Episode 1 - Re-kindling the Fires of Hope

If you do not clearly see the words "to be continued" at the bottom of the page, then it hasn't loaded completely or properly.

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, its characters, storyline, or likenesses. My name is not Akira Toriyama. However, this story line has been created by me to be used by me and to be written by me. If I catch anyone using this idea in their stories without first informing and asking me, not my cousin or my lookalike, but me, they will recieve a serious whomping, flaming, e-mail bombing (ever heard of a Ka-boom?), and then a sound flogging by me, Mirai Trunks, and all of my friends (and I have LOTS of friends). **Mirai Trunks stands behind me, sword drawn and ready to strike, looking very menacing** To those good readers out there and those whom have already written a fic similar, but not identical to this, I hope you enjoy and know that any coincidences in this story to real life or other stories is purely that, COINCIDENTAL! And Mirai? Please don't kill me for what I do to you in this fic! *whimpers* **Mirai Trunks gives SW a hug** Mirai Trunks: "All is well, Silent Willow. I forgive you." Awwww.... Mirai.... I LOVE YOU TOO! *squeezes tightly* Mirai Trunks: "ACK!" Erm, sorry. Did I mention I was your bestest bestest, most bestest best #1 fan? MT: "Erm, I think you have. You can let go now, you know." *reluctantly* Alright...

Okie, enough of that! Please, enjoy the fic!

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A/N: This episode is mainly re-cap of what has happened in the DBZ HYHB (DragonBall Z How Young Hearts Bleed) world so far and begins the story, though barely. If you have already seen the Android/Cell saga of DBZ and understand the Mirai Timeline to this far, you will find certain areas you may skip without losing the meaning of the story. Just don't skip too much, as I am known to hint at things to happen later in the story in the very beginning, no matter how inconspicuous or you'd-have-to-be-braindead-to-miss-this. I also love quoting my favorite songs and people, and often compose my own poetry and make up good quotes... But you'll find that out! Also beware my warped sense of humor (which doesn't show up fully manifested until later in this story). It has been known to cause compulsive, contagious, chronic laughter in my readers. Beware!

Broken bodies, broken dreams.
All is lost, or so it seems...

"...I don't want the world to see me;
'Cuz I don't think they'd understand.
When everything's made to be broken;
I just want you to know who I am..."
Goo Goo Dolls, "Iris"

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"Done yet?" A lavender-haired man asked excitedly. He spoke to an older woman with still moderately azure hair, though the dull gray of her current age had almost completely engulfed the bright blue locks of her younger years.

The two adults stood amidst a motley of miss-matched machine parts, tools, and crumpled blue-prints within the largest building still standing on their scarred world: Capsule Corporation. Ever since the younger man had dispatched the mechanical menace which had plagued their humble world for so many years, the planet's now-sparse population had poked through the rubble persistently, and was first now steadying itself to continue on with life as they had last known it before things had spun wildly out of control. Even though this ray of hope shone brightly over the hearts of all other people, the luck and fortune that was wound tightly throughout it seemed to have left Capsule Corp. in the shadows.

About a year prior to the beginning of this newest adventure, the purple-haired man, named Trunks, had been assisting with the construction of temporary homes when disaster struck. He had been slammed hard at the base of his skull, on the back of his neck, with a large metal bar, permanently severing the connection between his primary, thinking and conscious nervous system, and secondary nervous system--which directs his ki, or power/energy consciously and assists his muscles in performing such extraordinary feats as that which was then expected of him. What resulted was a long period of bed rest and attempted mending of the damage, but none of this was successful.

"Mom?" He asked the older woman tentatively, trying to get her attention, and leaned over to get a glimpse of what she held in her delicate hands.

The older lady smiled mischievously as she turned, shielding her work from her only son's eyes. She cradled in her grasp a small, laser-like device and was entering variables into its instruction list through a connected user interface, checking them yet another time as not to make the imminent human mistake harbored in the first versions of all her works. Her gut told her something had to be wrong, but all the variables had been copied correctly. Everything had to be perfect; this was her son's life she was cradling in her hands! This laser, this device, this machine would finally cure her son of his affliction, finally return him to his former strength and vigor.

Trunks again attempted to achieve a glimpse at this, the latest miracle of technology sprung from his mother's imagination, but she avoided him yet again, snickering mischievously. This little game of dodging and weaving soon escalated more and more until....

"Oof!" Trunks tripped over a stray hunk of steel in the cluttered workshop.

"Oh, Trunksie! Are you okay?" Bulma floundered over her fallen son, her precious work temporarily abandoned and forgotten on the disaster area known as her workbench.

"Yeah Mom. I'm fine." He lifted himself up off the floor with mild difficulty and dusted off his slightly loose "Capsule Corp." logo T-shirt and gray sweat pants.

"You're going to have to watch yourself, Trunks!" Bulma placed her hands on her hips and slipped her thumbs through the belt loops of her blue work jeans, stained with various dyes and oils from many years of use, and shifted her matching T-shirt to be more comfortable around her waning figure. "Take it easy, at least until I get this ray finished and used on you. Then, when you've got your ki back, you can go save the world again for all I care. Just don't hurt yourself, ok?"

"Yeah, I know, but-" he replied sadly, but was interrupted by his mother speaking to him in her "nice" voice.

"Now go to your room and get some rest. I'll call you when I'm done." Bulma smiled sweetly at her son.

"But Mom! You'll be in here for hours! My stomach can't last that long! It's already been two hours since I last ate-"

Her smile disappeared and was replaced by a look of pure exasperation. "You and your appetite! You're worse than your father. I swear, you'll bleed Capsule Corp. dry with your stomach alone!" she gently brished a lock of lavender hair behind her beloved son's ear and brushed the purple stubble of his new beard, which he had decided he would grow out so he would "look his age". Bulma only wished she could look as young as her son would when he claimed her current age (which she still wouldn't admit to anyone). "Now, be a good boy and get some rest, eat some of the carrot sticks I left on your bed-side table. This little zap is going to take a lot out of you." She indicated the ray, giving her son the glimpse he had been after. He didn't even notice it and merely continued on with his arguement.

"Mom, I may not have my ki around to help me out right now, but I'm still far stronger than any other person who ever lived." he pleaded.

But his efforts were in vain, for Bulma replaced that soft, concerned look for a motherly glare only rivaled by her best friend's wife, Chi-chi. "Trunks!" She demanded his compliance, speaking low and slowly in a no-BS voice that had even pushed its weight over her deceased husband, Vegeta's terrible scowl and iron fists (which had never been directed toward her or any of his "closest" friends) in the past.

"Yes, Mom." was Trunks's meek reply as he turned sharply and ran off to his room. Bulma could swear that if the boy still had a tail, it would have sought refuge between his legs. Of course, Vegeta had taken care of the "tail end of things" when the lavender haired man had been just an infant to keep him from ever transforming into a demon Ozaru.
Prince Vegeta, or just Vegeta. No last name...

Bulma still missed the arrogant, selfish, self-centered, egotistical prince, even though he had been gone for more than two score (40) years now--46 to be exact. Now, with Trunks into his late forties and herself at an age she wouldn't admit, the two androids and Cell defeated, and the past mended, there was little else for Mrs. Bulma Vegeta-Briefs to do besides taking care of herself, Trunks, and reflecting on the past.

A single tear suddenly escaped her reservoir. She missed everyone so much! Goku, whom she'd met as a child and befriended early on. The brawny man, if lacking in brain mass, had been her best friend for the main portion of her younger years. Gohan, Goku's only son, he could have been Trunks's older brother with how the two had bonded. Yamcha, her dangerous, desert-bandit first boyfriend; and what a hunk! She even missed Krillan, that annoying cue ball that always seemed to have a witty comment when one was needed the most.

All of the others too: Chaozu, Tien, Yanjarobe, Puar, Korrin, Piccolo, Kami, Mr. Popo, and even that annoying, rude piggy, Oolong. She giggled aloud, remembering the forbidden "P" word. Then there was Master Roshi; older than dirt and he still liked the ladies. Turtle was nice too, what a gentlema- erm, gentleturtle.

And last, once again, and far from least, there was Vegeta. Vegeta, her final lover, the one she swore to be faithful to. He was rude, extravagant, pushy, unrealistic in his demands, arrogant, egotistical, and selfish... but it was to him Bulma had said, "I do." Even though they never "officially" married, Bulma had still promised him "'till death do us part."

She had never really taken the phrase literally before, but now being a widow with one son--who should have been married or at least had a date by now with his dashing good looks, good personality, and high IQ (to which Bulma credited herself fully and without hesitation)--she realized that death had indeed done them part. She sighed, one of her few remaining bright spots in life flickering out...

::"No!":: She mentally slapped herself. ::"I still love him, and always will. No matter what! I swore to him. He swore to me...":: she touched her lips where his final kiss, his final goodbye had fallen right before he had at the hands of the androids. She remembered that morning clearer than she did any other....

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"Bulma, I must go now. There is a new evil threatening us, and the others know it as well. That television broadcast only confirmed it, and I must fight." She remembered the gruff, deep, yet still soft tone of his saddened, yet firm voice. She remembered the hopeful hopelessness in his eyes, drinking up every last moment he spent with her, eager to get away yet unwilling to go...

"Vegeta!" she had screamed commandingly, tugging on his shirt, though no amount of force could keep him from his imminent destiny. "I demand you to stay here! You have a son and a wife now, you know! Vegeta, look at me when I speak to you! Vegeta! Listen!"

"Blast you, woman! Can't you see that I have to go? I must! As the Royal Prince of the Saiyans, it is my duty! The pride of my race is at stake, and even if I didn't want to, I have no choice in the matter, and neither do you!"

"What Saiyans? I don't see any around here, and don't expect me to roll out the red carpet, your Royal Pain-In-The-Highn-ass! Vegeta! Vegeta..." Her voice had suddenly turned soft, sad, worried. "I don't know what I'd do without you... I've already lost my best friend. I won't lost you too...."

"Kakarott? Who cares about him? Pheh!"

"Vegeta..." She pleaded. "I won't let you go!" She gave him that famous glare, that no-BS voice, the one ace she could play to infinity, but Vegeta played by the rule of Spitz*.

*In the card game, "War", Spitz is the rule where a Two beats the otherwise unbeatable Ace.

"Bulma." he kissed her long and passionate, until she was putty in his arms. She was left gasping for breath by the time he had finished and let her go, leaving her to lean against the doorframe of the then-unscathed Capsule Corp. main building within the huge complex. Vegeta first scanned the area for other people before saying his following, last statement he ever would to his wife on Earth. "Bulma, I promise I'll always love you if you'll do the same for me, just let me do what I have to. Farewell, Bulma."

She could only watch helplessly as her Prince blasted off and slowly disappeared into the distance, much slower than the azure-haired beauty knew he could have.

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Halfway back to reality, Bulma wondered if the arrogant prince knew that those few moments would be the last of his time with her, that that kiss would be the last one he would receive on Earth. Maybe that's why he only promised his love, not his life, why that kiss was so long and passionate, why he flew so slowly, why he had that lost, lonely look on his face.... Why he finally cemented his vows with those four words, "I'll always love you". And she was determined to uphold her half of the deal.

Bulma's train of thought suddenly de-railed. "Oh no, here I am being nostalgic when my son is waiting for his cure!" Bulma mumbled to herself and immediately resumed her work.

Meanwhile, in his room...

Trunks lay back on his bed, staring at the cracked ceiling. It had been a terribly long time since he dispatched the androids and Cell, the bionic menace, but the 'Corp. still hadn't received its long-overdue remodeling appointment. He sighed and ate another carrot from the stash of raw ones beside his bed. The two-foot high pile was a good snack for the ravenous man, but his brain seemed to have too much to digest at the time.

A stupid bar, a stupid metal bar had done it when not even his sound early-on beatings from the androids could. He had been helping some of the world's sparse population to rebuild homes, at least temporary ones until better ones could be furnished and... He never sensed it, saw it, heard it coming. A single hard smack on the back of his neck severed the ties between his primary, thinking nervous system, or PNS, and secondary, ki-directing one, or SNS. Sure, his body sure naturally stored energy even when there was no way for him to channel it (and he was now at full power), but without the ability to call on that power, it just sat there and grew, demanding his body to create larger storage areas for the nutrient it would turn into the fuel for young man's enormous ki.

Of course, none of this is normal. The huge appetite, extraordinary strength, ki (whatever that is, am I right ;), and did Bulma mention something about a tail? An average man would never even dream possible the amazing accomplishments Trunks had achieved, and he had done it with relative ease at that. And I'm pretty sure no modern human has been recorded as having a tail, and what's Ozaru? Well, Trunks is not an ordinary man, and not human at that. Well, at least not totally. His father was the prince of a nearly extinct race of extraordinary hunter/fighters called the Saiyans. A Saiyan isn't just another race as previously mentioned, but an entirely different species all together. They came from a planet called Vegeta (the same name as every male member of their royal family) and had been planet conquerors (hence how nearly all the universe now loathes them) for an evil alien lord named Frieza (whom ended up destroying the Saiyan home world along with nearly all the Saiyans) before Bulma's childhood friend (an Earth-rooted Saiyan who's original Saiyan name had been Kakarott before he was re-named Goku by the man who discovered him in his space pod when he first crash-landed on Earth) finally put an end to his reign of terror. But Goku had died of a heart virus before the real terror began...

When Goku had still been a child, one with extraordinary strength and a gentle demeanor, he foiled the first Earth-dominating plans of an evil scientist named Dr. Gero. The enraged doctor had spent all the time between his first defeat and six months after Goku's death (of which he had not been informed of) preparing and programming two androids, two deadly assassins, to finally achieve his revenge.

But the mad doctor had made an error, as all humans must. The deadly duo he had created turned on him, fearing that they would be shut down after their primary objective had been carried out.

With the deranged doctor disconnected, the duo discovered their objective already done. So with nothing better to do, they engaged in a sadistic contest of destruction between each other, often claiming "10 points for every building I destroy" or "10 points for every human I hit" and the like. With Goku, the strongest Saiyan ever to live out of the way, his friends, son, and acquaintances were left to defend the Earth (or Chikyu, as they often called it). Only Gohan (8 years old at the time) survived the first confrontation and merely lost his left arm in a future one. Trunks was still a baby. Later on, when Gohan grew to be an adult and Trunks reached age 11, the former trained the latter in the art of the Saiyan fighting heritage. During one such training session, disaster struck once more. The androids attacked a city adjacent to their sparring grounds. Gohan, fearing his pupil would get himself killed by rushing in after him, knocked Trunks out and took the androids on, giving a new meaning to the phrase "single-handedly". Though he would have been a good match for either one had he caught them alone, the deadly duo always attacked together. Without a second arm or any reinforcements to aid him, he lost his life.

By the time Trunks came around, night had fallen and a storm was first beginning. He searched the streets for his best and only friend, but sensed not a trace of his comrade's ki.

He only located his mentor at last by the old-fashioned means of a visual search, and immediately wished he hadn't.

There, in the middle of the street, laying facedown in a puddle of rainwater was the second last person Trunks had left-dead. That rainwater may have been Trunks's own tears for what a crushing blow this was to the youth's spirit. At the moment Trunks confirmed his fears by checking Gohan's pulse and finding his blood still, a new emotion surged within him. Pain, sorrow, loss, grief, anger, and finally rage, all gripped him in rapid succession. It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair! IT-JUST-WASN'T FAIR!

Then, something happened. It was if a dam within him suddenly burst, all its contents gushing forth with 100% of its full fury. Trunks was screaming, but he didn't know it at first. He had lost himself to the rage. His fists were clutched so tight that his short, stubby nails drew blood. Other changes had happened to him also. His Saiyan heritage was, for the first time, showing itself to its zenith. A bright golden aura manifested brilliantly around him like a fire and scorched everything it touched other than the clothes on his body. His hair spiked up toward the heavens, losing its silky fineness to reach like many knives toward the darkened sky, and flickered involuntarily between his natural lavender and a brilliant gold before staying the new-sprung color. His eyes... Where once they shone a brilliant, pure, innocent, childlike blue, now they were a single, monotonous teal plate. He no longer fostered a pupil within them and where once they contained hope, optimism, and faith, they were now seething with rage, like an angry sea.

Then his vocal chords gave out. Trunks sank to his knees, but retained the transformation he had undergone. He had, in his moment of unimaginable grief, attained the "Golden Fleece" of his father's race: Super Saiyanism. In this form, the first of many levels, his ki level reached the numerical value of millions (whereas the strongest human being known to that time had a power level of 175). It also clearly outlined of what lineage he had sprung from, the Saiyans.

The rain was full force now. Trunks let a single tear escape from one eye, though it was almost unnoticeable in the torrential downpour. Right there, the young half-Saiyan vowed that never again would he allow the androids to hurt anyone so close to him.

But it was already too late for Gohan.

Since then, his mother had created a time machine, which they together had named "Hope". Their joint agreement was that if they couldn't save their own world, then they could at least create an alternate timeline in which none of these tragedies ever occurred. So Trunks set off to the past with medicine for Goku's heart virus and information that would save the latter's friends' lives.

The mission was a success-not without a few major and minor setbacks, of course-and even provided Trunks with the knowledge and preparation for the defeat of the androids on his world and the previously unknown menace lurking just over the horizon

But none of that mattered now, so far away and beyond it. No evil would ever bother Chikyu again (in Trunks's lifetime). He just wanted his ki back.

Trunks stared harder at the ceiling, trying desperately to use some sort of ki attack. Whether he created a glowing ball of energy, blew something up (not Capsule Corp. or something that would hurt anyone, mind you), or withheld a brief power up, he just wanted to feel the old sensation again.

He traced all the steps in his mind, not forgetting even one, but when the time came to execute his chosen attack; he found the ability... missing.

He sighed and rolled over to view his favorite weapon lying in the corner of the dimly lit room, a single ray of light reflecting off the polished blade. His sword (repaired since he had damaged it while battling the androids) was now the only weapon he could use, given the fact he could no longer forge one out of ki as the situation need be; a technique he had learned around his thirtieth birthday.

"Can't dodge bullets anymore either." He laughed aloud at the irony of his statement. He was the worlds last superhero, more powerful than the made-up Super Man could ever hope to be, but he had fallen and needed his mother's help to get up.

"Like an infant." He continued the thought, smiling gravely to himself.

But no, this wasn't a time for remembering sad events; it was a time for anxious hope, celebration, and hopefully, joy.

He didn't have the time to wait for the anxious pert to ferment, for right at that moment, his mother called him down. He obeyed her.

"Trunksie! I'm finished!" Bulma was overjoyed as she told her son the good news when he arrived by her side.

"Great! What are you waiting for? Give me the zap! I can't wait!" he was nearly bouncing off the walls with excitement.

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"The light at the end of the tunnel is probably the headlamp of an oncoming train." Source unknown

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"Hold on one minute! We need to take this outside!" the slate-blue haired woman commanded.

Out of a single moment of consideration, Trunks added an afterthought while kicking a small shred of metal with the word "Hope!!!" scrawled across it. "You know, it's a shame we had to tear apart the old 'Hope' to make that little ray gun, but I guess it's either the 'Hope' or my ki..." Trunks was calm, but he fidgeted a little bit with his watch. Though smudged with dirt and scratched from years of use (since he had been 12), the glowing, monotonous neon green display clearly read "8:15 PM".

"Trunks, stop playing with everything you find! You'll trip again!" Bulma advised him seriously.

"Mom!" the lavender haired man whined like a child. "I'm not that clumsy!"

"You were before." She replied, exhaling.

Trunks stood there, mouth agape, searching for the words to combat with his mother's latest verbal strike. He found none.

"That round goes to me." Bulma smiled, the cockiness of her teenage years returning for a moment.

Moments later, they were set up outside and ready to go. Both were overjoyed at this latest achievement, this latest incarnation of their shared hopes, their unified dreams.

Bulma set the device on its stand and aimed it toward Trunks, letting the computer take its precision to a level she could not achieve unaided.

"Ready, Trunks?" she asked as if expecting him to turn back, the old feeling of uncertainty still striving to force its way to the front of her mind...

"I'm not getting any younger, Mom! Let's go! The sooner, the better!" Trunks knew little, if any, the irony of his statement.

"Alright! On three!" Bulma smiled back, marveling at her son's courage to test an untested device, to put his own life and well-being on the line in hopes to regain the power he once had, though in the current world, he already had everything he would ever need and more.

Trunks would pay for his greed. He had once tasted what true power felt like and would try anything to get it back, just like his one-time-adversary, Cell, had. They both did and will pay for their power-gluttony, but this hunger was only natural for a Saiyan...

"One,... two,... three!" Bulma took one last look at her crippled (though no one could tell if they hadn't known him before the accident) son before pressing the "start" button and crossing her fingers, leaving the rest up to chance. Unfortunately, lady luck was not smiling on the Briefs family on that day, nor would again for a while.

A bright beam of pure white light shot out from the mouth of the "gun" and engulfed Trunks, hitting him hard enough to temporarily knock him off balance. Once he got used to it, Trunks stood up once again and the second step of the process began. Bulma had figured the first blow would knock him off balance, if not completely over, so she had programmed a delay to allow her son to regain his composure.

The beam of light continued to brighten around Trunks, who possessed an unreadable expression on his face. Bulma could almost feel her son being healed, gaining strength, and becoming whole once more.

Then, something strange happened. The machine uttered an eerie whirring noise and instead of the gentle aura the ray of light once provided, Trunks's whole body seemed to radiate as another source of the same light...

And his figure seemed to be thinning out too!

"Oh no!" Bulma screeched. "Trunksie, something's wrong!"

To be continued...

Hehe. I kinda left you hanging there... Well, never fear! Episode 2 will be out soon enough! For me, it's to my nice warm bed... Hopefully, a good night's rest will cure my burned-out brain. Yep, 3 tests today, all (hopefully) aced. That can and will burn me out. I hope you like this, it's straight of my 2nd draft, no revising in-between, and I mean none. I'm expecting numerous flames for an unrivaled ammount of spelling and gramatical errors... But that comes with the job! Flame away! Oh, and a good review here and there is always nice. The more of those I get, the sooner Ep2 comes out! ;P FIRE AWAY! And goodnight!