Enough Time
Enough Time
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Enough Time
by Sefiru
Well, here we go again. This is the long-promised side story
to Pure Evil featuring Mirai Trunks. This could be
called AU since I’ve messed with events in the alternate timeline, as you will
see. First we’ll have three prologues to bring us up to the end of the
eventually, but not just yet; the first part is pretty serious, so bear with me
^^; I may add in a plot eventually, but don’t hold your breath.
Pairings: none yet, Mirai x OC
eventually, references to Kakarott x Vegeta
Warnings: R – language, violence, character deaths.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Dragonball,
but Mirai ownz at everything.
So, without further ado:
***
Enough Time, Prologue 1
***
He had heard
stories about his father when he was younger. That he had been a prince of
their people, even though there were only four of them left; that he was a
proud and honorable warrior, despite the horrible things he had done. Trunks
didn’t really remember his father, who had died just weeks after he was born.
The only image he had was of golden energy surrounding him, a voice without
words, gruff but warm. His mother and Kakarott both agreed that, though Vegeta
was a man of few emotions, he was genuinely pleased with his son.
“I’ve never seen
him prouder, even when he went gold the first time,” Kakarott would say. “He
looked at me and said, now I understand. He grew up without any family, you see.” Trunks
always liked to hear stories about his father and Kakarott. They’d been enemies
at first, then joined forces against
came back, Vegeta beat him for good. After that they’d become mates. They’d
been the strongest fighters on the planet for a while until the androids landed
and ruined everything. Now his father was dead and Kakarott was crippled, and
the androids ran unchecked across the planet.
Only four of them
were left, Trunks, his mother, Kakarott and Gohan. When Trunks was little they
were constantly moving, always one step ahead of the
androids. Kakarott couldn’t fight anymore, but he could still teleport them to
their next hiding place. Wherever they went, Gohan and Trunks would train,
Bulma would pore over her experiments searching for a new weapon or a treatment
for the heart virus, and Kakarott would sit with his maps and notebooks,
plotting their next move. He always had a little panel with him too, displaying
pictures of his mate.
“If you miss him
so much, why don’t you go to be with him?” Trunks asked once.
“I made Vegeta a
promise that I’d look after you as long as I was able to. And it’s all right,
because I know he’s waiting for me.” That was when he was four years old, and
Kakarott did do his best to be a father to him. Trunks might respect
whose words stuck in his mind. Gohan taught him to fight, and his mother taught
him science, but Kakarott taught him how to think. He always supported Trunks
when his mother complained about his video games; it wasn’t until he was seven
that he realized those games were teaching him stuff. Kakarott was a fiendish
opponent, suckering him a new way every week. The first time Trunks beat him in
a game, Kakarott wrapped him in a huge hug, his purr
resounding through his body.
It couldn’t last.
The heart virus ate away Kakarott’s body piece by
piece, despite everything Bulma did to keep it at bay. One day when Trunks was
ten, it was all over.
They buried him
under a tree in the forest he loved so much. Trunks didn’t cry; he knew that
Kakarott was gone to be with his mate, and he’d lived long enough to see Trunks
ascend to Super Saiyan. But he never smiled after
that day. He threw himself into his training, filled with determination to
avenge his fathers. Gohan seemed to take the loss even harder; he would spend
hours on the roof of their capsule base, just staring at the stars. Bulma acted
like she was all right, but she kept working on a cure for the heart virus,
even though it was now pointless. Gohan often argued with her about wasting
time with it.
Things were
harder without Kakarott. They had more encounters with the androids without his
cleverness in hiding them. They all sustained injuries of some kind; they had a
regen tank to use, but it couldn’t match the long
destroyed senzu. In his time off from training,
Trunks started researching spaceship propulsion, thinking they might have to
leave the planet entirely for a while. For months he got nowhere. Sometimes he
wondered if this was a product of anxiety like Bulma’s
medical research, but he couldn’t stop. And eventually he got a lead that
panned out. A method to build, not a spaceship, but a time
ship.
medicine. Hell, I could go back and save my father. It wasn’t as easy as
that, of course. The plans took another year to create, before he could even
start building it. The project even pulled Gohan out of his depression, and he
helped work out the programming to navigate it. They salvaged an old water tank
to serve as the hull and began putting in the systems. All three of them were
cheered up by having a concrete goal to work towards. And then the androids
caught up with them.
Gohan was acting
as a rearguard, buying time for Bulma and Trunks to escape. By the time they
were able to return to that location, there wasn’t much of him left to bury.
That was when Trunks was fifteen. It took him and his mother two more years to
perfect both the time machine and the heart medicine.
It was a hard
time. He hadn’t fully appreciated how strong Kakarott was, to keep going after
losing almost everything he cared about. Some days he just didn’t feel like
crawling out of bed; the only thing that made him do it was the will to live up
to his elders. Kakarott’s
his father. I am Trunks Vegeta
Briefs, descendant of the House of Vegetasei, raised
in the House of Kakarott, the last Saiyan in the
universe. I am not going to let a little thing like the end
of civilization stop me. He got to the point where he didn’t look up
from his work when bands of lawless humans ambushed the camp.
“Look, I don’t
have any spare supplies and I’m busy. How many butts do I have to kick to make
you go away?” He didn’t feel sorry for them; they were tough if they’d survived
this long. Bulma did, and sometimes left caches of medical supplies where other
wanderers could find them. The other humans knew better than to hunt for the
goose laying the golden eggs – most of the time. They rarely stayed in one
place longer than a week, and always moved after an encounter, just in case the
androids heard of their location.
But finally,
three days after his seventeenth birthday, it was all ready to go. He and Bulma
set up the capsule house in the best hiding spot they could find, deep inside a
cave system. He expanded the time machine and, as the engines were powering up,
hugged his mother.
“Take care,” she
said.
“I’ll be right
back.” He climbed into the cockpit and strapped in, the heart medicine in its
padded case beside him. He pressed the start button.
***
Holy crap. I can do serious. o.O
Next chapter: Mirai