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Author's Notes: Although I do loathe Trunks, I believe there is a point in every DBZ author's life where he or she has the desire to write a Mirai no Trunks fic. Upon my own reflection of this belief, it came to my understanding that the life of Mirai no Trunks was one that could not be pushed aside in the mind of a Dragonball fan. Its unspoken enigma of a lonely boy forced to grow in a world of chaos and destruction is far too emotional for the writer to simply push aside in her mind. In realizing this, I have taken the time off from my other stories to present you with, A Simple Promise. However, because I do have such a disliking for Trunks, I chose rather to write a story from Mirai no Bulma's point of view, rather then
Warnings: Extreme angst and some references to the violence caused by the androids.
Obligatory Disclaimer: I own no part of DBZ or its characters.
After I had conceived him, and his father had become the first of the androids’ many victims, I promised myself that I would protect him with my life. I swore that I would raise him to the best of my ability. Only a young woman then, I had little to no experience with children, but still I made that promise with all the truth and determination I had left in my soul for Vegeta's sake. I didn’t want my lover's death to go forgotten or unlamented.
When he could walk, I promised him strolls through the park. Joyful treks through a tree-lined cove of warm sunshine and flowers of every color and shade. Blue birds would hum overhead, and children would run giggling through the forest as we walked by. Rushing streams full of swimming minnows would follow the dusty paths that lead us safely through the wooded groves of sweetly smelling fruits and orchids.
When he gained the ability to listen earnestly and form his own words, I read and recited to him the age-old tales of happy endings and peaceful existence that my own parents had passed down through the generations to my ears. They were no longer my parents' stories; they were now mine to share and tell because I was the only one left.
When he entered the ripe age of mischief so familiar with that of a young boy, I promised that he would soon make friends. One day he'd be able to run along those familiar forest trails as I had when I had been younger. Blood rushing in his ears, he would run wild as he attempted to defeat the other children around him in the rush for home base.
When he came to an age of realization and awareness, I promised him a better place in the end. I promised that this world would shed the reign of terror, confusion, and pain that plagued it. One day, we would be together again in a place where summer rains were still smiled at and not looked darkly upon with the tyrant fear that hailed another coming of the androids. They simply loved to surprise us on those rainy days. Ignoring the painful truths of our current conditions, I also told him we would find ourselves back in a place where the cities still stood strong, the scent of pine and summer wafting in from their thick forest outskirts.
Those promises were never kept, and now my child, finally a man, stands readily before me to hear my last promise. This time, the pledge is not one of lazy days resting under a sunshine sky, nor are they of flowers and stories of knights and hidden treasures. No, it’s not any of those; instead, it is a vow of change and hope.
The tears, though no longer fresh, fall down my face when I see his soft blue eyes sparkling with the fervor and desire to change. It makes my heart ache to see him still eager to hear my promises, even after all those broken promises.
He deserved better then this, we all did, but he above all should not have suffered as he did. It was wrong to place the lives and voices of a thousand suffering people upon his shoulders. However, he had his father's blood coursing through his veins and Gohan's heart and virtue. With the power to do so, and the teachings of an unforgettable martyr, my son could not have possibly ignored the plea for help that rose among the ranks of humans who were dying. Most attempts failed, but Trunks still goes out faithfully to rescue those lost in the storm.
He still believes in happy endings, and I pray thanks to the gods for allowing him still to do so. Don’t get me wrong; he's realistic and his heart has hardened considerably from the innocent, trusting little boy I gave birth to. Nevertheless, he still has hope, the last thing we people left on this god-forsaken planet have left to cling to.
Shy, sad smiles communicate between us as he continues to prepare for his trip, eating his final dinner here and double-checking his inventory. We’re especially careful with that essential heart medicine, the vital link in changing the destiny of our planet. I can tell he's nervous about leaving, as am I. If he is lost in the flow of time or ends up in the wrong place…No! I must not imagine such things. My son is a warrior, a Saiya-jin warrior. He knows his way and has the power and determination to plow through the obstacles to get there, even if he must burrow through and make his own path.
The time has come, but suddenly these old bones are not sure they can make it over. What if he cannot stand to go back and leaves me here all alone? What if something goes wrong and he’s stuck in between times?
A million fears and anxieties run rampant through my mind as he walks over to embrace me one last time before he leaves. I hold him tightly for those last few moments while I still have my son. Who knows? I might be the one who isn't here for him upon his return.
One would think that, at this point, I would finally be able to break down and admit my fears, but I simply cannot. Trunks has enough on his shoulders without his mother's qualms to hindrance him further, so I do what I can and continue to hold him firmly.
Finally, the time comes to let my baby go, and I pull away slowly, carefully, as to not break him before he leaves. I can see that his crystal blue eyes-eyes that reflect my own-are shimmering with the same tears as my own. I want to reach out and touch him, tell him it's going to be okay, that tomorrow the sun will shine brighter, but I can't. I have already left him with too many broken promises as it is.
"I'll be back," he whispers softly, and I turn my face up to smile sadly at him and use my once soft but now calloused fingers to stroke his forehead and push away those stubborn strands of satin lavender. My son, my pride…and he's leaving me, but I know he must, for there comes a time in every mother's life where she has to say goodbye.
Trunks suddenly grasps my fingers and brings them down to hold my hands tightly to him. "I promise you, mother, that I will return. I promise you that I’ll change our world. We'll make a difference, when I come back." A gentle peck on the cheek later and he turns away, walking this world to enter another one with a promise in mind.
A promise…for once he is making the promises, not me. Perhaps its because I have no more promises to make, or maybe he really is the young man I think him to be, but I can't help but repeat his words in my mind.
"I promise you I will return…"
Without thinking, I hurriedly grab a marker and rush to where my son is settling into the time machine, our fairy tale treasure that will change this dark novel's plot.
"Trunks! Wait!"
He turns, and I come to stop only inches away from the cold, metal exterior of our beloved treasure. For a moment, our eyes lock, and my heart stops for a second. Those eyes, that determination…he's more like his father then he'll ever understand. I break the silence with another heart felt smile and turn my attention to the metal before me. Knowing I have but a few seconds, I hurry and quickly scribble the one word that has kept our family alive.
Hope.
Hope for better future, hope for a day when the sun finally is able to shine brighter, hope for a time where mothers can once again keep promises to their little boys.
I back away as the machine starts, and I wave one last time as my baby disappears into the unknown. The marker drops from my old, aching fingers, and I fall to my knees.
I am alone, again.
Well, maybe not completely alone. For the first time in years, I have real hope. I turn my head towards the heavens and whisper softly, "Forever, I promise."
Yay, nay? Is Chao-chan losing her touching? E-mail me with suggestions, complaints, criticism, etc. to ChaoticSerentiy3@aol.com.