A Friend in You
Chapter Two
The silence that followed was full and deep – for there was simply no other way to describe it. It was comfortable, much like the silence that falls between two companions after a long and heatedly animated conversation, each remaining quiet so as to mentally digest the other's information. The only sounds to be heard in the desert – or at least, all those sounds audible to Piccolo's sensitive ears – were those of the chill winds sweeping briskly over the sand, the muffled shriek of a wolf baying at where there had once been a moon (prior to Piccolo's destroying it), the weak rattling of Gohan's lungs as he softly drew breath...
Gohan...
Piccolo bared his fangs, clenched his fists tightly, so much that the nails bit into his palms and drew blood. Why? he silently screamed at himself. Why couldn't he get the damnable brat out of his mind? There was something about Gohan, something so infectiously compelling that Piccolo always felt – despite his best inhibitions – naturally drawn to the boy, as if his entire existence had been all for naught up until this point. The idea frightened the demon, and at the same time filled him with excitement such as he'd never experienced before.
For, after all, Piccolo had always felt the pivotal moment of his bleak life – the one bound to turn everything around – would occur in the instant he carried out his father's dying wish: when he killed Son Goku. And he had done as much, yes. It was when the fool Saiya-jin had latched onto his older brother Raditz to prevent him from escaping, had promptly yelled to Piccolo in a hoarse voice to fire the Mankankosappo that would snuff both their lives.
Idiot! the demon had believed then, knowing only too well of what was to come and exulting in it; here, at long last, was his chance to do away with his rival, the one obstacle keeping him from taking control of the world!
Yet, even as he fired the death-dealing beam of flame, Piccolo felt an uneasiness pervade the back of his mind. Surely Son knew what his fate would be, didn't he? Why, after all the effort the warrior had expended in defending himself against Piccolo in their deadly match at the Tenkaichi Budokai, was he just now allowing the demon to kill him? It frankly made no sense, and that's why Piccolo wasn't much surprised when, after Son was dead and gone (and smiling, no less!) he was left feeling empty, a shell devoid of any of the satisfaction and exhilaration he believed he so rightly deserved.
And then there was Gohan...
Piccolo growled, trying to banish all thoughts of the boy from his mind and failing miserably. When they'd first met, Piccolo had been less than enthusiastic about the prospect of training Gohan, and rightfully so: the spoiled, pampered brat's only useful abilities seemed to consist of crying, eating, and generally whining on a regular basis. (Needless to say, Piccolo hardly deemed those abilities useful.) It was almost laughable to think this child was related to Son Goku in any way, shape, or form.
Yet as time wore on, Piccolo realized that there was something of Goku's spirit in the boy – if not a particular lust for combat, then certainly the pure, untainted spirit that resonated from the child's core, flowing as freely as a warrior's unfettered ki. It was innocence, Piccolo thought with a start. It was this innocence that so irresistibly drew the demon to Gohan, this shining beacon of light that so contrasted with the dark shadows of hopelessness he was accustomed to. It was something Piccolo did not have, did not possess – and as such, he was fascinated by it.
It appeared Piccolo wasn't the only one who felt this way, either. Gohan, for his part, continued to be amazed by Piccolo's constant pessimism and his cynical outlook on life – but instead of just learning to cope with it, the boy tried to change it. Many a time came when Gohan would try to befriend Piccolo, meekly suggest they go fishing or look for constellations, and maybe it wouldn't hurt if we took a little picnic in that nice foresty area just once, Mister Piccolo?
At first the demon violently rebuffed Gohan's attempts at comradeship – had once even warned the boy, in no uncertain terms, that if he ever brought up the subject of bird-watching again his life would be immediately forfeit – but now when Gohan pleaded with him for something, a small part of the demon relented. Oh, he still refused to do what Gohan wanted (that was a given), but now he felt considerably guiltier about it.
Damn it. This would never do...
Piccolo transferred his gaze to Gohan, his heart growing heavier with each passing moment. What had the boy done to him? He'd changed Piccolo in ways the demon couldn't imagine – lessened his desire to rule the world, melted the icy exterior surrounding his person. Somehow without his knowing it, Gohan had burrowed a path into Piccolo's heart, like a worm burrowing its way to the core of an apple.
And worms, Piccolo thought grimly, had to be crushed.
Slowly, ever so slowly – so that Gohan would not hear or sense any movement – the demon extended his forearm, prepared a tiny sphere of ki in his palm. The sphere pulsed and throbbed with strength, but otherwise appeared indiscernible in the darkness. Gritting his teeth, Piccolo began to move the tiny globe of energy in such a way so that it was aiming straight at the boy's unprotected back.
The globe, once fired, would shatter Gohan's spine, pierce his heart and kill him instantly. Piccolo knew this, and he hesitated. He didn't really want to kill the boy, but he had to rid himself of these feelings he had somehow acquired. How the hell else was he supposed to do that? Certainly the Saiya-jins would pose an infinitely greater threat with Gohan gone, but it would all be worth it if it meant the demon could return to his former, cruel self. Besides, Piccolo tried to convince himself, he'd been wasting his time trying to train a child when he should have been improving upon his own strength instead.
Gohan will never know what hit him, anyway... probably won't feel any pain at all –
"Hey, Mister Piccolo..." Gohan's voice, muffled and heavy with fatigue, unwittingly interrupted the demon's monologue.
Piccolo froze. The sphere of ki he had been preparing to release remained suspended above his palm, inactive for the time being. "Y... yes?" he said, feeling foolish and wondering why he didn't just do away with the kid right then and there.
Gohan yawned wide; the demon fought to suppress a wince as his jaw cracked with the strain. "You... you were just kidding... when you said we weren't pals... right?"
Piccolo said nothing at all. He could already feel the energy globe changing and distorting rapidly in his hand; if he didn't fire this thing soon, it would cease to exist altogether.
"Mister Piccolo?" Gohan repeated, more alert now. There was a hint of rigid desperation in his tone.
Do it, do it now! a voice within Piccolo shrieked. But his body was refusing to comply with his thoughts; instead his muscles tensed and bunched with dreadful nervousness. "Y... yes," he muttered at last. "I was."
"That's good," Gohan said, a note of relief in his voice. And then – with no prior warning whatsoever – the boy began to crawl toward Piccolo, clambered into the demon's lap as if he were no more than a baby bird that had been plopped into a nest. "Thank you. You're nice," were the last words he murmured before he rested his head on Piccolo's chest and drifted off into slumber.
And that was all.
Piccolo stared uncomprehending at Gohan's sleeping form, not daring to draw a breath until well over a minute had gone by. Then, reaching out tentatively – all desires of destroying the boy utterly extinguished by this point – he smoothed back Gohan's bangs, warily tousled the soft black tufts of hair.
The ki sphere dimmed and died; tendrils of light that were holding it together disengaged from one another, went snaking into the atmosphere, whereupon they were never seen again.
