Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or the characters

Tights fidgeted and tapped her fingers on the table as she waited for her friend, Jaco, to show up at their usual haunt. The bar was pretty crowded, loud, and the perfect place to talk since no one could hear anyone speak above a whisper. Nothing like her home, where her father would hear everything, or the rundown station where Jaco worked with his nosy coworkers.

Jaco finally pushed through the front door, and Tights's eyes lit up when she saw the private investigator. He looked around cautiously and relaxed when he saw nothing but complete strangers. Then, he made his way to Tights and got comfortable in the booth. "Sorry it took me three weeks to get back to you," Jaco greeted. "First, I was on vacation, then when I got back, I needed to investigate some street gang, thankfully all teenagers and they've all been dealt with accordingly."

"That's great and all," Tights said, "but I'm not here for a story." Jaco seemed surprised, and Tights's eyes filled with fear. "Jaco, I need your help. I…I overheard something, something I shouldn't know, but my family is involved now, and I don't know who to turn to."

"Slow down, Tights," Jaco raised his voice slightly. "Let's order something first. Gather your thoughts, and then you can tell me all about it."

Tights nodded in agreement. She was all over the place right now, and she wasn't making much sense at all. A breather might be a good idea. She'd been sitting on this information for three weeks now, alone, and now she was even more anxious now that she was finally going to discuss it with another person.

Jaco flagged down a waitress, and she took their meal and drink orders. When she left, Tights finally got ahold of herself. After some time, she said, "I…have a nephew."

Her friend removed his yellow shades and revealed large, wide eyes. "How? Did Bulma contact you finally? I'm so sorry I wasn't able to find her, but that's great news that you—"

"I didn't find Bulma," Tights sighed, "and she didn't reach out. No…I overheard her childhood boyfriend talking with his brother. You know…" She looked around and was satisfied to see no one around. Tights lowered her head to the table and leaned forward, and Jaco followed suit. "Vegeta Ouji, Jr., the alleged criminal."

"What?!" Jaco shouted. Tights's eyes widened in alarm, and Jaco blushed before he leaned down again. "Your sister was involved with him?"

Tights answered with a nod. "He was a good kid, didn't ever seem to have an interest in his father's world. Everyone knew the rumors, but Bulma and her friend, Kakarot, were close to Vegeta. Bulma even helped Vegeta raise his younger brother in secret. Even Dad didn't know."

"I never knew Vegeta had a brother," Jaco mused. He gripped his chin with his fingers. "So, Bulma had a kid with him? I guess that explains why I haven't found her. Vegeta must have sent her into hiding when his father died and he took over the organization. The timing fits."

"There's more," Tights hesitated. Jaco gave her his full attention. "My nephew…he became an officer, an undercover cop. He's investigating one of Vegeta's rivals…"

Jaco paled. There was only one 'rival' he could think of that would be a concern, and with the new reports regarding the murder of Zorn Ouji. "No," Jaco murmured. "No, no, no, no, Tights. I can't get involved in this. I'm not even a real officer, not anymore. I stay out of mob business."

"I just need information on this case," Tights pleaded. "I know you still know people who owe you favors. He's investigating Frieza, Jaco. Frieza… And he's Vegeta's son."

"Tights, you should leave it alone," Jaco warned. "If I start digging to get you information, whoever this guy is, his cover will be at risk. There's moles everywhere."

"Obviously not at the station, or Trunks would be dead," Tights huffed under her breath. "I just want to reach out to him in some way and let him know I can help him. With your help, we can find something to incriminate Frieza and help my nephew take him down."

Jaco's expression became flat. "Tights, this isn't like your undercover exposés. This is life and death stuff. This kid, Trunks is it? He's been trained for this. You can't interfere or you might screw up what he's been trying to build. The mafia is a tricky business. Besides, you said you heard Vegeta talking about Trunks to his brother. Maybe he's in on whatever the plan is too." Then Jaco's expression grew horrified. "Unless you're coming to me because you think Vegeta will go after the kid."

"I couldn't be prouder of him if I tried."

Vegeta's words regarding Trunks flashed in Tights's mind. She sobered and smiled sadly but shook her head to reassure Jaco. "No, Vegeta won't go after Trunks. He wants him to succeed, even if he is an officer."

Jaco relaxed. "Then there's nothing to worry about. I'm sure your nephew will succeed. When we see on the news that Frieza is brought down, then I'll go approach him. I'm sure he'd want to meet his aunt."

"You're right," Tights breathed out. "I just…I feel helpless. After Bulma disappeared, I felt like such a failure. I couldn't help her when Mom died, and then Dad… I hoped that when she came back to the city and got involved with that one guy, I thought she was happy. I hoped she'd be able to heal and then she'd talk to me again. I guess I was wrong. I should have kept reaching out."

Jaco placed his hand over Tights's and squeezed it. "You lost your mother and got your sister through school," he reminded her. "You were her role model and took the role of a mother to support her. It was your father who forced her to take over Capsule Corp. None of this is your fault. Maybe, once Frieza's gone, Bulma will be able to come back from wherever she is."

Tights shoulders drooped from their squared position. "I guess you're right. I mean, I really want to help and get her back quickly, but maybe…I just have to wait?"

Jaco grinned empathetically and nodded. "Exactly. These undercover gigs aren't a quick thing. Your nephew will have to earn Frieza's trust to get any information on the organization from him. That's next to impossible, but his precinct wouldn't have put him on the case if he wasn't the best."

Those logical words calmed Tights down, and she finally looked like she was at peace. "That's good to know. I just have to believe that if anyone can do it, it's my nephew. How wild is that?"

Jaco chuckled. "Pretty wild. I never would have guessed. You know, I might be able to get more information on your sister now that I know some more specifics. Maybe through your nephew, I can figure out what's been going on the past couple decades. What do you say?"

Tights pondered the offer for a moment, but then she shook her head. "No, it's okay. We should wait until Trunks is out of harm's way. At least then I can really get to know him."

"Well said," Jaco returned. Just then, he saw the waitress returning with their orders. The woman placed their food and drinks on the table and then left them alone. "So, tell me, how did it go at the diner? Did you dig up some dirt on the owner?"

Tights's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Let me tell you a story…"

While Tights conveyed the events of her latest undercover report to Jaco, they two ate and conversed, unaware that there was a man sitting in the booth behind them. It was a complete accident that this individual stumbled across this conversation. He'd just been looking for a good burger to settle a craving when her heard a familiar name…two names in fact, several times.

Vegeta had a son? That's crazy!

Just then, the waitress returned with the man's food. He looked to the woman and, before she set it on the table, asked, "Can I get that to go?"

"Of course, sir. Will that be all?"

"Yeah, just put it on my tab," the man replied.

He restlessly tapped his fingers on the table as he waited for the woman to return with the takeout containers. The second they touched the table, he snapped them up, thanked her, and left. Once outside, he rounded to the back of the restaurant down an alley and took out his phone. He selected one of his presets and listened to the ring. It picked up after a few moments.

"Zarbon."

"Yeah, boss," the man replied. "You've got to hear what I just heard. Vegeta Jr. he has a kid. An undercover officer named Trunks Brief."

There was dead silence on the other line before a couple of chuckles escaped Zarbon, followed by some more, and eventually resulted in full out chortles. Once Frieza's second got his amusement out of his system, he spoke with lingering humor. "Good work, Namole. You've served Frieza well. I expect to see you at my apartment in fifteen. We must discuss what we're going to do with this information."

"I understand, sir. I'll be there in ten." Namole ended the call and left the alley.

Vegeta was agitated. It had been several weeks since Zorn's death, and finally arrangements were made. That was the only way to give his men an outlet that didn't involve demanding Vegeta take vengeance on Frieza's 'hell spawn', as they now called Kuriza. The man scoffed. He could only imagine what Frieza's people called him since they hated the Ouji family so much. To appease the men, Vegeta organized a small memorial for his second cousin, though Vegeta would rather dump his father's lapdog in the harbor. Of course, as always, there were images to keep.

He was now at the gym ready for another day of paperwork and calls. Truthfully, Vegeta hoped to get a good workout in, too. He was feeling restless, a sensation he'd rarely dealt with. He assumed it had to do with the knowledge that Trunks was still in 'training' with Frieza. The concerned father's eyes narrowed. Three weeks was a long time. Of course, it had to be true. He received updates from an unknown number, most likely that woman Mai's doing. Strangely enough, Vegeta was thankful for that courtesy. The officer could have left him in the dark completely.

Vegeta was surprised when he entered his gym office and found Kakarot sitting across from his desk. There was takeout breakfast on the table with coffee. The flame-haired man grunted his thanks and took a seat. The two were quiet for a while; Kakarot gave Vegeta a chance to settle in. When enough time passed, Vegeta asked, "To what do I owe the visit?"

Kakarot shrugged. "Just seeing how Goten is doing. He skipped family dinner a couple weeks in a row, and Chi-Chi wanted to know if he was doing okay here at the gym."

The other man paled, but he kept up his stoic guard. Vegeta remembered the day two years ago when Kakarot brought Goten to the gym to find work. Goten struggled with academics, unlike his older brother, Gohan, and the younger Son got into fights quite often. Kakarot thought the gym would be a good fit and help his son with his energy and anger. Of course, this was only because Kakarot knew the gym was Vegeta's legitimate business. Vegeta never had any plans to bring Goten into the mafia lifestyle. For that matter, neither did Raditz. The teenager stayed late one night and overheard a private discussion between Vegeta and Raditz. Goten decided to join of his own volition, and he made it clear neither man could stop him even if they wanted to.

"Goten is fine," Vegeta told a half-truth. It had been while since Frieza's goons attacked them, and Goten was face-to-face with Trunks. Goten didn't know who Trunks was, didn't know the officer was harmless and wouldn't have fired without reason. Still, in a profession of literal life and death, that was too close for Goten. He requested some time off to get in a better headspace, afraid to make a mistake that would cost others their lives. Vegeta gave him time for some soul-searching. The reluctant mob boss hoped that when Goten returned, he would only want to work for the legitimate gym and get away from the mafioso lifestyle. "He needed some time off. He'll return this week."

Kakarot looked worried. "Did something happen? Is he okay?"

Vegeta felt so much guilt whenever Kakarot asked him these questions. His best friend would never forgive him if he knew that his son entered his organization, even if Vegeta discouraged the youth tremendously beforehand. It saddened Vegeta that there was so much he couldn't share with Kakarot anymore, turning to Raditz with his concerns as of late. To keep Trunks safe, he couldn't even mention the boy to his friend. Even though Kakarot knew Bulma was pregnant when she left, he never met the boy or spoke to Bulma in those years. He didn't know Trunks or know that the youth was in the city. The more people who knew, the more Trunks and his operation would be in danger.

"He just told me he needed some time to figure some things out," Vegeta explained. "He's young and needs to find himself."

With those words of comfort, Kakarot grinned gently and nodded his head a few times. "You're right. I know you're right," he said to Vegeta. "I just, I worry about him. When he was diagnosed with intermittent explosive disorder, we didn't know how to handle the random fits of rage. Ever since he started working for you, the bouts died down."

Vegeta reassured his friend more. "It wasn't just the job," he reminded the concerned father. "He has a good heart, like you, and he's smart, like your harpy. You know he's been in therapy and is medicated. I'm sure, when he returns, he'll have some clarity on what he wants for his life."

Relief filled Kakarot, and then his mood returned to his usual, good-natured way. With the serious matter out of the way, Kakarot decided on some leisure. "So, wanna spar?"

Vegeta did. After all, he too had a lot to work out, and he could only work it out in the ring. The two put on their defensive ware and faced off against each other. He went hard on Kakarot, but his friend managed to keep up. They exchanged a series of perfectly executed blows. Eventually, they broke and took a rest. Both sat at the ring's edge and guzzled down water.

"So, what's up with you?" Kakarot asked. "You seem out of it."

"It's nothing," Vegeta lied. "Just a lot of drama in my 'other business'."

Kakarot frowned. "Raditz told me about Zorn," he admitted. "Did one of Frieza's guys do it?"

Vegeta looked to Kakarot alarmed. "What did Raditz tell you?"

His friend held his hands up in surrender. "Nothing. Absolutely noting other than there's a low-key memorial service tomorrow night, not public because you and him don't want any trouble."

At the admission, Vegeta relaxed. With a sigh, he shook his head. "Where did you hear of Frieza?"

"The news speculation. I wanted to know… Vegeta, please tell me you aren't going to war."

"Frieza wants war," Vegeta stated. "I do not. Right now, I don't want to make any noise." Not with Trunks in his clutches, he added internally.

Kakarot breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumped with released tension. "Well, that's good. But this just means…if it doesn't explode the way Frieza wants, he'll go after you again."

There it was. The underlying concern that Vegeta always expected from his friend. Kakarot, along with Bulma, were there for him when Frieza's men took his mother. Kakarot even kept quiet when Bulma returned to the city. Now, Bulma was safe, away in a small town, and Kakarot knew she was out of the line of fire with their child. He did not know their son returned to the city to enmesh himself in this world, on the side of good.

Vegeta heaved a heavy sigh and lied to his friend once more. "Good thing I don't have anyone to worry about, then."

Trunks was out for a walk, hands in his pocket. He felt a bit achy, but nothing could deter him from his duty. He was beginning to grow desperate when it came to gathering evidence against Frieza. The man always found a way to protect himself, whether it was having his men give the orders to kill or allegedly making deals when he was out of town. No, he needed something concrete, not just hearsay, and that was why he needed to get to the park.

It was necessary in every undercover assignment to have to earn the trust of the target criminal. They would never just disclose their plans or, like Mai said, leave evidence lying around for anyone to come across. Frieza didn't get where he was today by making stupid, cocky mistakes. The man was calculating, cutthroat, and cruel, and right now he was pissed at Trunks for not performing at his 'best'. The first night's assignment of 'killing' the officer was completely forgotten now. Trunks needed to do better or the mission would be sunk.

The detective sat down on a park bench and let his shoulders slump once he leaned his back against the hard wood. His back was a little worse for wear, and the support behind him helped immensely. It took everything in him not to sigh out in relief.

After about fifteen minutes of sitting at the bench, a woman with long black hair dressed like a city model decided to take a break from her jog. She sat down on the bench and took out a large bottle of water. Trunks turned his head slightly to watch the woman guzzle down the bottle's contents. She was truly something. He grinned at his own thought.

Then, the woman checked her makeup in her mirror, or so it appeared. She needed to make sure there was no one around that was a risk. When she was satisfied, she put her compact away and then took out a brown paper bag and set it on the ground under the bench.

Trunks took out his phone to appear like he was playing a game. He tried to appear as natural as possible even when the woman asked, "Are you okay?" in a hushed tone.

"Never better," Trunks replied, not looking away from the game. "Everything's in there?"

The woman clicked her tongue once, a signal for 'yes'. Trunks dropped his phone and reached down for it and the paper bag, both of which he shoved into a backpack he brought with him. Once he closed his pack, he stood up and kept his face away from the woman so she wouldn't see him grimace in pain as he stood. He didn't want to worry her.

As he moved to pass her, the woman said, "Trunks, be careful." He froze in place. "If they find this, you're as good as dead."

With a serious look on his face, Trunks replied, "I'll be fine, Mai." He then walked away and headed back to Frieza's mansion. He was thankful when he made it to his room with no contact or interference with anyone else. Everyone was probably off doing their own thing or having some kind of secret meetings Trunks was not yet privy too.

Once he was inside his room, Trunks closed the door and locked it. He walked over to the waist-high dresser in his room, took out the paper bag, and removed the contents from it. He pressed his hands against the dark wood and leaned forward to observe the wire and recording devices. He had a new plan, now. He would regain Frieza's trust, and then he'd get the kingpin to spill his guts out and get it all on tape. For now, he just needed to bide his time and keep his head low. Nothing would interfere with his mission.

In the meantime, he had another session of 'training' to get to.

Zarbon listened patiently as Namole revealed the bits and pieces of the conversation he overheard. Initially, he only tuned in because he heard some woman mention Vegeta's name. Normally, when women talked about the Ouji heir, it was to gush about his looks or speculate on his dark, unattainability. This woman, though, sounded like she knew Vegeta, so her words interested Namole, and he sunk down in his booth and listened, thankful for the thin wall between the two booths that both protected him from view and allowed him to eavesdrop.

"The woman was Tights Brief, daughter of Dr. Hakase Brief," Namole reported. When he mentioned the name, Zarbon's eyes filled with sadistic glee. "She said her sister, Bulma, knew Vegeta Ouji, Jr. when they were younger, that she helped him raise his younger brother in secret, to keep his existence quiet."

Zarbon sniggered, crossed his arms, and leaned back, satisfied. "This just keeps getting better and better. Three new attachments that could be exploited. And just, tell me again, what she said about Ouji's kid."

Namole did not find as much humor in this as Zarbon did, nor did he understand why the man kept making him repeat this tale. Still, what the hell did he care as long as he stayed on Zarbon's good side? "She said her nephew became an undercover officer and was investigating Frieza's organization."

"Trunks Brief," Zarbon repeated, enjoying every minute of this. Now it all made sense. The enforcer always had a distrustful sense about Trunks when Kuriza brought him to meet him. The hit on the officer went well, too well, but well. Most likely, said officer was wearing a vest and now in hiding. The whole thing was a ploy set up by the detective. And Kuriza definitely had to be in on it. He was too enthused about bringing Trunks into the organization, and he protected Trunks when Zorn, Trunks's own cousin, tried to off the bastard. That conversation he overheard returned to him.

"See, I told you we can trust him."

Zarbon wondered, "Does Ouji know?"

Namole nodded. "The whole reason the broad was talking to her P.I. friend was because she overheard Vegeta tell this to his brother."

The green-haired man rubbed his chin and glared down at his dining room table. "That means Ouji was seen with his brother fairly recently." He looked to Namole and said, "Deploy some of the other peons and get eyes on Junior. See if he goes around anyone we don't already know about."

"Can do," Namole replied with a salute. "But what do we do about Trunks?"

"Nothing. Let Vegeta's bastard ingratiate himself to Frieza. The boss is cautious. He won't incriminate himself any time soon. Trunks's current training program will last a month. We will tell Frieza then. That son of a bitch deserves his current punishment."

"Understood, sir. Let me know if you need anything else."

Zarbon motioned his head towards the door, and Namole took his leave toting his take-out dinner along. When alone, Zarbon reflected on all this new information he had to toy with. Vegeta Ouji, Jr., the man with few attachments save a high school friend who was rarely around, now had three very significant attachments, and one of them was in the heart of the lion's den. Trunks thought he was slick, pretending he didn't have a past, declaring he was no one of importance and that his mother was dead to him.

Bulma Brief. Now that was a name Zarbon hadn't heard in a long while, and now it all made sense. Vegeta knocked up the Capsule Corp. president, and then she stepped down and disappeared shortly after Ouji Sr. kicked the bucket. The young Vegeta must have shipped her somewhere outside the city, somewhere she could raise her son and he'd never be associated with criminal activity or the business. Yet, then he became an officer, and Kuriza fit into this somehow.

Kuriza's hometown, the place where his mother raised him and he went to school. He and Trunks must have met in school and been childhood buddies. As much as the thought sickened him, it gave Zarbon ideas on how he could bend and break the Ouji family for good. He'd keep this inkling in his back pocket for now. No sense in bringing an innocent woman into the fray when her son both literally figuratively served himself up to Frieza on a silver platter.

Of course, Zarbon knew he should tell Frieza sooner, but then Frieza would simply kill Trunks and end the torment. No, Trunks deserved to suffer for attempting to make fools out of all of them. A month of Frieza's torture would satisfy Zarbon for all eternity. Then he could tell Frieza, and then Trunks would be six feet under, just like Ouji Sr. and Zorn. This was the greatest outcome Zarbon could have ever hoped for. Now he just had to sit back and watch it all unfold.

Trunks cried out in agony as Frieza barreled into him. The detective was chained to a wall and hung in the air like a punching bag against the stone. For some reason, Frieza was going hard on him today. Training was always different. Sometimes Frieza would demand Trunks spar with him. Other times, Frieza would test Trunks on speed of loading and firing weapons. Then, there were days like this where Frieza showed him what true torture was, and they were happening more frequently in the past week.

Wonder who botched up whatever's eating at him, Trunks bitterly mused as he coughed up blood. He looked to his target with sorrow- and fear-filled eyes.

Frieza was unsympathetic and seething. He breathed heavily and glared at Trunks with his cold, crimson eyes. Trunks did not speak. He knew if he did, Frieza would just resume the beating. Instead, he waited, and after some time, Frieza finally spoke to him.

"The only reason you're alive right now is because my son put Vegeta Ouji, Sr.'s cousin six feet under. What did I tell you about mistakes?"

Trunks swallowed and had to work to force his voice out of him. "I know, I'm sorry. I don't know how I let him get the drop on me."

Frieza punched Trunks in the face, and the officer knew it was going to bruise. He grimaced thinking about how he'd be able to hide that from Kuriza. His friend was worried enough about these sessions and about Zorn's 'murder'.

"There's nothing I despise more than excuses," Frieza stated simply. "Except for maybe Vegeta Ouji himself."

Trunks barely had a moment to recover before he felt Frieza's hand on his throat, squeezing his windpipe. Weakly, Trunks gasped for air and tried to breath through his nose so that he could still get some oxygen into his system. He couldn't panic, couldn't let Frieza bring him to that point.

"I don't think you understand the position you're in," Frieza drawled in sick gratification. He squeezed harder, and a short, agonized moan was pushed from Trunks. The officer met Frieza's gaze with wary, distrustful eyes. Trunks knew Frieza wouldn't kill him, but it was possible he'd bring him to the brink if he wanted.

Don't pass out, Trunks ordered himself. Don't pass out.

"I'll give you another chance, Trunks from nowhere. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Frieza loosened his grip just enough for Trunks to rasp out, "I… I…understand. I'm s-s-sorry. I'll do b-better."

At that, Frieza released the youth's neck and smirked as he observed the kid suck in painful gasps too quickly to try to compensate for the oxygen deprivation. "There. Was that so hard? I know you can do better, Trunks. The way you handled that hit the first night, I know you can handle yourself. If you prove me wrong one more time, then even my son won't be able to save you. Capiche?"

With his eyes closed, Trunks weakly bobbed his head. Frieza then pushed a lever, and Trunks fell to the ground and hit it hard. He grunted out but felt relief in his shoulders now that he no longer hanged against the wall. His body felt like it had been dropped from the top of a tall building and not just the few feet he actually dropped. That was probably a result of Frieza's special attention to his midsection. Trunks just wanted to curl up in a ball and lie there.

There was no time as a wet cloth hit his head. With great effort, Trunks forced his eyelids open and stared up at the mob boss. "Clean yourself up," Frieza ordered. "We meet here again tomorrow. The focus will be on covert ops. Maybe next time you'll 'get the drop on' an Ouji."

Frieza's retreating footsteps echoed in the room until he reached the metal door. That clanging sound of the open and shut indicated to Trunks that he was now alone. His body relaxed, and he stayed down on the concrete for a solid five minutes before he forced himself up off the group.

Trunks made his way to the industrial sink down in this basement lair and washed himself off. There was blood caked in a few places, but really Trunks focused on washing his face and torso with the cool water. He knew he was going to bruise, more than he already had. He moved to grab his shirt from the side of the sink. Frieza always made him remove his shirt before a session so that it didn't look wrinkled or crumpled from the pounding. Even though everyone knew what kinds of 'training' Frieza truly did, everyone had to look perfectly pristine at all times.

A sigh escaped Trunks. He was relieved that Frieza hadn't gone any harder. At least that criminal was only mildly pissed at him, because if Frieza was truly infuriated, Trunks would most likely get his legs broken or some other, more dire form of torture.

I gotta be careful… It can't be like…

Trunks caught himself before his mind went to thoughts of a previous mission. He clenched his eyes shut and willed the memories away. Past assignments belonged in the past, not the present. If he brought it with him, Trunks knew he would not be able to be objective with Frieza.

After he redressed, Trunks slowly and painfully made his way up the basement stairs. It was a struggle to push the heavy, metal door open, but he managed. He rigidly took the journey back to his room, and luck was with him again. No one was hanging around the mansion halls, so there was no one to bump into on his way to his safe haven.

Once inside the room, Trunks shut and locked the door behind him and then went to get a pill bottle from the drawer. He took out a pill and swallowed it down before he hobbled over to his bed and sat at its edge. A pained sigh escaped him, and then he lied down. Sleep came quickly and dragged him down into darkness.

Trunks would have been out all night if not for a horrific nightmare. He woke up in a cold sweat and saw blurry visions of a shadowy figure torturing him. His anxiety skyrocketed, but with a few deep breathes, and the effects of his earlier pill kicking in, he was able to shake it off.

The officer looked at his clock and noticed that dinner would start soon. Trunks winced at the thought of running into Kuriza looking like this. He went over to his mirror and gently touched the side of his face where a bruise had already formed. With a sigh of resignation, Trunks turned away from the mirror and headed to the door. He really did need to eat, especially after all his energy was beaten out of him earlier. He was famished.

Down the hall, Trunks ran into Kuriza. At first Kuriza looked happy to see Trunks, but when his friend took in his beaten form, his jovial expression fell and guilt, concern, and fear took its place. "Trunks, are you okay? You don't look well."

Trunks forced himself to walk as normally as possible, but there was still a stiffness to his movements. He put on a brave face and gave Kuriza a reassuring smile. "I'm fine; don't worry about it."

Trunks brushed passed Kuriza and gracelessly descended the stairs. Kuriza remained at the top watching his friend with horror. He knew his father was a monster, and he knew Frieza deemed that Trunks has 'screwed up' when everything that happened was beyond his control. Still, Kuriza thought his father would go easier on Trunks and not harder. The youth shivered. God, he hoped his father never learned the truth about Trunks's case or his connection to Vegeta Ouji or else it would be much, much worse.

Trunks, I'm so, so sorry. This is all my fault.

A/N: Welp…a lot happened in this chapter that I'm pretty sure everyone saw coming eventually (just probably not in this manner. At this point it seems like Trunks's days are numbered, but just how exactly is this going to go down. Takin' all bets here! Lol, jk. But seriously, let me know what you think will happen next.

daughterofrisingsun: I know we spoke briefly over PM, but here I'll try to answer your reviews directly. Firstly, thank you so much for working to review every chapter. It's greatly appreciated! Let me try to hit all individually. Yup, Trunks is a lot like both his parents. Loyalty and intelligence, yes, but also stubbornness, strategy, dedication, and bravery. He's going to need all those traits in the coming chapters. I've thankfully recovered quite well, and now that it's becoming springy, I can actually walk more. So much contrast to last year… I'm glad you liked the meeting between Trunks and Vegeta. It was probably one of my favorite scenes, if not my favorite scene, to write. Yeah, Bulma needed to get some reassurance for Christmas. I'm not a mother yet, but even I know I'd be terrified for my kid's safety on a regular day let alone…this. Lol. Um…yeah. The real reason Kuriza killed Zorn. Well, he already knows it was to protect Trunks. And that's already ugly enough. And yup, not you're all caught up. And as for Tights…you saw what happened. She really wanted to help speed along the process, but she ended up making things worse instead… I already feel bad for her. :/