The morning light dawned in the establishment where Trunkies slept. The light slowly crept through the windowpanes; it's dazzling light illuminating the establishments numerous glasses, long shadows grew and eventually covered the floor. It was a particularly clear day, a day that won't be forgotten.

“Oi!” the child stretched and yawned, trying to wake up, “Woo, it's rather bwight today!” The child paused, surveying his surroundings. “Huh?” he rubbed the back of his head, “How'd I get `ere?” He paused, thinking. “Oh yeah, I remember...kinda. I walked here last night...and just crashed. Somebody must have taken care of me...but w-” Just then a familiar voice interrupted him.

“Trunks Briefs! Where have you been!?” It was his adopted mother, Bulma. “How many times have I told you to not come here!?” She was in another one of her `moods'. “And another thing young man...” The child just phased her out, still thinking about whom took care of him. He continued to look at the rather exasperated female that he called `mother'. `Uh oh,' he thought, `she's wrapping it up, I'd better nod to make her think I've listened.' The woman, who couldn't be much older then 20, smiled to the child. “I'm glad you understand, Trunks. Now C'mon, we had better get home.” The child loyally followed his mother to the Capsule Car waiting outside.

The trip wasn't a very long one, but it gave the two of them time to talk. The child thought it was more of a question and answer session then a conversation, but he put up with it, for the hospitality the woman had shown him.

“So, what was that nickname of yours, Trunks?”

“Trunkies.”

His mother giggled. “Oh, yes, how could I forget something as cute as that.”

The child remained silent; his arms now folded over his chest, a frown running across his face. His mother looked toward him, noticing his disposition she tried to change the subject.

“So, did you meet any girls while you were there?” She could see Trunkies starting to smile. “You can tell me.”

“Heh, it's not that, mama. They seem to like me, but.” The child paused awkwardly.

“What's the matter, Trunkies?”

“Did you feel that!? Something's LANDED on us!” The child looked around the Capsule Car searching for the source of the disturbance.

“No, I didn't. It's probably just your imagination, don't worry too much about it.”

But, the child was right; something had landed on them. A figure stood atop the Capsule Car, waiting to strike. “You've kept away from me long enough. It's time to come back, and come back you shall! Mark my words, boy, I'll get to him...THROUGH YOU!” It laughed. Noticing the Capsule Corp. complex the figure leapt off the capsule car to the roof to its main building—the same building where the Briefs family lives.

The youth walked to his room, still on edge from the ride. Upon reaching his room he felt yet another presence, but he knew this one. “Ha, ha. That's funny Trunks. Now I can guess why you're here, you felt it too?”

“Yes, it has been after me for quite awhile now.” The older Trunks rose, and stepped out of the shadows revealing a bandage on the left side of his face. “I've been in hiding for quite sometime now.”

“Yeah, I know. I haven't seen you, basically, since we split.” The younger Trunks looked to the bandage. “I don't mean to be ebil, but wha happened ta ya?”

The older Trunks laughed. “Kid, we have got to work on that accent of yours! It's not...it's not me!”

The younger Trunks chuckled. “Heh, well lots of people like it and—HEY! Answer my question!”

“Fine, fine.” Trunks crossed his arms over his chest, smirking. “Well, it all happened about a month ago. I was practicing some sword techniques with one of my friends, and well...”

The younger Trunks really paid no attention; he was too interested in the older Trunks before him and if he too would grow up to be like him. But that pressing matter of that thing landing on the Capsule Car kept creeping up on him.

“And that's how I got the scar. You know, kid, you're really good at paying attention. Well, I guess I'd better explain why I'm here.” Trunks walked over to his younger counterpart's window and thought `That spot will be perfect for this.' He turned back to his younger counterpart. “Well, kid, you know as well as I do there's something after us. And if I didn't think of it as serious, I wouldn't be here, I'd be after it.”

The youth knew exactly what was going to happen. “So, it's bad enough for us to become...”

The older Trunks interrupted the youth. “Yes, it's that bad. You think I'd do this for fun!? As much as I hate it, it's going to have to happen!”

“I somehow knew this was going to happen, Trunks. Ever since we split, I had this fear of it. But tell me, my memories will still be there.”

“Yes. Both of our memories will be there.”

“Will people know that I'm there?”

“If their senses are good enough, of if they knew of our history.”

“But, I dun wanna!”

“Ungh! What on Earth is going to convince you to do this kid!? Maybe if I told you this thing could take out everyone you cared about with no effort! Maybe if I told you that neither of us stand a chance apart against this!”

“Yeah, but! I can do things that you can't!”

“Oh, that Hyper Super Sayia-jin trick. That's not even good enough. Both of us are pretty strong, I'll give us that much. But as I said neither of us stand a chance. We're going to need both of our powers in one! So will you do it now!?”

“I gotta tell mama, first!”

“Kid, there isn't enough time! We've wasted enough by bickering! If she can truly connect to you, she'll sense you in the new form.”

“But...” The youth didn't have an argument. He knew that the older Trunks was right. “Let me guess, we're going to use your body?”

“Of course. Follow me, and be sure to bring Tapion's Sword.” The older Trunks opened that window and leapt to Capsule Corp.'s courtyard.

“Oi. Now where did I put that dumb sword at?” He scrounged through the closet in his room, and eventually found the sword tucked in a corner. “Ugh, I thought I'd never need this dumb thing again.” He walked to the open window. “I guess it's for the best.” With that the youth leapt to the courtyard.

“There you are. Now I'll tell you how to do this. First, jab the sword into the ground while saying `I'tch ka ma' be sure you're holding on to the sword's hilt.”

The youth did so. As soon as he let go of the hilt the sword became translucent. “Wow!” The youth exclaimed.

“Good, kid. Now I'll finish.” The older Trunks jabbed his sword into the ground. “Ha sa mmmm CHAAAA!” The swords reacted in a blinding flash of blue light that enveloped the courtyard. The sword's blade was pulsating with a white light of pure energy. “Good. Now on three we're going to grab the hilt of the weapon at the same time.”

The child nodded. Unsure of what was going to happen next, he looked to his older counterpart.

“Alright, kid, here we go. One...two...three!”

The child drew his last breath, closed his eyes and grabbed the hilt. His older counterpart, unafraid, gabbed at the sword's hilt. Both of the young sayia-jin's disappeared in a flash of blinding white light. The clouds above turned an eccentric shade of gray by the immense power of the two. The blinding light dwindled away a minute later revealing a new, yet familiar figure.

The figure started examining itself, more in awe then anything. It clenched its open hands into fists, remembering what it had to do. Yanking a strand of hair from its head the figure looked to the golden strand of hair. “Hm; I'm that powerful, eh?” It thought to itself. It pulled out Tapion's Sword from the ground and tossed it spiraling into the air. Bending at the waist, allowing the sheath to be perfectly vertical, the figure stood stationary until the sword landed into its sheath with a `shump'. The figure then flew off to look for its nemesis.

Bulma was too busy screaming to run away from the dark figure. The figure grabbed her effortlessly. “W-w-w-what are you going to do with me?!” She, of course, threw a hissy fit of screams and kicks, which resulted in nothing.

“You're bait.”

“Bait!? For who!”

“Trunks and Trunkies. I need the both of them.”

“Whatta mean `both of them'? There's only one Trunks!”

“Dim woman! There's only one Trunks that you know about! The one who calls you `mama' and one that's a bit older.”

“Two Trunks?”

“Yes. Two of...” The figure's speech was cut off by a very powerful flying punch to its jaw.

“You monster! Leave mama alone!” The tall handsome figure hollered while reaching for the hilt of its sword.

“Trunks!? IMPOSSIBLE! You were never that strong!” The figure looked around. “Where's that little brat, Trunkies, at?”

Trunks already had his sword drawn. His ki was flaring ferociously, trying to reach a new plane. “I SAID `Leave her ALONE!'” He then lunged toward the figure, slashing fiercely. The figure narrowly leapt away.

“I can't comprehend how you got so powerful, boy! It just doesn't make any sense! And where is that brat at!?”

Trunks rocketed at the figure. He drew back his left fist. “Don't you ever SHUT UP!?” Trunks' fist was then buried into the figure's gut. The figure lurched back, obviously in pain. Trunks took the opportunity to rocket above the figure, readying another punch. “You wanna know where the `brat' is?” He then slammed his fist down on to the figure's head, sending him to the ground. “Try looking down there!” The figure stopped itself moments before impacting with the ground.

“Impressive, boy.” The figure said as it rubbed some blood from its lip. “But, you do have a weakness...” The figure blazed over to Bulma. “She's your weakness. I can stop you, just by threatening her.”

Trunks was shocked at how something could be so cruel to someone like his mother. “Your fight's with me, not her!” He clenched his fist, his ki flaring again.

“I can feel it in you, boy. As strong as you may be, you'll never be able to protect everyone.” The figure assumed as it extended a razor sharp fingernail, searching for a place to impale Bulma. “Now, we'll just see how good you truly are Trunks.”

Trunks just floated there flabbergasted at the figure, but he had to take some sort of action to stop the monster from even starting its destruction. `Ki attacks won't work.' Trunks thought, `he could use mama as a shield.' Trunks looked around, seeing if something could help him mask a frontal assault. `Nothing. I'm going to have to rely on speed alone. One wrong move and...' Trunks started forward and then disappeared. Reappearing closer, he disappeared again.

“What is he doing? Doesn't he know I can sense him?”

`Perfect.' Trunks thought, `Now, I can use Trunkies ki to distract him and hit him from the back.'

The figure blinked, surprised at what he felt. “That brat!? WHERE!?” Trunks gave the figure no time to react; he cracked the figure square on its head with his elbow. The figure lurched forward, but almost as if it had prepared for this, it started to laugh.

“What's so funny!?” Trunks demanded.

“Game over, boy.” The figure brought back its hand, laughed maniacally.

Trunks stood there, petrified with fear of the horror unfolding before him. His mouth dropped open, trying to scream out to stop the scene from unfolding. He stared at the horror, unable to look away.

“You!” The figure extended a dagger like fingernail and smiled. “LOSE!” With that, the figure momentarily drew back its hand and laughed again. It instantly shot its `claw' forward, impaling Bulma's midsection. Letting go of her, Bulma slid slowly off of the `claw' and dropped to her knees, devoid of life she hit the ground. Trunks couldn't stand this, but all he could do was scream. But, the figure noticed something odd about Trunks. “No! It can't be!”

Seeing his mother die before him made something snap inside of Trunks. He knew he could have saved her, but all he did was stand there, watching. It seemed as though the two Trunks had truly become one, Trunkies losing his mother, and Trunks not being able to save someone's life. This unleashed some drastic, innate power. The youth stood there screaming, letting this power consume him. His ki increased significantly, and the figure knew this. Trunks bent back, still screaming: he was transforming. His power was now immense, and its effects could be immediately seen. His already golden, Super Sayia-jin, hair was a pointed mass of bright gold, his muscle mass increased slightly, and blue bolts of pure energy danced around in the aura of `golden fire'. His voice was confident yet had a tone of anger to it. “Now you'll PAY!” He rocketed to the figure with more-then-blinding speed, upon reaching it he slammed the figure skyward. Trunks blazed upward, intersecting with the figure he slammed it back toward the ground. Reappearing on the ground before the creature, Trunks waited for it to get near. Once it did, Trunks kneed its gut. The figure had fallen to its knees, severely beaten, but Trunks didn't care; he had his sword drawn. “And this one's for my mother!!” With that Trunks impaled the figure precisely as it did to his mother. Moving the blade through the now dead figure, Trunks made double sure it was gone by hitting anything internally important. Sheathing Tapion's sword, Trunks dispersed that aura of `golden fire'. He knelt down to his mother. “Don't worry, I'll save you. I don't know how, but I will!” He picked up the lifeless woman and headed to the one person he knew could help.

“Grandfather! It's Mother! You need to heal her!” Trunks presented the lifeless Bulma to Dr. Briefs.

“I don't know who you are, son, but I'll try.” He motioned to one of the recovery rooms. “Place her in there, and I'll do my best. Trunks slowly headed to the room, as to not disturb Bulma. Placing her on a bed he turned and softly shut the door behind him. Dr. Briefs motioned him over. “Now, son, why did you call me Grandfather, and Bulma your mother?”

“It's me, Trunks!” The youth pleaded.

“The only Trunks I know is an 11 year old boy. And Bulma is still too young to have a son as old as you.” The Doctor looked to the youth's hair. “And the child had lavender hair as well.”

“Please, Grandfather! You must believe me! It's me, Trunks! I could show you where I lived!”

The Doctor agreed and Trunks took him to Trunkies room. “Well, I'll be. This is where that boy lived. You must be a stalker!”

Trunks just fell after that. A stalker of all things! But the fall must have knocked him out, because the next thing he remembered was a voice, a female voice pleading with him to wake up.

“Trunks! Wake up, Trunks!” The woman started nudging and tapping Trunks to wake him. “Trunks Briefs, you wake up this minute or else!” There was still no response from the youth. “I'm worried about him. What if that fight took too much out of him? What? You don't think it did? Yeah, neither do I.” She poked the youth in his side. “TRUNKS!” She fell, crying. “Please wake up.” That must have done something, for the next instant the youth rose, running his fingers through his lavender hair. “Trunks! You're alright!” She wrapped her arms around the youth, crying into his shoulder. “You had me so worried, Trunks!”

“Yeah, I'll be fine.” His eyes had not re-adjusted nor his hearing, so he didn't know whom was hugging him. His eyes had begun to adjust slowly, but his hearing was almost back. “Mama! You're all right! But, how did you know it was me?”

Still crying, she stared up into Trunks' ice-blue eyes. “Well, mother's can always tell their children.” She giggled. “But, really, it was your eyes. You have the same eyes, he and you do. Those same caring, loving ice-blue eyes.” She paused. “So, he's never going to be back, is he?”

“Trunkies, you mean.” Trunks paused; he didn't want to bear the bad news, but he knew he had to. “No. No he will not. He and I are now one, we've converged. But I have all of his memories of you, and his feelings as well.” Trunks blinked. “There was something he always wanted to tell you. Something that he couldn't bring himself to say, but his memory is telling me that you already know what the child would have said.”

“Yeah, I can guess that one, Trunks. So, after you get better, what will you do?”

“Well, much as I did before. I'll continue protecting life, and make sure that nobody will ever have to suffer.” Trunks paused, and looked at his mother. He knew this wasn't the answer she had wanted to hear. “But,” he added, “I will stay here as well. I can do both. Besides, I kinda like it here.”

Bulma's heart skipped a beat. “That's wonderful, Trunks!” She hugged her son once again. “Well, I'd better let you rest up. Tomorrow's going to be a big day.” She started to Trunks' door, but stopped half way. “Oh, and, I give you permission to hang around in that tavern place Trunkies liked to frequent.”

“Thankya, mama! I'm sure something good will come out of it!”