"If you want me to train you, then first you must submit yourself to a thorough examination," Piccolo explained with a subtle grin, "That way, I can assess your current physical condition so that I can better meet your needs."
My mouth became quite dry all of a sudden, and my hands began to tremble. I couldn't believe what he was saying; the thought of him willingly attempting to get more intimate with me was wonderful! The only problem was that I didn't want him to know that it was desirable for the wrong reasons. But then ... was it my imagination or was he smiling when he said that?
"Are you serious!? No way!"
"Well then, if you don't want my help, that's your decision."
"But that's not fair! Of course I want you to train me. It's just that ..."
"You don't want me to touch you, is that it? You're afraid that I might hurt you while your guard is lowered because I can't be trusted."
I chose to provide an excuse that wasn't completely untrue.
"Not exactly. It's nothing personal, but I'm a little shy about being handled by just anyone."
"That may be understandable. However, I'm not just anyone. From this day on, I shall be considered your mentor; and you, my protégé. As such, it is essential for us to establish a mutual bond - physically, emotionally, spiritually. Consider this exercise a preliminary trial."
What a lovely way to justify it!
"Uh, what exactly would that involve?"
"Oh, just a little hands-on inspection to evaluate your qualities as a fighter. Does that seem reasonable enough, or are you still feeling apprehensive?"
I paused for a few moments, appearing to consider the matter seriously.
"I guess that sounds okay."
I could have sworn that his expression brightened a bit.
"Very well. Now, first I want you to remove your outer layer or clothing. Then get up there where I can reach you," he ordered, pointing to an earthen countertop that had been crudely carved into the cave wall of his canyon hideaway. He turned around and waited patiently as I stripped down to my underclothes - a black tank top and a pair of dark grey briefs.
When I crawled up onto the table - making the jump was no problem for me - I noticed that there were layers of blankets (warm and soft, some made of animal fur) piled on top. I could detect a trace of a pleasant scent - like some kind of exotic spice mixed with something wild and piney like a forest floor - that could only belong to Piccolo himself.
"Did you stretch today?"
"Yes. This morning, like always."
"Good. Let's see how flexible you are."
He took hold of my arms and carefully flexed them this way and that. Next, he had me lay on my back while he did the same to my legs, first pushing my thighs against my chest, then spreading them. I bit my lip, feeling a bit self-conscious about the modest bulge between my legs, wondering if he noticed (or even knew what it was).
But he simply placed my legs together again, seizing my ankles and raising them. About halfway there, he had to stop because I began to grunt in pain. I was a bit disappointed that I couldn't straighten them perfectly.
"Nng ... ahh! I can't do it all the way!"
"It's not surprising, given your height. Your legs are too short. But fortunately that also means that you have a lower center of gravity and, therefore, greater stability than a taller person. So don't worry about it."
The second step was to show him my way of punching and kicking. The third was to block his own blows. All in all, he seemed rather impressed.
"You've improved since we last faced each other. You're already ahead of the game significantly, thanks to whatever training you got from the old hermit."
"Actually, he didn't teach us anything," I sat down and told him all about the milk deliveries I initially made with Goku in the very beginning, and how we were basically left on our own when it came to developing our fighting techniques. Piccolo's brows raised in astonishment.
"Of course, before I even set out to find Muten Roshi, there was also my eight years of training at Orin Temple to account for."
"What was that like?"
"I hated it. I was beaten all the time - more often by my peers than my master. They bullied me because I was the little crybaby runt. I was glad to finally have the chance to put at least two of them in their place once I made it to the 21st tournament."
"Is that why you left the monastery?"
"That's part of the reason. To be honest, it was mainly because I wanted to become stronger so that I could impress girls and find one to marry. So far, the part about getting more powerful has come true ... but nothing beyond that. I suppose it's because I'm still just an unattractive loser."
"What makes you say that?"
"It's true. Why would any girl want someone short and bald like me?"
"Kuririn," he interjected, placing his hands on my shoulders, "Don't say things like that."
"But ... "
He planted a kiss on my forehead. "You are neither unattractive nor a loser. Not only do you possess great kindness and courage, but you're also very cute."
"Piccolo ... " My heart was welling up with emotion, and so I was unable to stop myself from throwing my arms around him, "If you really mean that, then it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. Once I met you, I never cared about girls ever again."
"Is what you're saying true?"
"It is. And that's the whole reason why I was so happy when you offered to train me," I confessed, "I'm sorry."
I felt his own arms wrap around me, pulling me close to his chest.
"There's no reason for you to apologize. After all, I'm just as guilty. Why do you think I even initiated this whole thing in the first place?"
I laughed softly as a wave of relief washed over me, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I nuzzled my cheek against his, feeling the mutual glow of heat that was forming on our faces.
"Does this mean that you don't actually want to be my mentor?"
"Hmm. I'm afraid so."
"Oh ... I see."
"Let's be partners instead," he declared, leaning in for another kiss.
[End.]
