Darkness Falls
Disclaimer: No, we don't own this wonderful anime called Dragon Ball Z. It belongs to Akira Toriyama and all others involved in its production. The only thing we do own is the plot idea for this fic. I mean, come on, even the title isn't ours. We borrowed that from the movie. So please don't sue us...it's not worth it, really.
Summary: Disastrous circumstances send Mirai Trunks to the past once again. Unknowingly escaping the clutches of a deadly foe, he tries to live a normal life. But how long will the peace last?
Prologue: Desolation Then...
*****
"There's nothing left for anyone here. That's why I want you to go back."
He stood up from his chair, his fists clenched in rage. The woman lying before him may have been his mother, but she was just asking too much this time. "I can't do that! I can't just leave you here!"
"You have to. If you stay here, I will never know if you are all right."
"I can take care of myself, mom! I know what-"
"This is what I want. Do not disappoint me."
"......."
"That's what I thought."
She gave a small chuckle, lightening the tense atmosphere, but the laugh was soon interrupted by a string of coughs. He turned away, not wanting to see his mother go through anymore pain than she was all ready experiencing. For the longest time it had been like this-she was growing weaker everyday from something that the two could not even identify, let alone understand. Now, she was lying on her deathbed and trying to get him to leave.
"Please promise me that you'll go...and never look back."
He turned his head, not wanting to meet her gaze, but gave a short nod. She was his mother, the one who had single-handedly raised him since the day he was born, so he could never refuse her. He sighed in defeat and walked to the other side of the room to stare out the window. It was the only sensible action he could think of doing at the moment. He couldn't leave the room, though he couldn't bear to face his mother either; so, he decided on a point of distraction outside.
Staring out the window, in the awkward silence of the room, he found his mother's words to be true. There indeed was nothing left here for anyone, which is why she wanted him to leave and start a new life elsewhere. For twenty-three years he had survived here in this devastated world, the world that had stolen everything he ever loved from him-and now it was taking his mother. He hated to stand by and just watch it all happen, but he had no choice. There was nothing he could do.
He glanced back at his mother again, before submerging himself completely in his own thoughts. 'I can't believe that all this is really happening. I wish there was something I could have done to stop it...now she's going to die, and it's all my fault...'
His eyes began to water, but he quickly closed them, preventing the tears from falling. His pride wouldn't allow him to show his emotions, even though she was dying right before his eyes. He could only imagine the pain she was experiencing.
"Trunks..."
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by his mother's quiet call. As he returned to his mother's bedside, his heart began beating rapidly, sensing that something was wrong. She reached up her hand to his face, looked deeply into his eyes, and smiled faintly.
"I'm about to go to sleep now..."
"Yes, you should rest," he replied. Her hand was ice, which signified that her time was quickly running out.
"...and I'm not going to wake up." She turned away, not wanting to see the pain in his cerulean eyes. She wasn't sure that she would be strong enough to handle his reaction.
To her surprise, he said nothing; only sat in disturbed silence. She continued on, "I want you to always remember that I love you, and no matter what happens, I will always be watching over you."
Trunks nodded, sustaining his reticence, not knowing exactly what to say to her.
"Don't let me down, Trunks." Tears began to stream down her face, as she looked up into the eyes of her only son. She could only hope that he would remember her words and strive for a better life.
Seeing the sorrow on his mother's face wrenched his heart in more pain. Even when she first contracted the illness, she had been so calm. To see her now, weaker than before and crying, brought on an anguish that he had never imagined. As she smiled at him one last time, a single tear escaped his eye.
"I'm sorry I let all this happen. I should have protected you, but I failed to do that."
"Honey, it's not your fault. It was out of your control," she said in a motherly tone, before lapsing into another coughing fit. Trunks furrowed his eyebrows in worry, as he watched her body shake. As Bulma pulled her hand away from his face, he took it in his own, locking their fingers together.
"I love you," Bulma continued after her coughs had ceased. "Don't you ever forget that."
She closed her eyes, at the same time giving her son's hand a small squeeze. He observed her closely, waiting to see what was going to happen next. He saw his mother's abdomen slowly rise and fall, in a calm repeated motion for a few seconds, until it began to slow down. Her breaths were becoming shorter and quicker, and at the same time, his heart beating faster and faster. Mere seconds seem to stretch into an eternity until finally, Bulma took one last shallow breath, her body relaxing fully as she drifted off into eternal sleep. Her now limp hand fell from his fingers and to her side, the little bit of life supporting it now completely gone. Trunks took a step back, shock and depression written all over his face, as he stared at his mother's lifeless body. For a long time he had known his mother would die and had come to accept it, but now that it had finally happened, he didn't know how to handle it. He was confused and couldn't decipher his emotions. His current present was gone, and his mother's last wish had been for him to have a better life. Despite his objections, he had no one to complain to anymore. There was no one around to listen. He had to go.
He wiped the unshed tears from his eyes and stared at his mother with a new spark of determination. "I will not fail you a second time."
---
To be continued and all that...
Disclaimer: No, we don't own this wonderful anime called Dragon Ball Z. It belongs to Akira Toriyama and all others involved in its production. The only thing we do own is the plot idea for this fic. I mean, come on, even the title isn't ours. We borrowed that from the movie. So please don't sue us...it's not worth it, really.
Summary: Disastrous circumstances send Mirai Trunks to the past once again. Unknowingly escaping the clutches of a deadly foe, he tries to live a normal life. But how long will the peace last?
Prologue: Desolation Then...
*****
"There's nothing left for anyone here. That's why I want you to go back."
He stood up from his chair, his fists clenched in rage. The woman lying before him may have been his mother, but she was just asking too much this time. "I can't do that! I can't just leave you here!"
"You have to. If you stay here, I will never know if you are all right."
"I can take care of myself, mom! I know what-"
"This is what I want. Do not disappoint me."
"......."
"That's what I thought."
She gave a small chuckle, lightening the tense atmosphere, but the laugh was soon interrupted by a string of coughs. He turned away, not wanting to see his mother go through anymore pain than she was all ready experiencing. For the longest time it had been like this-she was growing weaker everyday from something that the two could not even identify, let alone understand. Now, she was lying on her deathbed and trying to get him to leave.
"Please promise me that you'll go...and never look back."
He turned his head, not wanting to meet her gaze, but gave a short nod. She was his mother, the one who had single-handedly raised him since the day he was born, so he could never refuse her. He sighed in defeat and walked to the other side of the room to stare out the window. It was the only sensible action he could think of doing at the moment. He couldn't leave the room, though he couldn't bear to face his mother either; so, he decided on a point of distraction outside.
Staring out the window, in the awkward silence of the room, he found his mother's words to be true. There indeed was nothing left here for anyone, which is why she wanted him to leave and start a new life elsewhere. For twenty-three years he had survived here in this devastated world, the world that had stolen everything he ever loved from him-and now it was taking his mother. He hated to stand by and just watch it all happen, but he had no choice. There was nothing he could do.
He glanced back at his mother again, before submerging himself completely in his own thoughts. 'I can't believe that all this is really happening. I wish there was something I could have done to stop it...now she's going to die, and it's all my fault...'
His eyes began to water, but he quickly closed them, preventing the tears from falling. His pride wouldn't allow him to show his emotions, even though she was dying right before his eyes. He could only imagine the pain she was experiencing.
"Trunks..."
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by his mother's quiet call. As he returned to his mother's bedside, his heart began beating rapidly, sensing that something was wrong. She reached up her hand to his face, looked deeply into his eyes, and smiled faintly.
"I'm about to go to sleep now..."
"Yes, you should rest," he replied. Her hand was ice, which signified that her time was quickly running out.
"...and I'm not going to wake up." She turned away, not wanting to see the pain in his cerulean eyes. She wasn't sure that she would be strong enough to handle his reaction.
To her surprise, he said nothing; only sat in disturbed silence. She continued on, "I want you to always remember that I love you, and no matter what happens, I will always be watching over you."
Trunks nodded, sustaining his reticence, not knowing exactly what to say to her.
"Don't let me down, Trunks." Tears began to stream down her face, as she looked up into the eyes of her only son. She could only hope that he would remember her words and strive for a better life.
Seeing the sorrow on his mother's face wrenched his heart in more pain. Even when she first contracted the illness, she had been so calm. To see her now, weaker than before and crying, brought on an anguish that he had never imagined. As she smiled at him one last time, a single tear escaped his eye.
"I'm sorry I let all this happen. I should have protected you, but I failed to do that."
"Honey, it's not your fault. It was out of your control," she said in a motherly tone, before lapsing into another coughing fit. Trunks furrowed his eyebrows in worry, as he watched her body shake. As Bulma pulled her hand away from his face, he took it in his own, locking their fingers together.
"I love you," Bulma continued after her coughs had ceased. "Don't you ever forget that."
She closed her eyes, at the same time giving her son's hand a small squeeze. He observed her closely, waiting to see what was going to happen next. He saw his mother's abdomen slowly rise and fall, in a calm repeated motion for a few seconds, until it began to slow down. Her breaths were becoming shorter and quicker, and at the same time, his heart beating faster and faster. Mere seconds seem to stretch into an eternity until finally, Bulma took one last shallow breath, her body relaxing fully as she drifted off into eternal sleep. Her now limp hand fell from his fingers and to her side, the little bit of life supporting it now completely gone. Trunks took a step back, shock and depression written all over his face, as he stared at his mother's lifeless body. For a long time he had known his mother would die and had come to accept it, but now that it had finally happened, he didn't know how to handle it. He was confused and couldn't decipher his emotions. His current present was gone, and his mother's last wish had been for him to have a better life. Despite his objections, he had no one to complain to anymore. There was no one around to listen. He had to go.
He wiped the unshed tears from his eyes and stared at his mother with a new spark of determination. "I will not fail you a second time."
---
To be continued and all that...