Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Drummer's March ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: srusse87 
In which they have P.E. and Goten prevents a fight.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 02.22.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.7K | Visits: 224 | Status: Work In Progress
In which they have P.E. and Goten prevents a fight.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 02.22.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.7K | Visits: 224 | Status: Work In Progress
“The Drummer’s March”
Disclaimer: See previous chapters.
Chapter 4
“This sucks.”
Monday morning found me and Trunks standing in the boy’s locker room staring down at the P.E. uniform the teacher had tossed to us on the way in.
“Cheer up old son; it could have been worse.”
Trunks looked at me skeptically, “Tell me precisely how this could have been worse Goten.”
I grinned and picked up the grey sweatpants. “It could have been polyester.”
I knew Trunks wasn’t really commenting on the gym clothes. They were pretty standard, grey sweats and a black tee-shirt. Actually what he was groaning about were the antics going on in the room around us. Brad was on the floor demonstrating to his friends how he could do fifty pushups in a row. A couple of quiet nerdy boys were in the corner playing some dueling card game. Another of Brad’s cohorts had a kid cornered by the toilets and was threatening to give him a flushy.
Sighing Trunks striped down and put on the clothes, I did as well while keeping an eye on the boy by the stalls just in case. Nobody deserved to be given a flushy this early in the morning. Fortunately the teacher came in before things got out of hand and told us to all go outside. With another groan Trunks headed out and I followed.
As we crossed the grass to stand where the rest of the class was waiting, Brad jogged up beside me. “Well I see you didn’t chicken out and pretend to stay home sick.”
I didn’t say anything and kept walking, though you could almost hear Trunks roll his eyes.
Despite Brad making gym class sound like it was a combination between boot camp and a POW facility we ended up not doing anything more strenuous then playing soccer. Trunks and I managed to get the position of defense on Brad’s team which meant we had precious little to do and mostly stood around.
“Good thing it wasn’t like I wanted to play or anything.” Trunks drawled as another goal was scored down at the other end of the field.
“Think anyone has ever accused him of being a ball hog?” I glanced idly toward where the action was being played out, but it didn’t appear the ball was actually going to head our way anytime soon. Throwing myself onto the grass I groaned, “Man this is so lame.”
Trunks looked down at me for a moment and then back up the field. Finally he sat down next to me and tipped his head back to study the clouds. “You’re the one who said it could be worse.”
“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” The goalie, a huge guy with curly hair was yelling at us from his position at the net. “You’re not supposed to be lying around! Get off the ground!”
Trunks lazily lifted his arm and flipped the finger at him. “Come over and make me.”
You could tell the guy was itching to come over and do just that but was torn between remaining in his position as goalie, and his desire to the beat the crap out of Trunks.
I smirked, “Chill. We see the ball headed our way and we’ll throw ourselves all over it.”
The goalie had his fists clenched and didn’t seem impressed with my compromise. “You’re supposed to be on separate sides of the goal, not gossiping together like a bunch of girls.”
“Look, moron. There’s no damn ball. This game is boring enough as it is without me having to stand over there stagnating in solitary confinement.” Trunks closed his eyes and propped his arms behind his head.
“I am so going to kick your ass when we get back to the locker room.”
Trunks smirked, “I’m shaking in my shoes.”
I flicked him in the forehead with my finger ignoring the glare he directed at me. “You idiot, are you trying to pick a fight?”
“I’m bored Goten.”
I rolled my eyes. “So you’re going to amuse yourself by beating up a guy who doesn’t stand a chance?”
“Well I’d pick a fight with you if you’d be so accommodating.”
“Trunks this is ridiculous.” I stood up and brushed the grass off my pants. “Come on, it looks like somebody finally got the ball away from Brad and is headed this way.”
“Oh boy.” Despite his lack of enthusiasm Trunks stood up anyway and wandered back over to his appointed spot on the left.
I yawned and waved a hand at the goalie behind me. “Happy now?”
The goalie never actually got to see anymore action then the rest of us. The ball was taken away by someone else on our team and found itself once again on the other side of the field. Trunks threw himself back onto the grass in disgust and refused to get up again despite all the yelling the goalie did.
Finally we were allowed to head back into the school. The goalie glared at us one last time before running over to Brad and his group.
I glanced over at Trunks. “Do you think he’s going to make an issue of it when we get back?”
“Do we care?”
I shrugged. “Not really but you probably shouldn’t hurt him.” I sighed, “Looks like I’m going to have to let you pick that fight after all.”
He smirked. “I knew you would.”
I punched him hard in the arm. “Asshole.”
The locker room was crowded with sweaty guys in various states of undress. Brad, with the goalie standing next to him, blocked our way before we got very far.
“Mike says he has a score to settle with you.” The goalie was cracking his knuckles, a look of pleasure on his face.
“I believe your words were, make me?” The goalie stepped toward Trunks and Brad moved out of the way to give him more room.
I sighed. “Fraid I can’t let you do that big guy.” The goalie looked over at me in surprise and then smirked.
“Oh how sweet. You gonna try to protect your little friend?”
I snorted. “Not likely. But we sort of have this arrangement that when he pisses someone off he has to deal with me instead.” I shook my head. “Not really sure how that worked out but there you go. So if you would be so kind…”
Stepping back a little I turned to Trunks and tapped the side of my face. “Here would be preferable if you don’t mind.”
He grinned and I sighed. Drawing his fist back he cold-cocked me right in the face. Despite him holding almost everything back, I still found myself knocked off my feet and slammed into the lockers. I stood up rubbing my chin and grimaced.
“Feel better?”
He smiled, “Quite.”
The jocks were standing watching us in shock and fascination before the guy Mike finally shook his head and walked off. “Bunch of freaks.”
I stuck out my tongue at his retreating back and pointed a thumb at Trunks. “He started it!”
Trunks just chuckled and stripped out of his tee-shirt.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dad was sitting out on the balcony with Piccolo when I got home that afternoon. I tossed my bag on the kitchen table before going out to see them.
“Hey old man. Wondered when you’d be darkening our doorstep again.”
Piccolo scowled at me, flicking several energy balls my way which I fielded and started to juggle.
“You should show…” He started.
“Your elders more respect, I know.” I finished with a grin.
He shook his head, “And he use to be such a sweet little boy.” But he was smiling when he said it.
Piccolo and I had a good relationship. He reminded me of a crotchety old wolf. All bark and no bite. And I so did love pulling his tail. He wasn’t really that old though, he’d always seemed ageless and dad said that other than his personality, he hadn’t changed much from when he was a kid.
He flicked another energy ball my way and laughed when I yelped, trying to catch it and not get burned by the others. “You know Gohan,” He mused. “I feel like I’ve had this exact conversation before at some point.”
Dad grinned and reached over to snag one of the balls I’d just missed a catch on. “You need work on that; you’re still having trouble getting past three.” He let the energy absorb into his hand and I tossed the balls up in the air, catching them one at a time and doing the same. Reabsorbing energy was always
a peculiar feeling and I shivered before sitting down next to dad.
“Yeah well Piccolo hasn’t been around lately to offer me much practice.”
Piccolo snorted. “What, do I look like a circus trainer?”
I opened my mouth to respond when he pointed a finger at me. “You won’t answer that if you know what’s good for you.”
Dad shook his head and then reached over to gently touch my chin where Trunks had decked me earlier that day. I have no idea how he knew exactly where I’d been hit; must be a dad thing. You couldn’t really see much; the punch hadn’t been strong enough to leave a lasting mark, just a slightly tender spot.
“I got a phone call today from your school.”
I groaned and leaned back in my chair, rocking it on its back legs. “Was it a phone call about screwing around during soccer or a phone call about Trunks being bored in the locker room?”
“Both.”
I looked up at him trying to figure out if he was mad or not. He didn’t seem to be, more amused then anything else, but it was hard to tell. “Well it was either I let Trunks hit me or I let him hit the dumb goalie and I figured he didn’t really need that kind of grief after just one week at a new school.”
“A chip off the old block.”
I looked over at Piccolo in surprise. “He’s not really, he was just…”
“Bored?” Dad’s drawl of amusement had a hint of an edge to it and I squirmed a little in my seat.
“You know how rough P.E. can be on a guy who’s not suppose to do much. And we were stuck in the middle of this soccer field just hanging around for an hour.” I stopped realizing how lame, not to mention contradictory that sounded.
“Ok so maybe he does take a bit after Vegeta, but what else was I supposed to do?”
“Duck?” Piccolo had his arms folded and was glaring at me.
“That would totally defeat the purpose in the first place.” I muttered.
“What purpose? You serving as a punching bag?”
I scowled and slouched down in my chair not sure if I was being interrogated or chastised. I glanced over at dad but still couldn’t tell from his expression.
“Am I in trouble?”
He looked startled for a moment and then laughed, jerking my chair sideways and pulling me into a hug. “No, you little punk, you’re not in trouble.”
I tried to keep up my glare but then settled down in his arms. I may be fifteen, but a guy can still enjoy a hug. “Then what’s with the third degree?”
He chuckled again and I could feel it reverberating in his chest. “Your school is concerned that you two don’t seem to be making any friends or forming any social groups outside of each other. Your little display of anger management was of some concern to the teacher.”
Piccolo snorted, “Anger management. Of all the…I`m getting a drink.” And then he stalked back into the house.
Dad’s quiet laughter seemed to chase after Piccolo as he ruffled my hair. “The school wanted to know what was going on. They think you’re unhappy there.”
I looked up surprised, “Unhappy?”
He sighed and nodded. “I’m sure Trunks is probably hearing about it by now as well.” We both winced a little at the thought of the tongue lashing he was probably getting from Bulma.
“They want you to talk to someone at school, a counselor.”
I sat up fast, the chair thumping on the deck. “What?”
Dad held his hands out and sighed. “I know, I know. Cool your jets. I tried to explain none of this was necessary but they insisted.”
I shook my head and stared at dad. “Just because Trunks and I got into it? Guys our age fight all the time; hell that stupid goalie was picking a fight. That’s normal!”
“Yes Goten, but apparently it’s not normal for a guy to passively let his supposed best friend punch him so hard he goes flying into the wall.”
“A shrink. They want me to see a shrink.” I was still shaking my head.
“Both of you actually. Individually as well as together.” Piccolo had come back out carrying a cup of tea and tossed a can of soda at me. “You look like you could use a drink.”
I caught it and nodded distractedly at him in thanks; still trying to get my head around the fact that I was suppose to go see some shrink because they thought Trunks and I had issues. Like some kind of old couple seeking marriage counseling.
“Can’t you get me out of it dad? Tell them it’s against our religion or something.” I looked pleadingly up at him but he just ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.
“It’s one of those things Goten, where the harder you dig your feet in, the more they feel it’s all in your best interest. Sorry kiddo but you’re going to have to do it. First meeting’s tomorrow morning before class. They want you both to come in so you can have a chance to discuss your differences with someone there to mediate.” I could tell he was repeating what they’d told him on the phone from the way his lips curled and eyes narrowed.
I stared at the can in my hands and then opened it, taking a long drink and feeling the burn as the carbonated soda slid down my throat. “Damn Trunks and his stupid boredom anyway. This is so all his fault.”
TBC…
(I know, this is earlier then I promised but...I’m bored. So here you all go- another chapter. Though this didn’t turn out quite the way I expected it to. Huh. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed it and I’ll see you all again with the next chapter. By the way, I wasn’t sure if the language in this chapter was enough to bump the rating up to R…anyone know?)
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Disclaimer: See previous chapters.
Chapter 4
“This sucks.”
Monday morning found me and Trunks standing in the boy’s locker room staring down at the P.E. uniform the teacher had tossed to us on the way in.
“Cheer up old son; it could have been worse.”
Trunks looked at me skeptically, “Tell me precisely how this could have been worse Goten.”
I grinned and picked up the grey sweatpants. “It could have been polyester.”
I knew Trunks wasn’t really commenting on the gym clothes. They were pretty standard, grey sweats and a black tee-shirt. Actually what he was groaning about were the antics going on in the room around us. Brad was on the floor demonstrating to his friends how he could do fifty pushups in a row. A couple of quiet nerdy boys were in the corner playing some dueling card game. Another of Brad’s cohorts had a kid cornered by the toilets and was threatening to give him a flushy.
Sighing Trunks striped down and put on the clothes, I did as well while keeping an eye on the boy by the stalls just in case. Nobody deserved to be given a flushy this early in the morning. Fortunately the teacher came in before things got out of hand and told us to all go outside. With another groan Trunks headed out and I followed.
As we crossed the grass to stand where the rest of the class was waiting, Brad jogged up beside me. “Well I see you didn’t chicken out and pretend to stay home sick.”
I didn’t say anything and kept walking, though you could almost hear Trunks roll his eyes.
Despite Brad making gym class sound like it was a combination between boot camp and a POW facility we ended up not doing anything more strenuous then playing soccer. Trunks and I managed to get the position of defense on Brad’s team which meant we had precious little to do and mostly stood around.
“Good thing it wasn’t like I wanted to play or anything.” Trunks drawled as another goal was scored down at the other end of the field.
“Think anyone has ever accused him of being a ball hog?” I glanced idly toward where the action was being played out, but it didn’t appear the ball was actually going to head our way anytime soon. Throwing myself onto the grass I groaned, “Man this is so lame.”
Trunks looked down at me for a moment and then back up the field. Finally he sat down next to me and tipped his head back to study the clouds. “You’re the one who said it could be worse.”
“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” The goalie, a huge guy with curly hair was yelling at us from his position at the net. “You’re not supposed to be lying around! Get off the ground!”
Trunks lazily lifted his arm and flipped the finger at him. “Come over and make me.”
You could tell the guy was itching to come over and do just that but was torn between remaining in his position as goalie, and his desire to the beat the crap out of Trunks.
I smirked, “Chill. We see the ball headed our way and we’ll throw ourselves all over it.”
The goalie had his fists clenched and didn’t seem impressed with my compromise. “You’re supposed to be on separate sides of the goal, not gossiping together like a bunch of girls.”
“Look, moron. There’s no damn ball. This game is boring enough as it is without me having to stand over there stagnating in solitary confinement.” Trunks closed his eyes and propped his arms behind his head.
“I am so going to kick your ass when we get back to the locker room.”
Trunks smirked, “I’m shaking in my shoes.”
I flicked him in the forehead with my finger ignoring the glare he directed at me. “You idiot, are you trying to pick a fight?”
“I’m bored Goten.”
I rolled my eyes. “So you’re going to amuse yourself by beating up a guy who doesn’t stand a chance?”
“Well I’d pick a fight with you if you’d be so accommodating.”
“Trunks this is ridiculous.” I stood up and brushed the grass off my pants. “Come on, it looks like somebody finally got the ball away from Brad and is headed this way.”
“Oh boy.” Despite his lack of enthusiasm Trunks stood up anyway and wandered back over to his appointed spot on the left.
I yawned and waved a hand at the goalie behind me. “Happy now?”
The goalie never actually got to see anymore action then the rest of us. The ball was taken away by someone else on our team and found itself once again on the other side of the field. Trunks threw himself back onto the grass in disgust and refused to get up again despite all the yelling the goalie did.
Finally we were allowed to head back into the school. The goalie glared at us one last time before running over to Brad and his group.
I glanced over at Trunks. “Do you think he’s going to make an issue of it when we get back?”
“Do we care?”
I shrugged. “Not really but you probably shouldn’t hurt him.” I sighed, “Looks like I’m going to have to let you pick that fight after all.”
He smirked. “I knew you would.”
I punched him hard in the arm. “Asshole.”
The locker room was crowded with sweaty guys in various states of undress. Brad, with the goalie standing next to him, blocked our way before we got very far.
“Mike says he has a score to settle with you.” The goalie was cracking his knuckles, a look of pleasure on his face.
“I believe your words were, make me?” The goalie stepped toward Trunks and Brad moved out of the way to give him more room.
I sighed. “Fraid I can’t let you do that big guy.” The goalie looked over at me in surprise and then smirked.
“Oh how sweet. You gonna try to protect your little friend?”
I snorted. “Not likely. But we sort of have this arrangement that when he pisses someone off he has to deal with me instead.” I shook my head. “Not really sure how that worked out but there you go. So if you would be so kind…”
Stepping back a little I turned to Trunks and tapped the side of my face. “Here would be preferable if you don’t mind.”
He grinned and I sighed. Drawing his fist back he cold-cocked me right in the face. Despite him holding almost everything back, I still found myself knocked off my feet and slammed into the lockers. I stood up rubbing my chin and grimaced.
“Feel better?”
He smiled, “Quite.”
The jocks were standing watching us in shock and fascination before the guy Mike finally shook his head and walked off. “Bunch of freaks.”
I stuck out my tongue at his retreating back and pointed a thumb at Trunks. “He started it!”
Trunks just chuckled and stripped out of his tee-shirt.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dad was sitting out on the balcony with Piccolo when I got home that afternoon. I tossed my bag on the kitchen table before going out to see them.
“Hey old man. Wondered when you’d be darkening our doorstep again.”
Piccolo scowled at me, flicking several energy balls my way which I fielded and started to juggle.
“You should show…” He started.
“Your elders more respect, I know.” I finished with a grin.
He shook his head, “And he use to be such a sweet little boy.” But he was smiling when he said it.
Piccolo and I had a good relationship. He reminded me of a crotchety old wolf. All bark and no bite. And I so did love pulling his tail. He wasn’t really that old though, he’d always seemed ageless and dad said that other than his personality, he hadn’t changed much from when he was a kid.
He flicked another energy ball my way and laughed when I yelped, trying to catch it and not get burned by the others. “You know Gohan,” He mused. “I feel like I’ve had this exact conversation before at some point.”
Dad grinned and reached over to snag one of the balls I’d just missed a catch on. “You need work on that; you’re still having trouble getting past three.” He let the energy absorb into his hand and I tossed the balls up in the air, catching them one at a time and doing the same. Reabsorbing energy was always
a peculiar feeling and I shivered before sitting down next to dad.
“Yeah well Piccolo hasn’t been around lately to offer me much practice.”
Piccolo snorted. “What, do I look like a circus trainer?”
I opened my mouth to respond when he pointed a finger at me. “You won’t answer that if you know what’s good for you.”
Dad shook his head and then reached over to gently touch my chin where Trunks had decked me earlier that day. I have no idea how he knew exactly where I’d been hit; must be a dad thing. You couldn’t really see much; the punch hadn’t been strong enough to leave a lasting mark, just a slightly tender spot.
“I got a phone call today from your school.”
I groaned and leaned back in my chair, rocking it on its back legs. “Was it a phone call about screwing around during soccer or a phone call about Trunks being bored in the locker room?”
“Both.”
I looked up at him trying to figure out if he was mad or not. He didn’t seem to be, more amused then anything else, but it was hard to tell. “Well it was either I let Trunks hit me or I let him hit the dumb goalie and I figured he didn’t really need that kind of grief after just one week at a new school.”
“A chip off the old block.”
I looked over at Piccolo in surprise. “He’s not really, he was just…”
“Bored?” Dad’s drawl of amusement had a hint of an edge to it and I squirmed a little in my seat.
“You know how rough P.E. can be on a guy who’s not suppose to do much. And we were stuck in the middle of this soccer field just hanging around for an hour.” I stopped realizing how lame, not to mention contradictory that sounded.
“Ok so maybe he does take a bit after Vegeta, but what else was I supposed to do?”
“Duck?” Piccolo had his arms folded and was glaring at me.
“That would totally defeat the purpose in the first place.” I muttered.
“What purpose? You serving as a punching bag?”
I scowled and slouched down in my chair not sure if I was being interrogated or chastised. I glanced over at dad but still couldn’t tell from his expression.
“Am I in trouble?”
He looked startled for a moment and then laughed, jerking my chair sideways and pulling me into a hug. “No, you little punk, you’re not in trouble.”
I tried to keep up my glare but then settled down in his arms. I may be fifteen, but a guy can still enjoy a hug. “Then what’s with the third degree?”
He chuckled again and I could feel it reverberating in his chest. “Your school is concerned that you two don’t seem to be making any friends or forming any social groups outside of each other. Your little display of anger management was of some concern to the teacher.”
Piccolo snorted, “Anger management. Of all the…I`m getting a drink.” And then he stalked back into the house.
Dad’s quiet laughter seemed to chase after Piccolo as he ruffled my hair. “The school wanted to know what was going on. They think you’re unhappy there.”
I looked up surprised, “Unhappy?”
He sighed and nodded. “I’m sure Trunks is probably hearing about it by now as well.” We both winced a little at the thought of the tongue lashing he was probably getting from Bulma.
“They want you to talk to someone at school, a counselor.”
I sat up fast, the chair thumping on the deck. “What?”
Dad held his hands out and sighed. “I know, I know. Cool your jets. I tried to explain none of this was necessary but they insisted.”
I shook my head and stared at dad. “Just because Trunks and I got into it? Guys our age fight all the time; hell that stupid goalie was picking a fight. That’s normal!”
“Yes Goten, but apparently it’s not normal for a guy to passively let his supposed best friend punch him so hard he goes flying into the wall.”
“A shrink. They want me to see a shrink.” I was still shaking my head.
“Both of you actually. Individually as well as together.” Piccolo had come back out carrying a cup of tea and tossed a can of soda at me. “You look like you could use a drink.”
I caught it and nodded distractedly at him in thanks; still trying to get my head around the fact that I was suppose to go see some shrink because they thought Trunks and I had issues. Like some kind of old couple seeking marriage counseling.
“Can’t you get me out of it dad? Tell them it’s against our religion or something.” I looked pleadingly up at him but he just ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.
“It’s one of those things Goten, where the harder you dig your feet in, the more they feel it’s all in your best interest. Sorry kiddo but you’re going to have to do it. First meeting’s tomorrow morning before class. They want you both to come in so you can have a chance to discuss your differences with someone there to mediate.” I could tell he was repeating what they’d told him on the phone from the way his lips curled and eyes narrowed.
I stared at the can in my hands and then opened it, taking a long drink and feeling the burn as the carbonated soda slid down my throat. “Damn Trunks and his stupid boredom anyway. This is so all his fault.”
TBC…
(I know, this is earlier then I promised but...I’m bored. So here you all go- another chapter. Though this didn’t turn out quite the way I expected it to. Huh. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed it and I’ll see you all again with the next chapter. By the way, I wasn’t sure if the language in this chapter was enough to bump the rating up to R…anyone know?)
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