The Breaking Point
*Oneshot* Trunks and Vegeta. Post-Buu.
I do not own any of the characters of Dragonball Z, but you probably already knew that.
He was furiously thrashing, punching, kicking, attacking in any way he knew how; his mind lost, consumed in his pain and shame at his father's disappointment.
Trunks reclined casually on the hillside by Capsule Corp, enjoying a rare, quiet afternoon on a cool summer day. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, savoring the sweet smell of grass and sunshine. The breeze swept through the field and caught his lavender hair, softly tickling his ears and cheeks. He smiled wistfully, taking in the beautiful serenity.
He began to hear footsteps padding up to where he lay. With a sigh, he leaned forward, whispering his goodbyes to his moment of peace.
The footsteps stopped just short of him.
"How pathetic."
Trunks disdainfully looked up, meeting the cold stare of his father.
"What do you mean?"
Vegeta stood over Trunks, his lips pursed and arms folded.
"You are a Saiyan, and all you do is sit around and look at the damned grass."
Trunks rolled his eyes. His father always spoke with the same arrogant condescension. Why today, of all days?
"What, should I be training? I've been training since I was a toddler. Last I checked, I could fight proficiently enough."
He gazed back out over the rolling hills, praying for his father to leave him in peace. Vegeta snarled. No son of his was going to disrespect the Prince of all Saiyans.
"Look here, boy," he hissed, almost spitting the last word, "If you think you are so proficient, then why don't you prove it?"
Trunks huffed. He'd had enough of these games.
"Because a true warrior doesn't need to prove his strength to anyone. He knows it within himself, and that should be enough."
Before he could move to get up, a swift kick to his jaw sent him flying twenty feet across the field. He landed with a grunt, knocking him nearly breathless.
"You know nothing of being a true warrior!"
Vegeta's angry bellow echoed throughout the valley, just as it echoed through Trunks' head. The rhetoric had grown tiresome for Trunks. Each time his father drilled it into his brain, another part of him was lost.
Trunks embedded his fingers into the dirt, lifting himself from the ground. A flame flickered on inside of him, slowly growing with his anger.
When he finally stood, he turned to face Vegeta, wiping the blood from his cheek. He remained silent, an eerily stoic gaze on his face.
Vegeta scowled and tensed his muscles.
"If you had any pride left, you would fight."
The jarring words plagued Trunks' mind.
"A Saiyan is nothing without his pride."
"A Saiyan warrior never forsakes his pride."
"As long as a Saiyan keeps his pride, nothing can stand in his way."
Pride, pride, pride.
The cacophony of Vegeta's voice reverberated through his skull, all at once but clear as crystal.
Pride, pride pride.
Trunks squinted his eyes shut, trying desperately to escape the deafening roar.
Pride, pride pride.
The word surrounded him, eating away at his thoughts, threatening to tear him apart.
Pride, pride, pride.
"Well, what are you waiting for, boy?"
Then, all became still. Trunks' mind cleared into a vast expanse of emptiness. Suddenly, a beam of light pierced through the void, and it all went black.
Trunks cried out at the top of his lungs, and erupted into a blur of gold and blue. He careened straight for Vegeta, his battle cry scorching the sky.
It all happened so fast.
He was furiously thrashing, punching, kicking, attacking in any way he knew how; his mind lost, consumed in his pain and shame at his father's disappointment.
Vegeta's screams of agony went unheard and unheeded as Trunks beat and battered without feeling or mercy.
"IS THIS PRIDE, FATHER?"
He kneed Vegeta in the stomach, causing the Prince to spew blood across the grass.
"IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED?"
Trunks delivered a second blow to Vegeta's stomach, more blood and spittle gushing from his mouth.
Vegeta could hardly believe what he was experiencing. The fact that he was unable to defend himself was shocking enough, but the hands of his own son were now killing him.
Another blow to the stomach.
Vegeta's vision began to fade, catching glimpses of the flurry of punches that were now being thrown at him. One thought filled his mind before he drifted out of consciousness.
What have I done?
Trunks stopped his assault, letting his father's limp body fall to the ground.
He turned his hand upwards, gathering energy for a final ki blast, all while staring menacingly at the bloodied and bruised Vegeta.
Suddenly, he stopped.
The mind he had lost returned in a wave of remorse. Although he knew that this was a lesson his father had to learn, he hadn't intended it to be by his own hand.
"How shameful," he growled.
He let his hand fall to his side as he stood over the unconscious prince.
"To let myself slip out of control, over tired and bitter words like your own."
A strong breeze whipped across the field, blowing clouds of dust over Vegeta's frame.
Trunks sighed, bent down, and slung Vegeta over his shoulder.
"If there is one thing you've always taught me, it's to always keep my pride."