'They're at it again...never dull around here, is it?' It was the same old story-same old song and dance- Dad pissed Mom off--Mom yelled--Dad yelled louder--Yelling, yelling, yelling...then each storm off in their own direction before doing something either would regret.

Ignoring it as usual, about to turn his eyes back to the game before him, something was off. For as long as he could remember, the direction his parents would normally choose had stayed relatively the same. It had become an unconscious habit.

The yelling stopped. The front door opened and slowly closed. No crash, no broken glass. He jumped up staring at the retreating form of his father. The tall and dark figure slowly left the now silent room, stopping shortly after, and stared off in the distance. Finally, he took off. He truly left this time.

"Mom, where's Dad going?"

"I don't know. Not like I care anyway."

"He will be back, though, right?"

The woman looked down at her child. She realized just how much her son admired his father and how much he needed him in his life.

'What have I done to you, my son?'

"I..." The ringing of the phone saved her from telling her son what her heart was feeling.


"Goku keep your hands out of there; it's not finished cooking!"

"But I'm starving, Chi Chi...OWW!"

"See, now look what you've done! Ugh, come here, we'll bandage this up."

'Good to know nothing has changed around here.' A young woman thought, raising her arm to knock on the door. The personage who answered made her jump, expecting someone a bit taller. 'Did Dad get a clone??'

"Hello?" The little boy said.

"Uh-Hi. I was wondering if Son Goku was home. Could I speak with hi--" She spoke before a new individual approached the door.

"Sere? Is that you?

"Gohan? Gohan!" She embraced the taller man.

"You're home! What've you been doing all this time? This is amazing!" Letting go, another person entered the tiny entryway.

"Gohan, dear, who are you talki-- S-Serena?" A dark-haired woman ran to her, dropping dishes on her way. "My baby girl! You're home, you're actually home! I can't believe it! You've been gone so long. We need to celebrate." She carried on, talking about what they'll do now that her daughter was with them again.

"Hey Kiddo!" The voice Serena hadn't heard in so long.

"Dad!" Quickly, she was in his arms. She'd loved her father dearly since birth.

"You've gotten so tall and your hair! It's so long! Wow!" Goku noticed his youngest son standing off in the corner. "Hey Goten, come over here. This is your big sister, Serena."

The little Goku look-alike slowly walked over. The blonde smiled at him.

"So you're Goten, huh? How old are you?"


"Seven? Wow. It has been long." She looked into her parents' eyes. "Let's see those muscles, Goten, are you strong?" The little boy lifted his arms with a hopeful look in his eyes.

"Oh my, I wouldn't want to be clobbered by those things." She laughed.

"I'm gonna compete in the tournament."


"Yeah, Gohan's been training me. And I can fly, too. Wanna see?" Before Serena could reply her little brother had grabbed her hand and started leading her outside.

"Sure thing, slow down." A chorus of laughter filled the room.

"Oh Goku, we're a family again." She hugged her husband, knowing that he would have to leave again soon. For now she wanted to relish what she had. "I'm going to call Bulma and arrange the party."

Goku wouldn't care for a party, but if there was food involved and his friends were there, he didn't mind.


"It's all planned then. Hope you feel better. Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"Oh no it's just a case of the sniffles, nothing a bit of rest can't cure. I'll see you in two days."

"Are you sure that it's not too sudden?"

"Nah, it's been a while. It'll be good to get the gang together."

"Alright, take care, Bulma."

"Bye Chi Chi."

Hanging up the phone, a voice berated her in her head.

'Sniffles, huh? Sure that came right along with screwing up your child's future.' She ran a hand through her tendrils of blue. 'Why am I so stupid?'


He'd found it, he'd lost it. Some little piece of what Kakarott had, but it stabbed him in the back. Cold blood.

He just needed to punch something, destroy something. More pain to snuff out the pain he already felt. Each time he thought about it, his blood boiled. People he was led to trust had always kindly took turns to twist the blade.

Okay, so yeah I wrote this along the same time I wrote 'I Want', but this seems more realistic. Both stories are relatively old since I held them in my notebook for so long, so I hope that they're good. Read and review!