Authors’ Notes: I used a metaphor mixed with the erotica of this fic, consider it flavoring of the passion. Story is based off of “The Hobo’s: Sexy Car Wash” by Daeva-kun and the universe behind it.

*****

The sky was young and the world was turning. Green gave birth to an ever florescent array of life. The countryside was busy with people being people, animals being animals, and more often than you think animals being people and people being animals. An endless scope unfolding as the day gave up to a bright sunny morning. There in the city was such energy, such vibrant life, such enclosing mysteries.

Oh boy and the Saiyan’s, such magnificent animals. They act like people, but they are actually such proud and unbound animals. I must say that in all truth if they are not fighting, they are mating like two stars colliding. Both struggling for supremacy in their roles and each succeeding in their own dominance; both awaiting their chance to command. The dominances of the wolf and the dominance of the moon are that of the Saiyan’s.

The wolf calling to the moon demanding it come to Earth so it can dig’s its claws onto it surface and lay claim, but the is moon always beyond reach. The demands a more powerful display from the wolf to even have permission to coexist with the moon. The moon is always the night stalker of the wolf teasing and tangling the right of power every time it feels like it. The moon can never give in thought or else it would become a dull shine less slut. Becoming an effortless prey, why would a wolf how for that?

There has never been a Saiyan who wasn’t a wolf or a moon. Trunks a Saiyan parented by a Human and Saiyan has been given the unique balance of the human moon and the Saiyan wolf. The human moon is that of a slut, effortless for the Saiyan wolf and Trunk’s instincts demand a challenge, they demand a moon. Gohan was born of both a Human moon and wolf with the mixture of a Saiyan wolf disguised that of a moon. A mixture unheard of but it demands to be told so that the children of Earth may learn of love, lust, and the sex that we all howl over.

The scene an old yard surrounded by broken down buildings and hopeless businesses and our wolves Trunks and Gohan idly waiting for business. A sign next to an empty spot says ‘Car Wash 5 Bucks’. Trunks his hair an odd mixture of violet and pink tied up into a knot to keep his flowing mane from sticking to his face and head. Wearing black shorts cut from his former black sweat pants, breathing becoming a steadying declining worry. The air was humid, too humid for most to find the will to breathe, Trunks felt the violent heat try and burn his skin.

Looking at his body and seeing slight reddening from the sun spotting his body, a sense of contempt for the sun as if it was a mosquito. Standing on the carpet of unkempt grass waiting for any sign of anyone willing to pay for what they were selling. Gohan was a little less enthusiastic sitting near the buckets of water with the sponges and rags already inside. Soapy foam gathering at the top of the buckets leaning back he gave out a weary sigh.

Both found waiting far more exhausting than the effort put into labor. The only source of amusement at that time was for Trunks looking at the hips, groin, and ass of Gohan being concealed by his red cut off sweat pants. Licking his lips he remembered the tangy musky length of Gohan’s cock in his mouth, those heavy balls would squirm from his attention. Crossing his legs hoping to cover his half soft penis, Gohan was more into the hope for money.

“Just one car”, Gohan said “it would all be worth it for just one car”.

Trunk gave an agreeing grunt but more from him rubbing his leg against his penis which soon became more half hard then half soft. Wishing no car would come, Trunks wanted to put Gohan onto the ground and roughly burry himself into him; it was too hot not to fuck anyway. Then a car was sighted, driving down that isolated deserted road and seemingly drawn to the ‘Car Wash 5 Bucks’ sign. The car was a creamy vanilla color, black windshield and windows made the passenger anonymous.

The car parked close but not directly near Gohan’s and Trunk’s work area. A pigeon of a man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and knee length shorts walked out from the car and proceeded to his apartment building.

“Wait”! Gohan called after the man, “don’t you want your car washed”?

The man looked at Gohan as if he came out of nowhere and looked at the sign and their operation, then with a snide snuff he said, “no… thank you, boy”.

“A come on we’ve been waiting all day, surely you would like to drive a clean car”, Gohan said trying his best to sell a peanut to a nut salesman.

“Are you saying that my car isn’t clean”?! The stubby man declared, “Listen here you punks get out of here before I call the cops and charge you for operating a business without a license”!

Gohan wasn’t the type to push back on such petty matters but Trunks on the other hand was, going to the pigeon man’s car he bent down and proceeded to lift it off the ground. The stubby little man looked in terror at the sigh before him; Trunks lifting the car over his head looked at the man with contempt.

“Listen you fat old man, this car is getting cleaned. Either we wash it or its going into the ocean your choice”! Trunks said with an air of finality.

The man gave in not wanting his car to be destroyed said squealing, “No! I’ll let you two wash my car… I’ll pay double just please don’t destroy my baby”!

Satisfied Trunks carried the car to their work station right next to the sign and set it down.

Gohan not wanting to seem as intimidating as Trunks said, “don’t worry we’ll take care of your car. It will be done shortly”.

“Good”! Squalled the little, fat, balding, pigeon man, “I am going to be back in a half hour if it’s not done by then I’ll…”.

Trunks gave a glare that made the man trail off and hurry to his apartment building.

Giving Trunks a disappointing look, and Trunks returning it with a mischievous smile, Gohan returned the smile as he pinned up his hair. Doing his hair in a little loop knot similar to Trunks he went to a bucket of the foaming water and took a rag. Kneeling down he proceeded in cleaning the tires, Trunks took his example and started with a rag in hand with the other side of the car hood. It felt good finally being able to put their muscles and energy to use, Trunks got into it as he worked from one side to the other.

Sexy tight magnificent buns caught his eye as he sighted Gohans ass just bulging out of those tight shorts. Opening his mouth he breathed hard as he fantasized about taming that ass, full frontal mounting. Hard core thrusting and a sweaty soapy cumming inside that tight ass feeling the pure pressure force his cock out but pure girth keeping him in the fray, a boner growing in his shorts Trunks needed satisfaction.

“Gohan”? Trunks asked pressing his groin against the car’s front.

Looking up at Trunks Gohan looked a bit miffed to have been interrupted, “yeah Trunks what is it”?

Trying to disguise his horny face for one of weary dissatisfaction with the job, which fooled Gohan who stood up and waiting for a response.

“There is a spot on the hood I can’t seem to remove can you help me get it out”? Trunks asked.

Gohan rolled his eyes and nodded as he went over to the front to examine the hood, looking at its now shinning surface he couldn’t see any spot. Then he felt his moist shorts being pulled from around his hips. Then teeth nibbling at his ass cheeks suckling around, and moving towards his entrance, which felt so damn good; Trunks knew how to do it so that your ass would tense and your groin would stretch and balls would squirm.

“Damn… Trunks mmmhhf, I can’t stand it when you do that to me”, Gohan said trying to be mad but feeling his ass squirmed sensitively.

Trunks then stuck his tongue in Gohan’s flexing hole, it tasted like sweat had been seeping into his bowels. The animal instincts of Gohan made his ass open up wide, awaiting its stimulation. The need for dominating the dominated one made Gohan reject Trunks tongue in his ass, the need to force Trunks inside him with his cock was stronger. Pull his head from his ass he brought his head to rest on his shoulder.

Knowing the gentle growling from Gohan to be that of assertion for desire made Trunks pulled his shorts down showing off his flexing ass, Trunks shorts gripped his thighs as Gohan’s red shorts lay on the ground; Trunk hugged his upper body to him as he lay on top of him and on the hood stabbing his cock around Gohans ass. The gaping maw sought out the cockhead and bit down hard, sucking Trunk’s cock inside of Gohan. The sensation of being fulfilled with every motion of Trunks made Gohan whimper in ecstasy, Trunks wrapped his arms around Gohans neck and rode his ass. At first it was a gentle session of Saiyan lovemaking Trunk steady thrusts made Gohan sensitive and begging for a wilder fuck.

Trunks was dominating at first but Gohans turned vicious he pressed Trunks hips to his own and forced a rhythm of thrusting that made Trunks ache from movement. Saiyan fangs were pulsing in Gohans skull as his submitting dominance made him the benefiter and Trunks the sufferer. Pain was pleasure for the wolf Trunks now and the now revealed submitting wolf Gohan had pleasure in Trunks pain.

A cock of pure blood colored scarlet forced itself in and out of Gohan begging for a mutual satisfaction and release from their paradise in hell. Then a cork eased and Trunks felt his muscles grow and flex getting ready to burst along with his desire. Gohan was a demon who wanted to suck Trunks of all his powers, such a powerful love made hateful lust possible for them.

“Fuck my balls”! Trunks wailed as he suddenly felt what he could offer pour out of him.

Balls twitching Trunks felt him relax and a sense of being completely refreshed took over him. Giving a gratifying sigh kissing Gohan on his panting mouth he rose and put on his shorts and looked at Gohan. A role fulfilled both owned one another, both had their love given and received. Gohan recovered soon his ass was relaxed and happy; a euphoria of affection filled his chest and stomach. Standing up on newly strengthened legs Gohan looked himself over he happened to cum all over the car and his ass was leaking chunks of cum.

Pulling up his shorts he felt the oozy Trunk juice fragment inside him as he began washing the hood. Their time was expiring soon and he didn’t want their efforts to go for naught. Trunks joined him and they had just finished washing off the soap when the guy emerged from his building. Standing by their handiwork as the pigeon man walked over. Inspecting his car he found himself satisfied greatly at her clean polish.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out ten bucks and handed it to Trunks, “here” the man said as he go into his car.

The money was reward enough for Gohan and Trunks as they started carrying the buckets and rags as the man drove off again. Gohan let his hair down as he felt the trickles of sweat and water trail down his back. Motioning with his head for Trunks to follow, Trunks sort of lagged behind so he could see the oozy wet cum spot grow on Gohan’s shorts.

Story Concluded…

*****

There were perks to having your homework finished, which usually considered free time as one of the best courses of action. For Gohan, this meant curling up on the couch with a good book and reading through it with the lights on overhead at ten in the evening with the dogs barking away in the distance in an almost peaceful way.

He smiled, placing a cold glass of water on the coffee-table, taking a seat on his couch, getting ready to spend the night with his favourite pastime. His mother had presented him with a series that he had not been able to get around to reading. Films for the books had already come out, but as a true nerd, he wanted to read the books before even thinking about watching the movies. Apparently, they were about this little boy that had his parents killed when he was small and had received a lightning scar. He became a wizard, according to his mother.

Whatever the case, he was told that he just had to read it. So, here he sat, pulling The Philosopher’s Stone toward him and cracking it open. He read the short synopsis before beginning and then looked over the names of the chapters, as if to prepare for their contents.
Gohan admitted, it did look interesting, at least at first glance.

He moved his back to rest against the arm of the couch, holding the book before him and turning to the first page.

*Ding Dong*.

“The boy who lived -” Gohan stopped, raising his head as his doorbell rang throughout the house and caused a confused college student to blink. Gohan moved to stand, placing his book down on the table and making his way out of the living room and to the door.

He peeked through the peep-hole to see his purple-haired family friend standing outside his door with a rather unpleasant expression on his face. Immediately, he began to wonder what could have brought the other to his doorstep with such a downcast emotion.

There was no way that Gohan could have known what he was doing by opening the door to his friend, but he did it all the same, slowly turning the large lock and then the smaller, pulling open the door until he saw all of Trunks Briefs standing before him.

Trunks’ expression changed from dark and broody to a happy grin. “Ah, good. I was afraid that you would not be home, Gohan.” He looked behind him at the darkness not illuminated by streetlamps. “I am really sorry for dropping by unexpectedly and so late… but I was hoping I could ask you to let me stay here for a few days.” His smile faltered, but he managed to salvage it.

He was not fooling anyone. Gohan could tell that it was forced.

Indeed, the fact that Trunks was standing before him with no obvious means of transportation had Gohan look outside with a curious gaze, frowning slightly. “No problem, but… how did you get here? I don’t see your car.”

Trunks rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… the thing is that dad kicked me out of the house before I had a chance to grab anything like the keys to my Mustang or any clothes.”

Now that Gohan could get a better look at him, Trunks did look extremely exhausted and quite warred. It must have been a rough conversation with Vegeta. “It’s not like I could let you just wander the streets, now can I?” Gohan smirked. “What kind of friend would I be?”

“A poor one?” Trunks managed a rather teasing jab.

Gohan chuckled, nodding. “Come on in.” He moved aside to let his friend enter through; closing the door once he had entered, locking it as it had been before.

Trunks stood in the entry way, looking around to see if anything had changed since he had last been in his friend’s home. He could find nothing and simply watched Gohan’s movements at the door.

The now host proceeded into the living room, taking an immediate left and heading into the kitchen for the refrigerator.

“Look… I’m really sorry for dumping this all on you…” Trunks followed, stopping just behind Gohan, resting his hip against the counter with a grateful smile – this one real – on his face.

Gohan shook his head, as if to say that it was fine and that he didn’t mind – which he didn’t – and turned his head to smile back at him, opening the fridge and peeking his head inside and biting his lip thoughtfully. “How about a beer?”

The idea of alcohol seemed to cause Trunks a bit of trouble, struggling with it, at least, from what Gohan could see. After a minute or two and Gohan eventually raising his gaze to stare at his friend, he voiced a completely different thought. “Are you sure you don’t have anything… harder? If you catch my drift.”

This brought out a light chuckle from his college host. “What kind of a question is that? Of course I do. All you have to do is ask.” At that, he reached in and grabbed one of his beers (wishing to stay relatively sober and perhaps a bit buzzed) and pulled out, closing the refrigerator door and standing on his toes to reach the cabinet up above and removed a bottle of Scotch. “Will this do?”

“Heck yes!” Nodding happily, Trunks walked forward, a bright grin on his features as he took the bottle in his hands and stared at it in an admiring way. He knew that Gohan wasn’t much of a drinker, but that was okay because he always had something in stock for Trunks to satisfy his thirst for it. He’d been in Gohan’s house many times, in fact, enough times that he walked straight to the cabinet that held the glasses and obtained one.

“Well, you enjoy that, ‘cause I’m going to stay sober, if you don’t mind.”

Trunks turned around and playfully stuck out his tongue, pouring himself a large glass of just plain alcohol.

That was, after all, how he preferred it. Most people liked to have the alcohol mixed into other drinks, but not Trunks. To him, the taste of alcohol was a saintly thing, only deluded by the addition of anything else. Whether it was soda, oranges, or anything else, really, it was just a huge waste.

Gohan rolled his eyes, walking into the living room and taking a seat on the couch while patiently waiting for Trunks to follow, which he soon did after scavenging around the kitchen, gently plopping down and putting his feet up on the coffee-table.

This brought Gohan to bite his lip and stare at where Trunks’ feet now lay, wondering why Trunks had been over to his house countless times and yet he still didn’t understand that he hated it when the other put his feet there. He managed to keep from telling him off and rolled his eyes, ignoring it as best as he could.

He took a giant gulp from his drink and then glanced around, seeing that the television wasn’t on and then noticing that there was a book set out on the end of said coffee-table. “So… what did I interrupt you doing?”

Gohan shrugged. “Not much of anything. Mum keeps raving about these books and how great they are, but I’d never been able to get around to reading them. So, she gave me the series and I was just getting started on it. Like I said. Not much.” He pressed his back against the back of the couch, raising up an arm and draping it over the top in a comfortable fashion.

It really wasn’t that big of a deal. He’d much rather be hanging out with his friend anyway.

Trunks raised an eyebrow and scoffed at it. “That seems like such a long waste of time. I don’t understand why you just don’t watch the films like a normal person. There’s no point in reading the books.”

This small statement had Gohan frown, shaking his head rather vigorously. “I would have to completely disagree. If you think about the information that are in books and how much the films cut up and shove it all into less than 2 hours, you realize that there’s a lot missing. There are very few that actually depict the book well.”

Trunks rolled his eyes. “Right. Like what?”

“I think that the 10th Kingdom did a very good job keeping to the storyline. It is in three disks, but hell, that’s well worth the time. I felt like I didn’t even have to read the book, but I had anyway.”

“Of course.” Trunks couldn’t help but tease.

Gohan rolled his eyes, picking up his beer and taking a sip of it with a soft exhale after it went down. “Well… whatever. How about we watch a movie or something to keep ourselves entertained? It’s better than just sitting here making small talk, yeah?”

His guest shrugged, gulping down the rest of his glass and sitting up to refill it. “A movie sounds good, but do you have something in mind? Or are you just throwing it out there?” Trunks smirked, swirling around his drink before taking another large gulp.

“You’re into action, aren’t you? I don’t have a bad selection, but most of mine are about-“

“Chick-flicks?” Trunks interrupted, poking fun at his friend.

Gohan blushed, once again rolling his eyes as he pulled out his movie drawer and started to sift through what he had seen recently and what he might be interested in watching. He wished that Trunks would offer to come and pick a film because often Trunks would just tell him to pick another movie instead of offering any help toward the actually choice. “I’m not sure what you’d be into, but I do have…” He trailed off, finding something that might catch his guest’s attention.

Trunks raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. “Yeah?”

“How about…” Gohan bit on the inside of his mouth and pulled out ‘The Nightmare before Christmas’. “This movie?”

He held it up for Trunks to see.

However, despite Gohan’s polite and kind gesture, Trunks did not even look at the cover or the title before agreeing to it. Since Trunks was an argumentative person, Gohan frowned, rubbing the back of his neck as he glared at his friend. It made Gohan wish that he’d picked any movie that he’d first seen instead of weighing the stupid pros and cons of picking a film for entertainment. If he could have chosen anything and the other would have been fine with it, what was the point?

“Sure. I’m up for anything.” All he wanted to do was drink the alcohol he was given and get into such a drunken stupor that he wouldn’t remember the fight he had had with Vegeta and what it was about. Spending time with his friend was definitely a much better alternative to the shouting match that he and his father broke into. It was a little depressing to think that he’d fought with his father about something so silly and stupid as… well, it was not important. The point of being where he was was to forget the stupid argument.

Gohan kneed the drawer closed and strode over to the DVD player, bending over to press the eject button and waiting until he could insert the disk into the slot when it popped out. He stayed focused on it until the slot retreated back into the system.

Trunks’ like-wise purple eyes fell to half-mast and then blinked softly as he eyed the nice rump before him. He had a clear view of it and as he noticed that he was actually staring at his host’s ass, he raised an eyebrow, as if to reproach his action. Maybe he was already drunk, and after two glasses of Scotch, who knew anymore?

“Alright, it’s in. Hopefully you’ll like it.” Gohan straightened up, turning around and heading back over to the couch where he took an Indian stance instead, folding his legs under his buttock and then folding his arms before him while pressing his back into the couch’s cushion.

His purple haired guest did what he could to keep his eyes from drifting away from the television screen and toward Gohan, but the more he drank, the more he found it difficult to do anything that his brain commanded anymore.

Just as the monsters in Halloween Town began to sing about “Making Christmas”, Trunks began to slide down and lose all of his bodily functions. He hiccuped, bringing Gohan’s attention to his inebriated guest. If Trunks was even watching the move anymore, Gohan was not able to tell.

He just sat there – if you could count slumped to the point that his back was where his buttock was a second before and his head where his back was as sitting -, eyes often flashing up and then back down as if they were attempting to keep the body they were attached to awake.

Trunks pulled his drink up to his lips and missed his lips, the alcohol spilling over his neck and shirt.

Gohan rolled his eyes, reaching over and wresting the glass from his inebriated friend. “You’re obviously too drunk, time to get you into bed.” Gohan shook his head with a loving smile, as if he could not believe that Trunks had done that to himself. He stood, moving to turn off the television and did the same with the DVD player as well.

Trunks just mumbled in jest, “You… but… me… we… that… skeleton…,” but each sentence was as incomprehensible as the last. Even if Gohan had all night long to decipher them, he might have been able to, but Trunks was libel to choke on the alcohol he was still trying to throw down his gullet.

“Uh huh, okay, Trunks. Let’s get you up and into a nice warm bed.” He emphasized warm in hopes that Trunks would find that he was cold and would feel more inclined to get someplace warmer.

Gohan gripped Trunks’ underarm, pulling him up to stand, taking the other arm and placing it over his neck while helping him to hovel toward the stairs.

As far as he could tell, his plan worked. Perhaps a little too well.

The idea of getting warm caused Trunks to more hug his host, almost groping him with his random movements. Because of this, it was extremely difficult. It seemed that Trunks wasn’t even able to control his legs and it might’ve just been easier for Gohan to carry him bridal-style up the stairs and into the bedroom, but Trunks had always disliked being treated in such a womanly way.

The mere thought was cute and in many ways a form of hilarity.

Gohan reached the bedroom door, opening it with one hand in an awkward fashion, then using his arm to push it ajar and practically having to pull Trunks to the bed. It was hard to even get him to sit on it, but he managed it, before attempting to get some night clothes for the two of them.

Trunks seemed to cry out and startled Gohan as he turned around and saw Trunks looking quite displeased.

“What?”Nothing seemed to be wrong…

“Don’t… don’t go…”

His warmth must have made Trunks completely aware that he was in the room with someone. Gohan couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for just trying to get a pair of clothes. He returned to the bed and climbed onto the bed. “Fine… I’m here.”

Those bright purple orbs gazed at him before he fell onto his back with a quiet girlish giggle, putting on a stupid smile.

“Y’know… I have seen you drunk so many times before and you always act extremely odd. Why do you keep doing it? Aren’t you… embarrassed?” Gohan figured there was no harm in asking the question, but as he could have guessed, the answer was odd.

“I’m on Gohan’s bed…” Trunks slurred. “Never thought I’d be ‘ere…”

This statement had Gohan stop in his attempt to place Trunks under the covers.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Trunks said nothing at first, lolling his head to the right and then to the left again, keeping that stupid smirk on his face. “Don’t tell

Gohan… but…” He giggled again, pulling his legs up into his chest and hugged them against him.

Gohan waited, blinking curiously. “Don’t tell him… what?”

“Don’t tell ‘im that I love ‘im.” He said this and then giggled again.

It was such an odd thing to say. Gohan didn’t know what to say. What could he say? If he said anything, the boy wouldn’t remember a lick of it in the morning. And if one followed that logic, why not just tell him the truth?

“That’s funny.” He climbed into the bed pulling the balled up Trunks to the top of the bed and lifted the covers up to soon cover him with them, taking his comforter and draping that over the drunken boy.

Trunks then slowly unclenched his body and spread out a little more, grabbing the pillow and hugging it as close as he could to his body.

“I never told you, Trunks, because you were always being hit on by women. Whenever we would walk through the halls the girls would just swoon the moment you looked at them.” Gohan turned off the lamp –the one that he had accidentally left on that morning – climbing under the covers as well. “I’d get so jealous that I only wanted you to look… look at me. So… yeah. I guess you could say that I love you too.”

The drunk shook his head, letting go of the pillow and instead hugging Gohan’s torso and pressing his cheek against the other’s chest. “Dad found out… that I like him… he didn’t like that. Didn’t like that…. though…”

With that, everything seemed to click.

Trunks came here to me because he liked me. Vegeta and he must have been fighting about this… I wonder if he found out from dad… Gohan’s eyes softened as he ran his fingers through Trunks’ long purple hair. He won’t remember telling me this… but fuck if I care.

“I love you, Trunks.” Gohan made sure that he looked serious as Trunks raised his head and looked into his dark brown hues. “Forget what Vegeta thinks, it doesn’t matter as long as you’re happy. If you’re happy here… with me… you can live here until the end of time.”

Trunks pressed his face into Gohan’s chest, mumbling something.

Gohan caught the end of it and just smiled.

There were some tears falling from his eyes. “I love Gohan… Don’t… don’t tell me he doesn’t. Don’t…”

Gohan parted some of the purple hair and kissed his forehead. “It’s alright, Trunks. He does. And he always will.”

Trunks nodded his head and it seemed to take him very little time to pass out in Gohan’s arms, falling into a deep slumber.

It wasn’t until an hour or two later that Gohan finally began to follow. He just laid there with his arm cradling Trunks’ sleeping head, watching the other slumber peacefully.

Author’s Notes: This story is done as a tribute to the novel Mysterious Island by Jules Verne, and is written in collaboration with Lord Truhan.


“Les héros imaginaires de Daniel de Foé ou de Wyss, aussi bien que les Selkirk et les Raynal, naufragés à Juan-Fernandez ou à l’archipel des Auckland, ne furent jamais dans un dénuement aussi absolu. Ou ils tiraient des ressources abondantes de leur navire échoué, soit en graines, en bestiaux, en outils, en munitions, ou bien quelque épave arrivait à la côte qui leur permettait de subvenir aux premiers besoins de la vie. Ils ne se trouvaient pas tout d’abord absolument désarmés en face de la nature. Mais ici, pas un instrument quelconque, pas un ustensile. De rien, il leur faudrait arriver à tout !”

“The imaginary heroes of Daniel Defoe or of Wyss, as well as Selkirk and Raynal shipwrecked on Juan Fernandez and on the archipelago of the Aucklands, were never in such absolute destitution. Either they had abundant resources from their stranded vessels, in grain, cattle, tools, ammunition, or else some things were thrown up on the coast which supplied them with all the first necessities of life. But here, not any instrument whatever, not a utensil. From nothing they must supply themselves with everything.”

-Jules Verne, The Mysterious Island (1874)

If one were to observe the colonists the last period of hours they would notice the five striding under a now clear sky. Disheveled they were extremely grateful to see the elements had cleared they now trekked back towards the Grotto. Glad for their number had increased from four to five. With Gohan in the middle of the group, they marched with Trunks and Yamcha towards the front, followed by 17, then brought up in the rear by Satan.

This was a sharp contrast to their plight of earlier. Pummeled mercilessly by rain for two days they had remained in the cave where they found their engineer. At that time, the entire atmosphere seemed to conspire against them, saturating every square inch with wetness. Although the rain remained outside the dampness left them shivering and huddling together for warmth. According to Gohan’s advice they had stayed put and had prevented compromising their health. Following this principle had cost the colonists ample chances to find more provisions, considering the state of the weather.

For food they had only ate what was easily obtainable. When they had exhausted their supply of food, they brought the resorted to cave mosses and some species of mushroom within reach that Trunks deemed edible. The flesh of the mushrooms was pale and bland with just an aftertaste of that flavor most botanists could ascribe to members of the fungi family.

The colonists had given the engineer a larger share of what they found in proportion to their own of their fare in order to aid in his recovery. Phosphorescent moss on the walls steadily lit them with blue dim light, much like that of the pod long ago. It gave them a familiar sense of comfort in the memory because they had overcome that ordeal. This was far less of a problem then marking time in a search for the place they now called home, even with the uncertain weather. Air was charged with mist and tasted like stone for most of the time. Only grim grayness seemed to penetrate the angry clouds and battering wind that howled against the opening. To talk over the wind at times they would have to shout to be heard.

Again, the colonists entered a sort of semi hibernation as they waited out the storm. Until the grey at last went away and sun penetrated through the thinning clouds and its first rays actually reached the cave. They emerged blinking at it and delighted how it warmed their faces. That had been earlier this day when they began their trek back. All the way Gohan glanced at the features that were once hidden in darkness visible in the full light of day.

Narrowing brown eyes Gohan shaded them with one hand. He peered up at the branches of the trees they now walked under. Not necessarily for the purpose of knowing what they were but for minute breaks or scattered pieces of wood that would indicate disruption from the passage of a craft roaring down to a possible crash. He scanned for bits of metallic debris or plastic that could have happened to rain down if there was a crash.

Beside him, Trunks also examined the species under daylight for a different purpose than Gohan, appreciative of their reveal and aspects for confirmation of identification. Yamcha glanced back to see Gohan’s intent perusal of the landscape, suspecting at first he was surveying their route.

As time moved on he had the feeling that the engineer was surveying things with a far more critical eye. He would come to know that probing look on Gohan’s face that hinted that something else was there. However, he said nothing because he knew Gohan would reveal to them what the reason was in time.

Gohan then murmured quietly, “No pieces of debris, gentlemen. My question of crash or explosion still remains unanswered for the time being.”

17’s blue eyes gleamed in understanding as he patted the place where he had normally kept notebook and pencil. He said, “Doubtless if we saw any material the position should be noted duly…”
“Only proves that the trajectory may not be this way till we go further,” Yamcha nodded to Gohan’s slight incline of the head.

“There’s dozens of possible ways it could have gone,” commented 17.

“Something for Gohan to cogitate on. I for one am curious to know how our cave weathered the storm,” Satan said.

“That’s very true, and I don’t like thinking about what we might find when we get back…” Yamcha muttered.

“We won’t know till we get there, so it’s pointless to speculate,” said 17.

“Regardless of what we find, it’s good to be in open air again. It smells wonderful!” Satan pronounced.

“Just with a hint of ozone,” said Gohan.

“Which is natural for after a storm,” said Trunks. “But I also smell the trees overhead. They have a spicy resinous scent.”

“Spicy?” asked Gohan. “Elaborate.”

“The rain must have caused their flowers to open wider,” Trunks indicated. Gohan nodded. As he peered up into the tree, he saw a few branches broken and wood chips scattered on the ground when he looked back down.

“What would cause that?” asked Yamcha as he moved to see what the other two were so intrigued by. Reaching down Gohan picked up a branch and stared at it carefully. Sticks crackled a bit under their feet, some drying, some still wet and green.

“Termites possibly,” Gohan muttered after taking a closer look back up at the tree.

“Exactly,” Trunks confirmed. “This chewing pattern is characteristic…”

He reached down and another branch with hollowed out centers that had fallen from the storm. Gohan knocked on the tree and it gave a hollow sound. 17 and Yamcha moved as well, looking at the other trees around it.

“Once we reach the grove we’ll rest,” Gohan said.

Nodding Satan’s blue eyes gleamed. “Got that right. We’ll rest, and feast…”

“When we get back we’ll continue our search for the ship,” 17 commented.

“Once we know where it is you mean,” said Yamcha.

“Just a matter of time before we track it down, right Gohan?” said Satan. “I’m not so worried because I know it’s a case of when, not if.”

“We’ve still got to find any significant signs that indicate where it crashed, and so far…” Trunks trailed off.

“Very true. Could very well be a lethal place riddled with radiation… depending on how it crashed…” Yamcha muttered, shivering.

“No protective suits would make that rather tough to handle,” Satan said, rubbing his bearded chin.

“Indeed,” Gohan said thoughtfully, rubbing his own chin. “But that is still IF it crashed. This discussion is academic because we lack sufficient shelter, food, and means of defense. One can’t search properly without the right needs being met.”

“But still…” 17 said.

“Maslow’s hierarchy of needs,” said Trunks.

“Correct,” Gohan nodded, smiling at Trunks.

“Uh?” said 17. “Come again?”

“Yeah, my brain’s rusty on that,” said Yamcha. “Just WHAT it states…”

“The basic needs have to be met first,” Trunks continued.

“In the army we have a different name for it but that name rings a bell,” Satan nodded.

IN the ensuing silence a distinctive croaking growl was heard. The culprit slowly glanced up with blue eyes. 17 gave a slight chuckle accompanying the upswept corners of his lips. Trunks smirked and commented, “And one of those basic needs is naturally food.”

Satan patted 17 on the shoulder as they all exchanged humored grins. Gohan chuckled and asked, “How far is it the grove?”

“Approximately 5 to 10 minutes walk from here,” Trunks confirmed.

*****

The traveling party of colonists increased their pace, and an amount of time later the group noticed that the trees had a different form of bark. At the prospect of filling their growling stomachs their spirits were boosted. Just the mere idea of obtaining food made it much easier to put one foot in front of the other with greater vigor. In a series of steps further they had reached the grove they had noticed on the way in, and took the time to examine the strange fruit they had seen in shadows before. 17 heard branches crackling along with a tinny burbling chirp, and glanced up to see birds flittering among branches. Their feathers seemed metallic almost copper green and turquoise with more than the usual iridescence. Excitedly Trunks moved forwards and slid along a tree trunk to get a better look up into the canopy.

“Ferrous iridescence,” Trunks said.

“The birds?” asked Yamcha. Trunks nodded to his guardian.

“We should look for their nests further along. They don’t tend to nest in this species of conifer, but in deciduous trees,” said Trunks. He moved towards the front of the group near Yamcha, so Gohan now was second to the back with Satan. 17 moved in the middle, his blue eyes flickering back and forth, as he memorized every detail of what was around him, just as the others were doing.

“There’s the grove of fruit trees,” Yamcha said, pointing as his sharp eyesight spotted small spheres littering the ground. Each colonist hastened towards them, smelling a sweet tinge to the air that increased as they neared.

Gohan bent down to pick up one of the striped fruits. Satan and 17 did as well, turning the bruised produce over. “It’s gone rotten unfortunately,” Gohan said.

“I’ll climb up and get more,” Trunks said.

“I think I will as well,” 17 said, moving towards the tree near the first.

“I think that would be wise,” Gohan agreed. “You two are the lightest among us.”

“The issue is how to get the fruit down so it won’t spoil,” Satan said, shading his eyes with one hand.

“Hold out your jacket Satan, and let the fruit drop into it. You too, 17,” Gohan suggested. Satan removed his jacket.

“Sure,” 17 replied, approaching another tree nearby. He stripped off his jacket and handed it to Gohan.

“Let’s give you a leg up,” Satan said as he moved over and bent over, making a stirrup with his hands. Yamcha helped as well, steadying Trunks so he could use Satan’s hand. Trunks reached up with nimble fingers and grabbed the nearest branch. Almost like a monkey he shimmied up hand over hand. Then the aide-de-camp and the pilot assisted 17 in scrambling up his tree.

Trunks began to harvest the fruits, letting them fall into the cloth of Satan’s opened jacket held underneath. 17’s fruits dropped into his coat, held out by Yamcha. Soon they had a good number in each of the two coats, preserved from bruising. Then 17 and Trunks slid down the trees to join the others in sitting quietly in the grove. Each man enjoyed the sweet taste of the fruit’s flesh wetting their tongues and nourishing their bodies that had eaten more meager fare.

“This is the food of the gods,” 17 commented.

“You’re just so hungry anything would taste good,” Yamcha answered.

“I say that hunger’s the best seasoning for any food, but conventional spices never hurt either,” Satan chimed in.

“This should provide us with enough calories and vitamins for the time being,” Gohan added. “Though we need to continue to gather what we can. So we have to replenish our strength for the hard work that awaits us in colonizing the valley.”

“There are bird eggs,” Trunks said, glancing around for any sign of the feathered friends he had seen earlier. “They usually contain essential proteins, vitamins as well as nutrients vital to muscle strength and many vital functions.”

“Never mind the eggs, how about one of those birds roasted on a spit. That’s protein for you,” Yamcha chuckled.

“So you’d rather not eat termites then?” 17 teased.

“They ARE rather tasty,” Trunks said. “Though it takes a good deal to add up to a large amount of nourishment.”

“There’s stuff to eat like the mushrooms in the cave, and then there’s real food,” Yamcha clarified. Mouth full of succulent fruit he added in a muffled tone, “This is FOOD.”

“And you’re this planet’s first gourmand?” Satan chuckled. “I’d say this would go great on a piece of toast… when we have bread of course.”

To his aide de camp’s comment, Gohan grinned as he squeezed Satan’s shoulder. With a note of enthusiasm and joy in his voice he replied, “Sooner or later we’ll manage a flour substitute so you can make toast and even brioche.”
The engineer’s dark brown eyes sparkled with the same enthusiasm his aide de camp shared. Turning to Trunks he then asked, “However for now, is there anything else to add to the food category?”

Trunks pointed to a clump of trees further over from the fruit trees they sheltered under against the warm sun. “I was noticing that there are other trees nearby that appear to be a species of almondine. The nuts have a good amount of protein content…”

“Easy or hard to open?” asked 17.

“We won’t know till we actually harvest them,” said Trunks.

“We might as well since we don’t know if the food at the grotto might be rotten,” Satan suggested.

As they had assisted Trunks before to harvest fruits, the colonists similarly aided him in climbing up one of the trees containing a nest.17 too shimmied up halfway so Trunks could pass down a nest containing the eggs. Nestled together were four ovoid shapes possessing an iridescent green shell with darker green blotches. They were at least three inches in length and two inches in breadth.

“With that color of shell,” murmured 17, taking in the opalescent sheen. “I wonder what the insides will contain.”

Satan set his eyes upon them commenting, “That has the makings of a good sized omelet.”

“We don’t have a pan to cook one though,” Yamcha lamented. The nest served as a container to carry them since they had only their pockets and garments available. Once several other nests had been harvested, the attention was turned to the obtaining of more fruits for the trip back.

*****

Conversation petered out for a time while they continued to take in the surroundings. That sweet smell hung in the air, such a vast contrast from the dank stone stench of the grotto. In fact, the air seemed heavier with something that tickled their throats, along with an ozone smell. The atmosphere seemed charged with a freshness that resulted from two straight days of cleansing rain.

“The stone smell’s truly gone,” Trunks noticed.

“I won’t be sorry for that,” Satan said with a shake of his head. He seemed to want to dismiss it from his mind entirely.

“We’ll soon smell stone when we get back to our cave,” 17 said.

Satan then said, “Since we’re on the subject we’ve still got that river to cross.”

“Mmm,” Gohan agreed. “And we need a means to do so safely.”

“Wading like we did before would be trickier… since the increased rain and flooding,” Satan pointed out, rubbing his beard thoughtfully.

“I don’t like fighting that current anymore than you do,” agreed 17, shrugging.

“Tree branches slung together to make a raft maybe?” Yamcha suggested, mulling over ideas in his mind.

Gohan glanced around, nodding. He said, “There are plenty because of the storm blowing them down.”

Already Trunks and Satan glanced towards where Gohan pointed. “Over here, and here,” Trunks said.

“Let’s build a raft, shall we?” said Yamcha rubbing his hands together.

“Unfortunately that’s Robinson Crusoe’s mistake,” Gohan said shaking his head. “He first built his boat in the middle of the forest and was unable to move it later…”

“That… could be a problem,” said Yamcha a bit sheepishly.

“Not to worry,” said Satan patting him on the back. “Each of us can add to the other’s collective knowledge.”

“Then build it closer to the river,” 17 acknowledged with a bob of his head. Gohan confirmed this with a nod. All five colonists then proceeded to a place closer to the riverbank so it was well within eyesight as well as earshot.

Yamcha had suggested dragging any raft they created, but Satan had mentioned such a thing would be just as difficult. None of them wanted to risk snagging a craft they built on a root or feature in their path that would undo a good few hour’s work. As it stood, they still had a ways to hike to reach the river in question. In the distance, the sounds of crackling wood along with the fluctuating whistle tone were soon joined by that of the river’s rush. It grew ever louder until it eclipsed the other ambient noises and they had to raise their voices again to be heard over its cacophony.

A smell of mist and tiny droplets hit their noses once they reached the bank. Gohan and Yamcha raised their hands over to shield their eyes to see if this was the best point at which to cross. Up and down Yamcha saw the movement pattern of the water, reporting to the others if he could see any protruding rocks further down. Gohan analyzed the pattern of the whitecaps crashing over smooth and rough stones while Trunks eyed fish sliding under the varying fluid surface on their way along the current.

“Time to gather supplies for building our conveyance across the river,” Gohan stated with a definitive tone.

17, Satan, Trunks, and Yamcha each rose from where they sat and fanned out from their location in search of downed trees. Trunks noticed they were of varying species while Satan judged they had with diameters ranging from two inches across to six inches across.

Satan had his own classification. He chuckled, “this size is good for kindling, this here for burning, and this for building.”

Trunks spotted the characteristic creeping vines of the species Rhinitis parisita and was quick to point them out to the others.

Yamcha nodded and muttered to himself what Trunks had just said. “Moderate tensile strength and varying length, shouldn’t snap apart.”

As Trunks collected vines, Satan and Yamcha began hefting the first of the downed trees. 17 and the Engineer carried a log between them. He and Gohan let their wood clatter into the communal pile the others were adding to. Trunks wound out the lengths of vine he harvested and set it down near where Gohan genuflected on one knee, examining each piece of wood.

“Guess it won’t have to be pretty as long as it keeps us afloat,” joked Satan. He imagined Gohan already piecing together the trees in his mind into the most strategic and sound configuration an engineer of his caliber could envisage.

“I’m not sure I’m crazy about the stability of this,” 17 commented. “Though it’s better than fighting that current.”

“It only needs to hold together long enough for us to get across,” Yamcha reminded him.

“Something large enough to steady ourselves while wading, or something we can actually float on?” Trunks asked.

“Far better to keep above the water and save our energies,” 17 suggested.

“Correct,” said Gohan. “Let me see the vines and how we can best secure the limbs.”

17 knelt next to Trunks straightening out the lengths of vine for Gohan to look at while Yamcha and Satan positioned the downed trees. They had several short ones and a few long ones. They worked under Gohan’s directive, placing the logs side by side while Satan twisted lengths of vine to lash them together.

“Shouldn’t be too heavy to port there,” murmured Yamcha.

“All of us will be carrying it that can. You sound as if you’re going to carry me with it,” Satan joked. Yamcha grinned.

“Then you owe us one of your best cooked meals as a porter fee,” 17 wittily quipped.

“Fair price indeed,” Gohan further teased. Trunks and Satan chuckled at this, adding another strand of vine to further reinforce what logs they had lashed together. Yamcha and 17 had found two long limbs sufficient to guide the raft gondola style from the back and front, breaking off excess side branches to smooth them out. Once Gohan checked the raft again and nodded that it was complete, he directed Satan and Yamcha to take one end while Trunks, he and 17 took the other end. Guiding poles were set on top and the conveyance was ported among the five colonists to the riverbank.

With Satan and Yamcha steadying the raft, Gohan directed 17 and Trunks to help him guide it onto the bank. He then instructed Trunks to carefully climb on it with a helping hand from 17 and kneel in the exact center. At this point the provisions of eggs and fruits they had gathered into bundles made from broad leaves were loaded onto the raft. Once this was done, Trunks held the ends of the long poles while 17 settled kneeling behind him. Gohan instructed Yamcha to sit on it next, calling for 17 to lift one pole and push its end down to the bottom of the river. Only Satan and he were left to hold the corner as Yamcha grabbed the other pole and balanced the weight in front. Satan climbed on next in the left rear quadrant, waiting for the others to shift so Trunks moved closer to 17 in the middle, and Yamcha took a station on the front right quadrant to balance.

“Cast off?” Satan asked, waiting for Gohan to shimmy onto the raft. Now balanced with their various weights the craft shifted, drops of water soaking and splashing up.

“Easy now. Yamcha, Satan, guide us slowly,” Gohan instructed. “Trunks, 17, push off with the shorter branches if we turn about in the current…”

“Right,” both said as the raft shifted to the right slightly. A quick push from a shorter branch from Gohan’s side righted them, and they gingerly poled their way across. They drifted diagonally down the river at least ten feet, the strain of holding the raft steady evident on Satan and Yamcha’s faces from the front and rear of the craft. Knees were partly soaked from water dribbling between the gaps in some of the branches but each of them focused on watching straight ahead.

The raft twisted yet again, but 17’s nudge against a large submerged log kept them righted as Trunks added his strength to Yamcha’s pole to keep it steady. Gohan added his might to Satan’s pushing from the rear, their hands almost meshed on the long pole. Little by little, they edged across the river, their ears filled with the roaring noise. Trunks spotted two brown fish with silver spots pass under their raft without even looking up, to emerge on the other side near Gohan’s knee.

When Yamcha’s end of the raft finally touched the shore, 17 and Trunks grabbed his pole so he could reach out with a shorter branch and stab into the muddy banks. Shifting their weight, Gohan and Satan shoved their pole thrusting the raft forwards onto the dark earth and rocks. Yamcha leapt off, motioning for 17 and Trunks to clamber off while Satan and Gohan shifted along the raft and swung it around from perpendicular to parallel with the bank. Hearts still pounded in everyone’s throats by the time Yamcha scrabbled far enough up to wrap one arm around the trunk of a small tree and reach down for 17’s extended hand. As their fingers touched Yamcha’s hand gripped the reporter’s tightly, their eyes meeting in relief. He pressed the toes of his boots into the earth and grabbed the tree himself, both extending their hands to Trunks to scramble up after them.

Satan and Gohan managed to get clear of the raft, leaving it behind once they used it as footing on the muddy shore. Yamcha anchored by 17 and Trunks holding his left arm reached for the pole end that Satan held out towards him. Together the three pulled Satan along it so he could grab another tree trunk with his arm. Last was Gohan who gripped the end of the pole Yamcha and Satan held. Trunks brushed the sweat darkened lavender locks from his face to look towards Gohan, leaning next to Satan by the tree he held to for support.

“Made it,” 17 chuckled in relief.

“All in one piece, which is more than I can say for the raft,” Yamcha quipped.

“She was a good piece of work and did her job well, for such a short lived craft,” Satan observed. Trunks made a noise of assent.

Gohan watched as it slid down the bank and drifted partway down the river. His blue uniform tunic rose and fell as he caught his breath and smiled at his friends, saying, “Well done everyone. The raft is yet another example of what we can achieve together with the works of our hands.”

“Amen to that,” Trunks piped in.

“Indeed,” said Satan.

“Best to secure it with a vine in case we need it later,” Gohan then instructed.

“Good thought,” murmured Yamcha, immediately seeing the convenience in lashing it to a nearby tree for another trip across in the future. Both he and Trunks then set out to gather lengths of vine so Satan could help Gohan secure the raft so it would not break free and drift downriver.

*****

Once all five would-be-colonists had cleared the river, they followed the trail of a few days before through the thickening tree cover. Holes through the canopy of leaves they recalled before let in shafts of sunlight almost spotlighting their path. At the front of the group walked Gohan, next to Trunks. Yamcha and Satan walked behind, flanked from the rear by 17. Every once in a while Gohan almost came to a stop examining the trees overhead or bending to pick up a small dislodged branch.

“Looking at the damage from the storm I bet,” murmured Yamcha to Satan.

“Looking for landmarks more like and memorizing them for himself,” Satan whispered back.

“You smell the different saps too, Gohan?” Trunks commented at the latest stop Gohan made by one of the twisted trunk trees with gnarled bark. “This species has a more acrid odor.”

“Indeed,” Gohan agreed, examining the broken bits of branches as he reached up to grab one barely dangling from its fresh split.

17 remained silent while the group paused; his own mind occupied with the reasons for Gohan has continued examination of the trees. He agreed it could be a combination of Satan and Yamcha’s theories with an added twist. “Most likely thinking like an engineer, taking in all our resources,” he whispered to Satan and Yamcha.

“As well as we all are at this moment,” Satan agreed. He did not question much what Gohan’s motives were from any suspicion, rather from curiosity borne of admiration for his Captain. 17 noticed the sense of awe gleaming Trunks eyes mirrored that in those of the aid de camp’s eyes. Yamcha’s dark brown gaze held a similar gleam, guarded as it was with mild skepticism. He was the sort who trusted it was for a greater cause, but was waiting for the evidence of his own eyes.

They each depended on one another, but each laid the extra burden of hope upon their leader Gohan. As they had noticed throughout the last few days, the sunlight even seemed brighter with the engineer among them like a torch held before a spelunking group in an uncharted cavern.

*****

Further, on they wended their way on the reverse course of the trail that had led them to the grotto. Periodically Gohan continued to examine the trees and fallen branches for the untold part of the story they had not witnessed being confined to the cave. Although Trunks, 17 and Yamcha suspected continually there was a greater motive they still whispered it among themselves if they bothered to voice it aloud.

“It will be good to get back and see…” Yamcha trailed off as the entrance to the cave came into sight. Words stopped in his throat seeing bits of branches and other debris scattered before the front. He immediately rushed forward from the group, his heart sinking.

“Yamcha, a moment please, we want to make sure it’s safe, together first,” said Gohan, moving up to gently take hold of his shoulder. Yamcha stopped short knowing he was right, his heart pounding in anticipation just like everyone’s was.

“We’ll know soon enough,” Satan said as he laid a hand on Yamcha’s arm along with Gohan. 17 uttered only a noise of affirmation, right on his heels with Satan, then Trunks and Gohan behind them. With Gohan next to him, Yamcha rounded the bend to the entrance.

A loud cry of disappointment echoed in the cavern at the moment they stood just outside the cave mouth. Four sets of eyes beheld the scene before four hearts sank. Heavy silence descended, only broken by Gohan suggesting, “Let’s see what we can salvage.”

“Not a hell of a lot by the looks of it,” Yamcha muttered gloomily.

Yamcha’s eyes wandered a few paces into the space, walls spattered and plastered with splotches of mud. Walking in after him Satan bent down and picked up scattered broken bits of firewood that had been strewn about like a box of matches that he sometimes dropped at the office. Fine cracks at intervals and the wall and ceiling were the result of various sized rocks tossed about in the tempest. 17 paced slowly around various rocks piled in the muddy damp floor. Trunks helped him pick up various string bags that were pressed into the mud in the floor or draped over a flat boulder.

“Damn,” muttered 17, brushing a lock of straight black hair out of his face tucking it behind one ear.

“We can still use them,” Trunks said, running his fingers along the fibers. The bags were still intact.

“Firewood here, here and here,” murmured Satan, staring at pieces of it that he piled in front of the cavern to dry in the sunlight where Gohan directed.

Presenting the engineer with the meager stock of possessions, they gathered just inside the mouth of the cave. Gohan looked at each disappointment-shadowed face with a sympathetic nod. “Here are our priorities. First is a secure place for shelter. Also suitable wood for a fire must be collected as this is damp and won’t be dry.”

Yamcha swallowed back his urge to ask just how they were going to start a fire. Although it was on the tip of his tongue Satan’s reassuring gaze at Gohan held his tongue, along with the hand gently squeezing Yamcha’s shoulder in reassurance. He glanced up from the damp piles and focused fully on the engineer ticking off on his fingers.

“We require more nourishing food as well as tools to help obtain it,” he finished. Each of the colonists nodded, glad to have an outlet for their frustration at the elements hand that had scattered their previous work. 17 felt as if they were back to square one, and was sure the other three had similar thoughts on the matter. Oddly Gohan seemed very confident as if unaffected by their setbacks.

*****

Gohan then said, “Satan, you will gather firewood and continue to supervise what useable wood has dried. When you have done that, you will assist me with shoring up the walls and making this place more habitable. I will assess what resources we have to make food. ”

The aid de camp nodded, blue eyes shining with purpose. Next to him, Gohan then looked to the other three. Looking toward Trunks, 17 and Yamcha he said, “Your team will take the string bags and gather what foodstuffs you can find and bring back from the immediate area.”

“Should we bother to find anything that can be cooked on a fire we’ll bring it back?” Yamcha said halfheartedly.

“Always good to hope for the best,” Satan said.

“Then we’ll bring you a fair assortment to challenge your culinary preparation skills,” 17 chimed in, causing Yamcha and the others to smile a bit. Satan’s beaming smile was contagious and lifted the mood considerably along with Gohan’s assigned tasks. Carving definite pieces out of uncertainty helped deal with the morass of frustration stewing inside each of them.

Satan wiped sweat from his forehead with one hand, the other resting on a branch that served as a handle. Two feet lower down the branch multiple small twigs were lashed to the end of it, gathered into a bundle. After he had caught his breath, Satan dragged the item over the cave floor to serve as a crude broom.

Yamcha and 17 meanwhile selected a few pieces of wood of the right size and shape to serve as clubs. These they thrust into their belts or tied there with a length of vine to secure them. The occasional thump of a rock dropping to the ground caught Yamcha’s ear. He glanced up from carrying a string bag he had fetched from inside to see Gohan picking up pieces of rocks. Thoughtfully the engineer turned one over in between thumb and finger, then held it up to see better in the light of the sun. Then he genuflected down casting a shadow across the small piles of similar grouped stones to his immediate left.

Trunks had stopped to kneel next to Gohan, peering for a moment at the rock that Gohan was perusing. His own eyes looked over Gohan’s shoulder as if trying to see what the engineer was possibly noticing. A dry scraping of twigs across the cave floor filled the silence between the thumps of rock made by Gohan’s sorting.

Yamcha wondered why he was looking at rocks so diligently. He shrugged, straightening up to a standing position. Various joints cracked a bit from thrusting his hips forward to work the kinks out of his back. 17 moved into view on his right, holding a string bag of his own.

“You all right?” he asked softly.

“Oh, sorry… was just wondering something,” Yamcha commented, as he watched Satan walking back to the outside of the cave where the last pile of branches left there to dry were sitting. Crouching in a squat, Satan gathered them into a bundle over his other arm.

“Wondering what?” 17 asked Yamcha.

Returning to the cave mouth Satan noticed them staring at Gohan’s examination of the various rocks. “Am I missing something?” he teased.

“Well, nothing much. Just wondering why Gohan’s looking at rocks,” Yamcha said, watching Satan merely smile in response. He returned to the cave mouth and added to the woodpile. Puzzled at Satan’s response to this Yamcha nudged 17.

The reporter shrugged, whispering, “If Satan seems pleased then I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”

For a brief minute, the duo turned again at another few thumps. Now Gohan turned over a grey stone riddled with tiny holes he then tossed to the left. He murmured, “Pumice.”

“Porous volcanic stone that floats on water,” Trunks murmured. Reaching over Gohan took hold of another rock.

“Agate,” Gohan said to Trunks who still knelt next to him.

“And that’s feldspar isn’t it?” Trunks said, indicating another small pile.

“Geology lesson perhaps,” 17 said with a smile.

Accepting this explanation for now, Yamcha then said, “You ready Trunks?”

“Yes Yamcha,” he said, grabbing the string bag he had set down. Yamcha moved over and reached down to help haul his charge to his feet and dust off his shirt. 17 picked up his string bag as well, and then nodded towards the other two. Waving to Gohan and Satan the trio set off on their gathering expedition, hoping to find a reasonable larder instead of depleting the immediate area.

*****

At the bottom of a tree, Yamcha and 17 made a stirrup of their hands. Trunks stepped into it, balancing on Yamcha’s shoulder then levering himself up with 17’s help. Once Yamcha straightened up Trunks caught hold of the lowest overhanging branch. His feet swung only for a second until he pulled up and hooked one knee over the branch.

“You okay?” Yamcha asked.

“Fine…” Trunks called down, a few sticks and leaves showering down on 17 and Yamcha. They could peer up and see his shape shifting against the meshwork of branches that blocked their view of him.

17 bent down and picked up a few scattered feathers that fluttered down, noting their reddish brown hue. Yamcha bent his head back keeping one hand partly shading his eyes to monitor Trunks progress. He squinted at the pinpoints of light sifting through the branches trying to discern Trunks shape reaching over to a crook in the branches.

17 held onto a string bag containing a few eggs wrapped in leaves to keep them from breaking. He precariously held them out from him while glancing around for other trees with the birds. Trunks soon called down then swung by one hand. His feet dropped into place. 17 and Yamcha reached up so he could step on their shoulders and steady himself. One hand bore another nest handed to 17, the other still clinging to the branch. It was up to 17 to set the nest to the side and help Yamcha bring Trunks the rest of the way down to the ground again.

Inside the nest, they all peered at four greenish spheres clustered. 17 remarked, “Just like the other tree before us… quiet a unique shade.”

“Calcina Ferrous,” said Trunks. “The reddish brown feathers you have there are iron rich, and the shells have a green color from the iron content in them.”

17 opened the string bag of eggs they already gathered. Yamcha wrapped leaves around them and added the feathers scattered as packing material to collect the eggs. A light blue metallic shell graced some of the other eggs, harvested from birds of the variety Calcina cuprous. Cousin species to one another, they were of similar size and diameter.

*****

Further, along the trail Trunks spotted a two-legged bird skittering into the brush. 17 caught a hold of Yamcha and 17’s arms, whispering, “Look there…”

“Ah, let’s follow…” Trunks whispered. “That’s a terrestrial…”

“You mean as in flightless,” Yamcha muttered.

“Well they fly in short sporadic bursts…” Trunks explained.

Yamcha asked, “If that’s the case, where do they normally roost, or gather?”

“By the edge of a marshy area, like storks or geese,” murmured Trunks. Creeping carefully the three scavengers made their way as silently as they could after their unexpected sighting. Sure enough, they arrived in a marshy area flanked by shrubs and mandrake like trees. Creeping vines sidled up some of the trunks while others hung down like some strange garland.

“Huh,” Yamcha said as he looked towards a length of vine. “Gives me an idea. 17 help me get some more vines… Trunks you let us know if you see the birds or not.”

“Right,” Trunks said.

17 reached up carefully to do just that, while Yamcha did the same, figuring Yamcha wanted to string the birds up if they happened to be lucky enough to catch one. However, he did point out, “We don’t have proper weapons to shoot yet, so we’ll just have to be patient enough to club them on the head, and approach them stealthily.”

“Yeah I know, but I was thinking we could make a net to catch them first, and then club them on the head,” Yamcha said.

17’s eyes widened a bit as he nodded. He murmured, “That’s a bit unusual but sounds worth a try.”

Reaching into his pocket Yamcha brought out a small sharp bit of metal, battered along one edge to make a cutting surface. Small raised letters indicated it had served as one of two dog tags Satan had used. Out of his own pocket, 17 retrieved a second one, fashioned from a dog tag bearing Gohan’s name, rank, and serial number. Requiring a set of knives for basic tasks, the engineer had requested Satan to remove the twin metal tags from around his neck. Removing his own as well the engineer had used one of the rocks he collected to batter the edge into a sharpened bit. One of them he left with Satan while he had given two for the hunting party.

Both men harvested enough vines to twist together, commencing their project by the time Trunks tiptoed back. “I’ve found their nests on the ground. You’re making a net?”

“It’s going to take a bit more time than I thought,” Yamcha murmured.

17 however cast him a reassuring glance, saying, “Not to worry.”

Trunks murmured, settling down to help them, “I’ll keep an eye out for them returning.”

Creepers and vines were twisted at right angles to one another. Working steadily between them 17 and Yamcha soon had a large enough and loose enough net to toss over a six-foot square area. All the while Trunks watched for the return of their quarry, hoping they would be fortunate enough to catch them off guard. Sure enough once they were done, he held a finger to his lips and motioned for them to follow him.

Several of the bluish iridescent birds clustered about, their scaly feet spindly like stilts as they milled about. The bright eyes were red, beaks showing tiny sharp teeth while the blunt wings allowed them to flutter just about from one place to another. Net in their hands 17 and Yamcha moved in unison while Trunks watched the position of the birds. Hearts pounded in their throats one second until Yamcha jerked his head at 17. With a hissing swish, the net sailed over some of the birds, others managing to duck out of the way. Feathers batted at the air along with the squeaking yelp. Necks and legs tangled in the wide mesh. In a flurry of yelps, Yamcha and 17 along with Trunks applied their makeshift clubs to knock them senseless.

“Woo hoo! We’re eating tonight!” Yamcha proclaimed, untangling several of the caught specimens.

“Very clever! I’ll have to add this to my list of catching methods for birds,” said 17, assisting Yamcha.

“Definitely resembling the archaeopteryx of prehistoric Earth,” Trunks observed, examining the claw like hands on the corners of the wing. Two fingers protruded while the other two fingers had extended through evolution into the pinions of the blunt wings. Scaly feathers along the neck ended in rough skin. Immediately around the eyes, there were no feathers, and those on the top of the head extended a half inch into a sort of crest.

“What we need are some herbs to prepare these birds with,” Trunks then mentioned, his face reflecting the exuberating of the pilot and the reporter. While Yamcha and 17 twined vines around the feet of their quarry, Trunks bent down and commenced scanning the immediate area for his goal.

“Let’s just hope there’s a fire to roast them when we get back,” murmured 17.

“Seems that if there’s a way then Gohan will have found it. Whether or not he does it by the time we get back is something that I’m wondering,” Yamcha murmured.

“At any rate we’ll know,” 17 remarked, slinging one of the strings of birds over his shoulder. Yamcha grabbed the other, amounting to about six between them.

*****

Carrying their acquisitions, the trio wended their way back towards their shelter. Legs were weary with their trek yet their string bags were full of their harvest. Somehow, the aching muscles would be worth it if their faith bore out in the accomplishments of the other team. 17 and Trunks both held great admiration for Yamcha’s clever decision to use a net to capture the birds they now carried over the reporter and the pilot’s left shoulders.

As for the string bags of eggs, Trunks carried those. In the right hands, the party carried other string bags containing fruits and more of the silex nuts. Improvised clubs were tucked into their belts as they had been on the outward journey, yet were now tested in the field. They spoke little, preferring to save as much energy as they could for hiking and silent reflection of their accomplishments and fortune.
Nervous anticipation mounted the closer the group approached. Narrowing his eyes as he scanned the skies through the trees, Yamcha wondered if he was imagining a grey curl of cloud whishing up from the distance. They had seen mists rising from the trees in the morning sun’s action to evaporate the dew, but this was different. Noticing Yamcha’s puzzled stance and slowing pace, 17 and Trunks appropriately reduced their step rate.

“Not mist, but something else…” Yamcha trailed off.

“Not evapotranspiration?” Trunks asked with a frown, focusing his own eyes as well.

“From the direction of the shelter,” 17 murmured. Yamcha grunted, increasing his pace once more. A renewed burst of energy rose in all three companions, intent on solving this new mystery.

With each passing minute, the wisp took on a grey appearance, curling steadily upwards proving it was not a cloud or a transient phenomenon. Hearts pounding more rapidly they approached ever closer, hearts daring to lift at what they all hoped it would really be. Something that filled one of the basic needs on the rung of human existence, making other advances possible. Had the other party actually achieved that goal, or would it be another false hope?

Yamcha figured they had batted a good average so far, however remained skeptical until he saw firsthand the source of the smoke plume. It could be natural, near the cave or beyond it. So far, none of the five had seen any source of civilization or life at the sentience level of themselves or those capable of producing the art of fire. 17 craned his neck examining the path of the smoke spewing upwards into the sky glowing almost pink in the rays of the late afternoon sun. Trunks own faith had been constant, not questioning the possibility, but just the mere timing of such a probable miracle.

Three pounding hearts pumped blood to three sets of legs trying not to stumble over each other in their haste to return to their temporary home. The diameter of the smoke plume had increased, emanating from the vicinity of their cave, confirming the reality ever more succinctly. As elusive as smoke hope was sometimes, though the presence of a bright spark coming into view soon after their eyes beheld the mouth of their cave and two figures squatting beside it.

One was Satan, emerging from the shelter to crouch opposite the other. Gohan crouched over the licking yellow dancers of light creeping up from wood set pieces of wood upon them. Breathes were held for only a long instant when their eyes registered fully what they were seeing. Both the engineer and the aide de camp were stoking a fire, the source of the plume of smoke that had been a beacon home.

“It was a question of when!” Yamcha exclaimed, wanting to burst into a run, but somehow his legs did not want to violate the sanctity of such a defining moment in their existence as colonists.

“Prometheus gift to humankind now lies before us,” 17 murmured.

“Given by Gohan, as we hoped, they’ve achieved what they had set out to do… and in a time that couldn’t be more appropriate,” Trunks agreed.

“I’ll be damned,” Yamcha laughed aloud, whooping. 17 saw his beaming smile melting out of astonishment, and could not stop the corners of his lips from curling up as well. Trunks stood on Yamcha’s other side taking a long moment to take in the beauty of the sight. He wanted to take a picture of this and frame it forever in his mind. Glancing at 17, he realized that was just what the reporter was doing with his almost perfect memory. Waiting and taking in all the sights of the immediate time to write later in the journal he was keeping. Once the silent reverence and awe wore off all three broke into a near run to cover the last distance between them and their miracle worker.

Gohan spotted them first, rising from his crouch with his own smile. Satan’s blue eyes fell upon them first, and then the bounty the trio carried, his own face filled with wonder that almost equaled that of the hunting party. In separate ways, the two teams had achieved their goals, which were essential for human existence.

*****

Satan quickly divided the labor among the colonists. 17 and Yamcha assisted with plucking the feathers from the birds on the string. In a small pile, the feathers were collected and saved for a future project while Trunks and Satan sliced the fruit. Among them, the four makeshift knives were again put to good use.

“We’ve brought some herbs to season the birds,” Trunks had said.

“I could also season them with some salt that Gohan’s found,” Satan announced. A quick look among the colonists was born of excitement at another accessory to the aid-de camp’s spice cabinet.

While preparations were made to roast, the bounty of the hunting and gathering Gohan removed two rocks that Yamcha recognized from the ones he had gathered earlier in the day. The entrails of the birds were also collected in the shell of a silex nut to be used later in a stew. Every bit of their quarry would be utilized to its fullest extent.

“Gentlemen if I may have your attention briefly, I’ve something to show you,” The engineer announced. Three heads popped up and swiveled towards his voice. As if in a classroom Gohan selected two of the rocks and showed them to the other four colonists as they glanced up from their tasks once he called them to attention. Bending over on one knee Gohan then placed the handful of vegetative material and positioned it into a small pile. Yamcha looked at 17 in question yet again, but merely shrugged rather than question it.

Trunks blue eyes narrowed in curiosity watching him strike one rock against another repeatedly. Small yellow sparks flew between the two surfaces, landing on the vegetation. After he had done this a few times a tiny glow transferred to the gathered small mass of what appeared to be moss. Yamcha stifled the question in his throat seeing Gohan cup both hands together and blow ever so carefully as if coaxing life into the inanimate objects.

“That moss, where did you find it?” Yamcha asked.

“It appears to be the species Hispanica inflammibus,” said Trunks nodding slowly in understanding. “Capable of igniting at the proper temperature after being dried in the sun for two hours.”

“Those two stones… one of them would be possibly silex?” asked 17.

“Correct,” Gohan said as he passed one of them around for them all to see.

“The other being a ferrous mineral I take it?” Trunks asked, to which Gohan merely nodded.

“So… by striking one against the other, you get sparks which is obvious. But it has to be those two materials to create the right conditions for the sparks,” Yamcha asked. Again a nod.

“You couldn’t use any other replacements for those minerals, except maybe flint in place of the non ferrous rock,” said 17.

“The ancient caveman’s fire kit,” Yamcha quipped.

“Indeed,” Gohan finally said with the gleam in his eyes of a teacher pleased their students had caught onto their example.

*****

Five spirits again soared smelling the aroma of roasting meat curling through the cavern. A small hissing sizzle of the juices dripping off the meat joined the crackling pops of the fire dancing merrily in its ring of rocks. Each of them sat on broad flat rocks or a cleared clean area of the cave floor spread with conifer needles to observe and assess what had transpired.

Closest to the fire tending it carefully was Satan, occasionally turning the spit to check the progress of their roasts. It was decided that due to the abundance of meat it would do best to roast it all, which would keep for a small period until the leftovers could be consumed for breakfast. 17 sat on the other side near the fire, holding a long stick he had sharpened the point of. Slowly he hardened its point in the fire fashioning the most basic of spears. He could not do this till now without a fire. A few other sharpened spears had already been made in the same way.

Munching on a piece of tiger fruit, which was what they christened the striped fruit, Satan commented, “I could eat the smell of those birds alone and be a happy man, couldn’t you, my friends?”

“If you bottled it and wafted it under our noses while we ate paste, I’d die a happy man all right and not care,” joked 17.

“I am certain we will remember this night for a great deal of time to come,” Trunks also added.

“I’ll be an extremely happier man when I actually tear off a few chunks of those birds myself,” Yamcha chuckled.

“Which will happen in due course,” Satan said. “I know it’s hard to wait.”

“I’ve waited days, a few hours is little more,” 17 commented.

“Still,” Yamcha murmured looking at the cleanly plucked carcasses slowly rotating as well as 17’s spears. “Just spearing and netting things isn’t the best way to go about this. We were lucky today with what we caught.”

“Luck was only a small component of it. You knew how to catch an opportunity,” said Trunks appreciatively.

“Though he is right,” said 17. “Conditions happened to be just right. We can’t be so lucky that all quarries will be so obliging.”

“Very true, which is why we’ll talk more about how to address that problem,” Gohan said.

“It’s ready,” Satan announced.
Waiting with bated breath the colonists gathered around their cooked abundance. Satan helped to serve out portions for each of them, using broad leaves as rough plates. Each of them lifted a leg or piece of cooked flesh to their lips. Yamcha’s teeth sunk into soft meat that melted off the bone. A blissed-out look came over his face as his taste buds exploded.

17 watched and a second later took a bite of his portion. The full aroma mingled with the satiation of solid food was ambrosia. Next to him Satan already sampled his meat and proclaimed, “This is a feast fit for a king…”

“The food of the gods,” Trunks murmured, biting into a drumstick. Drops of juice dripped down his chin that he licked away eagerly. Gohan himself took slow measured but ecstatic bites of each morsel. To know it was caught by their own hands and prepared with labor and sweat.

“Much better than that dried up space ration I’ll say,” Yamcha murmured blissfully between bites.

“I’d prefer to forget that,” Satan chuckled, reaching for another piece of meat.

“Almost better than sex,” 17 absently said, his eyes meeting Yamcha’s and the two were silent.

“Satan you’ve outdone yourself,” Gohan commented, his eyes half shut as he swallowed each bit of deliciously grilled food.

“I’m glad I climbed those trees,” whispered Trunks, reaching for a slice of the tiger fruit. Sweetness washed away the roasted game, complementing their first feast.

“It’s our own thanksgiving, I’d say,” Satan decided.

“Note the date 17, we’ll celebrate this day hereafter as our own feast day,” Gohan suggested.

“Amen to that,” Yamcha cheered, slapping them all on the back. Smiles abounded among the five as they continued to stuff their bellies with their hard gotten gain. A few hours later they lounged about; experiencing a sensation they hadn’t for months. Fullness almost to bursting of good solid food.

Trunks leaned against his guardian’s shoulder, letting the blood rush to his stomach to digest its contents while Yamcha sat with his back braced against a sturdy rock. 17 sat Indian style, finishing a portion of tiger fruit. Satan rested comfortably while Gohan sighed in pleasure. All savored the moment for they knew it would be motivation for gathering more provisions.

Once they had finished their feast, Yamcha commented to Gohan, “You mentioned something before dinner about taking care of our food needs problem.”

“Which is exactly why we will become more efficient hunter gatherers after we master the art of making stone tools,” Gohan announced.

“Like cavemen?” Yamcha asked, cocking a brow.

“Quite,” Gohan said. Satan merely smiled, nodding having been privy to perhaps some of this or having extreme confidence taking Gohan’s word prima facia for so many years.

“And the materials for the tool making,” Trunks nodded, anticipating what the next subject would be.

“Are at hand. I have made a survey of the minerals available to us. Those that are good for later usage I have noted and those for immediate usage are the obsidian, flint, and chert I have encountered. This is characteristic for its ability to conically fracture when the right percussive force is applied.”

Familiar with the history of hunting weapons, 17 nodded knowingly. He murmured, “As used first in the Clovis points discovered on the north American continent employed by paleo Indians.”

“Correct. The advantages of obsidian and chert are not only their workability but also their cutting properties. Even the flakes we discard can be used as a cutting edge.”

“Most scalpels we use now are ceramic in the emergency kits,” 17 nodded.

“So, knowing all this, how long exactly did it take to make one of these projectile points?” Yamcha asked. “To fracture a material as brittle as obsidian–like glass–you’d presumably use a mallet of some kind. We’ve got wood for that, or another stone?”

“Quite. Let us become flint-knappers, gentlemen,” Gohan said as he motioned to Satan. He brought over a few woven mats and broad flat leaves, as well as a rounded stone, a shaped bit of hard wood, and other pieces of varying sizes.

Gohan then sat down and placed the broad flat leaf over one knee. He grasped a fist-sized piece of striated red and brown chert, standing it up on end. Then grasping the rounded rock, he hit the edge of the top. A loud cracking sound followed by a hollow clink resulted with a curved bit that had fractured from the core.

“The first of many such blows,” Gohan said. “Now we will learn step by step.”

*****

17, Trunks and Yamcha sat on flat boulders, each bent slightly with various pieces of rock positioned on their knees. The scent of stone dust hung in the air palpably mingling with the sweat so it formed a fine grit that clung to their clothes. It was damp in the cave despite the fire they had going, from the efforts of their new construct.

Their first works had been crude and unsteady. Due to Gohan’s prospecting, they had a good supply of raw materials in the form of pieces of flint, chert and obsidian as well as silex. Each started out with a rough shape balanced on the knee. Holding it at the top end a quick blow with a wood hammer to the lateral side caused the first pieces to fracture. Once large pieces were scaled down, then each flint-knapper picked the most likely candidate to apply smaller blows to. Resting the rock flat on the crafter’s hip next, a blow from a rock was applied perpendicularly. Then a long edge flaked off and clinked to the floor. Along this, the knapper could make smaller more blows that are precise from the hammer stone making a notched series of conical fractures. A serrated edge would result.

A definitive crack reached 17’s ears. His slender hands creased with a few solitary cuts from the sharp core of rock he positioned standing up. It had started as a flat piece of obsidian. He swung the solid branch at the thin edge he had flaked off. Small cracks formed into a conical fracture producing a chip that dropped to the cave floor seconds later. It joined small pieces that already scattered about 17’s feet.

The back of Yamcha’s neck was one tight knot formed over the last few hours he hunched over the piece of obsidian he created. A bleached solid bone with a hammer end and a prong end served as his tool. Along the thin edge swirled with black in transparent glass, he pressed small notches. Tiny pieces of dust coated the leg of his pant, covered in a broad flat leaf. A small drop of blood dripped along the axis of the flake.

“Shit, didn’t even feel that cut,” Yamcha mumbled. 17 glimpsed the blood and shook his head. Yamcha set down his tool after 17 did, extending his hand for 17 to examine the clean slice.

“Technology and modern materials couldn’t craft a sharper blade with such a clean cut,” Trunks murmured.

“Nor let you not realize you’ve hurt yourself making them,” joked Yamcha as 17 bandaged his cut with a flexible leaf secured with a thin twisted fiber. The reporter also had a few similarly bandaged cuts on his own hands. Trunks only had one such makeshift dressing.

Trunks tapped his leaf shaped rock, opaque mostly with little translucence. Reds, blues and greens swirled together in its mineral structure resembling flint or the red cherts. Under his fingers, the stone felt refreshingly cool and smooth. He could run a finger over the conical fractures knowing he made each one deliberately. It struck him how something so naturally beautiful could perform such a vital function once completed. Nevertheless, in crafting it himself he imbued his own thoughts and design into it. If he reexamined the marked he had made he could almost remember what he was thinking at the time.

*****

17 missed his long black coat for what seemed the hundredth time since they landed. It would have made such a useful multipurpose garment. He could not keep from mourning its loss like an old friend even though he knew it was not good to obsess over it. Things you discard in a second’s thought to survive had a habit of haunting you later in their absence.

At first, he figured it was a way to hide his true body size. Among the other colonists, there was no longer the need for such barriers. They had forged friendships that were true and strong, a foundation upon which they could build their colony. Now another reason dawned to 17 just why he missed the long coat. As they walked towards the part of the river with a more gentle current, he pondered just why his heart pounded more quickly.

They had not bathed since arriving. Now caked with stone tool dust and faces streaked with mud, Gohan announced the need for personal toilet. Satan remarked that it would be nice to have soap but he would welcome the natural cleansing power of a cold stream. Yamcha had seconded that while Trunks quipped his hair was starting to look prematurely gray instead of its usual lavender.

“Let’s not grow up TOO fast shall we,” Yamcha joked.

“Plenty of time for gray hairs later,” Satan teased. “I’ve enough for Gohan and myself.”

“Let’s remove our clothes and wash them as we wash ourselves, then hang them to try on these tree branches in the sun,” said Gohan. Lifting his hands to his uniform tunic, he stepped over towards the bushes. Trunks moved over towards where Yamcha stood, while Satan began to disrobe near Gohan. 17 felt a bit awkward reaching tentatively for the buttons of his shirt, loosening them one by one. He shrugged off the jacket and hooked it over the end of a branch.

Already he saw the pale cloth of Yamcha’s suit shirt now that the pilot had removed his blazer and hung it to the side. Trunks pale olive back became visible to him as the boy pulled off his green turtleneck shirt. Yamcha took the garment and placed it with the others on the bush nearby.
He heard Gohan remark, “Without soap it’s still quite refreshing to excavate the dust from my face.”

17 turned slightly seeing Satan’s bare shoulders and slightly budging belly covered in coarse dark hair. He stood in more immediate view with his side partly facing 17. “And the others are making stone tools. I’m sure that will confuse any archeologists digging our remains up eh?”

“By that time maybe they’ll be digging up our fire pits, and our huts, as well as our spaceship’s remains,” Yamcha chimed in. Quickly 17 swiveled his head towards Yamcha’s direction, seeing a bare back streaked with a few scars. His pulse quickened at the sight of Yamcha’s muscles twitching under that firm skin.

“They’ll call it ‘technolithic society’ when they see we’ve got circuit panels with the stone chips,” said 17 as he tried to distract his hands from fumbling at pushing the halves of his shirt aside. He tugged it out of his pants waistband and bent to unbutton and shed them.

“Nice one,” said Gohan.

“Technolithic, not Paleolithic?” questioned Yamcha.

“Techno as in technology alongside stone aged tools, denoted by the word lithic,” Trunks voice piped in.

“Oi, 17, come on. I know the water’s going to be cold. Or do you want a dunking?” joked Satan.

“Nearly there,” 17 said as he swallowed his cracking voice. It was not the others he was nervous about stripping in front of it was that pilot.

Yamcha. Whose dark hair rippled down his back almost to the middle of his shoulder blades now he had undone that ponytail? Droplets of water slid down the sculpted muscles to just above a nicely toned ass. 17 stepped into frigid water, glad for one fact that none of them would show any evidence of arousal because of the temperature. He felt as if his skin would be pasty and pale in comparison. Strange for him normally considered a handsome specimen of the human race, close to genetic perfection, to feel as if he fell short of a standard. One set by a rugged scarred pilot whose features were natural and rough, unperfected by a genetics lab.

In addition, he was plastic. Not LITERALLY plastic but sculpted to perfection like a doll. A male Galatea to a societal Pygmalion obsessed with ridding oneself of any defects.

Little did he suspect that Yamcha’s dark brown eyes were making a similar appraisal of his slender nude body. To the level of their waists the water lapped, obscuring what was below most of their bellybuttons in rippling currents. As 17 bent over Yamcha swallowed hard at a lump in his throat. For a split second, he saw the curve of the reporter’s ass surface from the river. It vanished as he straightened up and shook his long straight hair out of his face. It plastered to the front.

He’s perfect. Damn perfect. Not a scar anywhere. Just look at me though. Compared to him I’m littered with them, Yamcha thought quietly. That soft skin seemed worshipped by the water drops trickling down it. Slender arms knotted with a bit of muscle extending from graceful long fingers that examined everyone’s wounds precisely. Two blue eyes that observed every detail around them, and which seemed to flicker in his direction. Yamcha steeled himself for a critical look, but saw instead saw admiration.

He likes what he sees. Yamcha thought in surprise and delight. He gave a slight smile to the reporter, turning around so his chest was visible. Being the taller of the colonists his groin was submerged just below the water level enough that a black trail of hair started midway below his belly button. His chest and arms had a slight covering of hair, in comparison to the thick dense hairs coating Satan’s body. Gohan’s body hair was moderate, but 17 barely had any. Much like Trunks.

“Nice…” muttered 17 to himself.

Yamcha turned his head, shifting just enough to let 17 get a tantalizing glimpse of an inch lower down. Just as he bent down to soak his hair. “Yeah it is nice to get clean. Even if it’s fucking freezing…”

“You said it, Yamcha,” laughed Satan in that rolling tone that started from his belly, which was quivering a bit. “F… ff freezing! But it’s good for the nerves.”

Gohan’s chest was graced with a fine sheen of soft dark hair. So was Yamcha’s, along the lines of his chest and down the middle. Along the arms and top of the legs as well. Dark hair atop muscular flesh. Satan seemed perfectly comfortable with himself naked, not averting his gaze. Trunks however seemed to be looking anywhere but at Gohan. One other fortunate side effect of bathing in frigid water was the suppression of any blushing. When damp Trunks hair was a deeper shade of lavender, his arms and young body devoid of anything but the same light dusting as 17’s.

“I shouldn’t look,” Trunks thought as he kept his head down. Yamcha was no issue because he was Trunks parent. Being naked in front of your parents or friends was no issue. Yet he sensed 17’s awkwardness. Reaching over he splashed 17.

“It’s cold!” 17 yelped, squinting as droplets collided with his face feeling like tiny pricks of ice. His whole body twitched and he could feel the weight of Yamcha’s gaze watching.

“But it’s good for the nerves right Satan?” Trunks joked.

“That I did,” Satan chuckled.

“Then have some on me… or rather on you!” 17 joked, pushing the surface of the water with his hands as he shoved it towards the Aide de camp. Satan laughed as he stepped back, almost falling over in the water. Tension broke for a few minutes at the innocent exchange of splashes after Gohan grabbed Satan’s arm to steady him and they both crashed into the water together. More droplets flew up, pelting Yamcha, Trunks and 17.

“Better then a shower,” Yamcha whooped, slapping his hands down to propel water into their faces once Gohan and Satan’s heads and shoulders surfaced.

*****

On the morning after their first day as flint-knappers, Yamcha and 17 continued with their craft of making more stone tools while Satan continued with making breakfast. Once served in the mouth of the cave, the meal consisted of the remains of the flightless birds, some fruits and more of the eggs. 17 and Yamcha then set off with the first of their stone spears to put them to the test and gather more prey.

Satan, Trunks, and Gohan remained behind at the cave to achieve other goals. While Satan continued with stoking the fire and reinforcing the cave, Gohan took Trunks a small distance outside the cave mouth. Stretching up for hundreds of meters was the stonewall of the formation the cave was hollowed out from. At one point it was easier to tell the stratigraphy of the rocky layers, and Gohan showed Trunks exactly where he’d found this from his rock hunting the day before.

“We need to determine what season we are in, and the length of them,” Gohan had said earlier as they stood there.

“And we need ways to put the pieces together from more than just one method,” Trunks had agreed. So now in each other’s company they searched for the various methods that came to mind, and brainstormed. After the meeting of minds, they separated not very much more than a few paces to begin compiling their evidence.

Trunks had gathered various accessible pieces of branch and noted the position of a rotted tree broken up into fragments by the storm they had endured. He called this to Gohan’s attention, and the engineer had nodded in eagerness.

“The strata are more distinct here,” Gohan observed, shielding his brown eyes with his left hand peering up. What small sparse vines could get a foothold in bare rock curled up and clung precariously to the face of the cliff. The break in the canopy afforded the bright morning light plenty of space to beam down and make trunks blink and squint in its rays.

Using a piece of string of a certain length, the length of his arm that he knew to be a precise length Gohan was measuring the height of each of the layers. Once he and Trunks had done so for about as high as they could reach realistically they strode over to the rotted tree to examine it more closely. Peeling away bark and repositioning bits of broken wood, they found a way to see deep into it to get a gist of the cross section of its rings. Together they counted the number of dark and light rings while trying to note the thickness of each and thinness of others. A pattern began to emerge that the engineer committed to his memory.

Together they communed in the collection of collaborative data, both complete comfortable in the other’s presence. The ease at which they communicated and fitted the pieces together encouraged Trunks to be as generous as he could with his thoughts and suggestions. To be taken seriously and feel that he was part of the team. Theirs was a bond of a student and teacher akin to researcher and mentor that developed in the confines of graduate school, not a large classroom with dozens of students to distract the teacher’s attention.

“If we are in spring, we can afford to have a week or two to answer some questions. But if it were summer, then our priorities would be different,” Gohan murmured.

“Leaving a precarious window of time that you need to know, for a margin of error for what we must plan,” Trunks confirmed. “Just like any ancient civilization that had to keep precise calendars for the purpose of planning, harvesting, and hunting.”

“Indeed,” said Gohan, still on one knee next to Trunks, their notes mentally taken because of the scarcity of paper. Except for the small notebook that Gohan had removed from his pocket and marked what evidence, they had on it in as compressed a form as possible to conserve the tablet.

Trunks then realized that ancient civilizations often put things to oral tradition. Repeated many times over many nights without the distractions of other information bombarding a person through computers, TV, holography and subspace broadcasts a human was free to allot memory for other things. Remembering information in the form of chants, rhymes or other methods. Written word was reserved for the purpose of astronomical observations while culture, history and other information relevant for other needs passed down to successive generations. The elders were the treasure house of knowledge and here Gohan was such a repository.

“The growing cycle of the tiger fruit, and the abundance of Calcina ferrous eggs indicate sometime in spring,” Trunks said. As confirmatory tests and observations, Trunks also recounted the growing season and life cycle of the plants they had observed and their stages of germination. While the year length on planets varied greatly, those with a roughly earthlike climate had some commonalities. What fauna and species resembled one another genetically would adapt to their world of origin, but the cycles were inherently similar to deduce the length of time between germination, flowering, palliation, and dormancy.

“The deposition of strata’s pattern seems pretty regular. From the position of such sediment storms seem to be prevalent once a season in the form of what we’ve seen,” Gohan also mused.

“And there is the pattern of alternating dark and light bands, some thinner during years with a variation in climate towards cold indicating less growth. While those that are wider show a more temperate clime,” Trunks added.

“And judging this planet has more of an earthlike biosphere and chemical conditions, as well as a similar geological morphology and process akin to plate tectonics from the volcano we’ve observed and the data I gathered before we landed,” Gohan continued, tapping his chin. More small scribbles resulted on his notebook from the pencil he had sharpened with a bit of obsidian flake.

“Not summer,” Trunks murmured with a slight question present in his voice.

“But spring. Giving us a week to play with,” Gohan said. Trunks initially opened his lips to ask why, but then hesitated seeing the engineer’s faraway look.

Trunks blue eyes often moved to linger a time on Gohan, admiring the carriage of his confident posture. Such an occurrence was hardly a new thing in the last few weeks they had worked closely together. Inside there was no doubt that he though youngest of the five was every bit as valuable to their cause. Slowly and gradually Gohan had come to rely upon him and impart his wisdom to the teenager’s experience. The bond between mentor and student was also two way for Trunks often saw how Gohan’s face lit up in delight when he asked a certain question that challenged what he’d been taught.

The two continued their enterprise collaborating and comparing notes. Once all the data was compiled Gohan interpreted the results in a final synthesis to pinpoint just what season they were now experiencing. Trunks noticed the smile across his mentor’s face and felt confident in his contribution to the enterprise. He could barely restrain his anticipation of the results when announced to the others.

*****

Over the next forty eight hours, more stone tools took shape and form of the basis for human Paleolithic civilization. Projectile points were lashed to firm shafts of hard wood with strung plant fiber, while smaller flakers were shaped into arrowheads. Trunks identified a species of tree similar to the yew on earth, noting its exceptional tensile strength and ability to snap back.

Small pieces of flake were not discarded but put into service as cutting implements ideal for Satan to skin whatever prey that would be brought home as well as peel the rinds of the foraged fruits. On the day that the first projectile points and arrowheads were finally attached to their pieces of wood and the bows were fashioned, 17, Trunks and Yamcha spent some time in target practice. Trunks proved to be quite adept at the wielding of his bow to the surprise and pride of the other colonists.

Gohan then presented the hunting party with a carved piece of wood he had fashioned, and showed them how to fit the hollowed out shaft of one of the projectiles. Then walking out of the cave he held the doubled back bit of wood with the spear fitted and charged forward, before jerking his hand back. Propelled by the conveyance, the spear shot up and arced through the trees to the amazement of the others.

Gohan then revealed the device’s name; the spear thrower, another means to launch missile weapons towards a larger target when arrows alone may not suffice. Excitedly the others had then found means of making another to add to their roster of equipment. Later that afternoon the atlatls and bows were employed officially as part of the hunting party’s equipment kit.

The haul of the day were more of the flightless birds, and smaller mammals that had the penchant to scurry away. Yet a well-placed arrow felled them with little difficultly. These mammals were strung up on fibers and thrown over the shoulder of Yamcha. Wading into the river, 17 waited patiently at the gleaming bellies of fishes milling along the currant. A jab of the spear with a practiced eye and hand added a piscatorial mode to their diet.

As bands of orange painted across the skies in the distance along with shades of pink and red, the party sat around their fire. Satan and Trunks turned spits of meat while watching the progress of fish roasting on coals. Broad leaves made good plates for the fishes laid before each of the hungry colonists who balanced them on their laps.

Midway through his fish dinner Gohan then leaned forwards, signaling his intent to speak. Immediately the other four glanced up as well, listening over the popping hiss of the fire to hear Gohan’s words. The engineer cleared his throat and said, “After due consideration, I have found that we should mount our expedition. With Trunks assistance I have determined that we are indeed in early spring giving us time to undertake a survey of our valley and its resources.”

The others nodded slowly, the mentions of this idea having been made gradually over the time of their settling into their cave. It was not news to them exactly, but the matter had not been discussed at great length because of the degree of their industry just trying to provide the necessities of living. Conversation had been limited to the means of stone tool fashioning or better hunting techniques as well as species identification.

“That means the next few days will be spent in preparation, gathering surplus food, and fashioning baskets and ropes,” Gohan continued.

“So we become coopers and weavers in addition to flintknappers,” Yamcha whispered knowingly to 17, who also nodded.

Gohan shifted his posture and continued, “Now that we can provide for daily needs, we must acquire a surplus of food that is non perishable. To carry the food we’ll need to fashion baskets, and to tackle the possible terrain we’ll need sufficient ropes for climbing.”

“We’ve already our weapons,” murmured 17, nodding but reflecting in a low voice.

“Only one step on our check off list but a significant one,” Gohan responded. Four murmurs of assent answered his reply.

“Over the next few days I’ll divide you into teams for the making of such items and the purveyance of more food,” Gohan continued. He turned his gaze towards each person as he announced their names and their duties.

“Trunks, you will scout for a surplus of fiber suitable for fashioning at least fifty meters of ropes in tomorrow’s hunting party. Satan, you and I will gather fibers for the making of baskets and commence fashioning them here. When the party returns, we will all learn the craft and take our turns.”

“The fibers of the Yuccan fibrosious bush make good nets,” Trunks murmured.

“If you catch a good deal more of the fishes they can be dried and salted,” Satan also murmured. Gohan and the others nodded at this. These lines were the start of the details of the preparations Gohan mentioned. Each soon learned their respective role for the following day.

*****

Yuccan fibers were harvested from the cacti like plants along with more of the vines similar to those that Yamcha fashioned his bird snaring net from. Using weights of dense stones tied to the bottoms of the lengths of fiber, they were hung from the higher branches of nearby trees. Then Yamcha and Satan twisted the fibers into plats of three ply. Once the triple plies were plaited, Yamcha twisted three cords of three ply by means of stretching with the weighted rocks.

Trunks and 17 meanwhile sliced long pieces of broad leaves into strips. Rushes gathered from the river’s marshy area were harvested and dried partly in the sun on broad flat rocks in front of the cave. Then the ends of a bundle were secured into a radial pattern. Ends of the broad leaf strips were interwoven with the rushes and pushed tightly together. From these the two fashioned conical shaped baskets.

Gohan spent parts of the next few days assisting in the rope and basket preparation, substituting for members of the party who moved to hunt more provisions or gather more fruits that were within reach of the cave. Satan’s fish salting project yielded preserved strips of meat that could be wrapped in broad leaves tied with lengths of reed. Any of the colonists could switch after Gohan’s approval so they could benefit from experience with any of the other projects.

17 noticed for a good time through the whole experience how his smooth fingered hands were now callused and crisscrossed with fine cuts from flint knapping. While Yamcha’s hands were already rough from the rigors of piloting and repairs, they shared the same sets of calluses blossoming on Trunks and Yamcha’s hands. Multiple cuts from stray pieces of reed or bruises from collisions with rocks were commonplace. Nevertheless, the speed at which they healed from the injuries bore witness to the health of their now varied diet.

Their immune systems seemed to have rebounded sufficiently that a clean slice from a bit of flint treated and cleaned carefully in the morning would have healed enough by the following day leaving only a fine red line where the skin had closed. All the unguents and creams of greater technology only assisted a natural healing process that worked well in far more robust settings.

Baskets took shape and were set aside in groupings once completed. Gohan noticed the ready production of the items and the increase in each pile with satisfaction. At the end of each day, the five colonists lay down for exhausted and dreamless sleep, content in their day’s hard labors. Gohan varied each person’s duties in order that each would learn the individual skills so all would be cross-trained in every skill for the benefit of their collective workforce.

*****

At the conclusion of a week, the colonists woke up early, as was their custom. Few words were exchanged but each of them was filled with the excitement of their new undertaking. Satan supervised the packaging of their provisions, assisted by Trunks. 17 and Yamcha secured the weapons and ropes in bundles for each of them to carry, making certain there were spare arrowheads and repair kits for the bows and spears in case of breakage. In addition, they divvied up portable flint knapping kits wrapped in broad leaves, secured with twine.

Yamcha and Satan exchanged many a smile, their wisecracks and jokes increasing in levity now their energy was not totally consumed in industry. Running a hand over a length of rope Yamcha commented, “Every time you use this you’re bound to remember me, Satan.”

“Likewise you remember me each time you munch on a grilled fish,” Satan joked back.

“How would anyone forget either of you is beyond me,” 17 quipped, lifting up a bundle of baskets as he grabbed his quiver of arrows.

“We’ve left our mark on this world in so many ways already,” Trunks reflected.

“And are about to see the true dimensions of it upon which we can continue to make our mark in a wider sense,” Gohan agreed, reaching to adjust the strap on Trunks bundle of possessions.

Gohan helped each of them secure their respective burdens, and took a last survey of the cave. They had secured it as best they could in anticipation of a return. Long poles were driven into the ground to act as a sort of barrier to keep out larger wildlife that may get in and disturb their dwelling. Mats of leaves were hung over the front to conceal the poles and make a sort of doorway.

Satan glanced around their abode one last time and grinned. “I’m going to miss this place, even though I know we’re coming back.”

“We won’t miss it TOO much when we find a better place to live,” Yamcha chuckled.

“Don’t speak too loud or you might hurt the cave’s feelings,” teased 17.

“Pooh, it’s been here without us and it’ll still be here when we come back,” Yamcha jibbed in return, patting 17’s shoulder. !7 returned the pat and both felt their faces flush with a slight pink they tried to hide from the others.

“Shall we be off now?” asked Gohan.

Satan laughed, “Lead on then, Gohan! Let’s see what else this world has to offer!”

Then with Gohan leading the way, they wended their path down the slope of the hillside. At the rear was Satan, with Yamcha beside him. At the middle walked Trunks next to 17.

In calm companionship, they trekked, shouldering their various possessions. Each of them carried a weight proportionate to his strength and ability, and none carried less then they volunteered to, knowing that their burdens would be increased with what they would retrieve.

Each of them had unanswered questions they could have posed to Gohan, but chose to allow the Engineer to continue showing them the way without much protest for they were all confident of his abilities. Still even though he was their guiding light, each knew the importance of their own roles was every bit as vital for they all had their skills necessary for the future of a thriving colony.

Authors’ Notes: OoC is not a major part of the story and it is explained later.

thoughts
.+++. time/scene skip
.xxx. perspective change

*****

Beep. Beep.

His nose was filled with the overly clean and bleach-like smell that was often associated with hospitals.

Beep. Beep.

His head felt heavy, it felt like there was a needle stuck in his arm and something was clamping on his index finger.

Beep. Beep.

Trunks pushed himself up with his right – and free – hand and opened his eyes to glare at the noisy machine. The walls were an off-white and he saw his heart rate being monitored on a machine that was hooked to the clamp on his finger. He was in a hospital alright.

He glanced around to get his bearings. On a table near him there was food and the bottle of pills his mother prescribed him. To his left was another bed – already filled by…

Wait was that – “Chibi!” Trunks yelled out and flung off his covers and ran over to the child, ignoring that he had wires connected to him. He glanced over all of the visible wounds – his head was bandaged, his left arm was in a cast, there were bruises on his face, neck and shoulders, and probably much more under the covers.

How could he have let Chibi go! How could he have just allowed the androids to beat and bruise this child! He was supposed to be the defender!

Beep. Beep. Beep! Beep!

What had he done! This was Gohan’s child! He was supposed to be the boy’s protector! Not the other way around! Trunks fell to his knees and slammed his fists down on the guardrails of Chibi’s bed, denting them in the process. How could he have been so stupid! So careless! So useless!

Beep beep! Beep beep!

People rushed in, and among them was his mother. “Trunks!” She yelled and held him. “Settle down!”

He looked at her with guilty eyes. How could he? How could he just simply calm down after realizing his own incompetence. He was no better than Goku right now – rendered useless by some stupid ailment!

Beep beep! Beep beep!

“It wasn’t your fault baby.” His mother soothingly told him. “Goha– Chibi just wanted to help you, and he’s fine. He just needs rest and food. He’ll be fine in no time.”

Trunks blinked back the tears he never knew were there. Chibi would be fine… nothing serious…

Beep! Beep. Beep.

The sound quietly faded into the background as his pulse stabilized. “Now come along and back to your bed. You, or Chibi, won’t be going anywhere until you two are better.”

Trunks silently let his mother guide him back to the bed and he ate the food he was given. “Mother, what happened?”

“Well you charged out, screaming something about Chibi. A few hours later, he’s at my door, carrying you – unconscious – before he passed out.” Bulma sighed and looked over at Chibi. “I think he was running on pure adrenaline.”

“I see…” He said before looking over at the unconscious boy. He remembered flying towards the village, or town, that the androids had or were attacking, the place that Chibi had collapsed. He remembered thinking about the boy’s childhood and… “Ouch…” Trunks brought a hand to his head and winced.

“Trunks? Are you alright?”

“Yeah Mother, I’m fine.” Trunks said and looked back at Chibi. What did Chibi have to do about his forgotten memories? What was that scene with the child that looked just like Chibi with long hair, that looked like Gohan at the boy’s age…

A yellow ship. His mother smiling at him and waving goodbye. Arriving. Frieza.

Trunks eyes widened, and his head was throbbing – but that didn’t matter. Why was Frieza in his memories? Why did he know who Frieza and his father were? Why could he remember their faces when he clearly never met them before – they died before he was born, his mother never took pictures, Gohan never transferred the images into his head. What was going on here, and what did it have to do with Chibi?

“Mother?”

“Yes Trunks?” Bulma responded with a smile.

“How old was Gohan when Frieza attacked?”

“He was seven, why?” His mother said a bit uneasily.

Something wasn’t right here. His mind was drawing blanks and even though it shouldn’t be… even though he shouldn’t be second guessing things, something had to be up and it had to do with his memories. “What month did Frieza attack?”

“Why are you curious about Frieza Trunks?” Bulma said after hesitating. “He’s dead now…”

Why was his mother trying to dodge around his question? She only did that when she was worried that he would have another seizure…

What did Frieza have to do with his seizure – his…forgotten…memories…

His… trip… No, it couldn’t be! It was impossible! Frieza was dead before he was even a glimmer in his parents’ eyes! Especially since Chibi was supposedly involved with those memories. There couldn’t be any connection! Things just weren’t making any sense and his head was killing him. “Wake me when Chibi wakes up.” Trunks said and pulled up the covers. Blissful oblivion was preferred over a splitting headache.

Gohan could hear murmuring to his right and his eyes twitched. What was going on? Where was he? What happened? He moved his neck, but his whole body felt heavy. He just wanted to sleep… Why did he want to sleep? What happened? How long has he been sleeping? He left out a quiet groan as he tried to lift his eyelids – but even they felt heavy.

“Gohan? Err… Chibi?”

Was that Bulma’s voice? Why was she calling him kid? She was right the first time. “Uhnn?” Gohan grunted out and turned his head as his eyes slowly opened. Bulma’s hair was long? “Since when did you get so old Bulma?” He slurred, not really realizing that he spoke aloud.

“Gohan!” Bulma scolded him. “Uhh… I mean… Chibi!”

“What? You’re noisy and my head hurts. Where am I?” He complained and blinked a few times.

“Um… you’re in West City Hospital G-Chibi. I brought you here after you arrived at my doorstep.”

“Hospital?” Gohan wondered. Why was he in a hospital, sure his head hurt, and his stomach felt like he just ate a bomb or something, but why was he in a hospital? Were there not any more senzu beans left? Why did his stomach hurt anyway? Why was the feeling familiar? Sure, it hurt more than when Seventeen… Oh… right. “Oh.” Gohan said with a bit more composure and tried to sit up. However a flare of pain stopped him in his tracks and he brought his right arm (his left arm felt too heavy right now, and it was connected to something) down to hold his stomach as he curled in. “Ahhh!” He moaned out in pain.

“Gohan! Are you alright?”

“Chibi!”

Gohan glanced up to see both Bulma and Trunks at the side of his bed… why were his bedrails all dented… starting down worriedly at him. With a grin he laughed lightly, trying not to aggravate his stomach. “Heh, heh…. Ya know Bulma, you’ve really got to stop calling me that.” However he glanced at Trunks again before he smiled. “How are you feeling Trunks?” Trunks didn’t look hurt… why did he collapse then? Why did his ki drop?

“I’m fine Chibi, I just overexerted myself, and I thought of things that I shouldn’t have. But I think that question should be directed at you, don’t you think?”

Gohan offered a weak smile. “Well, I feel like I ate a bomb that exploded in my stomach and I’m in a spaceship with five times Earth’s normal gravity, but otherwise I’m fine.”

Gohan wasn’t too sure how to respond to Trunks’ expression. Was it disbelief? Was it worry? When he glanced at Bulma, there was a sort of dread. Uhh… he wasn’t supposed to know about that, was he? Oops…

“Chibi… where did you learn about gravity and spaceships?” Trunks asked him cautiously.

“Uh…. Well my mom kinda taught me about them?” Whoops… It seemed like that wasn’t the best option he could have chosen, because now the look on Trunks’ face was angry. Then again, I suppose it’s alright for him to be angry… since he thinks my mom stole me away from him. Kami that sounded weird! “And, and uh… when I saw Chi-Chi a couple weeks ago…. Well I was told some stories of the past…” This was not going good at all! Soon Gohan would run out of half-truths to tell Trunks! He glanced up at Bulma, silently asking for help. Did she know that Trunks and him… the future him… were in a relationship?

“I… see…” The gears seemed to be turning in Trunks’ head, but thankfully Bulma intervened.

“Trunks, why don’t we leave Chibi alone to rest? He won’t heal as fast as his father since he has more human blood in him.” She said as she pushed Trunks over to the bed on his right.

‘Thank you.’ Gohan mouthed to Bulma. Rest did seem like a good option, and one that wouldn’t incriminate him any further.

Trunks continued to stare at Chibi, even after he fell asleep. Something really wasn’t right with Chibi… what seven year old knew about gravity these days? And spaceships? Especially spaceships with the ability to increase gravity?

And he thought about what else was suspicious about Chibi: He could fly, he had access to Kinto’un, he could meditate, do battle projections, ki blasts, he was an adept fighter, he seemed to have an excellent knowledge – something that only schooling could do (whether at home or public, although the likelihood of the latter was virtually impossible) and the list seemed endless! In fact, Bulma usually insisted upon others calling her by her last name, and it seemed that Chibi had the manners that would agree to, or desire to call strangers by polite names. Yet, Chibi called his mother by her name while he was still groggy, and he even called her old – nothing somebody would call a stranger! There was also the case of his own name – how did Chibi know who he was? Did Chi-Chi tell Chibi that too? Why did Chibi know to look under the rock at the training grounds? How did Chibi know where he was? And… how did Chibi know where the androids were, how did he know to look for Trunks? Did the kid know how to sense ki as well?

Everything about Chibi spoke of formal training, it spoke of a life no child could get in these times anymore.

These times… why did those words draw him in?

“Fuck!” Trunks cursed as another rage surged through his head. His arms held his head tightly and he squeezed his eyes shut. Images were flashing through his mind, they were settling in, solving a puzzle that he’d been trying to figure out with only a few pieces. And everything was starting to make sense with the exception of one single piece but perhaps that was forcefully placed in and didn’t truly belong there in the first place…

Authors’ Notes: Updated slowly, originally intended to be a oneshot but shall be continued because the PwP had too much miniscule plot.

thoughts
.+++. < -Time/scene skip

*****

It took Gohan a week to realize that his dirt on Trunks held no weight against what the lavender-haired brat had against him. What was stopping Trunks from saying “Oh hey guys, guess what, I totally fucked Gohan” to everybody? “Trunks is gay” seemed to pale in comparison, and seemed well… redundant after the fact….

Now, why was Gohan all that concerned with it? Well for starters, he was married, and then there was… no just leave it at that. Infidelity was bad enough, no need to expand. So, Gohan realized that he needed something else, he needed a new piece of dirt to hold over the brat’s head…

It took Gohan another two weeks to find it, and he didn’t really find it, or should he say it was Trunks who found him.

“Shit! Gohan! I’m sorry!” Trunks said as he burst through the door of his office.

“Now, now Trunks, is that any language to be using in front of your professor?” Gohan said but not casually. No he said it almost angrily.

“I promise I won’t do it again! Just… just can you let me do it? Right here? Right now?” He said as he fumbled and dug into his bag. “I’ve got everything right here! Please!”

Gohan leaned back in his chair, half amused, half confused. He was also partially embarrassed, since what Trunks said was stirring up memories that twisted his sense of reality, but he wasn’t admitting that. “You may need to elaborate Trunks.” If they had not… Gohan probably would have mocked his sexual-sounding comment.

The rummaging demi looked up. “Didn’t you notice I wasn’t in class today?”

Gohan’s eyes hardened, for more reasons than one. “I’m not your personal stalker Trunks. I don’t pay attention to who is in my class. I have over a hundred students. Where were you instead of in my lecture? Studying? Sleeping in because you were partying? I don’t give exceptions. You weren’t there on time.”

“Com’on Gohan! You’ve known me since I was in diapers!” Trunks pleaded.

However, something else seemed to shine in Trunks’ eyes as he took in Gohan’s first words. It was a glimpse of something heart wrenching that he saw only once before. Gohan’s gaze softened unintentionally.

“Please? Pops dragged me off to train yesterday and I spent most of the night studying.”

Gohan sighed and he pushed up his glasses. He pulled out a test copy reserved for those taking it at a later date. “You have one hour.”

As Gohan continued making the assignment for the following week, his mind began to wander. He shouldn’t have let Trunks write the exam – if the brat studied before, he wouldn’t have slept in and missed his class. However… that gave him merits, it gave him the dirt that he’d been looking for.

“Time’s up.” Gohan said after glancing at the time and he held out his hand. When the paper was handed to him, he put it into an empty drawer in his desk.

“You never use your desk – hey Gohan!” The brat protested.

“You do realize if you had studied beforehand, you would have gone to sleep on time and arrived to my class on time.”

“Oh com’on Gohan! You’re not doing this to me are you!” Trunks frowned.

“They say two wrongs don’t make a right, but two wrongs prevent one another.” The black-haired hero said, just short of glaring at Trunks.

Gohan saw as confusion changed to understanding, then into malice before it finally settled on danger. It was that dangerous expression which came from a distant past, which haunted the older demi, which allured him.

“Gohan…”

That voice!

“Is it really true? Are you really going to blackmail me? What did I do to deserve this treatment?” Trunks had him, he had him good. Gohan turned his head. He couldn’t fall into the trap! He couldn’t let Trunks secure his hold! He couldn’t release his grasp on reality! “I thought you loved me…”

His hand slipped.

“Gohan…”

The quivering in the voice that repeated his name resounded – multiplied – and it caused the stable ground he was grasping onto to crumble, collapse, and he fell back into the chasm that was illusion.

Guilt filled him, Kami did he feel horrible. Trunks sounded so sad – Gohan turned to look at the prince – he looked so sad! Those features which had always been so serious and fearful were filled with sorrow and a fear of a completely new kind. How could he have done such a thing! How could he blackmail Trunks! The man had been through enough already! “Oh Trunks…. I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking…” His hand moved out to caress and cup Trunks’ face.

Trunks’ leaning into the hand and his hand supporting Gohan’s snapped the last string. It locked the Son into that comfortable fantasy and wouldn’t let him go. No longer was this man his student, but he was transformed by Gohan’s too-willing mind, he had become the one man that Gohan wanted, that he loved, the one he couldn’t stop loving and the one he missed – yearned – for. He was the Trunks that Gohan could never have.

Cautiously, Trunks leaned in, one of his arms moving to the desk in balance, and he let his lips brush against Gohan’s pair in a very feather-like manner. Then those very same lips moved to whisper in his ear. “You were so mean Gohan… I never thought you would do such a thing.”

A shudder travelled down his body. Trunks… his voice, it sounded so hurt, yet it sounded so beautiful. “I’m really sorry Trunks…” He remembered how that voice lowered once the composure slipped, and he craved to hear it again. Trunks was so close, Gohan could smell his body ripening, feel his heat radiating, hear his breath changing, taste his skin sweating, see his hair prickling.

The arm on the desk flexed as Trunks lifted a knee to join it. His movements were slow and deliberate as he crawled up on all fours before letting one hand tightly grip and pull on Gohan’s tie. His mouth opened and his teeth tugged on the ear he previously teased with his tongue.

“Then I suppose you need to prove it – prove that you love me, prove that you are sorry.” He whispered lowly.

Gohan watched with heavy eyes as the man of his dreams began to seduce him. The test lay forgotten in the half-opened drawer, and once again did Trunks become his world, the center of his universe. He tilted his head and he kissed Trunks’ ear that was by his lips. “Then what do you want?” He asked shakily. He’d do anything for Trunks.

“Mmm…” Trunks groaned into his ear. “You’ll just have to figure that out, won’t you?” Even before he finished speaking did he pull Gohan against him with the tie while he kept his eyes hidden behind lavender lashes.

Gohan couldn’t read Trunks’ expression, he couldn’t tell what the prince was thinking, and it was bothering him, yet exciting him.

Trunks leaned back, the hand that was supporting him had moved so that his entire forearm lay flush against the desk. His hips tilted forward, his shoulders hovered over the edge, his torso lay stretched across the surface. All the while Trunks had pulled Gohan down with him, knees on either side of the Son’s waist before stealing a kiss, moving his lips sensually.

And Gohan obliged, both of his hands settled on either side of the prince. As he moved his lips in response, Trunks’ tongue slipped out to push into Gohan’s mouth almost forcefully. His tie was tugged again and again and left no route to escape.

Trunks really had a thing for his ties…

With a feverous and natural submissiveness, Gohan continued to prompt his love on. For some reason, just having Trunks dominate him was something alluring in itself, something that turned him on, something that he sought after, something that he needed. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that watching – feeling – Trunks lose his normal composure and control was erotic.

Trunks pulled away from Gohan to kiss his neck. “Kami, Gohan, you’re so hot.” His tongue flicked out and glided along his neck.

“You…” Gohan shuddered at the mere notion. “You want me.”

“Mm… who wouldn’t?” Trunks asked with a chuckle and the hand holding his tie moved up to loosen it.

What was running though that brilliant mind right now? What new method would Trunks use to make him submit? The mere prospect made the Son shudder in anticipation.

Unravel for me, show me that side of you again…

“But there’s one other thing I want.” The voice was relatively neutral, but it was that hint of audible lust that made Gohan shudder once again.

“Anything Trunks. I’d do anything for you.”

A smirk appeared on Trunks’ face. “I hoped you’d say that.”

Fuck! That went straight to his dick. He didn’t even notice that Trunks removed his tie until it was twirling in the air around Trunks’ forefinger below him.

“I want you to prove your love to me.” Trunks clenched the strip of fabric with his fist in a very Vegeta-like manner and stopped the twirling dead in its tracks. A dangerous yet sexy gleam was in those blue depths before the prince reversed their positions – flipping Gohan beneath him. Next he unravelled the tie that was around his hand while straddling Gohan’s waist. “I want you to show me your love without the use of your hands.” The Son’s tie dangled from Trunks’ hand in an almost hypnotic manner.

As Trunks knelt above him, as he wore that kind and questioning smile, as he held the potential bondage in his hand, Gohan didn’t know what to think. Yet, he was willing. If Trunks wanted to prove himself by this method he would. It was his fault, he shouldn’t have blackmailed his love. “Then let me…” He whispered and removed the shirt from his chest slowly before placing it on a chair carefully.

Still sitting up, Gohan let Trunks tie his wrists behind his back. The prince’s arms ended up wrapping around his torso and the sensation send shivers of delight through his body. Even though there was hardly anything sexual in the embrace, the action itself was typically depicted as one of affection. Yes, that was what he wanted… not just Trunks’ body but something more than that. He did not only lust after this man from the future, but he was in love with him. He wanted a relationship – all of its peaks and ditches – with Trunks, he wanted to live and love with Trunks… yes he wanted Trunks. It had all started at the tender age of ten – when the lavender-haired time traveller stole his heart and carried it off into the future. Now that the thief was back, Gohan would do anything to prove that he deserved that criminal’s heart.

A final slip of the fabric confirmed the bondage – even though they both knew it was only symbolic in nature – and the arms moved back to Trunks’ side. It was disappointing, yes, but the Son would not give up. He would earn Trunks back, he would gain the heart that he’s pined after for almost two decades, hewould prove his love. With a tilt of his hips, Gohan displayed his semi-hard member. “Nn… Trunks…” He let his carnal desires seep into his whispered voice. “I love you.” The low, husky whispers continued and they surely reached Trunks’ ears, as a Saiyajin’s – demi or not – should.

An almost unnoticeable body twitch was accompanied by a cocky reply. “Are you telling me that this is your idea of proving your love Gohan? If so, it’s a little… disappointing.” A soft smile curved the luscious lips that Gohan yearned to taste.

His voice didn’t help matters much either – it was seductive, teasing, alluring, taunting… yet there was some truth to it as well. That was fine, it wasn’t as if he had any ulterior motives to saying those three words anyway. Gohan smiled before scooting closer to Trunks’ hips. “I do hope my words aren’t disappointing if they stood alone.” The Son mimicked Trunks’ tone and arced his hips forward again. “Because it’s only you who can make me like this with your mere presence. Only you who can make my pulse race just with a whiff of your scent. Only you who can clench my heart with a mere syllable.” Gohan arced further, letting his bare chest come into contact with the cloth of Mirai’s shirt and the muscles beneath it. “It beats for you – it beats because of you.”

Trunks bit his lip – in what Gohan didn’t know – but he wouldn’t let Trunks ruin the temple that was his body so Gohan said in his hushed voice, “mmnn… don’t do that love.” He leaned up to connect their lips together. He’d fix the wound. “It’s not nice to harm your own body.” Gohan could feel an answer in Trunks’ nether regions and a low moan was muffled between their lips. Kami… an aspect was one thing, reality on the other… Did Gohan ever want that hardening organ in him once again. “T-Trunks…” The Son gasped quietly. “Only you who can make me tremble with need.” As if to prove his point, a shudder shook Gohan from head to toe. “Only you who can make me beg. Please, please, Trunks. I want you, I need you, I love you. Will you please forgive me? Only you can satisfy this unending need I have for you.”

I want you hold you, I want to cling to you. Please Trunks; forgive me. Gohan looked up at Trunks with a pleading look in his eyes and kissed him hard.

“Fuck me Trunks.”

Those harshly whispered words seemed to be the catalyst Trunks needed. The lavender-haired prince’s hands grasped at Gohan’s face, his palms crushed his ears and his fingers dug into his scalp. He yanked the other demi desperately while answering the hard kiss with his tongue – thrusting it into the unexpecting but willing mouth.

Yes! This was exactly what he wanted – Trunks unleashed – and Gohan knew that there was still so much more to see! Gohan manoeuvred his body before wrapping his legs around Trunks’ waist and used the leverage to grind their hips together. More! More! His legs clung to the other tightly in need. He wanted Trunks to feel his excitement, he wanted to cause Trunks even more excitement. He still remembered the last time in crystal clarity and he wanted a repeat. “Please!” Gohan begged.

Trunks smirked and paused a moment before he roughly pushed Gohan back on the desk. His hands grappled at Gohan’s belt, releasing the belt and clasp – lessening the tension – before he worked on his own shirt – first loosening his tie and sliding it out of the knot and then pushing each button out of their holes tantalizing slow. Gohan watched with hungry eyes, squirming as his member hardened at the display and his legs slackened around Trunks’ waist, too distracted as Trunks’ shirt and tie were removed. It seemed that even the lavender-haired hero had lost his patience as his own belt and pants were freed as quickly as Gohan’s. His member pressed against the remaining confines before Trunks helped it pop out – hard and proud.

“Do you want this?” Trunks asked huskily and gave a long stroke to the object in question.

Even as Gohan swallowed in anticipation, he could feel his own member twitch in respond to both the words and tone. Damn was Trunks ever unrestrained! The Son nodded – of course he wanted it! Who wouldn’t?

“Then come and get it.” The prince said with a twitch of his fingers, a widening grin, and pulled down Gohan’s pants to reveal the hard member and supple ass. Once observing his work, he stroked himself again – slowly – and closed his eyes in pure pleasure. “Mmnn… Gohan…”

Ah fuck, he was going to blow right now if he didn’t do something! So the demi flexed his abdominals and lifted his ass before he directed it towards Trunks’ hard member. The other demi saw what his lover was trying to do and assisted with the positioning and supported his cock with his hand. The Gohan could feel the head pushing against his opening before he carefully descended – feeling the girth with much more detail than before. He wouldn’t deny that it was painful, but things would get better – so much better – and that kept him going and once Trunks was fully in, Gohan let himself relax.

It was Trunks’ turn to act – and the first thing he did was remove Gohan’s pants completely. He followed with moving his own remaining clothes so that they dangled around his knees. “Now Gohan,” the prince whispered, “I want you to fly.”

Gohan was curious at the request but he obeyed anyway and began to float above the desk.

The Son soon learned the reasoning as Trunks positioned them so that he was kneeling on the desk and he brought Gohan back down to the surface. His pants and shoes had sometime fallen off, and both demis were completely nude.

But Gohan was getting impatient. Having Trunks inside of him but doing nothing was driving him insane, and because of the prince’s arms, Gohan couldn’t urgently pull his lover closer with his legs, having them pinned between them. So he did the only thing he could do – arc his back.

And he gasped at the movement it caused inside of him. Did he really miss it this much? Oh Kami… he wanted even more. “T-Trunks… M-Move!”

Trunks let out a low moan and slowly began to move. Out, in, out, in. It was simple, but it was as much preparation Gohan was going to get today. A hand soon crept onto his inner thigh and rubbed circles on the skin there causing even more waves of pleasure and tension. “Gohan.” Kami, his voice was spoken by an angel. “Are you ready?”

With a nod, Gohan realized that this was going to be the last thing his composed, calm, and cautious Trunks was going to say before all formalities were forgotten within the pleasure and need. But Gohan craved for that – seeing the crack in Trunks’ actions was just so damn hot – and the thought that only he could do that just turned him on even more. Then he felt it, he felt the beginnings of the frantic movements that aimed towards his –––

Oh FUCK yes!

“Tr-mmph!” Right. Quiet, quiet.

His own coherency was lost as well and his body moved and arced in tandem with Trunks’ hips. His own movements were confined and limited, but somehow that was fine – more than fine. The thought of Trunks overpowering and controlling him…. His world was focused on that sole thought, on the pleasure, the lust, Trunks himself, and the movements created between – within – them. How he wanted to voice his pleasure that built up, the wondrous tension, that lustrous drive, but he had to keep quiet. He couldn’t even remember why, except that it was important. Instead, Gohan let his body tell the story, he forced every one of his emotions to the surface of his body and within the depths of his eyes. His body spoke the words that his mouth could not.

His neck craned in pleasure, his head thrown back in ecstasy, his eyes glistened with lust, his mouth gaping in silent moans, his toes curled in anticipation, and his ass clenching in need.

Gohan could both see and feel the tell-tale signs of Trunks’ pleasure as well, and it just drove his lust even further. There was this glint in the blue eyes that held his gaze – so much fire – there was this tremble in the hand that stroked his cock – so much need – and there was this occasional twitch in the cock that penetrated his ass – so much tension. Trunks was almost gone and Gohan knew he would follow close behind.

“A-Ah…” The broken gasp escaped those luscious lips before he could feel a warm essence filling him in one, two, three… Gohan lost count and concentrated on that beautiful face before him – those eyes closed in ecstasy, that parted mouth, that head thrown back and that whisper of his name before he, too, feel over the edge while silencing his exclamation to a gasp.

There were a few moments as they rode down from their high and then Gohan heard the shuffling of fabric before the tie bonding his wrists was removed. He turned towards his saviour with a smile, only to be greeted with a dark smirk and a tie dangling hypnotically.

Oh shit! Oh shit! This was not happening! Confinement, lack of control… Not only was Trunks fucking with his mind and body, he had to fuck with his heart too! The fucking brat just twisted his Trunks, he had just perverted the heroic, calm, and passive saviour! Trunks was never controlling, he was never possessive! He was going to pay!

Gohan glared, snatched the tie and put his clothes on before opening the window. “Get out, get the fuck out before I throw you out!”

Trunks was still wearing his smirk as he casually walked towards the window and flew out of it, having the gall to even give a small wave in farewell.

Gohan slowly ran his hands through his hair with shaking arms. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Trunks was going to bloody pay!

Authors’ Notes: OoC is not a major part of the story and it is explained later.

thoughts
.+++. time/scene skip
.xxx. perspective change

*****

Gohan didn’t know why Trunks said nothing in context to the avoidance he was giving the prince all week. Perhaps the other thought he had scared Gohan off, but that was not the case. No, Gohan didn’t go near Trunks because it was he who felt guilty, he who felt ashamed – and most likely Trunks would not know his reason (nor the reason he apologized), since Trunks didn’t know who Gohan was.

The child now knew why lying was bad – it hurt people – and while he didn’t lie per se, what he was doing wasn’t much better. He was letting Trunks believe that the future Gohan had cheated on him, (Gohan knew the basics of reproduction) he was letting Trunks be pained by that knowledge, and yet if he told the truth it would hurt Trunks – physically.

Bulma had hypothesized that the blood clot was suppressing Trunks’ memory, and once she talked with her son, he had just lent more support to the cause.

But lying was not the real, main reason he couldn’t face Trunks. No, it was because of what he was going to do. He was going to leave his future love alone in this world, and that just wasn’t right. How could he face the man with that knowledge? How could he face the man whom he would hurt?

Was this how Piccolo felt when he sacrificed his body for Gohan’s? No, it couldn’t be… Piccolo knew that Gohan would revive him, Piccolo knew that he was going to live again.

Why did he do that? It was a question that frequented the child’s mind. Was it because Trunks’ life was in danger? Was it because he was protecting his pupil? Did he just run out of luck? Was he too stupid to realize? Or was it for a darker reason?

Gohan shook his head. It couldn’t be that. Although, he didn’t know how this world would change him over the process of ten plus years. Already, he was changing. Fear – something that seemed to be just a trickle before – had exploded into his life, it broke the dam and he flowed with it, he went where it took him. The rapids were raging, and every time he thought of overcoming the hasty, dangerous waters, he was driven back by another wave of fright. Here he didn’t just fear for his life. No, he already knew that he would die, and that was more terrifying than a ki blast aimed for his heart with a possibility to dodge the deadly blast. No, it was because he knew that he would never dodge that blast in the end, that his death was inevitable, that his time really was limited, that he had the knowledge of where the clock stopped.

And that fear was not the only change – no he had become what he never thought he would become: he became a liar, he became a ghost of the past, he became a toy for the enemy.

So… it wasn’t all that inconceivable that he could walk a darker path…

Ki’s beginning to vanish and weaken off in the distance distracted Gohan from his thoughts and he looked up, towards the source. The androids! He thought and shot up.

Next, Trunks’ ki became to rise, and Gohan rushed over to where the still-sick demi was. “You’re not going Trunks.” He said firmly.

“Like hell!” The Saiyajin prince objected.

“Trunks, you’re in no shape to fight them, you still haven’t recovered from the last battle!” Bulma added.

“What about those people Mother? Am I just going to let them die over a stupid blood clot? I think not!”

And if you die, there will be no fighter that is a natural part of this world Trunks. Gohan thought and turned around. “I’ll go. They won’t kill me.”

“Chibi!” Trunks called after him.

“No.” Gohan turned, determination in his eyes as he stood at the door. “You stay here.” It’s the least that I can do. The child took off in flight and towards the disappearance of ki.

“Oh?” Gohan said with a glare. Control it Gohan! Don’t let the rage control you! He forced down the building anger, pushed it down and tried to hone it. Then, he took the key and unlocked his powers, letting it envelope him – but not dominate him. “Disappointed are you?”

“I don’t want to fight blind rage. Directed rage, yes. Now that’s amusing.”

Gohan appeared behind the android and threw a punch. He could do this! Focus! Focus! “I’m not as wild as before.”

He saw Seventeen smirk as he caught the fist. “We’ll see how long that lasts.” He challenged and returned the punch, but Gohan caught it – and almost winced.

The man – cyborg – was still playing with him, but he owed this to Trunks. He hurt the other, he left the other, and now, he would play hero for the man whom he was destined to love.

Feet and arms were aimed, dodged, caught, and connected. They had only damaged one party though – Gohan could not land a single blow on the artificial human. And while two blue-coloured eyes often met, confidence and amusement were only in one pair, while the green-tinted ones began to droop in exhaustion and pain.

Seventeen was just playing, he didn’t put any effort, and here Gohan was, slowing and weakening. How could he be so strong? Gohan was a Super Saiyajin… and yet!

“Sorry to interrupt Seventeen, but I think you’ve played with your dolly long enough. This town is getting boring.”

And yet… he couldn’t even hinder the other sibling while she went on her own personal rampage! He was pathetic! He was weak! He was useless! Then, he heard what she referred to him by and it was the final spark that lit his already-short fuse. “D-Dolly?” His eyes narrowed and he charged at Eighteen.

But she was already ahead of him as she dodged his raging fists.

“Blind rage.” She simply stated before letting her fist connect with Gohan’s stomach – why was it always there – and knocking him out with a new surge of pain.

Sure Chibi said that the androids wouldn’t kill him, but Eighteen was the more logical and persuasive one of the pair. If she got it in her head that Chibi – Gohan’s child – had to die, sooner or later the boy wouldn’t have a chance.

“Trunks?” His mother asked at his lack of movement and exclamation. “Did something happen to G-Chibi?”

Trunks was accustomed to his mother’s slipups. Apparently even Chibi confused his mother with his appearance. The teen nodded though. “Yeah, his ki just plummeted.” He couldn’t stay here! He needed to go and help Chibi! “I’ve got to go! Chibi needs me!”

“Oh no you–” Bulma protested as her son bolted for the door and she shook her head. “You never listen when it comes to those androids…”

Trunks sped toward the place that the androids were. Even while Chibi was busy with one, there still were ki’s vanishing. Chibi didn’t know, he was too weak to battle both and too boring to watch.

The boy just didn’t know what the androids were capable of, what their actions were focused on, what their supposed emotions were. They were cruel, sadistic, bored. Their definition of fun was torture, and a game was somebody who had the strength of a Super Saiyajin. Chibi was just a child, how could he possibly know? How could he…

No, there was no such thing as a child anymore was there? Gohan had lost his childhood just before he turned ten and Trunks couldn’t remember when he was last fearless, carefree, and amused by the simple things. What was Chibi’s experience? Did he still remember when he ran around without a care in the world, when he giggled at a butterfly on his nose, when an android was just a big scary monster that never really mattered to him but it scared those who took care of him?

Trunk’s body halted in mid-flight as another rage surged through his head. What did Chibi’s life have to do with his forgotten memories? The prince glanced down at the desolated rocky plains and the image of the strangers and the Gohan-Chibi-persona flashed again. The pressure and pain in his head only increased as he closed his eyes. It had just made everything worse though since the picture became real. He felt like he was a person watching them, that he was sitting and waving at them and they were waving back. He was smiling at a younger version of his mother before he glanced at the Gohan-Chibi-person – who was approaching him slowly – with a thought: I will save you.

STOP! Trunks demanded, and that’s exactly what his body did.

It was the last thing that had really disheartened Gohan. Twenty years ago, people would not be cowering behind corners but running around frantically for children, siblings, parents, friends… but now life was so valuable one couldn’t risk it for another. This world was just so sad…

How could Trunks bear seeing this each time he was defeated by the androids, how could he continue to do this?

Wait… where was Trunks’ ki? Back at Capsule Corporation Bulma was alone, and he couldn’t find the other’s ki anywhere! Sure, Trunks normally hid it and he had it toned down, but it was never like this! Gohan could always feel the slightest hint! There were only two possible things: Trunks was dead, or he was close to it.

No! No! Not him too! Not again! This couldn’t be! This world needed a warrior! Trunks was the sole carrier of the Saiyajin genes, he was the only who could hope to rival the androids! Gohan wasn’t from here, he couldn’t… he didn’t want to…

Did this mean he had to stay here?

Did this mean that he could never go home?

Did this mean he could never see his mom?

His Dad?

Piccolo?

Gohan’s body trembled with emotion. No! No! Calm down! Calm down! Look for Trunks! Find him! He told himself as he held his head and muted out the sounds of terror that those around him were making. He had to find Trunks! Find Trunks and figure out what to do then.

Gohan stood up and raised his ki. He flew the route that was the shortest, and the most direct to Capsule Corporation and he watched the ground.

Trunks had to have left the building – from what he could tell about the man’s attitude – towards the androids. Especially after he would have felt Gohan’s ki drop… If he had flown towards the city, Gohan had to ensure that he kept an eye on his surroundings. Especially if the other had run into the androids…

A thought occurred to Gohan: what if Trunks had gone else where and he was wasting his time here? What if the time he used dawdling along the route here could have been used in saving Trunks’ life elsewhere? What if he lingered here while Trunks died…

Gohan bit his bottom lip. He still… he still had to go to Bulma and ask her where Trunks went, and if, if he somehow missed Trunks here, Gohan didn’t think he could live with that guilt-free. He already killed Trunks’ heart, he couldn’t kill the man’s body too…

No! He had to check! He had to make sure! He had to hope! He had to hope that if Trunks ran into the androids, they left him hanging to life, that they created enough observable damage. It was perhaps depressing that he wanted that fate for Trunks, yet it would be easier. Even if it was so, Trunks would have significant wounds to for his ki to drop this low. But, in case that wasn’t, Gohan kept his eyes and senses peels for any sign of Trunks and his ki.

The only thing that mattered to Gohan now was that Trunks was alright. Nothing else fazed him. Gohan could barely feel the wind against his face as he flew, nonetheless anything else. Trunks was the only thing in his world. Trunks had to be found, Trunks had to be alive.

If he wasn’t, well Gohan didn’t know – to both scenarios.

He looked for purple, for black, for blue, for yellow. Where was the man who defeated Frieza? Where was the last Saiyajin? Where was their prince – King? Where was Trunks?

“Trunks!” Gohan yelled, praying the man was still conscious out there and could respond in some way. “Trunks!”

Why wasn’t he responding! Didn’t he know that he was Earth’s only hope! Sure he thought Gohan was his own son but wouldn’t that mean he’d need to train Gohan? Stupid Trunks! Just stay at home! Just get better! Just live! “Trunks!”

What was that? Gohan turned his head as he felt a very faint and very low ki off to his left. “Trunks!” Gohan called, but this time out of hope instead of desolation, and flew towards it.

He found the man, lying almost peacefully by a river. Gohan panicked and flew down. He placed his ear against the other’s chest and heard the heart beating, the lungs inhaling.

But both were shallow. He glanced around a gauged the distance towards the Capsule Corporation. Kinto’un would be too slow. He had to fly.

The boy closed his eyes and concentrated on his box before opening it and letting out the power, dying his locks, tinting his eyes.

He picked up Trunks and gently slung the older man over his shoulder. “Hang on Trunks.” He said as he floated up into the air. “I’ll get you home.”

He flew full speed to Capsule Corporation and kept his senses honed in on the other’s ki.

When he got to the door, he let out a sigh and knocked. Gently he moved Trunks into his arms. Bulma, she would take care of – Gohan’s eyes widened as his body finally caught up to him. The pain hit him in another wave, the exhaustion took over, and he was lucky that the door opened because he couldn’t control his body as it collapsed in rebellion against his recent actions.

Authors’ Notes: OoC is not a major part of the story and it is explained later.

thoughts
.+++. time/scene skip
.xxx. perspective change

*****

Gohan yelled as Trunks’ body started convulsing and ran towards the man. What was wrong? What was wrong! “Kinto’un!” Gohan screamed out. What was he supposed to do! Why was Trunks twitching! He shouldn’t be twitching right? Gohan jumped on top of Trunks and moved his hands and legs to hold down the flailing limbs, but the man was too strong. In his panic, he charged up and he transformed into a Super Saiyajin and it worked! He held down Trunks firmly, that was until Trunks’ body had the same idea and his hair turned golden and he threw Gohan off. Then, the prince’s ki began to rapidly flash on and off and his hair had yellow and purple pulsing through it in horizontal streaks.

And Gohan watched with wide, horrified eyes. What was he supposed to do? Was Trunks going to be alright? The single minute that it took for Trunks’ body to calm down seemed to take forever and when the moments of stillness started Gohan finally approached Trunks again. “Trunks? Trunks?” He asked quietly.

And the prince did respond, but nothing coherently. The words were slurred and half formed. Gohan bit his lips. I need to take him to Bulma… she would know what happened to him. “Hold on Trunks, stay awake, I’ll be right back!” He said and ran around, tidying up their camp before he ran back over to Trunks. “Trunks, you still with me?”

“Who? What?”

Gohan sighed in relief. At least he’s forming words again. He moved and picked up Trunks – whose hair had reverted back to its natural lavender colour. “I’m taking you home.” He explained and floated up onto the orange cloud that had come down from the skies. “To Capsule Corp Kinto’un.” Gohan said and held Trunks against him just like when he carried Trunks on the cloud before. Even though he had the strength to fly, he was too small to carry Trunks the entire way – in a way that wouldn’t possibly damage the other anyway.

“Gohan? Why’re yousmall?” Trunks said, but his words were slurring together. Still, it was much better than before. “Why’reyou Super Saiyaji-?”

“You call me Chibi, Trunks.” Gohan reminded him.

“WhydoI call yaChibi? You’re older denme.” The lavender-haired man giggled. “You’re my sensei, why call yaChibi?”

There most definitely was something wrong with Trunks. He was giddy – an emotion that Gohan had never seen in the man before. Then within that pair of blue a look, that look, reappeared and it froze the younger demi. It didn’t seem to matter to Trunks though, as he leaned up, his face approached, and his lips’ target was becoming obvious. Gohan snapped out of his reaction quick enough to avoid the touching of their lips.

Instead, Trunks kissed his cheek, and it seemed that he wouldn’t give up. He leaned up again, tilted his head, but Gohan avoided it again. Then, Trunks’ lower lip stuck out as he pouted. “Oh com’on Gohan! Why wuncha let me kissya?”

Let him kiss me? What…? W-Why? The idea confused Gohan. The man that was half on his lap and half on the cloud was intent on an answer though, and Gohan did not have an answer that he could give. Perhaps he could state a fact and make it seem like an answer? He didn’t want to but… “You’re sick.” He said. “Or I think so. I’m taking you home so Bulma can make sure.”

“Aww…” Trunks whined. “Fine!”

And Gohan’s arms had to secure their grasp on the older demi as Kinto’un suddenly decided it wouldn’t support the son of Vegeta anymore. “Kinto’un!” Gohan whined. This was going to be a long trip.

“Bulma.” Gohan said as he supported Trunks at the door. He knocked again. “Bulma…”

When the woman – complaining at the impatience of kids these days – opened the door Gohan almost had to support another person but she caught herself on the doorframe.

“G-Gohan?” Her voice shook in fear, disbelief, and shock.

“I’ll um… explain later, but something is wrong with Trunks. I think the androids did something bad to him this time.”

Why did the words this time seem so depressing to Gohan?

“Okay, just come on in you two, we’ll run some tests on him.” Bulma said and lit a cigarette.

“But I don’t wanna have tests run Mother!” Trunks whined.

She almost lost her smoke as she gaped with wide eyes at her son and then at a child Gohan.

“He only started acting like this after he started twitching.” Gohan supplied the answer to the question that she was more than likely wondering.

“He had a seizure! Kami!” She exclaimed before pulling Trunks along behind her.

A seizure? I’ve heard of those… was that what that was? Gohan wondered as he followed Bulma into her lab.

When all the tests were run and done, Bulma sighed with a puff of smoke. “He still has signs of a concussion – however that isn’t what directly caused the seizure. Trunks has a blood clot in an artery in the brain. The damage to his head probably caused both the concussion and the blood clot. All I can do is give him some medication to help wear it down. I don’t see anything too serious with it unless it doesn’t wear down but hopefully it will – it shouldn’t take too long. We just need to let his Saiyajin blood kick in and he’ll be fine.” Then, she turned over to Gohan. “Now, could you perhaps explain who you are? You’re a dead-knock for Gohan when he was a kid, and you’ve even got the Saiyajin blood.” She said and touched a golden lock.

“Oops… I guess I forgot about that.” Gohan said before he returned to his powered down. Then he looked over to the unconscious Trunks before back up at Bulma. “I suppose I can tell you. I look like a kid Gohan because I am a kid Gohan.”

“What? That’s impossible! The dragon balls are just rocks unless – did the Namekseijins revive you? No, that can’t be. Did you confuse your words, that would mean that Gohan…”

Gohan slapped his hand to his face. “I know what I said Bulma. I’m a seven year old Gohan. I… I think I got caught in the time portal Trunks made when he came back here.”

Bulma ran a hand through her hair. “That klutz…”

“Is there… is there any way I can go back?” Gohan asked quietly.

“I’m sorry to say, but not at this moment. However, in about five months you will be able to. The time machine requires a lot of energy to charge.”

Gohan’s eyes widened. Five months? Five months! He had to wait another one hundred and fifty days? In this time? In this world? No… He didn’t want to be here any longer! He wanted to go home! He wanted to go back to the time where it was safe, to where his mother yelled at him for getting twelve-times-twelve wrong, to where she forced him to do calligraphy instead of train, to where Piccolo was alive, to where his dad was! Gohan hugged himself as he slid down the wall. Would he live that long?

If he hadn’t met the androids, Gohan may have lasted that long, but now they knew who he was (or so they thought) and he knew who they were. How could he last that long, knowing that they were looking forward to their next meeting, that they wanted to beat him to an inch of his life only to toss him away, just so they could do it all over again?

How did the people of Earth live this way? How did Trunks? Perhaps what had scared him the most though was that in five months and three years, he’d have to meet them again, meet them for the first time, and watch them kill everybody he loved. And then start everything all over again…

Kami, his head was killing him. At least he was on a bed. Wait, a bed? Trunks shot up and glanced around. He was in his room but why? The last thing he could remember was being in the training grounds with Chibi. No… that wasn’t it. Trunks flushed slightly as he remembered that he treated Chibi like Gohan again, that he tried to kiss the child, that he acted like a child. Why did he act like that? He had to apologize.

As the prince got out of bed, he noticed a glass of water, a bottle of pills and a note with instructions and an explanation.

I have a blood clot in my brain? I had a seizure? Kami… no wonder why my head won’t stop hurting. Trunks sighed but took the mediation and downed the water. He then sensed for Chibi, and noticed that he was in the kitchen while his mother was in the workshop. The prince headed towards the kitchen – he was hungry anyway.

“Chibi… I’m uh… sorry…” He said awkwardly at the doorway, not really looking at Gohan’s son. He heard nothing, no shuffling, no grunts. Was the boy asleep? Trunks glanced over to the mini-Gohan to see him staring off into space. Yet, his facial expression seemed torn, lost, sad, and fearful. Trunks understood. “Alright, I’ll leave you alone. I can understand–”

“No.” Chibi said firmly but continued off into a murmur. “It’s not that. You don’t have to go.”

If it wasn’t him, then what exactly had Chibi so down? What made his voice sound so monotonously sad? The lavender-haired man sat down next to the boy who looked at him with those big black Son eyes. They were filled with a lost hope – fear – and Trunks just wanted to hold Chibi close and tell him that everything would be fine.

“The…” The boy hesitated. “The way you phrased things Trunks, were you and Gohan… together?”

The man stared at Chibi. How could he tell the boy that his father was in a relationship with another man, that he had loved another person who was not his mother? “W-Wha? Oh, no, there’s–”

“The truth Trunks.” Why did Chibi sound so much like his father when he found Trunks lying? Why did he seem to have the same grip Gohan had on him?

The prince looked down. “Yes, Chibi, yes we were together. I loved him, I still love him.”

“What about Gohan?”

Here Trunks flinched. “I-I don’t know anymore…” Yet at the look Chibi had on his face, that would not be enough – he wanted facts, not opinions. Well, kid deserved to know… “He told me he loved me.”

The boy looked down at his hands again in what seemed contemplation, although instead of on his lap, they were chest level and palm up. “I’m sorry Trunks.” He said solemnly and walked away.

It all made sense now – why Trunks seemed to hate him, why Trunks looked him at the way he did, why Trunks did the things he did… but Gohan didn’t know what to think of it. Gohan was only seven years old, and yet his life’s story was being laid out right in front of him. He was being told that he would lose his father, his friends, his limb, and his life; he was being told whom he would battle, train and love. And now, Gohan didn’t know who he was. Was he the Gohan who slept beside his father in eternal sleep? If not… then who was he? He was the Gohan who stepped into the future, the Gohan who achieved Super Saiyajin earlier – yet was he also connected to the Gohan here? Did what he do now change the future – the present – the past? Was he going to be the Gohan of this now? Kami, Gohan didn’t even know how to refer to time anymore and this was that but also that over there! What was what? Gohan just didn’t – couldn’t – know anymore…

Authors’ Notes: The Mpreg label is an optional point to the story, I shall warn beforehand if it is not your thing.

Thoughts
//Flashback//
.+++. Time/scene skip
.xxx. Perspective/Time(Backwards or forwards) change

*****

While Mirai was shocked, Gohan had already realized that possibility – it had not lessened the shock, just the impact – and it wasn’t his predominant emotion. No, the expression on his face resembled anger and the ki that dancing off of him just further supported that claim.

“We’re engaged…” Mirai repeated in a whisper. He couldn’t believe it – or at least that’s what Gohan hoped from the disbelief in his voice and his slowly shaking head. (Sure, the younger half-Saiyajin wasn’t exactly prepared for engagement, but he didn’t want to believe Mirai was opposed to marrying him.)

“Yeah.” Gohan tried to say calmly, tried not to snap, tried not to lace the anger in his voice and he barely succeeded. Instead of his voice raising or lowering into a dangerous pitch, it quivered with the suppressed emotion. His voice didn’t break with emotion, but there were audible cracks in the tremors that shook it. He would kill the chibis!

“Gohan?” However much Gohan tried to withhold his emotional response, once Mirai got over his initial shock he picked up on it. Then again, it was rolling off of him in waves, so he supposed it was hard not to notice. “Are you alright? I mean I can–” The words were said quietly, as if Mirai didn’t agree with what he was saying but they were also said with the concern the man from the future had for his boyfriend.

“We’ll sort that out later Mirai, first I need to teach some chibis some manners.” His voice danced slightly with the anger that was slipping from his vault. He smirked and glanced at Mirai – who had finally tore his gaze from the four-star ball before continuing. “Of course I wouldn’t deny you that privilege so you can join if you wish.” He said and tossed the ball over to Mirai and held out his hand. “Shall we?”

It wasn’t just Mirai who glanced at Gohan incredulously, for both Namekseijins looked at their friend and student in the same manner. But only Mirai took Gohan’s outstretched hand before both half-Saiyajins left instantly.

“G-Gohan?” Goten stuttered and looked over at Chibi Trunks with worry.

Mirai had a Vegeta-smirk on his face as he tossed the dragon ball in the air. When he made eye contact with his younger counterpart, dread filled the chibis’ faces.

“Oh shit…” Chibi said before the four disappeared.

“You forgot about me Gohan!” Mirai added innocently.

“G-Gohan swore!” Goten accused with a finger before Chibi hit him over the head.

“Nine. Eight.” Gohan began to count down.

“That’ll be the least of our worries if you don’t raise your ki idiot!” Chibi scolded and charged up.

“Seven. Six.”

“R-Right” Goten stuttered as he did the same.

“Five. Four.”

The chibis positioned themselves.

“Three. Two.”

“Fusion…”

“One.”

“Hah!”

Only after Goten’s head was hit by Gohan did the younger half-Saiyajins give in. “Okay! Okay! We’re sorry!” Twin voices rang out as both covered their heads in defence.

Gohan let out a small sigh and glanced up at Mirai who nodded at the eye contact. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and looked sternly at the boys. “And?”

“We won’t do it again?” Goten tried before Chibi Trunks flew over and hit Goten over the head again.

“You dumbie! We can’t do it again!”

“Trunks!” Goten whined.

Mirai raised an eyebrow and looked at Gohan through the corner of his eyes at the nostalgic sound.

Gohan caught the gaze with a smile before the two of them burst out with laughter.

Chibi looked at Goten and was met with a matching, curious gaze.

When both Mirai and Gohan calmed their laughter, their expressions were lighter but were still tinged with firmness.

It was Mirai who spoke next. “So you knew what the ball was for?”

Guiltily, the chibis nodded together.

“And you intentionally did this?” Gohan continued. It seemed that the two adults were taking turns speaking.

Again, twin nods.

“Could you perhaps give us a reason for your actions?” Mirai asked as he took his turn.

This time the two boys had different reactions: Goten looked down with guilt while Chibi looked away with burning cheeks.

“Chibi?” Gohan prompted warningly.

“I-I-um…” The young prince stuttered as his face darkened even more than it originally was.

“TrunkssaidsomethingaboutpantsandthatheandbigTrunkshavethesameonesand–” Goten blurted out before gasping for breath and continuing, “andhesaidsomethingaboutmaybelikingGohanandthatwedidntwantthatandandand–”

Gohan knelt down and put his hands on Goten’s shoulders, breaking both his and Mirai’s pattern at his little brother’s state of duress. “Goten, slow down. What’s this about Chibi liking me and what does it have to do with Mirai’s pants?”

“Idiot!” Chibi shouted. “Genes! Get it right!” His face was still scarlet and he crossed his arms before looking away again.

Goten fiddled his thumbs. “W-Well um… you and Trunks – the big one – are dating right?”

“My dad, Videl, my friends, Piccolo, and now the chibis? Are we that obvious?”

Mirai put a hand on Gohan’s shoulder in mock support. “Look at it this way – with the exception of Goku – they all had help along the way. Videl saw us, I showed you off to our friends, Piccolo saw the dragon ball and Chibi here is essentially me. Although, I always did say that you’re flaming.”

“T-Trunks!” Gohan yelled, his cheeks darkening.

“Gohan… you haven’t answered my question yet.” Goten added in meekly.

The older Son mentally face palmed. Isn’t it obvious, I virtually admitted to it already! “Yes Goten.” He said drolly.

“Well, um… that’s kinda why…. We don’t want Trunks to like you!” Goten stuttered before exclaiming the point that he’d been trying to make for awhile.

Gohan blinked, rather confused by that logic.

Mirai, however, nodded. “I think I know what these two are getting at and, although the approach to the conclusion isn’t exactly correct, it isn’t too far from the truth.”

Both Sons turned toward Mirai in question.

“Seeing that Chibi and myself are essentially the same person we both like guys – that’s what the two of you figured, right Goten?” When the youngest nodded, Mirai continued. “So you thought we might like the same people.” Another nod, and Mirai knelt down. “Well where you two went wrong were focusing on genes – however the fact that Chibi and I are two different versions of Trunks is where you two are correct.”

“So Trunks will like Gohan?” Goten said with worry and dread, his eyes widening.

Mirai laughed and shook his head. “That we don’t know. You see, there never was a Goten in my life, I never really had a father, I just had my mother and Gohan – and sometimes Chi-Chi. Here, things are still unknown, nobody knows the future.” Mirai grinned next. “Is that why you two set us up – so there’d be no competition?”

Goten’s face lit up as did Chibi’s reignite once more.

“H-H-How’d you know?”

Mirai had a turn at hitting Goten over the head now as he laughed. “First of all you told us when you said ‘we don’t want Trunks to like Gohan’. Second – well we saw you two kissing behind the tree.” Still with the grin on his face, Mirai pinched Goten’s cheeks teasingly.

“Trunks! Help me! The big you is being mean!”

“He’s not me! As if I’d go out with Gohan! I’ve got you!” Chibi Trunks protested but ran towards Mirai anyway.

Gohan joined in on the laughter that started as Chibi tackled Mirai with the power of a super Saiyajin. The future looked interesting with these two relationships in tow…

“It’s alright Dad, me and Trunks deserved it.” Goten admitted quietly.

“You did? What’d you do?” Goku asked curiously.

Gohan’s cheeks darkened. “Oh Dad, Bora and Upa say hi!” He interjected. Hopefully that’d distract his father. Goku only knew that Gohan liked Mirai, not that they were dating and now… engaged.

“Bora and Upa…” Goku said as he put his fingers to his chin and glanced up thoughtfully. “Oh Bora and Upa!” A smile appeared on the innocent face as he recalled the father and son. “I should visit them.”

“Well you’re staying right here for now Goku. Supper is ready.” Chi-Chi scolded as she shook a batter-covered spoon. “Goten!” The woman acknowledged the many bruises on her youngest. “What ha-” Before Chi-Chi could even ask, a gust of air blew by her and the clank of dishes filled the kitchen.

Really, Chi-Chi should already know better to say what needed to be said before mentioning food around Saiyajins.

“Videl, have you ever thought of going on your own?” Gohan asked quietly. He wasn’t being selfish either, it was quite the opposite, he was concerned for the future. If Videl couldn’t handle the criminals on her own… he worried for her.

“But I can’t withstand bullets, blow them away with ki, or make ki blasts like you do!” Videl pointed out.

Gohan sighed. Videl’s dependence was deeper than he thought. “Videl how did you become as strong as you are today?”

The daughter of Mr. Satan looked off to the side. “I trained, I practiced…” She listed quietly.

“Then why do you not work on ki instead of martial arts? Why don’t you learn your own style? I can’t teach you everything… I’ve taught you the basics: how to gather your ki in your palm, how to channel it to your feet, how to expand it into a shield to protect you against the wind as you fly. Build on those – strengthen and enlarge that little ball of ki, channel the ki elsewhere, turn the shield against elements into one against bullets… There are endless possibilities you can do with that energy.” Gohan let out another sigh, hopefully Videl would finally realize her own potential. She had surpassed her father long ago and if only she embraced something that she thought was tricks and lightshows her entire life could she become even stronger. “One day, I may not be in or near Satan City to defend it, and you will need to do it alone.”

“Alone…” Videl whispered. “To fight alone again, I never thought about that possibility.” She smiled and gave a soft laugh. “I guess I always thought you’d be here, that you’d help, but I guess things really have changed.”

Gohan smiled softly at her. They had been together for two years after all – he could give her a few months of leeway. “Well, nobody knows what the future will bring, but it’s best to be prepared. I know you have the potential to do it; you just have to unlock it. But enough of this, let’s go save Satan City from its villains.” With that, their smiles widened before they took off.

But he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about marriage right now, he was just supposed to worry about making Mirai happy, how to make them happy, never mind what his mother wanted. Marriage could wait, it should wait. Perhaps Mirai would keep the ball because, in a way they always were engaged. Physical proof of that didn’t change matter… did it?

The Son let out a sigh, he still wanted to know what Mirai felt about this. It seemed that they’d have to have that talk after all.

“We shouldn’t even be doing this.” The other, taller man responded quietly. “I mean, they’ve only just started to accept you…”

“They’ll learn to accept this as well!” He argued. “Since when did you worry what others thought anyway?”

“There was that incident when Buu attacked… even I am not really sure that we should be doing this.” The tall one reasoned, ignoring the latter half of his companion’s statement.

“For fuck sakes! I go as low as to… and yet you still have qualms about it! I put away my damn pride, isn’t that enough for you?” The short man’s already small fuse was at its limits. “Just fucking do it already.”

“But if anyone finds out that we’re doing this…” The quieter man whispered.

“The fucking brats do it all the fucking time! If they can do it then why can’t–”

“That’s because they only have a limited time anyway.” The tall one interrupted. “Us on the other hand… I don’t want anything bad to happen.”

“You already know what I did!” The loud one’s temper snapped. “How can you doubt after that!”

“But don’t you remember what you did before!” The once-seemingly meek man grabbed the crass one by his shirt. “How can I, after that!”

“If only you had honestly accepted my offer, that would have never happened! It was the only way to get you to react dammit!”

A sigh escaped the kinder male as he let the other go. “And that’s why I can’t do this. You’re addicted enough and you’ll abuse what you’ll get. I’m sorry Vegeta, but I can’t.” With two fingers at his forehead, he teleported both of them back to Earth before leaving by transmission himself.

Vegeta clenched his fists and glared at where the other had stood a moment before. “Damn you to Hell Kakkarot! Damn you to Hell!”

Authors’ Notes: The Mpreg label is an optional point to the story, I shall warn beforehand if it is not your thing.

Thoughts
//Flashback//
.+++. Time/scene skip
.xxx. Perspective/Time(Backwards or forwards) change

*****

Over the next few days, Gohan wondered whether or not he should ask about the previous times when Mirai had shut him out. However, that action seemed a bit too invasive. Perhaps he’d ask if there was any place that Mirai would rather not go to. (He knew that amusement parks were definitely a no-no.) He didn’t want to accidently upset Mirai.

“What’cha thinking about loverboy?” Videl asked him with a knowing smirk as she nudged him.

Gohan rolled his eyes at his ex. “Just about Trunks and my relationship.”

Videl raised her eyebrow at that. “You really like him don’t you?”

“Huh? Well yeah, but where’d that come from?” Gohan replied with some surprise.

“Well you’re really trying to keep it together, you don’t want to let this one fall apart.” She said before taking a sip of her smoothie.

“Why Videl, you sound almost jealous!” Gohan acknowledged.

There was small bit of guilt on her face as she laughed. “Okay, I admit that I kinda still wanted you to come back to me, but now I see that’s never going to happen – you like the boys too much. But enough about me, you never did tell me the full story about Mirai.”

Gohan sighed softly. “Alright, well if it weren’t for Mirai, right now I’d be training Chibi Trunks and rapidly approaching my death. When he came back twelve years ago, he changed fate drastically…”

After his post-Saiyaman-hangout with Videl, Gohan headed over to Capsule Corporation to meet up with Mirai. They were on a sparring date today, although how much of a date it would be Gohan didn’t know since Vegeta and the chibis were there as well. Hopefully the chibis would fuse and keep Vegeta occupied.

When he touched down he was greeted by Goten.

“Hey big brother!” He said with an impish grin on his face.

What are those two up to? He wondered cautiously. Hopefully it wasn’t anything too bad, but then again it was Trunks… “Hey Goten.” Gohan responded with a smile and ruffled his little brother’s hair. “Where’s Mirai?”

Goten giggled. “Oh, he’s with Trunks.”

“He is?” Gohan asked. “I see.”

“Ne, big brother.” Goten said and grabbed on his shirt, stopping him from going to Mirai. “Why’d you break up with big sis Videl?”

“Wh-What’d brung that up?” He stuttered in shock.

“You didn’t answer Gohan.” Goten said with a smirk.

Apparently Goten was learning a lot from Chibi Trunks. It seemed he couldn’t deflect. “Well, uhh… I kinda misread my feelings for her – it wasn’t the love I thought.”

Goten tilted his head. “What do you mean? There are different kinds of love?”

Gohan laughed softly. “Yeah, there’s the love you have for your friends, your family, and for your boyfriend or girlfriend. And, the love I had for Videl was that for a sister.”

“Eww!” Goten said, “I don’t want you to date me!”

Gohan laughed harder. “Neither do I Goten, neither do I, but that’s one of the reasons why I broke up with Videl. When I realized it was the wrong kind of love, I knew I had to stop it. I couldn’t do it to her – or to myself.

“I see, that’s good – I think.” His little brother leaned in next with a smirk. “So what made you realize Gohan?”

Gohan’s cheeked darkened. “Uh…” He looked down. “I just kinda remembered when I had a crush as a kid.” Why was Goten asking these things anyway? He was going to kill Chibi Trunks once he could get the boy alone.

“Oh? Who was it big brother? Do I know them?” Goten’s voice was filled with mischief.

Well two could play that game! “Don’t you have a crush of your own to worry about Goten? Perhaps if you tell me who it is, I’ll tell you about mine.” Gohan recoiled.

Shock filled the young Son face before it was replaced with red. “Eeep!” Goten squealed and ran off coincidentally – no expectantly – in the same direction Mirai came from.

Mirai turned his head to follow the chibi curiously and when he turned back to Gohan there was an amused smile on his face. “Now, what did the evil big brother do this time?”

Gohan laughed. “Goten was prodding into areas that weren’t his concer,n and so I turned the table on him.

Mirai just raised an eyebrow.

“Relationships.” Gohan clarified.

“Ah.” Mirai said with a nod.

“So how about we get going now and talk along the way – before your dad finds us.” Gohan suggested.

Mirai nodded and the two flew off promptly.

“So what exactly did you say to Goten?” The Saiyajin prince asked once they started moving.

“Oh, I just hinted that I knew Goten had a crush on somebody. I don’t think I ever told you, but a few weeks ago he came up and asked me about sexuality – the day after we saw them kissing nonetheless.” Gohan responded.

“Ah, so that hinted at you knowing from the question.” Mirai concluded.

“Yeah, and he probably ran off to tell Chibi.” Gohan chuckled. “Speaking of Chibi, what’d he want with you?”

“Oh to give me a belated birthday gift.” Mirai gave a soft chuckle. “Mother probably gave him the money to buy it.”

“But it’s the thought that counts right?” The younger half-Saiyajin added.

“Yeah, and that’s why I like yours the most.” The lavender-haired time traveler said sweetly before he stopped Gohan with his arm and pulled him in for a close embrace.

Gohan wrapped his arms around the other’s waist as well and stared into those deep blue depths.

“Trunks…” He whispered and met the incoming lips halfway.

Each and every one of Mirai’s kisses were exquisite, they would always make his pulse race, his heart clench, and his stomach queasy. Nothing felt so right and pleasant. He just closed his eyes and lost himself in the feelings.

In the following week, Mirai glanced around in the city as banners were put up and preparations were begun. “What’s going on Gohan?” He asked curiously.

Gohan laughed. “Next week, on the day Cell was killed, the city holds a celebration in honour of Mr. Satan.”

There was a hidden look of disgust on Mriai’s face. “Gohan…”

Gohan gave a soft laugh. “It’s fine. I couldn’t be famous. Too much work I say.”

“Yet, you have quite an interesting pastime Gohan.” The prince said with a knowing grin.

Fearfully and frantically, Gohan glanced around and put a finger to Mirai’s lips. “Shh!” He hushed loudly. “Nobody knows it’s me, and I’d rather keep it that way!” He hissed quietly.

Mirai laughed and slapped his friend on the back. “Oh Gohan. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

Gohan glanced at Mirai slyly. “Well it better be, or it’ll be you whose secret is revealed. Unlike you, I don’t need to change my hair to power up.”

Mirai scoffed. “You never did go Super Saiyajin when we trained, did you?”

“Actually, I did, but it’s a bit different now. It’s called Mystic. Remember the Z-sword? There’s an old Kai stuck in it and he unlocked my powers.”

“What really? Oh shit!” Mirai realized.

“Mirai?”

“I uhh… still have the Z-sword in my room, the one from my time!”

“Oh dear…. Well why don’t we go to the land of the Kais this weekend? We can break the sword and maybe he’ll improve your powers for getting him out.” Gohan suggested.

“Oh no you don’t!” Mirai accused. “The old Kai can wait a week, because you’re not missing your birthday for my sake!”

Gohan laughed the stereotypical Son-laugh. “Alright, alright.”

Then, a Vegeta-smirk appeared on the royal features. “Now, how shall I punish you for your suggestion?”

Gohan took a step back in dread.

“Alrighty.” Mirai said evilly. “You’re going to have to go to Piccolo and ask him for a pink frilly apron and matching kitchen utensils and you need to make me lunch for the next week in those – excluding your birthday of course.”

Gohan turned ‘tomato-red.’ “B-B-B-But… why Piccolo?”

“Well he seems to be adept at creating clothes out of thin air, but I suppose you can use the dragon balls instead and wish for it.” Mirai offered sarcastically.

Still red, Gohan took the latter option. “To Capsule Corp it is…” He mumbled.

“Hey Bulma, Can I have the dragon radar?” Gohan asked, trying to suppress his blush. Thankfully, Mirai had decided to wait for Gohan on Kami’s lookout. If the other was with him, he didn’t know how successful he’d be…

“Huh, why do you need it Gohan?” Bulma asked him.

He couldn’t tell Bulma the exact reason why – it was too embarrassing! He’d tell her that he was looking for the four-star ball, yes that’ll do. “Well, I remembered about the four-star ball.” He said.

“Oh! Right! Grandpa Gohan’s ball! One minute!” After some searching, Bulma exclaimed. “Ahah! Here it is! There you go Gohan and good luck!”

Gohan took the radar with a shaky nod. Why did Mirai get a kick out of teasing him, and why was he obeying him? Perhaps what Master Roshi said was right – the strongest being in the universe was not the person themselves, but their love.

…Did that mean he loved Mirai now, or did it mean he was on his way to loving him? Gohan shook his head. Mirai made him happy – really happy – and that’s all that mattered right? Their relationship was different than Videl and his, it wasn’t just about happiness, it was about all of the feelings. Being with Mirai made him feel, and Gohan wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world. If he had to trade in some dignity, then he would. Besides, even if he would never admit it aloud, he liked Mirai’s relentless teasing.

The first four balls he found were suspiciously easy to find. They seemed rather displaced, but he supposed animals could have done that, so he dismissed it. When he found the sixth ball, he looked at them all. There was something ironic about how his reason that he provided to Bulma was looking for the four-star ball, and it was the last one that he needed. Gohan pressed the button to zoom out and he found the sole light blinking on the screen. Hm, it was in the direction of Kami’s lookout. Interesting, but convenient. He thought and flew over there.

When he reached the tower, he checked the radar again, and it said something funny. It said he was in the exact spot. Tilting his head, he floated down, only to realize there were people living around the pole. Odd that he never realized that before.

“Goku?” A man called from below. “Is that you?”

Gohan blinked. These people knew his dad. Curious, he landed. “No, I’m not Goku. My name is Gohan, I’m his son. How do you know my dad?”

“Goku’s son!” A tall, built man exclaimed. “My name is Bora and this is my Son Upa. Goku saved our lives years ago. Tell me, how does he fair? Last I heard of him was two years ago, when Buu attacked.”

“Hm, it seems the dragon balls trusted you to remember, but Father is fine. By the way, have any of you seen one of these?” Gohan said and pulled out a dragon ball. “Except it would have four stars.”

“A dragon ball huh? I’ll ask around.” Bora said and five minutes later he returned and shook his head. “I’m sorry but nobody has seen it. May I ask why you are collecting them? Did somebody die?”

Gohan shook his head. “No, it’s just the four star ball runs in our family. But that’s odd, it says there’s one right here, unless…” The Son pulled out the radar and zoomed in. He saw the ball moving – almost pacing – and he glanced skyward. “Hmm…” He said thoughtfully. “Thank you for your help and I’ll give Father your regards.” Gohan said before bursting up with a blast of ki. He stopped at Korin’s level and peaked his head in. “Hey, do you two have the four-star ball?” He asked the cat and Yajirobe.

“Uh… no?” Yajirobe said. “How about you Whiskers?”

Korin clubbed Yajirobe over the head with his staff. “No I don’t, maybe check upstairs. Kami and his acquaintances may have it – or even maybe the kid from the future.”

At first, Gohan blinked at the suggestion before it fully hit him. No way! His face flamed up. Mirai better not have the four-star ball! In a panic, he rushed up to the lookout and saw that Mirai had halted in mid-pace. With a blush, he activated the radar and turned around, watching as the ball moved in correspondence to Mirai’s position. “M-Mirai? You wouldn’t happen to have a dragon ball on you, now would you?” He asked nervously.

“Huh? No, I left the searching up to you.” The prince simply stated.

“W-Well, uhh, then can you explain why the radar says differently?”

“What?” Mirai asked in surprise and came closer to see – and the blinking light also approached. When Mirai leaned over to look, a necklace came out from under his shirt.

Gohan glanced back at it. “Hey, where’d you get this?” He asked.

“Oh this?” The time-traveller acknowledged and lifted the necklace in question. “Chibi gave it to me as a belated gift last week. Why?”

Wait a minute… Suddenly the misplaced dragon balls made sense. “Can I see it for a second?”

“Huh? Oh sure.” Mirai said as he handed the necklace to Gohan.

“Hey, Piccolo! Catch!” The black-haired man yelled before tossing the silver jewellery over to his mentor, who caught it promptly. Gohan turned back to the radar before muttering. “I’m going to kill them!”

“Gohan?” Mirai asked warily.

“Piccolo, toss it back.” And as the necklace came flying back, he caught it before inspecting the ornament on the chain. Next he pressed a button and the four-star dragon ball poofed into existence. Gohan’s cheeks immediately darkened.

“G-Gohan?” This time, Mirai’s voice was worried.

And an awkward cough escaped Piccolo as he approached the couple and he placed a hand on Mirai’s shoulder. “Take good care of him, or you’re in for a beating – half-Saiyajin or not.”

Mirai glanced back at the green-skinned man with confusion. “Wait? What? Sure, we’re dating but why are you so serious?”

Piccolo glared at Mirai. “You mean you don’t know?” His voice was dangerous.

“Uhh…”

Finally, Gohan decided to speak up. “The four-star ball is like an engagement ring in my family – no more important than that – and since it was rightfully mine…” He mumbled.

“We’re engaged?!” Mirai exclaimed in surprise.

Authors’ Notes: OoC is not a major part of the story and it is explained later.

thoughts
.+++. time/scene skip
.xxx. perspective change

*****

How could he have forgotten that! Kami… his chest hurt and it wasn’t because his ribs were broken. The wounds that had been opened before but closed by memory were torn anew. So, so this was the kid that the androids encountered! This was the boy formed by his teacher and some… some girl. This was the boy who held Gohan’s genes, this was the sole survivor of the Son line! He wouldn’t go so low as to call the child a bastard though, seeing that he, too, was one. His eyes narrowed as he glared up at the boy he learned to call Chibi and saw as he froze, as the child had withdrawn his hand looked away guiltily. He knew it. Their looks, their mannerisms, their ki, their smell, and even their taste was the same. “How old are you?” He deserved to know, he deserved to find out if Gohan had truly betrayed him.

“Seven…” The boy said meekly. “I just turned seven.”

Trunks winced, he felt tears come but he forced them away. He remembered back then, when he had just turned nine a week prior and Gohan was turning eighteen in a few hours… that was when Trunks had given Gohan an early gift – his first kiss. That was when they passed the line from mentor-and-student, brothers, father-and-son, best friends, to boyfriends. And unless the woman had an unusual carrying time, there was no way that Gohan could have remained loyal to him.

“Trunks… what’s wrong? Did I bind your ribs wrong? Did I knock them out of place? Is it your concussion?” Chibi asked as his eyes wandered Trunks’ body for injuries. He reached out to help.

No! He couldn’t allow it. This kid! This kid was the proof the Gohan wasn’t loyal to him! Was it because Gohan didn’t have enough faith in him? Was it because he thought that Trunks would fail? The Saiyajin prince slapped the small hand away and continued to glare into those big, black eyes. “Don’t touch me!” He yelled, but his ribs wouldn’t let him ignore them anymore as he yelped and fell forward. Fuck they hurt!

And yet, his words were not heeded as the boy lifted him and moved him to lie against the rock again. He glanced at the stone set and realized Gohan must have shown the boy it, and… why was the boy wearing Saiyajin armour? Did Gohan have some stashed away somewhere? Then, those cursed small hands grabbed a pot before collecting some water and placing it over the fire. Next, he used the knives to cut the partially-cooked meat into the pot before he turned around.

“I’m going to get some herbs.”

Chibi’s voice sounded neutral, and if he was hiding anger behind those lips, he was hiding it well, because Trunks couldn’t tell.

What was up with Trunks! Gohan glared at the herbs that he went out to pick. After guessing that he was his own son, Trunks started to treat him like he was the dirtiest piece of trash on an immaculate lawn! Then, when Gohan displayed concern, the man slapped his hand away! How could Trunks be his student and yet direct so much anger towards whom he thought Gohan’s son was! If was as if the prince hated Gohan, and hated him for being his own supposed son! Yet Trunks even admitted to missing him! How? Gohan couldn’t understand it! If Piccolo had a son, Gohan wouldn’t treat the boy like Trunks was treating him, especially of Piccolo was dead. No, Gohan would cherish the child, raise him, and tell him stories of his father…

But as the Son carefully plucked the herbs (they never tasted good if he yanked them from the ground) his anger blinded him from whatever obvious truth there was.

When Gohan returned, the pot was beginning to bubble and his irritation at Trunks was hidden. “It’ll be done in five minutes.” Gohan said but avoided the other’s gaze. He would not look into the anger that was in those blue eyes.

And it seemed that Trunks decided to be silent and ignore him as well. Good, that suited Gohan. The boy sprinkled the herbs into the water and stirred it. He knew that the soup wouldn’t taste great (he was supposed to let the herbs sit in the water, bring it to a boil and add partially cooked meat in last) but he forgot about Trunks’ stomach earlier. He should have made the man eat solid food and let him puke it up – but that was rude and his mother always told him to mind his manners no matter what. Though, he reasoned, it probably didn’t apply to people who were trying to kill him, but since Trunks wasn’t trying to that exception didn’t work. Instead, the man just hated Gohan for being his own child – for being something he was not. It was infuriating but manners must be minded. As long as he remains quiet anyway…. Gohan thought with a glance over to the man.

…Who was simply looking at the pot of food. Oh well, it was better than glaring at him anyway. Gohan glanced over at the food and deemed it ready. He dipped one bowl in before giving it, and a spoon, to Trunks. Next, he grabbed another bowl – Trunks probably made his own since Trunks knew about the stone set, and Gohan only made one in his time – and filled it with more soup.

“Hey, you’ve got my bowl.” Trunks said spitefully.

“And you’ve got Gohan’s.” Gohan said and used the spoon to begin eating, but after a spoonful he continued. “You said you missed him so you can use it.”

“Did I give you permission to use mine?” The blue-eyed man snapped back.

“Then let me use Gohan’s.”

“No, make your own!”

Gohan’s eyebrow twitched. “I–” He started but realized I did would just confuse Trunks. “I own what is Gohan’s.” He said instead. It was the truth, and even to Trunks’ ears it would be sound.

The blue eyes iced over in pure hatred. “You! You think you can waltz in and take things? Oh hell no! Just because you’re his son doesn’t entitle you to everything! You need to earn it brat!” Here, Gohan saw a smirk that Trunks had inherited from his father. “And I know of one thing that was – is – his and you’ll never get it!”

Gohan’s eyes flowered. “I have to earn it? Earn a bowl? Earn his power? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” He knew he was letting his temper get the better of him but he didn’t care.

Trunks laughed. “Everything Chibi.”

Here, Gohan put down his bowl and stood up. “And your respect is on that list too? I suppose saving your life isn’t enough huh? What is it that you have against me anyway? Or is it that you’ve got something against Gohan? Is it because Gohan died? Is that why you hate me?” However, something felt wrong. He couldn’t control his anger, it was slipping from his grasp. What was wrong! Even his mouth wouldn’t stop! “I don’t understand you! I wouldn’t dishonour my mentor’s memory by treating his son like garbage!” Why was Gohan’s body glowing and his hair standing up? Why was his ki rapidly rising? Why couldn’t he control it?”

“What…”

Why was Trunks surprised? Why was he getting dizzy? Why was he…

Trunks stared at the boy. He had… he had just turned Super Saiyajin. But how? He’s only a quarter Saiyajin! Yet, now I do know that he’s Gohan’s son… a mere human could not do that, and Gohan and I were the only Saiyajins living when the boy was born. Trunks pushed himself up into a standing position – slowly and solemnly. Even so, it still hurt but it was something that he could deal with. He had dealt with worse.

The kid’s words also rung in his head, the ones yelled in anger and confusion, and they made him think. The child was mad, but he had made some sense, and it made Trunks feel bad. Why was he treating Chibi the way he was? Because Trunks didn’t notice it before, he proved that Gohan wasn’t loyal, because he gave Gohan a reason to be disloyal? Those reasons didn’t sit well with him. The child was as much of a chooser of his parents as he was of his black eyes. And even though Trunks was unable to chose his own fate – that was decided because of who his father was – he had to follow it for the fate of the entire world depended on it, this was different because he was judging Chibi and he was treating him horribly solely based on who his father was. Chibi was right… it was Gohan whom he should be mad at, not his son! Chibi deserved an apology – that is if he would accept it. If he didn’t, Trunks would understand because he was being an absolute prick to Chibi.

The lavender-haired warrior sighed and looked at the unconscious child. He just couldn’t… leave him there on the ground could he? Chibi had to have been sleeping somewhere. Trunks glanced around and saw a makeshift bed of leaves and grass and proceeded to pick the child up and carry him over to the bed. Next, he walked over to some bushes nearby and relieved himself before he returned to his spot by the river and against the rock.

Chibi was a very unusual character. For he was reluctant to reveal that he was Gohan’s son, he called Gohan by name and not father or dad or any other familiar terms. It confused Trunks, and he wondered why that was? Was Chibi ashamed at being Gohan’s son, and is only now accepting that fact and abusing it to get back at his old man? Or was the child just estranged from his father and only knew him as Gohan, only could think of him as that and not as a father? There was also the way the child spoke – cryptic, calculated, cautious – almost as if he was hiding something, trying to dance around a series of steps that could uncover his secret if he slipped up. Chibi was awful mysterious as well since Trunks only knew a select few facts that he could number off on one hand while the child seemed to be far more knowledgeable about him.

Could it be when the boy had found him after the android attack? Trunks couldn’t remember anything after falling to his defeat to waking up by the river and puking his guts out, and he’d probably never be able to recollect that time, concussions tended to do that. Did he talk up a storm? Did the child hear rumours? Did the androids tell Gohan’s son, or was it Gohan himself who did the talking?

Yet, there was something that continued to bother him – that he could not remember where he had gone a few weeks ago, and something told him that wasn’t right. Did he get a concussion there too? He didn’t even remember how he left or even what he said when he returned except that he had just simply returned. And now his head was hurting even more so than before, it was throbbing, it felt like it was going to explode. Perhaps he’d just eat some soup and sleep. Sleep sounded like a good idea, because whenever he thought about where he went before, his head acted up, or at least more than usual. Trunks massaged his temples, trying to will the pain away.