It's funny. The day you left in the time machine with Mai - for what we all knew would probably be our final moment together - I thought I would be consoling Bulma. Instead, she spent the majority of her time comforting me. We held each other close in bed later that night. We would not be a "we" had it not been for you. Hell, Earth probably would be non-existent had it not been for your past heroism. You looked so happy to see us together, finally, when you returned seeking our help. We couldn't believe our eyes. You had been an adult for a while, but the way you wore your manhood gave us pause. The teenage boy from the future we once knew had now become one of us.

You were so brave and generous, as you have always been. From the moment you arrived, and until the time you left, I restrained myself from demanding that you stay with us permanently. It was painful. Seeing you so terribly injured reawakened memories from when we first met, all those years ago, when the androids and Cell threatened Earth. I was a very different man - and, at first, harshly indifferent to you - but that's stating the obvious. This time I wanted to maim your tormentors with the greatest pain I could inflict. As you discovered later, when we fought Black and Zamasu together, I'm still very good at that.

Perhaps I overplayed my anger about your physical condition because I felt guilty about my past behavior toward you. After Bulma and I tended to your wounds, shortly before you woke up, I moved to the background while others surrounded you to hear what happened. I wondered how to greet you. I didn't do a very good job. I irritably muttered some nonsensical statements, as I am wont to do, but my response didn't discourage you. You were respectful and allowed me to save face, when you certainly didn't have to. Your world-weariness disturbed me. The warm, vibrant light had retreated from your eyes, which were hollowed out far too early for a man so young. You were close to losing everything - perhaps your mind even. You needed your father, and, to be honest, I needed my son… this son. The Bulma in my present and the Bulma in your future, your beloved mother, recognized it. We were fortunate to have them in our lives.

When you said your mother had been brutally murdered, I wanted you to abandon that horrible alternate version of Earth and never look back. But I eventually accepted that you had a family there to protect: the unfortunate, terrorized people who entrusted you with their lives, hopes, and dreams - along with Mai, the woman you loved. The genocidal purge inflicted upon them had to end. I felt compassion for them…and blinding rage for your plight. Many are called, but few are chosen. I had a responsibility to do whatever I could to make this right. I owed that to you.

The challenges you faced were relentless, and yet like the mighty Saiyan you are, you confronted them with intelligence and wisdom. You had your doubts, but on each occasion you returned to us, escaping from that dystopian hell in your time machine, I was determined to help you overcome them. I had to be hard on you at first, and I have no regrets. You had been fighting so long, with no sign of an end, that you almost lost touch with that deep reservoir of power burning inside of you.

Every punch, kick, breath, and shot I fired when you trained had a purpose. You had to believe in that without reservation. No son of mine would have an unceremonious death at the hands of someone who should be begging him for mercy. After that, I promised to stand by your side and battle for your world. We had to win. My wife and that precocious, loving little boy who idolizes me - your namesake - expected my safe return to this world.

I was barely conscious, lying on the ground with Kakarot, when I heard Zamasu's arrogant voice taunting you. He said you had lost. In his deranged mind, you were prime example of a "pathetic" mortal who deserved extermination. I felt bile rising in my throat as you fired at him. That imperious bastard - a power-hungry murderer of gods and men - had some nerve passing judgment. Then he mocked your honor and decency, calling your "stubborn unwillingness to accept your ruin" praiseworthy. How dare he.

I got up. My shoulder was dislocated, but we were doing this together.

"I won't give up… ever!"

"That's right, Trunks!"

"Father!"

"Zamasu, don't underestimate the power of Saiyans - of mortals! Take this! Galick Gun!"

Drunk with self-importance, Zamasu tells us, "No matter how many mortals gather, you cannot defeat my light!"

What light? I wanted to light a fire under his ass, and that's what we did.

Fighting alongside you then was my greatest honor and privilege. When I stepped in front of Zamasu's surprise line of fire to protect you, after we thought we had destroyed him, I saw my entire life flash before my eyes. Having been in so many battles, I am used to that happening, really. In fact, I usually learn something new about myself. Perhaps that doesn't sound strange to you. The difference now, though, is I have people who actually care for me. Their faces are always the last I see during these flashbacks, and I never fail to express my love for them - on the off chance that I should die. They may not hear me, but they know it intrinsically.

I heard you thank me when my body flew backward into your arms - and I did not die. Not that day.

It has been a year now since you left for good, and I think of you often. Bulma and I have a new baby. Her name is Bulla, and she is energetic and strong. It would be great if you could see her. Maybe she'll be a powerful and compassionate warrior like you one day. You helped make her life possible, and for that I am eternally grateful.

I wish you the same peace that I have found, my son.