Pre-note: I made this one to refresh my mind and try to get around the writer's block in writing The Passage Not Seen. In fact, I might finish this one first before proceeding with the other one.

About this story: This is an AU fic—as such, please kindly allow some degree of OOC-ness, although I try to keep it to minimum—in which every full-blooded human and human-Saiyan hybrids we know is a full-blooded Saiyan. For the sake of clarity and simplicity, canon names will be kept as they are. This fic also assumes that Saiyans won't transform into Great Apes under the full moon, are not limited to having black or brown hair, and are as emotionally expressive as us humans.

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball / Dragonball Z / Dragonball GT.

Happy reading!

A portion of the Saiyan Kingdom was in an extraordinarily jubilant mood today.

A custom had been established since days long gone, and it was that the King and Queen present their firstborn on his or her birthday. This would go on annually until he or she underwent a rite of initiation at the age of seventeen, after which he or she was considered an adult. Because of that, the gap from that seventeenth presentation until the next one was very long, since they would need to wait until the King and Queen's firstborn had an offspring of his or her own.

Living in an integrated city within a two-hundred-and-fifty-metre radius from the castle, high-class citizens, called Nobles, never failed to attend the Presentation Festival in the castle compound. On the other hand, low-class citizens, or Commoners as they had always been referred to as, could only wish they too had been invited to have a taste of the goodness the Nobles were privileged to enjoy. The social gap between the two classes was just like an impassable abyss separating heaven and hell and failed attempts of crossing over—from the less fortunate end, of course—weren't unheard of, especially in festivals such as this. There had been incidents in past festivals where Commoners tried to break their way into the city using approaches whose nature ranged from persuasive to forceful, and most of the forceful ones ended up in violent bloodshed.

In the framework of their community, it had been established that interactions between citizens of upper social stratum and Commoners were considered taboo; should this point of law be violated, punishment in the form of exclusion from society awaited both parties. Even members of the Royal Family weren't exempt, and there had been cases in the past in which Royals, Nobles, and Commoners were ostracised from society and sent away to a distant land for failing to adhere to this particularly strict rule. However, the Royals still needed to govern the people and maintain contact with them in order to keep the Kingdom intact—after all, their income came from the taxes the Commoners paid them—so they enlisted the help of a certain group of people to get the dirty jobs done.

The people in this group were referred to as the Praetorians and were originally Nobles or Commoners with enormous power levels. Together, they made up the combat strength of the Royal Saiyan Army, a band of warriors far superior to the lower-ranked Saiyan Army, but that was not all; upon these select people were bestowed the privilege to establish communications with both classes, and only through them or under their supervision was a cross-class interaction considered legal. However, this privilege didn't come for free, and the price Praetorians had to pay was to leave their loved ones and serve the Royals for the rest of their life. Because of that, Commoner-based Praetorians were often shunned by fellow Commoners for giving up their family and friends for easy money and a sumptuous lifestyle.

Alright, let's return to the here and now, shall we?

The reason why the Nobles were in such a joyous spirit was that today was the third birthday of the firstborn of the King and Queen, and a Presentation Festival was about to take place. The outer yard of the castle was now brimming with Nobles, tables of food and drinks had been set up, and it was only a few moments before the King and Queen showed themselves to address the crowd. From a good vantage point, countless Commoners could be seen gathering together beyond the city walls, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of the extravaganza. To prevent them from causing a scene, Praetorians had been deployed at possible break-in spots; they were ready to fend off even the most foolhardy of man. All in all, at the Queen's demands, this year's festival had been immaculately planned.

When the Nobles were conversing with one another in haughty glee, the sound of clarion blared majestically in the air. At once, just like a perfectly synchronised choreography, the people dropped whatever it was they were doing and focused their eyes on a balcony high above the ground where three figures could be seen; there stood a relatively short man, a very beautiful woman, and a toddler who was barely visible from down below. There they were, the Royal Family.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Your attention, please!" a hulking Praetorian exclaimed after he almost wasted all his breath trying to get everyone's attention with the clarion earlier, "The members of the Royal Family are now ready for their public address. Please tune your scouter frequency to 1,337 megahertz and kindly welcome King Vegeta, Queen Bulma, and Prince Trunks!"

A thundering roar of applause followed. At the sight of the multitude, the little Prince got very gleeful and started jumping up and down while clapping his hands and flailing his tail back and forth in pure joy. To let his son have a better view, the Queen scooped him up and he expressed his mirth by waving to the people. The King, however, didn't seem to share his wife and son's excitement; a frown could be seen gracing his face as he screened through all the Nobles below.

"Gah, those miserable vermins. Woman, you're taking it from here!" he scowled. Then, with a grunt, he turned around and went back into the royal chamber.

Yes, Vegeta had never been fond of being surrounded by people, much less by those of lower rank than him. Others might see such kinds of festivals as a time to gather together and have fun, but certainly that didn't apply to him. Trunks tilted his head to the left and his innocent cerulean eyes radiated confusion, but after his mother told him it was alright and that his father would be just fine, the usual smile formed again on his face in no time.

After the applause had subsided, Bulma began by passing a word of gratitude to the clarion man. "Thank you, Nappa," she said with a smile, which the bald Praetorian acknowledged by bowing. She then turned to the crowd and started addressing the Nobles through the scouter. "Good morning, my dear people! It surely is great seeing all of you here. I'm sure the King is happy too, and don't worry about him. He's just… uh, being himself right now, but he'll be with you to celebrate later on. I promise you, all of us will be having a great time today."

"You surely know the reason why we're gathered here today. Yes, today is the third birthday of my son, Trunks," she continued, eliciting another round of excited applause from the Nobles. Trunks got even more excited than before and this time he waved fervently with both arms. Once the people had calmed down, Bulma spoke again, "The previous year has been very pleasant to Trunks and us as well. He's grown into a very strong and handsome young child, and I'm sure he will someday in the future be a great warrior and king…"

As Bulma carried on with her speech, Trunks started to get more and more impatient of the wait. His scanned the landscape below with his eyes, and the sight of countless people outside the yonder city walls caught his attention. Last year he didn't notice them, but perhaps it was because he hadn't even been aware of himself, let alone his surroundings. Who were those people? What lay beyond the borders of the city?

Intent on finding out, the lilac-haired toddler leapt out of his mother's arms and approached a nearby aide who happened to be his caregiver as well. This person was his favourite Praetorian whom he respected as much as he did his parents.

"Yes, Prince Trunks?" said the dark-haired female upon noticing the little tyke who had been tugging at her cape for a while.

"Fasha, what behind wall?" asked Trunks with broken grammar.

"Do you mean what's behind the city walls, Your Highness?" Fasha inquired again just to make sure, and Trunks nodded in reply. The grownup thought for a while, trying to find the correct words to answer her Prince's question. "Well… let's just say there's nothing out there, only people you don't have to be concerned with."

"People? Trunks want see them!" said the little Prince. Three years of age was when children started getting curious over everything, and he was excited at the prospect of seeing new people other than his family and aides as well as exploring new grounds. "Trunks want go out and meet friends! Fun! Can Trunks go?"

Fasha was of course taken aback by Trunks's request. Although she could accompany him and ensure the legality of his excursion, she didn't want to get him into trouble. Those Commoners could sometimes be violent and bloodthirsty, and she knew it too well. "I… don't think it's a good idea, Your Highness. With all due respect, you can get hurt since you're still too young."

"Aww, please? Fasha strong, so Trunks okay!"

"I apologise, but I'm afraid I must insist on saying no."

"Pretty pleaseee?"

Somehow, the puppy face Trunks just made succeeded in melting Fasha's defences. She had always been a sucker for cutesy expressions and this time it proved to have worked against her. "Alright…" she said while making a mental note to overcome this particular weakness, "But I'll have to ask Her Majesty for permission, and we'll go only if she's fine with it. Okay?"

That was all the Praetorian needed to satisfy the longing of her curious Prince. He danced around the balcony in joy for getting one step closer in fulfilling his wish before returning inside to his chamber. Then, just seconds later, the loud sound of applause and cheers could again be heard in the air, signifying the end of the Queen's speech and the commencement of the Presentation Festival. Bulma took off her scouter, switched it off, and—escorted by Fasha—strolled toward the kitchen to treat herself a cup of tea before mingling with the Nobles downstairs.

Noticing this was the perfect opportunity to speak with Bulma before she was lost in the crowd, Fasha gathered her courage and voiced out her request on behalf of Trunks. "Requesting permission to speak, Your Majesty."

"How many times do I have to tell you to drop that formal behaviour when speaking with me?" asked Bulma with a smile. "You've been with us for a long time now and you're just like a second mother to Trunks, so try to be more casual and relaxed. By the way, permission granted."

The Praetorian first followed up with an apology. "I apologise—I mean, I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I think I'm already used to it," she said, gaining a giggle from Bulma. She then proceeded to voice out her request on behalf of Trunks. "Well, His Highness, Prince Trunks… he requested that I take him to the town to have a look around, if it's okay with you. I tried to reason with him that it's not preferable, but he was quite determined."

"I see…" Bulma nodded in understanding, "So he's finally made his decision, huh?"

"You mean he's been thinking about it for quite some time?"

"Yup. He's been asking me to go out since around a month ago, but I thought he wasn't ready yet."

"That's exactly what I'm worried about, Your Majesty. He's still too young, if you ask me."

"I understand your concern, Fasha," Bulma concurred. They were now in the kitchen; she gestured for her aide to take a seat and proceeded to prepare cups of chamomile tea and serve a plate of cookies. Then, she handed her one cup which she gratefully accepted. "I know about the Commoners and what they're capable of doing. Some of them are even stronger than the Nobles, perhaps almost on par with some of our Praetorians."

"Does that mean it's better for His Highness to stay?" asked Fasha between her sips.

"Well, yeah. It goes without saying… but today's his birthday and I think he deserves a gift from us," the Queen paused before continuing. It seemed she was now weighing the pros and cons of the alternatives, and after half a minute of thinking, she finally made her resolve. "… okay. If he really wants to go, let's just say I've granted my permission and you can leave any time you want. I know you'll do just fine in escorting Trunks around. After all, you're the second strongest Praetorian… but please be careful. I know I can always trust you."

Fasha was slightly surprised at Bulma's decision, but she nodded politely nonetheless. After all, her Queen had faith in her, and it was more than just a boost to her self-esteem. "Of course you can, Your Majesty," she said, but a look of concern again crossed her face, "Oh, and… I'm sorry for sounding rash, but what about the King? Will he give His Highness his permission?"

"Yeah, Vegeta never likes us to mingle with people… but don't worry about him," Bulma assured, "I'll have a word with him later. You just focus on taking care of Trunks, and have fun. Looks like you can also use some entertainment."

"Thanks, Your Majesty. I'll inform His Highness to prepare right away."

"Be back at noon so Trunks can have his lunch on time, okay?"

"Understood—I mean, we sure will."

The Praetorian then washed the now empty cups and plate and excused herself from the kitchen in gratitude. As she made her way to Trunks's chamber, her mind was bombarded with every possible scenario which might happen to the little Prince and herself; after all, this would be his first time visiting the town, a place brimming with Commoners of a wide spectrum of strength and personalities. Being the Queen's right-hand woman, it had been ages since she visited the town herself, but somehow she didn't feel as enthusiastic; truth be told, from deep within she could feel her conscience telling her that something was bound to get too crazy for her to handle. On top of everything, what if she met this particular person whose trust and friendship she had betrayed many, many years ago? What would she say if their paths happened to meet?

She had been so deep in her thoughts she didn't realise she was now standing before the door to Trunks's chamber. 'What am I thinking? I'm only escorting Prince Trunks, nothing more. Everything's going to be just fine,' she assured herself before straightening her mind. Then, ready to take her Prince out, she knocked on the door three times.

"Come in!" replied a cheerful voice from inside.

Fasha opened the door and saw Trunks sitting on his bed, playing with his handheld game console. When the tyke noticed her, he practically bounced off the bed and rushed toward her, anxious to know the result of his request. Of course, when she informed him his appeal had been approved, Trunks became even happier; he quickly threw his regal attire on the floor, opened his armoire, and changed into his casual clothes with Other-Worldly efficiency. Then, just like an unstoppable little ball of energy, he tugged at Fasha's cape, urging her to dart out of the room.

"W-wait, Prince Trunks! Isn't it better if you, uh… wear a more appropriate set of clothes?" asked Fasha, still dumbfounded at Trunks's choice of outfit. He was clad in green baggy shirt, purple shorts, and blue sneakers. Adding his lilac hair and brown tail into the equation, he looked like a giant walking tutti-frutti candy.

"Trunks no like!" the little Prince promptly retorted, "Clothes like you hot, make Trunks sweat! C'mon, Fasha!"

Being left with no other choice, the aide complied with her excited Prince's orders. She took him to the vehicle bay where a number of egg-shaped pods could be seen parked; since she was headed to a district laden with Commoners, one with extra security measures would be necessary, so she settled on a pod with another seat attached to its side. Fasha then had Trunks settle himself on the side seat, took the wheel, and pressed a green button. With that, a transparent protective shield closed around the pod—making it look like a bubble with two people trapped inside—and they took off through a small launch pad of some sort at the end of the bay.

When the pod flew over the outer yard, Trunks let out a very gleeful squeal. He could see so many people and as many things to eat and drink, but none of these was in his list of things to enjoy. He knew he was a Royal, which meant he could indulge himself with those any time with just a simple whine. But the things beyond the confines of the city, the things he was about to see and learn for the first time… those were the ones that he had been very excited about.

Even though Trunks and Fasha were travelling in a leisurely slow pace, a quarter of a kilometre wasn't exactly a considerable distance to cover even on foot, and in no time they found themselves outside the airspace of the city. At first Trunks was extremely thrilled for being this far away from home, but he got bored in no time since all they did was fly around in the air. In order to combat his ennui, Trunks insisted with his overly simplified grammar that they land and take the road so he could see what was happening more closely and clearly.

There was no stopping the stubborn little Prince from having everything his way, so Fasha did as he wanted. As their pod touched down on the road, Commoners started to flock around them from all directions; it was understandable, really, since visitation of Nobles, let alone Royals, to the town would take place only once in a blue moon. Not wanting Trunks to feel uncomfortable of the crowd, Fasha easily prompted the people to make way, which she did rather easily with just a wave of an arm.

On their way through the main road, Trunks seemed to be having trouble focusing his attention on a single event. The town was very busy, and when they arrived at the marketplace he saw more than he had bargained for; events took place so quickly, people darted from one stall to another very briskly, and those who didn't either just stood idly looking at him or were talking with others. Everything was very much unlike the slow, lazy life he had been accustomed to, and his brain still couldn't register how one could even hope to survive in the middle of this frenetic frenzy.

As they passed by a grassy field, Trunks could see some children older than him playing around with one another. He would like so much to stop and alight for a while to see what they were playing, but before he could tell Fasha to do so something—or, to be more specific, someone—caught his attention.

On a stone bench across the field was seated a little boy, possibly his age if not a couple of months younger, wearing dark green changshan with maroon sleeves and maroon trousers. Holding three sticks of ice candy with his hands and tail, this boy's gaze suddenly locked with Trunks's, and neither of them could turn away even as the pod continued to move forward. It wasn't until a good amount of space separated them that they finally broke their eye contact.

Just before turning around a bend at the end of the road, Trunks suddenly went all hyper. "Fasha! Back, back!"

"What's the matter, Your Highness?" asked the Praetorian, "Do you want me to turn back?"

Trunks nodded fervently in response, and although Fasha had no idea what could have caught his attention she complied and guided the pod back toward the direction of the marketplace. When they approached the field, she finally noticed what she had missed on their first pass and immediately regretted her decision to assent to Trunks's request to turn around.

The ice candy kid was still sitting on the bench. At the sight of him, Fasha's heart skipped a beat and a battalion of butterflies started fluttering violently inside her stomach. 'That can't be…' she said to herself, 'This boy… he's the spitting image of him! No, what are the chances?' She could only hope the kid wasn't the one who had attracted the Prince's attention.

Unfortunately for her, Trunks's next request proved her wrong. Pointing at the kid, he grinned in excitement, yanked at his aide's hand, and said, "Open window! Trunks want play! Boy look like friend!"

Now, Fasha had gotten herself in a quandary. She was torn between seeing her Prince happy and risking confronting an uncomfortable past she had tried so hard to bury deep inside her heart. The decision now lay in her hands; would she let the Commoner kid rend her heart as though there were no tomorrow by pressing the green button to lift the protective shield of the pod, or was she prepared to face a very disappointed and sad Trunks by stepping on the gas pedal?

It looked like her hunch had been correct all along. Things were going to get too crazy for her to handle.