Blue eyes stared back from the mirror as he inspected the minutia of his face critically. He was deep into his 40s and quickly approaching 50, and although the media was fascinated by his apparent lack of aging, he could recognize it in his own features well. Tiny lines had appeared around his eyes when he smiled. Dark circles from late nights in the office or bad sleep lingered longer than they used to. His skin appeared slightly duller than it was just a few short years ago, and nothing seemed to bounce back as quickly. He also would've sworn he saw just a hint of silver briefly shining amongst the sea of purple, although it disappeared as soon as he tried to locate the offending strand.
Time was a sneaky bastard. He remembered thinking his mother's liberal use of the dragonballs was pointless, even before knowing there was a possibility of them cracking, but as the years passed by, he began to grow a better understanding of her motivation. For Trunks, the press used words like "distinguished", or "stately" more often as his features slowly changed. The same sources that made him out to be a catch in his mid-life were not nearly as kind to his mother, even when she'd been younger than he was now.
He pulled the skin on his forehead up, artificially smoothing out the surface. He sure didn't feel "distinguished" at times.
"Dad!" a sudden, scolding voice sounded from the doorway of his bathroom. There stood a young, carbon copy of his own face, looking youthful and bright-eyed as though the last few years hadn't been the hardest of his short life. His son's eyes were filled with dismay, undoubtedly at his own state of undress and lack of readiness to make their appointment.
"I know…" Trunks said, unable to hold back a chuckle of fondness at the boy's exaggerated expression. "I'm getting there."
"We told them we'd be there by 3:00 and you're not even…"
He argued, "we can fly from here to there in minutes. We'll be on time."
Trunks Jr. brushed his hair back impatiently, knocking even more of it loose from his slowly growing ponytail. "I was hoping we'd get there early so I could watch some of the classes," he argued, although he was careful to watch his tone. "What's taking so long?"
Trunks wasn't sure what the answer to that question was. He was procrastinating. He had been all day – making up tasks, assigning unrealistic importance to them, and then dragging his feet to get them done. He was trying his hardest to find an excuse not to join the boys on their dojo tour, but he knew it was futile. The moment Bo asked him along, his fate was sealed.
A long time ago, he'd had a brief interaction with the young Son boy that had left a lasting impression. He was just a baby, and his mother unknowingly held him up at just the right angle for them to make eye contact and share a short connection that had stayed with him for years. Trunks sensed no "message" per se, but was gifted the distinct sensation of pure-hearted warmth and joy that the infant was feeling at that moment. It was a beautiful glimpse into a perfectly innocent, fresh mind who hadn't had the opportunity to experience grief or pain. During a time when he was constantly worried about his pregnant wife, the health of his own unborn son, and the future, it had served to put his heart at peace for a few brief, but blessed minutes. The moment, though mysterious and fleeting, had been exactly what he needed to help him face the uncertainty waiting around the corner.
He blamed that unique experience for being the reason why he didn't feel like he could simply make an excuse and get out of this event. A few interactions they'd recently shared seemed to confirm his suspicion that Bo had inherited the rare genetic power given to his sister and father, but all that did was to reassure him it hadn't been the imagination of a stressed and tired mind during Goten's wedding. When he looked into Bo's hopeful eyes, he remembered that small look into his young heart and couldn't help but agree to attending. It was just as effective as his son's manipulations.
"Daaaaaaad," his son complained again, noticing his lack of progress or answer to his question.
"Okay, you're right," he acquiesced. "We'll get going soon."
"Can you get dressed in a hurry?"
"Maybe," Trunks answered, scratching his chin as he walked into his large closet. "What should I wear?"
"It's just Pan and Bo. Why does it matter?" his son asked apathetically.
He looked down at his miniature, searching his mind fruitlessly for a decent answer. "You know – I'm not sure. But it does."
Trunks Jr. rolled his eyes and followed him into the attached room, looking around at the items on the hangers. "What about this?" he asked, pulling out one of his old black tank tops. He usually only wore those to work out or when he was getting his hands dirty around the house. If he remembered correctly, he'd likely worn one in the gravity room ten years ago, in fact. Maybe evoking a little nostalgia would soften the tension.
"No," he said, shaking the thought out of his head. "It'll be too cold. What about a button-up? I'd have to wear a sport jacket…."
"What? No! That's what you wear to work," the boy answered emphatically. "What about this one?"
He pulled out a dark blue sweater. It was warm, and didn't reek of corporate staunchness. "It's not too casual?"
Trunks Jr. shrugged exaggeratedly. "Pan and Bo don't care how you look," he said, "but they will care if we show up late."
Trunks laughed. This kid and his attitude... Bulma had repeatedly told him he only had himself to blame for it, but the truth was, he saw a lot of his mother in it, too.
"Alright, fine," he said, pulling the sweater over his head and throwing on the rest of his clothes. Trunks Jr. practically dragged him by the arm to the window so they could take off as quickly as possible.
They were in the air for less than a minute before Trunks noticed colorful little items flying out of his son's jacket pockets. "What is that?" he asked with his arms crossed.
He smiled sheepishly. "Candy," he explained.
"O-kay," he said dubiously. "Do I need to ask why?"
"In case I meet Buu," he answered.
Trunks raised an eyebrow; he really had done his homework. "I think he lives in the mountains now," Trunks said. Despite his inability to keep up with the lives of the Sons, it was in everyone's interest to keep tabs on that particular individual. Luckily, it wasn't difficult to do since he never bothered hiding his energy like everyone else did. Every once and a while, Bulma sent a drone, just to make sure everything looked peaceful and pleasant in the pink being's neck of the woods.
"I know," his son said, not hiding a little disappointment. "Bo said he drops by the dojo sometimes, so I should bring some just in case. He'd be more willing to answer questions about Mr. Satan if I gave him some."
Trunks chuckled. "Not a bad idea, but – we try and keep Buu from getting too sad or angry," he said carefully. "I'm not sure if he would want to talk about a friend that's passed away."
"Well, I guess I can give it to Bo," he said.
"That's what you both need – more hyper energy," he said dryly.
"Do you think Pan has his championship belt?" Trunks Jr. asked, ignoring his father's previous statement.
"I don't know. I only remember lots of pictures."
"What about his old cape?"
"No idea."
"Do you think they have any of the fights I'm missing…"
Trunks laughed. "We'll be there in a minute and Bo's going to be excited to tell you everything you want to know." His son crossed his arms and grimaced and being told in so many words to be patient. Trunks noticed him bump up his speed a little and smiled, matching the increase so they would get there faster.
As promised, it was a matter of moments before they flew by the Satan City sign, still featuring the larger-than-life, mustachioed face of the "World's Savior" and his patented "victory" sign. The school was in an area near the middle of the city. Although the city had previously existed as "Orange Star City" prior to its name change, it almost looked like the infrastructure of the town had been built around the dojo, as though the school had been there before the sprawling metropolis. The dojo had expanded since he'd seen it last, and it now stretched across several streets. It certainly was the focal point of the whole area, and the city seemed proud of that fact. In some ways, it reminded him of Capsule; he wasn't the only one who had grown their family business.
Bo was outside on the grassy area by the front doors waiting for them and was already waving by the time they came within view. He was even more excited than Trunks Jr., which seemed almost difficult to comprehend. But then again, his son did tend to brag a lot about Capsule Corp and often showed off when he had friends over. Not only was Bo getting a turn, but it was on a subject his young guest was extremely interested in.
"I thought you'd be here earlier," Bo said.
Trunks chortled at his son's not so subtle "I-told-you-so" glare and checked his watch. "We're 15 minutes early," he protested.
"I told you I wanted to watch the classes!" he argued, just a little too loudly for his father's taste. Spunky attitude was one thing, but he was starting to get too wound up for his own good.
Trunks' expression changed to one of displeasure as he looked down at his son. "Watch that tone or we're going to go right back home," he said quietly, secretly wishing the boy would give him an excuse to cancel the afternoon.
To his dismay, Trunks Jr. merely blushed and crossed his arms with a quiet huff as his only response. Of all the days to suddenly be obedient… Trunks thought.
Bo stood in the background and stared at the ground awkwardly, hoping that the strain of the moment would fade. As soon as it seemed to, he chimed in, "Arán's expert classes are done for the day, but my mom's class is still going on. It's for young beginners, but you can still see how it works."
Trunks Jr. nodded happily and followed him into the building. His father stared at the familiar doors, watching the boys disappear on the other side. He sighed, reluctantly entering too.
Despite the number of years that had passed and the amount of growth the dojo had enjoyed, the halls were almost the same as they'd been before. Some of the pictures were new, or had been moved around. The names in the trophy cases had changed. Bo had been added to some of the family-centric advertising, and the partner teacher picture had gotten much larger. Otherwise, the place looked almost exactly like it had in the past.
Bo led them down the long halls, explaining something to his friend that Trunks wasn't quite listening to. He wasn't sure why, but the red-orange carpets and dark woods were not a welcoming as they had previously been. There was an unpleasant feeling welling in his gut the deeper into the building they got, and although he'd previously chosen to remain in denial about it, it was making its source more evident by the moment.
You're nervous, he said to himself, feeling a little confusion over that realization.
It wasn't as though he hadn't been in uncomfortable situations before. His job demanded it regularly. But the familiarity of the dojo mixed with the idea of being around her for an extended period of time again was adding a pressure to the situation he hadn't anticipated. He'd planned to talk to her about the past at some point, but now his earlier desire to find an excuse to chicken out of this event had grown exponentially.
She'd called him a "coward" before, and meant it at least once. He really felt like one sometimes.
Bo paused in front of the doorway to his mother's classroom so they could watch. The dojo wasn't the only thing that looked almost exactly as it had ten years ago.
Pan was in the front of her classroom of young children. The class was as full as it could be, and all eyes were watching her carefully as she performed a few of the basic moves in a string, showing how they could be performed as one set. She was still wearing her green gi that she had favored, which was still layered on top of the flexible black fabric that was usually worn under Saiyan armor. Trunks swallowed hard, his nervousness doubling and his confusion over the feeling increasing in kind. This all felt uncomfortably familiar.
"Why aren't they sparring?" his son asked.
"They haven't learned how yet," Bo explained.
"Do you think they'd make me take this class with the little kids first, or could I be with you in yours?" he asked.
"Bo's worked for a long time to get where he is," Trunks interjected. "Having experience training with me and your Uncle Goten is one thing, but you have to learn their way from the beginning. You'd have to catch up."
His son's shoulders sank a little bit, but Bo spoke up to help, "My mom and I could help you. It wouldn't take long."
Trunks Jr. looked up hopefully at Trunks, but he shook his head. "I still don't know if I want you mixed in with normal kids, even if you'd only be sparring with Bo and Pan. Plus, we'd need to talk to Pan and make sure she's okay with the arrangement first."
The younger Trunks sighed heavily. "It was only a couple of fights at school," he argued, controlling his volume to avoid getting in trouble again.
Which nearly turned into a couple of manslaughter charges, Trunks thought. "We'll see."
The boys turned their attention back towards Pan and her class as she continued. She was getting ready to move into the section of their schedule that covered mindfulness and meditation, but paused for a few seconds to give a student one more correction on their form. The light that he'd once been so enamored with in the past was still shining in her eyes; she loved what she did.
As she turned to walk back to the front of the room, their gazes met momentarily and he smiled softly. He used to be able to make that light and fire dance in her brown depths, just by showing up at her classroom door – but that day, her expression only seemed to darken. His stomach sank in disappointment. He wasn't sure what he expected, but it wasn't that. He thought there was the possibility they'd made some headway towards peace in their damaged relationship, but apparently not.
"What are they doing now?" Trunks Jr. asked.
"Meditation," Bo answered. "It's good for getting your thoughts and emotions focused and in alignment. It can actually really help to…" The other boy scoffed dubiously, interrupting him.
"Don't knock it until you've tried it," Trunks told his son. "Your grandfather used to spend hours in meditation when he wasn't actively working out."
"And he's still angry all the time," he argued.
Trunks smirked. Fair enough. "So – she still teaches?" he asked. "Even though she's running everything?"
Bo nodded. "Just the young beginner's class and mine though. She likes it too much to give up, even though it makes her really busy sometimes."
"Good for her," he said, fondly remembering the class he'd "participated" in. She was incredible with those kids.
The class ended shortly afterward and the tiny attendees funneled out of the room one-by-one. After they were all gone, Bo went in to help her clean up the mats for a few minutes before they both emerged from the room again. This time, Pan offered them a friendly smile, though due to the way she still refused to meet his eyeline for more than a split second, he assumed it was meant more for his son than for him.
"Hey guys," she said cheerfully, her tone contradicting her expression. "Did Bo show you around yet?"
"No, we were watching your class first," Bo answered.
"Oh – that's not a very interesting one to watch, I'm afraid."
Trunks Jr. shrugged. "It was cool. How long do they have to wait until they spar?"
Pan smiled. Just like a Saiyan to ask that. "Not long, but we like to make sure they know how to block and strike correctly first so they don't hurt themselves," she explained, expanding on the answer Bo had given earlier. "This class will probably start learning the rules for that in the next few weeks."
"Right," Trunks Jr. said with a sigh. It wasn't the answer he wanted to hear. If Trunks did let his son attend classes, he'd probably have to learn a little patience. It wouldn't be the worst idea.
"Bo – this is kind of your show. Why don't you start the tour? I'll follow around," she said.
Bo smiled and did what his mother suggested. He started with the pictures on the wall, some of which featured moments from Mr. Satan's more iconic fights and wins. Trunks' original excitement pretty much came back in full, and he and Bo were trading facts about those events at an equal rate. Pan didn't know much about most of these matches, but Trunks Jr. seem to know the names of everyone her grandfather had gone up against.
"That was his match against The Barber! And that was right before he won a ring from Tony 'The Chest from the West'!" Trunks Jr. shouted excitedly. He was being a braggart about his knowledge of all things Mr. Satan, but Bo was happy to feed into it and show off his own.
Trunks and Pan followed shortly behind, listening in but not engaging themselves. Trunks stifled a dry chuckle with every "professional fighter" name that was uttered by the boys. One of them was actually named "Supplex". Why would you name yourself after your special move? Especially a move that was never used in a legitimate fight unless you wanted to break a spine. Not only was it unnecessarily violent, it was also a little dumb. He thought his son had a good grasp on what was staged and what was real, but the boy was genuinely thrilled about some of these terrible characters and their awful stage names, and it was casting a doubt in his mind. Maybe he should've discouraged the hero-worship a little more than he had.
"Believe it or not, a lot of his early matches were legitimate and unscripted fights," Pan said, answering the question he hadn't voiced, but had been wearing all over his face. "When my Grandpa Goku was worried about defending Earth against aliens and androids, Grandpa Satan was competing with everyone left who wasn't wounded or dead. Not – all of them were quality opponents, but some of them were actually strong for normal people. It wasn't until he started getting older that every single match became a choreographed spectacle."
Trunks Jr. looked back at his father and nodded emphatically in agreement. "Even the fights that were fake were fun," he argued, his words surprising Trunks. "They had whole story lines to them, and even season-long plots. There would be bad guys who were called 'heels' and good guys called 'faces' – Mr. Satan was always the face and never lost in the end."
Trunks sighed exasperatedly, "it's easy for you to tell the difference between the fake fights and the real ones, though - right?"
"If you were paying attention, it was easy," his son answered with a confident smile. "I always knew. The heels were too hammy about faking their knock outs - and there was never enough blood or anything."
"Good," he said with some relief, knowing his son wasn't completely out of his mind.
They continued up the hallway, pausing to look at almost every picture. There were a lot of photos of Mr. Satan with movie stars and politicians, but there were also a number of him with prized students, many of whom grew up to be reputable fighters themselves. Trunks Jr. wasn't as interested in those, but he still stopped and let Bo tell their story. Bo was all smiles while this portion of the tour was happening. Whether or not they compared to the Saiyans in power didn't really matter to him at the moment; these were strong fighters when in contest with normal humans, and celebrities in their own right. The fact that they'd been raised up and trained in his mother's dojo was an immense source of pride for the young boy.
Trunks and Pan followed slowly and at some distance, letting the boys mostly have their space as they spoke. Although Trunks had nothing to show for psychic abilities, it wasn't difficult to sense the stiffness in the woman next to him. Even though he'd looked in her direction several times, she'd never looked back at him. It was pretty obvious that she wasn't interested in making conversation, but she hadn't spoken again after her one earlier contribution to the tour. The silence was making everything heavier in the air between them.
He combed his head for something to talk about as they walked, even thinking about something related to Bo he could bring up or ask. Talking about Bo cheered her up the last time, and it wouldn't hurt to learn more about the boy who would inevitably be spending a lot of time at his house.
A subtle breeze flowed down the hall as someone somewhere opened a door. Trunks thought the discomfort of the situation was severe enough that it was actually making him start to sweat, but now he realized it was probably just the temperature. He grabbed the neck of his sweater, shaking it to let some air in, regretting he hadn't taken his son's advice about the tank top after all.
"Sorry it's so warm," Pan said, fanning herself a little as well. "The HVAC's a little difficult to hone in this time of year. I guess the heat kicked on when the doors were opened."
She undid her sash, pulling the green fabric of her open tunic from her shoulders and putting it over her arm to carry instead of wear. The heat returned to his face and he quickly looked down towards the floor. She still didn't realize what the black armor liner she often wore underneath revealed to the outsider.
To make his already strong response to the garment worse, it now carried with it the very vivid memory of the emerald eyes of her elevated form shining at him, silently inviting him to slide it from her sweat-soaked body. The image had been burned into his mind the moment it happed; even years later, he could still see her pale skin against the tile floor, revealed inch-by-inch as the tight liner slipped from her like a second skin, and he clearly remembered how her body felt as his hands followed his gaze in exploring her revealed flesh. He'd successfully pushed that memory far back into the recesses of his mind for a very long time once his life had taken him down a different path, but now that he was standing next to her again, it had returned with a force.
"Are you okay?" she asked, seeing the red hue to his complexion and the moisture gathering on his forehead. "We can go outside if you need air…"
"I'm fine," he said with an uneasy smile.
You're starting to get lonely, he told himself, and you miss sex.
As soon as the thoughts entered his mind, he immediately recognized them as being nearly the exact excuses he'd given himself years before – when he was trying desperately to convince himself he wasn't feeling the way he was towards someone in the position she'd held in his life.
He scolded himself, trying to calm the blood that was now heading in the wrong direction within his body. Remembering those little facts the first time might've sobered you up a little, but you know that won't work now. Although - if she won't even look at you for more than a second or two, it's not like you have to worry about it going anywhere this time around.
A distant voice interrupted his internal argument, causing him to look up from the spot on the carpet to further up the hall where the boys were. A man wearing the official dojo's gi had Bo in a headlock and was ruffling his hair. Bo was laughing loudly, and allowing it to happen, playing as though he couldn't easily escape from his hold. Trunks looked over at Pan who had a soft smile on her face as she watched the scene. Something in the back Trunks' mind told him he'd met him before, but he couldn't place him immediately.
Bo said something introducing Trunks Jr. The man, whose name was still lost to him, was pleasant enough to his son, so Trunks hung back with Pan, glancing again at her face as he interacted with Bo. The other man made some excuse and left the kids, walking up to the adults. He gave Trunks a courteous nod, but Trunks wasn't fooled by the energy behind it. The look in his eyes very clearly told him he was being measured up.
"Arán, you've met Trunks right?" Pan asked politely.
"Yeah – uh – good to see you again," he said pleasantly.
Trunks nodded and smiled briefly. His name was instantly familiar from his conversations with Bo, but for the life of him, couldn't remember where he'd seen him before. He never thought he'd ever met Pan's ex-husband.
"Pan, can I talk to you for a second?" he asked.
She agreed and they walked a little down the hall. If she'd realized what he was going to start with, she would've made sure they were further away.
"I never thought he'd be back here," he said, crossing his arms as a worried expression filled his eyes. "Are you seeing him again?"
Pan nearly jumped out of her skin at the direct question. She frantically looked back at Trunks; he was doing a great job at pretending he couldn't hear them by acting like he was more interested in the pictures in a nearby trophy case, but the embarrassed expression on his face and the fact that they weren't far enough away for sensitive Saiyan hearing made it obvious he hadn't missed a word. She tried to silently encourage Arán to walk further down the hall, but although he took a few steps, he wasn't understanding her body language.
"Our kids are friends now. Bo wanted to show them the dojo – that's all," she insisted.
"It's not my business anyway," he admitted in a whisper. "I was just wondering if that meant…"
"Arán," she said through clenched teeth, rushing to interrupt him before he could ask the next set of questions she knew was going to come from his mouth. She regretted her overly-harsh tone as soon as she took it, but it did serve in keeping him from completing his thought. "I don't want to talk about that right now."
"Right," he said with a nod. "Well – Bo knows where to find me if he needs someone to talk to. It's a lot of change to take in all at once."
"You can see him any time either of you want, but – stay out of it," she said quietly.
She knew that might've sounded more mean-spirited than she meant it to. While Aràn was a sweet man, she also knew his offer of consoling Bo had a dual purpose. He'd always felt a little overly defensive regarding Bo's paternal source. Bo and Aràn always got along well, but there was something consistently keeping them from being as close as Aràn wanted them to be. Pan never knew what it was, but maybe Bo had sensed something and hadn't wanted to share it with her. Whatever the reason, it prevented them from developing a true father-son relationship, despite Aràn's best efforts. Bo had never once called him "Dad", and even though Bo loved Aràn, it just wasn't the dynamic he wanted.
Despite the fact that they'd divorced, Aràn was still trying to find a way to fit into that place in Bo's life. Trunks' reappearance was likely a bad sign he was never going to achieve it. Even though that was the best thing for all people involved, the realization made her a little sad. In many ways, she still loved him too and it hurt her to know how disappointed he would be once he finally accepted that.
Aràn frowned, but held back an immediate response. "I could always be there for you too," he added quietly.
Pan twisted her lips, trying hard to find the right words to tell him to give them space without hurting his feelings further. "That's - not your role anymore."
He grimaced. "Ouch," he said. "You know, I was here that night… before you had Bo. I saw how much that affected you – and I was there for the recovery afterward, remember?"
That's where I met him, Trunks realized, remembering his staring eyes coming from his car as he walked out the door of the dojo after his final conversation with Pan. No wonder he's not a fan; she probably told him everything.
Pan looked back at Trunks and cursed under her breath, grabbing Aràn by the sleeve and dragging him into a nearby room, shutting the door behind them.
Aràn braced himself for an incoming, loud argument.
"Can we talk about this later?" she asked quietly, surprising him both by the low volume level she was maintaining despite the relative privacy, and the fact that she didn't sound as furious as he was expecting.
Pan could get angry. He'd experienced what he thought to be her full wrath many times, but she wasn't showing it at the moment. He saw regret, impatience, and frustration in her face, but she was holding back. He just wished he knew whose benefit that was for.
He nodded in agreement to her request, but after a moment of silence, continued anyway. "You were so worked up that night after you spoke to him - I thought you were going to go into labor right then and there. And whatever he said, in under two minutes, it made you decide you and Bo didn't need him. Now he just gets to walk right back in like nothing ever happened?"
"Arán…"
He sighed. "I wish I knew what his secret is."
"Aràn…" she repeated, her voice hinting at desperation. She'd known for a long time he wasn't as agreeable to the divorce as she was, but now that they were finally able to work together and had actually established a friendship again, she didn't want to give any impression of life in that corpse.
"I know – I'm done," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "I really just came in to ask if I can take Bo to that new mecha robot movie he was looking forward to seeing."
Pan visibly relaxed with the new line of conversation. "He'd like that. His weekends are pretty booked, so – maybe after school on a weekday?"
Arán smiled. "Good enough for me," he said. "Are you going to let him take my class next semester?" She opened her mouth to speak, but he saw her uncertain expression and jumped back in before she could complete her thought. "I know, I know – you think he'll accidentally hurt me. I think it'd be worth it though – and then I wouldn't have to keep on making excuses to spend time with him."
She nodded in understanding. "I know."
"Well, think it over a little bit. I'll give him a call this week about the movie," he said. "And Pan?"
She looked up at him questioningly. "Yeah Arán?"
"Be careful, huh?" he said, nodding in Trunks' relative direction. "I've already watched you pick up the pieces after he tore you apart once."
Her expression fell to a deep-set frown, but she didn't reply. With her silence, Arán gave her a fast, chaste kiss on the cheek and then left the classroom they'd ducked into. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, feeling almost unwilling to follow him back out into the hall. She was sure Trunks had heard everything in the first part of the conversation, and didn't want to deal with the fall-out from that. Sure enough, he was still focusing on the trophy case with unnatural intensity, poorly pretending as though he hadn't heard everything Aràn had said at the beginning. At least it was obvious he hadn't heard the rest of it. "Shy embarrassment" wouldn't be his reaction to that.
"Mom?" Bo's voice sounded from behind her. She almost jumped. "Can I show Trunks the memorial room?"
Pan smiled in relief, grateful Trunks Jr. had been there to distract him from "peaking in" on their conversation as well. "Sure. You remember the code?"
He nodded and ran excitedly over to the locked room at the end of the corridor, Trunks Jr. shortly behind. This left her alone with Trunks. She sighed and leaned against the hallway wall. Her arms were crossed when Trunks finally turned around. As soon as he did, her eyes fell to the floor.
"He seems close…" he started, "…to Bo," he added quickly, chastising himself for how obvious the attempt was.
"He's been around since before Bo was even born," she said.
Trunks cleared his throat awkwardly. "Right, Bo mentioned something about that."
So, you're just going to pretend you didn't hear any of it? she thought. I can go with that.
"He seems good with him," he tried again.
"He is," she confirmed quietly, "Bo wasn't very happy with either of us when we divorced."
"Kids don't really understand that kind of thing," he said. "I'm not sure I always do either."
Pan finally looked up at his face questioningly, wondering what he meant by that. Fate wouldn't give her the chance to ask. Both boys came running out of the "memorial room" at light speed, loud, mischievous giggling filling the air like music around them. The heaviness in the room lightened immediately, and Pan's heart nearly burst at the sight.
"Dad!" Trunks shouted. "Look at what Bo got out of storage for me to see!"
Trunks wasn't sure whether his son should be in trouble or not when he saw the boy suddenly run into the hallway with Mr. Satan's famous, golden championship belt around his waist. Trunks held a breath and looked over at Pan for her reaction, but the only expression on her face was one of pure joy. She chuckled loudly as Bo followed, wearing the iconic white cape around his shoulders. Trunks released the breath he'd been holding and allowed himself to laugh as well. His son was having to hold the belt up; even on its smallest loop, it was way too big for a ten-year-old, and the oversized center piece nearly covered his entire torso. The cape Bo was wearing was pooled on the ground around him, and the neck chain was sliding off his small frame.
"Is this okay?" Trunks asked Pan with a chortle, feeling the need to double-check. These were her grandfather's prized possessions, after all.
"It's fine," she said. "We'll just keep this between us though."
Bo grinned widely with his mother's approval and held out the victory sign. Trunks took the opportunity and pulled out his phone, taking several pictures as the boys posed and play-acted for a moment. Pan's expression had made an instant 180; it'd been a long time since he'd heard her laugh like that. After they were finished horsing around for a minute, Pan finally urged them to go put the memorabilia back into storage where it belonged and they obeyed.
After a few more minutes inside the museum-like room, they remerged all smiles and Bo sealed it up again. "Wait – Dad, do you want to see the room? It's got all sorts of crazy stuff in it!" Trunks Jr. said.
Trunks looked down at his watch. "I think I'm good. Why don't you just tell me all about it at dinner?" He looked up at Pan, realizing he hadn't technically asked her about that yet. "I thought I'd take them to an arcade and pizza place, if that's okay with you. Goten and I go all the time and I thought it'd be a good way to tie up the night."
"Sure," Pan said, "Bo, make sure you keep your phone…"
"Please come with us Pan!" Trunks Jr. suddenly pleaded. "I was hoping to ask some questions – if that's okay."
Pan looked at the young boy, surprised with the emphatic request for her company. Her gaze switched to his father, but both her and Trunks already knew how this was going to end. Trunks Jr.'s eyes locked on to hers as he awaited her answer – the same eyes he and Trunks shared with her son. How Trunks hadn't come to recognize this fact yet was a mystery; it was so obvious to her.
"Uh – okay, I guess," she said with an uneasy smile.
Both boys seemed happy with her response, but she quickly realized what she'd locked herself into. Like Trunks, she didn't really feel like she had a choice. Whether they knew it or not, the two brothers were very good at getting their way.
She made Bo stay behind for a few minutes to help her lock up, but they were on their way shortly afterward. She was surprised when it became obvious that their destination was far to the north. Then again, if Trunks wanted to truly relax, it would make sense he'd pick a place outside of major cities, where he was often followed and filmed by members of the media, or curious people who just wanted a picture. The further out of the way a place was, the less likely the population was to recognize him or care anything about his status.
Trunks Jr. and Bo spent the short trip rehashing what they'd talked about at the dojo, both flying around their slower moving parents as though they had extra energy to burn. She shook her head at the acrobatics and smiled, glancing over to Trunks as he chuckled and watched them barrel roll around him. His blue eyes were shining in the late evening sun, his hair whipping around him in the same way it always had when he flew, making her constantly wonder how it didn't annoy him as it got in his eyes and tickled his forehead, especially the two small strands that liked to hang almost straight down in disobedience. She'd cut hers short for that very reason, deciding she preferred to keep it trimmed over wearing a bandana all the time, especially since the one she'd favored in her youth had been worn to threads.
They hadn't flown together in a long time, but for a while, flying with him was a daily habit. It was one of the activities they'd been able to share that made their short and ill-fated relationship unique to any other they'd had. Foreplay in the sky during a stolen lunch breaks – it almost always led to finding a secluded spot on a tall place where they could exhaust themselves a little before having to return to the real world. During those moments, it felt like they were the only people on the planet, the sky and the wind in their hair encouraging their recklessness and their need for each other. They'd only stopped because those extra-long lunch breaks were starting to get in the way of their schedules. At the time, she'd hoped they'd still find a way to fit them in once and a while, but it never happened.
She looked away, choosing to focus on the path ahead of her instead. A bewildering ache appeared in her chest as she entertained the memories and allowed herself to revisit some of those moments. She missed those flights. Her resentment towards him hadn't allowed her to admit that in a very long time. Her eyes flittered back to him as his remained on the boys. She'd wondered if he ever felt the same, but every time she'd asked herself a similar question, she always made the same conclusion: he knew what he was losing on the butte that day, but he chose to do it anyway - and he'd lived a happy life despite of it. If he regretted anything about that choice, it was probably only that he'd set himself up to have to make it in the first place.
The town he was aiming for came into view quickly, thankfully snapping her out of her thoughts before her emotions could get the better of her. The pizza place he'd told them about was relatively small and quiet, a nice, little restaurant with plenty of old arcade games and a few new and shiny machines. There were very few people in there and most of them seemed to be children. It was no wonder Trunks and Goten liked this place; the owner was the only person who seemed to recognize the Briefs, and that was likely due to his frequent patronizing instead of his celebrity. He smiled the moment he saw the purple mops come through the door, and immediately pulled out a giant box of coins. Trunks put in a food order, exchanged a few pleasantries with the owner, supplied him with a stack of bills, then turned to the boys.
Bo's eyes grew wide when he saw the number of coins they had to play with. "Remember to stop for food," Trunks said with a chuckle, holding out the box for them each to take a handful of coins. "We're here for dinner, too."
Pan shook herself free of her earlier train of thoughts. Now that they were there and she could see her son's bright blue eyes examining the field of gaming machines excitedly, she wanted nothing more than to let go of those memories and join him in that innocent and happy frame of mind. She grabbed her own handful of coins, earning a surprised raised eyebrow from Trunks.
"Are they the only ones who get to have fun?" she asked.
"No," he said with a warm smile.
Pan nudged Bo in the shoulder and then pointed towards a row of toy motorcycles set next to each other for a racing game. Bo nodded and got Trunks Jr.'s attention. There were only three bays for this game in operation since one was out of order, so Trunks hung back and watched as they each mounted the mock motorcycles and fed their respective machines. After a few moments of selecting some options, the game's sound effects counted down and they were off.
Pan immediately started out in the lead, accelerating just right in order to get into first place. Trunks Jr. was right behind her, but Bo had a little trouble getting the gears right. He spun out near the beginning, and ended up not qualifying in time for the second round. Pan and Trunks Jr. were pretty much neck and neck. The boy had managed to pass her once by riding in the green, but she still had better skills with manipulating the gears. By the final lap, she'd nudged ahead again, and crossed the finish line a split second before he did.
Trunks Jr. cried out in excited disappointment and Pan chuckled heartily at the young boy's expense. "You're good at this!" she said honestly. She usually won these easily.
"I almost had you!" he complained, a bright smile betraying the fact that he'd had fun despite his loss.
"You might have if you'd stayed out of the green. It slows you down more than it helps you cut the curve."
He twisted his lips. "I'll practice more – and then you owe me a rematch."
"I'll be waiting," she said as a friendly dare.
Bo dismounted. "I've got to practice a lot," he said to his friend. "Bet I could beat you at Beat Stomper though!"
He and Trunks Jr. ran over to the dual set of machines and started playing. Pan watched them for a moment then found an old fighting game and fed it coins to start it, selecting her favorite character from the option screen. An unpleasant blush washed over her face when Trunks walked up next to her, feeding coins in to the other side to join her. She didn't say anything at first as they went through the menus for scene options, but she really wished he would let her play alone.
"You're making a mistake," he said. She looked up at him in alarm as the announcer of their match began the countdown timer to the beginning of their bout. He met her eyes; the serious expression on his face melted into a confident smirk. "I'm an old pro at Karate Masters IV," he said.
She exhaled calmly without a reply. The game started and she immediately launched into a flurry of moves, hoping to build her power meter up for her ultimate attack quickly, but he was as good as he advertised with his blocking skills. He wouldn't let a single impact in, and his counters were well-timed. The game wasn't over too quickly, but it went faster than she would've hoped. One more perfectly-timed counter resulted in his gauge filling. He set off his ultimate, leaving a giant, red "K.O." on her side of the screen.
She chuckled wryly, and took her hands off the controllers, preparing to walk away.
"Rematch?" he asked. She didn't immediately answer. "Come on. The first one was just a warm-up."
Despite better judgement, she put more coins in, and went through the character selection process again. This time, it was more evenly-matched. He countered a little less, which she suspected was intentional. This allowed her to get her power gauge charged enough to get off her ultimate attack. Once she was sure she had an opening, she smashed the button, sending a ball of light in his character's direction. He'd survived, but only by a sliver of his HP bar. She was about to run over and finish him off, but the machine stopped responding.
"Shit," she said with an exasperated sigh. She'd been a little over-zealous in her attack. The buttons on the control panel were cracked and pushed through their plastic casing.
"Oops," Trunks said with a chuckle. "Don't worry about it. I'll pay off the owner. It wouldn't be first machine I've busted here."
"I've got it," she said.
She walked over to the counter and began apologizing to the owner, pulling out a clip of Zeni she had in her pocket. He shook his hands in refusal at first, making Trunks feel confused. He never refused payment when it was him or Goten. Then again, Pan was leaning over the counter, smiling sweetly at the older man. His face was as red as a cherry. Trunks wondered if she even realized what she was doing. Ultimately, it didn't matter. The man eventually gave in and took the money, but only after she insisted very thoroughly.
To Trunks' disappointment, she didn't return to the arcade area, instead taking a seat at their table. He looked down at his box of coins with a frown, wondering what it would take to make her loosen up again. He thought there'd been some small progress happening there, although that might've been a misunderstanding on his part.
She was checking her phone when he sat down at the seat across from her. Her lips took a downward turn when she realized he was planning on staying there for a while.
"That went over smoothly," he said. "I forget how successful the dojos have been lately. I just get used to paying for everything. But you should keep playing and…"
"You don't have to do that, you know," she said gently, although he had a feeling her next words weren't going to be quite as softly thrown.
"Do what?"
"Pretend like nothing's changed," she said, glancing up at him very quickly before immediately looking away again.
His face fell, the consequences of past decisions hitting him bluntly against the chest all once. When they'd talked about their physical relationship being a "gamble", this was exactly the wager that had gone into the pot. A girl who had been a ubiquitous presence in the background of his life, one whose face would always light up when she saw him, now couldn't stand to look him in the eye for anything longer than a quick glance. For some reason, the loss never felt as heavy as it did at that moment, even that first day after Bo and his son had met.
"Pan…"
"I really want the boys to get along," she said, "and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen – but anything between us doesn't matter. It's important that he's able to build a relationship with Trunks and - you too, but we don't need to be friends for that."
She opened her mouth again, wanting to elaborate, but the musical sounds of the various video games in the background reminded her that they were in a public place, and Bo was just a stone's throw away. As much as she knew she needed to explain, she wanted to tell Trunks in private, then tell her son afterwards. Handling them both at once was too much, especially since Trunks was going to be incredibly pissed off when it did happen.
She sighed, feeling regretful about her choice of words the moment she saw the dejected look on Trunks' face. She hadn't only said what she did for the sake of her own feelings. She'd also wanted it to be clear now – because once the truth came to light, he was going to be as mad at her as she ever was at him, and it was important to her that their sons were prioritized over their grief with each other.
Trunks felt a stone form in his gut and wiped the palms of his hands against his pants, suddenly finding them very sweaty. "Look – I've wanted to talk to you for – years about how things ended," he said cautiously, lowering his voice as he looked back at the two kids that were chasing scrolling icons on a screen with the movements of their feet.
Pan's face went red and she felt her heart racing with sudden anxiety over the idea of talking about that day with him again. She hadn't wanted to start this conversation right then and there. There were so many other more important things they had to cover first, although none of it was any kinder to her nerves.
"We don't need to… This isn't a good place…" she stammered.
"No, it's definitely not," he agreed, "but I know I didn't a good enough job explaining…" he paused, realizing he was not prepared to spill his guts all over this particular table at this particular restaurant on this particular night. "I know it's not going to make everything okay – but I'd like to get to a point where maybe you could look me in the eye for more than a second at a time."
"I didn't mean…" she started, trailing off with another sigh. She'd been honest enough with herself to know that she still had a lot of hard feelings directed towards that time on the butte, but her missing eye contact wasn't due to his actions, it was due to hers.
Trunks' eyes matched Bo's. They were perfect, sky-colored, carbon copies of each other, and every time she looked at Trunks, she saw the eyes of the son they shared and was reminded of the secret she'd been keeping from him. Her unwillingness to make prolonged eye contact was due to her own guilt. She felt sick to her stomach every time she tried.
Despite the feelings she had on the matter, she met his gaze, locking on to it even though it was uncomfortable. He didn't deserve to feel guilty about that specific reaction, just like he didn't deserve to have a son hidden from him for this length of time.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, knowing it was likely the first time of many she'd be saying those words to him in the near future. His expression softened and a subtle smile graced his lips when she finally looked up; her expression mirrored his. It seemed there was some progress to celebrate after all.
"Speaking of the boys," he started, "you've been really open to having Trunks around and I – I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate that."
Pan's expression morphed to one of puzzlement. "Why wouldn't I?"
Trunks didn't want to say all the answers to that question that popped into his head. The issue of the timing was the main one. After leaving Pan, he'd wasted no time at all establishing a family with someone else. Surely, his son would be a living form of salt in the wound.
"I've given you a lot of reasons to be mad at me," he said. "In our situation – I think a lot of people would be unfriendly to him too – especially since we're so alike. But you haven't. You've been nothing but nice and kind and – he really likes you."
"I think he likes me for my grandfather."
"No," Trunks argued, surprisingly firmly, "that's not it. It's hard to explain, but – he has a lot of anger in him, and he's had a hard time making new friends or keeping old ones through the last couple of years. The fact that he's fallen in so quickly with both of you – it's different – and it's a huge relief," he explained. "His temper's gotten him into trouble a lot recently, so I'm hoping maybe this means he's turning a corner. He even uh – he almost killed a kid at school about a year ago."
Pan's eyes widened in surprise. "You said he had some anger issues, but..."
Trunks nodded. "He claims it was mostly an accident. Some kid was mouthing off, said something terrible to him thinking he'd be easy to bully. Trunks put him in a choke hold and caused the kid to black out and stop breathing for a moment. He came damn close to breaking his neck, and I'm still forking over cash to the family to keep him out of legal trouble. He just lost track of his strength," he recounted. "He used to be so happy all the time, but – not since his mom died. Not for years, really. Not until he met Bo. I feel like I finally have him back and if you would've pushed him away, that wouldn't have happened."
He could finally see some of the tension leaving Pan's shoulders as she started her reply. "Bo hasn't had the childhood Trunks has, but – he's still struggled with making friends when he feels like he has to hide part of himself. I think most of us," she said, Trunks understanding she was referring to Saiyans, "would've been better off having what you and Goten did – at least one friend that didn't need to be kept in the dark, that could be matched up with and tested against. I probably would've transformed a lot earlier if I had a friend like that. Considering how everything worked out – I'm really glad Bo has that now."
Her last sentenced confused Trunks a little, but he excused it, assuming she just had a few things she wasn't ready to express quite yet. "So, then – we're on the same page – about Trunks and Bo having every opportunity to stay close to each other?"
"Of course," she said without hesitation.
"Then – we need to talk. Not now, but at some point, and without the boys," he said. "I just want to make things as right as they can be. It'll be good for us and – I think it will make things better for them, too."
She rested her chin in the palm of her hand which was braced on the top of the table. "Okay," she agreed reluctantly, not because she doubted what he said, but only because the more he was willing to compromise and work with her, the more she dreaded him finding out the extent of her blame. This wasn't going to be the conversation he thought it would be.
Trunks smiled softly, and despite everything going through her head, she found herself returning the subtle gesture. Hesitation and fear didn't negate how much of a relief it felt to get this far. Even while keeping him at a very conservative arm's length. It was starting to feel almost normal.
There it is. He silently relished seeing just a hint of light in her eyes again as she looked at him. It wasn't the dancing flame he used to be able to inspire, but it was warm and it was something. He'd missed it.
"So – the pizza's going to be a while still," he said. "Karate Masters IV is down, but - want to play something else? They have Fight to the Death VII."
She considered her options. Sitting at a table in silence didn't seem like the best turn of a night, and there was half a box of coins shining teasingly in front of her. She twisted her lips. "I'm better at racing games," she suggested.
"Car or motorcycle?"
"Your choice."
He stood up and offered her the box. She grabbed a handful of coins and put them in her pocket, following him back towards the walls that had the motorcycle docks. He wasn't bad at the racing game himself, but she was still a little better. He couldn't get over it. She'd never bothered to learn how to drive, but could somehow win every round of this video game – not by much, but by enough.
Round by round, she squeezed by him, and the more it happened, the more he laughed, and the more her old cockiness reared its head and shined through.
Bo and Trunks finally finished their dancing game and went to fetch more coins, only to realize that they were currently being quickly eaten up by the adults on the other side of the room. Bo nudged Trunks, pointing to the pair. The kids were old enough to recognize the minor change; Bo was excited to see them getting along better, but Trunks was a little confused by the difference a few minutes had made.
"Do we get any more coins, or did you use them all?" Bo asked, crossing his arms.
Trunks looked down at the box and the surprisingly few coins still left inside. "Either this place is getting pricier, or we've burned more time than I thought."
As soon as the statement left his mouth, the doors to the kitchen opened, and a large stack of pizzas was delivered to their table.
"Convenient – just when your winning streak was about to end," he joked, looking at Pan and hoping she would see the humor in it.
"Are you sure you're still hungry after eating so much of my dust?" she asked. He didn't have a retort for her, but the sarcasm was music to his ears. He wished he could tell her that, but he knew drawing attention to it would ruin it.
Bo and Trunks Jr. started excitedly telling them about the games they played too. Trunks was relieved to hear the only damage done was by Pan and that no additional payments had to be made to the owner.
The pizza was miraculously not finished by the end of the night, but that was only because of the conversation. Trunks Jr. would barely let Pan take a bite before asking her another question about Mr. Satan and his history, about the dojo, or about how classes would look if his father let him take them. Bo had questions about recent Capsule tech for Trunks and figured the best time to ask was when the other side of the table was busy talking on their own. Two hours later, the owner stopped by with empty takeaway boxes and his "thank you" for their patronage. That was pretty much understood right away to be a subtle request to leave so he could close the place.
They were getting ready to fly their separate directions when Trunks handed the extra pizza to Pan. "I imagine you're still hungry. He kept you talking all night," he said.
Pan smiled and took it without argument. He had a point. "This was nice," she said carefully.
He nodded in agreement. "I know the boys are probably going to spend a lot of time together. We should plan something like this in the future - the four of us."
"Yeah – we'll see," she said.
Bo and Trunks Jr. finished saying their goodbyes and planning their next visit and the Sons flew off. The Briefs were shortly behind, going back towards the west. A notification buzzed on Trunks' phone, so he decided to check it on the way home. The notification itself was of little importance, but his wallpaper caught his eye. He hadn't changed it in years, not since she'd gotten sick again, and it still featured her and their son as he looked when he was four, smiling at some sunny picnic they'd randomly decided to go on.
He flipped his phone back to his photos, looking back at the shots he'd gotten earlier that night. Trunks Jr. was beaming, wearing that overly-large, ridiculous belt and making stupid poses with his new best friend. He was exuding unchecked joy and laughter, without a worry in the world, an ounce of anger in his chest, or that perpetual frown the males in his family had inherited. It was just happiness.
He put his thumb over the screen, hesitating for just a moment. You aren't forgetting her, he told himself, long pressing the photo of him and Bo and choosing the option to make it his wallpaper. A smile crossed his lips. It was a small motion of moving forward, unlikely to be noticed by anyone but him, but it was a step - and felt like the right time to make it.
Trunks stood in the doorway of his son's room, watching him slowly get ready. The tables were turned from the other night, and now it was the boy who was procrastinating. He understood why though, and tried to remain patient with occasional, gentle prodding as preteen looked abnormally long for socks and just the right comb to use on his hair. Trunks Jr. hated medical facilities, and he couldn't say he blamed him. It was better they kept their visits short - but it wasn't going to happen at all if he didn't get ready.
"Trunks - come on," he urged. "They don't like us hanging around there after eight and it's already after six."
The boy sighed and obeyed reluctantly. Trunks would've been fond of the stubborn face he'd worn so often in his youth looking back at him, if the trip was under happier circumstances.
"Did you know Mr. Satan lost to The Accountant earlier in his career?" Trunks Jr. asked excitedly as they flew to the Capsule Corp medical building on the other side of the city.
"No," Trunks said, feigning interest. It had been days since his trip to the dojo and their dinner with Pan and Bo. He wouldn't stop talking about it. He was just glad he was still happy. Anything that would bring a smile to his face was worth it, even if it was getting a little old.
"They made him a stooge. He was new to the fighting world, so they thought it would bump up The Accountant's ranking in an easy fight. The problem was. Mr. Satan lasted a lot longer than he was supposed to," he explained matter-of-factly. "He would've won if they wouldn't have played dirty and thrown sand in his face."
"Really?" Trunks asked. "That was allowed?"
"No, it was illegal - but they totally did! It was on the video Bo showed me at the museum. You could see it!"
Trunks smiled and checked his watch. They landed behind a building and walked in the front door. He'd gone in the window before, but had managed to startle everyone in the room by doing so, so now he preferred walking in like a normal person. It gave him a chance to look for his sister on the way there.
"He also showed me the Cell fight footage, but - it's been edited a lot," he said.
Trunks nodded as they walked, amazed by how fast the words could come out of his son's mouth when he was interested in something.
"They wanted to make it look like Mr. Satan won," Trunks explained, a curious eyebrow raised in confusion. His son had heard this story before. Of all the trivia stuffed into his little head, did he forget that?
"Yeah - I mean, I know he didn't actually beat him. That was Gohan, right? Bo's grandpa?"
Trunks opened the door to the special wing they'd reserved just for her. The ventilation was shut off from the rest of the building, allowing the recirculated and purified air supply in her area to remain uncontaminated by other patients. There were definitely perks to having owned and funded the building in which she was now a patient. Of course, having her daughter as head of medical R&D for the company didn't hurt either.
"It was," he confirmed.
"Can you tell me that story again sometime? Now that I've seen the video of it, I kind of want to know how everything fits together." Trunks Jr. asked.
"Sure - but remember I wasn't there," he said.
"Right," his son said with a chuckle. "It's hard to remember since it looks like you were - but I know that was like my uncle - the one from the other world?"
"Close enough," he said with a smile. The first time his son had heard this story, he'd been too young to really understand some of the confusing elements of time travel, and how the events of that fight took place and were affected by the accidental creation of an alternate universe. Maybe it was time for a retelling now that he'd had an introduction to those topics. "I can go over some of it, but if you just want to know about the fight, Gohan is the only witness left who could really explain it."
Except your grandfather, but good luck tracking him down, he added mentally.
Trunks opened the door to her room, letting the boy in first.
"Do you think Gohan would talk to me?" he asked excitedly.
Trunks put a finger up to his lips to tell him to be quiet, but it was too late. Bulma had woken up the moment she heard the door open, and was smiling brightly at both of them from where she had been napping in her chair.
Bulma had good days and bad. During the good days, she'd be up in her chair reading the paper or watching the news, breathing easily unassisted. You would never know she was even sick. On bad days though, she would be in bed, a tube of oxygen feeding air into her nose. She was usually very sleepy on those days, and would spend most of her time sleeping or reading the same page of a novel over and over. Those days scared both Trunkses, though for different reasons. Luckily, this was a good day.
Although her wishes for youth had stopped happening a while ago, the effects still carried forward. She was aging now, but looked much younger than she should look, and still had the glow on her face that she wore when he was a child. It was a relief to see her like that; he never knew what kind of day it was going to be until he showed up.
"What are you talking to Gohan about?" she asked curiously, looking up at Trunks with some poorly-concealed concern.
He wished she hadn't heard that. "Just a question about the Cell Games," he said dismissively. "Trunks has been - studying up on Mr. Satan lately."
Bulma chortled and looked at her grandson dubiously. "I feel like there are better things to be studying," she said with a laugh. "Come and give me a hug!"
The moment Trunks had told his son to quiet down, his chaotic thoughts stopped distracting the young boy and he realized where he was. Trunks Jr. had sunken into himself a bit in the room. While Bulma had excellent accommodations and an entire suite that appeared more like a luxury hotel room than a hospital room, it was still a medical facility. The sterile air still carried the unique scent that only hospitals had, the bleach smell adding to the effect. The tile floors still carried that dull, waxy shine to them - even the chairs squeaked the same way when you sat down.
Trunks Jr.'s memory was infallible when it came to the worst day of his life. He'd been there to see the life leave his mother's eyes, and to hear her last breath. He remembered every excruciating detail of the experience and it didn't escape Trunks how hard it was for him to be in a similar environment again. He squeezed his son's shoulder reassuringly, and then gently pushed him towards his grandmother's waiting arms.
Trunks Jr. wrapped his arms around the woman with uncertainty. He knew her well and loved her very much, but he wasn't sure how much his strength would hurt her.
"I'm not going to break," she said with a laugh, addressing his silent concern. He squeezed just a little, and she sighed contentedly.
Trunks came up next, giving her a kiss on her forehead. He then sat down on the end of her nearby bed to get the paperwork he'd brought with him out of his satchel and in order.
"So - Mr. Satan?" Bulma asked. "I thought you were past that phase."
He blushed in embarrassment and looked at the floor. Trunks spoke up for him. "Well, Trunks made a new friend recently and they have a lot in common, as it turns out. So, he's been getting a little excited again," he explained. He pulled out a black padfolio and handed it to her with a pen. "These have all been revised and cleared. If you want, I can go through…"
She shook her head emphatically, interrupting him as she took the stack of papers out and put it on the rolling desk next to her. "I know what they are and I know how to sign my name," she said wryly. "I'd much rather hear about this new friend."
Trunks had wanted to break the news gently. Considering their family drama with the Sons in the past decade and her unfavorable opinion on the short relationship he'd had with Pan, he wasn't sure how she was going to react.
"He's a Saiyan!" Trunks Jr. said happily, beating his father to the punch.
Bulma opened her mouth in surprise, and looked up at Trunks questioningly. "One of Goten's?" she asked, and he noted a hopeful tone to her voice.
"No - they're still too little," Trunks Jr. said with a chuckle, some of the light returning to his face when he started talking about him. Trunks hoped his mother noticed that, instead of focusing on the negative in her perspective. "His name is Son Bo."
The pen that had been in Bulma's hand fell to the ground, rolling away under the chair before she noticed she'd even dropped it. She looked at Trunks sharply, seemingly with an imperative question she wasn't sure how to ask.
"I know what you're going to say," Trunks said.
"Oh, I don't think you do," she said quietly.
He continued, dismissing her statement as her normal pessimism that she had exhibited towards the Sons in the last few years. "They met accidentally. He's a really good kid. Pan and I think it's a good match; we want them to be friends, so - we're burying the hatchet - for them. As much as we can, anyway."
Bulma's expression didn't relax, and the critical look in her eyes that was targeted towards her son didn't go away. "So - tell me about him," she said carefully to Trunks Jr.
"He's related to Mr. Satan, he's less than a year older than me, he has black hair…" he started, looking up at the ceiling as he thought hard. "He took me around the Satan City dojo and showed me the memorial museum," he added excitedly. "I got to wear the Champion belt!"
"Did you?" Bulma asked.
Trunks smiled and showed her the picture of the two boys on his phone in the old belt and cape. Bulma grabbed it out of his hands with unexpected speed, studying the image carefully. He didn't miss the frown that slipped onto her lips briefly as she examined it.
"I - I haven't seen him since he was a baby. At Goten's wedding, I think," she said.
There was a sudden roughness to her voice that concerned Trunks. "Mom, it's okay," he assured her. "I know you and the Sons still really aren't talking, but Pan and I can function in this dynamic - I think."
"Are you going to see her again?"
He scoffed at her abrupt question, knowing what she was referring to based on the emphasized word. He was nearly 50 and she was still digging into his personal life. "That's not even relevant," he said dismissively, "not to the boys. And besides that, we just recently got to the point where she could stand to be in the same room with me for more than a minute."
She nodded a little too quickly for his taste. He'd already regretted how much influence she'd had in the decision he'd made back then. He wasn't sure how things would've turned out without it. Maybe it all would've ended the same, but it didn't take him long to realize she'd pushed him towards one resolution and he shouldn't have been so easy to manipulate.
"It wouldn't be a good idea," she said, participating in an argument he hadn't started.
"You – missed the part where she's one shade off from hating me," he said with a wry chuckle.
Trunks Jr. looked from his grandmother to his father again, utter bewilderment on his face. "Dad – why would Pan hate you? Did she used to be your girlfriend or something?"
Trunks sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "I think it's time to change the topic," he said.
Bulma abruptly stood from her chair, readjusting her blanket so it was over her shoulders and walking to the window. She propped it open as far as it would go, then pulled a small package out from behind the blinds. Before he could process what was happening, she'd lit up a cigarette and took a long drag from it.
"Trunks, go wait outside please," he said sternly. The boy knew enough not to question that tone, and immediately left the room.
Bulma lifted the stick to her lips again, but Trunks was over in a blur. Before she'd seen him move, he'd crossed the distance in between them, grabbed the lit cigarette and the rest of the pack from her hands and thoroughly crushed them, letting the crumbs fall from his hands outside the window. Bulma did her best to use the expression she did when he was growing up letting him know he was in trouble, but she knew it was pointless.
"What the fuck…?" he started loudly. "Are you kidding me right now? Do you know what Bra would say if she saw that?" He wanted to yell louder, but he respected the fact that he was still in a hospital setting. Plus, her complexion had grown suddenly pale, which was causing an annoying sense of guilt for his justified reaction.
"Oh, we both know it doesn't matter anyway," she said bitterly.
"Mom…" his brow furrowed in concern. "What's going on with you?"
She sighed and crossed her arms, looking back at him with a regretful expression. "I know – I'm sorry. I'm not really that hopeless. I'm just – having a bad day."
"I shouldn't have brought the papers," he said.
"No – I – that's fine. I just get cabin fever," she said, "and – I'm just thinking a lot about the past. I guess talking about the Sons stirred it up a little."
He put his hands supportively on her arms. "I'm sorry," he said genuinely. "What can I do?"
"Build me a time machine," she said sardonically. "One that will take me back to those barbeques we used to have with the whole group. If you could bring Son and Chichi back too, that would be nice. Krillin and Eighteen, Piccolo, Buu – hell, even the old pervert and Yamucha and his cheating face."
He smiled sadly and led her back to her bed. Despite looking like she was doing fine when they had walked in, she now seemed a little unsteady. "I know not everyone can make it, but we could still have a pretty good-sized party, if you wanted to. I'm sure just a couple of phone calls would do it."
She laid down, leaning against her headboard as her eyes drifted to some distant point. "It was never just about the dragonballs," she admitted, ignoring his offer.
Trunks' frown deepened. "What do you mean?"
"The Sons – the dragonballs were just the straw that broke the camel's back. They were already angry with me long before that day at the house," she explained.
Trunks wasn't sure how to react. This was brand new information with no contextual anchor, and for a moment, he wondered about his mother's state of mind. "What was it then? Goten never said anything," he said.
"Goten didn't know. That's why he was so much quicker to forgive," she said. "But it doesn't matter right now."
"Mom," he urged. "What happened?"
She shook her head. "It's not a story to tell today," she said, looking into his frustrated eyes. "It's not even mine to tell. You'll hear it soon enough, I imagine."
He scoffed at that response as a million questions floated through his brain. A secondary family dispute would explain why Gohan and Videl hadn't reached out to her yet, with the exception of a bouquet of flowers and a card. Trunks never could figure out why such normally mellow people were suddenly so intent on holding a grudge. This might explain a lot, actually – if he could get his mother to share more. What the hell happened?
"Mom…"
"Have you heard from your father?"
He nearly laughed at the question – probably the one topic that could manage to derail his thought process. "Not for a long time," he said, pushing down the anger towards his father that now seemed to perfectly complement the frustration with his mother. "He hasn't been by the house. I have motion sensors on the gravity room, so I'd know if he snuck in to use it, too."
"That's too bad. I know you and Trunks could've used him around, but he is a selfish bastard in the end," she said with a fond smile. "He checks in every so often, but I miss actually talking to him."
Trunks shook his head in confusion. "He's been here?"
Bulma laughed. "Oh no – he wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this," she said, "and honestly, I wouldn't want him to see me anyway. No, he has his own method." As she said this, she pointed to her own head.
Trunks' expression melted to one of sadness. He'd hoped maybe his father had surprised him. "Are you sure that's him?"
"Oh yes," she said emphatically. "Bra can confirm it, if you think I'm going crazy. He apparently checks in on her, too. It's not obvious when he does it – you just – feel a little warm, and then you get the sense of him. I actually wonder if it's not too dissimilar to how you people sense ki."
He wasn't sure how to feel at that moment. Part of him was happy and very relieved to know his father seemed to give a rat's ass about his sick partner after all. The other part of him – resented the fact that he'd never felt it himself. He thought again back to infant Bo at Goten's wedding. The small gift that innocent child had given him came at the perfect time in his life. It meant a lot despite its simple nature. It would mean a lot from his father too, but apparently, he couldn't be bothered to send a quick, psychic "hello" to his son.
"Trunks," Bulma said, interrupting his thoughts. "I know this has been a short and strange visit, but – I'm getting pretty tired."
He nodded and leaned down, giving her a kiss on her forehead. "I'll bring the papers back next time" he said.
"No, I'll be up later," she said. "I'll finish them then and send them in to the lawyer myself."
"You sure?" he asked. "I can send a courier…"
"I know how to send a package, Trunks. It'll give me an excuse to leave the room."
"Okay – love you," he said, walking out the door.
"You too."
Trunks' son was sitting in one of the hallway chairs, waiting patiently on him when he left. He was kicking his feet in the air, but his arms were crossed and his chin was tucked to his chest. There was that frown again, that look of deep anger he'd had for nearly two years that Trunks hoped would never return to his face. Trunks sighed, mentally scolding himself for reacting without thinking. The last time Trunks Jr. had been abruptly told to wait out in the hallway of a hospital, it had not gone well.
"Hey," Trunks said, trying to purposefully relax his own expression so he would know nothing was wrong. "I shouldn't have just sent you out like that. I'm sorry. I just needed to say some things to your grandma I didn't think she'd want you to hear."
"Is she okay?" he asked.
Trunks nodded. "Just tired. We interrupted her nap. We'll come back later though, and you can tell her more about Bo." His expression lightened slightly, and Trunks smiled. "In the meantime – let's go get some ice cream and I'll tell you what I know about the Cell Games."
Trunks Jr.'s face immediately lit up as it had been before they entered the building, lifting Trunks' heart once again.
. . .
Bulma waited several minutes, until she was sure her son and grandson would be gone. Once she knew they were, she got out of bed again and walked back over to the desk where the stack of papers were resting, waiting to be signed. She picked the pen up from under the chair and sat down, combing through them until she found the section that designated certain holdings to extended family, namely her grandson and any children Bra may have in the next few years. In the back of that section, there was a page to note changes and addendums.
She took the pen and touched it to the paper, beginning with the sentence, "To my oldest grandson: Son Bao…"
She smiled; even with those simple and few words, the guilt she'd felt in her chest for so many years began to lift. Claiming him on the will was an official and legal proclamation, which made it by nature a very loud admission that wouldn't be missed by her clueless son, but it was time to stop trying to pretend Bo wasn't family just to spare some feelings. She'd made a mistake years ago that she hadn't had a chance or the guts to correct and it had cost her valuable moments with a grandson who now likely didn't remember her at all. She was done wasting that precious time, especially since she didn't know how much of it she had left.
It was a small step in the right direction, but it did mean that Pan either needed to tell the truth soon, or circumstances would reveal it for her. Bulma's addendums wouldn't be noticed for a little while. Hopefully, she'd decide to fix her own mistakes before then.