Trunks came awake with a gasp and a reflexive clench at the sheets. (Sheets? What was going on?) His eyes flew open, wide and unseeing-or maybe he was seeing, but all he was seeing was white. His sensitive sense of smell caught the antiseptic, sterile smell of a hospital.
What need would he have for a hospital? He had enough self-awareness to realize that he’d died. There had been a hole punched clean through him, there was no way he would have survived it. He would have been wished back with the dragonballs eventually, which would leave him completely healed anyway, as far as he understood it.
And if he hadn’t regained consciousness on revival, he would (if everything was right,) wake up in Capsule Corporation and shortly be worried over by his past mother and chided for going and getting himself killed. Not that he’d had much say in the matter. At any rate, he wouldn’t wake up in an unfamiliar hospital. That was the first thing that hinted at the wrongness of the situation.
Secondly, he couldn’t feel any familiar ki signatures in the room. Though his mother’s was weak, he knew its feel well, and he’d learned the feel of everyone else in the time he’d spent around them. He couldn’t feel anything in the room, and extending his senses he realized he couldn’t feel any distinct ki signatures whatsoever, much less familiar ones, just faint impressions from everywhere that were impossible for him to separate or even begin to identify. They wouldn’t really leave him to wake up alone, would they? Trunks frowned and, unnerved, reached into what should have been his own power only to come up with absolutely nothing. There was naught but a hollow feeling where his ki should have been waiting for him to call it up.
That was the last push Trunks needed for the fog of sleep to clear from his head, replaced by nervousness and the tentative beginnings of fear. He was in a completely unknown situation. The last he recalled was the blinding pain as Cell’s death beam seared through his heart, the impact of his back with hard stone, and having just enough time to idly wonder if he’d see Gohan--his Gohan--and his father in the afterlife before he felt nothing at all.
Without thought, one of Trunks’s hands came up, pressing at the area over his heart where he’d had a hole in his chest not even moments before, by his own muddled recollection, feeling nothing but a slight twinge and whole flesh underneath his fingers. Lifting the loose, grey (…with a smiley face?) t-shirt he’d been clothed in, Trunks looked down and saw nothing but unbroken skin. What in the world was going on?
Before he had any more opportunity to try figuring it out, Trunks was startled by the door cracking open, and an unfamiliar person-a woman-coming into the room. Reaching out with his senses yielded nothing, he could read no ki off of her whatsoever, and that immediately set him even more on edge. The only beings he knew that didn’t have ki were the androids. “Who are you?” he asked sharply, the other important question being dropped by the wayside. ‘And where am I?’
“Trent, dear, I’m your nurse, we went over this last night--remember?” the woman replied, and Trunks bristled at the familiar (and patronizing) tone she took with him before once again being caught off-guard by the strange name she was addressing him by.
“...my name is Trunks.” Trent was a strange name. The woman just sighed pityingly and shook her head, refusing to encourage her patient's delusions. “Now come on, Trent, you've already missed breakfast. How will you meet any new friends if you don’t hurry up and get out of bed, you lazy boy?”
What need would he have for a hospital? He had enough self-awareness to realize that he’d died. There had been a hole punched clean through him, there was no way he would have survived it. He would have been wished back with the dragonballs eventually, which would leave him completely healed anyway, as far as he understood it.
And if he hadn’t regained consciousness on revival, he would (if everything was right,) wake up in Capsule Corporation and shortly be worried over by his past mother and chided for going and getting himself killed. Not that he’d had much say in the matter. At any rate, he wouldn’t wake up in an unfamiliar hospital. That was the first thing that hinted at the wrongness of the situation.
Secondly, he couldn’t feel any familiar ki signatures in the room. Though his mother’s was weak, he knew its feel well, and he’d learned the feel of everyone else in the time he’d spent around them. He couldn’t feel anything in the room, and extending his senses he realized he couldn’t feel any distinct ki signatures whatsoever, much less familiar ones, just faint impressions from everywhere that were impossible for him to separate or even begin to identify. They wouldn’t really leave him to wake up alone, would they? Trunks frowned and, unnerved, reached into what should have been his own power only to come up with absolutely nothing. There was naught but a hollow feeling where his ki should have been waiting for him to call it up.
That was the last push Trunks needed for the fog of sleep to clear from his head, replaced by nervousness and the tentative beginnings of fear. He was in a completely unknown situation. The last he recalled was the blinding pain as Cell’s death beam seared through his heart, the impact of his back with hard stone, and having just enough time to idly wonder if he’d see Gohan--his Gohan--and his father in the afterlife before he felt nothing at all.
Without thought, one of Trunks’s hands came up, pressing at the area over his heart where he’d had a hole in his chest not even moments before, by his own muddled recollection, feeling nothing but a slight twinge and whole flesh underneath his fingers. Lifting the loose, grey (…with a smiley face?) t-shirt he’d been clothed in, Trunks looked down and saw nothing but unbroken skin. What in the world was going on?
Before he had any more opportunity to try figuring it out, Trunks was startled by the door cracking open, and an unfamiliar person-a woman-coming into the room. Reaching out with his senses yielded nothing, he could read no ki off of her whatsoever, and that immediately set him even more on edge. The only beings he knew that didn’t have ki were the androids.
“Who are you?” he asked sharply, the other important question being dropped by the wayside. ‘And where am I?’
“Trent, dear, I’m your nurse, we went over this last night--remember?” the woman replied, and Trunks bristled at the familiar (and patronizing) tone she took with him before once again being caught off-guard by the strange name she was addressing him by.
“...my name is Trunks.” Trent was a strange name. The woman just sighed pityingly and shook her head, refusing to encourage her patient's delusions.
“Now come on, Trent, you've already missed breakfast. How will you meet any new friends if you don’t hurry up and get out of bed, you lazy boy?”
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