Chapter Text
Gohan liked studying.
It was true. That was what he wanted to do with his life : become a scholar, discover new things and maybe help people with those works of his! It's what his mother had always tried to give him, though she wasn't always so delicate in her teaching ways. Still, he found it thrilling ever since he had been able to hold a pen (which was early considering who his mother was).
As a child, he would wander around Mount Paozu, observing the little trays of ants and sitting down next to the colony as he tried to remember the long theorem his mother had shown him. When he'd get home, he would excitedly tell his parents about what he had observed, and the fond smiles they'd give him while ruffling his hair made him more than happy.
Every time he would get a question right, a warm shower of adrenaline ran through his veins, making him feel like he could do anything.
Then came fighting.
In a similar way, it made his muscles scream for more, to figure out how he could become stronger. The way his body moved when he managed to dodge, the sudden rush of his senses, the feeling of blood in his mouth and the sound of his ears ringing... He hated it. But, in a similar way that studies brought him close to his mother, it brought Gohan close to his father.
Son Goku was a genius, in a way no one could understand. The way his black eyes would follow his opponent, trying to pierce through them a weakness, a tendency to use at his advantage. The way he would smirk when, in the contrary, his opponent tried to use his own weaknesses at him. The thrill, the fun he found in each blow thrown.
No, nobody but Goku himself could understand.
Even Gohan couldn't.
Maybe it was for the best.
The teenager felt a tear fall on his book, soaking out the dark ink he had been scrambling with for hours. Late nights were the perfect moment for him to do his work, it took him away from the rush of the day. From the rush of the constant back and forth between school, Mount Paozu and Capsule Corp.From the constant feeling that he had lost his father forever.
From his mother crying until she couldn't get a coherent word out of her strangled throat while he stayed with her, silently asking her to forgive her husband, and the others.
From the constant itching feeling that it wasn't just his father's fault, but his most.
The itching would continue, trapping him behind the darkness of his eyelids until Gohan would wake up, with the certainty that it would happen again.
Son Goku was dead, he had to grow with this truth.
Gohan would have to grow without the warmth of the hand of his father, holding him when they would go fishing at the lake.
Gohan would have to grow without the soft smile he would give him when they would watch the dark sky together, under the apple tree the Son family loved, trying to spot constellations only his mother and him knew.
Gohan would grow to forget his laugh, the one he would share with Chi-chi when they'd talk softly to each other somewhere at Bulma's parties, where they'd make sure no one could interrupt them.
He set his pen down on his desk with all the weariness he was capable of expressing. The moonlight shone on his book and the many crossed sentences he had written.
What is pride?
Pride is when
A flaw
A strenght
Vegeta often says
He would tell his mother he tried to study, and she would barely try to tell him to continue; she was too tired for it,now. Maybe he could call Krillin or anyone for help on the matter, as long as he wouldn't continue to be alone at his desk. It was with reluctance and discretion that he carried himself out of his chair.
As he made his way to his bed, he noticed the light passing down his bedroom door. When he got closer he could hear his mother, talking out loud. It was strange, his mother always prioritized her sleep, as it was the only way for her to see "him", Gohan had once heard her tell his grandfather.
"I don't know what to do, I'm lost" she was mumbling, until she paused. "No, I don't know how far along... Just help me, damn it!"
She was on the phone. In the middle of the night.
"Bulma, listen, I'm freaking out too, there has to be a mistake, I can't possibly- We-" Her voice grew louder and quivered at each of her words.
Bulma said something through the phone, and Chichi took a deep and long breath.
"I just found out. No, he didn't know. Only you, Vegeta and I know!" His mother replied "I can't tell Gohan yet..."
Another pause of Bulma talking.
"Of course it wasn't planned, either way he probably wouldn't have-!"
And there went an orchestra of sobs, of sniffs, and of gut-wrenching mumbles.
"I'm having a baby..." Chi-chi breathed out when Gohan stopped.
The next morning was as simple as it always were, for the last few months.
Gohan "woke" up, without having his eyes closed much, and sat at their round table, across from his mother and next to his father.
Chi-chi arrived with a smile, running a hand through Gohan's hair before turning on the stove. While she did, she tried her best to avoid looking at the empty chair, and sang along to the radio she'd turned on.
"I'm going to see Bulma at Capsule Corp, do you have plans for the day?" She chopped the vegetables with a trembling hand she tried to hide.
She didn't notice the way her son's breath caught in his throat.
"Yamcha suggested he'd take you for a ride, you could go shopping or do some things together. You wouldn't have to ride the Nimbus, isn't that great?" She added oil to her pan.
"Would be nice," He shrugged, hiding his own nervousness the best he could.
"Professor Brief has been asking you if you'd like to come over, he wants to show you the lab around more," Chi-chi smiled as she handed him a too-full bowl of rice
"Great," he nodded
"Great," she repeated and sat across from him, folding her hands under her chin.
Her eyes were less empty than usual, which was a good sign. Her qipao was loose, making it show she had lost some weight at her sides. She wore her hair down ; whenever she tried to put her hair up in a bun, it would end up messy and full of stray strands escaping. Her face was still pale, but Gohan had no lesson to give her about that.
"Aren't you hungry?" He asked as he fidgeted hesitantly with his chopsticks.
"No, I'm... feeling a little sick," she tapped her fingers on the wood table. "Do you need help with your studies?" She changed the subject.
"No," he lied.
"I know your teacher said you could take as much time as you need, but all of this is not a reason to-" She froze when her eyes involuntarily darted to the chair.
Her eyes started to water, and she jumped out of her own chair, walking to the sink, trying to cover her sniffs with the clank of dishes.
"How could he...?" Gohan deciphered among the combined noises around him.
Without any words, he pushed himself up too and awkwardly hugged her before going to his own room. He didn't come out until he heard Yamcha's familiar car horn.