By: Saiyan Serpent
Disclaimer: I don't own or claim to own db, dbz, dbgt, or any of it's characters.
Last Time:
He smiled at her back before wiping his mouth and standing up at the table. He darted over to her placing a small kiss on her cheek. "Love you mom…later!" He called out as he took off running out the front door.
Chapter Five: Resting Place
Trunks took to the air as soon as he got through the front door. He felt the cool air sweep through his hair as the sun shone brightly on his face. He had planned to do some scouting this morning, but it was just too beautiful outside.
He was actually in a good mood today and the world seemed to reflect his state of mind. Trunks closed his eyes briefly as the cool air rushed over his face. The sun was warm and inviting high above in the blue heavens.
Opening his eyes again, Trunks noticed how the clouds scattered across the blue sky decorating it playfully. They were the white, big, fluffy kind that could take on any shape. He smiled as he saw one that resembled a three-legged dog. The imagination was a peculiar thing he thought.
Trunks decided to enjoy the day and take some time to relax in the calm setting that beckoned for his presence. He made a decision to do just that. Taking a sharp left turn, he changed directions flying east.
Heading in the familiar direction, Trunks let his mind drift to happier times, times he had enjoyed as a child. Though there were not many in his memory, Trunks valued the ones that he did have. To him they were priceless treasures of his past.
Few things can compare to the bliss of innocence and that's exactly how he lived the first few years of his life. The darkness came soon after, but never could it completely destroy the feelings he had as a child; the ones that always looked to the horizon wishing for another day to experience all the wonders that life has to offer and unveil the many secrets it hides.
Trunks held those memories close to his heart deep within the protective walls of his conscious mind. He would not allow anyone close enough to take those from him. Those memories were the only things that pushed him on, gave him hope that tomorrow would be a better day.
Trunks longed to see the world again through the eyes of such innocence but he knew it was not possible. He could only remember what once was and hold on to it.
Suddenly, an image of Pan seeped into his mind. Her innocence gave him the will to fight when he lost hope. Trunks knew he could never get his own innocence back, but he would fight to protect hers and others like her. That was something worth fighting for; knowing that you could give such a gift was truly a humbling experience.
Trunks thought of the little semi-saiyan more with each passing day. He wondered if her innocence had endured the dark days of the androids. If she had, it would truly be a miracle.
It broke his heart to think of the horrors she might have been exposed to during those times. He couldn't imagine the horrors she and Videl might have faced in those sinister days if they survived.
Trunks sighed to himself as a gentle breeze swept past him stirring his lavender locks. Whatever pain he experienced from thinking of their deaths was nothing compared to the horrors of not knowing. His nightmares were proof of that fact.
He didn't want to think that they could be dead. The only purpose that thought served was to push him to prove his doubts wrong. It seemed the more he searched, the farther away his goal appeared to be. He had to do it though; his promise chained him to the quest of his endless search.
Trunks cared for Videl and Pan very much but he felt a special bond with Pan that he did not share with Videl. It wasn't that he cared about Videl any less; she was like a second mother to him. No, it was the simple fact that he could relate to Pan more.
She was born into an era of darkness much as he was, well almost. The darkness came a short time after his birth, but it was almost all he remembered of his childhood.
Stirred from his thoughts, Trunks saw his destination in the distance. Covering the remaining space quickly, he arrived at his destination. Just the sight of the area lifted his spirits with its beauty.
Trunks descended from the sky and touched down in the soft grass as he surveyed the area. Yep, just as he remembered it.
The gentle breeze wrestled with the trees stirring leaves about in a symphony of harmonic whispers. The wind taunted the water as well, licking at its surface, lapping at the ripples that formed. Brushing along the water's surface, the ripples stretched out towards an unknown destination.
Tall patches of grass swayed gently with the breeze, welcoming the tiny swells that gathered at the water's edge. Shining brightly on the earth below, the sun played a game of peek-a-boo with the passing clouds. The escaping light reflected off the clear waters of the lake below, tracing every inch of the liquid body with its golden fingers.
Trunks closed his eyes trying to take everything in, the sounds, the smells, the sensations, everything. It was his place of solitude; a place where his body could relax and his mind could give in to the simplicity of silence.
Opening his lids once again, Trunks turned his gaze in a particular direction. He walked softly over to the area and sat down on a large boulder. Stretching out on his stomach, he gently ran his fingers along the front side of the warm boulder. He had memorized every groove, every notch, every crack, and every word there.
Trunks remembered the day he had returned to the warrior's resting place to honor his memory. He didn't want to use a simple headstone, because it didn't seem to fit image of his friend. Instead, he chose a large boulder from a nearby mountain and returned it to the resting place.
Trunks thought it more appropriate to use something natural to mark the spot and honor his friend. He left the boulder untouched save a small area containing the epitaph. Choosing the words was probably the most difficult part of his task.
At the time, Trunks could not think of the right words to place on the boulder, but eventually they came. Using some of his ki, he had traced the words in stone, etching them permanently in place: Here lies Gohan Son, mentor, friend, brother, and hero to many. May your soul find peace in its eternal rest. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten.
It was a simple message, not quite conveying the magnificence of the legendary warrior, at least not in Trunks' mind. It did however suit Gohan. Always humble, he was never one to indulge in the extraordinary praise people showered upon him.
Trunks placed his hands under his chin propping his head up as he lay against the large rock. Looking down at the soft earth below, he thought of a time where its beauty had been disturbed. Trunks chuckled softly at the sight. He could see how the long blades of grass covered the area greedily. They had reclaimed their old home, refusing to move again.
Dirt and grass had once been ripped away from that particular patch of earth, cast aside during a firestorm of emotions. The earth seemed to have forgotten though. Its beauty was a testament to this.
There were no scars from the event, no sign of the intrusion. It seemed as if the soft patch of earth had never been disturbed. Trunks knew better though. He was the one who destroyed the luscious green colony many years before.
Trunks sighed. Had it really been that long?
Twelve Years Earlier
A golden aura surrounded Trunks as his hair began to flicker with traces of gold. The earth around him started to tremble as the storm raged over the battered city. Wind kicked around his body as the rain swirled in a merciless frenzy.
The landscape began to illuminate with a mixture of lightning and blinding energy that resonated from the young warrior. Tear-filled eyes flashed back and forth between blue and green as his mind begged for release.
Tortured screams rose into the night sky challenging the mighty thunder itself. Lavender locks continued to spark rising into golden spikes, openly defying gravity. With a final roar of fury, Trunks' body exploded in a brilliant flash of light as he broke the barrier and ascended to the level of Super Saiyan. The transformation lasted only a few seconds before he exhausted himself and fell to the ground unconscious.
After waking the next morning, Trunks found his head aching in such a way that he was sure it would explode at any moment. He wasn't sure what had happened, but he knew something was wrong.
His eyes fluttered open, straining to adjust to the intense sunlight. The stinging sensation in his eyes made it difficult to focus. All he could make out was a blur of different shapes mixing together with various colors.
Blinking continuously, the world around him slowly revealed its true form. He could tell he was outside somewhere. It looked like a war zone, and it smelled of death.
Death. Something about that word sent chills down his spine. A strange feeling washed over Trunks as he struggled to make sense of the situation. It was right there on the edge of conscious thought, but still out of reach.
He tried to move, only to find his body wracked with pain in places he never knew could hurt. It felt like every nerve in his body was on fire. The earth beneath him was damp and cold serving to numb his senses somewhat.
Trunks focused on blocking out the pain, but it was not easy. It felt like an eternity before he could gain enough control over his body to force himself to his knees. Doing this simple task had caused him to expend a considerable amount of energy.
Trunks kept his eyes shut as he tried to force the air in and out of his lungs. Everything seemed to take extraordinary effort, even breathing. His head hung unceremoniously above the muddy earth. Gravity it seemed was winning this battle.
Beads of sweat covered his face as he continued to struggle for control of his body. Once his breathing returned to normal, Trunks opened his eyes. The world came back into focus and something caught his attention.
It appeared in the corner of his eye just out of his line of sight. He could not make out the object right away, but that was not what had caught his attention. It was the color.
Orange. Something clicked in his mind and his heart began to race. Still on his hands and knees, he began to tremble. Trunks did not understand and something was telling him that he did not want to.
He clamped his eyes shut fearing what they might reveal, but his curiosity betrayed him. Opening his eyes again, Trunks drew in a deep breath.
Lifting his head up, Trunks turned his face towards the object. The color covering the object clung to its master faithfully. It was mixed with something else though, blue and red.
Red.
Blood. Trunks took in the sight before him as he felt his heart begin to swell and then stop suddenly. His breath caught in his throat as his mind struggled to process the image before him. The colors were mixing, swirling in his mind. He felt dizzy, nauseated.
He kept telling himself it was not real, he was imagining things. He slammed his eyes shut, willing the image before him to vanish. Opening his eyes again, Trunks saw the bitter truth. This was real. It was not a dream. It was not his imagination. It was his friend, Gohan.
Suddenly the events of the previous night invaded his mind like a virus. His heart began beating again resuming with a furious and sickening pace. His breathing had returned but was now drawn in with staggered and painful gasps. He soon found himself sobbing, clinging to the damp earth as if his life depended on it.
Why?
Why was this happening?
How could life be so cruel?
Trunks continued his inner battle, clashing with his own thoughts as his body grieved for his loss. Gohan was everything to him and now he was gone.
He was alone. He didn't want to be alone. It wasn't fair!
Trunks cried until his body neared exhaustion once again. It was some time before he came to his senses, shock and anger replaced with despair and defeat.
Finally, he collected himself enough to stand. Walking over to his friend, Trunks knelt down beside the body. He was afraid to touch it. Touching him meant confirming the terrible tragedy and admitting the reality of the situation. He didn't want it to be real, he wanted it to be a dream; a terrible and cruel dream, but it wasn't. This was as real as it gets.
He drew in a deep breath gathering the courage to touch the lifeless body. Slowly, Trunks extended his hand and touched it to his friend's shoulder. He withdrew his hand quickly and exhaled sharply. Shocked by the contact, a chill found it way down Trunks' spine.
His friend was so cold. It was the coldest thing he had ever experienced in his entire life. Trunks felt the pain well up inside him again as he struggled for control of his emotions. They were only serving to break his resolve. He knew this was something he had to do. He would not leave his friend behind in the muddy tomb. Gohan deserved better than that.
Trunks pushed his pain and fear back down to the depths of his soul. He knew what needed to be done. Taking a deep breath, he drew on his remaining strength to do the right thing.
Trunks gathered his friend's body, throwing it over his shoulder. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he took off into the morning sky. He carried his friend's lifeless body to a place they both loved to visit. It was a lush hillside scattered with large trees overlooking a small lake.
It had a serene feeling that enabled a person to block out the horrors of reality. It was rare to see something so beautiful and peaceful. After all the destruction the world had suffered at the hands of the androids, it was a miracle that this place existed at all.
Trunks remembered how he had spent countless days here with Gohan, relaxing after training sessions. It was the only fitting place that Trunks could think of to lay the heroic warrior to rest.
Kneeling down at the fresh grave, Trunks stared at his friend's final resting place. He could not imagine a world without Gohan, but life had made other plans.
No longer would he share training sessions and meals with his best friend and mentor. No longer would he stretch out lazily along the hillside beside Gohan dreaming of a better world. No longer would he listen longingly as his friend told of his adventurous past; a past where battles were fought, enemies were defeated, and friends were made.
His friend told of peaceful times where love, happiness, and peace were more than mere fairy tales. How he longed to have his friend back, his mentor to tell him that everything would be okay.
Trunks shook his head at the thought. Thanks to those horrible monsters, he would never have any of that ever again. Gohan was gone and somehow he had to find a way to deal with the loss. Then, it struck him. He had made a promise. Yes, he had promised his friend that he would take care of his family; the family he loved more than life itself.
Placing his hand on the soft earth Trunks spoke to his friend. "Gohan, I made a promise and I intend to keep it. I swear to Kami that I will find your family and protect them. Your death will not be in vain." With that said, Trunks set off to find Gohan's family.
He left the hillside and flew to the house where Gohan kept his family most of the time. As he flew towards his destination, Trunks was plagued by the sickening images of his friend's body. He tried forcing the images to the back of his mind as he soared through the midday sky.
Trunks felt the desperation rise up in him as he neared his friend's home. He had to find Videl and Pan and make sure they were okay.
He landed just outside the small house and scouted the area for any signs of life. He didn't detect anything, but it was possible that the two were using their ki shields.
Bulma had created the devices for them to prevent the androids from discovering their location. Gohan had also taught Videl to suppress her ki and possibly taught Pan as well.
Pan. The poor girl. He sympathized with her, being brought into such a world, a world where the innocence and happiness of childhood was struck down like some filthy disease.
She may have saiyan blood coursing through her veins, but that would not help her, not now. Gohan was half saiyan and it didn't help him in the end. If anything, her blood, her heritage made her a target for the androids; the sick monsters that they are.
Walking in the front door, he examined the room. Empty. He could not see or sense anyone. Toys scattered about on the floor were there, waiting for someone to play with them. Food was on the table in the kitchen, but it was cold and untouched. It looked like someone had been here recently, but left in a hurry.
Trunks continued his search upstairs through the few rooms that remained. Clothes were tossed about in an obvious frenzy of packing, but no Videl or Pan. He returned to the main room downstairs and sighed in frustration. Where were they? Where did they go? Why did they leave? Too many questions, not enough answers.
To be continued . . .