Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Iterations ❯ Hematidrosis ( Chapter 7 )

He gets up again and wipes the blood from his face as if it's sweat. To the two of us, that's pretty much what it is.

 

We're standing at a good distance from each other now, taking a rest between sets.

 

"Call it a day?"

 

"Pussy."

 

He launches himself at me for that comment. I think it's an instinctual reaction. Saiyan reactions are just a hundred times quicker than human ones, so sometimes we can't help but move. I was expecting it, of course, so I block his fists easily and slam a knee into his well-toned abdomen. But I'm not fooled. Our bodies are always in top physical form even if we don't train. I can safely say he's more out of practice than I am, and he knows it as well.

 

He coughs up some more blood and I manage to sidestep it. It may be as mundane as sweat, but it definitely doesn't wash out as easily. The last thing I need is for my cleaner to freak out and call the cops again because she thinks I killed someone.

 

I consider telling him he's pathetic, but there's no point. When he stands up again I'm already walking toward the river. He follows behind, his footsteps firm but muffled by the grass.

 

"How's the family?"

 

His stride doesn't break, but his steps sound more tedious.

 

"They're alright. Gohan's been having some problems though."

 

"Oh?"

 

"He's having a hard time getting tenured. He might try to find a position somewhere else where he gets treated better."

 

Gohan and Goten are pretty different. Goten wouldn't take half the crap his older brother puts up with at work. I don't really understand why Gohan is so…soft (I hate that word), at least when it comes to standing up for himself. He used to get off on playing superhero with his harpy of a wife during his high school years, beat up a lot of petty criminals that society wouldn't miss, saved some lives in the process. And he killed Cell and saved the world. How many people can say they've done that? Even I can't. Yet he's still a complete pushover when it comes to his own career and family life. Videl is still the one wearing the pants (probably with a belt that doubles as a whip) in their marriage.

 

"Ask him if I can help in any way."

 

"Alright."

 

"There's probably a spot for him somewhere in Capsule Corp. I'll talk to the head of R&D."

 

"I don't think he wants to work for a corporation."

 

Goten's walking behind me so he doesn't see me roll my eyes. "Still the anti-establishment tree-hugger, huh. Figures."

 

"He's just an idealist."

 

It seems kind of strange that he talks about his older brother like that, almost like he knows more and knows better. Goten was never the academic type, and for most of his life he's lived in Gohan's shadow as the dumb younger sibling. Kind of like Bra in my family, except she actually is that stupid. Our families are both under the impression that Gohan got all the brains, but that's always puzzled me. Which of his parents had any intelligence to begin with? It must be a recessive gene.

 

"How's Pan?”

 

“She's a loose cannon. That's the other part of Gohan's life that's been keeping him on edge.”

 

“What did he expect? That every kid with a tyrannical mother would turn out just like him?”

 

“I don't think Videl's that bad.”

 

“What's your point of reference? Your mother?” I retort. Goten smiles. “I rest my case.”

 

We reach the river, strip, and jump in. The water's cool and clean enough, but I've always hated the feeling of mud under my feet. It feels like decay, and Saiyans aren't attracted to that, only to death.

 

I'm quick and efficient about cleaning the blood and grime off me, but Goten still likes splashing around like a kid. As I alluded to before, Goten's a lot more mature and intelligent than most people think, but at times he's just an idiot.

 

I'd say we are probably the most uniquely fucked up people on Earth. Note that I didn't say the most fucked up, just the most exceptional in how fucked up we are. We're not coke addicts, pedophiles, megalomaniacs, chronically depressed, or anything else you might think of. We both have successful careers, steady girlfriends, perfect physiques, and crazy families. Most people who meet us love us. We live like average humans, discounting my wealth and position.

 

But that's the problem. We're not supposed to be living like average humans, at least not after we're hit with a raging combination of human and Saiyan hormones at puberty.

 

Half of us will always tell us that we're living wrong. And to follow one half means rejecting the other. So we're caught in a perpetual dilemma, a refutation of self, but it's not like we hear warring voices in our heads or anything. It's hard to describe.

 

In any case, there are different ways to deal with this. Gohan fully immerses himself in his human side because he's terrified of the other part. He suppresses it when it surfaces it and otherwise avoids it. The Saiyan in him has only awakened a handful of times, i.e. when the world or the galaxy is threatened and he's on messiah duty because his father's out of commission for some reason. That's actually a bad analogy as well; Saiyans make piss-poor messiahs. In the heat of battle, no matter what's at stake, all you really want to do is fight and kill, and you lose yourself in the terrible joy of the moment. You might save the world as a result, but that's not really what you're occupied with when fists are flying and you taste your enemy's blood on your tongue. Perhaps you think Son Goku is an exception, but he's really not. The man has noble intentions, but they undoubtedly fade into the background when the bloodlust takes over. Of course, he's still a hero because he always manages to save the world, and people define heroes primarily by the results of their actions.

 

My sister escapes the dilemma in a different way. Sex and drugs. That's a gross simplification of her life, but when it comes down to it, those are her twin coping mechanisms. I suppose they're the best substitutes Earth has to offer for the euphoric high of violence. At least she manages to keep her messed up life out of the papers, otherwise I'd have a major PR problem on my hands.

 

Goten and I, on the other hand, didn't suppress or escape ourselves for most of our lives. We used to meet every other week and beat the shit out of each other. It was relatively easy to arrange when we were in high school and university, but once we graduated and I took the helm at Capsule Corp, it's been difficult. We haven't met regularly in a long time. I can see his frustration just as clearly as he can see mine.

 

We did a decent number on each other today. But both of us know it's not enough. We can feel it in the deepest fibers of our being. It's not enough.

 

But it's not practical to keep going. We both have to go to work tomorrow. We can't afford to spend a day in a regen tank, and senzu beans are supposed to be saved for global emergencies.

 

Sometimes I think about how our fathers must have felt when they got to fight Majin Buu on the planet of the Kais. It was probably one of the happiest days of their lives. How often do you get to go all out against an insanely powerful enemy, no holds barred, no distracting considerations of collateral damage? They got to face a creature that could have destroyed the universe, and they got their rocks off on it.

 

I levitate upward and dry myself with a flash of ki, and take a set of clean clothes out of a capsule in my pack. Goten's still floating on his back in the water.

 

“How's Marron?” I ask.

 

“Alright.”

 

“Still bachelorhood for you?”

 

“We're taking it slow.”

 

“Could you put up with a tyrannical mother-in-law in addition to what you already have to deal with?”

 

He looks at me sideways. “If you insult my mother one more time, I'm going to smear mud all over those clothes and then piss on them.”

 

“After you beat the shit out of me?”

 

“That's a given.” His canines gleam white as he smiles.

 

It's tempting.

 

I turn away and start picking up the rest of my stuff.

 

“Just curious. Is Marron part machine like her mother?”

 

“Trunks, shut up.”

 

“I mean, wouldn't that be a problem during sex—”

 

This time I don't block his fist, and it fucking hurts as he twists my arm and hurls me at the ground. My shoulder splits open on a sharp rock, and I'm vividly aware of the blood as I launch myself at him. I manage to tackle him to the ground despite taking a dozen bruising punches in the gut, and I shove him onto his back on the muddy slope of the river, pushing him down into that bed of decay. He tries to throw me off but I punch him hard in the face and sink a knee into his stomach, then trap his legs with my own. He suddenly jerks his head forward and slams his forehead into my nose. Blood sprays across his face. He instinctively licks it from his lips, and we both stop.

 

We're breathing hard and I'm annoyed in a detached way that I have to go home in bloody, soiled clothes. Either that or I can try to fly fast enough that no one sees me naked.

 

“Fuck you, Trunks.”

 

“I know you want to.”

 

He's silent because he knows I can feel it, even though neither of us swings that way. But I was serious when I said Saiyans get their rocks off in battle. Don't ask me why my dad persists in wearing spandex.

 

“Get off me.”

 

“You mean get off on me?”

 

He tries to hit me in the face again but I twist my neck back far enough to avoid him. I laugh as blood drips down from my chin onto his throat. He just rolls his eyes and gives up, waiting for my bout of immaturity to end. My laughter trails off into a grinning sigh.

 

“We're so sick.”

 

He only shakes his head with a faint smile, his canines gleaming red.