Dragon Ball: Resolute Trunks - History is Born

Resolute Trunks - History is Born

        "You'll change the course of history!"
                                             
Hazy. Everything around the man was hazy, unclear to him. Adjusting his gaze with a multitude of blinks, every flutter granted a greater clarity. Still, the background seemed oddly out of focus. General structures remained in the distance, details blurred to him. There was only one thing that was in focus.

Stood before him, clad in a gi passed down to him by his late father. Orange in color, while baggy in its texture. Along with a blue undershirt, it was unmistakable. Son Gohan of the future. Even with brief bits of eye contact, he could see the somberness in his gaze. As despite all odds, the scars strewn across his face, the limp cloth hanging from his left shoulder, the years of torment, he was still able to keep himself composed. Able to stay calm in the most dire or confusing situations. Not allowing the awkward silence to continue any longer, the doomed warrior would speak.

"You came from the future, didn't you?"

The hopeful curiosity in the Saiyan's voice tore through the man's will. Unable to look his hero in the eye as the last defender of the future continued to speak.

"So Bulma was able to finish her time machine."

The man's gut wrenches even further, his dull blue eyes drifting off to the side. Unable to keep eye contact with the one he held so dear. How could he? The strongest memory he had of son Gohan up until now was his death. Every time he looked at his oldest friend, all his mind could muster was the visage of his corpse drenched in a puddle. So lost in guilt, the man couldn't hear the steps being made towards him. Snapping out of it, the grieving individual realized a hand was moving towards his left shoulder. Making contact with his leather clothing, fingers brushing against the furred collar of the Time Patrol's first uniform.

"I'm really proud of you, Trunks!"

The prodigal son spoke with a fervor that Trunks had not heard in a long while. Even rarer, was a genuine smile that had been draped over the future defender's scarred face. For a moment, the ex trainee didn't know how to even comprehend what had been said. As a warmth burned inside the hybrid's very soul, so great that it caused his entire upper frame to jerk back. After a moment of absorbing what had been sad, the Time Patroller's finest let out a stuttered response. 

"Th-Thanks!"

Any embarrassment he felt was overshadowed by a wealth of happiness, which shortly curled to despair as his master spoke once again. Removing his hand from the pupil's shoulder and turning to the smoking civilization in the distance.

"Right, it's not the time for this. 17 and 18 are attacking the city."

Trunks watched a familiar furrowed brow overtake his master's face. A once bountifully bright smile fading into an earnest glare. His entire figure shifted to face the burning structure, his energy tensed to a suffocating degree. The patroller's mind began to race as his mouth opened slightly, yet no sound was able to exit. Answering within his own mind, a sure fact was repeated to him.

'You're right...' 

This isn't how this story should have ended.

'And after this, Gohan...'

Visions of a face submerged in water. Blood flowing throughout the shattered asphalt streets. The pungent stench of smoke rising from a multitude of blast wounds. Bruises strewn across his entire frame, rotting ever so slowly. Tears all across the last keepsake of his father, the kanji having been torn to an unrecognizable degree. Even through tears, the soldier of time could still remember every detail clear as day. Without thinking, Trunks took a wide step forward. Finally, he was able to speak. Belting out an emotionally charged-