Goku goes back in time

One month passed in the blink of an eye at Orange Star High School. The sun glinted off the school's rooftops as the semester transitioned into its final stretch. But something had changed—subtly but decisively—in the school's daily rhythm.

It began with the arrival of Tien Shinhan.

In the short month he served as guest instructor, the stoic martial artist had brought a wave of discipline, confidence, and curiosity to the student body. While many joined the class for novelty or ego, only a few endured the grueling pace and unwavering intensity of Tien's training.

And among them, two names stood above the rest: Son Gohan and Trunks Briefs.

From the very first kata to the final week of sparring drills, they had proven themselves time and again. Their movements were polished to perfection, their control absolute. They carried strength not just in muscle but in discipline, in instinct.

"Alright," Tien called out as he stood at the head of the school courtyard, his arms folded. "This is your final group drill. Take it seriously. It will mark the end of your martial arts program."

The students bowed in sync—a gesture that had grown natural over the past month. Even Sharpner, the self-proclaimed prodigy of Hercule's gym, now approached the practice with a certain reverence. That wasn't to say he liked it—but he respected it now.

"Pair up," Tien continued. "Demonstrate everything you've learned."

Whispers darted across the student line.

"Do you think Gohan and Trunks will spar again?"

"I hope so—I learned a lot from last time!"

"No way. That was… scary."

Indeed, the last time Gohan and Trunks sparred, it had become school legend. Though they held back—far, far back—their movements defied what anyone believed possible. Blinding speed. Immaculate timing. Perfect Mastery of their form.

The spectacle had ended quickly, but the impression lingered.

Sharpner walked up to Gohan, hesitant but humble. "Hey… uh… you wanna pair up?"

Gohan blinked. "Me?"

Sharpner rubbed the back of his head. "I mean, I wanna see how much I've improved. I'm not gonna go all out or anything."

Gohan smiled. "Sure. Let's keep it light."

Nearby, Videl watched quietly. Her eyes weren't on the match—they were on Gohan's demeanor. Calm. Warm. Totally unaware of how intimidating he could be. And that frustrated her even more.

Ten minutes later…

Sharpner sat on the ground, wheezing and drenched in sweat. "You… didn't even… move that much…"

Gohan knelt beside him, offering water. "You've gotten stronger. Your stance didn't crumble like last time."

"Yeah," Sharpner admitted. "But you're just a monster."

Across the field, Trunks faced off with another martial arts club member. While not nearly as flashy as before, he showed just enough to keep the illusion alive—that he and Gohan were simply gifted athletes… not galactic defenders trained by their dads.

When the final whistle blew, Tien looked over the courtyard with pride.

"You've all come a long way," he said. "Remember that martial arts isn't about defeating others. It's about improving yourself."

He turned his gaze toward Gohan and Trunks. "And for those already strong—remember: true strength is measured by restraint."

As the students clapped, Tien approached the pair. "You two. You've done well. I'm proud of you both."

Gohan bowed respectfully. "Thank you, Tien."

"You're already warriors," Tien said quietly. "But seeing you blend in with the rest… you're doing your father proud, Gohan."

Trunks smiled but said nothing. He didn't need to. Tien could see it in the way he stood—his posture, calm and confident. The boy from the future had carved out his own place in the present.

As the day came to a close, students gathered for one last chat before going home. Erasa couldn't stop gushing.

"Gohan, Trunks! You guys were awesome!"

"You two should totally enter the next World Martial Arts Tournament!" said another student.

Gohan laughed awkwardly. "I don't think that's a good idea…"

Videl remained quiet, her arms crossed.

"You two sure aren't ordinary," she finally said. "Especially you, Gohan."

He scratched his cheek. "I guess I just grew up around a lot of martial artists."

"Uh-huh," she said with narrowed eyes.

Trunks chuckled beside him. "You'll find out soon enough. He's always been like this."

Erasa piped up. "Wait, Trunks—you're staying near the school, right?"

Trunks nodded. "Yeah. It's a nice change from… where I used to live."

"Well, don't leave Gohan hanging. You're the only one who can keep up with him!"

The group laughed, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt… peaceful. No villains. No monsters. No power-hungry tyrants.

Just a courtyard full of students, enjoying their youth.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Tien stood at the edge of the field and watched them go.

He smiled.

Maybe the world was in good hands after all.

It was a calm Sunday afternoon at the Satan family estate—lavish, grand, and adorned with trophies, plaques, and autographed photos of "the World Champion." The great Hercule Satan was lounging in his favorite massage chair, sipping from a fresh coconut drink with a little umbrella. Peace had reigned for years, and he was still riding the fame from "defeating Cell" seven years ago.

That peace, however, was briefly disturbed when Videl walked into the room, arms crossed, lips pursed in quiet contemplation.

"Hey, kiddo!" Hercule said with a grin. "You got that scowl again. What's wrong? School giving you a hard time?"

Videl didn't answer right away.

"Dad," she said, finally. "Do you remember that guy I told you about? Gohan?"

Hercule's brow furrowed. "The nerdy one with the bad haircut?"

Videl rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Him."

"What about him? He bothering you?" Hercule said, sitting up slightly. "You want me to talk to the school board?"

"No. Actually…" she hesitated. "He beat me. In a spar."

There was a silence.

Hercule blinked.

Then he burst out laughing.

"BWAAAAAHAHAHA! You? You, my little champ, the daughter of the great Hercule Satan—beaten by a nerd?!"

Videl crossed her arms tighter. "I'm not joking, Dad."

Hercule wiped a tear from his eye. "Okay, okay… Maybe he got lucky. Anyone can trip and land a hit." He waved it off. "Don't take it personally. But seriously, Videl—you need to stay focused. Don't get too close to boys, alright? You're still young and famous. They'll distract you."

Videl's glare deepened. "This isn't about boys, Dad. Something's different about him."

"Different how?" Hercule leaned forward, suddenly more serious.

Videl hesitated. She hadn't told him about her suspicions regarding Saiyaman yet. Hercule had already dismissed Gohan's victory. He wasn't exactly someone who'd take "weird theories" seriously.

"…Never mind," she muttered.

"You sure?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

But her mind was racing.

Over the past month, she'd been watching Gohan closely.

It started as a gut feeling. The day he arrived at Orange Star High School coincided with the rise of a mysterious new hero in Satan City: the Golden Fighter who was never seen again and then Saiyaman who appeared the next day.

At first, it seemed absurd. Gohan was awkward, quiet, and wore baggy clothes like he was hiding something. Trunks was someone she also suspected, but she had a feeling Trunks was there because of Gohan.

The way Gohan moved, the way he reacted, especially during martial arts class with Tien, was far too refined to ignore.

And then there was the sparring match.

She remembered every moment. Her attacks never landed. He danced around her like she was in slow motion. No wasted movement, no openings. He didn't even break a sweat.

Since then, she started following him—not in a creepy way, she reasoned—just as a concerned citizen. She tracked his comings and goings, especially after class.

And what she found only made things worse.

Two days earlier...

She saw Gohan walking down a side street toward the market district. Just as she was about to confront him, a scream rang out. A robbery in progress.

Before she could react, a blur passed her—cloak flapping in the wind, helmet glinting under the sun.

Saiyaman.

He intercepted the robbers and disarmed them in a flash. One punch, one sweep. It was over in seconds.

By the time the police arrived, Saiyaman was gone.

But when she rushed to the alley—Gohan was gone too.

And when he returned to school the next day, he claimed he had gone to buy apples… now, why would a guy who lives in a mountain covered in fruits buy a fruit? Something was definitely weird.

Now, with her father brushing off her concerns, Videl's suspicions only intensified.

In her room that night, she flipped through her notebook—labeled in bold: Gohan Investigation. Notes, times, distances. Connections between Saiyaman's appearances and Gohan's class absences. Photos of Gohan entering alleys and disappearing. All signs pointed to one conclusion.

"…Could Gohan really be the Great Saiyaman?"

She stared at her pinboard, where she had placed a blurry snapshot of the hero. It was taken during a flying rescue. The figure was in mid-air, arm extended, cape fluttering.

She narrowed her eyes.

"If it is him… why hide it? What's he protecting?"

For someone so secretive, Gohan was also strangely kind. He never gloated. Never showed off. Never even seemed comfortable being praised. She recalled how Krillin one of West City's secret police -she knew about because of her fathers connection- once visited him at school—one of the few people who called him "Gohan-san" with casual respect. That visit made her rethink everything.

She clenched her fist.

"I'm going to find out. One way or another."

Because if Gohan was the Saiyaman… she wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily.