Chapter 1
Gohan slowly scooted his battered and abused body towards his favorite person in the whole world. After easing into a position as close to him as he dared, Gohan looked up in adoration at the meditating figure beside him.
"What do you want now?" Piccolo asked, venom dripping from his words as he opened a single charcoal eye to look down at the boy.
Gohan jumped at the question. Grinning up at his green sensei, he gathered his courage. "Mr. Piccolo, are you and my dad going to fight still? You know after the Saiyans?"
Piccolo let out a disgusted grunt closing his eye once more. Killing that idiot Son ten months ago should have been exhilarating, the culmination of his life's ambition. That was the key word though, should. Instead, it had left him dissatisfied and plagued with a lingering sense of discontent. The bastard had had the audacity to die with a smile on his face, spoiling the moment.
"Mr. Piccolo?" Gohan prodded as the silence drug out.
"No kid, I think we are done with all of that." Piccolo stated.
"That's really great! You see my mom doesn't like fighting around the house and since you're my best friend… Well she'll be happier when you come to visit if you and my dad aren't fighting all the time." Gohan babbled happily.
"I am not your friend you brat! I am a demon, demons do not have friends!" He looked down at the smiling child, appalled at the very notion. "Besides," he continued with a mutter, "you have all of your other little friends to occupy your time."
Gohan tilted his head in confusion. "What other friends Mr. Piccolo?"
Piccolo prepared to strike the half-breed for being deliberately obtuse when the sincerity of the question hit him. "You are the offspring of Son correct?" He waited for Gohan to nod. "That annoying man has always been surrounded by other equally annoying humans."
Gohan's face scrunched up as he tried to figure out why his dad having friends meant that he should too. He was not even supposed to go play with the animals that lived in the woods around the house if he was not finished studying yet. "But…" He trailed off, at a loss.
"But what?" Piccolo asked harshly. Unsure as to why he was even continuing this pointless conversation.
"You're my very first friend Mr. Piccolo. I've never had one before. Aren't I… I mean, you were just kidding. I'm your friend too right? 'Cause you aren't a demon Mr. Piccolo." Gohan stopped and looked down at his lap. Nervously plucking at his plum colored gi pants. The day his sensei had let him wear his colors had been the best day of his life to date.
"Go to sleep." Piccolo ordered, his tone low and harsh. Gohan looked up, the words dieing on his lips as he met Piccolo's cold gaze. Nodding in compliance, he laid down on the ground.
As the child's light snoring filled the air, Piccolo watched him sleep. It made no sense to him. No one considered him, the Demon King, a friend. No one that is, except this one, small half-breed. 'You're my very first friend Mr. Piccolo.' The phrase reverberated in his skull. It angered him; it delighted him. Piccolo sneered at the thought. It should not anger him that the child had never had a friend before. He should not allow himself to feel a trickle of warmth that he was the first.
Disgusted, Piccolo glared at Gohan. Whom he realized, was laying much too close. This wasn't the first night he had tried to get closer to him; inching his way over, closing more of the gap every time. If he kept up the now nightly ritual, he would actually touch him before too much longer.
Would that be so bad?
The sudden thought startled Piccolo. In truth, what would be so bad about having one person be able to touch him? No, it would be unacceptable to allow such contact, he thought angrily. It would make him weak, maybe even vulnerable.
A sharp, cold wind interrupted his conflicted thoughts. The fire flickered wildly before going out completely. The temperature quickly dropped after that. Still watching the now shivering Gohan closely, Piccolo froze in a moment of indecision. He actually wanted to relight the fire to make the kid more comfortable.
What was wrong with him? It was bad enough during the day. Gohan possessed a remarkable innocence he had been unable to corrupt or repress. Every day he beat the child into the ground and every night the child inched closer to him, so happy to be around him. He was never angry over the way Piccolo treated him. He did not even whine anymore.
Just today, he had broken the kid's arm. Gohan never mentioned it. Piccolo scowled in remembrance. He had left to gain a few moments of quiet away from the vexing child. When he had returned, Gohan had been trying, unsuccessfully, to set the bone. Piccolo could not remember going to the kid. He was just suddenly beside him, holding his arm carefully before setting it as gently as possible. It was humiliating. Then to top it off, the kid had thanked him! He was grateful to the man that had caused the injury.
Gohan's low moan of discomfort caught his attention. Watching him, Piccolo was shocked when Gohan fumbled his way to him. He then lay down directly beside his leg, and wrapped up in a corner of his cape. Piccolo tensed the muscles in his arm, preparing to backhand the kid, to punish him for his actions.
"I love you Misser Pic'lo." Gohan murmured, his speech slurred by sleep.
Piccolo's arm fell slack. He growled low in impotent rage. What was this child doing to him? He had no right to do this to him. It was infuriating, baffling, and wonderful. No! No, no, no! That was not a thought he would entertain. There is nothing wonderful about the situation. As is, the boy would probably die in the battle to come anyway.
Strangely enough, that thought caused a sick, hollow feeling inside of him. Piccolo rubbed an absent hand over his chest. This was all the kid's fault. He had never had to deal with any kind of emotion like this before. Gohan shivered in his sleep once more. Distracted, Piccolo tucked his cape more firmly around the child's sleeping form without being truly aware of his actions. Gohan surprised Piccolo when his small hand snagged his sensei's much larger one. Wrapping his entire hand around Piccolo's index finger, Gohan pulled Piccolo's hand closer to him. As he snuggled it like teddy bear, Gohan smiled contentedly in his sleep.
Piccolo was again frozen by his conflicted thoughts and indecision. He should not allow this kind of behavior. It was unacceptable. A ghost of a smile worked its way across his face. It was nice. The thought of Gohan dieing once again flitted across his mind and any vestige of content faded from his face. He could not, would not, allow this child to die. The very concept was obscene.
Hesitantly, Piccolo reached down with his other hand and for the first time in his life, touched someone in kindness. He carefully ruffled Gohan's wild black hair. "I won't let anything happen to you kid, I promise." Piccolo whispered. A surge of golden energy flowed from his chest, through his arms, and to child pressed against him. A faint glow surrounded the two for a few seconds, before everything went dark once more.
Piccolo looked down at his hands, as though they would present an answer to him. What had just happened? It had felt warm and peaceful. For that brief moment, he had felt completely connected to the kid. An unfamiliar sense of what could only be described as security seeped into him. Furrowing his brow, Piccolo tried to search out the reason for him to be experiencing such a thing.
Once more, Gohan gained his attention. The look on his face was so happy. As though Son had finally come back to life and was taking the boy home. Gohan mumbled in his sleep. Piccolo stared intently at the kid for a moment when suddenly, a foreign presence slipped into his mind. Angry, Piccolo tried to push out whoever had dared to trespass beyond his mental shields.
As he did so, Gohan's face contorted in fear and the warm feeling in Piccolo's chest became cold, panicked. Piccolo abruptly stopped pushing against the invading presence. Gohan immediately relaxed and the warm feeling settled back into his chest.
"Thanks Daddy." Gohan said, still sleeping, but responding to Piccolo's actions.
Daddy? Here he was, trying to figure out why the kid was suddenly where he shouldn't be and the ungrateful whelp was dreaming about Son! Piccolo frowned severely at the sleeping child, wondering just what he was seeing. Before he had fully considered his actions, Piccolo found himself in Gohan's mind.
The kid was dreaming, but not about Son. Gohan was flying over a vast field, grinning down at his companion, and demanding that his daddy watch him. Standing in field below the boy was a tall green figure clad in a plum gi and swirling white cape. Piccolo felt as though he had just taken a ki blast to the gut, not Son, him. Gohan had called him Daddy.
Coming back to his senses, Piccolo struggled to control his breathing. He needed to get away, right now. As he started to stand, he was disgusted to realize that he could not just rip his cape away and go. Scowling, but unable to help himself, he silently slid out of the garment and tucked it firmly around Gohan. Tossing a weak ki blast at the cold wood, he relit the fire. Only after doing so did he feel able to leave the kid alone.
Taking off into the sky, Piccolo growled, barely able to contain his rage. He had very bad feeling he had done something irrevocable. If he was correct in his thinking, he had just Imprinted on the boy. He had just permanently marked the half-breed as his son. How had he managed such a thing? Better yet, why?
He did not really understand how Imprinting worked. All he had was the basic knowledge of what it was. From what he knew, he would be able to feel what the kid felt. He would have access to his thoughts. A horrifying thought occurred to Piccolo, stopping him mid-flight. He could feel the kid in his head and Gohan had responded negatively to his pushing him out. Could Gohan do the same? When he woke up in the morning, would the kid have access to his mind?
Frustrated beyond measure, Piccolo prepared to use his split form technique and literally beat himself up for doing such a thing. Just as he began to focus his energy, a low whimper caused his ears to twitch. The muscles in his chest tightened in what could only be described as fear. Streaking across the night sky, he landed next to fire.
Gohan was caught in a nightmare. Sweat gleamed dully on his face, plastering his hair to his forehead. Piccolo stood irresolutely over him. Berating himself for wanting to wake the boy. Growling low in throat, Piccolo leaned over and touched Gohan's shoulder. It was though someone had flipped a switch. Gohan's breathing evened out, his face relaxed, and his agitated movements stilled.
Floating in the lotus pose beside him, Piccolo stared at the fire. He had done that. Just being in his presence had calmed the kid. Maybe having one person, specifically having Gohan, close to him would not be that bad. Smirking, Piccolo slid into meditation.