Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Ensuring the Future ❯ Chapter 2

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
Ensuring the Future, Chapter #02
By starbearertm
Disclaimer: I do not own Gohan, Trunks, or Dragon Ball Z, Akira Toriyama does. I do not own Baki Hanma either. This is a work of fan fiction and is written in appreciation for a great series. This story is written using the concept of the Sergeant as developed by Lord Truhan. Many thanks to him for helping me with the story!



Two weeks flew by rapidly, amidst a flurry of resumes crossing Trunks desk. Into high gear, the search shifted for the perfect taskmaster. Out of dozens of applications, they had narrowed the stack down to a manageable level. Now the mahogany desk was piled high with various resumes, but Trunks joked that at least they could see his face overtop of them. Some applicants relished the challenge to shape two office dwellers into athletes, while others simply were drawn by the promise of Capsule paychecks.

Throughout it all, Trunks had juggled the running of his corporation. More and more side projects shunted over to the eager younger doppelganger, while Goten picked up bits and pieces along the way. While not a scholar like his brother, Goten still had a basic sense of what made money and what did not. His personality yearned for simplicity so he sought to eliminate waste in the world around him, including pork barrel budgets and suspicious skimming. Together he and Chibi Trunks cleaned up a whole mess in the marketing and sales department and ousted an embezzler. For this, they were rewarded with the former’s position.

It was good to see running capsule ran in the Briefs blood just as fighting seemed to. In favor of college, both youths performed an internship with equivalency courses during the night. Much in the path that Gohan had trod, they would earn their college diplomas while still learning the family business. More and more the relationship between them grew to resemble that of Gohan and Future Trunks. It was apparent they were far closer than mere best friends were all these years. Sustained by the success of their older brother’s bond, they drew enough courage to admit their own love.

Yet amidst all this Trunks slogged on through seemingly endless interviews of the chosen pool of candidates. They ranged from sublime to ridiculous. Some fit like a floppy shoe while others like wingtips when they wanted trainer shoes. None seemed to fit their specific needs. Inevitably, Trunks and Gohan whittled down the field to a handful. Still they despaired ever finding that perfect candidate for their needs.

On one such day, Trunks propped his feet up wearily on his mahogany desk and rifled through his silky purple hair. Another round of interviews yielded taskmasters that still lacked that critical element. As he awaited his Vice President, he removed his feet from the desk and picked up his coffee cup. The dark liquid swirled inside the ceramic container as Trunks peered into it like a fortuneteller. Taking a last sip, he then set it down and arraigned the last resume before him. The name caught his eye, and he sighed with a glance at his wristwatch.

“Close to quitting time,” he told himself, and then heard the click of the door without the familiar summons from the front office. To his relief Son Gohan strode in, his three piece suit immaculate in comparison to Trunks slightly rumpled collar. He tugged off his navy blue blazer and hung it neatly on the coat rack, then scooped up the tan jacket draped haphazardly over one of the office chairs. Clicking his tongue, he attempted to fold it neatly.

“Leave it Sexy. It’ll still be there for you later,” Trunks teased him.

“Well Handsome, you’re lucky it’s wash and wear. But still you know how important a good impression is…” Gohan began to lecture. Rising from the desk, Trunks crossed the thick plush carpet and snatched the blazer out of Gohan’s hand. Purposely he tossed it down once more, and then snagged Gohan around the waist to drag him forwards.

“Enough lectures for today, Sexy. We’ve got one more interview and then it’s quitting time,” Trunks informed him. With a smirk, he rubbed his hand up and down Gohan’s back, and his dark haired lover reciprocated by slinging his hands around Trunks neck. Arms twined around one another they indulged in a leisurely kiss. Sliding his hand under Gohan’s vest teasingly, Trunks fingered the buttons on the front before pulling back.

“All right then, what’s the last one of the day?” asked Gohan, glancing at his wristwatch this time.

“Some guy named Baki Hanma. Seems pretty good on paper, but you never can tell,” Trunks said, tugging Gohan towards the desk. Both sat down behind it and glanced at the others tossed to one side.

“Well as long as he’s not advocating peace and love,” Gohan shrugged.

“And what’s wrong with peace and love?”

“Like mellow out man… we really reach brother,” Gohan drawled in a lazy accent.

“Peace out brother, and plenty of granola and yoghurt to go with it,” Trunks imitated him. Both chuckled at the last interview.

“He had some great ideas about detoxification diets, but the incense rather got to me,” Gohan rubbed his nose.

“Are you sure it was incense, and not something else, like dope on a rope?” Trunks snickered.

“Now give him a break, he did seem pretty relaxed. Unlike mister, “don’t you feel the burn? Aren’t you excited! Wahoo!” Gohan mimicked swinging his arms in a circle. He leapt out of the chair and started doing jumping jacks.

“Don’t remind me. Somehow sweating and doing aerobics to my grandma’s favorite hits doesn’t strike a chord with me,” Trunks winced, shaking his head. However, he did like the look of Gohan comedically acting out their first interview of the day.

“Let’s not forget Mister Trainer, who would have us biking 100 Km a day after a long swim in Speedos and a quick bout of en garde,” Gohan dropped into a fencing pose.

“En garde,” Trunks mimicked, picking up a ruler and leaping out of his chair. Grabbing a pencil Gohan dropped to a crouch and circled the implement between thumb and forefinger. Trunks lunged forwards and slashed with his ruler.

“Uh uh… keep your wrist at the right level, and don’t’ forget to move only your wrist!” Gohan scolded, twisting the pencil around as he mock dueled with Trunks.

“Somehow the idea of you in a tight white suit IS appealing, but we specifically said no weapons,” said Trunks. Lowering their weapons, they tossed them onto Trunks desk then sat down once again in their respective chairs.

“True. Not to mention he was keener on specific sports rather than training for the sake of strength. We don’t need to participate in the West City games, you know,” Gohan panted, liking the look of sweat breaking out on Trunks forehead.

Patting Gohan’s knee Trunks nodded. “I guess I’ll have to settle for you out of that tight suit… then?”

“Well shall we knock this last interview off and then go for a nice dinner at our favorite restaurant then?” Gohan smiled, resting his hand on top of Trunks. Sliding up and down his thigh it tugged Gohan and pulled his chair closer so their knees touched. Already through the half opened slits of vertical blinds, they saw the sun hugging the horizon. Gold gleams of the nearby office towers cast their reflection on the side of Capsule’s dome. From behind Trunks head, it painted his hair in an oddly contrasting hue to his lavender locks. Only his blue eyes gleamed more brightly as they took on a hungry aspect. Squeezing his hand Gohan reached for the bottom resume sitting there in the manila folder.

“It’s someone named Baki Hanma. Ex military something or other. Slated for four thirty,” said Trunks, grasping Gohan’s wrist and twisting it up to look at the time. Pressing a kiss to Gohan’s hand, he then interlaced their fingers.

“But its four thirty now,” Gohan squeezed Trunks hand, and then kissed it softly. “I say if he’s late we just slip out now.”

“Still, we should give him at least five minutes,” Trunks relented. “You never know.”

“If he’s not on time, then I don’t think he’s worth our time,” Gohan said dismissively as he shifted closer to Trunks. “So what do you say, Handsome? A bit of red wine, some prime rib… a half dozen… and the night before us?” he murmured, raising his other hand to caress Trunks cheek and tuck a frond of purple hair behind his ear that had slipped free of his ponytail.

“Sounds tempting, Sexy,” Trunks purred, loving the soft undertone to Gohan’s sultry voice. Reaching over he slipped the glasses up onto Gohan’s forehead and angled his face to brush a gentle teasing peck to his lips. Gohan slid the hand resting on Trunks cheek behind to grasp his ponytail and gently pull him forwards. Allowing him some dominance, Trunks leaned into Gohan, bringing their knees touching. Trunks spread his knees to sandwich Gohan’s so they were much closer in their chairs. Blue eyes beheld midnight black, gleaming with the hunger of a long day without satiation.

As their lips merged and their breath shared, the inevitable sharp buzz of the intercom broke the moment. Irritated, both of them stared at the offending interloper blinking with its steady red light. Gohan hissed air through his pouting lip as Trunks reached over to depress the switch. “Yes Miss Thyme?”

“Your four thirty is here to see you, President Briefs. He seems pretty anxious to go in right now,” said the voice of their administrative assistant.

“He’s ten minutes late,” Gohan mumbled.

“Just a minute, Sexy,” Trunks hushed him. “Is he in the lobby now?”

“Well he’s standing here tapping his foot and staring right at me. So should I send him in or not?” she asked.

Trunks eyes widened as he reached out with his ki sense. A red energy surged powerfully, tightly fettered by someone who could control his or her power. Gohan’s brow lifted as well, and he slid his glasses once more on the bridge of his nose. Straightening his tie Trunks uttered, “Send him in… after two minutes.”

“But Handsome he’s late… and we are rather hungry,” Gohan protested as Trunks stood up and wandered over to the nearby wardrobe. Tugging it open, he pulled out a clean shirt and proceeded to yank his tie off and unbutton the one he was wearing.

“It’s your fault you’ve got me all sweaty, Gohan. Be a good sport and let us see him. Don’t you feel that ki?”

“Well yes… it IS substantial for a human’s, but so were the kis of some of the others,” Gohan shrugged. Right now what he sensed felt the intensity of Master Roshi’s, and higher then Mister Satan’s surely Hastily Trunks tugged on a new shirt and buttoned it up, then slid his tie around under the collar. Immediately Gohan moved beside him, helping to straighten the collar and tuck it down around the tie that Trunks was knotting again.

“Still it’s high. Moreover, don’t you feel the nature of it? Isn’t it worth at least giving…?” Trunks trailed off as Gohan smoothed off his shirt.

A knock sounded on the door, and Gohan moved to open it. Their young assistant poked her head around the door, her face filled with concern. “Sir, sorry to interrupt, but he’s really insistent…”

“Send him in then,” Trunks instructed. “Might as well squeeze it in now.”

“All right, if you want to, Handsome,” Gohan relented, allowing her to open the door wider. Over his shoulder, he saw the person in question looming, and felt a quality in the air that made him want to stand up straighter. Over by the wardrobe that he was closing, Trunks too felt the urge to stand at attention.

She moved aside to reveal their last interview, and Gohan strode over to stand by Trunks, allowing the person to enter. The first thing he noticed was the lack of business attire. Rather a pair of rough boots along with comfortable pants, a t-shirt under a jacket. Auburn hair curled slightly on the man’s head, and two intense eyes took in the sight before them with a calculated and calm air. Still his very aura reached out and swept over both young men, silencing the questions in their throat as he marched into the office as if he owned the place. Well-chiseled lips and strong cheekbones comprised a handsome face set in a no nonsense expression that suggested neither a frown nor a smile. Something downright stern radiated from those coppery eyes fixing them in its judging stare and finding them wanting. Pulling up the chair opposite the desk, he sat down and leaned back. Boosting both feet, he set them on Trunks mahogany desk and folded his arms over his chest.

Gohan could tell through the stretch of the fabric the extent of his muscles. The shoulders were broad and wide, while his muscular forearms indicated one who trained at least as much if not more then they. Still saying nothing, the stranger glared up at them both, and Trunks realized he was standing right next to Gohan as if at attention in a military parade.

“Well, you going to interview me or not?” the man asked, his voice crackling with an intensity that made their skin crawl with excitement. It was harsh and clipped, working their hearts up to a fast pace that put them on edge.

“Nice to meet you,” Trunks extended his hand.

“Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we?” the man glared down at Trunks hand. “You called me in for a reason. So instead of wasting my time with a bunch of damn fool questions, I’m going to ask YOU why you called me in here.”

“Well er… that’s highly… unusual,” Gohan stammered.

“Well, are you going to ask me or not, pretty boy?” barked the man.

“No sir, I mean yes sir,” Gohan found himself stammering. Something in his eyes reminded him instantly of Piccolo and he snapped his jaw shut to stop any further questions.

“Us ask you the questions,” Trunks repeated.

“Are you going to stand there repeating everything I say, fancy pants or are we going to cut the crap?” the man answered sharply.

“No sir,” Trunks trailed off, his eyes meeting those of the candidate slowly.

“And why are you standing over there looking dumb, glasses?” shouted the man as he swung his legs down and stood up. Moving quickly over to Gohan, he glared right in the face so he was only inches away. Gohan backed away slightly, his lips pressed tightly together.

“I beg your pardon?” Gohan began.

“You BEG my what?” barked Baki Hanma, cutting him off in mid sentence. “You’ll do MORE than begging, nerd! Now stand still and shut up.”

“Now what…”

“What was that? I didn’t hear you, nerd!” Baki barked at him. “Don’t speak till you’re spoken to! Is that CLEAR!”

“Yes sir,” Gohan swallowed hard, feeling a quivering in the pit of his stomach, as he stood up straighter than ever. Wheeling around on Trunks the red head sauntered over and turned the heat of his gaze fully onto Trunks.

“You have anything to say to me, Princess?” Baki demanded, his eyes gleaming brightly.

“You had questions for us I believe, sir,” Trunks said. Gohan blinked, unmoving from his own spot.

“I didn’t hear you. What was that?”

“You wanted to ask us questions,” Trunks responded in a more clipped tone. “Sir.”

“Here’s the deal, ladies. I don’t do fancy shit, and I don’t waste time. So first, you’ll tell me just WHAT you expect from me, what the terms of this arrangement are, and why I should work with two office yuppies?”

“Well to answer your first question,” Gohan began.

“Less fringe Nerd. Spit it out,” Baki barked.

“Sir, we want someone to train us,” Trunks answered.

“I don’t do the office treadmill crap. That’s not what you mean, I take it?” Baki answered, turning to Trunks again, hands resting on his hips.

“No sir, REAL Training. We need to push hard, surpass our limits!” Trunks answered his voice clipped and short to resemble that of the taskmaster before them.

“You’ve been slacking off and want someone to whip your asses into shape, is that it?” Baki asked.

“Well um…” Gohan licked his lips. Immediately the copper eyes blazed into his, grabbing his necktie and tugging on it so Gohan was forced to stare at him.

“What was that? Speak up, Nerd!” Baki barked at him. “Yes or no?”

“Yes sir we…”

“You over there. Drop and give me 1000!” he shouted at Trunks. Immediately Trunks tugged off his tie and loosened his shirt collar.

“You too, Glasses! On your knees!” Baki yanked on his necktie. Without question, Gohan dropped to hands and knees, feeling the floor bobbing up and down as he proceeded to match Trunks.

“Show me what you’ve got. Show me you’re not a waste of time,” Baki ordered, pacing back and forth between the grunting and sweating duo. “I want to see those shirts soaked! My mother could go faster than you!”

Peering at the boots of their interviewee, Gohan wondered why they were letting this man boss them around. Yet as he glared over at Trunks, he saw the gleam in those blue eyes. They were filled with eagerness and the intensity that he recalled so many years ago from Cell. Sweat dripping off his skin Trunks was fully intent with completing the task given him. For a few minutes, only the sound of their pounding pulses and the grunts of their exertion filled the silence.

“Now, let’s try again. What do you want from me, ladies?” he asked firmly.

“We want…” Trunks panted. “Someone to train us and keep our butts on task…”

“And?” Baki tapped his foot. Glancing at Gohan, he returned and placed a foot on his back.

“Ugh,” Gohan gasped.

“You’re slacking, nerd. What do you want? I can’t hear you!”

“We… sir… we don’t have enough time to run capsule and train. So we thought someone could give us hell,” Gohan huffed.

“What type of training?”

“Martial arts training sir. No weapons,” Trunks shouted from the other side of the room.

“Will you do anything you’re told, without question?” Baki asked, his foot pressing down on Gohan’s back harder.

“Yes… but one… limitation,” Gohan huffed.

“What’s that, nerd?” Baki grunted down at him.

“We still have to run… Capsule…”

“How much time can you give me, Princess?” Baki called over to Trunks.

“Anytime after five!” Trunks shouted, sweat soaking his shirt in huge dark blotches.

“And weekends!” Gohan added.

“Anything ELSE, pretty boy?” Baki demanded. “You willing to wear military fatigues?”

“Yes sir!” shouted Trunks. “But I keep my hair long!”

“Ok. But I’ve got another question too,” Baki glanced back to Gohan, then Trunks.

“Which is… sir?” Gohan groaned.

“A bit winded glasses? Do you have a training facility on site here?” he asked.

“We’d want someplace… where we wouldn’t be seen,” Trunks explained.

“Oh, figured a big multimillion dollar place like this it wouldn’t matter,” Baki shrugged.

“That’s one thing,” Gohan panted. “We don’t want to attract attention… undue attention.”

“Hmm, first sensible thing I’ve heard you say, nerd,” Baki grunted with reserved approval.

“It’d be up to you… to find a training facility suitable, that we could modify,” Trunks huffed, sweat dropping to make dark spots on the carpet.

“Uh huh. However, there is one last thing; will you give me two weeks of your time, for a trial? No questions asked, wherever I say?”

“Two weeks sir?” asked Trunks.

“I need to see what you’re made of, ladies. After that, if you make the cut, then it’s ass to the grindstone whatever I say goes,” said he.

“What are your… salary requirements?” asked Trunks.

“I don’t give a damn about the money. Do we have a deal or not?” asked Baki, removing his foot from Gohan’s back. Glasses steamed up, Gohan struggled to complete his 1000 pushups. Trunks finished first, kneeling and glancing expectantly up at the stranger who had kowtowed them with his presence alone.

“Yes. I’ll have papers drawn up. But these two weeks… how soon?”

“How soon can you start?” asked Baki, turning the question back to Trunks, arms folded over his chest much in the manner of Vegeta. Muscles twitched in his broad neck, his skin bronzed and gleaming under the office lights.

“The 13th,” Trunks huffed, standing up straight and then glancing to his calendar.

“But Trunks that’s when we…”

“Got an issue, pretty boy?” Baki snorted, glaring at Gohan.

“We take our special valentine’s day trip then,” Gohan protested.

“Gohan, this is more important,” Trunks cut him off.

“You got some issue with priorities, nerd? Turn over and give me 500 sit-ups and then answer!” Baki glared at him, grabbing Gohan by the collar, and glaring at him again.

“No I mean yes… I mean…”

“On your back, nerd, now!” Baki snapped. Sullenly Gohan felt himself drop to his knees as the red headed man let go of him. He flipped over onto his back, and then folded his hands behind his head.

“Gohan, this is too important. We need to give him a chance,” said Trunks firmly.

“So, what will it be? You do what Princess here says, or are you really doing this because you want it, nerd?” Baki snapped, stamping down on Gohan’s feet as he curled up his body and touched his knees to his chin.

“I… want it,” Gohan panted, fire radiating through his abdomen with each tug upwards and the downwards grind of Baki’s boot into his tones forcing him to stay in one place.

“I’m not convinced. Maybe after a few more sit-ups you’ll give me a better answer. And you, pretty boy, where’s your measurements then,” Baki turned to Trunks. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out an object and tossed it over towards the Capsule president. Neatly Trunks caught it, noticing it was a tightly rolled tape measure.

“Right away,” Trunks said.

“Pen and paper, now,” Baki ordered. Trunks grabbed the nearest legal pad and a pen, then marched them over to where Baki stood on Gohan’s feet. Huffing with steamed glasses Gohan continued his 500 sit-ups. He had to admit Baki’s hold on his feet was making it a bit easier for him.

“Here,” Trunks said. Baki snatched the pad and pen, and then motioned Trunks to turn.

“Turn around. Stand still,” he ordered. Something was pressed to Trunks back, and he felt the dig of the pen as Baki scribbled something on the paper. It was hard to stand in one place with the pressure of the pen digging abnormally hard into his back, but he gritted his teeth. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead.

“Turn around again, Princess. Now, be at that address at that time. And I’ll need that amount of money as well, before I leave, for the necessary fees,” he pointed to a figure scrawled under an address on the pad he thrust back at Trunks.

“Here are my measurements,” Trunks said, tearing off a sheet from under it and quickly scribbling them. “And Gohan’s.”

“Can’t write it for himself can he?” Baki glanced down at a sweating Gohan laboring away.

“That’s not it sir, it’s just saving time,” Trunks said.

“You his tailor or something, sweet cheeks? I take it you two are lovers. That going to affect the training?”

“Only in the case that we insist on sharing a bed,” Trunks chimed in.

“Are you sure there aren’t any other… stipulations you’d like to mention?” Baki quirked his lip up.

“None other sir, then as I said before, you are responsible for finding a suitable training facility, that I get to keep my long hair,” Trunks ticked off on his fingers. “And that the facility you find can be modified.”

“Fine. As for you, Glasses, you care to tell me why you’re doing this again,” Baki glared down at him.

“What sir?” Gohan panted.

“I said, why are you doing this?” Baki repeated, voice rising in volume. His eyes bored into Gohan’s soul.

“Because I want to improve,” Gohan panted again.

“What lame assed answer is that? Improve how? Why?”

“I want to stop slacking off! Prove that I can protect those I need to!” Gohan shouted, completing his 500th sit-up. He hugged his knees, his abdomen spasming as he sat there. Heart pounding in his ear he stared up indignantly at his lover and the unimpressed trainer to be.

“Took you damn long enough to admit it then,” Baki glared at him. He lifted his foot from Gohan’s, and then backed away. Rolling over Gohan stood on hands and knees, sweat blistering from every pore it seemed. He rocked back and then sat on his backside, propping himself from falling with one hand behind him, then folded his legs Indian style.

Then their would-be-trainer turned again to Trunks. With a straight face, he poked a finger in Trunks direction saying, “Since you’ve both wasted a good deal of time, you get to show up at this address in hot pink workout clothes.”

“Pink?” Trunks blinked incredulously.

“You deaf Princess? I said they have to be pink, as in matching socks and underwear,” Baki smirked, finally showing emotion other then disdain or neutral harshness.

“Might I ask why?” Gohan demanded.

“I’ll tell you why, yuppie boys,” Baki held up his hand, and then pointed to each of his fingers in turn. “One, you wasted my time with having me WAIT to be introduced. Two, you both took your sweet time giving me answers to very SIMPLE questions… which pissed me off because you should have just spit it out!”

Both lovers glanced at one another and felt their faces flushing. Silent understanding passed between them when Trunks nodded, followed by Gohan. Already in less than a half hour, this man had upended their complacency. Such a rare quality could not slip through their fingers once captured.

“Fine, you have a deal… sir,” Gohan panted. Still he sat on the floor, dazed from the blood rushing in his face.

“Miss Thyme will write you a check on the way out,” said Trunks as he reached over to help Gohan up. A steady tug pulled his dark haired lover up to his feet. Still standing with ramrod posture, they regarded him.

“See you then, ladies,” Baki nodded with a firm grunt. Something in his gaze belied excitement. They could sense in their guts a grudging acceptance that they had passed a first test. Both knew that this was the one they needed.