Finding Inspiration

By: LLy

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball, Dragonball Z, Dragonball GT.

A/N: Hey, my first DB fanfiction. Please r/r and let me know what you think of this.

Mr. Sawa drifted aimlessly around the room, taking meaningful observations, and then offering constructive criticisms to various students on their paintings. They all nod quickly and fixed to improve the paintings, taking their teacher's advice to heart. Serious art students as they are, no advice of Mr. Sawa was ever disregarded. When satisfied with a student's progress on their work, Mr. Sawa would continue his slow walk around the room.

Pan was one of those solemn, anxious to learn students. That warm evening, Pan was at her routine art class, studying and soaking in all Mr. Sawa was teaching her. Usually, Pan could feel the inspiration flowing through her veins, enabling her to paint her wildest dreams to life. Unfortunately, today was one of those rare days when nothing came. Nothing…just a pure blank. Not a single drop of crazy imagination.

She lifted a paintbrush, only to sigh and bring it down again. With a frustrated groan, she brought her hands to tear the near complete mundane painting and leave it in the trash bin. In front of the easel, she pulled a brand new canvas out and set it in place to work on it. Once more, she picked up the paintbrush, only to bring it down when she realized she still have no idea what to do. She was at a sudden loss of creativity, which happens very rarely to Pan Son.

"Please," Pan prayed softly, "let something come to me!" However, it looks like the gods haven't heard her. Of all the times to appear, Mr. Sawa chose that moment to inspect the unprepared painting. All he was greeted with was an empty sheet of canvas and an embarrassed, red student.

"Pan?" he asked, eyes still trained on the painting in front of him

"Yes?" This was mortifying to the 23 year old.

"Is this what you worked on the whole evening? Again, still eyeing the canvas.

"No. I threw the one before this away because it wasn't satisfactory." Actually, it was more like she disliked it immensely.

"Hmm…"he replied, hand on chin and a look of deep concentration. "Usually you do such fine paintings."

She blinked, surprised at the comment but also extremely pleased. Compliments from Mr. Sawa were hard to get but when one does get one, it is sincere and well deserved. Her cheeks pinked a bit with brief happiness.

The teacher finally turned away from the painting and faced Pan.

"What's different about today?"

Pan found herself frowning and pondered this question momentarily before attempting to articulate it. She opened her mouth and started on the explanation.

"I feel…like I'm missing something…" It came out wrong; Pan cringed at how childish the reason must have sounded. She only hoped that she didn't sound like an adolescent to Mr. Sawa. She highly respects Mr. Sawa and wanted in no way to lower his esteem for her.

She was more than shocked when he nodded in understanding. "Like…a lack of inspiration?" Pan looked at him wide-eyed and only nodded in agreement.

Seconds pass before he spoke again. "Pan, I want to assign you an individual assignment." Pan, curious as ever, waited for him to continue.

He smiled softly. "I want you to go out into the world and one thing that not only inspires, but motivates you as a human being. Your next painting should be a manifestation of what you found."

Her mind was absorbing all this information yet it was screaming 'WHAT?' at the same time. It sounds like a difficult assignment. Heck, how does one find inspiration?! It doesn't just happen on the streets! She opened her mouth to protest when Mr. Sawa held up his watch in front of her. With a no nonsense tone, he had only one piece of advice (or was it more of a warning?) for her. "I'm not giving you a time limit but time is a consideration in grading. I suggest you start as quickly as possible."

She didn't have to be told twice. Giving up any thoughts of protest, she collected her art supplies and scrambled to the exit. She waved a small good-bye to the teacher and turned the cool knob swiftly. Before she closed the heavy wooden door behind her, she heard his voice over the distance, calling out a slightly encouraging message.

"A work of the soul, Pan. I know you won't disappoint me."

The paint studio was located in the 'shady' (bad) side of town. 'Such a shame.' Pan shook her head, a bit saddened by this thought. She thought this on a regular basis, usually during her walk to the car after class. She recounted the story of her art teacher, which a close classmate, one of Mr. Sawa's more advanced student, had told her.

Mr. Sawa was a legendary artist during his time, drawing and painting one astounding piece of work after another. His famed paintings were included in all contemporary galleries and people from all over the world traveled to his expositions just to meet him. This success had given him any luxury he may have wanted as well as financial stability for life. The world was ready to welcome into the immortal spotlight. He had fame, fortune, and admiration all around.

"Then everything changed just because of one stupid car accident!" Pan exclaimed angrily to herself out loud. The accident had indeed changed everything. It left him with crippled hands and his ability to paint. Luckily, his passion for painting stayed strong so finally he decided on teaching instead. Just as things were getting better again, another obstacle was thrown in. Money. Sadly, his hefty medical bills drained him of his financial stability and forced him to relocate his beloved school. Presently the only affordable place he could find was this very 'discreet' part of town.

'But that would change soon. All of us, his faithful art admirers and dedicated students, are chipping in as well as collecting money to buy Mr. Sawa's old art studio. He loved that place and we are determined to have it back. He deserves it.' With that new thought, Pan smiled.

Home! With that sudden thought, she quickened her pace. The car was only a few more blocks down. It was a reasonable distance from the school but the only parking spot she could find was in front of a rowdy bar. 'There better be no scratches on the car or someone will pay,' Pan thought, making a small fist. One thing Pan was very protective of was her car.

She finally arrived at the parking spot. One quick glance around the car told her that no one had indeed touched it. She swiftly put all her art supplies in the trunk and was making her way to the driver seat when something caught her observant eye.

It was a barely conscious man (drunk off his rocker evidently) in his 20s-30s being staggered out by a…scary kind of looking woman. She had on layers(!) of dark makeup, a thin constricting baby-T (which showed off her stomach with certain movements), and shorts that (Pan thought with alarm)can't get any shorter. Usually, Pan is not one to care about another's business but……

Lavender hair, business suit, deep blue (though bloodshot at the moment) eyes…..

'Trunks!' she thought with a start. Before she knew what she was doing, she had called out to them.

"Hey!" Pan angrily stomps up to them. "What are you doing with my husband?!" Husband was strongly emphasized. She was shocked at what she had just said, but this was no time to wonder her choice of words. She had meant to say 'friend' but, looking at the expression on that woman's face, husband did the job fine enough.

The woman had opened her mouth in shock and quickly fled the scene. Pan caught the falling Trunks and half-dragged and half-carried the intoxicated body to the car. She laid him gently in the passenger seat and watched him from his side.

How long has it been since she last saw him? 6 years? It was too long. Just looking at him right now was bringing back memories. His eyes opened momentarily and Pan nearly cried out at the flash of pain she saw within them. It was total despair, hope replaced by depression. He closed it again and anguish filled his face instead. What she would give to erase the pain there!

Pan frowned suddenly. What was he doing at the bar? Why is he drunk out of his mind? Does he usually go home with ..women? Many questions following the same train of thoughts came up.

'No, my Trunks would never do any of this stuff!' Pan said sharply. Simple statement. Now if only she could convince herself what she had just said.

She risked another glance at his slumped form. As far as she knew, he was still the same old Trunks that shared the memorable GT Tour with her. Her heart smiled at the beautiful nostalgia. In a particular memory, years ago, she had confessed to him that she was envious of him because he had everything. He only smiled and haughtily exclaimed that he indeed did. She had glared at him for that tactless statement but he quickly hugged her, and with a laugh, told her that he was willingly to share it all with her, if it will make her happy. Pan remembered how sweet he was and nearly cried from happiness. She had decided then and there, that he was absolutely perfect in her eyes, despite all of his faults.

"What about now, Trunks? If I asked you again, would you still say you have everything and reassure me with a hug?"

"Are you happy Trunks?" Pan brushed some hair away from his forehead. "Do you have the happiness you deserve?"

TBC

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