Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Lucid ❯ Part 2 ( Chapter 2 )

Hello, NewFan! Glad you liked the beginning. The chapters are really long here.

Well, yeah, the things will start getting better. Sure, they could start getting even worse, but, oh well, I like happy endings (you probably noticed that already ^_~).

 

Hello, fw! Nah, Gohan is going to start recovering finally. Gohan still is in shock and can't pull himself together, but he's getting better. With time some of his wounds will heal.

 

 

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ characters. I'm not making any profit off of this fan fiction work.

Warnings: Yaoi (male x male). Mirai Trunks x Gohan. Angst?

Age note: Mirai Trunks - 26. Gohan - 22.

 

Lucid by chayron (lttomb@yahoo.com) beta-read by achillona

 

Part 2

 

I wake up with a start. My screams still echoing in the room, my chest heaving convulsively. As opposed to most cases, this time I'm not relieved to have awakened from the nightmare. The nightmare isn't over yet.

 

“Gohan?”

 

Mirai's voice sounds worried, but I gasp for several more moments before looking through the hole in the wall that leads to Trunks' room. “It's okay. Only a nightmare,” I reassure him. It's not very light and I see only a small dresser that is standing against the opposite wall, in Mirai's room, but I know that Mirai was sleeping in his bed before I awakened him.

 

Trunks doesn't say anything but he doesn't have to. I know what he's thinking anyway. “Go back to sleep,” I say to him.

 

I try to get some more sleep too, but I can't. I think I've had enough of it. I simply can't sleep anymore.

 

I silently get up and go check on my father.

 

My father is asleep. Thank Gods (others than that Datano, of course). Goku needs to get some rest. Each time I've seen him, he's been staring at that pink wall. He must be deadly tired of it.

 

I walk into the kitchen. I really hope that after sleeping my father will get better.

 

Since I don't want to sleep, I try to make myself useful. I open the fridge, take out a chunk of salami, a tomato and some cucumbers and put them on the kitchen table. I search the cupboard with dishes and table tools, until I retrieve a knife and a cutting board. Pressing the salami down onto the table with the side of my right arm, I start cutting it. The slices are twice as thick as Mirai's were, but I don't particularly care. I repeat the same torture for the two small cucumbers and almost a whole loaf of bread. After almost cutting my fingers off, I put the tomato back into the fridge. I found some margarine too.

 

After half an hour I have a plate full of sandwiches. I store the sandwiches in the fridge and ransack the same fridge again. Actually there's more food than I originally thought. Not very much, but I still find some frozen chicken, but of course I can't do anything with it. And I find some eggs. Actually I'm hungry. I'm not very sure how Mirai would look at me consuming his goods, but now I don't have much of a choice. I can just mentally promise to repay him for his hospitality someday.

 

I fish a pan out of the cupboard, find oil, turn the stove on and break several eggs into the pan. At least I'm skilled enough for this. I stir round and watch the eggs turn white and yellow. After five minutes they're done and I sit at the table to have my early breakfast.

 

While eating I manage not to think about anything and actually can feel the taste of the eggs that I'm eating. They're good, I suppose. Taste like eggs.

 

While washing my dishes I decide to have a bath again. I can't do anything else and besides an extra bath would do no harm. I need to relax. At least to try to relax, or I'm going to start to gripe at Trunks again. Yesterday was pretty horrible when I think about it.

 

I neatly fold my dark blue sleeveless shirt and put it on the orange sweatpants that are already folded on the cabinet. I climb into the bathtub. This time it doesn't sting as badly. My body is successfully healing. I'm still adorned in all possible colors but now most of them are turning green and yellow. It still hurts if I make an unexpected move, but it's getting better.

 

The usual washing procedure is done and I simply relax. The stinging has subsided to a faint dull throbbing, and after some time I just get used to it. I lean my head on the bathtub rim and close my eyes. I try to meditate, but it's useless, so I just try to relax.

 

XXXXX

 

I thrash and gasp and cough and spit and scream and my arms and legs are flouncing all around. I can't see - my eyes are blurred!

 

I'm drowning! Water is in my nose and lungs!

 

The realization hits me over the head and I panic even more. I toss and gasp and choke and scream even louder.

 

Suddenly I'm ripped out of the water. The firm substance surrounds me, but at the moment I'm not sure if I should panic further or it's all right, and I wiggle.

 

“Power down.”

 

I turn my blurry eyes to Trunks' face and blink. The gears begin to shift, and then I just know that my face is painted crimson. Gods, I fell asleep in the damn tub! And made such a ruckus of it! Idiot.

 

“Power down,” he patiently repeats.

 

My power fades to nothing, and he lets go of me. I'm glad that he simply didn't drop me.

 

“Here,” he tosses the same red towel onto my lap while I'm still coughing.

 

I grip the towel, but still don't dare to look at him.

 

“Dress, I'll tend to your wrist.”

 

I look at my arm. For fuck's sake… While flouncing about in the bath I reopened the wound. “Fuck.”

 

He nods in agreement and then leaves the bathroom.

 

I silently sit down at the table. There's a First Aid kit on it. Mirai is halfway-stuck in the fridge, and I'm not sure if he's ignoring my presence or if he's really hungry. I watch his lavender ponytail bob up and down while he busies himself.

 

“Thanks,” he finally turns around, holding the plate with the sandwiches I made. He puts it on the table and bends to take a pack of juice from the lower shelf.

 

“I ate five eggs,” I confess.

 

“Only?” he wonders, pouring the juice into the glasses.

 

I suddenly smile. Mirai stiffens for a moment, but then relaxes. He comes over and puts the glasses on the table. He takes my right arm and starts unwrapping bandages.

 

“I'm glad that you're better,” he nods at my arm. “You can take anything you want.”

 

“We don't have many supplies; we should look for more,” I say, reaching out my left hand and taking the glass. “Agh,” I gasp, my body stiffening at the pain, as Mirai has to peel the bandages from the wound.

 

“Sorry.” He observes me from the corner of his eye. “Yes. If you could stay with your father, I'd try to find something edible. This ravaged land spreads about two hundred kilometers on each side. We are almost in the middle of it.”

 

“Where did you find the bodies?” I ask. I see him flinch and then he becomes a bit unsure. He probably thinks that it's too soon to speak with me about it. Mirai forgets that I'm not a silly child and can perfectly understand his behavior and reasoning.

 

“Several kilometers away. I'll show you, but not today,” he shakes his head. “Let's find some food first.” He pulls the First Aid kit closer to him and takes new bandages.

 

I gaze at him for some time then shrug and sip my juice. “Alright.” I watch him finish bandaging my wrist. He then takes a sandwich and starts eating. “Did you find Videl?” I ask then. I wanted to ask this one a long time ago, I was just awfully afraid of the answer I might get.

 

“Videl?” He frowns. “Who's Videl?”

 

I almost throw my glass at him. Mirai quickly ducks, but I didn't throw it. “My friend,” I say, putting the glass down on the table. “I'm sorry,” I apologize for intending to toss the glass at him. He doesn't say anything but takes another sandwich and starts eating again.

 

“No, there was no one on the field that I didn't recognize. At least some clothing or something,” he says, watching me over the top of his juice glass. I can see that he thinks about putting the search for food off. He's afraid that I'm still not stable enough.

 

I decide to shut up about dead people, or we wouldn't get anywhere. “Where did you find the clothes and diapers?” I ask then, motioning at my clothes.

 

“I found a supermarket the very first day I went looking for more survivors. It's at the very border of this vast land. The people fled, leaving everything behind.”

 

I badly want to ask when it happened, how everything transpired and in what order he found the bodies, but keep my mouth shut. “So there must be some food,” I say instead.

 

He nods his head in agreement. “Yeah, I went there four days ago, but maybe it's still empty, and if not, I'll try bargaining.”

 

“Be careful that they don't kill you,” I mutter. “After that battle, they probably will think that you're the one who attacked. They most certainly will try to shoot you. Act like a normal human.”

 

Trunks frowns. “You're right,” he then says. He finishes his juice then gets up to get some more.

 

“We could go together,” I suggest then. “You need to sleep, and if you showed me where and what you did find, I could leave you here, and go looking for food and ki myself.” I see that he's considering the idea. I know that he still needs to get some sleep. And badly. Each time he'd sleep I'd wake him up: at first I got sick, later had a nightmare, and hell, I almost drowned in a tub.

 

“Not today,” he finally shakes his head.

 

I don't protest, even though, I think I proposed a more sensible solution.

 

After he'd eaten, I watched him put his navy jacket on. He goes into his room and returns with his sword fastened on his back. I've never understood why he needed it. Ki always seemed to be the better solution for me.

 

He tells me `See ya in the evening' and he's gone. You know, I feel like a housewife. Not that I know how one feels… Though, I start realizing what one does: I wash our glasses, clean the kitchen, go to clean the debris that I made while punching Trunks through the pink wall. I find some soup, and think about heating it up and trying to feed it to my father. Then I go to see my father, but he's still sleeping. In that case I go into the corridor, take off my shirt and start doing one-handed push-ups. That probably doesn't belong in a housewife's schedule, but I used to do this every morning before going to University. Well, sure, then I used to train with both my hands.

 

My body protests a bit, but, after several minutes, I hardly feel the bruises. After half an hour I decide that it's enough; I'm not at my best form and my right wrist started throbbing. I do some splits and some squatting for the end, and then go to take a shower. I think I'll avoid baths for quite some time.

 

After taking a shower I check on my father again. He's awake. And damn, not only is he awake, but he's also crying. He's crying. It's that sort of crying that usually turns into weeping. I quickly approach him and squat beside him. I become a little panicky.

 

“Dad,” I try to look at his face, but he's almost crouching, his face is in his palms and his entire body is shaking. “Dad?” Then something snaps inside me. I cling to my father, tears flowing down my cheeks and chin. I feel so full of something that's tearing me apart, so much so, that I can't manage a word. I just gasp and sob against my father's shoulder. He isn't reacting to me and that just makes that feeling thicker.

 

“Gohan…?”

 

My head snaps up. Father is staring at me, his eyes wide, searching for something in my face.

 

“Gohan?” he says again. I'm not sure if it's a question or some sort of affirmation. But his voice is so full of that something that is tearing me apart, that the combination makes my head burst.

 

“Yes?” I look at him. Maybe I look the same as him: reddish eyes, my face must be as wet as his and all snotty.

 

And then the air is knocked out of my lungs. I'm crushed as strong arms surround me. My head is pressed to his shaking with renewed sobs chest and his lips are kissing my hair. I can't even describe what I feel.

 

“Gods, Gohan,” he stutters. “Gohan.”

 

While cradling me in his arms, he repeats my name over and over. I cling to him and just stay pressed to his warm body. His scent surrounds me and I feel peace and tranquility engulf me. I don't exactly understand why, but it's probably one of those Saiyan things - parent bond, scent or something. I just close my eyes and breathe his scent in. I can't tell what the scent consists of, I can only tell its characteristics - how my senses react to it. Well, it's hard to explain and at the moment I don't care at all.

 

“It's alright,” I mutter. I just feel the need to say that. I feel him embrace me even tighter, if it's possible at all. I know that if I were a Human, he'd have crushed my body.

 

“Gods, I thought you were dead,” he whispers. I feel small drops splash on my hair.

 

I shake my head. “No. Trunks…Mirai Trunks,” I correct myself, “said that I've just been unconscious. My wrist is broken, but nothing more,” I recite.

 

I feel him shiver. “Goten?” I can feel desperate hope behind his words. Hope for a miracle.

 

I open my eyes. “Dead.” And I feel how my words do almost physical damage to him: he starts and shrinks. He doesn't say anything for a long time then puts his chin on the top of my head. He doesn't ask anything about mom and I know that he had seen her dead.

 

“You said Mirai is here?” he asks after a while.

 

I nod. I don't even want to think about moving from his embrace. “Yeah, now he's looking for food and any familiar kis.” After his silence I decide to recite everything Trunks had told me about his world and his Datano.

 

After I finish speaking, we sit in silence for some time. I relish his warm body and scent. I have been so afraid that he might stay in that catatonic state permanently.

 

“Do you want to eat?” I ask then. I suddenly hear my father's stomach rumble, and that is enough for my tears to start falling again. Gods, how I wish everything would be normal again!

 

I feel him stroke my hair. “Yeah, I'm starving.”

 

I sigh in relief. I disentangle from my shelter and motion for him to follow me. Goku tosses the covers away and quickly stands up. And then he looks at himself confused. His brow rises at me in question.

 

“It's been pretty bad,” I say. I don't explain anything else. I don't need to explain anything. “We couldn't get to you for two days.” I hear Goku's bare feet pad on the floor behind me. Actually I don't wear my boots either. No need for that.

 

“Where are my clothes?” he asks.

 

Yeah, I suppose one wouldn't be very comfortable while running around in diapers. “Don't know,” I shake my head. “Mirai should have them. If there's anything left of them…” I then add. Though, if Mirai had them, they would've been folded and placed somewhere in the room near my sleeping father. I'm not sure if I've seen any clothes there, but we'll have to look for them; I can't say that seeing my father in diapers is comfortable for me either.

 

I put the soup on the stove, put the rest of the sandwiches on the table. My father is half-stuck in the fridge.

 

“I saw a frozen chicken and there are enough potatoes and spices,” he says returning with a gallon of juice in his hand. “We could prepare it for dinner. Trunks will come back hungry.”

 

I know that I'm staring at my father and I know that I shouldn't, but I'm very worried. Goku smiles at me, but the smile is only a ghost of his usual one, and there's something in his eyes, and I can't help feeling even more worried.

 

I lower my eyes. “Alright…” I drawl. I stir the pot several times. “Though, I won't be able to help with peeling potatoes or anything else.”

 

Goku looks at my wrist. “It's okay. I'll do it on my own.” He smiles again.

 

The soup is finally piping hot and I pour a bowl for my father. I know that he's watching me fumble with the pot and ladle and bowl while I try to balance everything with my left hand. Finally, managing not to break anything, I put the bowl in front of him.

 

“Thanks,” he smiles again. He pulls the bowl closer to him and takes a spoon.

 

“I'll go look for clothes,” I say. I'm sure that at least underwear has to be somewhere.

 

Father nods, and I leave the kitchen. I go to his room and start rummaging through the closet and dresser. Well, there's not really that much to ransack - the shelves are almost empty except for some useless stuff and I soon find father's gi on one of them. The blue-orange top is torn and full of holes, but the pants seem to be fine. The sash is twice as short as it was before and there are several small burnt holes, but I don't think that my father would care. And yes, the underwear is fine.

 

I scoop up the clothes and turn around. My father is standing in the doorway. The bowl and spoon are in his hands, but he doesn't seem interested in eating. I wonder… how long had he been standing in the doorway watching me?

 

“I found your clothes,” I say. Somehow I feel that he hadn't even noticed them in my hand.

 

“Oh,” he says, smiling. “Good.”

 

I put the clothes on the bed and exit the room, leaving my father to dress. Though, a minute or so after I sit down at the kitchen table, he's rushing back in. I turn in my chair to face him, and he seems to be immensely relieved. I wait for him to say something, to explain what got him so worried, but he just smiles and sits opposite me.

 

“Is everything alright?” I ask.

 

He quickly nods his head while adjusting his sash. After dealing with his clothes he continues eating. Goku finishes the soup in two seconds, and I see his eyes shift back to the pot.

 

“Trunks allowed taking anything we want,” I reassure him, and the next second he's stuck halfway into the pot. He quickly moves the whole pot to the table and hovers over it. Yeah, his table manners will never change. And I'm damn glad of it.

 

After the meal I watch him wash the dishes then start preparing the chicken. I don't have any idea when Mirai will come back. I don't even remember when he left.

 

I glance outside and see that it's late afternoon. Mirai said that he'd come back in the evening. I wonder what time is evening for him - when the sun starts setting down or when it's deadly dark..? Hell knows.

 

I get up, intending to go to the bathroom.

 

“Gohan?”

 

I quickly turn around at the scared voice.

 

“Where are you going?” Goku's hand with the knife is frozen over the chicken. The intensity of fear in his eyes makes my own breath hitch. “You're not go-” suddenly he becomes silent. His eyes leave my face and try to concentrate on the chicken that he's cutting.

 

“I'm going to the bathroom,” I say then. He doesn't react, but the look he has on his face tells me everything. “I won't be long,” I say before exiting the kitchen.

 

When I return he gives me a broad smile and goes back to cutting the chicken. He hadn't moved in this task a bit while I was in the bathroom. I want to help him, but all I can do, is add spices.

 

“I still don't know anything about Videl,” I say then sigh. I'm not sure why I say that. But she hadn't been close to my father, and I feel safe mentioning her name.

 

I see mild surprise on Goku's features. He then looks at me sympathetically. “She was one of the first to die,” he says softly.

 

“What?” I stutter. I stare at him. “How?” What the hell had she been doing…Oh…

 

He nods. “Yes, she went looking for Datano, and well…she got to him before we did.” He then looks at me; worry clearly written on his face. “You don't remember?”

 

I shake my head. “Some parts. But most of it is fuzzy. I remember fighting him and that's it. But at first I didn't remember anything at all.” I just push all the unwelcome thoughts away until later.

 

“But you started remembering?” my father asks, and I can hear fear and worry in his voice.

 

“I'm fine,” I wave that off. “I doubt that I want to remember any of it at all.” Exactly. I'm glad I don't remember a thing. Even those occasional flashes of me fighting Datano are blurry. There's nothing to remember - I probably lost consciousness long before my father killed that bastard; there wouldn't be any gory-joyous pictures in my head anyway. And I don't want to see my brother and mother dead.

 

“Trunks found them?” Goku asks. I see his arms shake while he's trying to peel potatoes or at least pretending that he's trying to.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Did you..?”

 

“No, I haven't seen them or the graves,” I shake my head. “Trunks didn't let-” I lurch forward to tear the knife from my father's palm. I throw it somewhere behind my back and press my palm into the bleeding one.

 

He's squeezing me, his whole body shaking with painful sobs. I return the desperate embrace.

 

“Goten… Gods, why him…” he wails clinging to me.

 

I don't know what to say. Nothing I could say would console him. Nothing he could say would console me. So I let him sob and weep and wail in my arms, until he couldn't anymore. I don't know why I hadn't joined. Maybe I've already had my share, besides someone has to stay focused.

 

“I'll bandage your palm,” I tug him to a chair after he calms down.

 

Loudly hiccupping, he looks at both his palms and only then notices that he has slit his flesh open. The cut isn't deep, but it's bleeding profusely.

 

“Oh,” he says.

 

Sure, I need his help while bandaging his palm. After it's finished, I just want him to go to sleep and get some rest. Though, he almost certainly wouldn't be able to sleep. Anyway. How funny that I took over Mirai's role.

 

I see that he wants to finish peeling potatoes.

 

“Leave them,” I shake my head. “Mirai will have to do this on his own; your palm hurts.” But I see that he's reluctant to leave the food. Maybe he wants at least some occupation or to feel useful or both. Everything is so familiar…

 

Actually it doesn't take him long to finish what he had started and a huge pot of chicken and potatoes are in the oven. We leave the kitchen and settle in Goku's room. I sit on the chair, and Goku climbs onto the bed. I think he's sleepy, and I really would prefer him asleep. I don't want to talk about dead people, but I have to know.

 

“Mirai said that he didn't find Vegeta, but he can't sense him either. Do you know anything about him?”

 

Goku leans back on the headboard. “I don't know. He never made it to the main battle. He might've been killed when Datano blew up Capsule Corp. I don't know,” he shakes his head.

 

“I doubt that,” I say. And I can see his eyes light up. I can understand that: at some point in time my father and Vegeta managed to establish some type of bond. Vegeta was the only one who had any understanding about the Saiyan race. Goku and Vegeta had a deep understanding for each other. Goku looked up to Vegeta for his spirit, pride and determination. Vegeta, though he always pretended not to, respected Goku for his power and never surrendering while he was trying to subdue the younger Saiyan; power always meant much to Saiyans. Vegeta had a loud mouth, though, if one could see and hear past it, it was clear that his words were only meant to keep others away; Vegeta liked peace. Even if most of the time they had been seen trying to bash each other's sculls in, there was no one who'd come faster to rescue each other than them.

 

I see his eyes light up, and I hate to say this: “He must have sensed Datano before he approached Capsule Corp. He probably died trying to stop Datano.” But then I doubt my theory - if Vegeta fought, Trunks would have fought beside him, and I can't fucking remember if Mirai found their bodies, or if he'd just been guessing. Mirai just said that Bulma and Trunks were killed in their sleep. Was that a guess or had he seen the bodies?

 

I just shake my head. “I'm sorry,” I apologize for, though not intentionally, but cruelly teasing him. “I don't know anything. We'll have to ask Trunks when he comes back.” I turn to look through the window. “The heat has lessened. We could go outside?” I'm not sure what the point would be in going into that naked vastness, but I feel cornered by these pink walls.

 

Not waiting for Goku's answer, I get up. I turn around as he grabs my hand. I almost gasp at the sudden strength of his grasp and eyes.

 

“No. Don't go there,” he says.

 

I stare at him in surprise. “Where?”

 

“Outside,” he whispers.

 

I gaze at him for some time then free my arm from his grasp. “Datano is dead,” I shake my head at him.

 

Goku opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Probably for a moment there he thought that I'm going to Trunks' time line to fight that god-freak. “I…I'm sorry,” suddenly embarrassed Goku lowers his head.

 

“Come with me,” I point with my head to the door. “It will be good for us to get some fresh air.”

 

I see that he's reluctant to go. I approach the window, brush the curtains away and open it. Really, the air outside is much better. All that musk of fear and nervousness had started making me alert. My senses are not as keen as those of full-blooded Saiyans or as those of other demis, but if I'm even starting to react to all those scents, Mirai'll be knocked out as soon as he enters the house.

 

I brush the light curtain over the window and turn back to my father. “Come outside with me,” I motioned for him again. After some hesitation he follows me close.

 

We walk several circles around the house then rise up into the sky. I don't want to get too far away from the house, but I want to revive my body. And I believe that my father needs that as well.

 

We fly for several kilometers. I stretch my senses as far as I can and catch Mirai's ki. Mirai responds shortly by spiking his ki, and, despite it's being far away, it makes me feel calmer. I respond by spiking my ki too and fly further.

 

We fly for several more kilometers and then I stop in my tracks. Crosses. Eleven high crosses. I stare at them while motionlessly hovering in the air, but as soon as I see my father's eyes following mine, I break the trance.

 

“We should head back already,” I say. “Trunks must be returning, besides we left the pot in the oven.” Sure I perfectly remember that Goku had adjusted the timer for the automatic oven. I hope that my father didn't notice the crosses yet. As he follows me back home, I think that he didn't.

 

When we enter the kitchen and check on the oven, I notice that my father seems to have liked the little trip we made. His eyes don't look as haunted. That's good. But I came back in even more turmoil. I should have listened to my father and stayed in the house.

 

The chicken is almost done, and we sit in the kitchen until it's ready. We decide to wait for Trunks. I don't even notice when I fall asleep with my arms and head resting upon the table. I wake up after hearing some noise. It has become dark in the kitchen. My eyes are sharper than those of an average Human, but I still flare up my ki to lighten the surroundings. I suddenly blink and shield my blinded eyes as a bright light hits them.

 

“Oh, sorry,” Trunks apologizes after noticing my blinking eyes. He removes his hand from the switch.

 

“Never mind,” I say. My eyes are returning to normal and I watch Trunks unfasten his sword then take his jacket off. He hangs it in the corridor. He falters before leaning his sword at the wall near the door that leads to the kitchen. I don't think that I would ever want to take it anyway - I prefer ki to swords. I glance at my father, but he's still sleeping in his chair. He didn't react to any of the noise Trunks made.

 

“My father's awake,” I inform Mirai, motioning to my father's chair that is hidden from Trunks by a huge fridge near the door.

 

Trunks' eyes widen slightly and he sticks his head into the kitchen. He observes my father while I, in turn observe Trunks' face. Trunks seems to be completely drained: his blue eyes are reddish and glassy. His face is dirty, there's a line of brown dirt on his forehead, and perhaps he'd been wiping his forehead with his hand covered in dirt. Doubtless it happened while he was digging the graves. Actually Trunks is covered all over in dirt and sweat. And his hair is matted with grease. He stinks.

 

“How is he?” Mirai whispers then, careful not to wake Goku up.

 

I shrug. I'm not sure. “More or less okay. He's a great deal shaken up. But he remembers the entire battle.” I then ask what I wanted to ask him all day. “Have you seen Trunks' and Bulma's bodies?”

 

“Yes,” he nods, coming to sit beside me. “I buried them.” He sighs then. “Although I didn't find Bulma's parents - either they were away at the time when all that shit happened or they were blasted into small pieces. I also didn't find Vegeta, that Turtle-man or that strange pig.” Trunks closes his eyes then. “Today I found that strange round black guy with huge lips. And the one with three eyes. Actually only his head.” Trunks then suddenly opens his eyes. “Sorry, I didn't…”

 

I wave that off. I hadn't been very close with them either, besides he just stated the truth. “You think Vegeta might have survived?” I ask instead.

 

He frowns then leans his chin in his hand. “I doubt that. Had Vegeta been in the house with everyone else, he either wouldn't have been damaged, or I at least would have found his body in the ruins where I found Bulma's and Trunks'. I don't understand what happened there. He either hadn't been at home at all, or he died trying to defend Capsule Corp, but in that case Trunks would have sensed something too. He would have come to aid Vegeta.”

 

I nod. I reached the same conclusion. I look at Trunks again. He's chewing on his lower lip. I suddenly think that he must be hungry. I know that chewing on one's lip doesn't mean that he's hungry, but it just popped into my head.

 

“There's a whole pot with chicken in the oven,” I motion with my head to the stove. “If you take it out, we can finally have dinner,” I show my right wrist, indicating that I can't do it on my own.

 

Trunks almost jumped from his seat to get the pot.

 

“My father made it,” I say, watching Trunks hurriedly open still warm oven. “Wanted you to have a good dinner.” I see Trunks tense a bit.

 

“He isn't very well, is he?” Trunks queries. He carries the pot to the table.

 

I shrug again. “I think that…keeping in mind that he's been catatonic for several days, it's a miracle that he cares about what you eat at all.”

 

Mirai observes my father again. “And what happened to his palm?” He opens the pot, and I smell the wondrous aroma wafting in the air; hell, I didn't know that I was hungry.

 

“He cut himself while peeling potatoes.”

 

Trunks gives me a very dubious look.

 

“He asked me about Goten and the graves while peeling,” I sigh. I sigh again after Trunks looks very worried. “No, he didn't do that intentionally. He just didn't notice it.” I stand up and go to the cupboard to take out the plates.

 

I can feel Mirai's eyes on my back. I get the plates and put them on the table. I wonder why my father still isn't awake since the smell of chicken's filled the kitchen.

 

“So how was your day?” I ask fulfilling my `today's wife's' tasks further. I hold my plate for Mirai to fill it.

 

“Awful,” Mirai shakes his head while filling my plate. “Simply awful.” He sighs then. “Remember the supermarket I told you about?” He continues after I nod, “I went there and there was such a mess… Can you believe that? - Soldiers with guns were guarding it, and people were trying to get in. The store already didn't have any windows left intact, and people were trying to climb in. The entire damn town was in riot - people stealing food, water, clothes, petrol, propane, cars, electronics and machinery. Electricity is out, but people almost certainly are dragging everything into their cellars for later use or whatever. I think the same is happening in most places.

 

“I wasn't sure what to do at first, but then all hell broke loose: the people in front somehow managed to get into the store. I think they had guns too. I could hear screams and shots and the masses completely lost control, and then I'd really had enough. I just blasted the roof and went into the store.”

 

I can hear guilty notes in Mirai's voice, but I just shrug. “Good that you didn't blast them,” I say. All things considered, not having had a decent night's sleep for almost a week, Mirai has been extremely patient, and I'm not going to spoil his mood because of such a stupid incident. “Have they seen you?”

 

Mirai nods guiltily. “They saw me rise in the air, and, after I blasted the roof, they all went crazy and just ran away.”

 

“Good. I hope you have the entire store in your capsules,” I say, eating my chicken. I see Mirai's lavender brows raise at me. “What? They would have done exactly the same thing,” I shrug. I see that Mirai feels better after that. “Look, if not us, then some mafia bosses or local hit-men would have taken the supplies and would have kept them in their cellars. You yourself mentioned that the people who were trying to get into the store had guns too. And my father killed that bastard, saved the Earth once again, and he at least deserves to get some food. Nobody ever even said at the least a small thanks to him,” I snort at my plate.

 

Mirai silently eats his portion. “Yeah that's true,” he agrees with me then after several seconds. “In all probability people again think that they were saved by that buffoon Satan.”

 

I just shrug. Sure, I know that Mirai is right. I've always hated that fool with stupid hair.

 

“Listen, Mirai,” I say then, “Capsule Corporation is a very big organization. It's spread worldwide. There are plenty of branches and laboratories. Now you are an inheritor of the whole corporation.” Mirai is looking at me as if I've grown two heads. Sometimes people look at me like that. I wonder why.

 

“But I'm not…” he stammers.

 

I wave that off. “Oh, but you are Trunks Vegeta Briefs aren't you?” I see that he wants to protest again, and then I feel sympathy for him; he really is tired and I should shut up. “Listen, Mirai, It's only a suggestion. We will talk about this tomorrow. Just have your meal now, go take a shower and get some decent sleep.”

 

Trunks nods his head and continues eating his chicken. “Gohan?” he asks then. After I look at him he says, “Could you stop calling me Mirai?”

 

I blink at him.

 

He then shifts uncomfortably. “Well, it's even not my name…”

 

I laugh then. “Okay,” I chuckle again. “Sorry.” He's right of course. And besides now there's no one with whom I could confuse him.

 

Mirai gives me a tired smile then pushes his plate away. “I would like to say that it was great, but…” Mirai motions with his head to my sleeping father.

 

“We'll tell him that tomorrow,” I lean back in my chair. “Leave it,” I say after noticing that Trunks took his plate intending to wash it. “Give me the capsule with the food that needs to be refrigerated and just go to sleep.” I suddenly wonder then. “Actually do I need to unload it, or can we simply put the whole capsule in the fridge?”

 

Trunks laughs. He needs to laugh.

 

“No,” he shakes his head. “You'll have to unload it.” He goes into the corridor where his jacket is hanging and begins to ransack its pockets. “Here,” he tosses me a yellow capsule then. “I don't even remember what I put in there.” He then ransacks further and finds another one. He throws that to me too. “This one is full of clothes. I think your father needs some.”

 

“Yep,” After looking at my sleeping bare-chested father, I agree with such an obvious truth.

 

It takes me almost two hours to deal with the supplies Trunks brought. We were damn lucky that somehow I managed to realize that I'd do better opening them outside the house; the capsule's huge contents would have blasted the kitchen to dust. Mirai didn't have time to sort everything out, so I found four fridges full of meat and various sausages, two huge wooden crates heaped with cabbage, two other's filled with apples, one with cucumbers, another with tomatoes and five huge boxes with different kinds of potatoes. Plenty of various grains, rice and noodles and hell knows what else. Plenty of stuff in addition to other loose odds and ends that I even can't name.

 

It took me an hour before I managed to connect the fridges, which Trunks took from the supermarket, to the sockets in the house. Of course Trunks didn't bother pulling the plugs off - he simply lifted the damned fridges and ripped the wires out. And of course I have to ask my father for help - he illuminates the sockets for me after I switched the electricity off so as not to get my ass electrocuted. It probably wouldn't kill me, but the feeling wouldn't be very pleasant. Actually I'm not even sure how many different apparatus's the house generator can support, but thirty minutes later, after turning the power back on, the lights are still working. I decide that everything's gonna be all right.

 

Whatever else's left I managed to squeeze into our fridge. Although now the house reminds one of a store: one big box of potatoes is shoved under the kitchen table, two in my room, and two in my father's. Two fridges are connected to two sockets in the kitchen, one stands in my room, another in my father's; we don't have any free sockets left at all, though sure, why not -I can always connect the fridge with the wires of the laps. The rest of stuff is in corridor.

 

After we finish creating havoc, we sit at the table and eat again. My father looks a bit better. I think he'd been worried that Trunks wouldn't come back. Now, since he's aware of Trunks peacefully sleeping several walls away from his own room, he's much more relaxed.

 

We don't speak while eating. I don't repeat the information Trunks confided in me - don't want my father to get frustrated. He needs several days of good rest. And, although I know that this will not be possible, I don't want to bother him before he goes to bed. I like him relaxed. At this moment I simply like seeing him calmly eating and being happy about the supplies Trunks brought - there's no need for him to know how Trunks obtained them.

 

Finally after filling our stomachs with chicken and two kilograms of apples, we follow Trunks' lead and go to sleep.

 

TBC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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