Events on Earth had fallen into a near humdrum drone of almost-activity. Bulma tried over and over to reestablish contact with her son's(well, she thought of it that way)ship. Yamcha and Videl were charged with looking after Chichi; in truth, looking was often all they could do. Chichi busied herself with the task of cleaning every room in the Capsule Corporation after Bulma had insisted she stay there. Never mind that there was not a cluttered room to be found; each was swept, mopped, dusted and polished each in turn.

Bra did her best to distract Pan, who, of course, was having none of that. Her presence could make Chichi forget about cleaning for up to an hour at a time, until her thoughts took the inevitable turn toward Gohan and she returned to bucket and broom. Yamcha either couldn't comprehend her behavior or didn't wish to; he found excuses to stay with Bulma on her own ritual.

"She's in the east wing labs now," he sighed, sitting on the edge of Bulma's console. "Aren't you worried she's going to break something?"

"She's never broken anything cleaning her own home, she won't break anything cleaning mine," Bulma muttered. "Aren't you supposed to be with her?"

"Videl's taking care of her today. Said she had something to tell her that might help."

"Can't imagine what…communication's still dead." There was probably a more tactful way to phrase it, but to Bulma's way of thinking it was best to be bluntly accurate. Yamcha shrugged uneasily, but chose not to speculate. There were certain things one could tell by ki sense, but he didn't dare voice his suspicions for fear of being wrong.

In the west wing(to avoid intrusion)Juuhachigou lay supine on her cot, the thick leather straps dangling beneath it: Krillin had refused to "hogtie" his wife again. Besides, he'd pointed out, she could break any strap they set to her; there was no hope in or point to attempting to control her. Krillin stood vigil at her bedside when he wasn't taking care of Marron. Lately he'd made a habit of eating and sleeping in that room; Juuhachigou's distress seemed to be hitting its peak, and sometimes…sometimes he could talk to her, calm her just a bit, just enough that she wouldn't destroy anything.

On this day, however, there seemed nothing to succor the failing android. After entrusting Marron to Roshi's temporary car, Krillin bolted the door and sat beside Juuhachi, patting her clenched hand helplessly.

"Come on, Juuhachi…please come back to me…please…"

Juuhachigou hissed in response, teeth clenched, body rigid and shivering. Gradually the shiver worked itself into a shudder, then a shake; the bed-frame rattled. Arching tightly, Juuhachi drew a deep breath to scream, opened her mouth wide…

…and emitted only a soft cry of surprise, falling limply back to the cot, eyes wide, breathing hard but no longer harshly. Krillin waited breathlessly, hand still clasped on her wrist, torn between hope, fear, and wearying confusion; he managed, at length, to swallow.

"Juuhachi?" he whispered, voice dry. Juuhachigou blinked slowly, took a careful breath and turned her head enough to see him.

"You know what this means, don't you?" she murmured.

"Are…are you okay now? Is that it?" Hard, it was, so hard not to hope foolishly…

After another slow breath Juuhachi replied. "I'm okay. I…think." She moved her hand to lightly touch his and Krillin clasped it tightly, his own hand trembling only slightly. Juuhachigou sighed and sank back into her pillow, eyes shut.

"So…" she said quietly, "either he's dead…or wishing he were."

* * * * *

Chilli was not concerned with the possible fringe benefits of Juunana's punishment; indeed his suffering now was of no consequence to her once it had begun. Justice(what she made of it)meted out, she was now free to turn her attention to more important matters; namely, the trinity, which by all logic, stood(or in Goten's case, lay)before her now. The others were unimportant; they could live, if they so desire. The trinity, however, had to be dispersed.

Of course, to disperse, body and soul would have to be destroyed. That was her vision and her mission and her destiny. Knowing Destiny to be a fickle institution, she'd taken no chances…her planet became the staging area. When that meant it had to be cleared, she made it so without a second thought. What loss was a dying race in face of what was to come? Such sacrifices were to be expected. Such a pity that no one else seemed to see it that way…

A thin wretched cry distracted her momentarily; how irritating, the android was still fighting. The small child, Kabu, was watching and apparently seeing things, judging by the expression on his face. Trunks, it had to be noted, was evidently unconcerned with Juunanagou; he watched Kabu instead, frozen. Well, harmless enough, then…

"Lidivy!" Chilli said sharply, snapping Takira's body to attention. "You may go now. I have no further need of you."

Uneasy but—looking at Juunana writhing on the tile—unwilling to gainsay her, Lidivy released Trunks and bolted for the nearest passageway. Trunks, as Lidivy had feared, tried to follow…still a score to settle. Chilli scowled and abruptly Trunks lurched to a halt, hands hovering close to his head. He wasn't in pain, no, but the sensation was new and more than a bit distracting. He turned quickly and leveled a blue glare at the Retsujin.

"You're the one doing that, aren't you?"

"Yes," she murmured, eyeing him. "How very odd. You feel no pain, Saiyan?"

"No, I do not," Trunks retorted. "It's doing you no good so stop it. You don't care if I kill your shape-shifter, anyhow."

"True enough," she said lightly. "However, I wish to know more about…" She paused, then smiled. "Never mind. I will gain that information elsewhere." Her tail twitched once…the situation was turning out quite well. Only the less savory work to do and she would be able to rest…

It is a peculiarity of such situations that perceived relief can if not impair, at least cloud both judgement and power of observation. The fact that Juunanagou had continued his agonies, though vaguely noted, was not analyzed. In point of fact, his pain should have ceased the moment after it had begun. The complicating factor(and the one on which Chilli had not counted)was the fact that the cyborg was actually prolonging the affliction himself, with very specific purpose for which his employer ought to have been grateful.

He was attempting to maintain his hold on Gohan. He was also failing.

By the time Chilli noticed, Gohan was standing firmly, gaze even and harder than it had been in years. He didn't look at Trunks or Goten; he'd seen enough. Clenching his fists, he began to growl, power level rising in slow halting patterns. Juunanagou choked, gasped, and wrenched fully out of consciousness; the air around Gohan exploded with sufficient energy that Chilli, attempting to stand, was toppled forcibly back into the throne, frail body shuddering.

Gohan roared, head thrown back, for no more definite reason than the fact that he could. Identity, heritage, will, everything that had drained from him now rushed back in euphoric flood. He was himself again, and whole. Panting, he fixed Chilli with a death glare and stalked forward. Rather than attempting to run, as he'd anticipated, she stood, coldly determined.

"A volunteer. Very well, then, son of duality, you will be the first." Bracing against the stone dais, she bowed her head, slitting her eyes. The response was immediate; Gohan, still so recently freed from control, stumbled, gasping. With a pleased swish of her tail, the Retsujin began to steadily increase the effect; time at last to finish this…body trembling with the effort of her mind, she pressed Gohan inexorably toward his death.

…and Gohan, Saiyajin that he was, refused to die.

A hoarse shout tore the air as he lunged, teeth bared, ignoring the pain, ignoring the awful feeling of dissolution as his mind began to slip, foundations crumbling. Chilli flung up both arms, throwing herself into him completely. If she had to take him down with her, then by the gods she would…

The overall effect was as unnerving as it was unnatural: even as Gohan struck her, he was the one who screamed. Chilli's pain was not long…decades of training her mind could not save her crushed, ki-burning body. A last ungodly shriek—from Gohan—marked her exit from the corporeal world. It was impressive only as an anticlimax; it seemed she'd put up no fight at all.

Gohan slumped across the throne, breathing gone shallow and quick. For several moments he lay where he had fallen, body twisted slightly, face turned toward the chair's high back. Trunks took a step forward and paused, unsure if Gohan wanted to be touched just now. Trunks made what cursory inspection he could from his vantage point; Gohan's ki was back to normal, he'd sustained no physical injury. It appeared the worst the fight had left him were smudges on his hands: the last evidence of Chilli's body.

A heavy groan drew Trunks' attention from Gohan to Juunanagou, now struggling to sit up, one shaky hand held to his forehead, eyes squeezed shut. Somehow, Trunks mused, what looked like painful recovery on anyone else looked like a simple hangover on Juunana. At length the cyborg opened his eyes, giving Trunks a start; the pale blue irises were now very nearly white…eerie.

"She's dead?" Juunana croaked, and hastily cleared his throat.

Trunks merely nodded, eyeing him. After all, it had not been an hour since the android had been quite clearly on the 'other' side of this battle.

"Ugh…about time," Juunana grunted, managing at last to pull himself up to sit cross-legged and look Trunks in the eye. "Don't start, kid. I worked for her…worked. Past tense." He glanced at the still figure sprawled over the dais and frowned.

"He's fine," Trunks said in answer to the silent question.

"He's the one who killed her?"

"Yes."

Juunanagou sighed and lurched to his feet, reeling. "Then he's not fine."

"What…"

"Hey! Gohan!" Juunana shouted. Gohan responded slowly, movements jerky, uncontrolled, as he turned enough to sit on the throne and peer at them. Juunanagou turned away with a soft sound of disgust; Trunks stared in fascinated horror. No pain glazed Gohan's eyes now, no anger, no bitterness.

There was nothing—simply nothing—there.