Percussion

Chapter 6
Snap Into Place

Trunks cracked one eye open, quickly moving his arm to shield his face from the onslaught of sunbeams coming in through his window. He considered trying to get back to sleep, but he knew it would be no use; once he woke up in the mornings, he stayed up. He had once again forgotten to shut the blinds over his large windows, which faced due east, so he was awoken by the light in his room shortly after sunrise.

The teenager removed his arm as his eyes adjusted to the light. He slid to the edge of his bed, practically rolling off the bed until his feet hit the carpeted floor. He stepped over to the clock on his nightstand, reaching down to shut off the alarm, now that he was up anyway. No wonder he was tired; it wasn't even seven o'clock yet. Trunks had, much to his mother's chagrin, holed himself up in her lab until past two a.m. the night before, watching the monitors Bulma had set up in hopes of finding some sort of consistent pattern. He'd spent the night jotting down notes about the endlessly fluctuating stream of energy signatures that seemed to be emanating from his world, as compared with the relatively stable figures that streamed out of this timeline's earth. It was a task that had taken up most of his time over the past few days. Though he'd collected a fair amount of data, he still had no idea what those numbers he'd written down actually meant.

The date stamp in the lower right corner of his clock's display screen caught Trunks' eye. Sat. 25 Dec. He shook his head, amazed at how quickly another week had gone by. Almost unconsciously, he opened the drawer of his nightstand, taking a peek at the capsule canister Bulma had given him upon his arrival. His time machine was still in that canister, untouched since he had shown up over two weeks prior.

Every day provided yet another reminder of how much time had passed since his last journey to this timeline. Many of the cues were subtle—the way Bulma had seemed to mellow out with her age, or the slight differences in the setup of the Capsule Corp compound. Other factors, such as the change in his father's demeanor, or how much his own younger self had grown up, were far starker reminders.

But nothing, nothing had been as great a shock as his visit to Kame House the week before.

It was probably a good thing that Trunks had been caught so off-guard when Android 18 opened the door. Had Trunks been able to get his bearings more quickly, he might have simply attacked her without further thought. As it was, he had been so stunned that he had simply yelled out, "What are you doing here!?"

The admittedly rude statement seemed to pull Eighteen out of her own shock at seeing Trunks. She had narrowed her eyes at the teenager and ground out, "I live here. What the hell are you doing here?" Krillin had thankfully showed up at the front door a few moments later, and after a round of surprised greetings, invited Trunks inside.

What followed had been the single most awkward conversation of Trunks' life. The teenager had listened with morbid fascination as Krillin explained that, in the decade since he'd last left this timeline, the blonde android had become not only an ally, but Krillin's wife. It had taken every ounce of his self-control to keep from saying something exceedingly rude about Krillin's judgment—as it was, Trunks ended up silently nodding through most of their impromptu reunion. Even after Eighteen had excused herself, the tension in the room did not quite dissipate. Scarcely had Trunks started to relax when Krillin introduced him to the six-year-old Marron. As happy as Trunks was to learn that Krillin had finally started his own family, the thought of whom he had started that family with left Trunks sick to his stomach.

Beside that, he couldn't quite figure out the anatomical logistics of an android pregnancy. Trunks shuddered—he really didn't want to think about it.

The young time-traveler shook his head, trying to clear the thought from his mind, and walked over to his closet to get dressed. Bulma had conjured up a wardrobe in a surprisingly short amount of time, and promptly filled his bedroom closet with the new clothing. He was amazed when it turned out that everything fit; how his mother could guess his exact size simply from looking was beyond him. Trunks smiled a bit to himself as quickly changed into a pale blue, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black pants. His mother had obviously picked up on his affinity for muted colors and simple patterns.

Trunks stopped in the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast and his morning caffeine fix before making his way back down into Bulma's laboratory, as he did every morning. He was surprised to find that she was already in the laboratory—he was usually an earlier riser than his mother. She was staring at her computer screen, seemingly unaware that Trunks had come in.

"Mother?" he asked as he gathered up the notes he had left on the lab's long, chrome counter the night before. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Huh?" Bulma turned to face her son, now alerted to his presence. "What do you mean, early?"

Trunks fought to suppress a chuckle. He took in the dark circles under the woman's eyes, and the weary expression on her face. Even with the minimal lighting available in the laboratory, Trunks could see that an unusual pallor had come to her cheeks and lips. That made significantly more sense—his mother hadn't woken up at all. She'd simply stayed up all night. "It's seven a.m.," he said with a smile. "And you give me a hard time for not getting enough sleep."

"I'm your mother, it's in the job description," she said, looking back to the screen. "I guess I've just gotten wrapped up in the research. I've actually learned a lot from the notes you've been taking all week."

"Really?" Trunks said hopefully, pulling his chair up next to Bulma. "Like what?"

"Well," she began, "the energy signatures from your world seem to be fluctuating a lot more than the ones from our world." She opened a spreadsheet on her computer, indicating the data on the monitor with her finger.

Trunks peered closer at the screen. "What does that mean?"

"I think it means that whatever instabilities there are in the time stream, your timeline is the only one feeling the effects."

"We'd already guessed as much," Trunks said thoughtfully.

"Yeah," Bulma agreed, "but this validates our theories. Whatever is going on, your world is at the root of the problem." Bulma turned her son again, smiling. "But that's not the most important thing I've learned."

"What is?" Trunks asked hopefully.

Bulma opened another spreadsheet, scanning the data tables on it rapidly. "Just out of curiosity, I entered in the coordinates of some other planets in your timeline. While there seems to be some instability there as well, the wildest fluctuations are coming from the Earth."

Again, Trunks frowned in confusion. "Does that tell us anything?"

"Oh yeah," Bulma said with a vigorous nod. "Again, it's something we've suspected from the beginning. But now we can be pretty sure that, in your timeline, the Earth is at the center of the problem."

Trunks bit his lower lip, looking away pensively. "So at least we know where to look."

"Exactly." She closed out the data windows she had opened. She then jutted one finger back toward the second monitor, the one which she had set up to observe the various energy signals emanating within Trunks' timeline. "But right now, that is our only source of information."

Trunks furrowed his brow in thought. He had been concerned before that the mechanism that Bulma had set up could become instable—especially given how little scientists seemed to know about the exact properties of dark matter—but despite his earlier doubts, the monitor was turning out to be a fairly reliable source of data. The mechanism's stability notwithstanding, however, it was still a limited source of information. Trunks hummed to himself for a moment, trying to draw reasonable inferences from both his and his mother's observations. "You said that the signals are fluctuating pretty wildly," he said. "Does that mean my timeline is becoming more unstable?"

"Oh, not at all," Bulma said in a reassuring tone. "The fluctuations haven't gotten any worse since last week. I just meant that they were massive compared to the signals I'm getting from this timeline."

Trunks rubbed his temples, truing to get his muddled thoughts in order. "So does it look like things are improving?"

"Unfortunately, no. There haven't really been any changes. Things aren't getting better, but at least they don't seem to be getting worse."

"So what now?"

"You remember what I said about the 'trigger' in your timeline?"

"Yes," Trunks nodded. "That something in my timeline must have triggered the instability, but we don't know what that trigger is."

"Well," Bulma said, "unless we can come up with what that trigger might be, I think we'll just have to wait and see if there are any changes. But constantly staring at this monitor isn't going to accomplish anything."

"So," Trunks said in a serious tone, "what do you want me to do now?"

"Relax!" was Bulma's unexpected reply. "Have some fun! As wonderful as it is to see you, you should really be hanging out with some people your own age." She gave Trunks a knowing smile. "I'm sure Gohan would be more than happy to introduce you to some of his friends."

"Relax." Trunks' voice was oozing with incredulity. "While the time stream is falling apart."

"Do you have any better ideas?"

"Not exactly, but—"

"Sweetheart," Bulma cut him off, her own voice warm but firm. Trunks couldn't help but be reminded of the tone with which his mother in his own timeline always addressed him. "You've been through so much. It's okay to give yourself a break every once in a while." Trunks cast his eyes downward, looking very much like he wanted to argue the point, but Bulma pressed on. "You're not going to do any good by sitting around worrying while we try to figure out what's going on."

Trunks began again. "But—"

"No buts," Bulma cut in once more. "If I have to drag you to Satan City myself, I will."

"Mother," Trunks insisted, "that isn't really necessary."

"Oh yes it is," Bulma said with exaggerated sternness. "I'm serious, mister. I will have you banned from the kitchen if you fight me on this."

"Isn't Gohan busy with school?" Trunks asked, trying another approach.

"That's my point." Bulma laughed and rolled her eyes at the teenager's question. "I know that boy. Trust me, he probably needs to get out as badly as you do."

"Tell you what, I'll take the evening off if you promise to get some sleep."

"Can't," Bulma said, shaking her head. "I'm on play date duty today. Goten should be flying in any minute, and Krillin's bringing Marron over within the next hour or so."

Trunks ignored the discomfort he felt at the mention of Krillin and Eighteen's daughter. He simply stood and shook his head. "You win this round," he said, sounding resigned. "I'll give Gohan a call later today."

"So let me get this straight," Gohan said, attempting to recap the account Trunks had given him. "There is a single nexus of dark matter shared between the two timelines. Shenlong gave you some of it." He drummed his fingers thoughtfully against the edge of the wooden chair on which he was seated. It had been a slow Saturday afternoon, so Gohan was more than happy to see the other teenager when he had called. However, as soon as the time-traveler had arrived at Gohan's apartment, the black-haired youth made the mistake of asking how much progress Trunks and Bulma had made over the past week. This launched Trunks into an explanation that, despite Gohan's natural affinity for science and mathematics, went straight over the older teenager's head at points.

"Yeah," Trunks said, affirming what information Gohan had retained over the past half-hour. He leaned back into the couch, nodding.

"And that," Gohan continued, "was enough of a conduit between your timeline and ours to let Bulma rig up some device that monitors the energy signatures that are coming out of the Earth's space coordinates."

"Uh huh," Trunks said with another nod. "For some reason, the energy signatures we're reading from my Earth are different from the ones we're reading from here. My guess it's the same reason my world is experiencing this timestream instability, or whatever's going on."

"Tell me if I've got this right," Gohan frowned. "You know what you're looking at, you're just not sure when?"

"Exactly," Trunk agreed. "I came from the year 783. Right now, it's 776. It's possible that the energy signatures we're reading are from 776, not the future."

"But if the problems in your world didn't start until 783, then how is that helpful?"

"I'm not sure," Trunks admitted. "But my mother explained that time and space don't operate independently of one another. They're a single continuum, so the fact that we've got the right place at the wrong time might not matter."

Gohan's frown deepened. "So you think all the weird energy signatures you're getting from your Earth are a sign of this timestream instability." Gohan scratched his right temple thoughtfully. "Is that why you ended up traveling back to this time period instead of to year 766?"

"Possibly. Seems more likely than the time machine malfunctioning, anyway."

"Have you made any headway figuring out what's actually causing the instability?"

"That's less clear," Trunks said. "We think there has to be some inconsistency between the timelines, and that there's got to be some sort of trigger on my world. Someone manipulating the timestream, maybe a lingering source of spiritual or magical energy, something that might have the kinds of ripple effects that would result in these problems."

"I...guess that makes sense?" Gohan scratched his head, wondering how Trunks could possibly know what this so-called "trigger" might be.

"It's complicated, I know," Trunks agreed. "Long story short, we don't know what's causing the problems, but at least we have some way of monitoring a little of what's going on in my world."

"This is crazy," Gohan said with a puff, his thoughts racing. "So now you're...just kind of waiting around to see if anything happens?"

"Pretty much."

"What are you doing in the meantime?"

"Well, that's kind of what brings me here," Trunks said with a sheepish smile. "Mother has this strange notion that eighteen-year-old boys aren't supposed to hole themselves up in laboratories all day."

Gohan chortled at Trunks' sarcastic comment. "I'd probably agree."

Trunks grinned. "I think my mother is just trying to get me out of her hair for a while. So I've been ordered on pain of death or revocation of kitchen privileges to 'go out and have some fun.'"

"Now that I can do," Gohan said with a laugh. "One of Videl's friends is hosting a party tonight, and she's insisting on dragging me along anyway. I'm sure you'll be more than welcome to join." In the years since he had started at Orange Star High, Gohan had finally adjusted to interacting with people his own age. He hadn't realized before how isolated he was in his little mountain home.

Gohan smiled to himself. Of course, he was very close to his father, and he had grown to respect and even care about Vegeta over the years, but the two full-blooded Saiyans possessed a constant drive to fight that Gohan wasn't sure he would ever fully wrap his mind around. The boys, on the other hand, were so much younger—and more mischievous—than he was. Again, as much as he cared for his little brother and the young Trunks, there were so many ways in which he simply couldn't relate to them.

Though Gohan could not imagine the losses this Trunks had suffered in his eighteen years, he understood all too well what it meant to have what was supposed to be a happy and carefree childhood ripped away. He was grateful that, with the notable exception of their fierce battles with Buu, Goten had lived a relatively sheltered life.

Besides, it was nice to have another demi-Saiyan his own age around.

"Uh," Trunks said a bit awkwardly, interrupting Gohan's thoughts, "there's something else I've been meaning to ask about."

"Sure," said Gohan, smiling. "What's up?"

"So I went to Kame House the other day."

"Yeah?"

Trunks pursed his lips, wrinkling his nose as he paused to gather the words. "Why didn't anyone warn me that Android 18 was going to be there?"

Gohan's eyes widened. "Oh, man," he said, shaking his head. In truth, Eighteen had been a part of their group of allies so long that he hadn't even considered what a shock her presence might be to Trunks. Bulma had apparently made the same mistake. "Sorry. We've just gotten so used to having her around." Gohan forced himself not to laugh at the comically uncomfortable expression on the younger teen's face. "I'm guessing that meeting didn't go well."

"It was . . . awkward. To say the least." Trunks rolled his eyes upward, but a small smile appeared on his face. Gohan was glad to see that, at the very least, Trunks could find some humor in the situation.

"Come on," said Gohan. "I'm gonna call Videl and get the address of the party, cool?"

"Sure," Trunks agreed half-heartedly. "Sounds good."

A good half of East Keio University's student population consisted of Satan City locals, and many of Gohan's high school classmates had ended up at the university. This meant that even though Gohan was not usually one for the party scene, the house was filled with familiar faces. When Videl had insisted on living one of the single rooms in the dormitory, her friend Erasa had decide to rent out a townhouse near the main campus with a few other girls. It was at her house that this particular party was being hosted.

As soon as Gohan opened the door, he was greeted by the sight of dozens of teenagers crammed into the living room. Most of them were holding either red, plastic party cups or glass beer bottles, and it was difficult to hear much over the voices talking over one another and the music blaring in the background.

Erasa, while not necessarily one of the brightest girls at East Keio, was certainly one of the most social. This meant that Videl ended up dragged to more than her fair share of parties, but she usually wasn't successful in getting Gohan to come along with her. So Gohan wasn't surprised when a tall, muscular teenager with long blonde hair made his way through the crowd and approached him as soon as he and Trunks entered the crowded room.

"So," the taller boy began, "you actually decided to show up. What's wrong, Brains, did your library card expire?" Gohan rolled his eyes. He may have grown to consider Sharpner a friend over the years—hell, the fact that the blond boy had kept his identity as the Great Saiyaman a secret for so long was more than enough to earn Gohan's trust—but the taller youth could be fairly obnoxious.

Before Gohan could respond, a petite blonde girl wearing a strapless top and a pair of tight-fitting jeans approached them as well. She had a plastic cup in one hand, and a small camera was dangling by the strap around her other wrist. "Oh, hush, Sharpner," she said, flashing a brilliant smile at Gohan. "I'm glad you made it."

"No problem, Erasa," said Gohan, grateful for the girl's intervention. She may have been an airhead, but she had never lacked for charm or grace. "Thanks for inviting me."

Sharpner rolled his eyes upward as Erasa turned her attention to Trunks, giving the other demi-Saiyan an equally bright smile. "And who's your cute friend here?"

"Uh..." Trunks paused awkwardly, giving Gohan a pleading look. It took Gohan a moment to realize the reason for the other teenager's hesitation. He had introduced him to Videl as "Pikkon," which meant that was the alias Trunks should probably stick to around his classmates.

Gohan spoke up quickly. "This is my friend Pikkon. He's checking out universities for next year."

Erasa paused to take a sip of her drink before grinning again. "Well, Pikkon, enjoy the party! Drinks and snacks are in the back." She then flitted away, presumably to chat with more of the party guests, and pulling Sharpner along in her wake.

"Uh," Trunks said as soon as they were out of earshot, raising a violet eyebrow at Gohan. "Who were they?"

"Erasa and Sharpner," Gohan said. "They're old friends from high school, actually. Erasa's the one throwing this party."

"Friends?" Trunks asked around a chuckle. "That Sharpner guy didn't seem too friendly."

"He's always like that," Gohan said with a shrug. "You get used to it."

Trunks opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, they were interrupted by an irritated female voice. "Gohan, you have to get her away from me."

Gohan turned to see Videl standing on his other side, looking quite flustered with her arms folded. He took in his tense posture and deeply annoyed expression as he responded to her statement. "Get who away from you?"

"Erasa!" Videl said, throwing up her hands. "She won't put away that damn camera!" Gohan had to laugh at Videl's exasperation. Erasa was an absolutely notorious shutterbug, and Videl—probably because of growing up with such a famous father—really didn't like having her picture taken. This, as it turns out, made for a rather bad combination.

"Sorry," Gohan said, trying to sound sympathetic. "But it's a crowded party. You can probably manage to keep away from her on your own."

Videl grumbled something inaudible before tilting her head to look at Trunks. "Hey," she said, looking him up and down slowly. "What did you say your name was again?"

"Pikkon," Trunks said as he returned her stare. "Videl, right?"

"Yeah," she said, her eyes lingering on Trunks face.

Trunks cleared his throat, finally breaking eye contact with her. "Well, it's nice to see you again, Videl."

"Of course," she said a bit coldly. She then turned abruptly to Gohan. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" She didn't want for an answer, dragging him by the hand and pulling him away from the main party. Gohan shot Trunks an apologetic look, while Trunks simply stood there, looking deeply confused by the exchange that had just taken place.

Videl all but shoved Gohan into the otherwise empty kitchen and stood in front of him, folding her arms. "Pikkon's an old family friend, huh?"

"Yeah," Gohan nodded, wondering where she was going with this. "I've known him since I was about six." That, at least, was not a lie. It was a strange thought—less than a year had passed for Trunks since the time-traveler had come to warn Goku about the threat of the androids, while thirteen years had passed for Gohan.

"So how come you've never mentioned him before?" Videl asked in an accusing tone.

"Uh," Gohan said with no small measure of hesitation, "I guess it just never came up."

Videl scowled at Gohan, apparently no longer content to play along. "How stupid do you think I am? You taught me to sense energy, remember?"

"What are you talking about?" Gohan asked with genuine confusion.

"His ki, dummy."

Gohan forced himself not to smack his own forehead in exasperation. Of course videl would pick up on the fact that Trunks was immensely powerful; the other demi-Saiyan's energy simply radiated from his body, and he had no particular reason to suppress his ki. "Oh," Gohan began, trying to come up with an explanation, "well, he's one of my father's pupils, and—"

"That's not what I meant, Gohan," Videl interrupted. "I know that's Trunks out there." Gohan's right eyebrow twitched slightly as his heart skipped a beat. He had forgotten how quickly his girlfriend had learned to recognize individual ki signatures. His attempts to protect Trunks' identity had been useless after all. "So what happened?" Videl continued. "Did he fall into a tank in his mother's lab and age seven years?"

"Actually..." Gohan trailed off, wondering how best to explain the situation. Finally, he simply opted for the direct approach. "He's kind of from the future. An alternate future, anyway."

It was Videl's turn to look confused. "What? Are you saying he's some sort of time-traveler?"

"Yeah," Gohan admitted. "The last time he was here was when he was helping us fight Cell."

"Ahh?" Videl's jaw dropped. She blinked rapidly at her boyfriend for a few moments, obviously trying to gather her thoughts. "You—you never said anything about a boy from the future!"

Gohan reached up towards his scalp, scratching his head as a look of contrition appeared on his face. "You, uh, never asked?"

Videl squeezed her eyes shut and clenched one hand into a tight fist. "Gohan," she said, forcing herself to keep an even tone, "why wouldn't you tell me about that?"

"You are a little prone to freaking out," Gohan said sheepishly. "And I figured you might not believe me, even if I did tell you."

"Your father is a super-strong alien. You and most of your friends could blow the planet up with no more than a finger. What makes you think I wouldn't believe something like this?"

Despite himself, Gohan laughed. "That's about what Trunks said."

Videl sighed and opened her eyes back up, her expression now more one of weary exasperation than shock. "Look I promise not to tell anyone else," she said, waving one hand upward.

"Thanks," Gohan said with genuine gratitude. Trunks had been right after all—Videl had handled the revelation far better than he had expected. He smiled at her as they walked back into the large living room.

When he got back to the main party, Gohan found that Trunks was no longer standing where they had left him. He scanned the room a couple of times before he saw that Trunks was seated on one of the couches, looking intensely uncomfortable as an energetic redheaded girl chatted with—or rather, at—him.

Again, Gohan had to suppress a laugh. This was Angela's standard mode of operation. He recalled the day she had blackmailed him into a date during his first week of high school, and how overwhelmingly direct her style of flirtation was. He looked to Videl and saw that she also appeared to be holding back a giggle.

The girl must have taken pity on Trunks, however, because she pulled Gohan with her over to the couch. "Hey, Angela," Videl said, getting the girl's attention. "Any chance I can get you to make me up one of your famous fruity mixed drinks?

Angela looked away from Trunks, frowning. "Can't you make one yourself?"

Videl shook her head. "My drinks always end up tasting like motor oil," she said. She gave Angela an exaggerated pout. "Please?"

"Oh, fine," Angela said, standing from the couch and taking Videl across the room, making her way to the large table that was stocked with juices and various forms of liquor. This time, Gohan actually did chuckle at the look of relief and gratitude on Trunks face.

Gohan joined Trunks on the couch, taking the seat that Angela had just vacated. The younger demi-Saiyan did not acknowledge Gohan and instead rubbed his thumb and index finger against his temples, closing his eyes.

Gohan's sniggers died down. "Is something wrong?"

Trunks did not look up. "Maybe if I concentrate real hard, I can make myself vanish before she gets back." Again, Gohan chuckled. His laughter was contagious—before he could stop himself, Trunks was laughing as well.

"Hey boys!" A high-pitched female voice interrupted them, but it wasn't Angela. "Smile!" Before either teenager had time to respond, Erasa had snapped the shutter on her camera, blinding Gohan and Trunks with the bright flash.

"Wow." Trunks blinked a few times, as though it would clear the glare of the flash from his eyes. "Can't we get a little more warning next time?"

"Nope," Sharpner interjected. "She says she likes to keep the shots 'natural,' whatever that means." Erasa stuck her tongue out at Sharpner, but seemed to validate his assertion when she moved the lens into his eyes and took an extreme close-up of his face. Sharpner stumbled back, now also subjected to the discomfort of having a very bright light suddenly flash in his eyes.

As his vision cleared, Gohan watched the whole display with a grin. First, the situation was pretty entertaining. But more than that, it was refreshing to see the teenaged Trunks happy and relaxed for once.

"Erasa," Gohan said, pulling her attention away from the blinded Sharpner, "I'd like doubles of the prints, if you don't mind."

Sharpner snorted, rubbing his eyes with both fists. "Assuming she ever remembers to get the film developed."

"Oh," Erasa insisted, "I'm not that bad."

"You still haven't gotten the pictures from summer break done!"

"I'm working on it!" she insisted indignantly.

"Working on it?" Sharpner snorted. "How hard is it to go to the drugstore and get a roll of film developed?" Erasa narrowed her eyes and blew her tongue at him, a gesture that Sharpner quickly returned.

Trunks shook his head and leaned in toward Gohan. "Your friends are all nuts, you know that?"

"No argument here." Gohan nodded as he stood from the couch. "Come on, let's find Videl."

It was well past two in the morning by the time the two teenaged half-Saiyans made it back to Gohan's studio apartment. Though neither one of them had had much to drink over the course of the evening, they both smelled heavily of the abundant liquor that had been available at the party. And they were both exhausted.

"Oh, wow," Trunks said, looking at his watch. "It's later than I thought. I should probably be getting back to West City."

"Or you could just crash here," Gohan said. "Head back to Capsule Corp in the morning."

Trunks frowned slightly. "Are you sure it isn't a problem?"

"'Course it isn't," Gohan said. "Seriously, crash on my bed. I can use the couch for tonight."

The other boy shook his head vigorously. "That's really not necessary. It's your place, I'll take the couch."

"No, really," Gohan insisted. "It's fine."

"We are not having this argument." Trunks flopped onto the couch, emphasizing his point.

"Fine," Gohan said, slipping off his shoes. That, at least, seemed to be one trait that the teenaged Trunks shared with his younger counterpart—he could be very stubborn when he wanted to be.

Trunks yawned, taking off his own boots. "I have to say, that was more fun than I'd expected."

"Yeah," Gohan agreed. He wasn't much of a partier, but he found that he did usually enjoy himself when Videl managed to get him to go out. He fell backward onto the bed, not bothering to remove his socks or the rest of his clothing. "I can't remember the last time I was this exhausted." Gohan chuckled, more to himself than to Trunks. "Actually, yes I can. I haven't been this tired since fighting Majin Buu three years ago."

Trunks laughed in response. "You're exaggerating."

Gohan smiled, sitting up again. "Not much. College parties are tiring. Even if they don't have a rubbery, pink, murderous supernatural demon running around."

The smile instantly dropped from Trunks' face, replaced by a contemplative stare. "Murderous supernatural demon," he repeated aloud, sounding pensive.

"Uh huh," Gohan said around another yawn. "Turns out magical monsters like that are really hard to kill."

"Magical..." Trunks' eyes widened. He leapt up from the couch, all traces of exhaustion leaving him. "My god, Majin Buu! That's the answer!"

Gohan stared for a moment, not knowing what had prompted Trunks' sudden excitement. "...What's the question?"

"The timestream!"

"What?" asked Gohan, becoming ever more confused.

"That has to be it!" Trunks was pacing wildly around the room, his eyes darting about as rapidly as his thoughts appeared to. "Buu didn't wake up when he was supposed to in my world. If he was as horribly powerful as you say he is, that might be what's destabilizing the time stream!" Trunks nodded, sounding completely certain. "He's got to be the trigger."

Gohan frowned, wondering how Trunks had arrived at this conclusion. "Why would Buu of all things be the trigger?"

"Look, the way my mother explained it, Majin Buu was an incredibly powerful being that was hatched by a wizard. Right?"

"Yeah."

"He was captured within a shell and buried in the Earth millennia ago." Trunks spoke more rapidly with every word. "About three years ago, the wizard Babidi awakened him, gathered energy from some of the words strongest fighters to fuel his reawakening. And even though he was preposterously strong, and actually had the ability to absorb the powers of others, Goku and my father managed to defeat him."

"Yeah," Gohan repeated, wondering why Trunks would be telling him a story with which he was intimately familiar. "I remember that. What does this have to do with the time stream?"

"Gohan," said Trunks, looking at the ebony-haired boy again, "in my world, that time has already passed. Buu never woke up. And if he was really created by a wizard, then he's a magical entity. Even if he lies dormant, he's probably a massive source of magical energy. And magical energy can have some destabilizing effects."

Comprehension slowly began to dawn on Gohan. "Are you sure he's even buried in your Earth?"

"If Buu was really buried thousands of years ago, then that was long before the timelines diverged. But when I altered history by traveling back here, I created an inconsistency between the timelines, meaning that in my world there's this major source of magical power that should have arisen and been destroyed, but hasn't." Trunks looked away, again seemingly speaking to himself as much as to Gohan. "And that's why it didn't have an impact until recently. My timeline might not have been affected until yours was altered. Kami, this all fits in with my mother's research so perfectly."

"Wow," Gohan said, taking in the whole of Trunks' explanation. It was a torrent of information and speculation, but it did seem to make sense.

"Great gods," Trunks went on, "the percussive effects could be devastating." He bit his lower lip for a moment, looking back at Gohan once more. "Which means I have to eliminate that threat."

Gohan scratched his chin thoughtfully. "What are you getting at, Trunks?"

Trunks set his jaw, looking more resolved than Gohan had ever seen him. "I've got to go back to the future and destroy Majin Buu."