Legend's Progeny

    There was something inexplicably wrong with Son Gohan, an unnamed thing which went unnoticed by even the young academic himself.

    His days progressed as usual, as did his nights, dedicating great lengths of time to his research; nestling himself into the pristine laboratory as one would a familial home, Gohan observed little unease or alteration in his being to denote any evidence of inner discord. Superficially he was content, deemed during what fractional moments he spent analysing himself; the vast consumption of his waking hours devoted to his science left sparse periods of luxury to dither away on such unimportant matters.

    Gohan was happy, there was simply no reason for any other emotion to consume him. He lived a good life, surrounded by those he loved, and who loved him. He was happy. 

    At least, in his mind he was.

    An impalpable force drew his attentions towards the gleaming view of the dawning sun, coaxed him physically from the stiff confines of his laboratory to the magnificent world beyond. He stood, motionless, beneath the shade of a great oak; hair fondly mussed by the gentle motions of the wind as his gaze locked on the horizon. 

    It was simply breathtaking in it's beauty, a myriad of warm hues painting the sky in the moon's wake. Clouds were few and far between, dotting along at varied intervals, as though hesitant to obscure the glorious morning visage from sight. The air itself was crisp, clean; pure and untouched by vile hands. The scene was perfect in its very essence, worthy of unbridled awe.

     Except...it wasn’t.

                    At least, not to Gohan.

     Amidst the serene atmosphere, unperturbed by the conflicts and discourse of the world at large, Gohan felt nothing. Where once the lulling tranquility of the morning breeze drew tender notes of pleasure from the youth’s lips was naught but cold movements across his skin; what was once a melodious orchestra of avian brethren synchronising against a sunlit backdrop was now little more than an indistinguishable cacophony, muffled beyond a haze of too bright light glaring down upon him. What was once a beautiful vista was now simply a thing, a disjointed occurrence Gohan was unable to understand.

     This once brought him happiness, yet now?

                                          Now there was merely a hollow nothingness.

    When thick droplets spilt from unfocused eyes, trailing thick rivulets across his cheek, he didn’t notice. When his knees weakened, buckled alarmingly beneath him, he didn’t notice. And when everything just stopped, and his entire being became numb...

        “Icarus, no, naughty! You can’t just take people’s things! Give it back, buddy.”

    Relief swept over Gohan’s weary form as Icarus took heed of his chiding, a softened noise escaping the dragon as it reluctantly obeyed. Depositing the item back beside the unknown man, the large creature’s tail thumped languidly upon the solid earth as his owner made to apologise.

         “I am so sorry about that, sir! 

          “I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but I’ve always been rather curious; 

                                                  how did Saiyan families work?”

   Considering his enquiry, the younger male absently wondered if he had been correct in his usage of terminology. Was his idea of ‘family’ even a concept his ancestor’s race understood, or was its conceptualisation purely of human creation? His mind was aflutter with boundless lines of query.

       “That is to say, did you have family units? 

       Was there a system of authority within such units? 

         “Sorry to be a bother, but this fog--”

   Visibility obscured by the wispy tendrils, Gohan’s words were directed towards an enshrouded figure a short distance from where he stood. More so detrimental to his line of sight was the suffocating blanket of night eagerly eclipsing the scene.

              “No, Goten, no--!”

    The desire to have children was dwindling by the second; perhaps a fish, instead? An exotic create requiring little care, whose tongue remained within its mouth and away from Gohan’s now lick-sticky flesh.                   

              “H-Hey, that’s not a nice thing to say!”

                “Excuse me, miss, are you okay?”

     Surely it was an insensitive line of query, asking a stranger such things, viewed as judgmental perhaps in the eyes of the woman in question. Gohan did not mean to offend the girl with his words, merely intended to voice concern upon stumbling upon her. He opted on switching tactics then, hoping to remedy any such err his unprovoked questioning might have caused.

                “Ah, well, are you hungry? 

      Her scent ensnared his attentions swifter than her fearsome visage; a warrior, thirst for battle laden thick within her veins. It was a heady aroma to be sure, akin to Vegeta’s. Hence his hasty shift to defensive stance, polite words slick with venom as he welcomed the stranger.

               “Are you lost, miss?

         “Well, aren’t  you a cute kitty?”

    Folding effortlessly upon himself, Gohan settled himself comfortably before the lithe creature, cooing softly as he went. He offered a hand slowly, running thick digits along the animal’s sleek coat. It was only then he noticed the woman situated beside the cat in question.