Chapter 105 - Son Gokū
Everything was ablaze. Trunks couldn't fathom how it had all gone wrong. He'd fought so hard for a future where everyone could live in peace; to protect the planet Gohan had given his life for. And now, quite literally, all of his hard work was going up in smoke.
Why, he thought, anguished as he dove behind buildings to keep out of sight. Why did it come to this again?! Gohan...I'm sorry! Clutched beneath his arm, protecting it as if his life depended on it, was a glowing blue canister. To anyone else, it may have seemed radioactive, and it was certainly toxic to the human body. But to Trunks, this was a precious lifeline. It would lead him to the people that could save everyone.
Swallowing, Trunks made a daring leap towards another set of shadows, hoping to use what cover he could. His ki was suppressed, and his attempt at stealth was brilliant. However—
"You're far easy to read, Saiyan," a chillingly familiar voice jeered. Trunks didn't need to feel the ki signature- so familiar and yet so different - to know his nemesis had arrived. He spun on the spot, blue eyes swiveling upwards to see a man clad in black descending from the clouds, wreathed in the overcast sky as if it was a part of him. Only when the mist faded did his features come into focus. A unique, spiked haircut that Trunks would have recognised anywhere. A circular earring dangled from his ear, and his gi, black instead of its normal orange, allowed him to blend in well with the shadows. Son Gokū was staring down Trunks as a leopard would stare down a cornered fawn.
"How did you—?!"
"We've been playing this song and dance for some time, Saiyan," replied the look-alike of Gokū, malicious amusement dripping on every syllable. "I may not be able to sense you directly when you mask your ki this way, but a little bit of thinking goes a long way." He grinned, pointed towards his spiked hair. "Perhaps that is beyond you, Trunks."
Trunks snarled. "I don't have time to play your game!" He kept a firm grip on the canister, doing his best to keep it out of Gokū's line of sight.
"Then I'll be merciful, and kill you swiftly," Gokū grinned.
That exchange of barbs was like their starting pistol. This wasn't the first time they'd fought, and Trunks wasn't so naïve as to believe he could win this encounter either. He just needed to survive. And so his attacks reflected that. He swiped his hand through the air, releasing a volley of kikōha which spread out in an arc. The resulting explosion was middling, but it caused the reaction Trunks had wanted. No longer was it time for stealth; his aura, white and brilliant, flared to life around him, the young man bursting into the sky towards the remains of the Western Capital.
I just have to get this to Mother! Everything else will fall into pla— His thoughts were interrupted by the toe of a white boot which narrowly missed his lavender-tressed head. He spiraled out of control, his body reacting out of fear and dodging the attack a second after it had missed its mark. Trunks looked ahead, seeing Gokū straighten up to full height, cold eyes staring daggers at him, then looked behind him, where he could see Capsule Corporation's dilapidated form. At his speed, Trunks could make it there in seconds, but he'd be leading that demon-shaped like Gokū towards his home; towards his mother, and Mai.
"Do you plan to flee forever, Saiyan?" sneered Gokū. "I expect the last member of that mighty race to fight for his life, not flee. What would Vegeta say to you now?"
Trunks' blue eyes burned. His father was always a touchy subject, for more reasons than most, but he didn't tolerate these sorts of jabs- least of all from a face and voice he knew well. His hair, so unlike that of other Saiyans, began to flow in an updraft of his own energy, but he managed to reign himself in. The canister in his arm brought him back to his senses. This isn't the time to defend Father's honour... I'll see him shortly, if I can make it back!
Gokū lunged, his body moving towards Trunks, who was prepared. His brain focused solely on fleeing, making it back before he could be caught or killed. And so, the moment Gokū had swiped at him, hand moving like a sword, Trunks stepped back automatically. He then reeled forward bringing the flat of his boot down onto Gokū's shoulders; Trunks' blow struck home, and Gokū careened towards the street. He slammed into the asphalt, tunneling down past multiple pipelines. There was no time to follow up. Trunks had to flee.
Or so he thought.
Gokū erupted from the ground, rieing into the sky and cutting across Trunks before the Saiyan could even prepare to dash away. He was clad in a black aura, which was paradoxically emitting a soft, gentle light. Gokū rubbed the back of his neck, as far between his shoulder blades as he could reach. "That's the spirit, Trunks," he said. "That really smarts."
Trunks balked. That would have stunned anyone. How was he still moving?
"If you're so eager to cut this short, I can oblige," Gokū said.
"Tch...!" Trunks clenched his fists, careful not to shatter the canister. Carefully, he tossed it high into the sky, letting it spiral away from him, before the Saiyan-half burst into golden light. Trunks' lavender hair stood on end, golden, lofty and flowing, and his blue eyes shifted to a glowing green. Placing both hands to his forehead, Trunks built up ki. Gokū recognised it a second too late - he, after all, could use this very same technique.
"TAIYŌKEN!"
It was as in the sun had pierced the night sky. The sight was dazzling, and had it been from a distance, it might have been been beautiful. Gokū took the blast full into his eyes, rearing back in pain as everything went white. He couldn't even sense Trunks' ki now, his senses were reeling with shock. He...damn it...a Super Saiyan enhanced Taiyōken...!
Trunks wasted absolutely no time. Catching the falling canister, he bolted towards Capsule Corporation, towards hope. Landing abruptly, he burst through the door, caution entirely thrown aside, and leapt down a flight of steps. Barely had Trunks' boots touched the basement than he felt himself tackled, and a rush of black hair obscured his vision. Trunks barely registered who it was, but his free arm wrapped around the woman embracing him.
"Mai!" he breathed. "What are you—"
"I was worried!" intoned the black haired, black-eyed woman clad in military garb. It was Mai, Trunks' companion. "You took too long, Trunks! I didn't know if you were alive!"
"We might not be for long if we don't get this—" he held up the canister "to my mother. Do you have it?" He added as an aside.
Mai held up a capsule, smiling weakly. "Of course. I brought it from the other base. But why Bulma was engineering the fuel halfway across the city..."
"Mother was never the type to put all her eggs in one basket," said Trunks. "Now come on! He's close!" The two ran into the door Mai had flung her way two, spotting a woman dressed in a white labcoat waiting patiently. Bulma's hair was tied in a ponytail, another face was lined, but there was an fire in her eyes that belied her tired face.
"Oh, Trunks!" Bulma ran over to embrace her son as well, placing two hands on his face. "You're safe, dear! I'm so glad. Do you have it?" She asked him the same question he'd asked Mai. Trunks answered by handing her the canister. Bulma took it, before reaching a hand out to Mai for the Capsule. Taking it, Bulma pressed the button at the top, and tossed the capsule into the air. With a POMF!, and a burst of smoke, a machine manifested in thin air. Shaped like an egg, it had multiple spindly legs to keep it standing.
Trunks knew it well.
It was his Time Machine.
"And with this, we'll be able to load it up enough for a trip to and fro," said Bulma. "Even if Gokū is dead, maybe Vegeta..." her voice trailed off. It was ironic to her that their last hope was no longer her old friend, but the man who gave her such strange feelings, even now.
"Gohan is also plenty strong," said Trunks, smiling fondly at the memory of the younger version of his teacher. "He—" Trunks shuddered, unable to complete his sentence. The chill creeping up his spine told him everything.
He was approaching.
"Is it him?" inquired Bulma. Trunks nodded. She frowned. "I'll go."
"What?!" Trunks and Mai gasped simultaneously. "Mother, he's my problem! I'll go—"
"The hell you will!" snapped Bulma. "You have to make it to the past!" She tore her face away from the Time Machine, trying hard not to think about how badly she wanted to go as well. "And Mai, you need to leave, now. The soldiers won't have a leader if you die here!"
Trunks and Mai tried to formulate arguments, but Bulma shook her head. "I'll be able to buy you time, but I don't know how long. Gokū is in there somewhere. He won't kill me immediately." Bulma walked over to a table, picking up what resembled a pistol. "We're not arguing. If he kills all three of us, what good was any of this?!" Before Trunks could so much as say another word, Bulma turned her back on the two of them, running up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She blocked out all thought, keeping herself focused on what she was going to do. Those numbskulls rubbed off on me in the end... she thought dryly. The door was off its hinges, and Bulma stepped outside easily, looking around.
"Come on down! I know you're there!" she cried. The sound of shoes in asphalt made her turn left. Standing next to her was Son Gokū, eyeing her curiously. The expression made her heart wrench in pain. It was so familiar.
"You?" said Gokū, no smile on his face now. "Trunks sent you, Bulma? I expected more of the Saiyans than this."
"He didn't send me," Bulma replied tersely. "I came out here myself." She kept a firm grip on her pistol. "My son is stronger than you think, Black." The name was forceful, deliberate. Bulma hadn't called him Gokū since she'd decided on this moniker, and refused to use the name of her old friend. "Gokū Black" was an apt descriptor. She raised the pistol towards Black. "It's only a shame I won't be here when he takes you down!"
Pulling the trigger, a blast like a cannon went off. The gun released a blast of pure ki - synthesised from Trunks himself - towards Black. The man's eyes widened, and he felt the impact as it exploded on contact, obscuring him. Bulma pulled the trigger once, twice, thrice more, releasing the entire payload of the small gun in a manner reminiscent of a Continuous Kikōha. Each blast bombarded Black, cracking the ground beneath his feet and creating thick, dark plumes of smoke. Bulma panted, the recoil of that specially crafted blaster was more than she'd expected. It was all for naught, and Bulma'd known it before she let loose the first volley. Black erupted from the smoke, catching her by the neck and lifting her high.
"If that was your best, I'm not sure what you expected to accomplish," he said acidly. "This is farewell, Bulma. Don't fret. I'll send Trunks after you very shortly." Bulma had barely begun to form an insult before Black raised his free hand, forming a golden kikōha with a dark centre. It erupted into a blast, erasing Bulma in its entirely. If anything, it had been painless. A mercy killing. Taking a deep breath, Black readied himself for the task ahead.
He wouldn't wait long. Something erupted out of the Capsule Corporation's roof. It was a craft, but not one he recognised. In the cockpit, he saw a lone figure: Trunks, manually fiddling with the controls. Black scowled. "A plane won't get you away from me, Trunks!" He cupped his hands at his side. "Ka...me...ha...me..." Ki formed between both palms, spilling out between the fingers and casting the Gokū-look-like in an ominous glow of violet light, once again encasing a dark centre. "HA!" With the thrust of arms, Black let loose the Kamehameha. The beam travelled quickly, yet before it could envelop Trunks, he and his craft vanished entirely. Black was left stunned, blinking rapidly.
"He...vanished...?"
Present Day, Capsule Towers
Bulma frowned. Standing in the middle of Capsule Towers' expansive front lawn, she was feeling very foolish. Standing in front of her, bemused, was Gohan. Looking frustrated, Bulma sighed, falling into a heap on the ground, and glanced up at Gohan weakly. "Why is it so difficult?"
Gohan laughed in spite of himself. "It really isn't supposed to be easy," replied the man. Despite appearances, Gohan was the younger of the two, and that was, in part, what made acting the role of sensei to Bulma so strange. "Dad only became a Super Saiyan after Kuririn died. Vegeta overtaxed himself to the point of exhaustion."
"And you?" inquired the woman.
"Me? I trained with Dad," replied Gohan. "But it was my own feeling of inadequacy that did it for me in the Room of Spirit and Time. I didn't know if I was holding Dad back...if I was damaging our chances of taking down Cell. When I thought about those feelings, I got angry - angry with myself. And that's what triggered it."
Bulma pursed her lips, clearly annoyed. While she'd be lying if she said she wasn't quick to anger, the kind of anger that created a Super Saiyan appeared to well from a much different source than the indignation of a woman scorned.
"I know I agreed to show you the ropes, but why do you want to become a Super Saiyan?" asked Gohan. It was still strange even accepting the experiments Bulma had performed on her own body. She was now like Gohan, Goten, and Trunks - half Saiyan. "You may have Saiyan genetics now, but we both know you're not the fighting type."
Bulma shrugged from her seat on the grass. "A few reasons. I want to see how thorough this splicing technique is; its going to make it to open market, so there's no harm in continuing to be its number one tester. But also—" Cell's chilling face swam before her vision. "There are times I might need it. I've already gone and changed myself this much." Slapping her cheeks, she leapt to her feet. "What does Super Saiyan feel like, Gohan?"
"Feel like?"
Bulma nodded. "I've tried it your way. Now I'm going to try it my way. Describe the sensation of transforming for me?"
Gohan frowned. He'd never actually tried to describe it to anyone before. With Gokū, Gohan had been the student, and Goten had already become a Super Saiyan by the time Gohan had taken an interest in his training. Bulma was the first person he'd ever tried to train to become a Super Saiyan. Inhaling slowly, Gohan exhaled, transforming with the breath. The familiar surge of energy rushed up his spine, creating the odd sensation he'd never bothered to put into words. Letting the transformation go, and returning to his base state, Gohan searched for the words to describe it.
"It sort of...tingles," he said finally, feeling foolish.
"Beg pardon?"
"It creates a very strange tingling sensation, right in the middle of your back," Gohan plowed on, feeling that if he'd chosen this choice of words he may as well see the description through. "I assume the ki flows into your spine and collects around that middle portion - we Saiyans are born with tails, so that might be the root cause..." Gohan sighed, scratching his head. "Your new Saiyan genetics make harnessing ki easier than it would have even if you were human. If you really want to transform based on a feeling...try pooling your ki into the middle of your back. See what happens."
Bulma nodded. This was something she could understand - a theoretical application of a phenomenon that could be put to practical use. It was far more grounded for her than "get angry". Breathing slowly, in and out, she focused the energy she'd mostly ignored all of her life. It flowed through her body, vibrantly ever since she'd finished her experimentations and now Bulma knew how to channel it. Her hair, tied in a ponytail with only a long fringe over her face, began to flow upwards. She felt ki rushing from all areas of her body, beginning to concentrate at her back. It suddenly surged up her spine, collecting between her shoulder blades, and her vision was obscured by golden light. A feeling of immense, raw power surged through her body. She felt normally pronounced muscles bulk up, coupled with a feeling of immense stress and rushing anger. Buried under all of that was what could only be described as a tingling feeling in her back.
"Y-You did it!" Gohan was astounded. Bulma was standing in front of him, immersed in golden light, her ponytail spiked and blonde, and her eyes shimmering emeralds. He watched her body tremble, trying to withstand the form for the first time, fleetingly remembering his first transformation while training with Gokū. "That's it! Now — settle down the emotions you're feeling! Reign in the passion, without losing the form!"
Bulma struggled to put that into practise. The entire feeling was new to her, and before she could even sort anything out, the sensation escaped her. Bulma fell to her knees, reverted to base state, and utterly spent. "That...that was too difficult..." Sweatdrops splashed the grass, Bulma trying to steady her breathing.
"Hardly!" Gohan laughed. "You actually pulled it off! A few more tries is all it'll take to stabilise it!"
Bulma wiped the sweat off her brow, smiling weakly. Deciding that was enough for now - as Bulma wasn't sure she could repeat that same fest so quickly - the two decided training would come to a halt for now. As they turned to head in, a flash of light flared next to them, and a craft materialised out of thin air. With its egg shape and spindle-legs, both Gohan and Bulma recognised it instantly.
Trunks' Time Machine.
The resulting chaos would have been amusing to an outsider. The cockpit of Trunks' Time Machine opened, and the man clambered out, before falling into unconsciousness. Unsure if she should even move him, Bulma erected a makeshift tent quickly, placing her son on a plastic reclining chair. Gohan, fearing that this was merely an omen, quickly gathered up who was on Earth: Trunks, Erasa, and Goten. Piccolo, Videl, and No. 18 were all on Whis' planet. Bulma, who had been given a communicator by Whis himself after the Cell debacle, phoned him through his staff to inform the others. It would take a half hour, but Whis was bringing them from his planet to Earth, Beerus tagging along out of curiosity.
The others, meanwhile, gathered around the unconscious Trunks. To the Trunks of the present, this was a startling sight. It was clearly him, but as if someone had made deliberate mistakes. The outfit was different, frayed. His hair was the same hue, but unkempt, poorly maintained. The biggest difference, however, was that he appeared older. The present Trunks wasn't sure by how much, but this version definitely had years on him that he didn't.
"This is you from the future," Bulma explained to her present son, while casting a worried look to her unconscious future one. She walked over to Trunks' Time Machine, capsulising it - she didn't fancy leaving it out where onlookers could see it- and pocketed the capsule. "I made that machine in the future. But this can't be a pleasure visit. Something must be wrong."
Me from the future? Trunks frowned. "If I was a kid, this would be freaking me out. Even, now it isn't easy to process."
"Yeah, trying being me," replied Goten. "Seeing your best friend looking like he got mugged, but then also seeing him standing right next to you." He scratched his chin sheepishly. "I'm still confused."
"I'd never imagined time travel was possible," Erasa said. "You have all those television shows and novels about it, but it just seemed out of our reach."
"Technically speaking, we're going to act like we can't do it," replied Bulma quickly. "I recently found out its actually illegal by Galactic Law. Granted, I'd like to see them enforce it..."
The future Trunks was beginning to stir, causing Bulma to hush everyone present. Blue eyes peered out behind lavender hair, Trunks' vision swimming before him. He sat up slowly, processing everything; his nose, before his eyes, told him he had succeeded. The air was fresh, alive, and warm.
"Trunks!" Bulma placed a hand on her future son's shoulder. "You're alright!"
"Mother..." Trunks turned to face Bulma, only to see the face of someone who could have been his younger sister. "...Wait, who are you? I thought I heard my mother..."
The present Trunks grinned wryly. He didn't need to ask his future counterpart what was going on in his head, he already knew. He couldn't help but smile in spite of himself.
"Trunks, it is me!" Bulma threw her arms around the future Trunks, who patted her back in utter confusion. "I'll explain why I look this way later, son. What happened to you?! Why are you back here?!"
"I...everything is gone again," said the future Trunks bitterly. "I failed..." His voice cracked, and he swallowed the lump of grief building there.
"You didn't, Trunks," said Gohan consolingly.
Trunks looked up at the sound of the voice he knew so well it hurt, and locked eyes with the face of the man he'd once called teacher. It was Gohan, alive, in the flesh...but scarless, and with his left arm intact. This wasn't his Gohan. It was the present Gohan, all grown up. "Gohan...you're alive! Where's Father? I need you two! I need your help...!"
"Dad is dead," cut in the present Trunks grimly. The future Trunks, whose head was already swimming in mixed feelings, saw his present incarnation...and standing behind him...
"YOU!" The sight of Goten seemed to fill the future Trunks with incomprehensible rage. He flung the sheet off himself, and Bulma leapt back in shock as Trunks rushed Goten. A sleeved arm rose to catch Trunks incoming blow easily, though Goten appeared surprised at this sudden attack.
"T-Trunks! I mean, Future Trunks! We've only just met!" Goten kept his hand locked on Trunks wrist, the future version of his best friend glaring Goten down with murder in his eyes.
"Trunks, calm down!" Gohan cried, his hands firmly on the future Trunks' shoulders. "You just tried to attack my little brother!"
"Your...you have a...?" the future Trunks relaxed slightly, and Goten let go of his arm. Steadying himself before he fell over, Trunks looked at Goten, and saw he was different than Black. Younger, with different clothes. Even his voice wasn't the same, just close in pitch. "I'm sorry, everyone. I'm so confused right now. I didn't expect the past to be unrecognisable...and you said Father died?"
The present Trunks nodded. "I'm sorry..."
"But you said you needed help?" asked Gohan. "Did something happen to you in the future, Trunks? Does it have anything to do with why you just attacked Goten with the intent to kill?"
The future Trunks nodded. "I'll explain—" He made to launch into the explanation of everything that had happened in the future, what led him here...when the sky split itself in half. Everyone looked towards the sky, seeing the massive rift cut into the blue sheet; a swirling storm of black clouds, mingled with lightning appeared there. Out of the rift stepped a man familiar to them all. He was clad in black gi, but the spiked haircut was so distinctive it could be no one but him.
The man with the face of Son Gokū was leering down at them all.
"I've found you, Trunks," said Black sardonically. "Are you surprised to see me? Or was it your guilty soul that brought me here, crying out for me to kill you?"
A/N: Another chapter in the same month? Who is this author posing as someone capable of semi-consistency and what have you done with the Erased Chronicles author? Jokes aside, I was REALLY eager to get this chapter out. I can't say to always expect this, but I really wanted to write this and I hope you all enjoyed it. I'm already expecting the complaints, so I'll head it off early. I enjoyed the "tingly back" explanation for SSJ in DBS, because it was a good explanation poorly explained. From my understanding, when a Saiyan becomes a Super Saiyan, their ki is focused in the back, along the spinal cord. This naturally connects to the tail a Saiyan normally would have, which is why the ki gathers here. Cabba just..explained it poorly and people were quick to hate Caulifla for it, forgetting Gotenks became SSJ3 with no explanation. I also made my own explanation for how Gohan became SSJ, because I avoid filler as much as I can. Alright! With that, I'll see you all soon in the next exciting chapter of The Erased Chronicles. Black. Is. Here.