Tainted Soul
By Cremrock
Chapter 6
On a rocky bluff, high above the desolate valley where the battle would take place, a lone figure stood, his cape swirling behind him. The grim, dark visage of his face seemed parallel only to the darkness of the gathering storm clouds overhead, as if the elements themselves knew his plan was unnatural, and were voicing their disapproval.
Piccolo waited, his arms folded across his chest, eyes locked on four tiny dots on the distant horizon, slowly drifting towards him. He scowled at the note of how slow they were going, knowing for certain that they were most likely discussing how they would deal with him.
"Their desire to save their friend is foolish, don't you agree?" Piccolo uttered, a statement directed at no one but the dust below him and the wind around him. He smiled lightly, as if receiving a response, and then nodded his agreement. "Oh, you're right, I suppose. Were I in your shoes, perhaps I would do the same, but I'm not, I'm in my son's shoes. It doesn't matter. Much like you, I have learned patience. Diamaou, the king of demons, could do no less. I merely quiver with anticipation, because when I slaughter them, then everything will come to pass as I have planned, and my revenge will be complete." He paused, cocked his head slightly, and chuckled. "You disapprove? I wouldn't, I do believe I'm being rather lenient in giving you your chance to live again as well. You've helped me, but now? You have no choice in this matter. No one does, except me. I am your Lord and master, and if you oppose me, I'll destroy you, just as I'll destroy everyone else. I can do, no less." And with that statement, he laughed harshly, the cackling echoing all around him. The wind, and the dust, of course, remained silent, and Piccolo ceased talking, and continued to wait.
It would not be much longer, he mused.
---
Actually, how they were going to deal with Piccolo wasn't the topic of discussion, yet. No, for the moment, that wasn't even second on Kuririn's mind. He had taken charge of the situation with Yamucha's and Tenshinhan's approval, and the monk had already stated that they were going to fly as slow as it would take to get everything they needed to discuss immediately done. "We need Gohan fighting with a clear mind and heart if we're going to have any chance of subduing Piccolo… I'd better talk to him first."
The three of them eased up a bit and fell back towards Gohan; It would spare their vocal cords a lot of wear and tear if they didn't have to yell to each other, and Kuririn knew that Nameksei-jin had auditory abilities well above that of humans and Saiya-jin… They would have to be careful that he couldn't hear what they were talking about, for that might give him an advantage.
The child had stopped crying. His face was now frozen in the heart- wrenching expression that one would have immediately after or when trying very hard not to cry beforehand, the look was more saddening and more evident of the emotional upheaval the events were having on Gohan. Even more so than if the child was actually crying at the moment, Kuririn mused.
Kuririn was smart enough to know not to ask the incredibly ignorant question of "Are you all right?", it was plainly obvious he was not. Unfortunately, he was still trying to form exactly what he was going to say to console the child in his mind, when Yamucha beat him to the punch by speaking first in his normal, upbeat way.
"Hey Gohan, are you all right?" Yamucha asked, even as Kuririn mentally chided his friend.
Gohan's response was to merely look at him with that pain-filled face, lip trembling slightly, before moving his head up and down in such a slight notion that it could scarcely be a nod, although it was intended to be.
"Poor Gohan… even in the state he's in now, he's still conscious of being polite and responding to an adult's question… He's a better man then I am, sometimes." Kuririn thought. Nonetheless, despite his conversational shortcomings, Yamucha exuded confidence, and Kuririn wouldn't interrupt him, perhaps the man's way of speaking could help Gohan feel better. And, despite his lack of knowledge about what was going on, Yamucha did know the reason for Gohan's sadness, or at least, could guess it as well as Kuririn had.
"Gohan, do you want to talk about it?" Yamucha asked gently. Kuririn sighed inwardly, hoping that Yamucha did indeed know what it was… Kuririn knew, of course. What else could it be, except finding out your beloved master had been possessed, might have to die, and might have to be fought, hopefully not killed, by his own hands.
Gohan shook his head, and Kuririn glanced away for a moment to check on their position even as Yamucha sighed softly and continued flying in silence; Piccolo was about twenty minutes away at their current speed, he wouldn't have to adjust anything yet.
Tenshinhan flew close to Yamucha and whispered something in the man's ear before beckoning Kuririn to come back beside him; A moment later, Yamucha flew to where Kuririn had been a moment later, and watched Piccolo intently as they continued their slow approach.
"What did you say to him?" Kuririn whispered to the larger man, glancing into his eyes... Well, two of them, at any rate.
Tenshinhan smiled faintly, happy to divulge his information, but obviously knowing how serious the situations were, both the upcoming battle and Gohan's emotional state at the moment. "I just told him to keep an eye on Piccolo, and let you and I handle Gohan… Yamucha's confidence isn't quite what Gohan needs right now; he needs information… How to deal with what he's feeling… I can guess what he's going through."
"How would you know how he could deal with it, Ten?" Kuririn asked, curiously.
Tenshinhan glanced away. "As you'll recall several years ago, I did leave my master when Kamesennin (The Turtle Master, A.K.A. Muten Roshi) convinced me to stop learning the arts of assassination and follow my own path. I can understand, at least on a smaller scope than he, the turmoil one must go through at the prospect of having to fight their own master, even though I didn't actually engage him in combat." Tenshinhan's voice trailed off, as he glanced back at Gohan. "Before I talk with him, what's going on? Is that really Piccolo?"
Kuririn shook his head and glanced at him grimly. "He's got Piccolo's body, but he's not Piccolo… it's worse. Popo was cryptic when he explained it, but in short, Piccolo's been possessed by a soul from the afterlife. Kami tried to stop it but failed, so now he's not going to be able to help us… And it gets worse, but it might be our only option. If Piccolo can't be stopped, Kami has instructed Popo to kill him. Popo-san won't do it, I know how he acts… if we fail, and you have to promise me you'll do it if I die…" Kuririn glanced back at Gohan before continuing, and Tenshinhan knew what he meant. The decision was his, Gohan or no Gohan, however devastating that might be. "No matter what. I don't mean to sound harsh, but Piccolo's got enough power to devastate the world, and unless Son were to show up, no one'd be left to oppose him…"
Tenshinhan nodded, but a faint look of confusion was on his face. "Hold on a second, Kuririn. How is it that Piccolo is so powerful if he's not in control of his own body? I mean, whoever is in control would have to be in harmony with his body still… and that means it would have to be Kami, right?"
Kuririn glanced down at the surface, and frowned. "No, Tenshinhan. There's only one other soul that would be able to be in harmony with his with Piccolo's body. I don't know what he was like… but I know what he's capable of ordering his servants to do…" Kuririn broke off, shuddering.
Tenshinhan felt a chill pass through him. "You can't be serious?" He asked pointedly, eyes narrowed.
Kuririn nodded. "Yes, it's him… And I don't know what we are going to do. If you have the chance to kill him… Well, you'd better take it, understand? I'd prefer that we can capture him and find a way that the Piccolo we know doesn't have to die, but… The stakes are too high. Understand?"
Tenshinhan nodded. He had seen the evil that Piccolo's father was capable of firsthand, indeed, had been willing to sacrifice his own life to stop it. If he had to, he would end Piccolo's life to spare the world the torment that it would undoubtedly receive at the hands of his father.
"You'd better go fill Yamucha in on this, Kuririn. I'll go talk to Gohan." With that, he slipped backwards until the child was nearly alongside him.
Gohan continued to fly in silence, and failed to acknowledge Tenshinhan's approach, as he was still caught up in his own emotions and really wasn't paying much attention, his face a mask of sorrow.
"It's a little lonely back here, wouldn't you say, Gohan? I don't even need to use all three of my eyes to see that." Tenshinhan quipped. Gohan glanced at him, but remained silent. Of course, Tenshinhan hadn't really expected him to say anything, but at least the boy hadn't indicated that he wanted to be left alone. Very well, he would try sympathy first. "I know that you're worried about Piccolo, Gohan."
Gohan didn't seem to move, but a moment later, he spoke his first words in an hour, voice soft. "Yes. I am."
Tenshinhan continued. "But there's something else that's bothering you, right? Why don't you talk to me about it? I'm older than Kuririn and the others… I might be able to help you… deal with it."
Gohan swiveled his head to look at Tenshinhan, and in his eyes saw something he had never expected to see in the man whom he knew little about when he got right down to it. Yamucha had often told of his accomplishments, and Gohan knew Kuririn very well, but aside from on the battlefield, the child realized just how little he knew of Tenshinhan.
"Piccolo's in pain… and there's nothing I can do. I was about to hit him… well, Diamaou in his body, anyway, and… and… Diamaou lost control, and Piccolo begged me to help him… the pain… that horrible look of despair in his eyes… And I can't do ANYTHING about it!" Quite unexpectedly, and building with each word, the sadness in the child's voice overturned into rage. And then, as his voice died down, turned back into a sigh. "Except hurt him… Betray him."
Tenshinhan sighed inwardly, feeling the child's pain, because he knew it so well himself, as he had told Kuririn. Granted, the situations were far different, but not entirely.
"You don't know that, Gohan… Oftentimes what we think is different from what we really feel. I was in your shoes once." That caught Gohan off guard, as he turned his head suddenly and stared at him?
"Loyalty is one thing… thinking of loyalty is important, but not the most important. I was training to be an assassin once… and my training blinded me, my devotion to my master shielded me from what was truly right. Kamesennin showed me that I was wrong, but at first… it still felt like betrayal." Gohan blinked at him uncomprehendingly, wondering what he was getting at. "The important thing was to follow your own heart, at least, that was the way it was for me… You're lucky, though."
"Lucky? How?!" Gohan demanded bitterly.
Tenshinhan sighed and spoke again. "Because in your heart, though pain may make you think otherwise, you know what's right… and more importantly, what he would want. You saw what he did to that city… He has to be subdued, somehow."
He didn't want to accept it, admit it, or acknowledge it, but in his heart, Gohan knew that Tenshinhan was right. What would Piccolo think? He had asked him for help, but he knew his mentor… Piccolo would want him to make a difference, as he had done so many times in the past, and most likely would in the future.
Gohan glanced down at the ground, wiped away a single tear, and glanced back up at Tenshinhan. "I'll fight…" Tenshinhan nodded. "…because it's what he would want. But we're only going to stop him… nothing more… right?" Gohan's eyes were pleading, despite the stability in his voice.
Tenshinhan didn't want to lie to the child, because short of death, he wasn't sure if the four of them could stop Piccolo. He was glad that Gohan couldn't read his thoughts or his heart, because he knew that if it was the only way he could keep the world safe he would send Piccolo to his death without a moment's hesitation. He had seen what Piccolo's father could do, and had no urge to see it again.
And as he nodded to Gohan, he couldn't help but feel he was telling the child an outright lie. Ahead of them, the mountains dropped down into the valley. Their flight, discussion, and Piccolo's wait; had all come to an end.
---
Dust swirled around his feet as Kuririn landed, with Tenshinhan, Yamucha, and, as he was glad to see, Son Gohan taking position behind him. He had no doubt that Tenshinhan had succeeded in convincing Gohan to fight, but he wanted to be sure. This was no time to be relying on help that might not be available.
He flashed his distinctive smile, the one that the child had seen so often during their trip to Nameksei and their subsequent adventures there. "Hey Gohan, are you ready? It's nice to see you here."
Gohan nodded curtly, and with that little detail seen too, Kuririn felt the familiar twinge of fear burrow into his core. It was always this way before a battle, that slight hint of self-doubt, of "What if I can't do enough to help," or "What if we lose because of my decisions?" It was times like these that he missed his friend Son Goku's companionship the most; Goku would never let them down, was always confident, and though he normally took the simplest path towards getting something done, it was often the right one.
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Like it or not, he was here, and he forced himself to believe that no matter what happened, his decisions would be correct. And if not, he would ensure that he paid for them, and no one else. He glanced around warily, scanning the landscape.
Piccolo couldn't be plotting an ambush… the chances were too slim with the four of them clustered together, looking in different directions… From the same perspective, he surely couldn't hide from all of them or be missed… He scanned the large spire of rock looming about ten feet in front of him, spanning about 10 feet.
Suddenly, from behind them, in precisely the one spot where their attention hadn't been diverted, was a loud crash. They swirled around immediately, hands raised in their respective defensive postures. Too late did they realize that the sound had come from the impact of a large rock being thrown against another, and a moment later, the shadow of the spire had gotten longer, with a decidedly non-rock shadow at the top. Filled with dread, Kuririn realized their mistake and he braced himself for an attack…
…that never came, as a thunderous laugh echoed into their ears, carrying tones of cruelty and amusement on it's wings.
High above them, floating in the air, was Piccolo. Immediately a chill passed through Kuririn as he visibly shuddered, and what's more, he knew that behind him his friends had shuddered too; he heard Yamucha gasp. The Nameksei-jin's glare was so fierce that it seemed to bore through them, and they knew from the look in his eyes… That whatever had transpired was not meant to be, totally against the rules of both nature, and the spirit realm.
"You are all fools for coming here, you know. This will be the spot of both a death… and a rebirth. Unfortunately, you're all…" Piccolo stopped speaking for a moment, and grinned darkly. "Going to be the death, but sadly, you won't be able to witness the rebirth."
A harsh breeze began to blow around Kuririn, and a moment later, with shocking speed, Piccolo dropped down in front of him. His reflexes and speed were sufficient enough to see the Nameksei-jin's descent, but his mind was still reeling from the audacity of it all- If Piccolo could maintain a speed like that…
"Well buddy, you're certainly not going to be able to stand up long to that." He thought grimly. He glanced very quickly at the rest of his friends. Maybe Gohan…
He glared back at Piccolo, trying his very best to feel brave, when in reality he wanted to scream in terror. He had always been afraid of Piccolo even when he was fighting on their side, and now… Well, he tried to remind himself it wasn't the Piccolo he knew, but Diamaou… though having been killed by one of Diamaou's children long ago, it wasn't very reassuring.
"Might as well try to buy some time, maybe an opportunity will present itself." Kuririn mused.
"Why are you doing this?"
Diamaou regarded the shorter man with a smirk.
"Why, to tear you all apart, to make you feel the same pain I did, as that bastard of a boy tore through my innards… And most of all, to extract revenge, both on Son Goku… and the biggest betrayer of all." He smiled as he noted Gohan stiffen at these words. The child knew whom Diamaou could be referring too. "Yes, that will do nicely… now to twist the knife a bit before going in for the kill."
With an offhand shrug, Diamaou continued his spiel. "Although of course, I suppose one half of my revenge has already been extracted… My son was no match for me. And it gets better, now that he's given me this wonderful body of his; with which I will destroy you."
Kuririn sensed Ki's building up behind him, and he knew Tenshinhan and Yamucha were preparing themselves. Further behind still, there was an erratic ki… it was almost as if Gohan was angry enough to unleash his power, but he was trying to hold himself back. As if to confirm this, he heard the child choke down a sob.
"Damn it Gohan… We can't deal with this… not now… Kuririn gritted his teeth, trying desperately to think of a way to stall for time, in hopes that the child could compose himself.
The monk clenched his fists and tried to look intimidating. "And what will you do after that?"
Diamaou smiled in a way most unlike Piccolo, showing all his teeth. "Quit stalling, Kuririn. You know the answer to that well enough." And with that final remark, he charged at Kuririn, slamming his elbow into the monk's jaw before he could even bring his hands up. The battle had begun.
---
Diamaou grinned evilly as the monk flew backwards, shrieking in pain, but before he could follow-up the blow, two more of his opponents were upon him; Yamucha and Tenshinhan. Immediately he went on the defensive as punches and kicks flailed at him in multiple directions: He blocked one, dodged two more, and responded in kind as the air rushed around him. Tenshinhan and Yamucha were attacking so furiously that Diamaou noted they were breathing heavily, while he didn't even feel a twinge of weariness yet. Soon they would tire… And it was at that moment, in his own self- confidence, that it happened.
"Now!" Tenshinhan shouted, and the three-eyed man backflipped out of the way, at least for the moment.
At this precise time, Yamucha dramatically changed the scope of his attack and smashed into Diamaou head on, sacrificing his defenses for the reckless attack. Diamaou's arm lashed out as he was being driven back, and even as he reeled backwards, he was pleased to hear the sharp crack of Yamucha's arm being broken. The man screamed in pain and fell away from the Nameksei- jin, clutching his shoulder…
But for a moment, Diamaou felt himself reeling, off-balance and disoriented. He knew he had to bring his arms up, to balance and defend himself, managing to stop his momentum, gasping for a breath. Despite the charge, he was still relatively unscathed, and Yamucha had been knocked out of the fight. He smiled, but a moment later, his smile turned into a look of shock and horror, as he realized that he had made a crucial mistake. Tenshinhan wasn't in his line of sight. Even as he realized this fact, he heard a harsh, primal shout from the air above him.
---
"SHIN-KIKOHOU!" Tenshinhan shrieked, his fingers and hands spread in a perfect triangle, with Diamaou far below, in the center of the triangle. Diamaou had time only to bring one arm up in a desperate effort to block the strike, before he was engulfed completely by the glowing energy that emanated from Tenshinhan's hands...
---
Diamaou shrieked; never before had he felt such intense pain, and he was amazed just as much that somehow, his body was withstanding it. The flesh on his arm was rapidly blackening, and through the purple haze of boiling blood that was dripping across his rapidly disintegrating arm, Diamaou concocted a desperate strike, not even fully knowing if it would work, for the technique he was about to employ was not truly his own… He knew only that by sifting through his son's thoughts and memories, that it was the only chance in hell he had, as he desperately touched the fingers of his good hand to his forehead before thrusting them square in the direction opposite of the ki that was battering him.
"MAKKANKOSAPPO!"
---
From the distance, Kuririn watched in amazement, as Diamaou seemed to disappear within Tenshinhan's blast. He wanted to whoop with joy at the successful attack, but he held himself back. He had witnessed similar attacks strike Freezer several times during the battles on Nameksei, but they had never resulted in victory, though surely even Piccolo's body couldn't withstand a blast like that for long…
And then the joy that permeated Kuririn turned to horror, as Tenshinhan's blast ended abruptly, though the man was still screaming. The reason for that was obvious enough, as Kuririn watched the tail end of Diamaou's Makkankosappo continue it's gruesome path through Tenshinhan's left shoulder. The man hurtled out of the sky, and crashed to the ground before Kuririn could reach him. The man was certainly still alive, but also out of the fight. Nearby, Yamucha lie unconscious, apparently having been knocked out by the force of Diamaou's counterattack mere moments before Tenshinhan had unleashed his own.
Kuririn glanced around furiously; surely Diamaou was badly injured in that attack. He knew that their best chance to win the battle would be to hit Diamaou as hard as he possibly could before the Nameksei-jin could regenerate. He knew that Nameksei-jin regeneration would result in a dramatic drop in their power, but he had no idea of how long that would be… Or even if a drop in Piccolo's power would enable him to fight with him on equal terms, since Yamucha and Tenshinhan would be no help now.
"Where is he?" Kuririn flew up into the air, hoping for a better look. Several hundreds of yards below and to the left of him, was Diamaou, crawling over to a stunned figure clad in purple. What was more, the figure wasn't attempting to fight, but was running to the Nameksei-jin with a more desperate gait than one of a warrior about to deal a finishing blow.
"Gohan…" Kuririn muttered softly. He knew he wouldn't be able to get there in time, even as he dived towards their location as fast as his weakened body could propel itself.
---
Diamaou scrabbled towards Gohan as rapidly as he could, even as the child approached. "This is going too well," Diamaou thought maliciously, even as he winced through the pain that shot through his ruined arm. "Now I'll be able to make the fool believe that I'm his beloved mentor and that I'm hurt, and then…" Diamaou found it hard to suppress the chuckle, but managed it. Everything was indeed going his way. It was now just a matter of time.
---
Gohan's vision was blurred with his tears, as he staggered forward, his physical self unhurt, but his emotions and state of mind aching with regret. Far away, perhaps 150 meters distant, Piccolo crawled towards him at a much slower rate, his eyes seeming to burn with pain, and a silent plea for help. The child really had no idea that it was a trap, so captivated was he by the damaged form of his beloved master.
What the child was aware of was the orange and pink blur that raced down to meet Piccolo from high in the sky. Shrieking a cry of warning, though Gohan paid it no heed. What he was aware of was the luminescent flash as Diamaou's leapt to his feet and, despite his ruined arm, met Kuririn head on. There was a brief exchange of blows, a yelp of surprise, and before Gohan really realized what was going on, the monk was blasted away from Piccolo with a flash of ki, sending him hurtling backwards into the body of a nearby cliff. Kuririn crashed into it and fell to the ground, lying very still, but apparently alive.
That was the first inkling Gohan had to snap him out of his trance, but it would prove to be little, too late. Piccolo was upon him, an imposing presence even with the lack of an arm, and the smile the Nameksei-jin wore was not the half-disgusted, half-loving grin that Gohan knew so well, but rather a malevolent, cruel smile. Somehow, though his emotions were still reeling from what he knew he might have to do, the child found his voice.
"Piccolo-san… why are you doing this?" Diamaou's only response was to broaden his grin and advance upon the child. Gohan staggered back a few steps, but a quick glance around reminded him of how badly hurt his friends were; somehow, he gained the resolve to finally stop and stand his ground. His eyes narrowed; he tried to look imposing, but his heart still wasn't in it.
"I said… why are you doing this?" Diamaou stepped forward until he loomed directly over Gohan. He leaned in closer even, until even the sunlight on Gohan's face was masked by the darkened shade that Diamaou provided. He finally spoke then, his voice an evil whisper; whether Piccolo was possessed or not, Gohan had never heard him whisper before.
"It's simple really, child… Because you are the strongest… You are his son… And because this seemed the easiest way…" He smirked slightly, and Gohan found that grin far more similar to the one of the Piccolo he knew, yet somehow a twisting, haunting form of it. "…To get you to… LOWER YOUR DEFENSES!" Diamaou finished triumphantly, grabbing Gohan by the neck with such speed that the child scarcely even twitched backwards in surprise before Diamaou's good hand was around his throat, pointed nails digging ever so slightly into his tender, trembling flesh.
Slowly, the Nameksei-jin began to chuckle, his grip constricting Gohan's throat until the child could no longer breathe, as his eyes rolled up in his head, his body deprived of air. Within the minute, the child was unconscious. In a few more minutes, the child would be dead.
---
Kuririn was in a world of pain, and though he could hardly think straight, he was forced to acknowledge that he certainly felt this way a lot more often than he had in the younger days. Every nerve, every synapse in his body was telling him that it wanted nothing more than for him to simply fall apart, but the monk knew that nothing was broken. No, this was the pain he was familiar with, as if he was just a punching bag and someone had elected to train the entire day away on him; he felt as if he should not be fair-skinned at the moment, but one great blob of black and blue.
Nonetheless, he knew something was wrong, terribly wrong. His head felt as if it had been split in two, but somehow he managed to open his eyes. And what he saw terrified him and intrigued him at the same time, as Diamaou stood in the distance, lifting the unconscious Gohan to the sky and laughing like a madman.
"No! Gohan! Curse it, if I could only move…" But moving was the last thing Kuririn felt like doing. He could only watch, terrified, praying to everyone, anything, that Diamaou would not take the next step, that is, destroy Gohan in anyway possible. He focused himself, trying to regain what little strength he could… but he knew that in his weakened form, a Kienzan would only run the risk of flying wildly out of control, missing completely at best, or at worse, doing the very job it seemed Diamaou would do when he was finished gloating; kill Gohan.
---
Diamaou laughed, eager to snuff out the child's life force like a candle, his brute instincts and every desire combining to tell him that killing the boy would bring him immense satisfaction. But his mind, and something else, held him back. It was too simple to kill the boy, and had that been his plan, he would have burned the boy's head to a crisp, or thrust a clawed hand through his abdomen, spreading his entrails for the world to see.
Instead, he laughed again, finally speaking; no, screaming into the open air, even though all who were around to hear were unconscious, except for those who mattered most… those that were still inside him.
"Well, it's about time for the boy to die, don't you think? You've proved to be far too weak to do anything so far, but just to persuade you, perhaps I need to do something like this!"
Diamaou threw Gohan to the ground, and stomped on his chest with just the right amount of force to damage the child, but not to destroy his life, as the sharp crack of two ribs breaking was all that he knew his counterpart needed to hear. He cocked his head slightly, listening to the voice inside of him.
"I disagree, my friend. I believe this to be completely necessary, and if you want your release as well, then you'll let me conduct my business, as only I know how!" Diamaou laughed, relishing the ecstatic feeling of triumph that would soon surge through him. To pass the time, he would simply break a few more ribs. That would convince him. And then, he stopped his attack on Gohan abruptly, as his lips parted with a scream of pain following.
Despite the intense pain, it was the moment of his wildest victory; all that he had schemed and fought for would come to pass within a few short moments. The triumph almost made the pain seem… fun.
---
Kuririn watched, his eyebrows quirked in surprise, even as he wondered what on Chikyuu was going on. A moment ago, he had been feeling completely helpless as Diamaou had been brutally torturing the child's unconscious form, and now? Now it seemed as if Diamaou was being tortured himself, as his screams tore through the valley.
A moment later, there was a bright flash of white light, similar in intensity to Tenshinhan's Taiyoken (Solar Flare) technique, but far less blinding; within a moment, the monk could see again. Or so he thought. Diamaou was standing, unmoving, seemingly dazed for a moment. Kuririn found that surprising. But what he found even more surprising were the fact that his vision seemed to have tripled. Where there had stood one Nameksei-jin, Diamaou, there were now three, one with Diamaou's cruel grin etched onto his stunned face, one with a look of stoic calmness, and the third… the third one's expression was the most difficult to gaze into of all, even from Kuririn's sizable distance. Yet there was something wrong, something missing… confidence? In those eyes, but Kuririn knew, somehow, that that Nameksei-jin was the real Piccolo, Ma Junior.
And that was when Kuririn received another brutal shock, as he realized that he didn't just recognize Piccolo and Diamaou, but that he knew the Nameksei-jin with the calm expression as well. He had seen it a year ago, on Nameksei, and though he could not say he knew the person who owned the face well, he knew of him. It was Neru.
Neru, Piccolo Diamaou, and Ma Junior, together. To say it was what he expected was an understatement. Certainly, he could understand it, as the body was originally Piccolo's, and he had heard that Neru had joined with him… and it obviously didn't take any explanation to explain Diamaou's appearance, but…
"What the heck is going on?" He thought.
He still did not feel well enough to move, as the three regained their functionality and blinked, slowly emerging from their trancelike state. Like it or not, he would find out soon enough. He just prayed that what had just happened would be for the best, and not three madmen instead of one. In front of them, at the Nameksei-jin feet, Gohan began to stir. The waiting and watching began…
---
Diamaou grinned vilely as he felt his sensations returning to him, his eyes still reeling from the bright flash of light that had flooded his vision and dulled his senses. His muscles tensed; he could move. A gust of wind hit his face; he could feel. The same gust of wind whistled through his ears; he could hear. And he could most certainly smell, as the hint of something charred and recently burnt wafted up his nostrils. "Likely my son's arm, if my plan went as expected…"
He blinked, felt his eyelids close, but it did nothing to stop his momentary blindness: All he saw was complete blackness instead of the bright whiteness that made up his vision when his eyes were open. He gasped, suddenly lurching forward, as he had suddenly become disoriented… He couldn't see yet, but judging by the gasps of surprise that quickly reached his ears, he assumed that his son, and the other Nameksei-jin that had been assisting him to destroy Piccolo had been a part of it… Neru, his name was, or so he thought. He didn't really care now that he had his freedom. His first goal had been achieved… now, when his sight returned, he felt confident he would easily proceed onto his second, which was simple enough… destroying Son Goku's son and friends. After that would come a long, long period of training and meditation…
He did not want to admit it, but if the thoughts he had stolen from Piccolo's mind were to be believed, this "Super Saiya-jin" might prove to be a far more formidable foe. And he knew that Son Goku would return to his home someday. His son had known it, and after the… Even now, the word burned at his heart and twisted the knife of betrayal into his gut, …Respect he knew his son now had for the warrior, that his son was correct. He would have liked nothing more than to destroy and subjugate the people of Chikyuu, but death had changed his perspective quite a bit… He knew he would not make the same mistakes again.
Finally, after a moment, the mist began to clear, and sunlight filled his gaze for the first time in his new body. A quick glance around showed that his assessment of the situation was correct… there was no one to challenge him; the child was still on the ground, unconscious, the long-haired man and the three-eyed one that had been foolish enough to strive with him were nowhere in the vicinity.
Diamaou glanced to where his son lie, to his left. Piccolo had apparently collapsed to the ground the instant he had regained his sight. He smiled cruelly, glaring at the disgrace. He knew what he had done to Piccolo was a fate far worse than death. He had robbed him of his stability, of his confidence… of everything. The only thing that his son knew now was fear and pain; because he was here now. He scowled at his son, glancing down at Gohan.
"You gave up your power, and what remained of your sanity, for this." He beckoned towards Gohan, and sneered. "How noble. Consider yourself fortunate today, my son. You may be a hollow shell of what you once were, but you live only because the spirit of the god of this weak world dwells within you… I still need him alive. However." He beckoned again towards Gohan, towards where Tenshinhan and Yamucha and Kuririn all lay. "Your friends die now. And you will listen to their every scream."
He had hardly finished that statement when a green fist smashed into his right cheek, driving him to the ground. He rolled to the right, absorbing most of the blow, and quickly rose to his feet, staring at his assailant in surprise. Of all the things he had anticipated experiencing in his new body, he hardly expected the taste of blood in his mouth to be among the first.
---
Kuririn could hardly believe his own eyes, even as he rose weakly to his feet, still scarcely able to do anything, or feel anything. He knew only what he had seen; one moment, he had heard Diamaou state to Piccolo that he and his friends were to die, and the next thing he knew, Neru had slugged Diamaou as hard as he could without even a word. The two were now staring at each other, Neru's gaze stern, Diamaou's visage turning from surprise to outrage.
They continued to stare at each other, as if expecting one or the other to back down. By this point Kuririn had taken advantage of this to scramble closer; he didn't feel as if he had the strength to grab Gohan and get the hell out of there, but he was going to try as soon as an opportunity presented itself. Fortunately, Diamaou hadn't noticed him edging closer yet.
"What is the meaning of this?" Diamaou shouted, and for a moment Kuririn stiffened, before realizing that the question had been directed at Neru. Neru regarded him coolly, not saying a word. Kuririn felt that would be the right move, though he still had almost no idea exactly what was about to transpire between the two, it would be good to keep the cunning Diamaou emotional, because then he might make a mistake. He chided himself for not thinking of that himself, and mentally reminded himself to attempt that next time… if he got another chance.
"I'm waiting for an answer. How dare you strike me, to show such insolence, after I helped you acquire your freedom from my son!" His steely glare seemed to burn into Kuririn, even though he wasn't looking at it head-on, but Neru was still undeterred. The former Nameksei-jin "bodyguard" still had not spoken since his bizarre reappearance. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Kuririn could not help wondering if being relatively quiet in battle was a pure Nameksei-jin trait or just a trait that Neru and Piccolo both shared.
Diamaou fumed, obviously unused to people refusing to speak to him. "Perhaps I should speak to you in a different language, fool!" He screamed, raising his hands, but no ki blasts came, at least, for the moment. Neru stared at him, finally, it seemed, ready to speak.
"I believe I'm a bit more proficient with the language you speak of than you. You were killed by a child, if what I learned was correct. I was nearly killed by the most powerful being in the universe." He allowed himself just a hint of a smirk, the way Piccolo would have.
"I guess it's a Nameksei-jin trait after all," Kuririn thought. Neru continued speaking, as his smirk quickly vanished.
"Just so I'm clear on your plans, what did you intend to do with this freedom we've gained?" Neru asked pointedly, and had anyone else been present during the time of his battle with Freezer, they would likely have felt an odd sense of nostalgia, as the warrior had said something similar before that battle.
Diamaou frowned. "I intend to destroy this child and his friends, and then subjugate this planet. That's all you need to know, worm. I'm beginning to think that I'll add destroying you to my list of plans."
"That's good, I was just checking… But now you have to understand that although I did some things I will likely regret for some time to gain my freedom…" Neru glanced at Piccolo, and from somewhere deep within himself, came up with a long-suffering sigh. "…I will not, under any circumstance, allow someone as evil as you to continue to exist, especially considering the fact that your first goal is to destroy some acquaintances of mine…" He looked down at Gohan, who remained unconscious, before continuing. "…And that I've already witnessed the mass genocide of my own race." His voice was bitter, but his expression remained neutral. "I will not allow anything like that to happen again, if it is under my power to do so… You thought you were using me, I can see it in your mind. But as much as you were using me, I was using you." He tensed and took on a defensive posture.
"You don't know who you're deal-" Diamaou began, but Neru was already upon him before he could utter another word.
Kuririn lost track of the number of blows the two exchanged, but he was pleased that he could at least feel their movements. It meant they might not be quite as powerful as he had thought… "Of course, when Freezer was weaker, you could see some of his movements too, old buddy…" Kuririn shuddered. At least they appeared to be evenly matched, and like any intelligent warrior, Neru was fighting harder now, pressing the advantage of surprise and keeping his opponent on the defensive. Diamaou still seemed to be reeling over the speed of Neru's assault when he suddenly went hurtling backwards as the recipient of a vicious kick that Neru landed, having broken through Diamaou's defenses.
He flipped and oriented himself in mid-air, palms forward, ki blasts flying from his hands--
Neru responded in kind with his own, but rather than merely as a defense, he charged forward, absorbing the brunt of the blasts and crashing into Diamaou, his shoulders singed but no permanent or serious harm having been done. Diamaou hit the ground hard, grunting upon impact, a little slower to get up.
But Neru was not about to give him that much time to orient himself, as the Nameksei-jin lunged forward yet again, hurtling straight at Diamaou. Diamaou adjusted, grinning at his opponent's apparent mistake of attempting a head-on assault.
But his double handed strike met empty air, as Neru had sidestepped right before impact, sliding around Diamaou and taking advantage of his momentarily off balance position to knock him to the ground with a simple yet effective sweep of the leg. And Neru was not about to let his opponent get up with ease again.
As Diamaou attempted to rise, Neru grabbed his left arm, swung him around twice, and released him, sending him hurtling into the cliff wall; ironically, the same cliff that Kuririn had crashed through several minutes ago. The difference was, Kuririn had merely collided with it and fallen to the ground. Diamaou went straight through, bouncing off the ground several times before finally skidding to a stop.
Had it been anyone else, Kuririn might almost have felt sympathy for the pain Diamaou would have been feeling. But this was battle, and Kuririn knew that punishment was usually part of it. To his surprise, Neru glanced at him as he walked forward, past Kuririn's hiding spot, to where Diamaou was lying.
"Get your friends and make sure they're out of the way, earthling. I'm going to finish this." Neru's tone was sharp and serious.
Kuririn couldn't recall ever hearing it as anything but. He opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped and nodded. Explanations could wait until afterwards, he knew. And now that he had the opportunity to check on his friends, he wasn't going to squander it. He ran for Gohan and Piccolo. At least no one was dead yet. In the utter chaos and confusion of what had transpired in the past minutes, that was something to be thankful for.
---
Diamaou stirred, angered beyond belief. "How can this be happening? I have all of my son's power!" Some distance away, Neru approached, slowly and meticulously. Diamaou growled, the sound low in his throat, his senses on fire, his chest aching. Only moments ago had he felt triumphant, powerful. Now he merely felt as if he were about to die again, and the fact of it was driving him over the edge. "I cannot accept this! I will not accept it!" He couldn't comprehend it, Neru was destroying him, but at the same time his opponent was so calm, so collected, as if he had never exuded emotion in his life… and yet… and yet…
At that terrible moment, when defeat seemed inevitable, the darkness clouding Diamaou's vision of Piccolo's power was lifted. He was now in his own body, and was trying to summon up Piccolo's power the way he had called up his own power so many ages ago; through anger and emotion. That was not his son's secret, and as he reminded himself, the power he was wielding was not merely his own; the secrets and the physical form he had stolen from his son. "I must fight as I fought when I only had control of his mind and his body… before we were separated for good…" Slowly, a smile spread over his face. Victory was once again within his grasp.
Neru approached, unaware that Diamaou had determined this…
---
"Something's suspicious." Neru thought, nearing ever closer to Diamaou. His opponent was still lying facedown, stirring but otherwise unmoving. He glanced down at him, regarding him, his hands up, as if expecting him to rise to his feet at any moment. Out of habit, he sensed Diamaou's ki… and in that moment, he had two terrible revelations. The first was that Diamaou was oddly calm… and the second was a remnant of his last battle against Freezer. In that battle, he had pretended to be totally spent, before attempting to surprise his opponent and unleashing the biggest ki blast he had eve-
As if in a cruel irony, Diamaou spun around, not even bothering to stand up, and as a bright flash of ki reached Neru's eyes, he knew he would not be able to dodge in time. He did the only thing he could, raising his arms and crossing them, in a vain effort to protect his chest and face…
The savage energy hit him dead center, at point blank range. Had his arms not been there, it would have blown a hole completely through him. As it was, it threw him up into the air, and as he crashed to the ground, howling in pain, he wondered why his chest felt as if it had been incinerated, while he had no feeling in his arms at all. The answer was maddeningly simple; his arms were no longer there, or anywhere. Diamaou loomed over him, grinning triumphantly. He tried to get up, tried to focus on regenerating his severed limbs, but the damage was too extensive; he would not be able to regenerate for quite some time, if he even survived.
"It was a good effort, but you simply cannot match my power, Neru. It's a shame you squandered your freedom, but at least you'll be reunited with your beloved Saichoro."
Neru was about to scream at him, ask him how he knew that, do anything to delay the inevitable…
---
"Leave him alone!" Kuririn's shout rang from the distance and both Neru and Diamaou turned to see the monk standing over Gohan and Piccolo, one hand firmly in the air, with a disk of crackling energy hovering above it. His expression was resolute, and determined.
---
Diamaou snickered, hardly able to believe his eyes. Kuririn hoped that Diamaou's own arrogance would permit this only chance to work. He threw, his disc spinning towards Diamaou, even as the Nameksei-jin smirked, already drawing his arm back to slap the disc away…
He howled with surprise as the disc passed through his hand without a word and went on, slicing through the left side of his chest-- and continuing out through his back. Blood flowed and spilled, and in that moment, once again the tide of the battle had turned.
---
Diamaou fell to his knees, his intact arm clutching at his wound, mouth agape, staring at Kuririn. Kuririn glared at him, and began to prepare another attack, but Diamaou would have nothing of it; another attack and he would be dead.
"I'll be back, and when I am, you and your friends will suffer before you die! You won't catch me with that again!" He quickly leapt into the air; though weakened, he could still move, and he knew his only option was to flee, at this point. "I severely underestimated them… But I will not make that mistake next time." Diamaou took a sidelong glance at Kuririn and Neru one last time, and flew off into the distance.
Kuririn felt inclined to follow him, but then looked around; Gohan remained unconscious, Tenshinhan and Yamucha were unconscious and still badly hurt, Neru was sitting up, but utterly spent, not even bothering to look at Kuririn. As for Piccolo… Piccolo was cowering at his feet, babbling nonsensically, and acting as if he were in intense pain. He looked for all the world like a person that had not merely lost their mind, but had it destroyed. The condition of the Nameksei-jin warrior destroyed whatever hint of resolve Kuririn had to attempt to finish off Diamaou. They needed senzu, rest, and answers, not more battle at this point. He stared in the direction Diamaou had departed one last time, then knelt down to revive Gohan.
"I guess I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do…" Kuririn mused.
---
The Prototypical Post-chapter commentary/rant/whatever from the author:
Well folks, I guess I'm back, or at least, making my last gasp or something. I cannot ask for forgiveness for consequently disappearing for eight (!) months from the fanfiction scene, nor will I be so naïve as to act as if everything will be the way it was before. I'm sure I've burned more than a few bridges with that act, and though everyone should be entitled to an explanation, the only one I can offer at this time is that I've been busy, I've changed, and if you want a longer version, e-mail me, and though I cannot guarantee a personal reply, I will send something of an explanation. Though personally, though people have a right to know, my personal life is just that, personal, so I'm afraid I won't go into extensive detail.
At this point, I cannot guarantee that I'm going to continue writing fanfiction or anything of the sort. All I can say is that someday, Tainted Soul will get completed, so anyone who reads it isn't tearing their hair out and wants to shoot, maim, or club the author over the head with a really large wooden mallet. At this point, I think it's reasonable to assume I'll have another chapter in two weeks, no later than a month. (Geez, we all know what happened the last time I said that -_-;;;; )
And as always, feedback is always welcome, even if at this point it consists of telling me to go jump off a cliff. =P
-Cremrock
By Cremrock
Chapter 6
On a rocky bluff, high above the desolate valley where the battle would take place, a lone figure stood, his cape swirling behind him. The grim, dark visage of his face seemed parallel only to the darkness of the gathering storm clouds overhead, as if the elements themselves knew his plan was unnatural, and were voicing their disapproval.
Piccolo waited, his arms folded across his chest, eyes locked on four tiny dots on the distant horizon, slowly drifting towards him. He scowled at the note of how slow they were going, knowing for certain that they were most likely discussing how they would deal with him.
"Their desire to save their friend is foolish, don't you agree?" Piccolo uttered, a statement directed at no one but the dust below him and the wind around him. He smiled lightly, as if receiving a response, and then nodded his agreement. "Oh, you're right, I suppose. Were I in your shoes, perhaps I would do the same, but I'm not, I'm in my son's shoes. It doesn't matter. Much like you, I have learned patience. Diamaou, the king of demons, could do no less. I merely quiver with anticipation, because when I slaughter them, then everything will come to pass as I have planned, and my revenge will be complete." He paused, cocked his head slightly, and chuckled. "You disapprove? I wouldn't, I do believe I'm being rather lenient in giving you your chance to live again as well. You've helped me, but now? You have no choice in this matter. No one does, except me. I am your Lord and master, and if you oppose me, I'll destroy you, just as I'll destroy everyone else. I can do, no less." And with that statement, he laughed harshly, the cackling echoing all around him. The wind, and the dust, of course, remained silent, and Piccolo ceased talking, and continued to wait.
It would not be much longer, he mused.
---
Actually, how they were going to deal with Piccolo wasn't the topic of discussion, yet. No, for the moment, that wasn't even second on Kuririn's mind. He had taken charge of the situation with Yamucha's and Tenshinhan's approval, and the monk had already stated that they were going to fly as slow as it would take to get everything they needed to discuss immediately done. "We need Gohan fighting with a clear mind and heart if we're going to have any chance of subduing Piccolo… I'd better talk to him first."
The three of them eased up a bit and fell back towards Gohan; It would spare their vocal cords a lot of wear and tear if they didn't have to yell to each other, and Kuririn knew that Nameksei-jin had auditory abilities well above that of humans and Saiya-jin… They would have to be careful that he couldn't hear what they were talking about, for that might give him an advantage.
The child had stopped crying. His face was now frozen in the heart- wrenching expression that one would have immediately after or when trying very hard not to cry beforehand, the look was more saddening and more evident of the emotional upheaval the events were having on Gohan. Even more so than if the child was actually crying at the moment, Kuririn mused.
Kuririn was smart enough to know not to ask the incredibly ignorant question of "Are you all right?", it was plainly obvious he was not. Unfortunately, he was still trying to form exactly what he was going to say to console the child in his mind, when Yamucha beat him to the punch by speaking first in his normal, upbeat way.
"Hey Gohan, are you all right?" Yamucha asked, even as Kuririn mentally chided his friend.
Gohan's response was to merely look at him with that pain-filled face, lip trembling slightly, before moving his head up and down in such a slight notion that it could scarcely be a nod, although it was intended to be.
"Poor Gohan… even in the state he's in now, he's still conscious of being polite and responding to an adult's question… He's a better man then I am, sometimes." Kuririn thought. Nonetheless, despite his conversational shortcomings, Yamucha exuded confidence, and Kuririn wouldn't interrupt him, perhaps the man's way of speaking could help Gohan feel better. And, despite his lack of knowledge about what was going on, Yamucha did know the reason for Gohan's sadness, or at least, could guess it as well as Kuririn had.
"Gohan, do you want to talk about it?" Yamucha asked gently. Kuririn sighed inwardly, hoping that Yamucha did indeed know what it was… Kuririn knew, of course. What else could it be, except finding out your beloved master had been possessed, might have to die, and might have to be fought, hopefully not killed, by his own hands.
Gohan shook his head, and Kuririn glanced away for a moment to check on their position even as Yamucha sighed softly and continued flying in silence; Piccolo was about twenty minutes away at their current speed, he wouldn't have to adjust anything yet.
Tenshinhan flew close to Yamucha and whispered something in the man's ear before beckoning Kuririn to come back beside him; A moment later, Yamucha flew to where Kuririn had been a moment later, and watched Piccolo intently as they continued their slow approach.
"What did you say to him?" Kuririn whispered to the larger man, glancing into his eyes... Well, two of them, at any rate.
Tenshinhan smiled faintly, happy to divulge his information, but obviously knowing how serious the situations were, both the upcoming battle and Gohan's emotional state at the moment. "I just told him to keep an eye on Piccolo, and let you and I handle Gohan… Yamucha's confidence isn't quite what Gohan needs right now; he needs information… How to deal with what he's feeling… I can guess what he's going through."
"How would you know how he could deal with it, Ten?" Kuririn asked, curiously.
Tenshinhan glanced away. "As you'll recall several years ago, I did leave my master when Kamesennin (The Turtle Master, A.K.A. Muten Roshi) convinced me to stop learning the arts of assassination and follow my own path. I can understand, at least on a smaller scope than he, the turmoil one must go through at the prospect of having to fight their own master, even though I didn't actually engage him in combat." Tenshinhan's voice trailed off, as he glanced back at Gohan. "Before I talk with him, what's going on? Is that really Piccolo?"
Kuririn shook his head and glanced at him grimly. "He's got Piccolo's body, but he's not Piccolo… it's worse. Popo was cryptic when he explained it, but in short, Piccolo's been possessed by a soul from the afterlife. Kami tried to stop it but failed, so now he's not going to be able to help us… And it gets worse, but it might be our only option. If Piccolo can't be stopped, Kami has instructed Popo to kill him. Popo-san won't do it, I know how he acts… if we fail, and you have to promise me you'll do it if I die…" Kuririn glanced back at Gohan before continuing, and Tenshinhan knew what he meant. The decision was his, Gohan or no Gohan, however devastating that might be. "No matter what. I don't mean to sound harsh, but Piccolo's got enough power to devastate the world, and unless Son were to show up, no one'd be left to oppose him…"
Tenshinhan nodded, but a faint look of confusion was on his face. "Hold on a second, Kuririn. How is it that Piccolo is so powerful if he's not in control of his own body? I mean, whoever is in control would have to be in harmony with his body still… and that means it would have to be Kami, right?"
Kuririn glanced down at the surface, and frowned. "No, Tenshinhan. There's only one other soul that would be able to be in harmony with his with Piccolo's body. I don't know what he was like… but I know what he's capable of ordering his servants to do…" Kuririn broke off, shuddering.
Tenshinhan felt a chill pass through him. "You can't be serious?" He asked pointedly, eyes narrowed.
Kuririn nodded. "Yes, it's him… And I don't know what we are going to do. If you have the chance to kill him… Well, you'd better take it, understand? I'd prefer that we can capture him and find a way that the Piccolo we know doesn't have to die, but… The stakes are too high. Understand?"
Tenshinhan nodded. He had seen the evil that Piccolo's father was capable of firsthand, indeed, had been willing to sacrifice his own life to stop it. If he had to, he would end Piccolo's life to spare the world the torment that it would undoubtedly receive at the hands of his father.
"You'd better go fill Yamucha in on this, Kuririn. I'll go talk to Gohan." With that, he slipped backwards until the child was nearly alongside him.
Gohan continued to fly in silence, and failed to acknowledge Tenshinhan's approach, as he was still caught up in his own emotions and really wasn't paying much attention, his face a mask of sorrow.
"It's a little lonely back here, wouldn't you say, Gohan? I don't even need to use all three of my eyes to see that." Tenshinhan quipped. Gohan glanced at him, but remained silent. Of course, Tenshinhan hadn't really expected him to say anything, but at least the boy hadn't indicated that he wanted to be left alone. Very well, he would try sympathy first. "I know that you're worried about Piccolo, Gohan."
Gohan didn't seem to move, but a moment later, he spoke his first words in an hour, voice soft. "Yes. I am."
Tenshinhan continued. "But there's something else that's bothering you, right? Why don't you talk to me about it? I'm older than Kuririn and the others… I might be able to help you… deal with it."
Gohan swiveled his head to look at Tenshinhan, and in his eyes saw something he had never expected to see in the man whom he knew little about when he got right down to it. Yamucha had often told of his accomplishments, and Gohan knew Kuririn very well, but aside from on the battlefield, the child realized just how little he knew of Tenshinhan.
"Piccolo's in pain… and there's nothing I can do. I was about to hit him… well, Diamaou in his body, anyway, and… and… Diamaou lost control, and Piccolo begged me to help him… the pain… that horrible look of despair in his eyes… And I can't do ANYTHING about it!" Quite unexpectedly, and building with each word, the sadness in the child's voice overturned into rage. And then, as his voice died down, turned back into a sigh. "Except hurt him… Betray him."
Tenshinhan sighed inwardly, feeling the child's pain, because he knew it so well himself, as he had told Kuririn. Granted, the situations were far different, but not entirely.
"You don't know that, Gohan… Oftentimes what we think is different from what we really feel. I was in your shoes once." That caught Gohan off guard, as he turned his head suddenly and stared at him?
"Loyalty is one thing… thinking of loyalty is important, but not the most important. I was training to be an assassin once… and my training blinded me, my devotion to my master shielded me from what was truly right. Kamesennin showed me that I was wrong, but at first… it still felt like betrayal." Gohan blinked at him uncomprehendingly, wondering what he was getting at. "The important thing was to follow your own heart, at least, that was the way it was for me… You're lucky, though."
"Lucky? How?!" Gohan demanded bitterly.
Tenshinhan sighed and spoke again. "Because in your heart, though pain may make you think otherwise, you know what's right… and more importantly, what he would want. You saw what he did to that city… He has to be subdued, somehow."
He didn't want to accept it, admit it, or acknowledge it, but in his heart, Gohan knew that Tenshinhan was right. What would Piccolo think? He had asked him for help, but he knew his mentor… Piccolo would want him to make a difference, as he had done so many times in the past, and most likely would in the future.
Gohan glanced down at the ground, wiped away a single tear, and glanced back up at Tenshinhan. "I'll fight…" Tenshinhan nodded. "…because it's what he would want. But we're only going to stop him… nothing more… right?" Gohan's eyes were pleading, despite the stability in his voice.
Tenshinhan didn't want to lie to the child, because short of death, he wasn't sure if the four of them could stop Piccolo. He was glad that Gohan couldn't read his thoughts or his heart, because he knew that if it was the only way he could keep the world safe he would send Piccolo to his death without a moment's hesitation. He had seen what Piccolo's father could do, and had no urge to see it again.
And as he nodded to Gohan, he couldn't help but feel he was telling the child an outright lie. Ahead of them, the mountains dropped down into the valley. Their flight, discussion, and Piccolo's wait; had all come to an end.
---
Dust swirled around his feet as Kuririn landed, with Tenshinhan, Yamucha, and, as he was glad to see, Son Gohan taking position behind him. He had no doubt that Tenshinhan had succeeded in convincing Gohan to fight, but he wanted to be sure. This was no time to be relying on help that might not be available.
He flashed his distinctive smile, the one that the child had seen so often during their trip to Nameksei and their subsequent adventures there. "Hey Gohan, are you ready? It's nice to see you here."
Gohan nodded curtly, and with that little detail seen too, Kuririn felt the familiar twinge of fear burrow into his core. It was always this way before a battle, that slight hint of self-doubt, of "What if I can't do enough to help," or "What if we lose because of my decisions?" It was times like these that he missed his friend Son Goku's companionship the most; Goku would never let them down, was always confident, and though he normally took the simplest path towards getting something done, it was often the right one.
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Like it or not, he was here, and he forced himself to believe that no matter what happened, his decisions would be correct. And if not, he would ensure that he paid for them, and no one else. He glanced around warily, scanning the landscape.
Piccolo couldn't be plotting an ambush… the chances were too slim with the four of them clustered together, looking in different directions… From the same perspective, he surely couldn't hide from all of them or be missed… He scanned the large spire of rock looming about ten feet in front of him, spanning about 10 feet.
Suddenly, from behind them, in precisely the one spot where their attention hadn't been diverted, was a loud crash. They swirled around immediately, hands raised in their respective defensive postures. Too late did they realize that the sound had come from the impact of a large rock being thrown against another, and a moment later, the shadow of the spire had gotten longer, with a decidedly non-rock shadow at the top. Filled with dread, Kuririn realized their mistake and he braced himself for an attack…
…that never came, as a thunderous laugh echoed into their ears, carrying tones of cruelty and amusement on it's wings.
High above them, floating in the air, was Piccolo. Immediately a chill passed through Kuririn as he visibly shuddered, and what's more, he knew that behind him his friends had shuddered too; he heard Yamucha gasp. The Nameksei-jin's glare was so fierce that it seemed to bore through them, and they knew from the look in his eyes… That whatever had transpired was not meant to be, totally against the rules of both nature, and the spirit realm.
"You are all fools for coming here, you know. This will be the spot of both a death… and a rebirth. Unfortunately, you're all…" Piccolo stopped speaking for a moment, and grinned darkly. "Going to be the death, but sadly, you won't be able to witness the rebirth."
A harsh breeze began to blow around Kuririn, and a moment later, with shocking speed, Piccolo dropped down in front of him. His reflexes and speed were sufficient enough to see the Nameksei-jin's descent, but his mind was still reeling from the audacity of it all- If Piccolo could maintain a speed like that…
"Well buddy, you're certainly not going to be able to stand up long to that." He thought grimly. He glanced very quickly at the rest of his friends. Maybe Gohan…
He glared back at Piccolo, trying his very best to feel brave, when in reality he wanted to scream in terror. He had always been afraid of Piccolo even when he was fighting on their side, and now… Well, he tried to remind himself it wasn't the Piccolo he knew, but Diamaou… though having been killed by one of Diamaou's children long ago, it wasn't very reassuring.
"Might as well try to buy some time, maybe an opportunity will present itself." Kuririn mused.
"Why are you doing this?"
Diamaou regarded the shorter man with a smirk.
"Why, to tear you all apart, to make you feel the same pain I did, as that bastard of a boy tore through my innards… And most of all, to extract revenge, both on Son Goku… and the biggest betrayer of all." He smiled as he noted Gohan stiffen at these words. The child knew whom Diamaou could be referring too. "Yes, that will do nicely… now to twist the knife a bit before going in for the kill."
With an offhand shrug, Diamaou continued his spiel. "Although of course, I suppose one half of my revenge has already been extracted… My son was no match for me. And it gets better, now that he's given me this wonderful body of his; with which I will destroy you."
Kuririn sensed Ki's building up behind him, and he knew Tenshinhan and Yamucha were preparing themselves. Further behind still, there was an erratic ki… it was almost as if Gohan was angry enough to unleash his power, but he was trying to hold himself back. As if to confirm this, he heard the child choke down a sob.
"Damn it Gohan… We can't deal with this… not now… Kuririn gritted his teeth, trying desperately to think of a way to stall for time, in hopes that the child could compose himself.
The monk clenched his fists and tried to look intimidating. "And what will you do after that?"
Diamaou smiled in a way most unlike Piccolo, showing all his teeth. "Quit stalling, Kuririn. You know the answer to that well enough." And with that final remark, he charged at Kuririn, slamming his elbow into the monk's jaw before he could even bring his hands up. The battle had begun.
---
Diamaou grinned evilly as the monk flew backwards, shrieking in pain, but before he could follow-up the blow, two more of his opponents were upon him; Yamucha and Tenshinhan. Immediately he went on the defensive as punches and kicks flailed at him in multiple directions: He blocked one, dodged two more, and responded in kind as the air rushed around him. Tenshinhan and Yamucha were attacking so furiously that Diamaou noted they were breathing heavily, while he didn't even feel a twinge of weariness yet. Soon they would tire… And it was at that moment, in his own self- confidence, that it happened.
"Now!" Tenshinhan shouted, and the three-eyed man backflipped out of the way, at least for the moment.
At this precise time, Yamucha dramatically changed the scope of his attack and smashed into Diamaou head on, sacrificing his defenses for the reckless attack. Diamaou's arm lashed out as he was being driven back, and even as he reeled backwards, he was pleased to hear the sharp crack of Yamucha's arm being broken. The man screamed in pain and fell away from the Nameksei- jin, clutching his shoulder…
But for a moment, Diamaou felt himself reeling, off-balance and disoriented. He knew he had to bring his arms up, to balance and defend himself, managing to stop his momentum, gasping for a breath. Despite the charge, he was still relatively unscathed, and Yamucha had been knocked out of the fight. He smiled, but a moment later, his smile turned into a look of shock and horror, as he realized that he had made a crucial mistake. Tenshinhan wasn't in his line of sight. Even as he realized this fact, he heard a harsh, primal shout from the air above him.
---
"SHIN-KIKOHOU!" Tenshinhan shrieked, his fingers and hands spread in a perfect triangle, with Diamaou far below, in the center of the triangle. Diamaou had time only to bring one arm up in a desperate effort to block the strike, before he was engulfed completely by the glowing energy that emanated from Tenshinhan's hands...
---
Diamaou shrieked; never before had he felt such intense pain, and he was amazed just as much that somehow, his body was withstanding it. The flesh on his arm was rapidly blackening, and through the purple haze of boiling blood that was dripping across his rapidly disintegrating arm, Diamaou concocted a desperate strike, not even fully knowing if it would work, for the technique he was about to employ was not truly his own… He knew only that by sifting through his son's thoughts and memories, that it was the only chance in hell he had, as he desperately touched the fingers of his good hand to his forehead before thrusting them square in the direction opposite of the ki that was battering him.
"MAKKANKOSAPPO!"
---
From the distance, Kuririn watched in amazement, as Diamaou seemed to disappear within Tenshinhan's blast. He wanted to whoop with joy at the successful attack, but he held himself back. He had witnessed similar attacks strike Freezer several times during the battles on Nameksei, but they had never resulted in victory, though surely even Piccolo's body couldn't withstand a blast like that for long…
And then the joy that permeated Kuririn turned to horror, as Tenshinhan's blast ended abruptly, though the man was still screaming. The reason for that was obvious enough, as Kuririn watched the tail end of Diamaou's Makkankosappo continue it's gruesome path through Tenshinhan's left shoulder. The man hurtled out of the sky, and crashed to the ground before Kuririn could reach him. The man was certainly still alive, but also out of the fight. Nearby, Yamucha lie unconscious, apparently having been knocked out by the force of Diamaou's counterattack mere moments before Tenshinhan had unleashed his own.
Kuririn glanced around furiously; surely Diamaou was badly injured in that attack. He knew that their best chance to win the battle would be to hit Diamaou as hard as he possibly could before the Nameksei-jin could regenerate. He knew that Nameksei-jin regeneration would result in a dramatic drop in their power, but he had no idea of how long that would be… Or even if a drop in Piccolo's power would enable him to fight with him on equal terms, since Yamucha and Tenshinhan would be no help now.
"Where is he?" Kuririn flew up into the air, hoping for a better look. Several hundreds of yards below and to the left of him, was Diamaou, crawling over to a stunned figure clad in purple. What was more, the figure wasn't attempting to fight, but was running to the Nameksei-jin with a more desperate gait than one of a warrior about to deal a finishing blow.
"Gohan…" Kuririn muttered softly. He knew he wouldn't be able to get there in time, even as he dived towards their location as fast as his weakened body could propel itself.
---
Diamaou scrabbled towards Gohan as rapidly as he could, even as the child approached. "This is going too well," Diamaou thought maliciously, even as he winced through the pain that shot through his ruined arm. "Now I'll be able to make the fool believe that I'm his beloved mentor and that I'm hurt, and then…" Diamaou found it hard to suppress the chuckle, but managed it. Everything was indeed going his way. It was now just a matter of time.
---
Gohan's vision was blurred with his tears, as he staggered forward, his physical self unhurt, but his emotions and state of mind aching with regret. Far away, perhaps 150 meters distant, Piccolo crawled towards him at a much slower rate, his eyes seeming to burn with pain, and a silent plea for help. The child really had no idea that it was a trap, so captivated was he by the damaged form of his beloved master.
What the child was aware of was the orange and pink blur that raced down to meet Piccolo from high in the sky. Shrieking a cry of warning, though Gohan paid it no heed. What he was aware of was the luminescent flash as Diamaou's leapt to his feet and, despite his ruined arm, met Kuririn head on. There was a brief exchange of blows, a yelp of surprise, and before Gohan really realized what was going on, the monk was blasted away from Piccolo with a flash of ki, sending him hurtling backwards into the body of a nearby cliff. Kuririn crashed into it and fell to the ground, lying very still, but apparently alive.
That was the first inkling Gohan had to snap him out of his trance, but it would prove to be little, too late. Piccolo was upon him, an imposing presence even with the lack of an arm, and the smile the Nameksei-jin wore was not the half-disgusted, half-loving grin that Gohan knew so well, but rather a malevolent, cruel smile. Somehow, though his emotions were still reeling from what he knew he might have to do, the child found his voice.
"Piccolo-san… why are you doing this?" Diamaou's only response was to broaden his grin and advance upon the child. Gohan staggered back a few steps, but a quick glance around reminded him of how badly hurt his friends were; somehow, he gained the resolve to finally stop and stand his ground. His eyes narrowed; he tried to look imposing, but his heart still wasn't in it.
"I said… why are you doing this?" Diamaou stepped forward until he loomed directly over Gohan. He leaned in closer even, until even the sunlight on Gohan's face was masked by the darkened shade that Diamaou provided. He finally spoke then, his voice an evil whisper; whether Piccolo was possessed or not, Gohan had never heard him whisper before.
"It's simple really, child… Because you are the strongest… You are his son… And because this seemed the easiest way…" He smirked slightly, and Gohan found that grin far more similar to the one of the Piccolo he knew, yet somehow a twisting, haunting form of it. "…To get you to… LOWER YOUR DEFENSES!" Diamaou finished triumphantly, grabbing Gohan by the neck with such speed that the child scarcely even twitched backwards in surprise before Diamaou's good hand was around his throat, pointed nails digging ever so slightly into his tender, trembling flesh.
Slowly, the Nameksei-jin began to chuckle, his grip constricting Gohan's throat until the child could no longer breathe, as his eyes rolled up in his head, his body deprived of air. Within the minute, the child was unconscious. In a few more minutes, the child would be dead.
---
Kuririn was in a world of pain, and though he could hardly think straight, he was forced to acknowledge that he certainly felt this way a lot more often than he had in the younger days. Every nerve, every synapse in his body was telling him that it wanted nothing more than for him to simply fall apart, but the monk knew that nothing was broken. No, this was the pain he was familiar with, as if he was just a punching bag and someone had elected to train the entire day away on him; he felt as if he should not be fair-skinned at the moment, but one great blob of black and blue.
Nonetheless, he knew something was wrong, terribly wrong. His head felt as if it had been split in two, but somehow he managed to open his eyes. And what he saw terrified him and intrigued him at the same time, as Diamaou stood in the distance, lifting the unconscious Gohan to the sky and laughing like a madman.
"No! Gohan! Curse it, if I could only move…" But moving was the last thing Kuririn felt like doing. He could only watch, terrified, praying to everyone, anything, that Diamaou would not take the next step, that is, destroy Gohan in anyway possible. He focused himself, trying to regain what little strength he could… but he knew that in his weakened form, a Kienzan would only run the risk of flying wildly out of control, missing completely at best, or at worse, doing the very job it seemed Diamaou would do when he was finished gloating; kill Gohan.
---
Diamaou laughed, eager to snuff out the child's life force like a candle, his brute instincts and every desire combining to tell him that killing the boy would bring him immense satisfaction. But his mind, and something else, held him back. It was too simple to kill the boy, and had that been his plan, he would have burned the boy's head to a crisp, or thrust a clawed hand through his abdomen, spreading his entrails for the world to see.
Instead, he laughed again, finally speaking; no, screaming into the open air, even though all who were around to hear were unconscious, except for those who mattered most… those that were still inside him.
"Well, it's about time for the boy to die, don't you think? You've proved to be far too weak to do anything so far, but just to persuade you, perhaps I need to do something like this!"
Diamaou threw Gohan to the ground, and stomped on his chest with just the right amount of force to damage the child, but not to destroy his life, as the sharp crack of two ribs breaking was all that he knew his counterpart needed to hear. He cocked his head slightly, listening to the voice inside of him.
"I disagree, my friend. I believe this to be completely necessary, and if you want your release as well, then you'll let me conduct my business, as only I know how!" Diamaou laughed, relishing the ecstatic feeling of triumph that would soon surge through him. To pass the time, he would simply break a few more ribs. That would convince him. And then, he stopped his attack on Gohan abruptly, as his lips parted with a scream of pain following.
Despite the intense pain, it was the moment of his wildest victory; all that he had schemed and fought for would come to pass within a few short moments. The triumph almost made the pain seem… fun.
---
Kuririn watched, his eyebrows quirked in surprise, even as he wondered what on Chikyuu was going on. A moment ago, he had been feeling completely helpless as Diamaou had been brutally torturing the child's unconscious form, and now? Now it seemed as if Diamaou was being tortured himself, as his screams tore through the valley.
A moment later, there was a bright flash of white light, similar in intensity to Tenshinhan's Taiyoken (Solar Flare) technique, but far less blinding; within a moment, the monk could see again. Or so he thought. Diamaou was standing, unmoving, seemingly dazed for a moment. Kuririn found that surprising. But what he found even more surprising were the fact that his vision seemed to have tripled. Where there had stood one Nameksei-jin, Diamaou, there were now three, one with Diamaou's cruel grin etched onto his stunned face, one with a look of stoic calmness, and the third… the third one's expression was the most difficult to gaze into of all, even from Kuririn's sizable distance. Yet there was something wrong, something missing… confidence? In those eyes, but Kuririn knew, somehow, that that Nameksei-jin was the real Piccolo, Ma Junior.
And that was when Kuririn received another brutal shock, as he realized that he didn't just recognize Piccolo and Diamaou, but that he knew the Nameksei-jin with the calm expression as well. He had seen it a year ago, on Nameksei, and though he could not say he knew the person who owned the face well, he knew of him. It was Neru.
Neru, Piccolo Diamaou, and Ma Junior, together. To say it was what he expected was an understatement. Certainly, he could understand it, as the body was originally Piccolo's, and he had heard that Neru had joined with him… and it obviously didn't take any explanation to explain Diamaou's appearance, but…
"What the heck is going on?" He thought.
He still did not feel well enough to move, as the three regained their functionality and blinked, slowly emerging from their trancelike state. Like it or not, he would find out soon enough. He just prayed that what had just happened would be for the best, and not three madmen instead of one. In front of them, at the Nameksei-jin feet, Gohan began to stir. The waiting and watching began…
---
Diamaou grinned vilely as he felt his sensations returning to him, his eyes still reeling from the bright flash of light that had flooded his vision and dulled his senses. His muscles tensed; he could move. A gust of wind hit his face; he could feel. The same gust of wind whistled through his ears; he could hear. And he could most certainly smell, as the hint of something charred and recently burnt wafted up his nostrils. "Likely my son's arm, if my plan went as expected…"
He blinked, felt his eyelids close, but it did nothing to stop his momentary blindness: All he saw was complete blackness instead of the bright whiteness that made up his vision when his eyes were open. He gasped, suddenly lurching forward, as he had suddenly become disoriented… He couldn't see yet, but judging by the gasps of surprise that quickly reached his ears, he assumed that his son, and the other Nameksei-jin that had been assisting him to destroy Piccolo had been a part of it… Neru, his name was, or so he thought. He didn't really care now that he had his freedom. His first goal had been achieved… now, when his sight returned, he felt confident he would easily proceed onto his second, which was simple enough… destroying Son Goku's son and friends. After that would come a long, long period of training and meditation…
He did not want to admit it, but if the thoughts he had stolen from Piccolo's mind were to be believed, this "Super Saiya-jin" might prove to be a far more formidable foe. And he knew that Son Goku would return to his home someday. His son had known it, and after the… Even now, the word burned at his heart and twisted the knife of betrayal into his gut, …Respect he knew his son now had for the warrior, that his son was correct. He would have liked nothing more than to destroy and subjugate the people of Chikyuu, but death had changed his perspective quite a bit… He knew he would not make the same mistakes again.
Finally, after a moment, the mist began to clear, and sunlight filled his gaze for the first time in his new body. A quick glance around showed that his assessment of the situation was correct… there was no one to challenge him; the child was still on the ground, unconscious, the long-haired man and the three-eyed one that had been foolish enough to strive with him were nowhere in the vicinity.
Diamaou glanced to where his son lie, to his left. Piccolo had apparently collapsed to the ground the instant he had regained his sight. He smiled cruelly, glaring at the disgrace. He knew what he had done to Piccolo was a fate far worse than death. He had robbed him of his stability, of his confidence… of everything. The only thing that his son knew now was fear and pain; because he was here now. He scowled at his son, glancing down at Gohan.
"You gave up your power, and what remained of your sanity, for this." He beckoned towards Gohan, and sneered. "How noble. Consider yourself fortunate today, my son. You may be a hollow shell of what you once were, but you live only because the spirit of the god of this weak world dwells within you… I still need him alive. However." He beckoned again towards Gohan, towards where Tenshinhan and Yamucha and Kuririn all lay. "Your friends die now. And you will listen to their every scream."
He had hardly finished that statement when a green fist smashed into his right cheek, driving him to the ground. He rolled to the right, absorbing most of the blow, and quickly rose to his feet, staring at his assailant in surprise. Of all the things he had anticipated experiencing in his new body, he hardly expected the taste of blood in his mouth to be among the first.
---
Kuririn could hardly believe his own eyes, even as he rose weakly to his feet, still scarcely able to do anything, or feel anything. He knew only what he had seen; one moment, he had heard Diamaou state to Piccolo that he and his friends were to die, and the next thing he knew, Neru had slugged Diamaou as hard as he could without even a word. The two were now staring at each other, Neru's gaze stern, Diamaou's visage turning from surprise to outrage.
They continued to stare at each other, as if expecting one or the other to back down. By this point Kuririn had taken advantage of this to scramble closer; he didn't feel as if he had the strength to grab Gohan and get the hell out of there, but he was going to try as soon as an opportunity presented itself. Fortunately, Diamaou hadn't noticed him edging closer yet.
"What is the meaning of this?" Diamaou shouted, and for a moment Kuririn stiffened, before realizing that the question had been directed at Neru. Neru regarded him coolly, not saying a word. Kuririn felt that would be the right move, though he still had almost no idea exactly what was about to transpire between the two, it would be good to keep the cunning Diamaou emotional, because then he might make a mistake. He chided himself for not thinking of that himself, and mentally reminded himself to attempt that next time… if he got another chance.
"I'm waiting for an answer. How dare you strike me, to show such insolence, after I helped you acquire your freedom from my son!" His steely glare seemed to burn into Kuririn, even though he wasn't looking at it head-on, but Neru was still undeterred. The former Nameksei-jin "bodyguard" still had not spoken since his bizarre reappearance. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Kuririn could not help wondering if being relatively quiet in battle was a pure Nameksei-jin trait or just a trait that Neru and Piccolo both shared.
Diamaou fumed, obviously unused to people refusing to speak to him. "Perhaps I should speak to you in a different language, fool!" He screamed, raising his hands, but no ki blasts came, at least, for the moment. Neru stared at him, finally, it seemed, ready to speak.
"I believe I'm a bit more proficient with the language you speak of than you. You were killed by a child, if what I learned was correct. I was nearly killed by the most powerful being in the universe." He allowed himself just a hint of a smirk, the way Piccolo would have.
"I guess it's a Nameksei-jin trait after all," Kuririn thought. Neru continued speaking, as his smirk quickly vanished.
"Just so I'm clear on your plans, what did you intend to do with this freedom we've gained?" Neru asked pointedly, and had anyone else been present during the time of his battle with Freezer, they would likely have felt an odd sense of nostalgia, as the warrior had said something similar before that battle.
Diamaou frowned. "I intend to destroy this child and his friends, and then subjugate this planet. That's all you need to know, worm. I'm beginning to think that I'll add destroying you to my list of plans."
"That's good, I was just checking… But now you have to understand that although I did some things I will likely regret for some time to gain my freedom…" Neru glanced at Piccolo, and from somewhere deep within himself, came up with a long-suffering sigh. "…I will not, under any circumstance, allow someone as evil as you to continue to exist, especially considering the fact that your first goal is to destroy some acquaintances of mine…" He looked down at Gohan, who remained unconscious, before continuing. "…And that I've already witnessed the mass genocide of my own race." His voice was bitter, but his expression remained neutral. "I will not allow anything like that to happen again, if it is under my power to do so… You thought you were using me, I can see it in your mind. But as much as you were using me, I was using you." He tensed and took on a defensive posture.
"You don't know who you're deal-" Diamaou began, but Neru was already upon him before he could utter another word.
Kuririn lost track of the number of blows the two exchanged, but he was pleased that he could at least feel their movements. It meant they might not be quite as powerful as he had thought… "Of course, when Freezer was weaker, you could see some of his movements too, old buddy…" Kuririn shuddered. At least they appeared to be evenly matched, and like any intelligent warrior, Neru was fighting harder now, pressing the advantage of surprise and keeping his opponent on the defensive. Diamaou still seemed to be reeling over the speed of Neru's assault when he suddenly went hurtling backwards as the recipient of a vicious kick that Neru landed, having broken through Diamaou's defenses.
He flipped and oriented himself in mid-air, palms forward, ki blasts flying from his hands--
Neru responded in kind with his own, but rather than merely as a defense, he charged forward, absorbing the brunt of the blasts and crashing into Diamaou, his shoulders singed but no permanent or serious harm having been done. Diamaou hit the ground hard, grunting upon impact, a little slower to get up.
But Neru was not about to give him that much time to orient himself, as the Nameksei-jin lunged forward yet again, hurtling straight at Diamaou. Diamaou adjusted, grinning at his opponent's apparent mistake of attempting a head-on assault.
But his double handed strike met empty air, as Neru had sidestepped right before impact, sliding around Diamaou and taking advantage of his momentarily off balance position to knock him to the ground with a simple yet effective sweep of the leg. And Neru was not about to let his opponent get up with ease again.
As Diamaou attempted to rise, Neru grabbed his left arm, swung him around twice, and released him, sending him hurtling into the cliff wall; ironically, the same cliff that Kuririn had crashed through several minutes ago. The difference was, Kuririn had merely collided with it and fallen to the ground. Diamaou went straight through, bouncing off the ground several times before finally skidding to a stop.
Had it been anyone else, Kuririn might almost have felt sympathy for the pain Diamaou would have been feeling. But this was battle, and Kuririn knew that punishment was usually part of it. To his surprise, Neru glanced at him as he walked forward, past Kuririn's hiding spot, to where Diamaou was lying.
"Get your friends and make sure they're out of the way, earthling. I'm going to finish this." Neru's tone was sharp and serious.
Kuririn couldn't recall ever hearing it as anything but. He opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped and nodded. Explanations could wait until afterwards, he knew. And now that he had the opportunity to check on his friends, he wasn't going to squander it. He ran for Gohan and Piccolo. At least no one was dead yet. In the utter chaos and confusion of what had transpired in the past minutes, that was something to be thankful for.
---
Diamaou stirred, angered beyond belief. "How can this be happening? I have all of my son's power!" Some distance away, Neru approached, slowly and meticulously. Diamaou growled, the sound low in his throat, his senses on fire, his chest aching. Only moments ago had he felt triumphant, powerful. Now he merely felt as if he were about to die again, and the fact of it was driving him over the edge. "I cannot accept this! I will not accept it!" He couldn't comprehend it, Neru was destroying him, but at the same time his opponent was so calm, so collected, as if he had never exuded emotion in his life… and yet… and yet…
At that terrible moment, when defeat seemed inevitable, the darkness clouding Diamaou's vision of Piccolo's power was lifted. He was now in his own body, and was trying to summon up Piccolo's power the way he had called up his own power so many ages ago; through anger and emotion. That was not his son's secret, and as he reminded himself, the power he was wielding was not merely his own; the secrets and the physical form he had stolen from his son. "I must fight as I fought when I only had control of his mind and his body… before we were separated for good…" Slowly, a smile spread over his face. Victory was once again within his grasp.
Neru approached, unaware that Diamaou had determined this…
---
"Something's suspicious." Neru thought, nearing ever closer to Diamaou. His opponent was still lying facedown, stirring but otherwise unmoving. He glanced down at him, regarding him, his hands up, as if expecting him to rise to his feet at any moment. Out of habit, he sensed Diamaou's ki… and in that moment, he had two terrible revelations. The first was that Diamaou was oddly calm… and the second was a remnant of his last battle against Freezer. In that battle, he had pretended to be totally spent, before attempting to surprise his opponent and unleashing the biggest ki blast he had eve-
As if in a cruel irony, Diamaou spun around, not even bothering to stand up, and as a bright flash of ki reached Neru's eyes, he knew he would not be able to dodge in time. He did the only thing he could, raising his arms and crossing them, in a vain effort to protect his chest and face…
The savage energy hit him dead center, at point blank range. Had his arms not been there, it would have blown a hole completely through him. As it was, it threw him up into the air, and as he crashed to the ground, howling in pain, he wondered why his chest felt as if it had been incinerated, while he had no feeling in his arms at all. The answer was maddeningly simple; his arms were no longer there, or anywhere. Diamaou loomed over him, grinning triumphantly. He tried to get up, tried to focus on regenerating his severed limbs, but the damage was too extensive; he would not be able to regenerate for quite some time, if he even survived.
"It was a good effort, but you simply cannot match my power, Neru. It's a shame you squandered your freedom, but at least you'll be reunited with your beloved Saichoro."
Neru was about to scream at him, ask him how he knew that, do anything to delay the inevitable…
---
"Leave him alone!" Kuririn's shout rang from the distance and both Neru and Diamaou turned to see the monk standing over Gohan and Piccolo, one hand firmly in the air, with a disk of crackling energy hovering above it. His expression was resolute, and determined.
---
Diamaou snickered, hardly able to believe his eyes. Kuririn hoped that Diamaou's own arrogance would permit this only chance to work. He threw, his disc spinning towards Diamaou, even as the Nameksei-jin smirked, already drawing his arm back to slap the disc away…
He howled with surprise as the disc passed through his hand without a word and went on, slicing through the left side of his chest-- and continuing out through his back. Blood flowed and spilled, and in that moment, once again the tide of the battle had turned.
---
Diamaou fell to his knees, his intact arm clutching at his wound, mouth agape, staring at Kuririn. Kuririn glared at him, and began to prepare another attack, but Diamaou would have nothing of it; another attack and he would be dead.
"I'll be back, and when I am, you and your friends will suffer before you die! You won't catch me with that again!" He quickly leapt into the air; though weakened, he could still move, and he knew his only option was to flee, at this point. "I severely underestimated them… But I will not make that mistake next time." Diamaou took a sidelong glance at Kuririn and Neru one last time, and flew off into the distance.
Kuririn felt inclined to follow him, but then looked around; Gohan remained unconscious, Tenshinhan and Yamucha were unconscious and still badly hurt, Neru was sitting up, but utterly spent, not even bothering to look at Kuririn. As for Piccolo… Piccolo was cowering at his feet, babbling nonsensically, and acting as if he were in intense pain. He looked for all the world like a person that had not merely lost their mind, but had it destroyed. The condition of the Nameksei-jin warrior destroyed whatever hint of resolve Kuririn had to attempt to finish off Diamaou. They needed senzu, rest, and answers, not more battle at this point. He stared in the direction Diamaou had departed one last time, then knelt down to revive Gohan.
"I guess I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do…" Kuririn mused.
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The Prototypical Post-chapter commentary/rant/whatever from the author:
Well folks, I guess I'm back, or at least, making my last gasp or something. I cannot ask for forgiveness for consequently disappearing for eight (!) months from the fanfiction scene, nor will I be so naïve as to act as if everything will be the way it was before. I'm sure I've burned more than a few bridges with that act, and though everyone should be entitled to an explanation, the only one I can offer at this time is that I've been busy, I've changed, and if you want a longer version, e-mail me, and though I cannot guarantee a personal reply, I will send something of an explanation. Though personally, though people have a right to know, my personal life is just that, personal, so I'm afraid I won't go into extensive detail.
At this point, I cannot guarantee that I'm going to continue writing fanfiction or anything of the sort. All I can say is that someday, Tainted Soul will get completed, so anyone who reads it isn't tearing their hair out and wants to shoot, maim, or club the author over the head with a really large wooden mallet. At this point, I think it's reasonable to assume I'll have another chapter in two weeks, no later than a month. (Geez, we all know what happened the last time I said that -_-;;;; )
And as always, feedback is always welcome, even if at this point it consists of telling me to go jump off a cliff. =P
-Cremrock
