The Weight of a Name
The afternoon sun slants gold through the dusty windows of Orange Star Elementary's east hallway, and Goten drags his feet along the linoleum like it owes him something. His backpack hangs heavy on one shoulder, more from habit than weight — he could carry the whole building if he wanted to — but slouching makes him look like everyone else, and today, like most days, that's the goal.
"Did you see it? The thing on TV last night?" A boy named Ikkaku practically vibrates beside him, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "They showed footage of Mr. Satan's son-in-law holding up a collapsed bridge! With his *bare hands*, Goten! Can you believe that?"
"Wow," Goten says, and manages to sound surprised. "That's incredible."
"My dad says Gohan guy's gotta be secretly working with Hercule. Like a bodyguard or something. No normal person's that strong."
Goten keeps walking, eyes fixed on a crack in the floor tile shaped vaguely like a star. "Yeah. No normal person."
"And have you heard the stories about the OTHER one? The one from years back — Goku? My grandpa swears he saw him fly once, like actually *fly*, no wires, nothing. Says he fought some green guy at a tournament and the sky…
