Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Time's Lessons Learned ❯ Kid Trunks Time ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z, Akira Toriyama does. This work of fan fiction means no harm to the anime or manga. I get no money for writing this. My thanks to Lord Truhan for help with the ideas in this fan fiction.

 

This idea is based on the doujinshi Our Time written by Dragon Sisters: Manya and Minea, which wasn't written or drawn by me. I'm borrowing the ideas for this fan fiction and I'm attempting to fill in the missing pieces that happen before, during and after it.

 

 

It was great to have doting grandparents willing to babysit the future president of Capsule at the drop of a hat, Bulma Briefs realized. All the years she spent puttering in the lab when she wasn't undertaking child care were frequently breaks from her role as a mother. Added to that was her duties as capsule corps president. While she could hire nannies the best that money could buy, she opted instead to bring her son with her to the office where she could keep an eye on him. Alternatively, she simply allowed her mother to play granny daycare, knowing that her son was receiving the best of care.

For months after Cell's demise, her husband had either disappeared into the wilderness to train or mourn in the Saiyan fashion. It had taken a few weeks of his sitting on the edge of a cliff looking out at the sunsets before she realized she needed to intervene. Fortunately, Future Trunks returned and spent much time with his father, inventing a new goal for Vegeta to accede to. Within an hour of his first visit back, Vegeta and he blasted off to the wilderness and didn't return for an entire week. During that time, she examined the time machine, concerned with the readings on its energy demands. With each trip, the machine required more time to replenish its energy. Bulma's calculations showed disturbing implications, because each time Trunks navigated the temporal stream, he encountered more branch points replete with temporal eddies. Fortunately, between her and her father Dr. Briefs, they programmed an algorithm to help him compensate in the temporal coordinates. One of these times, she feared he wouldn't be able to return to his own time.

Despite the risk of that first visit back, it was more than worth it for it seemed to rejuvenate Vegeta. After Future Trunks visit gradually he spent more time watching her with the baby, and then actually entering the room while she did things as mundane as nursing or changing diapers. Gradually he even would have the child near him as he watched television, or lost himself in what he'd think was some mundane earth activity. Until the child reached age two and things changed.

At first Vegeta spent time simply modulating his energy and showing the child how to control ki. Trunks was fascinated at the glowing aura extending from his father's fingers, and would watch it with a serious face and a wave of his own chubby hand. Or else he would sit up, and toddle over to where Vegeta stood or sat generating the ki ball. Progressively the rapport between father and son unfolded so that Vegeta spent more time pursuing more earthly activities. Trips with Bulma to the shopping mall or to the amusement parks were not uncommon in the next seven years. As Trunks grew older, Vegeta's vow of never fighting again seemed invalid. Bulma allowed him to train Trunks, knowing it was the best outlet for his knowledge and healing of his broken spirit. He needed a purpose other than outpacing Son Goku, and investing that energy in Trunks was the best remedy.

With each passing year, Trunks grew into a mischievous and intelligent little boy. Even though he was spoiled in some ways, in others Bulma was glad most of it was due to Vegeta's continued involvement in the boy's life. Unfortunately, one side effect of his renewed interest in training the boy was rekindling his own interest in training himself. He spent longer periods in the gravity chamber, isolating himself only to spend what amounts of time he dared with his son or Bulma. Life became more compartmentalized where if he was not training trunks Vegeta was pushing himself to surpass the limits he'd reached during the Cell Games.

After seven years, Vegeta and she had finally achieved a good balance looking after the boy. Spoiled with attention in her mind was far better than being deprived of it. Trunks had plenty. Late nights in her laboratory were Bulma's escape from reality in to her own little world. Keeping up with an energetic seven year old was almost a full time job. Still her mind wandered to the occasional visits by their older son from an alternate timeline. Once a year he would stop by to check up on them, only to leave after his time machine was charged for another trip. During the next seven years, the trips grew less frequent until they abated altogether. During most of those rare visits, Future Trunks spent most of his time with Vegeta sparring in the gravity chamber or in space testing the new Capsule crafts. In orbit they could train to their heart's content without endangering anyone on Chikyuu.

Now on one such late night, she focused on her latest project; reorganizing her computer invention database. Vast blocks of memory were occupied with the calculations and programs used to run Capsule's inventions. She had one separate locked secure database just for her own proprietary inventions. As she swirled her coffee in its blue thermal Capsule mug she ran the mouse over an entry she had overlooked for quite a while

Her eyes blearily read the text. “Temporal algorithm beta three.”

“I'd almost forgotten about this. The latest modification in case he visits,” Bulma wondered, sipping her coffee. How long had it been between visits this time? At least four years, she realized, checking the entry notes. Her fingers flew gracefully over the keys, allowing her to scroll down the pages of equations and recheck the figures. When realizing the energy demands her eyes widened in near horror. Would it take the output of a nuclear plant to charge a machine this time if he happened to return? According to the time span, such recharging would require almost two months, if not three to completely restock the temporal power core.

“It increases geometrically each time,” Bulma sighed, setting down her cup with a clink. “Sooner or later, the power core won't be able to hold the necessary energy.”

To her, the barrier to overcome time travel was like pushing a rock up a hill. For each trip, the slope became steeper, requiring more to push it up. Yet the return trip from the past was not as taxing. Power requirements increased proportional to the number of trips he'd taken. She would download the log from his time machine each time he arrived, and store it in the corner of the lab so it could recharge without anyone jeopardizing it.

Tiny ripples radiated outward from the center of her coffee mug. She heard a faint clinking, realizing the cup was rattling on the surface of the desk. Minute vibrations seemed to creep through the floor, and even in the air itself. Then she heard the whoosh of what sounded like rocket engines outside the complex, and felt the ground lurch like an earthquake.

“Speak of the devil,” she gasped, leaping out of her chair. The hallway to her private lab was long, but she crossed it in just a matter of seconds to enter the main living quarters. Her mother and father were sitting near the television where Trunks sat hunched over a video game console.

Dr. Briefs was pacing back and forth, his ear glued to the phone. Spotting Bulma he shouted, “I'm getting too old for this! You tell that husband of yours he'd better stop scaring the local people of West City by breaking the sound barrier! I could hear the windows rattling over the Video game!”

“Daddy I'm sorry. I'm going to see who it is. Tell the security guards that I'm handling it!” Bulma said.

“Oh my,” Mrs. Briefs commented, standing up rather calmly. “Do we have visitors? They should be landing at the company airport…”

The phone at Bulma's waist rang, and she grabbed it. Her father glared at her as he returned to speaking to whoever it was on the phone. “I'll take care of it! There's no need to worry!” she told her security chief.

“Mom, what's that?” Trunks asked, tossing his game down. “I feel someone's ki… it must be papa, back from his training in the desert!”

“Now Trunks don't get so excited! Let Mommy see who it is before you go rushing off!” Bulma cautioned, catching the back of her son's shirt seconds as he whizzed past her.

However, the forward motion pulled her along and Trunks grabbed her hand. “Mom, its Papa! It has to be!”

“He only just taught you to sense ki, you can't be sure,” Bulma protested weakly. She struggled to keep up with his stride, and then realized her mother and father were huffing behind them.

“Is it that nice young man from the future? I'd better put on another pot of tea!” Mrs. Briefs panted.

“Honestly dear, you KNOW it's that son in law of ours making a ruckus! You'd better go prepare a nice big meal for him instead,” Dr. Briefs gasped as he stopped and leaned against the wall panting.

Outside on Capsule's front lawn, the security guards had already assembled. At sign of Bulma, they were withdrawing, though keeping a watchful eye on the sky above. Trunks glanced up, feeling his mother's hand squeezing his. “Stop right there young man! I told you not to run off!”

“That's not Papa's ki!” Trunks complained, his brow wrinkling in frustration. “But it's not Gohan or Goten's ki either! Who the heck is it?”

“That's what I'm trying to find out, Trunks. Now stay put!” Bulma said firmly but kindly. Sulking, Trunks folded his arms much like his father, and turned his head to the side.

“Up there, Ms. Briefs,” pointed the security chief, holding his binoculars. “IT looks like a capsule craft… and it's hovering…”

“There's no need to worry,” Bulma said quietly, shading her eyes with her hand. She glanced down at her son blinking up at the gleaming shimmer in the sky.

“Mom, he's pretty powerful. Almost as much as Papa is! Who is it and why are you going all weird on me? Is it some lame adult thing I have to be old enough to understand! I'm not a little kid you know!” Trunks reminded her.

“Do you remember when you were younger,” Bulma turned to him, realizing it was futile to try to send him back into the house. He was seven, and it was impossible to quell the curiosity of the boy.

“Yeah, so what?”

“I'm getting to it. Do you remember someone else, with hair the same color as yours who would play with you when you were young?” asked Bulma, watching the gleaming shape of the spiderlike time machine descend. Trunks tensed, his eyes narrowing as it fired retrorockets and descended to a graceful landing only fifty yards away. Like a ripple in a pool, the guards backed away and waited for their President to indicate what their next action was.

“Wait a minute, do you mean the guy who had the same name as me?” Trunks asked quietly. “Hold on… that's nuts…”

“Welcome to the insanity,” Bulma sighed, watching the gleaming dome slowly swing open, to reveal the jacketed figure sitting in the circular console. He leapt over the side, long hair swirling around his shoulders. She moved over to him, temporarily blocking her son's view of the stranger though he darted around her legs to protect is mother from what seemed a potential threat.

“Whoa, who are you?” Trunks demanded, his blue eyes widening in shock as he raised one hand glowing with blue ki.

Equally blue eyes gleamed from behind pieces of lavender hair. A strong hand swept them behind his ear as he strode forwards into the light. The white upon black of the Capsule corps logo decorated the shoulder of a dark blue jacket, worn over a black muscle shirt tucked into a pair of baggy pants with multiple pockets.

Two pairs of blue eyes widened. “Mom,” Trunks whispered, his arm thrown back. “Who are you?”

Over one shoulder Trunks could see the hilt of an old-fashioned sword, strapped to the traveler's back with a belt slung diagonally across his shirt. What floored Trunks most was the appearance of the stranger's face standing out handsomely from the long hair gathered at the nape of his neck in a ponytail. He felt as if he were looking into a funhouse mirror seeing a huge tall reflection of him in weird clothes. Even the sneakers were futuristic and strange.

“Trust me kid,” answered the stranger, glancing down with a smile on his face, looking at his younger counterpart. “It'd freak you out. Let's just say you were about three the last time I saw you, and I can't blame you if you don't remember…”

“Trunks, you remember Trunks don't you…” Bulma couldn't' resist giggling. “You know, from the future?”

“No way… wait… you're him,” Trunks trailed off. “It's like having a brother!”

“You could say that,” Future Trunks grinned, dropping down on one knee to look his younger doppelganger in the eye. Still a bit surprised the younger Trunks blinked up at him and almost flinched when Future Trunks reached out a hand and ruffled the lavender hair, cut short and styled identically to Bulma's.

“It's been ages!” Bulma exclaimed, rushing over and leaning down to hug him. Still unsure, Trunks watched his mother and the older Trunks embrace, huddled over as they were.

“I thought you were Papa,” Trunks mumbled.

“Don't blame you for doubting, you're only protecting your mom, just like I would,” Future Trunks smiled fondly at his younger self. “You've really grown big in the last four years!”

“Dad's been training me to fight. You're powerful. I bet I could kick your butt,” Trunks bragged.

“That I'd like to see. Where's your Dad?” Trunks asked.

“He's on a training trip,” Trunks rolled his eyes slightly. “He said I was too young to come.”

“Why don't we all go inside and talk about this over some hot chocolate,” Bulma suggested, laying her hands on the shoulders of either son. “Trunks is pretty tired after his long trip. I'll have the security men take the time machine into the lab to recharge.”

“So what's this about being some bizarre-type double of me with my name, huh? Mom, is this me or something, or are you someone else that looks like me or who's all older?” Trunks asked Future Trunks.

“Let's go in and I'll try to explain, or your mom will,” Future Trunks chuckled, straightening up. Arm around his shoulder, and holding the hand of her young son, she led them both inside.