Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. I DO own Ravyn.
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It was a clear day. Not stormy, and certainly not night, so one wouldn't suspect that anything too strange would happen. But on this particular November day, something strange would happen. There was going to be another visitor.
Many years ago, before any of the children, before Goku's disappearing became something accustomed rather than mourned, before Vegeta's incredible dislike of Earth had been reduced to an annoyance, there had been one. This one had come with a warning; not something uncommon by any means. He had been tall, with a warrior's build and stance. He done his job well, ensuring the survival of, not only those who were precious to himself and many others, but the existence of himself and the other offspring robbed of life by those who did not understand its value. However, this visitor had unintentionally allowed for the existence of another being. This one too would bare a warning, though of a very different kind.
Oddly enough, these two messengers would be more alike than they would ever guess. One wouldn't know it at first. Attitude, method, personality, even physical appearances would be different, but they each had a gift, and a Reason; the only things ever needed to succeed.
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Staring out of his friend's window, Goten sighed for the hundredth time that day. His chocolate-brown eyes had been scanning the grounds for hours now, waiting for his friend to return. It was officially Trunks' last day with his current job. Violet-haired and blue-eyed, the boy had been nearly hugged his mother upon being informed that he no longer needed to work for her company. His younger sister, Bura, had been more than happy to take his place. Unlike her elder brother, Bura had always been fascinated with the business side of their parents company. She'd taken after their mother in almost every aspect of her life, from likes and dislikes to hobbies and job preferences. Trunks had taken after their father, preferring anything physical, especially training. Finally, after years of negotiating, arguing, and pleading, they were going to each get what they wanted. Neither was sure who was happier: them, or their parents.
Leaning his head against the window, Goten closed his eyes. A few moments later they snapped open again, meeting cerulean ones. Squeaking, the boy leapt back, landing on squarely on his butt as his friend laughed at his reaction.
Still smiling, Trunks nudged open his bedroom window and flew inside. Overjoyed at finally being free, he'd thought it best to fly home. Saved time, and it allowed him to get out of this monkey suit, as his father called it, much sooner. Seeing his friend nod off, Trunks hadn't been able to resist. Landing in front of his friend, Trunks bent to help his friend up, only to be pulled down as well. Forgetting about Trunks' attire the two boys proceed to wreck the room with a game equivalent to Calvin Ball (1). After nearly 30 minutes, the two boys collapsed on the large, double bed, panting slightly. Sitting up, Trunks began to strip off his work clothes. Goten sat up as well.
"Well, seeing as you no longer need to go to bed at some ridiculous hour, and you obviously don't need to work on anything, what shall we do?" asked the younger boy, watching as his friend dumped his clothing into the hamper by the door before finding his rattiest pair of jeans.
"I dunno; something outside?" suggested Trunks as he pulled a black Marines T-shirt over his head. Goten nodded, standing up.
"Can we swing through the kitchen? I'm starving!"
"You've been here how long and you haven't gotten anything to eat?" Trunks asked, amusement lacing his words. Goten's face fell slightly.
"I wasn't sure I was allowed!"
"Goten, you all but live here. Heck, sometimes you do live here. Of course you're allowed!" Grabbing his friend's hand, Trunks dragged the younger boy out of his room and down the stairs. Reaching the kitchen, the two boys proceed to ransack the place, throwing together everything they could find to make a 'suitable' meal. Once done, the two consumed the pile in a fraction of the time it took to make it.
"Your Dad you be proud," joked Trunks, dropping the dishes next to the overflowing sink. What with everything at CC, nobody had had time to deal with the dishes, and gods forbid his father even think of doing something with them. Trunks secretly thought any such act on his father's part might lead to the world ending, in some way the even Goku couldn't stop.
"I dunno, think we ate fast enough?" replied Goten, attempting and failing to look serious. The boy never had been good at fooling people, especially when he wasn't trying very hard. "Let's go train!" Nodding in agreement, the two made their way to the front door. Pausing, Trunks scribbled a message for his mother, letting her know they'd be back in one piece, more-or-less. Jogging to catch up, Trunks tackled his friend. After righting themselves, the two finally made it to the front door.
"An adventure in itself, eh?" asked Goten, opening the door. He paused, foot frozen in mid step. "Who are you?" The young girl looked up. She had shoulder length black hair and ice-blue eyes. She was slim, but strong, much like a gymnast. She wore all black which covered most of her skin, showing only her hands and face. She seemed surprised that anyone was home.
"Sorry, I'm looking for…" the girl paused, looking past the two boys. Turning, Trunks waved to Vegeta.
"Hey Dad." The prince grunted in reply, studying the girl. Turning back, Trunks noticed the girl had dropped into a bow. Standing, the girl moved past the two boys and walked up to Vegeta. Bowing again, the girl spoke.
"I'm sorry for the interruption, sir, but I have a message for you." Vegeta blinked at the girl. Who'd send anything to him? And why through a little girl?
"What is it?" The girl looked back at the two boys.
"It's…only for you, sir."
"Anything you have to say you can say here." The girl shook her head again, looking apologetic.
"I'm sorry sir, but Vegeta-sama said to tell his son, and only his son. I'm afraid that means only you."
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A/N: Any thoughts?
(1) Yeah, don't own Calvin and Hobbes, either.