Title: Piccolo's Flute
Rating: Now it's around PG
Disclaimer: Do I haveta? *whines* =sigh= DBZ. Not mine. Don't sue.
AN: I know it's only been six years, and she would be eleven, but I'm cheating. So there. Um...I think that's all. Oh, don't base all your DBZ knowledge on this fic. I'm a liar.
Piccolo threw a flurry of kicks and punches at his daughter, which she expertly blocked and returned. Piccolo yelled and punched hard and Flute missed the block, causing his punch to follow through and hit one of the two newly developing lumps on her chest.
"Aaaagggghhhhh!" she screamed and held her chest tightly. "Oh, kuso! That hurts! Oh chikusho, Gaga, why'd you do that?"
Piccolo flew over to her and placed a hand on her back. "Are you ok?"
"No!" she groaned, "Kami, that hurts more than anything I've ever felt before!"
Piccolo crossed his arms, "I think it's time for a break."
"No kidding," Flute groaned quietly. "Why'd you have to hit me so hard?"
"Why'd you have to miss the block?" he shot back His heart dropped as he saw the pained look on her face. "Would it make you feel better if we went and visited Gohan again?"
Flute glared at him," You know Pan hates me."
"Oh, you don't know that for sure," Piccolo tried his best to comfort her. His lie unhidden, he sighed, "You're right, she doesn't like you."
"I know, she's hated me since we were kids," Flute settled down on a boulder, the pain slowly ebbing away. "I just don't know why."
"Jealousy, I think is what the humans call it." Piccolo answered.
"The humans," Flute said, her voice distant, "Gaga, what am I?"
"What?" her question took him off guard, "What do you mean?"
"I mean where did I come from? You're not my real father," Flute elaborated.
"Who told you that?" Piccolo crossed his arms at the sudden discomfort the conversation had acquired.
"Pan. Of course. It's always Pan." Flute smiled. "She said that Nameks don't have kids. Does that mean you don't love me?"
"Now that's not true," Piccolo uncrossed his arms and snarled angrily. "Nameks have the power to clone themselves. We have children, just not like the humans do."
"But you never answered me," Flute stood to be closer to eye level with him, "Where did I come from?"
"I told you," Piccolo waved it off.
"No, you didn't!" Flute insisted, her hands on her hips.
"I...I found you," Piccolo confessed. "I was training one day and your ship-"
"Ship?" Flute interrupted.
"Yes, your ship crashed into the Earth and when it opened..." he paused, "There was you."
"So I am an alien," Flute seemed to say this to herself, almost with what sounded for all the world like relief. "I'm glad I know. Now Pan's words can't hurt me because I know the truth."
"You'd be surprised how much the truth can hurt, Flute," Piccolo warned her. "But meanwhile, I haven't seen Gohan in a while and it would be nice to see him again." He thought for a moment. "You didn't seem to have to many problems with Trunks."
"Gaga, I met Trunks only two or three times," Flute argued, "Are you really going to dump me off at his house?"
"First off, I'm not going to dump you there," he told her, "And second, do you really want to spend an entire night with Pan again?"
"Ok, fine," Flute surrendered throwing her arms up in defeat, "Trunks' house it is...where does he live anyway?"
"Wait'll you see this." Piccolo grinned. He took off with Flute in hot pursuit.
"Trunks lives here?!" Flute stood open-mouthed in shock as she stood dwarfed by the enormous Capsule Corp. building. She was aware of a whirring sound coming from the back of the house. Ever curious, she wandered over and saw a huge sphere lined with windows and standing on metal legs protruding from the bottom. Her first instinct told her that it was a monster. Then she remembered what her Gaga had told her about blasting things before she knew what they were.
A door opened and Mrs. Briefs stood holding a tray of tea and cookies. "Oh my! Hello, Piccolo aren't you looking handsome this evening!"
Piccolo stood, enduring the woman's high pitched nasal voice a moment more before interrupting her, as much for his sanity as anything else.
"Is Bulma here?" he huffed. Mrs. Briefs nodded, her grin never fading.
"Of course she is! I'll go get her! You stay right there, Piccolo. Bulma!" Piccolo summoned all the strength he could muster from his other two counterparts not to blast that woman right there on the spot. Soon he recognized Bulma's voice, lower, but no less annoying to his ears.
"Hi, Piccolo, what brings you here?" she chimed. Trunks leaned back in his chair to see what was going on.
"I came by to drop off Flute." he told her. A loud bang rang from inside the house and Piccolo looked past her to see Trunks picking himself and his chair up off the ground. "I'm going to Gohan's."
"She's welcome to stay, for the night even knowing how long you and Gohan reminisce," Bulma laughed and crossed her arms. "Where is she anyway?" In answer, there was a loud crash and the sound of Vegeta cursing from the back yard where the gravity machine was located. Piccolo raced to the back and saw Vegeta sparring with Flute, swearing as though night would never see day. Piccolo's energy flared with his anger and he jumped in, throwing Vegeta to the ground.
"Why you-" Vegeta began. Piccolo was quick to stop him.
"Don't even start, Vegeta! Never lay a hand on my daughter, understand? Or so help me..." his voice lowered as he landed beside the Saiyan prince, "Even Goku won't be able to hold me back. If I find you touching her again, I'll kill you. Understand?"
Vegeta only flashed his trademark smirk. But he understood. Piccolo attended his daughter who was wiping the blood from her lip.
"Sorry, Gaga," she apologized.
"Don't be," he led her to the house. "Let Bulma take care of that." He wiped the drop of blood forming on her lip.
"But, Gaga, her voice hurts my ears," Flute complained.
"Wait'll you hear her mother," Piccolo grumbled. He handed her off to Bulma and waved good-bye as he flew off.
"Don't worry," Bulma smiled. "We'll have fun!" Suddenly, Flute wanted her father to came back.
"Ow! Cut it out! That stings!" Flute complained as Bulma dabbed the peroxide on her lip.
"Well if you didn't go into the gravity machine, this wouldn't have happened in the first place," Bulma chided.
"How was I supposed to know that jerk was in there?" Flute spat angrily.
"Now Flute," Bulma began, but was interrupted by her son, who was standing behind her.
"You don't mess with my dad," he summed up the speech he knew his mother was preparing to give, "Especially when he's training."
"Well thank you for stating the obvious," Flute glared.
"C'mon, kids, don't fight," Bulma rattled off in her "mom" voice. "Trunks, don't you have that paper to finish?"
Trunks groaned, but complied and returned to the paper he had been writing. Flute's eyes followed him as he disappeared up the stairs. Bulma watched her with interest.
"He's a good boy, very handsome too," she said conversationally, "Don't you agree?"
"I wouldn't know,' Flute shrugged. Bulma smiled at her.
"Hey, why don't you go make sure he finishes that paper," she suggested. "Then you two will have some free time to do what ever you like. Within reason, of course." She added.
Flute shrugged again, but followed the stairs to a big open room. She didn't see Trunks anywhere and went searching for him. She glanced at the table and found a piece of paper with writing on it. The words were accompanied by a corny picture of a shape with an arrow through it. She figured he might want it back, along with the fact that she didn't want to be searching him out for no reason. She took the paper from the table and began searching for Trunks.
After getting completely lost twice, she heard some strange sounds coming from a room down the hall. As she drew closer, the sound became a roaring noise. Mixed among the noise were words in no particular order. She figured this was as good a place as any to find the lavender haired boy. She banged on the door, blushing at leaving a new dent in the metal.
"What do you want, Dad?" Trunks yelled over his noise, "Mom's in the med lab if you broke the gravity machine again!"
"Hey, Trunks!" Flute yelled as loud as she could. "It's me!"
She heard shuffling and a bang as the noise disappeared abruptly and the door slid open.
"What are you doing here?" he muttered.
"Well, I wanted to give this back to you," she held out the piece of paper with the words and drawings on it. Trunks blushed a deep crimson and muttered a few choice words of his own.
"Um, thanks," he blushed yet again. he scratched the back of his head nervously, "Oh gosh this is really awkward..."
"Why?" Flute asked innocently. "Did I interrupt your paper?"
Trunks stared at her in surprise, "Did you um...read this?" he held up the paper she had delivered. Flute shook her head. Trunks breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh good, cause I mean if you did I can totally explain-"
"I can't." Flute said suddenly.
"What?" Trunks tilted his head.
"I can't read," she added, "And you don't draw very well either. I mean what's this?"
She pointed to the shape with the arrow through it. Trunks blushed again.
"That's a um heart," he told her, "Wait a sec, what do you mean you can't read?"
"My Gaga never thought it was important enough to learn." she shrugged, "He knows how, but he never taught me. I never asked."
"Well, no time like the present, they say," Trunks smiled.
"Who's they?" Flute inquired. Trunks face vaulted.
"Well do you want to learn?" he asked, picking himself up.
"Will you teach me?" Trunks smiled and let her into his room.
"Ok, let's start at the basics," he began, "The ABC's." He wrote down each letter, capital as well as lower case, on a piece of paper and handed it to her. "Ok copy these down."
Flute nodded and held the pencil in her fist. Trunks stopped her and tried to teach her how to properly hold the utensil.
Bulma walked by her son's room and heard bickering from behind the door.
"No, you hold it like this," her son corrected.
"I'll hold your thing however I want to! And this happens to be very comfortable!" Flute argued back, "It works, doesn't it?"
"Sure but you'll break it if you keep holding it like that, Ouch!" With that last outburst, Bulma's imagination had gone into overdrive and she burst into the room. She was met by the site of her son draped over Flute, reaching for the pencil in her hand.
"I'm telling you, Trunks it works just fine when I hold it in my fist like this!" Flute continued her statement even as Trunks had realized the predicament his mother must have imagined.
"Hi, Mom," he smile sheepishly, "Just working on ABC's."
Flute pushed him off and snatched the paper from the nearby desk. "See? I already got to D!" She held up the paper filled with letters both neatly written and scrawled across the page.
"No! That's G!" Trunks corrected her. "And you hold the pencil in between your fingers like this." Trunks showed her again, but Flute continued to ignore him. Bulma shook her head and closed the door, relieved it had only been her imagination.
There was a loud snap followed by an equally loud moan of frustration.
"I'm telling you if you hold it like this, the pencil won't break!," Trunks insisted. Flute tired to hold it like he was, but the pencil kept dropping from her hand. Trunks shook his head and leaned over. He took her hand in his and positioned her fingers correctly. Flute's heart fluttered at his touch. She tried to rein herself in, confused at the emotions Trunks seemed to stir in her. She suddenly realized she was holding the pencil correctly and writing with out breaking the lead. Her letters turned out more smooth and less rigid.
"So it goes Q, R, then S?" she asked him.
"You got it," Trunks confirmed. "And there's a song that helps you remember the alphabet, but I think you should have someone else sing it for you."
"No," Flute objected, "I want to learn it now!"
"Are you sure?" Trunks asked her. Flute crossed her arms and nodded her head. Trunks shook his head, making his hair flop from side to side. "Ok, but don't say I didn't warn you."
Flute braced herself for a squeaky voice, but was pleasantly surprised by the soft baritone he sang.
"A B C D E F G, H I J K L M N O P..." she smiled and tried to memorize the letters as they were sung, but found it increasingly more difficult to concentrate on the letters. They both sang well into the night and at some point, they both fell asleep on his bed, still humming the tune to the alphabet song.
Piccolo dropped down and tried to knock softly on the door, but still his pounds rang through the house. Bulma set down the magazine she was reading to open the door.
"Hey, Piccolo," she smiled pleasantly, "I think they're asleep upstairs." Piccolo nodded and followed her to the kitchen. They decided it would be fair to wait for morning to come before he took her home. Piccolo meditated while Bulma went to bed, getting some sleep herself.
"What are you doing here, Namek?" Vegeta's rough voice severed Piccolo's concentration. Piccolo opened one eye to glare at him angrily.
"Waiting for morning," he answered shortly. " I decided to let her sleep."
"Hmph," was the only response the Saiyan offered. Piccolo returned to meditating while Vegeta dug through the refrigerator for something edible that did not require cooking. Snatching an orange and a carrot, he closed the door and plunked himself down on the couch in front of the Namek desperately trying to attain mental peace.
"Why do you even care?" Vegeta asked candidly.
"About what?" Piccolo said solemnly, not bothering to open his eyes.
"About that brat?" Piccolo's eyes flew open to glare at the alien munching on a carrot.
"Why do you want to know or care?" Piccolo snapped.
"Who said I cared?" Vegeta shot back, "I'm just curious. I mean, she isn't even your offspring."
"And your point is...?" Piccolo left the question hanging. Vegeta shrugged his shoulders in a quick motion.
"I would just like to understand how it works, how humans can care for brats that aren't theirs, how they put up with them."
"Hn," Piccolo grunted, " 'Brats', have a very interesting way of hooking you like a fish and reeling you in to the point of no return. I love Flute as much a Namek with three counterparts can. But I don't expect a heartless bloodthirsty, ruthless Saiyan warrior such yourself to understand the mechanics of paternal love."
" Do you doubt that I love my son?" Vegeta raised his voice defensively. " Saiyans love their children just like any other sentient race."
"Well I'm glad you can admit it, Vegeta," Piccolo smirked. "I don't know why I love that girl so much. Maybe it's just because she's an alien to this world, just like I was when I was born. I didn't want her to have to grow up alone."
"Makes sense," Vegeta muttered as he finished off his orange. "I plan to have a good spar with you in the morning, Namek."
"Wouldn't miss it," Piccolo said and closed his eyes.
Flute's eyes fluttered open and she was startled first at being in a strange place, and second that Trunks was using her as a pillow, his arms wrapped around her waist. She almost liked the special attention, but was acutely aware of the uneasiness the situation evoked in her. She was about to shout out in surprise when Trunks nuzzled his head against her back and shifted his arms around her. Flute did her best to pry his arms apart, but he was obviously stronger than she had thought. Eventually, she decided the best plan of attack on this problem was to turn around and wake him up. Yet, try as she might, she could barely get half-way turned. Satisfied with the result she had managed to accomplish, along with the fact that Trunks was squeezing her rather hard, she shook his shoulders from her position on her back. He moaned incoherently and opened his eyes slightly.
"Oh my God, what an incredible dream..." he mumbled. He slowly became aware that his dream was not ending even as he entered consciousness. He could still feel her in his arms. Her warm body snuggled against his..........wait.
"Oh! Oh God, sorry!" Trunks nearly threw her across the room. He blushed a deep red and tossed his legs over the side of the bed. "Oh shoot, I'm sorry Flute."
"For what?" she asked him innocently. Trunks blinked a couple times, then a warm smile broke his face and his blush disappeared. They both nearly jumped out the ceiling when a loud pounding left more dents in Trunks' door.
"If I find that you two brats have been screwing in there I'll-" Vegeta ranted meaningless threats. Trunks' blush returned with full force.
"Dad!" Trunks opened his door quickly. "Dad would you cut that out?! We weren't doing anything!"
"Good." Vegeta smirked. "Keep it that way." Trunks angrily slid the door in his father's face.
"God how embarrassing!" he moaned and thumped down at his desk. He glanced at his bed, where Flute was combing her fingers through her hair, and he moaned again. He thunked his head down onto his arms and basked in his embarrassment. He heard Flute grunt in frustration as she tried to untangle a stubborn knot in her hair. Without raising his head, he tossed the brush on the table next to him at her.
"Use this, it works better," he mumbled. Flute looked it over, curious as to how this thing worked.
"Um, Trunks?" she murmured timidly. "Can you do this for me? I don't know how."
Trunks lifted his head from his arms and stared at the girl. "You don't know how to use a brush?"
Flute shook her head. "I grew up in the woods, remember?" Trunks smiled and flopped on the mattress behind her.
"Sure," he took the brush from her hand, a bolt of electricity shocked his nerves when their fingers touched. Trunks sighed as he brushed through the twelve years of tangles, stroking the smooth hair once he unraveled a knot. Trunks was concentrating on a particularly troublesome matt of her blonde mane when he sneezed. Flute jumped up in surprise, knocking Trunks' head on the wall behind him.
"Owww..." he groaned, holding his head. Flute crawled across the mattress and tilted his head forward to inspect the damage.
"Don't move," she told him as she rested his head on her shoulder.
'No problem,' Trunks thought as he inhaled her scent. She smelled wild and free, a wonderful mix of the wind and the forest where she lived. He almost whined when she tilted his head back up again.
"It's ok." she reported. Trunks smiled at her and she turned around. The brush had stayed lodged in her hair and Trunks returned to the knot. After a mere half hour of fighting over Flute's mussed locks, he admired the finished product. There was a bit of pitch here and there, but that was to be expected. Absently, he stroked her fine, silky hair repeatedly. Flute didn't mind too much, but she was unaccustomed to so much physical contact that didn't involve fighting. Trunks realized he had been touching her hair for more than ten minutes and searched for an alternate means of conversation.
"Hey, I'm starving!" he chimed, "How 'bout you?"
Flute nodded and followed him down the stairs to the kitchen.
Piccolo had dozed off and Flute decided he could use some rest. Besides the fact that the last time she had awoken her surrogate father, he had nearly jumped out of his skin, he looked very peaceful. The duo ate quietly, sharing few words between them. Piccolo moaned and sat upright, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He glanced over at the table where his daughter and Trunks sat, munching quietly on their breakfast.
"Flute?" he asked, not quite trusting his eyes so soon after waking up. The blonde haired figure nodded and approached her father. "I think it's time we left for home."
Flute nodded sadly and ran back to give her farewells to Trunks.
"Bye, Trunks," she bowed slightly. She turned to leave when Trunks grabbed her hand.
"Hey," he whispered nervously, "Do you think it'd be ok if I stopped by sometime?"
Flute smiled with a quick nod. "Just look around the mountains. I'll be there."
Trunks racked his brain for any way he could have her stay longer, "Oh yeah! Do you want to take that stuff with you? The pencil and papers and stuff?"
Flute smiled and nodded again. "Yeah!"
A broad smile crossed Trunks' face and he rushed to get her things from his room. He didn't bother sorting anything out and merely grabbed a few pieces of paper, a pencil and after a moment's thought, his brush. He raced back down the stairs and handed them to her.
"You can keep the brush if you want to," he put his hands in his pockets nervously. "So I guess um...bye."
"Bye, Trunks," Flute smiled, "And thank you."
"Don't mention it," Trunks blushed a little. Flute turned to look over her shoulder and smiled one last time at Trunks before taking off.
Once they were out of sight, Trunks collapsed against the doorframe.
"Oh my God, this is pathetic!" he whined, resting his head in his hands.
"Yes you are," Vegeta barked at him, "now move, you're blocking the door!"
"Where are you going in such a hurry?" Trunks glared at him.
"To spar with Piccolo like we planned," Vegeta answered him gruffly.
"Can I come along?" Trunks asked hopefully. Vegeta shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't care so long as you stay out of my way." Trunks could barely contain his excitement.
"When are we leaving?" he inquired.
"Tomorrow." Trunks' heart dropped. "You have to finish that blasted paper first, as your mother told you to do. Show some respect, brat."
Sullenly, Trunks shuffled up to his room to finish his paper.
He dotted his last I and crossed his last T, added a period and sat back in his chair.
"Finished," he sighed with relief. Absently, he looked through his papers for the cutesy drawing. When his efforts proved futile, he began to panic.
"Dad!" he yelled, "I can't find my drawing!"
"What are you talking about brat?" Vegeta huffed.
"The one I drew about six years ago, I can't find it!" Trunks leafed through all his papers again, but to no avail.
"Six years?" Vegeta smirked, "Well what does the blasted thing look like?"
Trunks blushed, "Well it's got um hearts and cupids and-"
"You want me to find a lost love letter?" Vegeta nearly yelled.
"It's from six years ago! It has sentimental value!" Trunks argued. He then realized the other possibility. "Oh crap. Thank God she can't read."
Flute set her new treasures on the ground and anchored them with a rock. The wind lifted a few of the pages, revealing a small crudely drawn cupid. Flute smiled and plucked it from the other papers. She looked over the markings, recognizing a letter here and there.
"Hmm. T, R, N, K, S, what's this one?" She was pondering whether the letter between the R and the K was a U or V when she felt Piccolo approaching her. She ignored it and continued concentrating. "Let's see...L, O, E, S, oh what is that stupid letter? Hmm..."
"What is that?" her father asked her, looking over her shoulder.
"Gaga? What is this letter here?" she pointed to Trunks' name.
"U." he answered. He skimmed over the message written by a child. "When did you learn to read?"
"I haven't yet." Flute answered. "Trunks is teaching me."
"With that?" Piccolo pointed to the piece of paper in her hand. "Do you even know what that says?"
"Hmmm no." Flute told him innocently. "But this is a T, R, U, N, K, S." She named off the letters as she named them.
"Do you know what it says?" he asked her, raising an eye ridge in her direction.
"Nope," she grinned.
"It says Trunks."
Rating: Now it's around PG
Disclaimer: Do I haveta? *whines* =sigh= DBZ. Not mine. Don't sue.
AN: I know it's only been six years, and she would be eleven, but I'm cheating. So there. Um...I think that's all. Oh, don't base all your DBZ knowledge on this fic. I'm a liar.
Piccolo threw a flurry of kicks and punches at his daughter, which she expertly blocked and returned. Piccolo yelled and punched hard and Flute missed the block, causing his punch to follow through and hit one of the two newly developing lumps on her chest.
"Aaaagggghhhhh!" she screamed and held her chest tightly. "Oh, kuso! That hurts! Oh chikusho, Gaga, why'd you do that?"
Piccolo flew over to her and placed a hand on her back. "Are you ok?"
"No!" she groaned, "Kami, that hurts more than anything I've ever felt before!"
Piccolo crossed his arms, "I think it's time for a break."
"No kidding," Flute groaned quietly. "Why'd you have to hit me so hard?"
"Why'd you have to miss the block?" he shot back His heart dropped as he saw the pained look on her face. "Would it make you feel better if we went and visited Gohan again?"
Flute glared at him," You know Pan hates me."
"Oh, you don't know that for sure," Piccolo tried his best to comfort her. His lie unhidden, he sighed, "You're right, she doesn't like you."
"I know, she's hated me since we were kids," Flute settled down on a boulder, the pain slowly ebbing away. "I just don't know why."
"Jealousy, I think is what the humans call it." Piccolo answered.
"The humans," Flute said, her voice distant, "Gaga, what am I?"
"What?" her question took him off guard, "What do you mean?"
"I mean where did I come from? You're not my real father," Flute elaborated.
"Who told you that?" Piccolo crossed his arms at the sudden discomfort the conversation had acquired.
"Pan. Of course. It's always Pan." Flute smiled. "She said that Nameks don't have kids. Does that mean you don't love me?"
"Now that's not true," Piccolo uncrossed his arms and snarled angrily. "Nameks have the power to clone themselves. We have children, just not like the humans do."
"But you never answered me," Flute stood to be closer to eye level with him, "Where did I come from?"
"I told you," Piccolo waved it off.
"No, you didn't!" Flute insisted, her hands on her hips.
"I...I found you," Piccolo confessed. "I was training one day and your ship-"
"Ship?" Flute interrupted.
"Yes, your ship crashed into the Earth and when it opened..." he paused, "There was you."
"So I am an alien," Flute seemed to say this to herself, almost with what sounded for all the world like relief. "I'm glad I know. Now Pan's words can't hurt me because I know the truth."
"You'd be surprised how much the truth can hurt, Flute," Piccolo warned her. "But meanwhile, I haven't seen Gohan in a while and it would be nice to see him again." He thought for a moment. "You didn't seem to have to many problems with Trunks."
"Gaga, I met Trunks only two or three times," Flute argued, "Are you really going to dump me off at his house?"
"First off, I'm not going to dump you there," he told her, "And second, do you really want to spend an entire night with Pan again?"
"Ok, fine," Flute surrendered throwing her arms up in defeat, "Trunks' house it is...where does he live anyway?"
"Wait'll you see this." Piccolo grinned. He took off with Flute in hot pursuit.
"Trunks lives here?!" Flute stood open-mouthed in shock as she stood dwarfed by the enormous Capsule Corp. building. She was aware of a whirring sound coming from the back of the house. Ever curious, she wandered over and saw a huge sphere lined with windows and standing on metal legs protruding from the bottom. Her first instinct told her that it was a monster. Then she remembered what her Gaga had told her about blasting things before she knew what they were.
A door opened and Mrs. Briefs stood holding a tray of tea and cookies. "Oh my! Hello, Piccolo aren't you looking handsome this evening!"
Piccolo stood, enduring the woman's high pitched nasal voice a moment more before interrupting her, as much for his sanity as anything else.
"Is Bulma here?" he huffed. Mrs. Briefs nodded, her grin never fading.
"Of course she is! I'll go get her! You stay right there, Piccolo. Bulma!" Piccolo summoned all the strength he could muster from his other two counterparts not to blast that woman right there on the spot. Soon he recognized Bulma's voice, lower, but no less annoying to his ears.
"Hi, Piccolo, what brings you here?" she chimed. Trunks leaned back in his chair to see what was going on.
"I came by to drop off Flute." he told her. A loud bang rang from inside the house and Piccolo looked past her to see Trunks picking himself and his chair up off the ground. "I'm going to Gohan's."
"She's welcome to stay, for the night even knowing how long you and Gohan reminisce," Bulma laughed and crossed her arms. "Where is she anyway?" In answer, there was a loud crash and the sound of Vegeta cursing from the back yard where the gravity machine was located. Piccolo raced to the back and saw Vegeta sparring with Flute, swearing as though night would never see day. Piccolo's energy flared with his anger and he jumped in, throwing Vegeta to the ground.
"Why you-" Vegeta began. Piccolo was quick to stop him.
"Don't even start, Vegeta! Never lay a hand on my daughter, understand? Or so help me..." his voice lowered as he landed beside the Saiyan prince, "Even Goku won't be able to hold me back. If I find you touching her again, I'll kill you. Understand?"
Vegeta only flashed his trademark smirk. But he understood. Piccolo attended his daughter who was wiping the blood from her lip.
"Sorry, Gaga," she apologized.
"Don't be," he led her to the house. "Let Bulma take care of that." He wiped the drop of blood forming on her lip.
"But, Gaga, her voice hurts my ears," Flute complained.
"Wait'll you hear her mother," Piccolo grumbled. He handed her off to Bulma and waved good-bye as he flew off.
"Don't worry," Bulma smiled. "We'll have fun!" Suddenly, Flute wanted her father to came back.
"Ow! Cut it out! That stings!" Flute complained as Bulma dabbed the peroxide on her lip.
"Well if you didn't go into the gravity machine, this wouldn't have happened in the first place," Bulma chided.
"How was I supposed to know that jerk was in there?" Flute spat angrily.
"Now Flute," Bulma began, but was interrupted by her son, who was standing behind her.
"You don't mess with my dad," he summed up the speech he knew his mother was preparing to give, "Especially when he's training."
"Well thank you for stating the obvious," Flute glared.
"C'mon, kids, don't fight," Bulma rattled off in her "mom" voice. "Trunks, don't you have that paper to finish?"
Trunks groaned, but complied and returned to the paper he had been writing. Flute's eyes followed him as he disappeared up the stairs. Bulma watched her with interest.
"He's a good boy, very handsome too," she said conversationally, "Don't you agree?"
"I wouldn't know,' Flute shrugged. Bulma smiled at her.
"Hey, why don't you go make sure he finishes that paper," she suggested. "Then you two will have some free time to do what ever you like. Within reason, of course." She added.
Flute shrugged again, but followed the stairs to a big open room. She didn't see Trunks anywhere and went searching for him. She glanced at the table and found a piece of paper with writing on it. The words were accompanied by a corny picture of a shape with an arrow through it. She figured he might want it back, along with the fact that she didn't want to be searching him out for no reason. She took the paper from the table and began searching for Trunks.
After getting completely lost twice, she heard some strange sounds coming from a room down the hall. As she drew closer, the sound became a roaring noise. Mixed among the noise were words in no particular order. She figured this was as good a place as any to find the lavender haired boy. She banged on the door, blushing at leaving a new dent in the metal.
"What do you want, Dad?" Trunks yelled over his noise, "Mom's in the med lab if you broke the gravity machine again!"
"Hey, Trunks!" Flute yelled as loud as she could. "It's me!"
She heard shuffling and a bang as the noise disappeared abruptly and the door slid open.
"What are you doing here?" he muttered.
"Well, I wanted to give this back to you," she held out the piece of paper with the words and drawings on it. Trunks blushed a deep crimson and muttered a few choice words of his own.
"Um, thanks," he blushed yet again. he scratched the back of his head nervously, "Oh gosh this is really awkward..."
"Why?" Flute asked innocently. "Did I interrupt your paper?"
Trunks stared at her in surprise, "Did you um...read this?" he held up the paper she had delivered. Flute shook her head. Trunks breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh good, cause I mean if you did I can totally explain-"
"I can't." Flute said suddenly.
"What?" Trunks tilted his head.
"I can't read," she added, "And you don't draw very well either. I mean what's this?"
She pointed to the shape with the arrow through it. Trunks blushed again.
"That's a um heart," he told her, "Wait a sec, what do you mean you can't read?"
"My Gaga never thought it was important enough to learn." she shrugged, "He knows how, but he never taught me. I never asked."
"Well, no time like the present, they say," Trunks smiled.
"Who's they?" Flute inquired. Trunks face vaulted.
"Well do you want to learn?" he asked, picking himself up.
"Will you teach me?" Trunks smiled and let her into his room.
"Ok, let's start at the basics," he began, "The ABC's." He wrote down each letter, capital as well as lower case, on a piece of paper and handed it to her. "Ok copy these down."
Flute nodded and held the pencil in her fist. Trunks stopped her and tried to teach her how to properly hold the utensil.
Bulma walked by her son's room and heard bickering from behind the door.
"No, you hold it like this," her son corrected.
"I'll hold your thing however I want to! And this happens to be very comfortable!" Flute argued back, "It works, doesn't it?"
"Sure but you'll break it if you keep holding it like that, Ouch!" With that last outburst, Bulma's imagination had gone into overdrive and she burst into the room. She was met by the site of her son draped over Flute, reaching for the pencil in her hand.
"I'm telling you, Trunks it works just fine when I hold it in my fist like this!" Flute continued her statement even as Trunks had realized the predicament his mother must have imagined.
"Hi, Mom," he smile sheepishly, "Just working on ABC's."
Flute pushed him off and snatched the paper from the nearby desk. "See? I already got to D!" She held up the paper filled with letters both neatly written and scrawled across the page.
"No! That's G!" Trunks corrected her. "And you hold the pencil in between your fingers like this." Trunks showed her again, but Flute continued to ignore him. Bulma shook her head and closed the door, relieved it had only been her imagination.
There was a loud snap followed by an equally loud moan of frustration.
"I'm telling you if you hold it like this, the pencil won't break!," Trunks insisted. Flute tired to hold it like he was, but the pencil kept dropping from her hand. Trunks shook his head and leaned over. He took her hand in his and positioned her fingers correctly. Flute's heart fluttered at his touch. She tried to rein herself in, confused at the emotions Trunks seemed to stir in her. She suddenly realized she was holding the pencil correctly and writing with out breaking the lead. Her letters turned out more smooth and less rigid.
"So it goes Q, R, then S?" she asked him.
"You got it," Trunks confirmed. "And there's a song that helps you remember the alphabet, but I think you should have someone else sing it for you."
"No," Flute objected, "I want to learn it now!"
"Are you sure?" Trunks asked her. Flute crossed her arms and nodded her head. Trunks shook his head, making his hair flop from side to side. "Ok, but don't say I didn't warn you."
Flute braced herself for a squeaky voice, but was pleasantly surprised by the soft baritone he sang.
"A B C D E F G, H I J K L M N O P..." she smiled and tried to memorize the letters as they were sung, but found it increasingly more difficult to concentrate on the letters. They both sang well into the night and at some point, they both fell asleep on his bed, still humming the tune to the alphabet song.
Piccolo dropped down and tried to knock softly on the door, but still his pounds rang through the house. Bulma set down the magazine she was reading to open the door.
"Hey, Piccolo," she smiled pleasantly, "I think they're asleep upstairs." Piccolo nodded and followed her to the kitchen. They decided it would be fair to wait for morning to come before he took her home. Piccolo meditated while Bulma went to bed, getting some sleep herself.
"What are you doing here, Namek?" Vegeta's rough voice severed Piccolo's concentration. Piccolo opened one eye to glare at him angrily.
"Waiting for morning," he answered shortly. " I decided to let her sleep."
"Hmph," was the only response the Saiyan offered. Piccolo returned to meditating while Vegeta dug through the refrigerator for something edible that did not require cooking. Snatching an orange and a carrot, he closed the door and plunked himself down on the couch in front of the Namek desperately trying to attain mental peace.
"Why do you even care?" Vegeta asked candidly.
"About what?" Piccolo said solemnly, not bothering to open his eyes.
"About that brat?" Piccolo's eyes flew open to glare at the alien munching on a carrot.
"Why do you want to know or care?" Piccolo snapped.
"Who said I cared?" Vegeta shot back, "I'm just curious. I mean, she isn't even your offspring."
"And your point is...?" Piccolo left the question hanging. Vegeta shrugged his shoulders in a quick motion.
"I would just like to understand how it works, how humans can care for brats that aren't theirs, how they put up with them."
"Hn," Piccolo grunted, " 'Brats', have a very interesting way of hooking you like a fish and reeling you in to the point of no return. I love Flute as much a Namek with three counterparts can. But I don't expect a heartless bloodthirsty, ruthless Saiyan warrior such yourself to understand the mechanics of paternal love."
" Do you doubt that I love my son?" Vegeta raised his voice defensively. " Saiyans love their children just like any other sentient race."
"Well I'm glad you can admit it, Vegeta," Piccolo smirked. "I don't know why I love that girl so much. Maybe it's just because she's an alien to this world, just like I was when I was born. I didn't want her to have to grow up alone."
"Makes sense," Vegeta muttered as he finished off his orange. "I plan to have a good spar with you in the morning, Namek."
"Wouldn't miss it," Piccolo said and closed his eyes.
Flute's eyes fluttered open and she was startled first at being in a strange place, and second that Trunks was using her as a pillow, his arms wrapped around her waist. She almost liked the special attention, but was acutely aware of the uneasiness the situation evoked in her. She was about to shout out in surprise when Trunks nuzzled his head against her back and shifted his arms around her. Flute did her best to pry his arms apart, but he was obviously stronger than she had thought. Eventually, she decided the best plan of attack on this problem was to turn around and wake him up. Yet, try as she might, she could barely get half-way turned. Satisfied with the result she had managed to accomplish, along with the fact that Trunks was squeezing her rather hard, she shook his shoulders from her position on her back. He moaned incoherently and opened his eyes slightly.
"Oh my God, what an incredible dream..." he mumbled. He slowly became aware that his dream was not ending even as he entered consciousness. He could still feel her in his arms. Her warm body snuggled against his..........wait.
"Oh! Oh God, sorry!" Trunks nearly threw her across the room. He blushed a deep red and tossed his legs over the side of the bed. "Oh shoot, I'm sorry Flute."
"For what?" she asked him innocently. Trunks blinked a couple times, then a warm smile broke his face and his blush disappeared. They both nearly jumped out the ceiling when a loud pounding left more dents in Trunks' door.
"If I find that you two brats have been screwing in there I'll-" Vegeta ranted meaningless threats. Trunks' blush returned with full force.
"Dad!" Trunks opened his door quickly. "Dad would you cut that out?! We weren't doing anything!"
"Good." Vegeta smirked. "Keep it that way." Trunks angrily slid the door in his father's face.
"God how embarrassing!" he moaned and thumped down at his desk. He glanced at his bed, where Flute was combing her fingers through her hair, and he moaned again. He thunked his head down onto his arms and basked in his embarrassment. He heard Flute grunt in frustration as she tried to untangle a stubborn knot in her hair. Without raising his head, he tossed the brush on the table next to him at her.
"Use this, it works better," he mumbled. Flute looked it over, curious as to how this thing worked.
"Um, Trunks?" she murmured timidly. "Can you do this for me? I don't know how."
Trunks lifted his head from his arms and stared at the girl. "You don't know how to use a brush?"
Flute shook her head. "I grew up in the woods, remember?" Trunks smiled and flopped on the mattress behind her.
"Sure," he took the brush from her hand, a bolt of electricity shocked his nerves when their fingers touched. Trunks sighed as he brushed through the twelve years of tangles, stroking the smooth hair once he unraveled a knot. Trunks was concentrating on a particularly troublesome matt of her blonde mane when he sneezed. Flute jumped up in surprise, knocking Trunks' head on the wall behind him.
"Owww..." he groaned, holding his head. Flute crawled across the mattress and tilted his head forward to inspect the damage.
"Don't move," she told him as she rested his head on her shoulder.
'No problem,' Trunks thought as he inhaled her scent. She smelled wild and free, a wonderful mix of the wind and the forest where she lived. He almost whined when she tilted his head back up again.
"It's ok." she reported. Trunks smiled at her and she turned around. The brush had stayed lodged in her hair and Trunks returned to the knot. After a mere half hour of fighting over Flute's mussed locks, he admired the finished product. There was a bit of pitch here and there, but that was to be expected. Absently, he stroked her fine, silky hair repeatedly. Flute didn't mind too much, but she was unaccustomed to so much physical contact that didn't involve fighting. Trunks realized he had been touching her hair for more than ten minutes and searched for an alternate means of conversation.
"Hey, I'm starving!" he chimed, "How 'bout you?"
Flute nodded and followed him down the stairs to the kitchen.
Piccolo had dozed off and Flute decided he could use some rest. Besides the fact that the last time she had awoken her surrogate father, he had nearly jumped out of his skin, he looked very peaceful. The duo ate quietly, sharing few words between them. Piccolo moaned and sat upright, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He glanced over at the table where his daughter and Trunks sat, munching quietly on their breakfast.
"Flute?" he asked, not quite trusting his eyes so soon after waking up. The blonde haired figure nodded and approached her father. "I think it's time we left for home."
Flute nodded sadly and ran back to give her farewells to Trunks.
"Bye, Trunks," she bowed slightly. She turned to leave when Trunks grabbed her hand.
"Hey," he whispered nervously, "Do you think it'd be ok if I stopped by sometime?"
Flute smiled with a quick nod. "Just look around the mountains. I'll be there."
Trunks racked his brain for any way he could have her stay longer, "Oh yeah! Do you want to take that stuff with you? The pencil and papers and stuff?"
Flute smiled and nodded again. "Yeah!"
A broad smile crossed Trunks' face and he rushed to get her things from his room. He didn't bother sorting anything out and merely grabbed a few pieces of paper, a pencil and after a moment's thought, his brush. He raced back down the stairs and handed them to her.
"You can keep the brush if you want to," he put his hands in his pockets nervously. "So I guess um...bye."
"Bye, Trunks," Flute smiled, "And thank you."
"Don't mention it," Trunks blushed a little. Flute turned to look over her shoulder and smiled one last time at Trunks before taking off.
Once they were out of sight, Trunks collapsed against the doorframe.
"Oh my God, this is pathetic!" he whined, resting his head in his hands.
"Yes you are," Vegeta barked at him, "now move, you're blocking the door!"
"Where are you going in such a hurry?" Trunks glared at him.
"To spar with Piccolo like we planned," Vegeta answered him gruffly.
"Can I come along?" Trunks asked hopefully. Vegeta shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't care so long as you stay out of my way." Trunks could barely contain his excitement.
"When are we leaving?" he inquired.
"Tomorrow." Trunks' heart dropped. "You have to finish that blasted paper first, as your mother told you to do. Show some respect, brat."
Sullenly, Trunks shuffled up to his room to finish his paper.
He dotted his last I and crossed his last T, added a period and sat back in his chair.
"Finished," he sighed with relief. Absently, he looked through his papers for the cutesy drawing. When his efforts proved futile, he began to panic.
"Dad!" he yelled, "I can't find my drawing!"
"What are you talking about brat?" Vegeta huffed.
"The one I drew about six years ago, I can't find it!" Trunks leafed through all his papers again, but to no avail.
"Six years?" Vegeta smirked, "Well what does the blasted thing look like?"
Trunks blushed, "Well it's got um hearts and cupids and-"
"You want me to find a lost love letter?" Vegeta nearly yelled.
"It's from six years ago! It has sentimental value!" Trunks argued. He then realized the other possibility. "Oh crap. Thank God she can't read."
Flute set her new treasures on the ground and anchored them with a rock. The wind lifted a few of the pages, revealing a small crudely drawn cupid. Flute smiled and plucked it from the other papers. She looked over the markings, recognizing a letter here and there.
"Hmm. T, R, N, K, S, what's this one?" She was pondering whether the letter between the R and the K was a U or V when she felt Piccolo approaching her. She ignored it and continued concentrating. "Let's see...L, O, E, S, oh what is that stupid letter? Hmm..."
"What is that?" her father asked her, looking over her shoulder.
"Gaga? What is this letter here?" she pointed to Trunks' name.
"U." he answered. He skimmed over the message written by a child. "When did you learn to read?"
"I haven't yet." Flute answered. "Trunks is teaching me."
"With that?" Piccolo pointed to the piece of paper in her hand. "Do you even know what that says?"
"Hmmm no." Flute told him innocently. "But this is a T, R, U, N, K, S." She named off the letters as she named them.
"Do you know what it says?" he asked her, raising an eye ridge in her direction.
"Nope," she grinned.
"It says Trunks."