"Are you alright?"

Trunks had been so wrapped up in his own anger and horrific flashbacks that he had barely paid any attention to the young man he had just rescued. A few feet away from them, the five men that had ganged up on and beaten the younger one were sprawled out unconscious on the sidewalk. Oh sure, they had tried to put up a fight, but Trunks was worlds above them as a martial artist. Not even a single one of them had laid a finger on the demi-Saiyan, but he had left an impression on them—one he hoped they wouldn't soon forget. The young man he had saved sat on the concrete before him, wide-eyed and clearly frightened. Trunks had extended a hand towards him to help him up, but so far he hadn't budged an inch.

"It's alright." Trunks said with a weak smile. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The young man stared at the lavender-haired Saiyan for several long moments, then nodded slowly and took his hand. Trunks had little issue hoisting him up off of the ground, but when he winced hard, Trunks knew that he was more injured than he had initially believed.

"You should probably get those wounds checked out by a doctor." the demi-Saiyan suggested.

"All the clinics are closed." the youth replied.

Trunks huffed. He should have known that. It was already dark and the clinics in the Western Capital usually closed shortly after nightfall. There was the city hospital, but it was quite a distance away and Trunks didn't think flying would be an option for the young man. Then he considered his mother. Bulma had nursed more than one of his injuries back during his numerous conflicts with the Androids and had even cared for Gohan after he lost his arm. As much as Trunks didn't want to bring a stranger home, he didn't see much of an option.

"Don't worry about it." Trunks said. "My mom is pretty good with this type of thing. My place is close, so it won't be too big a deal."

The youth looked taken aback. In fact, he even appeared to be somewhat weary of Trunks' offer and, given the ordeal he had just been through. Trunks didn't blame him at all. An awkward moment of silence passed between them, but finally the younger man relented with a curt nod.

"Uh.. great!" Trunks feigned a smile again. "It's this way." The Saiyan youth used his thumb to gesture over his shoulder in the direction of Capsule Corporation.

The other youth again nodded silently.

Trunks sensed his reluctant companion's hesitation and decided that he had better lead the way. He didn't bother cleaning up after the thugs he left unconscious in the street. They would come to eventually. The two young men stepped carefully over the mangled mess and began to start down the street. Occasionally, Trunks would glance back over his shoulder at the younger man to ensure he was alright. He was considerably thinner than Trunks was, with brown hair around the same length as the demi-Saiyan's, and a pair of sharp, silvery eyes that seemed to glimmer in the moonlight. His pale skin was marred with several cuts and bruises from the earlier scuffle, though some were worse than others. Every now and again, the younger man would wince in pain and Trunks found himself lamenting his lack of foresight. He now wished he had brought some senzu beans back from the past when he last visited. They would have worked miracles in a situation like this.

"So," Trunks broke the silence. "You got a name?"

The demi-Saiyan asked more out of a need to fill the awkward silence than out of genuine interest. Then again, it would probably look better to his mother when they arrived if he knew the stranger's name.

"Mark." the youth's reply came, soft and timid.

Trunks nodded and said no more. As much as he hated the stale silence, he could feel Mark pushing back against his attempts to make conversation. In any event, they were nearing Capsule Corporation. Trunks could already see the dome-shaped buildings in the distance. They needed only to cross a few more blocks and they would reach their destination.

"How did you do that?"

The words stopped Trunks dead in his tracks. He had already accepted that Mark was staying distant from him for a reason, so when the younger man spoke up it completely blind-sighted him.

"Do what?" Trunks asked as he turned to face him.

Mark immediately adverted his gaze, looking towards the sidewalk, and when he spoke, his voice was barely audible. "Take care of those guys like that."

It took Trunks only a moment to piece together what Mark was really asking him. He suppressed a chuckle. The truth was, he had barely put any effort at all into defeat the thugs that had ganged up on the younger man. Foes like them were toddlers compared the the Androids and Cell. Still, he supposed no one knew that it was really he who vanquished Earth's greatest threat. So, with that in mind, Trunks lied.

"I'm somewhat of a martial artist." the demi-Saiyan explained as he scratched his chin. He really was a terrible liar and hoped Mark wouldn't notice. "You know... karate, taekwondo, that sort of thing..."

Mark nodded. If the younger man had thought he was lying, then he was certainly doing a superb job of not showing it. However, the youth had unwittingly opened the door for further conversation and Trunks was actually beginning to become curious.

"Why were those guys after you?" he asked.

Mark kept his gaze on the ground, but managed a shrug. "Didn't like me, I guess." he mumbled.

An idea fluttered into Trunks' mind, but he snuffed it out of existence the second it occurred to him. The truth was, he wasn't ready to take on a pupil. Certainly not one that was so walled up and withdrawn. So, Trunks let the conversation drop and the two of them returned to the more pressing matter: their journey to Capsule Corporation. The two men made the rest of their journey in complete silence. Trunks' head was swimming in conflict after his earlier thought, despite repeated attempts to shrug it off. Mark, on the other hand, never seemed to take his eyes off of the sidewalk. It was enough to make Trunks both annoyed and sympathetic. He knew what it was like to feel completely alone in a fight where the odds were seemingly stacked against him. He thought, perhaps, that was what Mark was feeling.

They arrived at Capsule Corporation shortly after the moon reached its full height in the sky. As Trunks turned to walk up the long, marble pathway to his front door, it was Mark's turn to be stopped in his tracks. The demi-Saiyan glanced back to see what the hold up was, only to be met with a slightly skeptical expression from his younger, silent companion.

"You live here?" Mark asked in disbelief.

Trunks scratched the back of his head and nodded. "Yeah. My mom is Bulma, the current president of Capsule Corporation."

Mark blinked a few times. Trunks couldn't tell whether the younger man believed him or not.

"You should come in." Trunks continued. "My mom will have you patched up in no time."

Mark looked reluctant at first, but with a little prodding, Trunks managed to get him to come inside. What Trunks didn't consider was how long he had been gone. Bulma must have seen him from the window, because as they approached the house, the blue-haired woman burst into the lawn and shouted as she did.

"Trunks?! Is that you?" Bulma shrieked. "Where have you been?!"

Trunks felt his cheeks heat up. His mother was always overreacting. "It's me, Mom. There was... a bit of a complication in town. Sorry, I didn't get the chance to pick up that list you wanted."

Bulma's hands immediately went to her hip and she looked him up and down, then adverted her gaze to Mark, who was timidly standing behind him. Even in the dim glow of the porch light, Bulma could see some of the abrasions on Mark's pale skin and, coupled with the grave look on Trunks' face, she quickly got the picture. She gestured over her shoulder, towards the door, with her thumb.

"Come on in." she said. "I'll get the full story there."

Bulma spent the better part of an hour examining Mark, during which time Trunks explained his eventful evening to her. Bulma was completely engrossed in her work and so she only offered him the occasional nod to let him know she was still listening. When he was done, he huffed and slumped back into his chair in the corner of the room. Bulma instructed Mark to remove his shirt, so that she could see the injuries underneath. Mark cast a weary eye in Trunks' direction, then sighed and did as he was instructed. Trunks and Bulma both winced at what they saw there. The younger man's body was a variety of colors, and very little of it was the pasty color of his pale skin. He was adorned with abrasions and bruises; some were worse than others. Bulma leaned back in her chair and massaged her temples, something Trunks had seen frequently whenever the woman was stressed.

"Well, you certainly took a beating." she mumbled. "But this isn't just a random attack. Whoever did this to you really wanted to harm you. Did you know them?"

Mark looked away and was silent.

"Listen," Bulma tried again, and this time her voice was softer. "We just want to help yo—"

"You can't." Mark snapped.

"Why not?" This time, it was Trunks that spoke up.

"You just can't." Mark mumbled and looked away again.

Trunks looked to Bulma for support, but the woman wasn't looking back at him. His mother's thoughtful gaze was instead directed at the ground and it was clear that she was deep in thought. Mark took the opportunity to pick his shirt up off of the tile flooring and slip it back on. Trunks could tell from the look on his face that he was getting ready to leave. Bulma, snapped from her daze, noticed this as well and stopped him before he could march out of the room.

"Wait." she said firmly. "You can't just go back out there. Those are some serious injuries that are going to take time to heal."

"I'll be fine." Mark muttered.

"At least let us call your family. They must be sick with worry. They can look after you until you're healed."

Mark's shoulders seemed to tense at the word "family" and the rest of his body soon followed.

"I don't have a family." he replied, and this time Trunks was certain he heard the younger man's voice crack.

"Don't have a—?" Bulma's eyes widened when she realized the answer to her own question.

"The Androids." Mark said plainly. "They died when the Androids first attacked the city. It's just me now."

A flood of emotions rushed through Trunks before he could even fully process Mark's statement. Anger, remorse, tremendous sadness, and loneliness all slammed into him at once and the demi-Saiyan suddenly found himself fighting to keep the tears from forming in his blue eyes. Trunks had never considered that the Androids might be partially responsible for Mark's odd behavior, but now it was all beginning to make sense. Unable to fight his emotion any longer, Trunks stood suddenly, which knocked his chair back against the wall rather violently. Startled, Mark retreated back into the room as Trunks, fists balled, marched by him and started towards his bedroom. Bulma called after him, but Trunks wouldn't stop. He refused to let his mother and the stranger Mark see his tears.

As he made his way up the darkened staircase, towards his bedroom, he was again confronted by the memories of Gohan laying dead in a puddle all those years ago. He remembered the Cell Games and the way Goku had so casually given his life in defense of his friends. And all of it—all of it—was the fault of that madman, Doctor Gero, and his horrible androids. Trunks slammed his door to his room behind him and practically fell into bed. There, he curled into a ball and allowed himself to sob into the sheets. He lamented the loss of his loved ones and his inability to call upon the Dragon Balls to restore the world as was done after the Cell Games in the past. He mentally chided himself for not defeating the Androids sooner in order to prevent more people from suffering at their hands like Mark was now. He cried and cried, for how long he did not know, until a soft knock came from his door.

Trunks dried his tears with his own sheets and offered a weak, "Come in."

Bulma entered the room and shut the door back behind her. She looked drained of strength, but also sympathetic to her son's pain. She said nothing as she crossed the room and sat at the end of his bed. Then she turned and gazed knowingly at him.

"He's agreed to stay here for the night." Bulma said. "I put him up in one of the guest rooms. We can take him to the hospital tomorrow to get him properly looked at."

Trunks nodded. "That's good."

"You want to tell me what's really bothering you?"

Trunks winced. If there was a person who ever knew him better than even Gohan, it was his mother. He felt fresh tears begin to build behind his eyes and was quick to turn away from Bulma, for fear that she might notice his moment of weakness. A foolish attempt, which his mother punctuated by offering a brief chuckle.

"No matter how old you get," she reminded him. "You never have to worry about crying in front of me." Then she nudged him. "I'm not as strict as your father."

Trunks had to laugh at that one and, as he did, the few tears which had built at his eyes fell free.

"It isn't your fault, you know?" Bulma continued. "What happened with the Androids... You and Gohan gave it everything you had to liberate the planet from their reign of terror. And, need I remind you? You did it."

"Yes, but I was much too late." Trunks argued. "Too many lives were destroyed... and the Dragon Balls are gone, so I can't reverse the damage they did." He clenched his fists tightly in his lap. "And grandpa hasn't come back, which means he probably died out there in space looking for New Namek. Before I left... I should've asked Goku where they were, but I didn't."

Bulma looked solemn at those words. Doctor Briefs, her father, had gone into space years ago to locate the new home of the Namekians. He had never returned, and though Bulma never admitted it to herself, she knew what that meant.

"You can choose to look at it that way." she said after a moment. "Or, you can look at it from the angle that you stopped the Androids before they could do any more harm. Pain and suffering have always been a part of this world, son. No amount of wishes on the Dragon Balls would ever fix that. It's just... more apparent now, with everything that's happened."

Trunks never took for granted his mother's wisdom. She was, of course, right, though he tried not to see it that way. He wanted her to tell him that everything would be okay. That they would one day find a method to get the Dragon Balls back and undo all of the terrible things that had happened to themselves and the world around them. But Bulma never lied to him and the words she spoke were the truth. There was no going back, only moving forward.

Bulma leaned over and patted his knee affectionately. "Get some rest. This Mark person is going to need a lot of help tomorrow. And, like I said earlier, it wouldn't kill you to make some friends."

Trunks frowned, but Bulma winked and then she left him alone in his room.

Alone with his thoughts.

Bulma and Trunks took Mark to Wukong Hospital, the main medical facility in the Western Capital, the very next morning. Mark was his usual quiet self, but Trunks had come to the decision that he was going to take his mother's advice and actually try for once. The doctors were just as surprised as Trunks and Bulma had been when they saw the extent of Mark's injuries. Nevertheless, after getting the full story from Trunks, they set to work on patching up Mark's battered body. Since the young man had no family, both Trunks and Bulma agreed to stay and support Mark throughout the day.

It was lunch time when the doctors finally provided the three of them with a hospital room for Mark to recuperate in and Bulma and Trunks to visit him in. The brown-haired youth was bandaged all over, but he looked somewhat better than he had when Trunks had come across him on the streets the night before. As soon as they were in the room, and the door was shut behind them, Mark surprised them both by speaking.

"Thank you." he muttered softly.

Trunks blinked rapidly, leaving Bulma to save the day.

"You're welcome, sweety." she said with a warm smile. "We aren't the type of people who turn our backs on those in need. Right, son?"

Bulma threw Trunks a rather devious smirk, and Trunks wished they didn't have company so he could give her a dirty look in response. With a slight sigh, he nodded in agreement with her.

"Yeah," he said. "That's right."

Mark wasted little time focusing all of his attention on Trunks. The lavender-haired demi-Saiyan was taken slightly aback by the sudden determination in the younger man's silvery eyes. Even Bulma seemed to sense the sudden shift in the mood in the room.

"Can you teach me?"

Was Trunks not so distracted by Mark's sudden change in demeanor, he might have been able to piece together what he was being asked. Instead, though, he could only respond by stuttering.

"Teach you what?" Trunks asked, dumbfounded.

"Can you teach me to do what you did?" Mark asked again. "Last night, I mean."

Realization hit Trunks like a freight train. Mark must have had the same thought that Trunks had the night before and now he was asking him to be trained as a martial artist. Bulma seemed to catch on too and smirked at her son once again. Trunks felt his eyebrow twitch when he realized what she must be thinking as well; if he trained Mark, they would obviously spend time together and, thus, he would end up making friends, just as his mother intended. If he wasn't any wiser, the demi-Saiyan might have thought that the two of them had planned this together to bring Trunks out of his shell.

"Well?" Mark asked, which snapped Trunks from his daze.

"It won't be easy." Trunks said truthfully. "We'll have to start from the bottom and work our way up. There's a lot more to martial arts than just flashy moves."

The determined glint in Mark's eyes never wavered. "I'm prepared to do whatever it takes."

Trunks could tell that Mark was being honest with him. The determination in his eyes and voice were apparent and there was no need for him to explain his reasoning. To a warrior like Trunks, it was blatantly obvious. After all, it was the same reason Trunks had begged Gohan to train him. The need to turn the odds in one's favor, especially in an impossible predicament, was powerful. Trunks had felt powerless at the hands of the Androids, and while he knew Mark must have too, he also knew that Mark was thinking about what happened last night.

He then noticed his mother watching him closely from her corner of the room. Gone was her smirk from earlier. She seemed genuinely curious as to what his answer would be, but by then, Trunks had already made up his mind. Though still unsure of his credentials as a mentor, Trunks nodded and gave his first genuine smile since meeting Mark.

"Well," he said. "I can't exactly say no to that. I'll train you, but on one condition."

Mark raised an eyebrow at him.

"You have to stay at Capsule Corp with mom and me. I won't have my first pupil living out on the streets."

Slightly surprised, Mark turned from Trunks to look at Bulma for approval. Bulma, a proud smile on her face, gave that approval with an agreeing nod and, for the first time, Mark allowed a bit of emotion to show through his stone wall of defenses. A brief glimmer of tears appeared in his eyes, but he wiped them away before they could fall.

"We'll start as soon as you get better." Trunks declared. "So heal and rest up. You've got a long road ahead of you."

It was late evening and Trunks was standing outside of Mark's hospital room, hands stuffed in his pocket, waiting for his mother. The doctors had asked to keep Mark overnight, simply to keep an eye on him, so Trunks was preparing to take Bulma home for the night. They both would be back up in the morning to retrieve their newest companion. The door to the room opened and Bulma stuck her head out into the hall.

"Come in, Trunks. You might want to see this." she said.

Trunks' brow creased with confusion, but he obeyed regardless. The setting sun's hazy, burnt glow was bleeding through the windows and gave the room an orange glow. Mark was fast asleep in his hospital bed. Trunks speculated that it had been quite some time since the boy had a decent rest. He then saw what was really drawing his mother's attention. The television was on, hanging above the end of the hospital bed, and on it, a reporter was interviewing a blonde man in a sharp-looking suit and shades.

"That's right!" the blonde man was saying. "One month from now, on May the seventh, the World Martial Arts Tournament will be revived on Papaya Island! All martial artists are invited to sign-up and compete, and all spectators are welcome! This will be the biggest and best tournament yet, I assure you!"

"World... Martial Arts... Tournament?" Trunks repeated in disbelief.

"Boy, does that bring back memories." Bulma said with a smile on her face. "Back when I was younger, Goku competed in the tournament. He even won it once!"

Trunks barely heard her, though. He was again swimming in the sea of his memories, back to the day Cell achieved his Perfect Form and announced the Cell Games:

"Long before we ever existed, there was a competition on this planet called the World Martial Arts Tournament." Cell had said at that time.

"Well?" Bulma said, which drove away the memories. "You should enter."

"Me?" Trunks blinked.

"Well, why not? You and Mark are already going to be training together. This will give you both a goal to work towards."

Trunks blinked again and weighed his options. Once again, his mother was right. The tournament would serve as a nice goal. Furthermore, Trunks was curious about the tournament in which Goku had competed and which Cell had painstakingly revived when he started the Cell Games in the past. Even so, he was hesitant, though he wasn't quite sure why. He looked down at Mark, who was still asleep despite their conversation. A tournament might be good for his self-esteem, Trunks thought. Yes, perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea after all. He shook his mind of all doubtful thoughts, shrugged, then smiled at his mother.

"Sure," he said. "Why not."

"I'll go too!" a sudden disembodied voice burst into their minds.

Both Trunks and Bulma looked at each other in astonishment.

"That voice—" Trunks gasped.

"It couldn't be—" Bulma exclaimed.

In unison, they shouted: "Gohan?!"

Gohan's voice chuckled within their minds. "Yeah, it's me. Long time no see, you guys!"

"Gohan?" Trunks' eyes were watering now. "Is it really you?"

"Sure is."

"A-a-and... you can really come to the tournament? How?!"

"Yeah, as it happens, sacrificing myself to protect the world from the Androids has really scored me some points up here. I get one day, so I figured the tournament would be the best opportunity to see you all again! And since my pupil is taking his pupil, what better opportunity is there?"

Trunks was forced to wipe his eyes. "That's incredible! It'll be so good to see you again, Gohan."

"Yes," Bulma agreed. "We've missed you terribly."

"And I've missed the both of you. We'll catch up at the tournament, so make sure to train your hardest, Trunks. I wanna see what you're capable of now! Well, I guess I'll see you both later!"

And just like that, Gohan's voice was gone.

To say that Trunks was elated would have been a severe understatement. Not since he vanquished Cell had he felt so accomplished and happy. He also felt motivated, a feeling that had long since abandoned him. Bulma's eyes seemed to light up just seeing her son in such a happy trance. Trunks once again fixated his gaze on Mark, who had managed to sleep through the sizable commotion.

You'd better get well soon, Mark. Trunks thought to himself. The moment you're able, we're beginning our training. I hope you're ready.

A/N: And there's chapter two. It's slightly shorter than the first, but I'm actually quite proud of this chapter. In keeping with the theme set by Gohan in the present timeline, who had friends named after school supplies (Erasa, Videl, Sharpner, etc.), I've named Mark after a marker :P The tournament has been announced and, as you can already see, events have taken a slightly different turn than they did in the past timeline — with Gohan coming back rather than Goku. The first in a series of twists that will hopefully keep you all guessing an entertained as we approach familiar story ground. The training for the tournament starts with chapter three! What challenges shall face Trunks in training? All that and more next time! Review, Subscribe, Favorite, and let me know what you guys are thinking!

Until next time!