The flight to Capsule Corporation was silent but not uncomfortable. Gohan flew alongside Arthur, the exhaustion of battle still reflected on his face, but with an expression Arthur hadn't seen on any of the few people in this world... Peace.
As they continued flying, the cities beneath them were a graveyard of collapsed structures, split streets, and buildings that were once homes. Arthur truly wasn't used to this; just moments ago he was an ordinary person who didn't even know what to do, and the next second he had ended this entire nightmare.
Meditating on this, Arthur didn't dwell on it further for the moment; he simply kept flying.
•••
West City.
•••
And so, after a short period of traveling, they arrived at West City.
—It's this way —Gohan said, pointing to a complex of buildings that, although it also showed signs of having been attacked, retained a much more solid structure than the rest of the city.
Capsule Corporation stood like a lighthouse in the middle of the ruins. Its exterior walls were scarred by energy attacks, but the main structure remained standing. A large metal dome protruded from the central building.
They descended in front of the main entrance, a reinforced metal door that opened automatically upon recognizing Gohan's presence. A long hallway led them inside, where flickering light bulbs illuminated the path.
—Brother Gohan! —a young voice resonated from the end of the hallway.
Trunks came running toward them, his blue eyes shining with a mixture of concern and relief. He stopped in front of Gohan, looking him up and down as if searching for wounds.
—Are you okay? I felt a huge energy blast a while ago, and then... —his words cut off when his eyes noticed Arthur.
The blue-haired youth tensed immediately, his body adopting a defensive posture. Arthur could see Trunks' hands clenching into fists, ready to fight if necessary.
—Easy, Trunks —Gohan said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder—. This is Arthur. He's a Saiyan, like us. And... —he paused, as if he still found it hard to believe his own words—. He destroyed the Androids.
Trunks blinked. Once. Twice. Then his jaw slowly slackened.
—The... the Androids? —his voice was barely a whisper—. Both of them?
—Both of them —Gohan confirmed with a tired smile—. And also another thing that Doctor Gero had created. He called himself Cell; he was a disgusting thing if you ask me.
The name meant nothing to Trunks nor did he give it any importance, but the news of the Androids seemed to hit him like a wave. He stood motionless, processing the information, until his eyes began to water. He clenched his fists tightly, struggling to contain the tears.
—That means... we don't have to... —his voice broke.
—No —Arthur said, speaking for the first time since they arrived—. You don't have to hide anymore. You don't have to be afraid anymore... It's all over.
Trunks stared at him intently, as if trying to etch his face into his memory. Then, with a gesture that seemed to steal all his remaining energy, he nodded slowly.
—Thank you —he murmured, his voice trembling—. Thank you...
—Trunks, what is all that noise? —a female voice came from inside, and Arthur recognized it immediately by the authoritative tone of someone experienced but not threatening—. Has Gohan returned already?
A woman with blue hair, shorter than Trunks' and with some gray strands betraying the passage of years and some wrinkles on her face, appeared in a doorway. She wore a lab coat over her clothes, and her eyes, the same shade as her son's, landed first on Gohan, then on Arthur.
And then, her expression changed.
—Gohan, who is this young man? —Bulma asked, and although her voice remained firm, Arthur could perceive the trace of exhaustion accompanying it. She had aged faster than she should have; it was normal, given everything that had happened and everything she had to live through.
—Aunt Bulma —Gohan said, taking a step forward—, let me introduce you to Arthur. He's a Saiyan who arrived on Earth recently looking for my father. And... —he made that pause again, as if he still hadn't finished believing it—. He killed the Androids. Both of them. And another of Doctor Gero's creations.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Bulma didn't move. She didn't blink. She simply stared at Arthur with an intensity that surprised him. For a moment, he thought she was going to faint. But no. The woman who had lived through more experiences than anyone should in an apocalyptic world simply took a deep breath, once, twice, and then nodded.
—I see —she said, her voice barely trembling—. Well, then... I suppose you should come in. We can't leave a hero at the door, can we?
Her tone was almost casual with a touch of relief, as if Arthur were an old acquaintance visiting, not someone who had changed the fate of the world. But Arthur noticed how her hands, hidden in her coat pockets, were trembling slightly.
—Thank you —Arthur responded, bowing his head in a gesture of respect—. I accept the hospitality.
•••
The food Bulma prepared wasn't luxurious. In a world where food barely survived in small protected enclaves, it couldn't be. But there was enough to share, and Arthur knew that was more than most inhabitants of this world could hope for.
They sat around a table in what was once a dining room. The lights ran on backup power, giving the place a dim but cozy atmosphere. Trunks sat next to his mother, and although his gaze still rested on Arthur with a mix of admiration and curiosity, the initial tension had vanished.
—So —Bulma said, as she poured tea into cups that looked decades old—. You're a Saiyan. Where do you come from?
Arthur had already prepared his answer. He had rehearsed the story in his mind enough for it to sound natural.
—I was born in space. My parents died when Frieza destroyed Planet Vegeta, and my ship wandered aimlessly for years. —He took a sip of tea, taking his time—. I spent a lot of time on other planets, surviving however I could. Recently, I heard rumors that Frieza had been defeated at the hands of a Saiyan living on a planet called Earth. So I came looking for answers.
—That Saiyan was Goku —Gohan said, with a hint of nostalgia in his voice—. My father.
Bulma looked at him out of the corner of her eye, and Arthur felt something in her expression shift. There was a spark of something—knowledge? Suspicion?
—Arthur... —Bulma said, as if testing the name on her tongue—. That name isn't very Saiyan, is it?
Arthur felt his stomach tighten slightly. Damn it, the woman was smart.
—Well, the truth is I don't know if my parents gave me a name —he said, staying calm—. So, I had to give myself one; it was because of something I saw on one of the planets I visited.
The explanation seemed to satisfy Bulma, or at least she didn't want to dig deeper. She nodded and went back to focusing on her food.
—And that power you have —Trunks intervened, having been listening in silence—. How did you get it? Gohan told me you were incredibly strong.
—Trunks —Bulma scolded him gently—, don't be rude.
—No, it's fine —Arthur said, flashing a slight smile—. It's not a long story; the most important thing to be strong is to strengthen oneself in the normal state.
Trunks opened his eyes with curiosity.
—Strengthen oneself in the normal state? What about the Super Saiyan?
—That's also important —Arthur said—. The two things go hand in hand; you also have to master the Super Saiyan to avoid energy drain.
The conversation extended through the rest of the dinner. Gohan talked about his father, the battles they fought against Vegeta, against Frieza, and how Goku became a Super Saiyan on Namek.
Trunks listened to every word with the attention of someone who grew up hearing those stories. And Bulma, from time to time, added a comment, an anecdote from when she met Goku, when they were children and the world was a much simpler place.
—You know? —Bulma said at one point, while clearing the empty plates—. Goku always said that Saiyans were proud warriors, but also that they could be good people if given the chance.
—Vegeta took his time —Gohan added with a smile—, but in the end, he changed too.
—Prince Vegeta? —Arthur asked, although he already knew the answer.
—Yes, the Prince of the Saiyans —Trunks said, with a special glint in his eyes—. He was... well, my father... I never met him, but Gohan and my mother have told me a lot about him.
Arthur nodded, adding nothing. He knew what Vegeta represented to mother and son: a fallen warrior, a Saiyan who fought to the end against the Androids and died as a warrior. It wasn't the time to talk about that.
When they finished, Bulma took Arthur to a room in the east wing of the shelter. It was small, with a single bed, a desk, and a table lamp. But it had solid walls, a door that closed, and most importantly: silence. A silence that wasn't the wait for an attack, but one of genuine rest.
—It's not much —Bulma said from the door—, but it's what we have.
—Don't worry, to be honest, it's more than I've had in years —Arthur replied sincerely.
Bulma looked at him for a moment, then simply smiled at him, then just nodded, and before leaving, she added:
—Tomorrow we'll show you around. There's a lot to do, but... for the first time in a long time, there seems to be hope. And that —she paused—, that is thanks to you, Arthur.
When the door closed, Arthur stared at the ceiling for a long time. The exhaustion of battle settled into his bones, but there was something else too. A sensation he hadn't experienced since he arrived in this hellish world.
It wasn't just the victory over the Androids, nor the defeat of Cell. It was the simple fact of being in a place where he didn't have to look over his shoulder every second. Where he didn't have to worry about an energy sphere falling from the sky while he slept.
He collapsed onto the bed, feeling the worn but clean mattress beneath his body.
Tomorrow there would be time for questions, for plans, to figure out what came next, to think about his future life. For now, he simply closed his eyes.
And for the first time in ten years, he slept without fear.