What You Will

2024 Commentary: This is a previously unposted chapter.

Gohan scaled the height of Kami's Lookout, racing against the southbound wind, fully intending to be back at school on time for his first class. In his jacket pocket lay the dragon radars that Bulma had sent to him late last night. True to her word, all three of them showed the same symptom that she told him about. And with all three lacking the ability to track the same dragonball, Gohan felt as if it wasn't a problem with the radars anymore. There was something wrong with the dragonball.

Reaching the plateau of the lookout, he accelerated to a stop, gently settling himself on the polished tiles. Across the lookout, Dende stood with the ever vigilant Mr. Popo, his head already turned to Gohan's direction, expectant. “Hey Gohan!” he called from the other side, waving one green hand excitedly. “Long time no see!”

Gohan chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, as he traversed the distance between them. “Yeah, sorry about that. I should make it a habit to visit more often.”

“Don't worry,” Dende shrugged and smiled amiably. “Never does get boring around here. Not when you've got a whole world to watch.”

“About that,” Gohan said, reaching into his pockets. “Something's up with the dragonballs. I was wondering if you knew what's going on.” He opened one of the dragon radars and demonstrated the dilemma he and Bulma had been having. One of the dragonballs was missing.

“Missing...” Dende contemplated. “I don't think it is missing, per se. At least, if something like that had happened, I would have felt something.” Dende walked to the edge of the lookout, scanning the world below as if he'd find the answer to the puzzle.

“I'm not omniscient, so there are many things I miss, even if I try my very best,” Dende said humbly. “I haven't noticed anything that would have caused a dragonball to vanish. Tell me, how does the radar know where a dragonball is?”

“From what I know, dragonballs emit electromagnetic waves, which the radar detects. This makes it possible to know where they're located.”

“Can it be possible that something is obstructing one of the dragonball's emission?”

“It could... but that wouldn't solve the problem of finding out where the dragonball is, or how we're ever going to find it, now that the dragon radar has failed.”

“Well, I don't know if this is going to help, but I did notice someone recently who has taken an interest in the dragonballs,” Dende offered. “Blond, young man. He started collecting them yesterday. I found that interesting, but I did get distracted, and I lost track of where he went.”

“That's okay,” Gohan said. “I've noticed that five of them have been gathered in one place so far.” From the coordinates flashing on the radar, it seemed pretty close to West City. “I can check out this person and see if they know something about the undetected dragonball.”

“Sorry if I wasn't any more help,” Dende said, disappointment clear on his face.

“Don't even worry about it!” Gohan comforted his friend, placing a hand on the Namekian's shoulder. “You're doing a great job at being a guardian. Don't let anything make you think otherwise.”

Gohan said his quick farewells, promising to visit more frequently, before shooting down from the Lookout. He'd make it just in time for school, not even a minute late. Mr. Foo Bar had never been fond of late-comers, and would usually put them on the spot if they came sneaking in. The start of first period was still half an hour away, and he could still go back to his dorm, go to class with Del, like usual.

Like usual...

He wasn't sure if there was a “usual” now.

Gohan flew in through his window, at a speed he was certain people would think he was just some strange, colour-tinted wind. When he opened his door to the hallway, Del still wasn't there, so he stood by the elevator doors and waited. They had gotten back last night a little late, missing dinner only by minutes, so they had to buy some from the food trucks still open and serving the students near their campus. It hadn't been so bad; a little greasy from what Gohan was used to, but seeing how small the truck they bought from, he wondered if the owner had been using some technologically enhanced cooking ware to make so much food in so little space.

He could tell that Del felt a little uncomfortable around him, sensing that Gohan was keeping things from him. But Gohan didn't know what to do; it wasn't like he could just tell Del about his heritage. Del's a good and kind boy but, even if he was from Satan City and had seen some pretty strange stuff there, Del admitted that he had hardly gone out much. How would someone who'd stayed indoors most of their life even comprehend the kind of past Gohan harboured? It was almost not fair for Gohan to expect Del to understand. And if he didn't understand... would their friendship dissolve? Would it all end? Del was his only friend here. And even if he could get another one, Gohan didn't think friends were replaceable. Not really. Maybe he won't be alone with a different friend, but whoever it was, he wouldn't be like Del.

Gohan may not be an expert on reading people but even he could see that Del was frustrated yesterday. And yet he didn't insist on finding out about what Gohan did during the time they were apart when the accident occurred. Maybe because Del knew what it was like to keep secrets. After all, he still hadn't opened up that much about his family and his life at the city.

Who am I kidding? Whatever Del's hiding, it's most likely not as big a deal as being half-alien.

The door to Del's room clicked open, and the small boy bounded out of his room with a gentle smile.

“Hey!” he greeted, and Gohan released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

“Hey to you too,” he smiled. “Not tired anymore?”

“Nope! Got myself a good night's sleep. Thanks for helping explain Boulder's formula before we left yesterday. I couldn't have gotten a peaceful rest if I'd still been fretting over it.”

“Not a problem!” Gohan grinned. Seemed like things were back to normal. Well, as normal as things could get.

They reached their first classroom, also their homeroom, and Mr. Foo Bar came with a portly, grey-haired man trailing after him. Gohan had never seen him before, so he couldn't be one of the school staff, unless he was new. But wasn't it a little strange to be bringing in a new teacher three weeks into the start of the school year? Or was he a replacement of some sort?

When all their classmates had entered and settled down, Mr. Foo Bar stood in front of his desk to ask for the students' attention.

“This year, West City Academy is proud to announce that we will participate in the first annual International High School Science Tournament.”

Gohan perked up, and looked over at Del to give him a knowing smile. Del smirked back.

“These past few months, reknowned scientists and successful innovative business owners alike have pooled their resources to facilitate a world wide science project competition across high schools. Now I know some of you brats are wondering what's in it for you – because Kami forbid you ever do anything without getting something back – so here I have Mr. Torque, owner of SciLabs and one of the more ardent supporters for this event, to tell you more about it.”

Mr. Foo Bar allowed the big man to take his place at the front of the room. Mr. Torque released an uncomfortable laugh, taking a cotton handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his sweaty forehead.

“Goodness, sometimes I wonder how I was able to start my own company, when I still get attacked by stage fright,” he said, quite amiably. Gohan found himself liking the old man already. “But surely, it must be harder to impress a room full of teenagers than one with looney old timers like me.”

He paced back and forth between the teacher's desk and the first row of seats, looking often at the floor, but after the first few shaky sentences of his introduction, his voice became steady and easy to listen to.

“You can think of this whole fiasco, if you'd like, as one giant science fair. It's a competition, not only among the teams of students, but also among the schools. For the most part, it is optional, but I believe that your school has made it a recommendation for students of West City Academy to join – ” and he flashed Mr. Foo Bar a look for confirmation.

Mr. Foo Bar cleared his throat and nodded. “That's right. It is highly recommended that you participate in this science fair. As an incentive, you will gain 15% bonus on your aggregated marks from all subjects. As for those of you taking my class however – that means all of you in this classroom – not only is it recommended, but participation is mandatory.”

Several quiet groans erupted from among the students, which sent Mr. Foo Bar's eyebrows to meet above the bridge of his nose.

“Now, now, this is the advanced Calculus class after all, what did you lazy bums expect? There are other classes whose students are expected to participate in this fair, so don't you all worry. Your misery has company.”

Mr. Torque continued his explanation. “Each team, composed of one to three students, must come up with an innovative idea... an enhancement to facial recognition, a more efficient formula for capsulization, an analysis of the most effective counter-attacks in chess... whatever it is that your passion takes you. There are very few limits to the projects! Of course, we do take plagiarism seriously, so please refer to your teachers or to one of the administrators of the fair – I'm one of them, by the way – on the minimum required enhancement that differentiates an innovation from a copy-cat.

He pulled out a stack of papers from his briefcase and began handing them out to students. “You can find more information here. The most interesting part for all you young-uns would be the prizes! Ah, the prizes. So what's in it for you, you might ask? Well, fame and fortune, of course! Literally.”

Gohan skimmed over the brochure, tuning out Mr. Torque as the man explained the glories that awaited the winning team. He'd already gotten the breakdown from Bulma.

“Del,” he whispered, leaning to his right. “We should definitely start brainstorming what we're going to do.”

His friend nodded. “Yeah, I already have some ideas. Let's talk later tonight.”

Mr. Torque continued to explain the significance of the science fair, and what it would mean for students and companies alike. He turned out to be one of the sponsors for West City Academy, along with several other high schools. After he left, the room was in a buzz, and most of the boys were wiggling in their seat, looking over the each others' heads, most likely forming teams with subtle glances and meaningful nods. Mr. Foo Bar had to yell twice to get the class's attention, and even still, Gohan could feel that their concentration was not in the formulas written on the board.

The entire day went by with the buzzing of students; most of them seemed pretty excited, but there were a sullen few who saw it only as more work on top of everything else.

When he and Del finished Literature class, Del excused himself to attend to some errand.

“I'll be back at around 7 or 8,” he said.

“Oh, where are you going?” Gohan asked.

The infamous shrug. “Around. I'm thinking of asking the teachers some stuff, and then head off to the suburbs to visit a friend.”

Gohan nodded, and waved bye. The mood had turned awkward again, like it did yesterday when he was the one who had matters to take care of. The blanket of reluctance and doubt over their friendship enveloped them for those few moments, until Del broke off into a jog down the hall.

The half-Saiyan headed off the opposite direction back to their dorm, and to start his homework. Del said he already had some ideas about what they could do for the science fair, so perhaps he ought to come up with something too. It was better to have two heads brewing over it than just one. All the while, Gohan tried to pacify the sinking feeling in his chest.

Del had a right to keep things secret too, didn't he? And Gohan knew that people could still have a perfectly good relationship even when they kept things from each other... well, at least he believed so. He thought so. Couldn't they? Now that he thought about it, he didn't actually know anybody who was very close with someone so secretive. All his friends were pretty honest with each other.

Well, there was Hercule Satan of course. Lied to the whole world, and still most people on the planet were worshipping him.

But Gohan knew that admiration, even an excessive one at that, cannot truly be called friendship. How many people were close to the World Champion enough that he had a meaningful relationship with them? And why would he want to be like Hercule anyway? Do people truly need honesty to be friends?

Ugh. This was no time to be getting philosophical.

-o-

Videl rushed to the math department, to catch Mr. Foo Bar during his office hours. Mr. Foo Bar didn't stay long after classes, she remember that from the report, and if he didn't have any other students requiring his help, she was sure he'd just head home and ditch his hours.

There wasn't any other opportunity she could see where she could glean any kind of information about Mr. Foo Bar, save for perhaps crashing his house and looking through his stuff. But that was absurd. Going undercover at school was on an entirely different level than breaking and entering, and the thought of it made goosebumps rise on her skin. She wasn't going to use her position as a crime-fighter to start doing things that criminals did.

Besides, she didn't even know if it really was Mr. Foo Bar. How about Mrs. Villa Lemma? She was as much a suspect for being the only one at school who was there at the time of the incident – cleaning the school grounds during off hours was her responsibility, and she had no alibi for being there so late at night, other than being unable to finish her work in the allotted times in the afternoon, which wasn't so much of an alibi. Videl had not yet even gotten to talk to Mrs. Villa Lemma.

No, for now Videl would focus on trying to gauge whether Mr. Foo Bar really was capable of the theft. She judged herself to be a good judge of character, and hopefully she'd find something out.

Besides, she had to get her mind off of Gohan. He'd been distracting her lately. She was not going to lie to herself, not about this. Although it galled her to think she'd allowed her focus to waver, by a boy no less, there was no point in denying that she had been distracted. She already had so many lies to keep track of and she was determined not to add to it. She owed herself at least that much.

So what if the boy kept secrets from her? After all this was over anyway, after the investigation finished, the crime solved, Del was going to go back to the way he had been: nonexistent. How were they going to keep their friendship alive then? No, it was better this way. Being acquaintances was no problem. It was enough, at least for now. Being friends, in every sense of the word, was bargaining for more than she could afford.

But not everything had been for naught. The fact that she had begun laying foundations for a friendship with who could be Saiyaman was a large step in and of itself. Now she just had to stop thinking of it as a friendship and more like a pathway leading to more clues about the mystery. Gohan was hiding something, that much was clear. And Saiyaman obviously didn't want to be identified. She was going to worm her way in.

When she entered Mr. Bar's room, he took one glance at her and his face settled into an expression that seemed to say it was about time Del showed up.

“I need help,” Videl said.

Mr. Bar shrugged. “Obviously. That's why you're here! That's why I'm here!” And he ushered her to the chair in front of his desk. Videl took out her textbook and notebook from her pack. She had prepared a question already for this session, one whose answer she really needed to verify, but whose steps and algorithm she already knew. She didn't want to look terribly dumb, even at a fake session.

Mr. Foo Bar had a wonderful way of explaining. He was funny and quirky, and really made sure that she understood why the steps the books did was the best and most efficient way of solving the problem. He never lost patience with her even though she insisted that another method might be better, and his clarification made her see why hers, though it had simpler calculations, would take a whole lot longer to perform during a test.

When she finished her question, she nodded appreciatively at her teacher. She kept a mental note to herself that next time, she wouldn't shy away from visiting office hours, because gee, it actually did help.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Bar!”

“No, thank you,” he said. “For finally coming. Don't think I don't remember how poorly you did on the welcoming test.”

Videl felt her cheeks flare with heat. She was hoping that was all behind her. But she also didn't back down from a criticism, and as a self-taught martial artist, she knew how to accept her limitations and find a way to improve.

So instead, she said, “Well thank you for helping me be better.”

“Ah, well that's why I'm here for.”

Time to play her first card.

“You're really dedicated, Mr. Foo Bar. Even with someone like me. The entire department could really use your dedication.”

He smiled, “Well they missed their chance for that. But no matter. I am happy, in this little cubicle, teaching good-for-nothings like you why math is beautiful!” There was a wistfulness in his eyes that made Videl feel at ease even after being insulted.

“Who is the head now?” she asked, putting on her newbie face.

“Ah, that would be Mrs. Park,” Mr. Foo Bar nodded. “She teaches the first year's math classes and the advanced statistic courses. She's a wonderful woman, and if there's anyone I'd have liked to lose to, it would be her. I don't think you've met her.”

Videl shook her head.

“Well, she's just down the hallway. You'll see her around. Big hair, purple streaks.”

Videl said her goodbyes, letting him know she'd keep an eye out for Mrs. Park.

As she walked down the hallway, she went over every single thing that went on in that room.

Then she cursed. Unless Mr. Foo Bar was an experienced actor, there was nothing she could see that showed he had the motive to steal so much money from the school. He didn't seem bitter about his position at all; he demonstrated great patience and care when instructing her. He didn't act at all as if it was beneath him, as if he deserved to have a higher position. No, Mr. Foo Bar seemed to genuinely love teaching. Besides, he didn't talk poorly about losing to Mrs. Park. He didn't even insult her, and that's a big thing coming from someone who had a habit of casual name-calling. He did say that the department 'missed their chance' of having him lead it, but even then... he didn't sound disappointed. Not much.

She sighed, rubbing her head. It's been days since she had last reported something useful to Miso. She felt wound up, like a jack-in-the-box, with the lid forcibly held down. The more she thought about it, she felt as if she got swept away by the educational currents in the school; moreover her pride, which didn't allow her to remain so uncompetitive against her classmates, was to blame for her lack of discoveries.

Now, everyone in the team was on edge. The best they could hope for was if the theft got shoved under the carpet... the school, after all, got its money back. Nobody outside of Mrs. Bay B. Blue and the president of the school knew about the theft in the first place. Scandals like these were usually kept quiet; usually they didn't even reach the police's ears. But the sum was large, and the president had asked for their help, making Blue their inner contact within the school. Blue mentioned in their last meeting that President Moringa was leaning towards scrapping the mission. To him, it looked like a dead end.

Could it be possible that Moringa was involved? Videl shook her head. If she knew little about Mr. Foo Bar, she knew far less about the president of West City Academy. With as little as she knew, she had no choice but to be paranoid. At this point, it could be just about anybody! It could even be that Sharpner dude! She better start buckling down soon, or... or this could turn out to be a worse disaster or a waste of time; she was determined not to let it become either one.

-o-

Sharpner took the fastest jet he owned and headed for Mount Paozu.

The blasted place was miles away, but it was the location of the last dragonball that the radar could detect. And he'd be damned if he left this off for one more day; he could practically taste the victory on his tongue! The sooner he gathered all six, the better he'd feel about formulating a plan to find where the last one was, the more secure he'd feel.

For a few minutes, he rounded the heights of Paozu mountains, circling among masses of barren rock, while trying to gauge where the radar was trying to get him to go. Between two ragged pillars of rock, he maneuvered his jet, and a wide expanse of plateau opened up before him. Green grass grew, and off to the east was a thick forest. Way down below him, as the plateau sloped down, he could see white dots, which he assumed were houses comprising a small village. The dot on the radar was beeping off to the east, farther away it seemed than the thick forest. He steered to follow it, and true enough, after a couple of miles, another small clearing appeared. Two small houses asserted their presence near the edge of the clearing, one of them a large, white dome, and the other a small rectangular structure with a sloped, tiled roof.

The radar beeped quicker, and his coordinates were almost on top of the dot.

The white house, then? He smirked. Bingo.

He landed away from the clearing, on a largish spot in between some trees in the forest. After capsulizing his jet, he took off to the direction of the house, the radar clutched safely in his palm. Now how was he going to do this? Pull out Mr. Charmer and knock on the door? That would only give him a 50-50 chance of entering, since these mountain folks didn't look like they'd be much impressed by a cute smile and a hair flip. He could sneak in through a window or a back door, because hey, sneaking had been part of his projects these past three years, they might as well call him the world's professional sneaker. But sneaking would establish him as an enemy right off the bat, which meant that if he got caught, there'd be no mercy.

Ah well, mountain folks weren't his forte. There'd be no way they'd let him in, even if he tried to sell them money. Windows, it was then.

Sneaking up to the wall of the white house, he crouched well below the nearest window, and took and small peek inside the house. He couldn't see anyone, but the lights were open, and the central table was laden with many dishes and pots, seemingly for dinner preparation. As a matter of fact, Sharpner could smell the aroma of something delicious through the fumes escaping the exhaust of the house.

Slowly, he reached up, tested the lock on the window, and found that it budged easily. Hah, these mountain folks were always so careless. They probably thought that the inaccessibility of their homes were enough to secure it. He pushed the window up slowly, taking another peek inside to make sure that there was still nobody in the room. In a swift, practiced gesture, he launched himself into the room, landing heavily on the floor. Quickly, he crawled over behind the nearest couch, staying as still as possible, his senses on high alert around him.

He heard a woman's voice call out, “Goten, is that you? What did I tell you about playing in the house?” She sounded far off. Good. Sharpner looked down at the radar in his hand. It was on high zoom now, and the glowing dot indicated that the dragonball must be upstairs. Taking a deep breath, Sharpner crawled as quickly and noiselessly to the stairs, then took the steps two at a time, and entered the first room he found.

He held his breath.

He looked around.

Nothing. Nobody was here. He exhaled with relief, and look down at the radar again. He was in the wrong room. The beeping seemed to be in the next room over. Quietly, he pushed the door ajar, and walked over the the next one; the walls of the hallway gave him cover from the view of anyone on the first floor, so at least he didn't need to worry about the woman. He'd need to worry if anyone was on the second floor.

Sharpner felt a prickling at the back of his neck, and he turned around, but nobody was there. Strange, he could have sworn he felt someone was staring at him. He shuddered. Mountain houses were creepy as heck. He turned the knob, and listened for any sound. Hearing none, he poked his head in, and upon finding not one person there, happily went inside and closed the door behind him.

The radar pointed him straight to a cabinet. He rummaged through it quickly, upturning piles of blankets, showing aside clothes hangers, until he came to an inner drawer, which he pulled out. And voila... the dragonball lay on top of a hat neatly tucked away inside the drawer.

Jackpot!! He could almost scream out of excitement.

“Watcha doin'?”

Sharpner twirled around in fright, only to find a small boy in front of him, looking up at him with wide curious eyes.

A child. He hated children, dammit.

“So you're the funny chi I felt!” the boy said, his lips curling into a smile. Then he noticed Sharpner clutching the dragonball in his hand, for the first time. “Hey! What are you doing with that?”

Sharpner reached into his pocket, always ever ready for moments like this.

“How about we play a little game called 'No Talking', and you can have these!” He presented the kid with a bunch of wrapped candies. “All you have to do is not talk about this.”

“This?”

“This,” Sharpner said, hand gesturing towards the scene in general.

The kid cocked his head to the side, and smiled. “Okay!” There was a blur of motion, and the next thing Sharpner knew the wrapped candies lay on the ground, wrappers open, with no candies inside.

“Are there more?” the boy chirped, wiping his mouth with a hand.

More? Those candies could have lasted between the twins and Lights for a week!

“Uh...” Sharpner grasped for some handhold desperately. “Okay fine. Name your price. What do you want in exchange for this stupid hat?”

The little boy shrugged, scratching a head full of shaggy hair. “It's not mine, so I wouldn't know. But you better leave soon, or Mom would be extremely upset. She doesn't like strangers much.” The boy eyed him. “Especially those who sneak into houses. She hates those kinds the worst.”

Sharpner sighed. Why was he wasting time bribing this kid? The punk was freaking two feet tall! A muscle here and there should be enough to get him out of Sharpner's way. With moderate strength, Sharpner shoved the boy away, and tried to sprint for the door.

Except the boy had gotten a hold of his arm, and Sharpner lurched back, falling on the floor. The kid didn't even look roughened up. As a matter of fact, as far as Sharpner had heard, the kid didn't even fall! But...

Sharpner tried to shake the boy's grip off of him, going even as far as shoving him on the chest. But the boy followed his motions with astounding balance, and not even the shove had any effect beyond making him take a step back, and even that had almost been imperceptible.

“What the heck are you?” Sharpner whispered.

“This isn't very fun,” the boy said, almost sounding disappointed. Then in a loud, lungful, “MOM!”

Panic spiked up in Sharpner's chest, and he clawed his way out of the boy's grasp. Not caring that he was two storeys high, he launched himself out of the window, and landed almost ungracefully upon the high grass outside. A sharp pain went up his ankle, and he cursed slightly, blaming himself for not wearing the appropriate shoes.

Standing up despite the pain, he turned around, preparing his jet capsule, when he stumbled into someone.

“Ugh, you lech!!” she screeched, and Sharpner pulled back quickly, to find that he had ran into a woman. Judging by her voice, she was the same woman who had been on the first floor. She wasn't that old, but still, no matter how youthful a woman was, Sharpner never expected them to be carrying a ten-foot fish over their shoulder.

“Who are you?” the woman yelled. Then she noticed the hat, and the dragonball attached to it, and her face contorted with rage. “Why you insolent–”

He didn't hear the rest as a ton of weight crushed him to the ground, and the pungent stench of fish assaulted his nose. He felt the hat being snatched from his now numbing hand, and only moments later was the weight of the fish removed from on top of him.

Only to be replaced by a punch that sent all coherency out of his mind.

“What do you think you're doing, you bastard!” Sharpner barely managed to protect himself from following onslaught of precise kicks and punches – was this woman trained in martial arts or something? – before rolling onto his knees and backing away.

“Whoa, there! Calm down!”

“Don't tell me to calm down!” Another punch too late to catch.

“A million!” Sharpner yelled. That made the woman pause, if only too curious to continue.

“What did you say?”

“How about a million zennis?” Sharpner repeated, hand wiping at the blood dripping from his nose. “For that hat.”

The woman looked down, and when she looked back at him, her face was angrier than before. It only took a split-second for Sharpner to take that as his cue to leave immediately, and he made a run for it. He threw his jet capsule on the ground before him, and it exploded into a cloud of smoke masking the jet. He barely made it inside as the woman caught up to him. Though he sat in the relative safety of his jet, the woman's incessant pounding began to form cracks on his windshield. Heart in his throat, Sharpner revved up the engine, and configured the settings for a fast getaway.

“Outta the way, you banshee!” he yelled back at her, though he was sure it was only because he was so taut with terror. He anticipated these mountain villagers to be a little unfriendly, but this was beyond any of his expectations. A fish-wielding woman with a son in possession of super-strength? What stretches of the Earth had he found himself in?

It was only when he was out of the last ranges of Mount Paozu did Sharpner allow himself to relax.

That made him wince. His bruises and cuts were more prominent in this relaxed state. His nose had stopped bleeding, but he could still taste the metallic flavour of blood in his mouth. His ankle felt like someone stuck up a knife in his bone, and his breathing was short with the constricting pain in his ribs.

Damn that strange family. He hadn't even managed to get the dragonball.

Now he had two to worry about!

Anyway, what was more important for now was that he found a safe place to hide the dragon balls that he'd already collected. If anyone else with a radar was searching for them, it was inevitable that they'd be found. But for anyone else who was ignorant of what the dragon balls had the potential to do, it was much better if they were kept out of the way.

Sharpner thought he had the perfect place for it, and maneuvered his jet to speed towards his own house.

He felt like a criminal sneaking among the candy-pink walls of his sister's room. He'd known what it was like to feel like a criminal, and he briefly wondered why it always had to involve sneaking. If his father found out, well... the best thing he could hope for was to be sent to a mental asylum, and the worst was if his father took interests in the dragon balls. He knew that said something immense about his priorities.

But really, the last thing he wanted was for his last hope to be squashed.

Highlight had a small compartment at the back of her wardrobe, he knew. He had helped build that furniture when she was still a newborn; he did it partly out of boredom, and partly out of a desire to escape his father's attention for a few hours. She was five now, still much too weak to go digging about at the back of her wardrobe and pulling out pieces of wood, so he knew that that would be the safest place to put the dragonballs. And if someone did find out, he could just pretend he had bought it for her because she liked the shiny, orange look. They could surely pass off for toys; Sharpner was sure that the dragonballs would be much more conspicuous if he actually stashed them in a safe or something, with this-is-a-secret implicitly plastered all over the locks.

He was just pulling the wood closed, when the door slammed open and his sister came rushing in, strangling him with her short, meaty hands. The wounds and bruises he'd gathered over the past few hours screamed in protest.

“Sharpie, Sharpie, you're back!” she squealed with childish, ignorant delight. Sharpner almost hated that she could be so cheerful. He pulled her off of his neck and settled her gently on the ground.

“Watcha doin'?” she asked, eying the back of her wardrobe menacingly. As menacing as a five-year-old could look. Which was... immensely.

Sharpner had always hated kids.

“I found a big fat spider crawling over there and killed it!” he shrugged.

She scrunched up her face and shrieked away, going to her bed.

Sharpner followed her, digging for a candy in his trousers. Kids could be so easy to bribe, but they were as untrustworthy as a Red Ribbon army spy. Still, he had no choice.

“How about a strawberry candy for one thing,” he held it out to her, and her blue eyes all but popped out of her head as she devoured it in one bite. “Don't tell anyone you saw me.” Highlight made a zipping motion with her hand, but how much that gesture was worth, Sharpner didn't know.

It meant he had to find backup. If Scotch or Marker were already around after school, they could keep her out of their father's way. The man rarely came home before dark anyway. He walked down the hallway to seek out the twins, rounding the corner and smiling when he heard their laughter, most likely at some dumb game on the computer. It was his lucky day.

“Oy, idiots!” he called to them, and was ignored. He went over to their shared desk, and pulled the plug from their desktop computer. Their combined groans grated against his ear drums.

“Sharpner, you abominable reprobate, you're the bane of my existence–”

“You're an asshat and a freaking jerkface!”

Ah, sometimes it still startled him to see such difference between the two of them.

“How about fifty a piece to babysit Highlight?” Sharpner got to the point, putting his hands in his pockets. That shut the twins up pretty quickly. They glanced at each other, slyly, almost as if trying to sense a trap. “Aww, c'mon you guys! Just watch her for several nights, okay?”

Marker narrowed his eyes. “You mean to say, that is all we have to do, for fifty zennis?”

“Do you want a contract with that?” Sharpner asked sarcastically, but rolled his eyes when Marker did indeed draw up a sheet of paper.

“Absolutely.”

Sharpner allowed his brother to write up a nice little note, and each of them signed their names at the bottom. Honestly, the crap he had to go through in this family.

“Oh wait,” Scotch said a little belatedly. “I can't do tomorrow night. Dad asked me to come with him to his honorary presentation for whatever something something he said this morning.”

“What?” Sharpner grabbed Scotch's shoulder. “What are you going to do there? Why does he want you to go?”

“Easy there! What are you now, an investigator?”

“Tell Dad you're sick,” the seventeen-year-old snapped harshly. “Honestly, he shouldn't be telling you to do shit.”

Scotch shrugged Sharpner's hand off his shoulder. “Whatever. But you know I have to do it.”

Sharpner frowned, and left the twins alone. What did his father want? From someone who was ten years old?Kami, this better not be a 'project' or whatever... his brothers were two hemorrhoidal pain in his ass, but this was crossing a line. That bastard of a father honestly had no affectionate preference for his flesh and blood. Nope, everyone to him was just another piece in a chess game.

Things needed to change.

He was on his way to the garage when he was stopped on his tracks.

“Why aren't you at school?” the hardened, sardonic voice came unexpectedly from ahead of him, where there stood his father. He was dressed in his usual office attire and scowl. Sharpner recovered from his surprise, and mentally cursed himself for even thinking about the man. They said sometimes it happened, that the devil actually did come when you spoke of him. Or thought of him, for that matter. Sharpner sighed.

“Never mind. I don't actually want to know,” Mr. Pencil growled, running a hand through his hair, as if he was the one who was so fed up about everything. He had no right. “It's good that you're here. I need to talk to you.”

-o-

Videl stood awkwardly by the lamp post, hoping she didn't look so noticeable in her pigtails and a light peach blouse. She hadn't gone around as a girl in a while, since meeting Erasa and Sharpner for the first time. But Erasa was the reason she was here now, in what she considered the most logical attempt to have Erasa forget all about Del.

She had paid one of the girls from Corn Street High, someone who knew Erasa, to send small slips of paper to her. They were just notes, ending in 'Your Secret Admirer', but Videl thought they were enough to pique the girl's interest and come out today for a surprise meeting. Surely Erasa would think she was supposed to meet with a boy, but hopefully... hopefully their past friendship would abate the disappointment a little. Her plan of not appearing as Videl anymore would have to make small exceptions for this, because she cannot face Erasa again as Del.

Here's to hoping that her appearance would erase Del from Erasa's mind.

She spotted the blond girl walking up the street, turning her head left and right. Videl had decided to meet up at the small park only a couple of blocks down from Corn Street High, where there were beautiful circle stone art and park benches to sit on and relax. Erasa's gaze was high, surely anticipating to see a tall, handsome man. Videl was about to approach her when she came near, but halted back in surprise when Erasa walked past her, eyes still roaming the street and benches.

Videl laughed, and pounced Erasa from behind.

“It's me, you dummy!” she said, wrapping her arms around Erasa. “Don't you remember me?”

Erasa's eyes widened, first with fearful surprise, and then with a cheerful one as she finally recognized who was hugging her.

“Videl!! Is that you, really? Wait, what? What are you doing here? Wait, hold on... oh man, this is so strange. So messed up! Wait, how did you know I was going to be here?”

Videl held up a sheet of paper folded in the style of her short notes. “Secret admirer?” she said. “I wasn't lying by the way!”

“That was you?” Erasa exclaimed.

“Uh huh! Why, who were you expecting?” Videl narrowed her eyes, one brow raised in a suggestive manner.

“Well, a boy, of course!” Erasa said, much too straightforward than Videl had expected.

Videl shrugged. “Give yourself some more credit, Erasa. Girls can admire you too.” She hooked her arm with one of her friend's, and began to lead the way to an ice cream shop near the park that she had seen going there.

“Yeah... but Viddy, tell me what's going on!” Erasa asked as they walked out through the park's entrance and down to the stop lights.

“Nothing. Just visiting an old friend.”

“How did you know I was here? I moved out from our old hometown a long time ago. And we sorta lost contact after you stopped responding to the e-mails I sent you years back...”

“My father has resources.” Then Videl's eyes lowered. “I'm so sorry, Erasa. Things were crazy for me at that time. My e-mail address received tons of spam, and then subsequently got hacked. After things cleared up, I tried to regain contact with all my previous friends, but then your e-mails kept bouncing back by that time.”

Erasa nodded. “Well I'm glad you're here!” She squeezed Videl's arm with her own. “Now we can catch up to the five something years we didn't see each other! How great!”

The two of them spent almost two hours at the ice cream shop. Videl treated Erasa to several rounds of ice cream, which by the last, had them scolded slightly by the old waitress who said it wasn't good to have so many. But time passed so swiftly, the number of ice cream bowls forgotten behind the stories of junior high dilemmas, paparazzi close-calls, late homework submissions and crazy parents. Videl waited to bring up the topic of boys once they were finished and ready to go home. She wanted Erasa to remember what she'd have to say about this.

“Oh, you know, a couple here and there,” Erasa answered when Videl asked if she'd had gone out with anyone.

“Aww, no need to be coy with me, Erasa. Only two?”

“Hey, just because I'm cute doesn't mean I can't be a one-man woman, you know!” Erasa pouted. “Besides, the first one lasted for quite a bit, and then after that... I didn't really get on well with anyone. I went out a few times with some other guys, but never really established a relationship. But you know, I did meet this cute guy just several days ago.”

Bingo. Right on track.

“Oh really?” Videl asked, feigning interest. “Where's he from?”

“West City Academy!” Erasa squealed. “Can you imagine it, Viddy? Me, dating an academic? And what a gentleman he was. He all but saved me from the evil clutches of my ex for the five minutes we met!”

“Hmm...” Okay, Videl. Make this convincing. “Sounds a bit sketchy, don't you think?” That's right. Work some doubt in there. “Trying to fight off your ex when you two just met?”

“Oh, my ex was a horrible person,” Erasa crossed her arms, frowning at the sunset glowing at the reflective windows of the skyscrapers ahead. “The fact that Del pushed Sharpner off my case just brought him to my good side.”

“This Sharpner of yours... who is he?”

“A liar, a cheater and the most insufferable asshat in the entire universe,” Erasa explained. When Videl said nothing about that (because gee, from the three times she met the guy, that was pretty much a given), Erasa went on. “Goes to WCA now too, but we were friends in junior high. Back then he wasn't so... wasn't bad, really. He was funny, and had a wise streak to him that made teachers admire him and send him to the principal's office at the same time. He was rich and handsome, and I thought he was way beyond me, but he was of the friendly sort – never let his wealth get in the way. He treated everyone like he was just like them. Of course, you see he's changed now. Everything I just told you? Gone.”

“What happened to him?”

“Eh, his Dad got richer, and then he thought he was too good for the rest of us. Moved away. Didn't even hear from him to say goodbye or to break up with me; I only found out from a magazine that he was dating some famous chick. I harassed his phone until he picked up, and when I asked him about it, all he did was laugh and hang up. The prick.”

Videl found her mouth twisting in disdain. She hadn't interacted much with Sharpner, but now she was even less inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Hey look here, Erasa,” Videl began. “If Sharpner's from West City Academy, you should probably also stay away from Del. They're all the same type there, and you might just get hurt.”

Erasa shook her head. “That wouldn't be fair, Viddy. I can't treat just anyone who is associated with Sharpner that way. Sharpner is just a person. How I treat him shouldn't affect how I treat anyone else.”

Videl was taken aback. She hadn't expected that response at all. She'd been gambling her best card on associating Del with the likes of Sharpner, but...

Erasa was right. Shouldn't Videl, someone who dealt with the law also have realized something like that? She looked at the ground, feeling her face heat up. How shameful.

And all of a sudden she felt even guiltier trying to get Erasa off of Del's case. Was she just being selfish? Trying to avoid Erasa just because she couldn't handle the situation? But it was okay, right? Because everything would be worse off if she led Erasa around, making her think that Del is an available young man, when really, he didn't even exist at all.

No, Erasa seemed to have had a horrible time already with Sharpner. Videl was not going to let that happen again, especially not with her machinations.

“Just... just be careful, okay?” she told her friend. “He just seems really... odd.”

They parted ways after that. Erasa a bit tearful, but they promised to keep in touch. Videl made sure to tell her that she won't always be around West City, especially since she lived in Satan City. But they gave each other adequate communicating means, and promised they wouldn't lose touch again.

She made it back a little after 5, and headed straight to Gohan's room. She found him, like how he was always, with textbooks piled around him on the bed. He was on the phone, a worried crease on his forehead.

“Well, are you and Goten at least okay?” A pause. “Well, that's god to know. But you should really report him to the local officers down at the village. I'm sure he wouldn't really be a threat to you, but for other people he might be dangerous.” He looked up to see Del hovering at the doorway, and motioned that it was okay for him to come in. “Okay. Take care though. I don't think he'd think of coming back, but it's good to be on guard.” He shut off the phone, and tossed it on his bed.

“What happened?” Videl asked.

“Apparently, my mother caught an intruder in our house.”

Videl gasped. “What did he want?”

“A dr... an heirloom. Something handed down from my Dad's grandfather.”

“Well is your Mom okay?”

“She should be alright.” The Gohan beamed with something akin to pride. “My Mom might be a mere housewife, but it takes a lot more than a sneaking thief to unsettle her. She can take care of herself.”

Videl nodded, remembering her research that Gohan's mother was the daughter of the Ox King. “I'd bet. Well, anyway, I'm sorry I'm a little late.”

“It's okay,” he said. “I started writing down some ideas of my own for the science fair.” He waved her over, and she settled on her usual spot near the edge of his bed. She took the notebook paper from him and browsed the list.

Smokeless capsulization (interesting); jet copter engine that doesn't emit poisonous fumes against dinosaurs (dinosaurs exist? Where?); force field generation with linear space and time complexity (too advanced for her)... And coming to the end of the list: a device that finds lost objects. Now that... that could be useful.

“I like the last one,” she told him, and he nodded in agreement. “I think there are already devices that have tackled this problem before, but they're currently way too expensive for the general market.”

“And limited in many ways,” Gohan said. “There is one currently being manufactured at SciLabs, but it's limited in the kinds of objects it could find. The kind I'm thinking of requires only a memory scan of the object, and it can find it anywhere.”

Videl nodded. That sounded complex, and way beyond what she knew about engineering. There were modules that they were allowed to use, open source and approved by the fair committee, but she had to admit that, like her mission here at the school, she didn't even know where to begin.

A sinking feeling began to pool inside her. This entire fiasco was testing her limits. It came to the point where she'd prefer if she just finished her mission and left. But she'd be damned if she could even admit that finishing her mission was easier than making a far-fetched all-you-can-find device.

“How about your ideas?” Gohan asked, interrupting her pessimistic train of thoughts.

“Ah, well,” she said. “I was just thinking about better security systems, actually. We could perhaps investigate the existing kind of ways to dismantle security systems, and then manufacture an improved system that avoids those flaws.”

“Yeah, that's a very nice idea!” Gohan scribbled quickly in his notebook, writing down what she was telling him.

“Also,” Videl added. “These ones might be easy for you. How about an anti-gravitational mechanism? Something that allows people to shoot up to the sky... put out fires in tall buildings, maybe. I don't know if you already have theories about that, but they would be extremely helpful.” She watched as Gohan's writing slowed down, as he adjusted his grip on the pencil. He didn't say anything. “Instant outfit changer is another one I'm thinking about, though that's a little low-scale for this kind of science fair. Still, we can keep it in mind.”

Gohan kept on writing without comment. Videl felt her certainty grow a little bit, watching as Gohan's facade shifted from what had been excitement to anxiety. Even if he wasn't Saiyaman, it was clear he knew something related to the superhero.

“Well, those sure are very interesting project ideas, Del!” Gohan replied, perking up a bit too much than necessary. “Which one do you want to start with? I suppose we'd have to choose our top three and see where we go from there.”

“Finding lost things,” Del said. Even though her last two suggestions were meant to root out Saiyaman, she was definitely intrigued about Gohan's last suggestion. Did he also have something he needed to find? Regardless, she could use something like that. Finding the lost six hundred thousand zennis would surely make her life easier; it might just lead her exactly to where the culprit was.

“Sure!” Gohan placed a star beside it on his notebook, and looked up. “I guess we'll each start on researching the different kinds of devices already implemented to solve this problem. And then we'll come together and find a way to improve upon those.”

“Agreed,” Videl said.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, and a beaten and bruised boy came through it. He noticed the room, and gave a pained, exhausted growl. “Ugh, wrong floor! Can today get any worse?”

Hold on. Videl recognized that voice! She narrowed her eyes as she stood up from Gohan's bed. Yes, that's right... the boy's face may be disfigured with greening and purpling bruises, a rather ugly cut on the lip, and muddied hair, but he was most definitely Sharpner.

“You,” she spat, with enough venom she surprised even herself. “So Erasa was right. You do go to this school. I thought that might have been just one of the lies you fed her, covering up some shady fact that you're.... oh, I don't know, maybe a homeless street lech!!” Considering how bad he smelled! Honestly, was that fish?

“You don't know what you're talking about!” the young blond spat back. “And if you know what's good for you, I would stay away from Erasa.”

“Stay away? Now what can you possibly mean? Do you want to say that that sweet, kind girl could be a source of danger?” She smirked. “Well that should say something about you.”

Sharpner's face flamed up, and he raised his fist. “You better watch your mouth, you half-pint human! You wouldn't last two minutes with this!”

“Whoa, calm down!” Videl snapped back to herself when she felt Gohan's hand land on her shoulder. The anger and irritation was about to pour out of her, muddling her brain and making her forget that she was here on a mission. She shouldn't be picking fights.

“Hey, stop it, you two!” Gohan said, almost in a motherly, reprimanding way. He turned to Sharpner. “Why don't you visit the school nurse or something? You got the wrong floor, that's fine. Honest mistake.” Then he turned back to Videl. “And Del, what's wrong with you? I never thought you'd be a type to call people names!”

Videl scoffed. Honestly, Gohan had only seen the nice, subdued side of herself. Del had to be, otherwise there'd be a storm in the school itself, and her mission would be over before it even began. She watched as Sharpner went back out, and then she and Gohan heard the opening and closing of the elevator.

“Who is he?” Gohan asked.

“Sharpner Pencil. A total tool, if the name itself doesn't already indicate,” Videl answered, with a poisonous bite.

“...and why are you so furious with him?”

“He's a liar and a jerk. My friend used to date him, and apparently all she got from the relationship was a bruised heart and tainted memories.”

“Oh. Must be something if it's got you waxing poetic like that.”

Videl felt the tension weep out of her, and she gave a small smile. “What are you implying? That I'm usually unromantic?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I'm saying,” he chuckled. “We need to get you to read some of Steel's prose to improve your romantic notions.”

She made a gagging face. “Nah, I'll pass.”

After that, she collected her things, and went back to her own dorm. All in all, she considered the entire day a success. She'd managed to talk with Mr. Foo Bar, she finally got to see Erasa again, and she had an opportunity to lure out information from Gohan. That was a good enough day's work.

She decided to go to bed early, after finishing up a bit of homework. However, she only got a few hours of sleep, when her cellphone, the safe one she kept nearby and hidden at all times for her mission, rang. Groggily, she answered it, and almost shot out of bed when she heard Blue's voice.

“Videl, there's been another theft.”