I've been thinking about senzu beans and how exactly they work, and the only reason I pulled my theory together is because a reviewer brought it up. Thank you, Bonzo the Fifth. I hope the idea is sound.
Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ or any of its characters. I do own my original characters and places. And that's about it.
Chapter Seventeen
"Mmmf, dissh shur ish guh!" Goku exclaimed through a mouthful of food.
"Why don't you wait until your mouth is empty, Goku?" Bulma asked, smacking him across the back of the head.
The rest of the table erupted into laughter. Somehow, Master Roshi and Krillin had crammed everyone around the table in the living room, and the warriors were enjoying their lunch. Some a bit too much, as Goku proved. "I said, mmm, this sure is good!" the Saiyan repeated indignantly. He puffed out his chest and frowned, which caused another ripple of laughter in the room.
"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it," Bulma said, glancing over at Oolong, who was pouting near the door. "If I hadn't gotten down here when I did, we wouldn't have had anything at all to eat." She glared at the shapeshifter, who stuck his tongue out at her. It was no secret that Oolong couldn't cook, and when Bulma had found the group's lunch – or what had once been their lunch – she had taken it upon herself to try to remedy the problem. She immediately pushed the pig out of the kitchen and, with Yamcha's help, had begun making scrambled eggs and bacon (which, of course, irked Oolong to no end). She had just finished the first batch up when Tien had come down from the room, and the second batch was finished by the time Chi-Chi had barreled down the stairs. The third and fourth batches, for the Saiyans, were done not even five minutes later.
"At least your cooking has improved," Yamcha teased, ducking the resulting swat in his direction.
"At least I can cook," Bulma replied, glancing over at Goku, who was stuffing his face with more bacon. Oolong, she noticed wryly, looked as if he was about to be sick. She then snuggled herself against Yamcha's arm.
"So what happened, Goku?" Krillin asked, before everyone could start laughing again. "What did he say up there?"
Goku looked up quickly from another handful of bacon. "Say wha-?" he began to ask, when Krillin interrupted him.
"Uh, with your mouth empty, please, if you don't mind," the monk said, tilting his head slightly to the right.
"Oh, right." The Saiyan then gulped down what was in his mouth, and hanging out of his mouth, before he said anything else. Krillin sighed, wiping his own mouth. That man is a piranha, he thought. Stick anything in front of him while he was eating, and it would go in there, too. Come to think of it, King Kai said that about Tien, Yamcha, and Chiaotzu, when they were up there. That is, if Yamcha didn't exaggerate that, but I don't think he did. But geez, I wouldn't want to get between Goku and his food!
"Well," Goku said after a moment, "he didn't seem too thrilled to be stuck in that room. I think that when he gets better, we'll have to move him out of there." The thoughtful look on Goku's face was not lost on Chi-Chi, and she bit back a scathing comment. The Saiyan picked up another piece of bacon and promptly began nibbling on it.
"Is that all he said, dad?" Gohan asked anxiously. It was painfully obvious to all in the room that the boy was hanging on every word his father said about his mentor and friend, and not a few glances were directed at Chi-Chi. To her credit, she held her peace and kept her expression neutral.
"No. Did you guys give him a senzu bean at all?" Goku asked, pulling the bacon away from his mouth. "And for that matter, did you give me one?" Unspoken was the fear that he already did eat one, and that it did not work.
As was the norm, his fear was confirmed. "Yeah, I got them when you both were brought in," Chiaotzu's voice piped. "We had to grind them up and mix them in with water to get you to eat them, but you did have them. Both of you."
Goku's bacon hit the table with a greasy splat. "You're kidding me, right?" he asked after half a minute, his eyes wide with surprise. "I mean, you're supposed to heal when you eat a senzu bean! What happened?" The man's confusion and fear was infectious, and it wasn't long before similar expressions of concern were shown by Tien, Yamcha, and Krillin.
"I…have no idea, Goku," the small man said softly, shaking his head. "I wish I could tell you."
"However, I can," Bulma said smugly, pulling herself away from Yamcha's comforting embrace. All eyes turned to her as she stood up and cleared her throat. "I managed to get a sample of the chemicals the hybrids sprayed on you, Goku, and they contained a regenerative inhibitor that seems to have been created specifically for combat against species that can regenerate themselves, like Nameks and starfish."
The thought of Piccolo being compared to a starfish was almost too much for Krillin, and he had to bite his tongue hard to hold back his laughter. "And how's that making the senzu beans not work?" he asked, running a hand along the back of his head.
"Shut up, shrimp, I was getting to that!" Bulma snapped at him, pulling her eyebrows down so far over her eyes that she nearly succeeded in recreating a Vegeta-glare on her face. "But anyway," and here her expression changed so suddenly that nearly everyone jumped when she switched from scowling to smiling, "an analysis of the chemical structure of the senzu bean proves what I've been thinking all along, that it's not the bean itself that does the healing. Rather, it's the body that does the healing…the bean is just a catalyst."
"Pardon?" Goku asked, leaning forward. "What does that mean?"
"It means that the bean is triggering a response in the body. What I think is that the senzu bean accelerates the body's natural healing rate. A living body will eventually heal most of its wounds flawlessly – and the senzu bean just eliminates the weeks and months and years that it would take for the process to run through naturally. But the sprayed mixture, it specifically works against the healing process in rapid-regenerating organisms, even though it'll still have a lesser reaction with other beings, too. Goku, Saiyans don't have special regenerative systems like Nameks, so you'll heal at an almost normal rate. The senzu bean seems to have cancelled out the effect of the hybrids' chemical. With Piccolo, the senzu bean didn't work at all. Right now he has no regenerative capabilities, so there's nothing for the senzu to act on. He can't heal himself up, so he'll be down and out for a while." Bulma placed her hands on her hips and looked straight at Goku. "Did that answer your question?" she asked.
The Saiyan frowned and cocked his head to one side. "Mmm, I don't know," he said, shrugging. "I guess."
The scientist took it as I have no idea, I don't get it anyway, and sighed.
"So Piccolo's not going to heal until the mixture is out of his system?" Gohan asked, aware that his mother was giving him 'the look' again. His face flushed a light pink, and he ducked his head.
"Right, kid," Bulma said, relieved that someone had understood what she had said. She sunk back into her seat gratefully.
There was silence in the room for a few minutes, before Goku spoke up again. "But Piccolo also said the ki he has left to him was being drained by his injuries and by his core, because he needs to replenish the ki he drained from his life force, and it's a tug-of-war. Because he can't regenerate and stop that, he said that there is a chance he won't pull through."
"Come again?" Krillin exclaimed in surprise, raising both eyebrows.
"He might die," Goku said softly.
The room burst into exclamations of shock as the news sunk in. "You're kidding!" "What?" "Huh?" "Say what?"
"He doesn't have the ki he needs to heal, and until the G serum works its way out of him, there's the chance that he won't make it," Goku repeated in as soft a tone as he had before.
"Is there something we can do to help?" Krillin asked, cupping his chin in his hands and leaning over the table.
"Not that I know of, and not that he told me," the Saiyan replied.
The room grew silent once more, until Gohan broke the silence by pushing what was left of his breakfast away from him. "I'm not hungry anymore," he said in a small, quiet voice, and all eyes followed him as he stood up and left the room.
It was well into the afternoon before Piccolo began feeling the full effect of the 'illness'. It was bad enough earlier, when he'd had to cope with dizzy spells and not being able to focus. Now, he could not clear his head; everything seemed so foggy to him. The Namek had barely sensed the departing ki of Yamcha, Pu'ar, and Bulma, even though the man had flown them next to his window before heading off. That was definitely not something he needed.
Just like this fever, Piccolo thought miserably as he stared up at the ceiling.
The Namek rarely fell ill, and when he did it was minor – he'd recovered within two or three days of catching it. This was something new, and he did not like it. His body was racked with chills, but when he put a hand to his forehead he felt strangely hot. He'd had to materialize a blanket for himself, to keep from alerting the others to what was happening. He did not want them to come rushing in to find him so prone, so helpless.
Piccolo growled low in his throat. This is irritating, to say the least, he grumbled to himself. Even the slightest sound hurt his ears now, and he had considered asking for earplugs more than once. It would have been worthwhile, but then again, he would have been showing them how weak he really was. Not good, at any time, and he dismissed the idea. Right now he heard the television remote hit the floor, and the resulting curse from Master Roshi.
"Hey, Piccolo?" came a quiet voice from the doorway. "Are you awake?"
He did not need to turn his head to know who was speaking. "Yeah, kid," he said in reply.
Gohan moved forward into the room. "How are you feeling?" he asked, staring at his feet and folding his arms in front of his body. He was more than a little ashamed to bother his mentor, but he needed to know for himself what was happening. A second-hand account wasn't good enough.
"Terrible."
"Are you…are you dying?"
The question hit Piccolo hard. Dying. It was not simply reminding him of his mortality, of the frailty of all things living. It was also a part of his dark past, the chapter of his life he thought he had closed. Dying. With that simple statement, a thousand memories came flooding back to him, and he squeezed his eyes shut against them – to no avail. They were the memories of his sire, of his short childhood, of his coming-of-age. They were memories of death, and they echoed through his mind like the word that triggered their revival.
Reddened visions of agonized humans, screaming for mercy before his outstretched, taloned hand, danced before his eyes. Humans falling, dying, the ground stained with their blood. Houses burning, smoke filling the sky and painting it black. A tall man, with long, spiked hair, laughing even as he left this world. Explosions of ki, mayhem, destruction…they all manifested themselves before him, and he could do nothing but watch helplessly as his shadowed past paraded before him.
One 'event' in particular began to play itself out before him, one of Daimao's evil deeds that had been passed on to his own mind. Daimao had just been cast out of Kami's body, and it was his first mindless, senseless act of destruction…a human village, where the children were just being tucked into their beds for the night.
No, he begged whatever powers were listening. Not this one. It was uncharacteristic for him for him to plead in such a manner, but Piccolo did not care. The memory of this attack had tormented his childhood dreams and threatened to overwhelm him. He had no desire to deal with it now, but it kept coming.
Fires, and the screams that made an eerie harmony with Daimao's chilling laughter. He mercilessly slaughtered anything that moved, and burned away whatever did not. It was total destruction, chaos, and the land was scarred permanently by his evening's fun. Fun? The way the humans had begged for their lives before him, and the cries that followed…
"Nooo!" Piccolo howled. I am not like this! I am not him! He was faintly aware of Gohan screaming and running out of the room, but he could do nothing about it. His body went rigid as he fought to keep control of what went through his mind, and he broke into a cold sweat. He dug his fingers into the mattress and cried out again, this time in pain. It was too much at the worst possible time, and what little ki the Namek had left to him he began to extend in an effort to rid himself of the memory.
And then he was aware of two people running up the stairs, their feet pounding on the floor like hammers on wood. He gritted his teeth, and a quiet moan escaped from his parted lips.
"Piccolo! Stop!" Goku called from the hall. If Piccolo had glanced over at the doorway, he would have seen a hand shoot out from the shadowed hall and latch onto the door frame. Then he would have seen Goku slinging himself through the door with his forward momentum and skidding to a halt before the bed. Had the situation been different, he would have smirked.
"Stop! It's us!" Krillin exclaimed, following in a more controlled manner.
At the sound of their voices, edged with fear, the Namek abruptly went limp. He was not unconscious; far from it, really. He clutched at the sheets under him and tore holes in the flimsy fabric. Goku rushed forward and put a hand to his forehead – rather foolish of him, since Piccolo was not in full control of himself – and withdrew it almost immediately.
"He's burning up!" Goku yelped. "Water water water water!" He rushed out of the room and back down the hallway for something that could help, even though a bowl of cool water would not help the Namek much now.
Piccolo bit back a groan as Krillin took the Saiyan's place. Both men could hear startled exclamations coming from downstairs, presumably from Tien and Chiaotzu. "Hang in there, Piccolo," the monk said, dropping a hand to the edge of the mattress, "Goku's trying to get help." He watched as Piccolo turned his head on the pillow and opened his eyes, and he winced. The Namek's eyes were obviously not focused on him, but Krillin knew he was trying. Piccolo's normally jet-colored eyes were clouding over, and the whites of his eyes were faintly tinted with pink.
"Damn…them…" Piccolo rasped, his breath coming in short gasps.
"Who?" Krillin asked urgently, leaning over the side of the bed. "Who, Piccolo?"
The green man did not respond. Instead, he tightly closed his eyes again and grimaced. Krillin had to restrain himself from grabbing the Namek by the shoulders and shaking him. He might be able to get away with it now, but when Piccolo recovered he would face a serious problem. "Hang in there!" Krillin said again, frowning. He so badly wanted to put a hand on the Namek's arm for comfort – his reassurance was so inadequate! – but touching Piccolo was taboo, and if he did the Namek would likely have his head on a stick. So he gripped the side of the bed instead.
"Move it, already, and let me see him!" came a strangely familiar voice from the doorway, and the monk was roughly pushed aside to make room for a familiar blue figure.
King Kai? How did he get here? Piccolo thought dimly, trying to focus on the god's ki signature. He must be terribly ill if he couldn't feel that man's ki approaching. He'd spent a year with the North Kai, and his ki was among the few he would immediately recognize wherever he was. The god was also very straightforward, and a trip like this would have been announced, wouldn't it? His condition must be critical, indeed.
"Forgive me, Piccolo, but this is for your own good," the short god said quickly.
For what? And then a cool hand was rested on his forehead. Piccolo felt everything go numb, a blessing, and then he felt nothing more.
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Thanks for reading! As always, I appreciate your opinions and your advice. 'Til next chapter, folks.
~Dreamwraith