The wind outside was fast and hard, but still warm. It flew through the tops of the trees, rustling the new green leaves and scattering them down towards the grass, flinging them through the air like snowflakes. Although it was still mid evening, the sky had already darkened with an army of ominous black clouds, so gloomy and weighted that they looked positively evil. The rain was coming down and sheets, slapping at the window pane with so much force that it sounded more like rocks that droplets. Small rivers of rainwater were already beginning to form outside, and the grass would undoubtedly be flooded by morning. Every few seconds, this gray and dreary world would brighten with a tremendous strike of lightning, followed rapidly by a rolling drum of thunder. The force of the thunder was so great that it made everything shake, and the spice rack in the kitchen rattled with every boom.

Vejiita had watched it all out the window while he waited for dinner to be served. He didn’t mind the rain --- he wasn’t squeamish enough to dislike getting wet. But when it was accompanied by thunder and lighting, he wasn’t too fond of it. Not because it scared him of course, but simply because the constant flashes and rolls of thunder tended to give him a bit of a headache. And he wasn’t romantic enough to see the beauty of the rain, or the poignancy of the thunder and lightning, so that really left nothing for him to like about a storm. It was just an annoying, evitable thing that happened every summer, whether he wanted it to or not. It was just one of the many things that he hated about this planet.

He sat at the head of the kitchen table, completely consumed in his meal. He had worked up quite a hunger down in the laboratory….Mirai Bulma had just about talked his ear off. He had worked so hard to keep down all of the repressed feelings and bitter comments that he had actually worked up a sweat. The worst part was the way that after a while, she started to loosen up and smile at him exactly the same way that his Bulma had smiled. Mirai Bulma seemed to think that she could pick up right where she left off with him, laughing and winking conspiratorially at him as they talked. Months ago, it wouldn’t have been a problem, but now that his mate had died, it presented a huge, ugly dilemma. When Tayhei had come in to tell them that dinner was ready, it was the first time he had ever actually been glad to see her.

Speaking of the brat, she was not in the best of moods tonight. At least her anger wasn’t directed at him anymore. She seemed to be concentrating completely on his son, glaring at him with those bright green eyes as if she could burn holes straight through his skin. And in return, he was glowering back at her, his shoulders hunched and his jaw tight. Vejiita wasn’t surprised by this: they were often fighting. In fact, he had rarely ever seen them acting civil towards each other. The two of them had had a couple of spats that even put him and Bulma to shame. They were constantly at each other’s throats, so to see tension between them at the dinner table was not surprising. The interesting thing about this particular tension was the fact that his son’s glare would continuously creep over to Mirai Trunks, who seemed vaguely uncomfortable, but for the most part….oblivious.

Vejiita watched out of the corner of his eye in amusement. The future warrior was sitting between his mother and Tayhei, with a distant look in his sky blue eyes. He was eating much slower than usual, taking small portions and cutting up his food into almost invisible pieces before popping the bites into his mouth. He looked as though he had something very heavy weighing on his mind, and somehow he seemed even more angst ridden than he had the night before. Obviously, something had transpired today; something that involved all three young people. Briefly, he wondered what would happen if the two versions of Trunks were to fight. Would Mirai Trunks win, based on maturity and practiced skill? Or would his son be able to beat his future counterpart, fighting with a younger body and raw, uncultured power?

Still oblivious to the younger Trunks’s deathly glare and unwavering gaze, Mirai Trunks leaned forward towards the plate of toasted french bread that had been placed in the center of the table. He picked up the last slice and plopped it down on his plate, reaching to the side to grab the butter. Trunks’s eyes widened in fury, and he slammed his fork down on the table, startling everyone except for Vejiita.

“So, you’re just going to take that piece of toast?!” Trunks exclaimed, glaring fiercely at the future warrior.

Mirai Trunks blinked, and looked vaguely amused. “Well, I was planning on it.”

“You’re just going to take the toast.” Trunks repeated, gesturing at the piece of french bread. “You just take my toast off of the plate! Without any warning, without any question! You just reach and take the toast! And you know what, that’s probably not enough for you either. Maybe you would like to take my salad, too. You just have to take everything, don’t you? You come here to my house, sit at my table, in my seat, take my toast, and try to make it all yours. You’re just going to take my toast back to the fucking future world and eat it!”

Vejiita stared at his son in disgusted bewilderment. “What in the hell are you babbling about, brat?”

With wild and angry eyes, Trunks lifted a hand and pointed a finger at the future warrior, clenching his teeth together. “He is trying to take my toast!”

Tayhei slammed an unexpected fist down on the table and leaned forward to glare at the boy, her green eyes full of fire. “First of all, it is not your toast. And second of all, the toast hasn’t even thought about that yet. Maybe the toast feels comfortable on the plate, and maybe the toast might want to be buttered and eaten. Maybe it doesn’t really know what it wants --- Maybe it’s open to options. Just because he might want to take the toast doesn’t mean that the toast is actually willing to go.”

“So you admit it!” Trunks exclaimed in angry victory. “He does want to take the toast!”

Tayhei all but snarled at him. “Well, maybe if you had picked up the toast sooner, he wouldn’t have attempted it!”

Bra, who had been completely silent up until that point, tentatively held up the piece of bread that had been sitting on her own plate. She looked over at her brother with wide, frightened blue eyes. “Niichan, if you’re that hungry, you can have my toast.”

“That’s not the point, Bra!” He snapped at her in return.

When her face crumpled up in defeat, Trunks turned away from her and moved his gaze towards the future warrior, who was sitting at the table as still as a statue, with his mouth hanging open in amazement. Trunks glared at him, and stood up from the table, putting a wide, completely wolfish grin on his face. When he spoke, his voice was dripping with sarcasm and malice. “What’s the matter, Mirai Trunks? You’re not saying anything. You don’t feel like such a big man without that overgrown butter knife stuck to your back, do you? You probably steal everyone’s toast back in the future world, don’t you? You just come along with your stupid, haunted expression and your stupid sword and expect all the women to swoon.”

“That’s enough, Trunks.” Mirai Bulma scolded suddenly. She stood up and held her hands out, her deep blue eyes full of concern. “Calm down before you hurt yourself. Now, would you mind explaining what’s going on here?”

He spun around to face her suddenly, and all of his anger and frustration poured itself out in one withering glare. He jabbed a finger towards her and clenched his jaw tight, staring at her in fury. “Quit trying act like you’re my mother --- You’re not. You’re not even close. And you don’t know about anything that’s been going on here, or what your son has done, so you can just stay out of it.”

“Trunks!” Tayhei admonished in surprise. “That was completely uncalled for. Mirai Bulma didn’t deserve that.”

“That’s right, she didn’t.” Mirai Trunks said in a tense voice, rising up out of his chair and facing his younger counterpart with an even glare.

“Well, you know what? You two can both go to hell. I don’t even care anymore. Take the toast. Go off to the future world. See if I care.” Trunks yelled angrily, shoving away from the table. He slammed his way out of the kitchen and back into the house, shoving the kitchen door open with so much force that it nearly flew off the hinges.

Vejiita suppressed a round of laughter. Even though it was mildly embarrassing to have his son behave in such a way, it was actually funny to see him throw such a childish fit. Although the two of them shared a lot of the same qualities, he was certain that there was much more of Bulma in the boy. Vejiita knew how to control his anger and suppress it --- Bulma had always been the one that simply flew out of control and started hurtling sharp objects towards his head. Trunks displayed more of his mother’s traits when it came to arguments and getting his way. And because Vejiita had always found Bulma’s spats of anger humorous, he often enjoyed Trunks’s as well.

“What was all that about?” Mirai Bulma asked everyone quietly. She picked up her napkin and wrung it in her hands. “Should someone go after him? I feel kind of concerned.”

Vejiita snorted. “He’s fine, woman.”

“I’ll go.”

All eyes turned to Tayhei as she pushed herself up from her chair. She nodded her head and followed in the direction that Trunks had gone, not even bothering to push her chair back in. Her face was expressionless, but Vejiita could still see the layers of anger and guilt and frustration that remained in her heart. She was sometimes very difficult to read, but Vejiita could usually tell when she had something on her mind --- and she definitely did tonight. She didn’t look at them when she left the room, but Vejiita took a moment to survey everyone’s reactions: Mirai Trunks looked a bit hurt and still a bit angry, Mirai Bulma still looked completely puzzled, and Bra just looked bored.

He shook his head. Strange things were happening here. The moment that Mirai Bulma and Mirai Trunks had come back from the future timeline, the balance of life on this planet had shifted. It seemed as though things were changing every moment, and that they were all moving towards something, some final conclusion. He didn’t know how he exactly fit into all of this turmoil, but he supposed that he would eventually find his place. Perhaps when everything calmed down and blew over, they’d be able to start their real lives back up again, adjusting to the obvious changes and living with what fate had handed them. And maybe then, he would understand why he was here. Carefully, he picked up his drink and took a long, slow swig, his eyes on the storm outside the window.

Listening to the rhythm of the rain against the window, Mirai Bulma studiously cleared the table, packing up all of the dishes and placing them in the sink. Everyone else had already cleared out to the kitchen except for Vejiita, who was still eating. She was making a lot of noise, clanking around the dishes and opening and closing cupboards, but she wasn’t really concerned. The dinner mood had already been ruined. What could have ended as a nice, family dinner ended up becoming an all out battle. And she still didn’t even understand the premise of the fight. She didn’t know what had upset Trunks, and she didn’t know what it had to do with her son and Tayhei. She shook her head and picked up her son’s plate, scraping the contents into the garbage before dropping the plate into the soapy water.

She cast a glance over at Vejiita, and placed her hands on her hips for a moment. It had been kind of disappointing to her to see him simply sit there and smirk while Trunks left the room in anguish and fury. She had expected a little more out of him as a father figure. True, she didn’t know what he was like as a father, but judging by the display tonight and what she had heard, it seemed as though he simply ignored his children. Nothing could have possibly let her down more. Back in the future world, she had always took comfort in knowing that Trunks was being taken care of here, with both a father and a mother. But now it seemed as though the other Trunks wasn’t better off at all. If he was going to ignore his children, Vejiita might as well just not be around.

“I still think that you should have gone and had a talk with Trunks.” She told him sternly. “You don’t pay much attention to him and Bra, do you?”

He looked up from his food and narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “What?”

“It just seems to me that you don’t give them the proper amount of attention. Trunks barely even knows you, and I noticed at dinner that you didn’t even look at Bra. It’s like they don’t even exist to you. I guess that’s maybe why it was so easy for you to leave. But I think now that you’re back, you should put some extra effort into making them feel as though they are a part of you.” She paused to gesture to the hallway where Trunks had taken off to earlier, moving her hands in an angry, precise manner. “So far, all you’ve done is basically ignore them. They need a father --- they need someone. Especially since their mother is gone. They just need someone to be there for them, they need a little bit of comfort.”

“The brats are fine, woman.”

She let out an angry sigh and all but stomped her foot as she stared at his impudent expression. He could be so maddening at times --- especially when he refused to listen to her or even take her seriously. She glared at him and placed her hands on her hips again, forcing herself to be strong. “Vejiita, you can’t just keep running away from your parental obligations.”

She didn’t know what exactly had done it, but she managed to strike some sort of nerve in him. One moment he was at the table eating, and the next he was standing up, his chair lying on the floor. He stared at her with cold, narrowed black eyes, his fists curled up at his sides. Yes, she had definitely struck a nerve. Perhaps he was just getting tired of listening to lectures about how to care for his children, or perhaps she was just right, and he knew it. Either way, he was angry.

“I’m not running anywhere, damn it.” He snarled.

He looked as though he were about to say more, then he snapped his mouth shut and strode away from her, heading towards the back door.

“Where do you think you’re going?!” She demanded in frustration. Certainly he didn’t think that he was actually going to go out in the rain. He wasn’t even wearing a coat, and it just wasn’t sensible for him to go out and wallow around in the mud and rain. Besides, it made her mad that he was trying to walk away from their conversation, just when she was starting to make her point.

“Outside.”

She looked out the window at the raging storm, just in time to see a branch fly past, whipping through the air on a current of rain. Suddenly, instead of feeling angry with him, she felt worried. It was dangerous outside, and she didn’t want anything to happen to him. Silly as it might sound, she had already lost him once and she didn’t want to lose him again. Lighting crashed, and she turned back towards him with concerned eyes. “But you’re supposed to stay and keep an eye on the jinzouningen while I’m working in here.”

He turned back to glare at her for a moment, his hand tight on the doorknob. “If you’re so scared of the tin cans, then stay out of the damn lab.”