Fandom: Dragonball Z
Rating: PG-13 (for thematic elements)
Publish Date: 8/13/2002 to 11/4/2002
Disclaimer: A, B, C, D, E, F, G, I do not own DBZ.
Gohan, you’d better come home soon, ChiChi thought, settling into one of the kitchen chairs, having just finished cleaning the breakfast dishes.
"Mommy?" Goten ran into the kitchen in tears. "Mommy, it’s bad!"
The sobbing child fell into her arms, and she pulled him up onto her lap. "What’s bad, sweetie?"
"Gohan!" the two-year-old yelled, crying into her shoulder. "Big brother’s in trouble. I can feel it in my tummy again, and it’s getting badder!"
"What do you mean?" she asked, desperate for information.
Goten hiccuped. "I want brother!"
From then on, ChiChi couldn’t get her younger son calmed down enough to get a coherent sentence out of him. The child was absolutely hysterical. Actually, ChiChi was on the verge of hysteria herself, both from what Goten’s statements had implied, and from her own exhaustion and anguish over the well-being of her oldest child.
It’s the hardest job in the world, being a parent, she thought, trying desperately to keep calm.
It didn’t take long for Goten to cry himself out against her shoulder. He wept himself right into exhaustion, and actually fell asleep in her lap. She set him down on the couch and tucked a blanket around him to let him sleep it off.
She wandered back out into the kitchen and took her chair again, resting her elbows on the table and her face in her hands. It was only then that she allowed hot tears to slid out from beneath her eyes and into her fingers. Once they started, there was no stopping them. ChiChi very nearly cried herself to sleep right there at the table, but after a struggle regained her composure. Fighting to keep a steady front, she went about the chores, cleaning and the like.
About an hour later, her youngest son padded into the kitch again. He yawned, then smiled at her. "Mommy, it’s all better now. It’s not bad. Gohan’s better. My tummy stopped hurting now." That message delivered, he turned and toddled out the front door to go play.
ChiChi was just short of going insane for lack of information. The only answers she had were Goten’s two-year-old messages that might or might not have been accurate.
She sighed, distress creeping through every fiber of her being. The only thing she could do was wait for news. And that was about the hardest thing she could have possibly been asked to do.