Disclaimer: violence, angst, and sexual-tension relief )
SO SORRY FOR THE LONG FRIGGIN' WAIT! I know no excuse will do, so I won't give one; it'll just go on and on. Anyway, the song lyrics included in this chapter is "Broken" sung by the lead singer of Seether and the lead singer of Evanescence, off the Seether Disclaimer II album, and it can also be found on the Punisher soundtrack. (I cited the albums, people and song! Its in no way, shape, or form mine and I reiterate once more: NOT-MINE! So please don't get hot under the collar and delete my account just because.) If I'm kicked off the site, then all you guys will find my ass at under the same username. PEACE!
Chapter 9
Rigor and Vigor
"Speech" 'Telepathy' Thought "Dream" Reminiscing
The depth of one's soul is measured by its ties. One lives, and one dies, but one's soul traverses through its time, anchored by the ties held from life.
Kyouran's soul was no different, except that it was one of the few to find a new vessel, to be reincarnated into a new time where a veiled destiny still tries to ensnare her, and her new vessel to its whim. A destiny coordinated to the wishes of her gemini equal, the person that cut destiny's hand in the first place.
Seeking answers from the past has only created more questions for Sofia. Feeling the unjust weight of some long ago purpose on her shoulders has done more than perplex her. She is the unwilling spectator in the torrent of memories that are played to her as dreams, and she awakes only more vexed by the lack of clarity.
After the first dream that happened more than a month ago at Gohan's house, she had wondered why anyone would want to kill her past life. The dreams that followed, however, showed that everyone surrounding Kyouran wanted her dead, indirectly or directly. But why her twin star, the person she was destined to be bound to? Why was the hand of destiny deluded from capturing Kyouran to her fate?
Those questions plagued Sofia whenever she let her mind fret over them, which was very rarely. The days in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber were completely dominated by her training, which had increased to a level where she found herself barely withstanding the combat training Piccolo would teach her on a moment's whim. Then the day's final sparring were hours of draining, all out battle scenarios where she and Piccolo would fight until they completely exhausted each other, or until one lost their temper and retaliated against the other, which was the most frequent outcome.
There were only two situations that hadn't changed since their first day in the chamber: First was both their abilities to completely vex the other, and second was the fact that no matter how heated the battle or who held the upper hand, the ending always came out to a draw. This second fact alone created most of the petulant atmosphere between 'pupil' and 'teacher'. But in an ironic twist, these momentary spouts of ire only succeeded in fortifying the growing solidarity branching between them. Both found many endearing qualities in the other, such as Sofia's unrelenting drive and resilience, and Piccolo's indefatigable stubbornness and his gruff awkwardness to her brazen flirtation towards him.
In all, their 'platonic' relationship was progressing faster than their individual capabilities and motives for entering the chamber. His dedication of the larger portion of his time to her training and her suffering the handicaps of her wayward changes — that would spark up with a pass of the dimensional threshold — both played a part at hindering their mutual progress. But, both would unknowingly aid — in their own unique manner — each other into working over the discrepancies of their stay in the chamber. This in turn consisted of an unspoken, but mutually befitting set of routines that would propagate steady progression in both normality and habits, as well in combat.
Seeing as her fitful dreams only weighed her deeper into unconsciousness, Piccolo found himself having to rouse her every 'morning' from sleep, deciding to use his own methods for the task. Either ripping the covers off of her and shaking her awake, or flipping the mattress to an angle so she could tumble awake to the cold tiled floor, or simply carrying her to the bathroom and dropping her into a bathtub filled to the brim with stinging cold water and drowning her awake — he always found his methods suitable, not to mention fun. He would also instigate her in any opportune moment with his snide intimidation, and would slyly act in a superciliously condescending manner that would have Sofia bursting from the seams with temerity during combat.
In return for this, Sofia went about catering to his lack of music appreciation by blaring or singing songs as obnoxious or tiring as possible from her numerous collection of albums and mixes during whatever activity, be it eating, getting dressed, or working out and warming up before the training of the day. She also tended to challenge him in the most passively aggressive manner and make the most wanton insinuations that would either dumbfound, enrage, or simply flush face the seasoned and ruthless Z Warrior.
Needless to say, they both found enough incentive to blow the other completely out of the water and to ascend to their highest capabilities and potential, in a steady scale.
The only thing that fell on deaf ears and numbed to their lips were their truly personal thoughts and feelings. Piccolo had yet to know anything of Sofia's past, besides her aversion to her family, and Sofia wondered if he truly thought of her as nothing more than a pest he was stuck with.
Piccolo also wondered what took place in Sofia's dreams, since she never spoke a word of them and he never felt it that necessary to ask. He assumed that they didn't deal with anything distressing since she showed no signs of being worried when she woke up. As soon as she was done snarling at him for waking her up from shouting in her ear or what not, she'd be in her usual cool and challenging mood, even a little more good tempered, that is if he could consider the bouncing around and singing she'd do just to annoy him a good thing.
The only person who knew what was really going on between the two was Nail, being how he had an expert outside view of both somewhat rivals. His coy coaxing and aloof comments never went absent in Piccolo's mind, but he did push for more prying from his counterpart to who the 'real' Sofia was. He felt that there was more there than just simple angst by her part, and that Kami's role in putting both Piccolo and her together in the chamber had more than training purposes in mind.
The fact that Piccolo became so distracted that even meditating wouldn't relax him, and that he wouldn't notice Sofia's reticent and sullen moments was another indication to Nail that neither knew the full circumstances and purpose for their meeting and cohabitation, but that they felt something was amidst.
He also felt that something meaningful was occurring to the two and that sooner or later it was going to lead to a deeper circumstance between Piccolo and her. However, Nail never imagined that it would happen during such a volatile day…
Having a past life sucks!
I never imagined that going through what I've gone through these past weeks would be such a pain in the ass, not to mention incredibly painful. The fucked up dreams aside, changing into what Kyouran used to be has been mornings of excruciating tension in every muscle, tendon and nerve of my body. Can you imagine having your skeletal frame elongate on you while you're on your way to the bathroom after waking up from a shitty excuse of a 'night's sleep'!? Not to mention having your eyesight go in and out sometimes cuz now your vision is up to par with a predator that can stalk its prey from hundreds of yards away!?
Well, yeah. Those are mere examples of the major changes I've suffered. It has been exceptionally hard, since I decided after the first training day not to let Piccolo know how bad it was. The last thing I needed was him ragging on me cuz I bitched about any new change that happened. If something happened and he wasn't around, then I could cuss like a mad woman to my heart's content, but since most of the changes happened as soon as I stepped through the dimensional threshold after having him wake me up by tossing the bed over my head or something, I'd bare through it with gritted teeth and a set jaw and just go to the bathroom to see what upgrade my body got, and Piccolo was none the wiser, at least he didn't seem to notice my discomfort.
Just this morning I got a jabbing ache in my jaw, and as I brushed my teeth and rinsed the paste out of my mouth, I saw my brand-spankin' new set of canines. Don't worry, they're nothing close to Piccolo's Dracula set — they're more like Kiba's fangs from Naruto, or like Inuyasha's, in a way. That was pretty awesome, though. I've always wanted cool menacing-looking fangs so when I snarl and sneer I look somewhat threatening.
This morning didn't start off like the usual ones before it. For one thing, I didn't wake up submerged in the bathtub, or beaten ruthlessly awake with a pillow. I woke up by myself to find no Piccolo in the palace. I figured that I got up earlier than usual and that he was probably out somewhere meditating.
After getting dressed and having a light breakfast, I went to my music collection to choose the CD of the morning. After looking at the wicked crack in the wall Piccolo made weeks ago, I shivered in remembrance of his cold demeanor and diverted my eyes to the intricately-patterned box for the necklace that was now unpacked and left on the floor by my growing pile of dirty laundry next to the dresser. Every time I looked at that thing my mind flashed to the dream — the dream of that fucked up ceremony. I frowned and took a shirt and tossed it over the box so I wouldn't see it for a while.
Huffing in relaxation, I looked back to my collection. "Now— what will I play for the Namek today?" I smirked and began sifting through the titles to find the perfect selection. Truth be told, I started doing this with the intention of finding out what kind of music Piccolo would be into, or semi interested in. First I went for the obvious stuff: Anime OST'S. I'd play my mixes of Inuyasha themes and he'd just give me an intense glance to turn it off. Same result with the Lat Exile, Naruto, and Bleach stuff. Then I tried my collection of Gackt songs, but the only thing that came out of that was that I found out I can now understand, speak and correctly pronounce/enunciate Japanese, so I'd end up singing along to the entire album while Piccolo just glared at me and tell me to quit fooling around. After going through all my basic genres, I tried playing some System of a Down, and ended up having to run away from Piccolo with my boombox in hand as he threatened to demolish it if I ever played anything like that again.
So, I decided to just play whatever the hell I wanted and that hopefully he'd learn to have an appreciation to music — from Aerosmith to No Doubt, to Nirvana to Korn, I had my own karaoke session every morning while I got dressed, ate, etc as the boombox went on with a slight echo because of the chamber. Plus, it was my own simple revenge for him being his usual tactless, condescending self and for his over the top wake up calls.
Anyway, I gave up on the CD search and decided to find out where exactly my gorgeous sensei was at. Which brings me to what I was doing now. I had figured that while I slept Piccolo took the time to relax and meditate. Watching him now from my laying position in front of the arch entranceway, my assumption had been totally the contrary. When I saw him a football field's distance away from the palace out on my side of the void, I felt this pang in my chest. I was surprised. To think that after the grueling day he would go through as he trained me, he would go out to train by himself while I slept.
I sunk to my heels and sat there, in front of the archway, and watched him for a long time. My eyesight had improved considerably, but would go haywire if I tried to focus on far distances then back to normal. I took it as practice and got the control down, to the point that I could zoom into a certain point miles away like a hawk, or like a tiger and hold my vision right. After getting used to it, I followed his moves. He was training intensely with a four-some of split forms, then after a while, he slowed his training down, performing a sequence of stances at an insane pace. There was something completely breath taking about him at that moment. His movements were fluid, not jerked or rushed, and his expression was chiseled, flawless. I was mystified to the point that I held my breath, so that I wouldn't unintentionally break his flow, even from such a considerable distance that I was sure he couldn't even hear nor see me.
After just watching him for at least a half hour or so, I ended up laying on my stomach with the sketchpad in front of me, drawing the vision of perfection out in the void miles away, with my boombox softly playing his DBZ theme off of one of my many anime mixes. The bass synthesizer along with poignant cello and other effects gave this air of challenge to his present demeanor. It was brooding and commanding, while his moves and expression were composed, but not apathetic.
I had one hell of a time getting him down to paper; the slight difference and appearance of his features once he was on my side of the divide were a bitch to capture, but I did my best.
You might be wondering about my dreams, and if I'm any more close to figuring out what Piccolo has to do with it. Unfortunately, that's been a bust, but as for my dreams, they've really given me insight on just who Kyouran was, but nowhere near why she was killed and by who.
Besides, the dreams are precursors to every new "true potential" ability I get, and I figured that I won't be finding out anything concrete for a while. I just wish I could get SOME sleep! It's like being half conscious, but in the dark after a dream plays through, and during the dream it's like I'm watching an episode from the audience's P.O.V., because I can even hear the people's thoughts.
Catching sight of Piccolo perform a series of phases and acrobatics, I couldn't help a drool fest begin as I checked out his flexing pectorals and arms as they exerted to his body's whim. I had finished the drawing and pushed the sketchpad to the side so I could pay more attention to the emerald warrior's sexy body. As the mix CD wound down the end of the last song, I pulled the disc out and popped another in, never taking my eyes off the yummy Namek.
Shuichi Shindou's "Spicy Marmalade" from one of the Gravitation OST'S dully echoed out of the speakers, synthesizer keyboards and effects meshed harmoniously to the melodic timbre of the singer's voice, making me grunt with humor to how much the beat reminded me for some reason of Piccolo. The enjoyable intensity of the song let me fall into sync with Piccolo's moves and the sequence of his actions.
Suddenly phasing to the air, Piccolo did a backflip and landed in a crouch and stood to his imposing height. He wiped perspiration from his brow with his forearm, then rolled his tense shoulders back and stretched the tension out of his joints. Lawd, it was like he wanted me to run out there and have my way with him!
That Namek is begging for a spanking! If I died and got reincarnated, I wanna come back as his towel, then I can take my own tour of his pri—I halted in mental spout as Piccolo suddenly turned and looked over in my direction — his antennae vacillating slightly — like if he knew I was there the whole time! Ducked out of visual range behind the purple drape, he seemed to not notice me. Then I saw him walking back towards the palace.
I slowly realized that he couldn't walk in and see me on the floor trying to conceal myself with the drape, so I stumbled up and grabbed the sketchpad, tossed it on the dresser and grabbed the boombox and moved.
Soon enough the fluttering of the drapes being parted wider sounded in the dome-shaped room, as did the patting of leather moccasins that suddenly halted just a little ways from where I was attempting to perform one-handed push-ups with the Gravitation OST on low next to me.
I glanced over in mid push-up at Piccolo, whose scrutinizing gaze was heavy on me, even with the raised brow ridge. His gi was damp with sweat and clung partially to his abs and certain areas of his chest, same going for his gi leggings to his shins and muscular thighs.
"You woke up by yourself…what have you been doing since then?" He crossed his arms and gave me 'the look', which is his 'tell me or the only thing left of you will be a crater' look.
I snickered at the tone and went back to the push-ups. "As you can see, I've been warming up. What would I have been doing otherwise, Piccolo-sensei?" I answered with veiled sarcasm and glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.
Piccolo scowled at me and grunted, unconvinced. He traced his glare all over me, until he spotted evidence to contradict me. When I lost touch with the cold tile and only felt my baggy pants riding up my privates, I gawked at Piccolo over my shoulder and saw he had a tight hold to part of my shirt and waistband.
"If that was true, why can't I find a single bead of sweat on you? And I distinctly felt someone watching me while I was out in the void," he stated gruffly and let go, so I could land in a crawling position back to the tiled floor.
"Oi! Like I said, I've been warming up for the day since I woke up!" I snapped back at him, after all, watching Piccolo work out and train in the void would get anybody warmed up.
I stood up aloofly and went over to get another CD into play. Piccolo huffed and just watched me, like his glare alone could detect people's lies.
After hitting the play button, The Ramones' "Blitzkrieg Bop" from their Toughest Hits album revved up on a low volume. Piccolo looked at the boombox and sneered. "Must you play that trash every day," he grumbled haughtily and looked over at me with sternness. I pretended that I wasn't checking him out and just gave him a smug smile.
"Hey ho let's go!" I chanted along to the beginning line of the song and kept chanting as I turned on my heel and walked through the doorway. I'm pretty sure I heard Piccolo grind his teeth as I stepped out, and a soft flutter after he snapped his fingers to materialize his cape and turban.
I walked over to the kitchen, still reciting the lyrics to the song out loud, and opened the fridge to get an ice-cold bottle of water. I pushed my ponytail to rest behind my shoulder and entered the main room to feel a pair of glared daggers sink on me.
His jaw set, Piccolo gave me an intense glare from narrowed eyes and hunched his padded shoulders as he tried not to cringe cuz of the music resounding from my room.
Smirking at him, I tossed the bottle over, which he caught in a snap and looked stoically at me. I strode past him towards my room. "I know you must be thirsty after all the acrobatics yah did out there…got thirsty just watching yah," I remarked coolly and saw him glance over to me as I went into my room and shut the boombox off. I put it back in its place on top of the dresser and left the CD's in their cases next to it.
The rustling of cloth sounded softly with the swaying of air from the doorway.
"You should really learn to not contradict yourself, kid," Piccolo's gruff tone sounded from behind me.
I turned to face him and saw that he still hadn't even opened the water bottle. Snatching the bottle and unscrewing the cap, I retorted boldly, "I haven't contradicted myself at all, Piccolo. You must simply learn to read between the lines for the punch line, then you'll get the full answer." I smirked playfully at him and handed the bottle back.
Piccolo looked at the bottle, then back at me with annoyance. "Then why don't you humor me and quit the double talk, unless you're simply implying that I'm slow," Piccolo snapped harshly and was about to cross his arms, but remembered the bottle of water he was still holding and just gripped it with narrowed eyes and petulant scowl.
I rolled my eyes. "I've never thought of you as being slow…just naïve, and maybe a little ignorant," I answered dejectedly and continued coyly, "But I digress. I never said I wasn't watching you — 'warming up' has many connotations, you were just naïve enough to not pick that up." Pausing after Piccolo narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw in rising anger, I shrugged with a grunt. "So put simply, I was checking you out and used a semantical play to neither refute nor approve your suspicion that I was watching your fine ass work out."
With that, I grabbed my worn sneakers and sat on the bed to put them on while Piccolo gawked at me, jaw and water bottle clenched. After tying my shoes, I stood up and raised an eyebrow at him. "I think you should drink that before it evaporates. Don't need you all dehydrated and worn out during the spar—wouldn't be getting my money's worth," I remarked sardonically and walked to the archway and looked at him over my shoulder.
Piccolo gave me an intense stare before downing the water and hostilely placing the bottle on the dresser. "You're so close to getting knocked into a wall, you know that? I'm sick of all the crazy smut you say to me," he paused and added as he stalked over, "it's just a matter of time before you suffer a fatal accident out in the void, Sofia." His tone was snide and biting, intimidation leaking from his glare that it could burn through armor.
I back pedaled out to the void floor as Piccolo walked out. "Man, that's so harsh! I was just paying you a compliment on how much of a stud you are, and you threaten me with physical harm," I mock whined and gave him a child-like pout. "Hate to see what you'd do if someone talked shit to you."
Piccolo stopped in his tracks, shut his eyes and balled up his fists in growing embarrassment and frustration. "SHUT UP! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOU SAY ANY OF THAT SMUT TO ME AGAIN!" he roared balefully, causing a deafening echo in the chamber.
After the echo subsided and he regained his composure, I looked at him with my 'what is up with you' look. "Jeez, how troublesome you are! Stop acting like a fourth grader! If you really wanna know what smut is I can give you an earful of examples," I replied in a terse and offhanded way as I crossed my arms. "One would be how good you'd look dipped in chocolate and suckling on your own antennae, or how about you and Nail just experi-"
Next thing I knew, I was grabbed by the throat, hitching my breath in one place, and felt the muscles of my upper left arm flex from the loss of circulation from Piccolo's almost wringing grip.
Burning graphite orbs sank into mine, his brow knitted in mounted exasperation. "Every time you say something—I'm revolted!" his sneer was sharp and jarring to me as he added, "I'm not susceptible to any of your advances, and I'm not here to be your perverted infatuation, girl! So, from now on you'll keep your mouth shut and any smut-filled comments to yourself."
Piccolo let go of my arm and released my neck from his grip after I lowered my gaze. He then brushed by me and started leading away from the palace. I slowly turned to follow him when I noticed he halted in pace.
Looking over a cape-covered shoulder pad, he gave me an intense glare of finality. "I have no sentimental interest in you what-so-ever…and I never will." He redirected his gaze away from me and kept walking, his majestic cape swaying with his confident and stern stride.
After diverting my gaze from his back, I sighed and followed him at a considerable distance, the circulation quickly returning to my arm and the ghost grip around my neck fading as I calmed and took a breath. I pulled the necklace out from the shirt and let it rest over it, the garnet stone gleaming even under the sky-less endlessness.
That was really…harsh…
'Females are quite strange and frustrating, but speaking to one in such a manner is simply cold, Piccolo. I didn't quite get what she was saying, but there's still no reason for you to have spoken to her so turbulently,' commented Nail in a fatherly tone to his surly counterpart.
'I'm not interested in your two cents, Nail, so keep your comments to yourself would yah!' Piccolo mentally spat as he made considerable distance from the palace, with Sofia not so far behind.
'Well, if you would have listened earlier when I tried to tell you something you wouldn't be going through the 'aggravation' of hearing my comments now,' Nail snapped with sharp derisiveness.
'I find that highly unlikely,' grumbled Piccolo snidely. 'What is it then?'
Nail humphed before asking, 'Have you noticed anything specifically peculiar about Sofia's demeanor?'
Piccolo snickered sardonically at his counterpart's inquiry. 'Hm, oh let me think of something that isn't wrong with that girl's attitude — what kind of stupid question is that!' Piccolo snapped cynically.
'I said specifically peculiar so to avoid any dull remark, but of course that was in vain,' Nail remarked sharply and continued, 'when we first fused on Namek, our consciousness's collided, causing the fleeting side effect of inter-switching fragments of memories and bits of identity for quite some time before we adapted to the central bridge and core that divides us, so I was able to see some of your old memories and you mine, remember?'
'Yeah, and what about it?' Piccolo exchanged with a growing curiosity.
'Something I saw a lot of in your memories was your training of Gohan, and in that itself is where I bring my point,' pausing to give emphasis, he continued scrupulously, 'he had a tendency to whine, cry and complain about most of what he had to do before he was conditioned to the idea and effort of fighting — a common thing with those who are thrown into the rigors of combat. Being in a situation where she's subjected to uncertainty and risk over her own potentials and then multiplying that with the fact that she's subjected to such a ruthless brute like you that oversees her training, I find it peculiar that she has never once whined, cried or complained during this entire ordeal, no matter how stressful or danger-filled the scenario was. To make it simple, she's never once acted in a way that would be considered normal for any warrior in training, whether it be a child or adult, or male or female.'
Piccolo humphed and glanced back at Sofia, who had her gaze diverted to another angle. Now that he mentions it, that is pretty odd, especially since she's just a smart-assed girl, Piccolo remarked to himself, and began trying to think back to any time that Sofia even whined about him being too hard on her, or complained about how long they were out training, or anything of the sort. Huffing through his nose, he became annoyed.
'One of the hardest things for someone just starting out is figuring out their individual stance for battle, and any accompanying fighting style that goes with it. Gohan bitched to no end about that, saying it was too hard to learn all of that and remember it, especially when he was forced to on a moment's whim and against someone as 'mean' as me,' Piccolo scoffed, holding back his temper as he continued, 'and that little hentai who I've been equally tough on acts like I'm an insipid push-over!'
If Nail had been corporeal at that moment, he would have surely taken a dive to the floor. 'What are you talking about!?' he emphasized incredulously.
'She thinks she can live through my training like it's some sort of jog through a park, huh?! Well then, I'll break her down and work her so ragged she'll be begging to complain after what I have planned for her now,' Piccolo scorned out as his meticulous and calculating mind devised a full-proof way for getting even a seasoned fighter like Goku to complain. 'That smart-mouthed, female-version-of-Roshi is gonna bitch for sure,' he telepathically gloated as he gave one final glance over to Sofia before cracking his knuckles.
Nail sighed at how maniacal his counterpart sounded. 'What do you plan to do, and you do know you sound like a crazed fool, right?' Nail scoffed aloofly.
Piccolo grunted. 'Isn't as bad as sounding like a nagging hag all the time,' he retorted back and continued, 'my plan is to force her into a martial art training that even I hated doing when I started out, and still loathe til this day, especially when I'd force myself to do it with the weighted gear. Under this gravity, I guarantee she'll be worn out enough to complain, even whine like a snot-nosed child.'
Nail tisked sardonically. I really hope whatever mental problem he has isn't contagious…
More stance and style training today and I had to go and piss him off already. Humph, I might just be a masochist after all, Sofia mentally grumbled as she trailed her gaze over the alabaster folds of Piccolo's cape, her arms folded and her stride at its usual stalking pace.
She wrinkled her nose at the feeling of expectation that she had after weeks of changeable training routines. Piccolo had forced dozens of fighting styles on her, only dedicating a crash-course at a moment's pace then taking her directly into an intense spar session where she was to put all her learning against his expertise.
The key of this was not only to give her a wider range of versatility for combat, but to also find which stance and style suited her capabilities best. She had as of yet to find her fit with any of them.
From the relentless and unrestrained attack style of the Tiger, to the evasiveness counter-strike style of the Crane, to even a familiar stance and fighting style for her— a trademark style used by Rock Lee from Naruto — known as Iron Fist style, which is a purely offensive type of fighting that is laid back in its approach but fierce with its speed, Sofia had widened her combat knowledge and techniques considerably, but never found one that suited her.
All three of these stances were to her comfort, but would falter in other areas. The crouching and bared claws of the Tiger style went well with her speed and unpredictability, but failed her in her grappling and did nothing for her less-than-average size difference with Piccolo, not to mention having to rely on a brute strength and ruthlessness that she didn't possess. The striking hand formation and fluidness of the Crane style improved her evading skills, but turned out to be her weakest fighting style since it made her act defensively and only counter or absorb her opponent's attacks, creating weak points when she was supposed to be exploiting her enemy's weaknesses. Then the straight-forwardness of the Iron Fist style, a simple standing stance with one foot planted lightly before the other and one hand held behind the back with the other outstretched with the back of the hand directed to the opponent, had for a moment seemed to be the perfect one for her, but when in all out combat, she found she wasn't able to maintain the use of the blistering speed and the heightened strength that went with it, not to mention fend off Piccolo's counters when her reserves tapped out and left her exhausted.
I'm seriously wary to what he has planned for today, she thought as she caught herself absently staring at his back. She diverted her gaze just as Piccolo glanced back at her. When he looked away she silently cursed her infatuations and sneered at how stubborn her attraction to him was.
I need to just face it and accept that he doesn't like me at all. But that still doesn't mean I have to prove his condescending ass right! She thought sternly, biting her lip in firm determination.
"Stop daydreaming, kid! We've gone far enough," pulling her attention back, Sofia realized that she had spaced out and walked right past Piccolo who had halted in pace.
Feeling the comfort that at least she wasn't in anime — ergo no sweatdrop or exaggerated blush — she turned cautiously around to face the owner of the gruff tone. Even though she was a bit taller than before, Piccolo still loomed over her with his imposing height, his arms folded and his air intimidating.
She gazed up at her sensei stoically. "If you're gonna blast me, do it and get it over with," Sofia remarked dejectedly, earning a dry grunt in reply.
"Maybe later. Now you're gonna do stance training," Piccolo spoke with reduced severity in his tone, getting a raised eyebrow from her.
"What about practicing more styles? I thought we were—"
"We nothing! You're gonna forget about that and just do what I tell you to, understand!?" Piccolo snapped sharply. Her features became unreadable and cold as she gave a curt nod in affirmation.
Privately relishing in the absence of her verbal counters, the scrupulous warrior continued, "This stance training will improve the resistance of your muscles against fatigue and strain, and it should help you get a handle on keeping your energy reserves from tapping out and your ki concentration from depleting." Not to mention annoy the piss out of you, was his smug thought as he held back his amusement.
"What do I have to do," was her monotone inquiry.
"You'll perform the sequence of Kata stances that you should've memorized from last time," not even a flinch of worry showed on her features, so he added, "and you'll pause whenever I tell you to, whether it be in full, semi, or mid stance, then you'll hold the stance until I tell you to continue, and I expect it to be perfect, kid."
Piccolo bit back the sulking scowl that threatened to unmask him when she still didn't allude to any annoyance, not even a challenging gleam graced her features.
'Persistent little hentai, isn't she!' was Piccolo's telepathic grumble.
'I would say she's resilient, and she knows what you are up to,' Nail chimed with offhandedness.
'It's just a tough front, that's all, and I'm gonna break it down.'
Piccolo stepped back a few paces and folded his arms. His gaze intensified, ready to pinpoint the opportune spots of the sequence to exploit for his plan.
Sofia inhaled a deep breath through her nose and slowly exhaled it back out. Her composure was of steel and even Piccolo couldn't chip through it. Under her iron resolve, she felt like this was another initiation for a higher impression in Piccolo's eyes, and she had to use everything she had to stifle the trembling in her hands and the buckling of her knees. She had a pretty good idea what he planned, but even with the general insight of his surliness and his closet vindictiveness, she wasn't fool proof on it.
Guess I won't have a chance to impress him with the fighting style I picked up from my dream last night, was her passive thought as she got in position.
Piccolo humphed and turned his features to stone. "Now…begin!"
The gruff command put her in motion, her moves poised and conditioned while her features were apathetic and drawn. It was more than training to her now — it was a condescending challenge to her capabilities, and an all out snicker from the person that scrutinized her movements. It was his unvoiced scoff of how derogatory his view of her was. She would prove his view wrong, and make him see that she was more. That she was worthy of having him feel the way she felt for him.
"Stop."
Her muscles flexed into the full side-kicking pose, right leg on pointed toes holding her body upright as her left leg froze outstretched in mid air — arms parallel to each other and at level with her shoulders. She set her jaw and narrowed her eyes at the burning ache settling in her calves and thighs as the seconds ticked by and turned into a minute of holding the pose without falter or trembling.
"Your muscles should be starting to ache right about now," she glanced carefully to the right, stoic composure seeping into her semblance.
Piccolo's intense gaze seemed to add weight as he traced her for any faults in her pose. He began to pace around her, but his tactics weren't making her nervous. Nothing...maybe I'll let her hold on longer. "After your muscles begin to ache, fatigue starts to settle in, weighing your limbs down," he paused at her left and noticed that the back of her shirt was damp with sweat, and small beads were making their way down her temples and cheekbones from her hair line and forehead. "Your joints buckle and your muscles start to slack, then tighten painfully as fatigue turns into throbbing strain," he remarked, with still no show of debilitation from her. To instigate his point further, he went and pressed a large hand against the small of her back, grinding his thumb against the adjoining bone of her pelvis and spine. Sofia's eyes widened and her posture stiffened and straightened further.
"Keeping your posture from slouching enables your body to get accustomed to having pressure built in your lower back. That pressure is tension that your body must get accustomed to. It keeps your frame squared and rigid, so it counteracts the affects of strain and fatigue." He pulled his hand back and grunted after he noticed the subtle tint of blush over the bridge of her nose.
"I'll keep that in mind," she mumbled and looked straight ahead. She was suppressing her trembling very well.
Her years of corporal punishment had been good practice.
No wonder his back is tense all the time, was her absent thought.
Becoming somewhat intrigued by her fortitude, Piccolo decided to see what else she could withstand. "Alright…Continue!"
Continuing to follow through with the kick, she clicked into the proceeding sequence, breathing a sigh of relief that she had gotten so far without any scolding.
The course of the sequence and Piccolo's instructions placed and held her gruelingly in contorting poses and formations that preyed upon her patience and composure for the duration until his next command.
Her annoyance mounting, it suddenly dawned on her that she could always play his game and turn it against him.
"Stop."
Her frame held tightly to the pressure in her back to keep her leg extended and frozen as if to plow down on an opponent, one arm held higher than the other, both hands in balled fists.
The Namek is trying to make me cave for some reason, and I won't give it to him! She mentally declared and steadied the trembling in her shoulders by pulling all the tension of her body to rest in her lower back.
Piccolo wasn't ready to give himself up— not just yet. Pose after pose, Sofia managed to thwart him with her physical resilience and iron composure, never once playing into her brooding sensei's hands.
Keeping silent count of the now ticking minutes since his last command, Piccolo clenched his fists behind his back and glanced intensely at his posing pupil and somewhat nemesis.
S'been two minutes… Sofia clenched her jaw and exhaled through her nose, he's at his angstiest already.
Glancing over her shoulder, she held back a smarmy smirk as she remarked to the brooding Namek, "Um, did you get distracted checking my butt out back there, or did you just run out of poses to put me through, oh wise Piccolo-san."
Choking on a grunt, Piccolo's mortified stare turned into one of ire as he hollered, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! I'm not some depraved human male looking to bed a mate!"
"So it's that you have no other poses to put me in then?" she asked coyly.
Piccolo opened his mouth to answer, but with no real answer in mind, he clamped his lips together and scowled deeply.
'She got you there, hasn't she?' Nail chuckled softly.
'…hey Nail?'
'Yes—ACK!?' Losing his temper against his counterpart, Piccolo used all his telepathic output to forcefully shove Nail into a mental closet and block him from his consciousness.
'Shove it!'
Feeling a light tug on his right earlobe, Piccolo snapped his eyes open to see Sofia nose-to-nose with him, floating to make their heights equal.
"You okay? You looked like you were having a mental hemorrhage," she mused and added, "the old lady acting up again?"
Piccolo snorted dryly. "The nag is indisposed for now," he remarked, then gave her an intense glance as he added, "I didn't tell you to move from your stance, kid."
"Well, if I hadn't known that your intention was to play mind games I would've probably stayed in stance," she replied coolly and added with a shrug, "and after a while, it started becoming fun anyway. So I'm sure it negates your plans if I'm actually having fun with it."
"…Fun?" the darkened inflection of his tone was biting.
"Hai! I just started to pretend I was Bruce Lee gettin' ready to lay the smack down on someone and it actually made the sequence entertaining," she replied simply as she fixed her hair in its tie.
Narrowed eyes, tightened jaw and flaring nostrils made his expression a Kodak moment as he glowered down at her and steamed at how nonchalant she brushed it off.
"Training isn't ever fun, especially if it's my training," he sneered and added, "Who are you trying to fool, girl! Stop trying to act tough and—" he was cut off by her heated glare.
"And what?! Be a sniveling little brat whining about how mean you are and how I can't do anything!?" Sofia snapped, holding his gaze, and continued, holding back her tone. "What's the point of it? If I was like that you'd be damning me for being weak, and now you're damning me for not crying about it!"
Piccolo internally winced at how foolish it sounded out loud…and at how stupid it was for him to have created his 'vendetta' in the first place.
Sofia's smoldering gaze diminished to her challenging flare. "Well, you failed at whatever you were trying to get from me, so shall we continue onto something new," she stated stoically and turned on her heel, walking a little away from him before pausing in stride. "I think I solved my style problem," she remarked to him over her shoulder.
Recovering his steel composure, he crossed his arms and let a wordless grunt rumble from his chest before remarking flatly, "Oh?"
Her dream from the night before seemed to be a gift given at the needed time. Kyouran would normally not waste time with combat and would go for the kill before her prey realized its fate.
The last dream, however, finally revealed her fighting prowess and also introduced the only other figure— besides Mekareh— that held actual worth for her. Younger brother of high priestess Sumeragi, the 7th head of the Sumeragi clan was a jovial young man of slender build with wide eyes the color of somber purplish-blue, and pale alabaster skin. He lived in a far off province where the onmyouji clan had made there new holding place, surrounded by the masses and the supernatural.
"Are you holding back, Kyouran? It really doesn't suit you," mused the smirking man as he brushed fine raven bangs from matting to his forehead as he panted from the corner across from the humored demon warrior.
"I have an unfair advantage. You hardly train, let alone see combat, Saiga-sama," she responded dryly, in stance with a faint smile gracing her delicate lips.
The young man coughed out a tenor chuckle and got back into stance. "Addressing me with an honorific? Now that really doesn't suit you," he remarked as he lunged towards her with his fist pulled back and only struck air.
A breeze swept by, carrying pale flaking petals in its currents to land in the pond of the courtyard, just across from the small open dojo.
He whipped backwards and blocked the fist directed to his face and struck her back with an open palmed hit to the center of her chest.
Adjusting his simple grey robe, he sobered his composure. "So how was your trip?" he inquired offhandedly and went at her with a series of roundhouses that she expertly swiveled and dove away from.
"How did you know?" she asked with a raised eyebrow as she caught his foot and flipped him away.
He landed with both feet skidding and flipped forward onto his hands to spin back at her and strike her side with his left foot before returning to his upright stance. "The only time you pass through here is when you're returning from your pilgrimages. Or when you miss getting pummeled by a mere human," he remarked with a smile.
She scoffed. "You are way too playful today, Saiga-sama," she remarked flatly as she straightened her dingy white robe and bowed.
Slouching his shoulders, he frowned lightly. "Kyouraaaan! You always bow out of our matches," he objected and she rolled her eyes. "I'm beginning to think that you just don't want to admit defeat at the hands of a short guy like me," he mockingly accused and put his hands on his hips, standing on his toes so he could be nose to nose with her.
"Hm, for a human your stature is impressive, Saiga-sama, so admitting defeat to you because of your height would not be a problem," she replied aloofly and continued, "the problem would be that admitting defeat to you is a figment of your juvenile imagination, since you could never fight me seriously."
The young man huffed, teetered back on his heels with his hands behind his back, turned away from her as he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Touché!" he chimed and looked at her over his shoulder.
She shook her head from side to side. "Hm, I seriously wonder how you can be related to the "high priestess"; one of you must've been switched at birth," she remarked with veiled amusement.
His composure once again sobered at the change of subject. "How is Hitomi nee-san?" his tone was composed and wise, more appropriate for his title and 22 years of life.
Kyouran crossed her arms and watched the rippling pond with the evening light fading in its reflection. "Old."
The remark got the expected reaction. "Hahahaha! That's incredibly harsh, Kyouran. You could've said elderly instead," he grinned, letting his soft chuckles warm his chest and brighten his gaze.
"She doesn't speak of you…never has. Only about her destiny and her responsibility," she remarked dejectedly, causing him to lower his gaze somewhat. "I'd bet if you just showed up at the village she'd really drop dead from the anxiety."
"…Nee-san has always embraced her destiny. I wish she'd done differently," he muttered more to himself.
The confession stirred gentleness in her countenance. "I will send her your regards, Saiga-sama," she remarked and turned to the steps leading to the courtyard.
"Heh…Kyouran?" She turned to glance at him. "Try not to be so harsh when you do," he petitioned with a smile and raised his hand in 'farewell'.
She grunted softly and turned to keep walking down the steps. "I'll keep that in mind, Saiga-sama…"
Sofia had smiled at the memory when she remembered the dream, then focused on the detail of the style Kyouran had used.
"Alright. What style have you decided to use. You better not have made it up on the spot," grumbled Piccolo with his arms folded over his chest.
She rolled her eyes, and stretched her muscles before getting into the stance. Lowering her posture, she bent her knees until all her weight rested on her back leg, keeping her front leg straight with pointed toes like a ballerina, and bent her palms outward, close to her torso, fingernails in readiness to tear at her opponent.
Piccolo glanced at her stance before snorting. "What is that supposed to be?! Don't tell me you're using that as your stance," he remarked snidely.
Sofia narrowed her eyes. "And what is the problem with my stance?" she retorted with a raised eyebrow.
Unfazed by the remark, he replied in a business tone, "I guess I wasted my time these past weeks training you, kid! For one, all your weight is balanced on your back leg, making it easy for an opponent to knock you on your ass with a swift kick. You're open at all angles except your front, and that's got a weak guard up as it is. I could overwhelm you blindfolded!"
Instead of a scowl, Piccolo received a twisted grin in challenge. "Oh? Those are your expert assessments?" she paused with veiled smugness, "Hn, can I prove you wrong, sensei?"
The blood roared in Piccolo's veins at hearing her condescending tone, his eyes narrowing as he growled, "Going up against me in whatever piss-poor style that goes with that pathetic attempt of a stance will get you hurt," he bit back his temper and regained some calm in his tone as he added, "I haven't gone easy on you, and I sure as hell don't intend to start now, Sofia."
Her demeanor darkening, she scorned, "Piccolo… I don't want you to ever go easy on me!" The stern gleam in Piccolo's eyes flickered to something unreadable. "I only ask that you stop talking down to me and continue letting me give you a run for your money," she remarked fiercely.
His brow twitching with interest at her defiance, he gave her stance one more once over before saying, "I gave you the 'courtesy' of a warning," he got into his own fighting stance, a merciless gleam sparking in his graphite orbs as he added, "now, come prove me wrong— that is, if you can."
Sofia's cool smirk made her chocolate eyes dance with temerity. "Not only will I prove you wrong, but I bet I can knock the turban off your head with not much effort, Namek," she boasted coolly.
Piccolo submerged the growl building in his chest and managed not to snarl as he retorted, "The only thing that's gonna get knocked off is your head from your shoulders if you don't watch it!"
The glaring contest went into effect. They sized each other up for any sign of the first strike, when it finally came via Piccolo.
Smug little bitch! He lunged at her with an outstretched fist, only to strike open air.
"That punch was way off, sensei." Piccolo snapped his gaze to his left, where Sofia smirked at him, still in stance.
Whatta?! She phased? But I didn't even sense the shift, he ran by himself, getting back into stance. It was a fluke, that's all… just have to focus on her movements.
Sharpening his senses, he went at her with a flurry of punches, growling in agitation as he only connected with empty space each time. She wasn't phasing, just dodging fast enough that he was barely able to notice.
"Grrrh!" He went to swipe his arm down on her shoulder, and instead received a fist firmly planted to his abdomen. It was then when he doubled over from the hit that he caught sight of what she was doing.
As he would go to strike, she'd buff her hands just before the fist would reach her, and it would somehow cause her to teeter just out of the way and give her the opportunity to strike.
His ire rising, Piccolo powered up and went at her with an uppercut, and instead faked out at the last minute and went with a roundhouse. Sofia buffed her hand outward and spun backward, just missing the kick, and struck Piccolo on his side with a palm hit before jabbing her thrusting hands into a pressure point just after the curve of his ribcage and just below his sternum.
The jolt that almost made him bite down on his tongue dissipated enough for his hazed mind to realize just what she was doing.
Ki Polarity! I should've figured it out after I missed the first punch! he spat out the bile that had risen to his throat and narrowed his eyes. She's using the splurges of ki that seep through while I fight to polarize her own movements, and buffs her hands so she can repel herself out of the way and attract herself back to strike when I'm left open. Wiping the corner of his mouth with his forearm, he took away the familiar taste of his own blood from his lips and got back into stance, facing Sofia. And by polarizing, she also was able to jolt me with the ki she buffed onto her hands…my ki, and exploited an 'energy valve' where built up ki pools and treated it like a pressure point. He went on to deduce that it was the modified equivalent of the energy beams he could shoot out of his eyes, and that the basic technique all together was proof of her resilience, since he could not do the same against her, being how she couldn't be sensed. Clever girl…
His scowl hardened as he watched the playful glee resting just behind Sofia's narrowed eyes as she stood in her odd stance across from him. "Don't know what it's called, but it is pretty versatile, huh," she remarked as a smile pulled at her lips.
Piccolo grunted gruffly. I'll just have to take her by surprise. That little trick won't work if I don't let any ki leak while I strike, he strategized before forming a quick energy ball behind his back. Let's see if she can handle ki confusion.
"Pretty clever, kid. But I'm afraid I'll have to end this little game," he stated with smug contemptuousness as he flew at her.
He shot the energy at her just before he phased out, and phased in behind her for an ambush, but got a huge surprise when she was facing him, in perfect stance. Before he knew what happened, he instinctively went to strike her and she fell back on her back leg, causing her pointed front leg to plow upwards into his chin.
He staggered back. When he snapped his guard back up to face her, Sofia pushed herself airborne with her weight-balancing leg and used the momentum to spin her front leg and fake out, to instead drive her back leg out and kick a solid, weighted turban off of her opponent's head, and send it thudding and rolling on its sides to the gravity-weighed floor of the chamber.
She landed in a crouch behind him, panting from the exertion of her ki depletion. Sofia stood and turned around to find Piccolo still rooted to his spot, giving his cape festooned back to her, his bald head and vacillating antennae unsheltered with the absence of his turban.
"Turns out I ended the game I started," she remarked with a slightly ragged tone and added, "proud of myself."
Piccolo tried to submerge the shock of having underestimated her as he turned to face his opponent. He didn't know where his strategy turned to her favor, or how she was able to get pass the ki confusion move. All he did was look at her with his curiosity hidden behind his narrowed eyes and etched scowl.
"Still trying to figure it out, Piccolo?" his attention snapped almost avidly to her words, waiting for some sort of clarification when he begrudgingly couldn't find it himself.
He crossed his arms, the action making his gentle antennae sway. "Your style uses ki polarity to dictate where to evade and strike, a simple method that was easy to figure out—"
Sofia cut him off with a huffing sigh. "I know you figured the style out cuz you went through the trouble of trying to confuse my polarity and senses when you threw the ki ball," she petulantly remarked. "What you haven't noticed is something that should've been obvious when you faked out the punch and went with the roundhouse. That little stunt nearly wore me out."
Piccolo's interest broke through his steel trap of emotion. "I thought for sure I would've landed that kick…" he bit his tongue when he realized his slip, but faltered anyway, "How did you know where I was gonna phase to? You've been exploiting my ki, so my move should've been masked."
Sofia sighed contently and closed her eyes as she released her hair tie. "I really love how you can't sense my ki," she grinned coyly and continued, "I was leaking out my own ki the whole time, so it would act as an energy trip-wire," noticing the wave of realization flow into his graphite orbs, she went on, "I flooded it exponentially, keeping it low so it wouldn't give off an aura, and used it to sign off my senses when a shift of motion occurred. Fake outs weren't gonna work, since they still required some shift of motion, and phasing was obsolete too."
Piccolo's baritone voice carried forced apathy as he said, "That style works against you in the end. You're constantly depleting ki to keep your guard up on all sides, and you get worn out easily."
"True," she said as she looked over and found her long awaited trophy, "but it was my first time using it, and it was good exercise for channeling and distributing my ki and energy."
She walked over and picked up the discarded turban and tested its weight. Her assessment was that it had to be about 80lbs. She casually remembered how easily he could heft her around, and how her weight is inconsequential since it's only a 20lbs difference with the turban. Piccolo eyed her, pinching the tip of his tongue under a pointed fang to try and stifle his curiosity. He ended up raising an eye ridge and cocking his head to the side after Sofia spun the turban between both her palms before putting it on her head.
Even with her hair loose, the turban was still two sizes too big for her and slumped forward onto her forehead. Adjusting it, she pushed it so it would rest just before her hairline and that it'd pin her long bangs against her temples and jaw line.
Flashing Piccolo the peace sign and a fangy grin, she swiftly turned on her heel and started striding in direction to the small palace in the distance. "I WIN! WOOOOHOOO 2 - 1, Piccylow!" she shouted in her boisterous tone and left the wide-eyed Namek staring with his lips pressed together in a conflicting expression.
As he watched her walk off, Piccolo grunted a soft rumble before muttering to himself, "…I could really use some sake right about now…"
He splashed the cold water onto his face, the gash on his cheekbone stinging at the contact. Staring at himself in the mirror, he surveyed the bruises that had begun to seep away on his face, his black eyes coming upon the gash. That's gonna take a while to heal, was his monotone thought as he once again cupped his hands in the filled sink and splashed the cold water onto his face, the stinging not as severe.
Wiping the excess moisture off his brow, Piccolo stepped out of the bathroom and into the main room. He extended his right arm and bent his elbow, clenching and unclenching his fist. The fracture in his forearm had mended enough to just leave a bruise. Grunting, he sat on the edge of the purple bed, internally wincing at the jabbing pain of the hairline fracture of a rib in his left side when he shifted to pick up his discarded turban that laid on the opposite edge.
She really doesn't hold back, he thought to himself before putting the turban on. If she keeps it up, she'll manage to equal Vegeta's crazy intensity.
'I think she already has,' broke in Nail.
Mentally huffing, Piccolo ground out, 'Since when have you been skulking around! I don't listen in on your thoughts, so keep out of mine!'
'You were thinking too loud— you know that it is very simple for one to hear if you're letting your thoughts reverberate over the central bridge,' remarked Nail and added with ebbed sharpness, 'and I've been "skulking" around since I broke out of that asinine block of yours, which was sometime around when you two began sparring.'
Piccolo humphed. 'Well do me the favor and keep quiet. Now is not the time for your bitching,' he remarked with surliness as he pressed tentatively on his aching side, finding that the fracture was in the process of mending.
'You know I can't do that after the way you acted during that spar,' rebuffed Nail.
Growling, Piccolo spat, 'I acted in the way any other opponent would have! We both did, so I don't know what gives you the need to bitch!'
They had been fighting on the ground, exhausting each other until neither could keep up fighting solely hand-to-hand. Piccolo was keeping protective guard of his left side, where Sofia had plowed her shoulder into when she speared him, so he began ruthlessly retaliating with energy attacks.
Sofia only gained scrapes and welts from the fighting, but her energy reserves were in danger of tapping out. She could barely keep her stance together. Dodging his attacks aimlessly, the exertion once again began to take over her limbs, but she fought the feeling by pumping all her ki to swirl into her bloodstream, circulating it constantly.
Seeing the weakness, Piccolo decided to exploit it. He used every ounce of energy to muster up a final energy stream and shot it off full force hurtling straight towards her.
Her chest began to ache painfully with her over-exertion, rendering her incapable to move out of the way of the attack. She could only put up her forearms and shield herself from the oncoming energy stream. The remnants of her ki flared on her arms, creating a tougher shield into which the searing energy plowed against, sending her skidding back.
With her last burst of ki, she shouted fierily and cut through the stream with flaring intensity, the remnants of which broke up into searing razor-like energy rays that splintered off all around the area.
Piccolo's forearm braced against the floor with great force after one of the rays nicked a gash into his cheek and the burst pushed him back. When the torrent dissipated, he got up and realized that once again…it was a draw. Sofia was meters away, sitting up, nursing her left leg.
She had said that her leg didn't hurt too bad and that it wasn't a big deal, so they returned to the palace, where she limped into her room, while he darted past her to cross the dimensional line and went into the main room.
'Are you blind, or just ignorant, Piccolo?!' Nail barked with uncharacteristic harshness and added, 'did you even notice how she was hiding her injury!?'
The question jolted Piccolo, making him somewhat uneasy. 'She said she was fine,' was his stern reply.
'Of course that excuse was enough for you, after all, she did say she didn't want you to go easy on her,' Nail didn't ebb the snide growl his tone took on. 'Do you actually think she would be truthful about getting hurt?! She shows a lack of emotion during everything else—brushing it off as something below her capabilities, why wouldn't she do the same after a spar that even you got injured in.'
In the back of his mind, something pulled on his instincts, and for once it wasn't Nail… it was the fleeting guide that usually lay dormant: his conscience.
Noticing Piccolo's silence, Nail pushed on, 'It's been over an hour since you left her alone in her quarters, and she hasn't made a sound. The only thing audible from that room is that portable device that broadcasts music. Most of your wounds have healed, and the fracture on your side is fully mended,' he broke off to let his counterpart brew over his words.
"…Fine."
Piccolo stood up and faced the direction to her room. He cursed his irreverent conscience and made his way to and through the threshold, the swaying air caressing the cut on his cheek with sharpness.
"Mekareh had changed out of her apprentice onmyouji gi to her simple white robe and headed out as soon as the rumor spread that Kyouran was spotted returning to the village via the grand intersection of villages. She had a pretty good idea where her unique friend would be after finding out that her mare was being re-shoed and fed back at its small stable.
Running to her training grounds in an open field east of the village, Mekareh wondered why Kyouran had gone three weeks without returning instead of one. She absently played with the charm bracelet held snugly around her wrist as she cleared a small brook and traversed the roots of ancestral trees. Reaching the somewhat bare meadow, she pushed past the few brushes of tall grass before tripping over a very heavy metal object.
"Her armor— and sword," Mekareh noticed the path that led from both objects further up the meadow and followed the trail. Wandering, she found that just beyond most of the coarse hay of the meadow, there was a flatter plateau beneath a tall majestic willow. The plateau overlooked the great forbidden forest and long distant mountain ranges under the bright clouded sky.
"Wandered pretty far, kid," Mekareh yelped in surprise and shot her gaze up to the willow, where she finally noticed a casually perched Kyouran on a high branch looking down on her, one leg dangling over the side of the branch with her back resting against the cool corpulent trunk.
"You finally came back!" chirped happily the bright-eyed girl. "I was beginning to think that you got lost."
Huffing with veiled amusement, the demon priestess warrior leapt from the tree and landed in front of her pint-sized friend. "Ended up having to make a detour and wiping out a nest. Took a week off and rested at Sumeragi Saiga-sama's compound in the far off province," she stated apathetically before sitting in the lotus position under the cool shade provided by the willow.
"That's high priestess' brother, right?" Kyouran nodded in affirmation. "Is he nice, or do you dislike him like you do the high priestess?"
Crossing her arms and resting against the trunk, Kyouran answered stoically, "He's not pretentious and weak like the old woman. I can stand him."
"Oh." Mekareh's demeanor sobered considerably as she sat in the shade as well. "How was the North?" she inquired carefully as to not annoy her with constant questions.
Kyouran closed her eyes as a breeze swept by. "Freezing."
A long pause reigned before Mekareh meekly asked, "Did you go back to the market before you left?"
"Hmph, yes. As usual, Korokawua barely made the deadline. After the old fool stopped quivering and giving excuses, I had to deal with that odd Haku…" Kyouran trailed off before she looked away nonchalantly.
This topic brought a fun gleam to Mekareh's face. "Yeah? Did he ask you out?" she laughed child-like and smiled when Kyouran couldn't stifle the slight tint on her cheeks.
"That stupid human! First he insisted on giving me a bunch of those prickly flowers, then he didn't want to accept payment, even while the old man was pounding his fist against the top of his head, and he had the audacity to…" Kyouran broke off with a biting sneer that showed off her fangs.
"WHAT?!" piped Mekareh, bringing her knees up to her chest.
"…he pressed his disgusting lips against my cheek!" The meadow echoed with child-like giggles as Mekareh fell to her back, holding her sides from the laughter.
"He kissed you! Heeeheeehee!" she squealed out, trying to stifle her giggles after getting a menacing glance from the infamous warrior. "What did you do after he kissed you?"
"…I don't know how that fool could've survived the collision with a support and the sidewall, but even after that he still had that stupid smirk of his." Kyouran growled under her breath and bit back the scowl from her features.
"Was anyone else mean to you?" The question snapped her gaze back to the usually brilliant gleaming eyes of her friend.
After a pause, she sighed softly. "Mekareh, you don't have to tag along wherever I go. Humans are mindless and fearful. They hate what they fear, and can't understand that which is always around them. They fear me, so I don't expect much from them," she paused as she watched a butterfly flutter lazily by. "Cattle are to be herded from those that feed on them. They resent it, but cling to it at the same time, because that is their nature. You are young, so you don't see it, but you felt it that day at the market. If you weren't you father's spawn, then you would be alienated for being around me, and not fearing me as they do."
Mekareh gulped and lowered her gaze. "But you say you're supposed to protect humans, even when you hate us and don't want to," she paused, wringing the hem of her robe as she added, "so why do you? And why do you let some people die if they get caught in the middle?"
Kyouran's gaze became colder than what she was used to. "I never said I would protect every single human from being dispensed," her crimson eyes held back a fluid ire that only the pulsing garnet stone of her necklace indicated fully. "Only that I would prevent the human race from perpetual slaughter."
"But to do that you have to protect every human," remarked Mekareh.
"…I choose not to."
"Then…you chose to save me just because it was your own choice to?"
Kyouran's eyes were blank and wide from the question. Tracing the facets of the garnet pendant resting over her chest, she shut her eyes and let a light chuckle warm her demeanor. "I chose to save you because you were the little girl that always played on the bridge alone," Mekareh's eyes held confusion. "I thought it was amusing that you were going to end up drowning at the bottom of the river after you had been its companion since I can remember my child stage."
Mekareh's eyes grew cheerful as she gave her child-like laugh. "I keep forgetting I'm older than you," she chirped and added, "we could've played hide and seek when you were still little, but I never knew you were around, heehee!"
Kyouran snickered. "I thought you were weird. You always talked to yourself like some goof," was her cool remark.
Mekareh laughed some more. "We could always play hide and seek now! You could be it!"
Kyouran raised an eyebrow and shook her head sardonically. "I really don't think so, kid. At least not today…"
Her eyes fluttered open, the bright marble dome ceiling coming into focus. She felt the cold chill of the tile floor under her and the familiar weight of the pendant resting over her chest; heard the melancholic end of the song that played on the boombox at her right as the dull pulsing of the pendant died away into dormancy.
Sitting up, the searing stinging pain from her left leg flashed in her conscious, making her wince internally. "Jeez — still hasn't healed," she muttered to herself as she parted her torn pant-leg to survey the deep slash that ran from her lower shin all the way up to just under her knee. No blood flowed from the deep wound, but it did cut and expose the sensitive layer just under her skin.
As she tentatively pressed the swollen skin on the sides of the wound, she heard the familiar flutter of a cape to her left, and covered the wound again with the pant-leg. She firmly clenched her jaw and trained her expression to show no discomfort as she glanced over at the imposing Z Warrior.
"You've been quiet for a while — came to see if you were still alive," he remarked in his low tone and stepped closer to her, his intense gaze looming over her.
"I could say the same for you," she paused and said, "I've just been resting."
"Hn," grunted Piccolo. After contemplating her for some seconds, he lowered to sit next to her, making her raise a delicate brow at him. "How does your leg feel?" he asked stoically after glancing at her torn pant-leg, then looked back toward her eyes.
"It's fine. Just need to lay off it a little while," she stated coolly, her gaze never faltering from his.
After a long pause, Piccolo's next remark came out almost as a whisper to her. "I don't believe you." His eyes were dark from her vantage point, but his expression held tightly to his cool composure.
Her features betrayed surprise before she could hide it. "I said it's fine," she reiterated tersely.
"Then I'll take a look at it and see for myself," he remarked and leaned over to pull the torn pant-leg away, when her hand deftly gripped his large, red-seamed wrist.
"Don't."
Piccolo looked into her forced apathetic expression, capturing her brown orbs in his heated graphite ones. Pulling his wrist from her hand, he pulled the pant-leg away, ignoring her bravado of calmness. His features composed after seeing the extent of her wound, he looked back at her, his eyes unreadable.
"Why didn't you say something. This hasn't even started to heal," Piccolo asked in his deep tone, apathy still masking his demeanor.
Sofia looked away as she sighed. "It'll heal eventually. You don't have to keep tabs on me like that," she remarked dejectedly, feeling his gaze glance away from her for a moment before it intensified again.
'Don't let her push it aside that way. Show her that you care,' Nail instructed prudently, getting Piccolo to narrow his eyes at Sofia and brace his hand on the floor so he could lower his face closer to hers.
"Why do you always have to be a pain in the ass!?" Piccolo heard the loud disapproving scoff from his counterpart, so he added, "If you're badly injured you shouldn't hide it."
Sofia gave him a side long glance, before she lowered her gaze to her wound. "It takes longer to heal cuz it's an energy wound; not a big deal—" Sofia got cut off when a strong hand grabbed her chin and pulled her to look back at him.
The usual gruff baritone of his voice was softer, but still very commanding, "Tell me." Her brown eyes showed confusion when his deep graphite orbs softened after the awkward silence. "Tell me why you hide yourself…when you're around me," his statement was more of a subtle order.
Sofia's eyes widened at the statement. Parting her lips to speak, she found that she didn't know what to answer. She felt uncomfortable all of a sudden and couldn't hold his gaze as she muttered, "I don't know what you mean."
Growling in mounting frustration, Piccolo remarked, "Yes you do! You can't even look me in the eye when you talk to me," he paused when her eyes wandered back to him. "You show an exaggerated amount of emotion for the most idiotic things, but when it really counts, you don't. You hide it from me— why don't you just quit being tough and just show what you feel!" he stated gruffly.
After a terse silence, Sofia snapped, "Why don't you?!"
"…" Piccolo internally recoiled from the remark as he narrowed his eyes.
"What's the sense of always complaining when one gets hurt, or crying. No one is entitled to knowing about it just because it would make them feel better. And how can you sit here and lecture me about how I should handle my emotions when you've never figured out how to do it with yourself!" she couldn't suppress the sneer that flashed her new fangs. Piccolo actually pulled away at the intensity of her words, making Sofia realize she had to take back her control. Calming her demeanor, she huffed a sigh and let the fluid pulsing of the garnet stone die back before muttering softly, "You can be such a hypocrite sometimes…the truth is, I envy your control. I wish I could hold all of it away…like you. Then it wouldn't hurt so much," her soft monotone did nothing to repress the emotion her deep brown orbs held as their gazes connected.
Instead of taking offense or getting angered by her words, Piccolo found this gravity with them…with her.
The boombox was barely audible to them as they held each other in a searing gaze. The powerful strumming of an acoustic guitar dully echoed in the dome-shaped room as they couldn't find words to address what they both sensed.
I wanted you to know I love the way you laugh
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away
I keep your photograph and I know it serves me well
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain
After feeling a pang of regret from her words, Sofia finally noticed his slowly healing gash. She raised her fingertips to his cheek. He stiffened slightly when her cold fingertips gently traced his now shallow cut. "…you didn't even flinch. You don't even feel pain anymore, do you?" her voice was low, as if she was whispering to herself in reference to the earlier spar.
Piccolo's ears twitched from her comment, his frown unmasked as he lightly gripped her hand and pulled her curious fingers from exploring his cheek.
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel right when you're gone away
You've gone away, you don't feel me, anymore
"It stings when you do that," he replied in his deep tone. Sofia felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest as she realized she had said that out loud, and pulled her hand from his, embarrassed. Piccolo sighed to himself as he grumbled, "I've been around humans for so long that I've become used to them overloading their emotions on me, hmph!" …you didn't even flinch. You don't even feel pain anymore, do you? he paused when her words crossed his conscious. "It—" he paused. "There is no being that is immune to feeling pain…Sofia," he remarked almost quietly, then gulped from the uncomfortable feeling that surrounded them both.
The worst is over now and we can breathe again
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away
There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain
The words of the melodic ballad echoed feelings that neither could release from their parted lips. The lovers of the song sang for them, role-playing an existence of solitude and isolation that could only be cured by the other's presence.
"I would rather feel nothing, than feel pain," Sofia divulged in a soft, vulnerable tone. His warm fingertips grazed her cheekbone and ear as he combed long, rouge strands from her face, startling her to drown in his dark, mirroring eyes.
They absently leaned closer to each other, the side of her lithe arm grazed his muscular ribbed and pink-patched one.
"That's…what I've always wanted too," Piccolo muttered in a hushed, but commanding heavy tone.
A long pause came as they realized how physically close they were, and how warm their breaths felt on their faces. The moistness of their breathing allowed their dry and chapped lips to revert to their usual softness as they both read the other's delicate features.
Flags went up in Piccolo's mind to what was happening, but he found himself ignoring them as he leaned closer. Sofia's mind was too hazed with awe to notice she was also leaning in close. His rugged, musky scent clung to him, the soft smell of her hair that he secretly liked wafted closer as well.
'Cause I'm broken when I'm open
And I don't feel like I am strong enough
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel right when you're gone away
Their breathing hitched as their lips brushed almost tenderly, and caught in their throats as they pressed together and turned into a mutually-alluring kiss. Her body slacked after her eyelids fluttered closed, surrendering to the rushing in her chest, as his body tensed from the enigmatic quandary of being attracted to the intimate gesture instead of being repelled. Ignoring the continual disapproving of his mind, he let his own eyelids drift closed and focused on the sensation of her luscious lips pressing against his.
'Cause I'm broken when I'm open
And I don't feel like I am strong enough
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel right when you're gone away
The powerful rhythm of the electric and acoustic guitar and drums suffused with the uplifting and equally fetching cries of the violin accompaniment spoke volumes that they could never willingly admit to each other.
Drowning in the sensations, Sofia gasped, parting her lips in mid-kiss. Confused, Piccolo parted his lips as well. Unintentionally assuming meaning to his gesture, Sofia deepened the kiss, making his grunt of surprise catch dryly in his throat.
OHHOLYBEINGOFHEAVEN—WE'RE-MAKINGOUT! Sofia's heart leapt in her chest as she absently continued intensifying the kiss by slipping her tongue past his gasping lips.
A hidden instinct came upon him as he found himself battling with his own warm tongue against her curious exploring one.
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel right when you're gone away
You've gone away
You don't feel me here anymore…
The ending of the song resounded almost wistfully from the echo of the chamber before fading into silence. The sound of the heated make-out session took its place, as both he and she traced the details of their warm mouths and traveled dangerously over pointed teeth. Finding the absence of the music behind the dull rushing of their frenzied pulses, they began to regain whatever shred of composure that still clung around them and realize the magnitude of what was happening.
Snapping his eyes open while hers became half-lidded, they pressed their lips closed. The tip of their noses subtly brushed as he cautiously pulled back while she reluctantly did the same.
Immediately, a flood of awkwardness came over them, hindering even their gazes towards each other. Sofia bit her lip, but couldn't stop thinking about the kiss. It was so… She felt a swooning session coming, so she shook her head and dug her nails into her palm as she meekly glanced over at Piccolo.
Piccolo looked like he was in silent conflict with himself, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Sofia couldn't help her glancing turn into full staring as her mind reverted to her infatuation for him.
Still somewhat mortified, Piccolo stammered telepathically, 'What-what did we-did-what'd we just-whatta hell was that!?'
A short pause passed before he got a very humored reply. 'I believe you two just had a profuse kissing session, Piccolo. I think it's called 'making-out', and if I had to make an "uneducated" guess, you enjoyed it,' Nail remarked with an undertone of amusement.
'WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP ME? With all the nagging you do, you chose to not make a sound!' Piccolo roared at his counterpart.
Unfazed, Nail hummed coyly, 'Well, you chose to ignore your own stubbornness for the first time in your entire existence, so I assumed I'd let you follow through on it,' Nail mused. 'Besides, I'm sure she enjoyed it as well,' he added, snapping Piccolo back to the fact that he was still sitting next to her, and that she hadn't said a word.
When he looked back at her, she was sitting up on her knees — her wound healed quickly during their intimate moment — facing him with a conflicting expression.
Feeling the weight of her odd gaze over him, he sat straight from his leaning position, into the lotus position. Shifting his gaze uncomfortably from her to the floor, he tersely asked, "What?"
Stifling her blush, she muttered, "I guessed right," when he cocked a brow ridge, she added, "you are a great kisser."
His eyes widening a fraction, he awkwardly tugged on his cape collar and rubbed the back of his neck as he stared off to the side, not knowing how to respond to such a compliment.
"Well, uh—you're good with your tongue," he blurted out. Sofia's dumbstruck look said it all. "I mean—uh, I didn't know that that's how one goes about kissing," he stated to cover up the flub, but only got Sofia to put on a mock-hurt look. "Grr—I mean your tongue in my mouth just surpri—" he was swiftly cut off as Sofia pounced on him, and kissed him fully on the lips, almost knocking him back if he hadn't leaned back on his arms.
Piccolo grunted into the kiss, his eyes practically bulging out of his sockets at how intently she kissed him.
After seconds into the kiss, Sofia pulled away, a mischievous gleam dancing in her eyes that was accompanied by a coy grin. "You're too yummy when you stammer like that," she remarked seductively. Piccolo was too shocked by her vivacious move to reply. "And with the tongue thing, you french-kissed me back, so we're even with the surprise there," she remarked with a playful undertone as she pinched one of the folds of cape on a shoulder pad, adding, "and the best part of kissing is that like fighting, practice and training are the only things that'll make you an expert at it." As well as with other activities…
Slowly regaining his composure, Piccolo put on his snide scowl as he said, "What makes you think I'll ever do that again, let alone let you pounce on me for a kiss?!"
"The fact that you went through the aggravation of fumbling awkwardly to compliment me back is enough indication that you wouldn't mind doing it again," she smirked coolly, adding, "not to mention the fact that you leaned in for the kiss, and even if you wanted to argue that you didn't, you kissed me with as much avidness as I kissed you."
Scowling deeply, Piccolo grunted gruffly and pushed her away so he could stand.
Looming over her, he remarked with forced disdain — which Sofia noticed, "I doubt it, kid! I'm here for one thing, and it's not to be some wishy-washy sentimental jerk that's only objective is to suck face." He crossed his arms, huffing through his nose as he gave her an intense stare, "the only training that you have to worry about is out in the void, not my lips."
Sofia had to bite her tongue not to laugh, managing to only snicker as she pictured the kind of training she wouldn't mind putting him through.
Regaining his drawn apathetic semblance, he turned towards the doorway. "We're done for the day. Get some rest. From now on, we only get more serious," he stated sternly. Before stepping out to the main room, he glanced back at her over a padded shoulder. "I'll be training on my side, and I expect not to be interrupted until I come for you 'tomorrow', got it?" he barked sternly, turned and stepped through the dimensional line.
She sensed him step out pass the pillared entrance and shoot off away from the palace. Assured of her solitude, Sofia stood, calmly walked over to her bed — after inspecting her healed and unscarred wound — and threw herself over the disheveled comforter, burying her face in her plump pillow.
Proceeding to squeal like a maddened prepubescent fangirl, she gripped the pillow as she shouted every single lewd and provocative thing she could think of that either pegged her Namek sensei or a specific region of his anatomy, including one that failed to exist as part of his lust-inducing physique.
"I CAN'T BELIEVE WE MADE OUT!" she shouted in a octave higher than her mid-tenor timbre was used to as she hopped up and jumped on her bed, squeezing the pillow in a death-grip against her chest. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!"
Deciding that not even having 100 tranquilizer darts shot at her could induce sleep after such a mile stone in her entire life — even including that of her past life's, Sofia tossed the pillow down and hopped off the bed, speeding out pass the purple drapes and through the archway out to her side of the void where she spent the rest of the 'night' bouncing around like a gymnast on speed, performing every single fighting style and back-flipping into the air as she'd change up her technique shouting in an uncharacteristic and carefree frenzy, until Piccolo found her sound asleep against one of the Time Chamber hourglasses that flanked the side just adjacent to the outer entrance to her room, hours later after not finding her in her quarters.
He couldn't help but snort at how the only time serenity reigned around him was when she was knocked out. Taking her into his arms, he returned to her room and placed her in her bed, even going as far of doing her the favor of taking her sneakers off — tossing them over his shoulder — and throwing the comforter over her.
He stood over her slumbering form, contemplating how peaceful she looked. Watching her curl up under the bedding and cling to her pillow with a sleepy smile, Piccolo's conscious flashed to when she kissed him.
He grunted despite himself, shaking his head with a rare smirk as he left her bed-side and walked to the doorway.
Rumbling a wordless sigh, Piccolo stopped between the threshold. He looked back at her. She turned on her side and curled back up, sighing in her sleep.
"Hm…I guess I wouldn't mind doing that again, kid. Not that I'd ever admit it to you if you weren't unconscious," he remarked in a rugged tone, snickered, and stepped out.
THANKS FOR READING! PLEASE REVIEW
Hai Yeah
Oi Hey
Sake Japanese alcohol
Thankie time!
Piccylo: Thanx for the review! I put in the sake pun just cuz you brought it up, and it made sense to do so.
Merina: YESS! I'M A DIE-HARD X FAN! I just had to put in the references! Thank you for the reviews, and I hope this one is to your liking.
Anasazi Darkmoon: Kyouran is my little shoulder devil, so I'm so stoked that I've gotten such good feedback for her. Thanx for the loyal reviews! I hope you like this chapter too.
Kireii: (throws out a fishing line with a Mirai Trunks plushie attached to the hook and waits for the line to reel out) XD!
Princess Adriana: Thanx for reviewing! Wish you luck with your stuff.
The Ace of Authors: YO! So cool that you liked the chapter. And you can show your morbid side around me, as a matter of fact, there's a morbid minimum that many haven't met in their reviews! XD
Wandering Namek: (worships the masterful writer of "Blending In") I am so taken aback that I got a review from you! I've been getting the Mary Sue sticker stuck to my shirt a lot and the funny thing is, I'm wearing anti-adhesive clothes, XD. Anyway, thanx so much!
SexySayainSakura: Happy that my chars don't pass off life threatening diseases (gives the thumbs up). I can't believe that the feudal stuff I made up is actually somewhat accurate; guess I have to thank Inuyasha for that! Thanx for the continual reviews and support!
Siren44: Lets just say that Piccolo has the "plumbing", but he's missing the main faucet (winkwink) You'll just have to read on to see how I make it work! XD Thanx for the review!
Kyriel: I feel so faklempt when I read your review! Thanx so much! It's reviews like that that make me really want to say "fuck that! I'm gunna write!" I really hope you enjoyed the new chapter and review again!
Cyndi: (Glomps) I'm so happy you liked that line! Not many appreciate morbid shit like that; Thanx and I hope you liked this chapter!
Cutelittlekitten18: Thank you so much for the review; I know the update took a while, so I hope you like this chapter!
Elevendragon: (hides under bed as she types) That's awesomest threat I've ever received! I'm so glad you like the fic, and I hope you continue to!
If I left anyone out, flog me in the next review!
