Musha no Yomigaeri: Chapter One
Bulma would've figured that Trunks would've been happy that the second semester was ending. This had been his first year in middle school and it had been a little rough for him since, unlike most preteens and teens at the school, he had no friends to start the very first minute with. Goten was a year too young to go to Serenity Middle School and all of Trunks' other friends were going to Satan City Middle School.
With summer coming up, she was surprised to see that Trunks seemed rather glum. Of course, she was worried like any good mother should be. Most, if not then all, kids were overly ecstatic over the last days of school. And Trunks had the better reason to be happy. After all, Chichi was allowing Goten to go to Serenity, and both of the boys knew.
She glanced at her twelve-year old son. He was taking his time with his breakfast, toying with the egg benedict. The pounding rain and the steady tempo of the clock were all that could be heard in the room. The uncomfortable silence was too much for Bulma, and she wanted answers from her son now. Luckily she agreed to give him a ride to school so the conversation could last as long as it wanted to.
"Something bothering you, Trunks?" She asked, setting down her fork on her empty plate. "You've been awfully quiet the past few days, especially for a kid who's getting out of school soon. Have you been lying when you said you've made a lot of new friends at Serenity?"
He quickly glanced up at her before gluing his eyes back on his plate again. "Nothing's bothering me, Mom. I was just... thinking."
"Well, you've been in deep thought for a long time now," Bulma pointed out, a sly smile approaching her face. "And it could only be a girl you're thinking about."
"What?!" That caught his attention as he shot his head back up, staring at her wide-eyed in shock. "No! Of course not! What are you thinking?!"
She laughed quietly, remembering the first time she assumed that. Best to recreate that conversation to get what she wanted. "Don't worry about it! You have good looks. I'm sure if you ask her out she'll automatically say 'Yes'. Whoever says you're not handsome has something wrong with them. Because remember who you got your looks from?" She beamed with pride.
He smiled weakly at this, then continued to make designs on his plate with his fork. He sighed and the smile vanished as he continued to stare down. "It's not a girl, Mom. It's not the guys either," he said quietly, his voice just as serious as his father's usually is. She knew then that he wasn't kidding. "Don't worry so much about it though. I can handle the situation by myself."
She shrugged slightly, standing up, knowing the conversation was coming to a close. "I'll have to take your word for it," she sighed, bringing her plate to the sink. "Hurry up and put your dish up on the counter. We have to leave now or else you'll be late."
He stood up reluctantly, carrying his plate and placed it right next to the sink. He trotted out of the kitchen to get his things together for school, double-checking to make sure he has everything. Bulma looked at the plate and saw that he ate absolutely nothing. Her concern increased greatly as she stared out the way he left. This was not like him at all.
A little rain never hurt anyone. In fact, it could be quite refreshing. Especially with the long, heated summer approaching. It would be nice to have a little spar with this weather, but Piccolo was no in the mood right now to deal with those Humans or Saiya-jins. Besides, with the exception of Vegeta and maybe Gokuh, they may not want to get soaked. Weak. But he had a second option: meditating. Nothing wrong with that.
The thunderstorms helped rather than intervene. The booming background echoed in his ears loudly yet distantly. All part of nature, and it was good to calm him.
But the serenity of it all didn't last very long. Two sounds of thunder came, but one was not normal. Since they were both side to side it was quite obvious. The first one just sounded like any other thunder strike. But the second sounded more of a mix between a regular thunder and the sound of a Ki blast exploding against a target.
The Nameksei-jin cracked one eye open suspiciously, his grim features never wavering.
What the hell was that?
Finally, freedom away from his minions. He usually failed at his goals to destroy so-and-so because of them. This time, he will do this without them. He will. No one around to mess him up, no one around to anger him. This mission will be overly successful. And the revenge he was dying for nearly two hundred years would finally come.
He knew the troubles he was going to cause for returning to this planet in this dimension. Same thing that happened last time. Except the sekai tabibito came and banished him to the world of hatred. It was not Hell, but something worse. Luckily, he quickly learned how to teleport through different dimensions and worlds himself, becoming a gorotsuki tabibitoi. Meaning that he isn't an official dimensional traveler, he isn't trained well enough to know the consequences, and that if anyone catches him he was to be punished the worst way possible.
What worst way possible? He's been through Hell, responsible for many deaths in the past, sent to Dertah, and had an excessive amount of failure hanging over his shoulder. Whatever the high gods had in store for him, he was prepared for it and wasn't worried about the suffering.
If he hadn't been so foolish all those years back, he knew he wouldn't be in this situation. The curse would never be with him, he would be living happily in the afterlife, and the witch would have never been a part of his life. His family would still be alive. Including his descendants. Which, after the last battle he had on this planet, were no more. No one to carry out his name, no one to carry out the skills that he and his brothers had shared during their lifetime nearly three hundred years ago.
He sighed and floated up in the air, high enough so he can view the entire landscape. He hoped that, after two hundred years, Siarus was still around. After all, that witch was supposed to be immortal. But there were high consequences for immortality that he vowed to charge against her, making her wish that she were mortal. If the dragonballs were still around, then she will be forced to wish for mortality again, and then...
He chuckled to himself, satisfied with his plan. Revenge was sweet, even if it was only at stage two.
Son Gohan was, by his mother command, studying very hard. Nothing new. Of course, this was the finals he was studying for, and he wanted to pass. College life was not the best, but he had to go through it in order to be a scholar. It was what his mother wanted, and it was the least he could do after all those years.
He leaned back in his chair, reflecting back on all the battles he had gone through. The first time he had been introduced to fighting at all was back when he first met his uncle. Soon with many others, some from the horrid Planet Trade that his father had been born into, but certainly not grew up with, thank Kami. Some from the creations of Dr. Gero, where he had a victory. Somewhat. Although Gokuh was alive again, he still felt guilty for his death. Then there was Buu, and all had turned out well. But that was merely three years ago. Everything was still fresh in his mind.
"Time for a little break," he said to himself, walking out of his room towards the kitchen. No one was in the house; Goten was at school and his mother and father went out shopping (Amazingly or not so amazingly, Chichi managed to get Gokuh out of the house and not do any sparring this day. It still amused and bemused Gohan at the same time every time he reviewed the "conversation".). So every step Gohan took came a light tapping noise, and nothing else responded to the sounds he made.
While he fixed himself lunch, he hummed to himself a little tune he heard on the radio the other day. All of his bad memories were pushed to the back of his mind, so he wasn't thinking of anything at all. Absolutely nothing and it felt good to do so. In fact, he almost missed something peculiar when he passed by the window, while putting some kitchen utensils in the sink because of this. But luckily he did catch something from the corner of his eye that made him look twice.
Setting his plateful of food on the counter, he leaned over the sink and closer to the window to glance more carefully at the figure he saw. He snatched off his glasses and squinted, hoping that he wasn't seeing things. He nearly dropped his glasses into the wet sink after realizing he wasn't.
There was a man holding himself up with the aide of a tree. He was severely injured, blood trailing out at least in two spots on each limb. But that wasn't the major thing that caught Gohan's eye. It was something else.
This man looked too much like his father. Way too much.
Father?! Gohan thought frantically. Then he shook his head firmly with a frown. No. That's not his Ki. Besides, he's supposed to be out shopping with Mother. He couldn't quite remember what that Ki felt like though, but it seemed all too familiar. Turles?! He's back?! It can't be!
Nonetheless, this man was weak and needed help. It didn't matter if it was his old enemy or not, Gohan knew he couldn't just leave him to die. Besides, Saiya-jin or not 'Turles' might catch a cold with all the rain that was falling from the sky. He could doctor him back to health, and if he tried to destroy Earth one way or another again, it shouldn't be too hard for the warriors to defeat him. After all, he couldn't be a Super Saiya-jin like the others were, and Gohan doubted that he knew about the dragonballs.
He ran outside, water splattering onto his pants as he proceeded. His mother would kill him later, but no matter. He had a perfectly good excuse... if he could manage to get it out before or during the yelling spree. It would be meek, of course.
The look alike of Son Gokuh had collapsed to his knees by the time Gohan reached him. His entire body heaved up and down with exhaustion, and he didn't notice the near-adult hybrid approach him. Gohan took the risk to rest one hand on his shoulder and ask, "Are you alright, sir?"
"I'm fine," the man snapped. Maybe this wasn't Turles after all! It sure didn't sound like him. It sounded almost like Gokuh's. Too much like him, just like his appearances. Another clone? Or is he another brother of Father's? "Now leave me alone. I can take care of myself."
To show it, he stood wearily, only to fall again. Gohan did manage to get a good glimpse at his attire, which made his theory officially untrue. Turles had shoulder guards on his armor, this man didn't. Although it was ripped, this man wore black pants with dark red cloths adorning his ankles. And Turles didn't. Who was he?
When the man didn't attempt to get up again, and once he had fallen to lie on his stomach, Gohan checked to make sure he was conscious still. He wasn't. Well, at least I'll be able to get him inside the house without any struggling, he thought bitterly as he hauled the man onto his back.