Hello people...Been a long LONG long long time since I've done any writings at all, and er, sorry about the college story sort of...well...dying, but MAYBE if I ever get the enthusiasm to finish it, I'll do so. Maybe. You ask why am I back? Well to make a boring story short, I just suddenly was struck with inspiration for a new story. That's all. -Shrug-
So, here it goes, and I hope everyone enjoys. Sorry if the first chapter goes a little slowly, but you know how first chapters go sometimes.
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Chapter One
It was another gray day. Not that he minded them, but they always seemed to be a reminder of his constantly bleak mood. He shivered a bit and sat up from the dry dusty earth, adjusting his coat some. He lifted his hand to touch his face. He couldn't feel it. He didn't need to remove the gloves he was wearing, for the fingers were all missing. They had been full gloves at one point, but that was a long time ago and he couldn't remember when that had been. He slowly stood and stretched his stiff and slightly sore body. He was accostomed to waking up feeling this way, and in a matter of minutes he was walking down the street, preforming what he liked to call his "monotonous daily ritual."
He was bundled up considerably, wearing slightly torn and extremely worn clothes he had had for what seemed to be decades. He remembered vividly how he had used to wear the finest of suits and specialy tailored clothing. But now he lived on Earth. If you could consider it living. He could never hope to be allowed such luxuries here. He walked on not letting his mind reminesce too far, for that never helped his mood brighten. Not like it was ever bright in the first place. He made his mind focus on breakfast. Where to find it today? His stomach growled almost angrily at him, as if scolding him for ever moving to this forsaken planet. Or rather, this planet that had forsaken him.
As he walked down the cold street, near the heart of the city, he didn't watch the cars and people passing him, but could feel their eyes following him, each gaze burning him with pure scorn and hatred. He wondered how a race of people could be so stupid and close-minded. It wasn't him who had committed such acts of horror years ago. He brushed off the glares carelessly walking onward. He never was much into people who clung to stereotypes. He continued walking, not exactly with pride, but he did not use his frazzled scarf to hide his green skin. He was not ashamed for something he did not do, and wasn't going to fear this race of idiots. If it had been his choice he would of never came here...but unfortunately choices are hardly given and only neccisary actions must be taken.
Turning into a deserted alley, he walked to the back of a small family-owned restaraunt, one of the few that had managed not to be swallowed by the huge franchize restaraunt businesses. Yet. He knocked on the worn door, riddled with graffiti from some punk idiot kids who had nothing better to do than write obsenities on random buildings. A moment later it opened, and a smiling face of an older man with a Mario-style mustache greeted him.
"Piccolo! How are you today my friend? Come into the kitchen, it's cold out there!" He beckoned the bundled man inside. The kitchen was indeed warm and smelled richly of freshly baked bread and other foods.
"Here here," The man said bustling about on the oven, "Have this, it's your favorite!" Piccolo smiled as the man heaped a large portion of the pot's contents onto a clean plate and set it on the small table with two chairs. They both sat and Piccolo ate gratefully. The cook set a glass of fresh milk infront of him as well.
"It's delicious, as always," Piccolo smiled softly, continuing to eat humbly and with as much manners as he could maintain. It was hard not to just inhale the delicious meal in a matter of seconds, but he was taught to always eat slowly and mannerfully. This man deserved his gratitude. Piccolo finished and watched the man as he got up to tend to some breakfast orders that had just come in. 'I suppose not all men are bastards on this planet...He's a prime example.' As he stood and brought his plate to the sink the man asked him how he was doing.
"Piccolo, really, come and stay with us! It is of no trouble to my wife, she would love your company, and the children--"
"Don't like me." Piccolo chuckled a bit at this fact. The kids had always been somewhat scared of the large framed man with the strange green skin, but he was used to it. He didn't really like kids much anyways. "No, it's fine, trust me. Thank you for the offer, but I need to get going again." He hated rejecting the kind cook's humble offer for shelter and kindness, but he knew that such an act would bring scorn upon his name and whole family. Afterall any Namekian-lover was looked at as a "Devil-lover." Piccolo would never bring that upon the loved man and good father. Again he thanked him for the meal and departed from the warm kitchen, the chill of the early morning air hitting him full in the face, as if it were his misery greeting him again. It's not like Piccolo "needed" to get going anywhere, but to stay too long was always a bad idea, incase some onlooker peeked into the kitchen and saw him.
He continued aimlessly down the street, crowded with honking cars trapped in the morning commute traffic. Though the street was full he felt, as always, completely alone.
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Bulma yawned as she looked out her car window at the dim appearance of the city. The warm coffee in her hand did little to wake her senses. Her sleepy eyes travelled over the cars infront of her, as she stood at a standstill in traffic. She was used to it by now, and didn't mind since she had the radio, or her built-in tv monitor to keep her entertained. The cold was no match for her state of the art heater, and she felt warm and content inside her car, not frustraited at all by the bustle of traffic. Her eyes glanced lazily out the window once more, filtering over the walking people on the sidewalks, in large crowds, all disconected from one another, their eyes fixed on the ground and their minds obviously elsewhere. Her gaze suddenly focused on one of the never ceasing figures. It followed him, his clothes especially ratty compared to the expensive suits and winter coats that surrounded him. But then she realized what had really caught her attention. The bright green of his skin flashed from time to time as an opening in the passing people created a window, making him visible. His eyes were shadowed by his cap.
'There he is again...' She thought slowly, her eyes still keeping track of him. The car infront of her finally moved a bit to allow her some room to pull forward. He passed by again. She had always seen this man, nearly every day during her routine commute. She had seen him other places as well, which seemed to be an amazing thing to her, in such a huge city as this. She knew he had no home, for he always wore the same clothes, and she had even caught sight of him once under a small bridge that she had taken home once, as a scenic route, late one night. The fire had caught her eye. Bulma frowned a bit as he disappeared from sight once more. 'Poor guy...' She thought. She wished she could help him. She would gladly give him money, but she was scared to approach him. She had noticed that he never sat with signs that plead for help, but only saw him wandering continuously. She knew he must want help, but was scared to advertise it. Most human homeless people were not scorned for doing so, but in his case it was extremely likely that passerbyers would do the opposite of help, if it was a Namekian.
Though she knew the reason of his homelessness, she couldn't help but feel sympathy for the green man. She knew Namekians were almost always denied work, thus they could never afford living arrangements, or hardly anything else. Bulma knew the story behind the hatred of the Namekian race, but wondered why such a thing had to carry over to the ancestors who were innocent of any crime. It was impossible for her to grasp why this man would even stay on this planet. It was extremely unusual to see them here anymore, though she had, very seldomly, seen a couple of other green skinned outcasts. But that had been years ago, when she was only a child. She looked forward through her windsheild. Now she was a full-grown woman, married, even with children.
Shaking her head she pulled forward again, glancing at the clock. Her mind drifted again to other thoughts. Her mind slipped from the thoughts of the man, cursing as she knew she would be late for her meeting, and another thousand thoughts rushed into her head...pushing the thought of the downtrodden man into the very back of her mind.
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Goku swept the porch of the small shop busily, his mood content as usual, though he didn't seem to be exactly happy either. His family wasn't exactly getting rich off the tiny pawn shop, but it brought in enough to pay the bills and put food on the table. He hummed to cheer himself a bit and looked up and greeted the people as they passed. They had been lucky to get a shop on this busy street. The old location had been back in the worst of neighborhoods, next to gun stores and liquer shops. He had been glad to move his store and his family away from the violence that occured frequently there.
"Hey Goku." A deep, somewhat husky voice sent chills through the spikey-haired man's spine, snapping him out of his thoughts abruptly and making him spin to face the one who had addressed him.
"Piccolo!" Goku's face seemed to light up with the prospect of a familiar face, no matter how green, and even more at the prospect of company. "Come in, let's have some hot cocoa, I bet the water I put on is almost to a boil by now!"
Piccolo smiled grimly at the man's excitment of his arrival. He was always amused by the thought that anyone would be happy to see him. It reminded him of some kind of spastic puppy who was excited when company came over. He followed Goku into the little store, shabby but neat. It had a homey feel to it, the little antique figurines and glass peices on display on the shelves set out carefully with almost a loving touch and intentful placement, as one might do in their own home. Piccolo passed the variety of items on sale into the back of the shop after Goku, his hands still inside his pockets. The water pot was whistling angrily as they moved into the small office, that had been turned halfways into tiny living quaters. The small loveseat was draped with a hand knitted blanket, and a small pillow. A little mini fridge was pressed next to that, and crammed in the corner was a tiny old-fashioned stove-pipe oven, and next to it a small pile of firewood and newspapers. Across from that end of the room was a desk, covered in bills and receipts, as well as catalogues, record books, and checks. Piccolo didn't mind the mess, he even liked it compared to his "living arrangements" under the bridge.
Goku grabbed the steaming pot and poured the hot water into two mugs he grabbed from the top of the fridge and dumped two tablespoons of store-bought cocoa mix into each one. He stuck a coffee stirrer into each and handed Piccolo a mug. "Here ya go." He grinned and sat in his desk chair, stirring his own cocoa happily. Piccolo took a seat on Goku's make-shift bed and did the same. This is the way they always sat, across from each other in the warm little room. They both took long sips of the warming sweet fluid.
"Thank you." Piccolo said softly, setting the empty mug down a minute later. He leaned back, comfortable in the small room. "So tell me, how is your family doing?"
"Oh, good..." Goku said with a smile that wasn't fully convincing, "Chi-Chi's working pretty hard at two jobs to help with Gohan. You know, school books, lunch money, clothes, stuff like that...But Gohan's doing great in school, his grades are amazing." Goku brightened at these last words, an obvious hint of pride and respect breaking into his tone. "At this rate if we save wisely, he'll be able to go to college when he graduates high school!" He himself never had done well in school, or gone to college. Piccolo wasn't sure if he had even managed to graduate high school. "We still have a ways to go, but it'll be okay, because we have time. He's only in the 5th grade afterall."
"I'm sure he'll be a whiz in college." Piccolo smirked and closed his eyes. Out of all the kids he'd met, Gohan was one of the only one's he somewhat liked. This was probably only because Gohan didn't seem to shrink in fear at the sight of him. In fact, he even seemed to admire Piccolo and even look up to him.
"So how have things been for you, Piccolo?" Goku asked kindly, though he seemed to hesitate a little, as if asking the question might be stepping onto thin ice.
"Not any better than usual." Piccolo answered truthfully, but the question didn't seem to hit any sensitive spots. He was pretty sure he didn't even have any of those lkeft anymore. "Same old same old." He shrugged carelessly.
"Oh, well...um..that's good, I think." Goku replied, looking sheepish. There was a small pause, which felt uncomfortable to Goku, but Piccolo didn't mind it at all, seeming comfortable where he was and enjoying the warmth of the room. Goku finally broke it, tenderly, "Hey uh, Piccolo...you know, if Chi-Chi and I just tighten up on some things you could stay with us for sure, it wouldn't be a problem at all."
Piccolo stayed silent, completely unresponsive to this offer. Goku prodded further, "I mean, Gohan loves you and we would like to have you with us, even if the apartment is a bit crowded, you could always stay in here atleast--"
"Goku," The green man didn't move but cut him off sternly, but not with an angry attitude, "Thank you for offering, but I'd never put your family through such hell. I really appreciate it, and you're a good friend to offer such hospitality, but I have to refuse."
His spikey headed friend frowned deeply and reapprocahed, "But really, it wouldn't--"
"Yes it would." Piccolo said blankly. "You don't want Gohan to get the reputation of "Devil-lover"...that might even effect his chances of getting into college." He sighed lightly stretching. "And besides, I don't want to be a freeloader. I can't get work and if I couldn't pay my own rent I would feel too guilty. Gohan is already enough for you to take care of."
"But it wouldn't be a problem--"
"Goku...Thanks, but no thanks. It's an offer I just can't accept..." Piccolo stood slowly, somewhat reluctantly.
"Wait, please, stay a while longer, I didn't want to offend you...I just worry sometimes...about you."
Piccolo looked to his friend and a small but unhappy smile spread across his lips, "It's nice to know you care, but don't burden yourself with it. I guess I can stay a while longer." He stretched a bit and chuckled somewhat, sitting again, the last phrase lightening the mood considerably. He pulled the small coffee table weded between the loveseat and the wall out and set it between them. "I have just enough time in my busy schedual for a few rounds of poker." Piccolo smirked. Goku grinned happily and scooted his chair closer, pulling out a deck of cards from his pocket so fast they had seemed to appear in his hand by his own will alone.
It was dark when Piccolo finally left. Goku had pleaded for him to stay the night in the office to keep warm, and that he would be quiet when he worked at his desk. He'd even do it by candelight. But Piccolo denied the offer yet again. He decided it was better for the both of them for him to sleep where he usually slept, and for Goku to get his work done quickly so he could get home to his family without him being in the way. He headed for the small bridge, the night air not as cold as usual, but of course never warm either. He felt that tonight would be another night of lying awake with his thoughts. But most nights were like that. He walked along the hollow and now empty streets, only the occasional souless car passing by quickly, as if afraid slowing down might give him enough time to notice them. Like driving slow might be a sign that they were willing to help. And that was never the case.
Piccolo always noticed them, but noticing and caring are two different things.
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Well the first chapter, dun dun dun! Hope it wasn't too boring, I was "Setting the Stage" as my history teacher likes to call it. Anyways hope you all liked it, let me know what you think!
Oh, and sorry for the shortness, but just think of this as the sort of "Prelude" to the story. Eheh.