Trigger warning: This chapter dives into discussions of mental illness and suicide. If you aren't comfortable with reading about that, please feel free to skip this chapter.

Soon as you came in

All the beasts went away

They noticed that you're warm

Wait until you leave

Then come back for more

The ropes hang to keep us all awake

And I should have known

His legs carried him faster than his brain processed. He never turned back as he sprinted through a thin, dark hallway. The sound of his breath and heavy footsteps ricocheted off the walls. Down the endless corridor, his vision spotted a person in the distance.

His eyes tried to piece together their identity. When a long, white coat and short hair gave him a clue, the sight of the bandage braids almost caused his heart to burst.

Soi Fon.

He sprinted faster toward her. She turned halfway and pierced his core with a cold, indifferent stare. Trunks came within an arm's distance of her, but remained in motion.

"Stay away from me." While her words echoed around him, Trunks passed right through her. His next step failed to land on anything solid, causing him to tumble down into darkness. He crashed down into a body of water and flailed his arms to keep afloat. Soi Fon gazed down at him from above before she disappeared.

He wanted to cry out to her with all of his strength, but he couldn't manifest his desires into action. The water thickened into a substance similar to tar, which made it more difficult to tread. As he fought to free himself, a hand surfaced from underneath and rested itself on his shoulder.

"Don't fight it. Just let me swim for you." Trunks' eyes widened at the voice he recognized as his own. He whipped his head back and gasped at his doppelgänger, yet this form of himself possessed pale white hair and skin. His double bared his teeth and stared at him with black sclera and yellow pupils. He shrieked with laughter and pulled Trunks under by his shoulders.

As Trunks sank neck-deep in sludge, he gave a last attempt to reach Soi Fon. Once his head swiveled, he recoiled from the person who stood above him: Sosuke Aizen. Aizen chuckled beneath a soft grin, then he crouched with a hand extended.

"Here, I'll end your misery."

Trunks opened his eyes, sprung forward, and let out a brief scream. His hands shook as he clutched his comforter. A cold sweat broke out all over his body. He caught his breath and buried his face in his hands.

Another nightmare. They felt worse and more frequent since he returned to college, though this latest one topped the others. At least he lived by himself. Had he not switched his room assignment from a double, these occurrences would create an awkward situation with a roommate.

Trunks laid back down in his twin-sized bed and faced the wall beside him. He reached under his pillow and grabbed his phone to check the time. A sigh left his mouth when it read 5:30 a.m, meaning he'd only slept for an hour until that point. He placed his phone next to his head and tried to shut his eyes, but his mind wouldn't relax. He considered skipping Multivariable Calculus in the morning.

When his alarm blared out a horn, Trunks rolled over and silenced it. A narrow opening in one eye allowed him to see the time. He only had ten minutes before Calculus started. If he went back to sleep, this would mark the third class he missed in a row. He already needed to catch up on the material from the first two weeks of classes he skipped.

Trunks leaped onto the floor and threw on a set of comfortable clothes. He ran to the communal bathroom and brushed his teeth. Once he finished, he only had two minutes to grab his belongings and sprint from his dorm to the other side of the campus. Because he had to travel at a human speed, he arrived five minutes late. Students filled most of the seats of the lecture hall while the professor crammed examples of parametric equations onto a whiteboard.

Trunks hurried to a seat in the back corner of the room. He opened his backpack and unzipped pocket after pocket to find his tablet. It wasn't there. Dammit. He must've left it on his desk. No matter, loose-leaf paper would suffice.

With a few pieces of paper on his desk and a pen in hand, he set his eyes forward to take notes. Everything the professor spoke sounded gibberish. Trunks also sat too far to read anything written on the whiteboard. Even when he squinted, the examples and proofs appeared like an unfamiliar language. Had he been studious, this wouldn't be an issue.

Instead of copying notes he didn't understand, Trunks opted to rest his cheek in his hand and listen to the lecture. The professor's monotone speech weighed on his eyelids. He fought to keep them open, but relented after a few minutes. It wouldn't hurt to shut them for a few seconds, right?

Once he opened them again, students packed their bags and headed toward the exits. He sighed and dragged his hands across his face. A few seconds of eyelid rest turned into an hour of sleep. Had he sat any closer to the professor, he would have been scolded and embarrassed in front of his classmates. He knew that from experience.

Every time he sought to apply himself, something stood in his way. He either overslept, fell asleep in class, or became too distracted by the voice to pay attention to a lecture. These factors led him to stay in bed for prolonged periods rather than attend class. Dropping out seemed like a reasonable way to end these woes, but his mother would kill him for making that decision, and by extension, his father would kill him, too.

Another alternative would be to figure out the cause of his mental affliction. Trunks traced his depression down to its source, but he had no explanation for the voice. Did he suffer from schizophrenia? His internet research suggested that it be the case, but did the events of Hueco Mundo serve as a trigger? Somehow, he had to manage it.

For weeks, Trunks tried to put his life back together, failing at every attempt. The voice's taunts and distractions became a recurring issue as time passed. Sometimes it whispered, and other times it screamed so loud that it brought physical pain.

In its absence, recollections burdened him. The images of Karakura Town engulfed in fire paired with the cries of the victims never ceased to break his heart. Sosuke Aizen's smug expression also appeared in his mind's eye. Memories of every knuckle wiped into him replayed over and over, sometimes for hours on end.

However, the bulk of his agony derived from thoughts of Soi Fon. When he juxtaposed the night of Ukitake's celebration with the day of the incident, it proved to be nothing short of soul-crushing. Many days, he paced his room and replayed their interactions down to the smallest detail. It became his most consuming and unhealthy habit. A small part of him wanted the memories to disappear; the greater part wanted them to stay to prevent emptiness.

After two months of failing to keep a grip on his sanity, he decided he needed help to soothe his mind. It couldn't come from someone close to him. He had to find a professional that could medicate him if necessary. But how would he describe his situation to a normal human? If he dared, they'd admit him into a psychiatric hospital or raise worldwide attention. Perhaps it'd be better if he gave a psychiatrist a general idea of his symptoms and see what the outcome was.

He followed that route and received a prescription for antidepressants. After taking them for a month, Trunks felt more balanced than he had in a long time. Schoolwork became manageable again. This revelation came before he needed to prepare for his finals and save his grades. This revelation lasted for two days before the voice screamed at him again and triggered his anxiety. When abusing his medication provided no benefit, he searched for a solution yet again.

A new diagnosis for schizophrenia would take at least six months of observation, but he had to try. He returned to his psychiatrist's office and pleaded for another medication. With much begging, he persuaded them to bend the rules and give a new prescription to experiment. But even this proved to be ineffective. With nothing else to turn to, he yielded to despair.

To Trunks, the freefall into madness seemed like karmic justice. The unrest of his inner demons may have stemmed from retribution for his wrongs. If he endured suffering like this for the rest of his days, it would be his atonement.

Even after accepting his fate, Trunks failed to function in the outside world. Wherever he dragged himself, it seemed like people stared and gossiped about him. In his classes, he believed he was the least intelligent person in the room. Topics and assignments that his peers found straightforward looked impossible to him. Showing up to lectures that he didn't grasp was a waste of his time. Even when they were essential for his exams, he stopped going altogether.

If he didn't understand what he went through, then no one else would either. In addition, he sought more solitude with time. He made excuses to his friends to avoid leaving his quiet dorm room and putting up a facade. Short and infrequent communication to those he used to spend time with led to eventual radio silence. Even with his family and closest friend, he never possessed the motivation to speak to them. As long as he had everything he needed indoors, he drowned in isolation to his heart's content.

After a semester of academic disappointment, Trunks used his break from school to lock himself in his room at home. However, to fix their skewed schedules, Satan City University restricted the students to a week of vacation time before the start of the next semester. Colleges and businesses across the world had the same problem. Because Goku used the Namekian Dragon Balls to wipe the Earthlings' memories of Halibel's invasion, people scrambled to make up for the inexplicable six months of lost time.

As a result, Trunks found himself shoved back into classes, lacking the adequate time to decompress from the hell of final exams. Despite this, he aimed to limit his truancy during syllabus week. If he still couldn't sit through a lecture, his firm mattress awaited his return with open arms. This plan worked to his liking, but in the middle of that first week, three soft knocks came at his door while he laid in bed.

"Helloooo. Trunks? Anybody home?"

Trunks let out a quiet breath from his nose before he removed his covers. "Yeah. Gimme a sec."

Trunks rolled off his mattress and trudged to the door, then opened it to reveal Goten's carefree demeanor. "My bad. Did I interrupt a nap?"

"Nah. Come in." He stepped out of the way to allow his friend entry. Goten walked over to Trunks' desk and straddled his rocking chair, while Trunks sat on the edge of the bed. "What's up?

Goten folded both of his arms atop the backrest and rested his chin on them. "Nothing much. You don't really answer my texts, so I thought I'd pay you a visit."

"Sorry. I've just been… all over the place. It's nothing personal."

"I know, I get it."

"How are classes going?"

"It's syllabus week, so nothing wild yet. Five classes; fifteen credits. What about you?"

"Nineteen credits. Gotta study my ass off this time."

Goten leaned in with his mouth wide open. "Nineteen? Damn, bro. That engineering is tough shit. How'd you do last semester?"

"Oh, I uh… not too well. I got a D in my Data Management class, and I failed Calc. I'm retaking both this semester."

"Aw, man. You're not on probation, are you?"

Trunks sighed and nodded. "Yep. If I don't get above a 2.0 this semester, they'll kick me out of engineering."

"Seriously? Call Gohan if you need help with Calc. He'll get you an easy A."

"I think I can figure it out this time. Have you-"

It's pointless…

Trunks massaged his forehead. "Did you, uh… lock in your major?"

"Yeah, and actually, I made a switch."

Trunks retracted his head and raised an eyebrow. "You switched? No more economics?"

Goten lifted his head and grinned. "Nope. I applied to the pharmacy school and got accepted. Now I've got two extra years of school and more all-nighters to pull." He rolled his eyes and leaned back. "It's gonna be crazy. Organic Chemistry is gonna dig my grave next year."

"At least it'll be worth it in the end. Congrats, I'm happy for you."

"I appreciate it. By the way, there's a party I got invited to tonight. Do you wanna come?"

"Oh, uh, sorry. I was gonna-"

Push him away, just like you pushed her away.

He winced twice, then continued. "My head is killing me, but I planned on staying in tonight to study. I don't wanna fall behind again."

Goten's chin sank down once more. "Understandable. Looks like you already got started with all these papers on your desk." He blew out a raspberry. "So, how are you managing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like… day-to-day, I guess. I'm not gonna sugar coat it, you're not the same guy you used to be. Not even remotely close."

Trunks lowered his eyes to his lap, then shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno what to tell you."

"At least talk to me. I just wanna hear that you're okay. Nobody's seen you outside for who knows how long. Your room looks like a tornado flew around it, and if I'm gonna be honest, my man, you look like you haven't slept in months. Listen, everything that happened while we were away was… something I wouldn't wish on anybody, but you can't let that define you."

Trunks flipped his eyebrows up and down as his gaze remained to the floor. "It's not that simple."

"I know, but there's still so much life ahead of you. That shouldn't beat you down forever."

"Maybe it should. I-"

You either watch them all leave…

Trunks sighed. "I deserve to live like this."

"You know that's not true. It's time you forgive yourself and move on from all of that. You can't put yourself through-"

Or you watch them all die.

Trunks didn't hear the rest of Goten's words, but he didn't need to. He curled his lip and took a pregnant pause. "What would you do if it happened to you? If you hurt Toshiro, Rangiku, or whoever, and you didn't even remember you did, what would you do? If you tried to apologize, and they looked at you like they wanted to break your nose, how would you wake up the next day? How would you be able to forgive yourself? How?! Tell me how!"

Goten gazed away and answered in a somber tone. "I don't know. I can't imagine what life is like for you. But there's gotta be someone out there that can help you. Someone better than me."

"You don't think I tried that? I saw a psychiatrist last semester, but it didn't work. I tried getting high, I tried drinking, I've tried everything that doesn't include me abusing hard drugs, and it doesn't help. The only thing I haven't tried is telling a therapist that I got strangled and disemboweled by a world-ending narcissist. But since I obviously can't do that, what now? How do I move on from being humiliated on camera? How do I move on from having three near-death experiences in a day? And how the fuck am I supposed to move on from letting an entire city burn to the goddamn ground?!"

Goten shot up from his chair. "That's not your fault!"

"How would you know?!" Trunks dropped to the floor and stepped to Goten's face. "You showed up in time to clean up the mess I made. I could've saved all of them; I could've saved her if I wasn't so stupid. Then, I spent a year in the Time Chamber and bottled up all my anger. I killed Nnoitra, only to turn around and do practically the same thing I hated him for."

The frustration in Trunks' voice tapered off as his head sank down. Goten remained quiet, allowing Trunks to continue. "I just wanted to live a normal life, but that's just not possible. Every day, I get closer to losing my mind. I can't take it anymore. I'm too weak to protect what I want, and I'm done being told to just get stronger. The gap between Aizen and me is like Other World and Earth. I'm done fighting. I'm done with all this shit."

Goten huffed out of his nose, then gave a slight nod. "Okay, I understand. I wish I had an answer, but I don't. Right now, do what's best for you. Take as much time as you need to get your mind right. I won't stop that."

"Thanks…"

Goten patted Trunks on the shoulder before he walked to the door. "Alright, I'll get out of your hair. If you need anything or if you ever wanna talk, I'll be here for you."

"Thanks. I'm sorry I yelled before."

"Don't sweat it. I yelled, too." After he opened the door and stepped out, Goten turned back to offer parting words. "Go to class, okay? Your mom's gonna kill you if you flunk. And then my mom's gonna kill me for letting you flunk."

"Yeah, I'll try."

Once Goten departed, Trunks scaled into his bed to stare at the ceiling. He put his hands over his eyes, forced his palms into his sockets, and pushed his fingers into his skull. He wanted to scream and put his fist through the brick wall next to him. Trunks wanted to destroy everything around him until he released his pent-up rage. But he couldn't. It was pointless.

Trunks did as the voice told him. He pushed his closest remaining bond away, which left him with no one. It was what he wanted, but the guilt wouldn't shake from him. This feeling served as the precursor to emptiness, a state he needed to accept with time.

After an hour of laying stationary, he stepped onto the floor and walked over to his window. He peeked through his blinds to see the people outside his dorm. Friends, lovers, and individuals all passed by, enjoying the peaks of their youth. Trunks envied how they freed themselves from the shackles of the past to live in the moment. He felt like an outsider of his own body, observing from afar as his soul underwent necrosis. Unable to stop the process, he watched it rot into filth he no longer recognized.

You're not like them. You'll never be.

For the entirety of his adolescence, he tried not to swallow that bitter pill. "But I wish I was."

Trunks couldn't live like this anymore. With no desire and no direction, what kept him bound to the Earth? Did anything motivate him to live? He pondered these questions, but found no answers. If he couldn't offer a reason to persist through the anguish of life, then life wasn't worth living. If it wasn't worth living, then it needed to end.

Would death be justice to those he wronged, or would it be his own form of mercy? Either way, he didn't want to make a hasty decision. He'd give it some time and figure out a solution later. For now, it'd be better to lie in bed.

He returned to his mattress. As he covered himself and scrolled through his phone, another quote from Aizen came to torment him.

You lived an insignificant life.

I know. Once Aizen's voice left, another appeared to provide a unique brand of torture.

Never come near me again!

He fought back a lump in his throat with welled eyes. I won't, I promise. I'm so sorry.

You're wasting your life.

Trunks wiped his eyes into his sheets and cleared his throat. I'll take care of that soon.

A/N: First things first, I've never experienced nor seen someone experience schizophrenia, so if I'm misrepresenting it, I do apologize. I do want to represent things as well as possible, so if anyone has any input on depression, schizophrenia, or depersonalization, please let me know. I love to learn from other people.

Right now, I don't have much to say about this chapter because I want it to speak for itself. I'd rather hear all of your thoughts about it.

The next chapter will be focused on Goten. There's gonna be something major coming, so stay tuned for that. It might be around this length, or possibly shorter.

ProWritingAid is gold. I should've had this when I started. That or a beta, cus those early chapters… sheeeeeesh.

If anyone has a preference on upload days, let me know! Saturday afternoon doesn't get the reception I thought they would, so I'm looking at Friday night/Sunday afternoon.

As always, thank you for reading. Lemme know what you all think. Have a great day and I'll see you next time in Chapter 31, tentatively titled 'Mortal Man'.

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