The Twinging Twist of Fate

BY : setbl
Category: Dragon Ball Z > General
Dragon prints: 1961
Disclaimer: Dragon Ball/Z/GT characters and related materials belong to Akira Toriyama and respective owners; the rest is mine. No monetary profit is made from any portion of this fan fiction.

A/N: This story will be different than the rest—though all my stories were written with story in mind—this one is surely more for story than porn and will have dramatic and tragic tones throughout. Since I am unsure of everything that will be included, I will provide warnings at the beginning of each chapter that may contain adult material; most such scenes likely to demonstrate the ugliness and unnecessary anguish that occurs throughout and because of people(s). So if that is not to your liking, please stop now. Everyone else, please enjoy the beginning of another of my tales.  



The Twinging Twist of Fate



ONE

Gohan looked ahead in horror. He shouldn’t have fooled around. When it is life and death—especially concerning the entire world or universe—one ought not to play around with their enemy. Dastards are known for being just that—cowardly and evil until their last filthy, wasted breath. If they can’t win, they’ll do everything in their power to ensure no one does. Gohan knew everyone had been counting on him; that there was only one last thing he could do since Cell was set to explode in mere moments.

Peering back somberly at everyone, his eyes only locking with his father’s and Piccolo’s for a slight instant before he phased over to and placed a hand on Cell’s fluctuating body.

Otousan, Piccolo-san, Okaasan please forgive me. . .

He had watched his father well; knowing and able to use all his moves including shunkan idou much better than his father would have ever thought to. Within an instant, he transported the over-inflated Cell to a powerful star in another solar system that could survive the blast. The moment the overwhelming heat enveloped them, both began screaming until their throats were melted away from them; the scorching gas giant igniting and setting off Cell’s explosion, painfully devouring them, forcing each and every cell to be extinguished almost instantly.

At the complete and utter loss of Gohan’s ki, Piccolo dropped to his hands and knees; feeling as if he could no longer breath, let alone stand. Goku shuddered with widened eyes; in clear disbelief and denial of what his adept senses were telling him. Mirai Trunks clenched his own fists, biting his lip until it drew blood. This was the second time he had had to endure Gohan’s death; it just too much to bear. Vegeta was incredulous. As much as it had infuriated him that another Saiyan warrior had surpassed him—a brat at that—it astonished him more that his life was lost so quickly, in such an awful way. The other senshi had no words for it. How could such a thing have happened?

Once he finally got his composure back, Piccolo stood up strongly; his conviction set. He walked over to Goku then, standing directly in front of him before speaking.

“I know am guilty of it too . . . But I will never forgive you Son Goku as long as I live. The weight of the world should have never been placed on a child—zettai ni!”

Goku remained silent with his head down and his eyes still wide, unable to believe the painful turn of events.

“Ease up Piccolo. Cell is gone and Gohan can be wished back-,” said Kuririn.

“Do not ever tell me what to do! He should not have had to have lost his life at all!” growled Piccolo, quickly blasting away from the entire group. Whether or not a life can be brought back, dying is painful. He knew that firsthand. It should have never happened to a child; especial one as gentle as Gohan. And no matter how he tried to shake it, he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that Gohan had somehow lost a lot more than his life; it killing him inside more than he could stand.

Vegeta took off on his own then, not at all pleased with how things had turned out. However, he would not stop fighting. One day he would defeat that low born Kakarotto and his brat if it came to it!

Certain that Cell’s life had been completely extinguished, the rest of the Z senshi were ready to head to Kami’s Lookout to wish back all whom had been killed by or because of Cell; Kuririn carrying an unconscious Juuhachigou in tow. Yamucha lagged behind, uncertain of Goku’s immobile form.

“Goku?” he finally asked.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m coming,” Goku whispered almost so softly Yamucha couldn’t hear him before falteringly taking flight.

Yamucha made sure to stay right behind him, unsure if he might not drop from the sky any moment.





“THAT WISH CANNOT BE GRANTED. THE ONE KNOWN AS SON GOHAN NO LONGER EXISTS. WHAT IS YOUR NEXT WISH?” boomed the magnificent voice of Shen Long.

Everyone on Kami’s Lookout was absolutely incredulous; no words finding them for a long moment. Goku dropped to his knees then; the reality and gravity of Piccolo’s and Shen Long’s words finally having weighed upon his very soul. For the first time ever, Piccolo lost his focus entirely; his Namekian ears easily having caught Shen Long’s somber statement from elsewhere on the planet, his body tumbling from the sky and his head hitting a large boulder quite hard, stealing his consciousness.

No one had anything to say—nothing they could say that would comfort Goku. They couldn’t imagine what it was like to lose a child, especially one’s only.

Little Dende’s eyes filled with his own tears. Gohan had been his special friend. He could not believe that he no longer existed anywhere. Reaching out to Other World with his mind, he called on North Kaio and Enma-sama just to be certain. When his tears finally did begin to fall, the rest of the group knew for sure Gohan was really gone; no one knowing just how.

When Shen Long also could not give them any answers, Goku snapped; using shunkan idou then to transport directly in front of Vegeta.

“You were right Vegeta. ‘M just a low-leveled clown,” blurted Goku. Placing Vegeta’s hand upon his chest, he continued. “Take my life Saiyan Prince Vegeta!” he urged strongly.

Vegeta’s eyes twitched for a moment in exasperation and disgust.

“Get away from me Kakarotto! When I am strong enough, I’ll defeat you on my own terms.”

“Owari da! Gohan is . . . my son is no more, anywhere. Please Vegeta, take my life,” begged Goku pitifully, causing even Vegeta to shudder. It sickened him to witness his greatest rival in such a state.

“If you wish to perish, do so. I will not be your shikigami today. Now let go of me and get out of my way Kakarotto!”

Goku reluctantly let go of him and moved away. He knew it had been a selfish and cowardly thing to ask, but he no longer cared. Floating drearily away from Vegeta to no place in particular, Goku flew on. He had no intention of going home, or anywhere really at all; knowing he needed only to wait for time to eventually take care of his final wish.

Back at the Son residence, Chi-Chi clutched at her chest tightly. As a mother, she knew without knowing; tears flowing freely from her eyes, agony streaming down her very soul. She didn’t care if the world had been saved. She just wanted her little boy back.





 Oki desu.  Oki . . . Ano . . .  WAKE UP!

A young, wild raven-haired lad finally opened his new eyes; heeding the strange wakeup call. But when he finally peered around his new surroundings, no one else seemed to be there.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

After a while with no answer, he decided to get up and look around. He was inside a bedroom of a quaint and cozy little cottage, reminiscent of the ones he had read about in storybooks.

He had read about? Hmm. Ma ika. Perhaps he would remember better at another time.

The furniture all appeared to have been hand carved from rich woods; a lot of care going into each piece. And though the place did interest him greatly, he was certain there was someplace else he needed to be, though not having a clue as to precisely where.

Hopping out of the cozy little bed with tightly woven maroon covers, the young lad made his way through the short hallway past the few other vacant rooms and out of the house. Though it was night and not even the light of the moon reached him, he could see clearly in the dark. He found that it took a slight trek for him get past the twisting winding woods that surrounded the little wooden cottage. And once out there, the wondrous scents of the night invigorated him immensely; easily making him feel so—alive.

He felt amazing! The farther he ran, the better he felt. And as he picked up speed, he found he could fly. This brought a grin to his face; him beginning to fly everywhere he could on the lovely blue and green sphere, the skies just as wondrous and full of life as the land and seas. There was so much greatness and wonder, and he surely wanted to experience more and more of it, not wanting to take a bit of it for granted.

However, his flight came to a languished halt as he came across a hurt and unconscious life form much taller than he. Touching down nearby, the lad gently moved the prone individual over onto its back so he could get a better look at it. It was a tall green man dressed in violet; his face stern yet holding such immense pain. The lad found tears form and fall easily from his own eyes the longer he gazed upon that face. Who was he? And why did seeing him make him so profoundly happy and sad at the same time?

Perhaps it mattered not for the time being. He only knew for certain that he wanted to help said person. He knew not how the man’s head had been so severely injured, but knew he would do everything in his power to make him healthy again. Maybe, they could even be friends. The lad smiled then as he picked up and began flying the tall green man all the way back to the woods and into the cottage; unaware of how easy it was to do so. He would take good care of him.





Gyumao wept profusely at his daughter’s hospital beside. Chi-Chi had gone into a coma soon after receiving the news of her lost son. Goku had been nowhere to be found for weeks since the loss of Gohan. And though the rest of the Z team did strive to get on with their own lives—knowing there was nothing they could really do for the Sons—a caliginous shadow did seem to weigh upon them all.





 The lad had been keeping watch over the green man; his eyes never leaving him for many days in worry but hoping. But he found himself suddenly getting more and more tired. Though the cottage had no windows and the rich woods that encompassed the place made sure to keep out the light anyway, the lad could sense that night had turned into day once again. Though he yearned immensely to stay awake and greet his new friend, a forced slumber overtook his body as it had every day; him falling beside the green man on the bed. Though just before his heavy eyelids fell that time, one thought echoed through his mind: I wish you were like me.

When the green man finally awoke, he grimaced a long moment; the throbbing in his head forcing his eyes to close once more.  Without looking, he instinctively grasped the tall pitcher of water on the bedside table and downed it without a thought. But he quickly did a double take, opening his eyes once more. He was in some strange little house with no windows and beside him was . . . Could it really be or had he finally lost his mind in his grief? At that moment he didn’t really know or care.

Gingerly taking the slumbering lad into his arms, the tall green man hugged him close. “Don’t worry kid. I won’t let anyone harm you again,” he promised earnestly, lying back down with him as a profound fatigue forced him back to unconsciousness.





As the green man finally opened his eyes once more, he noticed that not only was he still in that odd little cottage, but something was clearly off with his own body. But that thought seemed inconsequential as his eyes laid upon the slumbering lad once more. He was unsure if he hadn’t really lost his mind, but enough of him hoped enough not to care; him waiting patiently for the lad to wake.

When the boy finally awoke, the green man’s breath hitched. The boy began smiling brilliantly at him; warming his very core. He knew for certain then that he could not have continued living in a universe without that boy.

“I’m so glad you are okay!” exclaimed the boy joyously.

Stole the words right out of my mouth kid.

“Where in the universe did you go Gohan?! No one could sense you anywhere,” finally conveyed the green man with more emotion than ever.

“Gohan? Is that my name?

The green man’s demeanor deflated then. While he was finally certain it was Gohan’s spirit that looked out from those familiarly warm obsidian orbs, he could tell that Gohan did not jest; he truly could not remember. He shook it off though; just happy the kid still existed at all, knowing he would do all in his power to help him recover.

“That is your name. Your loss has saddened many people . . .” ‘. . . myself included,’ he chose not to speak aloud. As he paused a moment, he realized what was wrong with his body—it had somehow been reverted back to its child state.

Feeling his immense unease, Gohan surrounded him in his powerful, loving arms; cutting off whatever other thoughts the green man might have had. “Please don’t be sad. I am so glad you are here. Maybe we can find my memories together. For some reason, I just know that we are to be good friends. Will you please stay with me until then, um . . . ?”

“I am called Piccolo.” He had been going to say: “You used to call me Piccolo-san,” but decided it unnecessary. Though, he did have some questions. “How did you come to be at this place? I can tell we are on still Earth, but I have never been here before.”

“I woke up here. I do not know what happened before that.”

“And you haven’t seen anyone else here or around?” asked Piccolo seriously.

“No. I went out some nights ago and found out I could fly; feeling very happy until I found you so hurt and . . . sad,” answered Gohan softly.

Piccolo was quiet a moment. Something was definitely fishy. He would have to keep his guard up for both their sakes. He didn’t know who or what had fabricated such a setup, but he knew for certain he would not lose Gohan again. Also, he felt strange being so small again.

“Do you know how my flesh became that of a child again?”

“No. Although, I do remember wishing you were like me before falling asleep the last time. I don’t know how it happened. Please don’t hate me,” pleaded Gohan.

“I could never hate you Gohan,” conveyed Piccolo sincerely, his hand affectionately moving through Gohan’s thick dark locks. Though, it quickly stopped as he noticed his no-longer-fitting clothes falling off of him with his movements; him feeling the disquietude of being naked in front of another for the first time.

“Piccolo?”

“Could you please turn around? I need to make myself some new clothes.”

“Why can’t I see?”

“Because it’s not proper to watch others dress. Now please turn around.”

“But we’re both boys, aren’t we?”

Memory or no, the kid was pushin’ it.

“Not exactly. And even if so, we don’t need to be watching one another dress,” said Piccolo a bit more forcefully.

Gohan had wanted to ask more questions; even more curious after Piccolo’s curt revelation, but he did not wish to upset his new friend any further, quickly turning around as he was asked.

“Alright, you can look.”

When Gohan turned around, he gazed at Piccolo in pure awe. “Sugoi! Can you make me some clothes too, like yours?” asked Gohan eagerly.

Piccolo’s face deflated once more. Gohan had died—he had felt it—wearing his clothes no doubt, his present to him before battle. However he had managed to return; he had died. While he wasn’t one for superstition, he didn’t think he could handle seeing Gohan in such guise again. Though he did agree that the strange tightly woven brown tunic and sandals he was currently wearing didn’t really suit him.

“I have something better for you,” Piccolo said, lifting his hands up and manifesting a new gi for Gohan. Its shape was styled like Goku’s usual gi; weighted boots and wristbands included, though the color scheme was different. The inner gi top was a deep violet along with the wristbands and boots, and the main outer color was a lovely vivid green. It suited him.

“Wow! This is amazing; you’re so great!” exclaimed Gohan excitedly, wrapping Piccolo in his arms once more.

Piccolo stilled in his arms; his chest feeling much too warm and tight, having no words for it. For once, he let himself hug the boy back, yearning immensely for it not to be a dream he’d have to wake from.

But their tender moment was shattered as Gohan suddenly let go and barreled over in obvious pain.

 “Gohan? What’s wrong?!”

“It hurts . . . so much . . . I can’t . . .”

Gohan continued panting feverishly; grasping his sides in agony. Piccolo moved over to him then. Try as he might, he couldn’t sense anything. If only he could get inside his mind, perhaps he could help him and find out just what in the hell was really going on. But the moment he laid a hand on him, it was swiped away; his mind powerfully blocked.

“You have . . . to . . . get . . . away. I don’t . . . want to . . . hurt . . . you . . .”

Before Piccolo could answer, Gohan flew swiftly out of the room and cottage faster than Piccolo could keep up with. By the time he found Gohan, the boy was drenched in blood; on his knees weeping beside the torn-up body of the life he had just taken, his bloodied hands quivering much like his spirit. When he looked over to Piccolo, his irises and pupils glowed red; saturated with eerie light just as his heart was drenched in sadness, causing even Piccolo to feel a chill.

“Why?” he whispered painfully.

“I don’t know Gohan. But I will do everything in my power to find out and help you,” promised Piccolo.

After freshening Gohan’s clothes and form up once more with his technique and gingerly easing him away from the dead giant reptile, Piccolo began urging him back to the cottage. As much as he loathed the idea of returning to the strange place, he knew there had to be answers there or at least some clues. And Gohan seemed to be comfortable there, though he truly wondered why. He also understood then why Shen Long had said he no longer existed. If you were searching for a life-force in him, you wouldn’t find it. But his eyes—his heart still shone through them lucidly. He knew that for certain after watching him weep; feeling his profound pain. The sweet and precocious little boy and warrior he had grown to care so immensely for was still there somehow; though what state one would call it, he didn’t know. He only knew he longed with his entire being to help him. 

“Stay, please. . .” pleaded Gohan wearily, lying down on the bed, feeling that day was already coming once more.

“I’m not going anywhere,” promised Piccolo, levitating beside him just above the bed.

After the boy’s eyes had closed once more in forced slumber, Piccolo began focusing more fiercely than ever before. He would find out who was responsible for making Gohan suffer and make them pay for it dearly.

Thanks for R&R. Until The Next . . .




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