Nothing\'s Impossible | By : CardDragonBall Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 7973 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own DragonballZ, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Yes. He told himself this. Helped his mother train his little brother (the youngest Super Saiyan—ever, much to Trunks’ chagrin, even if he never said it) and reminded himself all the time that he was the golden child, the great Saiyaman, the protector of the universe since his father died and asked to stay dead. Besides, the only real competition was Vegeta. Maybe Piccolo, but he figured after Cell, nothing green could really be that big of a threat. Then there was Videl. She was pretty fierce (amazingly strong and all for being Hercule’s daughter.) He had taken time to teach her how to concentrate her ki—much to his mother’s excitement.
He told himself that he was pleased about Videl giving him a grin. Honestly. He was just all tingly in the knees and all that nonsense. It made him go nuts just thinking about it—right?
No. The truly surprising thing was that it wasn’t even the fact that her father was Hercule, it was just that when he looked at her, he thought of his mother, thought of how his mother and father never seemed to get along. Sure, they were okay, and sure they eventually agreed on things. But he—Gohan—was a half-alien. And there were things about him that he had in common with only three other living creatures. (Vegeta, Trunks and Goten.) He had a scar on his back because at one point in his life he had a tail, he’d turned into a giant monkey, he’d defeated an evil android bent on perfection and world domination, he’d gone to another planet and fought a lizard with no clear gender. When he looked at the kids in his college classes with him he saw little blank faces and people that understood very little (if anything) of what really occurred in the universe.
Sure. Everyone knew about the dragon. But had any of them ever tracked down the dragonballs? They knew that there were creepy things out there, they knew there were androids that almost destroyed the universe—but did they fight those things? Did they see the kid come back from the future? No.
Gohan knew these things. Their concept of physics, language, history, whatever—not that damn interesting. But it made his mom happy. It suited the image that other people had of him and nevermind the fact that he went out of his way to dress up so he could go and fight. (In a truly ridiculous outfit which should just show how very much he would prefer to fight and defend people to studying.)
Besides. Gohan was feeling sorry for himself. He was being ridiculous. And now, he needed to stop it and get over himself. There was homework to be done, training to do, a tournament to prepare for. What he was doing here, this sitting and staring at nothing—it was not helping.
Not even vaguely.
So he shook his head and sighed, stood up and moved to the window. Looked out at the pale darkness of the evening. The stars weren’t out yet, but the moon was half-visible in the sky. He looked at it, felt that feeling in the pit of his stomach like nobody on this planet could understand. Then he looked behind him at the closed door and licked his lips. Thought of the number of times he had snuck out of his window when his mom was busy taking care of Goten, and turned back pushed the window up and ducked out of it. Hovered outside his window, slid it down but didn’t let it close all the way before turning and flying away.
(If mother asked, he would just tell her that he went to see Videl and didn’t want to make a big deal of it.)
The feeling wasn’t any better. He flew faster, but the feeling wasn’t better. He rolled over in the air as he flew, and grinned because it made him dizzy the way that those big rides in the park never did. He stopped short, over the nothing that stood between where he was and where everyone he knew was. Vegeta, Bulma and Trunks were that way and his mother and Goten were that way (not that he was really concentrating on which way was which. He just accepted that he was equal distances away.)
He sighed, looked down under his feet at the ground that was too far away for his power to even rustle dust. A little grin spread across his face, and he upped his power level, felt the air heat around him, the shake in the surrounding atmosphere, and the ground remained untouched. So he upped it alittle more. His hair stood up straighter, the ground breezed, and he grit his teeth and growled. Dirt shook on the ground, dust rose in the air and spun under him. The air was flickering yellow, but he didn’t change, just calmed his power down and drifted slowly to the ground.
Laid flat on his back and looked up at the sky. Put his arms behind his head and watched the sky grow darker, the wind blew colder, made him shiver and he thought of how it was when he was little. How things had been before he went with his father that day to see Master Roshi, Bulma and the others. Before Radditz, before Piccolo killed his uncle and his father, before Vegeta, before Freiza. Remembered his mother and father when they were young and they had been happier then.
~~~***
It was an odd thing. He really detested Kakarot (even though he detested him less now that he was dead) but he found that he didn’t hate the kid. In a way, he respected the kid. He could be a little bastard if you pushed him hard enough the right way, he didn’t like to show his anger but when it showed—it definitely showed in a big way. Everything he didn’t like about Kakarot—his cluelessness, his obliviousness, his humanness—it wasn’t as strong in the kid. The urge to go out and fight was strong in the boy even though he tried to hide it, and the older he got the less he looked like his father. Sure, he was still tall, he had the same sort of black eyes, but his hair was different (that was a definite change.)
Or it could be the power level. Saiyans respected power levels. Kakarot might be a moron third-class worthless waste of Saiyan flesh, but he sired good children. Even the little brat was worth something. (Worth enough that Vegeta allowed his own child to play with the brat. That showed the extent of his tolerance.) Gohan had a power level that even overshadowed his father. Given enough time, enough want and effort, the kid could raise his power level so high nothing in the universe would stand a chance against him. It wasn’t as offensive for Gohan to have this power, because the kid was a half-breed, as powerful as he could get, he still wasn’t as good as Vegeta.
Right now, the kid was lying on his back. Looking up at nothing. Vegeta hovered in the air, kept his ki as low as he could while flying and watched him. It had to be difficult to grow up on a planet that only celebrated the greatness of fighting once every so many years with a great tournament. Saiyans purged planets for generations. Kakarot had been bred through a line of fighters that were great enough Vegeta knew about them (and not just because Radditz liked to brag) which meant Gohan’s genetics carried the urge to fight. Not to spar and not to fiddle around with these petty humans but to fight.
He tried to figure out what was happening in the kid’s mind. There was some female that he was supposed interested in (this he knew from Bulma talking.) There was his human school (again Bulma informed him. She liked to tell him these things as if he cared about the health and lives of her friends.)
In the silence there was a little sigh, a soft exhale and the kid sat up, turned and looked over at him. “Oh hi, Vegeta.” A strange nervous chuckle. “Sorry about the energy level thing. I was just…”
Vegeta told himself he did not care. Dropped down to the ground and crossed his arms over his chest. “Hn.”
Gohan stood up and moved closer to him, dusted his butt off and flashed him the same grin that his father had (only it was different enough that Vegeta didn’t feel that wave of dislike for it.) “Did I bother you? Is that why you’re out here?”
Sure. Because he just went out and checked on random power level changes. He wasn’t the one that wore the idiot costume (although he was still angry at the random thieving of his gloves and shoes. It wasn’t as if he had an unlimited supply of these things.)
“Okay—“
“Why are you out here?” Vegeta demanded. And no, it had nothing to do with anything other than the fact that he had been trying to enjoy a nice flight, time away from the kid and the woman (and her annoying parents) a chance to clear his head before he started the intense training for the tournament.
“Oh, I was just…thinking. Think we’re going to fight each other at the tournament? Mom told Goten he couldn’t go and he’s really upset.” Another stupid grin of nervousness.
“Of course we’re going to fight,” he said. “Just make sure you train so you’re a challenge before I defeat you.”
Gohan gave him a strange look and then a flat look of ‘Oh—you just think you’re so hot don’t you?’ It was a look he was used to getting from Bulma. It was a different look entirely when it was on Gohan’s face. “What makes you think you’re going to win, Vegeta?”
“I will.”
Gohan just shook his head. Shrugged. “I guess will see, won’t we?”
Vegeta did not respond. Stood there, curled his hands into fists as he crossed his arms and Gohan leaned back and looked at him (looked DOWN at him—annoyingly enough.) There was a long moment as they assessed one another, and he was tempted to fight him here and now. But that wouldn’t prove anything other than they could fight. Nobody was here to see him to win.
Gohan looked at him closely enough that Vegeta felt a vague sense of discomfort. He shifted, felt his skin prickle and frowned at the sensation. When the kid finally dragged his eyes back up to his face, he was clenching his teeth together to keep from demanding just what the boy thought he was doing. (The answer to that question would be nothing but the Son’s idiot confusion he was sure.) Besides he knew what Gohan was doing.
Which brought a smirk to his face. He knew—but Gohan didn’t.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***
Gohan: I don’t get it…what I’m doing?
Vegeta: Practicing bad English apparently.
Gohan: No, I mean—I was just looking at you. Why are you reading into it?
Vegeta: *oi*
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