PART II

Chapter 6

ELEVEN YEARS LATER

"Man. He looks PISSED!" Goten panted as he pushed his sweat-drenched bangs out of his eyes. "Should we stop?"

Moroshka caught her breath and smiled mischievously at Goku's second son. "No way."

Goten gawked at her in disbelief and then glanced nervously at the infuriated half-saiyan down below. Trunks' entire body was curled as tightly as his fists, and his teeth were gritted so hard, Moroshka was surprised they hadn't crumbled and fallen out of his mouth. His hair, like Goten's, had that second-level, ascension look; long, golden spikes sprouting in all which directions, and he was snarling like a frenzied hyena.

Moroshka was intrigued. Trunks had sparred two against one on several occasions, but this was the first time he had done it with a blindfold on. She hadn't expected him to tolerate this particular practice for so long.

"Well, m-maybe we should let him take off his blindfold," Goten stammered.

"Hmm." They had spent the last two hours slapping Trunks silly as he tried in vain to hone his ki-sensing skills, anticipating the blows without the aid of sight. It was a humiliating way to train, and Moroshka glanced at the pock-marked desert floor that had been dimpled by Trunks' mal-aimed ki blasts. They should have stopped. Really, they should have.

But then she shook her head. "I want to see what happens when he snaps."

Goten looked at her incredulously and then shrugged. "All right, but YOU'RE picking up the pieces."

With that, they swooped down on him again like mockingbirds, their hits landing more than missing. Trunks face reddened and then purpled as he swung out viciously, desperately, pointlessly… His arms were bruised and bleeding, and Moroshka could only imagine what the rest of his battered body looked like under his clothes.

Swipe, punch, kick, jab. Trunks was raging more with each offense, until finally, they had pushed him too far. Moroshka heard a deep growl resound in his gut, and by the time it reached his mouth, it had crescendoed into a soul-quaking roar. His body went rigid, and his head flung back, screaming at the sky.

"Uh-Oh…" Moroshka hissed as sparks of electricity lanced her skin, and looked over to Goten who was gasping from the same electrocution. An orb of energy swelled around Trunks, and pushed them back-way back.

"HOLY SHIT!" Goten cried as he braced his hands up to keep from being swallowed in the ball of radiation. "WHAT'S HAPPENING TO HIM?!"

Ignoring his question, Moroshka frantically circled around Trunks' aura of growing energy and hooked her arm around Goten's waist. Powering up, she flew them a quarter of a mile away, and just in time. Trunks' power erupted.

She turned her back to the onslaught as the energy threatened to rip the flesh off her bones. Though Goten was larger than she, Moroshka wrapped both arms tightly around the teenage boy, using her body to shield him from the explosion. He shouldn't have to pay for something she was responsible for.

Trunks! She silently cursed herself. Out of duty to his dead father, she had tried her hardest to make him the man that his father would have been proud of. Had she finally gone overboard? She could only wait until the maelstrom subsided.

And it did. When it lessened, Goten looked up at her with wide eyes, and they both turned to behold Trunks. Or what used to be Trunks…

Crackling, and snapping with energy was one GIANT of a man, hovering a hundred feet in the air. His brilliant mane had grown to his ankles. He trembled as if every muscle in his body were tensed, and the strained growling noises that emanated from his mouth were carried across the wind.

Moroshka gaped. Goten was speechless, and they both hovered there, afraid to go any closer until they knew it was safe. After several seconds of bone-splitting anticipation, Trunks finally arched his back, let out one more cry and started to fall. He had passed out.

Moroshka cut through the air, and by the time she caught him, he had returned to his natural state-clean-cut lavender hair, bulky build that paled in comparison to what she had just seen… It was insane.

Cradling his big body awkwardly in her small arms, she landed in the bottom of the crater he had created, which in itself was frighteningly deep. She checked his vital signs. He was breathing…shallowly, but breathing.

"What…was that?" Goten asked as he landed next to her, bowing over his unconscious friend.

"He just ascended again," she said as a grin broadened her face, and she caught Goten's eye. "Our boy just reached a third level!"

* * *

Bulma sighed as her milky eyes rested on her unconscious son, and the oxygen mask strapped to his mouth. Then she frowned over at Moroshka who was sitting in a chair next to his bed. "You say he was more powerful than Vegeta?"

Moroshka smiled and nodded. "His father would have been pleased."

Bulma scrutinized her for several uncomfortable seconds, and then she snorted. "His father would have been jealous."

"But no less impressed. Believe me, Bulma. It was…" she chuckled, "mind-blowing."

Bulma cast another worried look at Trunks, this time mixed in with a twinkle of pride. Then she shook her head and turned towards the door. "Come get me when he wakes," she said over her shoulder. "And make sure he drinks that electrolyte solution right away!"

"Will do."

Bulma exited, and Moroshka beamed down at Vegeta's son. She painstakingly brushed his bangs away from his eyes, and then traced a finger along his jaw line. "You've done well, Trunks," she said quietly.

She couldn't help but feel that his new power level was her gift to his dead father. You knew I would do more than just protect them, eh Vegeta? That's why you asked me, wasn't it? She looked around the room. Trunks bedroom had become a shrine to the man. Vegeta's old armor hung in a glass case in one corner of the room while professional paintings depicting the prince in his Super Saiyan mode adorned the wall. They were modeled after a handful of pictures that Bulma had somehow taken of him, and those were framed and posted all about Trunk's room as well. The boy even had braids of his father's hair in a ceramic box on his nightstand. Vegeta had become an idol in this house, instead of the neglectful father and angry husband that Bulma reminisced of when Trunks wasn't around.

These two had become her family; her life, and her soul ached with love for them. Moroshka remembered a little seven-year old Trunks; mischievous and prone to anger, but impossible not to love. And Bulma-she'd become Bulma's friend and confidant; helping with errands, and accompanying her on those ridiculously fun shopping sprees. They had filled a hole in her heart that she never thought was there.

Thank you, Vegeta, for giving them to me.

Just then, Trunks stirred. She grinned down at him and watched as his brows furrowed and lifted, opening his eyes a sliver. He moaned, and closed them again. "I feel so…drained," he mumbled in a hoarse voice. Then he rubbed his face with his hands and opened them again. He saw her.

"Roshka?"

"It's about time you came around, boy."

He frowned cross-eyed at the oxygen mask, and pulled it off, tossing it to the floor. "What happened?"

"You passed out. Here," she shoved the drink in his face. "Drink this. Mother's orders."

He shakily took the cup and drained it, orange liquid spilling down his chin and onto his collarbone. Then he saw all the patches and bandages on his bare body. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at her.

"Why do I feel like I should be mad at you?" he asked, still groggy.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

He frowned, and a dark shadow flickered across his eyes. "Being your damn punching bag. And Goten's," he lifted himself up on his elbow and glared at her. "Real fun game, Roshka. Blindfold me and beat me unconscious," he winced, and then he scrutinized her expression more carefully. "WHY are you looking so smug?"

"Because we didn't beat you unconscious," she said, still unable to hold back the smile that split her face in two.

By now, Trunks had realized something greater was going on. The hard edge left his face. "Tell me…"

She took a deep breath, and leaned towards him until their faces were inches apart. "Trunks," she breathed. "You ascended to the next level."

She could have lit a fire under him and had the same effect. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes widened dramatically, and he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, standing to his full height.

"I… Do…do you mean it?" He grabbed her by her shoulders and lifted her out of the chair. "I really hit the third level?"

Moroshka looked him dead in the eye and nodded. Trunks dynamically threw his fist in the air, and then picked her up and spun her around.

"Trunks!" She laughed. "You…always make me feel like…a RAG DOLL …when you do this!" Truly, it was a reminder that all her power meant nothing to him. And frankly, it gave her a sense of normalcy that she secretly appreciated. The boy had been so delighted when he finally surpassed her in height, and now that he ranged almost a foot taller, his ego was out of control. If he couldn't be stronger, at least he could be bigger, and he loved rubbing it in. She smacked his shoulder playfully and he put her down.

"Tell me what it looked like!"

"Well," she said, "you looked primal-though that hardly does it justice." So she told him in no uncertain terms what exactly had happened. When she was done, the teenage boy could hardly stay grounded.

"Was Goten jealous?"

"When he realized what happened, absolutely. You'll both have to fight to see who gets to be the piñata next time."

"Well let's go! I'm ready-" his proclamation was interrupted as Moroshka strong-armed him back on his bed. "Hey!"

"I'M not ready to goad you on like that again so soon. Besides, look at yourself. Your skin tone matches your hair color, boy. You need to relax-"

"Dende! We could go to Dende and he could heal-"

She clamped a hand on his mouth, and chuckled lightheartedly. "REST, Trunks. You're in no hurry." She raised her brows in challenge, and he finally gave up. You're so high-maintenance, kid, she thought good-naturedly. It's a good thing I'm here or you would have driven your mother crazy by now…

"Wow." He flopped back down on his bed with his hands clasped behind his head. He looked wistfully up at the ceiling of his room, a residual smile still lifting the corners of his mouth.

"Your father would have been proud, Trunks," she said humbly. The twinkle in his eye faded a little, and he looked at her rather seriously.

"Roshka?"

"Yes?"

"Do…" He took a deep breath and sighed. "Do you think I could have saved my father? I mean, once I can control this new level without passing out-and if I'd been there… Do you think I could have stopped that monster from killing my dad?"

No warning. No time to prepare a reaction. It hit her unexpectedly. She suddenly felt winded, as though her heart were thumping too forcefully against her lungs. Her throat constricted, and she looked away. Could you have saved your father from me, child? Could you beat me now? She contemplated the wave of power that he had emanated in his most recent transformation. When he learned to control it, he could easily be her match. She was sure of it.

Would you kill me if you knew the truth, Trunks?

"Roshka--"

"Yes, Trunks," she blinked back the tears and smiled ruefully at him. "You could have."