Blending In
21


"There's something you should know," Piccolo spat bloody mucus onto the fighting floor. He cracked his neck, then his knuckles. A soft grunt punctuated each snapping noise. "I've been going easy on you."
Tonkeshin raised his eyes until he thought they were staring into Piccolo's. He grinned roguishly. "And here I was going easy on you. Playing, basically."
A rumbling chuckle.
"Perhaps it's time we stop playing and get to the real fighting. What do you say, Tonkeshin?"
Tonk felt his eyes tilt. "Do your worst, Piccolo."
"Wow!" The Announcer shouted, "It looks like this fight is only going to get more intense!"
No words, not a breath or a hesitation. Just a soft swish and Piccolo was right behind him. Tonk barely turned in time to avoid having his shoulder punched out of its socket. Piccolo's onslaught was relentless! Tonk barely blocked the punches he threw.
"Ma Jr. seems to have the upper hand, he's really laying it into Tonkeshin! Can Tonkeshin turn this around?"
A roundhouse almost knocked Tonk for a loop. He leaned backwards until his hands touched the ground and kicked up with his feet. His toes caught only air. He quickly continued over to regain a vertical base. Piccolo jumped on him again.
Their battle progressed towards the edge of the ring. Tonkeshin buried his shoulder in Piccolo's gut. He shoved him back into the center of the ring. Piccolo kicked Tonk's legs out from under him. Tonk hit the ground with a sickening thud. He moaned as Piccolo grabbed the edge of his vest and drove an elbow into his side.
"You're not trying hard enough." Piccolo snarled, "This is still a game to you. I'm not playing anymore. Where's your anger?"
Tonk's mouth filled with coppery blood. He spat on the floor, rasping, "I have no reason to be angry here. It's a tournament, not a life and death battle."
The elbow drove itself against his ribs a second time. "Pretend that it is. Otherwise you don't stand a chance against me."
Another blow came Tonk's way. He rolled aside and kipped up. Piccolo didn't let him breathe. Tonk felt the breeze of an oncoming kick and ducked. Sweeping Piccolo's balancing leg, he groped for his sweat-dampened shirt and flung him towards the edge of the ring.
There was a soft tap. Piccolo's energy signal split everywhere!
Tonkeshin turned this way and that, waiting. Warmth from his own energy enveloped him. He lifted his hands over his head.
The ki signal pulled together - up above!
"Masenko-HAAAAAA!" Tonk let his gathered ki discharge. He locked his elbows to keep his arms from buckling and braced himself from the backwards thrust. It felt like holding a jet engine above his head. The roar was deafening and drowned out a resounding gasp from the crowd.
"Tonkeshin is shooting some sort of energy beam!" The Announcer called out.
Piccolo echoed Tonkeshin. A new tension formed in the beam. The heat it gave off was incredible. Tonk bent his knees for better leverage to deal with both the backwards thrust of his own beam and the pressure from Piccolo's.
Tonk knew he had one small advantage. . .he was on solid ground. He had something to brace against. Piccolo would be bracing himself against his own energy in the air. That meant he'd drain faster.
Now he just hoped Piccolo tired out first.
Tonkeshin's arms started to burn. Thrusting a beam straight up generated more pressure than shooting forward. This couldn't go on too much longer.
"I'm. . .beyond words for this, folks!" The Announcer sounded frazzled. He was barely audible over the roar. "It would appear that our two green competitors are having an energy duel! It's really windy down here and I might have to take cover, but I promise I'll keep covering this battle!"
Intense, painful burning. Tonk knew that if Piccolo overpowered his beam he'd be thrown straight from the ring. He aligned his legs for a better foothold. Called on his energy stores. The pressure lessened.
Tonk relaxed his muscles, taking the lid off his ki. He straightened his body - Nail always said that energy traveled better in straight lines - and let loose.
The surge almost knocked him over. Every muscle in his body tightened, including his larynx. His involuntary cry was echoed by Piccolo's. He felt his own masenko beam envelope his hands. The light must've been blinding.
Everything in the arena shook. The air exploded, sledgehammer shockwaves smashing Tonkeshin against the fighting floor. He let himself fall so the impact could spread out on his whole body and minimize the damage.
The Announcer shouted something, but Tonk didn't pay attention. He forced his aching body to stand.
Heavy breathing on the left. Tonk thrust his elbow at the sound. He felt Piccolo catch it and wrench his arm behind him.
"Still not good enough." Piccolo hissed.
Tonkeshin snarled over his shoulder. Piccolo had his arm folded against his back, he couldn't turn without breaking it.
"What do you WANT from me?"
"Fight serious," a hand locked itself under Tonk's chin and turned his head sideways. Piccolo's voice was right in his ear, "Or you'll just end up losing. Like you did against Freeza. What a pathetic way to die. . .you might've had a chance if you could see. Maybe you would've been better off if you just took Nail's advice and gone back to Saichirou where it was safer."
Tonk's breath caught in his throat. His half-smile melted into a sneer and his eyes narrowed to slits. How dare Piccolo say that about him! It was the same damn thing everybody always said, 'oh, go over here where it's safer.' It really meant 'oh, go over here where you'll be out of the way.' As if he were an obstacle in everybody's life.
"Piccolo," Tonkeshin's smooth baritone voice lowered an octave. When he spoke, it was colder than ice, "I am not helpless. How dare you even imply it."
The hands holding his arm pinned tightened their grip. So tight the bones ground together. "If that's the case, then why are you in this position? Don't tell me Nail never taught you how to escape a simple hold."
Tonkeshin wrenched his leg backwards to kick Piccolo's knees. He spun free of the armlock and buried his elbow in the other Namek's stomach.
"Get up," he rasped, "and I'll show you just how helpless I can be."
A sucker punch almost turned his head completely around. "Bring it on, Tonkeshin."
"The taunts are flying!" cried the excited Announcer. "Who will crack first? You can cut the tension with a butter knife down here!"
Tonk recovered from the surprise blow. No sign of Piccolo anywhere. He turned left, right and left again. Not a flicker. Crap, where's he hiding?
"On your right."
Another punch. Tonk barely avoided it. He backflipped three times to put distance between himself and his opponent. All excitement from being in the tournament disappeared. It was survival now.
"This isn't funny anymore, stop it. C'mon now. . ."
Faint air disturbances. Tonk spun around. Two iron hands caught his punches. They twisted his arms in the wrong direction and a jackhammer knee pummeled his abdomen. More blood rose into his throat, making him gag. Breathing became a struggle. He dropped to one knee.
"I'm wasting my time." Piccolo sounded disappointed.
Tonkeshin choked on his own blood. "I'm. . .not done yet! HAAAAAAAAAAH!" He flung a blast in Piccolo's face. Smiling when he heard the thud of a body hitting the fighting floor.
Tonk forced himself to stand. He was dirty, bloody and his clothes were a little ragged. The petroleum jelly he'd so carefully spread on his skin was long since washed away in the sweat layering his body. He knew he couldn't keep this up much longer.
I'm not sure I can win this one. . . Tonk stared blankly ahead, Piccolo is a strong, smart and intense warrior. His moves are hard to anticipate, he doesn't stay in a pattern like most fighters. What's his rhythm? I need to find at least that. . .then I might have a chance. If I can just synchronize with him I'll have a small chance. I have to take it.
But gosh darn it, why does fighting him feel so familiar?
He eased into a fighting stance and listened for signs of Piccolo. The other Namek wasn't making any sound.
Tonk's antennae twitched. He felt like the whole arena was staring at him. It made him nervous.
His nose picked up body odor. He ducked. Piccolo's fist sailed over his back. Tonk lunged into him and flipped him down, digging his heel into his ribs.
"Anybody ever tell you deodorant will get you more friends?"
Piccolo flipped him over and pinned him to the ground, "I don't live with humans, nor do I wish to spread chemicals under my arms."
Tonk reversed the pin, "No wonder people avoid you. You smell. I hope you plan to shower after this is all over."
"Feh." Piccolo's entire frame shifted, breaking Tonk's hold.
The Announcer coughed a laugh, "I don't know the details here, but it sounds as if Tonkeshin and Ma Jr. are discussing. . .deodorant?!"
The silliness of it made Tonk laugh. He rubbed the back of his head as a few drops of sweat dripped off his temple.
"Degree all the way!" Someone shouted.
"No way, Secret!" Another voice answered.
A high voice from the back, "Mitchum beats all!"
More people shouted different brands.
Tonk arched a brow, then shrugged. "I use Sure."
He felt rather than heard Piccolo hide his face in his palm. "Can we get back to the match?"
"Sure, no problem!" Tonk charged Piccolo, laughing, "You'll have to try harder if you want to see me mad, though!"
Piccolo dodged the onslaught. His voice came from the right, "Believe me, I will."

Author's note: Today is a very special day. -grin- Tonkeshin's birthday, he's officially one year old. -throws a party- I worked extra hard to get this chapter done so I could post it exactly on the fourteenth of June. I can't believe I've kept this fic going for a year. Can you?

See ya in the next chapter!