Doomed to Failure

episode one ---Trunks—a father?---
(Rating: T)

It was nearing midday when Trunks finally entered Hope City's bustling centre. The trees he had planted almost eight or nine years ago at the outer perimeters of the town square had grown big, lush with blooming flowers. He did not enjoy his short stay in Hope City. He sighed, well, he hoped his stay would be short. He did not like having to interact with people much. Today was no different.

He was hardly given the opportunity to ask his questions. Instead, citizens flocked to him as if he were some messiah, forming a thick crowd on both the square and the street Trunks had entered in hopes of avoiding most of them. He did not take pleasure in any of this. In fact, he felt rather threatened by the amount of attention the crowd was giving him. He did not want attention. He only wanted a little peace of mind. He wanted answers to his questions.

"Listen," he said, gesturing with his hands in hopes of calming the crowd down. "Listen! I only have a few questions. I'm looking for a stranger who might've crossed this town sometime yesterday. It's possible this person asked some of you questions about the androids. If anyone knows of this person, please tell me. It's of great importance."

The crowd was getting restless, Trunks noticed. He knew the terror the androids had left in their hearts was still there, even if it had been over a decade since he'd destroyed them. They feared strangers, much like they still feared anything out of the ordinary.

"There's nothing to be unsettled about," he assured them. "I'm simply looking for answers. Did anyone notice anything?" There was a sense of desperation in his voice he couldn't explain. He did not particularly enjoy this kind of attention but if it would lead to any answers he was willing to put up with it. This wasn't going to be easy. Most of the gathered public either gauged at him in awe, probably unable to even hear what he was saying or lost in conversations as to what he might be talking about in the first place. Others looked in fear, in old fear that had slumbered in their hearts and would stay there forever.

An elderly man stepped forward, away from the crowd. "There was this woman," he said in a croaky voice. The lot of people fell silent, listening to the man. All watched how Trunks stepped closer, his eyes wondering.

"She had a small child with her, I believe. I could not really tell whether it was a boy or a girl. The child was silent and the woman had her wrapped in blankets, hiding its face. The woman asked me all sorts of questions about the past, when the androids still roamed." The old man looked down, leaning forward on his crooked walking stick. His face was lined, showing the suffering he must've undergone during his younger years, during the long time of war. He paused for a moment before he continued. "She looked quite desperate. I do suppose I wasn't the first she'd confronted with questions of the past. One mentioning of those terrible androids still has most people running. She was a traveller, by the looks of it. But she sure knew a lot of the past struggle against the androids. Maybe she was from out of town?"

Trunks had his arms folded, considering what the man had said to him. "Perhaps," he said. "Can you tell me what she looked like?"

The man showed his toothless mouth. "Course I can!" he said with a laugh. "She was quite the fox, I tell you. Her eyes were indescribably dark, almost black, you see. And her cheekbones! Her cheekbones were so fine! Hm… now that I mention it, there really isn't much more to tell. I wish I could've seen more than just her face. She was wearing a dark cloak that covered most of her. I wonder what kind of figure she had. I bet it was smokin' hot! She was quite tall, too. Heh heh heh."

Trunks blushed, slightly embarrassed by the man's perversion.

"I saw her, too," a blonde youth said and put one hand on his cheek. Reluctantly, Trunks noticed the man had a patch over his left eye socket; unmistakably result of the jinzouningen holocaust. Seventeen in particular enjoyed mangling people rather than kill them, calling it his more 'lenient moods'. The androids were known for their ruthless cruelty. Trunks focused on the young man again, listening to what he had to say in hopes it would provide him with at least some insight as to whom had broken into the Capsule Corp. facilities last night.

"She seemed in a hurry," the youngster continued. "It was late at night. Two, maybe three in the morning. I'm a night watcher, you see. It's my job to check the centre of Hope City to keep the supplies in local shops secure. It gives everyone a safe feeling to know watch is kept now that you left." He spoke with a feeling of regret in his voice but Trunks knew he was the one to regret things. No matter how much he denied it truth was people still counted on him. He didn't want them to count on him. He wanted them to take care of themselves.

"Anyway," the youth went on. "She was running across the square but halted suddenly."

Trunks looked at the man, waiting for him to continue. He was growing more and more intrigued. What had this woman been up to? What did she want?

"She stared at your statue for well over twenty minutes, I suppose. I didn't really time her or anything but it was long, really long. I wanted to go and talk to her but something withheld me."

"What's that?" Trunks wondered.

"She was grieving. There was no doubt about that. But the little girl she held in her arms, she really caught my attention when she screamed out like that."

"Like what?" Trunks frowned, seeing something unfamiliar in the man's one eye. He was going to tell something interesting, that much was certain.

"Tousan. She called you her dad. It must've startled the mother, 'cause she left in even a greater hurry right after."

Trunks stared at the man. Tousan? That must've been a mistake. There was no way he had a daughter. It wasn't even possible. He shook his head in thought, then looked at the youth again.
"It's not like I'm the only man with a sword." He paused. This wasn't right. The mysterious messenger leaving the crumpled up letter his mother had found on the kitchen table had claimed to come from an alternate world. It must be a mere coincidence. "You know kids, right?" he suggested to the disrupted crowd, wondering whether something like this would damage his reputation. He couldn't say he really cared what people thought. Besides, children didn't know any difference. Did they? Trunks wasn't sure.
He felt uncomfortable.

The man nodded. "Right."
"Can you tell me what they looked like?" Trunks asked.
"Hard to tell. It was the dead of the night, you see. And she was wearing a dark cloak, like gramps said."

The old man glared at the youngster. "Who're you callin' gramps, sonny! I'm not your grandfather. I don't even look like one! I'm still more of a looker than you are, Cyclops. Heh. Hehheh." The old man tried to laugh but choked, coughing hysterically before regaining his posture, shaking his walking stick about angrily.
The youth didn't pay him much attention and focused chiefly on Trunks. Apparently, he wasn't one to take insults from old geezers very seriously. Trunks found those unable to hold any grudges most admirable of all survivors. It was a trait his mother possessed also, but one he had never mastered. The youth smiled briefly. "Well," he spoke. "I hope you find your answers, Trunks-sama."

A shiver went through Trunks as the man addressed him so formally. Such utterly superfluous conduct was one of the chief reasons he never liked going into town. People simply treated him with too much respect. He was human, too. He had made his share of mistakes, like everybody else. He did not like being placed on some pedestal.

But at least he had learned more of the woman. She had a little girl.
He left the centre of the city and walked further down the alley, to start his car out of town. He moved in a smaller street, and walked past a toy store. He was definitely moving away from the bustling centre. There were no groceries to be had here, for most buildings weren't even shops in this area of town. He'd have to fetch his mother's supplies later. He really could not handle any crowds these days. He tossed the capsule in the centre of the deserted street and as a small explosion resulted in his aircar it finally struck him.

My Trunks, the letter had stated. My Trunks.
Tousan. Tousan. She called you her dad. Tousan. She called you her dad. It must've startled the mother, 'cause she left in even a greater hurry right after.
Could it be Trunks really was the girl's father! Of course!
There was a possibility, if the father was Trunks from another world. In another world, Trunks might've been a father after all. In another world, Trunks might've been a family man instead of a warrior. And perhaps, perhaps he'd been both.

Things were getting more complicated by the minute. With every answer, more questions rose. He had to find her. He had to know where she came from. He had to know who she was. And whether the girl she had with her really was his child, or at least daughter to some Trunks. Something must've happened to their Trunks, something bad.

He didn't know why but he felt he shouldn't leave just yet and he turned to head back to the town centre. Nothing this exciting had happened in a very long time. He hadn't been passionate about anything since what seemed forever. Finally he had something to focus on. This woman knew of a new threat, a creature called Majin Buu. He felt guilty longing for the awakening of this Buu. But he had to learn more of this woman and her child, first. He hadn't felt this giddy since he had first met his father, in the old timeline.

The child was still sobbing gently and chewed on her hand, like she always did when upset. Her mother tried hard to decide what she should do. She figured it was the right choice to not wear her cloak this time of day, not anymore anyway. She had more chance of being discovered when trying to hide in shadows than moving out in the open as if she had nothing to hide at all. But she couldn't really go about and ask people if they had found Bikini's doll, could she? It didn't sound like a very smart thing to do. Bikini had constantly mentioned her father's statue, especially when her mother had asked her when she'd noticed the doll was gone. She had simply mentioned her father's statue, over and over. The woman knit her brow, correcting herself. It wasn't a statue of their Trunks; it was a statue of the Trunks belonging to this world. But she, too, had to admit the face was still the same. And she couldn't help but miss him.

The town was a lot busier than it had been the day before. It didn't particularly strike her as odd, even though Tuesdays weren't exactly known as busy days at least hadn't been where she came from. However, it did unsettle her. She did not like crowds. Crowds made her nervous. People had always expected so much of her. People had looked up to her, from a young age. People had vested their faith in her, constantly. They had believed she and Trunks would save the world, from one threat or the other. They had relied on her and Trunks when Majin Buu awakened.

She closed her eyes, fighting her tears. What was she, some cry-baby? She was stronger than this. It hadn't been her fault. Majin Buu had simply been too powerful. She was lucky to be alive.

Lucky. Some luck.

She wouldn't have any problem moving across town unnoticed. She knew she wouldn't. But the same couldn't be said of her child. The turning of heads her daughter's hair colour produced made her want to get away and get away fast. Lavender hair wasn't exactly common. And she realized what folk was thinking of when they saw her daughter. They were thinking of Trunks.

She sighed. As if being reminded of that herself every single day wasn't enough already.

Trunks sighed with frustration as he saw the massive statue looming in the distance. It was really too much of an eye-catcher. It was ridiculous. Why had they given him a statue anyway? What about Gohan? What about everybody else who'd fallen victim to those androids? He bit his lip. All right, so they had a point to mention he'd destroyed the androids, eventually.

Eventually, that really was the keyword. He'd taken too long. He'd taken way too long. Gohan was dead. His father, his mother's friends, they were all dead. What use was there of being a saviour if there was no one left to save?

He stared at the statue from a distance, and watched children play in its shadow, running around with wooden swords. What did it mean to be a hero? He wasn't sure he knew the answer.

The inquisitive eyes following her daughter, the curiosity the girl provoked, did not please the woman one bit. Maybe looking for the doll wasn't such a bright idea after all. Perhaps she should just buy a new one. She remembered a sign from the corner of her eye, in one of the lesser streets. It was on her way back to the city, after she'd paid a visit to Capsule Corporation, sometime late at night. Curiosity had drawn her to the city. She hadn't seen a city quite like this in so long. And she had to replace the images of Capsule Corporation that had been carved in her brain that night. She'd known the way through that maze like it was nothing. Capsule Corporation. She had lived there, once.

She halted for a moment, and Bikini opened her eyes sleepily, to see what was going on.
Capsule Corporation! Could it be Bikini had lost her doll in Capsule Corporation!

She shook her head. The doll was lost if that were the case. A new doll would have to suffice. She moved away from the lively centre, away from the square, away from the statue that reminded her so much of him.

And then she saw him. His posture was poised and yet tense, somehow. His hair was long, and he looked quite old, actually. Perhaps mature was a better word. The wrinkles in his forehead moved, tightened. He'd seen her, too.

Trunks. There he was. But he wasn't her Trunks. He wasn't their Trunks.

"Tousan?" the girl in her arms mumbled drowsily, waking further to her mother's sudden anxiety. Her blue eyes flung open as her mother tried to shush her, to no avail.

"Tousan!"
Trunks didn't move, he only stared.

Author's Note: Hm. We need more action, that's for sure. I'm uncomfortable writing reflective pieces.

Maybe we'll finally find out who this mystery woman is, eh. :
Heh. I really want to see Trunks' face right about now. Author has a cheesy grin. Tee.

Thanks for reviewing. I appreciate it a lot. I suppose this story is a good distraction from my bigger fanfiction projects. It's good to practice smaller stories with less than a dozen characters, heheh.

Another chapter is in the making. Suggestions and criticism is very much appreciated. Feel free to be frank. )