I knew there was something different about him.

I knew there was, from the moment I met him. He was tall and lithe, polite and humble, with deep dark eyes and hair which instantly caught the eye of many of my female classmates. But he was perhaps a little too humble, a little too polite...hiding a little too much.

I was frustrated that morning, by talk of a golden-haired warrior who had recently surfaced in the city. He had appeared out of nowhere, arrived on the scenes of three crimes, and handled them flawlessly. He'd gone as soon as he'd came, disappearing before I even got there. Fighting crime was my business, and I felt cheated.

Then this new student walked into the Orange Star Highschool, clad in an outfit strangely resembling the one which people who'd seen the golden-haired warrior had described him as wearing. His hair was anything but golden, but nevertheless there was something there... I eyed him with a cold suspicion and he writhed nervously, like a politician caught in a lie. A look I had seen too many times, on the face of my own father.

My father, he was a mystery in himself. He was a coward, through and through. His eyes would go wide at the sight of a mere spider crawling across the windowpane. But supposedly he had saved the Earth when all others failed. The others...with dark hair which turned golden, when they summoned their energy. The thought had crossed my mind but I brushed it aside, dad had said that it was a trick. It seemed like everything these days was a trick or an illusion of some sort.

The only concrete truth there was for me was the feel of a criminal's ribs cracking beneath my fists, the sight of him flying into a brick wall. A sort of primal violence justified in the name of justice. I fought for justice, most definitely, but I also fought for myself. Against all that had gone wrong in my life...the death of my mother, my father's ignorance, and being nameless and faceless in his shadow. When I was fighting crime was the only time I could feel good about myself. And after, of course, when I earned thanks and recognition from the police and the good people of Satan City. For a few brief moments, I could shine. I was empowered, I was a hero. But suddenly, there was a new hero...someone that was trying to take it all away from me.

I growled to myself, chewing the eraser of my pencil - a habit of annoyance - while I continued to watch the new student in my peripheral vision.

As the days passed, the fact that Son Gohan had something to hide became more and more evident. He had astounded everyone by making a leap of about eight meters into the air to catch a baseball...then just kind of hovering there with it in his hand for a few seconds afterwards. I don't know if we really believed what we saw. There was his home life, also enshrouded in mystery. Anytime anyone questioned him about it, he would give a vague answer which really didn't make much sense. The golden-haired warrior was gone nearly as fast as he came, but yet another new hero had surfaced in Satan City, who called himself the Great Saiyaman.

I knew that all the pieces fit together, somehow. I, Videl Satan, was going to find out how at all costs. It consumed my mind like a wildfire. Little did I know that I was stumbling into something much bigger, beyond the Great Saiyaman and even the Golden-haired Warrior...

When my suspicions about the Great Saiyaman's identity were confirmed, I shamelessly blackmailed Gohan into teaching me to fly, and fighting in the Tenkaichi Budoukai with me. I saw his home in the woods, his overbearing mother, his adorable and carefree little brother Goten. I thought I knew all his secrets. That is, until he showed me how to control ki. We sat face-to-face in the warm, sunlit clearing and I watched in disbelief as he made a small, concentrated ball of pure electric energy right before my eyes.

I saw for a brief second a glimpse of the intensity that was usually eclipsed by the kind and humble student. A greater universe beyond my knowledge burning in his eyes, just barely palpable to me. Then I became keenly aware of our knees pressed together, his hands on mine, trying to direct me and I felt weak. My head swam with a blend of emotions I still cannot pinpoint, because perhaps there really are no words for them. Forget concentrating energy between my fingertips...I had a hard enough time keeping my body in one piece. It felt like it was going to dissipate and fall to the ground like a thousand grains of sand. I tensed my hands, trying helplessly to conjure the ki ball with my fleeting strength. Then he spoke, I released my tension, and it came to me. Smaller than his, but there all the same. Ki was not the "trick" my father had made it out to be. It was something very tangible.

I kept coming to the mountains, to his house to train. Learning to fly was the most exhilarating thing I'd ever done in my life. There's a certain high that comes from lifting off the ground and flying head-on into the springtime breeze, and also a certain empowerment. At times I even entertained the thought of beating my father in the tournament and suppressed a laugh. Not that it would be possible, of course. He was the world's strongest person. Or so I still believed...

I let down my guard fast after I started training with Gohan. He truly became my friend. He still wasn't one to talk much about himself, but I assumed that was just the way he was. Sometimes he'd trip over his words if I looked at him a certain way, or startle like a rabbit if I put a hand on his shoulder. I wondered why. I got incredibly angry when he told me I should cut my hair because it would hinder me in fighting, but I went and did it anyway. There was a budding attraction between us which should have been plainly obvious, but it was something I never stopped to consider.

The last time we met before the tournament, I was just slightly confused. Little Goten cheerfully announced that his daddy was "coming back" for the day of the competition. I had understood their father (who had won the competition many years before my father did) to be dead. Gohan skirted around the issue. He wouldn't answer my questions, and it seemed like a very uncomfortable topic for him. I assumed that maybe his father was a complete bastard who had left his family to fend for themselves when Gohan was younger, and he had contacted them in secret to tell them he was going to fight. Whatever the case, I wasn't going to press anymore. I of anyone would know what a strained relationship with a parent is like.

But when the day of the tournament arrived, it became obvious that Gohan's relationship with his father was anything but strained. He and the odd man - wearing a bright-orange gi and a strange head accessory that resembled a halo - talked and laughed as if they were best friends, rather than father and son. All of Gohan's...friends...were rather odd. I, for lack of better wording, was shocked shitless. Even a little scared. There was a tall green guy with a cape and pointy fangs, another man with tall hair that broke the punching machine used for qualification, a short man with no nose and a strange blonde woman who could have perhaps been made of steel for as cold as she acted. They group of them looked so imposing as they moved through the crowd, as untouchable as sharks in a sea of flounders. I'm sure I spent the better part of the morning with my eyes as wide as saucers.

The qualifications took so long. Problems with the punching machine, they said. We missed the youth division tournament. The final match was betwen Goten and Trunks, the son of that tall-haired man Vegeta. Trunks won, but as I heard both had put up a remarkable fight. As a prize, Trunks got to face Mr. Satan in an exhibitation match, and my father was "so kind" as to throw the fight to little Trunks. We had our lunch, and then the real tournament began. I soon found myself up against the opponent from hell. A bald and unnaturally malicious man named Spopovitchi.

The fight started out like any other and I was doing well, but somewhere along the line I lost my footing. I didn't want to loose so early-on and I was filled again the same firey drive that possessed me to become a champion of justice. I increased the agressiveness of my attacks, and without thinking delivered a kick which snapped my opponent's neck. The audience gasped in horror. But that horror was increased tenfold when he climbed to his feet and snapped his neck back into place. From that point on I was powerless in his grasp. He put me through torture like I had never known before. Why I didn't give up, even as I spit up blood, is a question I cannot answer. It's just one of those crazy things people do - or in my case endure - because of some indefiable need to prove themselves, even if it means their death.

Death didn't come. After a hellish enternity Spopovitch threw my useless and mangaled body from the ring, where it was quickly gathered by a concerned Gohan and whisked off to the medical building. Even in the severity of my injuries I couldn't rest. I tossed about and moaned, insistant upon winning the battle I'd already lost. Until after yet another hellish enternity, when Gohan returned with a bean he claimed would restore my health. My father and the doctor argued, refusing to allow it, but I smiled and put my trust in Gohan. I knew what he said was true. I knew his miracle would work.

It did. Then Gohan was up for his fight. One with an outcome even more shocking than mine. He stood facing Kibito, his opponent, and began to power up. The Earth quaked and within moments, his hair stood on end, turning...gold. Surprise surprise. Then Spopovitchi and Yam, another equally-threatening fighter leaped into the ring, piercing Gohan in the side with some odd lamplike object and draining his energy. I don't think I had ever been so angry in my life. I was going to rush out there and blindly attack them, but Gohan's father grabbed me by the arms and held me back, telling me not to interfere and promising that everything would be okay. After Yam and Spopovitchi had finished their task and fled, Kibito knealt down, placed his hands over Gohan and restored every last bit of his energy.

As I flew off alongside of them in pursuit of the Majins, Gohan told me everything; how his father was from space and saved the Earth, how he himself had saved the Earth as well with nuclear levels strength I couldn't even begin to comprehend. My father's defeat of Cell had been one big lie. This was the universe I had just barely glimpsed when Gohan had first shown me to control ki. I believed every word. How could I not believe it? I was seeing it. I was watching yet another chapter in some all-important story unfold before my very eyes. And as odd as it may sound, I respected and trusted Gohan more than ever.

Now I stand here on Kami's lookout, a place I never thought I'd see in my life. I'm surrounded by people, yet completely alone. I don't know any of them, and they're only permitting me here because they believe me to be Gohan's girlfriend. I suppose it's not all that far from the truth. Their situation is desperate. Vegeta died in a desperate suicide attack on their new enemy. No one knows what happened to Goku or Gohan. They're perceived to be dead. I don't know about Goku, but I know Gohan isn't. Logic says I should listen to them. They can feel a person's life force, and they can't sense his anywhere on the planet anymore. But logic also says that people like this shouldn't even exist. I'm not going to listen to logic anymore. I'm going to listen to my heart. The part of my that knew his secrets all along.

I know...that Gohan's alive, somewhere and somehow. I know that he'll be back. And I know...I know now that I love him. Very much.