Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ DragonBall Zenith: How Young Hearts Bleed ❯ A Way to Cope ( Chapter 3 )

If you do not clearly see the words "to be continued" at the bottom of the page, then it hasn't loaded completely or properly.

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, its characters, story line, or any likeness of the characters. My name is not Akira Toriyama. However, this story line has been created by me to be used by me and to be written by me. You know that drill. Also, I do not own Mountain Dew, though I really wish I did. I am not endorsing any brand names I use here in any way either, along with the future topics of gangs, fighting, and the like. If you look carefully, you'll notice that I am strongly against those things and try to make that clear to you, the reader.

And now, the mini-series, "How Young Hearts Rip and Tear at Each Other Over SW"! **MT and SW's BF shake their heads, then resume beating the crap out of each other and throwing insults back and forth**

SW's BF: "You run like an old lady who has an emu stapled to her back!" He takes a swing and connects with MT's face.
MT: Spitting, "Oh yeah? Pretty boy? Go cry to your mama!"
SW's BF: "'Pretty boy'? Who are you calling 'pretty boy', you purple-haired freak!"
MT: "Freak?"
SW's BF: "Yeah, I said 'freak', freak!"
MT: "That's it!" He weaves an intricate pattern across his chest with his hands then holds them out at SW's BF. "BURNING ATTACK!"
The flames race out toward SW's BF and it looks like it's all over when...
They fizzle and die.
SW: "If I've told you once, I've told you 1,000 times! No ki attacks in the disclaimer! Remember last time you did one of those burning attacks and caught my site on fire? You completely destroyed my backup files, Mirai!"
MT: "Oh yeah, forgot about that..."
SW's BF takes advantage over this moment of confusion and attacks MT again. He kicks major @$$.
MT: "It's not fair! How come he's as powerful as a Super Saiyan here?"
SW: "Because it's my dimension and whatever I say goes."
MT: **Mumble, mumble** "Stupid contract." **mumble** "Stupid SW." **mumble**
SW: "WHAT WAS THAT!?"
MT: "..."
SW: "Kick his @$$, Stevo!"
SW's BF: "With pleasure!"
SW's BF kicks MT again and they get into an anime dust brawl.
SW: "That's it. I'm calling Roselyn to settle this on her talk show for next time."
Both guys stop instantly.
Both guys: "NO! ANYTHING BUT THAT!"
SW: "Oh yeah. Next time, 'An Interlude, Roselyn's Talk show, How Young Hearts Rip and Tear at Each Other Over SW'! Gee, that's a long title..."
Both Guys: "Spare us!"
The moment passes and they continue fighting.
SW: "I don't know if this is ever going to end... And it needs to! I need to think up some new ideas! Like maybe the Z gang joining a band and Vegeta gets to play the Flute and Piccolo gets to play Tuba and Goku gets to play drums and..."
Both guys nod to each other and dump a barrel of pickles over SW's head, successfully shutting her up.
SW: "That's it! RENZUKO GIANT RIPE TOMATO ATTAAAAAACK!"
Thousands of giant ripe tomatoes appear and bombard SW's BF and MT while they run around screaming like little girls in pink tutus, covering their heads, and trying to dodge.
SW: "That'll teach 'em to mess with SW THE GREAT!"
Both guys shake their heads then resume running around and screaming.

Enough of that, back to the story!

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A/N: Here we go! Another loony episode in this crazy series... Wait, that's not right! This is depressing! You shouldn't be reading this! Go home! ... Actually, stay a while. I promise, it will get better, and the need for craziness is the reason there is a mini series in the disclaimer anyway... So read on, mighty reader!

Broken bodies, broken dreams.
All is lost, or so it seems...

"Success is how high you bounce when you hit bottom." - Source unknown

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Neither Trunks nor Bulma got much sleep that night, and when Trunks finally came down at breakfast time, he uttered a phrase never before heard from a healthy Saiyan, "Breakfast? Not interested." before sitting down and crossing his arms.

"Yes, you are interested, Mister! I'm not going to let you starve yourself just because things don't go your way! You're acting like a spoiled child!" Bulma yelled, opening the cover to the relative feast she had spent the last few hours preparing for her normally ravenous son.

The heavenly aromas of the fried meats, rice, and her almost famous scrambled eggs wafted tantalizingly beneath Trunks's nose. Though his face gave no outward sign as to what he was thinking, his stomach betrayed his real feelings. It let loose a torrential roar that scared the birds off the windowsill.

"Okay." He admitted. "So maybe I'm a little hungry." He kept his poker face throughout the statement, but Bulma read him like a book.

"Alright. Eat up, Trunksie. You're getting back on your feet whether you like it or not. You're not just going t sulk over this for the rest of your life, you know! At the very least, get a hobby!" She demanded hotly.

Trunks laughed weakly while eyeing the food, but didn't say a thing.

Bulma was right, Trunks was ravenous. He was halfway through his sixth bowl of rice before she warned him to slow down, a command that he, of course, ignored.

He received a disapproving glare from his mother upon leaning back in his chair, finished. "Okay, so I was a lot hungry." He admitted.

"Not surprising. Your blood sugar level was far too low yesterday, and even though you drank half our stash of Mountain Dew, I doubt your PNS's nutrient levels came even close to normal."

Trunks gave his mother a "put that in English" look before continuing. "Yeah, I guess I do need to get on top of things..." he cleared his throat. During the night, he made an important decision. This world was no longer his world, its people no longer his people. Those things, he had left 30 years in the past, including his "real" mother. Too much had happened in those three missed decades, and yet too little. No one, to Trunks's knowledge, would ever bother Chikyu again in his lifetime, and with this plan of his, he could be contacted if that happened anyway. Sure, he could start over here, but for some reason, he really didn't want to. He didn't want the prying eyes, the pitiful gazes, and the fruit baskets. No, that's one way Mirai Trunks would never be similar to his alternate universe self, the one he had ensured existence to by traveling to the past. Mirai was shy, polite, quiet, and emotionally scarred. Chibi was anything but. In his time, Chibi was rash, rude, a punk, loud, and arrogant. All this could be blamed on the presence of Vegeta as a father figure in Chibi's life and the absence of him in Mirai's. No, Mirai was already too far-gone now to be able to start over, much less to actually take that scale of a social challenge on. "Mom?" he began, "I've made a decision and I'd like you to help me bring it to reality."

"Trunksie? What is it? You're ok, aren't you?" Bulma asked, concerned.

"Don't worry, it's not that, it's just that I don't belong on Chikyu anymore." He shuffled his feet around and lowered his head waiting to be yelled at. That statement hadn't come out quite like he hoped.

"Don't belong on Chikyu!?" Bulma thought quickly, shocked at the conclusion her mind had jumped to. "Oh, gawd! No, Trunksie! Don't get suicidal on me!"

When his mother didn't say a thing, Trunks realized what she had taken his statement to be. "No, Mom! I'm not getting suicidal again! You know I learned better than that! I... I'd just like... I'd like you to help me build a spaceship. I want to leave Chikyu, travel elsewhere, maybe find some place I do belong."

"It's better than him threatening to slit his own wrists again..." Bulma thought, then immediately curbed herself. "What am I thinking, 'better than threatening to slit his own wrists again'!? He wants to leave me, again! ...And he does belong on Earth, with his friends, with me..." "Oh, Trunks! Don't leave." She approached him and hugged him as if her embrace would cement him to his home world, but it wasn't so.

"Mom, you could build a radio in, a tracker so you know where I am and how I'm doing, and maybe even a system so I could send you captain's logs, but-"

"Oh, Trunks..." Bulma interrupted him, saddened at his decision. Her son wanted to leave, perhaps for good this time, and was asking her to help him go. "I..." she began. She was about to refuse, but then saw the look in Trunks's eyes. All those years of healing were now gone, so they still harbored that weary, battle-scarred yet defiantly hopeful look; Trunks's famous look. Bulma nodded her head and Trunks grasped one of her wrinkled hands carefully. She could barely comprehend just how much strength he had to hold back to do so.

"Thank you, Mom." He showed his gratitude the only way his Saiyan heritage (despite his human upbringings) would let him know how, verbally. "You don't know how much this means to me. I-"

"Trunks." Bulma cut him off. "Just shush. It's for the best. I'll just call your friends and tell them what happened."

"Thanks, Mom." Trunks repeated himself.

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The planning of his spaceship's design was well underway by the end of the following week. It had to be a jack-of-all-trades ship; who knew what sort of adventures awaited the lavender haired hero? The ship, conveniently nick named "The New Hope", in no way resembled the spherical space pods so commonly seen throughout Bulma's teen to middle-aged life, but more closely resembled a modified fighter in the front complete with two guard fins that stretched toward the back along the top and bottom, but everything from the neck back was completely unique in the universe. The ship's abnormality would be essential; however, if Trunks was to be taken seriously by the galaxy's better known inhabitants.

(A/N: Go to http://animecinema.freeservers.com/younghearts/NewHopeBig.JPG to see a large, labeled top view in black and white if the above picture doesn't show. To view the above picture, which should be there, go to http://animecinema.freeservers.com/younghearts/NewHopeSmall.JPG.

And go here (http://animecinema.freeservers.com/younghearts/NewHopeColor.JPG) to see a side view in color.)

First of all, Trunks would need a place to live and a place to train. Because gravity simulations take a huge amount of energy, Bulma searched for a more efficient way to cause a force to be created that would keep Trunks on the "ground". She found it in central motion. Both the living area and training room were made into "doughnuts", if you will, that would spin constantly at a predetermined speed (where 108 mph on the outer edge would equal one times Earth's gravity) and so provide a force pushing all things within it toward the outer, sloped edge of the room. The outer edges themselves would be greatly reinforced, more so the training room than the living area, so that their contents wouldn't burst out into space. The entrances to each of these wheels would be at their centers where the gravity would be weakest and there would be ladders leading down to the first and second floors the living area so what ever kind of team Trunks would pick up could chose their desired gravity. There were four rooms on each floor, eight in total. The training room itself would be much more secured and though it would be the same size as the entire living wheel (to balance the ship out), it would not have first and second floors for obvious reasons. The living area itself would be fit for four Saiyans on the outer edge (and enough food space to last them a year) and four of any smaller, weaker, less claustrophobic species. The gravity room (or wheel as anyone may desire to call it) would be constructed with a high maximum energy absorbing system, which led straight to several large fuel converters complete with auxiliary batteries. The engines and fuel tanks themselves were highly efficient but required an uncommon fuel compound to work. The by-product of the "burning" fuel would be changed back into that compound using the fuel converters that run from the ki Trunks gives off while he's training. In essence, as long as the young man had food to eat and time to train, he would never run out of fuel. He would just have to be careful not to train too much for the energy required or the extra ki energy would escape elsewhere...

Then there was the waste management facility. Though Saiyans waste extremely little of what they eat, there was no telling what kind of rag-tag, motley crew Trunks would pick up on his adventures.

There were activities too. Bulma would include CD's of brainwork and leisure for Trunks to essentially go through college on and to take a break from whatever he would be doing.

Then there were the particulars of the fighter end. The raw energy that the engines produced would also be capable of running the shields that could be cast from the guard fins around the ship for a short time. Though these artificial shields would be relatively weak to the kind of shielding Trunks used in his battles versus the androids, they would be essential in navigating through asteroid fields, dodging small fire, and other otherwise tedious piloting tasks. The energy could also be concentrated into high-intensity laser fire. Though the ship could only keep this up for a short amount of time, once Trunks got into the pilot's seat, he could supply the ship directly with his own ki.

Ki and rocket energy are two different, almost opposite forms of energy. While ki can be deftly handled and concentrated into an almost solid, destructive wave (which can be a barrier or a blast), rocket power is used primarily for thrust, not weapons. In the pilot seat, Trunks would provide the correct kind of energy right away without the warm up and cool down processes it would take the ship's reactors to convert the fuel-provided energy into weapon's energy.

And the ship was relatively fast and maneuverable too. It wouldn't fare quite as well as a strict fighter ship would in a dog fight, but this was more of a utility ship and Trunks would always suit up, hop out of the airlock, and blast the opposing ship away with one of his own special attacks, provided there was enough time for him to get there.

Bulma was quite confident that her son was the strongest fighter in the galaxy, being a Super Saiyan with no other Saiyans to compete with.

(A/N: Feh, yeah right. Where would the fun be if both those conclusions were true?)

Also, one room was designated for the storage of various high-efficiency oxygen-producing plants to ensure that Trunks would have air to breathe.

There was also a fair amount of personal space aboard the ship's many facilities (an absolute necessity when one considers the "acute" affliction of claustrophobia present in all Saiyans' instincts along with an overwhelming fear of being trapped).

The only way that this was possible was because of an invention of Bulma's father: the capsule. It didn't have a fancy name, but nowhere else in the universe had anyone made this tremendous scientific breakthrough. A capsule, the size of a clothespin on average, can store anything inside it ranging from a pocket calculator and smaller to a large palace at the largest, depending on the model and make of the capsule. Capsules were expensive, but extremely durable equipment that everyone used; you couldn't travel without them! Of course, people and living things could not be stored inside them. Unfortunately, after the androids arrived Capsule Corp. had shut down operation and Bulma's father died, so capsules became very difficult to come by as Bulma Briefs, Trunks's mother, was the only person left alive who knew how to build them and always kept a hefty stash.

Of course, everything on the ship from Trunks's sword to his next meal would be capsulated and one capsule-the size of two "D" batteries-would be reserved for the entire ship. This was Bulma's best one and it was capable of storing the entire Capsule Corp complex when it had still been whole.

With the plans drawn up (by computer, of course) and only the actual ship left to be assembled, Trunks and Bulma's hopes seemed to be manifesting before their very eyes. That was, until...

"Uh oh." Bulma worried while going over the plans again.

"Uh oh? Oh no, that can't be good." Trunks paced around behind her. "What's wrong?"

"The engine. Its parts are far too fragile for you to work with, too heavy for me to lift. I'd break my back working with some of this stuff!"

"That's bad." Trunks nodded, verbally confirming it to himself.

"Trunks, stop pacing. You'll wear a hole in the floor." Bulma scolded him.

"Oh, sorry." The above mentioned lavender haired youth obeyed his talented mother and just stood behind her, reading over her shoulder and trying to help.

"That's better. Now, we need to think of a solution..."

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"Ding dong" the doorbell rang. Bulma answered it.

"Hello! Timothy, Michael, Andrew, please come in." She greeted them.

"Uh, thanks, Mrs. Briefs." A tall, buff, mousy-brown haired man in his mid-forties replied. His name was Timothy.

"Yeah, thanks." Andrew, a shorter, more casual, intelligent-looking, red haired man seconded his friend.

It was Michael who asked the question that the three middle-aged men were all wondering. "Uh, Mrs. Briefs? Is it really true that Trunks won't remember any of us?"

"I'm sorry, but yes, it's true. He was the same memory of when he was 21 and the physical features of when he was 17." Bulma confirmed their fears once more. "It's just like I talked to you on the phone about."

"Ouch." Timothy remarked.

These three men became Trunks's best friends after he had returned from defeating Cell. Now, all of those years they had spent together training, pulling pranks, having fun, and being, well, guys... all that was now gone from the demi-Saiyan's memory.

"I'll call him." Bulma told the guys. "Trunks!" she yelled, "Your friends are here!" Trunks came in from the next room covering his ears.

"Ah, Mom! I knew they were here! You didn't have to go and blow out my ears! Owaah..." He continued cringing from the sensory overload.

"He hasn't changed all that much." Mike commented. "If you can't beat him in a straight fist fight, yell in his ears!"

All three guys laughed at that, but Trunks was no longer capable of understanding their inside jokes. He regained his composure and approached them.

"So, you three were my friends? What are your names again?" He asked.

Andy gave the guys a helpless look and relayed the information to the clueless Trunks. "Oh come on, Fearless Leader! I'm Andy, this is Mike, and that big lummox over there is Tim."

"Hey!" Tim boxed Andy for that comment after taking about 3 seconds to realize he had been insulted.

Trunks laughed. "We must have been quite some group."

"That we were, Fearless Leader." Mike sighed, eyes slightly glossy.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Trunks? I mean, leave Earth and us behind?" Tim asked.

"Yeah, the gang without you is like Bonnie without Clyde, Rocky without Bullwinkle, the Rugrats without Tommy! Come on, Fearless Leader! Stay a while." Andy tried to persuade him.

Trunks took one look at their hopeful faces, the faces of strangers he didn't know, and they no longer knew him. "That may be so, but try replacing Tommy with a wooden board some time. That's not the kind of leader you guys need. My place isn't here anymore, and 30 years is way too long of a time for me to miss. And I'd never catch up..."

"He has a point." Andy whispered while elbowing Mike mischievously. Trunks smiled inwardly as he could hear what they were saying even if they didn't want him to.

Those three men were fighters themselves, each strong enough to thwart most of the terrible evils Trunks could see the Earth facing, and together they were about ¼ (one fourth for those people who can't see the symbol) as strong as Trunks (an impressive accomplishment). They had become the Earth's new Special Forces, the new Z Team, whereas, the old Z Team included such familiar faces as Krillan, Goku, and Trunks's father, Vegeta.

"Well, Trunks, I guess this is best for you. I'll help you, and I hope the others will too." Mike told him, then hugged him suddenly. "I'm gonna miss you, man!" He began to get teary eyed and his voice cracked. He had always been the softie, the most nostalgic of the group.

"Don't worry," Trunks assured him, patting his back, "Mom already made a really powerful data transfer system so I can send captain's logs back to you so you know how I'm doing." He held the older man out at arm's length now and smiled sincerely, a feat his father had never claimed.

"Sniffle" "Thanks, man." Then he seemed to dry up. "Alright, guys! Let's get this beast built!"

To Be Continued...

ALL RIGHT! Here's another Episode! Because Nihongo updated, I posted this! Two more episodes and then I start work on Chapter 4 of "The Black Plague"! Plus there is another work lurking in the shadows... Tell me what you think of this little piece I composed for another possible story to be added to my ever-growing library:

"The world's first true love;
sprung from its foulest hate;
must vanquish a great evil;
before it's too late.
Two great societies;
are powerful foes;
but together boast more;
than anyone knows."

I still don't know if I'm going to actually go through with it, but if I do, I will be able to add an interesting item to "The Black Plague"'s plot. Yep, this is the story I was talking about crossing over with... Well, goodnight, all!