Trunks walked down the plaza full of people. He loved the plaza. It was always packed and it was at least one hundred times better than being by himself at his apartment every day.
Eighteen year old Trunks lived alone after his Father had passed away two years ago. He worked for a large business since he was fifteen and became incredibly prestigious in those three years for his hard work and intelligence. He was grossing in about five million yen per year (appx. 50,000 dollars, appx. 35,000 euros), and for a boy on his own, that was an extensive amount of money.
Trunks pulled his shirt down. It was a tight, black t-shirt that just kept riding up his torso, exposing his abdomen. Girls gawked at him and squealed because of the quick glimpse of his muscles. Trunks didn't train until he passed out for the ladies, though. He had been training even more everyday since his father had passed, feeling there was still his harsh figure forcing him to push his Saiyan body harder and harder.
He strided along the pavement, not paying attention to anything in particular. He could feel the eyes of others ogling him from various distances. He always hated that. His father had said once that Trunks had a mother who was "attractive to the opposite sex and had wonderful birthing hips" (Saiyan compliments). He said Trunks got his attractiveness from his mother.
Trunks had never met his mother. His father had said she left after Trunks was born. Trunks had failed to care, though. Having one parent was just as sufficient.
"Hey, Cutie," a high-pitched voice called towards him. Trunks stopped in his undetermined path and turned towards the sound. He saw a girl with curly blonde hair waving to him. She couldn't have been older than sixteen (why was she so bold for such a young age?). She kept waving, so Trunks gave a little wave back and kept walking. He saw the smile fade from her face out of the periphery of his vision. He felt a pang of guilt, but then reassured himself that he had no business talking to her. He didn't really feel the need to talk to every cute, blonde-haired girl that called out to him.
Trunks made his way to his favorite hamburger joint. There was a fluorescent sign above the door that read "Surfin' Burgers". He walked through the double doors, and the hostess greeted him immediately, "Hey, Trunks. Long time no see!" She said with a joking tone.
"Of course, Misa!" Trunks replied, "Twenty-four hours is so long," he joked back.
Misa giggled back. Whenever she laughed, her head shook. Her dark brown ponytail swayed from side to side. "C'mon, I'll seat you."
They walked over to a booth for two. Trunks sat down alone, and Misa handed him his menu. "Your waitress will be with you soon," she smiled to him and walked off.
Trunks didn't bother scanning through the menu. He already knew what he wanted, since he got the same thing every day.
He took out his phone and started playing a word search game. He heard the footsteps of someone nearby, and he assumed it was his waitress.
"Good afternoon, what would you like to order?" Trunks had guessed correctly.
"I'll take the Oishī Burger and some French Fries. Give me a side of mayo too."
Trunks looked up at the waitress to see if she was writing down his order. He looked at her for a few moments, then his jaw hung. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was a bit older than him, by the looks of it too, but her beauty had seemed to keep over the years. Trunks coughed in surprise and the waitress looked up at him.
"Sir, are you okay?" she asked, worried.
Trunks cleared his throat, "No, well, yes; I'm fine. I was just–"
"Thrown off by my beauty?" The waitress finished. She fluffed her hair and winked, "Happens every day." She laughed and said, "I'll be back with your food soon."
Trunks had eaten his food very, very slowly. He waited until he saw the waitress call out to the manager that she'd be heading home for the day. She had a bounce in her step as she walked out of the double doors. Trunks quickly left the money and followed her out the door.
"Hey!" he called out. She turned around. There was a flash or curiosity in her eyes. "I didn't give you a tip," he said to her, handing her a thousand yen.
She smiled warmly and said, "Thank you, darling." She plucked the money out of Trunks' hand, then stuffed it in her pocket. Then, she leaned on the outside wall of the restaurant and pulled out a box of Malboros. She slid a cigarette out of the packaging with one hand, and pulled out her lighter with the other. Trunks stood watching her in awe. She was the most gorgeous person he had ever seen.
"You're pretty," Trunks blurted, then covered him mouth. A deep red blush formed on his face.
The waitress looked at him with eyes wide. She was obviously caught off-guard. Then, the cigarette wobbled between her lips. She gave out a small snort and tried stifling a laugh, but she couldn't hold it. She quickly caught the cigarette between her fingers and laughed. Her laugh was loud. It sounded soothing to Trunks, like it was something really, really real. He smiled meekly and gave a weak laugh. "Sorry, I…," he said and put his hand behind his head.
"Oh, Kid," she looked at his with a wide smile, "you're funny. Thank you." There were a few wrinkles by her eyes when she smiled. "Hey, I have to get your number, Cutie." She pulled out her cell phone and handed it to Trunks.
"Goodness," Trunks said overly enthusiastically. He jokingly put his hand to his chest, "I'm very flattered, miss." He typed the number into the phone. He handed it back and said, "My name is Trunks."
"I love that name! I've never heard it before… it's very unique," she smiled to him again and give him a bit of a wink. Her teal eyes sparkled in the daylight. Her blue hair flowed with the sea breeze that passed by. She held out her hand and said, "I'm Bulma. Nice to meet you."
**IMPORTANT**
A/N: This fic is based on Sigmund Freud's study that humans, especially young boys (mostly toddlers), 'subconsciously' fall in love with their mothers at some point. He believes that they will get over the infatuation eventually, but in some cases (where the mother isn't present or there is a traumatic experience), they can love them later in life and/or for longer periods of time. He called this the Oedipus Complex. I wanted to play with his idea through a fic… so, I hope this interests some of you enough that you might want to read more. Thank you so much!
—Ebee
