This chapter was so…fun…to write, and it's long, too. Heh. As promised, it's out for Halloween, and I'm hoping my updates come a bit quicker after this. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, though it is on occasion fun trying to think of interesting disclaimers to put to this story.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kami did not have to wait long before his opportunity had presented itself. Upon reflection much, much later, he thought he should not have hoped so fervently that Piccolo would come to him – for when he did, he brought all Hell with him.
It was two days after his short conversation with Uranai Baba that the aged Namek began to feel a sense of dread, the figurative dark clouds amassing and looming over the horizon. At first it was barely noticeable, and the Guardian wrote it off as nothing more than nerves, and being anxious about contacting Piccolo. Though why this was, he was not certain.
"Popo," Kami called, sinking gratefully into his throne, "would you be so kind as to bring me a glass of water?" Then he sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples to relieve some of the strain coming from keeping track of Piccolo for hours at a time. It was almost dinner time, and the last thing he had felt from the younger Namek was a sense of relief. From what, he couldn't tell, but he was rather glad Piccolo was not overly upset about anything at the moment. He liked to think the other Namek was let off the hook and did not have to sit at the dinner table with the humans.
Of course, the Guardian did not rule out the possibility that Piccolo might be hiding his emotions.
"That boy will be the death of me," he mumbled, dropping his head forward so that his chin rested in one of his hands.
His duty as Guardian was almost done for the day, and then he could retire to the library once more and attempt to find out more about what to do with Piccolo. He only needed to scan the planet quickly for any disturbances. It had been one of those days, where minor problems would arise and require his attention, and two more sprang up in the place of each one he took care of. Between that and Piccolo, Kami felt he needed a vacation. It was too bad he was not able to convince Goku to take his position years ago.
The aging Namek closed his eyes and cleared his mind, allowing his senses to roam the planet without him. As usual, he checked up on each and every one of the Earth's defenders and spiraled out from there; if there ever was any real threat to the planet, at least one of them would be there with it. At the present time, Chiaotzu and Tien were headed off towards Yamcha, who was at the Capsule Corp. with Bulma…Krillin was at the Kame House…Goku and Gohan were eating dinner…Vegeta was actually in this solar system, just past the moon somewhere…Piccolo was…what?
Kami frowned as he tried to focus in on the other Namek with his sight, but all he found was a curious blankness, as though he had struck a wall. "What is this…" he mumbled to himself, forcing himself to stare through the blank spot. He knew Piccolo was there; his ki senses told him he was there. And he had not felt him leave the Kame House. But why couldn't he see him? Blast. He should not have let the boy out of his 'sight'.
The Guardian found his 'eyes' drawn to a sudden movement, a ripple in the wall, and he stretched himself just a bit farther for a closer look…to catch sight of his own reflection. "Strange," he muttered, peering at his own image. "What is going on here?" Strange, indeed. For the more he stared, the more distorted the area seemed, and when his curiosity got the better of him he reached out for it to touch its surface.
And a black creature with glowing eyes leapt out at him, dripping fangs angled for his face as it snarled…
Kami pulled back into himself with a shout that had Mr. Popo running for him. "Oh, my goodness," he panted, clutching at the sides of his seat hard enough to leave scratches in them. "What on Earth was that?"
"Kami! Kami!" the djinn cried as he rounded a corner, sloshing water from the glass he was bringing to the Namek. "Is everything all right? Are we under attack?"
"No, no, Popo," the Guardian replied slowly, his eyes darting about the room as though trying to find the invisible assailant. "I am just seeing things."
Mr. Popo frowned deeply as he set the glass of water down next to Kami. "But you are the Guardian, Kami," he said. "You are supposed to see things."
"Not like this, Popo," he replied with a sigh. "I must be tired." Or else the worst has happened, he thought, and…
Kami's thoughts trailed off when he felt Piccolo's ki suddenly flare up on the island. "What…what is happening?" he gasped, leaping to his feet and knocking the glass to the floor. The puddle went unnoticed, because Mr. Popo was staring in shock at the look of horror on the Guardian's face.
"Oh, Kami, what is it?" the djinn exclaimed. "Has something happened to Piccolo? Or Goku?"
"It's Piccolo." The Guardian sprinted across the room and stopped in the doorway, staring out across the vast expanse of the Lookout. Normally a burst of ki from the other Namek did not mean anything, but this was not normal in the least. The nearest warrior to Piccolo was Krillin, and he was helping with the dishes. Well, 'had been' would have been much more accurate; Kami doubted Krillin would have stood still for an outburst like that.
His earlier sense of dread flared up into something much more terrible, more foreboding, and he could almost feel the pit of his stomach drop out. "Fight it, Piccolo," the older Namek whispered to the wind. "You must, or it will take you."
He did not even want to guess at what 'it' was, for fear he would be right.
Piccolo had been noticeably relieved when he was not asked to dinner by either Krillin or Master Roshi. "I might as well meditate," he muttered to himself as he folded his arms and legs and lifted himself into the air, enjoying the heat that radiated off the still-warm sand.
He cleared his mind and focused on nothing, the blessed silence soothing his frazzled nerves. The Namek could hardly believe how loud two humans and one shapeshifter could be, or how much they could argue. Actually, it was the turtle hermit and that pig doing most of the fighting; Krillin was merely an unfortunate bystander.
Nevertheless, he had been glad that he was able to escape from them.
Escape? Piccolo snorted mentally. More like terrified them into leaving me be.
As you should have.
His eyes flew open at the disruption. "I told you to leave me alone," he growled dangerously.
I decided to help you with your 'inhibitions', young demon.
"I am not 'inhibited'. Now get out of my head."
Or else what? Will you run to that pathetic excuse of a Guardian?
Piccolo gritted his teeth angrily. "I do not run to anyone," he hissed.
Then why not face it? You know what you are.
His eyes narrowed to slits, and he growled again. "Good. I know my heritage. I think you have made that very clear – I'm a demon, and a Namek. Is that good?"
I know what you are, as well. You're tainted.
As simple as the phrase was, it struck something within Piccolo, and he found himself suddenly overwhelmed by it.
Tainted, said Morodath with his dying breath.
Tainted.
The thought echoed through his mind and brought him to his knees with its intensity.
"Damn it," he hissed, clutching at his temples so hard with his taloned fingers that he drew blood. "Stop this. I gave it up!" What is happening? he screamed to himself.
He tore his hands away from his head in horror, staring at them. In place of a few purple smudges ran red rivulets of blood, dripping onto the golden sand and staining it, trickling through the grains slowly. His eyes widened at the sight.
Tainted.
I will not be feared because I am different, a Namek, but because I am a demon. Because of my sire, and my actions. Because of what he and I have done. Because I am evil incarnate.
The twin voices of the dead hybrid and himself spoke in his thoughts as he reeled away from the illusion. "No," he said fiercely, "I will not listen to you!" Onyx orbs turned dull, white began to color red as the blood he envisioned. Oh, but how they danced for you, demon lord, before they died! Did you feel no rush, no excitement from their cries? How warm they were on your taloned hands!
The Namek shook his head violently and swiped at the empty space in front of him, his ki flaring up around him. "Get away from me," he snarled. "I will not fall to you."
Ah, but you don't know that, now do you?
The promise he made to Goku then crept to the front of his jumbled mind, and he exhaled hard. Just promise me that you'll see Kami if anything else happens. Promise me, Piccolo. Swear it. Say it, so I know you're not lying to me, the man had said. And he had agreed to see the other Namek if anything went wrong.
And this definitely constituted 'wrong'.
With a cry he sprang into the air and bolted for the Lookout, ignoring Krillin's startled exclamation behind him.
Kami felt his counterpart's offspring approaching the Lookout and reached out to him anxiously; and he recoiled both physically and mentally from the turmoil he encountered. He had so rarely felt such a sensation in Piccolo. The situation must be dire indeed for this to be happening.
He had a fleeting feeling of regret that he had not done more for the younger Namek, but it could not be helped now. Piccolo was coming to him, most likely for help, and he needed to be ready. He could not afford to be distracted now.
"Popo," he said to the djinn standing just behind him, "if you don't mind, I'd like you to wait inside the library, or down below with Korin and Yajirobe."
"Is this going to be dangerous?" Mr. Popo asked, furrowing his brow. "I shouldn't let you face him alone, Kami."
"Don't worry about me, Popo," the Namek reassured him. "I do not wish to offend you, but you would only distract me from whatever I will need to do."
The dark man was visibly upset, but he complied. Calling for his magic carpet, he added one final request. "But if you need help, Kami, please call me. I feel terrible about leaving you to do this on your own."
His sorrowful expression was lost on the Namek, who snapped his head around in the direction Piccolo's ki was coming from. The difference in his ki was quite noticeable now, and Kami would have been willing to bet that Korin was going nuts. The cat was more likely than not trying to find a suitable spot from which he and Yajirobe could defend his tower far below the Lookout. Kami snorted in amusement, before growing serious once more. If Piccolo wanted to destroy the tower and its inhabitants, there would be nothing either of them could do about it.
The Guardian waved to Mr. Popo as he hopped onto his carpet and sped away, disappearing from sight into the clouds below. "Thank you for listening, old friend," he muttered, tightening his grip on his staff. "Let us pray that this all comes to nothing."
He frowned when he felt Piccolo's ki spike again – a burst of speed – and faced the oncoming warrior completely, stepping away from the doorway and out into the fading light. He was so close to the Lookout now, he would arrive any…
A brilliant streak of light flashed close by Kami, and the force of its passing knocked him off his feet. The Guardian pulled himself back up and caught sight of the trail it had left, straight through three of the trees and one of the pillars, and leading off the Lookout. His eyes widened as he thought, Did he miss the Lookout entirely? Has he fallen off?
Kami sprinted to the edge of the Lookout, wincing in sympathy as he followed the scorched path. A landing like that, with that much of a skid, and with all the jagged edges he had torn up…Piccolo would be feeling that for a while. At least there was no blood mixed in with the charred tiles.
"Charred?" the older Namek murmured. "With all the landings and battles here, the tiles were never charred. What…what has happened to him?" Kami crouched down and leaned over the edge, and caught sight of Piccolo as he dangled by one hand off the side. Well, at least talons are good for something, the Guardian thought with a bit of humor, but the holes will have to be patched later. He reached down and latched onto the younger Namek's wrist, grunting as he slowly pulled him back onto the Lookout.
Even before Piccolo's face was visible, Kami knew something must be terribly amiss. Not protesting being dragged back onto the floor by the person he hated most of all? By all that was holy, Piccolo must have been struggling against a serious problem. Deadly serious, judging by the gouges in his head. The other Namek had clenched his eyes shut against something, and it was all Kami could do to not embrace him. "Piccolo, speak to me," he said gently, taking a step back after he released him. "What is going on? What has happened to you?"
The response came in his mind. Grab…my shoulder…follow me to my training area again.
The Guardian almost collapsed in shock. Piccolo had volunteered something? Hang on, child. I am coming. He did as he was asked and was immediately sucked into Piccolo's mind.
"Too quickly," Kami said, surveying his surroundings. Once again he was in that boundless field, with the withered trees and the forest and the moss, and it all looked relatively intact – a small relief. Was he still salvageable? "I should not have gotten here this quickly."
"Then make this just as quick, Kami," Piccolo snapped, appearing in front of him. "Tell me what you've been hiding from me these past few weeks. You can't deny that you've sensed something different about me. Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you warn me?"
The Guardian blinked at the accusing glare he received. "Would you have believed me if I told you something was amiss? You would have dismissed my advice and walked away. And I did warn Goku and the others. They were told what to do if and when something happened to you."
"Answer the question already!" Piccolo growled. "Don't just stand there wasting my time. What is wrong with me?" The younger Namek crossed his arms over his chest and scowled deeply, radiating a rage that would have rivaled anything Vegeta could have ever felt.
Kami grimaced. "King Kai and I both knew you would be vulnerable to mental suggestions, and we both kept our eyes on you because you would not have been able to handle it. Someone has been manipulating you."
"I did not ask you to come so you could tell me how weak I am, old man," Piccolo snapped.
"That's not what I meant, Piccolo, and you know it," Kami snapped back, gritting his teeth. "I'm telling you that there's something out there with a grudge against you, not that you aren't a strong warrior!" He lifted his staff up and struck the ground every few words, emphasizing his agitation. "I am trying to help you, Piccolo, but you are fighting it every step of the way!"
"I don't need your help, Kami," the self-proclaimed demon spat. "I've lived this long without anything at all from you, except attempts on my life. I can live a bit longer. I only want the answer to my question."
"And that is where the problem lies!"
Piccolo turned on his heel abruptly and strode off into the field, away from the forest and Kami. The Guardian had already stayed too long in his mind, and both Nameks knew it. "I don't want you back in here. I'll deal with it on my own," he said after a moment of the most uncomfortable silence Kami had ever 'heard'.
"Then you admit that something is wrong?" the Guardian asked breathlessly as he half-ran to catch up to Piccolo.
Piccolo said nothing, and that was not comforting at all.
"Piccolo, talk to me," Kami said softly. "I can help you with this."
Then a third presence joined the two Nameks in the mental training ground. Piccolo's well-set shields twinged and then shrieked as they were burned away by a powerful force, and Piccolo's mental projection flinched. Kami whipped his staff in front of him, though it would be of little use if a conflict erupted in the field It wasn't his mind.
You will wisssh you can, foolisssh Guardian, a strange voice rasped, coming from everywhere and nowhere.
"Who are you?" Kami challenged, glancing about.
"What are you doing here?" Piccolo roared, with a hint of fear in his voice. He recognized that sibilant voice. "Get out!"
You would die if I did, ssson of Daimao.
And like a bolt of lightning, a cold realization dawned on Kami. His eyes widened, the pale whites gleaming with what could be called fear. His emerald skin blanched, beaded with sweat. "No," he gasped, "that can't be what this is all about! He cannot do this from beyond the halls of the Afterlife!" As he finished the last word, a wind whipped forth from the trees, howling in its intensity and seeming startlingly familiar to Piccolo. He'd already felt such a gale, and several pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.
"Do you know what this is?" Piccolo shouted to the Guardian, whose face was now set in a grim realization of something he didn't, or couldn't, pick up on.
"You've got a demon in your mind, Piccolo," Kami said, furrowing his brow and closing his eyes for a brief moment. The look he gave the younger Namek when he opened them was far from reassuring. "It has a hold on your soul."
For all the times that Kami had told him half-truths and had refused to deal with him, Piccolo felt that now he was telling the truth. It explained the wind that had attacked him weeks ago, when Uranai Baba's crystal ball had been corrupted and broken. It explained the voice he had heard in his head, the unusually violent suggestions his mind had given him. The visions he had seen. The loss of control. He gritted his teeth and straightened up. "Stop being dramatic, Kami," he growled much more bravely than he felt. He tried to convince himself of it, that the other Namek was blowing it out of proportion, but deep in his heart Piccolo knew Kami was absolutely serious.
"Your father has you," Kami said simply, sadly, and then Piccolo's world began to change, as though that simple, damning phrase had cued it. The 'sky' he trained under turned a sickly shade of yellow, and that horrible wind began to rage from every corner of the compass. Kami did not – could not – see it, but Piccolo's vision began to blur and re-form in shades of red. The grass withered and died, the few flowers there were shriveled up, the trees blackened and fell apart.
"Get out of here, Kami," Piccolo growled, hanging his head. "You can't fight it here."
"What?" The Guardian took a step forward, but the resulting shout from the younger Namek halted him in his tracks.
"Damn it all, leave!" Piccolo yelled harshly, glaring up at his older counterpart. "You can't do anything to help if you become trapped in here as well!"
Kami saw what was in his eyes and complied, as the world around them crumbled. The last thing he saw, before he awoke, was Piccolo settling himself in an aggressive fighting stance, with his talons outstretched as if to slice the "air" to ribbons. Then Kami was ripped out of the younger Namek's mind…
…and physically tossed across the Lookout, breaking more than a few pillars as he crashed through them. He only just managed to catch the rim of the Lookout with one hand, before he would have plummeted the distance to the ground so far below. The old Namek's muscles strained with the effort of maintaining his fragile grip on the smooth surface of the tiles, and they felt as though they were on fire. "Kais above," he breathed, shaking his head violently to clear the muddled feeling lingering in his mind. "This cannot be happening now!"
Kami had seen Piccolo's face as he had been flung across his own sanctuary like a rag doll. The younger Namek had opened his eyes long enough for them to exchange a startled glance, and the sight made him flinch even as he was forced away. The whites of his eyes were tinted red, and they glowed.
The manifestation of a demon.
The Guardian focused his ki long enough against his disorientation to lift himself onto the Lookout, leaving him in a drained heap on the floor. "Goku," he whispered as he stared at Piccolo, "help us."
Oh, how he desperately wanted to believe in miracles, that beyond all hope something would happen, and this would all be over. The old Namek remembered what he had been like before he had removed the evil from his body, before Daimao had been given form, and he knew what Daimao was like. He knew all too well the shrewd cunning of the demon, how he would stop at nothing to attain his goal. There was still a chance that Piccolo could be saved, provided he could fight off the demon inside, but it was nigh impossible at this stage. His eyes were almost completely red; the demon was so close to victory. He needed a miracle.
But it was too late for miracles, and if Goku did not appear soon, it would be too late for the Earth, and for Piccolo.
And Kami was afraid for them all.
Piccolo had been shocked when he had been hurled from his own mental grounds, just as Kami had been. He snapped his eyes open and exchanged glances with Kami, and he caught the look of horror on the old Namek's face. He had felt that…thing…inside his mind, and he knew of no way to get it out.
And his own bitter confession from five days before exploded in front of his face. I will never be free of his shadow. His shadow. Another demon. Kami was right. For once in his life, blast the Guardian, he had told the truth.
Damn him. Damn you, Piccolo cursed viciously, slamming both hands onto the tiled floor and cracking it. Find someone else to follow around.
I am not following you. I am you.
You are not. I am not the being you mistake me for.
The Namek flinched at the sudden rush of anger. Do not presume to know what you do not! the voice bellowed. I know exactly who you are, and that you have become a mere shade of what you once were, what you could have been. You will be stronger. I will see to it. The rasping voice chuckled, and Piccolo felt a chill run down his spine.
What the hell are you talking about? he demanded just as angrily.
Exactly that, Ma Junior. Exactly that.
Piccolo growled as the edges of his vision began to blur. "Stop this," he said, clenching his hands tightly into fists, the talons drawing blood.
For his pains, all he received in reply was that same chilling laughter. Son of Daimao, it is too late for you.
It is said that at certain times in life, time itself ceases, and a moment can last forever. A single heartbeat can be eternity. And a horror can consume utterly. Piccolo's eyes widened dramatically as everything fell into place for him, as he realized how terribly wrong he had been. The voice that had been troubling him was no longer a separate entity. It never really had been, not for a long time. It was right. It wasn't following him. It was a part of him. It was him.
As though the awful realization had been a trigger, the Namek's sight blurred completely, and he felt himself sinking, mind and body. No! he howled in the recesses of his mind, and then there was nothing.
* * * * *
Ahh, so a few of you already guessed it would happen.
A small warning (though it shouldn't matter if you've made it this far without incident): if you haven't guessed it, the story will become a bit more violent. I don't believe I'll up the rating, but if my mind goes haywire I'll let you know.
Happy Halloween, everyone. I'm going as myself. ^_~
~Dreamwraith