PLEASE DON'T GO
BY
LUNA 🌙 BELLA
Episode 1:
Those Who Mourn
TRUNKS' JOURNAL, PAGE 365:
DECEMBER 24th, AGE 790.
It's been three weeks since the biting cold hit us from the west, bringing with it a great blizzard of snow that has made it impossible to keep fighting. The plummeting temperatures, bleak morale and the outbreak of illness has forced our dwindling forces into a corner. Some might even say that the Hassaikai has us on the run…
The old abandoned church in which we have taken up refuge from the unforgiving snowstorm has scarce supplies – stiff beds, stale food and bitter-tasting water. Still, we are grateful just to have a roof over our heads and walls that keep out the pummeling, frigid winds. It is a refuge in which we can lick our wounds, and take a moment to bury our fallen.
Goten volunteered to help me bury them, but I refused, as if it would somehow protect what little remains of the kid's innocence. Yeah, even now I still believe that there are some things that Goten isn't ready for…
I was only able to retrieve Andre and Veronica's bodies, but not those of the rest of their battalion, though I was able to find their dog tags and salvage some of their armor and weapons. A bodiless death only means one thing – they came face to face with the Weeping Swan, the Matron of the Hassaikai who started this war and ruined the world.
Forty brave men and women – gone, reduced to ashes in a single moment. But their sacrifices were not in vain. They were able to penetrate deep into the old Capsule Corp reserves lab to steal what Mom calls our last great chance.
They are Z Particles, a molecular compound that is key to Chronoa's ultimate plan – we travel back in time to prevent this terrible war from breaking out in the first place. Whether it's a pipe dream or not, it gives us hope.
Hope, always. Hope. That's what Mom always says. Maybe… just maybe… it will work.
I buried Officers Andre and Veronica together with the rest of their unit's dog tags in a snowy grave behind the church with the help of Liam Val, one of the other veterans of this war. Poor old Liam lost his left foot to frostbite while the Hassaikai had us on the run a few days ago. Even so, he made the effort to help dig the graves, then hobbled back up the church's bell tower to continue keeping watch over the survivors. The entire time, he would not sling the rifle off from his shoulder. That old man embodies everything the Resistance stands for.
We are resilient and press on, despite our losses.
As I trudged back through the blistering snowstorm up the frozen church steps with my shovel in hand, my mind continued to mull over the words I read in the epitaph of one of the tombs that dotted the quiet, lonely graveyard:
"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.".
As we mourn our fallen brothers and sisters, the strength and resolve in the faces of every man, woman and child in the camp comforts me; and even though we're weak, cold, starving and scared, we refuse to show it.
What a way to spend Christmas Eve.
The only silver lining is that by this time next week, yet another terrible year will have faded into memory, and we can hold on to hope that the coming year will be kinder to us all…
Trunks Briefs was crouched over a wooden desk, scribbling away as he finished writing the journal entry with a miniature sketch of the tombstone he had seen at the church cemetery. His deep blue eyes scanned over the crude drawing before putting the pencil down and brushing his calloused fingers over his long lavender bangs, tucking the longest strands behind his ear. The rest of his lavender hair was pulled together into a ponytail that reached down slightly past his shoulder.
Trunks stared at his sketch of the tombstone with the epitaph written on the wooden cross.
"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted," he repeated to himself, leaning back on his chair, blowing out a long sigh. Lately, it felt like there had been significantly much more mourning than comforting.
Downstairs, the faint sound of a harmonica could be heard. On quiet nights, when the fighting had settled for a few days, Goten would stay up late, practicing new tunes in that silly old thing. At first, Trunks' teeth would grind, listening to that screeching high-pitched music. But the children loved its sound, and if it was something that could take their minds off of the cold of winter and the sting of their roaring bellies, then Trunks was all for it.
Mai had invited him to join the small gathering of freedom fighters and surviving civilians as they huddled together around the abandoned pulpit in a tiny circle, cold, shivering and starving, but together all the same, sharing small pastries and drinking while they passed around tiny trinkets in the form of gifts.
It was Christmas Eve, after all. But after having buried two of his close friends, Trunks just wasn't feeling very festive that night.
Rubbing his tired eyes, Trunks decided to turn in for the night. He flipped through the pages of his journal which were all filled in with entries and sketches of his life, pausing at an entry from four years back, when the Resistance had lost its first champion.
He was Trunks's mentor and Goten's older brother, Son Gohan.
He was the man who had kept the flickering flame of hope alive, that one day this terrible, decades-long war which had consumed so many lives would end. But the dreams of a peaceful new era died the day Gohan met his end at the hands of the Swan, like so many others before and since him had.
Trunks wrapped his fingers into a fist and he could feel the heat of anger rising. The day Gohan died was the day that Trunks came face to face with his own weakness at his young age of seventeen then. And ever since that day, he had ceaselessly trained his body and mind so that he could one day replace the light that had died with Gohan, and bring hope to the world.
But that day had not come yet…
He continued flipping through the pages in quick succession, taking in the familiar sketches of loved ones he had lost along the way – Piccolo, Yamcha, Krillin, and even his own father, Prince Vegeta of the Saiyans. They had all fallen to the Hassaikai's matron, the Weeping Swan and her cronies.
The flipping pages stopped as Trunks' thumb landed on a drawing of that witch. Merciless red eyes peered from behind a beak-like mask, and her unkempt white hair spilled down the sides of her head, parted at the middle. Two long horns protruded from her forehead and curved upward, giving her a nightmarish appearance.
This was the monster that had taken so many of his close friends, and ended the lives of countless innocents in this senseless war. The demon who, in the blink of an eye, could reduce her victims to mere atoms, making it nearly impossible to defeat…
This bitch had taken everything from Trunks. But now, thanks to Veronica and her team, they had a fighting chance. Trunks would avenge their deaths by driving the edge of his blade into that monster's heart. He swore it…
Trunks gulped down the anger and closed the old journal, passing his fingers down along the cracked, faded leather – moments of his life etched on every single page, and now only three more blank pages remained.
He was going to need a new journal soon.
Trunks reached over to snuff out the light from the candle that lit the cramped room he was staying in, but just before he did, three soft knocks at his door stopped him. He stood up from his chair and walked over to open the door to find a heavyset man wearing an orange, pinstriped gi and long messy, caveman-like hair and beard. A long sword was strapped to his hip.
"Yajirobe," Trunks said with a frown. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah, yeah," Yajirobe said, shoving a thumb over his shoulder. "Mai wants to see you. I guess there's something important she needs to discuss or somethin'."
Trunks clenched his jaw but nodded. He put his candle lights out and made his up the stairs towards the highest room, where the leader of the Resistance had set up her base of operations.
Trunks cleared his throat and knocked on Mai's door. After a moment of shuffling feet, the door opened.
Waiting on the other side of the door was a shorter woman with jet black hair that shined against the light of the candle within. She was wearing a rugged, dusty blue trench coat over green military fatigues that matched the ones Trunks and the other officers of the Resistance wore. A green beanie adorned her hair above her bangs. Behind her were Goten and three other officers.
The woman's eyes sparkled with excitement upon seeing him.
"M-Mai!" Trunks gasped, then cleared his throat and straightened up in a military fashion. "Ahem. Commander! Yajirobe said you wanted to see me. Is there a problem?"
Mai gave Trunks a blank stare before bursting into laughter that eased Trunks's tense shoulders.
"Oh, there's a problem, alright!" Mai said with a wink. "The Christmas Eve party started a while ago and you're still cooped up there in your room! So I decided to bring the party to you."
Mai shot Trunks a devilish smirk, bringing her arms forward to reveal a bottle of red wine. It was a dark bottle, still sealed, with an elegant red label and two wine glasses. "Care to join me?"
"Well… alright then," Trunks said, giving Mai a half-smile and rubbing his neck shyly. Mai stepped aside to let him into her room and closed the door behind him. She took her coat off and took a seat on her bed. The hard spring mattress squeaked as Trunks sat next to her.
"Where did you get that from?" Trunks asked, squinting to red the label on the bottle.
"There's a cellar in the basement of the church full of it," Mai said, handing Trunks a glass. "Apparently a few centuries ago, people used to think this wine symbolized their god's blood and that drinking it would lead to salvation."
"Ha! Salvation," Trunks scoffed, taking the glass and downing it in one gulp. "Were it so easy…"
"Hey, cheer up. I just finished talking to your mother," Mai said, filling their glasses and taking a drink from the wine. "She thinks Chronoa's plan will work. We have just enough Z Particles for a round trip. If this works… If we actually pull this off…"
"It'll work, Mai," Trunks nodded. "I trust my Mom's work."
"I know it will, Trunks," Mai said. A red blush was starting to form on her nose from the alcohol. "I've always held on to that hope. Everything's going to be alright in the end. I just know it will…"
Trunks smiled and Mai returned it.
"To Salvation, then," Trunks said, raising his glass.
"Hell yeah!" Mai cheered, clinking her glass against his and the two continued to drink and talk into the night.
"Oh! I almost forgot!" Mai gasped sometime later. "This is actually the reason I asked you to come see me."
She reached over to her desk and picked up a tiny, rectangular box wrapped in blue paper.
"Mai, this…?" Trunks said, taking the gift with a smile.
"It's your Christmas gift!" Mai said with a smile. "But don't open it just yet, okay? You're not supposed to open it until Christmas Day."
"Or what?" Trunks asked with a mischievous smile.
"Or… uh…" Mai trailed off, rubbing her chin. "Something about waking up with coal in your socks… I don't remember how the tradition goes exactly."
"HAHAHA!" Trunks laughed, leaning back. "I don't think that's exactly how it goes, but deal. I'll wait until tomorrow morning to open it. Thanks Mai."
"Yeah, don't mention it," Mai said with a nod.
A sudden silence fell between them for a moment before Trunks filled his glass again and took a drink from it.
"Listen Mai, I… I'm really sorry about Veronica and the others. I wish I could have-" Trunks groaned, his speech now slurred from the alcohol, but Mai held up a hand to interrupt him.
"It's okay," Mai whispered, her eyes half opened. "I've known Veronica since we were little girls. We grew up together; the last thing she would have wanted is for us to weep and mourn her death. She would have wanted us to celebrate her sacrifice."
"Yeah," Trunks said with a sad smile. "Veronica always did talk about going out in a blaze of glory…"
"Trunks," Mai said. "I know it's been rough out there these last couple of days. We lost a lot of good people. And to be honest, when we lost communication with your team last night, I was afraid that we – that I lost you, too."
Trunks gulped, staring at Mai as she continued.
Mai breathed in heavily and looked up into his eyes.
"But you and Goten survived. You're both still here," she breathed.
"Yeah," Trunks whispered drunkenly and took another sip of the wine, and Mai did, too, finishing the bottle at last. "Story of our lives, I guess. We live to die another day."
"Yeah," Mai whispered hoarsely, staring at his lips. "So let's live a little tonight."
"What do you mean?" Trunks asked. Mai placed her left hand on top of his, staring down at the back of her hand and biting her lip.
"Mai…?"
Mai breathed in a heavy sigh and looked up at Trunks. Her dark eyes were glazed with longing desire and apprehension.
"Trunks," she whispered. "Please don't go tonight. Stay with me."
Mai sat the glass down next to her and placed her right hand on Trunks's cheek. Leaning up to him, she kissed him tenderly on the lips. Trunks was taken aback by the sudden, intimate gesture, but was too tired and drunk to pull away.
It was no secret to anyone that the two had grown close to one another along the trajectory of the war. Pain and loss and grief had brought the two souls together, and Trunks had grown to care for the young leader of the Resistance. This was merely a culmination of it.
The warmth of Mai's lips comforted and centered him, igniting a flame in his belly. Their kiss became more and more passionate and needy, consuming the two. And as they began to undress, a fleeting thought passed through Trunks' mind before burning away in the heat of the moment and Mai's warm, delicate touch.
Happy are those who mourn, for they will be comforted…
The rest of the night was a blur, but it was well past midnight by the time they were finished enjoying one another's company.
Exhausted, breathless and drunk, Trunks fell forward on the bed on top of Mai and the rasped sound of their ragged, heavy breathing serenaded the moonlit room. Mai cradled Trunks's head against her chest, stroking his handsome face with her fingertips lovingly.
"M-Mai…" Trunks whispered breathlessly, slurring his words.
"Yeah?" Mai breathed, barely awake.
"Don't… Go…"
"Huh?" Mai asked. Trunks' eyes were distant and half-opened.
"Please, don't go," Trunks quietly pleaded. "Don't you ever go…"
Mai stopped to stare at Trunks for a moment, doing her best to hold onto consciousness. This brave boy whom she loved with all of her heart had given so much of himself to keep them all safe without asking anything in return, and had suffered the loss of nearly everything and everyone he held dear.
"I love you, Trunks," she whispered, stroking his hair tenderly. "I'm not going anywhere."
It was a lie, of course, and knowing that she would not be able to keep that promise to him broke her heart. That's why tonight, just for tonight, she wanted to give herself to Trunks one last time. Tomorrow morning, the time machine would be ready. And if their mission were to be successful, Trunks would be sent back in time to a moment before the Weeping Swan developed her powers, and he would kill her. That meant that this terrible war which had decimated great part of the world, would never happen.
Would they ever meet in such a perfect world?
As Mai slipped away to sleep, she dreamed of a brighter, peaceful world – one with blooming flowers, blossoming trees, teeming with life. The sakuras bloomed there, falling along a stone path that lead to him, her beloved Trunks.
Gone were the trenchcoat, the tattered rags and the bloodied sword. No longer did he have the scars on his face, the wild unkempt hair or the feral glint in his eye that was a product of endless war since his birth. Here, he had a gentle look, and even a warm, innocent smile as he turned to gaze upon his love. And in his right hand, he held the wrist of a tiny girl – one who looked exactly like Mai, but had Trunks' beautiful deep blue eyes. Her name was Evangelica, or something or other… She was their daughter, who would grow up in a safe world free of the pain they had known all of their lives…
There was nothing to worry about. Trunks smiled and reached his hand out for Mai to take.
Everything was perfect.
It was perfect.
※※※
Endnote: Just for clarity, Chronoa isn't the Supreme Kai of Time in this fic, and she's not a child. She's an older woman whose Quirk lets her see into the Future and into the Past with clarity.
In this fic, Eri grew up to be a villain whose powers developed to near Thanos-snap level, meaning, her rewind can reduce anyone to atoms in the blink of an eye. She takes over the Hassaikai and embarks on a mission to eradicate filth from earth. More on her mission later...
NEXT EPISODE: SWAN SONG
The Weeping Swan discovers the Resistance base and attacks, forcing Trunks to take a desperate measure.
Thank you for your time and attention.
Until We Meet Again,
– Luna🌙