A/N: Torankusu (Trunks) and Gohan are both eighteen. The reason they're both the same age is explained later. WARNING: Contains shounen-ai, meaning male/male.

Also: I'm hopefully getting a beta, so this chapter, most likely, will be altered later on.

"GOHAN!!"

Torankusu woke with a start, jolting upright. Sweat trickled down his bare chest; his shoulder-length hair was soaked with it as well. He was panting, his eyes wide. Looking around wildly, he was calmed as he saw the familiar furniture in his room, his sensitive eyes piercing the darkness. His breathing slowed.

He still had those dreams, surprisingly enough. After all these years. It had been, what, four? Yes, four, if you counted that year in the Room he spent with his father. He didn't have dreams there.

No, that wasn't true. Sometimes he dreamt of the nights he lay in his bed, as a child, listening to his mother cry herself to sleep. Because their Vejita was dead. He sometimes did so, now...he'd never see him, or any of them, again...he himself had destroyed the machine that took him to the past.

To clear his melancholy thoughts, perhaps, Trunks shook his head roughly, his damp hair swatting him in the face as he did so. Wiping the remaining strands of his face, he lay back down, his head sinking in to the thick, soft pillow.

The next morning came a few hours later, finding the young warrior still staring at the low white ceiling. They had gotten a real house a few weeks after he had killed the jinzouningen; well, used, rather. A capsule house, one of the few they had left. His mother was working far in to the night, every night, to make more for other people; Trunks was to distribute them throughout the world.

Not as hard a task as it should be.

His eyes heavy from lack of sleep, Trunks fumbled with the sheets, finally throwing them off him. He willed himself to sit up and rub his eyes.

"It'd help more to splash some water on my face," he muttered absently, standing with minimal willpower. Thank Kamisama the bathroom was next to his room.

Walking as briskly as he could, Trunks made his way down the hall, ignoring, for once, the pictures on the white walls--ones of the Z-Senshi, and instead focused on the bathroom door, also white. He grasped the goldenrod knob and turned it, gently swinging the door behind him. He walked inside, and it closed with a click behind him.

When the cold water was pouring from the faucet, he cupped his hands to catch some, and splashed it on his face, effectively waking him up.

He then went back to his room, and dressed in his usual ensemble; black tank top, beige baggy pants, dull boots, and of course his short Capsule Corp jean jacket. His mother's words of him being extremely unoriginal entered his mind again and he chuckled. Originality and clothes weren't really his priorities. Especially clothes. That was her area.

As was his usual routine, Trunks walked toward the front of the house where the kitchen was, where he knew his mother would be busily cooking their breakfast; she got up early, since she had a lot of work to do, considering Trunks' inherited appetite. He always felt a pang of guilt, but she'd never really taught him to cook, so he couldn't really help...no, she had tried, once, when he was thirteen. Didn't work out to well. He smirked, remembering their attempt to eat his rice. Yep, that's right, he couldn't even cook rice properly.

"Hey, mom," he called with his naturally quiet voice, as he walked in to the small kitchen. "What's for breakfast?"

"Rice, what else?" Buruma answered, turning to him and grinning sheepishly.

"Alright then," he said, also smiling. "Want me to set the table?"

"That'd be great," Buruma answered, nodding and turning her attention back on her rice. Trunks nodded in return, and was soon busying himself with retrieving the dishes and silverware from their respective cabinets and placing them around the large, polished wooden table. Afterwards he sat on one of the two chairs; they were facing each other, and his was always the one facing the stove. Buruma's was nearest it.

He waited patiently as his mother finished her cooking, and jumped up to help carry the two steaming and rather humongous pots of rice to the table.

Trunks tipped one, letting some roll from the pots onto his mother's plate, and then did the same for himself.

"Trunkschan, you know I could have--"

"I was already holding it," Trunks explained hastily, picking up his chopsticks. Soon enough, he repeated the motions, and as he continued to do this until both pots were empty, Buruma watched, smiling slightly as she ate her own rice at a moderate pace.

When he was done, Buruma said abruptly, "Trunks, I don't really want to beat around the bush here, so..."

"Yes?"

Trunks looked up from his plate, his dark baby-blue eyes slightly glinting with curiosity. He could always tell when his mother wanted to tell him something; it was something in the way she moved, something that he couldn't quite place.

"Trunks," she said slowly, making sure their eyes met, probably so he would know just how serious she was, "you've been home schooled since you were able to comprehend my teaching."

He nodded again, his eyes now showing surprise. This was new.

"But," Buruma went on, "it was more occasional than constant after you turned ten."

Guilt veiled Trunks' face, along with familiar grief. That was when Gohan had started to train him, though to his mother's objections.

"I know we've started up again, now that you're home from...the past."

Yes, it had been several months since he'd returned. They had been having lessons much more frequently, now (in between his mothers' capsule work in the evening and his 'workout' in the morning until the afternoon), since the jinzouningen were no longer a problem.

"But...I won't be able to keep teaching you, Torankusu--this would be your senior year in high school, then college, and...you can't get a job on a high school education alone, even in this world. People are getting their workings back together, and in five years, things may be as normal as it can be, with out help."

Trunks' eyes widened. He had been quite during her pronouncement only because of how shocked he was. He himself had never given a second thought to an education, especially considering there were no schools.

"There aren't any schools here, mother. And there won't be for awhile, even in five years, and there would be others without a college education...people will hire now, no matter what," he argued. "And I'm needed!"

Buruma sighed, lifting a hand to her head.

"I knew you'd argue," she said [.....]. "But...what about ten years, Trunks? Twenty? The world will be righted by then, I'm sure; there will be schools, and you know there won't have to be to many." Her voice was heavy when she said that last sentence. No, there wouldn't have to be to many...

"I know you want for me to have a proper education," Trunks said quietly. "But---"

"You'll need money someday, Trunks," Buruma interrupted firmly. "Maybe not in the very near future, but someday. Currency will matter again, it's how the world works. There are some places where it was saved, and more is being made! I won't let you go hungry when you're older. And...Trunks, I want you to finally have a good life!"

Buruma was standing now, her eyes flashing, yet filled with tears.

"Mom..." Trunks said quietly, as he stood also. "I...I would, but there's no schools here." He really would, now. He hated to see his mother cry.

"No," Buruma said softly. Trunks nodded sadly, and picked up his bowl, walking to the sink.

"But, Trunks..."

"Yes?" the young man asked, his eyes focused on his bowl as he cleaned it with a wet rag. He didn't turn around.

"I rebuilt the time machine."

The bowl fell to the ground, shattering on impact.

"I'm bored."

"Ugh," was Juuhachi's exasperated reply. She was sitting at the head of the little wooden table in Roshi's kitchen, arms crossed in back of her head as she leaned against the chair. She rolled her eyes at her twin, who was sitting opposite her, arms propped up on his elbows as he leaned against the table.

"Why don't you just rob a bank or something?"

"Done it," Juunana replied simply, shaking his head--the movement was flawless, just like the rest of him. Well, outwardly, at least. He sighed, leaning back and imitating Juuhachi's position.

"Actually, I've done that stuff about a million times. It gets old." His voice was the usual placid monotone as he allowed his lips to curl into a pout.

Juuhachi sighed, lightly closing her eyes. He'd arrived out of the blue--as was usual with his visits--and said shortly that he wanted to talk. This they had just started...and he was irritating the hell out of her. It was wonderful to see her brother, of course--she missed him terribly , even if she didn't show it. He was family after all; would always be family.

He'll probably always be annoying, too...she thought wryly.

Meanwhile, Juunana waited impatiently for her to open her eyes. He knew it wasn't a good idea to interrupt her when she was busy not paying attention. Getting his head bitten off wasn't what he had come her to do, though it was usually inevitable anyway. His twin was so uptight, especially now that she had a family... It was annoying. Though he took pleasure in knowing he grated on her nerves as well. It was what brothers were for, after all, human or otherwise.

Finally, she opened her eyes.

"Listen, Juunana, I--"

"Have no fucking clue how to help me."

Juuhachi looked him straight in the eye. It was like staring into his own.

"Yeah."

He sighed, his own eyes closing, but only briefly. He should have known. But it was his only option, really. And besides, it was something to do besides stare at the wall of his cabin.

Seeming to read his thoughts, his sister added, "Maybe you need a hobby..."

"Humph," was his reply. His eyes narrowed.

"That's so...human."

"Well what did you expect?" Juuhachi answered, her tone exasperated. "I mean seriously, Juunana, is it any more human than thievery?"

Juunanagou contemplated that. She had a good point, as usual. And he hated it, as usual.

Obviously seeing his reaction, Juuhachi smirked triumphantly.

He hated that smirk.

"Well, if you're talking in the moral sense..."

"I'm not," interrupted Juuhachi, tone dry.

"Fine."

Juuhachi caught the annoyed edge to his voice. That usually meant that if he wasn't content soon he'd do something drastic...like, say, blow up a monument. It wouldn't be the first time. More like the fifteenth.

She flinched when she heard the door open, and Juunana all but bolted upward...but it was to late. Kuririn was already entering the kitchen, Marron trailing behind him, her hand in his.

"Hey, Juu, I...I...I..." Kuririn trailed off, his eyes widening almost to the point fo covering his entire forehead...for him, quite a feet.

He'd miscalculated. Usually he arrived only when he knew Kuririn, Marron, and Roshi were gone, and if they would stay gone for a good hour. It seemed Juuhachi's family had arrived earlier than usual from their afternoon walk...or flight, whatever.

"I...er...Um...Juu, you didn't tell me your brother was going to visit..." he stuttered, looking anywhere but at his wife's smirking twin.

"That's because I didn't know," Juuhachi stated calmly, thought the word 'dammit' kept ringing anxiously in her head.

Lowering her gaze, her eyes softened as much as possible for her as she met her daughter's confused gaze.

"Hello, sweetie," she said lovingly, ignoring the fact that her brother was most likely raising an eyebrow in intense amusement.

"Hi mamma!" Marron chirped, releasing her hold on her dad's hand and running up to her mother. Juuhachi smiled, scooping her up to sit on her lap.

Marron cocked her head quizzically after hugging her mother.

"Who's the girl making daddy so scared?"

Juuhachi snickered, and Kuririn began laughing uproariously. That is, until Juunana fixed him with a death glare. The former Z-Senshi gulped nervously, his laughing cut off abruptly.

Juuhachi glanced warningly at her brother, who only scowled in return. She then turned back to her daughter.

"Marron, this is your...well, uncle. Juunanagou."

Marron's face brightened, and she turned swiftly, almost falling off the chair.

"Hi, Uncle 'Nanna!!'

Juunana had an almost irrepressible urge to simply let his head fall onto the table, but thought better of it. Instead he settled with an irritated sigh. He met his sister's eyes and said flatly, "I guess I'll be going."

Juuhachi nodded.

"I hope you find something to do. Of the non-flamable kind,"she added wryly.

Her brother smirked evilly.

"I did that last week."

Juuhachi merely rolled her eyes.

"U-Um...Juunanagou?"

"What?" Juunana asked shortly, turning slightly to face Kuririn. He noted with some satisfaction that the short man couldn't hold his gaze for very long.

"Well...er...you look eighteen...why not...go to school? With Gohan?"

It had come as a sudden idea. He'd stopped by Goku's and talked to Chichi a bit; she had worried that Gohan wouldn't no anybody...of course, having a sadistic android there probably wouln't make her any happier, but at least it would attract some unwanted attention from Gohan. Juunana was much wierder, in Kuririn's humble opinion.

Juunana was getting ready to chuckle, possibly tell his wife's husband what an utter moron he was...but then considered. It would be something...and what was more fun than terrorizing irritatin teenagers, other than blowing up buildings? A slow, vicious smirk spread across his features.

"Not a bad idea." He walked out of the house before his sister could react at all.

Juuhachi was almost fuming as she set her eyes upon her husband. Kuririn winced, and rightfully so.

"KURIRIN YOU IDIOT!!"