Chapter Text
As the first day of school approached, Gohan could not help but be reminded of the future. A future, to be precise. One where his counterpart never had this opportunity. For, if it weren’t for Trunks’ interference, Gohan would have been the last warrior of Earth, and training Trunks to fight alongside him. To take his place when he, too, would ultimately perish.
This was a gift. The ability to follow his childhood dreams of becoming a scholar. One that Trunks had given him. At the thought of the warrior from the future, Gohan’s throat went dry. As he aged, he was able to better decipher the feelings that he had developed for the other half-breed. Of course, at the tender age of ten and eleven, sheltered from society, he was naïve, unable to truly give those feelings a name. Hell, the idolisation had started even before then, when Trunks had first appeared in their timeline. Gohan had been fascinated by the mysterious and powerful youth who guided them to where Gohan’s dad would land…
Gohan could only remember the day that Trunks had returned all too well. The day had been chaotic. Dreaded and anticipated. A horror story just waiting to be written. An ominous foreboding of a future to be. By the time that Trunks had arrived nothing had gone as planned: Dad succumbing to the heart virus later than he should have, the news of even more androids, the ominous expression on Trunks’ face… Oh, and that face – how glad Gohan was to see it. It was the one highlight of his day – the only highlight. Thus Gohan had clung to Trunks’ presence, the one good thing amongst the bad. It hadn’t taken long for the air of mystery surrounding the youth of the future to dissipate, his identity being revealed. This was Trunks, an older version of the baby that Bulma carried in her arms. The one that Gohan would take under his wing if the future wasn’t changed. To think, the youth who awed him all of those years ago was his future protégé! The one who travelled back in time to gift them the medication to save Dad’s life! To save Gohan from a life of solitude and suffering. Because if it weren’t for Trunks’ warning, Gohan would have lost his family, his friends, his mentor. First, his dad would have been taken by the heart virus. Then, today… Today was the day that Gohan would lose his friends— Leaving Gohan alone to train the only other person capable of defending Earth… And, even now, Trunks had returned to their side, to continue to provide assistance and help— Oh, Gohan owed everything to Trunks, so Gohan would do anything to help him in return…
Yet, Trunks’ presence didn’t mitigate the horrors that they faced. No, not completely. Dread filled those next few days as they encountered Seventeen and Eighteen – the androids that Trunks had warned them about. Ones that were much more powerful than Nineteen and Twenty. There, too, was the addition of Sixteen – yet another powerful android. Gohan had not been present for the fateful encounter between their warriors and the androids. Thankfully, it seemed that not all of the changes were bad, as the androids had spared the lives of their fighters. With Dad still alive – albeit fighting for his life against the heart virus – they were on the run until Dad was well enough to fight a physical battle. Nonetheless, it was a dreadful fight of life and death. It left Gohan terrified of what their future could bring as so many changes had left it cloudy and uncertain, an unknown that was terrifying in its own unique way. Thus, it only made sense that Gohan would cling to the one who made their future even possible, to the one who brought a semblance of hope in those dark and tumultuous times. Thankfully, Trunks didn’t seem to mind. He even took Gohan out, to get away from Dad’s painful suffering. Of course, unbeknownst to them, such an outing only brought even more horror and dread. For they found the remnants of Cell’s presence in their timeline. Which only meant one thing: Trunks’ impending death.
(Such realisations and connotations had hit Gohan deep. To learn of the death of somebody that he had idolised was… painful and Gohan had been determined to prevent it. Oh – how naïve he had been—)
Cell’s presence also brought along a newfound impending doom. For if he succeeded in his ambitions, they would have an even more powerful foe to beat. It had resulted in the merging of Piccolo and Kami – which left Gohan floundering in confusion and desperation because of his bond to his mentor.
With this new threat, their plans had changed. Thankfully, Dad had recovered and a new bout of training was inbound. For Dad had informed them about a room at the Lookout Tower where one could spend an entire year inside, but only a day would pass on the outside. Gohan would admit that he was still worried, because hadn’t they just spent the last three years training, and yet it seemed to have gotten them nowhere? Of course, things were different now. There were more androids, the androids were stronger, the fight that they had been preparing for was much more difficult than had been predicted. (Of course, not all of the changes were bad. Their fighters were still alive, Trunks was here—) So, Gohan supposed another year of training could, indeed, be the difference between victory and defeat.
Vegeta and Trunks had entered the chamber first, and while Gohan envied Vegeta, he couldn’t blame Trunks. After all, Trunks never knew his father, so being able to spend an entire year with him was an opportunity of a lifetime. Gohan and Dad could only wait atop the Lookout Tower in meditation as the battle for Earth’s future continued down below them. Piccolo had been following Cell’s trail, trying to keep him distracted and busy, while the humans were trying to track down the androids to keep them away from Cell. Bulma, too, was hard at work with her father, using the recovered blueprints to recreate the detonation device to destroy the androids once and for all. That day, perhaps, was one of the worst days, another reminder that Gohan wasn’t good enough, that he wasn’t strong enough. (Such feelings were hardly foreign to him: Radditz. Vegeta and Nappa. Frieza and his henchmen. Frieza and his father— Time and time again had Gohan been faced with superior foes, unable to best them. And such had been his life in Trunks’ future, such would be his life if they failed here… That is, if Cell let him live—) Gohan hated how helpless he had felt in those moments — especially when Piccolo had fallen in battle. His father had to hold him down to keep him from rushing to Piccolo’s side. Dad, too, was not immune to those feelings. Gohan could remember as his dad cried out when Tenshinhan risked his life to keep Cell at bay to buy the remaining androids time to get away. (Gohan also didn’t forget the relief that had washed over him when Dad arrived with Piccolo who had been clinging to life—) That day… it had stretched on and on, and… thinking back on it, Gohan supposed that the lack of Trunks’ presence only made that day feel that much longer.
For Gohan had been inexplicably drawn to the other half-breed. Aside from Piccolo, Trunks was the closest person to his age. And, even then, Piccolo was his mentor. Trunks, too, also shared the same lineage as him, something Piccolo didn’t quite share. Lastly, well… once again, Gohan had not been entirely aware of it at the time, but there was a budding attraction to the young warrior. The first time he even noticed had been the moment that Trunks had emerged from the chamber… Oh, Gohan remembered it all too well:
Light was shining behind Trunks, highlighting the young man. Gohan’s eyes naturally locked onto Trunks, becoming completely distracted by the sight. He remembered wondering if Trunks had gotten taller, noticing the bulk of his muscles, the tatters and tears in his attire, that stern look of determination on his face, before finally noticing Trunks’ hair— Long, it had gotten so long, growing like Gohan’s did, although straight as opposed to spikey. He remembered being so mesmerised by it, practically ogling the tie holding it up, the way that Trunks’ bangs framed his pretty face—
And, Gohan, too, remembered how jarring that realisation felt, snapping him back to reality, catching the tail end of what Dad was saying to catch the other two up to speed on the happenings in the last twenty four hours.
Bulma had arrived shortly after, giving the four of them the armour she had made for Vegeta while also fretting over Trunks’ hair (which Gohan was trying not to think about lest he get distracted again) and after changing into the armour, Gohan entered the chamber with his father for their year of training.
Father’s training, indeed, was much different than Piccolo’s, and Gohan did not have much mental energy to spare on the feelings that Trunks had awoken within him. In fact, Gohan had been concentrating on the polar opposite emotions in order to trigger Super Saiyajin. One of the differences between their timelines was that due to the survival of their warriors, Gohan consequently did not have the emotional trigger to activate Super Saiyajin. As such, their first goal was to unlock it. They trained day and night, Gohan constantly pushed to his limits and beyond. (There was no Mom to scold Dad about how hard they were training, or over the scrapes and bruises littering his body.) Gohan was far too focused on survival to think about Trunks.
And, even then… Once they had emerged from the chamber, the nightmare had continued. Cell had been able to attain ‘perfection’, absorbing both of the androids, and was threatening Earth and beyond. Horror after horror continued to haunt his life, and Gohan could hardly focus on anything. He would have to trust his father’s instincts on their training, but could only wonder — fear — if it was not enough.
The next few days were a blur of events. He remembered that Piccolo had entered the chambers next. Vegeta and Trunks also had wanted to use the chambers afterwards. Meanwhile Gohan would complete his training with father outside of the chambers. Dad had no plans to return to the chambers, especially as he did have less than a year due to his previous stint in them.
The next two days Trunks had, thankfully, decided to linger around. Had even insisted on being present for Gohan’s tenth eleventh birthday. Another thing that Gohan had been somewhat grateful for was that Trunks had cut his hair. For Gohan had been very much confused at just how attractive Trunks had looked with his longer hair, and with Trunks’ hair shorter, it lessened those confusing emotions. Of course they were still there but in a much lesser degree and more… manageable. He still found his gaze drifting over Trunks’ features and form, still finding himself inexplicably flustered at the littlest things: the way that Trunks’ eyes shone when he smiled, the soft way that Trunks spoke to him, or even the subtle support that Trunks offered… And while no longer overwhelming, these new sensations and feelings were foreign to Gohan. His upbringing only further complicated the matter as same-sex relationships were unheard of to him. It was so strange and baffling, unusual and perplexing. The sudden onset that began with Trunks’ emergence from the chambers didn’t help, either. It only made sense that Gohan would find it… difficult to come to terms with his developing feelings for another guy.
Not long afterwards Dende had come from New Namek to be their new guardian. Gohan remembered that day fondly. Dende had been a treasured friend when they had been on Namek, and to have another friend on Earth was both cherished and valuable. After all, Gohan only had a scant few friends that he could relate to.
Which only made sense that when Trunks had decided to enter the chamber by himself, Gohan had yearned to join him. There was so much about Trunks that had fascinated Gohan and he only wanted to know more about his saviour. He desired to spar with him, wanted the two of them to conquer their foes together and— Looking back on it now, it was only obvious that his budding feelings definitely had a part to play in those motivations as well. Trunks, obviously, had convinced him otherwise. Which, perhaps, was a little blessing in disguise, no matter how disheartened Gohan had been at the time. After all, when Trunks had emerged, his hair was — one again — long, bringing back all of those conflicting feelings once more…
(Gohan could not forget the way that he mumbled under his breath as he tried to rationalise his feelings, wondering if Trunks’ long hair made him look like a girl, which was why he was flustered at it. Because Trunks - that cheeky bastard - had apparently overheard Gohan’s muttering, flicking his hair back and asking ‘if he at least made a pretty girl.’ Oh, Gohan’s face had burned at that teasing remark—)
Of course, regardless of those conflicting emotions, Gohan still cherished the moments that continued between the two of them. Trunks had remained at his side which filled him with a great joy and elation, something that was in such short supply in those days leading up to the tournament. He simply couldn’t get enough of Trunks’ presence. It also served as a much-needed distraction from the impending doom. So while Gohan had been confused – in denial even – regarding his feelings for Trunks, it still brought him joy and comfort. Looking back on it now, maybe there was a reason for Trunks’ frequent visits. Perhaps Trunks had sensed, or even seen, the way that Gohan had clung to his side… As Gohan wondered just how observant Trunks was, he could only wonder if visits weren’t the only additional thing that Trunks had done… After all… Trunks had not cut his hair after his second stint in the chambers. He even fiddled with it often: twirling it, tucking it behind his ears, flipping it behind him… Far too enraptured at the time, Gohan hadn’t noticed just how… intentful it seemed. He could only wonder if Trunks was providing Gohan with even more of a distraction…?
—Ah… Gohan reached a hand up to his chest at that thought.
While it had been years at this point, those feelings were obviously still very much there. Of course, Gohan was now much older. Not only did he understand those emotions, he also accepted them. At eleven years of age, they had been much too foreign and strange to him, unable to grasp such concepts for a variety of reasons: he had lived ‘under a rock’, been isolated, and was practically a child-warrior. Love had been the furthest thing from his mind, nonetheless one that was new and unheard of. That being said, Gohan supposed that such feelings were behind him. After all, Trunks had returned to his timeline and his counterpart was not only much too young for Gohan to even consider, but their personalities were quite different as well.
Nonetheless, as Gohan reminisced on those days, he could only wonder just how Trunks was faring now…
.+++.
Gohan did not realise just how fitting his earlier reminiscing would be. For upon starting school, he bumped into the daughter of the human who attempted to battle Cell. The one who took credit for saving the world. (Gohan, honestly, could have cared less, too busy reeling in his mistakes for it to matter at first, but then grateful to not be in the limelight.) She eventually blackmailed him into training her, which spiralled into attending the Martial Arts Tournament. Upon hearing of Gohan’s attendance, a few of their friends decided to join. It also prompted a day for Gohan’s father to return from the Otherworld after so long. Gohan would admit that he was nervous to see his father, but also excited for his father to meet Goten.
Gohan, however, was adamant to ensure that the people from his highschool would not recognise him, which was why he had donned his “Great Saiyaman” attire, signing up as such. It was a little amusing, too, to see as his mentor also used a pseudonym. Krillin had no qualms about using his name, being a contestant all of those years ago. Goten also used his own name, which might bring attention to the fact that their father also was a contestant. And speaking of Goten, he heard as his little brother called out to Trunks.
Gohan looked over to the Briefs’ family before his eyes widened at an unexpected but familiar figure standing beside Vegeta. Haste marking his steps, smile stretching his cheeks, emotions pounding his chest, hands clasping Trunks’ shoulders, Gohan soon found himself in front of the man who had been Gohan’s saviour. (He had just barely managed to stop himself from tightly embracing Trunks, settling for the less intimate and more familiar gesture instead.)
“Tr-Trunks?!”