He bounced on the balls of his feet, grinning. This was it—this was the moment. "Dad!" he sprinted up to his father, tugging at his shirt. "Hey!"
"Not now, boy!" Vegeta snapped, pulling himself free of the child's grasp. "I've important things to attend to," and he rounded the corner, slamming a door shut behind him.
Trunks sunk back against the wall, sighing. Did he have just have terrible timing? Oh well, his loss, the boy decided, planting his cheek against his palm. He stretched back and glanced up at the ceiling, counting on his fingers. How many times had he tried?
"Dad, Dad! Goten and I were sparring today…" he began, but faltered as he rounded the corner to see his mother with her hands on her hips, glaring Vegeta down.
"Absolutely not, Vegeta!" the woman spat. "The gravity room you have is more than sufficient for you—and more importantly, I am not here to just do everything you ask of me! I run a company, you know!"
Vegeta stormed off, shoving past Trunks.
"Out of my way, boy. Piss off."
This was it. This was definitely the moment. He could tell that his father was in the gravity room—what better a time to tell him than while they were training? Trunks was surprised, in fact, that his father hadn't insisted that he train as well.
He punched in the code to open the door, and as it slid open, he instantly knew why his father hadn't invited him. He blushed, turning around and keying the code again to shut the door, hoping they hadn't noticed. Probably not—his mother and father had looked rather…preoccupied.
There was only one way to do it, and it had to be the clear, official way. He spent all afternoon dreaming about how his father would react, trying to decide on the best way to say it, the way that it would have the most impact. A demonstration? He was still thinking about it as he joined his parents for dinner, and made up his mind as he sat down. Trunks cleared his throat and tapped his fork against his plastic cup.
"Ahem, I have an announcement."
"Kakarrot is coming back for a day. We all know," Vegeta spat.
"No…I don't care…" Trunks sputtered, his perfectly laid speech already crumbling from beneath him. "I don't even…know who he is…" He regretted saying it the moment it left his mouth, as Vegeta launched into an explanation of who Kakarrot was and why he needed to defeat him.
It shouldn't have been so hard. In fact, knowing where his father's priorities laid, it should have been easy. The man pretended like he didn't care, but anytime Trunks trained with him, he felt eyes boring into the back of his head. Somehow, though, he'd always chosen the wrong moment.
"Boy," Vegeta exited the room he'd stormed into, walking past Trunks again. "Training. Now. I heard you talking with Kakarrot's brat last night—and if you're entering the tournament, too, you must defeat him."
"O-okay," Trunks hopped up, following his father. Vegeta, Trunks noticed, had insisted on training more intensely than ever after hearing that this Kakarrot guy was coming. He dialed up the gravity past where Trunks had ever seen it, and he struggled even to walk.
"Never mind, you're too weak; don't bother," Vegeta spat.
Trunks knew what he had to do—this was his moment. "Fine. I'll just turn Super Saiyajin." A gold aura burst forth and he grinned at his father's shock. Juuuust right.