Prompt: Summer.

A/N: I know this isn't a sequel to "Unusual Weather", and thanks again for the nice reviews of wanting to see a sequel to it! I will be working on it now, though, that this is done! I swear it! I will be working on the sequel this week, so hopefully it'll be up later this week ^^

Alright, so some WARNINGS: If you don't like hunting or humane killing of deer, DON"T READ! Also, I have never hunted or gutted a deer in real life, so my only knowledge comes from the research I had to do. So if you are a hunter, and anything seems wrong about the scene, sorry. Also keep in mind that Trunks and Vegeta (especially Vegeta) are not human! So I took some liberties with that, I'm sure.

So, aside from all that, hope any and all who read this, ENJOY!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own DBZ or any of the characters. They belong to Akira Toriyama.

Bulma shifted in her sleep. Her unconscious mind picked up the sound of rustling clothes and she groaned. "Mus' you ge' up so early?" she grumbled without even opening her eyes.

No answer was given, just a soft chuckle and more rustling. She cracked an open to see Vegeta topless and pulling on a pair of dark blue jeans. An arm stretched above her head as her body fired up at the sight of her husband.

"We're on vacation. Can't you sleep in a little?" she asked, a little more awake now.

"You're on vacation," he corrected lightly as he stepped back toward the bed. He leaned down as a hand brushed through her short blue hair. "So you just sleep while the boy and I are out."

She blinked tiredly. "How long will you be gone?" Her arm drew out from under the blankets so her hand could rest on his.

"I don't know. It depends on your son."

She gave him a lazy smile. "Mhm," she hummed, her eyelids drifting down. "Just be careful, okay?"

He pulled his hand away from her. He turned his back on her, heading toward the dresser to grab a shirt.

"Promise me," was mumbled as she snuggled back into the blankets.

Vegeta turned his head to look at her, while raising a dark-brown long-sleeved shirt from the drawer. "I promise, Bulma."

"Okay."

He snorted as he pulled the shirt over his head and headed back over to the bed. He had to bend his knees slightly so he could lean down to brush his lips across her forehead. Her lips turned up and he couldn't help the upturn of his own lips at the sight. However, it didn't last long as he turned back to the dresser and pulled out a pair of socks before leaving the room.

He moved down the straight hallway, towards the other end of the capsule house. He opened up the door at the end, finding his ten-year-old son sluggishly pulling on a dark-colored long-sleeved shirt. "Hurry up, boy!" he yelled, a little softer than if they would've been at home.

Trunks' head popped out and he glared at his father. "Why do we have to get up so early to go hunting? And it's the middle of summer, so why are we wearing long sleeves and pants?" he whined tiredly.

Vegeta rolled his eyes as he still stood in the doorway. "Stop bitching and moaning," his tone neutral and low. "You sound entirely too much like your mother," he muttered mostly to himself. He watched as the boy sat down on his bed and started pulling on a pair of socks. "Besides," he finally started back up, catching his son's attention, "we can't hunt at night, so early morning is our best option."

Trunks adjusted his socks before standing up and starting after his father's now retreating back. "Okay, so why the clothes? I mean, it's summer, it's gonna get really hot out."

The older man only snorted as he led the way into the front living area. "Can you stop asking questions for two damn seconds?" he growled out. "I'll explain everything when we head out."

"But why can't…."

"Trunks!" Vegeta barked at his son, who jumped a few inches in the air. "Just shut up and put on your boots and gloves," he told the boy as he picked up his own boots after sliding his socks on. He pulled the black, thick, leather boots over his socks, making sure his feet were settled correctly, before reaching over to a side-table that held two sets of light-weight black leather gloves. Vegeta grabbed the bigger pair and slid them over his hands before looking at his son.

Trunks was sliding on his boots, adjusting the heavier than normal footwear. "So, uh," he started, heading toward the table to pick up his glove, "this is a Saiyan thing, right?" His curiosity couldn't be contained as he looked up at his father, who was now opening the front the door.

Vegeta merely nodded as Trunks passed him to step outside. His eyes easily adapted to the darkened early-morning sky. He cast a glance at his son, who his rubbing at his eyes with his fists. "You alright, boy?" The question came out as more of a comment than actual concern.

"Yeah, I'm good." He blinked his eyes a few times, getting them to focus on the barely lit landscape. A thick layer of mist came up to his knees, and the air was actually quite chilly for it being the peak of summer. Of course it was still pretty early, so once the sun came out, he was sure the heat would be unbearable. "So now what? Do I getta blow stuff up?"

Vegeta snorted out a sigh. "No." He went down on one knee, a hand resting on the boy's shoulder. "This is all about control." When the boy gave him a confused look, Vegeta continued, "Control your instincts as well as sharpen them. You've known for some time that you're not just human."

Trunks gave a short nod of acknowledgment, but kept his mouth shut.

Vegeta's hand slid off his son's shoulder to land on his raised knee. His gaze fixed on the pair of blue eyes in front of him; both pairs of eyes reflected the seriousness of the situation. "Your heightened senses, your desire to fight, they're not 'normal' for such a pathetic race," he tried to hold the contempt in his voice back, but it was a natural response to the race he now lived amongst.

"Dad," Trunks hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I don't think Goten ever feels like I do." He stopped, trying best how to describe it, even though he knew that's what his father was talking about. "It's like my first instinct is always to fight."

Vegeta turned his head to look out at the forest surrounding them. "Tch, of course Kakarot's brat doesn't get it. My bloodline is not only the purest, but the best of what the Saiyan gene's have to offer," he explained, a little more harshly than intended. "Whereas Kakarot's may have been pure, it was of the lowest quality. He may be the strongest, but he's still only got third-class blood running through his veins and passed onto his sons."

Trunks gave another short nod of understanding. "So because you were the prince, you got the best of the best. Then that's why I have more violent urges than Goten?" he questioned. His father gave shrug as a thoughtful look overtook his face. "But you're saying I'm definitely more Saiyan than Goten, right?"

At that, Vegeta smirked. "Yes, definitely more Saiyan in nature." His dark eyes shifted back toward his son's face. "That's why we're doing this. You know how to control your ki well enough. Now it's time to learn how to control your senses, and your other more primal desires." The smirk on his face never faded as he stood back up. "Follow me and be as quiet as possible." His tone was sharp and commanding.

Trunks straightened his back and followed after his father into the mist filled forest.

~S~

What felt like hours later, Trunks was steadily giving into his more animalistic side. The scents he was picking up, the sounds he was aware of, the stillness of the creatures around him. His father had stepped back and was now following him, giving him pointers and breathing out low questions and suggestions to bring forth more of his Saiyan nature. The thick mist was now down to just covering his feet, swimming at his ankles, and swirling around his quietly paced footsteps.

"Trunks," the voice behind him whispered again, making him come to a stand-still. His booted feet sank an inch into the soft ground. "Listen and scent."

The boy did as he was told. His ears picked up the faint rustle of twigs snapping and heavy, snorting, breathe. His head turned in different angles to pinpoint just where the noise was coming from. He breathed in quietly yet heavily through his nose, but the scent eluded him. "I don't," he started, before stopping again. He wasn't supposed to talk, just feel.

Behind the young boy, Vegeta stood stock-still, not even daring to reprimand the boy for talking. It was the first sign of activity they'd had since they entered the forest, and he wasn't about to blow it by lecturing his son on what he should already know. His nostrils flared out as he picked up the scent of live prey.

Trunks' hand landed on the tree next to him, steadying his body from the instinct of sprinting after his prey. He listened again, getting the direction from which the noise was coming from. He felt his feet move in the right direction. His steps were low and on tip-toe. He felt his nostrils flare as he breathed in this time, still only picking up the heavy scent of wood and mud, sticking his tongue out at the overpowering and nasty smell. He turned around to glance at his father for support, but was only greeted with empty air. He blinked, looking up and around, but saw no signs that the man had even been following him.

Alone, guided by instinct and what little knowledge his father had lent him beforehand. He turned his head to the overcastted sky, looking at the grayish-white clouds through the thick green leaves of the trees. 'Listen. Breathe low and steady. Scent. Take low steady steps, while keeping one eye on the ground and the other searching the area.' The sharp sound of a branch breaking had his head whipping to the right. His blue eyes dilated as he searched the area, finally spotting a medium-sized buck.

All breathing and movement stopped for a second as he took in the animal. The male deer began rubbing its antlers on the tree it was standing next to, giving no signs that it detected the boy that was standing only feet away from it.

The boy's brain re-routed a few circuits as he stood completely and utterly still. Trunks didn't even know if he was physically breathing or not, but it didn't matter because he knew he was still getting air somehow. A foot finally stepped forward before he quickly pressed himself against a large oak tree.

The deer stopped its rubbing, its head straightening and ears rotating. It gave a snort before going back to rubbing against the bark of the much smaller elm tree.

'Okay,' Trunks reasoned in his mind, 'what now? Dad said no ki blasts. I have to do this by hand.' He looked down at his gloved hands, balling them into fists. His eyes shut tight before quickly reopening and refocusing on his objective. 'Don't lose sight of the prey. Make sure it doesn't sense you.' A calming breath swept past his barely parted lips. The deer hadn't seemed to notice his presence again, so he eased himself around the trunk of the tree.

Sucking in a lungful of air, Trunks quick-stepped. The deer barely had time to notice the presence that was now standing beside him. A mewling cry escaped the animal's parted mouth as a set of hands gripped and twisted its neck, before letting the body drop to the murky forest floor.

A heavy pant started from the rush of adrenaline and held-in breath. Now that the deed was done, and he didn't have to worry about scaring an animal away, he took the time to breathe fully and heavily. His hands rested on his knees as he seemed to study the now dead prey, wondering what he was supposed to do with the body.

A heavy hand rested on his shoulder and he whipped around, stumbling on his feet, and almost over the deer. "Dad!" the growling shout stirred the smaller creatures that had been lurking about the area into a frenzy.

The older man chuckled, a smirk set firmly on his face. His black eyes glanced over the boy's shoulder. "On the first try, not bad. Of course, you are much older than I was." It was also the fact that the boy's prey had been a harmless forest creature rather than an enemy's camp full of creatures capable of defending their selves.

Trunks huffed, crossing his arms. "What do we do with the body?"

"Eat it. What else would you do with a dead body?"

A sinister smile carved the once friendly looking smirk—from Trunks' point view—into something the boy almost backed away from, if it weren't for the firm hold his father had on his shoulder. "Raw?" he choked out, turning his head to look down at the body.

Not one to waste time, Vegeta was already crouched down on his haunches inspecting the kill. "Use your ki to heat the meat if you want," the statement came out as a challenge.

Trunks swallowed thickly as he joined his father. "I," he started before faltering over questions in his head. Not sure if he wanted the answer to most of the questions that popped up.

"Cut it."

The demand sliced through his racing mind, and he looked wide-eyed at his father. The dark look was still etched deeply onto the older man's face. "Cut?"

He felt a tic of agitation above his left eye before growling, "Yes. Use your ki to cut the deer open." Making sure Trunks was watching him; he ran a pointer finger along the deer's belly. He gave another glance at his son. "If you don't think you can do it, then leave."

The boy's mouth opened, but his eyes set into a determined scowl as he leaned in closer to the dead deer. His knees rested against the soft earth. The creature was turned on its back, as Vegeta kept his eyes on the boy. Trunks was almost sweating as he reached out to touch a hand against the deer's ribcage.

"Don't cut too deep, just enough to cut through the skin."

Instead of looking at his father, he kept his gaze focused on the animal. Trunks took a shuddering breath before gathering his ki and controlling it so he could slice through the deer's hide. As he began the cut, the warmth of blood and the animal's internal body heat licked at his gloved hand. As he continued the cut up towards the deer's sternum, the stench of death and blood hit his heightened senses and he gagged.

Vegeta merely chuckled as he watched his son, amusement now lighting his features. "If you're going to puke, move away," he prodded the boy's sense of challenge.

The young boy's face once again turned into a determined scowl as he finished the cut and peeled the hide away from the ribs and organs. Warm blood now covered his gloves as he sat back on his haunches, finally looking over at his father.

"What is it you humans say? 'To the victor go the spoils'?" At the boy's slightly confused look, he clarified, "You eat first." He leaned over the opened carcass, his hands easily splitting the ribcage apart. "The heart's the best, and its best eaten fresh." He wanted to add that especially while the muscle was still beating was even better, but maybe another time. If the boy made it through this session, there were sure to be more.

A tentative hand reached forward, stopping just above the stilled muscle. "Will I get sick?" Trunks' attention was still focused on the heart, not sure if he could handle the raw meat without getting sick or perhaps contracting some sort of disease.

"That's a good question. I suppose we won't know unless you try," Vegeta answered simply.

Without another moment's hesitation, Trunks wrapped his fingers around the heart and pulled. A few flecks of blood landed on his face, but it wouldn't matter in a minute as he brought the organ an inch from lips. He really wanted to flare his ki and somewhat cook the organ, but decided against it as he felt his father's eyes on him. He licked his lips as his own beating heart accelerated. His eyes pinched shut as he shoved the dead heart into his mouth and easily bit into it, tearing off a large chunk.

'Not bad,' were the first words that flittered through his mind. It was definitely something he'd never tasted before, the texture or the taste, but he found that his palate wasn't against the unique quality. Before he knew it, his hand was raising and he was taking another bite, and another. Chewing and swallowing had never seemed easier to do. The sweet coppery taste of warm blood that was covering the slightly tough organ he was devouring. 'Delicious.' After the flesh was gone, his tongue swept across his gloves to lick the life essence that covered the leather.

"Trunks!"

The call of his name had his eyes opening. His tongue stopped mid-lick as he refocused on his father's dark stare. He felt the blush creep over his cheeks as he lowered his hand and tried to give a sheepish smile. However, with the rise of his lips, he could feel the now cooling thick liquid that was covering his chin and parts of his cheeks. His tongue reached out again, laving what it could reach of the heavily smeared blood.

A satisfied smirk was set on Vegeta's lips as he took in the sight of his son. "There's plenty of food left," he started before briefing the boy on what parts were eatable and which needed to be discarded.

~S~

Trunks swam through the cool water of the lake, his head bobbing just above the surface as he looked toward the shoreline. He watched his father for a few moments before diving under the surface to completely cool himself off. It wasn't even noon yet, but the sun had finally managed to break through the overcast and was now scorching everything its light touched.

Vegeta sat against a tree, out of the harsh rays of the sun. A case of capsules sat next to him, as he methodically cleaned off his boots. He wasn't sure why he was doing it, just an old habit of keeping his possessions pristine. Maybe it was just something to do as he thought, since he never liked to sit still for too long, and something mundane as cleaning and polishing was an automatic task that he didn't have to focus on while doing it.

The boy had done well, albeit a little nervous and apprehensive at first. Vegeta, of course, had to keep in mind that the boy was only half-Saiyan, and he was growing up learning human culture. Yet, that hadn't kept Trunks' other side at bay. No, the boy had been getting into more fights as of late at his school. Some his classmates started, some Trunks had started, but it had always been his son that 'won' in the end-at least from the news that Bulma would relay to him.

If he really thought about, Vegeta was pretty sure it had been the first Bulma had come to him to ask for help. She had known her son wasn't acting out on purpose—to get attention—as his school had put it. His teachers didn't know that he wasn't "normal". Even if they did know, they certainly wouldn't understand. Most humans seemed to be on the same level as Kakarot when it came to their mentality, either that or they did a good job of feigning their intelligence. He scoffed as he looked over the boot in his hand before putting it down and reaching for other.

Trunks surfaced again, his eyes immediately landing on his father's figure yet again. He was still cleaning, but he'd switched boots. He blew his breath out into the water, making it bubble, before pulling his head fully above the water. His hands ran over his mouth, trying to wipe the excess water away. He could already feel the sun drying the water on his skin and hair as he floated closer to the water's edge. However his mind was preoccupied with other thoughts at the moment-thoughts that he wasn't just human, no matter how much the society around him tried to make him.

What he and his father had done earlier this morning wasn't human, well not anything a sane human would do. He had tried to hold back at first, afraid of giving into the darker side of his mind. His father, though, had provoked him. Not only that, the older man had poked and prodded, joked and jeered him into a more primal state. Hunting had felt natural, had felt good. He still didn't like the whole scenting aspect of it, but he knew it was just as important as listening. The kill had been thrilling, overwhelming to his senses that were still coming to light. He hadn't been prepared to feel so…powerful. The feeling was so much stronger than when he'd fought the other boys at his school!

Trunks watched his hands plant against the dirt edge. The strength in just his hands alone, the feeling of snapping bones under those fingers. His arms pushed his body up. The arms that had helped supply the force his hands had needed to snap the neck-arms that had so often wrapped softly around his mother to hug her. 'MOTHER!' the word cried desperately in his mind.

"She knows already."

Trunks' head turned sharply to look at his father, a bit surprised. Had his father been picking at his thoughts all this time? He had completely forgotten about the ability. "Dad?" the question slipped almost as a whisper as he finished pulling himself from the water and grabbing the towel that was laid out across the grass a few feet away.

Vegeta stopped his task to look at the boy. "Your mother knows everything." A smirk flittered over his lips as he continued, "She was actually the one to suggest it." Well, okay, maybe she hadn't been the one to suggest the hunt, but she had known that he would be able to think of something to help their son.

Trunks quickly dried, reaching for his fresh, clean clothes—which consisted of a pair of shorts, a tank top, and underwear. He joined his father under the tree, grabbing one of the capsules out of the case. He popped the top and tossed it a few feet from where he stood, watching as a small storage unit appeared. "So Mom's okay with all this?" he asked, a little concerned that his father might be lying just to appease him.

"Why wouldn't she be?" It's not like they were going out and tracking down humans. His eyes rolled at the thought, but it quickly brought up another idea. Vegeta gave a few sharp shakes of his head. He would get the boy to control his baser instincts by hunting animals, not people—no matter how disgusting and animal-like the race was. Besides, he, himself, hadn't killed anything other than wild animals on this planet for years.

Trunks gave a small shrug, his back still turned to his father as he dropped the towel into a laundry bag. He re-capsulated the unit and finally turned around. His father was already slipping his boots back on. "I don't know, it's Mom," his tone still soft and unsure.

A bark of laughter erupted into the air, birds shot from the nearby trees and scattered into the sky at the harsh sound. Dark eyes fell on the lavender-haired boy, reminding the father that his son was still a child to this race. "You hang around your mother enough. Shouldn't you know that she accepts things more easily than a normal human? Wasn't she the one that came to your school all those times?" He stood on his feet, grabbing the case from the ground before holding it out to Trunks. "She came to me looking for an answer on why you were behaving like a caged beast around the other boys that tried to attack you."

Trunks' blue eyes widened as he slipped the capsule back in its place. "Yeah," he said a little breathlessly as realization hit him. "I just thought it was going to be extra gravity room training," he answered a little sheepishly, a semi-goofy grin covering his face.

Vegeta crossed his arms. "Would it have helped, boy?" he asked seriously, knocking the grin off his son's face.

Trunks seemed to contemplate the question. "No, sir," he finally responded, slipping the case he had been holding onto in his pocket. He turned to grab his socks and boots, when he whirled his head around. "Hey, Dad."

"What is it?" He knew the question before the boy even spoke it, but he needed confirmation, proof, that this wasn't the last time Trunks would be joining him.

"Can we do this again sometime? I mean, I know I have school and all to worry about, but I like this," he spoke hurriedly, excitedly as he tugged on his socks. "Would that be okay? If you and I could just come out here, without Mom?"

A satisfied sigh left his nose, his face rising to look at the blue sky. "You'll have to talk to your mother about it, but I don't see it being a problem. Just remember to keep up on your schoolwork." Intelligence was just as important as being a skilled warrior; he'd seen the proof firsthand too many times to count.

"I know, Dad," the happiness strained as Trunks tugged on his boots before hopping up and rejoining his father.