A/N: I'm rewriting this story. After some great advice, I took a break and reviewed the story. This is actually my third rewrite and I'm happy with how it's turned out. There will be major changes, but the plot and characters will remain the same. Please, feedback is much appreciated.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own DBZ. If I did, Trunks would have a much bigger role. So much so that the title would have to be switched to "The Glorious Hero Trunks" rather than "Dragon Ball Z." :D
I was watching with detached interest as a team of burly men loaded beam after beam of solid steel onto a Capsule Corp. machine. They were delivering the building materials to the top of the tower that loomed overhead. Somehow, the state-of-the-art amusement park at the tower's peak had survived the androids' onslaught of destruction. West City itself had remained miraculously intact while I was training in the past. I shuddered at the thought of what could have happened if the defeat of Cell had taken longer.
"You idiot! Steady! I said steady!"
My head snapped up to see the hovercraft carrying the beams up the tower and one of the metal rods hung precariously on the edge. A woman walked by me pushing a baby in a carriage. She also stopped when she heard the shouting and followed my line of sight, letting out a scream as the beam fell with a final groan of the lift.
Slowly, almost lazily, I raised my right hand, my left still securely in the pocket of my purple Capsule Corp. jacket, and easily caught the beam. While its mother cowered in fear of her fate, the baby was gaping at me and gave a squeal of delight as I balanced the beam on my palm. I glanced sideways at him and smiled back as I rose into the air. I continued my steady ascent until I was eyelevel with the man operating the hovercraft. His face was identical to the infant's gaze of amazement and wonder. I placed the beam gently back on the lift and flew slowly towards the man. He continued to stare as I inched closer but suddenly flinched when I reached forward, hitting the wheel and causing the machine to jerk left. I swiftly steadied the vehicle.
"Easy, man," I warned in a friendly manner, keeping one hand gripping the machine as I grabbed the thick ropes on the cockpit's floor.
"Y-You're the Briefs kid," the man stuttered, recognition lighting his gradually calming features. My silence was my affirmative as I unwrapped a length of rope and threw it over the beams.
"Page forty-three, paragraph four of the operator's manual states that you should tightly secure all goods on the lift before moving it." I flew under the lift and tied the rope before flying to the far side and doing the same. As Capsule Corp.'s heir, I knew every product we manufactured backwards and forwards.
"How're you flying?" the man called, ignoring my words.
"Testing prototype hover boots."
The lie came easily enough. Quickly growing bored of the situation, I looked towards home and caught sight of the smoke floating from the kitchen chimney. My stomach growled in response to my growing hunger. Before the man could ask about my strength, which I didn't have a fabricated answer for, I shot off towards Capsule Corp. and my mother's cooking. Though it paled in comparison to my late grandmother's food, there was sure to be a lot of it.
I touched down and walked up the newly repaired steps of the main building on the huge compound. I stepped through the doorway as the glass doors slid apart and gave a nod to the robotic receptionist standing at the foyer's front desk. Of all the buildings in West City, Capsule Corporation was by far the fastest with repairs.
"Welcome home, Mr. Briefs," the robot greeted. "Ms. Briefs is in her lab and will be up for dinner shortly."
At the mention of my mother, I grabbed a strip of cloth from my pocket and tied my light violet hair back before she had a chance to complain about how long it'd become. I climbed the stairs to the living room and removed my boots. I slung my jacket over the back of the couch, knowing I'd get chewed out later for not putting both of them where they belonged. Stretching my arms as the air conditioning cooled my tense muscles, I strode into the kitchen with the intent to grab a bottle of water and maybe a bit of food as I waited for my mother to finish her work. She would be upset if I ate without her so I had to ease my Saiyan appetite by thieving quick bites while she couldn't see me.
However, I froze as I entered the very modern kitchen, decked out in Grandmother's culinary memory. A young woman was bustling between the large stove and kitchen table, carrying dish after dish of delicious-smelling food to the latter. Her black hair, tied back with a red ribbon, stuck upwards like an unruly jet of flame from the top of her head. She briefly glanced in my direction and a twinge of recognition twisted my already angry gut. There was something familiar in her kind yet calculating dark eyes and the way her thick shock of bangs protruded wildly from her forehead. Though, try as I might, I couldn't place her.
The girl, as if truly noticing my presence for the first time, did a double take on her way to the stove and paused. As she scrutinized me, I returned the favor. She was an inch or two shorter than I was and could've been no older than my age of twenty. She snapped out of her staring to reach her slightly muscled arms around her slim figure to untie the apron she was wearing.
"You're Trunks then?" She lifted the curve-erasing apron over her head and folded it neatly. I could only nod in response as I gave her another once-over, this one more appreciative than the last. She pulled the ribbon from her hair with one hand and ran the other through it. It settled into a disorderly halo around her head. She pursed her lips to blow a stray strand from her eyes. I found it difficult to look away.
"What are you doing in my kitchen?" I blurted, trying to break the mounting tension growing in the room. The question sounded harsher than I had intended. I saw something flare behind her dark irises and felt my face burn in response.
"Trunks!"
I flinched involuntarily when I heard my mother's excited shout. Bulma Briefs, my mother and president of the entire corporation, came striding into the room. She had her blue hair pulled back in its signature bun and her matching eyes surveyed the room, flicking quickly between me and the girl.
"I see you've met my new technician assistant," she said at last, a devious smile creeping over her aging face. For some reason, her smirk caused my blush to deepen. "Trunks, Dakaran. Dakaran, Trunks," she introduced.
I offered the girl, Dakaran, my hand and smiled in apology of my boisterous mother. Dakaran placed her hand in mine and I tried not to pull back from the contact. Her skin was cool to the touch and her grip was quite strong for a woman, both of which startled me.
"Nice to meet you, Dakaran."
The girl bowed her head in response and politely smiled back at me. I was momentarily dazed and distracted from my thoughts on why Mother suddenly needed an assistant.
"This girl is brilliant. Though her formal education was interrupted by the androids, she studied under a prestigious doctor before-" Mother cut herself off, a rare occurrence. I raised my eyebrows in question.
"-before the clinic was blown up the day after the android's defeat by a gang of apocalypse-enthused rebels," Dakaran finished for her. "Eventually, by recommendation, I ended up here where your mother has graciously accepted me."
I didn't know what to say to that. Oh, I had several questions, but none appropriate to the situation. I didn't want to risk upsetting this girl by inquiring further into her past, especially when all it would take to gather the information was a trip to the records room.
"Yes, well," continued my mother, never one to leave silence anywhere. "How about dinner?"
My stomach shouted out my reply before my mouth could and I looked down at it, embarrassed. I felt my face reddening for the second time when I heard Dakaran's light chuckle.
"Yes, let's eat," she agreed.