He was gone for a long time. I sat blankly staring at the television. I wanted to think of how I could fix this all…how I could make it better. But what could I have done? There was nothing and I felt powerless. So I just sat with hardly a thought passing through my head. Except for one. One that gave me hope and made me fear all at once.
Goten would not stop looking for me. He would not give up, and with a Sayan's tracking abilities and energy honing skills, we couldn't hide for long. I knew Trunks would know this. What was his plan? I laid back into the soft cushions of the couch and sank into the fabric. I wanted to disappear. Then I wouldn't have to pick between the love of my life and my family.
A couple hours passed. My stomach was starting to twist with hunger. Finally, he came home. I saw the car pull up through the front window, but I didn't get up to open the door. I sat in the same exact spot and waited as he walked in with his arms full of bags. He dumped some of them on the coffee table and took the food to the kitchen. "Those are for you." He called over his shoulder.
Curious, and hesitant, I began poking through the merchandise. The bags were filled with essentials. Hair brushes, pants, pajamas, socks. Everything I left back at home was replaced. Somehow, he knew my exact sizes and tastes in everything. I held the pants up to my waist and wondered just how closely he had paid attention to me all these years. Even my bra size was exact.
He was watching me from the kitchen doorway. "Do you like it all?" He asked. He didn't need to ask—he knew I would. I nodded and mumbled my thanks shyly. "Here." He said, and threw me a pair of sweat pants. I looked at him quizzically.
"We're going to train. You never know when we have to fight." I bit my lip. "I don't want to fight." I said softly. I knew what he meant; he meant fighting my family so I could stay with him. I could never bring myself to even think it. "We have to fight Pan, for each other." He answered and turned from me. I heard him opening the pantry and the fridge and knew he was cooking. I stood in the living room, unable to move.
So his plan was to fight. For the rest of our lives. He knows Goten will find us. And he intends to beat him to a pulp again. And perhaps again. And again. Until he could claim me fully and have no more opposition. I would train with him, but I could never fight Goten, ever. We were so close growing up. The thought of Goten as an enemy was strange and impossible.
I made my way to the bathroom were I changed and pulled my silken, dark hair into a ponytail. Training might be good, if only to let out some steam. When I walked into the kitchen I saw Trunks standing over a huge pot of bubbling liquid. It was yellow and boiled to the very brim. I could smell ginger perforating my sense and making me cough at the over powering odor.
Trunks smirked at me, "Ginger's a nice smell, if you ask me."
"A faint scent, maybe. But this is…too much." I said as I held my sweatshirt sleeve up to my nose. He chuckled lightly and continued to chop up little roots into tiny chunks. "I'm making an herbal tea that'll enhance our training sessions."
I frowned.
"What?" he asked, "Were you expecting filet minion?"
"Would have been nice." I laughed.
"This will be all the nourishment we need." He answered. Somehow, my empty stomach doubted that. But I just nodded. Trunks knew a lot more about these things then I did. Sometimes I felt inferior to him…like his brilliance made me dull.
He filled up two giant glasses with his tea and handed one to me. I stared for a moment before I made myself reach out and take it. "Hold your breath while you drink it, it'll help." He said as he threw back his drink. He downed it in just a couple seconds. I could see the corners of his eyes squelch up in distaste, but he finished it like a man. I tried to do the same, but coughed and choked half-way through the drink.
It actually worked. I felt my adrenaline start racing as I stood across from Trunks on the interior training mats. He stretched and bounced around to get his blood flowing. "Ready?" He asked. Something in his voice sounded sinister…It sent shivers down my spine. I nodded; my muscles tense. Honestly, I had always avoided training with Trunks. Our violence was always behind closed doors, and very real.
He shot at me quickly and I was able to dodge at the last second. He wheeled around with a high kick. I blocked with two open palms. The smack of his foot against my hands stung, but I stood strong and avoided a short jab. I threw a punch straight towards his chin, but he grabbed my forearm and tossed me aside. I gained my footing and shot back to him with a hook.
He blocked and hit me right on the cheek with an explosive elbow.
What I did next was a blur.
I felt…something new inside my lungs. It burned and made my whole body hot. I felt my fingers flex and ball into fists. I flew at him at top speed, connecting my shin right into his temple. He stumbled backwards. But I didn't stop there. While he was unstable and reeling from the kick, I threw lighting fast punches that connected to his skin with sickening smacks. His face was bloodied and swelling.
I felt myself falling into a whirlwind of revenge. As he stumbled, I kept punching. I was putting every last bit of energy into every punch, and I knew I was afflicting critical damage. Just as I thought that I could knock him out, he reached out and grabbed my fist mid-air. I stopped in horror.
Looking at his bloodied, bruised face, I wondered how I had lost it. My composure snapped. Shock and anger was flaring in Trunk's eyes and his grip on my fist was so tight I thought he would break my fingers. "What is wrong with you?" He demanded, "Are you insane!"
The blood from his cheek and nose were trailing down his collarbone in a river. I stood panting, and I whimpered in pain as my stiff fingers popped under his grip. He broke my hand; I knew it. I cried out in pain. I could feel my hand swelling under his grip.
"What the hell were you doing?!" He demanded a response from me. "I-I don't know! Please let go of my hand!" I cried. He finally let go of my hand and I clenched it to my chest. Trunks touched his wound on his cheek and looked at the blood on the tips of his fingers. "Look at my face! This is not training! You lost it Pan! You went berserk!"
I was still panting and I took a step back from him. I honestly couldn't answer him. It was like, when I landed that first hit, I couldn't stop myself. I felt a relief and an easing of my revenge with every punch. It was like justification. I was finally letting him feel my pain.
He wiped the blood that was running down into his eyes and hissed a growl as he turned away from me and left me on the mats by myself. When he was out of sight I fell to my knees and clutched my hand to myself in pain, holding back my weak tears. Eventually my whole arm was shaking and swollen up to my elbow, and I snuck my way back into the house. Trunks was nowhere to be found and the whole place was as silent as the grave.
I searched every cabinet and door for a first aid kit but couldn't find one anywhere. In frustration I fell on the tiled floor of the kitchen below the drawers and sat there, trying not to think of the pain searing my arm and hand.
About half an hour later, I heard Trunks' footsteps approaching. I wanted to crawl away and find a place to hide. But I sat still, afraid the pain would sharpen if I moved. He rounded to the corner and looked at me with a sideways glance. He had seemed to stitch his face up himself. It looked pretty good, and he was no longer bleeding. As a supernatural being, you had to know how to nurse yourself.
However, broken bones were another story. He slowly walked over to me and kneeled at my side. I looked at him through the haze of pain. The tea was wearing off and whatever herbs he had thrown in there had dulled my pain up until now. "What happened." He stated the question flatly.
"I don't know." I answered weakly, "I just…totally blanked out and…" I cut my sentence short. A backhand came crashing down on my cheek and I felt a trickle of blood escape the corner of my mouth. My head turned sideways at the force of the blow and I didn't look back to him. I stared at the tile. "Wait here." He ordered and left briskly. I didn't wipe the blood from my mouth. I didn't care anymore.
All life was pain. Everything.
He came back with a box. He opened it and it was filled with first aid supplies. "Let's get you off the floor." He mumbled. He scooped me up and laid me on the nearest couch. I sank down and sighed at the feeling of the softness. He set out his supplies on the coffee table and spread it out like a surgeon's tray. He picked up my arm and I winced. He was gentle, but any pressure at all ached.
He frowned and his silky hair fell around his face. He brushed it away and examined my arm. He tried to bend my elbow and I cried out. His eyes locked on mine and I believe we both had a similar look on our faces; regret, sorrow…we even shared a bit of anger. Because I was angry at him. But we both knew the love there too. Underneath it all—love. They say love and hate can be the same thing. I knew it to be true.
"It's…shattered." He sighed. He just looked at it. It was swollen and red. He set my arm down, "There isn't much I can do." He nearly whispered, "I have to take you to the hospital."
One squeeze of Trunks' hand and my whole forearm shattered like glass. His strength was amazing and terrifying. The few stitches I gave him was nothing. He could have killed me, many times over. "I don't want to go to the hospital." I whispered.
"You have to." He answered as he was putting away the kit.
"Just wrap it up." I said, "It'll be okay…I'm a Sayan, remember?"
He smiled a little bit, "Nobody's indestructible." He brushed some hair away from my forehead.
"Listen Trunks, whatever happened out there I'm sorry-" I began but he stopped me on a dime, "Do not ever apologize to me Pan, ever." He said, "Ever." He took my good hand and touched them to the stitches on his forehead, "I…I deserved this." He admitted.
Suddenly, as I sat speechless, Trunks' mouth dropped open.
"How could he have found us so soon…?" Trunks said softly, amazed. I went to ask what he meant when a wall of energy hit me.
"Goten."