Cruel Games
(AN: This is from Trunks's POV. I told the plot in the summary. Okay, here are the credits:
Goku, Goten, Krillin and Trunks belong to Toriyama.
Shin, Shuu, Seiji and Touma belong to whoever created the Samurai Troopers.
Cloud and Zack belong to whoever created Final Fantasy Seven.
Duo, Heero, Trowa and Quatre belong to whoever created Gundam Wing.
Arislan and Daryoon are from the Heroic Legend of Arislan, a totally awesome anime.
There, that's over and done with. I won't repeat the disclaimers in any other chapters. Well,
off to write more on all of my stories! Geez, WNM, WNN; Hunting The Dragon (if it'll get be
downloaded onto ff.net without being an error *growl*); The Prince of Saiya; and now Cruel Games.
So many! Well, enjoy and ja ne! ~AC)
Prologue-
I awoke to a familiar voice, filled with bewilderment.
"What the hell are we doing here? And who the hell are you all? And what's wrong with my
friend?" I attempted to open my eyelids, groaning as light slipped in through the cracks to burn
my eyes.
"Goten?" I mumbled, my hands instinctively grabbing my eyes to shield them from the
light.
"Trunks!" Goten sounded relieved as he cried my name. I felt firm hands lift me to my
feet. For a moment after his hands left my shoulders, I tottered, blind, unsure of any
surroundings. I carefully peeled my hands away from my eyes, and opened them. The light of the
room seared them, and I blinked rapidly until my eyes adjusted. I looked around and immediately
spotted Goten, who looked extremely confused.
"Where are we?" he questioned, scratching his head.
I peered at my surroundings, and replied, "I have no idea."
The brightly lit room was large and spacious, easily able to hold thirty people and a couple coke
machines. Instead, it housed only fourteen other human beings, most looking as lost as we were.
The walls were painted white, but the odd feeling in my gut made me think that perhaps the color
of them should have been black. The room held no tables, but did have a large stand for at least
a dozen people to sit on.
"Er, hello," a cautious voice said quietly, causing me to jerk out of my musing. I turned
to meet warm sea-green eyes.
"Hello," I said, instinctively holding out my hand for a handshake. The auburn-haired
man's eyes flickered surprise for a moment, then he smiled broadly and accepted my grip. I was
surprised at the hidden power I could feel in his firm grasp, but said nothing.
As we dropped our hands to our sides, the man introduced himself as Shin Mouri with a strong
accent I couldn't identify.
"Trunks Briefs," I introduced myself, causing Shin to smirk briefly at the play on words.
I nodded, admitting my mother's oddness. I pointed towards Goten, who was still gaping around,
and said, "This is my best friend, Son Goten. Goten, this is Shin..." My words trailed off as I
noticed Goten's blank expression. I poked the still staring Saiya-jinn in the shoulder, and he
blinked slowly, his eyes clearing slightly.
"What?" he mumbled, coming out of his daze. I poked him again.
"Goten, this is Shin Mouri. Shin, this is Goten," I informed them both once more. Shin
smiled at Goten, who grinned goofily back.
"Nice to meet you. Say, do you know where the hell we are?" questioned the ebony-locked
boy. Shin shrugged helplessly, his smile fading slightly.
"Shin and I have absolutely no clue," a voice announced, and a broad, muscular man with
locks of dark azure strolled over to drape a comrade-like arm around Shin's shoulder. "By the
way, I'm Shuu. I'm with this fellow." Shuu didn't have an accent, I noted.
"Shuu, this is Goten and Trunks," Shin said, beaming at his best friend. Shuu grinned
back, his dark blue eyes twinkling.
"Nice to meet you both. Do you know where any food is in this joint?" he questioned.
"Food!" Goten and I groaned together. My best friend made a face.
"No," he declared, the single word coming out in a low whine. "And I'm starved! It's
like I haven't eaten in days."
"Goten?" The half Saiya-jinn turned his head towards me in a questioning look. "You
always feel like that." Goten shrugged as Shin and Shuu chuckled.
"So? I'm still hungry," he complained, crossing his arms against his chest. I raised an
eyebrow.
"Complaining won't get you anywhere, my friend," I informed him.
"Yeah, I've already whined for about fifteen minutes, and nothing's happened," announced
another voice, and I turned to see another azure-haired man smiling at us.
"I'm Touma Hashiba," he said, as we shook hands. I introduced myself and Goten, then
watched as Touma punched Shuu in the shoulder.
"Golden Boy, or rather, Seiji and I were worried when we didn't see you two. Have you
guys seen Ryo?" The two shook their heads, and Touma looked disappointed. Then he shrugged,
cheerful once more. I looked around, and spotted a man hovering nearby, his golden tresses
covering one of his pale violet eyes. He must be Seiji.
"Say, that's a nice piece of work you've got there. A no-datchi, if I'm not mistaken," I
commented, my eyes falling upon the sword he held ready in his hand. The lone eye I saw
flickered surprise for a moment, his face expressionless, then he slowly smiled.
"You're not mistaken," he said, his eyes on the blade he gripped. His tone of voice was
one of a proud father. "This no-datchi is ancient."
"I'll bet!" I declared. "I've only seen no-datchis in museums where I come from. All I
have is this sword." I drew from its sheath the blade that my future self, Mirai Trunks, had
given me only a year ago, when he had come to give something to my parents, and then returned to
his own timeline. "I've been learning for only a year, so I'm not very good, but my f- my
half-brother gave it to me before he left for home, and he was an expert with it." Seiji ran a
knowledgeable eye over my blade, expressionless once more.
"It most definitely isn't a no-datchi, but it is well-made for a normal sword," he
informed me quietly. "Not useful for thrusts, but excellent for passes and downward strikes."
I grinned, remembering the story of cyborg Frieza. "You're not kidding."
"Wow, someone actually got the Golden Boy to talk!" declared Touma, noticing our
conversation. His hair was a couple shades lighter than Shuu's, I noticed, and he was leaner and
taller.
"Golden Boy?" repeated Goten, sounding surprised. "That's what I call Trunks." All four
peered at the half Saiya-jinn curiously.
"Why?" questioned Touma finally. "He isn't blond." I grinned at Goten's discomfort, but I
also knew we couldn't let out the fact that we had the blood of Saiya-jinn get out.
"Inside joke, right Goten?" I said, giving him a nudge. He managed a goofy smile, but his
eyes were nervous.
"Yeah. An inside joke," he mumbled, and wandered over to talk to some of the others. Once
more, I stared around, this time focusing on the faces of the occupants this time.
They seemed to be separated into groups of two. I saw a handsome pale blue, almost blond-haired
boy who held himself so regally that I knew instantly he was a royal. His sensitive face reminded
me of a mixture of Touma and Shin. His companion, a muscular fighter, was eyeing everyone warily
and with a fair amount of distrust. His eyes narrowed as he noticed me watching them, and I
glanced away. Another golden-locked boy, a fighter by the looks of him, stood in a corner of the
room, frowning and silent. His dark-haired friend, a grinning boy who looked like he would be fun
to talk to, watched the crowd wide-eyed. A cheerful boy with a long dark brown braid down his
back was saying something in a low voice to another boy with dark brown tresses, who watched
everyone stonily. Near the braided boy and his stone-eyed friend stood a boy with mane of pale
yellow, almost white, his blue eyes wide as he whispered something to his companion. The boy who
was being spoken to, his light brown locks falling in front of his eyes, frowned slightly, and
crossed his hands against his chest. Then my eyes fell upon the last two figures, and I laughed
loudly in delight, causing many heads to turn.
"Goku! Krillin!" I called, my feet bringing me quickly to the two familiar men. Krillin
looked up, his worried look easing slightly to a smile.
"Trunks!" he said, reaching up to pat me on the shoulder. "Maybe you know what's going
on?" His question was hopeful, but I shook my head.
"No clue," I said, but then Goten was there, hugging his father, and laughing.
"Dad!" exclaimed the other half Saiya-jinn, grinning goofily. "How'd you two get here?"
Goku shrugged, looking thoughtful.
"I have no idea," he said, scratching his head. "And I don't think anyone else here knows
how they got here either."
"You'd be right!" was the cheerful response from the braided boy, who grinned impishly,
his pale violet eyes glowing. "By the way, I'm Duo Maxwell." Smiling back, I introduced the
group.
"Son Goku. Son Goten. Krillin..." I faltered slightly, then remembered the fighter's
ex-occupation, "the monk, and I'm Trunks Briefs."
"What is your last name, Krillin?" Goku questioned suddenly. "You never told me."
Krillin grinned, looking mischievous. "And I'm not going to. When I became a monk, my last name
was taken away."
"Come on," Goku pleaded, trying to give the ex-monk puppy dog eyes. Krillin smirked.
"No." With that, he turned away from Goten's father and struck up a conversation with Duo
as Goku groaned.
"Don't worry Dad, you can weasel it out of him later," Goten informed him, chuckling.
"Meanwhile, I'm going to see if anyone knows what's going on."
Without further ado, my best friend jogged over to the stands, and stood on one of the seats,
whistling for silence. All the occupants of the room were mute to stare at him as I hung my head
in embarrassment.
"Does anyone know why we are all here?" the half Saiya-jinn questioned the crowd, looking
hopeful. Negative responses rang out through the crowd, and Goten frowned. "No one? Does anyone
know how we got here?" Again, everyone said no.
Goten's frown deepened into a scowl, and his hands went to his hips. "Well, that sucks."
"I second that opinion!" Duo called, followed Goku's cheerful, "I third it!"
Tense laughter echoed through the room as we all chuckled.
"I know the answer to both questions," a silky, dangerous voice said from above our
heads, and, as one, we looked upwards.
"Welcome to the Games, my dear warriors," said the dark demon that hovered in mid-air.
In that instant, I knew we were screwed.
(AN: This is from Trunks's POV. I told the plot in the summary. Okay, here are the credits:
Goku, Goten, Krillin and Trunks belong to Toriyama.
Shin, Shuu, Seiji and Touma belong to whoever created the Samurai Troopers.
Cloud and Zack belong to whoever created Final Fantasy Seven.
Duo, Heero, Trowa and Quatre belong to whoever created Gundam Wing.
Arislan and Daryoon are from the Heroic Legend of Arislan, a totally awesome anime.
There, that's over and done with. I won't repeat the disclaimers in any other chapters. Well,
off to write more on all of my stories! Geez, WNM, WNN; Hunting The Dragon (if it'll get be
downloaded onto ff.net without being an error *growl*); The Prince of Saiya; and now Cruel Games.
So many! Well, enjoy and ja ne! ~AC)
Prologue-
I awoke to a familiar voice, filled with bewilderment.
"What the hell are we doing here? And who the hell are you all? And what's wrong with my
friend?" I attempted to open my eyelids, groaning as light slipped in through the cracks to burn
my eyes.
"Goten?" I mumbled, my hands instinctively grabbing my eyes to shield them from the
light.
"Trunks!" Goten sounded relieved as he cried my name. I felt firm hands lift me to my
feet. For a moment after his hands left my shoulders, I tottered, blind, unsure of any
surroundings. I carefully peeled my hands away from my eyes, and opened them. The light of the
room seared them, and I blinked rapidly until my eyes adjusted. I looked around and immediately
spotted Goten, who looked extremely confused.
"Where are we?" he questioned, scratching his head.
I peered at my surroundings, and replied, "I have no idea."
The brightly lit room was large and spacious, easily able to hold thirty people and a couple coke
machines. Instead, it housed only fourteen other human beings, most looking as lost as we were.
The walls were painted white, but the odd feeling in my gut made me think that perhaps the color
of them should have been black. The room held no tables, but did have a large stand for at least
a dozen people to sit on.
"Er, hello," a cautious voice said quietly, causing me to jerk out of my musing. I turned
to meet warm sea-green eyes.
"Hello," I said, instinctively holding out my hand for a handshake. The auburn-haired
man's eyes flickered surprise for a moment, then he smiled broadly and accepted my grip. I was
surprised at the hidden power I could feel in his firm grasp, but said nothing.
As we dropped our hands to our sides, the man introduced himself as Shin Mouri with a strong
accent I couldn't identify.
"Trunks Briefs," I introduced myself, causing Shin to smirk briefly at the play on words.
I nodded, admitting my mother's oddness. I pointed towards Goten, who was still gaping around,
and said, "This is my best friend, Son Goten. Goten, this is Shin..." My words trailed off as I
noticed Goten's blank expression. I poked the still staring Saiya-jinn in the shoulder, and he
blinked slowly, his eyes clearing slightly.
"What?" he mumbled, coming out of his daze. I poked him again.
"Goten, this is Shin Mouri. Shin, this is Goten," I informed them both once more. Shin
smiled at Goten, who grinned goofily back.
"Nice to meet you. Say, do you know where the hell we are?" questioned the ebony-locked
boy. Shin shrugged helplessly, his smile fading slightly.
"Shin and I have absolutely no clue," a voice announced, and a broad, muscular man with
locks of dark azure strolled over to drape a comrade-like arm around Shin's shoulder. "By the
way, I'm Shuu. I'm with this fellow." Shuu didn't have an accent, I noted.
"Shuu, this is Goten and Trunks," Shin said, beaming at his best friend. Shuu grinned
back, his dark blue eyes twinkling.
"Nice to meet you both. Do you know where any food is in this joint?" he questioned.
"Food!" Goten and I groaned together. My best friend made a face.
"No," he declared, the single word coming out in a low whine. "And I'm starved! It's
like I haven't eaten in days."
"Goten?" The half Saiya-jinn turned his head towards me in a questioning look. "You
always feel like that." Goten shrugged as Shin and Shuu chuckled.
"So? I'm still hungry," he complained, crossing his arms against his chest. I raised an
eyebrow.
"Complaining won't get you anywhere, my friend," I informed him.
"Yeah, I've already whined for about fifteen minutes, and nothing's happened," announced
another voice, and I turned to see another azure-haired man smiling at us.
"I'm Touma Hashiba," he said, as we shook hands. I introduced myself and Goten, then
watched as Touma punched Shuu in the shoulder.
"Golden Boy, or rather, Seiji and I were worried when we didn't see you two. Have you
guys seen Ryo?" The two shook their heads, and Touma looked disappointed. Then he shrugged,
cheerful once more. I looked around, and spotted a man hovering nearby, his golden tresses
covering one of his pale violet eyes. He must be Seiji.
"Say, that's a nice piece of work you've got there. A no-datchi, if I'm not mistaken," I
commented, my eyes falling upon the sword he held ready in his hand. The lone eye I saw
flickered surprise for a moment, his face expressionless, then he slowly smiled.
"You're not mistaken," he said, his eyes on the blade he gripped. His tone of voice was
one of a proud father. "This no-datchi is ancient."
"I'll bet!" I declared. "I've only seen no-datchis in museums where I come from. All I
have is this sword." I drew from its sheath the blade that my future self, Mirai Trunks, had
given me only a year ago, when he had come to give something to my parents, and then returned to
his own timeline. "I've been learning for only a year, so I'm not very good, but my f- my
half-brother gave it to me before he left for home, and he was an expert with it." Seiji ran a
knowledgeable eye over my blade, expressionless once more.
"It most definitely isn't a no-datchi, but it is well-made for a normal sword," he
informed me quietly. "Not useful for thrusts, but excellent for passes and downward strikes."
I grinned, remembering the story of cyborg Frieza. "You're not kidding."
"Wow, someone actually got the Golden Boy to talk!" declared Touma, noticing our
conversation. His hair was a couple shades lighter than Shuu's, I noticed, and he was leaner and
taller.
"Golden Boy?" repeated Goten, sounding surprised. "That's what I call Trunks." All four
peered at the half Saiya-jinn curiously.
"Why?" questioned Touma finally. "He isn't blond." I grinned at Goten's discomfort, but I
also knew we couldn't let out the fact that we had the blood of Saiya-jinn get out.
"Inside joke, right Goten?" I said, giving him a nudge. He managed a goofy smile, but his
eyes were nervous.
"Yeah. An inside joke," he mumbled, and wandered over to talk to some of the others. Once
more, I stared around, this time focusing on the faces of the occupants this time.
They seemed to be separated into groups of two. I saw a handsome pale blue, almost blond-haired
boy who held himself so regally that I knew instantly he was a royal. His sensitive face reminded
me of a mixture of Touma and Shin. His companion, a muscular fighter, was eyeing everyone warily
and with a fair amount of distrust. His eyes narrowed as he noticed me watching them, and I
glanced away. Another golden-locked boy, a fighter by the looks of him, stood in a corner of the
room, frowning and silent. His dark-haired friend, a grinning boy who looked like he would be fun
to talk to, watched the crowd wide-eyed. A cheerful boy with a long dark brown braid down his
back was saying something in a low voice to another boy with dark brown tresses, who watched
everyone stonily. Near the braided boy and his stone-eyed friend stood a boy with mane of pale
yellow, almost white, his blue eyes wide as he whispered something to his companion. The boy who
was being spoken to, his light brown locks falling in front of his eyes, frowned slightly, and
crossed his hands against his chest. Then my eyes fell upon the last two figures, and I laughed
loudly in delight, causing many heads to turn.
"Goku! Krillin!" I called, my feet bringing me quickly to the two familiar men. Krillin
looked up, his worried look easing slightly to a smile.
"Trunks!" he said, reaching up to pat me on the shoulder. "Maybe you know what's going
on?" His question was hopeful, but I shook my head.
"No clue," I said, but then Goten was there, hugging his father, and laughing.
"Dad!" exclaimed the other half Saiya-jinn, grinning goofily. "How'd you two get here?"
Goku shrugged, looking thoughtful.
"I have no idea," he said, scratching his head. "And I don't think anyone else here knows
how they got here either."
"You'd be right!" was the cheerful response from the braided boy, who grinned impishly,
his pale violet eyes glowing. "By the way, I'm Duo Maxwell." Smiling back, I introduced the
group.
"Son Goku. Son Goten. Krillin..." I faltered slightly, then remembered the fighter's
ex-occupation, "the monk, and I'm Trunks Briefs."
"What is your last name, Krillin?" Goku questioned suddenly. "You never told me."
Krillin grinned, looking mischievous. "And I'm not going to. When I became a monk, my last name
was taken away."
"Come on," Goku pleaded, trying to give the ex-monk puppy dog eyes. Krillin smirked.
"No." With that, he turned away from Goten's father and struck up a conversation with Duo
as Goku groaned.
"Don't worry Dad, you can weasel it out of him later," Goten informed him, chuckling.
"Meanwhile, I'm going to see if anyone knows what's going on."
Without further ado, my best friend jogged over to the stands, and stood on one of the seats,
whistling for silence. All the occupants of the room were mute to stare at him as I hung my head
in embarrassment.
"Does anyone know why we are all here?" the half Saiya-jinn questioned the crowd, looking
hopeful. Negative responses rang out through the crowd, and Goten frowned. "No one? Does anyone
know how we got here?" Again, everyone said no.
Goten's frown deepened into a scowl, and his hands went to his hips. "Well, that sucks."
"I second that opinion!" Duo called, followed Goku's cheerful, "I third it!"
Tense laughter echoed through the room as we all chuckled.
"I know the answer to both questions," a silky, dangerous voice said from above our
heads, and, as one, we looked upwards.
"Welcome to the Games, my dear warriors," said the dark demon that hovered in mid-air.
In that instant, I knew we were screwed.