Once again, I apologize for disappearing for a bit. I stumbled upon writer's block and only recently worked through it. Sorry for the delay.
Thank you, readers and reviewers, for your encouragement. I'm glad you think I write a decent fight sequence – that battle wasn't all. Well, on with the story. Like I said before, this is the calm before the storm.
Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ.
Chapter Thirteen
Darkness.
A roiling sea of black, a dull roar.
A low murmur, an unrecognizable language.
Then a flash of light, followed by swirling colors and an unspoken curse.
Piccolo opened his eyes slowly and was greeted by the morning sun. The light shined in through a window into his eyes (What a way to wake up, he grumbled to himself), and with a thought he half-closed the shade over it. "A bit better," he mumbled. He had been lifting pyramids with his mind since he started training Gohan…how troublesome could a single shade be?
His sharp mind registered his surroundings before his pain. He could feel a bed, or something similar to one, beneath him. He was in a room somewhere, with pastel-toned walls and a fresh breeze blowing in through the window. The air tasted a bit salty, he realized as he moistened his cracked lips. The Namek could dimly sense Goku's ki, as if he was trying to see a lighted match through a dense fog. Hell, I'd recognize that ki anywhere. I've spent most of my life attuned to it, since I was born. Goku's ki is about as familiar to me as Kami's, he added sourly.
Piccolo did not recognize the room, though, and that bothered him. He took pride in his memory, which went back to long before his birth and was unreliable only before his sire was cast from the original Namek. It was not good, this memory lapse, so he thought about the recent fight in hopes of stimulating his mind – he needed to find out where he was.
The last thing he could remember was attacking Kadrin point-blank with a Makkankosappo.
He had charged the attack to the point of it nearly exploding into himself as well, such was the power he had put into it. He saw the look of horror on Kadrin's face as the hybrid realized he couldn't hope to block the beam of ki. He had thrown up a shield in the hopes of stopping a fatal blow.
And he would have, too.
Piccolo knew not how, but the hybrid had managed to hold back his ki beam. No! It can't be! It can't! He wouldn't be able to hold onto the Makkankosappo for much longer, but the hybrid was still too strong! He would eventually deflect the attack and kill him, then he would go for Goku, and he would eventually find Gohan and the others. He mentally cursed. He had to gather more ki, and fast. But where would he get it from? He had no more reserves, did he? As the realization that he would not die crept into Kadrin's eyes, Piccolo cursed again. The hybrid would be preparing his own counter-attack soon, and he would be dead. Why…won't…he…just…die? the Namek screamed to himself.
Then he found what he was looking for…untapped ki. How he didn't see it before he did not know, but Piccolo wasn't about to pass it up. He reached into the hidden reserve and pulled forth a tremendous amount of ki. It surged through his body, burning through every nerve, every sinew, with its power. His normally golden-red ki attack changed colors to a deeper shade of red as something inside him snapped, and the newfound ki washed over Kadrin, killing him almost instantly.
He didn't stop there. Oh, no. He simply couldn't. This power, this new strength he had found, was his and only his. He announced it to the world, allowing the ki to rampage through his body, feeling the burn of the power and relishing every moment of it, even as it blistered his hands and singed the front of his body. It was his and his alone, and no one could take it from him!
All this happened in the span of five seconds, a few heartbeats. But a heartbeat can last a lifetime, and it did in that instant for Piccolo. In that instant he was the most powerful being on the planet. Then Goku touched his shoulder, and he was jolted out of his reverie.
"Piccolo, he's gone," came the simple announcement. "Kadrin is dead."
With that declaration, the ki shriveled up inside him. No, he wailed as the energy left him, feeling its loss as keenly as if it had been his heart, his soul. No, he cried to himself as the searing heat dissipated, leaving him cold and empty, shivering. The loss of his strength nearly broke him there, had not Goku told him he could stop. His instincts kicked in, and he concentrated on resisting the other man once again, ignoring the sharp ache in the center of his body from the ki. That was what he remembered, and at that point he had presumably lost consciousness. Thinking about it now, Goku probably saved his life. The strain on his body would have killed him had he not stopped.
What a horrendous feeling, being indebted to the man you were supposed to kill.
Damn, he growled to himself as he shifted his eyes from the far wall to the door. His concentration went back to his current predicament. Did Morodath survive and make good on his brother's offer? Did they defeat us after all? He clenched his fists in silent anger and tried to feel for other ki signatures.
It was to no avail. Piccolo had suspected as much; he wasn't able to sense anything other than Goku and a faint glimmer that might have been Gohan. He couldn't be sure, even though he had sparred with the kid for the last year and had trained him before that. He growled under his breath, knowing that something had to be done – or he might not live to see another day, depending on the outcome of the colossal battle.
After a few seconds he decided it would be best to reach out to Gohan through their mental link, the bonds forged from the love of a child and the willingness to forgive. Gohan, can you hear me? he asked, stretching out with a tendril of power to make sure he was heard.
No sooner than he spoke did the backlash hit him. The pain from trying to speak mind-to-mind was nearly as terrible as that caused by the disruptor of the crystal ball. Piccolo grimaced and inhaled sharply. "What…the hell," he breathed as the sensation subsided. There had to be some reason for what had just happened to him. Was that, perhaps, the effect of the psi-down the hybrids had used?
Well, no matter what the current situation was, he had to find out what had happened, for better or for worse. In the best-case scenario, the person he wanted to speak with would hear him. In the worst-case scenario, it would be Morodath. "Goku?" he called, hoping against hope that his former enemy would hear him.
After a few seconds, his sensitive hearing picked up the sound of footsteps on stairs, headed in his direction. They did not sound like the heavy footsteps of an adult, but they weren't light, either. Piccolo tensed his body, preparing to fight if need be but knowing he wouldn't be able to win if it came down to that. Then the person (or thing) was at the door, its hand on the knob and turning it quickly. The Namek glanced over at the doorway, watching as the door swung open and a small figure became visible on its threshold.
"Piccolo!" the figure shouted. "You're awake!"
Gohan, he thought, relieved. He did not let his relief show through on his face, though, and he scowled as the boy began to dance in the doorway. Gohan continued on in this manner for a few more seconds before he raced out of sight. His footsteps betrayed his path as he pounded down the stairs like any normal human child. Piccolo sighed and looked back up at the ceiling before closing his eyes.
Though he could not place it, he had the distinct feeling that something was wrong.
Hell
"It seems that your heir survived, Daimao," the Seer said idly. "For a moment, the situation looked grim."
"He was weaker than I expected," the elder demon growled. "He needed aid."
"But Ma Junior still won," the other demon argued. "Son Goku was not able to rise to the challenge. Your son did. He may have defeated the stronger hybrid even without the ki boost."
Daimao drummed his fingers impatiently on his seat, the flattest rock in the cavern. It was one he had torn from the ceiling in his earlier fit of rage. That rage was spent, for now, but the demon lord was not known for his patience, and that anger could be rekindled at a moment's notice.
"You said once that Kami and the other defenders of the Earth would be pulverized if Son Goku did not return. From what we have seen, he may not have been needed at all. One of the others, perhaps the assassin or his own whelp, would have sufficed. Or the arrogant Saiyan prince. The point is that Ma Junior prevented it. Perhaps there is more to him than you expected." The Seer glanced sideways at Daimao, recalling what the demon lord had so nearly done to it the last time it had said something not to his liking.
The demon did not go off in a fit of rage this time. "Perhaps there is, Seer. Ma Junior has always been the interesting one. Piano advised me, Tambourine had brains, Drum had raw strength, and Cymbal was a combination. Ma Junior – Piccolo – wields ki better than any of my other children, and he has always been more ambitious than his siblings. He does not top me in strength, this young demon, but soon…soon, he may. His other heritage might be growing on him." Daimao sighed, resigned. "I'll have to do something about it."
The Seer felt its mouth drop open and closed it hastily. Piccolo Daimao had actually referred to his youngest son by the name he had chosen? It was a first, at least in its presence. "Did you wish to speak with the scout now, Demon Lord?" it asked.
"The scout is your student, correct?"
The other demon nodded.
"Then bring him in." Daimao loosely folded his arms across his chest, his biceps rippling with the movement. He watched impassively as the weaker demon called for its protégé. He curled his lips back in a sneer when a rather puny-looking creature appeared before the Seer and bowed. The small demon – if that was what it actually was – had smooth black skin, unmarred by scars or other marks. Two large, leathery wings protruded from its back, and its fingers ended in wickedly curved claws. Two red, glowing eyes shone clearly in the darkness, but to his surprise, little else of this demon was visible. It seemed to be surrounded by some sort of black mist.
Daimao snarled. "What manner of demon are you?" he demanded, his ki beginning to rise.
The smaller demon turned to the irate demon lord and gave him a large, toothy grin. "I am Ssshadow, demon lord, and I wasss made to hide in the darknesss." He swept his wings out from underneath him and sat down, crossing his legs. "What quesstionsss do you have for me?"
"You can start by telling me why you interfered. Your orders were to not act unless I commanded you to," Daimao said angrily, unfolding his arms.
"I believed the ssituation to be sseriousss, lord," the being called Shadow replied. "I did not desssire my asssignment to be mutilated. Bessidesss, it will be eassier now to convert."
"And why can't we see you, Shadow?" he asked.
The demon looked helplessly at the Seer, who cleared its throat and spoke up. "I may answer this, Daimao," it said. "Shadow's specialties are ki absorption, subtle conversion, and limited shape-changing. This is why I chose him to be my eyes and ears on the planet Earth…he can hide nearly anywhere there is darkness, hence the mist around him. It is a form of camouflage. He can travel unseen to any place on the planet, even to the Lookout if I so desired. He is perfect, and he is our link to Ma Junior."
Piccolo Daimao rolled his eyes. "Then why is he down here still? Send him back up!" he snapped, throwing his arms into the air. "He's of no use to me while he sits on your floor!"
"You said you needed to speak with him," the Seer protested weakly.
"To hell with that. I need his eyes and ears now more than I need you." Under the force of Daimao's glare, the Seer quailed and began the intricate motions that would send Shadow to the plane of the humans. Its hands moved faster and faster, their dance becoming more and more difficult to capture until they were no more than a blur in the air. Then it stopped suddenly and snapped its fingers, and the third demon was gone, a puff of smoke the only evidence it had once sat in the cavern.
"We haven't much time," Daimao mumbled to himself after the teleportation spell was completed. He turned his back to the panting demon and began drumming the fingers of his left hand along his right arm. "I must act within the next twelve weeks, at most. With all the chaos in the upper realm, we will have the upper hand, for there will be no one to stop us. By then we must be ready to move."
Then his lips pulled back into a cruel smile. "And then I will rejoin my son."
* * * * *
Thanks once again for reading, though I do have a question for you. Would anyone possibly know what the other name for the Lookout is? I'm thinking "Tenka", but I'm not positive. Please let me know if you do know what it is.
~Dreamwraith