Percussion

Chapter 14

Prelude to Impact

Author's Note: I have not seen Dragon Ball Super, but am aware that there is a storyline in it featuring Future Trunks. I am not otherwise familiar with the series. The events of DBZ are treated as canonical for purposes of this fic, while the events of Dragon Ball Super are not.

Gohan flipped through the pages of the large, heavy text he'd checked out of the library, hastily taking notes. Although his essay wasn't due for a few more days, the book had to be returned by noon, and it was one of few books available in his university library on the Transcontinental Unification Wars. He silently cursed himself for waiting until the last minute to start working, but he always found himself procrastinating on history assignments. It wasn't that he found the class difficult; he just never found the subject matter particularly interesting.

The bathroom door creaked slightly as Trunks poked his dripping-wet head into the main room of Gohan's studio apartment. "Hey," he asked, "you have an extra towel I can use?"

"Sure," Gohan said, turning away from his book. "Blue one hanging on the door."

"There are two blue ones."

"The one with the dark border around the edge."

Trunks nodded. "Thanks." With that, he closed the bathroom door once again. Gohan turned back to his textbook. Even as he scanned the page, he found his mind wandering.

He had learned a lot about Trunks over the past couple of months. First, his friend had a great deal of difficulty relaxing. That had been unsurprising; the young time traveler had spent far too much of his life with the weight of the world resting solely on his shoulders. Gohan of all people understood that—but he also understood, from hard experience, the damage he could do by pushing himself too hard.

Trunks had learned that lesson firsthand a couple of weeks earlier. Gohan had gotten wind of how Trunks had fallen ill in the middle of a lesson with Goku, and though he'd refrained from giving Trunks a well-deserved I-told-you-so, he had made a point—with some prodding on Bulma's part—of pulling Trunks away from his intensive training schedule on occasion. Between that and Goku's order to Trunks to limit the amount of training he did outside their sessions, it had actually gotten much easier for Gohan and Videl to get him to join them for some much-needed fun and socialization.

That was what had brought Trunks down to the East Keio campus the previous evening. What had started off as a relatively tame evening had ended with them, Videl, and Sharpner being dragged to yet another party thrown by Erasa and her housemates. From what Gohan could tell, Trunks had spent the better part of the evening fending off Angela's advances—until she had tripped and spilled the better part of a beer can on top of the beleaguered demi-Saiyan's head. He had dried off by the time he collapsed onto Gohan's couch at the end of the night, but had woken up smelling strongly of stale beer. A disgusted look came over his face as he all but dragged himself to Gohan's bathroom to clean himself off, while Gohan had suddenly remembered his neglected history assignment and the soon-to-be-overdue book sitting on his desk.

"Finally got the beer smell out my hair, I think," Trunks said as he stepped out of the bathroom, fully dressed but with his hair still damp. "Seriously, Gohan, you have the weirdest friends."

"First, Angela and I aren't exactly friends," Gohan explained. "Second, I'm sure it was an accident."

"I'm more referring to Erasa offering to clean me off afterwards."

"What so weird about—"

"With her tongue, Gohan."

Gohan dropped his pen. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Nope," Trunks said. He placed his hands on his hips and raised his voice in a disconcertingly accurate impersonation of Erasa. "Well, you don't drink, so it'd be a shame to let the beer go to waste, right?" He folded his arms, returning to his normal voice. "Exact quote."

"Wow," Gohan said around a chuckle, "that's pretty forward. Even for her."

"Well, that's a relief," Trunks deadpanned. "Nice to know she's just that way with me."

Gohan let out another laugh. Another thing he'd learned about his friend over the past several weeks was that, when he did manage to relax, Trunks was surprisingly hilarious. He had a sarcastic streak a mile long, and a self-deprecating, occasionally dark sense of humor. Gohan hadn't seen that when he was a child, and Trunks had first come to the past; he wondered if it was the sense of urgency that had accompanied Trunks' prior trips into the past that had dampened his sense of humor, or if he'd simply been uncomfortable revealing that side of his personality to a nine-year old.

Trunks raised one hand to his mouth, letting out a loud yawn. "I need some caffeine."

"I'll make tea in a little bit," Gohan said. "I really need to get these notes down so I can get this book back to the library."

"I'll just go pick some up at the campus café and bring it back here," Trunks offered. "What kind do you want?"

"It's closed on Sundays," Gohan said. "But you're welcome to use my tea kettle if you like."

Trunks shot the other demi-Saiyan a skeptical look. "You sure you want me to do that?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"You know I'm not really good in the kitchen."

"Making tea isn't exactly cooking."

"Okay," Trunks said, raising both hands in what appeared to be a gesture of surrender. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Gohan turned back to his notebook and continued writing. A few minutes passed before an annoyed grunt came from the kitchen, interrupting Gohan's thoughts. "Oh, goddamnit!"

Something else Gohan had picked up on was the fact that Trunks tended to swear. A lot. That had been a surprise, at first; Trunks typically spoke with greater formality than Gohan did. Despite that, his vocabulary was markedly more colorful than Gohan's.

He heard a loud clang, followed by another string of curses. Gohan set his pen down, turning around in his chair toward the kitchen. "Trunks?" Gohan called out from his place at his desk. "Are you okay?"

Trunks stepped out of the galley kitchen and back into the main room, one hand behind his back. "Well," he began, "I've got good news and bad news."

Gohan raised an eyebrow at the other Saiyan, wondering what the younger boy was hiding behind his back. "What's the good news?"

"I've made a scientific breakthrough."

"What?"

"I've somehow managed to burn water." Trunks smiled sheepishly, combing his other hand through his long, damp hair. "That's also the bad news." He pulled his left hand out from behind his back, revealing what appeared to be the remains of Gohan's tea kettle.

Gohan's eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he stood from his desk, taking the kettle from his embarrassed friend. "How did you even..." Gohan gaped at the warped, misshapen hunk of steel and ceramic in his hands. "It's designed to boil water. How did this happen?"

"It's a mystery," Trunks said, his face turning slightly red. "I'm sorry about the tea kettle. I tried to warn you."

"It's fine," Gohan insisted, still staring in shock at the destroyed kettle. "I guess I'll just heat water in the microwave for now."

"Want me to—"

"No," Gohan cut his friend off. "I'm actually a little afraid you'll set the kitchen on fire."

Trunks' face turned a deeper shade of red. "It, uh, wouldn't be the first time."

Gohan studied the other boy, unsure whether his friend was kidding. "You're not serious." When Trunks lowered his eyes and nodded, Gohan burst into laughter.

"It isn't that funny!" Trunks huffed.

Gohan collapsed into his desk chair as he tried to catch his breath. "How?" he asked around a peal of laughter.

"It's a long story involving a rice cooker, okay?" Trunks huffed out. Gohan tried to get his laughter under control as he barely heard Trunks grumble something about not knowing how much water he'd needed.

Trunks' muttering came to an abrupt halt as a loud thunderbolt clapped in the distance. The younger demi-Saiyan instantly tensed up as a frown came over his face.

It was the first weekend of February. Winter was winding down, and as the weather began to warm, rain storms were becoming ever more frequent. With that change, Gohan had begun to notice—for reasons that entirely escaped him—that Trunks became visibly uncomfortable during thunderstorms. Though he tried to hide it, Gohan could tell that the other demi-Saiyan would bristle whenever he heard a thunderclap. That had struck Gohan as more than a little odd; he found it hard to believe that a young, highly skilled warrior that had stared death in the face countless times would be frightened by something so mundane as thunder.

"Weather forecasts say thunderstorms," Gohan said, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that had befallen his apartment.

"I should probably head out soon then," Trunks said quietly, his quest for caffeine apparently forgotten. "Try not to get caught in it."

"Worried you're going to get lost in a storm?" Gohan asked, raising an eyebrow at the other teenager.

"Shut up," Trunks muttered, glowering. Gohan couldn't help but chuckle at how much he resembled Vegeta in that moment.

"Hey," Gohan said, "my dad is terrified of needles. Vegeta hates worms. Chocolate still freaks me out. Bad associations, remember? Everybody's got that one thing."

"Using my own words against me?" Trunks asked, his expression softening somewhat. "Jerk."

"I'm just saying—"

"Besides," Trunks interrupted, "I'm not afraid of thunderstorms. I just don't like them."

Gohan tilted his head to one side, surprised by his friend's discomfort and sudden defensiveness. "Any particular reason?"

"It's kind of a long story. I'd rather not talk about it."

"Alright," Gohan said with a shrug. Although he was curious, he dropped the subject. "You said you wanted to miss the storm?"

"Yeah," Trunks responded. "Better get going. Thanks." With that, he grabbed his jacket off the coathook and slipped it on, checking his pocket for his plane capsule. He waved goodbye and opened the door, only to stop short halfway out. Trunks slowly turned around to face the other boy once again.

Gohan met his friend's gaze. "Is something wrong?"

Trunks gave Gohan a questioning look, studying the older boy for a moment before he spoke. "Worms?"

Trunks pressed a few buttons on the control panel as he began to bring his plane in for a landing. He had managed to avoid the storm as it rolled across Satan City and its outlying suburbs, and the day was overcast but calm as he approached West City. He pulled in for a landing on the Capsule Corp compound's west lawn, capsulizing the plane before going into the main house through the side entrance.

He quickly made his way upstairs and began to walk toward his bedroom to change. As he walked past his younger self's open bedroom door, he caught sight of the boy sitting cross-legged on the carpet. The younger Trunks appeared to be wearing some sort black helmet with a short grey antenna, and aside from his breathing, looked to be completely still.

His curiosity got the better of him. "Trunks?" the teenager called out tentatively, tapping lightly on the open door. "What are you doing?"

The boy sat still for a few seconds more before reaching up and removing his helmet. "Hey, I thought I heard something," the child said. "What's up?"

"Just wondering what's with the helmet," the older boy said. "Are you playing some kind of game?"

"Sort of," the kid explained. "It's a virtual reality module I'm working on."

"What for?"

"Mom won't let me use her lab equipment, so I run simulations in here."

"That's probably for the best," Trunks said with a smile, imagining for a moment the havoc the younger boy might wreak with his own laboratory. "Well, I'll leave you to it. I need to go get ready to meet up with Goku."

"Of course you do," the child said, rolling his eyes upward from his spot on the floor.

Trunks frowned at his young counterpart. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're more obsessed with training than Dad is. And that's saying something."

Trunks furrowed his brow and pursed his lips at the comparison. "These are kind of unusual circumstances."

"We're Saiyans. Our whole lives are unusual circumstances."

Trunks tried to come up with a retort, but came up empty. "You know, I'm pretty sure I wasn't this big a smartass at your age."

"What's Goku been teaching you, anyway?" the younger boy asked, ignoring the teenager's remark.

"Everything, really. Hand-to-hand combat, sensing ki, energy beams—"

"Didn't you already know to do all that?" the younger boy interrupted.

"There's room for improvement," Trunks admitted. "I've gotten a lot more controlled since I started training with Goku."

"I thought you've been training forever."

"It was mostly a . . . learn-by-doing thing in my case."

"Is that how you got all those scars?" the boy blurted out.

The teenager frowned at his younger self. "Trunks—"

"It's not a big deal or anything. I mean, Dad's covered in 'em."

Trunks cast his glance away from the other boy. "That makes sense," he said, as much to himself as to the child. "It was probably a learn-by-doing situation for him, too."

A heavy silence fell between the two boys. Several long, uncomfortable moments passed before the young Trunks spoke up again. "So, uh, do you want to check out my sim?"

Trunks looked down at the digital watch on his wrist. After a moment's hesitation, the teenager's curiosity got the better of him and he nodded. "Why not? I've got a little time," he said, stepping farther into the boy's room.

"Great!" the younger boy said, his mood instantly brightening as he tossed the elder a second helmet. "Sit down, put it on, and turn on the button next to your right ear."

Trunks nodded, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of his younger counterpart. He felt around for the power button, pressing when he found it; moments later, he found himself looking around what appeared to be an exact replica of the younger Trunks' bedroom.

"Are you in the sim?" Trunks heard his younger self's voice ask.

"Yes," Trunks replied, "but I can't see you. What is this?"

"Yeah, I've got avatars turned off. Easier to work that way."

"Work? On what?"

"On this." With that, the furniture in the bedroom began to reconfigure itself. Trunks watched with fascination as the bed, desk, and all the other furnishings collapsed into pools of what appeared to be liquid metal, only to reform into new items. Before long, the entire bedroom had transformed into what appeared to be a home office.

"What the hell?" Trunks said, scanning the new environment.

"Speculative nanotech engineering," he heard his younger self say. "The next generation in portable tech, as Mom likes to call it."

Trunks felt his eyes widen inside his helmet as he took in what the younger boy was saying. "That's incredible. Does this technology actually exist?"

"Sort of. Mom says we have the tech to get something close to the nanobots, but the problem is finding a power source that can make 'em work for more than a few minutes. Mom's computer is logging all the info from the sims."

"And you're helping her out by coming up with real world applications for the simulations to log."

"Yup!" the younger boy said cheerfully. "I mean, they're tiny robots that can form anything you want. Why wouldn't I want to mess around with that kind of tech?" All the furniture in the large room once again dissolved into metal pools. The pools came together and began to reform into a single item; seconds later, it was clear that they were combining into long, sleek car.

Trunks couldn't help but laugh at that. "What do you need a car for?"

"First, it looks cool. Second, not everyone can fly at super speed."

"Fair enough," Trunks said. "Would the car actually work?"

"That's what we're about to find out." Trunks watched as the lights on the front of the vehicle came to live and the car began to rev up. Seconds later, though, the lights abruptly turned off and the car fell silent.

"Guess that's a no," the older boy said.

"Yeah, we're having trouble getting complicated machinery to work in these sims. Mom thinks we need to stick to boring stuff like furniture for the first generation of this kind of tech."

"Boring?" Trunks said incredulously. "I don't think objects instantly transforming themselves into other objects is boring. It's damn near miraculous."

"Then you're just not ambitious enough," the boy replied.

Despite himself, Trunks started laughing again. Before he could respond to his younger self's comment, the car dissolved, again forming a single gelatinous metal pool. He heard a few beeps in the background of the virtual reality simulation—soon, the pool seemed to grow in size.

"What are you trying now?" the teenager asked.

Trunks could hear the grin in the younger boy's voice. "I might have messed with the programming and changed the sim parameters."

"Messed with them how?"

"You'll see."

Trunks watched as the metallic pool began to ripple. Soon, began to subtly spike and change color, shifting to a pale green. The green deepened as the spikes spread. It didn't take Trunks long to realize what he was watching.

"Is that grass?"

"Mom doesn't think we can replicate living matter with these kinds of bots," the younger boy explained. "I wanna prove her wrong."

Trunks watched with fascination as taller bushes and vines began to form, then as a larger shape he could only assume was a tree trunk began to coalesce. "I can't believe you designed this programming yourself."

Suddenly, a bright flash of static cut across Trunks' line of sight, startling him; he jumped backward slightly from his seat on the carpet. The screen was completely blank when the static cleared.

"Oh, dammit," Trunks heard his younger self say. He pulled off his helmet and set it down next to him as his counterpart ripped off his own helmet, glowering at the device.

"You overloaded the system, didn't you?" the teenager asked.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit," the other boy muttered. "Come on, you stupid system, reboot."

As if on cue, the boys were interrupted by an insistent beeping. Trunks looked down at his wristwatch before silencing the alarm. "Well, that's my cue. I need to get over to Mount Paozu." He tossed his helmet over to the younger boy.

"Oh, no," the younger Trunks said, frantically pressing the reset button on the side of his own helmet in an attempt to restart the simulation. "You've gotta help me fix this. Mom's gonna kill me if she finds out I messed with her system programming."

"That sounds like your problem, kiddo," Trunks said with a laugh.

"You can't just abandon me here, you traitor!"

"I'm not the one who told you to sneak into Mother's computer system," the teenager said as he stood.

"If Mom asks what happened," young Trunks said, setting his helmet down and glowering up at his counterpart, "I'm going to say it was your idea."

"I'll take my chances on what she'll actually believe."

"You are the worst!" the boy snarled at his older counterpart.

"Yup," Trunks said in response. He couldn't stop himself from grinning at his companion's indignation. "But thanks for sharing that with me." He didn't wait for a reply before he made his way down the hallway toward his own bedroom.

Trunks dove, launching three energy blasts upwards in Goku's direction. Goku easily evaded the first, then the second. Trunks dove behind the third, launching several smaller blasts upward. Goku evaded those easily before flying down toward Trunks at lightning speed.

As much as he hated to admit it, Trunks knew that falling ill had been a blessing in disguise. Both Goku and Bulma had, of course, been right. Training properly meant that he had to give his body time to recover and repair itself if he wanted to build his strength and stamina.

Trunks released another series of small energy blasts; none of them landed on Goku, but Trunks did not expect them to. He narrowly avoided a kick to the gut; a fraction of a second later, he felt an energy beam clip his shoulder. Though he and Goku were still both in their base forms, their combat had become progressively more intense in the weeks since Goku had begun training him.

Trunks again dove toward the ground. He launched two more, slightly larger energy blasts in an attempt to distract his master. Goku avoided both before materializing immediately in front of Trunks. Trunks struggled to keep his concentration as the next kick landed, knocking Trunks off his feet and onto the ground.

Goku crossed his arms and smiled at his pupil as he floated upwards again. "Come on, Trunks," Goku said, a hint of a laugh in his voice. "Who do you think taught Gohan that trick?"

"Oh, I know." Trunks returned Goku's smile, satisfied that his ploy had worked. "But you didn't teach him this one." Goku's smile dropped as he frowned at his student in confusion. He only had a moment to look behind him before Trunks quickly pulled his fingers together into a fist.

Goku's eyes widened, realizing too late that the series of small blasts that Trunks had aimed in his direction were never intended to hit him. He barely had time to raise his energy levels before the scattered ki enveloped him in a cocoon before exploding.

Trunks dove away from the blast radius. He stood up as the explosion cleared, unable to keep himself from grinning as he saw Goku cough and try to get his bearings again where he'd been knocked into the grass.

"Not bad," Goku admitted, his own smile returning as he sat up. "You really could have hurt me there."

Trunks landed on the grass next to his master. "I somehow doubt that." He offered Goku a hand to help him up; Goku took it, rising to stand in front of his pupil.

"I'm serious," Goku said. "It's crazy how much you've improved. If you were actually trying to take me out, you could've done some real damage."

Trunks' smile faded a bit. "If I were actually trying to take you out, you would have transformed and annihilated me."

"Hey," Goku said encouragingly. "You'll get there! I promise."

"I'm not talking about ascending." Trunks shook his head. Goku was an incredibly effective teacher, but Trunks had no illusions that he would reach Goku's heights of power any time soon. "I'm talking about the level beyond that."

"Oh," Goku said, realization dawning on him. "You mean Super Saiyan Three, don't you?"

"Gohan told me about it a while back," Trunks explained. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious about it."

"We're not training for that," Goku said firmly. "I only got there after training in the Otherworld for seven years. And there's a reason I never use it. It drains your stamina so badly it's almost useless in a real fight. Unless you're absolutely sure you can end the fight in a couple of minutes, it just isn't worth the power boost. It didn't do any good against Buu when I fought him."

"I understand that, Goku," Trunks said. "I just . . . I guess I want to know what the limits are."

Goku looked ready to refuse, but stopped himself short as he took in his young pupil. After a few moments, his expression softened. "Okay, Trunks," he said gently. "If you really want to see it, I'll show you."

Trunks' expression brightened in response. "Thank you! I've been wondering since I heard about it."

Goku looked back in the direction of his home. "We're gonna have to move further out. Chichi's gonna kill me if I damage the house."

Trunks' eyes widened at that. "Just from transforming? All the way out here?"

"The power surge isn't the easiest thing to control," Goku explained. "Come on." With that, Goku launched himself up and began flying further into the foothills. Trunks followed after.

"Okay," Goku said a few minutes later as he landed. "So, first, I go Super Saiyan." Trunks watched as Goku easily transformed into that familiar form. "Then," Goku continued, "I ascend. It still takes a lot of energy just to power up here." Goku closed his eyes. Moments later, Trunks felt a surge of power from his master. The older man's hair spiked up further and sparks flashed in front of him as the ground subtly vibrated beneath the two of them.

Trunks gulped. The last time he'd actually witnessed an ascension was during Gohan's battle with Cell. It was almost unsettling seeing Goku treat that transformation so casually.

Goku opened his eyes again. "This is what you're going for. Once you break through the barrier to ascend, you're going to need a lot of work to control this form."

"Right," Trunks said. "I understand."

"Now stand back." Goku again closed his eyes and Trunks obeyed, flying back several yards. For several long moments, nothing happened. The air seemed unusually still and quiet.

Suddenly, the wind began to pick up. It took Trunks just a moment to realize that the wind was not natural. Soon, the ground began to quake. Trunks stared, unable to look away as the energy around Goku began to crackle.

He heard Goku begin to strain with the effort. Without further warning, Trunks found himself blown backward. He flipped through the air, struggling to steady himself midair. He finally got his bearings and flew upward, staring down at the glow of energy emanating from his master. He couldn't even see Goku through the blinding aura that surrounded him, and barely heard him cry out as he transformed.

The power was incredible. Trunks had never seen or felt anything like it, and it was still growing at a breakneck pace.

Finally, the air around them began to still. The aura of power faded, and Goku was once again visible on the now-cratered ground.

Trunks's mind boggled at the sight in front of him. Goku looked like a different person; his muscles bulged and throbbed with the added power, and his hair, still golden and spiky, now extended down past his waist. Even Goku's face looked different; as far up as he'd flown, Trunks could see that Goku's face looked sharper and more angular.

But what Trunks saw paled in comparison to what he felt. The energy he felt flowing from his master was far beyond anything Trunks had ever contemplated, let alone seen. It seemed endless.

Slowly and carefully, Trunks began to descend. He landed several paces in front of Goku, unable to tear his gaze away from his teacher.

Goku locked gazes with his student. "This," he said, his voice unusually deep and gravelly, "is Super Saiyan Three."

"It's unreal," Trunks said breathlessly.

Goku took several deep breaths. "It's real." He closed his eyes. Trunks suddenly felt Goku's energy receding; seconds later, he was back to his usual form, his hair as black and his face as youthful as ever. Goku opened his eyes again, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "It's also really hard to maintain," he said, his voice also returned to normal.

Trunks gulped loudly. "I've never felt—how could you—"

A familiar voice cut off the teenager's stammering. "Showing off? Really?"

Trunks whipped around, stunned by the sight of Vegeta casually standing several feet behind them. He hadn't even noticed Vegeta's ki approaching over Goku's transformation.

"Hey, he's the one who wanted to see it," Goku responded, apparently unsurprised by Vegeta's presence. "I told him I never use it."

"I didn't know you were coming here," Trunks blurted out.

Vegeta raised one black eyebrow at the boy. "Why would you?" he asked dismissively before turning back to Goku. "Did you also tell him it was useless against Majin Buu?"

"Of course I did," Goku said. "But he asked to see it and I didn't have the heart to tell him no."

"You're too indulgent," Vegeta said mockingly. "Now you're all worn out."

"Oh, come on, I'm not that tired," Goku said with a shrug. "Think of it as a handicap."

"Really, Kakarrot, are the insults necessary?" Vegeta smirked. "Or are you simply that anxious for a beating?"

Trunks forced himself not to gape at the two full-blooded Saiyans as they spoke. Trunks had expected his father to mirror at least some of the awkwardness that the teenager felt. Instead, the older man seemed to be completely unaffected by Trunks' presence.

More than that, neither man seemed to think there was anything remarkable about their conversation, Trunks marveled as he listened to them. It occurred to the teenager that his was the first time that he'd actually seen his father and Goku interact with one another since their battle with Cell. It was as though the two men had fallen into a familiar pattern.

The bickering almost seemed friendly.

"Look, Trunks and I just need to finish up our lesson," Goku explained, still addressing Vegeta. "It'll only be a few minutes."

"I'll be out by the usual spot," Vegeta said brusquely. "Do not keep me waiting long." Without waiting for a response, he took off.

Trunks shifted his wide-eyed gaze from his father to his master as Vegeta's figure receded into the distance. "Do you two spar often?" he asked.

"Only every once in a while. Keeps us from getting rusty." Goku shot a small smile at his student. "You seem surprised."

"You two didn't exactly get along the last time I was here, Goku."

"It has been ten years."

"I guess I keep forgetting how much longer it's been for you than for me," Trunks said. He looked back out toward the edge of the clearing. "I've fallen so far behind."

"Hey, listen," Goku said. "Your dad's proud of you. Both of you."

Trunks turned back to Goku, reminded again how much more perceptive the man was than he usually let on. "I'm not so sure."

"Well, I am," Goku said confidently. "He's not the easiest guy in the world to get a read on, but I've had a lot of practice figuring him out."

"Thanks for the demonstration," Trunks said, resolutely changing the subject. "And for the lesson." Trunks gave the same quick bow he gave at the end of every session. Goku returned the bow before Trunks flew off.

Even as Mount Paozu faded into the distance, he could feel both Goku's and Vegeta's energy began to rise. He sped up toward West City.

Trunks tapped his foot nervously as he sat on the sofa in the living room. He'd been working up the courage to speak to his father ever since he arrive back at Capsule Corp, rehearsing what he wanted to say in the shower and as he dressed himself after.

His thoughts had been racing since his lesson with Goku. It wasn't just the magnitude of Goku's power at Super Saiyan Three that weighed on him; what was in some ways more striking was how powerful both Goku's and Vegeta's ki felt as they began to spar in the distance. Even without transforming into Super Saiyans, even as Trunks raced back toward West City, their energy was unmistakable.

An irritating, treasonous voice in his head had interrupted his thoughts as he'd flown home. Neither of them could defeat Majin Buu on their own.

The thought had been weighing on his mind for hours. And so there he sat, alone in the living room, anxiously awaiting Vegeta's return and reflecting on the last time he'd trained with the older man.

The training session—if Trunks could even call it that—had been brutal. Trunks had been all but bedridden for days afterward, and the truth was he still had not quite gotten over what Vegeta had done to him.

But now, at least, he understood. Whatever Trunks thought of Vegeta's methods, it was clear that there was a lot he could learn from his father. And he knew, now, that he could take absolutely no chances if he wanted to face down Majin Buu.

He turned to the front door as he heard a soft click. Moments later, Vegeta walked in; if he'd been tired out by his sparring session with Goku, he certainly wasn't showing it.

"Father," Trunks said, rising from the sofa. "You're home."

"Your grasp of the obvious is as astonishing as ever," Vegeta replied flatly, his back to Trunks as he shut the door. Vegeta turned back to the teenager, crossing his arms. "You want something." It wasn't a question.

"Yes." Trunks took a deep breath, gathering his resolve. "Do you have a minute to talk?"

"Out with it," Vegeta ordered. "If you want to say something, stop wasting my time and just say it."

"Right." Trunks tried to keep his face impassive. Vegeta's words still stung, but Trunks was not about to back down. "I wanted to ask if you'd be willing to give it another try."

"Give what another try?"

"Training with me."

Vegeta's frown deepened. "Kakarrot is training you."

"Yes," Trunks agreed. "He's my master, and I'm sticking with him. But I'm not asking for much. I want to know if you'd be willing to have a couple of lessons a week with me."

"You walked out after one session," Vegeta said, steadily walking toward his son. "Why should I believe that this time will be any different?"

"Because I think I finally understand just how powerful Buu is," Trunks explained, steeling himself as Vegeta approached. "Even if he isn't at full strength, I'm going to need every advantage I can get if I want to beat him."

"You can train on your own," Vegeta scoffed. "Besides, you have Kakarrot and his older brat. How many damn teachers do you need?"

"Combat is about a lot more than sheer strength. We both know that." Trunks forced himself not to break his father's icy gaze. "The strongest fighter doesn't always win. Strategy is just as important. I need to be ready for anything." Trunks swallowed; his mouth and his throat both felt uncomfortably dry. "And if that means spending half my time wrapped up in bandages and eating my dinner through a straw, so be it."

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at his son, looking the teenager up and down as he considered Trunks' request. The second ticked by uncomfortably as Trunks waited for Vegeta to respond.

"Tomorrow morning," Vegeta finally said. Trunks exhaled, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Six o'clock, in the Gravity Room. Do not be late."

"Thank you—" Trunks began.

Vegeta cut Trunks off. "Do not be late."