Ever the Hero

Ever the Hero

Summary: Dismayed by his father’s repeated absence, Gohan asks Goku why he can’t stay just this once.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Dragonball Z or its related products. This is purely a work of fandom.

Note: This plotbunny just showed up out of seemingly nowhere, while I was writing the second chapter of another story of mine. Since I was stuck on the other fic, I figured why not. The concept of astral projection does appear in this story. If you’re not familiar with the idea, I don’t think it makes that much of a difference, but it helps.


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Gohan rubbed his eyes tiredly, his back on the grass as he lay in the clearing. His house was but a small dot in the vast forest, and he frowned, realizing how empty it had become with only the loss of one man. Four days had passed since the end of the Cell Games. Trunks, his student from a more desolate future, had already travelled back to his timeline to destroy the foul creatures that had, in his lifetime, only been a mere blip on the radar screen.

He felt the wetness the rain had left on the grass the day before soak into his spiked black hair. Just days after his father’s death came a powerful storm, bending trees and flooding rivers, as if nature itself were weeping for the loss of its hero. The sky was still an overcast grey, clouds still partially full as if they could let out another torrent at anytime. The winds were heavy enough to rustle about the nearby leaves that had been ripped from their branches during the rainstorm.

Dark eyes stared bleakly at the sky, the water blurring Gohan’s vision not from the clouds. In times like these, he typically would meditate like his master had taught him, or at the very least train. However, now there was nothing to prepare for, no dangers looming ahead. Even if there were, Gohan doubted he would be able to focus on combat with his father’s death burdening his shoulders.

He had put on a smile and a positive attitude at the Lookout, telling his friends that everything was all right. His father had spoken to him during the battle with Cell, encouraging him, telling him that he had the skill and power to save the Earth.

To save the Earth. That was his father’s job. Why wasn’t he doing it?

His friends, or rather his father’s friends, had stared at him strangely, not believing that he had heard from his recently deceased parent, but smiled anyway. Where Goku was involved, anything could happen. When his father had spoken to them all through King Kai, they had been relieved of their sadness, despite the news that he would not be coming back to their realm. Just knowing that Goku was happy seemed to be enough for them. Gohan had smiled again, pushing down his despair, as he had done several times before. He would return home without his father, and that would be that. Only Trunks seemed to see past his ruse, training understanding blue eyes on him. Perhaps the lone warrior knew more about him than he thought.

“Gohan! Get inside! It’s cold and wet out there, and I don’t want you getting sick, young man!”

Chichi. His mother. Goku’s wife. She had again been broken-hearted by her husband’s decision. There had been a possibility of bringing him back with the use of the original dragonballs on Namek, but he had refused. He had refused the chance of returning to his family, to live a peaceful life with them after the chaos Dr. Gero had wrought. Any future threat to the planet now would be Gohan’s task to undertake.

Gohan frowned deeply. His father had passed on the responsibility of Earth’s savior to him, and he hadn’t even had the decency to warn him about it first.

“Gohan! I won’t tell you again!”

His mother’s voice filtered through his dark thoughts, and reluctantly, he pulled himself off the damp ground. The back of his white shirt and dark pants were speckled with wet grass. He didn’t bother to brush them off or to peel the now soggy fabric from his skin.

As he trudged into the small house, he saw his mother fretting over pots on the stove and his grandfather, the Ox King, sprawled out on the couch in the living room. His heavy snores filled the house, mingling with the scent of cooking food. Gohan ventured to the kitchen, sitting in a chair at the table. Hearing the wood scrape across the floor, Chichi turned from her business at the range and with a stern look to her son, placed her hand on her hip.

“Mister, you march right up to your room and get out of those wet clothes! Dinner will be ready soon.”

Gohan sighed but did not argue. As he walked slowly up the stairs, his eyebrows furrowed. He thought he sensed a small, second energy similar to his father’s just near his mother. It was a fleeting glimpse and he shook his head, continuing up the staircase.

Once he reached his room, he pulled off his dank clothing and tossed them into a pile on the floor. He plopped onto his bed, dressed only in his underwear, and folded his arms behind his head. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to put a stop to the anguish his heart felt. He needed to be strong, to be a rock for his mother. Even though she had pulled herself together after only a day of weeping, Gohan still saw the pain in her eyes, hiding behind her strict commands.

His body felt heavy, relaxing, as he concentrated on his breathing. He was tired, even though he had not really done any physical exercise that day. His chest rose and fell evenly. One, two, three… One, two, three… Inhale… Exhale…

Inhale…

Exhale…

Gohan blinked, suddenly looking around. He was still in his room, but something was strangely different. The bedroom was dim, an orange glow from his lamp barely lighting the area. He needed to change the light bulb soon. He went over to the drawer of his nightstand to pull out a spare bulb and realized that he was much lighter than usual. It felt as if he simply floated in the air; however, he was making no effort to fly. A figure caught his attention and he looked towards his bed. He stood, surprised, as he watched himself lying on the bed, eyes closed, his arms behind his head.

Am I dead? Did…did I just die?

He wanted to be frantic, but the emotion never came. It was a strange feeling. He studied himself a moment, reaching out to touch the boy still on the bed. Before he could, he suddenly felt a strong presence in the room. It was an unmistakable energy and Gohan whirled around, completely alert.

Sitting cross-legged on the desk near the window was his father. He was dressed in the orange gi he always wore, and the smile on his face was as bright as ever. Gohan stared at him curiously, not surprised, only intrigued.

“Father?”

“Hey, there, son. It’s good to see you.”

Gohan sneered, already angry at the man in front of him. “Oh? Is it? You know, you could have seen a lot more of me if you had wanted to be wished back.”

The smile on Goku’s lips began to fade, replaced by a look of sadness.

“Gohan… I had to do it.”

“No, you didn’t. You could have stayed. You should have stayed!”

The older warrior sighed. “Gohan. You don’t understand.”

“No, I understand, all right!” he interrupted, his words strong and forceful. “You just don’t care about us anymore. Everything else is always before us! Always! And I could understand when you were killed that one time or maybe when you disappeared to train or whatever after Namek blew up, but this time? This time?! You had the opportunity and before anyone could even think of a good plan, you had already said you didn’t want anything to do with it!”

Goku sat quietly on the desk, his hands resting on his knees. The dark, expressive eyes were downcast as he listened to his son.

“And you gave this terrible excuse, too! Oh, all the threats to the world are because of me!” he said, the last sentence a mocking falsetto. “Right, because everyone’s after you, the strongest man in the universe! If you were so strong, why did you make me defeat Cell? Why did you…why did you have to…”

Goku watched his son fight back the pain he had been feeling the past several days. Gohan clenched and unclenched his fists, wanting to hit something, wanting to break something.

“It was me…that’s right. I toyed with Cell for too long, and you were only doing what you had to…” His lower lip trembled, before his resolved returned. “But that doesn’t mean that you can just stay dead!”

His father looked away, and after a moment rubbed his hand down his face. When he looked at his son again, Gohan saw the weariness in his eyes. For the first time, he saw that his father was…tired.

“Gohan,” he started, choosing his words carefully and speaking them clearly. “I didn’t choose to stay dead because I don’t care about you. You and your mother mean everything to me. That is why I couldn’t stay with you. I can’t keep putting you all in danger. The fight with Cell made me realize that I wouldn’t always be strong enough to defend the Earth, that I wasn’t…invincible. Everyone has put me on a pedestal, believing that I could do anything, and it was always up to me to save the day. As much as I love fighting, sometimes even I can fail.”

Gohan’s eyes lowered. He had always believed that about his father. In his mind, he could do anything and everything. And how could he not? Everyone else always said so, and Goku always delivered.

Goku inhaled silently, as if he had no breath at all and did so only out of habit. He reached out, and in an uncharacteristic display of affection, he touched his hand to Gohan’s cheek. The young boy looked up, surprised as he usually received no more than a ruffling of his hair, and saw the sad smile on his father’s lips.

“You are my son, Gohan. Maybe you will be strong where I was weak. Maybe you will be able to do what I could not.”

“I don’t understand,” Gohan said, frowning.

Goku answered only with a wan smile.

“But what if something happens? What if there is a threat and you’re not here?”

“I will always be with you, Gohan, whenever you need me. You will not fail, because I will be right there with you.”

Goku uncrossed his legs and slid off the desktop. Gohan moved backward, allowing him room to drop effortlessly to the floor. His feet made no sound on the hardwood planks, and he stood in front of his son, looking down at him with a soft gaze. He hugged him then, pulling him close. He felt as tangible as he ever had, there in the dimly lit room, and Gohan felt saline stream down his cheeks. He felt no sorrow or despair, simply a release. He tears were not accompanied by sobs or any sound, but Gohan felt the pain slip away as they fell.

“Take care of your mother and little brother for me.”

“What?”

Goku chuckled softly. “I guess you didn’t know yet.”

“Then how did you know?”

“Death is funny that way.” He smiled, any traces of fatigue gone from his eyes. “Now, enjoy your dinner for me, will ya? The food in the afterlife is terrible.”

Gohan returned his father’s smile and nodded.

“I miss you, dad.”

Goku patted his son on the head. “Don’t. I’ll always be around, even if you can’t see me. Go eat. Your mom will flip if she sees you just laying around in your underwear.”

“Right.”

He looked at himself on the bed, then back at his father. But the cheerful man was gone. He tilted his head to the side then felt a tug towards the bed.

Gohan awoke with a jolt, the spasm enough to cause his heart to race. He gripped the bed as he sat up, looking around his room. The lamp was bright and he rubbed his eyes. He glanced at the desk, seeing no one there, and he sighed.

“Gohan!” his mother called from the bottom of the stairs. “Dinner’s ready!”

Forcing himself to get out of bed, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. He breathed deeply to calm his still rapidly beating heart, and before walking out the door, he took one last look at his desk. A light wind breezed through the open window, nudging the neatly stacked papers to the floor. With a groan, he hurried to pick them up. However, one particular sheet caught his eye. It was math homework that he had been doodling on earlier that day. The picture was of the faces of him and his father, smiling, his father with a piece of cake next to him. Gohan squinted his eyes at the drawing. In between and just above their foreheads was a crudely-drawn, uneven heart.

“I didn’t draw that…” he muttered.

Putting the newly stacked papers on the desk, he shook his head at the strange scribble. He reached up to close the window, but a tap on his shoulder stopped him. He turned around, yet no one was there.

“Okay. So now I’m crazy.”

He closed the window, grabbed the worksheet with the doodle, and headed down to the kitchen. The Ox King had already taken his seat, and Chichi was setting plates filled with food on the table. His mother smiled at him, as he pulled up his chair.

“What’s that you got there?” his grandfather asked, motioning to the sheet of paper.

“Um…”

Chichi furrowed her eyebrows and took the paper from her son’s loose grip.

“Gohan, this is your math homework! Why are you drawing all…over…it…”

Her words trailed off as she stared at the doodle. After several moments of silence, she turned her gaze to Gohan.

“Weren’t you doing this homework today?”

“Yeah. So?”

“This heart…only your father draws hearts like this.” She laughed, but it was tearful. “Where did…how…?”

Gohan raised his eyebrows high into his forehead. He thought back to the strange dream he had just had and decided to take a shot in the dark.

“Mom, are you pregnant?”

“What?!”

Chichi touched her stomach reflexively, and she looked off to the side. After moments of thought, her eyes widened slowly, as if she were just remembering something. A small smile touched her lips, and she used the same hand to cover her mouth as she giggled softly.

Gohan looked at his grandfather in confusion. The Ox King returned the expression and shrugged his large shoulders. Chichi placed the paper on the table and continued serving dinner, now with a renewed vigor. A pleasant energy surrounded her as she sat down to eat with her family. Gohan finally gave up trying to understand his mother and shook his head. As they ate in contented silence, he smiled, enjoying the meal not only for himself, but for his father as well.


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I hope you liked it! :)