"There you were, brat!" Vegeta called, interrupting whatever Goku was telling him, and Trunks was grateful for the weeks she had to calm down, else she'd be at his throat just from hearing his voice.
"Vegeta-san," her eyes narrowed, her voice was cold, but she still acknowledged she was being talked to as she and Tenshinhan had exited the Room of Spirit and Time and joined Goku and Vegeta on the platform. Trunks took note of Gohan sitting in the gardens, perked up, looking their way.
"We're going into that place again," Vegeta repeated the order from the previous day.
"Piccolo is in it currently, and will be until tomorrow noon," Tenshinhan interrupted.
Trunks could feel super Saiyan build up in the older man. But he controlled it, especially with Goku so close and his heir oozing of murder intents, challenging the orders. Vegeta ignored all others and just stared right through the time traveler.
"Do as you please, Vegeta-san, but if I go back in there, I am going alone," Trunks vocalized her disagreement. She was done speaking his language and humoring his desires over hers.
Vegeta was royally pissed off by the blatant refusal, his hostility grew and he uncrossed his arms to take on the challenge. She held his gaze, firm and while less aggressive, still assertive, defying his natural authority. When she shot him after he'd kicked her away from killing Cell, she fully intended to kill him. She guessed he only survived because she did not know how to properly amplify her ki blasts, and deep down she was thankful for that. But if she shot him now... The silent exchange, 'you dare defy me?' , 'yes, I would love to see you try to force me,' lasted for an instant that felt much longer than it actually was until Goku placed himself in between them, blocking the view one had over the other.
"Hey, knock it off. Vegeta, you're more than capable of training alone-" Goku looked back and forth between the two, unable to tell which one would escalate first, but recognizing Vegeta being the aggressor, mostly talked to him.
Trunks didn't hear the rest, she silently thanked the distraction and walked straight to Gohan who had been waiting for her and was looking worryingly at the staring duel. He had a book in his hands, he'd been reading while waiting for her to come out, but he closed it to look at the worrying display of hostility, unsure whether he could intervene or not.
Vegeta didn't like his pride being insulted, and Goku, beaming with confidence, was an absolute pain in his ass, especially when he claimed without a doubt in his mind that he was indeed stronger than Vegeta.
Trunks unclipped her sword and sat near Gohan, on his right, and he happily inched just a little closer, ignoring the shoulders of his white cape. They were similar to the shoulders of the Saiyan armor he had on when they first met, and that felt like forever ago.
"I saw you on TV, Tora-san," Gohan remarked first with a beaming smile, and after a second thinking about how/why, Trunks groaned.
"I had almost forgotten about that..." In her world, TV was mostly not functioning as the broadcast systems were too unreliable. Actual TVs were rare as they were old and prone to breaking. Radio was far more common, reliable, easy to repair and put together. All this meant earthlings had no images of her (and Gohan), with the exception of some blurry photos from afar.
"You saved a lot of people, and they even say you're the city's Golden Defender." Gohan thought it was pretty cool seeing Tora in action on TV, actions similar to the ones the time traveler had mentioned taking in the future to protect earthlings.
"At least the earthlings in my world and the ones in this world have similar nicknaming conventions," she chuckled a little, and Gohan nodded, remembering how his alternate self and Tora were called Golden Warriors in their world.
"You grew a lot in one year, Gohan-san," she changed the subject with a little smile.
"Yes I guess so, but it's going to be weird, because I just turned nine, but at the same time, I'm almost ten…"
"Yes, it is strange.." Trunks understood the issue. 'I can't believe I somehow turned eighteen with him .' The return procedure of the Time Machine had her biological age completely disconnected from everything, matching neither this world's calendar, nor the calendar at home. She had already an extra twenty-two days from her first stay, plus the one year and six-ish weeks in the Room of Spirit and Time, plus the time spent in this world since her arrival on May 12th...
"Did you grow up too?" Gohan interrupted her trail of thought.
"A little, I believe," she said and extended her arms forward, then indicated the end of her sleeves. "This jacket used to be a little too big on me, now it fits fine."
"But your hair grew a lot, " Gohan observed, fascinated, and Trunks chuckled at the valid observation. The front parts still refused to be tied, but everything else reached well under her shoulders. She reached and pulled out the hair tie, then shook her head to let the loose locks move freely. Straight, thin, with a faint smell of strawberries.
"I couldn't cut it myself and asking Vegeta-san to cut it for me..." she trailed off, knowing full well Gohan would understand how asking such a thing from Vegeta was unfathomable. Gohan held off a smile at the mental image of Vegeta as a barber.
"It looks very silky," Gohan observed, fascinated. Trunks touched her own hair, she never bothered to consider the texture of it, then leaned a little to give permission to Gohan to touch it too considering how he was looking at it.
Gohan reached and touched the locks, getting into his friend's personal space, enough to appreciate the scent he'd grown to miss during his year in the Room of Spirit and Time. Even if it was mixed with Bulma's shampoo.
"It is very silky! And so soft!" He ran his fingers through again, without grabbing, and Trunks just let him. It wasn't until their eyes met that Gohan pulled away, all red in the face and looking down and away.
"I'm sorry, that was not appropriate." Gohan mumbled, ashamed, and Trunks just shook her head and smiled.
"Don't worry," she reassured, perhaps a little too eager and enthusiastic. She had missed contact more than she'd like to admit. "I noticed yours is now shorter."
"Yes, dad cut it for me," Gohan said and touched his own thick and stiff hair. "It was becoming very heavy and got in the way." Goku had given a solid scissor cut to his son's mane. Trunks reached and touched the wild top strands with care, as if it was something precious and rare, and Gohan happily leaned in to return the favor. Despite the color and how this Gohan was still a child, it felt exactly like Gohan's. The physical memory despite having been buried for five years hit her.
"The Gohan-san I knew also had short hair, a little like that," her voice whispered too naturally. Seeing Gohan's face twist in second-hand pain, Trunks regretted even more so the slip. She knew he was considerate about the subject, as Gohan knew that another Gohan had been her mentor, and it had been something that had been kept quiet for a reason.
"Don't make that face, it's fine. I'm fine," she half-lied, giving the Son hair a solid playful ruffle and a brief side hug.
"Alright.." Gohan wasn't convinced, but he accepted, half-fighting the ruffle and appreciating the affection. He then rubbed his own hair to fix the mess. Gohan wanted to ask about his alternate self, if Trunks missed him, what was their relation, but he knew better than to open that wound. "I think yours is really pretty."
"I guess I got lucky, inheriting Bulma-san's hair genes rather than Vegeta-san's," Trunks replied with mischief and Gohan put his hands on his mouth to muffle down his laughter at the joke at Vegeta's expense.
"So, how was it, with Piccolo-san?" The younger halfling asked, curious.
"It was instructive. Piccolo-san and Tenshinhan-san helped me test a theory concerning my lack of technique, which seems to have been a serious factor in my loss against Cell."
"Cell's super strong, uh?" Gohan asked with a certain worry, eyeing back at Goku, Vegeta and Tenshinhan. He knew and felt how Piccolo and Tenshinhan fought against Cell, and that hadn't ended well. And it was before Cell had absorbed the second Cyborg...
Trunks confirmed with a slow, pained nod while tying her hair back in a low ponytail. "Thankfully, Cell has a lot of Martial Arts Tournament participant genes, as well as Freeza's and Vegeta-san's arrogance, so it wants to fight everyone to prove its perfection ." She didn't hide how stupid she thought the ordeal was, but she was thankful for it as for once it gave them some time to establish a strategy.
"I got really strong with dad, so we'll fight together, Tora-san," Gohan stated with a firm tone, which reminded Trunks once again how similar the two Gohans were despite their circumstances being so different. And she couldn't deny him, like he'd denied her when she was his age.
"Yes," she agreed -obeyed?- with a confident smile, then gave him another good look. "Gohan-san, I can't express how relieved I am to see you have remained yourself despite super Saiyan," she confessed.
Gohan, beaming and proud that his hard work paid off and that Tora accepted his decision to work towards super Saiyan, was about to reply, but Goku approached, calling his name. Both Trunks and Gohan stood. Trunks saw exactly how tall Gohan had gotten. While before his stay in the Room, he reached her waist, he was now well at chest level. 'He's not six anymore,' she remembered kneeling to be at his height back, and remembered how tall her version of Gohan had been.
"Aright, so today's May 21st, so excluding today and Tournament day, we have nine days. Three days rest, three days training, then three days rest," Goku announced his plan.
"We're not going back in for a second time?"
"Nah, there's such a thing as too much training. It's bad for the body and mind to train too much. Move well, study well, play well, eat well, rest well," Goku recited the Turtle mantra, bright as ever.
"Do you believe you are powerful enough to defeat Cell, Son-san?"
"Me? I'm not sure, while waiting for ya, I went and saw him, boy he is strong." And there was the excitement to meet a challenge. "I was goin' to ask Korin-sama 'bout it. And you, Tora, whatcha gonna do?"
"Vegeta-san wants to go back in, but.." she half whispered, unsure. There was a quick glance over to Vegeta and Tenshinhan who were watching the TV news with Mr Popo. "It seems my failure to win, even in that 'Perfect' state, was not due to a lack of raw power."
"Yea, I can tell, about your pops-"
Her energy must have displayed far more hostility than she wanted because it was strong enough so that even Vegeta and Tenshinhan glanced her way. Gohan looked up at the teenager with surprise, and took Trunks' hand to try to defuse the sudden anger spike. Goku just shrugged, absolutely unbothered by the sudden display of hostility, and just continued his trail of thoughts.
"I can tell you're more powerful than him. Don't tell him he might get mad and sulk!" Goku elbowed her arm in confidence, and laughed it off, and Vegeta growled from afar. Goku's laughter got under his skin, and Trunks couldn't help it, she relaxed. It all felt vindicating, almost as much as the jab at the man's weakness: his ego.
"He is prideful like that," she observed, calmer now, her hand holding Gohan's slowly relaxing, she only let go when Gohan's muscle twitched to pull away.
"Yeah he is. When he's got a goal, can't sway him… He's going in as soon as Piccolo is out regardless, but I don't think you should," he said, pointing with his index to emphasize his 'you'.
"So I am not wrong," Trunks was willing to trust Goku's experience, and appreciated the sudden validation of her gut feeling. "I am still unsure if my progress is enough."
"Let's ask Korin," Goku waved goodbye to Tenshinhan who was keeping an eye on the TV, and to Vegeta who was glaring daggers their way. Both Trunks and Gohan also made a gesture to express their farewells.
The three Saiyans flew down to meet with the cat master. Trunks observed with awe as Goku discussed Korin's observation of the world, and of Cell's fight against Vegeta and then Trunks (and 'lamenting how the Mafuba hadn't worked, a great attempt nonetheless,' the cat praised, which Trunks took no pride in it: failure was failure). Goku then asked Korin to judge whether he himself was stronger than Cell or not, and built up power, shaking the tower. Before breaking the whole platform, however, Goku stated 'this is about half of it', and Korin judged Cell 'most certainly a little stronger'. Goku's display was amazing, and Trunks tensed. There was still a little part of her blood that wanted to test herself against the powerful friendly opponent. The older Saiyan took the news lightly, to say the least, but still refused to go back into the Room of Spirit and Time. Trunks had to believe he had a plan.
Uncertain what to do during the time between then and the actual tournament, Trunks considered isolation, even if she didn't know how to relax on a countdown to the potential end of the world (or relax altogether, but she'd never admit that). Goku extended an invitation to the following night's dinner. Trunks hesitated, but Gohan insisted it would be fun, they had so much catching up to do, so she ended up accepting the invitation. The two Sons disappeared with Instant Transmission, while Trunks pondered her options. She realized staying alone would be bad for her ability to reman grounded and hopeful. If Vegeta was to stay on the Lookout, then perhaps she could find haven in Capsule Corp in the meantime, but she made a detour when her watch reminded her she would need a new patch. She switched pharmacies, and after yet another lengthy discussion about how she knew exactly what she wanted and why, she agreed to just have one until 'she could find a doctor to properly examine her and give her a prescription'. As if.
Trunks made sure to keep her mind busy and grounded while at Capsule Corp, taking care of the baby for a couple of hours that same afternoon to let Bulma and Panchy get some needed rest. The Briefs had allowed Capsule Corp employees to not come to work, due to the wave of panic due to Cell's TV announcement, but the Compound's inhabitants remained calm and stuck to their activities. They were also fairly autonomous in terms of food and energy, which made things easier. Most people were worried and decided to stay at home with their families, waiting for an official response to Cell. Perhaps it would be solved like the aliens who had blown East City and disappeared, according to the radio...
The time traveler took a swing at the Gravity Room that same evening. She needed to see how much she'd improved, with hard numbers. She updated her data ('Trunks, the future one, 170cm, 58kg, 14.8% body fat,' confirming she grew a little taller) and manually adjusted her age (eighteen and three months). The 'normal mode' algorithms took a while to adjust to the gain in almost every measurable metric, but the bots clearly weren't able to properly assess the quality of her technique. She figured she'd ask Sixteen to observe her, or see whether Bulma could upgrade her systems with his radar and analysis. She ended up doing a flexibility workout, and after a shower, a change of clothes and dinner, spent the evening with Sixteen, Bulma and the baby in the lab. Bulma had shut down Sixteen (with his permission) to work on some key components that needed to be taken out of his energy system, and would turn him back on once all of the work was done. Trunks was reassured that whatever hostility the Android was programmed to display was in order to deal with immediate threats to the planet and Son Goku. Bulma also explained she couldn't reprogram Sixteen's hostility towards Goku just yet, because it was built in his core code she was afraid of breaking the entire thing if she touched it without a proper back-up. The genius also lamented the lack of annotated documentation, which made understanding what was going on so much harder, let alone consider retro-engineering. Trunks enjoyed hearing this version of her mother rant about uncooperative tech while playing with her alternate self. It was strange, but it helped her focus on what was important instead of letting her mind wander to darker places.
After a short sleep, long before dawn, Trunks walked around the compound in her pajamas as she had done during her previous stays, and eventually ventured into some other rooms of the living areas, those different spaces that encircled the menagerie. A lounge-small library, with everything to take notes and study in, a chemistry lab, a small gym, something that looked like a small home cinema, Dr Brief's private office (probably), a small (and visibly recent) infirmary, a weapons room (Bulma knew her way around guns even before the Cyborgs appeared), and a music room. The latter caught her eye, she went in and explored. 'When a new social group is formed, the first two things they create are music and alcohol,' she'd been taught. Chants and improvised instruments were common in the different communities she did her errands for, and the radio played constant music to uplift and distract from despair. Sure it didn't solve the problem, but it kept people sane, somewhat. And yet, that wasn't why she sat at the imposing piano and shuffled through the music sheets. It was because she remembered playing on that particular piano, over a decade ago.
Before West City was attacked for the first time, everyone still somewhat pretended the problem would disappear on its own, especially as the Cyborgs gave them a few years of peace at some point (Trunks wasn't sure when that was but it was before she met Gohan). Her mother had her learn music, she barely remembered the context (was it Bulma herself? a tutor?), but the smell of the keys and strings, the sound the key cover made when opened, the difference of texture between the white and black keys, the shape of music notes on paper, the pedals she couldn't reach (she remembered a little box, an extender), all brought back old memories. It was months of learning, actually, not just a one off thing. 'Mother wanted me to have a good education…' she remembered, kicking off her slippers to try and play again some of the easier sheets she found, a few of which she actually recognized once she'd played some sections of the melodies, guessing the music room was soundproof. Hit by Proust's madeleine, she went through scales and arpeggios as a way of warming up and went back to the sheets with a little more confidence.. and a somewhat relaxed mind. If only for an instant, she forgot all about Cell.
By the time her mind came back to the reality of the situation, it was well into the morning, so Trunks promptly closed the piano cover and went to change and forget the little escapade, oblivious to Bulma having witnessed (and kept the recording) all of it through the internal surveillance system.
"Out of the few files that weren't protected by a password, music sheets? Really, Future Me?" Bulma lamented in her bedroom, with her computer giving her a view of the security system of the compound. The music room was one of the few rooms with sound surveillance (as they were used to record as much as for security).
She knew her would-be son often woke far earlier than everyone else, as he stated he had short naps throughout the day rather than one full long rest. She wanted to see what he was up to, live and not after the fact, for once, so she pulled an all-nighter. That, and she had something else to look at. Her computer was connected to the security network, but it was also working on its own, trying to decrypt the personal files she had stolen from that same computer (well, her alternate self's computer, but it was the same object …) a few days prior. Future Bulma was paranoid, and Bulma cursed her off. Not only was the computer password protected, but almost all of the internal files were as well, save for a few photos, the music sheets, and the occasional odd file that wasn't sorted. Breaking the passwords would take up until the heat death of the universe, at the very least, even if she used all of the computing power at her disposal. So she had to manually browse and open every single individual file to see whether they were protected or not.
Between the moment Bulma got the files on May 18th and that night of May 21st, she had been thrown an absurd amount of data and schematics from Gero's lab, and a whole broken Android to repair. The universe didn't want her to find out more about her future son, but she was Bulma fucking Brief and the universe could get bent for all she cared.
And she still had a baby to take care of. At least, Trunks was happy being fed by his grandmother, as she was advised to switch to formula and solid food early, but he was still moody whenever the person taking care of him wasn't the person he chose. Bulma knocked wood for Vegeta to not give her more work, at least for the time being. Even if she missed him, the Prince made a point to avoid the house, staying in the GR whenever he was there.
Despite all of the frustrations, amongst the files she saw weren't protected, were many photos, including the ones from Trunks' 13th birthday. Two of those she had already seen: the one Trunks showed her with the cake, and the one she'd seen in the teenager's wallet, of the two guys sleeping on the couch. There were also a couple of photos outside, on a desolate, barely recognizable version of West City, visibly taken by that version of Gohan, of Trunks getting to test the car with Bulma's older self on the passenger seat. The broken dome of Capsule Corp appeared in some of those, and Bulma realized the ravages the Cyborgs had caused. Another photo was one of the birthday boy (with the party hat), on the couch, holding what Bulma recognized as the sword he came with, hugging it and crying despite his face being hidden, with Gohan sitting close by with his hand on the kid's shoulder, with a sorrowful expression on his face. That version of Bulma had also snapped that picture. Clearly the sword was too big for 13-yo Trunks, and if Bulma had to take a guess, it was still too big for him, but its size seemed to match this version of Gohan's height. Clearly the item had a history for the two of them.
There were also a few unsorted selfies of an older version of Trunks and Bulma, despite the heaviness and exhaustion in their eyes; that Bulma was bright and playful, while Trunks was more intense, holding his mother, playing with her hair, poking or kissing her cheek, stealing her coffee mug or cigarette, sometimes a hint of a smile on his face. The Capsule Corp genius noticed that whatever the circumstances, the teenager (who wasn't older than sixteen in most of those pictures) was always dressed ready to go and fight; Bulma recognized the 'under armor' peeking in some of those pictures, the same armor he'd shown her under that looser black t-shirt on the Lookout. And the sword was quite often on the teenager's back. She also noticed just how tactile Trunks actually was with his mother, which was somewhat surprising, considering how aloof the teen she got to know was. No wonder that hug he finally gave her when he came back from his little escapade to Central City felt so desperate.
"They only have each other," Bulma consciously realized out loud.
Everyone else had died, including Gohan. She went back to the photos with her older self, and gave that version of her another long look. That Bulma had lost every single person important in her life save for her baby. Goku from illness, then everyone else, then Gohan, who was such a bright, cheerful and innocent kid, but ended his life maimed and with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Bulma admired that alternate version of her, and while Trunks almost always looked ready to fight, his mother looked like she was always working. Stains of oil, tools in hand, unwashed hair kept in a ponytail or in a braid, a cap, and coffee or tobacco at all times.
'This is the kind of person Mother is. A hard-working genius who lives off coffee and tobacco.'
Trunks had shown her the birthday picture to tell her more about his mom and said those words. She spent day and night creating the Time Machine, and if Bulma considered herself a workaholic, a Bulma who had lost everything, living in constant fear, would probably replace her blood with coffee if she could. She only now realized how factual Trunks' words were. That tough as nails Bulma worked day in and day out to break the laws of physics in hopes for a world without Cyborgs, probably risking the life of her son in the process. Inviting a Time Machine, that was how desperate that world had been. 'Necessity is the mother of invention.'
The other files that were unsorted, and hence, not password protected were some technical manuals for a whole lot of different appliances, a text file containing a set of numbers with code names (which Bulma recognized as radio frequencies), some photos of doors or hidden passages with what she took a while to understood were coded coordinates, and pharmaceutical information on various drug molecules (mostly painkillers and antibiotics). The folders 'school', 'medical', 'bureaucracy', 'bank', 'contracts', 'permits', 'recordings', 'photos' and more all were individually password protected, and Bulma imagined that there were more folders inside those folders, considering how organized she was (and as such, her alternate self also was).
A light got her attention in the surveillance system. Someone entered the music room, and seeing Trunks make a beeline to the piano was.. curious. Bulma shut down the radio to listen to her would-be son in pajamas, with bed hair, sit and sort through the music sheets her mother had left, playing some melodies with his right hand and visibly remembering some of them. He looked like a child having fun, playing some sections of the compositions, starting over when he got the octave or pacing wrong. Bulma realized he'd been taught at some point, and he'd been taught well . He was rusty, but he knew how to play as his left hand cooperated with the melodies with little effort (at least, for an amateur, Trunks was no conservatory pianist). He even knew his scales and arpeggios. He stayed there for a solid three hours, much to her pleasure, playing from simple child-friendly melodies to more sophisticated compositions, relying on rhythm and timing rather than actual complicated pieces. Bulma spectated the little show with a warm smile, promising herself she'd save the surveillance tapes. And perhaps sneak a copy of that video into his computer, so her alternate self could watch it as well…
Trunks, once changed, took care of the baby for the remainder of the morning of May 22nd, the family had lunch, then she informed she was invited to dinner at the Sons' household and would be out for a little while, and after a comfortable nap and confirming the hour at which she was expected to come, prepared to go, taking everything with her. Bulma and Panchy gave her a basket containing some produce from the greenhouse for Chichi, which made Trunks slightly change her plans: she'd drive to Mount Paozu instead of flying. Her car was added to the authorized flying vehicles of Capsule Corp (as a prototype) so she could take off and land from the yard without being a bother to the authorities.
She landed on the Son estate a little early to deliver the groceries to Chichi.
So, the piano. Why?!
Considering West City is very western, culturally speaking, it's a normal occurence for rich (and educated) families to enroll their kids in certain meaningful (networking/bragging rights) activities that are extra-curricular, but not actually shcool-related. Piano, violin, tennis, skiing, horse-riding, fencing, diving, getting a gliding license... all of this is explained by social reproduction sociology studies (read Bourdieu, enjoy).br /
Music education is extremely important in such circles, so I'm using it. Sue me ;)