Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Protection the Future Gohan Way ❯ Sparring Practice ( Chapter 1 )

Protection the Mirai Way,

Chapter #01

By Trynia Merin

Summary: Now that he's training Future Trunks to face the androids, Future Gohan applies the techniques that Piccolo used on him. Yet can his training `protect' Trunks when feelings can get in the way?

Author's Note: First fiction writing this pairing. It's pretty much in the Future Gohan/Trunks timeline. I'm assuming that Future Trunks is 16 here, and Future Gohan is in his early twenties.

Water was essential to life just as much as training is to mine, Son Gohan thought. He fought the urge to wipe sweat from his brow. His shadow glided with the movements of another, longer but at the same angle. Son Gohan's dark brows furrowed in intense concentration, locking with those of his younger opponent. Oddly, the roles of years past reversed with a lifetime of choreography entrusted to him by Piccolo. Now his pupil upraised hands at forty-five degree angles, hunching his shoulders with his head tipped back to compensate for being shorter then Son Gohan. Tendrils of lavender hair stuck to the sweat that blistered from his forehead.

“Think fast, and don't hesitate!” Future Gohan barked, before he accelerated his entire body. Narrowed blue eyes stared shortly to track his movement, and Gohan arched around behind his student.

For miles around stretched spires of rock, jutting out of sand that had crumbled and eroded under years of weathering. Far from any of the ruined cities of the Androids, but closer to Gohan's mountain home they continued to train. In the distance, the extending bands of brown turning to dark green indicated the change in landscape that preceded a half hour flight to the Son residence. At times their training grounds changed, in order to keep one-step ahead of possible ambush, Gohan reasoned.

Fortunately, this time as Gohan's fist flashed out, he struck Future Trunks slender upraised wrist. Tilting his torso back a slight bit, he avoided Trunks' counterpunch. This time only inches from his nose the clenched hand passed, pleasing him. Indeed Future Trunks was getting closer to actually tagging him. So focused were the blue eyes on the attack, that Future Gohan then thrust his leg out, his thigh crashing into those of Future Trunks.

Knocked off balance Future Trunks quickly recovered, just in time for Gohan to pivot his body on one foot and lash out with a kick. Fumbling Future Trunks tucked his body inwards and raised one knee to block. His face clenched in pain with the near solid crack, but Gohan felt the resistance through his entire leg. Arching backwards, Future Trunks landed on his back, and then rolled over out of the way of Gohan's downward facing elbow as he pounced. Sand flew up into his face, but Gohan ignored it, excited to see that Trunks speed had slowly increased.

Back of his capsule T-shirt and sweats coated with a layer of sand, Future Trunks rolled halfway on his back to regain his footing. This time he leaned back again to dodge the next two kicks and punches thrown by Gohan. This time Trunks spun and shot out with his own punches. Gohan felt the impact of the right fist on his forearm, but then felt the pressure of Future Trunks shoulder followed by his other fist slamming into his gut. It was a bit sloppy, Future Gohan had to admit, but forceful enough because he found himself grunting from some of the wind knocked from his belly. It sent him back, but he snapped around once more for another try. This time Trunks dodged under his next punch, and his body blurred into navy blue, white, and lavender before Gohan's eyes. However, Gohan automatically swept out his arm, feeling the solidness of Trunks belly yielding against his sharp elbow. He steeled himself against the frustrated grunt and sound of his student's body thudding to the sand.

“Dammit,” Future Trunks gritted, his eyes squeezed shut. Hair fanned out to the side, and doubled up with knees pressed into his chest Trunks wrapped his arms around his injured midsection. At that moment, he seemed much smaller and younger, triggering a split second deluge of memories.

Two years ago a peculiarly nasty assault on North City as the deadly duo of Androids had smashed apart the central shopping complex. The local hospital of North city was too decimated to accommodate all the disaster victims. Some of her employees had piloted a rescue craft to pick up whatever survivors there were. Then Bulma's local Capsule plant there had set up dozens of palates for the refugees. Capsule more often than not function as a field hospital more than a technological factory. Bulma's bots and medical teams had tried to set up as much machinery as possible. Not to mention enough pieces of equipment to keep the people alive long enough for their city to rebuild suitable shelters. Several hundred souls needed food and drink, and medical care. At times, like that he helped Bulma keep the water purification system or the hydroponic bots control units.

As always Future Trunks was right there helping wrap bandages or staunch heavy bleeding when there weren't enough medical volunteers. By the time, they all had returned to Capsule, Bulma had offered them all places to sleep and recover. The older demi had taken the room down the hall from Future Trunks, and remembered tossing and turning in the borrowed bed only to hear that bloodcurdling scream. A soft cry of fear turned into outrage as Future Trunks had burst out of fitful sleep and hurled aside covers. Gohan had remembered the sheer force and anguish in that voice, and had found himself rushing from the place he had slept that night at capsule two years ago.

“Trunks, come on, I know I didn't hit you that hard! Get up!” he couldn't stop himself from shouting. Damn it he was getting too soft, all because he couldn't help wincing from the pain he guessed Future Trunks must have been feeling. Despite his better impulse, he stepped forwards, leaning over the huddled lad. Slowly Future Trunks rolled over onto his back, teeth gritted and graceful lavender brow knitted in pain.

Gohan's brows knit, confused and concerned because he was certain there was enough force in his punch not to cause so much damage. Surely, Future Trunks had taken more solid punches then this, so why was he shuddering so much without rolling again to his feet?

“Trunks?” Gohan lowered his voice, bending his knee more firmly. Yet two sky blue eyes popped wide open, and sand hissed with the sudden movement of the once curled body. A loud shout accompanied the forward thrust of two legs at Gohan. Pain erupted, and he drew his abdomen tight, seeing through the pain that was little in magnitude to many injuries, but struggling to process what he'd seen. He had just glimpsed Future Trunks pressing the flats of both hands planted in the sand behind him, then levering his entire body upwards and landed his feet in the pit of Gohan's stomach. The clever smirk covering Future Trunks face at that moment infuriated and invigorated the older demi as he glided back, still curling in on his own body.

“Nasty trick, but not too bad,” Gohan wheezed. Piccolo's voice ran in Gohan's mind, reprimanding him for a moment of weakness. Yet Gohan couldn't help hesitating a mere second to see the boy curled up on himself. It reminded Gohan of how vulnerable after Future Trunks was, after days of calmly sorting out the damaged bodies pouring in. In sleep, his mind processed the afterimages. More and more people each day would seek refuge inside the huge cracked done of their corporation, and fewer scientists remained alive to keep the company running smoothly. Future Trunks had seen progressively more death and destruction at close hand since that night, and Gohan knew exactly what the substance was that comprised his nightmares. For he had seen such horrors himself.

“I have to admit you did get me there, Trunks. Not bad,” Gohan relented, staring down at the hunched figure. Future Trunks really WAS in a great deal of pain, holding his shoulder and fighting back what gleamed in his blue eyes.

“I know it was dirty, but I couldn't resist,” Future Trunks answered, drawing in great draughts of air to counteract the sharp crack of pain spreading like a wave from his right shoulder. He wondered if his arm would move for a day or more.

“True,” Gohan nodded. “I'd say it was worth a time out. We're done for the day.”

Future Trunks nodded, a slight smile masking the still surging pain. This time when Future Gohan leaned forwards and extended a strong hand, Future Trunks outstretched his own ivory fingers. He shivered as they touched the rough palm of the older demi's hand, and marveled in the strength of the grip. Only a small snap of Gohan's figure tugged both of them to their feet. More ribbons of sand fell from Future Trunks back and made their piles in the sand. Gohan resisted a chuckle feeling sand dropping from the back of his gi as well.

Glancing down he saw his fingers were still closed around Future Trunks hand. Neither questioned the contact, and he felt his role yet again shift. It was not mere protection, Gohan soberly realized as he saw the pride glowing from the youth's face. He let go reluctantly, seeing Future Trunks questioning look, and pushed tendrils of the boy's lavender hair from his face.

“I must smell pretty ripe,” Future Trunks joked.

“That makes two of us,” Future Gohan nodded, chuckling himself.

It seemed so natural to raise his hand to pat Future Trunks on the back, as Trunks stood closer to him. Instead of removing it after the friendly contact, Gohan's arm rested around Future Trunks slender shoulders, and he felt Future Trunks leaning into his body as well. Around his waist, Gohan felt the curling of Future Trunks smaller arm and pulled the boy towards himself more tightly. The light pressure of Trunks side against his felt safe and reassuring, and necessary.

“Lunch now?” Future Trunks laughed, glancing up at him.

“Yes,” Gohan nodded, feeling his own stomach rumbling in unison.

That fact reminded him of their similarities, and he did not fight the warmth arising in his stomach and being. Similarly, he didn't stop the smile twitching his angular cheeks into a grin. That same expression graced Future Trunks visage as well, and he realized what a relief it was to see him smiling. It was worth a few moments of self-deprecation and stupidity.

On the other hand, was it? If he didn't push Future Trunks hard enough it would be his own damn fault if the boy died at the hands of the androids. Could he chance letting Future Trunks fight at his side when the boy wasn't ready? Yet he had to be.

“Earth to Gohan! You call me a space cadet, remember?” Future Trunks nudged him, giving his hip a squeeze as they stood there in silence.

“True,” his sensei nodded.

“What's with the one word answers? Are you pissed that tricked you?” Future Trunks asked, swinging out from Gohan's arm to stand right before him. Lavender brows wrinkled in a frown and Gohan again mumbled a curse.

“No and yes. I'm more pissed at myself because I should have known better,” Gohan answered, his eyes narrowing into that stern look that caused Future Trunks to tense.

“Oh,” Future Trunks answered, not sure of what to say.

He fought the impulse to laugh and joke whenever his sensei's face hovered between a serious frown and a reprimand. Still he tightened his grip on Future Trunks shoulder and said nothing as he pulled the younger man towards him. The urge to protect overpowered the urge to reprimand, and Trunks wound his arms around Gohan's waist, sensing an automatic need for body contact.

Fingers stroking Future Trunks soft hair, Gohan allowed more thoughts to spin through his brain. Oddly, the words “safety word” came into his head, and Gohan frowned at himself for another dearth of such thoughts. Not because they were centered on a male object of affection, but because they were surfacing at a very inopportune time. If he showed such concern for Future Trunks during times such as these, how could he possibly hope to be ruthless enough to harden his training? How could a warrior balance his concern for his pupil and still be as adamant as steel?

Piccolo had done it easily enough. Yet in teaching Gohan years ago, he had learned the softness of love. It was not a weakness but strength. He could still remember cowering in fear as Piccolo had thrown himself in the path of a Saibaman's ray. At that moment, Gohan knew that Piccolo had accepted what he had called a weakness. Love.

Love was not a weakness, Future Gohan reprimanded himself.

Yet why did he question it as he and Future Trunks glanced up at him expectantly, looking for more than just guidance at that moment? It was love that pushed Gohan to show the ruthlessness of Piccolo's training all these days when he knew Bulma would be furious when she found out. Could he afford to be soft when any moment could be his last, and Future Trunks would be alone without a guide, without a mentor?

Without a loved one, Gohan mentally added as realization dawned.

By now Future Trunks had pressed his face into Gohan's chest and his grip had tightened. Gohan leaned down again to pull Trunks face away and hold him at arm's length. Held against the hard solid body of the older Half Saiyan, Future Trunks felt himself quivering from head to toe. He could hardly imagine what the other was now thinking, peering up at him with confidence and the surety that always preceded a training session.

Son Gohan's eyes widened when he felt Future Trunks raise a hand of concern and touch the side of his cheek. Neither questioned what silence said. At that moment his sensei's eyes held such pain and frustration that Future Trunks wished he could somehow ease it. In turn, the open look of trust and determination gleaming in those blue eyes called to Gohan. It was but a split second, but they both knew what the other was thinking.

At the same time Gohan's fist tightened on Trunks shoulder, The demi leaned up towards his mentor. There was something electric and tingling like ki in the moment, and he felt the darkness of concern on that troubled brow. He sought to brush his lips against Gohan's cheek, but instead Gohan's descending profile brushed past his. Firm lips found his soft ones, and Trunks relaxed against his mentor's body as he was pressed to strong muscle clad in baggy gi. A slight brush of The demi lips against his caused Gohan to shiver, and he swept his tongue lightly forward.

Yielding to the older half Saiyan's advances, Future Trunks parted his mouth and a surge of hot breath moved between them both. Minute cracklings of ki tingled over his body, and Gohan tasted what seemed like electric blue. He didn't want to let go of the warmth he had found and protected through hard days of endless training. Yet he found himself angered that at some point he couldn't have the power to keep his word.

Future Trunks would have to protect himself one of these days. Moreover, that realization made him drink all the more firmly from the soft moving lips tasting his for the first time. Gently Gohan boosted him up and felt the wrap of young slender arms around his muscled neck. Lips parting for breath, their foreheads pressed tightly and damp with sweat, pants fanning each other's faces. As close as could be, cobalt blue eyes and ebony ones firmly locked, their determination shared.

“I won't always be able to protect you,” Son Gohan found himself saying.

“Don't be stupid. I don't need protecting. We'll both have each other's backs, Gohan. I promise,” The demi exhaled deeply, his gaze wide and full of wonder.

“I know,” Gohan began to mouth, but stifled his impulse to ruin the moment by moving his mouth again over Future Trunks.

Saying nothing, they basked and drank in the comfort that they could provide. Then reluctantly Gohan released him from the embrace, his mask of hard objectivity again arising. Licking his lips Future Trunks felt the awkwardness falling on them both.

“Gohan, are you all right?” The younger demi asked.

“Food would be good. I don't know about you, but my mom always cooks more than she can eat. And she's closer,” Gohan answered, cutting off Trunks concerned question.

“Sounds good to me, but are you sure you're okay?” The younger demi answered, frowning slightly that Gohan had suddenly plastered on what seemed like a generic Son smile and tugged at his sleeve.

“Show me if you can fly any faster, Trunks. You're going to need to crank up the pace to get there before its all gone, food wise,” the elder demi laughed. Already he levitated upwards, and Trunks blasted off after him so he wouldn't be left behind.

“Dammit Gohan, stop shutting me out,” Future Trunks found himself saying.

It was as if Gohan couldn't decide between being the stoic protector and someone free to feel. Far more than just friend or confidant, was he a lover perhaps? In catastrophic times like those they now inhabited, love was a rare treasure that he should seize while it lasted, lest it shatter forever unrequited. Would he have to settle for brief cracks in the façade, or would that kiss be the prelude to something else, The younger demi wondered. He didn't know that Gohan had the very same thought as they blazed their way across the ruined wastelands towards Gohan's mountain home.

Am I his sensei, lover, or both? Gohan pondered, his dark brows knitted in aggravation. Dare he even think of his own needs for one moment when so many counted on him?

Perhaps yes… he nodded soberly. Especially since love was the force that drove his father to greatness and beyond. Pure love in all forms no matter what was irrepressible.