The week slipped by in quiet determination. While the rest of the world was beginning to patch its wounds—cities clearing rubble, farmers returning to fields, families searching for lost loved ones—Gohan, Trunks, and Bulma buried themselves in preparation. Every hour of training was followed by strategy: mapping coordinates to New Namek, calculating the time it would take the spaceship to reach their destination, and listing the supplies they needed.
Senzu beans were scarce—painfully scarce. Bulma laid the tiny pouch on the table one evening, its weight far lighter than the burden it carried. Only three beans remained. Trunks stared at them, his jaw tight.
"Three," Bulma repeated, as if saying it again would make it sink in. "That's all. Korin's tower… it's just not what it used to be. The damage from the android attacks ruined most of his harvest."
Gohan frowned, pushing his glasses up. "Then we save them for absolute emergencies. Life or death. No training shortcuts."
Trunks nodded, even though he felt the knot in his stomach twist tighter. Three beans between us and the future. It's not much.
It was all the damn fat yajirobe fault.
That night, with their supplies neatly packed and the spaceship gleaming in the Capsule hangar, they gathered in the lounge for one final meal together before departure. The air was heavy with nostalgia. Bulma, after a sip of tea, leaned back in her chair, her gaze far away.
"You know," she began softly, "the first time I met Goku, he was just a little kid. Wild hair, strange clothes, and carrying that red staff of his. He didn't even know what a girl was." She chuckled to herself, though her eyes shimmered faintly. "But even then, I could tell—he wasn't ordinary. He had this… light in him. A warmth."
Trunks listened intently, picturing a younger version of his mother with a reckless child-Goku. It was almost impossible to imagine that same boy growing into the man who fought against gods and tyrants.
Gohan smiled faintly at the memory. "That sounds just like him. Naïve, but pure." His tone shifted, becoming more reflective. "When I was my father's age, I thought I'd live a normal life. Then Piccolo came into the picture." He paused, staring into his cup. "He trained me the hard way—threw me into the wilderness, forced me to fight, to survive. At the time, I hated him. But looking back… he was preparing me. Without him, I don't think I would've lasted against Vegeta and Nappa. Or… Andriods."
Bulma's lips thinned at the mention of Andriods, but she let Gohan continue.
Trunks leaned forward. "So Piccolo was like… your second father?"
Gohan's expression softened. "In a way, yes. Different than my dad, but just as important. He taught me that strength isn't just about power—it's about discipline. Responsibility." He glanced at Trunks with a small smile. "Lessons I think you've been learning faster than I did."
Trunks' cheeks warmed at the praise, though he masked it by sipping his water.
Bulma set her cup down, her eyes flicking to Trunks. "And then there was Vegeta. When I first met him, he was… well, let's just say he wasn't exactly polite. Ruthless, arrogant, and convinced the universe revolved around him. But," her voice faltered, and she quickly composed herself, "he wasn't all bad. He grew. He changed. He loved in his own way. He'd never admit it, but he cared about us."
Trunks swallowed hard. He didn't speak, but the weight of her words pressed on him. He had accepted Vegeta as his father days ago, but hearing his mother recount those early days made it feel more real.
As they sat in the quiet glow of Capsule Corp's lights, Trunks suddenly felt the familiar hum of his system activating:
{Rewards are settled}
{Rewarded 3 Fate Points}
He probably got this 3 fate points from saving gohan, killing andriods, killing
{Rewarded 3 Extractions}
He blinked, startled, then mentally asked, What are Fate Points?
The system's voice echoed in his mind:
{Fate Points can allow you to unlock training methods to Saiyan transformations, or divine techniques.}
His eyes narrowed slightly. Transformations? Divine techniques? The possibilities were endless.
He pressed further. And extractions?
{They extract anything—from items, skills, talents, to combat power.}
Trunks sat back in his chair, concealing his thoughts. So this is my golden finger, it really is powerfulHe exhaled slowly, his chest tightening with both excitement and pressure. If I use these right, I could defeat zamasu.
But for tonight, he didn't speak of the system. For tonight, he simply listened to Gohan and Bulma tell stories of the people who came before, of the legends they hoped to bring back. And in the quiet corners of his mind, Trunks promised himself: when they returned, he would be strong enough to stand with them.