Hey, guys! This one-shot is inspired by the current events happening in Dragon Ball Super. I really believe that Toryiama is lacking in the area of expressing some of the pain experienced in the Future Timeline. In Super, Trunks is really focusing on Mai (which is great! I find it amazing that he could find love in that time), but I really wanted focus on the feelings between Bulma and Vegeta.
These two, besides being my favorite pairing, are the two most important people in Trunks's life. To see all the new destruction in the future timeline caused by Zamasu, I felt motivation to write about the future timeline.
I'm not sure how angsty, melancholic, or depressing this one-shot will sound to you, but I hope it resonates with each of you.
Thank you for reading.
Happy Birthday, Mallie (birthday sis).
Disclaimer: I do not own DB, DBZ, or DB GT. All rights belong to Akira Toryiama. (Song lyrics belong to Disturbed).
Sound Of Silence, Disturbed
Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain,
Still remains within the sound of silence.
Life is ironic in the sense that it always arrives at the same conclusion: death.
Many people mistake the beauties in our world as innocent - incapable of hurting us. But in all actuality, one cannot be assured of safety because life is so fragile.
No matter how you, myself, or anyone could slice that goddamned cake, it always is topped with the same icing I despise. I'm afraid to touch it, or swallow the sickly sweet taste. It is hard to come to terms with. Though, I always seemingly return to that same ending: I, too, eventually will be served.
Simply put, death is inevitable. He's always lurking around the corner, and perhaps is reflected in your own shadow. He supposedly looms over you with that freshly sharpened scythe, ready to pick out your soul and throw you into the underworld.
I'd like to believe differently.
Perhaps Death is there to take away your pain. He's there to aid you in feeling a final euphoria before you feel nothingness. Death shows you the world in colors, and its meaning. He shows you the good in the world, because he can only see the good. He accepts you for who you are, because despite all your damned flaws, he is the only one who gets to see and accept the true you.
At least, this is what I'd like to think. Lately, I've been going off on tangents. I just cannot come to terms with what has happened. I cannot fathom why it happened. I just...I just cannot follow the logic.
Shit supposedly does happen for a reason. Maybe that's why things unspiral so quickly, and we humans don't even realize it before it's too late.
He was supposed to be the strongest.
He was supposed to survive.
Obliterated brick and plaster were strewed across lifted asphalt streets. Our population is going down in tremendous numbers. Pools of blood stained the mildewed grass, along with the unmoving bodies with vacant eyes. Others hide their children and the elderly in order to preserve our race. They do not want to die.
Nobody wants to die.
This is what our world has come to, and this is all that is left.
I do not want to die. I'm all that my son has left. But...what could possibly be worse than swallowing the acceptance of your own death?
Answer: The death of your partner leaving a bitter taste across your tastebuds.
"Vegeta, what the hell do you think you're doing?! You're injured! Get inside, now!"
Vegeta jerked his head in my direction, offering me a scowl. His feet were spread apart, his arms lifted on either side of him in mid-kata. His chest rose and fell with short, labored breaths, and sweat dotted his brow line. The gauze wrapped tightly around his left bicep and led to his broad torso was seeped with crimson.
Even with my hands firmly planted on my hips and my disapproving frown, my heart still skips a beat. I cannot help but admire his work ethic, and how the sunlight makes his olive-colored skin glow. I shook my head. No, Bulma! I internally chastised as I stomped toward him, focus!
Face-to-face with Prince Charming, I stood resolute. "What the hell are you thinking? You nearly killed yourself the other day!" I paused, noticing the slump of his shoulders. His face remained stoic, but I saw through his facade. I always did. The edges of my eyes relaxed, and I leaned away from him. "What is going on with you?"
Vegeta scoffed, turning his head in the other direction. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he stared off into my mother's garden, as if looking for an answer. Finally, he settled on, "Kakarot is dead."
A crease formed between my brows, and my head reared back with surprise. "Goku?" I repeated as my gut clenched. My best friend's name numbed the tip of my tongue. He died two weeks prior, but it did not feel real that he was gone. Puzzled, I asked, "This is about Goku?"
Vegeta's stance shifted. He tilted his chin upward, defiantly looking away from me, pretending as if I did not already know the answer. I knew that if I goaded him any farther, he would not relent more. If anything, the stubborn prince had taught me patience.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. "You are misinterpreting context you do not understand, woman."
At that, I bristled. My fingers curled into fists. How dare he say that I do not understand? Did he fail to realize that Son Goku was my best friend?! That I had built my life around our crazy adventures that eventually led me to the man standing before me? "What?"
Vegeta rolled his eyes. "You don't understand."
"Excuse me?" I hollered, putting my face dangerously close to his. "I don't understand?! No, you know what? I don't think you understand, Prince Vegeta! Don't you realize what his death means?" My lips trembled, and my eyes began to sting. "Earth doesn't have a savior anymore. If there's nobody pure to fight off the evil in this goddamned universe, then there's no hope. Don't you realize what this does to me?!" I heaved a dry sob, taking a small step away from him.
I rubbed my burning eyes with a sniffle. "I lost my brother, Vegeta…"
Vegeta's calloused fingertips were gripping my neck before I could react. He bore his teeth, sneering down at me. He hissed at me in a gruff, alien language, insulted. Placing his crooked nose against mine, he said, "A Saiyan is no brother to a mere human."
"He was a brother to m-" He squeezed my neck, and in response, I gasp. Now that I am closer, I notice the dark intent hidden behind his tawny-colored pupils. Anger rolled off of him in waves as his fingers dug into my skin. I gagged.
He throttled me, and I choked, spittle flying from my lips. "Do you fail to realize what the imbecile meant to me, woman?!" he crooned, his sneer falling into a pained expression. "Do you not realize what he did?!"
Vegeta forcefully pushed me away, and I fell onto my rear, grasping my neck. He easily towered above me, casting his shadow over my petite frame. I glanced up through my bangs, watching as he threaded his fingers through his hair and viciously tugged at its roots. "Kakarot stripped me of my honor! Destroyed my dignity!" he screamed, veins visible on his neck. I stood on my wobbling knees, inhaling deeply. "He stole the legendary status that I was promised by birthright."
"But…" I whispered, rubbing my purpling flesh, "you're Super Saiyan, too, Vegeta."
He rounded on me, the whites of his eyes lined with red veins. "I nearly died as consequence of gaining this power," he stated, bitterly. Our gazes met, and I could practically feel his resentment. "That buffoon just...just received it without lifting a finger! Everything I ever worked for, he spat on and threw it back into my face!"
I pressed my lips together and remained silent.
"He took everything I ever believed in, and ripped it in half," he monotonously spoke, causing a chill to run down my spine. There was not a hint of anger, sorrow, or hatred laced within his words. They were just empty. Vegeta's shoulders slumped with defeat, and he stared at me, tiredly. "I have no honor, and no way of regaining that honor because he's dead. Therefore, I am no longer a prince."
Helplessly, I stared at him. What was the point. He out here at the break of dawn every morning, training. Why did he still push himself? "Then…then why do you still train? Why keep fighting if you've lost your purpose?"
Vegeta went rigid. All color drained from his cheeks. "Because, one purpose still remains."
"Well? What is it?" I watched him scan my neck and - shamefully, as I supposed - he glanced at the grass. I tapped my foot, impatiently, and glanced at my watch. Trunks was bound to wake from his nap any moment now. "Well?"
He remained motionless, and I scoffed. "Whatever, Vegeta. Trunks is going to need feeding in a few minutes." I turned on my heel and began strutting my way toward the house.
"The is no foreseeable enemy in sight," he began as I planted another footstep. "And Kakarot may not be living," I paused, "but my legacy runs through that boy's veins. My ai'-ka live within him. If there is any hope to restoring my honor, it is through him."
I whipped around to face him, but he was gone, the only trace of him being a trail of blue ki. My cheeks flushed as my lips parted in awe.
No matter how big the blow, nothing could have shocked me more than Vegeta's words.
Ai'-ka.
Ancestors.
Vegeta never really explained his lineage to me, at least, not in a way I could comprehend. All the things he said were complicated, but what I got from it was that astrology was his people's religion. His people's connection to the moon was undeniable. It was said that a string attached every Saiyan to the moon, and when looking for guidance, you would look into the sky of any planet, and see your ancestors.
Only then, would you find the answers you seek.
Sighing, I threw down my wrench and wiped my cheek, leaving behind a streak of grease. I took a step back from the machine. The progress was slow, but I was at least getting somewhere.
The time-machine would be complete, soon.
My lab was a disaster. A half-eaten salami sandwich laying atop a chipped plate beside my old, dinosaur desktop. Along with the scattered papers littering my desk, two empty cans of heat-tap sat next to my sticky keyboard. I sighed. Trunks, like his father, would sometimes complain that I'm a slob.
With so much damage to the outside world, I lacked the necessary tools and electricity needed to make progression on the machine faster. Though, I suppose beggars could not be choosers. Besides, this would all in the end be for the greater good.
Once the machine was completed, Trunks would finally be able to fulfill the greatness that his father's blood promised.
"...here is a terrifying man and woman, similar in appearance. Speculations are that they are twins. They have destroyed Amenbo Island, and no survivors have been found yet! Their next target is unknown, but so far reports say that they are heading to-What?" Static interrupted the reporter, and the television screen became fuzzy. "What's going on?! No...no! Stop! Get away from m-"
The connection ended, and the screen blipped black.
My heart sunk, and my grasp around Trunks tightened. I craned my neck to the side, meeting Vegeta's gaze. He leaned against the wall, one foot propped up against the plaster, and his arms crossed. He appeared almost lackadaisical.
Though, I knew what he was thinking as I watched his muscles twitch with desire.
"No," I hopelessly said, walking toward him. "No. You're not going out there."
Vegeta pushed himself from the wall, avoiding my pleading eyes.
"Dammit, Vegeta!" I hysterically cried, kicking his shin. "You're not going anywhere, do ya hear me?! We don't know what we're up against, and you can't go in without some type of plan!"
"I am a Saiyan, woman," he simply responded.
And that is what kills me. He was inhuman, alien. He did not feel or think the same way that I, or any other human felt. But, I refused to believe that he did not feel, too. He loved us. I knew he did.
"Why?" I choked.
"Because it is my duty."
Leaning into him, I rested my face in the crook of his neck before releasing my dam of tears. "Damn you!" I screamed, my heart threatening to lurch from my chest. Trunks began to wail alongside me, and Vegeta stood, taking it all in. I heaved, and my tears began to stain his shirt. "Damn you, Vegeta," I sobbed, my voice cracking. "I hate you."
"Good," he crooned.
I did not fail to notice him embracing me, and his son.
Vegeta did not hate us.
If he did, he never would have stayed. He never would have sacrificed himself the way he did. He would have never given me his final goodbye.
Did he love us?
Well, it certainly is hard to believe otherwise, is it not?
Despite all of his denial, his actions always spoke louder than any word he ever spoke.
The glow of dawn peeked through my curtains, and my face scrunched with displeasure. Groggily, I cracked open my eyes, smacking my lips. Sighing, I rolled over to my side, coming to discover that Vegeta was not in bed.
I shot into a sitting position, my heart skipping a beat. "Vegeta?" I said, before glancing at the fluttering curtains. "No," I hoarsely whispered as realization dawned upon me. The sliding glass door was closed the night before. He left to go defeat the Androids!
"No, God, please no!" I cried, kicking off our quilts and stumbling from bed. Remnants of our lovemaking the night prior stained the sheets and my thighs. I swiped my robe from the floor and hurriedly tied the sash before rushing out of my room.
My feet carried me down the hall faster than I could register, my mind a raging storm. How dare he leave without waking me?! I needed reassurance. I needed to know my prince would return! How could he leave his family? What was he possibly thinking?
I stopped feet away from Trunks' doorway, tears streaming down my face. How could he leave his son? Stepping forward, I reached toward the door before pausing as I heard Trunks' babble.
"Protect your mother," Vegeta's gruff voice demanded, followed by a happy shriek from Trunks. "She's now your unfortunate responsibility," he joked with a humorless chuckle. "My legacy runs through your veins, now, su'-tka."
Blinking back the rest of my tears, I decided that I had to be strong for him. That I had to walk in there, and attempt to persuade him to stay. But, I knew better. I knew that he was not going to stay.
As I pushed through the doorway, he offered me a sidelong glance before returning his attention toward his heir. My throat tightened at the sight.
He was holding Trunks.
Cautiously, I approached him, hovering beside his shoulder. He turned to face me, and I weakly smiled. "It's about damned time you held him." I sniffed.
Vegeta nodded in agreement, much to my astonishment. "It was time."
We stood, Trunks looking between me and his patriarch. He clapped happily, breaking the empty silence between us. I sighed, meeting Vegeta's gaze with burning eyes. "Please don't go," I softly begged, trembling as I leaned into him. "You're not ready to fight them."
Although we had not spoken about it, I knew the truth. Vegeta, The Prince of All Saiyans, was not prepared for the threat that he was about to face. How could he willingly walk to his deathbed?
"I will defeat them," he assured with a smirk, though I could see doubt within his unguarded eyes. "And they will be new machine parts for you to make training equipment with for me."
I released a bitter titter, and nodded. "Sounds like a plan," I croaked. I tilted my head to the side, drinking in his appearance. Would this be the last time I see him? He wore the new battle armor that I prepared for him. With his royal insignia imprinted above his heart and the half-smirk hitching his face, he looked like a true Saiyan Prince.
He stepped forward, holding out Trunks. I swallowed, hard, and squeezed my eyes shut. Fat droplets dribbled down my cheeks as he brushed his chapped lips against my forehead, "Yun ai'k ta."
"What does that mean?" I spoke, quietly. My breathing had calmed, even as I cried. Perhaps this was acceptance of him leaving.
Vegeta's lips ghosted against my cheek, before arriving at my ear, whispering, "I love you."
And then,
he was gone.
Sometimes, I sleep in his old bedroom. The very one that he spent three years in before...before this all happened. Even now as I sit here, on his frigid, empty mattress, hugging his pillow, I can feel his presence.
I have tried preserving the room as best as I could. I left his armor, his journals, and whatever objects he collected during his time that I had known him. To strip his room of his belongings would be removing him from my life.
It would be the final hack to what little sanity I still have. For fuck's sake, I was building a time-machine. It defied all logic and science, but I had to do it! We did not have a choice.
I pressed my nose to his pillow, inhaling deeply. If I conjured enough thoughts, I swore that I could still smell his musk within the room. I rocked back and forth, sobs beginning to bubble in my throat, but I did not allow them to erupt.
Wrapping my hand around the pendant hanging from my neck, I drew a sense of calm.
I must remain strong for our boy.
Trunks would save us all, both past and present.
Why, why did I allow him to do it? Why did I allow for him to walk toward his deathbed? Despite the nagging of his voice in the back of my mind, I left Trunks with my mother and entered the battlefield, nearly an hour after he left.
I was not prepared for what I witnessed: Flames licked skyscrapers as they collapsed into the earth, creating cracks within the soft terra-firma. Dark clouds loomed in the horizon, pouring their contents across the valley of rubble and decimation of humans. Among them, a non-Super Saiyan Vegeta laying motionless atop a pile of crumbled cement.
Rushing forward, my boots pounded against the ground before I fell to my knees beside him. "Vegeta? Vegeta!" I trembled as I shook him. "Vegeta, wake up! Please, please wake up!"
Chills bloomed down my spine as I pressed my fingers to his neck.
Nothing.
"Vegeta, please," I begged, rocking him closely to my bosom. I stared at the gaping hole in his chest, and shook my head, denying the truth. My throat tightened, and my voice hoarse. Despite the tears that freely flowed, my eyes felt dry. "No," I said, snot trailing down my cupid's bow and on my upper lip. "No!"
In this world, I realize now, your brain cannot work right when you either have so much pain, or so much emotion inside your aching heart.
I keened loudly, pulling him as closely as I could toward me, raking my fingers through his dust-covered hair. "God, please, Vegeta wake up."
"Please?" I begged, looking up toward the sky, tears streaming my cheeks. Sobs erupted from my throat, and I began to choke as I squeezed him. "Come back to me, Vegeta! Wake up! I can't do this without you…Yun ai'k ta."
He would not wake.
My stubborn, arrogant prince would never wake again.
Now, I am hugging my son, tightly holding him before he partakes in his odyssey to the past. He reassuringly squeezes me, and I do so in return. I bury my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply.
Faintly, I could smell traces of his father's scent.
Over the years, I had taught our son that although Vegeta was difficult, he loved us. I had explained to Trunks that Vegeta could be very difficult at first, but eventually, he would soften. And then, only then, would Trunks see what I saw in his father.
"Mother," he softly spoke into my hair, "I need to get going."
I sighed against his skin before reluctantly nodding. "Right," I pulled my head back with a smile. "You're going to save us, Trunks. Just follow your intuition"
A small smirk split his face as he relented a cocky, "I know."
I pinched his arm with a small laugh. "Yun ai'k ta."
Trunks stared at me, puzzled. "What does that mean?"
I kissed his cheek before saying, "I love you."
Trunks brought me in for a final hug, and as he whispered "Yun ai'k ta," I could not help but notice the silvery light from the moon watching over us, offering strength and hope.