Chichi would have slammed the door in anger if not for the fear of waking Gohan up. The boy was fatigued and covered in bruises. There was probably little chance for a Saiyan to catch pneumonia, but that didn’t lessen her anger at all. Talking to Goku was like talking to a wall. She had tried to reason with him after their first training session but it had been of no use. Maybe Trunks had a better chance to beat some sense into Goku’s stubborn head. She could hear them arguing all the way from the kitchen.
“You’re too soft on him!” Goku grunted. The youth had a problem with his way of doing this. He was getting annoyed by Trunks’ constant nagging.
“All I’m asking is some consideration. We’re not trying to kill him, are we?”
“What are you implying here?” Goku hissed angrily, slamming his fist on the counter.
Trunks gritted his teeth and lowered his head. Criticizing Goku’s sense of fatherhood was a bad idea. It had been a low blow and had probably been brought on by his own insecurity and a fantasy of how a father should behave. He had always wished Vegeta were alive and harbored certain expectations. It was very disturbing to see those expectations shattered.
As the teen was silent, Goku lowered his fist. “Listen, he won’t progress fast enough if we keep babysitting him.”