It was a lot harder than one might think to find a single, measly pair of scissors on Planet Vegeta. I knew Mom had a pair somewhere to maintain her own pixie cut, and I'd had my own too before I'd accidentally snapped them underestimating my Saiyan strength. A plethora of knives, swords, and various deadly weapons could usually be found within arms reach, and yet not a pair of fucking scissors for me to use.
These were my grumblings as I stood in front of a mirror, tying up my long locks into a ponytail. If I left them loose, they were prone to matting due to their thickness and my frequent physical activities. I'd inherited a strong sense of cleanliness from both my parents, though evidently my genetics favoured my mother's side in the hair department. Most people were used to seeing the unusual shade by now, or were too polite (or wary of my social status) to mention it. Goten did well to avoid teasing me about the colour anymore, after a sound beating I'd given him a number of times over it.
A Saiyan's hair never grew from the day they were born, excluding facial hair on men. If a Saiyan's hair were ever cut, it would never grow back. Gohan, Goten and I were the only exceptions to this rule, as half-breeds any choice we made about how to wear it was always temporary. My own poker-straight tresses seemed to grow like a weed, and I was never sure whether I resented or appreciated this aspect of being half-blooded.
For now, it appeared as if I'd need to go borrow Mom's pair of scissors. If I asked her for them, she'd probably offer to cut my hair for me too, which usually wound up looking a lot more decent than if I did it myself. Half the time, she'd tidy it up anyway after I'd make a mess using the blades on my own. Nobody else every cared how it looked as long as it was clean, though Mom would complain when I cut it too short. I was picky about letting anyone else do it, even though I could very well ask a servant it wasn't like most people here had experience cutting hair.
Mom's usual haunts were her tech lab, the docking bay where she would fix spacecraft in need of repair as a hobby (I'd sometimes help her tinker with the machinery), milling around the greenhouse, or her own private room.
Though my parents did have a shared bedroom, they didn't always use it. Father would sometimes crash in one of the empty, spare rooms, which were small and plain but served as a quiet retreat for sleeping or just being alone. I think his previous life as a soldier may have made him uncomfortable with the designated king's bedroom, though this was where he slept most often now as far as I knew. There had been less moments as of late where he would be noted absent and later found asleep in random quarters.
Mom had her own specific, separate room, which was mostly personalized with selective decor, half finished tasks and various other possessions. It was on the same floor as both mine and their conjoined bedroom, though it wasn't the original location – the floor we all used now was practically abandoned in my childhood. If Mom was working on a project, she would usually sleep in her private room. Or if she was really pissed at somebody and wanted to be left alone.
I wasn't sure if I should seek Mom out first, or just make a quick trip to her room to grab what I needed. My lesson with Bak had ended early, so I had an extra slot of time to work in to find Mom first if I so chose. Then again, she probably wouldn't care if I took care of things myself as long as I didn't snoop – which I had no interest in doing – and returned the scissors. I decided on the latter option, and made my way in the direction of the familiar staircase that would lead me to the level I needed.
Two long sets of stairs later and I was walking along a familiar hallway, which was somehow even quieter than usual, which was saying something considering the only other people who came up here besides family was the occasional cleaning servant. The area had a feel of being unaccustomed to a person's presence at this time of day, dust motes being uprooted earlier than expected, and a few swirled visibly in front of my eyes. My boots made little to no sound; the floor was too solid for even the most muscular frame to perturb it.
I passed my parents' shared room and my room, moving with purpose, but when I got within earshot of my destination I was alerted by voices. Not the expected singular set of vocals that I would assume to be the only one to ever come from her room, but paired with a male voice. Father's?
It had to be him, even though he never went into her personal room for any reason. No way any other man, myself of course exempted, would ever risk such stupidity – Father had beat people within an inch of their life for less.
A cautious reach of my senses confirmed the energy signatures belonged to Mom and Father. I knew the latter, even if distracted, might sense me when I got too close, and it would be suspicious if I suddenly suppressed my ki just outside the door. If they were talking in there, they must not have wanted to take the chance of being overheard anywhere else.
I continued back the other way for what seemed like a good enough distance, almost all the way to my own room, before shrinking my energy signature next to nothing and creeping back around.
There was no guard in the area; usually they were near the staircases, but I hadn't seen any even then. The entire level appeared devoid of anyone but the three of us.
Out of habit I double-checked my surroundings to see that I was alone. Then, I crouched near to the wall, but not directly outside the door, and pressed my ear to the metal. I had to concentrate on nothing else but their voices before the indistinct muffles started to form words.
"... - ... we have left... - ... expect me to... - ... him go? I won't... - ..." It was the softer tones of Mom's voice. She spoke quietly, making it difficult to understand more than a few words, but when she was upset she either whispered or shrieked, there was no in-between. She was probably trying hard to avoid the second option.
After a short silence a deeper voice responded, my father. He talked louder, so more of what he said was comprehensible from where I knelt.
"Frieza... - ... aware somehow. I received the message... - ... did not ask for him... - ... there within a month."
Mom stayed very quiet at that. I noticed I was holding my breath, my heart beginning to pound a little harder at the mention of Frieza. I had never actually seen the warlord, but I knew full well of his reputation and the connection he held with the Saiyan race. We were some of his loyalest soldiers, albeit he was notorious for his severity when it came to his army, and particularly towards our species. He was the man in charge of the Planet Trade Organization, which my father once worked for directly.
If Father – the man who turned to stone at the mention of Frieza's name – was bringing him up willingly, then the conversation must be serious. I needed to hear this, but I wasn't getting much from my current position.
I wondered how close I could get without alerting my father's six sense. Call me overly cautious, but I'd tried to sneak up on him before and it never worked. Ever. It was like he had eyes on the back of his head, or could see through walls. Even with my ki reduced to almost zero, there was no way it could disappear completely – someone with very finely attuned energy perception could pick it up, provided they were searching for it and close by. My father was one of those people, and he could be paranoid as hell when he was in a mood.
Against my better judgement, I inched closer two or three steps. Part bravery and part stupidity, but I came by it honestly. If their subject of conversation hadn't been so taboo I probably wouldn't have risked it.
"What are you going to do?" I heard Mom's voice, finally.
"I'll go. I'll take a one-man pod, it'll be faster that way. I can be there and back before those trouble-making bastards know I'm gone. I'll settle things with Frieza. Don't worry."
Father never honestly told anybody not to worry. He couldn't care less about protecting other people's feelings most of the time. Mom must have been really shaken up, or else Father was trying to reassure himself by reassuring her. Both options were equally bad.
My stomach had been slowly plummeting over the course of the conversation, as the severity started sinking in. It seemed Father was going to visit Frieza personally, which he hadn't done in a long time by my estimation. There was more to it, too – but I'd only caught the tail end of what had been said, and was left with only more questions.
Father said something else to Mom, but it dropped to the level of a whisper so I didn't hear it. She replied in an equally low voice, and everything was quiet after that until I heard footsteps move for the door.
Shit. Had I been discovered, or were they just leaving? In a few seconds it wouldn't matter, because one or both of them were going to step outside and see me crouching there, not conspicuously at all.
I rose up halfway, still partly hunkered over in an highly untimely display of indecision. If they caught me, I'd be lucky to get away with a few broken bones and a long session of yelling. If I wasn't lucky... I preferred to save my imagination for a means of escape.
Whirling around, I took off down the hall as fast as I could go without employing ki, and as quietly as I could manage without flying. I wished grievously that I knew Kakarot's Instant Transmission technique.
Storage closet on the right. First hiding spot available. I ducked in without reservation, barely fitting in the narrow space. The door slid shut in front of me and I was cast into darkness.
The haste with which I'd used to unceremoniously shove myself inside the recess left me positioned awkwardly, but I didn't dare move more than an inch. I was so close to the wall that my breath was bouncing back at me; I shut my mouth and willed my panting to slow to an even rhythm.
My heart was beating so loud it must have echoed right through the walls. I seriously worried that Father might actually notice it. At least he didn't have hearing like the Earth-Namekian, Piccolo.
I waited there for a long time, anxious to hear steps outside my hiding place. My arms and legs were stiff from being stagnant so long.
They never even walked by; after a while I realized that they'd probably gone the other direction. I hadn't been found out.
I breathed a sigh of relief and shuffled my way out, extending my arms above my head once I was free of the cramped space. Luck had been with me, thought I'd probably still wind up with a kink in my neck, courtesy of the supplies taking up more room in the closet than I did.
I made my way off, choosing the direction arbitrarily as there were descending stairways on both ends of the level. I hadn't heard enough to satisfy my curiosity by a long shot, but it was a start.
I though I was in the clear for about a day until a foot-soldier approached me with a message.
I had been seated in the alcove that was the library, perusing through a book on a great war of Earth's history, detailing the invention of a nuclear weapon of titanic magnitude (rather interesting, albeit heavy reading).
It was more a collection of books than a full-scale library, really, a small room dedicated for the private enjoyment of mostly only myself. It had been made at Mom's behest in the first place, so a great deal of the volumes were in her native language, which I'd been taught to read and write from a young age, but I usually only spoke it to the Son family who spent the majority of their time on Earth. Mom had brought most of the books herself or requested them from Kakarot or Gohan, since the second was an avid reader.
We Saiyans did have our own written language, but most of us weren't much for reading. There was an official hall of records for public access, but little interest was generated to the activity beyond that.
The room had three desks and two chairs, all of the former and one of the latter being stacked full of books. One wall was lined completely with shelves, but Mom or I never bothered to organize it. I doubted Father had ever set foot in the place, except to locate Mom when she couldn't be found elsewhere, and since neither Mom or I were as meticulous as he, it stayed chaotic.
There were non-fiction novels of more technical subjects, like engineering, biology, physics, mathematics, encyclopedias, space, everything under the sun you could need for research. There were a few fiction volumes as well, and even some old kid's books of mine, but they remained untouched in a corner. Mom was a certified scientific genius, so a lot of the volumes were hers or pertained to her interests.
Mom often came off as loud or shallow, but it hid her striking intelligence .She'd told me once that when she first arrived, the strength of the gravity had been unbearable for her, so she'd had to devise a serum for herself to withstand the force of the pressure after attempts with other methods. She'd also designed and crafted ships easily capable of interstellar travel when the rest of her planet had next to no idea that alien life even existed. Oddly enough, most residents of Earth were apparently unaware that there was something outside their blue and green sphere.
I'd been to Earth once, but I was so young that it was little more than blurry memories of green foliage, and something big and blue as far as I could see. We'd never went back since then, though Kakarot did take Mom for a visit sometimes by herself. Father wouldn't go, and he wouldn't let me go, and I'm not sure that Mom quite forgave him for that.
I heard the door swish open and shut, distracting me just enough to stop scanning the page, but I didn't quite lift my eyes from it.
"Highness. Your father wants to speak with you."
My stomach twisted a little, but I stayed composed and set the book down open before looking up. "Did he say what he wanted?"
I was blinking in surprise a moment later when I took in the soldier's appearance, not quite sure if I was looking right. He was nearly identical to Kakarot, though on closer inspection his skin was much darker and his voice was a heavier tone. His posture was bowed in respect and his eyes were somber, not at all like Kakarot's.
I recalled hearing somewhere that the genetic diversity was lower among the third-class, but it was still unnerving to see in person.
"No, sir. He only told me to bring you to him. It wasn't a request, so I assume it's important," the man said.
He stood up fully, shifting his weight. He was about the same height and build as Kakarot too, but his mannerisms were markedly different.
"... Alright," I said. I made an effort to mentally shake off my surprise and the fact that my stomach was slowly making its way up to my throat.
I stood, stretching my legs a little to alleviate the creeping stiffness. I left the heavy history volume where it was and moved for the door. The soldier moved ahead of me, leading the way out and down the corridor as I didn't know where father would be.
We descended down a flight of stairs, heading for the first and lowest floor. The library was on the second – and mine and my parent's bedrooms were on the third. Floor one was the largest, and the majority of daily activity took place there; it spanned over hundreds of rooms while the other two levels had a dozen between them.
The first floor was fairly quiet. We passed a few servants and armoured guards, neither group giving us a second look. Footsteps echoed in the distant corners of the palace, but a subdued air followed us as we made our way to what I assumed would be the throne room, based on our current direction.
I was proved correct when we reached the place, my Not-Kakarot guide slowly moving to open the leftmost door of the pair.
The entryway was taller than two men if one stood on the shoulders of the other, and the doors themselves were made different than the rest of the ones in the palace. They were old wood, not a native material to the planet, sturdy – but not sturdy enough to withstand the untempered strength of a Saiyan. As such, they were mostly for decorative purposes and few were allowed to use them (separate doors existed for those who were not). They were wrought with a few ornamental pieces of iron, and as a whole they contrasted with the alloy construction of everything else. However, their very dissimilarity echoed the prestige they were meant to represent.
People, soldiers and other elite alike, were milling around the room. There were only a couple dozen, maybe, but the way they were spaced out made the long room seem more full than it was. Most of the Saiyans were lined up on the sides, but a group of five stood near the foot of the throne, blocking my view of where I knew Father was seated.
The apparent leader of their group had been talking, but he fell quiet when he heard the door open, courtesy of my entry. There wasn't much to be distracted by in the sparsely adorned room, so everyone had been concentrating on the droning verbosity of the speaker as he made his case to Father. Now most of them were looking at me and Not-Kakarot.
"Prince Trunks is here, your highness," my guide spoke clearly enough for his words to reach the king.
The group of five ahead parted enough so that I could see Father, who wore a frown (more prominent than his usual, anyway) set deeply enough that it must have been there all day. His scowl lifted a little when he saw me; he was probably glad since my presence meant he had an excuse to be free of his royal indenture and unwind the intense displeasure of his facial muscles.
"Good, Turles," said Father. His eyes flickered to the group leader who'd been talking. "We're done here."
The leader's face made like he was thinking about protesting, but then thought better of it and started shuffling away dourly. His four allies followed suit.
"The rest of you, too. Get out," Father declared, not angrily but with enough force to make them move a little quicker than normal. He gave a nod to Not-Kakarot – Turles – and the man exited with everyone else, leaving only Father and myself in the commodious hall.
Once everyone had left, I was made aware of the vacuum of their presences. I didn't like being in large crowds, but I didn't always like being the centre of attention either.
Father stood up, descending down the couple steps from the raised platform where his throne sat. It was not a particularly large or imposing seat, but it was distinct from the benches or chairs common everywhere else by its size. It had probably been lessened into something more basic from the days since the previous king.
I'd never met the last King Vegeta, my grandfather. He died before I was born and father hardly talked about him anyway. It was a sensitive topic, but not as sensitive as asking about Father's mother, whoever she was. Where Mom was open when speaking about her parents, albeit sadly nostalgic when they came up, with Father it was like trying to chisel open a rock. Tiny pieces of memory occasionally chipped off, but then that rock wound up bowling you over for invading its privacy and you learned to avoid doing anything to piss it off in the future.
Father walked in my direction until he was three feet away, arms crossed and looking me up and down like he was internally calculating something, then:
"I'm going on a trip. You're coming with me. We leave the day after Kakarot arrives."
I blundered out a lame and quizzical noise as a response, my mind kicking into a higher gear to process what I'd just heard.
"Uh, what? Where..." I stuttered.
"To see Frieza. He wants me to visit him in person, and it's high time you saw beyond this planet for once, so I'm taking you to him as well."
I flashed back to my eavesdropping escapade yesterday, confirming that while it was indeed what I was expecting to be the subject, the angle was entirely different. Evidently, Father wasn't aware of my listening in. I was simply grateful that I was not being punched into the ground for spying on private conversations.
And apparently, for only the second time in my life, I was going to leave Planet Vegeta.
"You mean I – we – we're going to another planet?" I asked.
"Not quite. We're going to one of the PTO's main outposts, which is currently orbiting another planet, but we will be remaining on the space station. It's a fair distance from here."
I was a little dumbfounded, to be honest. While Mom was okay with me going to Earth, Father was the main reason I'd seen so little of the cosmos so far. Now he was willing to take me with him to a distant imperial post to see Frieza, of all things, and this had come out of nowhere.
I didn't understand, and it must have showed because Father took a breath to explain when I made no move to ask questions.
"You're wondering why I'm taking you at all," he stated. I nodded once when I was still unable to come up with the words myself.
He crossed his arms, shifting his weight slightly before replying. I heard the barest sounds of his armour shifting with the motion.
"You're an adult now, and you've been sequestered to your home world almost your whole life. I'm surprised you've stayed relatively content about it so far, neither Bulma nor I are patient so it was only a matter of time before you acted out on your own. We aren't capable of keeping you here forever, are we?" It was a rhetorical question.
"It may seem easy for you to judge our decisions, but there is something I want you to understand first: when I was a little boy, I worked in Frieza's army with people four times my age, driving whole planets to extinction, before I was mature enough to understand the reasons why I was made to do so. I killed people for a living." He closed his eyes briefly in recollection before opening them again.
"Being a child soldier is no life, and it doesn't make a good man. We didn't want that for you. I wanted to give you something I didn't have... for as long as I could. Those halcyon days are ending now, but I believe you are strong and capable enough to face what comes next," he finished.
I was in pause, unable to think up a proper reaction. I think it was the most honest compliment I'd ever received from him, if that is indeed what it was intended as – it was sometimes hard to tell with him. I probably wouldn't get anything like it again, but holy shit, I was too happy that he was finally going to trust me with something. After all this time...
"So this... I really get to leave home," I said, speaking it out loud to make it seem real. I involuntarily cracked a smile in my new-found joy. "I'm finally leaving home!"
A palpable emotion crossed behind his eyes, but I couldn't identify it because his gaze was focused on a random point to the left. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought he was purposely avoiding looking at me, but I quickly buried the thought as old paranoia.
"When is Kakarot going to be here? I mean, it's been a while, Goten will probably be happy to see him," I asked. "Is anyone else coming with him?"
"Your mother requested him earlier today. Gohan and the Namekian are planning to come along this time as well; it may take another day or two for them to gather anything they may need," Father said.
Two days. Two days at most and was off this desert rock ball. And I'd get to see Gohan before I left, for the first time in a long while. He had once been a sort of mentor, helping me perfect and develop my battle techniques as a kid. Of course, he was on Earth much more often than Goten, and my bond with the youngest Son had grown to be the stronger of the two friendships over time. Nonetheless, I'd be happy to see Gohan and catch up. His own mentor, Piccolo, was coming too, and I wouldn't complain about having the alien's infrequent company either.
I broke from my reverie, returning to the present. I could hardly believe that things were finally going to change.
My happiness was probably obvious through my change in posture – and the fact that I couldn't quite get rid of the little half-smile on my face.
"I... thanks, Father," I said, meeting his eyes. They were dark and stolid as usual, but it was only natural that he wouldn't be terribly excited, right? This wasn't some life changing first adventure for him like it was for me.
I had the sense that I could leave now, but I was about to turn to go his voice halted my movements.
"Trunks. I want you to lie low about this. Don't tell anyone you're going with me."
I was already facing away, but I turned to look at him. He was still impassive, waiting for a solid I'm-not-going-to-brush-this-off kind of answer. By the set of his jaw, he was going to make me confirm my silence one way or another, so after a moment I nodded my affirmation. I could gloat over my new experiences when I got back; staying quiet for now was a small price to pay.
I very nearly jogged out of the throne room, barely noticing that my father remained standing exactly where I'd left him, frozen in thought.
My mind was tumbling over itself in excitement as I emerged into the outer hall. I had never been told I could have anything else in my life besides what was right in front of me, regardless if I wanted to reach for the stars. And now that the opportunity was a tangible thing, something I could hold within my grasp as being more than a fleeting thought, I wanted it bad.
My life had been a resignation to a cage, offering only a limited view of the world. But dawn was on the horizon, freedom from being left in the dark among crumbling stones and the tenuous strings of royal blood that kept me tied there.
Only a few more days, and I could spread my wings.