Disclaimer:I do not own any of the characters from Gundam Wing and Endless Waltz, nor do I own any characters from Dragon Ball Z. Wish I did, but I don't, so there's no point in suing me.
No! Don't poke me, I bruise easily! Well…I have no real excuse. I lost the written pages for this chapter, and since i'm lazy (and the fact I was so annoyed after putting so much effort into it in the first place) i didn't even try to re-write it. I just waited for it to turn up. And it did…five months later. And then I couldn't be bothered to type it up. Until now.
So it's finished, after a typing spree. Sorry if this chapter seems a bit disjointed. The thoughts jump around a bit, but that is the way my mind works.
This is meant to be an introspective piece for Piccolo and Mirai. I know I've built them up as Shin-haters, but this is the turning point for them. And good news! I've condensed my written chapters so I've only got one more typed chapter to post before we are moving into the Gundam universe! The bit you've been waiting for. Finally.
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Chapter 9
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Trunks Briefs (aka Mirai) was walking randomly around Capsule Corporation home grounds trying to spot the similarities and differences between his present home and this past version of it. Obviously things were much more well-kept in this Time.
A future controlled by evil androids didn't leave much room for cleaning and general house-keep.
For the first time he was able to explore rooms and corridors that he had not been able to enter before due to instability and collapse.
There had never been any man-power for a bit of rebuilding either, sadly.
He had just turned an unfamiliar corner in the long corridor when he heard a high pitched shriek.
"Goku!! What do you think you're- TRUNKS!"
Trunks Briefs automatically responded to the horrified call of his mother, and ran towards her ki signature at blurring speed.
He burst through a door, his last obstacle, and choked on his own spit as he saw his own mother just finish hurriedly wrapping a towel around her shower-wet body, half out of the shower stall, her hair in dripping wet ringlets.
Trunks blushed to his roots, but his embarrassment was gone in the next second as he registered the look on her face.
She wasn't even paying attention to him and her movements were panicked.
Trunks then noticed that they were not alone in the luxury bathroom.
Goku was kneeling on the floor, looking at Bulma with pleading desperation. Using one arm, he was supporting another smaller figure in a reclining position on the white tiles, which were now streaked with smears of bright contrasting blood.
"Trunks! Oh God, Goku, what happened?!" Bulma cried out as she fell to her knees to inspect the small figure closely.
It was then that Trunks realised that his mother wasn't calling out for him, but for her other son.
He felt a surge of hurt and jealousy but he squelched it down. Now was not the time. The kid was dying; he could sense it and clearly see it.
Trunks recognised those types of injuries. He'd viewed enough of them on the bodies of the dead or dying, left behind in the devastation of an android attack. That boy had been hit with an energy blast. Not powerful enough to hurt a Saiyan, but enough to kill a human. The boy might have been a Saiyan by blood, but he was weaker than a human boy should be at his age.
The kid was lucky to be alive. Or maybe not so lucky.
He'd be scarred for life by those burns if he didn't get a sensu bean in him soon – and from what Trunks had heard, there weren't any.
"Piccolo did it," Goku babbled distractively, "Can you help him?"
Bulma hesitated as she looked at the boys vast injuries with wide panicked eyes. "I- I don't-" Her face tightened in determination. "Yes. We need to get to the lab, quick."
"Go, I'll catch up," Goku said tensely.
Bulma darted out of the bathroom, leaving water droplets in her wake.
Trunks moved closer and stooped down at the boy's side.
With all of the injuries he had, and the black grime and blood painting his skin, Trunks hardly recognised the boy.
His hair was dyed crimson and matted with clotting blood, and his clothes scorched and in tatters.
Trunks could only identify him by his ki signature, and the limp brown tail that had flakes of ash caught in the fur.
"Piccolo did this?" Trunks asked grimly.
"He said it was an accident." Goku re-affirmed, but it came out as uncertain. "I wasn't there, I didn't see."
And by the look on the adults face, the fact that he hadn't been there was eating him up inside, but nothing Trunks could say would change that.
There was a silent pause, but then Goku muttered, "She's there," and quickly placed his fingers to his forehead.
Trunks didn't want to be left behind so he reached for a hold on the boy's body. The only undamaged place to hold in the end was his tail.
The scenery changed abruptly and his eyes ached as his vision tried to adjust to the blinding white walls of the medical lab.
"Mirai, help me with this," Bulma ordered as she tried to drag a heavy looking cable across the room.
Trunks didn't register his new alias for a second, but then it clicked, and he moved into action.
Bulma handed over the cable. "Plug this into that tank over there," She pointed at the strange machine that looked like a vertical tank, big enough for a person to stand in. "The connection is on the left side. Make certain that the plug is secure."
Trunks did as he was told as Bulma typed away at her computer keyboard frantically. The glass front lifted open like a hatch.
"OK, life support is online. Goku place Shin inside. He needs to be standing upright so you need to place him in the harness."
Goku didn't hesitate to follow the order, and he ever so carefully, lifted the fragile young boy into his arms and used a small amount of ki to lift himself off the ground and float over to the tank, in an attempt to reduce the chance of jarring his passenger.
The blood-stained boy was placed inside as directed, and an oxygen mask slipped over his face.
"Stand back," Bulma warned.
Goku gave a last touch with the tips of his fingers down the curve of the boy's pale cheek and then stepped back with a look of despair on his face.
The glass hatch lowered, locking the small half-Saiyan inside. There was a 'whoosh' sound and a blue translucent viscous substance started to fill up the tank, submerging the boy, who floated lazily, not aware of his surroundings.
Bulma tapped a few more buttons.
A pulse of light lit up the insides of the tank for a split second before fading.
Bulma turned to the main computer screen as information scrolled down it.
A small scaled outline of the boy's body appeared, showing his bone structure, like an x-ray.
The multiple breaks in his bones were clearly visible.
The most devastating were the cracks spidering out across the back of his skull, and the clear break in one of the vertebrae of his neck, where his head met his shoulders.
Bulma's hands flew to her mouth to muffle a cry as red patches of light throbbed on the diagram, covering portions of the body – pinpointing the main organs.
"What does that mean?" Goku looked to Bulma for desperate answers.
Trunks' mother turned shimmering eyes towards them.
"The red indicates the points of extreme distress in the body caused by the trauma. Specifically internal bleeding, and failing organs."
Trunks bit the inside of his cheek. The kid was as much of a mess on the inside as he was on the outside. But it was the damage on the inside that was going to kill him.
"I- I'm not sure if we can save him, Bulma admitted. "I didn't design this machine to heal such extensive injuries."
"What is it?" Trunks asked, his curiosity as the son of a scientist finally getting the better of him.
"A healing tank," She leant heavily against the edge of the computer panel as she restlessly twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "Designed for Saiyans."
Trunks' interest peaked more.
"I originally built it for Vegeta. He's always pushing his body too hard when he trains, and he just complains about Earth's useless treatments. So I got him to explain other alien technology and the basic principle of how it works."
She looked to Goku. "Vegeta mentioned that you healed in something similar to what I've made here, whilst you were on Namek."
Goku nodded vaguely as his eyes watched his son float in the strange machine.
"That's where I got the idea," Bulma continued. "But mine is just for Saiyans. The fluid holds a combination of minerals that all Saiyans seem to have in their body that helps them heal faster than an average human. I discovered that if you increase the concentration, the faster cell regeneration becomes. Even better, it's absorbable through the pores in the skin. But Trunks-" Trunks flinched at the misdirection of his name, "-is only half-Saiyan. I don't know how this will affect the results. I never got as far as testing the substance on damaged human cells. In fact I don't know if this contraption works in practice yet, Vegeta wouldn't let me test it on him."
"What?!" Goku looked stricken.
"Calm down, Goku," Bulma soothed. "I'm pretty sure it works just fine. Besides, it's his only hope. There's nothing else I can do for him."
She sighed heavily, her eyes pinched with worry as she stared at the injured boy, watching as bubbles streamed from the mask over his face; the only sign that he was alive and breathing to all outward appearance.
"The only thing we can do now is watch and wait. I have no idea how long this could take. Could be hours, could be days, I really don't know."
"I'm staying right here," Goku said firmly, as he planted himself stubbornly right before the tank, as if claiming that spot as his.
Bulma ran a hand through her wet blue locks and grimaced as she looked down at her attire. "Goku, I'll be back in a moment, I need to put some clothes on. Do that Instant Trans-thingy if you urgently need me." She announced as she walked to the lab doors in nothing but her towel.
Trunks blushed again.
Bulma grinned coyly at him, "Aw, you're cute when you blush," and then she left.
Trunks felt like his head would implode. She was his mother for gods sake!
Her flirting with him- albeit unknowing that he was her son- was wrong on so many levels.
Trunks batted away his embarrassment aside and moved to stand next to Goku, to stare at the injured boy.
His skin was pale, and his face was lax. He looked so vulnerable at this moment in time. Like a real boy would in the same situation, and not like a killer android.
Then again, he had never looked like a killer android.
Back in the mountains where he had first met the boy, Trunks hadn't suspected anything unusual about him until the tail had made an appearance, and then it just went downhill from there.
His pride stopped himself from feeling too guilty about attacking to kill so hastily.
But he'd felt the uncomfortable niggle of doubt when he'd seen the chestnut-haired boy in a fit of frightened sobs.
He couldn't imagine Androids 17 and 18 shedding a single tear or cowering in fear. They were emotionally unmovable; yet the boy was nothing but a tumble of emotions.
He was so…human.
Trunks hated that idea. It meant that he had attacked an innocent and defenceless child.
He'd been the bad guy for once in his life, and he didn't like it.
He had always prided himself as being a good person, back in his Time. He tried to save people. He was their protector, just as Gohan had taught him to be.
Yet here, in this past Time, everyone had been against him in that single moment where he had let his anger get the better of him.
Like father, like son. Vegeta was painfully prideful, arrogant, and downright rude. Trunks didn't want to be like him in the slightest.
He now realised that his mentor, Gohan, had held back when talking to him about his father, skimming over his bad traits, by not going into depth about the extent of them. As a child without a father, Trunks had only wanted to hear the positive bits about him (which his imagination had blown out of proportion on a grand scale) but now he was able to form his own judgement.
He felt betrayed. His father failed to meet the high bar of expectation that Trunks had formed in his mind over the years.
His Mother had warned him that Vegeta had many faults, but Trunks had just blanked her, wanting to hold on tightly to the fantasy-father he had conjured a picture of.
And to make the blow even harder, he had under estimated Goku.
Gohan and his mother had always smiled with sad fondness whenever they spoke about the deceased man.
Trunks hadn't honestly believed that a person could be so good, caring, and powerful all at once. He had been sure his mother was over-exaggerating. As it turned out, she hadn't. He'd seen the real Goku for himself, and if anything, she had under-compensated.
Trunks was beginning to wish that the man was his father.
He was envious of what Gohan had. And even more so of the kid android who had shamelessly taken up a place in the Son family.
It was like a kick in the teeth to see. It was as if he was being teased with what might have been if he was born to a different family.
With Goku as his father, and Gohan as his brother, Trunks Son had everything.
Shame it wasn't the right Trunks.
Trunks hadn't met the Chi-Chi of this Time yet, but he did remember her vaguely from when they'd met in the Past, before she died.
She was such a kind woman, willing to put other people's needs before her own all the time, but you could see her fragile spirit fading away before your eyes. After Gohan died, she died on the inside, and it didn't take long for her body to follow.
Trunks banished the memories of that dark time, and musefully gazed at the boy known as Trunks Son.
The Time Line had been irreparably changed. The boy had stolen his name and place as Bulma Briefs' son, as well as being a Son family member. It wasn't fair.
Would he even be born anymore? If he was, his name wouldn't be Trunks…
It was a terrible feeling to know that you had effectively wiped yourself from existence. It was like watching from a second point of view as you committed suicide.
Unless…
Unless, Trunks used a bit of stealth, and pulled the life support plug without anyone noticing.
If this version of Trunks died…then perhaps…in Bulma's grief she would name her second son Trunks, in the first's honour?
Trunks seriously considered it for a long moment, planning it all out in his head.
But then his thoughts fell flat and dead as his conscience flared into life.
What am I thinking?! Trunks physically stiffened in horror, brow furrowed in disgust at himself.
Was he really so shallow to go as far as murder for the selfish ownership of a name?
What sort of monster had he become since arriving in this Time? What would his mother and Gohan think of him?
Trunks reeled in his self-centred feelings and dispelled them fiercely from his heart and mind.
No more. He wouldn't let the dark bitterness of his soul creep forward ever again.
He had to let go of his unfounded hate. Well, it was unfounded so far.
If he stood back and observed without any bias, then the kid appeared to be just that; a kid.
And a nice one at that. He was really quiet and timid, but under that he was bright and inquisitive. He seemed so innocent and he defined the word cute.
He hadn't given any hint that he might have evil intentions and Trunks was finally willing to believe that he was nothing like 17 and 18.
It was debatable how things might change in the near future, but for now, Trunks was going to place his confidence in the kid.
That was, if he survived.
It made his gut clench with guilt to just be standing around and doing nothing while he was dying. They had his life in their hands and they were playing with it by placing him in an untested machine as if he was a lab rat.
And Trunks didn't want that.
If the boy's reaction to the mention of Gero and the lab was anything to go by, then he hadn't had a pleasant time there. He'd also seen Bulma's medical reports.
No child deserved to be starved, sleep deprived, or beaten and cut to the extent of torture.
Trunks had no real idea as to what the kid's mental state was, but he'd seen his heart-clenching fear when the demand to go to the lab had been made.
Trunks felt the same warmth of excitement and relief whenever he thought about the lab and the fact that he could end everything before it even started. He could save everything his mother and Gohan had lost. And Trunks could save the one important thing he had lost; Gohan.
And it was all thanks to this unknown factor he'd come across, in the form of a chestnut-haired, cobalt-eyed boy.
But…
The cold dread came sweeping back through his body like a blizzard as he realised, if the kid died, there wasn't so much of a happy ending in sight.
Only he knew where the lab was. Only he could show them. If he died he'd take the labs location to the grave with him.
And if that happened, events would play out almost exactly the same way as in his Time. It was a game of chance in saving Goku's life. He honestly didn't know whether the man could make a big enough difference. There was a high possibility that he would die futilely along with the rest of them.
Even with the early warning and chance to prepare, it was too much to hope that no one would die.
The androids were too strong.
Trunks would have to jump into the further future, three years from now, so he could assist them in battle.
It might even it up a bit more if there were two Super Saiyans standing up against those monsters.
His Gohan would have won long ago if only there was just one android. Whenever he achieved the upper hand over one, the other was there to beat him down into the dirt.
It was ironic that Gohan's death had been the thing to trigger Trunks' transformation into a Super Saiyan, after trying so hard for so long.
The arrival of another Super Saiyan coinciding with the departure of the first; leaving the situation exactly the same as before.
One Super Saiyan against two androids. They weren't fair odds.
But perhaps in this Time, Trunks could finally make a difference. Perhaps he could feel more than useless for once in his life.
He'd help fight if he had to. And maybe, if they won, Goku would be willing to return to Trunks' Time to help him defeat the androids there.
But everything would be so much easier if the kid survived and led him to the lab.
Trunks wanted the personal honour of annihilating Dr.Gero.
The monster that created monsters. The reason behind the destruction of his world.
He would pay dearly, Trunks swore by it.
Then he would blast apart that lab piece by piece until there was nothing left. Destroying everything would ensure the Earth's preservation.
But yet again; it all led back to the present outcome.
Would the boy live?
Trunks stared at the heart-shaped face, and the red tinge of burns that stood out angrily against the pale chalk skin of the boy's bloodless cheeks and nose.
"Come on, kid," He muttered in a faint prayer, "You can pull through this."
Goku tore his eyes away from the tank to look left at Trunks with questioning surprise in his eyes.
But when Trunks didn't acknowledge him or reveal anymore, Goku's eyes drifted back to his son.
They both continued to stand there before the tank, in silence, for a long time.
Piccolo was wrought with guilt.
Gohan and his mother had not taken the news well.
Their reactions had worsened when he had let slip that the boy's likely death was his fault.
The look of utter betrayal and fright on Gohan's face was seared to the backs of Piccolo's eyes. Gohan had looked at him fearfully, as if really seeing him for the first time. Seeing him as a demon, just like everyone else did.
He had never felt as terrible in his entire life, as he had in that moment.
'I hate you!'
Piccolo was torturing himself as he replayed those words over and over again from memory.
'I hate you!' Gohan had screamed at him with such bite that Piccolo had no doubt that it was the truth. The mixed look of hurt and searing anger had made Piccolo want to cower. From a seven-year-old boy.
But that seven-year-old boy was his life, though he would deny it to anyone but himself. The only thing in this world that he cared for.
And now he'd lost him due to a careless mistake.
Gohan hadn't waited to hear the truth behind what had happened. All he had to hear was that Piccolo had fired a ki blast at his brother, and he'd jumped to his own conclusion behind the reasoning; ultimately favouring Piccolo in a very bad light.
Gohan had then screamed at him and immediately flown out of the house with new-found speed towards Capsule Corporation.
Piccolo didn't stick around after Chi-Chi had breathed, "Get out," in such a dark hiss that he felt the temperature drop, even though her dark eyes were burning into him.
Eyes that Gohan had inherited.
Piccolo had tried to go back to meditating at his waterfall spot, but he couldn't focus. He found it impossible.
He kept glancing at the ki blackened patch of destruction at the edge of the clearing, repeating the scene over and over.
That boy's scream haunted him. He remembered clearly that for a long dreadful moment, Piccolo had thought he'd hurt Gohan.
It had sounded so much like him; back when he was younger, and Piccolo was training him.
The cry of pain was the same, and it tore at his conscience which demanded he protect Gohan from everything bad in the world, which wrestled against the deep distrustfulness and hate he felt towards the other boy. He knew they were not the same person, but that moment had blurred the boundary and confused him.
Perhaps the two boys were really related after all.
Piccolo just didn't want to believe it though. The brown-haired boy was a creation of Dr.Gero. He was an android.
He was put together for the sole purpose of killing Gohan.
Of course Piccolo didn't want that thing near his pupil. It was common sense to keep predator and prey apart. Perfectly logical.
It had nothing to do with the fact that Gohan's attention had shifted from Piccolo to the new kid. Nor that Gohan had only visited once in the past week, and even then, he'd brought along his new brother as a tag along.
Piccolo's insides burned with a strange feeling every time he thought about it.
No. Piccolo irritably reassured himself. You're not jealous. Just concerned for Gohan's safety.
For some reason a metal image of Gohan blowing a raspberry at him popped into his mind.
Piccolo growled at it.
It was sickening how attached he'd become to the son of Goku. And also frightening.
He had died for him in a past time, and he'd do it again in a heartbeat.
Piccolo had felt more of a father to him while Goku was busy being dead after the Saiyan invasion, or away gallivanting around space after the Freiza problem on planet Namek.
Piccolo was there when Gohan had to fight for the planet against Garlic Jr, but where was Goku?
Every fibre of Piccolo's being felt disgusted by the notion that he had a maternal instinct towards Gohan, but that was the only way he could describe the way he thought and acted when Gohan was in danger.
Piccolo had come a long way since hatching from his egg, born with a dark heart, full of hate for the world and Goku Son.
He had never experienced jealously at such a high level. He wasn't used to sharing. And now that Gohan had a new brother and his original father back at home, Piccolo found himself shoved to one side neglectfully.
The forest's peace was nice and he enjoyed meditating, but when ever the silence became too much, or reflecting on his bad past caused him sink into himself, Gohan somehow knew when to time it just right, and come and lift his spirits.
The boy could talk for hours about nothing at all, and Piccolo kept up the old tradition of pretending to be irritated by it.
Gohan knew though. He knew how much Piccolo enjoyed it, or else he would have listened to Piccolo's idle barbs to leave him alone, a long time ago.
But now Gohan's attention was elsewhere. And Piccolo despised the little android boy for that reason.
In actual fact, the boy seemed to be nice, if you went by human trait standards. He was quiet though.
Eerily quiet sometimes, especially when he was in the company of strangers. It was almost as if he were scared to open his mouth and speak, expecting some sort of punishment for it.
Piccolo could clearly see his hesitant movements, his flighty body language, and wary eyes. They were all signs of exposure to consistent fear. An overall mark of abuse.
That gave the androids story some credibility at least.
But it didn't matter. The boy was sure to die with those injuries. He was only a child. Just like Gohan.
Piccolo couldn't get over how much the boy, Shin, or Trunks, or whatever, had sounded so similar to Gohan when he was hit by the blast.
He had felt such a sense of relief when he had found out that it wasn't Gohan, and thinking back on that made Piccolo experience guilt.
At the time, the thought that came to mind was, 'It's OK, it's just the android.'
He hadn't really cared about the boy. He had only worked to save his life because he knew that Gohan did care.
It was only an accident, and he had done everything he could to save the boy, so why was Gohan so angry at him?
It was gnawing at Piccolo's sanity.
If the android died, then Gohan would probably never speak to him again. Yet, if the android managed to pull through…there was a chance that Gohan still wouldn't speak to him. Gohan could stubbornly hold on to grudges, just like his mother, unfortunately.
But Gohan also had a kind heart, so Piccolo had a 50/50 chance of being forgiven.
Piccolo scoffed at himself as he realised how oddly emotional and needy he was being. It was ridiculous that Gohan's opinion of him mattered so much.
What had that black-haired boy done to him?
He needed to know what was happening at Capsule Corp. He couldn't get a good enough reading from the other side of the world.
Though he could sense that Gohan was already there.
Before Piccolo could think too hard about his actions, he was flying to Capsule Corp.
He berated himself the entire way.
This is absurd. I shouldn't even care. But his head did little to change his heart.
He touched down on the Corporation's roof with a billow of his cape, and then tuned into his ki senses.
Piccolo could now feel the gravely wounded boy's life force. It was weak, and brushed against his senses like an injured butterfly's wings, but it was being kept stable for now.
It was a miracle. Piccolo had written him off as dead for certain.
Piccolo focused on the boy's life force for another hour or so, blocking out the world around him. The wind and city sounds were non-existent.
During that time, slowly but surely, he felt the life in the kid become fractionally stronger and surer, warding death away gradually. He wasn't out of the danger zone for certain, but Piccolo allowed himself to hope for a gradual full recovery. He finally let himself relax.
He came back to the world outside his mind, and let out a low growl of aggravation as he found himself not alone anymore. He had no idea how long Vegeta had been standing before him, and that irked his pride.
Vegeta smirked at him in that annoying sort of smug way that he had always owned. The smirk that Piccolo wanted to wipe off his face with a good upper cut.
"You've done it now, Namek. Good going." The Saiyan said with sarcastic praise.
Piccolo's growl deepened, vibrating in his throat as a warning, but Vegeta chose to ignore it.
"The boy could die, and you've managed to piss off Kakkarot and his brat. Even the woman and the Future Kid are out for you're blood. I didn't think it was possible to disgruntle so many people through the android. Wait until the others find out. They'll be after your head."
"Shut up, Vegeta," Piccolo said closing his eyes again in an attempt to block him out.
"Not likely, I'm enjoying this." Vegeta stepped closer.
Piccolo outsized Vegeta by a mile, but Vegeta seemed to have the height advantage at the moment, by attitude alone.
Piccolo had the urge to push him off the roof to take him down a peg, but that was childish.
The idea still appealed to him nonetheless.
"You should see the look on your little friend's face. He's so distraught it's amusing. He could break down and cry at any moment. All because you might have killed his new best friend."
Piccolo's fangs drew beads of purple blood as he bit into his lower lip.
He took a calming breath and relaxed his tense bunched up muscles.
Piccolo opened his eyes and he gave his own smug smirk at Vegeta.
"Look at what you've been reduced to, Vegeta. I can't believe the might Prince of all Saiyans has lowered to the standard of inflicting pain through teasing. Go be a nasty little man somewhere else. I'm not listening to you anymore."
Vegeta puffed up in an instant rage. "I'll show you nasty!"
He charged up an intimidating large ki blast that crackled with black energy.
Piccolo watched him carefully, calculating if he could either deflect it or dodge. It was fun riling Vegeta; if not somewhat dangerous.
"Don't you dare, Vegeta!" Bulma's shriek reached their ears. "I will not have another hole in my roof!"
Vegeta and Piccolo looked down over the side of the building to see her standing on the lawn looking furiously up at them.
Piccolo pondered if she had hidden ki sensing abilities. How she knew they were up there was beyond him.
Vegeta glared at her for a long moment, his black eyes seeming to crackle with the same black energy as his ki, before he dissipated the blast.
"Another time, another place, Green Bean," Vegeta snarled before jumping off the roof and out of sight.
Piccolo made a disgruntled noise. The last thing he needed was to add Vegeta to his growing list of people he was on the bad side of.
And one of those people on that list was scowling up at him right this moment. "Get out of here Piccolo, before I come after you with a blow torch!" Bulma threatened before she stalked off.
This was all that kid android's fault.
But that wasn't fair really. Piccolo had brought all of this on himself. He could admit that. He could have at least pretended to tolerate the android to please Gohan, but he had made his dislike blatantly clear.
Why would Gohan believe it had been an accident? There was no chance that he would listen to reason now. He had come to his own conclusion. Everyone probably had.
After all, he was the spawn of the Demon King. Evil to the core.
What was that stupid human saying that Chi-Chi frequently used on him? Oh yes…'A leopard cannot change its spots'.
You would think that after saving her son's life more than a handful of time, she would have warmed up to him a bit; but no.
You try to kill her future husband and you have a black mark against your name for the rest of your life. Unbelievable.
Piccolo turned his thoughts elsewhere.
He could sense that Gohan was deep within the house, close to the android's position. Unfortunately it seemed that his father and the kid from the future were also in the same room.
It was going to be a task to get Gohan alone to talk to him. But the longer he left it, the more Gohan's misunderstanding would fester, until there was no going back.
Piccolo was willing to risk loss of limb to set things right. Besides, he had a knack for growing lost limbs back.
He leapt off the roof and let himself float down the side of the building until he found an open window. It was an awkward fit due to his tall frame and wide shoulders, but he managed to squeeze through.
Once inside he followed Gohan's ki, leading him to stand outside some double doors that read 'Medical Laboratory', printed in bold black print.
Piccolo steeled himself and stepped inside.
Three heads turned to him.
He was greeted by two glares, and one flat stare.
The glares came from Mirai, and painfully, from Gohan.
Goku did nothing more than regarded him carefully. "Perhaps you shouldn't be here, Piccolo."
"I have every right to be here," Piccolo responded.
He turned his gaze to Gohan. "I came here to talk to you."
"Go away, Piccolo," The black-haired boy said sulkily, averting his eyes.
"Not until we talk."
"No." Came the stubborn reply.
Mirai shifted to step closer to Gohan, placing himself between the two of them.
"Leave, Piccolo, you've done enough damage as it is." His brows furrowed similarly to how Vegeta's did when he was annoyed. "You do realise that you might have lost this Time's chance to change the future for the better? You smashed the kid's skull in. What if he has brain damage? He might not be able to tell us where the lab is. He might not even remember!"
"But Bulma said his brain was OK," Goku said in re-emerging panic.
Mirai gave Goku a long suffering look. "It is, he's fine, but I was using the worst case scenario as an example, to try and see if he can feel even the slightest bit of guilt."
Piccolo's eyes flicked over to the boy floating eerily in the tank. "So he's going to be OK?"
Mirai scowled. "Thankfully, yes. The tank was able to undo the damage you caused."
Piccolo's gut uncoiled, and against his will, his shoulder slumped in relief.
Goku caught the subtle action.
"It's alright, Piccolo, we know it was an accident."
Gohan's wide shocked eyes snapped up to his father. "It was?"
Goku looked to Piccolo, a small encouraging smile on his face.
Piccolo thanked him silently. Now that Goku had started the ball rolling, it was easier to continue.
He got to tell the true version of events, and with every sentence Gohan's face fell into new lows of guilt.
"It was an accident," Piccolo concluded, his eyes piercing into Gohan's, trying to convey the truth behind his words.
Gohan's eyes were misty with shameful tears as he flung himself at Piccolo, wrapping himself around him, face buried into his purple gi as he sobbed his heart out.
"I'm sorry, Mr Pic-Piccolo!" He gulped past his clogged up throat and nose. "I'm s-sorry I was m-mean to you for no reason,"
Piccolo pushed him away gently, drawing the line before the risk of tears and snot on his clothes.
"Its fine, kid, just stop bawling and clinging to me."
Gohan messily wiped his tears away, holding his breath in an effort to stop crying. It didn't exactly work because he had somehow gained the hiccups, and so he kept letting out his breath with each jolt. Eventually he calmed himself.
Piccolo nodded in approval at him, then took a quick glance at the boy in the tank before turning with a swish of his cape, and leaving the lab.
His job was done. Everything had been righted now, so he could go back to his waterfall and meditate with a balanced mind.
He walked through the winding corridors of the Capsule Corporation mansion wondering where the hell the exit was.
This place was made of endless twists and turns.
There was no way he was going to shed his dignity again by squeezing through that open window again. Not that he could find it again even if he wanted to.
He wasn't using his ki senses so he was nastily surprised when he rounded a corner, only to meet Bulma.
Bulma jumped in equal surprise, but the initial shock wore off fast, to be taken over by anger.
"What are you doing here?! Get out of my house you monster! You hurt my baby! Get out, get out!"
She stormed up to him, and started to beat on him with pain inflicting precision, wielding nothing but a clipboard.
Piccolo grunted in irritation. He was so close to just pushing her into a wall using extreme force, when Gohan's voice intervened.
"Bulma! Bulma, stop! It's OK, he didn't hurt Shin on purpose!"
The blue-haired hellcat paused mid-swing, then lowered her clipboard to tuck it under her arm.
With her nose in the air, she kept her dignity intact and walked away without giving so much as an apology, letting Piccolo know without a doubt that he was not forgiven in her books. She even added a sniff of contempt as she passed him, just for the sake of it.
Piccolo glared after her. Her pride and stubbornness was almost as bad as Vegeta's. She would never admit to being in the wrong.
It didn't surprise him that those two would come together in future to form a child that was a strange combination of them both.
He didn't wait for Gohan to catch up. He just continued walking, knowing that if Gohan wanted to talk, he would follow him.
Sure enough, Gohan caught up and jogged alongside him, his small legs trying to keep up with Piccolo's ground eating stride.
"What do you want, kid?" He asked gruffly, secretly pleased that Gohan was hinting for his attention.
"I'm really, really sorry Mr. Piccolo," Gohan rushed to say. "I can't believe I thought-"
"I don't blame you for it. My recent actions towards the android did not give you reason to doubt your conclusions."
Piccolo caught Gohan stiffening in anger in his peripheral vision.
"He's not an android," The black-eyed boy said firmly. "He's just like me."
"Fine." Piccolo conceded, letting Gohan win that argument before it could start. "But you have to see that my unease was not without reason. He was created and trained to kill you. Why should I not remain cautious?"
"You're paranoid, Mr. Piccolo," Gohan moaned in a childishly exaggerated manner.
But he was just a child. He was unusually smart for his age, so Piccolo had a tendency to forget that he was only seven. It had always been that way, since he was only four years old.
Piccolo had to remind himself frequently that Gohan just wouldn't understand some things.
He might be smart, but he wasn't wise to the world yet.
Gohan blindly trusted strangers, but Piccolo knew better.
Gohan just wouldn't understand Piccolo's 'paranoia' until he witnessed the downfall of the trust he put in people.
The last thing Piccolo wanted was for Gohan to become jaded. He wanted to protect him from that. He didn't want the student to become the master.
That was where Piccolo's lessons fell short. He could prepare him against physical hurt, but not emotional.
He stopped abruptly in the corridor and caught Gohan by the shoulder to prevent him from walking straight past him, and swung him around so they were facing each other.
"Gohan, I apologise," He said stiffly. "For hurting you."
Gohan frowned in confusion. "You shouldn't be apologising to me. You need to say sorry to Shin."
Piccolo's jaw clenched with the annoyance of Gohan throwing away his apology like it was worthless.
"But I forgive you anyway." Gohan finished with a pleased smile.
Piccolo let out a breath and nodded in solemn acceptance. "I will say…sorry to…him, when he has recovered."
"Thank you Mr. Piccolo!" Gohan burst out as he caught Piccolo in another hug.
Piccolo allowed himself a small smile as he ruffled Gohan's spiky hair in a familiar gesture of friendship. Something that he thought he would never get to do again, no more than ten minutes ago.
The emotional wounds were healed. Now the physical ones of the chestnut-haired boy had to heal as well, or the emotional ones would bleed again.
"Stay, Piccolo," Gohan pleaded as he curled his fingers into Piccolo's white cape.
Piccolo couldn't say no.
"I'll be on the roof," He said, "I was never made to be indoors."
Gohan let go and aimed a watery smile up at him.
"Don't start bawling, kid, I'm warning you."
Gohan grinned and then turned and ran back the way he had come, towards the lab.
Piccolo watched him go, and then started to carry on his path.
He cursed himself for not remembering to ask Gohan where the damn exit was.
Anymore of this maze and he'd go mad.
But, he supposed that he could always fall back on the method of blowing a more direct route out of the building. Like…through a few walls. And he could always pin the blame on Vegeta afterwards.
