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groundbreaking-science · 6 years

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2-0 - Sensing and Manipulation - “Breaking the Natural Flow”

How does that picture book retelling of the Cell Games go again? We had it at one point, a staple of Pan’s bedtime routine. You can never find these things when you need them of course but I’m sure I remember the broad strokes.

Once upon a time there was an alien called Cell. Cell was very bad. It liked to eat people for dinner, and the tastiest people of all were the scared kind. One day, Cell snuck down to Earth to eat. It gobbled up one person for breakfast, but that wasn’t enough. It gobbled up two people for lunch, but that still wasn’t enough. It gobbled up three whole people for dinner but yet that still was not enough! Now, scaring people was hard work and always left Cell hungry. If it was going to eat its fill, Cell needed to scare the entire world at once…

Cell was cunning, and devised a plan to challenge the world to a tournament. If Earth could beat it, it would go away hungry, but if Cell won it’d eat everyone for its dinner! But Cell was also a cheater. It used explosions and magic tricks on its TV show to scare everyone away from competing. He decided to let the world stew in fear for nine days. The longer people were afraid, the tastier they would be. It licked its lips in anticipation, thinking itself so very clever.

But Cell did not expect Mr. Satan, the World’s Champion to come to the rescue! Cell threw fire and lasers to scare Mr. Satan into giving up, but he was brave, and saw through its lies. Cell was not strong at all - it was all just magic tricks! Cell pleaded for its life but the alien had been too wicked across the Galaxy to escape justice. With one huge Satan Punch, Cell was defeated. His punch was so strong it undid all Cell’s evil and everyone came back to life! Mr. Satan had saved the world, and he keeps us safe to this day. The End.

The story is an alarmingly macabre one of good and evil, a comment on how we should fight against trickery and be brave in the face of adversity. Even better because it’s true, yes?

For those old enough to remember The Games themselves, I’m sure you’ll agree the picture painted above is a gross simplification at best. Notable omissions include the civil unrest after Cell’s broadcast, Mr. Satan’s initial loss in the ring before all pretence of the tournament was lost and of course the mysterious challengers - me and my friends and family. In fact our presence is completely glossed over these days in material for all ages. This is by design. We would rather you forget about that ragtag band using the same magic tricks as Cell. The most charitable accounts of our appearance say we were misguided amateurs wanting to make a name for ourselves. The least forgiving say we were in on the plot. Very few theories have the measure of it.

If you were to root through ZTV’s archives, deep in the vaults below ZPress’ main headquarters, there, on an unassuming rack, you’d find the original battered camera footage and corresponding Cell Games’ broadcast tapes. These tapes went missing until very recently. Oh, their absence was noted, though never publicised - what an embarrassment that would have caused. I know because I had them at home on my own shelf. I was curious what little footage there was towards the end of the bout, as my own memories were vivid but distorted over the years. Suffice to say that with what they showed I was a little reluctant to return them. Still, after this, I’m sure they’ll be hauled out, and with a little imagination and extrapolation there’s enough there to confirm my story.

Pan very much enjoyed the picture book - cajoling her Gramps to act the events out with her when they played. But when she was old enough to understand how to keep secrets I retold the story somewhat differently. Bear with me as the truth is a little more winding; with a far larger cast filled with knights, monsters, witches and wizards, giants and the Chimera itself, and begins some three years before the Games themselves.

Are you tucked in tight? Good. Then I’ll begin.

There once was a boy called Trunks.

Now. The Trunks in this story was not the Trunks we know and love today. Yes, they both were the son of an uncrowned King from a long-lost kingdom and the Good Witch, and they both grew up in those vaulted corridors of Capsule Castle. They even looked the same: the same set jaw when serious, the same high hairline inherited from their father, hidden behind those bangs. They both could swing a sword. But this Trunks was a little more polite, not as self-assured, would have to learn to laugh a little more - and I’m sure he wouldn’t have played tricks on his sister and niece half as much as the Trunks we know.

This Trunks was waiting. The cliffs from which he watched the unfolding scene below were like those at home - all but desolate for miles around. But he could feel the world and this world was truly alive; millions upon millions of people across the land, more than he’d ever sensed. And that gave him hope.

He had heard stories of the warriors in past-times led by the Golden Knight, your own Grandpa Son Goku; the strongest and bravest fighter there had ever been. At home and in foreign lands the secret order battled against evil wizards, demons and monsters to keep their chosen homeland safe for the King and his subjects. The warriors and knights were different from the rank and file of the King’s soldiers, for they knew how to harness the power of Words to bring forth great strength from within; echoing the powers of beasts, or of fire and the Sun, great winds, and even dragons. Trunks had been taught the same secret Words, but he was all alone in his land, not even yet a grown man but defending it as best he could from terrible monsters. He had come to our land to find your Grandpa, the Golden Knight of Legend, and to warn him.

Down below I was waiting too, though in great fear. I was just a lowly squire back then, surrounded by the great warriors Trunks had only heard of, along with the Good Witch - your Auntie Bulma. Your Grandpa had been travelling in distant lands to learn more Words and secrets and had promised to return soon. But now it would be too late. Far from the joyful reunion we were one day hoping for, we found ourselves yet again rushing towards trouble. Your Grandpa had not vanquished that conqueror of other lands - the evil “Lord” Freeza. The Tyrant had risen again, and this time we were to face him alone.

Now Freeza was upon us, his ship weighing anchor behind our hideaway cliffs. His forces flooded ashore, followed by himself and his much stronger father. We panicked. For the third time in my seven years of life I was preparing myself to face down impossible odds.

However, high on the cliffs the lonely knight was not concerned. He knew the story - the Golden Knight of Legend would appear in a few hours and save the lands once again. Trunks would just hold on until the battle was over to give his message in secret before travelling home…

But something was wrong.

Soon, Trunks could see, we would be abandoning our hiding spot to make our desperate surprise attack. He knew that would spell our doom, the difference in strength between even this land’s greatest warriors and the Tyrant far too great. There wasn’t much time. With Grandpa not around, Trunks would have to intervene.

As we readied ourselves for what could be our last moments I sensed the impossible and froze - Freeza’s henchman dying in a moment beyond the rock, their lives snuffed out as if a candle flame in a gale. But before I had a chance to grapple with this, above us flew a figure bright against the sky, shining golden, almost as blinding as the Sun itself. A memory of crystallized righteous rage came back to me then: a Golden Knight, a legend realised in the distant land of Namek. Was this Grandpa? No. Stronger than I remembered. The apparition cleaved Freeza in two with his sword, sliced him to pieces and blasted him into nothingness with just his breath. Freeza! Grandpa’s struggle with the Tyrant had razed the entire Namekian’s homeland to the ground, but here was a new Golden Knight, so much stronger than your Grandpa, and he’d destroyed Freeza with barely a shrug.

We rushed closer to see, hoping the miracle was not a trick of the distance. Even Freeza’s father wasn’t a problem for him. The Golden Knight defeated him easily, burnt their ship - then turned to greet us warmly and politely. We were relieved to find out he was on our side. He told us he knew when and where your Grandpa would come ashore and asked us whether we wanted to come and greet him. But how could anyone know that?

Knights were born not made, that was a fact, and I thought I knew all of them. What’s more, the Golden Knight was only supposed to appear once every thousand years. Up close the boy didn’t look much of a knight to me - his eyes and hair were too light - but there was no doubt about his bloodline. And if he could become a Golden Knight, could I?

I had a lot of questions for this young knight. The others asked theirs in turn but he rebuffed them all. He couldn’t explain himself or how he knew your Grandpa. A secret mission from a far away land, I guessed.

True to the boy’s word Grandpa came ashore exactly when expected and we rushed to greet him. He was glad to see us after his long journey, but looked past us to the new knight. Your Grandpa had never met the boy either, even though the knight claimed to know of him.

They spoke away from us for some time, the boy revealing in secret to your Grandpa who he truly was, his name and parentage. A knight indeed from a far away land - but far away in time, not distance. This Trunks was from the future, and carried a grave story of our fates.

In Age 767, on May 12th at around 10 am, two monsters of immense destructive power would appear on an island 9 miles southwest of South City - Amenbo Island. Wanting nothing more than to kill for fun, these monsters would easily obliterate every fighter and soldier in the land in their first onslaught. From there they would decimate the population, cruelly hunting the King’s subjects for sport to pass their time. The monsters never stopped. Your uncles would hardly make a stand, run through almost instantly. I would escape, and use the understanding of the Golden Knight I had gained as a squire to become one myself. I’d teach the boy the same in turn, acting as his mentor to hone him as a warrior and pass on every Word I knew until I too would succumb. And Grandpa? The great Golden Knight himself would never even see the battle - he would die of a sudden sickness of the heart in a matter of months.

The Fates in the boy’s time said we were all doomed. But not now, not with his warning. His land was nearly lost but we still had time to save our future. The boy gave Grandpa a potion to cure him when he would fall sick, and before leaving gave us his word he would return when the day came, should he survive the time between trips. Then, almost as suddenly as he’d entered our story, he vanished into the ether.

Seeing his magic as proof of the boy’s prophecy, the warriors all vowed to meet again at the battlefield in three years time, fully prepared. For the most part we went our separate ways, myself with Grandpa back home to your Grandma and our tranquil farm in the hills. But it would not remain quiet for long - we’d need to train together.

Those three years were an odd time for us. Dreaming of a future felt wrong (knowing what was coming), but I am grateful your Grandma insisted we live as normally as possible. I continued my schooling with her, learning my words and numbers to fulfil my wish to become a Great Scholar someday, to take advantage of the peacetime we hoped for, and with Grandpa I trained to become a real warrior Knight, preparing to one day hold the flame of the Golden Knight, him teaching me many of the Words he knew, ready for the future we knew was coming.

Often I would lay awake at night wondering about the boy, the knight we met that fateful day, whether there was anyone thinking of a future for him like Grandma was for me. With May 12th fast approaching I hoped we’d see him safe again.

We would only find out what truly happened to Trunks’ land and how he came to find us when we met him the second time. In his land there was no Uncle Goten to play with, no little Bra to carry on his shoulders, not even a little Pan to defend his castle against. Trunks was a sworn soldier through and through. When his teacher - the me in the future - had lost his life in battle he made a promise to protect all he could and vowed to defeat those great monsters. There weren’t many people left in his land, but Trunks did what he could all the same.

His only constant company was his mother: the Good Witch Bulma. Like Trunks she helped everyone she could by making potions and spells and enchantments. But try as she might, she could not magic away the worst evil - those two monsters. After years of trying their best and still retreating at every turn, most would lose hope of ever finding a way out of that nightmare. Not the Good Witch. She knew that if her magic couldn’t get them out of the situation they were in now, maybe they just had to change what now was…

Time travel should be impossible, but that word meant nothing to your Auntie Bulma. She worked day and night for years to construct her own special enchantment, the like of which no witch or wizard in the world has ever made before or since: a time changer. Whoever used the device could travel in time, but there would only be enough magic for a trip to the past and back before it needed to be restored, and that could not be done quickly. Bulma had sent Trunks off to see us and held her breath for those few hours, overjoyed when he returned safe and sound. Her magic vindicated, she immediately she set to work restoring the enchantment.

From then on Trunks faced his monsters with renewed vigour. Now he knew the past had a fighting chance because of his warning and if he could just visit us once more to assist he might learn a secret to defeat them in his own time. As he fought on to stem the loss of life, the Good Witch worked as fast as she dared, fearing the monsters drawing closer and closer.

Two years in Trunks’ time would pass before the enchantment was ready to use and his fateful trip finally a reality. He said goodbye to his mother not knowing whether he would ever see her again - neither his return trip or her survival in the meanwhile assured.

With one command he made his way back to us hopeful for our progress and found - well, a mess, quite frankly.

Death and destruction greeted him at our meeting place nine miles south west of South City. Trunks’ prediction was wrong; the monsters had crawled out of their cave too early and had rampaged through the island we had so desperately wanted to defend. Barely anything was left standing. He found us in the midst of tracking down the perpetrators. Worse, your Grandpa wasn’t with us to turn the tide; he’d only just fallen ill and taken the Good Witch’s potion, now bedridden at home.

And to complete our misery, those weren’t the two monsters Trunks knew. The past had truly changed. Trunks was as lost as we were.

Thankfully our training had paid off at least - early in your uncles’ desperate chase, your Uncle Vegeta caught and crushed the first monster. Up close we could see this one’s true nature; it wasn’t a demonic beast but manmade, conjured with a dark and powerful magic, an imitation of life puppeting nuts and bolts. The magic was a type the Good Witch hadn’t seen in many years: the work of Gero the Dark Wizard. In fact, the Good Witch informed us that the other monster was none other than the Wizard himself - though not in human form. He had used his wicked magic to transform himself, becoming stronger and smarter. In his cunning he had led us to his lair, where more creatures laid in wait to defend him.

Three creations laid in wait. The first he called 16, the kind of opponent we were expecting - a giant in stature with an overwhelming menace emanating from him, a great wall of possessed machinery who scowled and scrutinised all as though looking for someone.

The last two monsters were finally those of Trunks’ warning - 17 and 18. Though we found them wanting in appearance - we envisioned horns and teeth and tails and wings, and given Trunks’ fear you would have thought that’s what he saw, plain as day.

In truth, the terrible twins were human. Young and beautiful, they could pass unseen amongst us if they wished. Far from the full artifice of their companion, they had once been human. But the wizard had mutated them, blood and bone and all, to draw out an unnatural strength; then cursed them as he had done his creations of metal. They had but one purpose, one itch to scratch, the Wizard cackled - to seek and destroy Son Goku.

The wizard bade the three to kill all those who stood before him. Your uncles braced for what would be the final battle. And then… nothing. Instead, the twins turned on their creator, their torturer, running him through in an instant for the crimes he had committed against them.

Cruelly however, his curse was not broken. 16 in particular, not being made of flesh, could not battle his driving desire and so the trio left to help him fulfil his binding, all the while paying the warriors no mind. This turn of events was far from expectation, and the small army now found itself without an enemy.

In Trunks’ future, the monsters 17 and 18 were pure evil and without care - that much was true. But Uncle Krillin did not see this in the Seventeen and Eighteen of our time when they pushed past him into the wide world they’d been hidden from for so long. Far from the murderers Trunks had painted them as, Krillin instead saw a tired, wretched pair who might be reasoned with. Everyone thought him mad, but Uncle Krillin hoped the damage to our land may not be as deadly as we’d first feared.

Regardless of the twins’ eventual intentions, our focus now turned to protecting your Grandpa from the trio. He had barely recovered, and would not be able to fight the three monsters if they soon found him. I helped move him from home in secret, and your uncles worked to intercept the monsters; the great warriors now coming to the aid of their leader in his time of need.

Despite two Golden Knights supporting the band - both father and son in Vegeta and Trunks - without your Grandpa the warriors would struggle. Though not as cruel in our time, the strength of Seventeen and Eighteen was even greater than in the stories Trunks had told. We were prepared to match Trunks’ future and no more.

Whether your uncles would have won in the end is uncertain. A greater threat still was heading towards both us and the monsters, indifferent to our respective causes.

We didn’t notice the disappearances right away, distracted by the struggle at hand as we were. While our back were turned, entire towns of people had emptied, only their clothes left for passing travellers to stumble across. On any other day we would have sensed the void of life growing and helped, if we could. But this day we learnt something was wrong only as the whispers reached our friends at home. Something else was out there, something beyond the horrors that even Trunks had seen.

The Chimera had arrived.

Cell stepped out of the shadows to announce itself to us, its sheer brazen confidence terrifying to behold. The history books speak of it as a demon from another land, but Cell was instead the pinnacle of The Dark Wizard’s creation. In secret he had gathered blood from the strongest warriors in the realm and beyond, and used blood magic to create a creature so grotesque, so wicked, I wouldn’t dare describe it to someone as sweet as you. It was a Chimera, and called itself Cell. To gain strength it would need to eat hundreds of people alive, and to complete itself - to reach the peak of its evolution - it would have to take Seventeen and Eighteen. It was already stronger than us, and we knew if it achieved its goal its power would be beyond our imagination. Our home - and very lives - would be lost.

What should have been a battle against the twisted 17 and 18 to save our future had exploded into a fight to save our lives and our present. Within seconds everything had been turned upon its head, and we were now doing the unthinkable given our three years of preparation - defending the cursed creatures Seventeen and Eighteen from this new monstrosity. They were just as scared as we were.

But just in time, a near miracle! The Good Witch of our time sent your uncles her magic. She had been pouring over the Dark Wizard’s work and had found instructions for a potion, one that would undo the wizard’s sorcery on the human monsters, killing them in the process but making them useless to Cell. She entrusted this potion to Uncle Krillin. All he had to do was to fling the potion on them - a single drop would do the job.

Uncle Krillin rushed to find them, difficult though it was when both he and they were keeping low and away from Cell. He found them with moments to spare and aimed his throw, but he could not release. Uncle Krillin knew that everyone was counting on him to kill the monsters before Cell could eat them, but as he watched them cowering, trying to help the heavily damaged giant Sixteen, he faltered. He realised how they had not killed anyone for fun like in Trunks’ time and were only afraid for themselves, for each other… Instead, he poured the potion at his feet. Against everyone’s protestations he had stayed his hand, unable to bring himself to kill innocent people. He hoped against hope it was the right thing to do.

In the short term, it is fair to say that this was not the best decision. Cell caught the monsters and completed itself, becoming far stronger than any of us could have believed possible. Despite our efforts we had lost the battle. And yet, choices we make with a kind heart, even if initially regrettable, often have a habit of helping us in return when we least expect it.

Cell could have killed your uncles right then and there. But pride is a funny thing and Cell - to its detriment - had plenty. It could not face killing us before it had had a chance to best your Grandpa in battle. It wanted everyone in the land to weep hearing the sad laments of bards learning their one true secret champion had been defeated, and to tremble upon learning that Cell was on its way to set the land - and the world - to burn.

This is where the story begins for most everyone else. For years people would ask each other where they were the moment Cell announced the Games, his call for a worthy challenge and the nine day countdown to the everyone’s doom. On that fateful day, Cell’s proclamation filled the people with an overwhelming fear. They had no faith in the King’s Guard, weakened after years of peace throughout the land. And they had no faith in the King’s champions.

But the world had forgotten that long ago, there lived a little boy who fought the Great Demon King Piccolo.

The world had forgotten the warrior who turned aside the threat of the invading Knights and Tyrants.

The world had forgotten your Grandpa.

And in doing so they - and Cell - knew nothing of me.

In the nine days between the announcement and the Games, the land panicked. Your uncles panicked. I panicked. But not Grandpa. After recovering from his illness, he worked patiently with me so I could learn and finally master the way of the Golden Knight he, Trunks and now Uncle Vegeta knew; everyone would be needed for this fight, after all. Scared as I was holding this new Wordless flame inside my heart, I was willing to do my part to help. Then, with still a week to go, we stopped. Grandpa said we were ready.

The news excited me. Do you think you can beat Cell? I asked him. Not a chance, he sang, but I have a plan. He just smiled at me, like I should be in on his secret strategy too. Our friends asked the same and he repeated his reply. To not think he could lead us to victory, yet be so happy? Some wondered whether Grandpa had lost his mind. I didn’t understand him, but I believed in him, and had faith in his unspoken plan.

The only training we were to do between then and the Games was to live as a Golden Knight day and night, to feel as though this was normal for us so we would not tire or be overcome with that wild emotion. In trying to navigate our day on the homestead we learned restraint, how to hold onto that power without wastage, and how to avoid being burnt from holding the flame so close. Otherwise, Grandpa told me, my job was to relax.

At the same time, not quite half the world away, your Gramps came to exactly the same conclusion. As the winner of the recent tournament of warriors, he knew he was the strongest person in the land - no foreign-trained upstart could stand up to the likes of him. He told the bards to spread the word, that Cell better watch out - Mr. Satan was on his way. The land rejoiced; they had their hero, and the world’s best no less. They were saved! The rest of the week filled itself with celebration, as though the match were already won, and the people now waited with excitement for the downfall of the alien invader.

Finally, the day and time was upon us. We travelled into the wilderness where the Games would be, and were greeted on our arrival by Cell itself. Our not-so-merry band was composed of your Grandpa, most of your uncles, the grown-up Trunks… and little me. The up-jumped squire to the warriors I lined up with, dwarfed by the simple yet bulky armour I’d asked your Uncle Piccoyo for. Even Sixteen, now repaired, came to help us in honour of his fallen friends and the mercy your Uncle Krillin had shown them; Krillin’s hope the Dark Wizard’s creations could be redeemed and freed of the curse was well-placed indeed. We were an imposing sight for any warrior to face off against to be sure, but Cell only had eyes for your Grandpa.

Unlike the rest of the land, now readying to feast and celebrate the sure result, I was nervous. And still Grandpa said not to worry, all was in hand, yet he would tell no one the secret.

Of course, we weren’t the only challengers. How could we forget the Greatest Warrior in All the Land, Mr. Satan? The first time I ever met your Gramps he called me an idiot for not knowing who he was. How’s that for a first impression? We were even called reckless by the bards accompanying him, and they composed rude songs calling us weak. We’d get caught in the crossfire if we weren’t careful, we were told. On your heads be it.

We thought the same of them in return - merely fools and jesters. Mr. Satan knew no Words, he would be powerless in this fight and unable to defend his followers. Still, as much as we wanted to protect them from harm, we knew any life the Chimera stole would be restored if Grandpa could win, so we did not expend any effort shooing them away.

Your Gramps, great showboat that he is, insisted on trying his luck against Cell first. The bards began their song, the Champion faced the monster down and roared… yet Cell simply breathed on him to throw him from the ring in seconds. Truly a court jester against a dragon. The bards were in shock. Surely this was a trick? A cheat? Your Gramps claimed the same, stammering his way through explaining witchcraft and explosion magics, but he wasn’t as sure of the deception as he asserted.

Entertainment over, Grandpa and Cell readied themselves. Both were razor sharp - excited even - the Golden Knight of Legend trained onto the Chimera and ready to give his all. I felt it again then, that sense of hope he can bring out in you. He did in the land of Namek and he would do it again here for all of us. I now knew why Trunks believed in Grandpa so much without even meeting him - his mom and myself in the future would have spoken of him highly, weaving stories of his great battles and victories in a such a way you couldn’t help but feel your heart rise.

One breath. The land stilled - and the clash began.

No one would believe the intensity of the battle from the stories and songs handed down from bard to bard. Though their tales were never an exaggeration. The speed, the force, the damage. The noise. Cell and your Grandpa’s Words brought forth great power, shattering the ring and wilderness all around. The display was beyond most people's’ limited imaginations, and nobody had ever seen the likes of it. But your Gramps had. He’d felt this kind of strength once before, many years ago, from the man who killed his master and left him for dead with just one Word. It was a type of magic, yes, but an ancient and visceral one, and he feared it greatly. He was quickly learning that the hope of the land was misplaced in him and he, like the rest of us, would have to put his hope in Grandpa too.

Watching their fight from a safe distance, your uncles gaped then whooped at the turn of events. They said they’d lost track of Grandpa in the fray, that he was awe-inspiring, truly the warrior of legend. Were they joking?, I thought. I could follow easily, and what was more I could tell Grandpa wasn’t matching Cell. He had to be holding back, maybe to surprise it. But that didn’t make sense, why would he do that with so much at stake? Grandpa was inflicting damage but he looked to be tiring, whilst the Chimera used its blood magic to heal injury after injury.

One giant blast from Cell in defence and the ring was blown clean away, and whatever pretence of rules the Games had fled in the wake of the explosion. This was truly a fight to the death for both warriors.

Cell taunted your Grandpa as they broke apart, and we willed him to fight harder. Why wouldn’t he? It didn’t make sense to me. Grandpa was the strongest, the Golden Knight, and I was only a boy, and yet I was sure I could put up more of a fight that he was now –

Grandpa gave up.

He turned his back on the Chimera to return to us. I couldn’t believe it, no one could. Grandpa had been fighting his very best to no avail. I had overestimated him. If he couldn’t win we were doomed. Yet, he was still smiling as though his loss was expected. He then let us all in on his trump card.

Me.

I was to defeat the Chimera. My hunch was right. I was only a boy yet my heritage and exposure to battle from such a young age had honed me. I had surpassed my father. Though there was one problem, one misstep in Grandpa’s secret plan. In my desire to please him, I’d never truly told him how much I hated fighting.

In principle I was willing to. I had repeated as much to Grandpa over the three years, and the me in the future had fought monsters, too. But like Trunks, that Son Gohan had grown to be a different man to the man I would become. He never became a scholar - there was nowhere left to learn. He never got to catch criminals for fun nor have a chance to be the luckiest husband. And the very worst of all? He never got to be a Dad to the the most amazing little girl in all the world. I’m sure, as much as he cared for the Earth, the Son Gohan of the future did not want to be fighting as he died, and I knew at that young age I did not want that either.

Even so, despite my reluctance in that moment, Grandpa was right. If I wanted to grow up to be the scholar I always dreamed I could be, this time, just this once, I needed to try and fight.

To everyone’s shock I agreed and stepped forward to take up the hero’s mantle from Grandpa. He even told me to enjoy myself. The Chimera laughed and laughed, anticipating a second round of entertainment. A snack before its main course and a chance to catch its breath. If the Golden Knight wanted to sacrifice his boy in vain that was his choice. It approached, completely recovered, and launched into its terrible onslaught.

The bards would tell tales of Cell’s overwhelming power, how the poor boy would be tossed around like a ragdoll and they had averted their eyes from the sheer cruelty of it all. They couldn’t see the truth; that blow for blow I was withstanding Cell better than Grandpa ever had. It landed some heavy hits and Words for sure, and even Uncle Piccoyo believed I was on the ropes, scolding your Grandpa. Yet smash after smash I stood up again and again, barely understanding how I could be so resilient. Slowly, your uncles came to realise that Grandpa was right. I was the only one who had a chance, I really was a secret weapon. But not everything was going to plan.

For the first time, I was wrestling with a new fear - not in the same way as before, when I was scared for myself or my family and friends when fighting tooth and nail for our lives. This time I feared what I could do. I knew I could end this miserable creature’s life easily enough. It had killed many people and wanted to kill more. I could stop that. But was it right for me to pass such a judgement? Wouldn’t that make me just as bad? I looked to my uncles on the hill for guidance. Trunks would have killed it without hesitation, and he was a good man. But Uncle Krillin had stayed his hand against the monsters, believing they could be reasoned with. The Chimera was also created by the Dark Wizard; maybe it could come to its senses? And maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to be a killer. My self-doubt stopped me from being as strong as I could be; I became slower, unresponsive. The tendrils of indecision creeped in.

I could not fight back.

My lack of enthusiasm frustrated Cell to no end. It wanted to fight me at full strength to humiliate your Grandpa, and to do so it realised it had to provoke me. It decided to torture me physically. What the bards say is true. Burning and branding me with his Words, fracturing bones with each strike and forcing dislocations as he squeezed me; aiming in such a way as to maximise my pain without killing me. Doing that to anyone, let alone a child, is immeasurably cruel. Cell hoped to reignite the flame of the Golden Knight I had tempered those past days. But its efforts were all in vain.

Still I could not fight back.

Failing to bring forth the rage it wanted from me, it turned it’s attention to your Grandpa and Uncles, forcing them to fight for their lives against magic creatures of its own devising. The warriors struggled, close to death at times, fighting the replicants and Cell itself where I could not. Sixteen was all but destroyed in the fray, throwing his life away trying to protect us all. This horrid creature was going to kill everyone and yet, even as I willed it…

Still I could not fight back.

Hope was dwindling, the light fading.

Then came the greatest surprise. Your Gramps, still clinging to the sidelines in a show of defiance as the Champion of the People he would prove himself to be, did one of the bravest things I have ever seen to this day. Knowing in his hearts of hearts that these ‘tricks’ were real and truly understanding the mortal danger he was in, he approached what was left of the battlefield to bring me a dying Sixteen. The gentle giant had fought alongside us against orders, the faith Uncle Krillin had placed in him and his friends encouraging him to see the good in the world. And now he wanted to speak his last words to me.

Sixteen told me he understood. I was gentle, I valued life and didn’t want to hurt anybody no matter their actions. But our words don’t always work and sometimes, just sometimes, we have to go against our own rules to stand up for what is right. It is because I valued life that I must protect it.

And for that sentiment, Cell killed him.

Cell’s final act of cruelty against its own brother pushed me over the edge. My resolve finally solidified, and the Golden Knight I had grown so used to as a power within me raged with fuel once again. I broke my limits, strength more than doubling in an instant, my Words now echoing around the sky like thunder to the lightning weaving new armour around me. In moments I destroyed the Chimera’s familiars, saving your Grandpa and uncles.

For the first time, Cell was afraid; for the first time it ;knew; I could kill it.

…Sometimes, Pan, small people have big feelings. They’re hard to explain if you’ve never had them before but you feel them just as much as any grown-up can. I was barely ten years old and I had an angry feeling, more angry than I’d ever felt before. It clawed at my face and boiled inside, made an itch I had to scratch until something bled. The calm control over the Golden Knight I’d gained with Grandpa the week before had slipped; I was taken over by it, drunk on my own power. I had hated Cell with all my heart for what it had done from the start, but now I let myself feel it, not caring if that was right or wrong to do. I wanted Cell to feel the same pain as all those people it had killed. I wanted Cell to pay.

Pursuing that desire was the worst thing I could have done. It may be hard to put aside how terrible and wicked someone is, but don’t chase what I did then, Pan. Always be quick, without passion for blood. In wanting my own revenge on Cell I let my new strength and huge feelings cloud my judgement. They fueled me, yes, but the power it gives is not easy to stay or wrestle. It can - and will - consume you, as it nearly did me.

That day I toyed with Cell using my new-found strength in the same way it had toyed with me, ignoring the calls of your uncles to come to my senses in favour of the bloodrush in my ears. Why would I listen? I was finally enjoying this fight. Isn’t that what your Grandpa had told me to do? But by not heeding their warnings I gave Cell time to think - to plan. One push away from me and it had the space and time to breathe and speak a deadly Word, an explosion I would never have been able to defend against. Grandpa, still tired from his struggles but knowing he could help, rushed in. And in doing so, Grandpa died.

The world stopped for me. In that one blast your Grandpa had sacrificed himself to save us all - to stop our land falling to the same fate as the old land of the Namekians. Because I did not want to control my emotions I had killed the Golden Knight of Legend. Even worse, Cell lived, coming back stronger still and now enraged, ready to end the world without hesitation.

Grandpa had been wrong to place his faith in me. For a moment I had had the upper hand, before losing it through folly. Now no one could stop it. The situation was hopeless.

With the fight taken out of me I felt every break and bruise, my left arm dislocated and damaged so badly it hung lifeless at my side. In an instant my resolve had shattered into pieces and I could barely muster the energy to stand, the magic of the Golden Knight now dulled again. It was too late. Cell was to have the last Word. The world shook, and I could do no more.

Now, in stories of monsters and knights and dragons, when all hope is lost, there comes a voice on the wind to help the hero, to tell them what they need to hear. Like in those fairy stories I had been sent to sleep with, it was then I heard a voice - your Grandpa Goku’s voice - speaking to me from beyond the veil. He told me not to give up, that I still had the strength - I just had to find it in myself. I tried to apologise but he shushed me. After everything he still believed in me, he still had hope in his little boy. All I had to do was have that same faith in myself. I chose to believe him one last time, and legs shaking, squared up towards the Chimera.

Cell’s final deadly Word howled towards me like a nightmare yet with one steadying breath, one hand outstretched and Grandpa’s unwavering faith I dug deep. And yelled. And matched it.

Our struggle was like two great dragons, blue and yellow, claws locked in a stalemate, their clash carving great canyons in the landscape around us. Whichever of us faltered first would be instantly overcome in the wake of the others’ Word, their cause lost. There was no going back. Your uncles fled for their own safety and I was left completely alone to face this creature, seemingly nothing but the roar of our voices for comfort. Barely a ten year-old boy, the fate of the realm on my shoulders. But I wasn’t alone, not really. Your Grandpa was with me, urging me on. Dig deep Gohan, he said, just let it go!

Your Uncle Vegeta could see my resolve returning and thought fast, using the last of his voice to scream at Cell, dividing its attention. It worked! Cell’s focus slipped. One chance. I pushed as hard as I could, the final charge, and a power I would never have otherwise believed myself capable of burst forward as I screamed.

I felt its last attempts at resistance reverberate back - less the wall it had been and now a weak struggle, my words a jet of sand, of glass shards, forcing their way between its fingers, into and through it. One great dragon swallowed the other whole and it was done. The evil was vanquished, and everything turned to silence and stillness once again. The land was safe.

Cell was gone.

In that moment I was too exhausted to think beyond an overwhelming sense of relief, the magic dispelled and I was left numb. Your uncles surrounded and congratulated me, helping me from the pile I’d collapsed into to take me home to rest. We’d forgotten all about the bards, cowering away unable to find their own words to explain the cataclysm they’d born witness to. Luckily, someone was on hand with their own story to spin and embellishments to boot. Your Gramps would take the credit for the win and become the most lauded man in the land. He may have told a lie, but it was a good lie; he saved me, your Grandma and Uncle Goten from a lot of trouble. Besides, his claim to heroism wasn’t a complete falsehood. He had brought me Sixteen’s wise words that allowed me to tap into a strength I never knew I had. For that, and for many, many brave deeds thereafter, your Gramps is every part the hero he’s praised to be; just not in the ways you’ve been taught.

We prepared to send Trunks off the next day, our mood sombre for the loss of your Grandpa. Unlike the Chimera’s other victims he would choose not return to us for some time, travelling beyond the veil to find new masters and secrets to bring home one day, trusting his mere absence would keep the peace - and it would, for a time. As Trunks had learnt from my counterpart, I had a learnt a lot from him in turn about what a knight could be. We would meet again, and we would come to learn his experience with us allowed him both to defeat 17 and 18 in his own time and prevent Cell from ever appearing. Seventeen and Eighteen here would awake with all of Cell’s victims, their curse now lifted and freedom granted, and would fight alongside us to defend the land in future battles, their help indispensable. Uncle Krillin’s decision to follow his gut and stay his hand that day was the right one in the end.

For many years after I’d believe my father not just spoke to me but returned in that final moment, both of us working in tandem to deliver that final blow. Of course in reality the overwhelming strength was all from me - I just needed to find the balance in myself, absorb my father’s words and have conviction, and like the boy from the future all those years ago, have hope we’d prevail.

There once was a boy called Son Gohan, and he defeated Cell.

Maybe you find it a little galling that I sent my daughter to sleep with stories like this. In truth Pan would have heard this story and others in a fragmented fashion as we adults spoke, especially given who both her grandfathers are, so having a coherent (if slightly fantastical version) was helpful for context.

For her to know the truth of the struggle was important to me, even if it meant she had to keep a big secret. She had to know the magnitude of the work we did and understand the danger, lest she romanticise the games. After the harrowing childhood I had starting at four years old I never wanted anyone to go through the same. My little brother would not escape my fate, dragged into a conflict and quite literally told at not even seven years of age he was the last line of defense for the world, possibly even the Universe. I never wanted Pan to see the horrors I and Goten hold. But I am not a fool, and since she showed interest in fighting we let her learn, encouraging and supporting her beyond mere drilling so she could keep her head should peacetime break. I kept her away from serious conflict until she was fifteen. That’s all I could manage.

Sometimes we’re thrust into situations we’d rather not be in, forcing us to act against our better nature. In those moments the greatest challenge is not the monster we’re facing but the battle within ourselves, our fear of losing our sense of self in the ensuing mess. Though I can assure you, if in those times we can hold onto hope - whether that is hope in the truth of a story we were told long ago, hope that others can do good and be good despite what circumstances say, hope in the potential of those closest to us even as their doubts rage and even gain a glimmer of hope in ourselves - well, like Bulma in the future, we can do what we believe right now to be impossible.

What I did as a child may have been impressive. It may be beyond what many full Earthlings would ever be capable of, and it may have all worked out in the end. But it is not right to hide behind the courage of children. No one who learns any of the techniques in the rest of this book is under any obligation to lay their life on the line should the world be in danger. I would however like some people to make that choice, a real choice that neither I nor my brother and daughter ever had, and as a consequence I hope my grandchildren, should I ever have any, will have that same free choice, too.

It is my hope now that, despite the difficulty and despite how impossible it sounds, you will now show that same courage to learn, to step up, to rely on your own strength - and defend the Earth.

Myself, Little Trunks and Big Trunks on the day of the latter’s departure after the Cell Games. Three pictures were taken - one for me (the image above), one for Little Trunks as a surprise for when he was older, and the third for Big Trunks, though he said he’d pass it to his mom. Because of that, I gave him the one where he had the biggest smile.

This chapter is dedicated to Android Sixteen.

“It is because we value life that we must protect it.”

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#dragon ball #dbz #cell #gohan #dbs #groundbreakingscienceupdate #((some lines have been taken from the English adaptation of the manga and the original English dub))#((a huge thank you to jaalamaradav for betaing this))#((section also dedicated to Pipey in your honour :') ))

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