(Author's Notes: Okay, here's part four! How's about a little peek into the mind of Piccolo? Let me know if I stayed in character or not, please? It's really important to me that I keep him in character. Thanks for reading!)
Different Hearts, Same Dream
Part Four
A Dragonball Z Fanfic by Hana Noir
Days went by and Piccolo and Kyrie settled into a routine. Each morning, he would arrive and they would spend several hours working on hand to hand techniques. Then, after a break for a quick meal, Piccolo would show Kyrie how to manipulate and control her ki. Neither of them mentioned any of their previous conversations, and no attempts were made to discuss anything other than martial arts.
"Say, Piccolo," Kyrie said, dodging a vicious left jab and trying to kick his knee. "I was wondering…" She did a backflip and avoided his roundhouse kick. Springing up, she caught him across the jaw with her foot.
Piccolo grunted; she had been getting stronger and that shot to the face had stung. "Wonder later," he growled, grabbing the front of her shirt and tossing her backward. Kyrie stumbled, trying to keep her balance as her larger opponent came barreling at her, fists ready. She dropped to the ground, letting him shoot over her head, but he was faster than she was. Piccolo grinned when he planted his foot in her unguarded side and sent her flying across the clearing. She crashed into some bushes and disappeared from sight. There was a thud, and then silence.
Landing in the center of the clearing, Piccolo crossed his arms and waited for her to come out after him. Several seconds passed by, and she hadn't reappeared. "Don't tell me you're giving up all ready," he called out, taunting her. There was no answer. A small frission of worry shivered down his spine and he thawed enough to call her again. "Kyrie??"
"Hey, Piccolo." He let out the breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding and moved toward the direction of her voice. "I… I need some help here," she said quickly. The Namekseijin peered into the shadows concealing the thick undergrowth and found his erstwhile student lying on her back in the center of a thick growth of what appeared to be wild rosebushes. The wide, thorny runners were wrapped around her arms and legs, even tangled in her hair.
"I can't get loose!" Kyrie exclaimed, trying not to move at all. "These damn things are like razors!" Piccolo fought a losing battle with a grin and moved in closer to help her get out. Ignoring the thorns, he untangled them slowly, mindful of the scratches already evident where her clothes had not protected her.
"Hold still," he said gruffly as he maneuvered a long piece away from her face.
"No, you think?" she asked sarcastically as the branches were untangled and discarded. After about ten minutes, she was free. Kyrie groaned as she struggled to her feet. "I feel like a pincushion," she complained. "I think my back is full of thorns." Back out in the clearing, she twisted around, trying to reach the thorns still in her skin. "And I don't think I can get them out."
Piccolo grimaced, looking at the mess of her back. There was a fair number of the vicious thorns stuck in there, and quite a few long scratches that were bleeding. He couldn't leave her like that. "Pull up your shirt," he ordered, moving around behind her. Kyrie blinked, but complied. The shirt was ripped and dirty, pretty much ruined, so she went ahead and pulled it off over her head, wincing when the motion pulled at the injuries on her back and arms. "This sucks…. I really liked that shirt."
"Quit griping," Piccolo muttered, selecting his first target. Kyrie yelped when he pulled out the thorn.
"I'll bet you're enjoying this," she accused. "Sadist." She gritted her teeth and endured each tug as he patiently extracted each and every thorn from her skin. When he reached her sides, she began to squirm. Each touch of his hand was sending shivers up and down her spine. Finally, the sensation built to the point where she couldn't take any more.
When Kyrie jerked away, collapsing into hysterical laughter, Piccolo was taken aback. Then he realized that he had been accidentally tickling her while he removed the thorns. A tiny grin pulled at the corners of his mouth and he actually chuckled. Kyrie looked up, tears still in her eyes. "Oh, it can laugh! Be still my foolish heart!!"
"I'll show you laughing," he growled, planting his foot on her denim clad behind and pinning her to the ground.
"Hey!!" She writhed in vain; Piccolo had the advantage in size and strength. She couldn't get away.
"Let this be a lesson to you," he said in a conversational tone as he quickly moved his foot and trapped her again with his knee, kneeling over her. "When grappling with an opponent that is both larger and stronger, never let yourself be pinned. And also," his grin grew wider and more demonic, showing the points of his fangs. "Never let the enemy know when they've hit a vulnerable point." So saying, he attacked her sides with his nimble fingers. Kyrie shrieked, unable to escape.
Piccolo was actually smiling; not smirking, not grinning sarcastically, but smiling. But for a moment, he had the oddest sensation of being outside himself, watching as he played with this strange girl. What was this odd feeling of duality he was experiencing??
You never would admit it, would you? came an echo of his own voice. When you met the other Namekseijin, when you saw how they really were, you wanted to know what that was like, didn't you? To be as caring and as open as they were. You saw how the elders treated the children, playing with them, teaching them, LOVING them. You've always wanted that, but you just couldn't admit it, even to yourself. The great Demon King Piccolo never needed anybody. Ever. It would have meant you were weak, soft. But if you learned anything, anything at all from Gokou and Gohan, it should have been that feelings don't make you weaker, they make you stronger! With a gasp, Piccolo surged to his feet, shaking his head in a vain effort to silence the mocking little voice that seemed to have taken up residence there. The sudden revelation had shaken him as nothing else ever had.
It had taken Kyrie a moment or two to catch her breath when Piccolo had stood so abruptly. He was backing away from her as though he had been burned. Still breathing a bit heavily, she looked up at him. The pallor of his face surprised her. It was like he'd seen a ghost or something. "Piccolo?" She managed to get to her feet and took a step toward him, hand held out. He actually flinched away from her. "What's wrong?"
His eyes were wide, almost childlike in confusion. "I – I don't know. I… have to figure this out alone." He leapt up and was gone before she could speak.
Left behind in the tall grass, Kyrie hugged herself tightly as a shiver rippled over her. "Oh, Piccolo. You've always been alone haven't you?" she whispered. She had sensed his sudden confusion and uncertainty and knew that there was nothing she could do to help.
Moron. Idiot. Fool. Jackass. I could continue with the list for hours, but what it all boiled down to was… I'm just plain stupid. Disgusted with himself, Piccolo scowled out at the mountainous terrain spreading out below him. What's wrong with me? I never used to have such thoughts. Maybe I just need to meditate… Actions followed thoughts and he settled down in a lotus position and tried to clear his mind.
******************
Hate. My first breath of life was contaminated with it. My dying parent had been consumed by it, ruled by it. Hate was all he knew. I had been given life by hatred and it shaped me. I cared for no-one and nothing. I had been created for revenge and revenge was all there was for me. Growing up had been hard and alone. Fortunately, I didn't have the needs of a Human child. I would have never survived. I learned quickly not to show myself to humans. I lived like a hunted animal, hiding from everyone and everything. And hating… Oh, how I had hated. I hated humanity for their treatment of me, I hated my father for giving me life and most of all I hated myself for not having the strength to find another path other than that of blind hatred and violence. Although honestly, I had no idea that there was another path for me. Not until Gokou…
I remember fighting him with an almost instinctive hatred. Not my hatred, after all, I personally had never suffered at his hand. The hatred of Gokou was just another of my father's unwelcome legacies. And when, at last, it was all over and my death loomed before me, I was grateful, GRATEFUL, that my wretched life was at an end. And then, Gokou did something that was totally incomprehensible to me…
He saved my life.
Never mind that it wasn't worth saving. Never mind that had the situation been reversed, I would have watched him die slowly and smiled the whole while. He showed that rare trait known as compassion and gave me a sensu bean. I cursed at him, threatened him and his with slow painful deaths and the idiot still spared my life!!
Gokou showed me the door. But it was his son, Gohan, that opened it for me. At first, I admit, I saw the child as a means to an end. A way to defeat the approaching Saiyajin and to strike a blow at my not quite so hated enemy Gokou. But the first time he turned those trusting eyes to me, fully secure in the belief that I would allow no harm to come to him, something changed inside me. For the first time in my entire existence, I placed the welfare of another being before my own. I never let on, of course. The only way that I could express my feelings was to take the blow meant for him. In that moment, I knew what it felt like to have someone care for me. My existence mattered to Gohan. And when I was gone, there was someone who remembered me with something other than hatred. Someone actually lo—l—
Oh, for Kami's sake, you idiot. You can't even admit it in the solitude of your own thoughts can you?? Love. There. It's not a hard word, you know. Love. L-O-V-E. Four little letters.
What the hell???
Hello, Piccolo, this is your subconscious speaking. I've been patiently waiting for you to acknowledge the truth, but it seems like you prefer to wallow in your own misery. Well, guess what? You're just as fallible as everyone else in the universe. Welcome to life among the living.
Great, even in my own mind, I'm a smartass. At least some things are consistent.
Ah, ah! Let's not get distracted from our topic. What is it about the idea of caring for another person has you so spooked? After all, you cared for Gohan and all was well. Wasn't it?
Gohan… Gohan needed me… But now he doesn't…
The other voice modulated, becoming softer, wiser, a bit more paternal. And it hurt, didn't it, when Gohan no longer needed you to be there for him?
The soft answer was an eternity in coming.
yes…
There was only honesty here. It was impossible to lie when your soul was laid bare and the inquisitor was your own subconscious.
Is that what you're afraid of now? That if you come to care for this girl, that there will come a time that she no longer needs you?
Yes… It felt as though a weight had lifted from his metaphysical shoulders. The burden was lighter for the speaking.
Much better. Now, keep going. You need to confront this issue.
When I came back to Chikyuu, after Frieza had destroyed Nameksei, I finally met others of my kind. And I discovered that all we had in common where physical characteristics. The others were so… so peaceful. There were warriors among their number, but they only fought when their villages where threatened. There was no love of combat for its own sake within them. That much I share with the Saiyajin. I enjoy the feel of combat, of pitting my skills against a worthy opponent in an all or nothing contest. It makes me feel truly alive! The only other thing that compares to the fire of combat is the warm satisfaction of watching a promising student develop under my tutelage. And… and that's different too.
Even among others of my own kind, I'm still… alone…
Did you ever think that Kyrie feels much the same as you do?
What??
Consider her situation. She was created as a living weapon. As were you. She is different from others of her own species. As are you. Is it too much to consider that she feels much the same as you sometimes?
I—I never thought about it like that.
No, you merely refused to see…
***********
Kyrie knew that Piccolo wouldn't be coming back any time soon. She shivered as a cool breeze blew over her bare torso. "I guess I should go in," she said, falling back in the old habit of talking to herself when alone. She left the field and entered her little capsule house, staring around blankly at the sparsely decorated room. An irritated grumble from her stomach reminded her that, whatever else, she did need to eat. She moved into the kitchen, opening and closing cabinet doors, making note of the fact that her food stores needed replenishing. An unopened package of Oreos in the last cabinet caught her eye and she carried the bag back into the living room. There was a large, cushy chair next to the window and she curled up in it, tucking her legs up under her.
Absently, she opened the bag and began to munch on the cookies. A tiny smile tugged at her lips as she remembered the first time she had eaten a cookie. She had gorged herself to the point where she had became sick. She had learned discretion since then. But she still had a sweet tooth that needed indulging from time to time. Cookies had not been on the menu in the Facility. Meals were nutritionally balance and generally filling. She ate whatever she was served, never dreaming that there was more to food than that. She shook her head, not wanting to remember…
"Eve." The child looked up at the sound of a voice on the other side of the door. Tears were running down her rounded cheeks and she sniffled softly. The door opened and a tall man with a grizzled beard stepped in. He stared down at the unhappy child, frowning.
"What's wrong with you?" he asked, disapproval dripping from his tone. "Get up and quit sniveling. You have lessons scheduled for this hour."
The child stood slowly, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. "Doctor, why don't I have a mother or a father?"
The man snorted. "What makes you ask such unimportant questions, Eve?" He moved out of the doorway, letting her enter the hallway.
"It's not unimportant!" she shouted, stomping one tiny foot impatiently. "I want to know!"
"Control yourself," he snapped, causing the child to flinch. "I won't ask again."
"I – I saw Doctor Morgan showing Ms. Sawaguchi some pictures of his children," she explained. "I started wondering about my parents. Do you know them?"
The doctor frowned. "I don't see why we are discussing this. It's of no importantance."
"It is to me!! I want to know!"
"Eve! Cease this at once! Do you want to spend an hour in the Box?" The child turned pale as a sheet and took a step back, shaking her head. "That's better. Now, go to the classroom. I'll be there shortly."
Kyrie moaned softly in her sleep, shaking slightly. The package of cookies fell unnoticed to the floor. I don't want to remember… But once begun, the memories would not be denied.
*************
(Next time: What was it like to grow up as an experiment? Kyrie takes a trip down Memory Lane, and it's not exactly full of Kodak moments.)
