Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Unlikely Bond ❯ Happy Birthday, Trunks ( Chapter 36 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of the characters! If I did, the anime would never end and GT would have never happened!

Story notes: This takes place ten years after the Buu saga. The only differences I can think of is that the whole thing with the world tournament in the last episode never happened and Goku didn't leave to train Uub. I wouldn't count on anything from the movies being part of this story's time line either, 'cause I haven't seen them all and they usually don't fit into the show's time line anyway. Especially that Broly crap. Vegeta cried through, like, that whole movie! That certainly didn't happen in this story....but, that's a different rant altogether. Hope you enjoy!

PLEASE heed warning in story description!! If you missed it, this story is not for children! It is also not for people who do not like stories that contain elements of violence, strong language, adult situations, references to sex and sexual activity between men and women, and men and other men. Oh, and fictional alien men having babies...'cause that's a'happen' here folks...

To my wonderful, wonderful beta-reader, Rowina: Thank you, thank you....thank you... ^-^

With her mind now occupied with Trunks’ birthday celebration, Bulma had little time to talk with Vegeta about tails or Saiyan customs. The world, for the third week in December, revolved around her little boy turning nineteen. One consideration she had made, however, was making sure the Son family arrived first. She didn’t want Goku to deal with the discomfort of showing up into a room full of people, nor did she want her other friends to sweat out the anticipation of seeing him. This was, after all, their first get together since finding out Goku’s and Vegeta’s ‘news’.

“Goku!” Mrs. Briefs exclaimed cheerfully, taking him by the hand and leading him into the house. “Why, you are just looking sweeter every day!”

Bulma had little trouble explaining the details of the situation to her father, but her mother was living under the assumption that Goku was selflessly playing surrogate to his and Vegeta’s dying race.

Goku blushed, but smiled politely as he followed the older woman. Chi Chi tried not to frown and motioned Goten to follow them inside.

“Thank you, Mrs. Briefs, ma’am,” Goku replied. “I...um...thanks...”

“Now you just sit your little tushie right here,” she directed him, guiding him to the sofa. “And I will get you some refreshments!”

“Mom,” Bulma groaned, as she entered the room. “I asked you not to fuss over him.”

Mrs. Briefs gave Bulma a pat on the cheek.

“Every expectant mother needs fussing over, dear!” she explained before whisking herself into the kitchen. Bulma shook her head.

“Sorry about that,” she spoke to them. “Can I get you all anything?”

“Yes, please,” Goku replied. “I would love something to drink...and eat...but a drink will be fine.”

“Ditto,” Goten added, sitting at his father’s side. Chi Chi replied with:

“I’m fine, thank you. Where would you like the gifts, Bulma?”

Bulma smiled, praying that she did not look as uneasy as she felt.

“Oh, I will take them...thank you...” She removed the two neatly wrapped gifts from the younger woman’s hands. “Well, please...have a seat...I’ll be right back...”

The three sat quietly waiting for her return. They were greeted momentarily by Bulla.

“Hi, Goten!” she spoke, giving the teen a dazzling smile. “How are you?”

Goten grinned back at her.

“Pretty good, sport. Where’s your brother?”

“He’s in his room getting dressed. He and Daddy were training.” Her smiled faded slightly as she looked past Goten to his father. Goku smiled at her.

“Hi, Bulla,” he told her.

Bulla moved past Goten and settled between the teen and his father.

“Can I touch your belly?” she asked Goku, abruptly.

“Uh,” Goku glanced nervously to Chi Chi before he answered. “Sure...”

Bulla stared at his midsection a moment before gently laying her hand on it. She looked thoughtful as she sat.

“Can you feel it moving?” she asked. Goku shook his head.

“No,” he replied. “Your mom says that won’t happen for another few weeks, maybe.”

“Oh,” she commented.

Goten threw his arm her, pulling her from Goku.

“Soon enough it will be here, and you can torment it mercilessly, like I do you,” he told her, grinding his knuckles against her skull.

“Goten!” she shrieked, wiggling from his grasp and giving him an indignant look before dashing up the stairs. Goten shrugged.

“What did I do?”

Bulma came back into the room, followed by a domestic bot, in time to see Bulla’s retreat.

“You didn’t touch her hair, did you?” she asked Goten, as she handed him a drink.

“Uh...woops...” he grinned. “Thanks.”

Bulma grinned and shook her head as she handed a drink to Chi Chi and one to Goku. She took a bowl that the bot carried on a tray and handed it, as well, to the expecting Saiyan.

“To tide you over,” she explained.

Goku happily took the dish, filled with a fresh fruit salad, from her hands.

“Thanks!”

“I see that you already have your Christmas decorations up,” Chi Chi spoke, making small talk. “Your home looks lovely.”

“Thank you,” Bulma smiled. “It gets a little hectic at this time of year, with the holidays and Trunks’ birthday, but my mother loves to decorate...”

“And here’s the birthday boy!” Goten exclaimed. Both Chi Chi and Bulma were grateful for the interruption as those in the room turned to the newest arrival. Trunks smiled as Goten approached him, punching him in the chest before hugging him. “Our baby’s all grown up!” the younger teen wailed, dramatically.

“Happy birthday, Trunks,” Goku addressed him.

“Thanks. How are you doing?”

“Pretty good. How was the sparring?”

Trunks laughed. He guessed that the first thing Goku would ask him about was training.

“It was good. Dad was teaching me some advanced ki techniques, but he said that we had to stop because if we destroyed the house on the day of the party, Mom would flip.” The group laughed at his explanation, except for Chi Chi who seemed shocked Vegeta had considered consequences to his action.

“Your father’s a smart man,” Bulma spoke just as a knock alerted her to the door. She smiled widely, grabbing her newest guest by the arm and pulling him inside. “Where is Kiani?” she demanded.

Yamucha grinned sheepishly and spoke in a quiet tone.

“I didn’t think that the birthday party of the ex-love-of-my-life’s oldest son with the alien she left me for, who is now fathering a child with our oldest friend who is also an alien, and male by the way, was an appropriate event to introduce her to the gang,” he explained. “Seemed a little...much...”

“I didn’t leave you for Vegeta, and I’m beginning to think these girls are not-so-clever hoaxes,” she grumbled in reply. “And you better not have bought Trunks pornography like last year.”

Yamucha laughed as he strolled into the living room.

“He turned eighteen last year, I had to buy porn,” he defended himself. “Hey! Birthday boy!” he greeted Trunks, embracing the teen.

“Hi, Yamucha,” Trunks replied. “Thanks for coming,”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Yamucha assured him. He handed the youth a brightly colored gift bag, erupting with complimenting tissue paper. “For you,” he explained. Trunks thanked him again and added the girt to the table his mother had designated for the presents. Yamucha turned to Goku, an uneasy smile on his face. “Uh...hey, man...” he spoke, trying to sound casual.

“Hi!” Goku replied, his own smile warm and natural.

Yamucha watched Goku as he finished his snack, his eyes trying their best not to glance down at the Saiyan’s stomach. If he hadn’t been told of Goku’s condition, he probably wouldn’t have even guessed that his young friend’s shapeless, oversized T-shirt hid evidence of his impeding parenthood. But then again, he considered as he found himself now staring at the subtle bump under the navy colored shirt, Goku with anything other than a completely flat, muscular abdomen was worthy of suspicion.

The doorbell chimed, and Bulma excused herself again to answer.

“Hello!” Krillin greeted her as she opened the door. “We come bearing birthday cheer!”

Bulma smiled at their group: Krillin, 18, Marron, Master Roshii, Oolong and even the turtle.

“Come in, come in!” she replied, stepping aside. “Please.”

Bulma motioned them to the living room, crossing her arms over her chest to protect her bosom as the Turtle hermit and the shape shifting pig made their way past. Unfortunately, the move left her rear end exposed.

“Aiee!” she screeched, quickly slapping away the hand that gave her the pat. She grabbed a fistful of Roshii’s collar as she shouted. “Vegeta is here, you know!”

Roshii laughed, holding out his gift for Trunks to her.

“Well, I’m getting so old that it would be quite a way to go!” he explained. Bulma snatched the gift and gave him a forceful shove into the adjoining room. His was certainly a gift she would have to open herself before letting her son have it.

18 and Krillin were seated in the living room when Bulma returned. Trunks and Goten had gone to the kitchen to retrieve refreshments for the newest arrivals. What little chatter that was occurring came to a halt as Marron hesitantly approached Goku.

“Uncle...” she began, quietly, holding something tightly in her arms. “I...I have something...”

“Uh, baby,” Krillin began nervously, “I don’t think now is the right time...”

Goku looked between the father and daughter before he spoke.

“It’s okay, Krillin,” he said. He smiled at Marron. “What is it, kiddo?”

Shyly, Marron unfolded her arms and held the item out for the Saiyan’s view. Goku’s eyes widened, and he looked down at the offering.

It was a Teddy bear.

A soft, fuzzy brown Teddy bear. Attached to its mouth was a pale green pacifier, and it was dressed in nothing but a tiny white diaper.

“It’s for you...for the baby...” the young girl finished, blushing. Goku took the stuffed animal from her, staring at it.

“Thank you, Marron,” he whispered. “I...thank you...”

“Marron,” Bulma broke in, gaining the teen’s attention. “If you want, you can go up to Bulla’s room. She’s probably still doing her hair.”

“Thank you, Miss Bulma,” she replied, giving Goku another smile before she left the room.

Krillin leaned toward Goku, whose attention was still on the gift in his hands.

“She wanted to show you that she was happy for you, Goku,” he explained, concern obvious in his tone. “We didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything...she just...she just thinks that what you are doing is really nice...I mean...” He blushed nervously himself as Goku turned his attention to him. “She is fourteen, Goku...we couldn’t think of anything to tell her...but the truth...”

Goku surprised him with a smile.

“It’s okay, Krillin. I’m not upset, I’m...touched...”

Bulma grimaced as she watched the two friends on the couch speaking quietly to one another. She also took note of the toy in Goku’s hands. So much for trying to keep things comfortable.

“Everyone,” she announced, gaining the room’s attention. “If you all would like, we should move into the dining hall. There is plenty of food, drinks and entertainment.”

There were sounds of agreement as the assembly moved on. Bulma sighed as she followed behind them. Hopefully the evening would go smoothly from here. She was only anticipating one more bump in the road this evening, and that would be with the appearance of Vegeta.


Within the hour, all of the invited guests had arrived and were having quite a lively time in the dining hall. Goku’s condition seemed to be unanimously ignored in favor of questioning him about his newly grown tail. Goten and Trunks were entertaining the girls with karaoke, and the rest were now settling in to enjoy the fine array of food that was offered in the vast buffet.

Bulma settled down in the corner of the room and watched her children. She loved moments such as these when she could watch them without their notice, and marvel at how beautiful and perfect they were. The feeling was a tad bittersweet as she looked upon her son, tall and handsome, and wondered exactly when he ceased to be the chubby baby that she used to cradle in her arms.

She closed her eyes, reliving the moment she first held him. She had been tired and in pain, but the world seemed to slip away when her eyes locked with his. His little face displayed his irritation, such a tiny, prefect replica of his father that it had made her laugh out loud. And she had looked up from her son to Vegeta, who was staring just as raptly as she at the newborn. It was that moment that it really struck her that the world may have needed saving from the androids...but Vegeta needed saving from himself.

Bulma sipped her champagne as she considered. Yes, saving Vegeta was a goal she would pursue to her grave, if she had to...

“Zeni for you thoughts?”

Bulma smiled up at Yamucha as he slid into the chair beside her.

“Just thinking about how my little baby has become a man,” she replied. Yamucha covered her hand with his and gave it a squeeze before drawing back. “...he’s changed so much...”

“We all have,” Yamucha commented. “All of us...”

Bulma narrowed her eyes as she turned to her companion, but remained silent. Yamucha shrugged and took a long drink from his beer.

“Serious, though, Bulma,” he commented, looking across the room at her son. “You raised a good kid there.”

Bulma smiled.

“Yeah...but he still has a little rebellious side, too...” She turned to her friend, her smile still in place as she continued. “So if you keep encouraging his delinquency by pouring beer into his punch cup, I’m going to have to take you outside. I’m sure Chi Chi would help me, too, for all that you have given her little angel tonight.”

Yamucha laughed at her accusation.

“They’ve had maybe the equivalent of a bottle and a half each, maybe,” he defended himself. “I can’t help but be the irresponsible uncle!”

“Then you won’t mind when we call you back to clean up the vomit from them drinking that dinosaur piss?”

Yamucha nearly came out of his seat at the sound of the humorless, deep voice.

“Uh, hey Vegeta,” he greeted, unconsciously scooting his chair away. “I didn’t know you were there.”

Vegeta smirked and moved around the table to sit at Bulma’s side. She smiled at him and squeezed his arm.

“I’ll go get you something to eat,” she told him. “You boys play nice while I’m gone.”

Yamucha tried not to give her a panic stricken look as she left the two alone. He looked down at his beer and wondered if he should just remain silent.

“What did you bring my son?”

Yamucha looked up at the prince, but Vegeta had kept his eyes turned to where the children were. Yamucha swallowed hard.

“N-nothing like last year, I promise,” he said. Vegeta turned his dark eyes slowly to regard the other man with a look that said, ‘you better be right’. “Believe me, Bulma taught me that lesson...”

There was silence between them again. Yamucha began to peel the label from his beer bottle, unsure if he should speak. He didn’t want Vegeta to think that he didn’t care about what had happened between him and Goku, because he did. Like it or not, over the two decades he knew the unapproachable Saiyan, he had still come to respect him as someone Bulma loved and the father of two children whom Yamucha adored.

“Vegeta,” he blurted out, suddenly. Vegeta turned to him. Yamucha kept his eyes on the amber colored bottle in his hands as he spoke. “I’m really sorry about what happened...I mean, I know that there is nothing I could have done...I guess I’m sorry about that, too...but…” He shrugged. “You didn’t deserve that...I hope you killed the bastard responsible...”

Vegeta stalled the scowl that was beginning to darken his features. He wanted to punch the idiot for daring to speak to him. But he knew it was a human way to talk feelings to death. And in his own way, Yamucha was just trying to show his support...that is what the woman would say...

“I can’t confirm that he was breathing when I left,” the prince answered tightly.

Yamucha nodded, looking up to him.

“I hope he wasn’t.”

The two fell quiet as Bulma approached the table carrying a heaping plate of food in one hand and a large glass of lemonade in the other.

“You boys getting along?” she grinned. She got a raised eyebrow from Vegeta and a lopsided grin from Yamucha in response. “Well, good,” she laughed, placing the food in front of her husband. “So tell me, you guys think it is time for gifts so we can get on to cake and ice cream?”

Vegeta shrugged, and Yamucha replied.

“Maybe you should ask Trunks?”

Bulma nodded and left them again to speak to the teen. Within a couple of minutes, she addressed the entire room.

“Everyone! If I could please get you all to take a seat, Trunks is now going to open the lovely gifts that you all have brought for him!”

There was movement in the room as the assembly began to fill the tables. Bulla ran up to the table where her father was seated, skidding to a halt as she was torn between who to sit with. As much as she adored Yamucha, she would rather sit in her father’s lap, but he was eating. Vegeta jerked his head toward the other to tell her he was busy. Bulla grinned and placed herself on Yamucha’s lap.

“I hope he opens mine first!” she exclaimed, before shouting to her brother. “Open mine first, brother!”

Trunks smiled and nodded to her in reply.

Bulla smiled happily as Bulma pulled a chair to the center of the room and seated Trunks in it, handing him Bulla’s brightly wrapped gift.

“I did that myself,” she informed Yamucha, leaning back.

Trunks unwrapped the gift, only mildly embarrassed at being the center of attention. Inside of the small white box was a designer label, black leather wallet. His initials were embossed in the corner, and the photo sleeves held one picture of his parents, one of him as child, holding his newborn baby sister on a pillow on his lap, and a more recent photo of him and Bulla, with the little girl’s arms firmly locked around his neck. Trunks smiled and looked over at his sister, whom seemed quite pleased with herself.

“Thank you, Bulla,” Trunks spoke to her. Bulla only smiled.

The group watched the young prince continue to open his gifts and thank the giver. There was a small moment of embarrassment when he opened Oolong’s gift, a vintage ‘Beauties of West City’ calendar that had a very young, very tiny bikini clad Bulma Briefs proudly displayed as Miss July. Bulma had used the calendar to smack the pig over the head, shouting indignantly that ‘that was not appropriate!’. The pig claimed ignorance.

“It hardly looks like you!” he told her, cowering. That statement only seemed to fuel her fire.

“What do you mean! I’m just as beautiful as I was then!”

“So your eyesight must be going in your old age...” Ooolong continued to bait her. Master Roshii reached for the calendar.

“Here, I’ll tell you.”

Bulma pulled the offending item out of his reach.

“Like your eye sight is reliable! Uh! And I am not old!” She took the gift and set it on the table next to Vegeta. Both Oolong and Roshii seemed crestfallen at losing their chance to ogle it. “Now, I’m sorry, sweetie,” she addressed Trunks. “...let me get you something else.”

Yamucha watched Vegeta as he wiped his hands on a napkin before picking up the calendar and flipping it open to the summer months. He watched as the prince’s eyes scanned the photo before turning to look upon his wife. Vegeta turned to Yamucha, a smug smile on his face as he closed the pages and placed the calendar next to his chair.

Yamucha laughed lightly, understanding. It was then that he noticed Daikkon standing quietly at the prince’s side.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Yamucha asked him. Daikkon gave him a smile and nodded.

“It is quite interesting. This is a festive event that I am not accustomed to, so it is also educational in a way.”

“Saiyans don’t have birthday parties?” Yamucha asked. The question cause Bulla’s head to snap around to view the Saiyan as well.

“What?!” she asked. Daikkon looked to Vegeta for some indication that he could speak. Vegeta raised an eyebrow, silently permitting him to continue.

“It is Saiyan custom to celebrate the anniversary of a birth, yes,” he began. “But the child is not the sole focus of the event.” Bulla gave a grunt of disgust but continued to listen. “It is quite the reverse. Saiyan children celebrate the anniversary of their birth by preparing a devotion to their parents. The act depends on the age of the child. Very young ones simply participated, in whatever capacity they could, in preparing a meal. Older children would hunt for a beast suitable to present. Adult children would present gifts of fine goods or trophies from a fine kill.”

“Kids gave the presents to their parents?” Bulla asked incredulously. Daikkon laughed.

“Yes, princess. But the parents gave something equally precious,” he explained. Bulla and Yamucha listened while Vegeta pretended to be interested in the wall. “Parents gave the gift of history. Telling a tale called the ‘Ah-mek Dan’, or ‘Warrior’s Tale’. It chronicled the story of the child’s conception and its birth. Saiyan children coveted the story of their place in Saiyan society, born as warriors into a warrior clan.” Daikkon addressed Bulla specifically when he spoke next. “I used to look forward to my birth anniversary every year, to hear my mother relate to me my Ahmek Dan.” Bulma had come to stand by Vegeta as the young Saiyan continued his story. “When there was actually an abundance of Saiyans, this tale was told in front of the entire clan. Each member would be fully versed in the beginnings of each other. And when that member of the clan would depart this world, their death would be added to the Dan and told on their birth anniversary by those who survived them.”

“Wow,” Yamucha replied, “that’s really neat. So no one would be forgotten.” Daikkon nodded.

“Only when a Saiyan was exiled from his clan, and only the king had such authority, would his Ahmek Dan cease to be told. It was a regrettable occurrence.”

“Well,” Bulma spoke happily, “I certainly don’t want Trunks to not know the story of his birth.”

“That’s personal, woman,” Vegeta growled, his eye twitching in irritation. “Your friends don’t want to hear of how we conceived our young.”

“I’m not going into detail,” she huffed. “You don’t have to say a thing.”

“Well, I was there when he was born,” Yamucha added. “I can tell the part that I know.”

Bulma clapped her hands together once and turned to her son.

“Trunks,” she announced, giving him a wide smile. “This is the story of how you were born. Your...A...um..” She turned quickly back to Daikkon.

“Ah mek,” he said, pronouncing the word slowly.

“Yes!” Bulma turned back to her son. “Your Ah-mek Dan.” Daikkon nodded.

“Your own warrior’s tale.”

A/N: Next up, a two part tale of the birth of Trunks! Just a little back-story for your reading pleasure! I will try to update quicker next time!

I can't thank you all enough for reading this far and for all of the support you have given me. I'm sorry that this wasn't updated in a very timely manner. I've hit a few more rough spots in the health department of my life. No biggies, just annoying stuff...Anyway, I hope you all find this chapter a bit entertaining. It is a little side route that my fingers felt the need to type and my brain wanted to explore. Sorry if it is not up to par with the rest of the tale...I dunno...I hope you like it!!! B