Can't Go Back Mirai No Trunks

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The child laughed, high-pitched and musical, as the caterpillar crawled along the ridge of his outstretched, chubby finger. Lavender bangs swished into his eyes as he watched the tiny body snake across his skin. Unaware he was being watched, Chibi Trunks ran toward the edge of the small wood, eager to show off his prize.
"Daddy, Daddy! Look!"
Vegeta! He wasn't expecting to come face to face with him! The watcher shrank behind the massive oak, guarding his presence and energy level carefully.
"Chibi Trunks! You know that father of yours isn't around right now! He went to spar a round or two with Picollo and Gohan. Don't you remember?" Bulma laid a gentle hand on the four-year-old's head.
"Oh yeah," he answered dropping his chin in disappointment, "I forgot."
"Well, you just let me see what you have there, little guy!" Bulma made her tone cheerful, but wished silently that Vegeta would spend more time at home. "He misses out on too many great moments like this one," she thought sadly.
The watcher released a sigh of relief, hearing her words from his hiding place. He wanted to question the child alone before he came face to face with his unpredictable father. He turned his attention back to the young woman and her son.
"Wow, Trunks! That's some bug you found there, look at all its colors!"
"It's not a bug, Mom! It's a catapiller," the boy said, his father's infamous scowl on the tiny face.
"Well, I'm sorry young man, but you'd better watch that temper! You look just like your dad with that face," Bulma laughed, hoping to stimulate the same reaction in her child.
Chibi Trunks smiled, "I'm just like my dad," he affirmed proudly.
"Yes, you are my little man. Now, do you want to put that `catapiller' in a jar to save for your dad? I expect he'll be home soon."
"Yeah, Mom! You're the greatest!" He skipped eagerly behind her into the dome-shaped dwelling to hunt for the perfect caterpillar home.
"Just like always, she's the greatest," the observer mused to himself.

He watched as the child stood on tiptoe and somehow managed to place the jar atop the picnic table in the front yard. He then ran back to the enclosure of trees that was his favorite place to play.
"Finally," the man sighed to himself. He stepped out from the shadows of his hiding-place, as the child was about to trot past.
"Hi there," he greeted the boy, squatting to his height and speaking softly in the hope he wouldn't startle the child.
His father's son, Trunks showed little fear, retreating only a step back and eyeing the young man with curiosity, "Hello, who are you? You have the same color hair as me."
"Yes, that's right," Mirai Trunks chuckled and ruffled his younger self's hair with a white-gloved hand. "You're awfully smart, Trunks."
"How do you know my name?" the child enquired of the stranger.
"Let's just say I've known your Mommy a long time."
"Oh, you're Mommy's friend. I'll go get her for you." The child turned to run back toward the house, but the teen softly caught him by the arm.
"No, don't get her yet, please? I'd like to talk to you for a while before you do that, then we can go see her together, ok?"
"Sure. Hey, do you want to see my catapiller?" Trunks' smaller version of himself asked with excitement.
"You bet, why don't you go get him and I'll find us a comfortable spot under this tree, here."
"'Kay!" The small boy ran as fast as his short legs would allow and precariously rocked the jar toward the edge of the table. It fell into his anxious hands, and in his haste to present his treasure to his newfound friend he rose from the ground and flew back to Mirai Trunks' as fast as a glint of sunshine plays off the surface of water.
Mirai Trunks' heart was touched by the eagerness of the child. This coupled with the playfulness and mirth emanating from those blue eyes so much like his mother's reminded him of the contrasting nature of his own childhood. He couldn't help but experience a pang of envy and longing for the life this child would have.
"I wish I could be you," he thought to himself as he watched the multicolored length crawl from the stubby finger of the child to the tip of his own. "Hey, he's really great," he said, looking deep into the child's eyes.
"How do you know it's a he? My mom says she can't tell."
Mirai Trunks laughed at this, "To be honest, I'm only guessing," he admitted.
"That's ok. I guess it doesn't matter. He's still fun to play with," he lowered his eyes and continued hesitantly, "And so are you."
"Thanks little guy," Mirai Trunks had the sudden wish that they lived in the same time, in the same house, growing up together just like brothers. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"
"Nope." Chibi Trunks carefully took the tiny creature back and transferred him back into the jar.
"What's your dad like? Do you two get along?"
"What do you mean?" the child asked with a puzzled expression.
"You know, do you play together a lot? Or train together? Anything like that?" Trunks looked to him expectantly for the answer.
"Well, well, well. Just what are you doing back here?" Vegeta's gruff voice invaded the space between the two. Mirai Trunks felt his heart slam against his ribs with the pace of a scared rabbit as he raised his eyes to the black pools belonging to his father. It was only modestly comforting to observe the protective way in which he scooped his toddler son up into his arms.
"Daddy, look at my catapiller!" Trunks squealed wriggling the upper half of his body toward the ground with arms straining to capture the recycled spaghetti sauce jar.
Ignoring his small son's efforts Vegeta queried the teen again before he even had a chance to stammer an answer to the first question, "Speak up, boy! Have you come as the bearer of bad news once again? And what do you want with my son?"
"I'm your son too you know," Trunks spat back bitterly.
At this, caterpillar forgotten, Chibi Trunks raised his head in alarm, "I knew you were my brother! Your hair is like mine…" the boy's shrill cries brought his mother out of the house.
"Vegeta, what's going on out here?" she shouted.
"Curse you! Look at the chaos you're causing! If you need to talk, we'll have to do so at a later time. I don't wish to upset the boy or his mother," Vegeta snarled at Mirai Trunks. He whirled around and strode quickly toward Bulma, who was straining her eyes against the glare of the setting sun to see who Vegeta had been talking to.
"Daddy! Wait! Put me down…"
Mirai Trunks was filled with desolation as he turned away from the fading sound of the child's futile pleadings.

"Trunks Briefs! I knew you took that time machine back again! How many times do I have to warn you against altering the events of that timeline?" Bulma's eyes flashed furiously at her son as he climbed out of the capsule.
Mirai Trunks mumbled incoherently under his breath, turning his back to his mother and walking quickly toward the crumbling walls of Capsule Corporation.
"You just come back here right now, young man!"
"I'm not in the mood, Mom! Leave me alone; you just don't understand," he shouted dejectedly.
"Oh, I know better than you think," she thought to herself, "I should've known it would be a mistake to send that poor boy back to meet his father. Now he doesn't know how to let him go." Deciding to let her son have some time alone, she went back to replanting the demolished flowerbed for what felt like the hundredth time.
"Maybe, since those damned androids are destroyed, this will be the last time I have to do this," she sighed.

"Mother?" Trunks cautiously peeked out of the shadow of his unlighted bedroom at Bulma as she sat by herself at the dinner table. She didn't look angry, but then she had fooled him before when he'd thought he had escaped punishment in the past. Then he saw that familiar look in her large eyes that she wouldn't allow to surface too often. It was an expression of utter defeat, as if someone had reached in and ripped the heart right out of her, and he knew she was thinking of his father.
"Oh, Vegeta," she breathed, barely audible.
He knew then that she hadn't heard nor seen him. Trunks could count on one hand how many times in his life she had let that name slip from her mouth, and it was always when she thought he was somewhere beyond the sound of her voice.
"Mom…"
She scrambled to swipe away the fat teardrop that had spilled over her lower lashes.
"Mom, it's ok. You don't have to be afraid to cry in front of me," embarrassed, he felt his own eyes start to well. He found that the fierce devotion he felt for his mother, along with the constant fear of her death, brought his most deeply buried emotions to the surface with violent speed and force.
For the second time ever in his life he watched his mother actually break down and cry, "Trunks don't you think I know how you feel?" she sobbed.
"I…don't understand…"
"Of course you do! You forget how well I know you, Trunks Briefs! You don't think I miss your father? You don't think I wish I could be with him, too?" she shouted.
Trunks gasped, "Mom, I never heard you say anything like this. I had no idea you felt this way. I thought…"
"Thought what Trunks? That I didn't love your father? That I didn't grieve for him every day of my life? Well, I did. I never showed that to you because I knew you'd have a hard enough time even if I were constantly showing you a brave face. But now I see I may have been wrong to do that. I want you to know now just how much I wish I could see Vegeta once more, look in those black eyes of his, kiss that proud mouth. I have to almost tie myself down, Trunks, to keep from jumping in that time machine so that I could be in his arms again for just one more minute, but you have to understand, my son, what a disaster that would be."
Trunks could only look at her with his mouth open, grasping for words that would not come.
"I was afraid this would happen. And I'm not saying I'm sorry for saving that world and that timeline; I believe with all my heart that we did the right thing in sending you back with Goku's medicine. But you can't keep invading that time and space…"
"But Mom!" Trunks felt anger rise at her words.
"No "buts," Trunks! When we sent you back, we had no choice but to rip open a rift in time-one which created a whole new parallel timeline of our world. It's one in which a better set of circumstances can exist, yes, but it's theirs, Trunks. Theirs and not ours, I'm sorry. You're going to have to understand and accept that. And what if you one day accidentally go back to a time before the moment at which you first arrived there? You know that would create a whole new rift, and God only knows what the consequences of that might be." she looked at him with compassion, laying her small hand on his shoulder as he sat in the chair beside her.
"It's not fair. I had to grow up without him all these years. And then when I finally get a chance to get to know him you want to take it away from me!" he started to rise from his seat, but she firmly pushed him back down.
"No, Trunks. You know I'd never do anything to hurt you. I told you from the beginning that these trips into the past would have to be limited, you have to be fair!"
"How can you ask me to be fair, when everything else in my life is the opposite?!" he screamed at her. Her son stood quickly, jerking out of Bulma's reach. Rage grew in his belly like some demented vine, curling upward and spreading quickly to every cell in the young Saiyan's body. His hair began to flare golden at the tips and stood up from his skull in wild peaks as his dark blue eyes began to solidify into that lighter shade, which reminded Bulma of the once-untroubled sky of early summer.
She knew there would be no reasoning with Trunks now but still shouted after her fleeing son, "We don't even know the full implications of creating this other world! For God's sakes we can't tamper with it any further! TRUNKS!!!"
But he was already wildly punching in the coordinates to take him the farthest distance possible away from her words.

His father had said he could talk to him at a later time, so Trunks decided to arrive late into the night of the same day he had been in their world. This way there was no danger of upsetting his younger self, which seemed to anger Vegeta greatly.
"But that's promising," he said out loud to no one but himself, "he obviously cares about him, I mean me." At this he laughed and relaxed enough to for the golden spikes to fall into a soft lavender swish against his neck. In the next instant he felt the rush of butterflies against the lining of his stomach at the excitement of seeing his father once more.
He kept at a considerable distance from the house and raised his ki so that his father could feel it. Back in his world, his mother had somehow learned to sense his presence, just like the other Z fighters, but only if he raised it his power level significantly above normal. It would take only a miniscule increase for Vegeta to detect him.
"Well, Boy, what is it this time? More androids?" Vegeta sneered leaning against a nearby tree.
"Father!" Trunks jumped back, startled. It was amazing how well his father could hide his power.
Vegeta chuckled, obviously amused with himself for frightening the teen. "It's incredible how much of your mother you have in you," he said, "I can certainly see the lack of my influence in your upbringing," the right side of his mouth curled up into its customary smirk.
Trunks dropped his head and turned his sapphire eyes away, "You don't have to insult me," he mumbled.
"I have to do something to keep my mind off the warm bed I could be sleeping in right now. Get on with it, Boy! Tell me why you felt the need to show up here again after three years?"
"Oh my gosh," thought Trunks to himself, suddenly realizing how alarming his presence must be to the people in this world after they had gotten used to not seeing him for a long stretch of time, such as three years. It had been over a thousand days since the people of this time had last seen him, but he had only waited a couple of days before traveling back again. He could literally pop in and out of their lives whenever he chose, insinuating the element of the unfamiliar into their daily routines at whim.
"What?! What is it? Speak up now!"
"Huh, oh, sorry. I just realized how much of a shock it must be to have me show up so unexpectedly after so much time has gone by. To me it was only two days ago that I was here with you all." To Trunks, those two days had seemed like an eternity, with each minute creeping sluggishly along.
"Damn right it is! I'll ask you once more, what is it now? Did you come to warn us yet again of some terrible, impending danger?" Vegeta's tone was sarcastic, "Because if you did, you're wasting your time. As you can probably tell, I've been training as intensely as ever, and I'm more than capable of handling anything remotely dangerous that might happen."
"No, it's nothing like that," he had hoped that his father might have mellowed more in the span of three years and began to feel foolish for making this journey.
"Then why are you wasting my time?!"
"I haven't even been here five minutes and you start to lose your temper! Why do you always have to be so harsh with me?" The fight with his mother in his own time and then this unpleasant exchange with his always-wished-for father took its toll upon the mentally exhausted youth. Tears began to well uncontrollably in his eyes, making him ten times more angry than he had been the moment before. He stomped toward the time machine determined to hide this embarrassing development from the father he still loved so much.
Vegeta knew he had gone too far. Living this long with Bulma and his little son had definitely had an effect upon his demeanor. Slowly, he was learning to consider the feelings of others, just as Bulma had done for him so long ago when he had been filled with more than twenty years worth of rage instilled in him by Frieza's upbringing. The ache in his heart caused by the loss of his own father surfaced momentarily and unexpectedly, and he could imagine what Trunks must have gone through, having nothing but speculation and the descriptions of others to try and fill the void of a stolen parent. He knew he had to overcome the disturbing feeling that came over him each time he saw the incredible sight of his child standing before him as a nearly-grown man instead of the chubby-faced infant or toddler he was more accustomed to.
"Son," he placed a hand on the retreating boy's shoulder.
Trunks eyes widened at this single word. His mouth hung open as he turned to look his father in the eye.
Vegeta took his hand from Trunks shoulder and chucked him under his chin, "Close your mouth. You look like you're trying to catch flies." His eyes were softened slightly from their usual icy glint, but only for a couple of seconds, " I've gotten in the habit of saying that to you…that is the younger you…this is all so confusing at times!" His father was noticeably uncomfortable, and stiffened his body in an effort to regain his composure.
From his previous experiences with Vegeta, Trunks reacted accordingly, becoming more formal in expression and posture, " I owe you an apology, Otosan," he bowed his head in a gesture of respect, "I sometimes forget how strange it must be for you when I come to see you in this time." His voice was quiet and he spoke calmly now, "You were right, Father. I am weak. You were exactly right when you told me that my feelings for you could be my downfall. Now, they truly are. For so long I thought that everything would be perfect if I could only find a way to destroy the androids terrorizing the Earth in my time, but now that that's done, all I want to do…" he trailed off, not wishing to disclose the turmoil he felt inside.
"Trunks, I think I understand a little bit about how you feel, but you have to understand how coming here whenever you wish is not a good idea."
"But…"
"Look kid, there's already one of you here, and I really don't think that your four-year-old self is going to understand how there can be two of you at the same time. You're going to upset him! Besides that, I've just now almost gotten Bulma-uh, your mother-past the point where she's so worried about the future you she can barely concentrate at times. I know this might be hard, but they are the family I live with day to day and I feel it's my job to make sure their lives aren't continually turned upside down whenever you get a pang of homesickness for this time."
"Are you saying we should never see each other again?" Trunks stammered, a look of hopelessness in his eyes. "How can you say that when we were just starting to get to know each other? I don't see how you could just turn your back on me completely. I know that I can't just come here whenever it's convenient for me, but we could plan to meet at a specific place and time and…"
"Don't you remember how the future was altered once before after you had warned us? There were changes in the events that…"
"Oh, sorry! I didn't realize you dislike living! If I hadn't come back you and the others would all be dead!"
"Such insolence!" Vegeta's face contorted in a fierce scowl.
"Yeah, I wonder who I get it from?" In another second, Trunks was picking himself up off the ground several hundred feet away.
"I'm your father!" Vegeta roared, "And you will listen to reason, Boy!"
"How can you be my father from a different timeline," Trunks screamed at him. He had never felt so unstable inside before. His dangerous childhood had imposed upon him the necessity of self control, but now it seemed he had none. Not even Gohan's death at the hands of Androids 17 and 18 had torn him apart inside like knowing his father was just beyond his grasp, never to be a part of his daily life. He let all the anger and need out transforming into a Super Saiyan with a force that lit up everything around him and his father. The ground cracked and caved around their feet, while trees were thrown asunder, reaching their twisting roots toward the midnight sky.
"Ok, kid! It's time to teach you some manners!" Vegeta spat as his own hair flared up into golden spikes.
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