-blueitt about superheroes? Saiyaman is literally the only real life superhero we have. Of course we’re going to ogle him… I mean admire him. With definitely tasteful screenshots. Tasteful.
Chad_Da_Beast - 5 hours ago
— Y’all do realize we don’t even know how old he is right? Why are you thirsting over him when you’ve never seen his face? He could be wearing a helmet because he’s ugly underneath.
BookBB4Eva - 5 hours ago
— Versus you, who I’ve never even seen an inch of, and yet I KNOW you’re ugly on the inside and out.
Chad_Da_Beast - 5 hours ago
— comment has been removed for violating community guidelines
StyleTigerRAWR - 4 hours ago
— Why did they remove Chad’s comment and not BookBBs? Wasn’t that a personal attack?
BookBB4Eva - 4 hours ago
— Because the admins know I’m RIGHT.
4ll_H4il_S4t4n - 2 hours ago
— Saiyaman is NOT our only superhero! He’s a superZERO. The REAL hero is Hercule Satan. Our Mayor is right to go after that bozo!!!
BookBB4Eva - 2 hours ago
— comment has been removed for violating community guidelines .
SaveMeSaiyaman - 2 hours ago
Logging on to see new Saiyaman drama first thing? I’m IN FOR THE RIDE.
4ll_H4il_S4t4n - 2 hours ago
ALL HAIL HERCULE!!
4ll_H4il_S4t4n - 2 hours ago
— comment has been removed for violating community guidelines .
4ll_H4il_S4t4n - 2 hours ago
— comment has been removed for violating community guidelines .
4ll_H4il_S4t4n - 2 hours ago
— comment has been removed for violating community guidelines .
SaiyaFlan - 32 minutes ago
WOW. This comment section is a warzone. *grabs popcorn* I love us.
—
It was supposed to be fun.
By the time the weekend crept forward, Erasa had worked herself into a fervor. She had apparently taken Gohan and Videl’s dour moods as a personal challenge, determined to cheer them up by any means necessary.
“The beach!” was her greeting Friday morning, indicative of nothing that Gohan could ascertain. She dropped her bag at her desk with far more exuberance than was warranted for her declaration, or for the dull ache behind Gohan’s eyes. Too many late nights, and too many nightmares after that to be this excited about much of anything.
Videl only grunted from where she’d nested her head into the cocoon of her arms settled on the desk. The warmth of the classroom had lulled her into a placid dose after the brisk cold outside during her walk to class.
She only lifted her head far enough to blink at the blonde before responding, “Erasa, please turn it down about three notches. I don’t think I’ll be human again until I get a weekend to do nothing but sleep.”
“Why sleep when you could hang out at the beach?” the blonde sing-songed in reply. “Come on, Videl! We haven’t gone with Gohan. And we haven’t all just hung out in so long. Like, ever with Gohan. Have you even been to the beach country boy?”
“Of course he’s been to the beach Erasa,” Videl muttered into the crease of her arm. “Everyone has been to the beach. He lives in the Paozu Mountains. There are beaches not far from there.”
“Yes, but has he been to this beach with us ?”
Erasa then turned to him then, eyes bright and pleading. Remembering their conversation on the benches what felt like forever ago, all he could think was be brave .
A sunny day at the beach with real, human, normal friends hadn’t actually sounded that bad, if he got past the social anxiety and guilt of his continued deceit. Sand, surf, and snacks he normally never got because Goten could sniff out junk food like a bloodhound. Relaxing with friends on their towels as they dried off between bouts of playfully swiping water at each other among the waves. A normal, carefree, joyful day, far away from all the moral and ethical quandaries and supervillains knocking on their door. I was supposed to be a much needed break, a moment to breathe and live for once.
Then the storm broke.
The roads that winded around the edge of the mountains from Satan City to the beach had felt like an adventure on the way there. Gohan had never experienced anything like it. Rolling down the windows and letting the wind make a mess of his hair, leaning in to hear his friends over the sound. The laughter and teasing so different than calling battle plans and stakes across the expanse of the sky as they fly to what could be their deaths.
Once the storm hit, the roads loomed like monsters in the night, clothed by the rain and dark that swallowed the light from the high beams valiantly trying to push apart the gloom in front of them.
Gohan wasn’t afraid. He’d flown in thunderstorms, fought villains that brought their own horror and suffering just as quickly and with as much fanfare. He could fly for god’s sake. A storm was no danger to him.
Him being able to fly was the only thing that saved them.
The car careened to the left, Sharpener attempting to avoid the fallen tree blocking the road revealed by the headlights. Too quick to stop, but with little leeway between road and the cliff face, they reached the end of the pavement far too soon. The car burst through the metal railing with a high-pitched screech that he would not forget for a very long time. The moment the back tires left the pavement, Gohan was suddenly, violently reminded how very human his first real friends were.
It wasn’t choice . It was a reflexive, desperate action, that despite the ramifications of he couldn’t bring himself to regret.
He was inside the car with them, and then he wasn’t.
The screams that had cut through the sound of rain and lightning as they careened off the road’s edge and through the railing faded slowly. Even as the wind ripped and billowed around and under his loose clothing, he could still hear the quiet, the realization . The damaged car creaked in protest but stayed put, floating in the air as if suspended at the arc of its impending fall.
He hovered, holding the car above him, unseen to the passengers when he heard the quiet, hopeful plea from Erasa. “Saiyaman?”
His breaths came fast, the panic fluttering his heart, the urge to run, run, run, but he was the only thing keeping his friends alive. But now he did have a choice, he could just put them down and run, try to explain it away, and he wasn’t ready, but would he ever be?
As he spiraled, he heard the unmistakable panic in the blonde’s voice as she followed up her call with a desperate, “Gohan? Where’s Gohan?!”
He thought he could hear the moment when it all clicked in Videl’s head—the last piece of a jigsaw being placed, or the release of a gun’s trigger. The unmistakable, coiling horror, embarrassment, and anger twisting in her voice even as the storm raged on around them.
Too late.
“Oh. My. God. You have to be fucking kidding me.”
Notes:
Next chapter will be lighter I SWEAR!
Coming up:
Erasa’s guilty pleasure/coping mechanism gets exposed, The Official Saiyaman Account has entered the Chat, and the shoe starts to drop when Saiyaman gets accused of being a sell out.
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