Adult-FanFiction.org : Gundam, Beyblade, DBZ, FMA

The Taste of a Cure	By : IuvenesL Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1389 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, and sadly do not make any money for writing DBZ smutfic.

Chapter List
- 1-The Taste of a Cure
- 2-Something Unexpected
- 1
- 2
AN: I should have mentioned in chapter one that there were a few fics that influenced me, for that particular chapter: Veronica�s Brothers, and also The Broken Road (the latter of which inspired the lemon), and Sexy Boy by jenerik brand. For chapter two, direct influences are Uncharted Waters by Makota (sequel to Unconditional Bonds), and It Started on Sunday by Card. And, since it won�t really spoil anything, but might give a few more hints on where the plot is going, I will go ahead and list the direct influences on chapter three (or, at least, the ones that I know about so far; I�m not done writing it yet): Saiyan Enlightenment by Card (sequel to Meaning of Pride); Spiral by Macha; Maintaining and Quest by Pixelgoddess; Strong Heart by Todesengel (aka Camaro) and Trinity by Xero Sky. I highly recommend reading all of these fics, even if the pairings aren�t your favorites; they are all better than mine. And they can all be found at aff, with the exception of Trinity; you�ll have to go to Saiyan Hideaway to find that one, but it�s worth the trip.
Review responses can be found here, along with a link to more general (and even more wordy) author�s notes:

http://docs.google.com/View?docID=dgc3qqdn_82ft53xmt4&revision=_latest
Warnings for this chapter: wandering thoughts and elaborate backstories, angst and self-delusion, small clues and huge flashing arrows, and a bonus pairing, slightly citric but not of the bright yellow variety. Apparent OOC-ness that might possibly make more sense in the next (and final) chapter.

CHAPTER TWO
Something Unexpected
So, that�s how I ended up dragging my ass out of bed well before the crack of dawn on maybe two hours of sleep if I was lucky, for once semi-grateful, in a fit of clearly circular logic, that I never managed to move out and get a place with Goten, since all I had to do was go downstairs to the kitchen and make myself some coffee so that I would be at least somewhat awake by the time dad came down. As surely as the sun will rise tomorrow, dad will be training before it does, just like every fucking day of his life.
The aroma of coffee by itself is enough to get my senses going, and the taste, with just the right amount of sweet and creamy . . . ahhhhhhh. Divine. Incredibly unhealthy, but fortunately Saiyan physiology is a little better at sorting out what it needs and what it doesn�t need than the human body, and I can�t see that I have missed out on that benefit any for being only half-Saiyan. Fortunately � or unfortunately? I honestly don�t know � it also means that we can�t really get intoxicated, on alcohol or any other kind of drug, and with the exception of certain things like antibiotics and antiviral medicines, drugs don�t work on Saiyans at all; caffeine doesn�t actually do anything to us, but the smell and the taste and the heat of coffee is something we all crave, for some reason, and it wakes us up in the morning just like it does everyone else.
I know dad eats a fair bit, and I do too, especially when I know I�m going to be training later in the day, so I start throwing together some food accordingly. There are a couple of nice-looking hams in the refrigerator, clove-baked, and already sliced, so I kick on the oven to heat those up, grab a few dozen eggs, and start cracking.
Dad finally strolls in, arching an eyebrow at me to acknowledge the strangeness of my presence in the kitchen at this hour. He is a man of few words at the best of times, and he�s not especially talkative in the mornings, so I save him the trouble of answering by not bothering to greet him, as he no doubt expects. I put the hams in the oven as he pours his coffee � of course he drinks it black and bitter � and I start beating the eggs, adding some seasoning, and filling up the toasters with grain bread.
By the time the food is done, I figure dad has had enough coffee for a question.
�Can you train me today?� I ask, trying to make it sound like it�s not really all that important. I put a ham and a plate of eggs in front of him, and a pile of toast, and he seems to consider the question before digging into his food without comment. Not unexpected, so I mosey over to the fridge to get some juice � one carton for each of us � and I settle down with my food, doing my best to make it look like I only woke up this early because I was really fucking hungry.
I watch him put away the whole ham and half the eggs and toast, taking a break for juice before putting down the rest. He eats pretty slow for a Saiyan, and though he did manage to instill into me something of his idea about how a prince eats, as opposed to how a disgusting, uncivilized third class idiot eats � I do eat a lot slower than Goten, for example, and everyone eats slower than Goku � I don�t have either Dad�s infinite patience or his legendary and quite-unrivaled ego, so I�m forced to watch him eat well after my half is gone.
I know he�s deliberating, or he would have just said no a long time ago. Probably because he is aware of my situation and is at least a little bit proud that I have decided that my training is more important than moping over my lost partner.
The last bit of egg discreetly disappears behind Saiyan lips, just as gracefully as you please. Shot of juice, delicate dabbing of the napkin on said lips, and he assumes a ponderous posture, eyes not-focused on some object over there, fingers stroking his chin.
Finally, he looks at me, his mind obviously made up. �I cannot train you today.�
Ah, well. Not completely unexpected. He looks away for just an instant, with something like regret in his eyes � he sympathizes with me, though it�s not the sort of thing he�s likely to admit � and when he looks back at me, it�s as if I imagined it. But I know better. �There is something I need to work on presently.� And his eyes seem to look inward at that, before focusing on me again. �I will probably succeed within a few days. Then there is something I must take care of.� Hint of a smile, glint of mischief in the eyes. �After that, I will likely be free to train you whenever you wish.� He nods to himself. �At least every other day.�
Yeah. There�s only one thing that he could possibly be talking about, and we all know that will never happen. But that�s dad. He always seems to think it will be any day now.
�That sounds good, dad,� I say, doing a pretty good job of keeping the disappointment out of my voice, trying to seem casual as I get up from the table and start clearing away dishes. Dad doesn�t offer to help. He never does. I don�t hold it against him or anything; it�s just how he is. He�s the prince. Nevermind that I�m supposed to be one too. Whenever he�s around, that doesn�t count. �I�ll probably head out to the mountains and see if one of the other Go-boys wants to train me.� Which would have to be Goku. It�s Saturday, so Gohan will be home, but Videl doesn�t like it when Gohan does stuff without her, which means he can�t train with us unless she happens to decide to go somewhere else for a while, because she isn�t anywhere near strong enough to join in the training, and she isn�t even fast enough to watch, unless we�re just dicking around.
I�m sort of hoping that proposition will get a reaction out of Dad, but he just nods to himself again. �You do that, Trunks,� he says, as he stands, tossing his napkin on the table and heading for the outside door. It seems he�s in too good of a mood to be baited. But as he reaches the door, he turns, considering me again. �It is good that you have decided not to loll about like a human any longer,� he says, and though he does his best to load the comment with a fair amount of scorn, that hint of sympathy is back in his eyes again.
Well. Maybe he really will be up for training me in a few days, unattainable goal or no.

The door opens, and closes again, and I�m all alone in the kitchen. So, I get on with cleaning up, and I post a note to the refrigerator door, putting in a request to the cook for some more of that ham, which was fantastic, and I�m out the door on the way to Sonville. If I don�t burn off some energy soon, I�m going to spend half the morning locked up in the bathroom with my fan mags. There are definitely better ways to spend a Saturday morning.
The sun�s still not up yet, so I�m not especially paranoid about taking off directly from our front yard, and it doesn�t take long to reach a height where I can see the sun already, where no one on the ground can quite make out exactly what sort of flying object I am. About ten minutes to reach the quaint little mountains where the Son clan lives, minus Goten of course, which is, alas, exactly what I�m after anyway.
I touch down in the yard just as the sun crests the mountain horizon. Videl is on the front porch of her house, watering some plants in her bathrobe. She looks up, notices me with the most insultingly horrified expression I have ever seen, and literally plunges through the front door of the house, slamming it behind her. I can feel Gohan�s energy stirring at the back of the house. Sorry bout that Gohan. Hope you can sleep in tomorrow.
I hear a laugh from the general direction of the other house in Sonville, and I realize it�s coming from the back yard, where Goku is rather lazily dancing some weird moves in the trees, wearing the loose black fighting clothes he�s been wearing every day for almost as long as I�ve known him. For all I know, those moves might be a part of his daily routine; I�ve never exactly made it a point to hang out at Goten�s house at this time of the morning. But Goku has stopped the dancing thing, and he�s leaning against a tree, apparently waiting for me to come to him.
When I get close, I notice he has one of those rare, mischievous-Goku smiles on his face. Is it going around this morning or what? And then he says, �Gohan should have taught her to sense us years ago.� Of course. As if it would be a good thing to have more people know exactly what we are doing and where we are at any given time. And if Goku really wanted her to know, why didn�t he teach her? I mean, she lives right across the yard.
He then puts on his usual wide-eyed and empty-headed expression, and said, �I was going to come for you in a little bit. Then I felt you coming this way, and I know how I love flying into the sunrise, so . . .� He makes a random gesture with his hands that is apparently supposed to translate to �of course I wasn�t going to rob you of that pleasure�, and claps me on the shoulder, big stupid grin on his face. Sometimes it�s really easy to understand my dad�s love-hate relationship with this guy.
�Yeah, Goku. Did Goten put you up to that?� As if I don�t already know the answer to that question. It wasn�t exactly unexpected.
He pouts like a little kid at the accusation, but makes no attempt to deny it. �Well, yeah,� he says, face brightening suddenly. �He said you need someone to train you when your dad is busy, and Vegeta almost never wants to train with me, and Videl won�t let Gohan train, and Goten would rather chase grr . . . I mean, Goten just doesn�t like training much any more.�
I roll my eyes at his �slip� � maybe my dad has brainwashed me a little bit, but I get the impression that at least half the time Goku puts his foot in his mouth, it�s not accidental � and wouldn�t you know, he seems just a tad bit sheepish.
And then he imitates Dad�s pondering posture almost exactly, or at least as closely as it could be imitated while standing. I could almost think he had been spying in the kitchen earlier. �Besides, me and your Dad have let you and Goten go for far too long without a real training regimen.� And then to top it all off, he puts his hands on his hips and bends his neck down to twinkling eye level with me, for all the world as if he were a foot taller than me instead of three inches, and then proceeds to talk down to me as if I were his own wayward spawn. �It was good for you two to train together when you were younger, Trunks, but now you�re adults, and we need to start treating you that way.�
Something in his eyes tells me that today is not going to be easy.
Am I looking forward to it? Fuck yeah, I�m looking forward to it. �Let�s go.� A hand on my shoulder, and a smile, and a massive sinking feeling hits that has nothing to do with my personal atoms being scattered to various corners of the universe before realigning somewhere over there . . . a massive sinking feeling that I know where he�s taking us. My eyes are squeezed shut, but the direction and relative distance of Gohan�s energy as we realign confirms my suspicions anyway.
Well. What did I expect? I open my eyes to find Goku staring at me rather concernedly, and a weight is lifted from my shoulders that I hadn�t even known was there, as I realize that Goten probably didn�t put him up to bringing us here. There is a difference between �Hi my name is Goku and I�m clueless� and actual confusion. At least, I�m pretty sure there is. Sure enough not to worry about it overly.
He looks around, checking out the scenery as if he�s never seen it before. He doesn�t train with us here, but he�s been here several times over the years, usually just popping in to say hi whenever he happens to be in the mood. I�m pretty sure he doesn�t know about the cave behind the waterfall, though. We worked hard to keep that little secret. I know he can�t see it from here, anyway. Just looks like some mountains and a bunch of trees from where we are, nearly in the center of the blasted area.
Goku turns his back to me, seeming to inspect the forested mountains to the north. I take a seat on a nearby rock, figuring he�ll let me know when he�s done checking out the neighborhood.
It�s easy to pretend, if I try, that it�s just an older version of Goten, standing over there.
Goten went through a phase that lasted a few months, where he tried to grow his hair out longer so that he didn�t look like his dad any more. Then he tried keeping it short, much to his mother�s approval. When he left me, he seemed to give up on it, and thus he reverted to mini-Goku.
And there is just something about Goku that puts people at ease. I�ve even seen my dad fall victim to that compulsion, in the rare moments when he lets down his guard. That feeling . . . that was my Goten, before . . . and truthfully, even Goku can�t put me at ease like my other half did. The real Goku is too intimidating by far.
So, I do pretend, letting my eyes half-close, letting my mind drift . . . even now, I think of him as a grown-up version of my mini-Goku, even though Goten is pretty much grown now, and I begin to project my sense of Goten onto the man that I can see and sense.

My Goten, somehow become bigger, and stronger. Much stronger. Strong enough to take me down without even trying, but I know that he will only take me down far enough to make me come back stronger, and that the taking will be sublime.
And that�s how I know it�s really him . . . his energy, stronger than I ever thought it would become, just oozes pure goodness, good will toward me. It always has. There isn�t a thing in the world I wouldn�t trust him with. He knows all of my secrets, and I know all of his. I find myself getting up from the rock to go to him, wondering why I was over there in the first place.
When the apparition finally speaks, I wish I could see his face.
�I was going to bring you to the place where I train with Vegeta,� he began, spoiling both my carefully-crafted illusion and my earlier assurances in one blow � an unexpected chill traveled the length of my spine as the illusion dissolved, leaving the object of my intimidation in its place � �but Goten said you like training here better than anywhere else.� Well. Goten would know, wouldn�t he?
Goku walks a little further away, turning to face the rising sun. After a second or two of observation, I recognize his stance for what it is. Only my daydreaming kept me from picking up on it sooner.
It�s an invitation, of sorts. If I don�t accept it, then the blows will start soon.
Even if I do accept � which I believe I will � we will be getting down to the training soon enough, but one thing that I have learned from Goten about his dad�s training style is that he likes to manipulate his opponent�s emotions. It�s something he only does when he considers the training to be particularly serious � which I haven�t personally experienced since Buu, when things were undeniably serious � and I should probably feel honored, or something, that he�s doing it with me now.
I�ve never seen the tactic in action with his sons. It�s apparently something he saves for when they�re alone, and Goten has always been a little reluctant to give details beyond the fact that it doesn�t seem to work with him � something about not having the right experiences to draw on � but I�ve seen Goku do it often enough with my dad, off the battlefield. I never get to watch their rare training sessions; dad normally refuses, and apparently never trained with Goku at all before Buu. Dad has let up since then, if seldom, and always with a fair amount of reluctance.
Whenever he has been putting Goku off just a little too long, that�s when it begins. Goku starts dropping in at random times, hanging around the house, being generally annoying and doing his best to push dad�s buttons as innocently as he can manage, which he of course does better than anyone else in the universe. My dad is pretty predictable, when it comes to that; so long as a third class idiot remains the strongest being in the universe, the Prince of All Saiyans will have a serious problem with it. I can only imagine what it�s like when they actually get around to fighting, beyond knowing that it is always brutal. And that dad never wins.
In the meantime, Goku seems to want to play my surrogate dad, let me tell him about what�s bothering me, bring all my closely-held angst about Goten to the surface, hopefully getting my emotions riled up with me none the wiser about his goals.
It�s a win-win situation for him; either I get pissed or I get inconsolably depressed and start crying � I am so unlike my dad in that it is much more likely to be the latter, but like him in the sense that I am quite incapable of completely turning off my emotions � and Goku can use either to his advantage.
Goten says the method stems from the fact that his dad has always reached new levels of strength through his emotions, and naturally he expects that any Saiyan can do the same. Supposedly, it�s how Gohan first transformed, back when I was a baby, and me-from-the-future, who was here to help fight the androids, had transformed when his beloved Master Gohan died, back in the future.
Dad has always been pretty closemouthed about how he did it, but I can somewhat piece it together, just by knowing when. Goku was near enough by that there was bound to be some angst, and I imagine that dad wasn�t too happy about being forced to live here, in his rival�s shadow.
In fact, I�m sure dad knows all about Goku�s thing with manipulating emotions, and that he most likely takes advantage of it as best he can without playing Goku�s game.
So, Goku wants me to let it all out. If that�s what he wants, then that�s what I will give him. But not in the way that he expects.
I accept the invitation, moving to close the distance between us, slowly. He can feel me, making my humble pilgrimage to his beacon of light and goodness and truth.
�Goten told you why he hates me, didn�t he?�
If the question surprises him, then I can see no sign of it, but he hesitates before answering, and I count it as a point in my favor. Goku is obviously going to bat for Goten here, and despite that warm fuzzy feeling emanating from his general direction, the feeling that has felled more cunning warriors than myself, I probably shouldn�t trust him. In fact, it�s precisely because of that warm fuzzy feeling that I should be on my guard.
My dad is always saying that Goku uses his na�vet� as a weapon, and though I�ve never had much reason to think the idea amounted anything more than dad�s usual obsessive paranoia, it would probably also be wise for me to remember that my dad has survived a lifetime of battles, while I�ve seen exactly one, which I did not, in fact, manage to survive.

Dad did better than I did in that one, of course; after his initial display of hero-inspired dramatic suicide, he managed to come back, and survive the worst part of the battle, despite actually being dead. Also of course, Goku managed to survive despite being dead to begin with . . .
As I step into his morning shadow, something occurs to me.
***
My mom always said that Goku really was pure-hearted, and innocent about a lot of things. I mean, she grew up with the guy, knew him when he was a pre-pubescent fighting machine, right? She should know.
She said he didn�t start to become all that multi-faceted until around the time I was born, and she insists, despite some small evidence to the contrary, that he is still pure-hearted, that he really does think about what�s best for everybody when he makes decisions, and he almost always makes the right ones. She says she respects him more than any person she�s ever known, with dad coming a close second, and though she�s never told me that in front of dad, she never asked me to keep it a secret, either.
I guess dad just doesn�t quite measure up because of all the people he�s killed. It might be different if he had truly been rehabilitated when he came to live on earth, but he caved in to his inner murdering madman one more time, and that was only about ten years ago. He wished everyone back, helped save the universe and everything, which is all in his favor, but he had needed Goku to make it happen.
Mom has a theory, that the change came about because Goku had been forced to transform to defeat Frieza. She thinks that, if he had gone his whole life without doing that, he might still be the sweet, innocent Goku that my dad fought when he first came to Earth. But he is a pure-blooded Saiyan. It seems to make almost no difference, in some areas, that my generation is half-human � proves that it doesn�t prevent us from becoming just as strong as purebloods, or even stronger; me-from-the-future was stronger than dad at one point, though I never have been, unless you count when I�m fused with Goten; and finally, me and Goten transformed when we were like five, while our dads didn�t manage it till they were fully adults � but there are little things, like the sense of smell, the communion with the moon, the taste of blood . . . my generation got almost nothing there, beside the fact that we would transform with the full moon if we still had our tails.
I have heard some stories from Goten, about what his brother was going through at that time, when their dad became . . . different.
Goku and Piccolo had been training Gohan for three years, thanks to me-from-the-future giving them a heads-up about the androids, but nothing turned out quite like they expected . . . which led to my dad training alongside (not with) me-from-the-future in the hyperbolic time chamber, and Goku training Gohan . . . which, of course, led to the aforementioned transformation that came because Goku had manipulated his son�s emotions.
But apparently, Gohan said that it hadn�t been quite enough. Maybe, at that moment, he didn�t have the right experiences to draw on.
He�d had to tell his dad to go all out on him, stop playing around. Actually try to kill him. And Gohan claims that Goku would never have even considered it, if Gohan hadn�t brought it up, and insisted on it.
But Goku had done it, and on the crushing edge of his dad�s kamehameha, Gohan had found his inner Saiyan.
He also says he doesn�t think his dad would have done it at all a few years before, wouldn�t have even if Gohan had been an adult. And he tells another interesting story � one that I�m surprised my dad has never mentioned � about the Cell Games.
Goku fought Cell, and he claimed that he wasn�t strong enough to win, and forfeited the fight to his eleven-year-old son. Gohan was surprised, believing that his dad had been holding back, playing with Cell, up until that point, and you would think that he would know, since he had just spent a year training with the guy, right?
But Goku insisted that he hadn�t been holding back, that Gohan simply couldn�t believe that he could be stronger than his dad, and therefore convinced himself of a falsity. And when poor eleven-year-old Gohan was faced with his hero�s arguments, he had no choice but to believe that his dad was telling the truth.
And this is where it gets really strange.
When Gohan stepped up to fight Cell, Goku gave Cell a senzu bean (!) ensuring that the monster would be in tip-top shape to fight Gohan.
Needless to say, everyone was perplexed.
To make a long story short, Gohan fought Cell, and proceeded to beat the shit out of him so badly that the android had spit out 18, losing his �perfect� body, reverting to the form that my dad � still much weaker than Goku, and even weaker than me-from-the-future � could have easily beaten. In desperation, Cell chose to engage his self-destruct mechanism, making it so that there was absolutely nothing Gohan could do to prevent Cell from destroying the Earth. Attacks of any kind would have only sped up the process.
And then, Goku, Mr. Hero as always, steps in right in the nick of time, the only guy present with the ability to teleport, and he takes Cell to Otherworld, destroying King Kai�s planet and killing Goku, Bubbles, Gregory, and King Kai himself.
Some small bit of Cell survived, though, allowing him to use his Namek regeneration technique, and when he came back, he had reverted to his �perfect� form, having learned Goku�s nifty trick in the process, and, because he had Saiyan cells, and because he had come as close to death as is androidly possible, he also came back a great deal stronger than he had been before.
Naturally, Gohan was fucking pissed. So, he proceeded to beat the shit out of Cell again. Cell kills me-from-the-future, further pissing off Gohan, not to mention my dad, who then tried to beat the shit out of Cell, knowing he had no chance. Gohan has to save dad from Cell, and loses the use of an arm in the process. Gohan almost bails, but then Hero Dad pays him a mental visit from Otherworld, giving him a pep-talk, and Gohan blasts Cell to hell with a one-armed kamehameha.
So, looking back, you have to wonder . . . would it all have gone the same if Goku hadn�t given Cell a senzu? An analysis of the details seems to suggest that it probably would have . . . but it was a really strange thing for Goku to do.
That�s the kicker, though . . . it�s only strange because it was Goku. Mr. Perfect. If my dad had done something like that, no one would have been at all surprised; in fact, Cell had only achieved his �perfect� form in the first place because dad had allowed it, wanting to fight the android at his best, to prove how awesome he was, and he had nearly killed me-from-the-future for trying to interfere.
But lurking under the surface is that other question . . . the one that began to trouble Gohan as he got older.
Did Goku hold back?
There are two reasons I can think of that he might have done it. The more noble option is that Goku honestly worried that he might die, and that there would be no one to protect the Earth when he was gone, or that some day in the future, he might not be strong enough to do it without help. Thus, he used the heightened emotions of the Cell catastrophe to make Gohan stronger, and giving Cell a senzu was his only way to make sure that Gohan was pushed to reach his full potential. If anything went wrong in the fight, then he could step in, saving the day as usual.
The other option is that Goku was simply trying to show off his freak son. I mean, someone who really didn�t trust Goku might assume that he pretended to be weaker than Gohan long enough to let Gohan get stronger, so that he could be more proud of his son, and that, if Goku had lived, the truth would have come out later.
The latter is the sort of thing my dad would never have done, simply because he wouldn�t have allowed anyone to believe that he was weaker than his own son for even that long, if there was a way around it. But my dad is a cynic, and chances are, he remembers the incident, and interprets Goku�s actions with the less noble motive.
Anyway . . . that thing that occurred to me.
I realize that, ever since Goten told me about this � I mean, it�s not as if we discussed it all that deeply � I have interpreted it like my dad would, even though I knew Goten didn�t. I�m not all that surprised at myself, really, because I�ve always had a tendency to glorify my dad.
But now, in the back of my head, I hear my mom assuring me that Goku is really a good guy.
I�m still on my guard � after all, I can�t get rid of dad�s influence completely, and I�m not sure it would be wise to try � but I decide to trust her. I may not be able to fully trust Goku�s motives here, but I can trust that he won�t do anything truly horrible, and if I allow him to put me on edge, then the chances are that today won�t go well.
***
He must feel me breathing down his neck, because he finally turns to face me. And I can�t say I�m all that surprised to see sympathy. His big black eyes almost look like they�re on the edge of tears. It�s so heartwarming, it makes me want to puke. I�m trying, mom.
I take no insult. There�s probably a pretty good chance that he chose that emotion deliberately as the one he would show me, but that doesn�t mean the sympathy isn�t real.
�He only told me yesterday,� Goku said, softly. That doesn�t surprise me either. I�ve questioned him before, of course, and he claimed ignorance, along with Gohan, Chichi, mom and dad, and everyone else in the bubble. All of them said the same thing: Goten didn�t tell them anything except that he didn�t love me any more.
�And?� I don�t know why I even hope he�ll tell me. I should know better. But it doesn�t hurt to ask.
Goku�s eyes grow sadder still, if that�s even possible, confirming my suspicions. �He made me promise not to tell anyone, Trunks.� A tinge of embarrassment, to go with the sympathy. �Especially you,� he adds, more quietly than before.
I don�t fight the surge of anger that comes with those words, but I pivot quickly, turning to hide the tears that begin to flow. Fuck, Goten! What did I fucking do? I sink to my knees, giving in to the emotions. I doubt Goku thought he could get them out of me so quickly. But I�m not going to fight him on this.
It�s probably exactly what I need.
I knew it would only be a matter of time, so I�m only grateful when I feel his hands on my shoulders, massaging away the tension I hadn�t consciously recognized.
�I�m so sorry, Trunks,� he whispered, so much compassion in his voice. And it just makes me bawl more, to finally have someone that cares after all this time, someone who knows Goten almost as well as I do, an outlet I crave. �I�m so sorry . . .� I lean back on his chest, trying to control my sobbing so that I can speak.
I�m not satisfied with his answer. Not even close.
Finally, after several deep breaths, accompanied by the magic of those strong hands on my shoulders, I manage to croak out my question. I�m so fucking scared of the answer to this one . . . but I have to ask.
�Was it horrible, Goku?� My voice sounds so small, pitiful. Maybe I really am weak, just like Goten said . . .
The hands come to a rest, thumbs still idly stroking, as if Goku is not quite aware of them anymore. I find myself on my guard once again, if not quite so fiercely as before. Even his voice is hesitant, when he answers.
�I think that . . . most people would probably agree that it�s one of the worst things you could do to a person,� he says finally, reluctantly.
What the fuck? The anger surges anew, threatening to boil over. In a flash, I�m on my feet, turning to face Goku; through a heavy film of fury, I can see wariness overtake sympathy in his features as he stands to face me.
�What do you think, Goku? Don�t fucking play games with me!� I ignore the fact that I decided earlier that I need his games. I�ve forgotten what for; the rage has me in its grip. �Tell me what you think, Goku. Because I don�t have a fucking clue!� I�m in his face now, shouting, but he makes no move to back away. �Tell me!� His features are still guarded, almost impossible to read, and now I feel like an idiot, because I�ve run out of vitriol, and I�m an inch from his nose. Me, toe-to-toe with the strongest being in the universe. I feel a blush in my face as I back down a few inches, but it�s only partly from embarrassment. Why won�t he fucking answer me?
�I�m not playing games with you, Trunks,� he says firmly, eyes determined to show me the truth of what he says, and he reaches out to put a fatherly hand on my shoulder again, adding, �but I don�t think I should tell you what I think about it, either.� He seems to consider saying more, so I step an inch closer to him, encouraging him, but that wariness is back in full force, now. �I don�t want to take sides, Trunks,� he says, regret in his eyes.
And just like that, my anger pops like a bubble. More like a fucking water balloon, as the tears rush in to wash away the ire, and before I know it, my face is buried on his chest, my hands fisting his shirt, my tears soaking it, and somehow the tears are impairing my ability to breathe. Fuck, I�m a mess.
But how can I stay angry, when he won�t even take his son�s side? What a fucking rollercoaster. . .
He won�t exonerate me � in fact, what he said seems to make it all but positive that Goten is right, and I�m a fucking monster � but he won�t take sides, either.
It�s enough.
Slowly, the tears begin to subside again. His arms are around me now, idly stroking my back, trying to soothe my shaking, and he�s whispering idiotic parental comforting shit at me, like . . . �shhhh . . . it will work out . . . everything will be okay . . .�
The fuck it will be okay.
I realize that he�s trying to guide me to sit down again. It�s probably a good idea, so I move my body obediently, but my eyes are staring out into space, and my thoughts are listless.
It�s an interesting side effect of the rollercoaster, that I seem to have momentarily managed to detach myself from my emotions. I know it won�t last � I can feel them, still churning under the radar somewhere � but I no longer feel like talking.
He sits behind me, holding me, which I am grateful for, because even sitting up is a little much right now. I lean back into him, closing my eyes, relaxing. His fingers are in my hair now, stroking it, massaging my scalp, and his aura radiates his concern for me. I wish he was always that easy to read, but rarely are his thoughts so clear from his energy than they are right now.
I�m not sure how long we sit there like that � it seemed to stretch on forever, his hands soothing me, encouraging me to return to the world of the living, but not rushing me � but after a while, I feel comfortable enough to let it all out.
�You just don�t understand what it�s like, Goku . . .� All my memories are bubbling to the surface, inundating me with all that lost happiness, and I�m about to tell him exactly why he just can�t understand. �He is my other half, Goku. There�s no one else in the universe . . .� I trail off, knowing the words are pitiful, won�t help him see. Nobody can understand what me and Goten had.
But all of a sudden, I find myself flipped, with uncanny Saiyan speed, face-to-face with Goku again, straddling his lap.
Well. My surrogate father seems a bit angry with me. He doesn�t give me much time to wonder why.
�Do you really believe that, Trunks? That I don�t understand?� His actually seems offended. Incredulous. Why should I be surprised? I�m obviously clueless when it comes to certain things.

Seeing no harm in sticking my neck out � despite his current irritation with me, his aura still tells me he gives a shit � I offer the obvious argument. �Of course you don�t understand, Goku! You�ve been happily married for . . . what? Twenty-five or thirty years? Two perfect sons, quaint mountain home. How could you possibly fucking understand?� Is he laughing at me? He is! He seems to be fighting a smile, and there�s a chaotic twinkle in his eyes . . . but I can�t help but notice a hint of bitterness there, as well. Even his aura has become tinged with it.
�You have spent your entire life so far up Goten�s ass that I don�t guess I should be surprised,� he says with a sigh, picking me up off of his lap, plunking my ass quite unceremoniously on the ground, and standing, dusting off his loose pants, facing eastward again, where the sun has long since left the horizon behind. I know this conversation can�t last much longer. We came here to train. I imagine Goku will be getting to the point soon enough.
Having more or less recovered from my earlier weakness, I stand to face him. Up Goten�s ass? Did he really have to be so literal about it? I don�t think I�ve ever even heard him use the word �ass� before! And what is this obvious thing that I�m supposed to be missing here? I cast a few thoughts around, searching for something that makes sense . . .
Oh. That.
No fucking wonder he�s laughing at me . . .
�Wow, Goku,� I say, hoping I don�t sound traumatized, or anything. I�m not . . . just a little bit surprised. �I mean . . . it�s not like I haven�t considered it before.� I think the last time was yesterday, in fact. �But . . . I mean . . . it would certainly explain a lot of things . . . but have you . . . I mean . . . was there . . . anything between you guys?� I find myself wanting him to say there was. What does that mean? I�m not sure I want to know. Maybe he recognizes my . . . fascination . . . with the subject, because the bitterness seems forgotten now, the twinkling reduced to pure amusement. I don�t have the decency to be embarrassed. �Well?�
�Not exactly,� he says cautiously, obviously not wanting to say too much. I hate secrets.
�What do you mean, �not exactly�? Either there was something, or there wasn�t.�
�We fused, Trunks. Remember?� Ah, yes. That makes sense, actually. He�s looking off into the distance, now, and I realize it�s in dad�s general direction. �That was the only . . . something,� he says, voice full of regret, �but it was enough.� Poor, poor Goku.
He really does understand me . . .
He has another half, too . . . and in more ways than one.
My dad is the other half of the Saiyan race. And the heir to the now-destroyed Saiyan throne. I always figured that didn�t mean anything to Goku. But maybe I was wrong . . .
Fusion makes communication rather unnecessary, in some ways. It�s impossible to take away all of the other person�s memories, but there is always a good bit of sharing of experiences in fusion, and it�s never really relevant until the fusion dissolves, of course. At which point, there is usually no need to talk about it.
It could have been something simple, like either dad or Goku having fantasized about it, just once. Maybe both of them.
It could have been more complex. My dad is pretty obsessed, after all, and by all appearances, had been long before they fused. And Goku loves fighting more than anything in the world, and I don�t think that he is very good at hiding the fact that he wants to train with dad more than anyone else. I never met him till he came back from the dead, but dad says that Goku wanted to train with him to fight the androids, right after he came back from space. Ostensibly because he wanted to steal dad�s techniques and �learn his weaknesses�.
Heh . . . I guess the latter, at least, turned out to be true after all . . .
I had always assumed that they had married women because that was what they wanted to do, but in retrospect, I realize that�s pretty stupid. Goku was already married when they met, and here on lovely planet Earth, that just doesn�t really mean anything. It�s what people do.

Mom just happened to offer dad a place to live when he came back from the dead, while Goku was hanging out in space after beating Frieza. Dad�s life-long oppressor, destroyer of the Saiyan race. Dad just happens to pick up mom in the years of training that follow. Mom, who, in retrospect, quite obviously had the hots for Goku when she first saw him as an adult, after a three-year period of not seeing him at all. I�ve heard her tell the story enough times to have a good sense of that, now . . . now that Goku has crushed my tendency to ignore the possibility of the actions of parental figures being in any way motivated by sex.
Yes, my mother always gets a little cattish, when describing Goku�s whirlwind �romance� with Chichi, and to be honest, I�ve never understood how a guy could get downright tricked into being married, and mistake it for true love. But he obviously loves her, right? He sure as hell puts up with a lot of crap that most sane people would not otherwise put up with. So of course I have always assumed it was what he wanted.
Maybe he really did think that was what he wanted, before the fusion. Maybe he had only thought about dad, but never seriously considered doing anything about it. Maybe he had thought there was something wrong with him, until me and Goten turned out that way. Maybe, he still loves her?
�What about Chichi?� Well, I am nothing if not brave, right? The question calls Goku back from his meditation on my dad�s distant energy, and he looks mildly irritated. I would feel bad, but he is the one that insisted on sharing my suffering in the first place, so I don�t really.
His irritation quickly fades to sadness, telling me most of what I need to know, already. But he answers the question, looking away from me, back to dad again. �After the fusion . . .� He trails off, begins again in a slightly more confident tone. �After everything had settled down, with Buu and all . . . I told her I loved someone else.�
Ouch. He did that, huh? Ten years ago. �And how did she react to that?�
�Actually . . . she said she understood,� he says, seeming to look inward. �And I don�t really have any reason to believe that she was being untruthful.� Goku does seem pretty good at reading people, when it comes to honesty. �She didn�t even seem surprised. And said she felt like she was getting too old for sex, anyway.� No doubt. It doesn�t really matter how gentle Goku was, I�m quite sure that Chichi the most active and vigorous sex life of any woman on the planet, besides Videl and my mom. It�s probably enough to make most human women want to retire early.
But poor Goku. He hasn�t been getting any since then? Ten years? Well, I already knew he was a stronger man than I . . .
I walk around so that he will have to look at me, if he needs the strength of a Saiyan prince just to speak. He meets my eyes, with a small, knowing smile . . . a smile that he usually reserves for my dad. And it surprises me, that Goku and I seem to have switched roles all of a sudden.
Here, in this territory . . . yes, he understands me. I know that now. But still, as far as this is concerned, he is only learning to take his first steps, while I have been walking for so long that I don�t remember learning how. I realize that he has probably been dying to talk to someone about this. For ten years.
�So . . .� I casually plant my hands on my hips, imitating his earlier stance, from when we were behind his house, looking him up and down as if to weigh his worth, something I learned from dad. Goku is still smiling that special smile at me, so I gather he appreciates it, for whatever reason. �Not even a kiss, huh?�
He rewards my bravery with a genuine laugh, eyes animated once again. �Does that count?�
�Of course it does.� I find myself inching toward him, hanging on his next words. Shameless.
�Only once,� he says, giving me that smile again. He spots the rock I had been sitting on earlier, and makes himself comfortable, and I stand over him, arms crossed over my chest, waiting for him to divulge the details. I�m still standing in his path to dad, but his eyes have that faraway look again as he speaks . . .
�It was right after we fused, after everything got straightened out, after I told Chichi. I went to find him, hoping he had done the same. I knew, from his memories, that he wanted me. That he dreamed about me, dreamed about beating me always, but sometimes . . . sometimes he would dream about claiming his prize, instead of killing me.� Goku�s eyes seem to take on a sharper edge as he continued. �Sometimes he dreamed about losing. More so, in the years that I was dead. As if he had become more comfortable with the idea, knowing I was supposedly never coming back.� Oh, now that is interesting, and brings to mind a question.
�Does that have anything to do with why he gave in to his evil side again?� With my dad�s pride, it might have been enough, just to have Goku come back, making all that fantasy quite awkwardly real.
�It had everything to do with it, Trunks.� His face is downcast again, but something seems to occur to him, brightening his mood. �But I knew all that after the fusion. He couldn�t hide it from me then.� Of course. �And he knew . . . he knew I had wanted him since the first time we met.� Oh, wow. That was certainly unexpected.
�Really, Goku? All that time?� Freaking fantastic. �Is that why you let him live?�
His eyebrows shoot up. �No! I mean . . . maybe. I don�t like killing people.� Yes, I suppose that is well-established. Surprisingly, he actually has the grace to blush a little bit. �I mean . . . I knew I liked guys before then, but . . . wow.� His expression is downright hungry, now. �I�d never seen a guy like Vegeta before. Still haven�t.� Yes, everyone knows that my dad is the sex god of the universe. There�s just no getting around that. Nobody looks that good.
�If you knew you liked guys, then why the hell did you marry Chichi? I mean . . . I know she tricked you into it and all, but . . .�
�It wasn�t that simple, Trunks. I like girls too, � he explains, smiling at me again, seeming to enjoy my confusion. Most people like one or the other, but I guess I shouldn�t be surprised that Goku is one that likes both. He likes everything, except for needles. And killing. �And besides, I hadn�t met your dad then, didn�t know there was anyone in the universe like him . . . and all I really knew is that I wanted to be with someone strong. And Chichi . . . she was the strongest girl I had ever met. I hadn�t met any guys that really turned me on, and the only girl I had ever thought about . . .� He seems to reconsider what he was going to say, but it�s too late.
�My mom, huh?� He nods, still blushing, looking at his feet. �And she was with Yamcha.�
�Yeah.�
Unbelievable. It�s times like this when I miss Goten the most . . . when I have something that I�ve just got to tell someone, something only he would truly appreciate. There are a lot of little things like that, but I think this one tops the list. Who knew, that three quarters of our parentage was actually a weird love triangle that had been going on since before we were born? But I shove away thoughts of Goten, returning to happier thoughts. Or at least, someone else�s misery. Besides, I still don�t have the whole story.
�So? What happened?� I ask, and for a moment, he looks confused, so I remind him. �The kiss?�
�Oh, yeah . . . the kiss.� His small smile is back again, but this time, it�s for himself. Or maybe for my dad. �I found him, after I talked to Chichi. He was at home, but he let me take him away . . . to the place we started using as our training field later. It was the place where we fought, when we supplied the energy to resurrect Buu.�
It�s easy to forget about that, sometimes, that Buu would never have been resurrected, if not for dad�s little stunt. For that matter, it wouldn�t have happened if Goku had been willing to kill my dad quickly. The more I learn about life, the more I understand that sexual repression is probably the cause of the vast majority of the world�s crimes, and probably a surprising number of the good deeds, as well. It�s all about the sex, in the end.
�Anyway,� Goku continues, �I took him to that field. And as soon as we got there, I just couldn�t wait any longer. I�d been waiting for over ten years, by then. So I kissed him.� Goku�s eyes are closed, and I can tell he�s reliving the memory. I can feel his aura spiking with need, a need that he has lived with for a long time.
�It was . . . like a religious experience,� he whispers, making the hairs on my neck stand up, in response to his excitement. �It was perfect, Trunks. He didn�t fight me. He just let me kiss him . . . relaxed when I put my arms around him . . . accepted it . . . loved it.� He trembles for an instant, as if a shiver had run up his spine. �I know he did. He . . . told me, without words, how much he loved me.� I can already see the pain creeping into Goku�s features, and for a moment, I feel guilty for inviting him to relive the experience, but at the same time, I�m wishing he wasn�t glossing over the details so much. �And when I tried to go further . . . he stopped me.
�He told me . . . he told me that there was nothing more in the world that he wanted, than to have a Saiyan mate. Someone worthy of a prince. But . . . but he said he had . . . responsibilities.� Goku�s eyes meet mine, and briefly � so briefly, I am not sure I didn�t imagine it � I see accusation in his eyes, quickly overcome by the pain that had been there before.
�That�s fucking bullshit, Goku, and you know it�s bullshit.� I have not put a great deal of thought into this situation before now, but it�s simply not required. I know my dad. �I mean . . . you fused with him. How could he think he could lie about something like that?�
�Not that simple, Trunks,� Goku says, shaking his head. That�s the second time today he�s accused me of being simple-minded. Goku. My dad�s favorite idiot. �Our fusion was supposed to be permanent.� He pauses, correcting himself. �Is permanent.�
�That doesn�t make any sense, Goku . . .�
�I know it doesn�t,� he cuts in, just a little irritably. �I�m trying to explain.� He seems to be having difficulty with that. Maybe he doesn�t really understand it. �Your dad . . . he did something, when we fused. I�m not sure what, or how, but he somehow . . . protected himself from the fusion.� Goku looks up at me, expression stern, making sure I�m paying attention, before going on. �Whatever he did, it was enough to make us split apart again, and I think he prevented me from remembering too much about him. He probably tried to stop me from remembering anything at all, and didn't quite work out like he wanted. But even though I remember his fantasies, I don�t really know for sure what his motives were, from the fusion.�
�But still, Goku . . . you know his motives as well as I do, whether or not they were confirmed for you, and you know it�s bullshit!� I realize that a lot of my anger has to do with the fact that my dad used me as an excuse . . . and the fact that he had to use a human cultural more to make it fly just makes the whole thing entirely ridiculous. �You know he doesn�t give a shit about what humans think, Goku! He only gives a shit about Saiyans, and that means you.�
�I don�t know, Trunks.� He looks thoughtful. �I think he does care a lot about you and Bulma,� he says, smiling at me again. �Don�t get me wrong. I agree with you.� He seems resigned to that, more than anything. �I know what his main problem is. But I can�t use that argument.�
�Why the hell not?� I ask, truly mystified. I can understand that most people are intimidated by my dad, but Goku is one of only two people in the universe that doesn�t have to be. And it�s not as if he doesn�t take advantage of that often enough.
�Because I respect your father enough not to shame him by talking about it,� he replies, his lips twisting with the irony. �And it�s his way of rubbing it in, that I abandoned my family for seven years to get stronger in Otherworld, while he did what no one ever expected him to do, and married your mother.�
�Oh, come on, Goku!� Is he really that dense? �The only reason he even survived to do all that was because of you and Gohan! And I may not be able to tell you exactly what his motives were for marrying mom, but I can guarantee you that his root motive had something to do with you, and that his next motive was sex. If those motives are even separable.�
�I know all that, Trunks,� he said sadly. �But none of that changes the fact that he raised you, while I left my sons alone with their mother for all those years.�
�Look, Goku,� I say, deciding to be brave again, to make sure I have his attention. He�s a bit slouched on the rock, so I put my hands on his shoulders, causing him to sit up straight, his expression bemused, and I proceed make myself comfortable in his lap, straddling him like before, noting absently that it�s a very comfortable place to be. I have his eyes now. Good.
�First of all,� I begin, putting up one finger, doing my best to lecture him like a child, since he�s acting like one, �Goten worships you. I know. I have fused with him often enough to know that you are his personal god. Also.� Another finger. �I haven�t fused with Gohan, but I do know that he was solely responsible for indoctrinating his little brother in the faith of dad-worship.�

Goku seems slightly relieved of his angst at this revelation, so I continue in the same vein, encouraged, putting up another finger. �Third. We all know you had a good reason for staying in Otherworld, even though it turned out to be idiotic later on.� I know all the arguments by heart, and they�re good ones, which is not surprising since they come from Gohan. �But in any case, Dende says that it�s typically unethical to use the Namek dragon balls to make wishes for Earth people unless one of the wishes will somehow affect their planet, and even though the Namek race also engages in shameless Goku-worship, it would have been unethical of you to burden them with the decision by asking them after Gohan had already taken care of Cell.� Did he just roll his eyes at me?
�Trunks . . .� he began, but no. I�m on a roll.
�Shut up Goku!� His upper body recoils back a couple of inches, and I follow, inching closer on his lap, and his expression takes on a hunted look. �I�m not done yet!� I put up a fourth finger.
�Finally,� I say, making sure to stare him down with every bit of pent-up childhood frustration I can muster, �do you have any fucking idea how hard my mom tried to get dad to spend time with me during those seven years you were gone? Fuck, Goku . . . after! All my life, my dad has spent holed up in that fucking training room. Trying to get stronger. When I was younger, he acted like didn�t give a shit about me, so long as I was strong enough to kick Goten�s ass! At least your sons had the comfort of knowing that you were gone for a noble fucking purpose, but my dad was right fucking there, Goku!� This is really strange for me, but also oddly satisfying. I love my dad, and even like him most of the time, and I don�t spend a lot of energy worrying about any of this crap. But it�s true, and Goku needs to hear it. Maybe I needed to vent about it and just didn�t realize it.
But now that I have said my piece, I find myself suddenly aware of the body between my legs. My face feels like it�s on fire as I stand up abruptly, while trying to make it seem like I just decided to do that because I wanted to stare down my nose at him. I tower over him, arms crossed at my chest again, in my best imitation of dad. Was that . . .
No. Couldn�t have been. I am not that good. Just fucking desperate. A stupid side effect of having lost the only person in the world for me. Is he blushing, too?
No. Back to the situation at hand.
�Don�t you have anything to say, Goku?� I ask, doing my best to glare. Trying very hard to focus on his eyes.
He smiles, a grateful smile, I think. For letting him off the hook?

No.

�Yeah,� he says, finally getting up from his rock. Eyes, Trunks . . . And they are such nice eyes . . . beacons of light and goodness and truth. �Thank you, Trunks.� And sincerity.
Well.
That�s done then.
He stretches, arms behind his head, bending first to one side, then the other. �Are you ready to train?�
I look up at the sun, and see that it�s nearly reached its peak. �Yeah. I guess we blew most of the day already, huh?� I start my own exercises, stretching my legs, where I always get the most tension.
�No, not at all,� he says, squatting to stretch his legs beside me. �You and Goten have never managed to reach the second level, unfused. That�s what I meant, earlier, when I said we need to start treating you kids like adults.� Oh yeah. I knew that was where he was going, before. But my earlier mistrust of him seems to have evaporated completely, and so I forgot about the emotional manipulation being intentional.

�That�s why I wanted you to let out your emotions,� he goes on, standing to stretch his torso again. �I mean, I care about you too, Trunks, and I know you needed someone to talk to. But we can use those emotions in your training, to help you reach the next level.�
And of course, he would be honest about it. What did I expect? I find it hard to comprehend the lens through which I had interpreted him before.
I follow his lead, standing to stretch my arms and back. �How am I supposed to use those emotions, though? I mean . . . I understand how it works, when your life is on the line, or if someone you love is killed by the enemy, and you transform to defeat it . . .�

�Use your anger,� he says, relaxing his arms by his sides, letting me know that he�s ready whenever I am. �Whether it�s anger at Goten or just the situation itself. Anger at your dad. Anger at me.� He steps closer, and I get the impression he�s going to let me in on a secret.
�It doesn�t have to make sense, Trunks,� he says. �I think that was the problem Gohan had, at first,� he adds thoughtfully. �He couldn�t use his anger at Cell because Cell hadn�t killed anyone he loved. Yet. But I don�t think it�s important that the anger actually be relevant to the fight, for you to use it. It just helps to break down barriers.�
I guess that does make sense. �Okay, I think I get it.�
I back a couple of feet away from him, settling into a relaxed stance, and he does the same. I know he doesn�t have any weaknesses, but it�s instinct to search for them, to search for the moment to move. The target dictates the motion . . .
His first twitch lets me know the decision is out of my hands.
Oh, shit . . .
**SMACK**
The immense pain in my jaw is quite secondary to the unsettling sensation of being pitched backward, much faster than I can fly.
It occurs to me that I am probably going to hit something, and that I probably won�t come out all that well if I don�t transform.

Right now.
And just as I manage, the impact makes the world disappear in a haze of white . . .

*~*~*~*~*

As I come to, somewhere under a fucking mountain�s worth of rubble, I realize I can�t have been out of it that long, because I didn�t lose my transformation, and I can feel, just a little distantly, that Goku has already transformed to match me.
He doesn�t appear to be coming for me. But then, why would he, when he can be right here in one second, just with a thought?
I managed to avoid broken bones and possibly even death by transforming in the last instant, but I am bruised from head to toe, bleeding in several places. And I can�t see anything but rock. I do my Saiyan best, screaming out my rage, blasting everything in my immediate vicinity, propelling myself toward my foe, who is doing a pretty fucking good job of making me angry.
I don�t think I�ve flown a hundred feet when I freeze, hovering in place . . .
***
. . . letting the water wash away the dust and the blood.
The pressure of the water on my wounds is . . . stimulating.
But I don�t take the time to enjoy it.
I turn around the way I came, coming out behind the waterfall, into a large open space. Not our cave. That was a couple hundred feet higher up the fall.
Did he know?
I can see the water churning on the rocks beneath me, but my eyes are drawn upward, where the water falls from a jutting overhang, the underside near a thousand feet above the surface of the lake.
Below, where the water once fell along the cliffside, it now falls freely, heedless of the geological transformation, the blast having scoured as far in as it did high.
Of the cave, no evidence remains.
I barely feel the water as I fly through it again, and I�m not surprised when Goku appears in front of me, causing my earlier anger to suddenly return in full force.
�What the fuck, Goku? Whatever happened to a fucking warm-up?�
�Silly Trunks,� he says, smirking at me, distinctly amused. �Warm-ups are for kids.�
�Whatever, Goku,� I grumble, rolling my eyes irritably, turning to look at the damage from this side of the waterfall. Fortunately, it looks as though the mountain will hold up after all � it is a big fucking mountain, after all, and I only took out a relatively small chunk of it � and the waterfall itself remains essentially unchanged, sparkling like always in the midday sun.
�That was close.� I turn around to face him, speaking quietly, voice cold, for some reason I can�t quite put my finger on. �Very close.� My eyes drift to the waterfall, then back again, locking gazes with Goku. �You almost destroyed something beautiful.�
And as his amusement fades to sympathy, I know the answer to the unresolved question.
�Aw, come on, Trunks,� he says, smiling a little too innocently for comfort, floating toward me, reaching out a hand to push back my disheveled hair from my face. He leans in close, and whispers in my ear. �I knew you would be okay . . .�
**CRAACK**
Fuck! I didn�t even see that one coming!
It takes considerably fewer seconds for me to collide with the scenery than before . . . apparently another mountain, at what might as well be point-blank range, and I am buried deep in the rock once again. I don�t pass out this time, probably because I had already transformed, but I find myself wishing I could, as I�m quite acutely aware of the pain of several bones breaking, including, a leg, and arm, and a few ribs, on top of the jaw that Goku actually managed to shatter. I think I am probably bleeding internally . . .
And just like that, this fight is fucking over.
Pathetic . . .
This time, I take a little more care for the local topography, just sparing a little energy to collapse the pile of rubble on top of me so that I can breathe, wincing with the pain when the rock beneath me trembles.
After the trauma of the last twenty seconds or so subsides, I find there is only room in my mind for one thought.
What the fuck kind of game is he playing now?
And of course, just as if I had summoned him, he appears, hovering over me. Resplendent and untouched, while my ass is molded to a rock. I can�t move, but by the fucking kai, I can talk . . .
�What the fuck are you about, Goku? What is the motherfucking point, if you�re just going to put me down with two fucking blows? Don�t you think I fucking know you are a billion fucking times stronger than me?� I�m starting to burble, so I spit out a mouthful of blood, giving him my best sneer, the one I save for truly special occasions. �What are you going to fucking do with my anger now, huh?�

And why the fuck does he have that fucking look on his face? Utterly unreadable . . . except for . . . cunning? Eagerness? Do I just imagine these things?
He floats over the pile of debris, settling down on my rock, kneeling beside me, eyes all of a sudden holding mine captive. I can�t look away . . . but I can feel his fingertips, touching my broken ribs, making me shudder with the pain. Sliding downward. Pausing on my stomach.
And then I realize what he has apparently already noticed, by his little smile, radiating superiority.
I�m as fucking hard as the rock my ass is molded to.
Yes, there is something feral in his eyes, now. I still can�t look away � my anger still compels me � but he relieves me of that burden, breaking eye contact to lean in close to my ear again, and his voice is pitched so low, I can feel his words more clearly than I hear them.
�What do you want me to do with it, Trunks?� In a flash, his hand dips inside my pants, and my cock is caught up in that massively powerful grip.
In slow-motion, lips graze across my cheek as he tries to capture my gaze again . . . but this time, I can�t handle it.
I close my eyes, giving in to the trembling I had been fighting, and for a moment, I hang in the balance, suspended between pain and ecstasy.
This can�t be happening to me . . .
I feel his other hand, under my shirt, pushing it up, palm flat on my quivering chest . . . and his breath quickens.
This is not real.
As his excitement grows more evident, I�m forcefully reminded of last night . . .
. . . the last time I felt Goten, struggling underneath me, like a bird in the hand . . .
It�s too much.
My body is boiling, and my brain turns to ice as my cock explodes, coating my stomach with sticky wetness, and his hand is slick he pumps me gently, for the first time, milking out the last drops.
And after a moment of indeterminate length, stretching to eternity in a nanosecond . . . I can breathe again.
My eyes are still closed, stubborn.
This is not real.
And suddenly, I can feel his lips on my stomach, his very real tongue, tasting me, taking care to tease my skin . . . and he�s so meticulously thorough, cleaning every bit of my stomach with his tongue, kissing my skin as he pauses to swallow, moving on to lick the traces on the head of my cock, then taking the whole softening length in his mouth, sucking gently, dragging his tongue and lips across every inch as moves his mouth back up the shaft, kissing the head again, softly.
Not real.
Contact ceases. Blood returns to my head, bringing the pain with it, and even though I still refuse to open my eyes, I know he�s licking his hand clean � I can almost see it � and like instinct, I know what�s coming next.
I can smell the scent of him, the scent of me on him, feel his aura penetrating my skin before I taste myself on his lips. My body convulses, stoking my injuries, and his hands are holding down my shaking arms as his tongue touches mine, making my head spin again.
Not real.
Totally helpless, I succumb, with all the desperation of someone who hasn�t been kissed in a year, and more besides. Instinct stronger than thought allows nothing else.
This is Goku, after all . . . Goku, the father of my god . . . my god, who was made in his perfect image.
The god of my father. My father, prince of our race.
At this altar, reverence is compulsory.
For the moment, my senses feel no need to complain, as I savor the taste of him, the heady feeling of being powerless, held down by his arms, infinitely strong . . . and just as I realize that I can no longer taste myself on his tongue, he retreats, softly kissing my lips one last time before pulling away.
I only have a moment to feel regret at the loss before harsh reality returns, bringing with it a fresh flood of hot tears.
I finally open my eyes, staring into his, spellbound again, but still sobbing.
How could he do this to me?
His expression gives me no clue to what he�s thinking, beyond a small spark of lust that lingers in his eyes, accentuating the fire returning to my lower body already, so soon after exhaustion.
No.
He leans in, gently licking the tears from my face, and I stiffen in protest, causing him to retreat again, lust replaced by a slightly injured expression. I don�t fucking care. I can feel my anger returning through the tears. Not as fierce as before, but still as strong. I make sure I have his eyes, make sure to put every ounce of my fury into the words I have to say . . . but I can only manage a tight whisper.
�I want him back, Goku.� I struggle to fight the shaking again, but I�m not strong enough to fight any more. I see the sympathy return to his eyes. �Fuck you Goku! I don�t want your fucking sympathy! I want him back! That�s all I want!�
�Trunks . . .� He leans in again, and I recoil, trying to back away, denied by my injuries. But I don�t look away, and his eyes are pleading with me, wanting me to know the sincerity of whatever he is about to say. I just wait, keeping my silence, holding fast to my anger.

His voice is sad as he continues, and strangely, laced with something like . . . desperation? I can�t be sure. �Trunks . . . there�s nothing more in the world I want than for Goten to know you still love him. I would do anything . . . anything, Trunks . . . to prove to him that you never meant to hurt him.� A flash in his eyes, something like . . . fear? But that doesn�t make any sense. He only looks regretful, as he speaks again, backing away from me. �But in the end, that choice is Goten�s. I can�t make it for him.�
He reaches into a pouch at his waist, taking out a senzu bean, holding it out to me. I wince with the pain as I reach up to take it, for some reason staring at it like an idiot. I guess my thoughts are elsewhere . . . confused . . .
�I�m sorry, Goku,� I mumble as I take the bean from his hand, still staring at it, like I�ve never seen one before. There�s something here I haven�t picked up on yet, but my mind is too fuzzed to know what it is.
�What for, Trunks?� he asks, looking at me quizzically.
�For being such a fucking weakling, I guess. I wasn�t a very good training partner.� I know, somewhere in the back of my logical brain, that he didn�t exactly give me a chance, but I feel depressed all the same.
�Don�t be silly, Trunks,� he says. �For what I was after, you did fine. Besides . . . we�re not done yet,� he adds, winking at me. Oh, really?
�What were you after, Goku?� I ask as I pop the senzu bean in my mouth, swallowing. It works immediately like always, and I revel in the returned strength, all of my injuries healing in an instant.
Not just returned strength . . . but more strength I have ever felt before.
Of course.
I stand, turning to face Goku, and find him still smiling at me. He knows there is no need to answer my question.
And that is when the real training begins.
*~*~*~*~*
We fight like usual, the second time around, with gradual increases in strength, and Goku matching me, or at least, only barely keeping his strength above mine the whole time.
My injuries were pretty severe, so my rise in strength was equally impressive. To me, anyway. I wonder how Goku even notices. He�s so far ahead of me, the thought of catching up doesn�t even cross my mind.
It�s strange, how we spar, like everything is just normal, neither one of us acknowledging the strange incident in the rubble. But both of us dedicate our full attention to strike and parry, block and shield. And the chase.
The sun is already touching the horizon by the time we get around to fighting with energy attacks, and as it finally sets, Goku finally hits me with a half-hearted kamehameha, hard enough to put me out again, buried this time in the ground of the destruction zone. If anything, my injuries are worse than they were before.

Goku drifts down into the crater to inspect his handiwork, and for a moment, I feel fear rolling through me in waves, knowing that I�m vulnerable again.
All I want . . .
The thought is desperate, insistent.
But he only reaches into his pouch again, handing me another senzu, retreating a short distance away while I take it. I steadfastly ignore an undercurrent of disappointment as the fear subsides, and I swallow the senzu, feeling the healing again, and the new strength.
�We need to do this again tomorrow,� he says, and his face is indistinct, in the shadow of the crater�s wall.
Right. I might be able to do this again tomorrow . . . but only if I sleep tonight, and sleep well.
If getting stronger was as easy as fighting, losing, and taking a senzu, we probably would have been doing this for years � not that senzu are so easy to come by; mom has never managed to replicate them, and the magical conditions required to make them grow are difficult to achieve in the best of circumstances � but the near-death experiences and the healing power of the senzu itself are taxing on the body, much like the side-effects of common prescription drugs, but far more draining, in the end.
A senzu will give anyone renewed strength, for hours after the injuries are healed, but you have to eat big and sleep well after the fight is done, or it will take days to recover from the body�s resources being stretched to the limit. Two days in a row of senzu treatment, and the days of recovery will be needed no matter how much food and rest I get. Three days would probably kill even a Saiyan.
�Are you sure that�s . . . wise?� I ask, standing up to dust off my clothes, feeling my heart skip a beat as I realize how little is left of them.
But Goku doesn�t seem all that interested in my state of relative non-dress at the moment. I realize that his aura has reverted to how it had been before we began fighting: strong, benevolent . . . and more than anything else, concerned for me. Protective of me.
�Just one more day, Trunks.� He comes closer, stepping out of the shadows, where I can see his face, coming to a stop a couple of feet in front of me. He�s being careful of my comfort zone � that much is obvious � but he doesn�t seem uneasy at all, himself. �Then you should rest.�
During our battle � the real one, that is � I had seen flashes of his earlier lust, but they had all been brief, transitory . . . and now, I see nothing but everyday Goku. Open, friendly, and minus the stupid act � I wonder if I will ever see that again, when he and I are alone � and he�s certainly not doing anything that would make my heart race. Nothing that should make me sweat. Nothing that could make my hands start shaking.
I�m fighting a silent battle with all three, as he speaks again.
�You know . . . going through that many recoveries in such a short amount of time is dangerous.� He steps an inch closer, and I shoot a look at him that seems to make him understand that he�s gone too far. He holds on to his inch, but moves no further. �It will take you a while to recover completely, but in the end, the complete recovery makes you even stronger than the sum of the parts.�
I know all that. He knows I know all that, and I get the distinct impression that there is something else Goku wants to say.
�Spit it out, Goku.� He should know by now that I fucking hate games. �There�s something you need to say to me, before you go home. Say it, whatever the fuck it is, and go.� Yeah, my anger is back again. But he brought it out, and he cultivated it, so he can learn to fucking deal.
�Alright, Trunks.� If I�ve offended him, then he is hiding it well. For an instant, he seems frustrated that he can�t come any closer to me, but he seems to conquer the urge, reverting to his normal, easygoing self. He meets my eyes, demanding that I listen . . . demanding that I trust him.
�First,� he begins, once he seems confident I am listening, �there is a question I want you to consider.� The sympathy has returned to his features, and I have a feeling that it�s not a good sign. �What if there isn�t anything you or I can do to make Goten love you again? You don�t have to answer right now.� Which is a good thing, since I don�t even want to consider that question. �But I want you to think about it, Trunks.�
Well. Goku can�t always have what he wants. �Is that all, Goku?� What a fucking struggle, to keep the anger out of my voice. �Because if it is, you can go now.�
�No, it�s not all,� he says, his eyes searching mine, some unidentifiable emotion moving in them. �There�s something else I want you to think about. And I want you to think about it long and hard, Trunks.� Did he really just say that? With a straight face?
He did. Not even a hint of amusement in his features as he goes on, but his gaze is intense. Intimidating. �Goten . . .� A flash of sadness, barely enough to catch. �Goten gave me his blessing, Trunks.� His what? I really hope he can explain that better.
But when he does . . . I wish he hadn�t.
�He thinks you . . . need it, Trunks. Need me. Says I might . . . cure . . . you.� Goku himself looks unsure about the proposition, but he doesn�t offer up his opinion. �He asked me to tell you, Trunks.�
It takes every shred of concentration and effort I have to keep my face expressionless. They had a fucking conversation about this? To remain standing. But Goku isn�t finished yet.
�I know you love him, Trunks.� He cocks his head in dad�s direction one more time, before turning his eyes back to me. �And you know I love your father. But in the meantime . . . both of us are alone.� He abandons his respect for my comfort zone, stepping closer after all. �And for all we know, Trunks . . . we could die again, waiting.� His eyes are pained, and for a moment, sympathy changes hands. �Think about that.�
No.
No, I will get him back.
Suddenly, the prospect of training with Goku tomorrow seems even more onerous than it had before, but he seems to anticipate that, putting a hand on my shoulder � absently, I think how this day has come full circle, in a strange way � and his eyes bore into mine, as he says, �I don�t want you to feel uncomfortable around me, Trunks.� He smiles, just a slight upward turn of his lips. �I�m a big boy. I can handle the temptation. So meet me here at sunrise . . . whatever you decide.�
I�m speechless � utterly and completely at a loss for words � but he seems to take my silence as agreement.
�I�ll see you in the morning, Trunks.�
And he�s gone.
***
The dam bursts, and my walls crumble, as I fall to my knees, one last time.
Letting it all out.
Fuck!
It�s like someone stuck a fist in my chest, and ripped out my heart.
It�s enough to make me lose coherency completely, and I have no idea how long I kneel there, weeping silently.
But eventually, my senses return, and I feel like an idiot. It�s so fucking obvious, I feel like bitch-slapping myself for not seeing it.
It�s a trap.
***
And that thought comforts me. So long as I know about the trap, I won�t get caught in it. And maybe . . . just maybe, if I make the right choice, I will have a chance. And that�s more chance than I felt like I had before the trap was laid.
I reach in my pocket � amazingly, still intact � and pull out a capsule, tossing it to the ground. It implodes, leaving in its place a duffel bag. I open it, fish out a bottle of soap and a towel (two things I have never gone without, since I was about ten), and I head north, flying over the trees again. I fly low over the edge of the lake, dropping my towel and tattered clothes on the shore, and I dive head-first into the water, soap in hand.
About twenty minutes later, I emerge, feeling as clean as I can possibly make myself, and I retrieve my towel, drying myself as I head back to my bag, where I put on my spare change of clothes, putting the soap and towel back in the bag and re-encapsulating it, returning it to my pocket.
Inspired, I transform, maxing out my energy for the flight home, making it in a matter of seconds. I�m exhausted as I drop on my balcony, and I can feel dad, still holed up in the training room.
I wonder if I didn�t notice it before today because I was weaker, then. But dad really is getting stronger. Maybe not strong enough to beat Goku � it�s hard to gauge it properly, even though I became well-acquainted with his nearly-limitless reserves of power today � but dad is sure a hell of a lot closer than I am, even after the day�s double recovery. Closer than I had assumed, before.
Just to make sure all my bases are covered, I head for my shower, pretending like I�d gone straight there from training, which is what I would have done under normal circumstances. I was scared dad would be done training for the day when I got home, would be suspicious of me, for coming home clean as a whistle, but it was better to come home clean than to get caught out by his nose.
After the faux shower, I head to the kitchen, grabbing as much food from the refrigerator as I can find that doesn�t require cooking, and I set in to replenish my body�s energy stores, less gracefully than normal. And just as I�ve stuffed my face about as much as it can be stuffed, I feel my dad power down, hear the gravity machine shutting off.
As I�m cleaning up, he comes in through the outside door, drenched in sweat, a soaked towel hanging around his neck, his clothes nearly as destroyed as mine were earlier. His smug look, in the general direction of the unusual number of empty boxes and cleaned plates, says he knows I had at least one senzu today.
Well, what did he expect?
He opened the refrigerator, grabbing a carton of juice, chugging it down. He�s probably eaten already; he always goes back to training after his evening meal.
�Well?� he says, eying me up and down. �Did you manage to hit him? Or did you just cry all day while he beat you senseless?� I have to fight a blush, as he�s really not too far off the mark.

Attempting to sound casual, I say, �I managed to hit him a few times.�
Dad makes a noise that tells me he knows full well that I only managed to hit Goku at all because Goku had let me.
He throws the carton in the trash, heading for the stairs, and probably for his own shower, calling back over his shoulder, �Try to hit him a few more times tomorrow.� How does he know we�re going to meet again tomorrow?
�Sure dad,� I answer, but he�s already gone.
After I�m done cleaning up, I head up to my room again. I take out my capsule, replacing the towel in my bag with a clean one, throwing the wet one in the laundry basket, and replacing the spare clothes as I take them off.
The flare of energy I used to fly home seems to have done the trick, and before too long, sleep begins to come.
The first dream comes before my mind is fully under, and I�m sitting on Goku�s lap, like I had done earlier in the day. Twice. This time, he makes no effort to hide the power between his legs, rubbing his cock against me through our clothes as he kisses me . . .
This time, half-awake still, I know it�s not real . . .
In the dream, I have no reason to fear, no reason to feel guilt. No shame, as I grind my ass against him, encouraged by his strong hands. Protective hands. No reservations, as I taste his mouth, giving him the devotion he deserves . . .
But then, by some strange twist of determinism, I look up, and I see Goten a short distance away, watching us.
Eyes accusing, full of hurt.
If I hadn�t been the one dreaming, it might have been predictable . . .
The dream shifts to something else . . . something more pleasant . . . and by the time I�m fully asleep, I know my decision is made . . . completely aware that there was never a real choice.
I want him back.
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Taste of a Cure