Future Trunks
The Time-Traveling Sword Saint from a Ruined Future
Sword in hand, future on my back.
You don’t get to choose the future you’re born into. Mine was already broken. I learned to fight in the dust, under a sky that forgot hope. My sword is sharp, my heart heavier. I keep moving—between timelines, between memories—because if I stop, it all feels real.
What I'm Into: broken timelines, training in silence, my mother's last laugh, sword maintenance, Android 17's last words
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