A/N: Shounen ai-ish hinting, but if you blink you will
literally miss it. Think brotherly thoughts, homophobes. Set
sometime around the end of Z, I suppose, but it's easier to just
ignore most of the timeline.
Mirai Trunks' POV.
"Call It a Vacation"
Who is this child? He looks at me as if he remembers me, or
thinks he might. I just stare back at him in sheer bemusement.
Honestly, I've never SEEN the boy, though he does bear a rather
striking resemblance to Goku now that I think of it.
"Hello," I say awkwardly.
" . . . hi," he replies in a quiet voice, shuffling his feet
slightly. He's confused, and thusly nervous, and I share the
Yet, at the same time . . . I feel oddly relaxed in this boy's
Cautiously, I edge around him and reach out to knock on the door
of my "parent's" apartment, but the child's hand on my wrist
stops me in my tracks. I turn back to him and he gives me that
look again, that odd little "do I know you?" look.
"Are you related to Trunks?" he asks uncertainly.
How do I answer THAT?
Well, I suppose there's only one way.
"Yup," I say idly, reaching out again and actually knocking this
time. A brief sound of footsteps, and the door sings open to
reveal my "mother", still young and virile and all curves and
high fashion. She does a double take and screams. Not quite
the welcome I was hoping for . . .
Then she tackles me and screams again; this time it is
recognizable as a shriek of joy, and I feel so glad to be home,
even if it isn't really.
"You're back! You're BACK!" she cries, jumping up and down in
excitement and causing me to smile.
"Hello, Mother," I say softly and the boy nearly falls over.
"Whaaat?!" he squawks.
"Oh, Goten- I didn't even see you there!" my mother exclaims,
releasing me to lean over to the boy. "Trunks is at the
dentist; Dad should have him back in an bit though. You can
come in and wait if you'd like."
"Okay . . . " the boy says guardedly. "But, um . . . who is . .
. ?" He looks up at me helplessly and I smile, again feeling
oddly soothed by his presence.
"I'm Trunks," I tell him cheerfully. "And Mother called you
"Uh, right," he says uncomfortably, giving me a somewhat puzzled
look. "But . . . you said your name is Trunks?"
"It's an alternate timeline thing," my mother remarks
flippantly, waving Goten's confusion off and sweeping the both
of us into the apartment. My father (of sorts) emerges from the
kitchen even as she enters it, devouring the contents of a large
bowl of miso soup. He nods at me in mild acknowledgement; then
puts the bowl aside.
"Something wrong again?" he inquires, and I shake my head no.
"Not really," I confess. "Call it a vacation of sorts. I
needed to get away for a few days, just one last time."
"Mm," he replies uninterestedly, returning his attention to the
food and leaning back against the wall. Goten gives the bowl a
wistful look. Must be related to Goku somehow. Perhaps he's
Gohan's son? Or is Gohan still too young for that? Stupid time
traveling; I honestly don't know.
"Who exactly . . . ?" I gesture meaningfully at the boy,
glancing over to my mother.
"Goku's brat. He hangs around with our Trunks," my father says
between sips. "Why did you really come here?"
I stiffen slightly. How can he know me so well? We have barely
interacted at all, and yet he knows when I lie or conceal things
from him. It should not be possible.
But he is still my father, in a sense at least, and besides my
timeline's Gohan, the only one I have ever known. Let him know
me as well as he wants, no matter whether I understand him at
I glance to the kitchen- my mother is out of human earshot. So
I tell him.
"Ah." He seems to understand now, apparently even knowing whom
the unnamed woman is, and I feel comfortable sitting down on the
couch. After all, who could bear the thought of life without
her- my real and true mother? Perhaps he will think of her
regretfully later; perhaps not. At least he knows now, and she
is surely with her version of him again.
Goten sits immediately beside me, seeming awkward with my
company but also glad to have me in the room. The same way I
feel in regards to his continued presence, in fact. The child
looks up at me with remarkably innocent eyes, but I can feel
hard muscles moving under the soft baby skin. Knowing Goku's
rather . . . "hectic" life, the boy's not so innocent as he
I look down at him and wonder what he will be like at my age.
Wonder what it would have been like if Goku had lived long
enough to conceive him. Wonder if my world would have been more
pleasant with someone like him there to suffer through it with
me and wonder so many other things.
He begins to speak, tentatively at first, and then faster, and
the next thing I know we're both laughing and chattering on like
the oldest of companions. Is he really a friend of this
timeline's version of me? Oh, I wish he were mine too. I want
him. He's so nice. So sweet, so friendly.
Strange, to mourn someone for never being born.
My other-mother, as I've come to think of her, bustles back into
the room with more soup and passes the bowls to Goten and I.
"Eat up, guys!" she chirps with a bright smile.
It's a canned soup, I can tell. But it means so much to me that
she bothered to make it at all. I think I would cry for the
need of this woman's care, were my father not here. Cry for
losing her for good and needing nothing more than to be with
My real mother . . . I didn't even properly grieve when she
died. I wanted to be strong, like my father would've been.
Like she had been when HE died.
Then I glance over to my father just as he accepts a second
helping from my other-mother, not exactly smiling at her so much
as relaxing in her general direction. And I understand that he
loves her, however odd it may seem to outsiders, and that he
would mourn her loss.
So screw it all, I stop faking it.
My tears come in a rush, silent and fierce and lonely, and my
other-mother immediately rushes up and hugs me, concern evident
in her voice and actions alike. Goten's eyes are large and
strangely empathic, and though my father says nothing, I know
that he is aware it would be far worse to speak comfort he does
not- can not- fully mean.
This is my life. And this is my family. Small and broken and
strung out across a dimension or two, but still real. Still
always there to come back to.
I want to stay. I've always, more than anything, wanted to
My other-mother pulls back, her eyes solemn. "She's dead, isn't
Of course she'd know.
"Yes," I whisper, and she tightens her embrace again.
"It's okay, baby," she croons soothingly. "It's alright . . . "
My mother was always a good liar. I loved her for it. It was
that flawless lying that gave me a childhood.
Goten is still looking up at me silently.
I like him.
"Wanna stay for a while?" he asks. "You can sleep over at our
place- Mom's always happy to have somebody else to cook for."
"Heh, cool." I grin at him, not bothering to wipe my tears away
or let go of my other-mother. "Sounds like a blast, Goten."
He grins back. "Great!" he says happily. Did I just make him
Now that- that is really great.
I want to meet myself. I want to get to know this kid who makes
me feel so happy. I want a mother and father at the same time.
I want . . .
"Can we keep you?" my other-mother asks hoarsely.
I scrub my tears away harshly, praying that I won't break down
bawling again, and Goten grabs my shoulder.
"Don't be sad," he begs. "Please don't."
I like him so much . . . I want a friend like this. I want a
place to fit in here. But there is already a Trunks in this
timeline, and they have no need for me and my outdated memories
The door suddenly bangs open, a very pissed-off kid with the
glare from Hell storming in. "I. Hate. Dentists," he bites
out, and the rest of us stare blankly at him for a moment.
He's . . . me.
"Wow," I say stupidly after the obligatory long and awkward
pause, "you sure grew up."
"TRUNKS!" Goten cries in delight, jumping to his feet and
tackling the other around the waist.
"Hi, Goten. Eh?" Trunks blinks at me even as he automatically
returns the half-embrace. My father's eyebrow twitches
slightly. "Who the hell are you?"
"Uh . . . " I grin rather sheepishly and untangle myself from my-
his- our- mother. "Would you believe that I'm you?"
Another blink, and then the confusion clears from his eyes.
"You're that guy from the future," he realizes with only mild
surprise, releasing Goten. "With the androids and medicine and
all that crap."
"They told you about me?" I'm flattered that they bothered.
"Little bit." He shrugs and kicks off his shoes. "Like, you
were around when I was a baby and helped fight that Cell freak."
Then he smirks appreciatively. "And you killed Freezer. Now
THAT was a cool story."
"Totally," my other-mother agrees with a chuckle. My father
rolls his eyes and snorts.
"You gonna stick around for a while?" the younger me inquires
curiously as he hangs his coat up.
I try to hide my surprise. Shouldn't he feel . . . I don't
know, threatened by my presence or something? "I guess . . ." I
He hops up onto the couch next to me. "Good. Tell me about the
time you fought the androids, 'nii-san," he orders.
"Yeah!" Goten cheers, sitting on my other side and grinning
"'Nii-san?" Now there's a new one.
Trunks gives me an expectant look.
So I start to tell the story, and it's strange, but I almost
feel like I belong in this place.
Maybe I could stick around for a bit after all. It's sure to be
one hell of a vacation.
* ende *
. : time is relative : .