Dynamite? Does it work better than a mallet? *laughs and ponders the thought*
Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, and I desperately wish that I did not own a writer's block.
Chapter Twenty-One
Is it possible to meditate with your eyes open? Piccolo thought sourly as he glared at the three warriors sitting around him in various states of relaxation. Yes, three. Krillin had come along as well, arguing with the Namek that the other two (or at least Goku) wouldn't know what to do if he had another fit. Piccolo had smirked; from what he was able to hear at the time, Goku had screamed 'water-water-water-water' and ran out the door. Some brave warrior he was.
"Come on, Piccolo!" Gohan squealed, bouncing across the sand with a fishing pole. "You have to drop that end in the water and let it stay there! Else you won't catch anything!"
"I know how to fish, kid," he growled in reply. "Nail and a few others used to fish off the stepping-stone islands on Namek. There is no need to explain the activity."
He had reason to be cross. Goku had insisted that he wear something warm, like a blanket, and had proceeded to wrap him in one before practically carrying him down the stairs and out the door. Had he not been so (and he hesitated to think it) weak, Son Goku would not have been able to touch him. But between himself and Gohan – who giggled the whole time – they managed to subdue him. "Well, we got you out," Goku had said, shrugging. And then he unceremoniously dumped him on the sand.
Oh, he would get him for that.
And perhaps Tien as well, who had simply sighed and moved off to the side to clear the way for the Saiyan and his thrashing burden.
The things he had to do today. Such as escaping from these crazed men and their idea of fun. Piccolo growled again, clutching the blanket around himself. He would never have let any of the humans touch him while he was still conscious, but no one had thought to give him something to use as a shirt, to cover the bandages and prevent grit from getting in the closing wounds. Damn. Then I'm stuck with this blanket until I can materialize something. The Namek was fairly sure he would suffer no ill effects from using 'magic', but he was not willing to try. It hadn't hurt him before, when he was in the throes of a fever, so it should not affect him. Then again, that was a few days ago. He did not feel like taking that chance just yet.
"Piccolo, you're not going to catch anything if you don't put the worm in!" Gohan exclaimed, baiting his hook and dropping it into the water. "Bottom feeding's the best. You can catch the biggest fish there!"
The green-skinned fighter gritted his teeth, but he couldn't stay angry with Gohan for long. The boy was practically his own, after all, and what father could stay so angry with his own son? My own, Piccolo thought, a bitter smile gracing his face as he baited his own hook and let it fall. He'd pitch a fit if he could see me now.
Goku's stick suddenly bent in the middle, nearly doubled over into the water. "Hey, I've got one!" the Saiyan yelled gleefully. "And it feels like it's a big – hey!" The fish on the other end of the pole gave it a mighty jerk, and the warrior tumbled into the water.
"So much for our dinner," Krillin laughed, slapping his free hand to his thigh. "Will there be anything left when Goku's done with it?"
"I hope so, Krillin," Gohan replied, staring intently at the surface of the water. "I'm getting kinda hungry."
"You just ate!"
"An hour ago!" the boy protested. "And it was cold!"
Without any warning, a sudden geyser erupted from the surface of the water, showering the three warriors. Oblivious to the startled curses from Krillin and Piccolo, Goku emerged from the water with an enormous fish in tow, grinning from ear to ear. "Anybody hungry?" he asked as he lowered himself to the beach.
Piccolo shook his head at the man's childish antics. How did he become involved with these people, anyway?
"Not for that!" Krillin exclaimed. He swiped his hand across his eyes to brush away the water, but for naught. The instant he released dinner, Goku shook himself off and sprayed water over the group again.
"Son!" Piccolo growled, shielding his eyes and whipping his pole out of the water. He hadn't counted on Goku acting so crazy, but then again, this was Goku he was thinking about, and he was generally unpredictable. Especially with him. The last time he had felt the need to analyze him, Piccolo had been lying at the bottom of a crater and dying. And he knew where that had gotten him.
"Oh, sorry, Piccolo," Goku said. "Didn't mean to do that."
"You're hopeless," the Namek spat back.
Quite right.
"What…" Piccolo turned the glare he held Goku in into a frown as he darted his eyes from human to Saiyan. Someone had said something, he was sure of it. He wasn't hearing things. Though he was not too reassured when his gaze was met by three equally confused stares.
"What do you mean, what?" Krillin asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Why did you say – " Piccolo stopped when it became apparent that neither Gohan nor Krillin knew what he was talking about. And of course Goku wouldn't talk about himself. "Never mind." He composed his features into a scowl. This wasn't like him at all. His mind was more disciplined than that. And there was no way in hell he could blame Nail for speaking up. He hadn't heard the warrior once since they had fused.
Piccolo's losing his mind, Krillin thought as the Namek turned his attention back to the water. He glanced down briefly at his own fishing pole when Gohan caught his eye by waving his hand. He frowned at the concerned expression on the boy's face.
"What's going on?" Gohan mouthed.
Krillin shrugged. "Good question," he mouthed back.
"Are you all right?" Goku asked the Namek, blinking at the green warrior.
"Considering how different our definitions of 'all right' are," Piccolo snapped, glancing up at Goku, "take a guess."
"Um, I'd say yes," the Saiyan replied, scratching the back of his head nervously.
Weakling scum. It can be done easily.
Piccolo narrowed his eyes upon hearing the same voice speak up, but Goku took it personally. "Or not?" he added weakly.
"Just shut up, Goku," the Namek growled. "You've already stuck your foot in your mouth. Don't push it down your throat."
Is that all you're going to do? The unknown speaker sounded petulant, and more than a little disappointed. "Yes. Now leave me alone," Piccolo said, returning his attention and red-hot gaze to the gentle waves in the ocean.
"But we're not saying anything!" the Saiyan protested.
Piccolo did not respond to the other man's plea. He had problems of his own to deal with. One of which gave him the impression of two figures huddling around a third, and for some reason he was not sure of, they were laughing. And the laughter was not pleasant.
The monstrosity Goku had caught that afternoon (or rather, that had caught him) was more than adequate to feed the two Saiyans, four humans, and the shapeshifter. Between Chi-Chi and Krillin, the fish was diced and cooked in ten minutes, and served with potatoes and carrots in three. It was a superhuman effort, but worth every minute of it. How they managed to fit themselves around the table was a mystery.
And how Gohan had managed to convince Piccolo to please, pretty please join him for dinner was an even greater enigma.
But nonetheless, Piccolo was seated – squashed – between Gohan and Goku, where he could not ignore the look of pity shot across the table from Krillin. I suppose it comes from having to sit between the resident black holes, he thought, taking a sip of water from the glass Master Roshi had set before him.
Therefore he missed how the conversation had turned to him, and discussing what was to be done with him.
"…one more senzu bean, if you can. Other than that, there shouldn't be anything else. Wouldn't you agree, Piccolo?" Master Roshi's scratchy voice interrupted his thoughts, and the Namek blinked once before realizing he had been addressed.
As the collective gaze of the table settled on him, Piccolo nodded and took another sip of water, letting his thoughts drift. There must be some reason why the internal ki-war stopped so suddenly, he reflected. I am not healed yet, nor are the larger wounds closing, so why? It is a point to ponder, no doubt, and I wonder if I'll find out.
Sooner than I think.
Much sooner.
And why must Son Goku be destroyed?
The Namek was forced back into reality by a light tap on his shoulder. "Piccolo, are you all right?" came Goku's voice, and the Namek turned his head and found himself three inches from the Saiyan's face. He recoiled violently and very nearly fell out of his chair. "What is it?"
"Nothing," Piccolo snapped, furious with Goku for moving so close and furious with himself for not noticing. The concerned expression on the Saiyan's face did little to help the situation, either. "Don't bother yourself with my thoughts.
"You've been staring at the table for the past five minutes."
Piccolo said nothing in reply, simply glaring at the other man until he shrugged and looked away. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Krillin drop his gaze hastily to his plate and Chi-Chi shoot him an irritated frown. These humans have no respect for those with more power, he thought angrily, and then berated himself. They are not built for battle. They are lucky they have survived even this long.
He paid no attention to his surroundings and instead began a simple meditation, neither deep nor involved, but one that would serve only as a relaxation. He watched as his vision clouded over, signaling the onset of the slightly comatose state he was dropping himself into. Finally, he breathed, I shall not be bothered. The demon part of his heritage was firmly against a meditation that was not combat- or training-based, but his Namekian blood won out. Peace it was, for a while.
White and lavender mist, swirling, twirling, dancing in small eddies at his feet. Waves, water and light, the warm sand below him, heating his body and clearing his mind. Wind, a mild breeze, whistling around his ears and antennae, softly caressing his skin. Mellow, bittersweet, and clear. Silky and bright. A euphoria he could never have while conscious was his alone in his mind.
Wait.
In a heartbeat, a moment full to burst, redness dropped over the serenity like a cloudburst, a flare of heat in his most secluded of havens. What? he exclaimed, the color dripping along the edges of his vision like a viscous liquid. Almost like…no. He would not say it. He would not think it.
Daimao's leering grin, though he had never before seen his sire, was felt. He knew what it was. Of course he would know. He was a Demon Lord, and his power was established through its loss.
What is going on?
This had never before happened to him in a meditative state, and Piccolo pulled himself out of his 'calming' exercise with a gasp and a curse. I will never be free of his shadow. "Damn him," the Namek growled loudly, slamming his fist down on the edge of the table. Only Goku's quick reflexes saved it from being overturned.
"Piccolo, what happened?" Gohan gasped, staring at his mentor. Across the way, Krillin inched back from the table, in case the green man was going to upset another piece of furniture. "Is something wrong?"
The grimace froze on Piccolo's face. "I…am going to get some rest. Do not bother me." He rose from the table in one fluid motion that had more than one pair of eyebrows raised in surprise, and walked away. His footsteps were heard on the stairs not three seconds later, heading up to his room.
Krillin exhaled forcefully and shuddered. "I might have missed something here, but what on Earth was that all about? Isn't he supposed to be the sane one?"
Oolong leapt down from his stool and snorted. "Sane? He's never sane. He's just less insane than the rest of you."
Tien shook his head and blinked. "I'd like to know how he was able to get up like that and walk away. Correct me if I'm wrong, but injured warriors don't move gracefully."
"But don't forget," Gohan added, "that he's Piccolo."
Goku nearly smiled at the open admiration showing on his only son's face. The Namek was the boy's other father, or so it seemed. Good for Piccolo, that someone loved him like that. It calmed him.
But there were other, more pressing matters at hand than how Piccolo had changed. Why had Piccolo jerked like that? The Saiyan figured he'd been meditating – heck, Piccolo always did that to deaden himself to his surroundings. But something must have happened during his meditation for him to have jumped like that. What that something was, Goku doubted he would ever know.
Tell me, if and when he wakes up, if anything seems different with him, Goku, Krillin, Kami had said two days before.
Goku risked a glance at the ceiling, toward the room where he knew Piccolo would be sitting. The Namek's ki was stationary, so he hadn't tried to fly away. And ignoring the speculation by Krillin and Gohan as to why Piccolo wouldn't want to finish his water, he said to himself, "I think I should go pay Kami a visit."
Tien followed the Saiyan's gaze and sighed. He would be leaving soon, to tell Yamcha and Chiaotzu that Piccolo had snapped out of unconsciousness, but he would not be leaving him unmonitored. Something about the gleam in his eyes when he had gasped…
The triclops knew not if Piccolo's recovery would bring more harm than good.
* * * * *
Sorry it took so long, readers and reviewers. As is the case with all students, who have been thrown back into class after summer, I have found that it is easier to come up with ideas in Physics than it is in front of my computer. Thanks for waiting. I appreciate it.
~Dreamwraith