XI

Piccolo opened his eyes slowly. His aura was dying down, and the howling of the wind stopped as his power decreased sharply. He felt the darkness in his heart recede slightly, just enough for him to notice. The stares of the others didn't penetrate his stony exterior. The war he raged was coming to a close, at least now it was finally near a resolution. The pain he felt in his body, the uncertainties in his thoughts, and his unsteady actions would finally vanish. With each new fusion he felt a new way of thinking become integrated into his being, a new sense of purpose added to his own. But with Daimao it was different; he'd had to fight against this one. If he gave in to its desires and wants he'd change completely. Nail had given him courage and a sense of honor; Kami had added to him wisdom beyond his years. But when Diamao fused with him, it was as if he'd taken a step back thousands of years. His thoughts were sporadic and illogical, almost mindless.

Piccolo's thoughts ceased as his mind went completely blank, and he fell into unconsciousness.

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The next few months were a flurry. Gohan was put under scrutiny for tricking Goz and Mez into letting three of the more powerful souls in Hell loose. He was put under suspension, although no other sentence was handed on. Goku had a sneaking suspicion that the Supreme Kai had stepped in at some point and set the Grand Kai straight, but decided not to voice it too loudly. Tomatto, Selary, and Zanji had all been exiled back into Hell, and their souls stripped from their bodies. It hadn't been too hard to convince Tomatto to back down once Piccolo had passed out; Goku was the one who would have dealt with him if he'd tried to run. The landscape of Hell had been slightly tarnished, but was being feverishly worked on by King Kai and East Kai's warriors. Apparently they'd made a small wager on whom could get their section rebuilt first. Goku wasn't completely clear on what the bet entailed, only that it involved the loser shouting loud obscenities and insults at Vegeta.

Piccolo had been doing well. He seemed to have buried whatever ghosts haunted him when Diamao joined his body. The Namekian could be seen regularly on patrols, and he no longer was obsessed with a quiet, brooding urge to maim his co-workers. Instead, he was just quiet and brooding. With no urges.

Over the months, Vegeta challenged Piccolo to another intense spar. It lasted for nearly fourteen hours, but finally held Vegeta as the champion. Amid the boasts of power that Vegeta was prone to voice after his victory, he also had a sentiment to offer.

"It took me years to get over a single obsession to become stronger than Kakkorot. You overcame the hate, greed, anger and pain that culminated over the course of centuries. I may be able to out-fight you… But you truly are the stronger man." At that, Piccolo managed the first smile in a long time to crease his lips. He nodded to his one-time enemy, and long time ally. Neither of them had held anything but a mutual respect before that day. And perhaps they didn't have anything afterwards. But Piccolo had glimpsed the man beneath the stony exterior. Vegeta was a man of honor and pride. Vegeta was also a man of understanding.

"Vegeta, you're truly a man of honor."

"And you, Piccolo, are truly a man of great power. You've used it well, and I hope you always do. My…" Vegeta fixed his gaze on Piccolo's eyes. The Namekian met that gaze, returning it. This was a moment that held great importance, something that obviously meant a lot to Vegeta. What was uttered next was something that weighed greatly on Piccolo's mind for many weeks to come. "…friend."