Uncharted Waters

Chapter IV:


Goten was slumped upon the couch, watching the old television centered in his living room. The circular screen depicted images of a small farmhouse in the center of a grassy hillside. Overly wholesome children in worn clothing suddenly appeared. They rushed up the hill to the open barn wood door into a cramped living space. The grubby bunch clambered around a long beat up wooden table joining a man with matted unwashed hair. He smiled at them, taking the smallest upon his knee.

Ebony eyes were fixed to the screen as the quasi-bohemian began a narration on the evils of freethinking. They remained immobile when the image was abruptly replaced with a series of rapidly changing scenes. To his right Goten heard, but did not acknowledge, an oppressive sigh. Trunks threw down the remote in utter disgust.

“There’s nothing on. You wanna go into town?”

“No,” the dark-haired teenager said without taking his eyes from the TV.

Trunks repressed the urge to scream in frustration. His mother’s advice drifted through his head. Of course, he wanted to help Goten; he was his best friend. Yet, he couldn’t see how sitting on his butt in front of a crap television for five hours was beneficial to the healing process. He had tried to make conversation but he only received one-syllable replies for his trouble. The Demi-Saiyan admitted to himself that he was worried. Goten was not the type to do anything drastic, but depression was a nasty thing. It killed him to watch his once boisterous accomplice wasting away on the couch day in and day out.

“Are you hungry?”

Goten shrugged half-heartedly. “Not really.”

“You want to go out back and spar for a little bit?”

There was a moment of stillness. The only sound was that of a beer commercial emitting from the archaic device they called a television. Trunks blinked in confusion as he watched the taller boy’s jaw clench.
at dat did you say?”

It took him a second to gather his wits, Goten’s voice sounded strange in his ears, but he repeated the question. “I asked if you wanted to go out back and spar since you didn’t want to go into the city. You haven’t trained in a long time, you know. And I thought it would be nice for you to get out.”

Goten’s head snapped around, his luminous black eyes shot daggers at his companion. His voice erupted from deep within, shaking as each word flew from his lips. “I won’t EVER go back there again! You understand me? I can’t ever go back—Where in the hell do you get off asking me something like that?!” he shouted. “Are you fucking crazy?!”

Trunks was shocked. This was the first time in nearly a month that Goten had reacted to anything. Albeit this was a negative reaction, but still it was better than nothing. What he couldn’t understand was why the sudden outburst. It was a simple suggestion after all; he had asked him a hundred times before. Then he examined his words: he had said ‘out back’ as in the backyard. Trunks mentally slapped himself. Goten had found his mother back there. Of course he didn’t want to return to the scene of her death. He threw up his hands in surrender and spoke quickly trying desperately to soothe his upset friend.

“Okay, okay, I get it. Look, I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sorry.”

Goten studied Trunks face for a moment as if sizing up the sincerity. “It’s okay,” he said at last, “just...just don’t mention that again, all right?”

The shorter demi-Saiyan nodded. “Okay,” he said, then quickly changed the subject. “Did you get all of your history done?”

The tension lifted a little from Goten’s face. “No, not yet. I’m having trouble concentrating on it.”

“Well, if you like, I can help you with it later.”

Goten turned his focus back to the television. “Thanks, but I think I’ll just call Gohan. He’s really good at that kind of thing.”

Trunks nodded, and he, too, turned to look at the screen. He was both hopeful and saddened. For a second Goten had appeared to be back to stock, but the moment was all too fleeting as his eyes had glazed back over. The blue-eyed youth sat half an hour longer on the well-worn sofa then finally got up to leave. Goten hardly seemed to notice, but then he unexpectedly glanced at Trunks with a look on his face the older boy couldn’t read. It passed so quickly that he wondered if he had really seen it. Shrugging it off as something his burnt out mind had concocted, he ducked out the door and took off toward the skies.

A weight lifted from him; the Son house seemed to have a cloud of despair hanging over it nowadays. It saturated his clothing and seeped into his skin leaving a feeling of hopelessness in the core of his chest. He cared for Goten, he honestly did, but man it was depressing as all hell. He flew north at a leisurely speed. After the span of about twenty minuets he felt an energy nearby paired with the flashing of lights over the horizon. He curbed his projected path and sped towards the disturbance. It was coming from the mountains, and with his keen eyesight, he could make out a figure floating above the peaks showering blast after blast below him. Wondering what his father-mach-two was so ticked about, he moved towards him, spiking his ki to let his presence be known.

Not that the raising of ki was necessary, Piccolo knew Trunks was fast approaching. He discontinued his assault on the mountainside as the adolescent drew near floating down to a ledge that over looked one of several gorges. Trunks landed beside him, silently summing up his demeanor.

Piccolo was an imposing figure; no one could argue that. Tall to the point of towering with a voice that could cause the bravest of men to cower, the Namek was not someone to be meddled with. His dark eyes set in a chiseled face gave the impression that they could kill with a look, much like his father’s. However, the Namek’s eyes held a presence the Saiyan prince’s did not. It was as if he could see a through a person down to their very intentions. To be honest, it could be a tad unsettling at times. The green warrior hadn’t worn a turban or cape for years now, but that did little to diminish the striking appearance of the man. He was the third strongest being on the planet, yet had a variety powers that could be surpassed by no one. However, this knowledge did little to deter Trunks from asking, “Who crapped in your cornflakes this morning?”

Piccolo grunted in reply. He felt better but was still upset from the incident earlier in the day.
He had contemplated what to do about the situation and was coming up blank. He regarded the lavender-haired youth next to him. “I could ask the same of you.”

Trunks frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with me”

Piccolo looked skeptical and crossed his arms.

The boy sighed in defeat, “Oh, all right, I went to visit Goten, and he’s still moping around the house. All he does is watch TV and sleep. So, I try to be a good friend and sit with him, but it’s like I’m having the life sucked out of me. I can’t stand seeing him like that. I’m used to the loud and obnoxious Goten. Not a zombie.” He paused thinking back to an hour earlier. “But then I screwed up and mentioned the backyard by mistake. I only wanted to spar...and he shouts at me. I don’t know if I should be glad or upset.”

The Namek’s vexation finally dissipated. Trunks was his son through bondment. He often wondered if it was strange for the young man. He had one mother and three father figures. An outsider would think Trunk’s mother was master of a male harem. Piccolo cringed; he liked Bulma, but no... Just...no. He didn’t find women at all attractive, especially ones that had the tendency to shriek like a harpy. Though he had to admit, Bulma hadn’t shrieked nearly as much since Yamcha had moved into Capsule Corp. He reasoned this was due to Yamcha’s agreeable if somewhat cowed disposition.

Piccolo broke from his thoughts giving the teenager’s predicament his full consideration. “Did anyone tell you how ChiChi died?”

Trunks was taken off guard by the question. It made him uncomfortable. Even though ChiChi was Goten’s mother, he missed her too. “Yeah,” he said, fidgeting with one of the ties on his jacket a second before continuing. “Dad said that she was trying to repair the roof, but since we just had a recent snow storm the tiles were slick with ice. She lost her footing and fell, breaking her neck.”

“Well, that’s the PG version.”

Blue eyes met black in shock. As if his father, who was so staunchly honest with him, would cover any aspect of the truth.

Piccolo shook his head. “Settle down. What your father said was true. He wasn’t there to witness the clean up, however. I was. I’m not going to go into detail with you, but Trunks, it wasn’t pretty.” He moved closer to the blue-eyed Demi-Saiyan’s side. “I’ve seen a lot, kiddo, but the scene of the accident shook me up. You have to remember: Goten found her like that. Do you have any idea what that must be like? Not only is your mother dead, but being the one who found her...” He broke off as if to give the notion emphasis. “So,” he continued, “it’s perfectly understandable that he’s traumatized. Although, you cannot allow him to continue his reclusive behavior in excess. True,” he considered, “it will take time and all you can really do is be there for him. But keep an eye on him, too. Observe him; see what sparks his interests and then work with it. If push comes to shove, you may have to somehow shock him out of it.”

Trunks put his hands in his coat pockets and nodded. Piccolo was the one he sought out for advice. He could tell the Namek just about anything without fear of reprimand. He could also be blunt with the tall warrior. Out of all his ‘dads’—although he never called anyone that but Vegeta—Piccolo treated him for the most part as an adult. His biological father would always be first, indeed Trunks idolized his father, but Piccolo was a great mentor. And right now the perfect one with whom to talk, even though he originally had no intention of talking about it.

“I’ll give it a shot. I think mostly he’s just lonely. He’s all by himself at that house.” He cocked his head slightly at the older man. “So what was wrong with you?”

“Goku’s a goddamned idiot,” came the terse reply.

The lavender haired young man snickered. “You sound like dad,” he smiled. “So what did he do this time?”

“Don’t get me started. Look, if Goten is as lonely as you think he is. And you’re probably right,” Piccolo added, “it’s probably best for everyone if Goku returns home. He’s gathered what wits he has, and I think it’s time he focused on someone else other than himself.” He looked at the son of his mate weighing if he should share the next bit of information. Sighing, he continued, “He ducked out earlier when Krillen came to visit him...did the same with Gohan, too, and he had his daughter with him. He won’t reply to any of the messages Dende brings him. And as far as I know he hasn’t lifted a finger to contact Goten.”

Trunks grunted in agreement.

“No, he hasn’t.” The youth crossed his arms looking disgruntled. “Gohan has been over quite a bit, but no sign of Goku. Last time he was over, Gohan that is, I asked him if he’s heard anything from his dad, but then he got all pissy-looking and wouldn’t talk about it. I guess now I know why.”

He swept a rebellious strand of hair out of his eyes. “I wanted to ask Goten about it, but hell, like I said, it’s a pointless pursuit on that end,” he shrugged. “And I know what you mean about him not returning messages; mom tried to get a hold of him several times, but he never called back.”

A look of puzzlement crossing his features, he turned towards the green warrior. “Isn’t that odd for him?”

“What?”

“Goku, I mean. Granted, I don’t know him as well as you, but whenever I’ve talked with him he struck me as the type who always did the right thing. I mean he’s the nicest most fun-loving guy I’ve ever met. I know he lost his wife and everything, but you would think he would be the first one to support his sons.”

“You would think,” Piccolo replied, biting his tongue. He had his own opinion of Goku’s family skills and they were anything but flattering. He powered up, floating a few feet above the ground. “I’ll talk to him about it later. In the meantime, let’s go. I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

Trunks assented and joined his side, eager to get his mind on something other than Goten and his house of gloom.