Hi there :) I decided to re-open this site only to find that I had written a TxP during quarantine, I didn't even remember what the plot was about and I was shocked at the story! It was so entertaining and fun! It inspired me to come up with this story!
Fanart credit: GOPAN
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the following characters; they all belong to Akira Toriyama (R.I.P.). Enjoy!
Chapter I: Bagels in the rain
The sky over West City was a heavy slate gray, rumbling with the promise of rain. Trunks Briefs sat hunched over his desk, the sterile glow of his computer monitor casting sharp shadows across his face. He wouldn't call himself a pessimist, but he hadn't felt the sun on his skin—or in his soul—in weeks. Work, with its ceaseless tide of paperwork, was both his prison and his refuge. It kept his mind occupied, diverting it from the words that still echoed in his head.
"I slept with someone."
Even now, 6 months after his ex-girlfriend's confession, the sting hadn't fully faded. He drowned it out with the loud clatter of his keyboard, typing harder than necessary, the sound both a distraction and a comfort.
A knock at the door broke through his thoughts. "Good evening, Mr. Briefs," the door opened to reveal Pan Son, one of the summer interns. "Am I interrupting?"
"You're not," he said, leaning back in his chair. "What's up?"
She stepped inside, carrying a stack of papers that seemed too large for her petite frame. "Here's the data you asked for," she said, setting them on his desk. Her voice was calm, professional, yet there was a warmth to it that cut through the sterile atmosphere of the office.
"You're a lifesaver," he replied, taking the papers. "And for the record, you don't need to keep calling me 'Mr. Briefs.' I'm not that much older than you."
"For the last time, maybe one day," she said, flashing a playful smile. "Anything else I can help with before I head out?"
"That's all for today," he replied, glancing at the clock. "You're still here? It's past five."
She shrugged. "I'm an intern, I'm not the owner of my time anymore."
"Corporate life, kid," He said with a shrug.
She let out a light chuckle, enjoying the banter. "You've probably been here all day, haven't you?"
"What makes you think that?"
"Because you look like someone who's been surviving on coffee and stubbornness," she said lightly. "I'm grabbing a bite on my way home. You should come, you've looked like you could use a break all week."
Trunks blinked. A break hadn't crossed his mind, but now that she mentioned it, his stomach growled audibly. He hadn't eaten since mid-morning. "Alright," he said, surprising himself. "Let's go."
Pan's grin widened. "Good choice."
The air outside was cool and damp, the drizzle just light enough to be tolerable. Pan walked with a spring in her step, her polka-dotted skirt swaying with each stride. She glanced at the sky, her face thoughtful.
"You know," she said, "back in the countryside, cloudy days used to feel cozy. Here, they just feel... heavy."
Trunks looked at her, caught off guard. "You're from the countryside?"
"Born and raised," she said. "But city life is different. No wet soil smell when it rains, no open skies. Just concrete and exhaust. It's kind of tragic."
Trunks had never thought about it, but now that she mentioned it, he realized how much he'd taken the city's cold sterility for granted. "I didn't know that about you."
"We don't know much about each other." she replied.
Pan glanced at him, sensing his melancholy. She'd noticed it from the moment she started at Capsule Corp. Trunks Briefs, the boss's son, seemed weighed down by an invisible burden. He was polite, professional, but always distant, like he was watching life from behind a thick pane of glass.
They reached the deli, their shoes squeaking on the tile floor. Pan ordered a salmon and cream cheese bagel without hesitation. Trunks followed her lead, more out of convenience than preference. They found a quiet spot under an awning outside, the rain forming soft patterns on the pavement.
Pan took a slow bite of her bagel, her expression unreadable. "You don't seem like someone who likes the city," she said after a moment.
"Why's that?"
"You're restless," she replied. "Like you're waiting for something to change, but you're not sure what."
Trunks froze for a moment, the bagel halfway to his mouth. She wasn't wrong, but hearing it out loud felt jarring. "I didn't realize I was that easy to read."
"You're not," she said. "Just a guess."
He let out a low chuckle, more to ease the tension than anything else. "What about you? Do you miss the countryside?"
"Sometimes," she said. "But I don't think I'll go back. You can't grow much when everything stays the same."
Her words struck him in a way he couldn't quite explain. They were simple, yet they carried a depth that matched the rain-soaked evening.
"You've got hummus on your face," she interrupted his trance, pulling out a handkerchief before he could stop her. The gesture is startlingly personal, but she doesn't hesitate, dabbing his cheek with a calm confidence that leaves him momentarily speechless.
"Thanks," he muttered.
"Anytime," she replied, her tone softer than usual.
Back at Capsule Corp, Pan was paged before they could properly part ways. She paused at the entrance, turning to him briefly, her polka-dotted skirt catching in the breeze.
"It was nice to see you out of the office for once. Thanks for coming," she said.
"Thanks for making me," he replied.
As she walked away, holding a folder over her head to shield herself from the rain, Trunks found himself staring after her. There was something grounding about her presence, perhaps it was the bagel. Or perhaps, he thought as he turned back to his desk, it was something more.
As Pan waited for her train, her eyes followed the yellow safety line painted along the platform. A woman stood just beyond it, leaning forward to check for the approaching metro, her head precariously close to the edge. Pan clenched her hands in her coat pockets, willing herself not to spiral into the vivid what-ifs that always came too easily.
The faint rumble of an incoming train shook the ground, pulling her attention back to the tracks. She adjusted the strap of her satchel, her fingers brushing against the worn leather—a gift from her grandpa when she first got accepted into Capsule Corp's internship program. She smiled faintly at the memory, though the excitement she'd felt then now seemed like a distant echo.
West City was everything she'd dreamed of: fast-paced, buzzing with opportunity, and worlds apart from her quiet hometown. But a month in, the novelty was wearing thin. The endless noise, the suffocating crowds, the way people seemed to brush past each other without a second glance—it all made her feel like an outsider. She was still finding her footing, learning the unspoken rules of this new life.
As the train screeched to a halt, Pan joined the wave of passengers squeezing into the car. She managed to snag a seat by the window, pulling her bag onto her lap as the train jolted forward. Her gaze drifted to the city skyline blurring past, the towering buildings a stark contrast to the open skies she grew up under.
Pan's phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, squinting at the message on the screen:
Don't forget the reports. And try not to outlast the janitors tonight.
She rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. For someone managing a massive corporation, he had an odd knack for sneaking casual concern into his reminders. Her thumbs flew over the keyboard as she typed back:
Reports are covered. You should worry more about your own overtime.
The rest of the ride passed in a haze of tired faces and murmured conversations. When the train finally pulled into her stop, Pan stepped onto the platform, the cool evening air brushing against her skin. The city lights glimmered above, their brilliance masking the stars she used to stare at back home.
Navigating the bustling station, Pan walked at an easy pace. Dinner plans loomed ahead—not particularly thrilling. Goten had texted earlier: You'll love her. Trust me. A cryptic pitch about someone named Marron. Goten had a way of underselling introductions, but there was something in his tone—something uncharacteristically earnest—that piqued her curiosity.
The restaurant was tucked into a quieter corner of the city, a little bistro with warm lights spilling onto the cobbled sidewalk. When Pan pushed the door open, a bell jingled overhead, and she spotted Goten right away, sitting near the window. His usual grin lit up his face when he saw her, and across from him sat Marron, her sleek blonde hair catching the glow of the candle on the table.
The restaurant was tucked into a quieter corner of the city, its warm lights spilling onto cobblestone. The bell above the door chimed softly as Pan entered, spotting Goten by the window. His grin stretched wide when he saw her, and across from him sat Marron, her sleek blonde hair catching the candlelight.
"Pan!" Goten stood, pulling out a chair for her. "Right on time. Marron, meet my niece, Pan. Pan, this is Marron."
Marron extended a manicured hand, her smile polite but reserved. "Nice to meet you, Pan. Goten's told me a lot about you."
"Likewise," Pan replied, shaking her hand and taking her seat.
"Marron's been freelancing for Capsule Corp," Goten chimed in, his voice bright. "She's doing some great work with their design team."
Pan nodded, her gaze flicking briefly to Marron, who offered a practiced smile.
"It's been interesting," Marron said lightly. "A challenge, but a rewarding one."
The server interrupted to take their orders, and the conversation shifted. Pan let Goten and Marron carry most of it, content to observe. Marron seemed perfectly nice—polished, even—but something about her felt guarded, her words measured like she was holding something back.
When the check came, Goten paid without hesitation, brushing off Marron's offer to split it.
As they stepped outside into the crisp night air, Marron excused herself with a quick goodbye. Pan watched her retreat into the glow of streetlights, turning to Goten with a raised brow.
"She seems... interesting," Pan offered, her tone neutral.
"She's great, right?" Goten's grin lingered, but Pan noticed the slightest flicker of uncertainty behind it.
She let the conversation drift as they walked away, but a nagging sense lingered, quiet and unshakable. This wasn't the last she'd hear of Marron—of that, Pan was certain.