As the winter turned to spring again, people began moving back into the cities that he made liveable for them, and as the spring drew to a close, most of the inhabited cities glowed again with lights. Late summer saw the resumption of something approaching a government, as the people looked around, took stock, and realized that they'd gotten things back as close to normal as they could, under the circumstances.
People came to work again at the Capsule Corporation, and Bulma was able to get three factories up and running by the beginning of the fall. She couldn't pay the workers in wages, but they were perfectly happy to work for capsules of goods and food; commerce of a sort began to resume. The world was getting to its collective feet again, and the ravages of the Cyborgs began to be nothing more than a painful memory.
Bulma hoped that Trunks would find some solace in the return of normalcy; he involved himself in the business occasionally to please her, and continued to travel the world, lending his strength wherever he was needed; but on his increasingly infrequent visits home, she could see that his heart was far from the thriving cities and villages. He spent hours, sometimes, sitting on the roof of the Capsule Corporation, watching the sun set or the moon rise, doing little but sitting and thinking from what she could tell. She worried about him, but she knew he was strong; he'd endured worse pains in his life and survived them well enough. He never spoke of Shiatar, and she avoided the subject as well. She, too, missed the strange warrior-woman whose eyes had grown suspiciously bright at a simple hug. Bulma had never had a daughter.
As autumn began, the day came when the capitol announced that it had reestablished communications with the farthest provinces, which meant that the world government was back in business. Trunks came back for one of his periodic visits on the day that the celebration was to take place, and he and Bulma went into town to join the party; the gathered people sent up a cheer when they arrived, but largely treated them like anyone else. Trunks had been adamant about that, and no one wanted to argue with a man who could vaporize a skyscraper with a thought. Bulma had laid out a well-stocked picnic blanket, but Trunks wasn't eating; he stood, arms akimbo, on the hill where they had chosen to settle and surveyed the massive crowd that had gathered under the gold-and-auburn trees, his blue eyes narrowed and distant. They'd estimated that only five percent of the world's population had survived the Cyborg Holocaust, as it was now called, but it looked as if all of them had come into the capitol today.
She looked up at her son, and reflected that he'd changed again in the past year, but she couldn't decide whether she liked this latest change. His hair was longer, almost past his shoulderblades, and he'd taken to wearing it tied in a ponytail, but that was not the most significant difference. He'd gotten quieter, and he hardly smiled at all any more. If not for his lack of attitude and his looks, he'd have been the image of his father reincarnated. Even now, amid this crowd, he stood aloof from the people around him. Where once children and hopeful girls had monopolized his attention, neither now had the courage to approach. He never said anything discouraging to them, she gathered, never even looked at them crossways---but she could feel it the way they could: there was a wall around Trunks, as thick and impenetrable as stone, and no matter how friendly he seemed, that wall's presence could not be ignored. She sighed to herself. Vejiita all over again.
The celebration had gotten well underway, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, when a child ran up---Bulma noted that he stopped a good three or four meters away from them---and gesturing excitedly, shouted, "Please, sir, ma'am, come quickly! There's something strange down at the main podium!" Trunks frowned at the child, then glanced at his mother; Bulma shrugged, and together they went down the hill to investigate.
A great knot of people had gathered around the podium, gasping and murmuring, and the city's newly elected Mayor was using the microphone to urge the people to remain calm as they arrived. As usual, Bulma was grateful for Trunks' unwanted popularity; the crowd parted before them like butter before a knife, and they were able to see what had caused all of the commotion.
The moment she saw it, Bulma stopped dead in her tracks. Trunks stopped as well, gasping, and as one, the crowd looked up at the enormous disc of solid, fathomless nothingness that had appeared in the middle of the square. "Trunks! Is it just me, or does that look like---"
He nodded, sinking into a combat crouch, and raised his voice to address the crowd. "Get away! Get back, there's danger here!"
The crowd reacted immediately, voices rising in alarm as they began crowding each other in an effort to get away; they had all heard the stories of Trunks' battles against the Cyborgs. When he cried danger, people listened. Bulma ran back as well, stopping a few meters away, as the grass in front of the podium quickly emptied of people. The boldest (or the dumbest) from among the crowd paused a few hundred meters away, watching from the shelter of the nearby hills, and Trunks stood alone, crouched with fists clenched, facing the developing gateway.
The gate solidified, familiar gray clouds swirling about, and almost immediately those clouds parted as a figure stepped through, and another, and another . . . Bulma gasped, as each figure became clear to her. The uniforms---the muscular, powerful bodies---the tails wrapped around their waists---
"S-Saiya-jin!" she exclaimed, in horror.
Trunks, too, recognized the soldiers coming through the gate, and he bared his teeth. She saw the grass begin to stir at his feet . . .
But the soldiers did not move to attack. Instead, as each came through the gateway, he marched briskly into place and kneeled, until ten armored warriors formed a double line on either side of the gateway, kneeling in front of Trunks. The pale-haired warrior frowned, taking a step back but not rising from his crouch, darting wary glances at the soldiers. And then an eleventh figure came through the gateway. This one was different somehow, although he appeared at first glance to be Saiya-jin as well: a young man apparently in his teens, dressed like the others---and suddenly Bulma realized what the difference was. The young man had no tail.
The youth marched up to Trunks, and shockingly, bent at the hips for a deep, respectful bow. Trunks straightened a little in surprise.
"You are the demi-Saiyin known as Trunks, son of Prince Vejiita of the Saiyan Empire?" asked the boy.
Trunks raked the boy with a glare. "Yes."
Abruptly the boy's face broke into a smile. "Good. Great. I'm Beluun, the new Minister of Intelligence. I was told you'd be here. Had to come through first, you know; state security."
Trunks scowled at the boy. "Who are you? What do you want here?" he spat angrily.
The youth stepped back, holding up his hands in alarm. "Sorry. You really are Vejiita's son, aren't you? No one's in any danger. We're just here to make an announcement." He looked around at the kneeling Saiya-jin, and smiled. "They, and I, have come to swear our allegiance to you, if you will accept it." And with that, Beluun kneeled also, at Trunks' feet.
Trunks took a step back, his eyes wide; then he grabbed the youth by the arm and jerked him back to his feet. "What the hell are you talking about? What---" He trailed off, as movement from the gate drew his eye, and Bulma, leaning forward as she strained to hear, almost fell over on her face. She recovered, and stared hard enough that her eyes watered.
"Oi, Trunks-san, leave my second-in-command alone." The low voice was the same, as was the slim, athletic form and the wild hair; only the uniform and armor and the sauntering gait had changed as Ko Shiatar stepped through the gateway and onto the grass. With one hand on her hip, and a wide, mischievous grin on her face, she stopped in the middle of the line of soldiers. Her emerald-green gaze was for Trunks alone.
Trunks stared, frozen, and Beluun released himself from Trunks' grasp, straightening his uniform. The youth was smiling as he dusted himself off. "You didn't give me a chance to explain, Trunks-sama. Allow me to introduce the new ruler of the dominion of Earth, the Lady Ko Shiatar. I believe you've met."
Trunks didn't move, but Bulma did; she ran across the grass and stopped a few feet away from Shiatar, hardly daring to believe her eyes. "S-Shiatar?" The green eyes flicked momentarily toward her, and Shiatar smiled warmly.
"Bulma-san. I've missed you." Her gaze returned to Trunks. "And you, Trunks-san. Have you no greetings for me, or do you save all your energy for roughing up my men?"
Trunks took a slow step forward, and another. His eyes were wide, and Bulma could see that he was shaking, ever-so-slightly. Shiatar laughed suddenly. "I should have known that there would be no tearful reunions with you," she said to him, and crossed the remaining distance herself, hesitating only at the last second. She looked up at Trunks, and Bulma could see that for all her casual manner, Shiatar was also tense.
Trunks was the first to break the stalemate, grabbing her and holding her to him as if she would escape; Shiatar was laughing, trying to grab him back; Bulma made an effort and closed her mouth. She was shocked even further to see an overbright shine in Shiatar's eyes.
At last he set her down, holding onto her shoulders firmly. Shiatar blinked quickly, and grinned up at him. "I'm not going anywhere," she laughed. "Not this time, and not without you. Prince Trunks."
Bulma and Trunks both stared. "What?" Trunks asked.
Shiatar reached up and touched Trunks' face with a tenderness that Bulma could hardly believe. "I've won my battles," she said gently. "My world is free. These," and she gestured around at the kneeling soldiers, "are only a few of the Saiya-jin who have sworn their allegiance to me now that I and the other demi-Saiyin---quite a few of us, like Beluun, here, survived---have taken over. I would have come back sooner, but I got a little sidetracked."
Trunks seemed dazed, which was how Bulma felt, but he asked, "Taken over?"
Shiatar nodded, grinning. "When I went back, I discovered that the demi-Saiyin part of the resistance was anything but dead. Beluun and some others learned how to hide themselves from the army, and they were able to keep in contact; when I found them, we waged another assault on the Palace. This time, we won." She looked at Trunks. "The Saiya-jin on Earth have accepted me as their leader; they follow power, you know. But there's still the Empire to contend with; King Vejiita was not pleased to hear about the coup, and his son's death." She sighed, and for a moment her troubles showed on her face. "We're looking at a war, I'm afraid."
"Shiatar," Trunks said, and to Bulma's shock, her son was smiling for the first time in months. "I sincerely hope you listen to me this time when I say that I'm coming back with you."
She stared at him, and then looked down. "I . . . was hoping that you'd say that," she admitted, "but I didn't know how you'd feel after . . ."
Trunks reached up to put a finger over her lips. "You may be the most hardheaded woman I've ever met, but you're not stupid. Do you really think I'll let you get away again?"
Bulma stared again before she remembered to blink; her eyes were starting to hurt. She'd never seen her son like this. Vejiita had never been like this . . .
Shiatar lowered her eyes, and when she looked up, there was more than a hint of mischief there. "Before you say that, you should know everything. Including what kept me from coming back for so long."
She glanced at Beluun, and the young demi-Saiyin grinned wickedly, then gestured to one of the soldiers near the gateway. The soldier jumped up and moved quickly back through the gate. "I have to admit, circumstances have worked out fortuitously," Shiatar said, turning back to him and Bulma. Abruptly she reached out and hugged the human woman too, then grinned at her and Trunks. "The fact that you're Vejiita's son will win over those Earth Saiya-jin who actually value loyalty and bloodlines and so forth. They'll be more willing to accept rule by a demi-Saiyin who at least has royal blood. I've become quite the conscientious political leader," she added, winking. Then she sobered, but the mischievous twinkle didn't fade. "But I have to be, now that I have the future of the Earth-Saiyan Consortium, as we call it, to consider. I actually defeated the Prince within a month of my return, you know."
Trunks and Bulma frowned. "You did?" Trunks asked. "Then why---"
The gate swirled again, and the soldier returned, followed by a humanoid robot that walked toward them, carrying what looked like a large sack. "The scientists who created my world's DITMIX told me that they weren't sure whether it would be a good idea to travel through it until my condition changed and they were at least a couple of months old," Shiatar explained, watching Trunks' face carefully as the robot approached. "They hadn't had a chance to fully test the gate for side effects, and I wasn't taking any chances. So now that everything's okay . . ."
The robot stopped beside them, and Bulma suddenly realized that the sack was actually a pair of bundles. And they seemed to be moving . . .
Trunks realized what they were before Bulma did, and he stared at Shiatar in shock. Shiatar only turned to the robot and picked up one of the bundles, handing it to a dazed Bulma. "Obaasan," she said gently, and then picked up the other, holding it out to Trunks. "And Otousan." Her eyes were twinkling.
Bulma looked down into the face of a tiny Vejiita. From the stiff, flaring black hair that already covered his head to the perpetual frown, the infant in her arms was the spitting image of his grandfather. As she stared at the child, his eyes opened---they were a clear, uncompromising blue---and he yawned, his tail (!) slipping out of the folds of the blanket to curl up near his little fist. Bulma's hands started to shake, and the robot quickly came over to hover near her in case she decided to give the child back.
Shiatar had coaxed Trunks to take the other bundle; he held the child with the awkwardness of semi-catatonia. Bulma looked over his shoulder---into her own face. The little girl was wide awake, her green eyes bright and wide, giggling; her hair was the same color as Bulma's.
Bulma stared at the child, then at Trunks; her son's face was almost white and he looked shaken to his core. Shiatar grinned at his discomfiture. "This," she said, indicating the girl, "is Camisole. And Beluun convinced me to name her brother," she touched the boy, "Vejiita. I didn't want to, but it was a sound political decision." She sighed, and cast a hopeful look at Trunks, who was still blinking like a shell-shocked bomb survivor. "Unless you'd like to change his name?"
Both Bulma and Trunks spoke at the same time. "No!" Then Trunks seemed to get a better hold on himself. "If . . . if it makes you feel any better, pretend he's named after my father, and not your world's Vejiita," he stammered. He shook his head, amazed. "I just don't believe it. My daughter . . . and my son . . . twins?"
Shiatar shrugged and flashed a self-satisfied little smile. "I never do anything halfway. I just wish they looked like they'd inherited something from you and me besides their eyes. I've heard of skipping a generation, but this is ridiculous." She eyed Trunks. "So you still want to come back with me?"
Trunks still looked a bit unsteady but to his credit, he smiled. "I have even more reason to, now," he said softly, his face solemn. Shiatar reached out and touched his face again, and they were still for a long moment.
"As long as you visit often," Bulma said, looking into her grandson's face; the baby was drifting to sleep again. She wondered if her Vejiita had ever been this adorable as a baby. "It's been a very long time since there have been children in the Capsule Corporation."
Trunks smiled and nodded. Then the robot took the children back, and Trunks and Shiatar stood with Beluun in front of the gateway as the soldiers ran back through. Beluun handed Shiatar an item that looked like a small laser disc, which Shiatar offered to Bulma. "This is the setting for my world," she told Bulma, "so you can visit whenever you want. And this," she handed Bulma another item given to her by her second-in-command, "is a communicator that will let you see and hear us across the dimensions. So you can call to check on your grandchildren." She smiled.
Trunks shook his head, smiling at his mother. "We'll get no peace at all, you know that." As Bulma scowled at him indignantly, he took her hands. "Kaasan, you know I'll come back as often as I can. But . . ." he ducked his head, and when he looked up, his eyes were intense. "I told you about the dream that I had, when Tousan came and spoke to me, and told me that it was my duty to continue the Saiya-jin, that I had a responsibility to them. I can't help but think that he meant this. You know it as well as I do; all of the Saiya-jin have the potential to change the way my father did. Maybe, with Shiatar and I to lead them, they will. I think it will make them stronger."
Bulma sighed, and blinked back tears. "You've already changed the destiny of one world; I suppose I should have seen this coming. So should I call you Prince Trunks now?"
Trunks chuckled, squeezing her hands gently. "I'll always be just Trunks to you. You know that. And now . . ." he shook his head, glancing over his shoulder at the waiting robot as if he still couldn't believe his eyes, " . . . you have Vejiita-chan and Cami-chan to spoil, too."
Shiatar folded her arms. "Spoil? They're going to be great warriors, one day." But she was smiling. Bulma caught her eye and smiled, as understanding passed between them: Shiatar's children would have all the joys of family life, including a mother. And, Bulma thought idly, no one would dare argue with a mother like Shiatar.
Beluun cleared his throat. "Ko-san---I mean, Ko-sama, and Trunks-sama, the gate has to close in another few seconds. You know what the scientists said about interference with other planes, or something like that."
Trunks and Shiatar nodded, and both turned to wave at Bulma again as Beluun and the robot passed through behind them. Then they stepped into the gate. Bulma saw the clouds swirl around them, and then they were gone; the clouds swirled in the afterimage of their forms for a moment, and then the gate, too, disappeared.
The people began gathering in the square again around Bulma, murmuring amongst themselves in amazement. The Mayor emerged from his hiding place behind the podium, and crept over to her. "B-Bulma-sama," the Mayor began, "could you please explain to us exactly what just happened?"
Bulma took a deep breath, and blinked her suddenly stinging eyes. "My son has grown up," she said softly, "and he's gone on to a place where he's still needed. And the last warrior of this Earth has passed on." She sighed again, and glanced at the Mayor sidelong. "Shouldn't we be celebrating or something?"
This is Dragonball. You knew full well that Trunks and Shiatar weren't going to settle down to a nice, boring, "happily ever after" existence. The adventures of the son of Vejiita and his newfound family will continue for years---just not in this fanfic. Maybe I'll eventually write a sequel, maybe not, but the real continuation will happen in the minds and hearts of all of the millions of fans who are hopelessly addicted to the epic creations of Toriyama Akira. I thank him for inspiring my imagination to its fullest with characters and a universe so rich that it can accommodate amateurs like me playing around in it ;) , and I hope he continues to create. And remember---Future Trunks will live on, as long as you remember him. =)
