Some minor characters from dbz would be involved in this story for now, but once the story starts flowing Goku would be involved in here as well. This is more like an experiment for myself. Hopefully you guys like it.

Prologue

"Where did you learn your manners?"

The kindly voice of Martha Kent clucked, admonishing Clark and taking away the half-finished milk bottle. Martha Kent was a small petite woman, but a fierce and an intelligent redhead who gave up much to be with her husband.

"On a farm," Clark said, jokingly as he took out a bowl and the not quite finished cereal box.

"And where is your brother?" Martha asked, turning to face her son. "That boy is always out in the fields at night doing god knows what."

Clark almost choked on his cereal breakfast, trying to hide his smirk. Clark didn't want to admit it, but his brother was a bit of a trouble maker. Caleb could only enthusiastically talk about fighting and becoming stronger nearly every other day, and Clark couldn't help but join in on his fun. It doesn't usually takes long, with enough bugging and persistence, Clark was usually half dragged by Caleb out there in the dead of night so far away from any peering eyes. And when they did, quarter of the field was ripped apart in their brawling as they fought to their hearts content, to truly let loose. It was only an occasional ripped shirt and dirt caked pants that had to be hidden from their mom to avoid any unnecessary trouble.

Besides, thought Clark, their father would have their heads on a pike if they harmed the farm or anyone elses. And a lot of their chores came from helping around the family farm.

"And don't you think you're father and I don't know you're there every night with your brother either," Martha replied, turning a pointed glare at her son. "Always fighting, the both of you."

Clark turned to the side, hiding his grinning expression from his mother. He knew he and his brother weren't normal like everyone else, and to hide a part of himself hurt in the beginning. And the little things like browsing the net to find other people like himself or talking to his brother about it was what kept him hopeful, that he and his brother weren't alone in the world. But, the sheer confidence of his brother's and the love for fighting and learning only forced Clark to accept who he was and appreciate every second of it.

"Don't be so hard on them, honey. They're growing boys." Jonathan said, walking through the front door and turned to face heavy thump of footsteps coming downstairs, "And good morning sleepy head."

Caleb yawned; barely nodding as he quickly swiped the milk bottle and gulped half the content down his throat. It was short-lived however, when he saw the glare his mom was giving him. With a cheeky grin, Caleb put the bottle back down on the table and grabbed for the cereal box for breakfast.

"So you like it when they fight? They could get hurt." Martha was, to say the least, opposed to their boy's activities in every way imaginable.

"They'll be fine. They've made sure to do this far away from everyone." Jonathan didn't say anything else, knowing exactly what his wife meant by who's getting hurt. She wasn't afraid of her boys, but for the people who might get too close to them.

Jonathan gave a grin to both his boys. He knew he couldn't really dictate their life, and how they should act. But he sure as hell can show them right from wrong.

Clark quickly swiped the cereal box and the milk bottle away from Caleb as if it were the Holy Grail, flicking an annoyed glance at his brother. Caleb was already moving for the cereal box, and would have leaped for it. What could have been a brief battle of wills and brawls between two brothers were completely and silently avoided when Martha put another box of cereal in front of Caleb.

"So, you're just going to let this pass?" She replied, seemingly completely oblivious to the near Armageddon. Let it never be doubted, the instinctual ability of Martha Kent, as a mother and as a woman was astonishing even to Jonathan. "Oh, and don't forget I have work tonight. So don't order pizza, there's plenty of food in the fridge," Martha said, handing her husband a hot steaming mug of coffee, "And no Caleb, you can't have pizza. And you will eat your vegetables." Martha stopped any protest that was about to erupt from Caleb.

They never really knew why their son, Caleb, who was so much slimmer then Clark could eat so much. And they did wonder if he was bulimic before throwing that theory out the window. Regardless of how much he ate there was never any ounce of fat on his body. It was a coming doom upon their financial ability to handle a boy that can eat a family of four. The older he got, the worse it became. Martha and Jonathan was forced to come to a compromise when Martha took up a job in the town's Law firm as a lawyer. The money helped to keep food on the table, and a little extra to help the things needed to buy for the boys.

They weren't poor by any means, but the amount of food Caleb consumes when he started growing put a hefty dent on their account.

And, they were pretty much banned from every All you can eat buffet restaurants.

Jonathan gave a heartening chuckle, placing his coat around the chair and sipping his coffee.

"Clark, you showed your permission slip yet?" Caleb's voice was, to anyone, was alarmingly lively and cheerful. Though this morning, it held a tone of mischievousness behind it that wasn't missed by Clark. He could only snigger at Clark before quickly dodging an irritated swipe from his brother.

"Clark?" Jonathan asked, opening up a new box of cereal and pouring it into the bowl, "What you got there, son?"

Clark hesitated, looking a little unsure. He had been wrestling with the idea all morning, that mom and dad might finally let him do sports in school.

"It's a football team," Clark replied, getting up to hand the small slip of paper to his father. "A couple of spots opened up in the team and the coach's been looking to fill up."

Martha and Jonathan's reaction was instant, both turning to face Clark. They've had this conversation before, most of the time ending in bitterness.

"Come on dad, let him try out. You played Football in high school too!" Caleb said, and Clark nodded in appreciation to his brother.

"That was different, son." Jonathan replied, handing the paper to Martha.

"Why?" Clark asked, hoping.

"You know why."

"Figure I'll run in half the speed, no one will hit me." Clark said, still not giving in.

"A lot of things could happen in the heat of the game, Clark."

"Dad, most of the guys probably won't even let me play. I would probably end up sitting on the bench half the season," Clark paused for a moment, thinking of his words carefully. His voice was nearly pleading, hopeful. "Dad, I can be careful."

"I don't get it, why do you want to play football?" Caleb asked, finally budding into the conversation.

"See Clark, you're brother understand-…"

"It's all about fighting!" Caleb exclaimed, not quite finished. "I'm going to find the strongest people in the world and surpass them." He squeezed his fists, his muscles bulging in anticipation at the thought of other people just like Clark and himself.

Any tension in the room was completely gone the next second. Despite Caleb's odd obsession for fighting, he has a habit of drawing people in with his personality. He is naive, perceptive and despite his playfulness towards people, he sees the best in everyone, and everything. Martha and Jonathan couldn't be any more prouder of their sons.

Jonathan coughed loudly, hoping it would be enough to get away from discussing Clark's conversation. He felt Martha's hand squeeze, moaning in despair and muttering unintelligible words toward her son, Caleb.

Clark on the other hand wasn't phased, still looking to his dad for answers.

"I know you could be careful but what if there was an accident?" Jonathan asked, turning to face his son again. The scruffy bearded father can see the hurt behind Clark's eyes, and the disappointment. It hurt him to say this, and hated himself even more for taking it away from his son. "Clark, I know this gotta be really hard for ya', but you gotta just hang in there like we promised."

"I'm sick of hanging in there," Clark shook his head in disappointment and picked up his school bag to leave. "All I want to do is go through high school without being a total loser."

The awkward silence affected even Caleb, astonishingly paused even him from finishing up his tenth bowl of his cereal in the short amount of time since the conversation started. Only silence seemed to be alive in the kitchen, except for the distant footsteps of Clark leaving the house.

Martha sighed as she looked at Caleb. "Go after your brother; make sure he's okay, Caleb."

"Sure mom," Caleb replied, rolling his eyes.

-
The tall boy felt miserable, and the feeling of bitterness welled up in his chest like a massive hammer drowning in the pit of his stomach. He felt angry at his mom and dad, and what hurt most of all was he couldn't really fault them for it. The damage he's done to his surroundings and trees during one their usual bouts with his brother left him feeling doubtful whether he should join any sports at all.

It was depressing thought, and sometimes he never really thought about the repercussions of harming someone accidentally because he just wanted to fit in so badly. Clark sometimes resented his brother. Caleb was carefree, seemingly be able to fit in easily with everyone and it came so easily to him. Caleb had a certain playful charisma that pulled all the people around him to him. Clark on the other hand was the cautious of the siblings, always reprimanding his brother for doing something stupid. He was socially inadequate, having only his two best friends and holding everyone else at arm's length as merely an acquaintance.

And despite the level of power the both of them possess, and despite both being twins born from the same mom, he could sometimes feel that tiny little feeling of jealousy inside his chest. Though many did question whether they were actually twins, not that Clark ever doubted even for a second. Caleb may look fundamentally different to Clark, what solidified the relationship between the two brothers is the same outlandish abilities both youths possess.

He realized it was stupid for feeling this way, and he knew he was much more confident than most gave him credit for. And his brother pushed him, always pushing him to do something different regardless of the consequences. And Caleb has always been there for him, and he has always been there for Caleb.

Clark was so busy self-diagnosing himself; he didn't notice the school bus leaving until it was too late. He could catch up easily, without putting too much effort into his speed. Clark felt even more disgusted with himself, feeling just a little more then put off and far too down at the moment to even care.

"Clark! Wait up!"

"What?" Clark said sourly, giving a sidelong glance at his brother. He didn't feel all that up to talking, least of all with Caleb.

"Looks like we missed the school bus again," Caleb stated, his eyes following the rapidly disappearing school bus. He turned to glance back at Clark with a slowly widening grin, "Race, ya!"

In a burst of speed, Caleb was a blur. He took off past the horses and into the corn fields in the distance, and already Clark could see him disappearing from the edges of his enhanced eyesight. His heart raced, and with a smirk Clark went after his brother's trail. Clark and Caleb were like bullets, skipping past the school bus, past the old watchful lady who was too blind to see anyway from her front porch and across the highway roads instantly. The very air displaced itself around them, and Clark and Caleb pushed themselves harder to go even faster. A race between two super humans was a most dizzying sight, and rapid, too fast to see. The race was even, neither gaining one over the other, just as equal in speeds as they were in brute strength.

Clark could make out the rapidly approaching high school and it's black fence that usually decided the winner. Clark quickly glanced at brother, and put even more speed in a sudden burst before completely skidding to a stop just before the fence.

Clark lost, if barely and he could hear his brother whoop in an excited jump, his fist pumping the air. "It's only fifty one to fifty one, we're tied dammit! And how did you do that! I thought I won..."

"I'll teach you the trick after school when we get home. I'll see you later Clark." Caleb said, jumping over the school fence and headed to back entrance of the school.

"Yea, yea. By the way, we order pizza or what?" Clark yelled after his retreating back.

"Hell! Yeah!" Caleb practically yelled, turned back to look at his brother while running backwards. "I got extra cash, so you just worry about chicken wings."

Clark didn't bother to reply back, his brother already facing away from him as he ran towards school. It was the last time he ever saw his brother again for nearly another decade later.

It was a few months later, a few months since his brother went permanently missing, a month since his brother's funeral and the lowest point in his life. His mother's grieving was just as bad, if not worse as she completely shut down for months on end. The only strong one was their father, and despite holding himself back, he never let himself go when his family needed him the most. It was also that day when Clark's dad came to his room to tell him something important. The truth of the origins of his brother, of the secret amputation of his brother's tail, and the twisted truth of his own history shook the very foundations to the core. It was at this point in time when his future dramatically changed. The sudden unexpected tight corded curve of his destiny irrecoverably and unexpectedly went in a direction he, nor the world would ever thought would go.

Clark knew, right then and there that despite what people may think, he knew his brother was still alive somewhere out there. Caleb was just as strong as he was, so the chances of him being alive are that much greater. Besides, thought Clark, you still owe me a pizza.

"I'm never going to stop looking for you." His baby blue eyes glittered hard, narrowing in a determined anger.

Elsewhere

Universes constant flow of time, and realities was a distant, abstract image within her cosmic fingertips. The webs of far reaching consequences of what have been, could have been and should not have been reached far and bent wide between the great cosmic tendons. The karmic forces that tied all individuals within all the great worlds were shattered, ripped apart and formed into strands of light once more in the intervened webs of shadow and the dark. Her power sang, all flowing strength of her cosmic power dug deep, and deeper it went to reorder the forces of karma. Her long blue tinged fingers snapped back together, closing in within the golden strands of the universes to finally fix, to conclude her duties.

It would be a sight to behold for anyone watching from so far away, to see the universes of light and divinity acting in consort as the cosmic forces of order were put back together as they should have been, before the great defile act. Bright lights, black and blue, of white streams of constant light was a life stream that flew and flowed and shuddered, changing colors from all the great beauties of the worlds to be finally stitched back together against the infinite canvas of time and space and gravity that tied all the greater laws of the universe.

The blue tinged beauty reflected, her thoughts changing a trillion times a microsecond. She was ever reflecting, yet never changing within the constant flow of time. Rama Kushna was, for all intended purposes, the balance of the universe held together, the keeper of all karmic forces within every sentient creature within her reach. And she was not amused.

Rama Kushna was a thing of beauty, going beyond any mortal or deity. She held great power within the constant changes, her duties strict and demanding. She is karma itself, and her golden eyes narrowed in great anger, anger so palpable and so wide the mere concept of her rage would have reduced all forms of power to meaningless nothingness. For anyone who has seen her true form within her rage, than the beauty that beheld her form as it was now, would indeed be a terrifying sight to behold.

I do not know who you are; a fool that dared shred the great fates of Destiny, to oppose. You play with my karmic forces, to tether the threads of Fate itself, their fates too important to the beautiful Source of all things. But I shall find you, and end you." Her voice was grand, distant and beautifully sung, reaching out to the far reaching universes, and to her, distance and time are a meaningless concept. She was a divinity, the embodiment of causality and the karmic forces that governed all things in the universe, to all living and nonliving. And to mess with her, to mess with her duties that demanded nothing but perfection is a sacred duty suddenly stained by evil.

She managed to put the order of the forces back together, as they should have. But the mess was complete, irreversible and to undo such a thing would endanger everything. It was a risk even she, a deity of greater power within the cosmic forces willingly will not take.

A chuckle, a dark whisper sounded amused even to her, among the great depths of the abyss brought the forces of her cosmic power to a standstill. "We shall not risk your wrath anymore." The whispers, as they should be from her, like there were a conglomerate of compacted masses shared, tinged and stitched together like some embodiment of eldritch.

Too late," Rama Kushna whispered, and her power reached far. Her divine power lashed out across the universe, hurling across space like the very fires of creation, burned and burning to nothingness within everything that touched. Nothing, no concept or abstract or power, divine or un-death could have survived.

Rama growled, her fists tightened together into knuckles. "

I shall find you one day. And end you all." The blue beauty said, declaring an oath so terrible and so promised of such pain and misery and death to all the opposing forces of her enemies.

The Voices escaped her wrath, if barely however. They limped back to their palace of power, a price for mocking and humiliating her. They hurt, and the damage done to their formless voice would take a generation to heal. It did not matter to them however, the deed was done and to them their plans of resurrection would finally begin.

Plans set in motion, the cogs of wheel finally turning and their wish, to see clarity and wisdom and power once more like the old days is only a hand reach away. And they will not let go, and no force behind humanity's wishes would make them go away again.

They were finally separate, to act on as they wish.

Somewhere far away

A senior, an old master of great martial arts practitioner now retired and living in the farmlands finds a pod within the deep crater. It took the old wizened fellow an hour to reach the crash site, a phenomenon that rarely happens now that he has retired to live secluded far from any major civilization. When he did reach the crash site, the echo of cries, of a child barely a year old babe was heard throughout the dead of night. Gohan Sr. Found an open pod, it's hatch wide open to see barely a year old babe with an unusual furry brown tail.

The world finally became what it was, and as it should be.