I refuse to delete the original "A Reason to Live" to get more hits on this version! I can't! Compare, people, compare! Oh well. Anywho, I realized that to get the hits up on this one I needed to complete the next chapter. I've been changing my mind a lot about this fic so I may edit it later on.
This story is mainly about Trunks and his feelings so I won't being doing a lot of development for other characters. Meaning, in my terms, that I won't being going inside their thoughts a lot. Just wanted to let you know!
deadscream7990
~~~~~
Trunks looked remorsefully at what was supposed to be his dinner. He just couldn't get the hang of the cooking thing. It had been nearly two months since his mother had passed on and he still couldn't cook a decent meal for himself.
Rolling his eyes at his repeated failure, Trunks quickly ate the food, hoping that by eating it fast he wouldn't have to taste it as much. Not that he had that many taste-buds left after some of his earlier experiments with food. Usually Trunks preferred to order food from a restaurant, but lately he hadn't felt like just ordering his food. He felt that in order to become more human is respect to his emotions than he needed to fully partake of all human activities, which included cooking.
Trunks carefully set the dishes in the sink, being gentle as to not chip any of the dinnerware left to him by his mother. He glanced at the now full sink with lazy eyes, why do now what you can put off until later? With a shrug of his broad shoulders, Trunks gathered his jacket from the closet and headed to the door.
Since he had decided to make his life worth living Trunks had found that he had interests in a lot of areas that he had never before had a chance to explore. Despite his mother being an inventor, a technical genius, Trunks found himself swaying more towards the liberal arts area. He discovered that he had a love for books, the classics in particular.
To him there was nothing more relaxing and fulfilling as sitting down and just loosing himself in an alternate reality for a brief time. Some might think that he read just to escape his life and that in truth he had not decided to live his life but rather just found a way to conceal his longing for another time, but he had put the ghosts of the past behind him.
Everything. It all mattered not to him anymore. His mind blocked the painful memories of his trip to the past, attempting to shut out the ever present pain. To even think of Gohan, his friend, was to bring on a headache of considerable size. He didn't care any less for the people he had met because of this, he simply chose not to feel the constant pain, for if he felt the pain at all times he would surely loose hope and fall back in the abyss of depression.
Trunks cleared his mind of all those thoughts as he pushed open the door to his preferred book store. He smiled kindly at the owner and immediately retreated to his favorite rack of books, the classics.
He slowly perused through the various titles, his finger trailing along as his eyes watched closely for a book that would interest him. He had recently drawn the conclusion that he thoroughly enjoyed plays, finding them funny and loving how they seemed to satirize everything known to mankind.
Trunks smiled as he found a play he had not read before, "The Misanthrope" by Moliere. With a quick glance to the summary he found it to be highly intriguing. A play about a man who wants nothing more than to oppose anything and everything that anyone says. Trunks smirked, this could make for some interesting reading. He carried the book to the front register and paid for it there as he exchanged pleasantries with the owner.
Trunks had not exactly made friends since his decision to fully live his life, but he was slowly working his way back to being what he supposed was normal. By taking things slow, step by step, he felt he was ensuring his future. He had to figure out how to survive living alone before he could even think of complicating things with close human relationships. To grow attached to anyone right now was not an option. He must learn on his own.
The bell on the door jingled as Trunks exited the book store. He began walking slowly towards his home and not able to resist the temptation, he pulled out his book and glanced over it once more.
As his eyes scanned the words, he felt his body come into contact with something and as he feel to the ground he realized that it was a person.
~~~~~
She had been walking aimlessly for some time now. No particular destination in mind. She didn't know where to begin. She had to find him, the one man that could answer all her questions. Failure in this task was not an option. She sighed and continued on her way, gazing hopelessly down at her feet. She noticed another pair of shoes in her view, but it was to late. They had collided, sending the precious item in her hand flying to the ground as she unceremoniously fell down.
~~~~~
Trunks blushed in embarrassment, he had knocked down some poor young girl in his negligence to watch where he was going. What a fool he was, she could have been seriously injured because of him.
"I am so sorry, miss," Trunks hurriedly said, hoping she wasn't upset with him. "Are you all right?"
The annoyed look on her face disappeared at his sincere tone, "No, I'm fine. Just caught off guard. That's all."
"I am so sorry. Let me help you..." Trunks paused mid-sentence as his eyes caught sight of something.
The object that she had held so tightly in her hand was now being picked up by his callused hand. A watch, but not just any watch. It was the old-fashioned type that hung on a chain rather than being worn on the wrist.
Far from an ordinary watch. There was something unique about it. Like Trunks had seen it before.
As he flipped it over his eyes landed on a delicate engraving.
An engraving which read 'Son Gohan'.
Time froze. The air became thick around Trunks with pain and confusion. How? How had this girl gotten Gohan's watch?
The watch had meant so much to him. A present for his birthday from both his parents. His last birthday with his father alive. Gohan would never have let some random person attain this watch.
Trunks' beautiful azure eyes turned cold as he straightened himself up, looking her fully in the eye. He took a step closer, his look causing her to visibly tremble a bit, but she stood steadfast at his glare.
"Where did you get this?"
"My mother gave it to me, long ago. She died when I was five and that watch is the only thing I have to remember her by, it was given to her by my father. She said if I ever found that I had questions about myself than I should find the man with the name on the watch and he could give me my answers."
"This man you are searching for..."
Her eyes turned hopeful, "Do you perhaps know him?"
"It wouldn't do you any good. He's dead."
The harshness of his words hit her hard. "Dead? But he was supposed to..."
"Answer your questions, right?"
The girl looked up, as if he had hurt her in some way. "I believe he was my father. I must learn everything I can about him. There are so many things I need to know about myself."
Trunks smirked, poor girl is a quarter saiyan and doesn't know it. She must be incredibly strong for a human and not know why. Though there was nothing he wanted more than to forget his past, he felt compelled to tell this girl about her alleged father. The father she had never known and the man he had always wished to be his father.
"He was a great man."
The spark of hope ignited in her eyes, "So you did know him."
Trunks smiled, "I knew him very well. He was like a brother to me. He was the only one there for me when I needed help."
"Please, sir, tell me about him. Tell me about the man who I think is my father."
Trunks glanced around them, seeing that people were beginning to occupy the streets. Not wanting anyone to hear their conversation, "Let's continue this conversation at my home, where no one can overhear us."
As they walked, Trunks stole glances at her. She looked every bit the saiyan she should. Ebony black hair, dark eyes, she walked with a natural grace that only saiyans, a warrior breed, seemed to possess.
Maybe he wasn't destined to be alone after all. Maybe there was someone out there that he could emotionally relate to.
He couldn't bring Gohan back to life, as much as he wanted to, but Gohan had left behind a daughter, perhaps the friend that Trunks needed so much at that moment. Gohan always did have a way of just getting there in the nick of time to save his life. Thank you, Gohan, even in death you still look out for me, brother.
He would tell this girl about her father, tell her how brave he was, how he sacrificed himself against the androids to save innocent people, and he would tell her what he had never told anyone other than his mother. He would tell her about his trip to the other timeline. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something in his soul that told him that he could trust this girl to tell her everything and that she would be a greatly needed ally in this emotionally troubling time for them both.
This story is mainly about Trunks and his feelings so I won't being doing a lot of development for other characters. Meaning, in my terms, that I won't being going inside their thoughts a lot. Just wanted to let you know!
deadscream7990
~~~~~
Trunks looked remorsefully at what was supposed to be his dinner. He just couldn't get the hang of the cooking thing. It had been nearly two months since his mother had passed on and he still couldn't cook a decent meal for himself.
Rolling his eyes at his repeated failure, Trunks quickly ate the food, hoping that by eating it fast he wouldn't have to taste it as much. Not that he had that many taste-buds left after some of his earlier experiments with food. Usually Trunks preferred to order food from a restaurant, but lately he hadn't felt like just ordering his food. He felt that in order to become more human is respect to his emotions than he needed to fully partake of all human activities, which included cooking.
Trunks carefully set the dishes in the sink, being gentle as to not chip any of the dinnerware left to him by his mother. He glanced at the now full sink with lazy eyes, why do now what you can put off until later? With a shrug of his broad shoulders, Trunks gathered his jacket from the closet and headed to the door.
Since he had decided to make his life worth living Trunks had found that he had interests in a lot of areas that he had never before had a chance to explore. Despite his mother being an inventor, a technical genius, Trunks found himself swaying more towards the liberal arts area. He discovered that he had a love for books, the classics in particular.
To him there was nothing more relaxing and fulfilling as sitting down and just loosing himself in an alternate reality for a brief time. Some might think that he read just to escape his life and that in truth he had not decided to live his life but rather just found a way to conceal his longing for another time, but he had put the ghosts of the past behind him.
Everything. It all mattered not to him anymore. His mind blocked the painful memories of his trip to the past, attempting to shut out the ever present pain. To even think of Gohan, his friend, was to bring on a headache of considerable size. He didn't care any less for the people he had met because of this, he simply chose not to feel the constant pain, for if he felt the pain at all times he would surely loose hope and fall back in the abyss of depression.
Trunks cleared his mind of all those thoughts as he pushed open the door to his preferred book store. He smiled kindly at the owner and immediately retreated to his favorite rack of books, the classics.
He slowly perused through the various titles, his finger trailing along as his eyes watched closely for a book that would interest him. He had recently drawn the conclusion that he thoroughly enjoyed plays, finding them funny and loving how they seemed to satirize everything known to mankind.
Trunks smiled as he found a play he had not read before, "The Misanthrope" by Moliere. With a quick glance to the summary he found it to be highly intriguing. A play about a man who wants nothing more than to oppose anything and everything that anyone says. Trunks smirked, this could make for some interesting reading. He carried the book to the front register and paid for it there as he exchanged pleasantries with the owner.
Trunks had not exactly made friends since his decision to fully live his life, but he was slowly working his way back to being what he supposed was normal. By taking things slow, step by step, he felt he was ensuring his future. He had to figure out how to survive living alone before he could even think of complicating things with close human relationships. To grow attached to anyone right now was not an option. He must learn on his own.
The bell on the door jingled as Trunks exited the book store. He began walking slowly towards his home and not able to resist the temptation, he pulled out his book and glanced over it once more.
As his eyes scanned the words, he felt his body come into contact with something and as he feel to the ground he realized that it was a person.
~~~~~
She had been walking aimlessly for some time now. No particular destination in mind. She didn't know where to begin. She had to find him, the one man that could answer all her questions. Failure in this task was not an option. She sighed and continued on her way, gazing hopelessly down at her feet. She noticed another pair of shoes in her view, but it was to late. They had collided, sending the precious item in her hand flying to the ground as she unceremoniously fell down.
~~~~~
Trunks blushed in embarrassment, he had knocked down some poor young girl in his negligence to watch where he was going. What a fool he was, she could have been seriously injured because of him.
"I am so sorry, miss," Trunks hurriedly said, hoping she wasn't upset with him. "Are you all right?"
The annoyed look on her face disappeared at his sincere tone, "No, I'm fine. Just caught off guard. That's all."
"I am so sorry. Let me help you..." Trunks paused mid-sentence as his eyes caught sight of something.
The object that she had held so tightly in her hand was now being picked up by his callused hand. A watch, but not just any watch. It was the old-fashioned type that hung on a chain rather than being worn on the wrist.
Far from an ordinary watch. There was something unique about it. Like Trunks had seen it before.
As he flipped it over his eyes landed on a delicate engraving.
An engraving which read 'Son Gohan'.
Time froze. The air became thick around Trunks with pain and confusion. How? How had this girl gotten Gohan's watch?
The watch had meant so much to him. A present for his birthday from both his parents. His last birthday with his father alive. Gohan would never have let some random person attain this watch.
Trunks' beautiful azure eyes turned cold as he straightened himself up, looking her fully in the eye. He took a step closer, his look causing her to visibly tremble a bit, but she stood steadfast at his glare.
"Where did you get this?"
"My mother gave it to me, long ago. She died when I was five and that watch is the only thing I have to remember her by, it was given to her by my father. She said if I ever found that I had questions about myself than I should find the man with the name on the watch and he could give me my answers."
"This man you are searching for..."
Her eyes turned hopeful, "Do you perhaps know him?"
"It wouldn't do you any good. He's dead."
The harshness of his words hit her hard. "Dead? But he was supposed to..."
"Answer your questions, right?"
The girl looked up, as if he had hurt her in some way. "I believe he was my father. I must learn everything I can about him. There are so many things I need to know about myself."
Trunks smirked, poor girl is a quarter saiyan and doesn't know it. She must be incredibly strong for a human and not know why. Though there was nothing he wanted more than to forget his past, he felt compelled to tell this girl about her alleged father. The father she had never known and the man he had always wished to be his father.
"He was a great man."
The spark of hope ignited in her eyes, "So you did know him."
Trunks smiled, "I knew him very well. He was like a brother to me. He was the only one there for me when I needed help."
"Please, sir, tell me about him. Tell me about the man who I think is my father."
Trunks glanced around them, seeing that people were beginning to occupy the streets. Not wanting anyone to hear their conversation, "Let's continue this conversation at my home, where no one can overhear us."
As they walked, Trunks stole glances at her. She looked every bit the saiyan she should. Ebony black hair, dark eyes, she walked with a natural grace that only saiyans, a warrior breed, seemed to possess.
Maybe he wasn't destined to be alone after all. Maybe there was someone out there that he could emotionally relate to.
He couldn't bring Gohan back to life, as much as he wanted to, but Gohan had left behind a daughter, perhaps the friend that Trunks needed so much at that moment. Gohan always did have a way of just getting there in the nick of time to save his life. Thank you, Gohan, even in death you still look out for me, brother.
He would tell this girl about her father, tell her how brave he was, how he sacrificed himself against the androids to save innocent people, and he would tell her what he had never told anyone other than his mother. He would tell her about his trip to the other timeline. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something in his soul that told him that he could trust this girl to tell her everything and that she would be a greatly needed ally in this emotionally troubling time for them both.