Author's Note: Ugh. There's no excuse for this kind of delay, 70-hour workweeks or not. Suffice it to say, I'm back.

Percussion
Chapter 7

By Degrees

Gohan shook his head, sure he'd misheard his friend. "Come again?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Trunks nodded, once again seeming to speak more to himself than to the other teenager. "I have to find Majin Buu, and destroy his shell."

"Okay," Gohan said, falling back onto his pillow, "that's what I thought you said." He let his eyes slip shut for just a moment while the words sank in. A second later, they snapped open again as Gohan shot bolt upright in his bed.

"WHAT?"

Trunks responded in a quiet, thoughtful tone. "I've got to go after him, Gohan."

"Are you out of your mind?" Gohan shook his head again, now fully awake. "You could end up waking him! There's no way you can take him alone."

"Not right now, no." Gohan watched as Trunks pulled his left foot onto the couch, resting his chin upon his bent left knee and staring aimlessly in front of him. "But if I really train," Trunks went on, still appearing to speak more to himself than to Gohan, "I'll be able to at least ascend to Super Saiyan Two. Then, even if I wake him, he won't be anywhere near full strength. That might just be enough."

"That is completely insane. It's too big a risk," Gohan began again, trying to talk sense into the other demi-Saiyan. "You have no idea how horrible his power is."

"I know it's risky." Trunks finally turned his head to face Gohan. "But if it's a choice between that and letting the time stream fall apart, then it's just a chance I'm going to have to take."

Gohan bit his lip for a moment before trying another approach. "How do you even know Buu's the problem?"

"I don't." Trunks shrugged one shoulder. "It's total guesswork on my part. But it's not like I have any better ideas."

"You can't be serious. You can't possibly be thinking of doing something so dangerous without even knowing whether it'll work."

"You're right," Trunks nodded. "So I go back and look at my mother's research again."

"Didn't you already go through hundreds of pages of it?"

"More like thousands. But this time, I know what I'm looking for."

Gohan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose; a throbbing tension had suddenly developed there. "You are completely out of your mind."

Trunks let out a small chuckle. "Like you're the first person who's told me that." He shook his head and stood up from the couch. "I'm not going in blindly, Gohan. I'll do my research. I'll train. But I can't sit back and watch my world come apart." He folded his arms and stared at the other teen. "I'd think you of all people would understand that."

Gohan stood as well, making eye contact with Trunks. "Would you at least get some rest first? Sleep on it before diving into this?"

"Are you kidding me? I've got to get back to Capsule Corp right away. The sooner I start looking through Mother's files, the better." The younger demi-Saiyan shot the other boy a tired smile. "Thanks for everything, Gohan. I'll see you around, okay?"

"No way."

"Gohan," Trunks began, stifling a yawn, "I'm not arguing with you. I'm going."

"I mean, no way. If you're really going through with this crazy plan, you're going to need all the help you can get." The older teen quickly slid into his shoes, which still lay on the floor at his bedside. "I'm coming with you."

"It's almost three in the morning."

"Exactly. So either you can get some rest, or you can put up with me following you to Capsule Corp and digging through your mom's files. Your choice."

Trunks brought one hand to his left temple and shook his head. "And you say I'm crazy." He slipped his black boots on and grabbed his Capsule Corp airplane from Gohan's coffee table, slipping it into his pocket. "Let's fly ourselves. It'll be faster than taking a capsule plane, and no one is going to see us this late at night."

Gohan grabbed the black jacket draped over his desk chair and slipped it on. "So much for a relaxing night out."

Trunks rubbed his eyes and set yet another stack of papers aside, staring blearily at the piles and piles of printouts from his mother's lab as he stood up from his spot on his bedroom floor. He had long since given up keeping some semblance of order among the files. All he could hope to accomplish now was to separate those sheets he had already reviewed from those remaining. Gohan did not appear to be doing much better. The older boy was seated at the desk in Trunks' room, and piles of documents were stacked both on the desk and on the floor surrounding it.

"Trunks," Gohan began, not looking up from the sheets in his hand, "I've read this same page three times and I still have no idea what it says. We're not getting anywhere."

Trunks nodded wearily, sitting down at the edge of his bed. "Yeah," he agreed, "the words are just starting to blur together. Maybe we ought to take a break."

Gohan smiled, setting his papers down and turning to face Trunks. "That's the first sensible thing you've said all night." He let out a loud yawn before continuing. "We should probably get some sleep before tomorrow."

"Hate to break it to you," Trunks said, "but it's already tomorrow." He jutted one thumb toward the window, pointing out the streams of light that were beginning to filter their way into his room. "See? Daybreak."

"Great," Gohan said with a laugh as he stood from the desk. "Might as well stay up now."

"Yeah." Trunks paused as he took in the other teenager's exhausted appearance. Gohan's hair was mussed, his shirt was rumpled and wrinkled, and the overhead lights threw into sharp relief the dark circles under his eyes. The time-traveler suddenly felt guilty for having once again dragged Gohan into what was ultimately his responsibility.

"Um," Trunks said sheepishly, "you really didn't have to stay up with me, you know."

"After everything you've done for us? Come on, it's the least I could do."

"In any event, thank you." Trunks stood to join the other teenager. "I don't know about you, but I could use a caffeine fix."

Gohan smiled wearily in response. "Make that the second sensible thing you've said," he replied, stifling another yawn.

A few minutes later found the two teenagers seated at the kitchen table, each boy jealously guarding his mug of tea. Gohan had brewed a pot of tea for them to share—"Trust me," Trunks had explained, "there's a reason my mother has permanently banned me from the stove"—and they were both enjoying a desperately-needed dose of caffeine. Neither boy could be bothered with breakfast.

While Trunks nursed his mug, waiting for the hot liquid to cool down, Gohan quickly downed most of his drink, ignoring the slight scalding of the piping hot tea down his throat. He polished off the mug before walking over to the stove to pour himself a second mug from the still half-full kettle.

Gohan leaned back against the counter, enjoying his drink at a more leisurely pace as the initial caffeine rush kicked in. This wasn't the first time Gohan had ever pulled an all-nighter, and it certainly wasn't going to be the last, but these weren't exactly typical circumstances. He looked up from his mug, taking a long, hard look at the other teenager. Trunks was clearly still half-asleep, and was staring deeply into his tea mug between sips.

Gohan couldn't blame the other boy for being exhausted. They had both spent hours poring over the documents and data charts Trunks had brought with him from the other timeline, but Gohan didn't feel they had learned much that they didn't already know. There were clearly disturbances in the timestream, and they seemed to be isolated to Trunks' timeline, but that didn't bring them any closer to finding the cause.

He didn't want to admit it, but Trunks was probably right—Buu really did seem like the most likely culprit, especially with the disturbances in the timeline seemingly centered around Earth. And Gohan knew enough about physics to realize that space and time didn't truly exist independently of one another; the fact that time was just another dimension of space was what made Trunks' multiple trips into their timeline possible. Time travel, after all, had been merely theoretical until Trunks had actually accomplished it.

But that didn't make Trunks' plan any less foolhardy or dangerous.

A few long moments passed before Gohan noticed the presence of a third person in the kitchen. The demi-Saiyan didn't realize he'd been staring into his own mug, lost in thought, until he heard a very irate-sounding clearing of the throat. That was when he looked up to see an equally irate-looking Vegeta glaring at him.

"Uh, sorry Vegeta," Gohan said, "did you say something."

"I said, you're blocking the coffee maker." The older man folded his arms and narrowed his gaze. "Now move."

"Right, sorry." Gohan immediately scooted a few feet down the edge of the counter. Though he rarely saw Vegeta this early in the morning, he'd heard enough horror stories from Goten, who'd spent more than his fair share of nights in the Capsule Corp compound, about what Vegeta was like when denied his morning coffee.

There was a loud click and a whirr as Vegeta pressed a few buttons down the side of the large, professional-grade coffee maker. Several seconds passed before a serving of steaming-hot coffee was dispensed into the mug at the machine's base. Both teenagers watched quietly as Vegeta grabbed his mug and stomped out of the kitchen, as abruptly as he had come in.

An odd, half-amused, half-distressed smile appeared on Trunks' face. "Oh, Great Kami," he said from his seat at the kitchen table, "I just thought of something."

Gohan turned his gaze to Trunks over the mug that rest between his palms. "What?"

Trunks waved his right hand with a flourish. "Vegeta, Prince of All Saiyans, intergalactic warrior, and over-caffeinated weapons developer. Because the world just isn't dangerous enough already."

Gohan stared for a moment before he hastily put the mug back onto the counter, spilling a good third of his drink. Both of his arms were soon wrapped around his abdomen as he gasped and wheezed through near-hysterical laughs.

His guffaws died down to soft chuckles as he stood up straight again, looking at the other smiling half-Saiyan. "You know," Gohan said, picking up his dripping mug again, "I don't think I've ever heard you make a joke before."

Trunks nodded, still smiling as he walked over to the counter. "Blame the sleep deprivation." He placed his mug into the sink before grabbing a paper towel to wipe down the counter, drying the hot tea that Gohan had spilled.

"Seriously," Gohan replied, wiping down his mug. Silence again fell between the two boys for a few moments before Gohan spoke again.

"Trunks, I really, really wish you would reconsider."

"Reconsider what?"

"This crazy plan of yours. Going back to the future? Intentionally waking up Buu?"

Trunks sighed. "You have any better ideas?"

"No. I don't. But have you thought about what'll happen if you fail?"

Trunks shrugged one shoulder. "I'll die, I guess."

Gohan was taken aback at Trunks' casual tone. "You're being awfully nonchalant about this."

"It's nothing I haven't been through before."

Gohan bit his lower lip, thinking through the best way to reason with the other boy. "But you won't be able to come back this time," he began. "Not if you die in your timeline. Our Shenlong won't be able to bring you back, and your dragon is gone."

Trunks nodded. "I know."

"It's not just you, you know. If Buu takes you down, Earth is going to be helpless. He'll destroy everything. Everyone."

"Is that really any worse than letting time-space rip apart? I'm not going to let that happen, Gohan." Trunks folded his arms, staring down the other teenager. "Besides, what if he somehow wakes up on his own? He's too big a threat to just leave alone. Now that I know about him, I can risk leaving him buried in the Earth."

"But—"

"Just stop," Trunks said, raising one hand and cutting Gohan off. "Put yourself in my shoes. What would you do? Would you seriously just leave Buu lying there? Or would you do whatever it took to eliminate him?"

Gohan's face fell as he considered Trunks' question. The younger boy was, once again, right; in Trunks' position, Gohan would almost certain carry out the very same plan Trunks was proposing now, regardless of the risks.

Gohan sighed. "Alright then," he said, placing his tea mug in the sink, "if you're serious about this, you'll need to know exactly what you're getting yourself into."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, there's someone that knows more about Buu than anyone else on the planet. You still have that capsule plane?"

"Yeah," Trunks replied, "it's in my jacket pocket upstairs. Why?"

"Go grab it," Gohan said, gesturing toward the staircase outside the kitchen. "There's someone we need to pay a visit."

Trunks' eyes slowly opened as he felt the plane begin to come in for a landing. Gohan had input the coordinates for an address in Satan City and set the plane for autopilot; both teenagers had apparently nodded off during the flight.

"Gohan," he said, shaking the other boy awake. "Come on, we're here." Gohan had been oddly hesitant to explain where, exactly, they were going; he would only say that they were visiting "a friend in Satan City." Trunks had been puzzled by Gohan's evasiveness—the other boy wasn't usually so secretive—but had been too tired to press him on it.

Gohan loudly yawned as he stretched his arms upward, his eyes also opening as the plane landed on the grass. "Huh?" A puzzled look came over the older teen's face. "Where are we?"

Trunks rolled his eyes in response. "You tell me, Gohan. You're the one who input the address."

"What?" Gohan rubbed his eyes, not yet fully awake. "Right, Satan City, Buu, I remember now." He let out another loud yawn as Trunk turned off the engine of the plane, opening the hatch for them to exit.

Trunks stepped out onto the grass, observing his surroundings for the first time. Trunks wasn't sure what he was expecting to see when he stepped out of the plane, but this certainly wasn't it. They had found themselves on the oversized lawn of a very opulent mansion. Though its size didn't quite match the sprawling behemoth that was Capsule Corp, the house was far more ornate. Where Capsule Corp was a massive but simply designed compound, this home looked far more like an estate. Several marble fountains and large, well-trimmed hedges lined the enormous front lawn, while the house itself was made of fine-looking red brick and adorned with carved mahogany doors.

Whoever had built this house, Trunks thought, clearly wanted to show the world just how rich they were.

"Okay," Trunks said, capsulizing the plane as soon as Gohan had stepped out of it, "that's it. Where the hell are we?"

"Let's see if anyone's home," Gohan replied, steadfastly ignoring Trunks' question. He gestured for Trunks to follow him to the front door. Trunks reluctantly came along as Gohan climbed the marble steps to the door and rang the doorbell.

"Gohan," Trunks began again, "I'd really, really appreciate it if you'd tell me—" Trunks was cut off by a short, portly man in a butler's uniform opening the door.

"I'm sorry," the butler began without so much as looking at the two teenagers, "we are not accepting visitors for autographs—oh, Mister Son." The butler's demeanor instantly turned friendlier as recognition dawned on his wrinkled, bearded face. He opened the door wider, allowing the two teenagers to step into the foyer. "What brings you here? Miss Videl is in her dormitory at the university."

"Hi, Kimo," Gohan said. "Sorry to stop by unannounced, but I was actually looking for—"

"Gohan?" Trunks looked up to see who had entered the conversation. Standing on the large staircase leading into the foyer was a tall, muscular man with a bushy black mustache and a red silk training robe.

Trunks turned a steely, disbelieving stare onto Gohan. "Tell me that's not who I think it is."

"Uh, hi, Mister Satan," Gohan replied as the older man approached.

"Why so formal, m'boy? Just call me Champ." Mr. Satan clapped Gohan twice on the back, failing to see the look on Trunks' face as the younger teenager dramatically rolled his eyes. "So what brings you here?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Trunks muttered under his breath.

Gohan lightly elbowed Trunks in the side before responding. "Well, Mister—uh, Champ—it's kind of a long story. The short version is that my friend, er—" Gohan looked at Trunks, apparently unsure whether to use the time-traveler's real name or his adopted alias.

"Pikkon," Trunks interjected.

"Right, Pikkon, is starting a pretty intense training program, and—"

"Let me stop you right there," Mr. Satan said, raising one hand and cutting the demi-Saiyan off mid-sentence. "I don't just accept anyone into my training academy. And I gotta be honest, kid," he said, turning to the other teenager, "you look pretty scrawny to me."

"Believe me," Trunks said, barely attempting to mask his disdain, "I wouldn't dream of applying."

"Actually, Champ," Gohan broke in, "we're here to see Buu."

"What? Oh, well, why didn't you say so?"

"We tried," Trunks said. He was about to say something far nastier when Gohan stepped on his toe—not hard enough to actually hurt him, of course, but enough that Trunks got the message. The other boy wanted him to bite his tongue.

"Kimo," Mr. Satan began, "go get Buu, would you?" The man turned back to the teenagers as the butler made his way out of the foyer. "Sorry I can't stay and chat, boys, but you actually caught me on my way to the dojo. A martial artist's work is never done, am I right?"

Trunks narrowed his eyes. "You would know."

"Good luck with the training, kid!" Mr. Satan replied, obviously missing the sarcasm in the teenager's voice. With that the man walked out the front door, leaving the two teenagers alone in the large foyer.

Trunks crossed his arms and frowned at his friend. "Why didn't you tell me we were going to Mister Satan's house?"

Gohan, at least, had the wherewithal to look apologetic. "I, uh, didn't think you'd go along with it if you knew."

"Damn right I wouldn't." Trunks glowered at the other demi-Saiyan. He knew Gohan meant well, but he didn't appreciate being deceived, especially when it meant dealing with an egomaniacal buffoon like Mr. Satan. "Wait," Trunks said, suddenly processing what Gohan had said, "did you say we're here to see Buu?"

"Umm, that's kind of a whole other story."

It was at that moment that Kimo returned with someone—or, perhaps more accurately, something—in tow. Trunks' eyes widened, his annoyance at his friend forgotten, as he saw a large, rotund, pink creature in a purple cape, black vest, loose white pants, and yellow boots and gloves enter the foyer. Trunks couldn't keep the expression of utter shock off his face as he took in the creature's smiling face, the numerous holes that seemed to line the top of his head, and his single, rubbery-looking antenna. But perhaps the most shocking thing about this being's presence was the aura of sheer power he exuded.

"Gohan!" the creature cried in a high-pitched, child-like voice as he waddled his way over to the two young men. "Buu here! Gohan come over to play?"

"What the—what—how—what—" Trunks sputtered as he turned his gaze repeatedly from Gohan to the bulbous pink demon and back again. "Buu? Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"No no!" The demon's grin grew wider as he responded. "Bad Buu gone! Me good Buu!"

"Gohan?" Trunks tone had changed from perplexed to pleading. "Can I please get an explanation? Now?"

"Uh..." Gohan began, "this Buu isn't evil. He was spit out by the evil Buu."

"There are two Buus?"

"Well," Gohan said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, "there was one Buu, and then there were two Buus, and then one ate the other one, and then—"

"You know what? I'm just going to follow your lead on this one."

"Look, the short version is that the Buu we fought split into a good version and one that was pure evil. The good one is a friend of ours now."

"Uh huh!" Buu chimed in, his grin somehow becoming even wider. "Bad Buu gone! Good Buu here!" the demon said in a sing-song tone. "Bad Buu gone! Good Buu here!" he repeated, bouncing slightly on large, rubbery legs. "Good Buu here, no more bad."

"Yeah, thanks Buu, we understand," Gohan said in an apparent attempt to quiet the demon. "Look, Buu, my friend really needs your help. Do you remember where it was you were buried when you first woke up?"

"Uh huh!" Buu said cheerfully. Trunks was beginning to suspect that the creature said everything in that same cheerful tone. "Buu take you there!"

Trunks followed along, too stunned to argue, as Buu led him and Gohan out the front door.

Trunks stepped out of the capsule plane with a sigh of relief as they reached their destination. Buu had been unable to sit still the entire plane ride, and the creature's constant bouncing left Trunks afraid that he would send the plane off course and into a crash landing. Though Trunks wasn't concerned that he or Gohan would be hurt—a plane crash was far milder than the sort of beating both teenagers had taken on a regular basis during training—but he was worried that such a crash could seriously injure any civilians that were unlucky enough to find themselves in their way.

Trunks capsulized the plane as Gohan and a still-grinning Buu stepped out onto the ground. Buu had led them out into a mountainous, desolate region in the middle of the desert; from what Trunks could sense, there wasn't a person for hundreds of miles around.

"This where Buu sleeped!" the demon said, pointing to one of the larger caverns. "That's where Babidi got Buu!"

"Thanks, Buu," Gohan said, turning again to Trunks. "Will you be able to remember where we are, exactly?"

"I think so," Trunks responded, looking around and taking in the scenery before him. "In any event, the coordinates are going to be stored in the plane's navigation system."

"That all?" Buu said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other? "You no want play now?"

"No, thanks Buu," Gohan said gently to the demon. "There is one more thing you can do for us, though."

"What that?"

Gohan shared a look with Trunks before proceeding. "Well, could you power up? To full strength?"

Buu's grin fell away, quickly replaced by a look of puzzlement on his blubbery face. "Huh? Gohan want fight?"

"No, I don't want to fight," Gohan said. "I just wanted Pikkon to see how strong you are. Can you do that for us?"

"Okay," Buu replied, a look of concentration coming over his face.

Trunks watched as the demon closed his eyes, his mouth curling into a deep frown. Several seconds passed in silence, yet Trunks could feel no change in the demon's energy.

"Gohan," he said to the other half-Saiyan, "is something supposed to be happening?"

"Just wait for it," Gohan assured the other boy, nodding toward Buu.

As if on cue, Trunks felt the ground beneath him begin to tremble. Boulders were shaken loose from the mountains and plateaus surrounding them and began rolling toward the ground. He felt an awe-inspiring, strangely ethereal ki, one quite unlike anything he'd ever sensed before, grow and surround him.

And suddenly, Trunks understood what Gohan had been trying to tell him. Buu's power wasn't simply overwhelming.

It was otherworldly.

It was well into the afternoon before Gohan and Trunks arrived back at Capsule Corp. They had parted ways with Buu not long after the demon's demonstration, leaving Buu to return to Mr. Satan's mansion as they flew back to the Briefs residence. Despite his exhaustion, Trunks had unable to sleep on the plane ride back to West City. There was simply too much on his mind.

He understood, now, why Gohan was worried for him.

The older demi-Saiyan joined Trunks at the kitchen table, handing him another much-needed cup of tea. "You really don't like him, do you?"

"Who?" Trunks said, sitting up. He hadn't noticed that he'd let his head sink into his arms on the tabletop; clearly he was more tired than he'd realized. "Buu? Uh, he was fine, I guess." Trunks took a sip of the strong, unsweetened tea. "I just wish you'd warned me before we got there."

"Not Buu," Gohan said. "Mister Satan."

"No kidding," Trunks said, rolling his eyes at the mention of the popular fighter. "What's to like? He's a self-inflated nincompoop. And a liar on top of that. Look, Videl seems great, but her father—"

"You should give people a chance," Gohan interrupted.

"Give people a chance," Trunks repeated, incredulous. "You were nine years old and you risked everything to take Cell down. Goku gave his life that day. I died that day. And that idiot gets famous off everyone else's sacrifices?" Trunks shook his head. "I don't know how you can be so forgiving."

"It's like I told you before. He really did help Vegeta and my dad out when they were fighting Majin Buu. And he's been putting up the good Buu for the last three years now." Gohan shrugged. "Credit where credit is due, right?"

"Anyway," Trunks said, changing the subject, "I don't really think that's what's important right now." Trunks let out another long sigh. "You'd think I'd be used to this shit by now. Buu is . . . unreal."

"I tried to tell you," Gohan said. "That's why I wanted you to meet him firsthand." Gohan took a loud gulp from his mug before continuing. "I hate to say it, but I think you're right. I think taking out Buu might be your only option."

"He's a lot stronger than I thought."

"And he's still weaker than the Buu I fought three years ago. Which is why you shouldn't even think about heading back to your time without mastering Super Saiyan Two first. If you're going to wake him, you have to end him."

"Gohan, my world was terrorized for almost twenty years by a pair of monsters. I won't let that happen again."

Gohan looked away from the other boy, staring aimlessly toward the wall. "I have to be honest, Trunks, I'm not sure you'll be able to take him alone."

"I've heard it before," Trunks said, setting his mug down. "But I don't think I have any other choice."

"I don't think so either," came Gohan's quiet response. He sat in silence for a few moments, gathering his thoughts before speaking up again. "So what's the plan?"

"I'll stay here to train," Trunks responded. "When I'm ready—really ready—I go back for Buu."

Neither teen heard the sound of two small pairs of feet running upstairs.

Eleven, Trunks had decided, was a very strange age.

Biologically, he knew, he was what his mother referred to as an "adolescent." As near as Trunks could tell, that meant being old enough to be held responsible for his occasional bad decisions—say, for instance, replacing his father's much-needed coffee with decaf or mixing his father's shampoo with a particularly potent neon-pink hair dye—but being treated like a child when it came to things like deciding what was an appropriate mid-afternoon snack. So if Trunks wanted, say, a chocolate chip cookie (or a dozen) as opposed to a "healthy" sandwich loaded with smoked meats and vegetables, he had to do so without his mother's knowledge. It wasn't that he didn't like sandwiches, exactly, but what kind of lunatic would choose smoked turkey over ice cream and cookies?

Other than his dad, anyway.

Trunks set the video game controller he'd been playing with down on the floor, looking at his best friend. "Hey, Goten," he began, "wanna go downstairs and get a snack?" It wasn't as though Trunks had needed to ask; Goten had been over for almost two hours, and was almost certainly getting hungry. Even Trunks' voracious appetite couldn't quite match Goten's.

Predictably, the younger boy's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "Do I!" Goten instantly dropped his own video game controller and leapt up. "Let's go ask your mom."

"No way," Trunks said, standing to join his friend. "She doesn't like me having too many sweets. Let's just sneak down to the kitchen and get it ourselves."

"Umm," Goten said, raking one hand through his unruly black spikes, "won't we get into trouble?"

"Goten, when have I ever gotten you into trouble?"

"Umm," Goten repeated, scratching at his head. "Is that an actual question? Because I don't think I'll be able to remember every time."

"Oh, shut up," Trunks huffed. "Do you want cookies and ice cream or not?"

"Yeah!" Goten exclaimed, grinning. Trunks rolled his eyes in return; Goten was so easy to please sometimes.

Trunks gestured to Goten, bidding him to follow. The two boys quietly made their way out of Trunks' bedroom and down the stairs, looking left and right to make sure no one, especially Bulma, saw them.

Trunks grinned to himself as he led the younger boy toward the kitchen. Trunks had always been the bolder of the two of them. Whether it was pulling a prank on his ill-tempered father or plotting something more elaborate—such as their brilliant plan of sneaking into the adults' competition at the Global Martial Arts Tournament three years ago—it was always up to Trunks to come up with their best schemes.

Trunks smirked at the memory. Goten had been so nervous that day. The younger boy hadn't understood when they first arrived that none of the other competitors in the children's tournament, save for Trunks himself, would put up a halfway decent fight. His nervousness was understandable; he spent most of his free time playing with Trunks, and Goten had grown up not fully realizing how unusual he really was. Trunks, by contrast, had frequent contact with other children, and had learned at an early age that his strength was anything but normal.

Trunks' smirk fell away as he heard two voices coming from the kitchen. He motioned with his hand for Goten to follow him as he quietly approached the bottom of the staircase.

"I have to be honest, Trunks," the two boys heard Gohan say. "I'm not sure you'll be able to take him alone."

"Huh?" Goten asked. "What are they—"

"Shh!" the younger Trunks said abruptly, trying to listen in on the older boys conversation. "Let's listen." They both pressed their bodies against the wall, each on one side of the entrance to the kitchen, making sure that they could hear the teenagers' conversation without being seen.

Gohan muttered something inaudible inside the kitchen. Several seconds passed before the boys were able to hear him ask, "So what's the plan?"

"I'll stay here to train," Trunks heard his older counterpart reply. "When I'm ready—really ready—I go back for Buu."

"Buu?" Goten said quietly, switching his gaze from the older Trunks to the younger. "What's he—"

"Shh!" Trunks repeated, cutting Goten off.

"This isn't going to be easy," Gohan said, apparently unaware of the two young eavesdroppers standing outside the kitchen. "Ascending isn't even the most difficult part. Super Saiyan Two transformations aren't easy to control. It's going to be like learning to be a Super Saiyan all over again."

"Come on," the young Trunks said in a harsh whisper, gesturing to Gohan. "Let's go upstairs."

"But—"

"Now." Trunks grabbed Goten by the hand, dragging the younger boy along as he rushed back up to his room.

Goten frowned as they reentered Trunks bedroom. "What's going on?" He stared at his best friend as Trunks took a seat on the corner of his bed. "Didn't you want to get a snack?"

"Forget the snack!" Trunks snapped. "Can't you think about anything but your stomach?"

Goten's face fell as he looked down at his shoes. "You don't have to yell," the younger boy said, shuffling his feet. "It was your idea to begin with."

Trunks folded his arms. "Yeah, I know, sorry," he said, kicking at his bedroom floor. "I've just lost my appetite, okay?"

"Uh, okay," Goten said. He walked over to the older boy's bed, taking a seat next to him on the edge of the mattress. "What do you think they were talking about?"

"I'm not sure," Trunks said, the gears in his mind beginning to turn. "But . . ." He trailed off, staring up into his ceiling.

"But what?" Goten finally asked, breaking the silence.

"Whatever it is," Trunks said, "I don't think it's good."