*cracks knuckles* ok fuck it, no beta reader, we die buried in the typos
AN: TruAnj implications, set during Fu's meddling just shy of bringing Trunks into the mix;; Anju's usual cynicism is it's own warning, enjoy some semi fluffy sweet Bunny trying to navigate whether her feelings are platonic or romantic.
The plan was to get home.
But plans seldom ever go the way one wills them to.
Anju knew this, after all, plenty of plans went awry whether she was the brains behind them or not--often times going awry simply because she'd been the one to think it up in the first place.
A pout nested it's way onto her features first thing in the morning, the mug of coffee--her second, or perhaps even her sixth if you counted the ones prior to sunrise--steaming in front of her as her gaze stayed starkly focused on the window in her line of sight.
Staring out at the green of Capsule Corp's lawn.
Normally, that was home to her. Bulma and Trunks had welcomed her with open arms so easily...that she couldn't deny it. This was the place she felt the safest.
But 'home' wasn't Capsule Corp. Or at the very least not this version of Capsule Corp.
Time travel she used to think was a simple thing. Input coordinates, let the machine do it's thing and bam, you'd be where ever and whenever you needed to be. That was how that was meant to work.
But as with careful planning, nothing ever went according to plan.
The time machine was no exception, she found. And for Anju, that was more a curse than a blessing.
And here she was. The rowdy redhead scoffed as finally, the usual bustle here in the...far forward reaches of the future she guessed? Time travel was not a simple thing at all. It gave her a headache to try and wrap her mind around how she ended up here.
Anju thought it was set to bring her to the past.
Before the Androids struck, to be specific.
Instead, she was here. With a Bulma who knew of another version of the redhead who went through way more and way worse. In a whole ass timeline where the matter of the androids was one done and over with. Wrapped up nicely and with no lingering questions to be had. No doubt over whether they weren't out there, still, ready to commit atrocities the likes of which this timeline hadn't seen.
Anju couldn't help but be bitter over it. Here she was, stranded in a timeline not her own. With a version of Bulma who at least was aware of the time machine--of time travel to begin with.
She took some solace in that fact, at least.
That solace was short lived of course by the time the Prince of Saiyans paraded himself into the kitchen, Bulma in tow. Her headache was quickly becoming a full on migraine now. She cared not what the married couple was bickering over--chances were high it was that stupid gravity machine again. Chances were even higher that it would be the redhead's job later on to fix it again.
But she was not about to stay put just to be forcefully volunteered for that task yet again, gripping her mug as she retreated to the guest room that she'd settled on as hers.
Setting her mug on her nightstand, Anju was quick to fall back onto the mattress below her. Arms behind her head as she sucked in a breath, releasing it in a loud and annoyed sigh.
Her eye lids closed briefly, relief slowly pulling her down into the depths of sleep. Something the mecha junkie seemed to run from with the same vigor as she did the androids....
Her eyebrows scrunched up as her mind flashed back to what she was forced to leave behind.
Who she was forced to leave behind.
Rolling over with a huff, she found herself on her stomach--face staunchly buried into the fluff of her pillow.
Guilt clouded the recesses of her mind, a haze that ascribed shame and judgement onto her. What else could she have done though? Gohan, being the adult of the situation, made the correct choice. He chose her to be the messenger, entrusted that to her in a make or break situation.
One that was life or death, mind you.
Lucky her, that her current position made it easier to fight the guilt that welled inside her. Soothed her enough to allow her reprieve--as her mind swirled and welcomed a different face to come to mind. The only other one she'd been forced to leave behind thanks to the androids ambushing the trio before they could even pile into said Time Machine.
Bulma's son. Trunks.
The redhead's lips parted slightly in her sleep. A soft smile spreading ear to ear as peace radiated from her body.
That boy was the only one to bring the wild and untamable redhead into any semblance of peace. He radiated safety, security. There was no doubt to be found--when Trunks was determined to see something through, he would.
He was everything Anju aspired to be. And everything she could ever want.
Her arms coil around one of the excess pillows she's got on the guest bed, squeezing it to her body as she holds onto it tight--wishing with all her might that it was the person she missed most during this time. To be comforted by him right now....
Her days always seemed to start like this...
Her mind spiraling into dreams where the two were together again.
One day they would be. She'd make sure of it.
Not even a half baked plan falling apart would keep her away from him.
