Welcome to DBZ Saiyan Garden

Gohan’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon, though the cityscape beyond the rooftop was little more than a blur. Trunks stood at his side, close enough for Gohan to feel the faint brush of his sleeve in the breeze—like an invisible tether, pulling him toward something he wasn’t ready to name.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” Gohan murmured, his voice caught somewhere between accusation and wonder.

“I didn’t think I could.” Trunks’s tone was soft, careful, yet it carried weight—like the kind of truth you only say once you’ve run out of excuses. “You were just a kid back then. I didn’t have the right to say anything.”

Gohan flinched. The words stirred something sharp and hot inside him—resentment, guilt, longing. Just a kid. It was true, wasn’t it? The boy who’d stood shoulder to shoulder with Trunks against Cell hadn’t known what his heart was capable of. But that boy had grown up, and now every unspoken word sat heavy between them.

“So why now?” Gohan asked, his voice quieter.

Trunks hesitated, fingers curling against his palm. “Because I had to see for myself.”

“See what?”

“You.”

Gohan’s breath hitched. He turned, finally, and there Trunks was—unflinching, eyes bright and steady, like they always had been. And it made Gohan’s chest ache, because Trunks’s gaze hadn’t changed, but everything else had.

“You think I can just…” Gohan struggled to find the words, his hands clenching against the stone ledge. “What am I supposed to do, Trunks? My mom—she likes Videl. And Videl—she doesn’t deserve to be let down. I don’t even know if you’ll stay.”

“I’m not here to force you into anything.” Trunks’s voice was low, measured, but his expression softened—a sliver of that endless patience Gohan remembered from childhood. “I’m just asking you to listen to yourself, Gohan. That’s all I want.”

Listen to myself. Gohan’s heartbeat thudded against his ribs, a hollow drumbeat echoing words he wasn’t ready to hear. You. It had always been Trunks. Even when Gohan convinced himself he’d let it go, it was Trunks he’d been waiting for.

But what if listening to his heart meant breaking everything else? Videl. His mother. A life of quiet normalcy he didn’t quite fit into but could accept.

Trunks didn’t push. He let the silence linger, the way someone who understood risk would.

“It’s not that simple,” Gohan whispered.

“It never is,” Trunks replied. “But you don’t have to decide right now. I just… I wanted you to know.”

Gohan looked at him—really looked at him. At the man who had stepped through timelines to save a world that wasn’t even his. At the friend who had once been a hero in Gohan’s eyes, and who now looked at Gohan like he was the one worth saving.

Gohan turned back to the skyline, his thoughts at war with his heart. His mind whispered doubt. His pulse whispered Trunks’s name.

And in that moment, Gohan didn’t know which one he’d listen to.