The Darkness Within
Vejiita slowly opened his eyes, blinking a
little and then groaning as he immediately noticed the stiffness of his neck.
"Kuso," he muttered, slowly
pulling himself up to his hands and knees, then sitting back on his heels as
his hand cupped the back of his neck. He groaned again, forcing himself to turn
his head from side to side, working out the stiffness. He frowned, trying to
remember what had happened.
Then he winced as a split lower lip cracked
slightly. He raised his hand, fingertips brushing over the dried blood on his
lips and chin, then flushed as everything came rushing back.
"Kakarrot," Vejiita growled through
clenched teeth, gingerly rising to his feet despite the protests of his sore
body.
"Yeah?" another voice called quietly,
and Vejiita whipped around to find Goku seated on the ground a few yards away,
leaning his back against a thick tree trunk.
Vejiita found himself hoping that the dim light
beneath the trees served to hide his deepening blush. He turned away for a
moment, quieting the rising panic and anger in his chest. His eyes closed
briefly as he remembered what had passed between them in humiliation. Kakarrot
knew. No one had ever known, and now Kakarrot, of all people....
He realized that he didn’t want to face the other Saiya-jin. Coward, his
mind jeered at him. He growled to himself. Why should he care what Kakarrot
thought? The fool was only an idiot warrior of the third class.
But he’s not an idiot anymore, and he’s the
only other pure-blooded Saiya-jin left,
the voice reminded him smugly.
God, I will not let him think me weak... I am
not weak! He will know me as his prince!
Vejiita thought, his hands unconsciously curling into fists.
A hand on his shoulder startled him from his
musing and he flinched, jerking away from the touch while turning to face Goku,
not liking the feeling the contact sent through him, the warmth of the other
man’s palm. He swallowed, remembering the vague softness of Kakarrot’s touch
before he had fallen asleep. The man had lulled him to sleep! He had
never expected the other Saiya-jin to relax him so much, but when he had
started to rub his back.... No one had ever touched him like that. He could
still feel the looseness of his muscles, even despite the fading aches. It had
just.... felt so good.
He gritted his teeth, cursing Goku for making
him feel so pathetically weak.
"Don’t do that," he said, his voice
coming out without the forcefulness he had intended.
Goku dropped his hand, his dark eyes resting
quietly on Vejiita’s face.
Suddenly Vejiita glanced around, blinking in
astonishment as he realized what time it was. Dawn.
He had slept here in the woods with Kakarrot
for the entire night!
"Kuso!" he snapped, scowling as
he folded his arms over his chest.
He looked over at Goku again. "Well,
Kakarrot, as fun as this was, and as much as you might have enjoyed discovering
what my past was like, I think it’s about time I was leaving."
Goku gazed back at him with a trace of sadness
in his eyes. "Vejiita," he began, then trailed off, apparently
changing his mind. He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess we should both be heading
back, I never planned to be out here this long. I imagine the boys are
wondering where I am."
He turned as though to go, then glanced back at
him.
"You know.... You might want to spend some
time with Trunks."
Vejiita glanced at him sharply, surprised,
before glaring. "What?"
Goku turned back to him fully. "I think it
would do both of you good if you spent some time with your son. I know you love
him," he said, his voice becoming quieter, "but does he know
that?"
Vejiita snarled at him. "What the hell is
it to you?! You think I love the brat?!"
Goku frowned at him. "I know you
love him, Vejiita. And I know how hard it is for you to show it. But you need
to find a way. Don’t let him grow up like you did, thinking no one cares."
Vejiita paled, then flushed. "Fuck you,
Kakarrot! Don’t tell me what to do with my son!"
Goku didn’t react to his curse. "Try it,
Vejiita. I think it will help you as much as it will him." The Saiya-jin
took a few steps away from him. "We’ll have to spar again, soon. You’re a
level three Super Saiya-jin now, if you recall. It should be interesting."
Vejiita blinked in surprise. He had very nearly
forgotten that! Then he grinned viciously. "Count on it, Kakarrot! But you
won’t be so eager after I’ve beaten you into the dirt!"
Vejiita thought he saw Goku smile as the other
Saiya-jin turned away, blasting into the sky and with a fading trail in his
wake.
Vejiita realized in bewilderment that he was a
little sorry to see him go.
Back at Capsule Corporation, where he still
lived, despite Bulma’s death, Vejiita eased into a hot shower, sighing. After
Bulma had died, he had thought he would have no place to go, but Dr. and Mrs.
Briefs had practically insisted that he remain with them, especially since
Trunks would one day be the head of the entire corporation, as Bulma’s son.
And, for whatever reason, they had said that he was a part of their family. So
he had stayed in the huge complex, raising his son as best he could.
He frowned, his face lifted to the hot streams
of water. He was not a good father. The knowledge hurt him, somehow, though he
knew better than to deny it. He did not know how to raise a child, and when
Bulma had died he had been completely at a loss. He only knew that he couldn’t
simply abandon his child, without a mother or a father to look after him.
He lowered his head gazing blankly at the plain
white wall of the shower. He knew he had been hard on Trunks, but he didn’t
know how to be anything else. He thought it would make the boy stronger. He had
taught him to fight, how to look out for himself, how to be independent. But it
wasn’t enough. Even he could see it. The boy needed something more, and he
didn’t know how to give it.
Did he care about him?
Of course he did, he admitted with a sigh. But
he couldn’t show it. He didn’t know how.
How to say ‘I love you, Trunks,’?
He realized that he rarely ever even called the
boy by his name. That, too, showed an attachment that he was loath to display,
to even admit to himself that he felt. He couldn’t be close to his son,
it wasn’t natural for him!
"Don’t let him grow up like you did, thinking
no one cares."
Vejiita cursed as Goku’s words replayed in his
head. Trunks knew that he cared, didn’t he? Did his son really need him to say
it?
But he hadn’t even shown it, not really, he
realized. And he didn’t... He didn’t want Trunks to grow up to be like him, he
admitted finally, turning off the shower and stepping out to dry off. He didn’t
want the boy to isolate himself, he didn’t want him to think that life couldn’t
be better for him than it was for his father.
Vejiita hung the towel up, then gazed at himself
in the mirror. At the hardness of his features, the permanent creases around
his eyes, his perpetual scowl. The boy looked very much like him, he knew, but
he didn’t have the hardness yet. But... he was getting there. Vejiita had seen
it. And he didn’t want it to happen. The boy was already far more serious than
other children his age.
Frowning, Vejiita pulled on a navy blue workout
suit and his white boots and gloves, then exited the bathroom.
He walked quietly through Capsule Corporation,
glancing into the kitchen and Trunks’ bedroom, wondering what his son was up
to. Finally he came to Bulma’s old workshop and silently opened the door,
leaning up against the frame.
His son was seated on the floor, surrounded by
wires and circuit plates, a tool of some sort in his hand as he tinkered with
whatever idea he had come up with recently. Trunks had apparently inherited his
mother’s scientific aptitude. Vejiita had neither encouraged nor discouraged
his interest, he realized. The boy probably thought his father didn’t even know
about his talent.
Now he bent in concentration over his work,
several strands of his shoulder-length lavender hair escaping his ponytail and
falling forward into his eyes. He looked almost exactly like Mirai Trunks,
Vejiita mused, though he didn’t possess quite that level of maturity, that
level of hardness yet.
Rousing himself, Vejiita lightly tapped the
doorframe with his knuckles, and Trunks started slightly, twisting around to
look at him. When he saw his father, his clear blue eyes shuttered, becoming
blank but for a questioning look.
Vejiita tried to ignore the pain that clenched
his heart as he realized how far he had driven the boy from him, instead
folding his arms over his chest as he looked down at his son.
"Are you up for a little sparring?" he
asked, not knowing what else to say. He didn’t know what else to do with the
boy.
Trunks looked back at his work for a moment, a
strangely pained expression on his too-honest face, then set the circuit plate
down, rising to his feet.
"Yeah, I guess," he said quietly,
dusting his hands on his pants and walking toward Vejiita. "I just need to
change clothes."
Vejiita nodded, moving out into the hallway to
wait as Trunks went to his room to change into his workout clothing. A few
minutes later, the boy emerged, wearing a black gi tied with a dark blue belt.
Vejiita nodded and they headed toward the gravity room in silence, something
Vejiita realized was very typical when the two of them were in the same room
together.
When they reached the room, Vejiita set the
gravity to 100 times normal, opting for a lighter workout. He motioned for
Trunks to precede him into the room, and the boy stepped in silently, his face
emotionless.
Moving in also, Vejiita turned to face his son.
"Are you ready?" he asked, and Trunks looked at him in surprise.
For a moment he wondered what was wrong, until
he realized that until now he had never asked if his son was ready, merely
launched into an immediate attack.
Finally, Trunks nodded. "I’m ready."
Vejiita dropped into his stance, delivering
several light, easy blows toward Trunks’ face, which the boy effortlessly
deflected, throwing some of his own punches in return. For several minutes they
continued with more of the same, neither attacking in any way that really
challenged the other, and Vejiita could see the puzzlement on Trunk’s face.
Suddenly the boy grunted and spun into a
powerful kick that connected solidly with the side of Vejiita’s head, sending
the prince flying across the room to smash into the curving wall.
Vejiita winced, pushing himself away from the
wall and blinking as he twisted to face his son again. He raised his hand and
lightly touched his lips, then looked at his fingers. Smears of red stained the
whiteness of his gloves. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, astonished that
Trunks had attacked him in such a way. Usually he had to press the boy to make
him fight with any spirit at all. Then he looked at Trunks’ hard face and
grinned, an expression that was more a show of teeth than a real smile.
"So, you want to play rough, boy?" he
called, floating away from the wall, his dark eyes narrowing in pleased
anticipation.
His son’s only response was to tighten his
stance.
"Come on!" Vejiita shouted in
invitation, blasting up to SSJ1 and charging his son.
Trunks slid to the side, narrowly avoiding the
punch aimed at his gut, his eyes widening slightly. Then his hair blazed golden
and his blue eyes turned aqua as he, too, summoned his Super Saiya-jin form.
The two warriors danced around each other,
neither getting any hits in for several moments, each dodging the other’s
attacks. Then, as Trunks’ fist flew at his head, Vejiita summoned all the speed
he could muster and ducked under it while reaching up with both hands. He
caught his son’s wrist in his grip and spun, whipping Trunks through the air
and then slamming his back into the wall. Releasing the boy’s arm, he curled
his hand into a fist and struck him hard in the face while he was still stunned,
then flipped backward and away, grinning as he observed the droplets of blood
that fell from Trunks’ nose.
"Now we’re even, boy!" he laughed.
Raising his arm, Trunks’ wiped the blood away
with the back of his hand, then looked up at his father. The rage in his
expression stunned Vejiita into silence. Where had this come from? There fight
was nothing different than what was typical when they sparred.
Trunks lips curled away from his teeth and his
aura blazed brightly around him. With a loud, guttural snarl he suddenly
powered up to SSJ2, then launched himself at his astonished father.
Before Vejiita could react, Trunks’ fist had
slammed into his face, then into his stomach, followed by a vicious kick to his
chin that snapped his head backwards and sent him tumbling through the air. For
a moment his hair flickered black before settling in gold again, and Vejiita
raised his hand to his chin, his eyebrows drawing downward angrily.
"Shimata!" he cursed, spitting
blood.
His head snapped around and he glared at his
son, who looked back at him coolly. Then, with a roar of rage Vejiita, too,
jumped to SSJ2, leaving a golden streak in his wake as he raced toward the boy.
"You want to fight all out, then,
brat?!" he snarled, veins standing out in his temple as his hands clenched
into fists. He didn’t know why Trunks was goading him on, but the boy would get
what he was asking for in spades.
He blurred as he flew toward his son, appearing
behind him and driving his knee into the small of the boy’s back. Trunks
grunted, flying away from him a few yards before recovering himself and
spinning around, rushing back at him. Just as the boy neared him, Vejiita threw
himself backwards so Trunks sailed over him, then continued the somersault,
curling his body and then extending powerfully so his booted feet slammed into
the stomach of the boy above him, sending him sailing toward the ceiling.
Trunks hit the roof with a crash, his face
twisting into a pained grimace as his teeth jarred together and bright red
droplets of blood dripped from his mouth toward the floor.
Vejiita hesitated, watching from where he
hovered in mid-air as Trunks sagged toward the ground, landing softly on his
knees with his arms curled around his stomach. He frowned, his furious anger
fading as he wondered what had happened. He hadn’t intended to fight his son
like this, only meant to spar with him as a way of doing something together.
Why was Trunks so angry with him?
Slowly, he descended to the floor, landing
gently in front of the boy with his arms folded over his chest. Trunks didn’t
look at him, only sat back, bracing himself with an arm as the other remained
wrapped over his stomach. His stiff golden hair shifted back to lavender,
falling to hang around his face again and Vejiita relaxed, feeling his own hair
settle as his golden aura faded.
"What is the problem?" he asked
gruffly after several moments of silence.
Trunks half-lifted his head in what Vejiita
guessed was surprise, then slowly turned to look at him, anger still evident on
his face. But what Vejiita noticed immediately were the tears that had welled
up in his son’s eyes.
"What’s the problem?" Trunks echoed
incredulously, not bothering to wipe at the single tear that fell down his
cheek. "How can you even ask me that?! You don’t have the right to ask me
anything, after the relationship we’ve had! God, I’m sick to death of you! The
only time you ever talk to me is when we’re fighting, and you have the nerve to
ask me what’s wrong?!" Trunks’ voice was getting louder as he spoke.
"You were gone all night, sparring with Goku I’d guess, and then you come
home and all you tell me is you want to fight! That’s all I’m good for to you,
and I’m not even first on your list for that! Goku is always the one you run
to, and when he doesn’t want to fight anymore, then you will condescend
to spar with your son!" Trunks said, sneering the word ‘son’. Vejiita
stared at him, stunned by his bitterness. "I’d be better off if you just
left me alone! You’re a selfish bastard, Vejiita."
Vejiita blanched as Trunks finished speaking.
The boy had called him, not father, as he had always done, but Vejiita.
Breaking that tie. It hurt. It hurt so much that Vejiita felt his soul was
dying by inches. He opened his mouth to speak, then noticed that Trunks had
turned away from him, his body tensing. He expected Vejiita to hit him.
Sickened, Vejiita took several startled steps
backward, then turned and left the room.
Vejiita flew blindly, looking inward as he let
his body carry him wherever it would. He closed his eyes for a moment, haunted
by his failures. He had failed at everything. Failed to keep Frieza from raping
him. Failed to prevent Vejiitasai’s destruction. Failed to defeat Kakarrot.
Failed to defeat Cell and Buu. And, worst of all, he had failed his son.
When Trunks had been born, somewhere deep down
he had wanted to be a better father to his son than his father had been to him.
But he wasn’t. His father had given him to Frieza. And while he hadn’t given
Trunks to a maniac, he hadn’t given him anything else, either.
Slowly and without looking, Vejiita descended to
the ground, landing quietly. He glanced around, then blinked in surprise.
He was at the same spot where he and Kakarrot
had spent the night.
He cursed wearily, but there was no strength
behind it. Sighing, he sat down, crossing his legs beneath him and allowing his
head to rest in his hands. God, if only he had done things differently. But he
didn’t know how.
"Hey, Vejiita!"
Vejiita bit back a groan, keeping his hands over
his face for a moment. How had the fates conspired to bring that idiot back
here at this precise moment?
"What are you doing here, you fool?"
he growled, his words slightly muffled by his hands.
Goku raised an eyebrow, though Vejiita didn’t
see it. He laughed a little. "This is where I workout, Vejiita, remember?
And where I come to think."
"As if you do that very often,"
Vejiita grunted, no sting in his voice. He realized that he really didn’t mind
Kakarrot being there. And... maybe he had even hoped, subconsciously, that he
would be. He had flown here without realizing it, hadn’t he? Somehow, Kakarrot
had a way about him that drew other people. They trusted him. They liked him.
The very opposite of what was true of him, Vejiita thought dryly.
"More often than you realize," Goku
replied amiably. There was a rustle of clothing, and Vejiita realized that the
other Saiya-jin had seated himself next to him. He swallowed, his face still
resting in his hands, and suddenly felt the warmth of Goku’s fingertips touching
his shoulder.
"Vejiita, what’s wrong?"
Scalding tears built in his eyes and he blinked
hastily, feeling their dampness on his palms as a few spilled over. Goku’s hand
still rested on his shoulder, and somehow the care the touch communicated,
whether real or not, made things worse.
He slowly slid his hands down his face, wiping
away any remaining tears so that Kakarrot would not see them, turning his face
to look away from the other man.
"I talked to Trunks," he said, his
voice slightly hoarse.
Goku’s fingers tightened on his shoulder, and he
bit his lip. Why was he telling this to Kakarrot? He couldn’t tell him.
Kakarrot would hate him worse than he probably already did. Vejiita smiled
bitterly. Kakarrot had raised his sons well, he had children who loved him, and
he loved them back. And showed it. If he knew what a failure Vejiita was as a
father he couldn’t help but despise him. And he didn’t want Kakarrot to have
any more reasons to hate him then he already did, he realized.
Trunks was right. He was a selfish bastard.
Kakarrot had done so much for him, and he had repaid him with arrogance and
foolish pride. He had only wanted to defeat the one Saiya-jin who had ever been
stronger than him. He had hurt Kakarrot countless times.
"What happened?" Goku asked softly.
Vejiita shook his head, swallowing the aching in
his throat. Now was not the time to change. He couldn’t change. All he had left
were the tattered remnants of his pride, and he drew them around himself like a
king drawing on his royal robes, not willing to admit that he was wearing a
pathetic rag. Kakarrot would not see the worthlessness inside him.
He shook his head again, shaking off Kakarrot’s
hand as he got to his feet.
"Fight me," he commanded, trying to
keep his voice steady. If nothing else, he could lose himself in the pain for a
few moments.
Goku looked at him for a long time, then quietly
got to his feet, pulling off the light shirt
he had been wearing with his orange gi pants. He
tossed it away from him, muscles rippling throughout his battle-scarred torso
as he moved, and Vejiita silently blessed him for not arguing.
As soon as he set himself, Vejiita lunged at
him, throwing himself into the fight. His fists flew at a blinding rate as he
sought to bury the pain inside him. Goku grunted from time to time as one of
Vejiita’s fists struck his stomach or his face, a spatter of blood appearing on
his lips. But for the most part Vejiita’s attacks hit air or were blocked by
Goku’s arms. Occasionally one of Goku’s fists hit him lightly, but the blows
barely hurt, and Vejiita gritted his teeth. Kakarrot wasn’t even trying!
"Fight me, you son of a bitch!"
Vejiita screamed, powering up to SSJ3. He would force Kakarrot to participate
in the fight, force him to attack him for real.
But Goku didn’t even raise himself to Super
Saiya-jin, and Vejiita roared in fury and rammed his elbow into Goku’s ribs. He
heard bones crack and Goku flew backward, smacking into a huge tree that
groaned with the force of the impact. For a moment he felt a flicker of anger through
their telepathic connection before it closed down again, and he nodded.
Good, get angry, Kakarrot. I want you to be
so angry that you’ll fight me without holding back.
As Goku straightened, Vejiita kicked dust into
his face, knowing that the underhandedness of the trick would enrage the other
Saiya-jin, then slammed his foot into his gut, flipping him backward.
With a snarl of rage, Goku lept to his feet,
dust coating the blood on his face. Vejiita felt energy crackle through his
body as he hurled a powerful ki blast at the other man, assured that Goku would
avoid it.
And Goku did blur to the side, but at the same
time he screamed in rage and exploded to SSJ3, his long golden hair falling
wildly down his back. Snarling, he flung himself at Vejiita, and the prince met
him head-on. They tangled together, each struggling to crush the other, their
auras blazing and merging into one.
For a time they seemed evenly matched, each
inflicting numerous injuries on the other, Vejiita cursing Goku all the while
and using every dirty trick he could think of to keep his rage up. Blood
streamed down both their faces, their bodies bruised and battered, each panting
with exertion.
But Vejiita was losing. He could feel it.
Kakarrot was beating him an inch at a time. And he didn’t care.
Suddenly Goku’s clasped fists connected with his
chin in a double uppercut, sending him shooting into the air as stars exploded
behind his eyes. And then Goku was above him, crushing his fists into his chest
and sending him flying back toward the ground. The pain that seared him as
Kakarrot pummeled him was astonishing, and he closed his eyes, letting it wash
over him.
Yes.
Physical pain to drown out the pain inside that
was so much harder to bear.
Beat me, Kakarrot. Destroy me. It could be no
one but you.
Kakarrot was so good. It was fitting that he
should destroy Vejiita, who was so evil. The longer Vejiita remained near him,
the more likely he was to tarnish Kakarrot with his darkness. He didn’t want
that. He didn’t want to see that goodness become less.
My life is worthless, but I don’t want him to
pity me. At least if he hates me, he feels it with a passion. Hate is
passionate. I don’t want him to look at me and think, ‘poor Vejiita.’
I am the Crown Prince of Vejiitasai. Do not
pity me. Hate me. At least give me that.
He fell to the ground and lay sprawled with his
eyes closed.
I need the pain. Pain is all I know. It is
all I’m good for. There is nothing else inside me. I was meant to give and
receive pain.
Tears seeped from Vejiita’s closed eyelids as
his long hair flickered and melted away, returning to his typical black spikes.
Love? Love is something that wasn’t meant for
me. And even if I have it, I pervert it. Look at what my ‘love’ has done to
Trunks. And...
But no, he couldn’t even think that. It hurt too
much, was too ridiculously ironic.
He heard Goku land beside him and curse quietly.
The other man’s hand lightly touched his
shoulder again, and he sighed. He had known Kakarrot would not kill him. One of
Vejiita’s tears dripped from the side of his face to pool in the shell of his
ear.
The hand slid behind his shoulders and pulled
him upright. With a groan, Vejiita opened his eyes, one of which was crusted
with blood. Goku knelt beside him, his arm around Vejiita’s shoulders, holding
him steady. For a moment Vejiita sagged against his body, closing his eyes and
briefly indulging in what he had recognized too late. Then he pulled away from
Goku’s touch and staggered to his feet, swaying unsteadily for a moment.
Goku stood also.
"Vejiita..." his voice held a low,
warning note. Stepping forward, Goku set his hand on his arm, restraining him.
"Let go of me, Kakarrot," Vejiita
said, somehow managing to keep his voice proud. "I’ll be fine."
For a moment there was no response. Then Goku’s
fingers slowly slid off his arm, and his hand dropped to his side. Vejiita
could still feel the lingering warmth of his skin.
He turned away from the other Saiya-jin,
preparing to fly. Then he paused for a moment, his back still to Goku.
"Thank you for fighting me."
Gathering what remained of his ki, he rose into
the sky, flying away from him.
His flight was pitifully slow, his beaten body
hardly up to the task, but he could never let Kakarrot know that. When he came
to Capsule Corp., he made a loopy, awkward descent and stumbled inside. He did
not see Trunks.
But he had something to do. He needed to go. He
needed to find what he was looking for and do what had to be done.
Staggering up to his bedroom, he searched
through his old belongings, flinging things across the room as he dragged junk
out of his closet.
Finally he found a little box, and, pulling off
the lid with fingers that trembled with weariness, he looked at the object
inside. A smile that was totally devoid of feeling curved his lips and he
nodded, tucking the box under his arm. He was doing the right thing, the only
thing left.
He went back down the stairs and was about to
leave the house again when he paused. He should tell Trunks. No matter what the
boy thought of him, he deserved to know.
Moving back into the kitchen, he set the box on
the table and fumbled through the drawers for a piece of paper and a pen,
bringing out an envelope along with them. Seating himself, he began to write.
The sentences came slowly and awkwardly, and he sat for along moments at a time
without writing anything, merely looking at the paper as if it could give him
the words.
Long minutes later he got to his feet, folding
the paper and placing it in the envelope. He climbed the stairs once more and
glanced into Trunks’ room. It was empty. Relieved, he stepped
inside and moved to the little table next to his
son’s bed, setting the envelope so that it leaned against the lamp.
Then he left the house without looking back.
Trunks returned home late that afternoon to find
house quiet. He had not expected anything else. His grandparents were away on
some business trip or another, and his father....
Trunks winced as he hung up his jacket and
walked into the kitchen to make himself some coffee, guilt rising in his chest
as he thought back to what he had said earlier that day.
He’d truly been hurt. He had been hurt for a
long time, and he’d needed to say what he felt. But to do it in that way had
been cruel of him. He didn’t honestly think he could have injured his father’s
feelings too badly, but he felt guilty nonetheless. He frowned as he remembered
the stricken look on his father’s face when he had called him Vejiita.
Trunks sighed, pouring the coffee into a cup. He
should not have said that. He’d been angry, but he still shouldn’t have said
that. When he next saw his father he’d tell him he was sorry.
Running a hand through his long lavender hair,
Trunks took a sip of his coffee and started up the stairs, walking down the
hallway until he reached his bedroom. He glanced at himself in the mirror,
yawning as he noted the circles under his eyes. He needed to take a nap. He’d
woken up early that morning to continue his work on the time machine idea he
was fiddling with. Since his mother had done it in the other timeline he knew
it was possible.
His father was dead in the other timeline. He
frowned, wondering what Mirai Trunks was like. He wondered what his father had
thought of him when he’d met him.
Shrugging, he moved and set his coffee cup down
on his table, then noticed the envelope leaning up against the lamp. It was
blank and unsealed. Puzzled, he picked it up and reached inside, pulling out a
folded piece of lined paper. Opening it up, he nearly gaped as he recognized
his father’s handwriting, scrawled firmly across the page in black ink. His
father had never left him a note in his life.
Sinking down on the bed, he started to read.
Trunks,
Immediately after his name, there was a larger spot
of ink on the paper, as though his father had left the pen resting against the
paper for long moments as he tried to think of what to say.
I wanted you to know that I heard what you
said today, and you’re right. I have
never been the father you needed.
Here several words were scratched out, but
looking closely, Trunks could read, I wish that I...
Maybe, if Bulma had lived, you would have
enjoyed the life you have lived more.
I’d always hoped that I would be a better
father to you than mine was to me,
but it didn’t work out that way. I’m not good
enough to be what you need.
Trunks bit his lip, trying to swallow the lump
of emotion that rose in his throat.
But I need to tell you that you are smart and
you are strong. You have
everything you need to be able to be a
success in this world. Maybe your
grandfather can help you with your
inventions. But don’t ever forget your
Saiya-jin heritage, Trunks. Remember who you
are, who my people were.
Take pride in it. You would have been the
next King of Vejiitasai, always
remember that. You are my son and you are
royalty. Hold your head high.
Tears were blurring Trunks’ eyes and he blinked
rapidly, using his fingers to brush them aside. Before the words continued
there was another splotch of ink on the page, as though his father had paused
again.
I’ve failed to be a father to you, Trunks.
You told me today you’d be better
off on your own, and I think you’re right.
You are stronger on your own,
I’ve only ever made things harder for you.
Maybe without me you’ll feel
free to be who you are. Don’t ever think I
found you less than worthy. I
never intended for you to think that. You are
a worthy member of the
royal line.
Trunks began to feel a strange foreboding in his
chest, as if someone had gripped his heart in a vice.
Greet Kakarrot for me. And tell him I’m
sorry.
"Oh, Jesus, no," Trunks whispered, the
paper crinkling as his fingers tightened.
Be strong, Trunks. Let the world know you are
a Saiya-jin. Tell your
children who they are.
Trunks gasped in a ragged breath. The next line
was separated from the main letter by several spaces.
You have been my pride.
There was another splotch of ink.
Love,
Vejiita.
And that was all.
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