During the course of one month, Trunks and Napan trained daily. They spent three weeks getting the kinks out of Napan's moves--for although they were minor, they were many and could mean the end of him. But by the fourth week they were almost perfect. Trunks felt excitement grow in him. Soon, they'd be able to spar. He didn't want to before for fear that he might hurt Napan, for the boy wasn't ready to fight with such a powerful opponent. At least that was the way it stood in Trunks' opinion. He had to teach Napan how to block properly and efficiently to prepare him and make him a worthy opponent.
Even though Napan was young, he had cultivated a natural grace that would have been the envy of any grizzled fighter. He had the creativity that would one day make him into an excellent fighter. Napan would never beat Trunks, after all Trunks possessed a preternatural strength from his Saiyajin heritage, but he would probably be able to beat everyone else. Trunks couldn't help feeling an almost fatherly pride towards the boy.
"Never let your eyes leave your opponent," he instructed. "And always keep your hands up." Trunks raised his hands and Napan mirrored the movement.
"Now block," Trunks ordered.
He punched slowly and gently at first, before picking up the pace. Napan's brow was furrowed with the effort, his dark blue eyes darting back and forth as they followed Trunks' fists.
Mistake number one.
Trunks changed tactics and did a foot sweep, knocking Napan onto his back. The boy gasped in surprise, but he quickly rolled to the side and was on his feet in seconds.
"Good response," Trunks said. "But you didn't keep your eyes on me. You were staring at my fists. It's like driving. You never keep your eyes in one place or else you'll get hypnotized."
"I wouldn't know about driving," Napan said easily. "But I know what you're talking about."
"We'll have to teach you how to drive then," Trunks said with a smile.
Napan smiled back. He and Trunks had been keeping close company and in the process had developed a tentative friendship. An unwillingness to completely trust the other stopped them forming a stronger bond. In Trunks' case, an fear that had grown since he'd lost Gohan and the others, a fear that he might lose Napan as well. He didn't want to be hurt again. In Napan's case, it was just his nature. He was taught not to completely trust another.
"And teach you how to do other things as well," he finished. "You've got a lot to learn."
"I'll hold you up to that," Napan said. He put his fists back up and Trunks started attacking.
Downstairs in her lab, Bulma listened for when her boys would come in. She smiled to herself as she mixed some chemicals together. She didn't know when she started to think as Napan as her boy, but it seemed right. He did not force himself into their household, but slowly became part of it in his quiet and unassuming way.
She heard their footsteps, Trunks' heavy tread and Napan's quiet one, and went upstairs to greet them. Sweaty and a more than a little smelly, they had trooped into the kitchen to raid the fridge.
Without a word, Bulma shoved them aside and took out the right containers. She heated them up in the microwave.
"Go take your showers before eating," she said, making a face. "I'm about to lose my appetite from smelling you two."
Trunks laughed and Napan smiled. Even though he had finally warmed to them, Bulma noticed that that was still as far as the boy went. She hadn't even heard as much as a chuckle from him.
Well, we'll just have to work on that.
They went upstairs to do as they were told and came back down in ten minutes smelling much better. Trunks' hair was pulled back from his face and dripped water down his back. Napan's was a little drier, but then again, his hair was much shorter than Trunks'. She smiled indulgently at them. They must really be hungry. She was just glad they'd decided to put clothes on.
They helped put the food on the table before sitting down and shoveling food into their respective mouths.
"I need you to do the groceries again, Trunks," Bulma said, giving him a list.
Trunks glanced at it, and waited until he swallowed his food before speaking. "I'll pick these up after lunch. Want to come, Napan?"
Napan looked up from his plateful of food. "Sure."
They finished up and cleaned the kitchen before leaving. They got into the red skycar and shot off towards the city. Napan stared out the window most of the time, taking in the scenery. Trunks didn't mind. He never was much of a conversationalist.
He parked on the curb in front of the barbershop. Napan raised his eyebrows in question. Trunks smiled ruefully and lifted a strand of lavender hair.
"It's time for a cut," he explained.
Napan nodded. "I'll go ahead to the grocery store and start then."
"Good idea. It's at the end of the street. You can't miss it," Trunks directed. He gave Napan the list before going into the shop.
"Trunks!" the barber, Sam, greeted happily.
"Hi, Sam," Trunks said with a grin. "It's been too long."
Sam eyed his hair and made a face. "Much too long. Take a seat, boy, and we'll see what we can do about that hair."
Napan walked down the aisles of the supermarket. The cart he was pushing almost full. His eyes scanned the labels of the cans on the shelf, looking for canned peaches. He almost passed by a tall man, but the man grabbed his arm. By reflex alone, Napan grabbed the hand and twisted it behind the man's back. He glared up into a pair of sky blue eyes. His eyes widening with recognition, he let go of the hand, flustered.
"Trunks--I didn't recognize you," Napan stuttered, not looking at him.
Trunks chuckled, and shook out his hand. "Don't worry about it. I should be proud that you're reflexes are so sharp. What do you think?" He shook his head, deciding it felt strangely light. "I've had it cut like this since for as long as I can remember and I decided there's nothing like tradition."
Napan gave Trunks' newly cut hair a cursory glance, then went back to pushing the cart. "It's nice."
Trunks was a little startled at the brief comment, and tottered after Napan. "That's it? It's nice? This is a big change, you know."
"I know. But I guess the question is, do you like it?"
Trunks thought it was a strange question. "Of course. Why wouldn't I get it cut like this if I didn't?"
"Because sometimes we follow traditions without even thinking about whether we like them or not," Napan said matter-of-factly.
"That's very true, but I do like my hair like this."
"Then, that's all that matters."
Trunks cocked his head to one side thoughtfully. "You're an interesting guy, Napan."
Napan threw him a sharp look, before going back to searching the shelves. Trunks wondered if he insulted him.
"Did I say something wrong?"
"I've just never been described as--uh--interesting before," Napan stammered.
Trunks frowned. What's he so nervous about? he mused as he watched Napan's cheeks redden. He shrugged and took the list from his protégé's hand. He glanced at the cart and told Napan he was going to go look for the other things so they could hurry up and get out of there.
Trunks and Napan unloaded the groceries and under Bulma's supervision, put them in the right shelves. After they were done, Trunks glanced at the wall clock.
"Ready for another training session?" Trunks asked. "I think you're ready to spar with me."
Napan's eyes glowed with enthusiasm. He'd been waiting for this day ever since he'd seen the power that Trunks possessed. "Yes."
They went out to the backyard. Bulma watched from the safety of the living room. She settled into her favorite chair with a cup of hot cocoa in her hands. Sitting there reminded her of the days when Trunks was much younger and it had been Gohan who had been the teacher. She smiled at the memory. Pain no longer came with it, but a bittersweet longing for the past.
Outside, Trunks dropped down to a defensive position, while Napan took the offensive. The boy let loose an quick combo which Trunks blocked easily enough, but he suspected that his arms would be bruised the next day.
Trunks frowned. By rights, Napan shouldn't have been able to bruise him. He wasn't strong enough to bruise the Saiyajin, no human was. He hadn't been when they were training. But now, Trunks felt the sting of his hits.
As Napan took another shot at him, Trunks went into the offensive. He didn't hit Napan as hard as he could, but he did put a lot into his punches. He could see the surprise on Napan's face as he blocked the powerful hits.
Inside, Bulma had stood up from her seat and she had her nose pressed up to the glass. She could see that Trunks was no longer pulling his punches. He was really hitting Napan. She pounded on the glass, drawing their attention. Trunks said something to Napan and jogged towards the house. Napan sat on the grass, rubbing his sore arms.
"What do you think you're doing?" Bulma demanded.
Trunks looked confused. "I'm sparring," he replied.
"You know what I'm talking about," she said, shaking her finger at him. "You might hurt him, Trunks. He's not ready for your full power."
"I wasn't using my full power," Trunks began hesitantly, "but I am using more power than I would use on a normal human being."
Bulma crossed her arms. "What are you saying? That Napan isn't human?"
Trunks looked out the window and saw his student was back on his feet. He was still rubbing his arms, but it didn't look like there was any serious damage from the look on his face. Trunks felt a knot form in his stomach as his student's ki rose steadily, past the normal human levels.
Napan wanted his blood.
"What are you going to do?" Bulma asked.
Trunks took a deep breath. "I'm going to fight him."
"But--"
Trunks kissed his mother's cheek. "I'll be fine, Mom. Just have your uzi ready."
Bulma swallowed and nodded. "Be careful," she said.
"I will."
Trunks went back outside.
When Napan saw the blue chips of ice that were Trunks' eyes, he knew he was in trouble. He faced his teacher, his mouth turned down in the corners. Trunks only nodded in his direction and went down into an offensive position. Napan took the defensive position and in the blink of an eye, Trunks' fist was flying towards him. He ducked and without even thinking, launched himself at Trunks. His fist made contact with Trunks' stomach.
Trunks' eyes widened as the breath was knocked out of him. This can't be happening, he thought desperately. Napan can't be this strong--if he's human.
"Who are you?" Trunks asked, fists still flying.
"What?" Napan grunted, as one of Trunks' punches landed.
The gleam in Trunks' eye was savage. He knew what he had to do. He drew his fist back and slammed it into Napan's face with his full power. Napan flew backwards, and smashed into a tree, cutting it in half.
Trunks flew after him. Napan was lying on the ground, his body seemingly lifeless. Trunks felt his heart leap in his throat. He hadn't hit Napan hard enough to kill him if he was what Trunks believed him to be.
By Dende I hope he's not dead or else I'd have made a terrible mistake.
Then, Napan twitched and sat up groggily. Trunks felt anger boil inside him. This boy was not who he seemed to be. Trunks had trusted him and he had lived in their house! Who knew what kind of dangers they had been in just by having him under their roof. An image of his mother flashed through his head. She could have been hurt--
Trunks waited until Napan could stand. He glared into the boy's eyes. Napan only gazed stonily back. With a yell, Trunks executed a clean undercut. Napan was launched into the air.
"Trunks!" Bulma yelled from the doorway.
"Go back in the house, Mom," Trunks said. "I'll be coming in a minute."
"Don't kill him, Trunks."
Trunks glanced at her, something dangerous in his expression. Bulma opened her mouth to say something. Suddenly, he was knocked back on his back. He was on his feet in a moment, and facing a breathless and bloody Napan. The boy's face was a mess of bruises and cuts, but he was still standing.
And he shouldn't be.
"Who are you?" Trunks demanded. "Tell me and I may let you live."
Napan grimaced and wiped away the blood trickling from his cut lip, and his nose.
"Who do you think I am?"
"You're another cyborg aren't you?" Trunks said, his voice hard with hatred.
"No," Napan said. "I'm not."
"Then, who are you?"
"I think you know my father," Napan said.
"And who might he be?"
"Gohan Son."
Trunks was stunned speechless. Napan was lucky that he hadn't given in to his initial reaction or else he would have been blasted to another dimension. Trunks wondered why he didn't blast Napan, but decided that he'd give him a good beating anyway.
"Liar!!!" he screamed, his hair turning a bright yellow, and his aura gleaming around him. It blasted Napan to the edge of the yard with its power.
"TRUNKS!!! POWER DOWN!!" Bulma ordered, her tone booking no argument.
"Not now, Mom." He looked at her. "I'm not going to kill him, just cripple him so we can question him." He turned away, getting ready to attack.
"POWER DOWN NOW!"
Trunks looked at his mother.
"He might be telling the truth, Kid," she said.
Trunks powered down. About a hundred yards away, he could see Napan lying unconscious.
"Go get him," Bulma said. "And bring him inside."
Trunks went and stood over the boy. The gi that Napan had been proud of was now torn and stained with his blood and dirt. Trunks knelt to pick him up, his movement causing the material of Napan's gi to fall to the side.. He squinted, the began blinking rapidly, not believing his eyes. He lifted a piece of material and saw something he never expected to see. Instead of seeing a flat chest, he saw breasts. Blushing furiously, Trunks replaced the material and picked Napan up.
