The next day, Trunks went to Capsule Corporation, as agreed. Upon arriving, a robot took him to Bulma's office. There were a few other people outside waiting to see her. Trunks took a seat and waited for his turn. Beside him was an old man. Unlike the other people in the room who were smartly dressed, he was almost dressed only in his underwear. He wore an old worn-out white undershirt, cotton striped shorts and rubber slippers. The old man turned to look at the newcomer beside him.
"Are you here for the job interview too?" he asked Trunks. "No." Trunks shook his head. The old man sighed. "I need to have my car repaired. But these fools here all don't want to help. They just want to see Bulma Briefs and get a job at Capsule Corporation," he muttered to himself while taking out a capsule from his pocket and holding it in Trunks' view.
"Maybe I can help," Trunks said. The old man looked at him; slightly surprised at the offer, and a little reluctant. "Are you sure?" he asked. "It's custom made by Bulma Briefs herself, you know."
Trunks shrugged. "Why don't I take a look at it first?" he asked. Now it was the old man who shrugged, and handed him the capsule. Trunks decapsulated it, and a car popped into the spacious room. He opened the hood and examined the engine inside. This car was unique, custom made by Bulma Briefs, as the old man claimed. However, Trunks had driven a similar model in his own timeline so he was familiar with the engine. After pinpointing the fault, he did some fiddling, then closed the hood.
"There. Good as new," he said, turning to the old man. "Really?" The old man opened the front door and went in. After starting the engine, he pushed a few buttons. The car floated, then the roof disappeared, turning it into a convertible air-car. He stepped on the accelerator, and the car ran smoothly as he test drove it round and round the airspace of the spacious room. The old man beamed, obviously happy with the job.
"Thank you so much, young man!" he waved to Trunks before speeding off outside through the wide doorways. In a blink he was gone, leaving only dustclouds in his wake.
While Trunks and the other people watched the dustclouds left by the speeding car, a woman's voice from behind them spoke. "You there, the one who repaired the car. You're hired!"
"Me?" Trunks turned to face the owner of the voice who was none other than Bulma Briefs herself. "I didn't come here for the job actually. I need to borrow something from you."
"Oh?" Bulma raised an eye-brow. "Too bad. But why don't you come inside my office and I'll see what I can do for you." She turned to the other people still in the waiting room. "Well? What are you all still doing here? Don't you have other jobs to apply for somewhere else?" So they left, disappointed at losing the opportunity of getting their dream job at the prestigious Capsule Corp.
Inside Bulma's office, Bulma and Trunks talked. "Mr.Apek is one of our best customers," she said, referring to the old man whose car Trunks had just repaired. He may not look like it, but he is one of the richest man on the planet. One of the traits I like our employees to have is to not judge the book by its cover. Too bad you're not here for the job." Trunks smiled. He had been brought up with the Briefs family tradition: to help anybody who had any problems with Capsule Corp. products in any way they can, that was why he offered to repair the old man's car. Bulma turned the conversation to the young man before her.
"So, what can I do for you, Mr...?"
"My name is Trunks," Trunks introduced himself.
"Oh, what a coincidence," Bulma said. "I have a son named Trunks too."
"Oh..." Trunks didn't have much to say about the (non)-coincidence.
"You said you wanted to borrow something. What is it?"
"I need to borrow the Dragon Radar," Trunks said.
"The Dragon Radar?" Bulma turned to him sharply. "How do you know about the Dragon Radar?"
"I... Piccolo told me--"
"You know Piccolo?"
"Yes." Trunks nodded.
"Strange that Piccolo would be friends with anybody else other than Gohan," Bulma murmured to herself. She took another, careful look at Trunks. He smiled the sincerest smile he could. Then she noticed the Capsule Corp. logo on the jacket he wore. "Why do you have our logo on your jacket? Are you one of our employees?"
"No." Trunks replied. "This jacket is a present from somebody I know."
Bulma took a step back and squinted at Trunks. "You're not one of Pilaf's men, are you?"
Trunks looked at her blankly. "Who's Pilaf?" The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite recall where he heard it before. It was probably from his mother's stories of her early adventures with the Dragon Balls, but Trunks wasn't very sure.
"Hmmm..." Bulma didn't know why, but she liked the boy, and trusted him. "Ok then. Wait here. I'll get it for you."
Trunks smiled in relief. "Thanks, mo--, I mean Bulma-san."
"Hm? You're welcome, Trunks-san." Bulma smiled and left the room.
While Trunks was waiting, the door suddenly opened from the outside. A little girl with lavender hair and blue eyes entered. "Mom? My doll's broken. Can you fix it for me--" She stopped when she saw Trunks. "Oh, sorry," she said to him. "I thought my mom was in."
"Bra?" Trunks asked. "What are you doing here?"
At that moment Bulma walked in with the Dragon Radar. "Oh, hello Bra," she greeted her daughter. Turning to Trunks, she introduced the little girl. "Trunks, this is my daughter Bra. Bra, this is Trunks. He's here on business. He's got the same name as your brother. Isn't that a coincidence?"
Trunks stared at the little girl. She looked exactly like his sister! Bra was looking at Trunks strangely too. "How do you know my name before my mom told you?"
"I..."
"Oh, you silly girl," Bulma said. "You have your name printed right there on your shirt."
Bra looked down. "Oh."
"Anyway," Bulma handed the radar to Trunks. "Here's the radar. Do you know how to use it?"
Trunks nodded. "Yes. Thank you, Bulma-san."
Bulma nodded, and looked at her watch. "It's nearly lunchtime. Why don't you join us for lunch, Trunks?"
"Thank you, I'd love to," he accepted the invitation, not wanting to seem rude.
As the three of them left for the cafeteria, none of them noticed another pair of blue eyes watching them carefully.