The past: that guide, that chain. It existed only in the mind of each person, distorted in imperceptible ways. Enlarged or crossed out by deceitful emotions. It was supposed to be something people shouldn’t experience again. That’s why it was called the past. But after traveling in the time machine, for young Trunks, the past became an accessible place. He didn’t know it yet, but going to the past was a crossed boundary that changed him. Because once there… it was hard to leave.
Why would Trunks stay in his reality, a world so devastated and lifeless? Well, because he fought for its survival, didn’t he? Yet, the allure of that past he managed to save… by warning its inhabitants of the Androids’ danger… was greater than any of his convictions.
There, he met his father, Vegeta, in the flesh, not in a faded photograph.
There, he met Son Goku, Earth’s great hero.
There, he met Gohan. But a Gohan without the weight of a crumbling humanity on his shoulders. A Gohan with the possibility to dream, to grow, to eat, to live. A Gohan who wasn’t a martyr, but someone more like Trunks…
“Are you leaving again, son?” Bulma asked, watching Trunks pack items into his blue backpack, which rested on the white countertop of Bulma’s lab.
Bulma had already guessed as much when she saw Trunks enter the lab to grab some supplies.
“Yeah.” There was an excited smile on his face. “Would you like to come?”
“No, thanks!” Bulma lowered her gaze to the schematics spread out on the large table in front of her. “I need to finish this food generator… With all the survivors we found during the last expedition, we have to figure out how to feed everyone. Those poor people were still buried under the rubble left by the Androids before you defeated them.”
“I can bring supplies from the past using the capsules from the other you, like last time.”
“That would be wonderful, son.”
Trunks smiled at Bulma, zipped up his backpack, and slung it over his shoulder.
“Son…”
“Yes, Mom?”
“You’re not planning to stay in the past, are you? This world needs someone to protect it,” she said more seriously, “You do know that your last trip to the past lasted two months here?”
The smile vanished from Trunks’ face. He turned his gaze towards the window, feeling guilty. Outside, the grayish sky stared him straight in the face.
“Of course not. But I made some plans with Gohan… we’re going to hang out, and then I’ll come back.” He looked back at his mother. “It’s true that I wish I could stay in that world. But I haven’t forgotten that it’s unacceptable.”
“Have you really not forgotten?” she asked softly.
Trunks remained silent for a few seconds. Nervously, he ran his hand along the strap of his backpack before answering.
“I just want to see Gohan,” he said, “For one day, and then I’ll come back.”
“All right.” Bulma stood up and gave him a hug. “Take care, and send him my regards.”
“Of course. I’ll see you later! Love you.”
Trunks hugged her for a few seconds, then opened the door to leave. He waved to Bulma before stepping outside.
As she worked on the schematics, Bulma heard the time machine taking off. It stirred the trees, sending leaves flying everywhere.
And months passed.
Bulma carried a bouquet of flowers in her hands. She knelt on the grass and placed it beneath the wooden cross in front of her—the grave of the Gohan she had known.
“I think Trunks loved you, more than he could ever tell,” Bulma said, “He loved you so much. And because of that… I don’t know when he’ll come back.”
She raised her head to look at the sky. It was dark, always dark, except when distant lightning lit the clouds with a fleeting white glow.
“At least, now… flowers grow in this world.”