Blood Lies by November

Chapter One

"I Woke Up In a Dream Today"

Although not always his favorite chore, Gohan did sometimes enjoy the chance to get away from his mother and brother and go to the market. Feeding a couple of saiyajins—even young ones—could be very taxing on the grocery bill. Gohan's thick, black hair whipped and danced in the wind as he breezed easily through the early morning skies. Down below him were open lands dotted with few houses here and there, but as he flew over the ridge, the openness gave way to houses and tiny shops. Gohan quickly fell gracefully to the ground behind an old bakery and dusted himself off. Taking a deep, sweets filled breath, Gohan's mouth began to water at the luscious sent that assailed his sensitive Saiyajin senses.

Mmm. Smells like Melonpan and...Oh. Anpan! Yummy! Gohan's eyes glazed over slightly at the very thought of the tasty Japanese yum yums. Maybe I could slip into the bakery and buy a few treats to take home, Gohan thought, a silly smile plastering his face as he walked quickly around to the front of the store. Leaning against the window, Gohan saw so many colorful goodies that his salivation reached an all time high. Reaching for the door handle, Gohan stopped and shook his head, chuckling at himself. What did he think he was doing? Only Goku got away with buying things like these! Heck, it was Goku's genes that had caused Gohan to slip into a semi-trance at the first sniff!

Turning around quickly, Gohan pinched his nose until he reached the street where he continued on to the market. Glancing up at the sun, Gohan guessed it to be almost ten and knew that if he took too long, he would have to explain his tardiness to his mother. Gohan's smile faltered slightly at that thought and he sighed; Son Chichi could be a very hard woman to get along with, even though Gohan loved her dearly. With those thoughts came others that Gohan clamped down on quickly, urging his heart to simply ignore the horrible images that barraged his tender mind. Squeezing his dark eyes shut, Gohan took a few calming breaths before he reopened his eyes and realized that he stood in the middle of the market's door, blocking other shoppers. Jaw clenched and his heart pushed as far away as possible, Gohan entered the store with purpose in his strides.


Chichi straightened up and pushed her dark bangs away from her increasingly sweaty brow. It was nice outside, but at the same time, the sun beating down relentlessly made it difficult to enjoy working. She had just finished up with the few weeds that littered her private garden when she noticed—to her most extreme annoyance—that Goten had yet again managed to escape his play area and was now sitting in a dark ring of mud. Narrowing her eyes, Chichi watched as the three year old happily grabbed handfuls of brown goop and squished it out between his tiny fingers. His round face was lit with blissful innocence as he happily added more mud to the now stained front of his outfit. Chichi shook her head and smiled sadly; he was so much like Goku.

Turning away from the demi-saiyajin, Chichi lifted her face to the sky and took a deep breath. In a few weeks would be the anniversary of the Cell Games and also the anniversary of Goku's death. It had been agreed that the day would be a reunion of sorts; the chance to stay in touch with all of those who missed Goku. How she missed Goku! Swallowing hard, Chichi stifled the strong urge to cry and rage at a man who ended up choosing death over his family. It didn't matter anyway, she thought as she made her way over to the bucket of water that had been set beside the house. She knew that no matter what happened in life, he would always be her Goku.

Reaching into the bucket, Chichi rinsed off her muddy hands and splashed water on her face and neck, still seeing a vision of her Goku, laughing in that boyish way that could make her smile all over. Even the times that they had argued, she could never remain angry with Goku; it was just impossible! Chichi shook her head and turned suddenly at the angry cry from across the garden. Goten had managed to get mud on his face and was now quite angry that he couldn't get it off. Chichi smiled and stepped over quickly to pick up the heavy child; Saiyajin were unique even at a young age.

"There, there, little Goten, Mommy will fix it!" Chichi cooed as she quickly rubbed away the dark mud smeared on his face. Goten smiled winningly at his mommy before his eyes drooped and a great yawn stretched across his face.

"I think we need to go inside and clean you up and then wait for Gohan to come home, neh? Gohan will be back in a little while and maybe while we wait we can read a story!" Chichi brushed at his black hair that stuck up at odd angles and once again thought of Goku. As she walked to the house, Chichi murmured softly to boy in her arms.

"You know, you are so much like your Papa, Goten," she said. "You have his big, innocent dark eyes and that hair that will just NEVER lie down." Chichi smiled. "Then again, Gohan-chan had that problem, too." Chichi pushed open the door to their small home and stepped softly in side, shutting the door.


Gohan stood out away from the market and threw a small oval piece of metal at the ground and watched as it exploded with a dim 'pop.' When the dust cleared, a small, dome shaped building stood with a large emblem on the side which read 'Capsule Corp.' Gohan smiled and began loading his large amount of groceries into it. Thank you, Bulma! He thought. Once done with loading the groceries, Gohan pressed a button on the outer edge of the dome; it made a 'poof' and disappeared back into the small capsule. Gohan pocketed the capsule and began walking away from the market, glad to be done with it, though unhappy about having to return home so quickly.

Nearing the city limits, Gohan glanced around wearily before he shot into the sky, thrilled by the feel of the wind blow against his young body and brush through his hair. He drew his arms out perpendicular to his sides and shut his onyx eyes, ecstasy written over his face by the intimate feel of the warm wind. The wind touched him and brushed against him in a personal, welcoming kind of way that almost made him blush. This ability was one good thing that fighting wars brought. Quick on the heels of that thought were vivid images of his friends and family beaten and bruised, of Cell's mocking face and his father's last few words to him.

Gohan's eyes snapped open and he dropped suddenly to the forest below. His heart raced and his breathing came in short, desperate gasps. He crushed through the canopy of the trees and landed rather rough on the hard ground before he stumbled and sat down hard on his behind. To Gohan's absolute horror, the visions continued, defying his desperate attempts to grasp them and stuff them back down into the place they had risen from. His vision blurred as angry, frustrated tears began to slide helplessly down the curve of his cheeks and his throat constricted painfully, allowing a strangled cry through. Attempting to gain some kind of control over his emotions, Gohan reached into the sash of his Piccolo-style gi and pulled out a small metal container about an inch wide, an inch and a half long, and probably a half inch deep. His hands trembled so severely that it was all Gohan could do not to drop the tiny thing, but he finally got it open, revealing a thin, shiny piece of metal. The teen tipped it out of the container and with his teeth franticly tugged off the dark wrist weight around his left wrist.

Groaning as more visions assaulted his tender mind, Gohan brought the sharp edge of the razor against his young skin and slowly cut open the flesh. Gohan watched as bright red blood leaked slowly from the thin cut. As more and more blood flowed freely, Gohan's trembling began to stop and the visions seemed to drain from his thoughts as the blood drained its way down his arm and dripped into a dark puddle on the ground. Instead of the feeling of being out of control and frightened, Gohan began to feel his control fall into place as he watched his self-inflicted wound bleed away his fear and anger. Gohan's face shone brightly with the awe of his own blood. This was his ability. This was his gift to himself; being able to wipe away the traces of anger and fear that stalked him in both his waking and sleeping hours by bringing forth this delicious escape.

After a few moments, the bleeding ebbed and the dripping stopped. Gohan spat on his fingers and rubbed away any trace of the blood from his arm before carefully putting the wrist weight back on, effectively covering up the evidence of the cut. He carefully placed the blade back into its case, the scholar in Gohan reminding himself that he must clean the blade when he got home. Standing, Gohan kicked roughly at the dark circle of his own blood and covered it up with dirt before taking a calming breath and rising back up into the sky and heading for home.


Cursing under her breath, Briefs Bulma grabbed the screw driver off of the floor and began to unscrew the last screw. Muttering the entire time at the vision of the Saiyajin Prince in her mind, Bulma jerked the cover of the panel off of the wall and set it to the side. "I'll make him think 'Saiyajin Prince,'" she muttered darkly. She finally sighed in irritation as she viewed the shorted wires and the burn marks visible all over the once colorful wires hidden behind the panel.

The gravity room was stifling hot because of the damage done to the circuitry, and the sweat running down the side of her face made her even more irritable than when her mate told her that he had once again managed to destroy something else. "That damn man!" she growled. "I swear one of these days I'm going to just—"But what she would eventually do to her mate was cute off as the shrieking of her son rang throughout the domed chamber. Bulma lost her balance and landed on her behind in fright and turning quickly, saw her son running as fast as his legs would carry him.

"Trunks!" Bulma shouted. The four year old came to a stop directly in front of her, the aggressive smile on his face causing her eyes to narrow as she assessed her small son. "Trunks, what have you done…"

"It's nothing that you need to interfere with; I will deal with the brat." Bulma looked up and saw her mate, Vegeta, standing in the doorway, his thick arms crossed over his broad chest. Bulma's heart fluttered ever so slightly at the sight as she narrowed her blue eyes at the Saiyajin Prince. "And just what is it that you think you will be 'dealing' with your son over?" she questioned.

Vegeta strode quickly into the room and stood over Bulma, smirking at the little purple headed child cowering behind her. "We are just experiencing…" he began slowly, taking time to smirk casually at them both before he went on. "What you would call, father/son bonding," he finished sarcastically. Trunks shivered at the note of warning in his father's voice. Bulma raised her eyebrow at the man before turning and taking in Trunks's face.

"Trunks, do you remember me telling you not to bother your father?" she asked slowly. "He's a grump, remember?" Vegeta snorted. Trunks's features lit in a smirk that would rival his fathers. He laughed and glanced back up at Vegeta before swallowing his laugh with a gag. Vegeta reached down and grabbed hold of his son with an evil, menacing look on his face. The little boy squealed in terror and tried to wiggle free from the powerful grip.

"Mommy!" he squeaked franticly. Bulma shook her head sadly.

"I'm sorry Trunks, but you got yourself into this mess, you have to get yourself out," she said, trying not to sound too sad. All of the color drained completely out of the child's face as his father carried him—kicking and wiggling—out of the chamber and out of sight. Only when they were completely out of sight, did Bulma finally give in to the laughter in the back of her throat. Those two could be so much fun! Vegeta new better than to actually do his child harm, but Bulma knew from the small gleam in his eyes and the barely visible wink that he had given her that he would do nothing more than scare the bejeezes out of the little boy. Shaking her head, Bulma returned to the task at hand, reaching forward and clipping off the burned pieces of wire before tying in new wires. Blast him; I'll get even with him later, she thought, the prospect making her shudder in anticipation.

To be continued...

Well, there you have the beginning of my Gohan fic. I'm trying to make it quite dark, so get ready. 5/2009