A Lack of Understanding
~ two years later ~

"GOTEN SON!"

Hmmm?

"Goten! Wake up! It's almost past ten o'clock in the morning and your still in bed, young man! Where do you think you are that you can sleep in all day when there are chores to be done and school work to finish?!" she screams through my bedroom door, pounding her fist and shaking the house. I swear, my mom has no tolerance for being young. No wonder Gohan moved out the second he got married. Makes me wonder if that's why he got married.

"Goten! Can you hear me in there?!"

I've lived in this house long enough to know what will happen if I don't answer this very second. "Yeah... yeah... I'm up. Just... give me a minute," I half mumble, wiping the sleep from my eyes with the back of my hand. This is what I get for staying out until four in the morning, I suppose.

I can still here my mother go on about it as I drag myself out of bed, still half asleep and dressed in the same clothes I left the house in yesterday. Hopefully, nobody notices and my dad is home somewhere to save me from her inevitable lecture about how I should be acting for 'a mature seventeen-year-old' by now, because I really don't want to hear it. Anyway, it's not like it's completely my fault for staying out so late - it was Trunks' idea in the first place to, and if we didn't get so stupid drunk...

For a second, I catch a glimpse of myself in the small mirror over my dresser, littered with all kinds of ticket stubs and loose photos of us and the things we've done together since I've last cleaned my room, or even slept in my room, come to think of it. My hair is a wild mess, but not nearly as crazy as it used to be before I cut it short. I've long been tired of hearing the "Oh, you look just like your father, Goten"-comment for the millionth time. I decided to start looking like Goten already instead of just a younger version of my dad. Don't get me wrong - I love my dad and I know he's the greatest... but looking like the guy who saved the world a hundred times over definitely comes with a heavy responsibility. Maybe no one actually says anything to my face, but I know that's what they're thinking. So I chopped it off, save my random spikes jetting forward in the front. This was right around the same time Trunks started parting his hair differently opposed to the lopsided cut he's had all his life as a kid.

I decide against trying not to look like the wreck I feel and I head downstairs to the kitchen to find something to eat. But before I can even get two feet into the door, my mom already starts ripping into me for anything and everything that reminds me how I'm the 'Second Best Son' in this family. She doesn't even turn around from the pile of dishes she's washing, just laying on the guilt from over her shoulder without even an opening question.

"Honestly, Goten! I've raised you better than this. You should be more responsible for your age, instead of gallivanting around with that spoiled, arrogant delinquent you hang around with. He's no better than his par-"

"Trunks is my best friend, mom! Don't talk about him like that!" I snap back before realizing the ramifications of my quick mouth. Normally, I don't ever talk back to my parents - no matter what. I didn't mean for it to come out that way, but I'm just tired of her talking about Trunks like he's this bad influence on me. She doesn't know anything about him. Or us.

It's no surprise that my mom whips around to look at me like she's going to have a heart attack.

"SON GOTEN! Don't you ever use that tone with me again, do you hear me?! I will not have a disrespectful son living under my roof!" she yells, her black eyes narrowing straight at me. My mom doesn't have the power that I have, but like Trunks' mom, there is a reason that none of us cross her. Before she can continue, my dad thankfully comes to my defense, stepping around behind her to defuse the bomb.

"Oh, Chi, he's just being a kid. I'm sure he and Trunks didn't mean to stay out so late last night, did you son?" he motions to me for a quick response, giving a wink behind her back. Sometimes, I forget that my dad can be cool sometimes, as he's covered for me throughout the past few years. "They're young - let the boys have some fun once in a while."

Before she can say another word, he bends down to give her a kiss on the cheek to calm the beast that is my mother, which always seems to work somehow. I'm reminded that I have to thank him for saving my ass yet again the next time we spar. His tactic only works for exactly two seconds, all though it does mellow her somewhat.

"That's no excuse, Goku! Your son has been skipping out on school and on his studies to waste time with that friend of his and I don't approve of this! He should be trying to settle down and find a girl to marry, not spend all his time training and partying!" She motions her direction back to me and I try my hardest to bite my tongue from lashing out again. She waits for a response from my dad to agree with her, but he just sighs, knowing full-well that's not going to happen. "I can still smell the alcohol on him, Goku! So don't tell me that boy is a good influence on him."

She walks right up to me, reminding me of where most of this speech is coming from in the first place. "He may have everything set, but you still need to work for a scholarship, mister. You haven't been born with the luxury of having a silver spoon in your mouth..."

I don't want to hear anymore.

"I'm going out!"

"Where are you going?!"

She doesn't need an answer, does she?

"...I don't want that boy to jeopardize your future, Goten! Do you hear me, young man?" she shouts as I open the door, now more of a sound of motherly desperation in her voice that only she could unleash in a moment like this. I grip my hand firmly against the frame of the door, trying with everything I have to not sound like a child, all though I know that's what she will think of me anyway. I'll always be the baby, no matter how much I've grown up.

"Trunks is in my future, mom." Without furthering the conversation any more, I slam the door behind me, perhaps a little harder than I meant to, giving me the last word without any more questions. But before I take off for the one place I want to be the most, I can already hear the argument insuing on the other side, no doubt started by my outburst. Not that the argument is two sided - it never is. But nevertheless, I think she sounds more upset than mad, and now my poor dad has to take the blunt end of it.

I listen closely.

"I don't understand why he's acting like this, Goku. This isn't my Goten... he isn't..."

"...Seven years old anymore?" he laughs. "You have to face it Chi Chi - our son isn't a little boy anymore. He's grown up fast. We don't know what he wants to do with his life yet. He doesn't even know. We just need to trust him."

"But why can't he find a nice girl then? He's almost eighteen years old, Goku! He should be showing some kind of interest in settling down and having a family, and... he's not," she cries.

My heart pangs for keep causing my mother so much grief over this. I've been hearing more and more of this talk. I know she wants me to follow in Gohan's foot steps and marry young and spawn her another grandchild and live ten feet from her front door, but... I'm not ready for that yet. What I want right now has nothing to do with that. I don't have time for a girlfriend. Why do I even need one, anyway?

My father steps in to defend me as usual, and I'm starting to think he's might understand. "Goten is just really focused on other things right now, with his training and figuring out who he is. I think we should support him with it, Chi. He's young - kids don't get married at the age that we did anymore." His voice lowers to her. "Maybe we should just let him figure out what he wants to do on his own, don't you think? Even if that means he's going to spend a lot of his time right with someone who can understand what it's like to be what he is. They've known each other their entire lives. We should trust them."

"But why has he been shutting out his family like this for that boy?!" Her sobbing breaks my heart. "The two of them... they're too old to be behaving like this. It's... it's just not proper." Her voice muffles, probably cut off from being held by my dad.

I hate that she feels like I don't care about my family anymore because it's not true, but I need to be around Trunks more than I can explain right now. She won't understand. Nobody will. Just replacing him with some girl just to please my mother's wish for more grandchildren is not an option for me. Somehow, I don't think it will ever be.

I can't stand here and listen to this anymore. My feet lift from the ground, and without raising my ki any more than I have to, I fly to someplace where I'll forget about all of this. Someplace where I feel like everything is like it's supposed to be. The one place I never want to leave.

For the past few days, Trunks has been making the slow process of moving out of his house into his own place located far Downtown in West City. It's not an official moved-out yet, but I don't blame him for wanting to finally leave Capsule Corporation already. It's likely the same reason I want to. Like my own mother, Bulma's become just another prying mind who sees us as 'inappropriate' now, and answering endless questions on a regular basis over the dinner table was more than enough reason for Trunks to start packing up and move out on his own already. He tells everyone that it's because of the new position in the company his mom is making him take, giving him more time to handle miscellaneous business matters and become an adult about running the most powerful company in the world. But I know the real reason.

For everyone else, though, it sounds perfectly understandable that the ninteen-year-old Capsule Corporation heir is finally making the move out of his 'mommy's house' and getting his own place already, so nobody has objected so far to my knowledge. I, personally, couldn't be more excited about it. The expansive, warehouse-style loft that Trunks picked out, located in the absolute hippest and most expensive part of West City is, by far, the coolest place I've ever seen. His endless access to the Briefs family wealth has picked up the enormous price tab - the cost of anything has never ben an issue for Trunks.

Nobody but me has seen the place, not even his parents. Regardless of his inheritance, we both know Bulma will likely have a fit for her son picking out such an over-the-top place for a first apartment. His father won't care less. But little by little, he's been moving his stuff over, buying even more stuff along the way to fill it up, and I think after this weekend, he'll pretty much have all of it over and we can officially move in.

...I say we because I will probably be spending as much time there as Trunks will, all though I'm sure I'll be getting hell from my parents once they figure out my plan.

Trunks 'unofficially' asked me to live with him long before he even started looking for a place, but I've still got another year of high school. The idea was a no-go with my parents from the start, especially since it would either require me switching schools or dropping out - neither being an option. So when Trunks was deciding what kind of place to look for, it was really no surprise that he looked for a place that both of us could live in... eventually. We both know I'll be spending time with him every chance I get, which would pretty much make me a part-time roommate, if not simply by default. It's worth the time it takes to get out here for us to be alone whenever we want. Our families have been becoming more overbearing and ... observant as time has gone on.

My dad's been acting strange around me for weeks. Not his regular indifference, mind you, but he seems to be watching me. I think he's keeping track of what I'm doing and where I'm going. It's weird to have him always looking over my shoulder. Not that I can figure out why he's suddenly taken an interest in my comings and goings - he's always telling me to "grow up and get serious", so you'd think he'd want me out of the house already.

Hey, that's fine with me. Let Bra deal with him - I'm over trying to figure him out.

"Does Kakarott's brat know you're leaving this house? We don't need him coming over here and looking for you," he remarks from the door, his arms no doubtably folded across his chest to look as tough as you can with a giggling seven-year-old latched on to his neck. Bra can make even my father look ridiculous sometimes.

I only turn to face him for a second, and instead dryly replying as I continue to pack the last of the books from my shelves into a box. "Yes, father. He knows I'm moving." I roll my eyes at the stupidest question. "And his name is Goten, dad. Goten. You know, the person I've known my entire life?"

No reaction to my blatantly sarcastic tone, even though I can't tell by Bra's ever present screeching overpowering my hearing. "Daaaaaddy! Let me down!" A clumsy thump on the hardwood floor lets me know that he actually let her go without a fight, but knowing my sister, she's not even phased - she's got a head even thicker than my mom's. More stubbornness than my dad.

She comes running into my room and flops dramatically on my bed, like most little girls her age would when their trying to get attention. With Bra, it always works. Even with my dad.

"Truuuuunks, I don't want you to leave. Pleeeeease stay! I'll never see you again," she pretends to pout, propping herself up on her elbows with her chin in her hands. She's such a ham. "I'll be so sad if you don't ever come back!"

Her act works.

I drop what I'm doing and scoop her up in my arms, flipping her upside down over my shoulder and tickle her stomach. The laughing is deafening as I gruff in her ear, "You know you can never get rid of me, Bra. I'm never going to ever leave you alone!" I joke, but I will miss being the role of a older brother everyday.

"But you're going to be with Goten all the time now. You'll forget about me! I know it..." she trails off, continuing to fake-pout.

"Goten won't let me forget about you, Little Saiyan Princess. You know..." I playfully reveal to her, "He's got a crush on you." I smile as I make her light up and blush all at the same time. I know that she drools all over him just like any other little seven-year-old girl would, I suppose, but I certainly know how to push her buttons about it.

"Shut up, Trunks! Put me down, now!" she shrieks, jumping to the ground and folding her arms to look all tough in front of me.

Like father like daughter.

My dad steps up from behind her. "Bra, go bother your mother in the lab. I need to speak with your brother," he tells her, giving her an uncharacteristically gentle pat on the back to help her find her way out of the room. Since she's still pretending to be mad at me, it doesn't take alot for her to leave. At least not after being promised an ice cream cone for lunch in the garden with the Prince of All Saiyans. Funny how my dad calls himself the last true warrior in the universe, but still melts under the tiny hand of my little sister whenever she bats her eyes. Now that's real power.

I shift my attention back to my packing. His intention to talk to me alone instinctively makes me nervous. I wonder if I should be worried.

There's a long silence between us as he watches me pack, or so I assume. I don't look over to see what he's waiting for.

"I know you don't intend to live alone in this new place you've found for yourself." He doesn't waste any time getting to a point.

"What? Oh..."

"I am not as gullible as your mother, Trunks. I have long understood what has been going on with you and that boy. You come home with his scent all over you." Blunt as ever as he watches me fumble with the book in my hand.

I barely conjure up a decent defense to get myself out of the corner I've been backed into. I feel partially paralyzed. "We-...we fuse... a lot, dad. Sometimes. And we spar. I'm sure my scent is all over him, too." That didn't quite come out like I intended it to. Shit.

He doesn't buy any of it. He just uses that monotone voice of his that always seems to make things sound more like he's giving orders. My mother calls it "Vegeta Standard". "I do not care who you've chosen. You are just to listen to your blood - what you are - instead of the human nonsense you have been fed by your mother, about what young men of your age of this planet are supposed to do."

I'm sure I look as confused as I feel.

"Your Saiyan instincts are only going to be satisfied through a bond of comrades and mates. The human courting rituals of this rock we are on will not allow you to develop such things, so you are not to be so damned concerned about what this culture thinks of it, do you understand?" Again, not a real question. "You will at least acknowledge and respect what you are. You have royal blood. You are the last descendant of a line of elite warriors."

"I... don't think I..." I swallow hard at trying to admit I don't understand anything he's telling me. I hope he doesn't notice the sweat drop running down the side of my face.

He waits a second and walks up to me closer, arms still crossed, looking me dead in the eye. There's only been a few times in my life where my dad has sat me down and formally told me about the Saiyan race. I know I'm a royal heir to a throne that doesn't exist. To a planet that no longer exists. But it's still a big deal to him. He still proudly identifies as The Prince of All Saiyans, and despite his only two children not being pure-blooded, we're the successors nonetheless, at least in his eyes. I suppose if I grew up on his planet - the place of my ancestors - I would already know all about these things he's trying to tell me. It's been years since he's said anything about the Saiyan culture, rites of passage, legacy. I was starting to think he wasn't going to anymore. The last big talk was about my sword and why it was important that I master my weapon, but that was years ago.

I have no idea where he's going with this speach.

For the first time since he's been in my room tonight, he softens his voice. Maybe because he doesn't want anyone to hear. "Your mother never wanted me to encourage you to properly bond with a mate, but as my only son, I want you to honor your blood. Your Saiyan blood. The last of this great royal line will at least know how to fully bond his life in the true sense of our culture," he says to me, silently asking me to give him the satisfaction that I will at least give him this much. I may not have the physical Saiyan traits that I know he wishes his own son had, but I have always honored what it means to be the last of our kind the best I could.

I only nod in understanding, but the conversation quickly gets uncomfortable to listen to. I listen carefully as my father continues to me about what is involved in the ritual, and what things need to happen in order for the bond to complete once it has formed. How to submit to it, what happens if ever broken. The strength that can come from these bonds is beyond anything I've ever heard about.

Immediately, my thoughts go to how I can't imagine girl doing this with me someday. It would scare the shit out of her even if I could get her to go through with it. On Vegetasei, rough, physical mating under so many circumstances and instincts was probably common. Warriors taking a bond of comrades happened all the time. But here on Earth, it sounds more like borderline assault. How my dad ever got my mom to do it is totally beyond me!

I listen to everything he tells me about, all though I can't say that I understand how it works. I'm told that I will know what to do when the time is right, but I'm starting to think that maybe I'm not as Saiyan as my dad thinks I am. None of this seems like natural instinct to me! Even if I'm supposed to be the last one left who will ever do it.