“Yes, of course. I look forward to attending.”
Krillin pressed the console button and ended the conference call. As he did, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His gray hair was pulled back, and glasses settled before eyes that had seen too many horrors and bore so much loss. But the glasses hid those things. Thankfully. And he was still alive. Still kicking, he said to himself, smirking. The monk looked down at his feet. He only needed the cane half the time, and that was only because the doctors at Capsule's Satellite University of Medical Advancement hadn't caught the degenerative bone disease in time to stop some loss from occurring.
“Who was that?” The soft voice behind him snapped him back to the present.
“Oh, it was one of the intelligence consorts from the council. Confirming my attendance at the annual 'Cultural Informational Dinner Gala'...or whatever.”
“Where is it going to be this time?” Juuhachigou sauntered behind her husband. She touched his back with one hand—one of her only gestures of affection. It was so telling of her character, Krillin thought, that she never had to do anything more.
“Colony Eight, probably. Yamucha wouldn't dare have it on Arjun, and we can't afford having the Serulian Parliament complaining about the length of the trip to Chikyuu.”
“They are asking too much of you. They always do.” Juuhachigou's intoned with worry.
“I may be old, but I can still be of some use. If it means helping out the kids--”
“'The kids'...that you are referring to are adults. Have been so for a while.” his wife reasoned, almost pleading.
“...I made a promise, Juuhachigou. To him. I made a promise.”
He grabbed his cane, and walked out without another word.
Krillin pressed the console button and ended the conference call. As he did, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His gray hair was pulled back, and glasses settled before eyes that had seen too many horrors and bore so much loss. But the glasses hid those things. Thankfully. And he was still alive. Still kicking, he said to himself, smirking. The monk looked down at his feet. He only needed the cane half the time, and that was only because the doctors at Capsule's Satellite University of Medical Advancement hadn't caught the degenerative bone disease in time to stop some loss from occurring.
“Who was that?” The soft voice behind him snapped him back to the present.
“Oh, it was one of the intelligence consorts from the council. Confirming my attendance at the annual 'Cultural Informational Dinner Gala'...or whatever.”
“Where is it going to be this time?” Juuhachigou sauntered behind her husband. She touched his back with one hand—one of her only gestures of affection. It was so telling of her character, Krillin thought, that she never had to do anything more.
“Colony Eight, probably. Yamucha wouldn't dare have it on Arjun, and we can't afford having the Serulian Parliament complaining about the length of the trip to Chikyuu.”
“They are asking too much of you. They always do.” Juuhachigou's intoned with worry.
“I may be old, but I can still be of some use. If it means helping out the kids--”
“'The kids'...that you are referring to are adults. Have been so for a while.” his wife reasoned, almost pleading.
“...I made a promise, Juuhachigou. To him. I made a promise.”
He grabbed his cane, and walked out without another word.
“My Lady Goddess, Your Lord Brother, Trunks, Son of the Throne.”
Bra turned from her work. “Hello, Brother.”
She walked over to Trunks and kissed him ceremoniously on the cheek. He took her hands in his and looked behind her.
“What are you doing over there?”
“Sorting the latest samples of herbs gathered from Arbatzu-sei,” Bra walked back over to the table. “As soon as they are properly identified they'll be sent to Med Advancement.”
“They're keeping you busy,” Trunks noted, looking around for the nearest chair.
“It's good...along with the tutors that use the libraries here, it's hard for me also to find a free moment these days.”
“Good. The worst hands in the world are ones that are idle.”
Bra hesitated at Trunks' cool voice, then reached over to pull more bagged samples from her table.
“Will Gohan be helping you with this project? Just curious,” Trunks continued as he sat.
Bra's body language didn't change, her back to her brother. “No, why would he come here?”
“He comes here often, doesn't he? To help the tutors plan lessons?”
“Yes, he has been here a couple of times in the past to do that, so I'm told,” Bra still didn't turn around.
“Not that you would know for sure, since West Castle, under your insistence, has no surveillance system in place. So how would you know if he's coming or going, or what he's doing?”
Bra finally stopped working. Her brother was standing right behind her.
“You're lying,” he whispered in her ear, almost mocking her.
Trunks' breath rustled through the fly-aways in Bra's hair. Her eyes went wide with what he said next.
“You think that I don't know? Your little secret?”
After a tense silence, Bra spoke. “What do you want, Trunks?”
“What I've always wanted, Bra. Your happiness,” Trunks, his sister in tow, walked back over to his seat. He guided her to sit beside him.
“I've known for a long time, Sister, why you were so in opposition to the marriage. But it doesn't matter—what's done is done. Now there is something coming that could change everything. How we live. How you live. And you know that we can't let that happen.”
And with that, he slid a book-sized console towards Bra.
“What's this?” she asked, hesitant.
“It is a writ of permission for me to question the servants of West Castle. Including your personal attendants.”
“Some of my servants are children, Trunks,” Bra began. “They have nothing to hide from anyone.”
“I have some of the best and most courteous agents on hand. So we will see.” Her brother smiled that cold, unfeeling smile again.
“...Trunks, please...”
“We can let my men do it, or Yamucha can come and he will send for Juunanagou. And you know how Juunanagou 'questions' people, don't you?”
Bra stared at her brother, struck dull with shock.
“After something like that happening at West Castle...I'm pretty sure Gohan wouldn't want to come here again. For any reason.” Trunks murmured.
Her blue eyes fell over the balcony and to the square, where one of the local farm hands and his son swept dead leaves off the courtyard tiles. The servant's upward glance met hers, and along with his child, he smiled and bowed to their Lady.
Dejected, she turned and placed her palm on the console screen. Trunks put his hand over hers, pressing more firmly. A soft beep, and the computer confirmed the hand print signature.
“I'll be on my way, then,” Trunks said, pulling the console away. “My team is already en route, and I'm late for a meeting.”
Trunks gave his sister a quick kiss on her head and left the chamber. Bra knew she was alone. But still, her hands were closed in white-knuckled fists.
