Hi guys! Its definitely been a while since I updated. I've been working and trying to fight off some horrendous writers block. I get stuck when I realised that the ending I originally had for this just wasn't going to work. This may actually be one of the biggest chapters I've done so far.
So here we go again anyway. very rom-commy. very ridiculous. very full of 18 and Krillin being dorks.

Chapter 14
also entitled: Any way the wind blows

Don't wish it away
Don't look at it like it's forever
Between you and me, I could honestly say
That things can only get better

And while I'm away
Dust out the demons inside
And it won't be long before you and me run
To the place in our hearts where we hide

And I guess that's why they call it the blues
Time on my hands could be time spent with you
Laughing like children, living like lovers
Rolling like thunder under the covers
And I guess that's why they call it the blues - Elton John

If she squinted, 18 found that the glass ceiling of the Capulse Corp bio-dome melted away and she could pretend she really was lying on some green hillside somewhere; under a sky so blue and cloudless it was as if it had been painted. Even the light warm breeze on her face, mussing up her hair and filling her nose with pollen was glorious. If, albeit, entirely man made. The Bio-dome was lovely to look at, and it was full to the brim of natural life and greenery – but it had been altered and meddled with to the point it wasn't quite right. It was an uncanny illusion – under the roots of the cherry trees and oaks were copper wires and insulation tubes. Most of which were now being controlled by a particularly happy (as far as the monotone voice and the fact he was a small computer screen on a robotic arm could display happiness) Android 16.

As the cyborg tried not to dwell on the philosophical implications of the grass she was lying on, her mind wandered to other things she's been trying to avoid thinking about. That thing Ché had brought up in the therapy session, mostly, with the frequent disturbance of a certain short, ridiculous persons popping up to blurt out charming or inane non-sequiters, or to smile or laugh or just stand there in an ugly luminous shirt just being him goddammit.

17 had not a care in the world by the looks of things; he lay dosing in the grass next to her with arms behind his head. All he needed was a tilted Stetson and a blade of hay sticking out of his mouth. His sister blinked and suddenly she was looking at a dark-haired boy, bowl cut and a chubby little belly showing where his shirt rode up; rising and falling as he slumbered.
She blinked again and he boy was gone, her guile brother in his spot.
The small boy, smiling in his sleep despite the yellowing bruises on his arms, was a ghost. This sneaky and sharp-tongued rouge was the now, the present – there was no future in the ghosts of the past. Her brother was C17. And she was C18. Not particularly human anymore. But that was okay.

Ché swiped his security card and entered the Capusle Corp Gardens; clutching his case-files and his packed lunch he wandered in search of a shady spot under one of the trees. When he was eventually nestled against a particularly comfy birch out came the papers and the pork bun. As he ate, Ché leafed through case-notes for his patients. Deftly ignoring the one he'd drawn little love hearts on.
A few capsule corp employees – one with a bit of a worrying obsession with Hercule Satan (posters, costumes...a cardboard cutout), one who'd hidden under a car when Cell had attacked his village and still heard the noises, two with depression, and then of course, the Androids.
Some progress there, he thought with a smile, they were more talkative now than they were at the beginning of their sessions. Less expressionless (or maybe he'd just come to recognise the small differences in happy android or bored or grumpy android), and the mood swings? 17 was controlling his much better now, although Ché knew that if he pressed a certain trigger (like asking him about what he could remember about his past) then the other man would most certainly snap at him, become a closed book again and a vase or photoframe would shatter. His sister was more open to these questions, her emotions less vitriolic than her brothers though in a state of flux just the same. 18 was more prone to melancholy than her brother, he more blasé about his state of being. Blasé about most things really.

As he rifled, a loose bit of paper fell from the folder.
"Wow my handwriting is awful – Na.. Ma.. Majon?" He squinted down at the hastily scribbled words: pregnant, anxious, control freak, overly impulsive- oh? Oh! Of course, that odd Demon woman he'd agreed to help with. Maybe he should call and ask her how things were going? The number on the page seemed to be the universe hinting that yes, yes he should – but later – it was almost time to get back to the office.

There was a raucous, and familiar, laugh off to the left and paper was hastily stuffed into his jacket pocket as his heart leapt into his mouth.
"Fernan—ach crap he's got me saying it now. Fernando. Why couldn't he have chosen something shorter. Less Lady Gaga."
The psychiatrist followed the noise, and found the perpetrators sprawled out on a slightly too perfect grass bank on the other side of the garden's koi pond. The remains of his lunch lay forgotten as he observed them for a moment or two; completely at ease as they laughed at something – mechanical? It looked like a camera on a robotic arm. Anyway. Whatever they were talking about made lines appear in 17's face that he'd never seen (there was never a wrinkle round the eye or a crease in his brow.) and when he looked at 18, the word 'sunflower' popped into his head.

"Yup," said Che, perfect tanned skin starting to blush as the butterflies appeared in his stomach (bang on schedule), "you've got it bad, Dr Castana. You got it bad."
And with that, he ran his hand through his hair, took a deep breath and with a wave, went over to say hello.

He did not stay long, only a few minutes. But it was long enough to be matter-of-factly introduced to the robot consciousness that was running the Gardens, for 17 to thieve his glasses and try them on (like he did at every session. Every. Damn. Time) and for Che to bring up a subject and question that 18 had been desperately trying to avoid.
"So guys, how's it going at the place your staying? Krillin's isn't it? Do you think you'll be staying there much longer?"

She failed in supressing a wince and a disturbingly intrusive thought. No… I'll have no reason to-
Whoa there missy. Don't even think about finishing that thought.
Her train of thought was interrupted by 17 coughing and dully announcing that they didn't know. Or really just didn't care. And why, was he offering?

At that Che made an odd sort of squeaking noise and a brilliant shade of scarlet.
"Oh well", said the cyborg, still lounging on the grass, "it was worth a shot."

"He is pleasing to look at." 16's camera followed Che as he sped back towards the main Capsule Corp building; lunchbreak having ended 4 minutes ago.
"Oh you think?" said 18, cocking up an eyebrow.
"His face is very symmetrical. However I do not think he could survive the winter with that body fat ratio."

17 just let out an amused snort and rolled down the grass hill they were on, stopping with a soft thud at the bottom where he promptly went back to dosing.
"18." Came the electronic voice beside her as she rearranged her necklace. "The beautiful man said that you had taken up residence with Krillin. Am I correct?"
She froze and looked down at the camera screen with narrowed eyes. "That is correct, 16."
"My files link that name with Tangseng Krillin, Turtle School disciple, previously Orin Temple, medically improbable lack of nose."
"Yes that is also correct 16, why-"
"18, is that also the person who refused to shut you down and tried to protect you from Cell?"
She turned to face the machine fully now, still tugging on her string of pearls, now with a much softer expression. "3 for 3."
"Good."
"Good?" she laughed, tipping her head to the side like a Golden Retriever.
"I liked him. He was afraid of us. But that did not stop him trying to help."
18 stopped playing with the beads, but gave the mounted camera now moving closer on its robotic arm, her full attention. So 16 continued. "Krillin saw you were a person. That is why he did not press the off-button. People do not have buttons."
She shook her head, yellow hair flashing in the sunlight, "but that's the thing, 16, I did have an off-button."
"You did not to him."

She eyed the camera screen doubtfully, thin-lipped and more than a little self-conscious over the direction of the conversation.
"Did I say something wrong, 18?" said 16, lens zooming in on her face. She simply shook her head and tucked a loose strand of gold behind her ear with one hand and pushing 16's camera out of her face with the other.
"No, you didn't," said the cyborg, pulling herself up onto her knees, "and thank you."
17 appeared next to his sister and pulled her up to stand.

"Okay 16 we've spent like 47 years here now- we gotta go."
"You will return." The little light on the screen flashed.
"Is that an order?" 17 asked with a laugh.
"….yes."

It was Thursday. Not a particularly special Thursday, really, but a Thursday worth noting. Krillin had noticed it. Unfortunately.
He'd gone to put 17 and 18's dinner in the fridge, ready for their return from Capsule Corp (he, Roshi and Oolong having eaten earlier), when he knocked a calendar that was pinned with magnets on the fridge door. With a small huff of exasperation, the ex-monk picked it up and spotted that this particular Thursday was two Thursdays away from a date circled in bright red marker, with only the word 'Majon'.
"Well… crap."

He kind of stood there for a moment nodding slowly before opening the fridge again, carefully removing the contents of the bottom half and, with an impassive "yup" climbed inside and shut the door behind him.

This is where Oolong found him about 30 seconds later when he tripped over a yoghurt carton on the kitchen floor and decided to investigate.
There was an awkward moment as the pig studied the small chilly man sat in the bottom of a refrigerator.
"Explanation?"
"I'm moving to the Demon Realm in two weeks if I can't think of a way out of it."
"Oh okay," shrugged the shape-shifter, and shut the door again.

"Will he die in there?" asked Roshi, as he and Oolong sat at the kitchen table, watching the now inhabited fridge. The pig shrugged, "I didn't close it all the way. So if he goes its hypothermia as opposed to suffocation."
"I can hear you both you know." Came a muffled, indignant reply. Roshi got up and knocked on the door, "you okay in there boy?"
A sad little groan came from inside the machine and Master Roshi backed up, anxiously looking between the appliance and Oolong. "He's been in that fridge nearly 10 minutes and hasn't made one Ghostbusters reference yet; he is really freaking out isn't he?"

There was a loaded silence. The fridge opened slowly and Krillin poked his head out, "Oh god… you're right. Not one 'there is only Zool'…I … I can't live like this – I'm sitting on brie, guys, brie!"

"No. NO!" The fridge door flew open with a loud BANG and an angry ex-monk crawled out. "I. have. Died. TWICE," he growled, "I have been to space! I have held Vegeta at swordpoint - I cannot go down like this!"
Roshi moved the yoghurt carton out of the way before his ex-student stepped on it. Krillin stood up and took a deep breath, hands on his hips and stared off into the distance that was the kitchen sink. "I can do this guys, I can. I will do it. Seize the day! Carpe Diem. Seize the carp!"
Yes, he thought, the carp will be seized – he'd caught the carp and was in the process of reeling it in. What did it matter that there was some old curse involved with the Demon Promise? I can survive it. Probably. Majon could survive it, I'm sure… It can't be that bad even if she's… um…
The carp that he had seized was wriggling now, trying to free itself from his grasp. He was losing momentum on this train of thought. He couldn't risk breaking a Demon Promise, not with the baby involved.
"No, I can definitely do this!" he said out loud, "I can find a way to avoid going with her to the demon realm. I mean it can't be as bad as that time I was impaled." He regained his grip on the carp.

Buzz Buzz.
Krillin's back pocket sprang to life as he received a text. Still majestic, still a bit chilly, he pulled out his mobile phone and checked it. It was a picture message – a photograph of a tiny baby-gro with 'cute or what?! Xx Majon' written beneath it.

The carp had wrested free from his hands and promptly dove back into the River of Not Today Loser with a splash. He blinked, popped the mobile into his jeans and tried to crawl back into the cold dark embrace of the fridge's bottom shelf. Roshi and Oolong had spring up from where they were sat to physically drag him in the opposite direction.
Yup, it was a shitty Thursday.

The notebook in Master Roshi's gnarled old hands was open, and the Turtle Hermit had roughly drawn a spider diagram entitled 'cunning plan'. The issue was that this particular spider only had two legs, 'propose to her' and 'seppukku'. He was making slow progress to be honest.
His sunglasses were perched up on his wrinkled forehead as he sat on the deckchair outside of Kame House, lost in thought.
"We need a plan."
"Superb thinking Batman." Oolong shrugged and took a long draught from a juice-carton.
"Hush Pig, I mean it – I have to do something. This is my fault, I never thought it would get this out of hand." Croaked the Hermit.
"To be fair," the pig replied, " it was mostly out of hand when you bet Krillin in a poker ga-YOWCH!"

The old man's response was to simple smack the shapeshifter round the head. The notebook and pen were promptly snatched from his hands and Oolong brandished them dramatically.
"So then let's review – he can call it off and neither can she due to the whole deal being a Demon Promise."
"Resulting in a curse, some sort of magical death and eternity in limbo" Roshi nodded along, familiar with the exposition now.
Oolong flailed the paper around some more, "Right, and that attempt he and Yamcha made to try and set her up with someone else?"
"No progress."
"And now there's something else too isn't there? Krillin's upset over something else -Huh?!"

18 and her brother landed with soft thumps on the wet sand next to them, acknowledging their unlikely housemates before wandering into the house.

The shape-shifting pig sat down on the deckchair next to the old Master and scratched his snout.
"Do you ever get the feeling we're forgetting something terribly important?"

The house was weirdly quiet, 18 noticed as she climbed the stairs in Kame House. The TV was off, as was the kitchen radio. But it was when she headed up to her room, the spare one, that she noticed it most. Her room was next to Krillin's and all day, every day; he would have music playing in there. Most of the time it was turned down low, so as not to disturb anyone – but if he was in a particularly good mood, like when he was eating truffles, or had seen his friends, or those times she baked and he 'coached' her – then the music would come blazing through the thin wooden door.
Rock music, heavy or glam or soulful. Crooning, swinging blues. And the out of date rap where no-one cursed and every record case was bright colours and the kitschy pop music from a decade ago. Oh god the pop music. And he knew every word.
The happier the Krillin, the louder the music.
The house was silent.
She knocked quietly on his door before she knew what she was doing or why.

Her hello was a quiet as the house was, and he didn't notice it, but simply kept on throwing clothes and belongings onto his bed.
Oh boy, she thought, watching him. She'd seen him this anxious before. On a road in the middle of nowhere; his comrades unconscious around him. Because she'd been there. She'd been the one to make him this nervous.
Krillin's head jerked up like a rabbit in a field at the sound of a small cough and his bedroom door shutting. 18 stood there, impassive, but watching him – taking in his little scene.
"what are you doing?", she asked, even though she was starting to figure it out.
"Uhhhmmmm," his voice came out a little higher pitched than usual, "well I figured I'd better start organising my stuff; figure out what I'm taking with me when.. I ..um…become a pet boyfriend."
The end of his sentence was lost in a squeak an octave and a half above where it should be.
Ah. A swell of rage (was it anger? She could place those feelings now, name them) bubbled up in her chest, then burst as quickly as it formed at the lost look on his face.
"18 what am I gonna do?" he implored, arms and head heavy, "I have two more Thursday's left and I can't think of a damn thing!"
18 opened her mouth and closed it again a couple of times, like a fish. Unable to give him an answer. He turned away from her and towards his re-attached noticeboard, still full and overflowing with his past and life and loves.
As she moved closer he spoke again, his shoulders starting to rise and fall in rapid succession. "18…this is – this – is –what I'm- s-s-supposed- to-be-good at!" his breath came shuddering and too quickly. He'd hit a wall. "I-I-I-I think my way- out-of t-things!"
Uh uh. Nope. NO. The anger was back, and real and directed almost entirely at this whole goddamn mess (and an oh so small part was directed at the voice at the back of her head asking: did he stutter and quake for you on that road – as he tried to decide between your embrace or a painful end?) – there is no way she was letting this progress any further. Enough.

She was in front of him, hands firmly, softly clutching his shoulders. She was leant in so close.
"You're not going to hyperventilate yourself out of this, so breathe in slooowwwwlllyyy."
With that she inhaled through her nose, nodding at him to copy.
"Are – you- kidd-dding me?" he stammered, gesturing wildly to his face.
"Oh god sorry!" the blonde woman pushed her hair back from her face in a panicky frantic gesture that would have made him smile at any other time. But she tried again.
"C'mon, Breathe in huuuuuuuuuuup, and breath out houuuuuuuuuuuu." He copied. Again, she demanded. Again. Breathe innnnnn, and outtttttt. Again.
"Breathe in huuuuuuuuuuup, and breath out houuuuuuuuuuuu."It's not working. He's not relaxing.
"I'm - breathing I'm breathing!"
"I need you to concentrate, now c'mon…," a flash of inspiration hit her brain. Like Lightening. Frazzling her circuits as she looked over his shoulder and say his records thrown haphazardly over his bed. "Breathe innnnn…. And outttttt and iiiis this the real life? Or is this just fantasy?..."
"18 what are you-"
"Caught in a land slide, no escape from reality." Her voice wavered. This was not a talent of hers.
"Bohemian Rhapsody, you're singing Bohemian Rhapsody."
"Yes and you are too, c'mon – open your eyes" she paused, and waited.
"Look up to the skies" came the reply.
"and seeeee" they sang in unison. Sang may be too kind a word to use to describe the what was coming out of their mouths.
"Look," said Krillin, "if you're going to sing this then vary the dynamics a bit, your weird monotone voice makes it sounds threatening."
She made a fist and pulled it through the air in front of her – "I'M JUST A POOR BOY, I NEED NO SYMPATHY."

17 was flicking through a questionable magazine when he had to stop and listen. He thought for a moment that someone was being brutally murdered, but then recognised the words and realised that a classic rock song was the thing that was indeed being assassinated.

Oolong and Roshi were sat casting furtive glances at the window of Krillin's bedroom and back at each other as they listened to the painful painful singing, awash with second-hand embarrassment.

"Mamma mia, Mamma mia, Mamma mia let me go!"
He had his hand in hers and she spun him, arms outstretched as if they were waltzing as they sang.
This was no big number in a musical, not a jukebox scene in a romantic comedy – there was no choreography, no perfect pitch to the duet (or pitch at all really). It was, in the end, only two awkward idiots twirling about Krillin's room, singing in enthusiastic and mismatched acappella.
Krillin laughed out loud and spun her back into him – they were face to face again, flushed and almost out of breath.
"Nothing really matters.."
"Anyone can see."
"Nothing really matters… to... me."

She smiled at him; dazzling, like sunshine on snow when she saw he breathless for a totally different reason. "People don't have off buttons."
"Huh?" he hadn't caught what she said, mumbled and hushed as it was.
18 recoiled and moved out of his arms (she had been in a dance hold –when had that happened?), "I mean… I said, you seem to have calmed down."
"I'm a little less petrified now." He smiled, looking at the floor, looking anywhere but her face, mottled pink and perfect.
18 leant and bumped his forehead with hers, "Goonies never say die."
Well.
Yup, he thought dumbly, as he watched her walk over to his bed and start picking up some of his albums that had fallen on the floor, I love her.

Roshi woke up suddenly, the notebook covering his face in the sun. Looking at the spider diagram – he could see that before he fell asleep, a third leg had been added to the spider.

Roshi had an idea.

He is important to me.
18 sat on the roof of Kame House, fiddling with a playing card.
Jack of Hearts. How ironic.
How to I keep him here?
How do I make sure he stay's here?
How do I make sure he stay's here with me?
She looked at the card. Then at the horizon. Then at the card again.
18 had an idea. 18 had a wonderful, awful idea.

*****
Krillin nearly dropped the plate he was drying. He was back at the Son's, helping out again.
"God damn." He muttered to himself. Chichi paused in her washing and gave him a quizzical look.
"You sound like you've just solved world hunger."
"I know how to get out of the Promise with Majon."
"Oh that." Said Chichi, "I thought you'd decided how to tell 18 – " she stopped when she noticed the look and frantic "NO" mime Gohan was giving her, "-that you-left her Beyoncé album in our car."
"Yeah that- wait what?" Krillin thought for a moment, "I don't think she has one of those."
Chichi shrugged at Gohan "Then who does that even belong to?"

Gohan bounded up to Krillin's side and took the half dry plate from his hands.

"What's your plan?"
"It's a very cunning plan."

At that very moment, Kame House was coming alive with brainwaves. What happened next can only be described as an idea eclipse. A cosmic moment where three cunning plans fell into perfect alignment. Each more stupid than the last.

17 blinked owlishly at his sister, who had apparently decided today was the day she'd finally lose the last remaining dregs of her sanity. "y-you're not serious?"
His twin remained fixated on the Queen of Clubs, unblinking.
She was serious. He picked up the remaining pack of cards and flicked at the edges, "Have you ever even played poker?"
Letting out a low groan, 18 finally blinked and then pressed the card to her forehead – as if giving it direct contact with her skin would magically make her a Poker champion. She mentally listed games she actually knew how to play; blackjack, ace of hearts pick up five..cluedo… monopoly. Mariokart. Quidditch.
"You know you're talking out loud." Drawled her brother.
"Shhh, I need something I have a chance of winning."
"You can't win him back if you can't play anything, 18. I mean, lets really think about this. In order to save Krillin from being abducted by a brightly coloured person you are going to challenge said person to some sort of game in order to prevent Krillin from being taken?"
"I know, this plan is stupid" she grumbled, rubbing her temples vigorously.
"I'm pretty sure this plan is the plot of Space Jam."

18 made a motion to smack him round the head, and he flinched.
"Can you be serious?" she growled, 17 made an ehh noise and wiggled his hand,"do you have any suggestions then?"
"Beer Pong? Table Tennis? No no wait hear me out – a basketball game!" he almost sounded triumphant.
"A basketball game?"
"Yes and all you need to do is kidnap Michael Jordan and get him to play on your rag-tag team of misfits to a dated yet awesome 90's soundtrack-no hitting!" he yelped as ducked to the other side of her, missing a left hook.
18 prodded her nose with the card in her hand and mumbled aloud "I need to ponder my talents."
"Um then maybe don't bake – OW!"17 rubbed the back of his head where she'd struck him. There was a moment of dawning realisation. They both looked at each other. Then at her still clenched fist. Then at each other again. Ah, but of course. This is a shounen manga after all.
"Why would we even try and solve our problems with words when we could just punch them in the throat."

18 threw the Queen of Clubs card over her shoulder; she could solve this the way her brain was programmed to solve things. By beating the shit out of it.
Okay adjusted plan, thought the blonde, I find Majon, challenge her to a fight with Krillin as the prize. I beat her like I beat the supersaiyan out of Vegeta and BAM, Krillin is my pet boyfr- saved.
"This cannot possibly go wrong."

"Well this has gone terribly wrong."
Oolong and Master Roshi sat once again at Baba's Poker Table, full of creatures of the night, monsters, chubby samurai and Akkuman, but, unfortunately for the two residents of Kame House – no Majon. It was one full day after the Turtle Hermit had been struck with the idea to win Krillin back the way he lost him.
Roshi waved his hand of cards accusingly at his sister, who appeared rather satisfied with herself.
"You said she'd be here you old crone!"
Baba remained silent as she inspected her cards. Akkuman glanced worriedly between the two.

"What's so important about my sister being here?"
Oolong snorted and pushed a couple of chips forward, "we need to win back something we lost from her last time."
The blue demon tossed a couple of cards onto the table with an exasperated sigh, "I forgot about that, what with new development – how'd he take it?"
The pig shrugged. "Pretty badly – he isn't keen on being some random demon woman's pet boyfriend."
Akkuman winced, "She means well, she's just too impulsive. That'll have to change."
Baba let out a low laugh and picked up a new card.

"Anyway," the demon continued, "you said the guy was single and lonely anyway… and I'm pretty sure you mentioned that he died once, so this can't really be the worst thing to happen to him, right?"
Roshi raised the bet for a final time and laid down his hand. Two Kings and an 8. Light flashed across his sunglasses. "He was but things have changed now, the boy's in love with someone else." He croaked.

Majon's brother went quiet, before putting down his own cards with a thoughtful look on his sharp features. The witch threw down her hand triumphantly. Oh yes, she'd won this round.

It was a couple of hours later, after Roshi and Oolong had left to rethink their strategy, and all other participants of the game had returned from whence they came; that the door swung open with such a crash is nearly came off its hinges.
In stormed Majon, baggy t-shirt and hair thrown back into a messy ponytail followed by a rather worried and remorseful looking Akkuman. "I'm sorry Baba I tried to tell her you couldn't do anything."

The old fortune-teller ignored him and floated over on her crystal ball until she was eye to eye with Majon. A rather agitated Majon.
"I'm not here to tell you a sob story," the demoness said in a manner almost too calm for her appearance, "I'm here because of that."
She nodded at the crystal orb the old woman sat on. The one she could use to scry the future, revive the past – and watch the present.
Majon didn't take her eyes off it as she patted her belly, "I'm so close to this working out."

Akkuman said nothing, but watched her patiently. His sister moved her bottom jaw so it clicked, revealing sharp white teeth.
"I think I know who she is – I can't let her mess this up. I will not let her ruin this for us…" she trailed off. Yellow almond shaped eyes met Baba's dark wrinkled ones.
"Show me who she is, and where she is. If you please."

Hope you liked this chapter. For someone who is trying to write a romantic comedy I really struggle when it comes to writing the romantic bits. I like to ruin the moments with jokes. Jokes and movie references.

Aaaaaand we're heading to the final act. Only a couple more chapters to go at the most. As always, any comments, theories, reviews, constructive criticism and feedback is extremely appreciated. I'm also on AO3 and tumblr as Gremlinloquacious.

Until next time comrades!