first dbz fic. feedback welcome.
"What?!" Krillin shouted, jumping to his feet and knocking the table over. Eighteen lifted her orange juice just in time. "You don't know how to sense ki?!"
"No," she said, peering at him over the newspaper, "Gero did not see fit to equip me with a power reader." He set the table upright, and she set her drink down. "It was perfectly clear that Goku would not hide. Geesh, don't act so surprised - sit."
He sat.
"I don't get it," Krillin said. "If you just use your eyes to fight, how do you keep up? I mean, when I was younger I could do it but… it was so hard, just fighting humans! And you were fighting Saiyans!"
Eighteen folded the newspaper and sighed. Apparently, they'd found their topic of the day. Like ethical consumption yesterday, and daisy dukes the day before.
Today's episode is brought to you by….! The letter 'K', and the number eighteen!
"I suppose it would be easier," she conceded, "to sense ki whilst fighting, but I don't believe I possess the ability to even learn the technique."
"Why not?"
"I don't have ki."
"Oh," Krillin said, putting his fist to his chin, "hmm." It was rather cute, Eighteen thought, when he snapped his fingers and said, "No, okay - that's not the right attitude, Eighteen! You're amazing, and you can do anything you set your mind to!"
She rested her head on her hand, "Is that right?"
Her boyfriend nodded his head sharply. "Remember how long it took you to figure out the stove?" She groaned, to which he clicked his tongue. "All it took was a couple of fires and a very small explosion, right? Now you're a pro at boiling water, and - hell - you can even make a frozen pizza."
"Are you making fun of me?"
"...A little. Don't be mad. I'll teach you how to sense ki."
At least it was sunny and warm when Krillin coerced her outside to train. She never should've mentioned this on a pig-free day. Instead of enjoying their time alone (perhaps with some very innocent cuddling on the couch), they were going to waste time trying to teach her how to smell without a nose. Or whatever.
"Put this over your eyes," Krillin said, holding a square piece of cloth in front her.
"Is that a scarf?" An orange scarf?
"Yeah, I think it was Yamcha's."
"Am I going to get pink eye from this?"
"Just put it on. Please?" He waved the scarf in front of her face until she relented.
"Yes, Master Krillin," she said dryly, tying it over her eyes just in time to miss him blush.
Eighteen could hear the ocean and smell the rotting fish on the shoreline, but she certainly couldn't see Krillin through the musty old scarf. It was strange, to have her sight obstructed. It almost made her feel vertigo, or like she'd walk into a wall.
She jerked away when Krillin touched her nose. He giggled.
"Stop that. What are you doing?"
"Sorry," he said. She could hear his grin. "Okay, my student, here's the test: You're gonna try to hit me."
"Hit you?"
"Hit me."
"Are you sure?"
Krillin scoffed, "Kami knows I can take a punch." Without seeing him, Eighteen had trouble understanding his intent. Was he offended, or was she imagining the humor in his voice? Was that self-deprecating?
If I don't gain anything else today, she thought, I'll at least know to pay closer attention to him.
"Okay, try to hit me in three...two…one!"
Eighteen threw a punch, and stumbled forward, her fist flying through the air. The ocean seemed so loud - she couldn't hear him move. It was like -
Ah, he's flying. Surely he's…? Her elbow flew out behind her.
Before she knew it, she was throwing punches wildly. If she was sensing any ki - and she was certain she wasn't - it wasn't making a damn difference. Was he moving too quickly? Or was he not near her at all? Just watching her from afar, probably laughing to himself.
She sneered at the thought. It was then that she felt the slightest tickling of her ankle - dust rising from his flight. Instinctively, Eighteen threw a punch, and cheered when she felt it connect to something.
"Hah, got you!"
Sand hit her hard, scraping her arms, but the woosh didn't cover the sound of Krillin's descending yell. She ripped Yamcha's scarf off her eyes just in time to see him splash into the ocean fifty yards off the island. Shit, shit, shit.
"Krillin!" She called, cupping her hands around her mouth. His floppy black hair burst up from under the water, then the rest of him followed into the air. "Are you okay?"
Eighteen could see him wipe at his mouth, then he drifted towards the island, bobbing dangerously close to the water. He looked almost like he was going to fall back in - Eighteen ran into the shoreline and leaped into the air. She was on him in an instant, arms under his chest and legs. He was dazed, cupping his cheek with one hand.
"I am so, sorry, Krillin," she said, landing on the island and hurrying into the house, "I - I shouldn't have hit so hard - I just got carried away."
"S'okay," he said blearily as she laid him on the couch, "You didn't meanta. Thereshuh - a Senshu Bean in the cubboard."
Eighteen turned her attention to ripping the kitchen apart, searching high and low for that special little bean. It wasn't with the rice, not in the fridge, freezer, under the sink, or in with the peanut butter - it wasn't hiding behind a pan, or under Oolong's tupperware collection. Maybe it was in -
"The bathroom, Eighteen," he called, and she groaned. Of course - there was the jar, sitting quietly next to Roshi's suspicious medications. She briefly considered flushing them down the toilet, but that could wait until after Krillin was healed.
Five seconds later, Krillin had half a magic bean in his mouth. Eighteen set the other half back in its jar, and Krillin hopped off the couch and into the kitchen. She followed him, apologizing profusely. The short man washed his face off in silence.
"Krillin," she said, guilt written all over her face, "I'm sorry, love, I shouldn't have -"
He looked at her, an eyebrow raised, then surprised her with a light peck on the lips. "It's okay," he said, "I was asking for it. Anyway, I have another idea. One that doesn't involve - Eep!"
She tugged him back, and properly kissed him.
An hour later, Eighteen was facing the fridge and counting to thirty.
"One...two…three...five...nine...eleven -"
"Stop cheating!" Krillin shouted from the other room.
"-Twelve...thirteen...fourteen…"
This is stupid, she thought, finishing her count, the island is only so big… It'll be easy to find him, ki or not. Eighteen peeked under the dinner table, then scoffed at herself and moved on. What am I supposed to feel anyway?
("It's like a headache that doesn't hurt...Hmm, no, it's more like... like someone's tickling your brain. Yeah, that's it!"
"I'm not ticklish."
"...We'll figure that one out later.")
She was trying, she swore, even as she quickly checked every Krillin-sized place in the house. She peeked under the couch, behind the curtains, then, regrettably, in the oven. Her clothes landed in all corners of her room as she cleared the closet, then the attic received an artificial dusting before she hopped out onto the roof. He may not be bald anymore, but Eighteen still checked the palm tree for any new coconuts.
Krillin was a fantastic hide'n'seek player.
Eighteen could read a book at a hundred yards, feel the barometric pressure drop, and accurately guess the weight of any circus-goer, but - whatever it was (this thing that made Krillin flinch when Vegeta got mad), she didn't have it. That sixth sense. Her hidden third eye.
Perched on the red eaves of the pink house, Eighteen took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
If Krillin was a… uh, feather? Ticklish feather - uhm, what would that feel like?
She pondered that.
If he was a migraine that didn't hurt -
Eighteen rubbed at her neck and sighed irritably. Wherever Krillin was, Eighteen hoped he was cramped and uncomfortable. Hopefully he wasn't stuck, 'cause she was never going to find him. Not at this rate.
Briefly, Eighteen wished she was ticklish.
He was somewhere below her, in the tiny house with way too many hiding places for a five-foot tall man. Maybe if she ignored the radioactive porn and Krillin's tacky wardrobe, she could imagine something tickling the base of her head - right where her neck met her skull, perhaps. Like the shock of static off a doorknob, but persistent.
She opened her eyes and hopped off the roof.
The static fluttered from her grasp - Eighteen froze in place, scarcely breathing until she caught it. The little bastard was in the cellar. She knew it. He had to be. The little fairy in her head told her so.
The screen door slammed loudly, and the trapdoor was even louder.
The cellar was a filthy, dark room, mostly used to store whatever the occupants couldn't haphazardly shove into a closet. An old plastic Christmas tree sulked in the corner, surrounded by broken tapes and shreds of garland. The backup generator hummed quietly in another corner, and the sump pump gurgled in the third. Eighteen, climbing down the ladder, stepped carefully over long-forgotten supplies for long-forgotten projects, and followed her strange sparkly feeling to a small stack of totes.
When she pushed them aside, Krillin jumped out.
"Hah! You found me!" He grinned, a dust bunny caught in his hair. "Hold on - was that just luck or did you actually use ki?"
"Ki. Maybe."
Krillin hugged her tightly, uncomfortably, and Eighteen swiped the dust off his head and shoulders. It was nice to know she could be more than what she was made to be. Krillin pressed his head under her chin, and she sighed.
"I knew you could do it, Eighteen! I'm so proud of you!"
"Uh, thanks."
"You're welcome!" He backed off just enough to look at her face, his arms still tightly wrapped around her waist. "We have to celebrate! We can visit Chi-chi and you can Gohan and Piccolo's ki, then we can go to Capsule Corp and you can learn Vegeta's ki-"
Eighteen groaned.
Spare me.
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