The Prince of Saiya
(AN: This story is set in an AU universe, with the main character Mirai Trunks. The young warrior is in a
world of magic and ancient feuds. Unfortunately, he's in the middle of one of the great quarrels in history.
The feud between the family of Briefs and the family of Son. Trunks, now 21 and one of the world's most
powerful magicians, once befriended a Son, by the name of Gohan. Unfortunately, during the Mage Wars,
which lasted from when Trunks was one until twenty, Gohan was killed by the enemy of both the Sons
and the Briefs. The family called Jinzouningen. Now, the lone surviving member of the Son family, a girl
named Pan, daughter of Trunks's deceased friend, Gohan, must join forces with the surviving members of
the Briefs, Bulma and Trunks. But will they succeed? For the three leaders of Jinzouningen (Jurokugou,
Juunanagou, and Juhachigou) are very powerful. And extremely deadly..... And in this world, there is no
such thing as the Dragon Balls......
Before I forget, Trunks is the Crown Prince of Saiya. I know that's not the same as Planet Vegeta, but it's
an alternate universe, so I guess it doesn't matter. Enjoy! ~AC)
Prologue-
This is a story of two mortals, who, despite their differences, joined together to defeat the menace called
the Jinzouningen. But the story begins long before that. It begins with a friendship that defied both
families. Two who were as opposite as day an night. One was known as the Grand Magician, and was
considered the bravest soul to ever live on Earth, besides his father. He was revered by all, even his
enemies, swayed by his fairness and gentleness, and wary of his fury to those who hurt the innocent. The
other was known as the Mad Prince, the Bastard Lord, the Half-breed. Temperamental and powerful, he
was known for killing without mercy or conscious, as long as he had some sort of reason. Somehow,
some way, these two opposites formed a friendship.
The friendship of Son Gohan and Trunks Briefs.
They met on a cold, wet day. A day that seemed to mourn the numerous deaths that had occurred on
that same date, nine years before. The little boy glared hatefully up at the sky for a moment, then
continued on his way, head bent against the wind and rain.
The boy didn't look like the powerful sorcerer he actually could become, or the prince he was. Ten years
old, he was scrawny and under-fed, with a haunted look to his bright blue eyes. His locks of lavender
clung to his skin, dripping water onto his soaked dark blue cloak. His mother had given him that cloak,
he recalled, on his fifth birthday. She had laughed and told him he would grow into it. He had accepted it,
because it had made her laugh. Well, so far he hadn't grown into it, because it made him seem even
smaller, his thin arms lost in the dark blue garment, the ends trailing on the muddy ground. The shoulders
of the cloak bore the black and white insignia of the House of Briefs and Saiya. The little boy trudged
through the mud, towards the place he knew his mother would be.
He found her exactly where he had suspected. The woman he called his mother was kneeling before
three, plain graves.
"Mother," he whispered, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She didn't react, only stared sadly at
the graves that held her beloved, her father, and her mother. The boy sighed, and tried again. "Mother.
You're going to get sick, out in the rain without any protection. Let me perform an anti-wetness spell for
you." His un-childlike words made the corners of the woman's lips curve upward slightly, but she
continued to stare at the graves steadily. The boy sighed, and raised his hands.
"Tears from the heavens that sprinkle down
Do not touch this fair head
Drops from the sky's seas
Leave be from the place this lady treads."
His hands glowed a startling blue for a moment, then he watched with satisfaction as his mother's light
blue tendrils lost their water to form a pool around her motionless body. Even as more raindrops fell, the
woman stayed dry, her pale azure eyes locked onto the tombstones.
"Mother," he called softly. "Come home with me. It's time for dinner." She didn't respond, and the boy
gave up, stepping away from her. His pale blue eyes darkened with both pain and anger as he watched
his mother mourn for his father, whom he had never met.
"I hate him." He hadn't meant to say the words aloud, but the woman heard him, looking up with stricken
eyes, so much like a deer's.
"What?" The word was hoarse and cracked, for the woman had long since consented to speak with hand
motions, but never words. The last time she had spoken had been because of his cloak. Five years
before. The very thought enraged the boy, and spurred him onward.
"I hate him," the boy repeated, his words growing stronger, making him even bolder. "He left you- he left
me- all alone. He let himself be killed." The boy's young voice rose in anger as he let all of his long
withheld thoughts free into the afternoon air. The woman blinked, and slowly emotion filled her grieving,
yet still beautiful, face. A frown crossed her full lips, and she stood, turning to stare at her son.
"You hate him?" she repeated, her hoarse voice incredulous. The boy nodded firmly, willing the tears that
shone in his eyes to go away. The woman couldn't seem to get past the fact that the boy hated his father,
her lover.
"I hate him, and I wish he had never been born!" cried the boy, his eyes now as tormented as his
mother's. "At least then you wouldn't miss him and I wouldn't be alive to suffer!" The woman simply gazed
at him with surprise, her eyes one of a trapped fawn.
"You hate him," she repeated dully, not questioning him anymore. The boy swallowed hard, and looked
her dead in the eye.
"Yes, Mother. I do." His cold statement was almost like a slap, for she reeled backwards, her back
pressing against the freezing stone of one of the cairns. Her lips opened in a silent, wounded cry, then
she bolted. The boy watched her stumble away, in the direction of their home. He waited until she had
disappeared from view, then slumped to the ground and let himself act the little boy he was. He began to
cry.
"Mother, I'm sorry! I don't WANT to hate him!" His anguished cries rang out through the silent royal
graveyard, the words echoing, torturing him even more. Lowering his spindly form to the wet earth, he
began to weep loudly, almost desperately, ignoring the rain that pounded his body.
"I'm sure you don't." The quiet, tenor whisper froze the boy in his shuddering. Slowly, he looked up, his
face muddy from being pressed to the damp dirt. What he saw made him gasp in fear, and scramble up,
and stumble backwards, away from the figure who had stood before him.
The man who had appeared looked harmless enough. His ebony-colored eyes spoke of a gentle soul
inside, while his muscular form told of his strength. There was a hidden story that Trunks didn't know
about the man, for at some point he had lost his arm during a battle. The stub ended only an inch or so
below the shoulder. He wore a simple outfit that spoke of a commoner, though the boy knew he wasn't.
His long white sleeves were protected also by an anti-wetness spell, as were his black pants. The man
was barefoot, and smiling faintly, his lined face watching the boy steadily. The man, though bearing an
aura of great wisdom and strength, looked no older than twenty-two.
"You-you're-" the boy stuttered, cowering away from the man despite his warm smile. "You're Son
Gohan. Son of Goku and Chi-Chi. Enemy of my family."
"Yes, I am," the man replied, sounding amused. "And you're Trunks Briefs, son of Prince Vegeta and
Lady Bulma." The boy, Trunks, looked around for any protection, and found none. He broke into a sweat,
even as Gohan watched. As Trunks found himself trapped, in his mind he recalled the first time he had
ever seen the man who now stood before him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It had been a long time ago, and he had been only five. He had been yelled at by one of the cooks in his
castle, and, out of annoyance that he could blast her, as his father would have done, had wandered off
and gotten lost. Wandering around the countryside for hours, the little boy had come upon a battle. Before
anyone could spot him, however, the nimble child had hidden behind a rock and had begun to watch the
battle. Only one of the Jinzouningen had been there, the smirking, arrogant ebony-haired one called
Juunanagou. Trunks had watched in horror, unable to do anything to stop the evil creature, as Juunanagou
had begun to destroy the large village. Then Gohan had arrived. Trunks could still remember the look of
fury that had caused the Son teenager's eyes to glow like ember sparks. Gohan had screamed
obscenities at the murderer, then they had begun to fight. Trunks had been torn. Should he help his
family's enemy to defeat his father's murderer? Or should he simply run away? The little boy had watched
as Juunanagou had easily beaten the furious man to a pulp, and raised a hand to strike him down forever.
Without knowing what he was doing, Trunks had reacted.
'Leave him alone, you big bully!' he had screamed, leaping to his feet. 'He may be my family's enemy, but
he's nicer than you!' The Jinzouningen had laughed, and raised a hand to curse him. With a roar, Gohan
had quickly performed a protective barrier around himself and Trunks. As hard as Juunanagou had tried,
he couldn't break the protective spells. Swearing with anger, the Jinzouningen had teleported away.
Gohan had caught the boy's eyes, holding him in their dark spell for a moment, then he, too, disappeared.
The boy had been left alone, completely stunned. His family's enemy had rescued HIM.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Are you scared of me, boy?" questioned Gohan, his tone even more amused. His words snapped Trunks
back to reality, and the boy bristled, his pride instantly up-in-arms.
"No!" he growled, and steadied his feet. He glared at the man as if he could destroy him with his eyes,
their blazing sapphire almost glowing in the cloudy sunlight. "Why would I be afraid of you?" Gohan raised
an eyebrow.
"Because I could kill you easily?" he said, smiling gently. Trunks gulped, then suddenly felt furious as
letting himself be frightened of this man. Gohan was mortal, same as him.
"I don't care," he declared, raising his chin to glower at the man defiantly, his pale face flushed with rage.
Then, amazingly, Gohan began to laugh.
"Of course you care, but it's brave of you to lie," he commented, his eyes twinkling. Abruptly, he became
somber. "Come on, boy, tell me why you hate your father." Trunks looked down at the ground for a long
moment. Finally he spoke, and his words was full of exhaustion, rage, and sorrow.
"He left me all alone." He looked up, his eyes shining with withheld tears of both pain and fury. "I know
how your father died, Son Gohan, and I know it's a stupid way to die, but- but at least you KNEW him."
His anguished words rang clearly through the graveyard. "I never met my father. He never visited my
mother once after I was born. I was simply a possession to him, something he owned. Just like my
mother." When he spoke his next words, they were bitter, yet horrified at the same time. "Sometimes I
hate my mother too, for loving him so. She's so wrapped up in the past, in him, that she never notices me.
The only words I hear out of her mouth, when she does speak, are always about him. About my bastard
father." He suddenly laughed at his choice of words. "Bastard. At least he wasn't a real one. He let me be
born a bastard, simply using my mother as- as a play toy." He looked up at Gohan, almost wistful. "At
least your father loved your mother. As far as I know, my father didn't give a damn about her."
Gohan sighed, and walked slowly towards the distraught boy. His steps were slow and measured, to keep
from frightening the boy. But Trunks didn't react, only watched him through tear-blurred vision.
"From what I've learned about your mother, is that she is very loyal. So loyal that she wishes she had
died alongside Vegeta. So she grieves, day and night, wishing for her lover to come back, although she
knows he never will. That is how she grieves. My mother, on the other hand, busies herself with normal,
everyday chores, so she won't think about my father. It's only at night, when she has to think, is when she
grieves." Gohan sighed, his shoulders slumping wearily. "Everyone handles their grief in different ways."
Trunks stared at the powerful, sad man for a long moment. Then he spoke, once more the ten-year-old he
was.
"How do you handle your grief?" he questioned quietly, his blue eyes peering upwards towards Gohan's
shadowed dark ones. Gohan again sighed, and bowed his head, not meeting the young boy's gaze.
"I fight," he said simply. "I fight the Jinzouningen, as my father would have done."
"But you're only one man," said Trunks, his eyes wide. Gohan slowly grinned.
"I'm only one magician," he said, forcing his lips to keep their upward turn. Ever so slowly, Trunks inched
towards the strange magician-warrior. Gohan didn't react, only watched him steadily. Trunks timidly took
the man's hand, not surprised by all of the calluses. Then he spoke the words that would lead him to his
destiny, though he didn't realize it yet.
Trunks didn't know why he said them. Perhaps it was a final defiance to his mother. Perhaps he simply
needed a friend. Perhaps it was simply destiny. But whatever the reason, he spoke them, and his new
future began a single, tentative question.
"How about a magician and a sorcerer go against the Jinzouningen?" he asked cautiously. Slowly, Gohan
began to grin.
"I think that can be arranged," said the last pure Son, with a gentle smile. The two stood, silent, hand in
hand, for a long time before Trunks finally couldn't hide the fact from himself that he had to go back to his
home. His mother would be waiting. He could already feel her silent accusations.
"I'll see you later?" suggested the little boy, looking trustingly up at his new, and only, friend.
Gohan smiled, and nodded. "Maybe tomorrow." Trunks grinned, and skipped away. His face shone with
happiness, for once looking like the little boy he should have been.
And they met the next day, and the next, and slowly their friendship strengthened, and they grew as
close as brothers. And that is how Son Gohan and Trunks Briefs became friends.
****************************************************************************************************************
The boy, now a year older, whistled as he made his way to the library. He and Gohan had planned to
meet up there, and Gohan had promised to teach him some history about magic. The young prince
slipped into the dusty, half-ruined building, wincing at the smell. It filled his nostrils, reminding him of
mildew and rotting meat, and making his stomach turn. Paling slightly, the prince whispered a spell to fill
his senses with the smell of scrolls and ink, the odor of knowledge. But even with the smell, he could see
the horrible mess disuse had left the library.
"Disgusting," he growled aloud, then shook his head and continued silently on. He made his way past the
broken desks and overturned chairs until he came to the man who waited for him.
"Hi, Gohan." His greeting echoed through the empty building. Gohan grinned.
"Hello, Trunks," he said. "Ready to be taught?"
"Yes," the boy said happily. Gohan motioned for the boy to sit down. Trunks obeyed, setting a chair
upright, and sitting in it.
"Today, we're going to learn about the start with the Legend of the Super Saiya-jinn," Gohan announced.
Trunks straightened in his chair.
"The Legend of the Super Saiya-jinn?" he repeated, his eyes glowing with excitement. That sounded
interesting. Gohan nodded slowly, a faint smile dancing across his lips.
"The Legend of the Super Saiya-jinn has been passed down for centuries. Both the kingdom of Saiya and
the family of Son hold it in high esteem," Gohan began, leaning back in his chair. "The Son family actually
is related to the House of Saiya, you know."
"No, I didn't know that," exclaimed Trunks, interested.
"Yes, and that's how the how feud started. But I'll tell about that after I'm done with the legend," Gohan
informed him. "The legend states that mortals with the gift of magic who have the blood of the House of
Saiya, have a chance to become a Super Saiya-jinn. A Super Saiya-jinn instantly becomes, well, perfect.
They're so holy that they emit a golden glow, and their eyes turn emerald green. They have the power of
eighty men, and the power of twenty sorcerers. Another name for a Super Saiya-jinn is the Supreme Holy
Being. But actually, the legend isn't really a legend." He laughed at Trunks's expression. "I AM a Super
Saiya-jinn."
"Really?" Trunks knew he was sounding skeptical, and probably looking skeptical too.
Gohan grinned. "Yes, o ignorant and disbelieving student of mine. I have a hint of Saiya blood in my veins,
and so does my father, being a member of the Son family. My father was the first Super Saiya-jinn in
thousands of years. It was after the murder of his close comrade, Krillin, before his very eyes, during the
war between the Northern Ice-lings. Your father had to join with us to fight the Ice-lings, but ended up
being nearly killed by their Head Mage, Frieza. Your father, during his childhood, had been kidnapped by
Frieza and brainwashed to be a mighty fighter for the Ice-lings. When your father had escaped back to the
castle, at age seventeen, that was the beginning of the war.
"Anyway, Frieza had murdered Krillin the monk. My father became so enraged that his powers were
unlocked and he became a Super Saiya-jinn. For you see, the power of the Super Saiya-jinn lies in pure,
unyielding rage. Odd, how it's supposed to be holiness. You'd think the power would be won by pure love,
not rage. Ah, but that's not part of the story. Let me continue. Of course, my father killed Frieza. Your
father, Vegeta, was, shall we say, miffed. As newly made King of Saiya, for Frieza had murdered your
grandfather also, and head of the royal line, he felt he should have been the first. But then Vegeta became
a Super Saiya-jinn. I'm not sure exactly how he grew so angry to finally snap and gain the power, but he
did. And of course, once he had, he declared war on my father and all of his family. I suppose it wasn't a
surprise to many when he did that. Ever since the marriage of Princess Geta and Son Gowan, there had
been hostility between the two families. Then, as shocking as it seems, Vegeta kidnapped one of my
father's closest friends, Lady Bulma." Gohan rubbed his forehead and sighed. "I'm not trying to insult you
or anything, friend. I'm simply stating the facts."
"It's all right," Trunks said, intrigued about his family history. "Go on." Gohan took a deep breath.
"When he kidnapped Lady Bulma, one of my father's other friends, Sir Yamucha, declared war on Vegeta
also. The entire country was pulled into the fighting. There would have been bloodshed, but then the
Jinzouningen arrived. The Jinzouningen were from the South, where all those goblins and demons live. The
three were powerful, even more powerful than my father at Super Saiya-jinn form. But my father never got
a chance to fight them. He was struck down by a mysterious heart illness only a few days after the
Jinzouningen began to attack villages." Gohan bowed his head for a moment, then looked up, forcing a
smile onto his youthful, yet old, face. "My friends and I, along with Vegeta, went to battle with the
Jinzouningen." He sighed. "That was the beginning. Sir Yamucha, King Vegeta, Lord Tien, foreign Prince
Chaozu, and my mentor, a foreign warrior named Piccolo, were all killed by the Jinzouningen. Only I
survived, and that was with the loss of my arm." He pointed at the stub of which had once connected his
arm to his shoulder. "I was twelve then, and became a Super Saiya-jinn during the battle. Since then, I've
been battling the Jinzouningen, trying to avenge everyone's deaths."
"I'm sorry," Trunks said softly, at a loss for words. Gohan merely nodded, and changed the topic.
"Shall I tell you about the marriage of Princess Geta and Son Gowan?" Trunks nodded, wanting to hear
about the beginning of their families' feud. Gohan sighed, and began the tale.
"About a hundred years ago, a daughter was born to the current king of Saiya as his second child. The
princess grew up to be slender and beautiful, with dancing eyes the color of sparkling sapphires, and
shimmering hair the color of midnight. She was as kind as she was fair, and was revered by all the palace
men. But the king was protective of his only girl, and swore only the person he chose would marry his
lovely daughter. He finally chose a prince from a neighboring country, who was actually quite handsome
and very nice. But Princess Geta, for that was her name, didn't love him, nor he, her. Then, one day, a
wandering young lord by the name Gowan came upon the palace, and asked for a place to stay whenever
he passed by. The king accepted the wanderer, and Gowan often amused the court with tales of his
adventures. He traveled by the palace usually once or twice a week from then on. Gowan was very
intelligent and extremely handsome, with spiked hair the color of ebony, and bright eyes the color of clear
obsidian. When Princess Geta caught sight of him during one of his visits to the court, she fell madly in
love with the young lord. When she began to chat with him, Gowan slowly fell in love with the fair
princess. They began a secret love affair, and after months of hiding, were married. But while the prince
who had been her fiancé congratulated the couple, the king was enraged. He banished his daughter and
her husband from the court, declaring that no Son was a member of the royal family. The lord and his wife
settled down in his father's castle, and had many children, one of whom was Bardock, who was my
grandfather. Ever since then, there has been tension between the Son family and the Briefs family."
Gohan finished, and leaned back, watching Trunks's reaction.
"Damn, my family are full of jerks," the boy commented, frowning. Gohan simply shook his head.
"Where did an eleven-year-old like you learn to curse like that?" he questioned. Trunks grinned.
"I've picked it up." Gohan sighed, and began another tale, about Bardock, son of Gowan and Geta, who
became a famous knight and saved many a damsel-in-distress, one of whom became his wife.
****************************************************************************************************************
Trunks, now three years older, smiled up into the sky. It was actually a clear, sunny day for once, and
sun's beams felt delightful on his upturned face. He brushed a tendril of lavender away from his eyes,
grinning once more. It was going to be a good day, for once. He and Gohan had been meeting outside the
palace grounds ever since they had become friends. Gohan had even begun to train him, teaching him
intense magical spells. Trunks was pleased to note he learned quickly. Of course, he didn't tell his friend
how he used some of the deadly spells. The fourteen-year-old boy hoped that the unusual number of
deaths at the palace had not reached Gohan's ears. It wasn't Trunks's fault that all the servants were
idiots that deserved to die.
"Trunks!" a voice called, and the now teenage boy turned to flash a grin at his older friend.
"Hello, Gohan!" he said, his eyes dancing. Then his vision fell upon the small figure clinging to Gohan's
hand, and raised an eyebrow. "Who's this?"
"This," said Gohan proudly, "is my daughter, Son Pan. She's four years old." Trunks blinked, his bright
blue eyes filled with surprise. After a moment, he smiled.
"Hello, Pan," he said, kneeling to extend his hand towards his best friend's daughter. Dark, curious eyes
lifted to meet his blue ones, and the little girl slowly smiled. She grabbed his hand, enormous compared
to her tiny one, and beamed up as him as he gently shook her hand.
"Hi!" she said happily. "You're Mister Trunks, right? My daddy's told me all about you!" Once more,
Trunks found himself raising an eye to grin at his blushing friend.
"She kept asking me about my friends, and well, you're my only friend," confessed the older man, flicking
a lock of ebony away from his eyes. Trunks grinned even more.
"It's so nice to know I'm popular," he teased, releasing the tiny girl's wrist from his grip, and standing. He
watched as little Pan reattached herself to her father's hand. He lifted his eyes to study his friend's flushed
face. "Why didn't you tell me that you had a kid?"
"Well," the warrior said haltingly, "when I first met you, Pan had only just been born." His eyes, as black
as they were, darkened. "Then, a couple weeks after I met you, the Jinzouningen found them." He sighed,
looking down to smile wistfully at his daughter. "Her name was Videl." The hidden message hung in the
silence, and Trunks placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, his eyes filled with concern for his friend. He watched as Pan, oblivious to their
serious conversation, beamed up at her father, making her dark eyes dance. "She must have been
beautiful."
"She was," Gohan said, sighing heavily. "She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. And the
smartest. And the funniest."
"She sounds like she was wonderful," Trunks said, keeping his hand on his friend's shoulder. Gohan
nodded, his eyes distant. Trunks, noticing the look, knelt down beside Pan. He smiled at her.
"Want to go play? I think your dad needs to think," he said softly. Pan stared up at him, and grinned.
"All right," she agreed, releasing her father's hand. "Want to play Tag?" Trunks shrugged.
"Sure," he said, whereupon Pan leapt forward, neatly tapped the surprised fourteen-year-old, and bolted
away, giggling.
"You're it!" she called, her black mane whipping behind her. Laughing, Trunks chased after her, leaving the
magician to his memories.
****************************************************************************************************************
After a long amount of chasing, Trunks finally managed to catch the laughing girl.
"Do you like to be tickled?" he questioned, grinning as he held the squirming child in his hands.
"Yes!" Pan shrieked, wiggling and giggling merrily. Trunks grinned as his fingers did their own magic and
the little girl dissolved into laughter. He hadn't had this much fun since... er, since ever.
"I'm going to tickle you until you die, Pan-chan!" he declared, laughing himself. When had he last
laughed? Ah yes, he remembered. Gohan had made him laugh before, with a joke too funny not to laugh
at. And before that? Never. Well, unless chuckling evilly while killing something counted as laughter.
Than he did that an awful lot. It was odd how the prince didn't mind putting an end to so many lives. It was
only with Gohan that the young boy actually felt emotions, such as happiness, gaiety, amusement, and...
friendship.
"No!" Pan wailed, her dark eyes dancing as she kicked at him uselessly.
"Yes!" Trunks announced, continuing to tickle her until she was gasping for breath. Finally, he released
her, and she collapsed, gasping, in his arms.
"That was fun..." she sighed after catching her breath. "We're doing that again tomorrow." Trunks grinned,
shrugging.
"If you want to," he said with a fond smile. For an instant, he wished he had had a little brother or sister, then immediately dismissed the thought. If he had had a younger sibling, he never would've become friends with Gohan, and now Pan.
Suddenly a furious cry shattered Trunks's peace.
"Trunks! Pan! Jinzouningen!" The lavender-haired sorcerer froze in horror, while Pan merely looked
confused.
"Oh shit..." he whispered hoarsely.
"What are the Jinzou.... Jin things?" questioned Pan innocently, looking up at her new friend.
Trunks scooped Pan into his arms, murmuring, "Bad people, Pan-chan. Very bad people who want to
hurt everyone."
"Oh," Pan said as the lavender-haired prince began to run. "Are they mean then?" Trunks managed to
laugh weakly.
"Yes, they are. Very mean," he whispered, his bright blue eyes searching frantically for his best friend.
Gohan was nowhere in sight. "They killed my dad, and many of your dad's friends."
"Oh," Pan repeated once more, sounding contrite. "I'm sorry about your daddy."
'I'm not,' Trunks thought, but didn't say the words aloud. Instead he raced through the tall green grass and
over any rocks he saw.
"Gohan!" he shouted desperately, racing for large cluster of large trees to hid in. "Now, Pannie, be quiet
while we hid-"
"Too late," announced a cold voice, and Trunks mentally sighed. Well, his future had just gone up in
smoke. He was going to die. He set Pan down, and turned to face the voice. When he saw who floated
before him, he sighed again, even louder. Okay, now he was absolutely going to die.
All three Jinzouningen floated before him, using expert floatation spells. Although Trunks had only seen
Juunanagou before, he knew instantly that the other two were Jinzouningen. They had the same ice-cold
blue eyes. It must run in the family.
"Going somewhere?" asked Juunanagou coldly, raising a graceful black eyebrow. Trunks glared at him,
and opened his mouth to reply when a little voice piped up from behind him.
"Mister Trunks, are those the bad Jin people?" Pan questioned, staring up at the three floating figures
curiously. Juunanagou slowly grinned.
"Why, yes, we are," he informed the girl. "But we're called the Jinzouningen."
"Jin ... zou ... nin ... gen..." the four-year-old carefully repeated. "That's a big word." The black-haired
Jinzouningen chuckled coldly.
"I suppose it is," he commented. "Listen, little one, toddle off so that we can talk to- Mister Trunks, was
it?"
"Yep!" Pan cheerfully announced, quickly forgetting that these were the 'bad people'. "He's a friend of my
daddy's."
"Pannie, I think you need to go find your daddy right now, okay?" Trunks said, keeping a wary eye on the
Jinzouningen as he carefully peeled the girl's tiny fingers from his pants. Pan blinked, and her long, dark
lashes hid her puzzled dark orbs for a moment.
"Okay, Mister Trunks," she said, beaming up at him. "I'll tell him you were lookin' for him."
"You do that," said Trunks, knowing that he'd probably be dead by the time Gohan found him.
"Bye!" she said, waving to the three Jinzouningen before skipping off in the direction of the cluster of trees.
One of the Jinzouningen even smiled and waved back, his bright red braid flipping as he moved. Trunks
eyed him.
The Jinzouningen was enormous, at least seven feet tall. His bright red hair was in a braid down his back.
He actually looked gentle-looking, and for some reason reminded Trunks of a huge Gohan. The prince
shook such thoughts away. The Jinzouningen were cold-hearted murderers of innocents such as children,
and were nothing like his friend. If anything, they were like him.
'Except,' his pride-filled heart argued, 'I've had perfectly good reasons to kill those people. They were idiots
who were going to be killed by the palace guards anyway for their stupidity. I simply sent them on their
way faster and with less pain. And none of them were children.' He easily ignored the fact that his heart's
words didn't exactly ring true, and watched Pan go with a faint smile. At least he had gotten to laugh
before he died. That was nice.
He turned back towards the Jinzouningen, his smile vanishing as quickly as it had come.
"So, are you here to kill me?" he asked, focusing on the one whose name he knew. Juunanagou. The ice
blue-eyed man chuckled, as if Trunks's question was amusing.
"Not until you've answered a few questions, boy," commented one of the other Jinzouningen. Trunks
finally looked at the only one he hadn't seen, and all time stopped.
'Damn,' his fourteen-year-old, hormone-driven mind thought. 'That one is FINE...'
The Jinzouningen was female, unlike the other two, with locks of pure gold framing her lovely face. She
wore an identical smirk to Juunanagou, but instead of making her look evil, it made her look, well,
beautiful. She was tall and slender, and Trunks was slightly annoyed to realize he came up to her chin.
"I'm not a boy. I happen to be fourteen years old," snapped the prince, jerking himself back to reality. The
beautiful Jinzouningen raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"First off," Juunanagou began, looking pleased about something, "that little girl called you Trunks."
"Yeah," Trunks said, eyeing the Jinzouningen. Either way he was going to die. What did it matter if they
knew he was actually the Crown Prince of a failing kingdom? The Jinzouningen smiled.
"Ah, so you're the Crown Prince of Saiya. Trunks Vegeta Briefs, is it not?" questioned Juunanagou.
Trunks warily nodded his head. "The bastard child?"
"If you mean my parents weren't married, right, I'm the bastard child," he said with a slight smirk, an odd
calm coming over him. If he was going to die, at least he was going to die annoying the hell out of
somebody. "You know, you all are being very impolite. I don't even know your names. You know, if you're
going to kill someone, it costs nothing to be polite." All of his would-be killers looked amused, especially
the woman.
"I suppose we should be polite and introduce ourselves. I'm Juunanagou Jinzouningen, oldest son of
Juungou Jinzouningen," announced the raven-haired man abruptly.
"I'm Jurokugou Jinzouningen, brother of Juungou Jinzouningen," the redhead said, in a soft, faltering voice.
"I'm Juhachigou Jinzouningen, daughter of Juungou Jinzouningen," drawled the pretty blonde, looking
bored. So the blonde and Juunanagou were brother and sister, and the redhead was their uncle.
Interesting.
"And I'm Son Gohan," sneered a familiar voice. Trunks's eyes widened as Gohan suddenly appeared in
front of him, between him and the Jinzouningen. "Leave the boy be."
The three looked interested as they looked Gohan over. "Hmm..... Son Gohan. The only Son left." The
words came from Juunanagou, who was, as always, smirking.
"That's right." Gohan lied without batting an eye, and Trunks kept silent. It would be better for the
Jinzouningen not to know about Pan.
"Let's see how powerful you are, mage," Juhachigou declared, finally looking interested. "I've been looking
for someone to test my skills against." Gohan bared his teeth in a savage grin.
"With pleasure. Trunks, get lost," he abruptly ordered, turning towards the young sorcerer. Trunks blinked,
feeling surprised.
"No!" he said defiantly, staring at his friend. "As if I'd leave you alone against these three, Gohan! They
might gang up on you!" The three accused merely laughed, as if his words amused them.
"Are you two actually friends? I thought you were supposed to be enemies," Juhachigou commented.
Trunks raised an eyebrow, and shrugged.
"I'm the bastard child. I do what I want to," he replied easily. Juhachigou smiled a half-smirk, and didn't
continue the conversation.
"Get going," barked Gohan, lowering his voice to a growl.
"No!" Trunks repeated firmly. The dark-haired magician sighed and turned towards the three Jinzouningen.
"Excuse us for a moment," he said softly, then suddenly whirled on his friend, his fist rising.
"What the-" Trunks began, then all he saw were stars as Gohan's fist connected. His knees gave out, and
the lavender-haired sorcerer crumpled onto the soft grass. In a dazed sort of way, he could feel his face
pressed against the green grass. He could almost smell violets.
"Nice punch," he heard Juunanagou comment admiringly, then everything went black.
****************************************************************************************************************
Trunks came back to the land of the living, woken by the sound of weeping. He slowly came to, and
immediately noticed that he was soaking wet. Rain poured down in torrents, soaking him. The young
sorcerer groaned, and opened his eyes, hands immediately grabbing his swelling eye.
"Damn," he cursed, and rolled onto his stomach to slowly get to his feet. Nursing his eye, the teenager
looked around, and immediately felt sick. The beautiful field where he had chased Pan now lay in ruins,
the grasses burnt by a magical fire.
"Gohan?" he called weakly. No answer.
Dimly, the teenager heard the sound of sobbing, then a tiny voice wail, "Daddy!" Trunks froze. He knew
that little voice. Pan. Turning, he bolted in the direction of her cries.
Trunks stumbled to a stop, staring in disbelief at the scene before him. Pan's face was both muddy and
tearstained as she continued to howl, shaking the motionless form of her father.
"Wake up!" she yelled. "Wake up!" Trunks slowly placed a hand on her shoulder, and the little girl whirled
to face him. Her red-rimmed eyes were horrified and wild as they stared upward into his. They were no
longer the bright, cheerful eyes she had twinkled up at him before.
"It's your fault!" she suddenly screamed, her voice so accusing that Trunks retracted his hand and stared
in shock at the venom in the little girl's voice. How could such hatred be forced through the innocent lips
of a four-year-old? "You should have saved him!"
"Pan-" he began weakly, but the little girl shook her head and fled from him, disappearing into the distant
forest. Trunks made no move to stop her, but instead knelt beside Gohan's body.
Gohan had been killed by magic; the glowing black aura around his body confirmed this. His black hair
had been plastered to his forehead by the rain. Trunks numbly did an anti-wetness spell, and Gohan's
ebony locks sprang back to their normal position. The magician looked as if he was sleeping: his eyes
were closed. His lips were curved in the slightly amused smile Trunks had always seen him wear. When
he had fallen onto the burned grass, his neck had landed at an odd angle. The place of his head made
him seem to be pondering something in death. His clothes were slightly burned by magic, but otherwise
normal. Trunks's throat tightened until he could hardly breathe as he stared down at his best- his only
-friend The young sorcerer let out a long groan, and crumpled to the ground. His entire body trembled with
sorrow.
"Gohan, I would have helped you," he choked out, burying his head in his hands. "I could've stopped
them!" He stayed in that position for a long time, pictures of Gohan appearing in his mind.
Gohan, grinning with amusement, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Gohan, chuckling quietly.
Gohan, his eyes glowing as he smiled fondly down at his daughter.
Gohan, waiting in the abandoned library for him, looking pleased.
Gohan, rolling his eyes at something the sorcerer had said.
Gohan, telling the story of the Legend of the Super Saiya-jinn-
Then, quite suddenly, instead of feeling sorrow, Trunks felt rage begin to churn his insides. He slowly
stood, staring down at his companion.
"I could've helped you," he repeated hoarsely. The rage pulsing through his veins, he suddenly screamed
to the heavens, throwing his head back in despair, "GOHAN! WHY DIDN'T YOU LET ME HELP YOU?"
Then it was as if a light had switched on in his mind. His vision began to glow an eerie gold, and his entire
body was suddenly pumping with adrenaline. He doubled over for a moment, overwhelmed by the intensity
of the adrenaline. Shuddering, he stood straight, staring down at his friend's body.
"I'll kill them for you, Gohan," he whispered, feeling his teeth bare in a triumphant, savage grin, a look he
had never worn before, even when killing the servants. This wasn't annoyance: this was pure, unyielding
savagery. "I'll kill them easily." The sorcerer raised his hands, and softly began the funeral spell for his
friend. A symbol would burn forever into the ground, telling all who passed that a mighty magician had
died there.
"Fire sear the grasses here
Where I have offered up a tear
My companion lies dead
No place will he ever again tread-"
That was the end of the spell, but for some reason his voice changed, grew deeper, with an aching
yearning to it.
"For a mighty foe struck him down
Fallen, fallen is the heir to the crown!"
White fire shot from his fingers to consume Gohan's body. Soon all that was left were ashes, and the rain
quickly washed them away. Trunks stared down through his golden vision, and studied the symbol.
Gohan had taught him a little about magical symbols. Slowly, he smiled, the smile one of both pain and
amusement, understanding and confusion. After all, Gohan had had a hint of the blood of Saiya in his
veins.
"Of course," he said quietly. "Honor, wisdom, love, strength, magic, hate, sorrow, and...... royalty."
Without a word, the last Super Saiya-jinn turned and walked from the field, leaving the symbol for anyone
to see.
(AN: Well, that was depressing, wasn't it? In the next chapter, four years have passed, and Trunks, after
being nearly killed by the Jinzouningen during a battle, has been searching for a time spell to go back and
stop the Jinzouningen from coming. And the only way he can prevent that, he assumes, is to keep Goku
alive. But first he must find a time spell, and only one person, someone who haunts his past, can help
him. Will Trunks accept the help? Or will he never find the time spell, and let his world be doomed? Find
out in the next chapter of "The Prince of Saiya". Ja! ~AC)
(AN: This story is set in an AU universe, with the main character Mirai Trunks. The young warrior is in a
world of magic and ancient feuds. Unfortunately, he's in the middle of one of the great quarrels in history.
The feud between the family of Briefs and the family of Son. Trunks, now 21 and one of the world's most
powerful magicians, once befriended a Son, by the name of Gohan. Unfortunately, during the Mage Wars,
which lasted from when Trunks was one until twenty, Gohan was killed by the enemy of both the Sons
and the Briefs. The family called Jinzouningen. Now, the lone surviving member of the Son family, a girl
named Pan, daughter of Trunks's deceased friend, Gohan, must join forces with the surviving members of
the Briefs, Bulma and Trunks. But will they succeed? For the three leaders of Jinzouningen (Jurokugou,
Juunanagou, and Juhachigou) are very powerful. And extremely deadly..... And in this world, there is no
such thing as the Dragon Balls......
Before I forget, Trunks is the Crown Prince of Saiya. I know that's not the same as Planet Vegeta, but it's
an alternate universe, so I guess it doesn't matter. Enjoy! ~AC)
Prologue-
This is a story of two mortals, who, despite their differences, joined together to defeat the menace called
the Jinzouningen. But the story begins long before that. It begins with a friendship that defied both
families. Two who were as opposite as day an night. One was known as the Grand Magician, and was
considered the bravest soul to ever live on Earth, besides his father. He was revered by all, even his
enemies, swayed by his fairness and gentleness, and wary of his fury to those who hurt the innocent. The
other was known as the Mad Prince, the Bastard Lord, the Half-breed. Temperamental and powerful, he
was known for killing without mercy or conscious, as long as he had some sort of reason. Somehow,
some way, these two opposites formed a friendship.
The friendship of Son Gohan and Trunks Briefs.
They met on a cold, wet day. A day that seemed to mourn the numerous deaths that had occurred on
that same date, nine years before. The little boy glared hatefully up at the sky for a moment, then
continued on his way, head bent against the wind and rain.
The boy didn't look like the powerful sorcerer he actually could become, or the prince he was. Ten years
old, he was scrawny and under-fed, with a haunted look to his bright blue eyes. His locks of lavender
clung to his skin, dripping water onto his soaked dark blue cloak. His mother had given him that cloak,
he recalled, on his fifth birthday. She had laughed and told him he would grow into it. He had accepted it,
because it had made her laugh. Well, so far he hadn't grown into it, because it made him seem even
smaller, his thin arms lost in the dark blue garment, the ends trailing on the muddy ground. The shoulders
of the cloak bore the black and white insignia of the House of Briefs and Saiya. The little boy trudged
through the mud, towards the place he knew his mother would be.
He found her exactly where he had suspected. The woman he called his mother was kneeling before
three, plain graves.
"Mother," he whispered, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She didn't react, only stared sadly at
the graves that held her beloved, her father, and her mother. The boy sighed, and tried again. "Mother.
You're going to get sick, out in the rain without any protection. Let me perform an anti-wetness spell for
you." His un-childlike words made the corners of the woman's lips curve upward slightly, but she
continued to stare at the graves steadily. The boy sighed, and raised his hands.
"Tears from the heavens that sprinkle down
Do not touch this fair head
Drops from the sky's seas
Leave be from the place this lady treads."
His hands glowed a startling blue for a moment, then he watched with satisfaction as his mother's light
blue tendrils lost their water to form a pool around her motionless body. Even as more raindrops fell, the
woman stayed dry, her pale azure eyes locked onto the tombstones.
"Mother," he called softly. "Come home with me. It's time for dinner." She didn't respond, and the boy
gave up, stepping away from her. His pale blue eyes darkened with both pain and anger as he watched
his mother mourn for his father, whom he had never met.
"I hate him." He hadn't meant to say the words aloud, but the woman heard him, looking up with stricken
eyes, so much like a deer's.
"What?" The word was hoarse and cracked, for the woman had long since consented to speak with hand
motions, but never words. The last time she had spoken had been because of his cloak. Five years
before. The very thought enraged the boy, and spurred him onward.
"I hate him," the boy repeated, his words growing stronger, making him even bolder. "He left you- he left
me- all alone. He let himself be killed." The boy's young voice rose in anger as he let all of his long
withheld thoughts free into the afternoon air. The woman blinked, and slowly emotion filled her grieving,
yet still beautiful, face. A frown crossed her full lips, and she stood, turning to stare at her son.
"You hate him?" she repeated, her hoarse voice incredulous. The boy nodded firmly, willing the tears that
shone in his eyes to go away. The woman couldn't seem to get past the fact that the boy hated his father,
her lover.
"I hate him, and I wish he had never been born!" cried the boy, his eyes now as tormented as his
mother's. "At least then you wouldn't miss him and I wouldn't be alive to suffer!" The woman simply gazed
at him with surprise, her eyes one of a trapped fawn.
"You hate him," she repeated dully, not questioning him anymore. The boy swallowed hard, and looked
her dead in the eye.
"Yes, Mother. I do." His cold statement was almost like a slap, for she reeled backwards, her back
pressing against the freezing stone of one of the cairns. Her lips opened in a silent, wounded cry, then
she bolted. The boy watched her stumble away, in the direction of their home. He waited until she had
disappeared from view, then slumped to the ground and let himself act the little boy he was. He began to
cry.
"Mother, I'm sorry! I don't WANT to hate him!" His anguished cries rang out through the silent royal
graveyard, the words echoing, torturing him even more. Lowering his spindly form to the wet earth, he
began to weep loudly, almost desperately, ignoring the rain that pounded his body.
"I'm sure you don't." The quiet, tenor whisper froze the boy in his shuddering. Slowly, he looked up, his
face muddy from being pressed to the damp dirt. What he saw made him gasp in fear, and scramble up,
and stumble backwards, away from the figure who had stood before him.
The man who had appeared looked harmless enough. His ebony-colored eyes spoke of a gentle soul
inside, while his muscular form told of his strength. There was a hidden story that Trunks didn't know
about the man, for at some point he had lost his arm during a battle. The stub ended only an inch or so
below the shoulder. He wore a simple outfit that spoke of a commoner, though the boy knew he wasn't.
His long white sleeves were protected also by an anti-wetness spell, as were his black pants. The man
was barefoot, and smiling faintly, his lined face watching the boy steadily. The man, though bearing an
aura of great wisdom and strength, looked no older than twenty-two.
"You-you're-" the boy stuttered, cowering away from the man despite his warm smile. "You're Son
Gohan. Son of Goku and Chi-Chi. Enemy of my family."
"Yes, I am," the man replied, sounding amused. "And you're Trunks Briefs, son of Prince Vegeta and
Lady Bulma." The boy, Trunks, looked around for any protection, and found none. He broke into a sweat,
even as Gohan watched. As Trunks found himself trapped, in his mind he recalled the first time he had
ever seen the man who now stood before him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It had been a long time ago, and he had been only five. He had been yelled at by one of the cooks in his
castle, and, out of annoyance that he could blast her, as his father would have done, had wandered off
and gotten lost. Wandering around the countryside for hours, the little boy had come upon a battle. Before
anyone could spot him, however, the nimble child had hidden behind a rock and had begun to watch the
battle. Only one of the Jinzouningen had been there, the smirking, arrogant ebony-haired one called
Juunanagou. Trunks had watched in horror, unable to do anything to stop the evil creature, as Juunanagou
had begun to destroy the large village. Then Gohan had arrived. Trunks could still remember the look of
fury that had caused the Son teenager's eyes to glow like ember sparks. Gohan had screamed
obscenities at the murderer, then they had begun to fight. Trunks had been torn. Should he help his
family's enemy to defeat his father's murderer? Or should he simply run away? The little boy had watched
as Juunanagou had easily beaten the furious man to a pulp, and raised a hand to strike him down forever.
Without knowing what he was doing, Trunks had reacted.
'Leave him alone, you big bully!' he had screamed, leaping to his feet. 'He may be my family's enemy, but
he's nicer than you!' The Jinzouningen had laughed, and raised a hand to curse him. With a roar, Gohan
had quickly performed a protective barrier around himself and Trunks. As hard as Juunanagou had tried,
he couldn't break the protective spells. Swearing with anger, the Jinzouningen had teleported away.
Gohan had caught the boy's eyes, holding him in their dark spell for a moment, then he, too, disappeared.
The boy had been left alone, completely stunned. His family's enemy had rescued HIM.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Are you scared of me, boy?" questioned Gohan, his tone even more amused. His words snapped Trunks
back to reality, and the boy bristled, his pride instantly up-in-arms.
"No!" he growled, and steadied his feet. He glared at the man as if he could destroy him with his eyes,
their blazing sapphire almost glowing in the cloudy sunlight. "Why would I be afraid of you?" Gohan raised
an eyebrow.
"Because I could kill you easily?" he said, smiling gently. Trunks gulped, then suddenly felt furious as
letting himself be frightened of this man. Gohan was mortal, same as him.
"I don't care," he declared, raising his chin to glower at the man defiantly, his pale face flushed with rage.
Then, amazingly, Gohan began to laugh.
"Of course you care, but it's brave of you to lie," he commented, his eyes twinkling. Abruptly, he became
somber. "Come on, boy, tell me why you hate your father." Trunks looked down at the ground for a long
moment. Finally he spoke, and his words was full of exhaustion, rage, and sorrow.
"He left me all alone." He looked up, his eyes shining with withheld tears of both pain and fury. "I know
how your father died, Son Gohan, and I know it's a stupid way to die, but- but at least you KNEW him."
His anguished words rang clearly through the graveyard. "I never met my father. He never visited my
mother once after I was born. I was simply a possession to him, something he owned. Just like my
mother." When he spoke his next words, they were bitter, yet horrified at the same time. "Sometimes I
hate my mother too, for loving him so. She's so wrapped up in the past, in him, that she never notices me.
The only words I hear out of her mouth, when she does speak, are always about him. About my bastard
father." He suddenly laughed at his choice of words. "Bastard. At least he wasn't a real one. He let me be
born a bastard, simply using my mother as- as a play toy." He looked up at Gohan, almost wistful. "At
least your father loved your mother. As far as I know, my father didn't give a damn about her."
Gohan sighed, and walked slowly towards the distraught boy. His steps were slow and measured, to keep
from frightening the boy. But Trunks didn't react, only watched him through tear-blurred vision.
"From what I've learned about your mother, is that she is very loyal. So loyal that she wishes she had
died alongside Vegeta. So she grieves, day and night, wishing for her lover to come back, although she
knows he never will. That is how she grieves. My mother, on the other hand, busies herself with normal,
everyday chores, so she won't think about my father. It's only at night, when she has to think, is when she
grieves." Gohan sighed, his shoulders slumping wearily. "Everyone handles their grief in different ways."
Trunks stared at the powerful, sad man for a long moment. Then he spoke, once more the ten-year-old he
was.
"How do you handle your grief?" he questioned quietly, his blue eyes peering upwards towards Gohan's
shadowed dark ones. Gohan again sighed, and bowed his head, not meeting the young boy's gaze.
"I fight," he said simply. "I fight the Jinzouningen, as my father would have done."
"But you're only one man," said Trunks, his eyes wide. Gohan slowly grinned.
"I'm only one magician," he said, forcing his lips to keep their upward turn. Ever so slowly, Trunks inched
towards the strange magician-warrior. Gohan didn't react, only watched him steadily. Trunks timidly took
the man's hand, not surprised by all of the calluses. Then he spoke the words that would lead him to his
destiny, though he didn't realize it yet.
Trunks didn't know why he said them. Perhaps it was a final defiance to his mother. Perhaps he simply
needed a friend. Perhaps it was simply destiny. But whatever the reason, he spoke them, and his new
future began a single, tentative question.
"How about a magician and a sorcerer go against the Jinzouningen?" he asked cautiously. Slowly, Gohan
began to grin.
"I think that can be arranged," said the last pure Son, with a gentle smile. The two stood, silent, hand in
hand, for a long time before Trunks finally couldn't hide the fact from himself that he had to go back to his
home. His mother would be waiting. He could already feel her silent accusations.
"I'll see you later?" suggested the little boy, looking trustingly up at his new, and only, friend.
Gohan smiled, and nodded. "Maybe tomorrow." Trunks grinned, and skipped away. His face shone with
happiness, for once looking like the little boy he should have been.
And they met the next day, and the next, and slowly their friendship strengthened, and they grew as
close as brothers. And that is how Son Gohan and Trunks Briefs became friends.
****************************************************************************************************************
The boy, now a year older, whistled as he made his way to the library. He and Gohan had planned to
meet up there, and Gohan had promised to teach him some history about magic. The young prince
slipped into the dusty, half-ruined building, wincing at the smell. It filled his nostrils, reminding him of
mildew and rotting meat, and making his stomach turn. Paling slightly, the prince whispered a spell to fill
his senses with the smell of scrolls and ink, the odor of knowledge. But even with the smell, he could see
the horrible mess disuse had left the library.
"Disgusting," he growled aloud, then shook his head and continued silently on. He made his way past the
broken desks and overturned chairs until he came to the man who waited for him.
"Hi, Gohan." His greeting echoed through the empty building. Gohan grinned.
"Hello, Trunks," he said. "Ready to be taught?"
"Yes," the boy said happily. Gohan motioned for the boy to sit down. Trunks obeyed, setting a chair
upright, and sitting in it.
"Today, we're going to learn about the start with the Legend of the Super Saiya-jinn," Gohan announced.
Trunks straightened in his chair.
"The Legend of the Super Saiya-jinn?" he repeated, his eyes glowing with excitement. That sounded
interesting. Gohan nodded slowly, a faint smile dancing across his lips.
"The Legend of the Super Saiya-jinn has been passed down for centuries. Both the kingdom of Saiya and
the family of Son hold it in high esteem," Gohan began, leaning back in his chair. "The Son family actually
is related to the House of Saiya, you know."
"No, I didn't know that," exclaimed Trunks, interested.
"Yes, and that's how the how feud started. But I'll tell about that after I'm done with the legend," Gohan
informed him. "The legend states that mortals with the gift of magic who have the blood of the House of
Saiya, have a chance to become a Super Saiya-jinn. A Super Saiya-jinn instantly becomes, well, perfect.
They're so holy that they emit a golden glow, and their eyes turn emerald green. They have the power of
eighty men, and the power of twenty sorcerers. Another name for a Super Saiya-jinn is the Supreme Holy
Being. But actually, the legend isn't really a legend." He laughed at Trunks's expression. "I AM a Super
Saiya-jinn."
"Really?" Trunks knew he was sounding skeptical, and probably looking skeptical too.
Gohan grinned. "Yes, o ignorant and disbelieving student of mine. I have a hint of Saiya blood in my veins,
and so does my father, being a member of the Son family. My father was the first Super Saiya-jinn in
thousands of years. It was after the murder of his close comrade, Krillin, before his very eyes, during the
war between the Northern Ice-lings. Your father had to join with us to fight the Ice-lings, but ended up
being nearly killed by their Head Mage, Frieza. Your father, during his childhood, had been kidnapped by
Frieza and brainwashed to be a mighty fighter for the Ice-lings. When your father had escaped back to the
castle, at age seventeen, that was the beginning of the war.
"Anyway, Frieza had murdered Krillin the monk. My father became so enraged that his powers were
unlocked and he became a Super Saiya-jinn. For you see, the power of the Super Saiya-jinn lies in pure,
unyielding rage. Odd, how it's supposed to be holiness. You'd think the power would be won by pure love,
not rage. Ah, but that's not part of the story. Let me continue. Of course, my father killed Frieza. Your
father, Vegeta, was, shall we say, miffed. As newly made King of Saiya, for Frieza had murdered your
grandfather also, and head of the royal line, he felt he should have been the first. But then Vegeta became
a Super Saiya-jinn. I'm not sure exactly how he grew so angry to finally snap and gain the power, but he
did. And of course, once he had, he declared war on my father and all of his family. I suppose it wasn't a
surprise to many when he did that. Ever since the marriage of Princess Geta and Son Gowan, there had
been hostility between the two families. Then, as shocking as it seems, Vegeta kidnapped one of my
father's closest friends, Lady Bulma." Gohan rubbed his forehead and sighed. "I'm not trying to insult you
or anything, friend. I'm simply stating the facts."
"It's all right," Trunks said, intrigued about his family history. "Go on." Gohan took a deep breath.
"When he kidnapped Lady Bulma, one of my father's other friends, Sir Yamucha, declared war on Vegeta
also. The entire country was pulled into the fighting. There would have been bloodshed, but then the
Jinzouningen arrived. The Jinzouningen were from the South, where all those goblins and demons live. The
three were powerful, even more powerful than my father at Super Saiya-jinn form. But my father never got
a chance to fight them. He was struck down by a mysterious heart illness only a few days after the
Jinzouningen began to attack villages." Gohan bowed his head for a moment, then looked up, forcing a
smile onto his youthful, yet old, face. "My friends and I, along with Vegeta, went to battle with the
Jinzouningen." He sighed. "That was the beginning. Sir Yamucha, King Vegeta, Lord Tien, foreign Prince
Chaozu, and my mentor, a foreign warrior named Piccolo, were all killed by the Jinzouningen. Only I
survived, and that was with the loss of my arm." He pointed at the stub of which had once connected his
arm to his shoulder. "I was twelve then, and became a Super Saiya-jinn during the battle. Since then, I've
been battling the Jinzouningen, trying to avenge everyone's deaths."
"I'm sorry," Trunks said softly, at a loss for words. Gohan merely nodded, and changed the topic.
"Shall I tell you about the marriage of Princess Geta and Son Gowan?" Trunks nodded, wanting to hear
about the beginning of their families' feud. Gohan sighed, and began the tale.
"About a hundred years ago, a daughter was born to the current king of Saiya as his second child. The
princess grew up to be slender and beautiful, with dancing eyes the color of sparkling sapphires, and
shimmering hair the color of midnight. She was as kind as she was fair, and was revered by all the palace
men. But the king was protective of his only girl, and swore only the person he chose would marry his
lovely daughter. He finally chose a prince from a neighboring country, who was actually quite handsome
and very nice. But Princess Geta, for that was her name, didn't love him, nor he, her. Then, one day, a
wandering young lord by the name Gowan came upon the palace, and asked for a place to stay whenever
he passed by. The king accepted the wanderer, and Gowan often amused the court with tales of his
adventures. He traveled by the palace usually once or twice a week from then on. Gowan was very
intelligent and extremely handsome, with spiked hair the color of ebony, and bright eyes the color of clear
obsidian. When Princess Geta caught sight of him during one of his visits to the court, she fell madly in
love with the young lord. When she began to chat with him, Gowan slowly fell in love with the fair
princess. They began a secret love affair, and after months of hiding, were married. But while the prince
who had been her fiancé congratulated the couple, the king was enraged. He banished his daughter and
her husband from the court, declaring that no Son was a member of the royal family. The lord and his wife
settled down in his father's castle, and had many children, one of whom was Bardock, who was my
grandfather. Ever since then, there has been tension between the Son family and the Briefs family."
Gohan finished, and leaned back, watching Trunks's reaction.
"Damn, my family are full of jerks," the boy commented, frowning. Gohan simply shook his head.
"Where did an eleven-year-old like you learn to curse like that?" he questioned. Trunks grinned.
"I've picked it up." Gohan sighed, and began another tale, about Bardock, son of Gowan and Geta, who
became a famous knight and saved many a damsel-in-distress, one of whom became his wife.
****************************************************************************************************************
Trunks, now three years older, smiled up into the sky. It was actually a clear, sunny day for once, and
sun's beams felt delightful on his upturned face. He brushed a tendril of lavender away from his eyes,
grinning once more. It was going to be a good day, for once. He and Gohan had been meeting outside the
palace grounds ever since they had become friends. Gohan had even begun to train him, teaching him
intense magical spells. Trunks was pleased to note he learned quickly. Of course, he didn't tell his friend
how he used some of the deadly spells. The fourteen-year-old boy hoped that the unusual number of
deaths at the palace had not reached Gohan's ears. It wasn't Trunks's fault that all the servants were
idiots that deserved to die.
"Trunks!" a voice called, and the now teenage boy turned to flash a grin at his older friend.
"Hello, Gohan!" he said, his eyes dancing. Then his vision fell upon the small figure clinging to Gohan's
hand, and raised an eyebrow. "Who's this?"
"This," said Gohan proudly, "is my daughter, Son Pan. She's four years old." Trunks blinked, his bright
blue eyes filled with surprise. After a moment, he smiled.
"Hello, Pan," he said, kneeling to extend his hand towards his best friend's daughter. Dark, curious eyes
lifted to meet his blue ones, and the little girl slowly smiled. She grabbed his hand, enormous compared
to her tiny one, and beamed up as him as he gently shook her hand.
"Hi!" she said happily. "You're Mister Trunks, right? My daddy's told me all about you!" Once more,
Trunks found himself raising an eye to grin at his blushing friend.
"She kept asking me about my friends, and well, you're my only friend," confessed the older man, flicking
a lock of ebony away from his eyes. Trunks grinned even more.
"It's so nice to know I'm popular," he teased, releasing the tiny girl's wrist from his grip, and standing. He
watched as little Pan reattached herself to her father's hand. He lifted his eyes to study his friend's flushed
face. "Why didn't you tell me that you had a kid?"
"Well," the warrior said haltingly, "when I first met you, Pan had only just been born." His eyes, as black
as they were, darkened. "Then, a couple weeks after I met you, the Jinzouningen found them." He sighed,
looking down to smile wistfully at his daughter. "Her name was Videl." The hidden message hung in the
silence, and Trunks placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, his eyes filled with concern for his friend. He watched as Pan, oblivious to their
serious conversation, beamed up at her father, making her dark eyes dance. "She must have been
beautiful."
"She was," Gohan said, sighing heavily. "She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. And the
smartest. And the funniest."
"She sounds like she was wonderful," Trunks said, keeping his hand on his friend's shoulder. Gohan
nodded, his eyes distant. Trunks, noticing the look, knelt down beside Pan. He smiled at her.
"Want to go play? I think your dad needs to think," he said softly. Pan stared up at him, and grinned.
"All right," she agreed, releasing her father's hand. "Want to play Tag?" Trunks shrugged.
"Sure," he said, whereupon Pan leapt forward, neatly tapped the surprised fourteen-year-old, and bolted
away, giggling.
"You're it!" she called, her black mane whipping behind her. Laughing, Trunks chased after her, leaving the
magician to his memories.
****************************************************************************************************************
After a long amount of chasing, Trunks finally managed to catch the laughing girl.
"Do you like to be tickled?" he questioned, grinning as he held the squirming child in his hands.
"Yes!" Pan shrieked, wiggling and giggling merrily. Trunks grinned as his fingers did their own magic and
the little girl dissolved into laughter. He hadn't had this much fun since... er, since ever.
"I'm going to tickle you until you die, Pan-chan!" he declared, laughing himself. When had he last
laughed? Ah yes, he remembered. Gohan had made him laugh before, with a joke too funny not to laugh
at. And before that? Never. Well, unless chuckling evilly while killing something counted as laughter.
Than he did that an awful lot. It was odd how the prince didn't mind putting an end to so many lives. It was
only with Gohan that the young boy actually felt emotions, such as happiness, gaiety, amusement, and...
friendship.
"No!" Pan wailed, her dark eyes dancing as she kicked at him uselessly.
"Yes!" Trunks announced, continuing to tickle her until she was gasping for breath. Finally, he released
her, and she collapsed, gasping, in his arms.
"That was fun..." she sighed after catching her breath. "We're doing that again tomorrow." Trunks grinned,
shrugging.
"If you want to," he said with a fond smile. For an instant, he wished he had had a little brother or sister, then immediately dismissed the thought. If he had had a younger sibling, he never would've become friends with Gohan, and now Pan.
Suddenly a furious cry shattered Trunks's peace.
"Trunks! Pan! Jinzouningen!" The lavender-haired sorcerer froze in horror, while Pan merely looked
confused.
"Oh shit..." he whispered hoarsely.
"What are the Jinzou.... Jin things?" questioned Pan innocently, looking up at her new friend.
Trunks scooped Pan into his arms, murmuring, "Bad people, Pan-chan. Very bad people who want to
hurt everyone."
"Oh," Pan said as the lavender-haired prince began to run. "Are they mean then?" Trunks managed to
laugh weakly.
"Yes, they are. Very mean," he whispered, his bright blue eyes searching frantically for his best friend.
Gohan was nowhere in sight. "They killed my dad, and many of your dad's friends."
"Oh," Pan repeated once more, sounding contrite. "I'm sorry about your daddy."
'I'm not,' Trunks thought, but didn't say the words aloud. Instead he raced through the tall green grass and
over any rocks he saw.
"Gohan!" he shouted desperately, racing for large cluster of large trees to hid in. "Now, Pannie, be quiet
while we hid-"
"Too late," announced a cold voice, and Trunks mentally sighed. Well, his future had just gone up in
smoke. He was going to die. He set Pan down, and turned to face the voice. When he saw who floated
before him, he sighed again, even louder. Okay, now he was absolutely going to die.
All three Jinzouningen floated before him, using expert floatation spells. Although Trunks had only seen
Juunanagou before, he knew instantly that the other two were Jinzouningen. They had the same ice-cold
blue eyes. It must run in the family.
"Going somewhere?" asked Juunanagou coldly, raising a graceful black eyebrow. Trunks glared at him,
and opened his mouth to reply when a little voice piped up from behind him.
"Mister Trunks, are those the bad Jin people?" Pan questioned, staring up at the three floating figures
curiously. Juunanagou slowly grinned.
"Why, yes, we are," he informed the girl. "But we're called the Jinzouningen."
"Jin ... zou ... nin ... gen..." the four-year-old carefully repeated. "That's a big word." The black-haired
Jinzouningen chuckled coldly.
"I suppose it is," he commented. "Listen, little one, toddle off so that we can talk to- Mister Trunks, was
it?"
"Yep!" Pan cheerfully announced, quickly forgetting that these were the 'bad people'. "He's a friend of my
daddy's."
"Pannie, I think you need to go find your daddy right now, okay?" Trunks said, keeping a wary eye on the
Jinzouningen as he carefully peeled the girl's tiny fingers from his pants. Pan blinked, and her long, dark
lashes hid her puzzled dark orbs for a moment.
"Okay, Mister Trunks," she said, beaming up at him. "I'll tell him you were lookin' for him."
"You do that," said Trunks, knowing that he'd probably be dead by the time Gohan found him.
"Bye!" she said, waving to the three Jinzouningen before skipping off in the direction of the cluster of trees.
One of the Jinzouningen even smiled and waved back, his bright red braid flipping as he moved. Trunks
eyed him.
The Jinzouningen was enormous, at least seven feet tall. His bright red hair was in a braid down his back.
He actually looked gentle-looking, and for some reason reminded Trunks of a huge Gohan. The prince
shook such thoughts away. The Jinzouningen were cold-hearted murderers of innocents such as children,
and were nothing like his friend. If anything, they were like him.
'Except,' his pride-filled heart argued, 'I've had perfectly good reasons to kill those people. They were idiots
who were going to be killed by the palace guards anyway for their stupidity. I simply sent them on their
way faster and with less pain. And none of them were children.' He easily ignored the fact that his heart's
words didn't exactly ring true, and watched Pan go with a faint smile. At least he had gotten to laugh
before he died. That was nice.
He turned back towards the Jinzouningen, his smile vanishing as quickly as it had come.
"So, are you here to kill me?" he asked, focusing on the one whose name he knew. Juunanagou. The ice
blue-eyed man chuckled, as if Trunks's question was amusing.
"Not until you've answered a few questions, boy," commented one of the other Jinzouningen. Trunks
finally looked at the only one he hadn't seen, and all time stopped.
'Damn,' his fourteen-year-old, hormone-driven mind thought. 'That one is FINE...'
The Jinzouningen was female, unlike the other two, with locks of pure gold framing her lovely face. She
wore an identical smirk to Juunanagou, but instead of making her look evil, it made her look, well,
beautiful. She was tall and slender, and Trunks was slightly annoyed to realize he came up to her chin.
"I'm not a boy. I happen to be fourteen years old," snapped the prince, jerking himself back to reality. The
beautiful Jinzouningen raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"First off," Juunanagou began, looking pleased about something, "that little girl called you Trunks."
"Yeah," Trunks said, eyeing the Jinzouningen. Either way he was going to die. What did it matter if they
knew he was actually the Crown Prince of a failing kingdom? The Jinzouningen smiled.
"Ah, so you're the Crown Prince of Saiya. Trunks Vegeta Briefs, is it not?" questioned Juunanagou.
Trunks warily nodded his head. "The bastard child?"
"If you mean my parents weren't married, right, I'm the bastard child," he said with a slight smirk, an odd
calm coming over him. If he was going to die, at least he was going to die annoying the hell out of
somebody. "You know, you all are being very impolite. I don't even know your names. You know, if you're
going to kill someone, it costs nothing to be polite." All of his would-be killers looked amused, especially
the woman.
"I suppose we should be polite and introduce ourselves. I'm Juunanagou Jinzouningen, oldest son of
Juungou Jinzouningen," announced the raven-haired man abruptly.
"I'm Jurokugou Jinzouningen, brother of Juungou Jinzouningen," the redhead said, in a soft, faltering voice.
"I'm Juhachigou Jinzouningen, daughter of Juungou Jinzouningen," drawled the pretty blonde, looking
bored. So the blonde and Juunanagou were brother and sister, and the redhead was their uncle.
Interesting.
"And I'm Son Gohan," sneered a familiar voice. Trunks's eyes widened as Gohan suddenly appeared in
front of him, between him and the Jinzouningen. "Leave the boy be."
The three looked interested as they looked Gohan over. "Hmm..... Son Gohan. The only Son left." The
words came from Juunanagou, who was, as always, smirking.
"That's right." Gohan lied without batting an eye, and Trunks kept silent. It would be better for the
Jinzouningen not to know about Pan.
"Let's see how powerful you are, mage," Juhachigou declared, finally looking interested. "I've been looking
for someone to test my skills against." Gohan bared his teeth in a savage grin.
"With pleasure. Trunks, get lost," he abruptly ordered, turning towards the young sorcerer. Trunks blinked,
feeling surprised.
"No!" he said defiantly, staring at his friend. "As if I'd leave you alone against these three, Gohan! They
might gang up on you!" The three accused merely laughed, as if his words amused them.
"Are you two actually friends? I thought you were supposed to be enemies," Juhachigou commented.
Trunks raised an eyebrow, and shrugged.
"I'm the bastard child. I do what I want to," he replied easily. Juhachigou smiled a half-smirk, and didn't
continue the conversation.
"Get going," barked Gohan, lowering his voice to a growl.
"No!" Trunks repeated firmly. The dark-haired magician sighed and turned towards the three Jinzouningen.
"Excuse us for a moment," he said softly, then suddenly whirled on his friend, his fist rising.
"What the-" Trunks began, then all he saw were stars as Gohan's fist connected. His knees gave out, and
the lavender-haired sorcerer crumpled onto the soft grass. In a dazed sort of way, he could feel his face
pressed against the green grass. He could almost smell violets.
"Nice punch," he heard Juunanagou comment admiringly, then everything went black.
****************************************************************************************************************
Trunks came back to the land of the living, woken by the sound of weeping. He slowly came to, and
immediately noticed that he was soaking wet. Rain poured down in torrents, soaking him. The young
sorcerer groaned, and opened his eyes, hands immediately grabbing his swelling eye.
"Damn," he cursed, and rolled onto his stomach to slowly get to his feet. Nursing his eye, the teenager
looked around, and immediately felt sick. The beautiful field where he had chased Pan now lay in ruins,
the grasses burnt by a magical fire.
"Gohan?" he called weakly. No answer.
Dimly, the teenager heard the sound of sobbing, then a tiny voice wail, "Daddy!" Trunks froze. He knew
that little voice. Pan. Turning, he bolted in the direction of her cries.
Trunks stumbled to a stop, staring in disbelief at the scene before him. Pan's face was both muddy and
tearstained as she continued to howl, shaking the motionless form of her father.
"Wake up!" she yelled. "Wake up!" Trunks slowly placed a hand on her shoulder, and the little girl whirled
to face him. Her red-rimmed eyes were horrified and wild as they stared upward into his. They were no
longer the bright, cheerful eyes she had twinkled up at him before.
"It's your fault!" she suddenly screamed, her voice so accusing that Trunks retracted his hand and stared
in shock at the venom in the little girl's voice. How could such hatred be forced through the innocent lips
of a four-year-old? "You should have saved him!"
"Pan-" he began weakly, but the little girl shook her head and fled from him, disappearing into the distant
forest. Trunks made no move to stop her, but instead knelt beside Gohan's body.
Gohan had been killed by magic; the glowing black aura around his body confirmed this. His black hair
had been plastered to his forehead by the rain. Trunks numbly did an anti-wetness spell, and Gohan's
ebony locks sprang back to their normal position. The magician looked as if he was sleeping: his eyes
were closed. His lips were curved in the slightly amused smile Trunks had always seen him wear. When
he had fallen onto the burned grass, his neck had landed at an odd angle. The place of his head made
him seem to be pondering something in death. His clothes were slightly burned by magic, but otherwise
normal. Trunks's throat tightened until he could hardly breathe as he stared down at his best- his only
-friend The young sorcerer let out a long groan, and crumpled to the ground. His entire body trembled with
sorrow.
"Gohan, I would have helped you," he choked out, burying his head in his hands. "I could've stopped
them!" He stayed in that position for a long time, pictures of Gohan appearing in his mind.
Gohan, grinning with amusement, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Gohan, chuckling quietly.
Gohan, his eyes glowing as he smiled fondly down at his daughter.
Gohan, waiting in the abandoned library for him, looking pleased.
Gohan, rolling his eyes at something the sorcerer had said.
Gohan, telling the story of the Legend of the Super Saiya-jinn-
Then, quite suddenly, instead of feeling sorrow, Trunks felt rage begin to churn his insides. He slowly
stood, staring down at his companion.
"I could've helped you," he repeated hoarsely. The rage pulsing through his veins, he suddenly screamed
to the heavens, throwing his head back in despair, "GOHAN! WHY DIDN'T YOU LET ME HELP YOU?"
Then it was as if a light had switched on in his mind. His vision began to glow an eerie gold, and his entire
body was suddenly pumping with adrenaline. He doubled over for a moment, overwhelmed by the intensity
of the adrenaline. Shuddering, he stood straight, staring down at his friend's body.
"I'll kill them for you, Gohan," he whispered, feeling his teeth bare in a triumphant, savage grin, a look he
had never worn before, even when killing the servants. This wasn't annoyance: this was pure, unyielding
savagery. "I'll kill them easily." The sorcerer raised his hands, and softly began the funeral spell for his
friend. A symbol would burn forever into the ground, telling all who passed that a mighty magician had
died there.
"Fire sear the grasses here
Where I have offered up a tear
My companion lies dead
No place will he ever again tread-"
That was the end of the spell, but for some reason his voice changed, grew deeper, with an aching
yearning to it.
"For a mighty foe struck him down
Fallen, fallen is the heir to the crown!"
White fire shot from his fingers to consume Gohan's body. Soon all that was left were ashes, and the rain
quickly washed them away. Trunks stared down through his golden vision, and studied the symbol.
Gohan had taught him a little about magical symbols. Slowly, he smiled, the smile one of both pain and
amusement, understanding and confusion. After all, Gohan had had a hint of the blood of Saiya in his
veins.
"Of course," he said quietly. "Honor, wisdom, love, strength, magic, hate, sorrow, and...... royalty."
Without a word, the last Super Saiya-jinn turned and walked from the field, leaving the symbol for anyone
to see.
(AN: Well, that was depressing, wasn't it? In the next chapter, four years have passed, and Trunks, after
being nearly killed by the Jinzouningen during a battle, has been searching for a time spell to go back and
stop the Jinzouningen from coming. And the only way he can prevent that, he assumes, is to keep Goku
alive. But first he must find a time spell, and only one person, someone who haunts his past, can help
him. Will Trunks accept the help? Or will he never find the time spell, and let his world be doomed? Find
out in the next chapter of "The Prince of Saiya". Ja! ~AC)