I was always curious to why Gohan was always so 'happy-go-lucky' following the Cell Games... Maybe this is a stupid theory but it's a theory none the less. Please read and review.
I'm good with disguises. I wasn't always… but I am now. Now, people see what I want them to see.
It was about a week ago that I began to attend Orange Star High School. You'd expect someone like me - someone who has never really socialised with people my own age - to be insecure, to be concerned about what people would make of me. I wasn't. I'm not. I knew exactly what they'd see. They'd see orange pants, a white shirt, a black vest. They'd see bizarre hair, coal eyes, a naïve grin. They'd see my face buried in a school book, my focus concentrated on a teacher's lecture, They'd see a nerd.
That's not Son Gohan.
To my friends, I've replaced their leader. I'm earth's hero, it's saviour, it's bodyguard. I am the child of Son Goku.
To my family, I've replaced the head of the household. I'm the bottomless pit, the peaceful giant, the ideal male role model. I am the child of Son Goku.
To the world, I've replaced their champion. I'm the resident superhero, the 'golden fighter', 'The Great Saiyaman'. I am the heir to Son Goku.
That's not Son Gohan.
The sad thing is that I doubt anybody will find out who I am. Sure, 'Saiyaman' is bound to be unmasked in due time but will anyone bother going that step further? Will anyone notice the mask underneath the helmet? Will anyone pry the 'smile' from my face and really, truly see my secret identity?
My ID says I'm 18 but my heart says I'm 11. My body is that of a strong adult, my spirit is of a broken child. My smile tells the world that 'I've moved on' but in reality I'm stuck.
I'm still on the battlefield in the middle of nowhere. My hair is still gold. My forehead is still bleeding. My clothes are still ripped. My friends are still behind me. My father is still in front.
I was never forgiven. It is unforgivable. Murder. Murder of one's parent. Murder of one's kindred spirit. Unforgivable.
Goku chose never to see me again. I don't blame him. It sickened him just as it sickens me. If only I was lucky enough to have a choice, I would run as well. I would escape the hell that Son Gohan creates.
Nobody knows it but I visit the site of the Cell games annually. I try to make my peace with the day's events. I replay the day in my head. I watch Mr. Satan fly from the ring, My father concede defeat. I replay Android 16's death, my ascension to Super Saiyan 2. I repeat the self destruction of Cell, the death of Son Goku, the murder of the first Trunks, I watch in awe as Cell disintegrates by the hand of a pre-teen.
This year, I returned from the site with tears in my eyes. With my spirit still pleading for some sort of absolution. With my body begging for closure. All I ask for is one day a year. One day to repent. One day to release. One day to let my guard down. One day to be Son Gohan.
I'm good with disguises. I wasn't always… but I am now.
I don't even need a helmet to hide who I really am… all I have to do is smile.
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