Fatally Deceiving |DBZ & Mirai Trunks F.F|

CHAPTER THREE

A/N

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CHAPTER THREE

Bulma Briefs was a tired looking woman. She had a thin pale face and limp blue hair. And she seems to be very fond of pink. She shakes my hand firmly and smiles, lighting up her whole face.

"Hello, there! I'm Bulma Briefs, Trunks's mother. Who can you be?"

"Aster," I blurt out before I can stop myself. I mentally curse. She blinks then breaks into another grin.

"That's a unique name you've got."

"Thank you,"

Trunks stands apart from us, his hands gripping a kitchen chair so tight his knuckles are turning white. His head is hung and his face is darkened. Bulma notices his odd behavior and puts her arms around him.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"They killed Gohan."

You could hear a pin drop.

There was a drastic change of her facial expression and if possible, she turns paper white. Her eyes fill with shock and grief and she hugs Trunks tightly, repeating apologies into his shoulder although it wasn't her fault at all. Trunks rubs his mother's back soothingly and gives a small sigh.

"I'm so glad you found Aster-kun," Bulma sniffs and wipes her eyes on her pink sleeve. "With everybody gone...everybody dead..."

"I know, Mom. I'm going to train harder to beat those ruthless killing machines!" Trunks yells with determination, the misty layer clouding his eyes already gone.

"Achieving the power of Super Saiyan is only the first step!" I add. He manages a grin and nods.

"We'll avenge Gohan! We'll avenge everybody!"

<><><><>

"Do you mind if you share a room with Trunks, Aster-kun?" Bulma pops her head into the kitchen where Trunks and I sat at the dining table. "We thought we wouldn't have anymore company and I literally trashed the guest rooms with...well..." She laughs nervously.

"Her old junk," Trunks supplies. "Stuff that can't operate anymore but she doesn't want to get rid of them yet because she thinks it'll soon be some kind of use some day."

Bulma blushes. "Is it okay with you, Aster-kun?"

"O-Of course, Bulma-san," My face falters for a nanosecond. Of course. I'm supposed be a boy so I better play the role well.

"How old are you, Aster?" Trunks asks, gulping down the last bit of his orange soda as Bulma disappears.

"I'm 13 and half," I answer truthfully.