Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Burden of Hope ❯ Gohan and Trunks; The Demi-Saiyan Kids Catch Up ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer: Yet again, I do not own DBZ, so don't bother suing me.

The Burden of Hope

CHAPTER FOUR: Gohan and Trunks--- The Demi-Saiyan Kids Catch Up

Trunks. Son of Bulma and Vegeta; in a way, the new prince of the Saiyajin. Gohan had suspected as much since he matched the strong ki with the toddler's body. Now that this suspicion had been confirmed, he wasn't certain what to make of his rescue. By sheer chance, it seemed, he was being confronted by one of the few living reminders of his past.

Neither of the two demi-saiyans had said a word since Trunks had spoken his name; Gohan was silenced by a tangle of confused feelings and Trunks was either close-lipped or mistrustful or both. A silence rich with turmoil weighted down the air.

Shaking his head, Gohan broke the tableau. "We shouldn't stay here. Come on." He turned sharply on his heel and began to walk off, but stopped when he realized that Trunks was not following him. Irritated, he asked, "Aren't you coming?"

Trunks didn't respond; he merely stood still, fear and hesitation plainly written in his blue eyes. Those eyes blinked uncertainly.

Very well then, Gohan thought; he was probably better off without the kid, anyway. "Fine. Stay there. Fend for yourself; I had to learn how to do that when I was about your age. I guess there's no reason why you shouldn't have to do the same."

He continued walking. A small part of him screamed that he couldn't leave a defenceless child to take care of himself, but he ignored it; as much as Gohan would be better off without Trunks, the toddler would be better off without Gohan. Goodness knew that the kid would probably have better survival odds on his own; Gohan's skills for protecting others were pretty minimal. Why put a little kid's death on his head along with the deaths of the others? He'd been through quite enough.

"Wait!" called Trunks' small voice. "Gohan, wait!" Halting, the older boy turned his head to see the toddler sprinting on his short legs to meet him. "I'll go with you; I don't wanna be by myself."

Unsure of whether or not to be pleased by this, Gohan nodded and started off again. "Let's go." Carefully, he stepped across piles of blasted concrete, not bothering to slow his pace for his young companion, who had to struggle to crawl over the large chunks; if Trunks wanted to come with him, he would have to keep up under his own power.

The way was not far; Gohan's intent was only to leave the city and he and Trunks had not gone in much past the outskirts. Half-crushed and half-melted stone gave way to fully dead grass which had no doubt been a vibrant green when the world had been at peace. So much that used to be beautiful was now ruined.

"Why are we going this way?" Trunks asked, moving his little legs in quick strides to accommodate for Gohan's larger steps. "Shouldn't we go somewhere where there's people?"

Annoyed, Gohan sighed heavily; for having spent his entire remembered life in this world, Trunks had a pitiful amount of knowledge about how things worked. "That's not safe; large groups of people attract the androids. It's better if it's just the two of us."

Trunks lowered his eyes in understanding and remained silent. His lids were half-closed, and he blinked a few times; his walk faltered a bit but did not slow. Clearly, he was tired; at this time of day and after all the excitement that the toddler had experienced, Gohan supposed that it was only natural for him to be sleepy. In truth, the older boy was a touch tired himself; it had been years since he'd last transformed into a Super Saiyajin and the enhanced form exacted a price on his body. Not training during the past few years could not have helped matters.

His eyes scanned the landscape; the grassy plain stretched on for the full range of Gohan's Saiyajin vision. Remembering his desperate search for cover during his rescue of Trunks, he came to the conclusion that the area around the city they'd just left was an enemy to those who wished to avoid unpleasant attention; just because the androids were attracted to large population centres didn't mean that they wouldn't pick off a few strays who they found wandering through the countryside. Gohan would have dearly loved to fly and search for shelter, but decided against it. Such an action would be terribly conspicuous; he was the only one left besides the androids who could fly under his own power. Chances of finding cover tonight were too slim to count as being present.

"Stop," Gohan ordered, placing his hand on Trunks' shoulder to halt the toddler's forward motion. Night had put the sky in its mouth and swallowed it whole. "There's no point in going any further tonight. Besides, you look tired."

The little boy bobbed his head in agreement, then flopped himself onto the ground with a soft thud. "I am. Mama usually makes me go to bed before it gets this dark." His eyes, their bright blue still easily visible in the darkness, began to shimmer as tears gathered in them. "Mama…"

Eying Trunks carefully, Gohan sat down next to him, dead grass crackling as he put his weight upon it. He found himself wondering why the little boy hadn't been with his mother; Bulma---the Bulma that Gohan remembered, anyway---would not let her only child out of her sight. If they weren't together… "What happened to your mother?"

Trunks sniffled, and tears seeped from the corners of his eyes. "I don't know," he answered huskily. "There was a really bright light and a big scary sound and the ground started to shake and then I couldn't see Mama anymore. Mama always told me to run away if I couldn't see her when the bad robots were around, so I did. Then the bad lady-robot tried to get me and then you came and saved me."

The toddler fell silent, tears now slowly rolling down his cheeks; Gohan simply looked at him, blinking every few seconds as he absorbed the story. If Bulma had been among the group of people running, there was virtually no way that she would have survived the attack, but if she hadn't been, the odds were pretty good that she was still alive. Trunks' story suggested that the latter was the case.

"I miss my mama; I hope the bad robots didn't get her," Trunks said softly. "I don't have a papa. Mama says the bad robots got him when I was just a baby." He raised his head and looked Gohan straight in the eye. "Where's your mama and papa? Don't you have them?"

The question was immediately offensive; Gohan flinched as if struck and looked away, a scowl hardening his features. "That's none of your business," he growled. "I thought you said that you were tired; why don't you just go to sleep?"

He didn't turn his head to see the younger boy's reaction; after a moment, he heard dead grass crumple as Trunks lay down. The only sound in the air now was the chirping of a few crickets; the sound was homey, in an odd sort of way, as though he'd just been tucked in by his mother for a peaceful night's sleep.

Gohan's scowl deepened. What foolish thoughts he was having. Home. Family. He hadn't had either of those things in years and preferred to keep memories of them out of his head; they were one of the few things that could still cause him pain. The kid had just had to dredge this up, hadn't he?

Where are my parents, Trunks? he thought sardonically. Well, my father is dead; some baka heart virus stole him from me when I was nine years old. I haven't seen my mother since the day that the androids first attacked; in all likelihood, she's still alive, but I can't face her because I let everybody die.

"Gohan." Startled, he jumped and looked down at Trunks; he'd assumed that the little boy had fallen asleep. The child wore a confused frown on his face as he continued, "My mama used to know a little boy with that name; she said he was real nice but the bad robots got him the same day they got my papa."

Gohan smiled bitterly. "For what it's worth, Trunks, I sometimes wish that they had 'gotten' me."

"Why?" The toddler appeared genuinely puzzled now. "I saw what they do; it's really mean and scary. Why do you wish they did mean and scary things to you?"

Caught off-guard, Gohan blinked, but after a few seconds, his frown returned. Why was he even talking about this with a four-year-old? "You wouldn't understand."

"You're strange, Gohan," Trunks went on. "Most people are happy when the bad robots don't get them."

"Yeah, well, I'm not most people, Trunks," Gohan retuned sullenly; this conversation was starting to get on his nerves.

"But…"

"Didn't I tell you to go to sleep?"

Trunks flinched at his harsh tone. "Hai. Gomen," he apologized meekly, resting his head on the grass once again and closing his eyes. Gohan stared at him for a long time, even after the toddler's breathing faded into the quiet rhythm of sleep.

Did he really have the right to be so angry with Trunks? The kid was only asking innocent questions; he hadn't meant to cause any pain. But he'd caused it nonetheless, and had to be silenced before he inflicted more harm. Gohan's most familiar feeling---guilt---swelled in his mind; however, this guilt was of a different kind than the one to which he'd grown accustomed. Normally, the feeling came when he thought about how he'd let his friends die. Now, though, it came because he'd hurt someone's feelings; there was no mistaking the wounded look in Trunks' eyes before the toddler had fallen asleep. The old Gohan had always chosen his words carefully, fearful as he was of offending people; it seemed that a little of that self still existed within him.

For all the good that does me, he thought wryly. His old self wouldn't last an hour in this world; he'd be off doing stupid things like trying to take on the androids every time they attacked. Not that he'd have been doing that for long, anyway; it had only been dumb luck that he'd survived the first battle. In any future conflict, they'd be quite a bit more thorough in their work.

Truthfully, Gohan did not know why he cared if he lived or died; he did wish that the androids had killed him along with his friends three years ago and yet he still bothered to feed and shelter himself. Not exactly the actions of someone who really wanted to die. Trunks was right: he was strange.

Slowly, Gohan turned his right palm upward and channelled some ki into it; a flickering ball of icy blue came to life, illuminating his high, pale cheeks and contemplative obsidian eyes. A soft breeze soughed through the air, stirring his stiff black hair a bit. All it would take was releasing the ki ball over his heart.

"Piccolo-san, Kurilin-san…" A look of pain flooded his eyes as he whispered the names. When the next came, his voice was even softer. "…Otousan…"

Terrible visions deluged his mind: Kurilin rushing into the path of Android Seventeen's pseudo-ki blast… the huge hole torn through Piccolo's chest… his father lying in bed, face ashen and hair limp…

Of its own accord, Gohan's hand moved over his chest; the adolescent was about to release the ki ball when his gaze rose to Trunks.

The toddler's chest rose and fell with the rhythm of his breathing. Belying the peacefulness of this sight, his head tossed a bit; by the light of the ki ball, Gohan could see that the child's eyes were tightly squeezed shut. Small whimpers occasionally escaped his lips. Nightmares about the androids, perhaps?

Gohan had a sudden vision of Trunks awakening the next morning to find his corpse. He could see the little boy, tears streaming down his young face, shaking his body in a vain attempt to revive him. He knew the pain the child would experience; he'd felt it himself three years before. A small boy waking up alone save for the presence of death…

The ki ball extinguished, allowing the darkness of night to settle once again over the two demi-saiyan boys. Feeling more tired than any of his actions today could account for, Gohan lay down to sleep. Before he permitted himself to drop off, he thought of how ironic it was that Trunks was the reason that he'd considered suicide, and was also the reason that he didn't go through with it.

"Gohan, wake up!" Small hands shook his shoulder. Irritably, Gohan opened his eyes to see Trunks standing over him. The toddler's face was dirty and pieces of grass were stuck to his hair. Gently pushing him back a few steps, Gohan sat up, blinking and looking toward the sky.

Dawn was breaking, the fires of the sun incinerating the night with their yellow-orange light. No clouds were in sight; the heavens gave every indication of being clear today. Gohan hated clear days; they shouted out the most atrocious lie: that everything was fine, that all was right with the world. The adolescent found it sickening.

Wiping a hand across his face, Gohan turned his attention back to Trunks. "Do you always get up this early?"

The child shrugged. "No, not usually. But I was having bad dreams and was too scared to go back to sleep." A haunted look briefly passed through his eyes. "I was still scared when I woke up, so I came and woke you up." He cast his eyes downward and bowed his head. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and meek. "I hope you're not mad at me."

Gohan sighed, knowing that Trunks was thinking about his harshness the previous night. "No, I'm not mad at you. Look, I didn't mean to snap at you last night. I just… nevermind."

Standing up, Gohan stretched and brushed blades of grass out of his wild hair. He was still tired all over; his night of sleep hadn't been much more restful than Trunks'---probably less so. If the kid thought his nightmares were terrible, he had a lot to learn.

Not that anyone else who would have seen it would have considered it a nightmare; Gohan was the only one who could see it in that particular way. He'd been dreaming of home, but had been removed from the scene, nothing more than an invisible spectator. He'd seen himself as a boy of perhaps eight talking and laughing with his father as they sat by the river near their little house in the woods. Reaching up his hand, his father had placed it gently on his head, mussing his hair and suggesting that they head inside before they could get yelled at. Gohan had seen himself bob his head in agreement and all but bound after his father, smiling broadly, as they travelled back to the house. At the front door, his mother had stood, an angry scowl on her pretty face; she'd rounded on his father, screaming at him for keeping her baby boy away from his studies for too long. His father had put a hand behind his head, nervously chuckling and bashfully apologizing…

"Gohan?" a young voice asked as Gohan felt a few small tugs on his pant leg; he looked down to see Trunks eying him concernedly. "Are you okay?"

Realizing that he'd been absorbed in the memory of his dream, Gohan nodded. "Hai, Trunks. I'm fine. I… I just had bad dreams, too."

His brow knitted in curious confusion as Trunks patted his leg sympathetically. "It's a good thing I woke you up, then; now there's nothing bad going on. We're both safe, now; dreams can't hurt you when you're not sleeping."

That's easy for him to say, Gohan thought. In a way, he envied the toddler, envied him fiercely; Trunks' nightmares were nothing but phantoms of fear, appearing with the night and vanishing with the dawn. Gohan's nightmares were spectral sadists, gleefully torturing him both in darkness and in daylight, allowing him no peace. Little kids had it so easy.

"Sure, Trunks," he said noncommittally. "Well, there's no point in staying here any longer; we might as well get going."

Before Gohan could take a step, Trunks asked, "Where are we going?"

Gohan idly scanned the area with his eyes, deciding what direction in which to head. "I never go anywhere in particular. Mostly, I just wander from place to place; I don't really have anywhere to go."

Trunks frowned in puzzlement and cocked his head; these actions in combination with his sharp features gave him the look of a fledgling bird. "Nowhere to go? Don't you have a home?"

Gohan's expression darkened. "No."

"Oh," Trunks responded softly, lowering his eyes. "I guess the bad robots wrecked it, didn't they?"

"In a way," the older boy replied thoughtfully after a moment of hesitation, "I suppose they did."

A loud growl broke the ensuing silence; putting a hand over his stomach, Trunks gave Gohan a bashful look from under his pale eyebrows. "Gomen. I'm kind of…"

"Hungry?" Gohan finished for him. "Me too; I haven't eaten all that much in the last couple of days. I'll try to find us something."

He stopped using his eyes and began casting his senses outward in a search for the faint ki of wildlife. He'd never been particularly great at this task, but had improved tremendously over the past few years; if he hadn't, he'd have starved to death long ago. To the west, he could feel the ki of several thousand humans---no doubt the residents of the city he and Trunks had left. In all of the other compass points, Gohan could detect the extremely faint traces of ki that he had little doubt came from animals.

"That way," he said, jerking his chin toward the north, where the ki was the strongest.

Trunks leaned to one side to peek around his legs, eyes wide with excitement. "Really?" He took off at roadrunner speed, leaping in youthful exuberance every few strides.

Gohan watched him for a moment, thinking about how much the toddler reminded him right now of the younger version of himself that he'd seen in his dream---someone who was happy to be alive and showed it unabashedly. The sight briefly brought back the awful, empty feeling of loss that the dream had created. Dreams couldn't hurt those awake, indeed.

Shaking his head to dispel the dark thoughts, Gohan ran after Trunks before the toddler could get too far ahead of him.