Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ My Second Time Around ❯ part one ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

~ PART ONE ~



I love my son. There's never been any question about that. He's always been everything to me - my perfect child who could do no wrong.

Well, almost no wrong.

He *is* a growing boy with Saiyan blood running through his veins, and anything that would most likely be considered 'rough play' for a normal child would have mine tearing the house apart. Regardless, though, I think I love him more than most kids get from both of their parents combined. The only difference is that I *have* to. For him. To make up for what he so desperately needs and never gets.



I look out the kitchen window to see a familiar site. For the millionth time this week, my seven-year-old son is out on the lawn, knocking on the heavy steel door of the Gravity Simulator, trying to get the attention of the warrior inside. I stop whatever it was that I was doing to see what will happen next, as if I didn't already know.

A voice so thunderous came out from inside that metal space-can on my front lawn that I could easily hear it from inside the house. Hell, I could *feel* it from inside the house, nevermind what Trunks was taking from point-blank range.

"LEAVE ME ALONE, BRAT! I AM NOT GOING TO WASTE MY TIME TRAINING WITH SOME HALF-BREED CHILD WHO CAN'T FIGHT YET!"

But instead of the regular reaction of the boy shutting-up and taking a seat on the stairs, he actually talked back this time.

"Good for you, Trunks," I found myself whispering under my breath.

"No, Dad! I CAN fight! I'm learning to be a warrior like you! Really!" His voice almost sounded like he was begging, but it never faltered. I knew it was taking every ounce of courage for Trunks to talk back to his father, but I guess everyone has their breaking point. Even the son of the mighty Saiyan Prince, thought it took him his entire life to finally get it out. The sound of the room depressurizing steamed as the door creaked open. I somehow don't think Trunks really expected his plea to work.



"D-Dad?"



Vegeta has been known to have bad days, or bad-er days, if that's what you would like to call them, but this one was a winner. I honestly didn't know what to expect by the reaction he had plastered across his face, looking as if he were trying to burn a hole right through our son, but I knew it wouldn't be good. "What, brat? Are you that thickheaded? I don't have time for children!"

Well, that wasn't *that* bad. From the looks of it, I thought he was really going to tear into him, forcing me to have to deal with a frightened little boy running into the house... again. I strained my hearing, for I knew the young voice about to come out would surely be weak and defeated.

For the second time this afternoon, the kid proved me wrong.

"But Dad, I'm strong now! I've learned alot and I want to show you! I can train with you now!" His fists tightened, his face trying to look angry. Like his father. "I can do alot now! Goten's mom showed me..."

Here we go.

"What?! Kakarott's wife? That woman has no business trying to train you. She's as stupid as her husband was."

"...But, I'm really strong now, Dad! Will you train me? Chi Chi and Goten think I'm really strong, too." Trunks' tough-kid act was already starting to fade. "I..."

His speech was cut short as Vegeta forcefully grabbed him by the arm and dragged him off his feet into the middle of the yard, pushing him off before he let go for a decent amount of space between them. "You think you have something to prove to me, brat? Well, let's see it?" he taunted. "Show me this 'power' you suddenly have." I could see Trunks trying to swallow. So was I.

As I looked on the scene taking place on the other side of the window, I realized that I was getting more nervous that I should have been. I mean, I've been preparing myself for this moment ever since Trunks was born. I kept telling myself that it was only a matter of time before Vegeta would start training him - leaving behind my little, innocent boy who preferred to fight with action figures and imaginary friends instead of with real people; Who has come home crying to me with, at worst, scraped knees and splinters, leaving me now to look forward to black-eyes and broken bones. I had known from the start that it was only a matter of time before the Saiyan in him would finally come out.

I shudder at the thought, as unavoidable as it is.

Before I had a chance to process my fears, Trunks was already in stance, small feet firmly planted to the ground, miniature muscles flexing under his oversized tee shirt. Vegeta didn't budge. Not even to humor him. Instead, he plainly stood with his arms crossed, brow knit into a sharp 'V', just like every other day of his life here on Earth. I could tell Trunks was scared, if not for what he had to prove, but for the fact that his father was paying even the slightest bit of interest in him.

He pushed off and aimed a punch right for Vegeta's face, which was easily blocked. No contest. He tried again, this time with a sidekick to the hip. Vegeta let him hit this time, but didn't move in the slightest, practically mocking him by his lack of reaction, save a twitch on his face. This went on for a couple of minutes. No change.

Trunks was getting frustrated. I'm sure sparing, or whatever it was that he did with Chi Chi when I took him over her house to play with Goten, was a bit different now with the reigning strongest man on Earth. I knew my son pretty good, and being taunted was not something he handled well at all.

"C'mon, Dad!! I want to fight with you," he managed to say through heavy breaths; his fists still balled up tight. "Dad?"

Vegeta suddenly grabbed a fist full of his son's hair and lifted him off the ground, letting his feet dangle as he tried to hold onto his wrist, struggling to break free. I don't think I ever saw panic on Trunks' face before that moment. Who knows what shade of white I turned?

I froze.

"This is a waste of my time! *You're* a waste of my time! Get out of here and don't bother me until you have some kind of strength to show for yourself! GOT IT?" he barked, just inches away from his face. "...All though, I don't expect much to come of you. Purple hair, blue eyes - I doubt there's even any Saiyan in you at all." He tossed him like a rag doll onto the lawn in front of him, Trunks catching himself on his hands as he fell with a thud.

Vegeta turned his back on him and walked back into the Gravity Simulator, remarking to himself out loud before slamming the door behind him.

"...Even with me around, this version is still proving to be a waste."





I couldn't move.

I felt tears rolling down my cheeks, but I couldn't move.

I should have run out there. I should have stopped the whole thing before it even happened, but now I was looking at my young son through the window, his eyes glazing over, still sitting up on the grass where he was flung. His bottom lip started to tremble as I heard the machine kick back on, indicating that this particular father/son bonding session was over. Small hands gripped through the grass, digging his fingers into the dirt. I prayed that he would again fool me with some unexpected strength out of nowhere, just get up and brush the dirt off his clothes and be fine, but it didn't happen that way.

Trunks hung his head down and started to cry. My son was *crying*! Never in his seven years had I ever seen, or even heard my son really cry. Not like when he was a cranky infant that wanted to be fed, or when he had knocked out all of his front teeth the time he and Goten thought they would teach themselves how to fly. No, this was different. I watched helplessly as he choked back the sobbing hiccups that shook his body, breaking his heart into a thousand pieces as he experienced, first-hand, his father's total indifference to him; How no matter what he did, nothing would ever be good enough.

I wanted so badly to run out to that damn machine, kick the door down, and beat my husband senseless for crushing my little boy's heart - For single- handedly causing the tears that spilled freely down his face. But before I could even take one step to the door, Trunks was already running into the house, crying his eyes out as he ran past me and up the stairs to his room. I didn't think twice before following him.

I noticed his bedroom door was open when I reached the top of the stairs, but a cautious glance inside revealed no Trunks. As I paused to catch my breath from running, I heard faint crying from the bathroom a second before a loud crash. The voice increased in tremendous volume as I frantically made my way down the hall to my son. The door was unlocked, so I let myself in.

"Trunks? Honey? Are you okay?"

I already knew he wasn't. I don't know what I had to ask that.

I opened the door fully, and noticed that the bathroom mirror above the sink was shattered by a small fist-sized crack through middle. I spun around and found my son sitting on the floor in the corner, knees hugged into his chest, bawling to the point of almost hysterics.

"Trunks, it's okay, sweetheart. Everything will be okay."

More things I probably didn't need to say.

Trunks' entire body tightened and tensed around itself as he squeezed his eyes closed. The hurt he was experiencing was becoming my own, but I didn't know what else to do, watching helplessly as my son ripped his voice to shreds as he started to cry even harder. Deep, crushing pain that *I* could never understand like he did. His body was shaking wildly. I almost started to think that he was going to lose it, but into what? He was still just seven-year-old child.

But suddenly, I could feel something snap. His crying broke into a screaming rage, causing everything on the shelves to come crashing to the floor and the tiles underneath him to crack. His voice was now sounding like he was in real pain instead of just upset, as with every emptying of his lungs, he sharply inhaled to cry out even more. Lavender hair started to stand up on end, streaking into an almost white blond right before my eyes. I fell back on my hands, terrified at what was happening to my son. I had never actually seen anyone transform into a Super Saiyan up close before, but I assumed that this was it!

He threw his arms out violently, crumbling through the wall and the tub beside him as the muscles under his skin visibly started to grow and define. My baby boy was physically in pain and I couldn't do anything about it! I wanted to hold him - calm him from what was happening, but I was scared; I was too scared to hold my own son - for what he might do to me, even if he couldn't control it. He continued to lash out, destroying everything around him with the sheer force exerted from his body and I could feel the foundation of the house shake. His frame was nearly buckling under the extreme stress.

And there I was, scared to death to get anywhere near him - watching his body rip apart as I begged Dende to help him, to stop what was happening to him. I couldn't watch and let this happen! He was uncontrollable and violent, but he was still my son... somewhere in there.

I crawled over to him on the floor and wrapped my arms around him tightly, trying desperately hard to protect him, mostly from himself. As I held the back of his head, I could feel the heat radiating through my clothes, almost burning my skin from the touch.

I was never so scared in my life.

"I'm here, Trunks. Mommy's here." I tried not to sound as terrified as he was. But as I held on to him with every bit of strength I had, I slowly felt his body fall out of it's transformation, leaving a little purple- haired boy sobbing quietly in my arms. Almost instantly, he was reduced to nothing but a trembling, frightened mass and it took me a moment before I realized I was no better off myself.

"Shhhh, it's okay. It's all over now," I tried to console him as I rest my head on his, gently rubbing his back.

"I-I.... I'm s-sorry, mom..." The words broke my heart. Here he was, apologizing to me when *I* was the one who couldn't help him. "I-I d-di- didn't..." he choked up, sniffing under his tears.

"No, honey. It's not your fault. It's alright," I whispered. "I love you so much, Trunks. Everything's going to be alright now, okay?" I wondered if I was trying to assure him or myself.

We sat in the bathroom for a while, crying and holding each other, knowing that things would be very different for now on. He was no longer my little helpless son, who I could take care of and baby - who looked to me for protection from everything that he didn't know could hurt him in the world.

... no, that little boy was gone now.

I smoothed over his silken hair, remembering the thought of what he will look like in just a couple of years, hoping that this time he will have a better life - another me that will do anything to save him from having to become that sad young man who had to grow up too fast because of his awesome responsibility.

I wanted to hold him in my arms forever and tell him that everything was going to be better this time. Only this time around, he had the pain of a broken heart for *another* reason - a reason his other never had the experience to be denied.

My son knew his father this time... but now I think it might be harder this way.

From the looks of my bathroom, it probably is.







:: please review ::