Another early update because I just got too excited about this chapter and wanted to post it now. Quick side note - quite a bit of this chapter might not make much sense, if you haven't read A Thrilling Chase. Sooooo go do that, if you haven't already. There's a couple references to that story's events in both this and upcoming chapters. There is your warning. Enjoy!
Piccolo had been on edge, since the get-together. He had tried his best to keep it to himself, but his anxiety was so high that it might not have made a difference. Neither Goku nor Chi-Chi said anything to him about it, so he hoped that was a sign of their ignorance to his turmoil.
He had wanted to take his secrets to his grave. What had happened in the past didn't matter. His father was long dead. The world had recovered from his destruction. What had happened was only spoken of as stories and legends. Yet, the revelation that even one man knew who he was and feared him because of it was enough to worry him. He didn't fear any consequences from the law or vigilante justice; he could handle that well enough, on his own. Just a year ago, he wouldn't have cared, either way.
The difference was that now, he finally had something to lose.
He had grown used to living with Goku's family – quirks, flaws, and all. For the first time in his life, he felt as if he had been a part of something. He felt accepted. He had found people that were willing to put their necks out for him. And even he could admit that it felt nice. It felt nice to be cared for by someone else. After a century of living on his own with no one to depend on but himself, he finally felt as if he could live in peace.
And that was exactly what he was afraid of – he didn't want to lose that. He knew Goku was firmly on the side of good; he had gleaned that from hearing his old adventures. He didn't think he had a single impure bone in his body. If he had been alive during his father's reign, he had no doubt that they would be enemies. If he learned about his past, there was no way he would take any chances. He would stop at nothing to defeat him. And Chi-Chi: she would never let him close to her or her family ever again. Once more, he would be alone: without purpose and without a home.
And the thought terrified him.
Thankfully, a distraction came that night – Ox King stopped by for another visit and decided to stay, for dinner. Piccolo was given momentary relief, listening to him rattle off stories of his youth and his training under the turtle hermit with Goku's grandfather.
"And then, Gohan tripped and the milk when everywhere! The worst part – it was right at the guy's doorstep!" Ox King laughed and smacked the table. "Bet your old man never told you that story, Goku."
Goku shook his head, and swallowed his food. "No, not really. He usually talked about how he kicked his partner's butt."
The group laughed, at Goku's crass comment. Even Piccolo got a chuckle out of it. As they continued to talk about the story, he took a drink of his water, and went for another helping of food.
"Piccolo," Chi-Chi said. "You're eating more than usual. What's the deal? You just hungry?"
He paused; and he was hoping that they wouldn't notice. The actual deal was that he was distracting himself by eating. He shrugged, and continued what he was doing.
"Well, I can't blame him; you certainly delivered tonight," Ox King interjected, to Piccolo's relief. "Your old man trained you well, princess."
Goku nodded. "I agree," he said, with his mouth full.
"Goku…"
His eyes widened, and he swallowed his food. "Sorry," he said, bashfully.
She sighed, pressing her fingers to her forehead and shaking her head. "I married a caveman." They all laughed, once more.
Piccolo let out a small exhale. At least the topic was dropped. They moved onto another conversation, as he quietly listened. If he kept this up, then everything would go back to normal, and he could finally have some peace, once again.
Cruel laughter sounded, behind him. "Normal? Peace? Don't be so foolish! Have you forgotten why you were brought into this world, to begin with?"
Piccolo looked up from his plate. The others were carrying on in their conversation. Only now, they sounded strangely muffled. He dug a finger into his ear, but there was no change. As he looked around, he couldn't see anyone else. He shook his head. He was probably hearing things.
"Don't try and ignore me. You and I both know that you can't. You never have been able to, and you never will be able to."
There it was, again. Piccolo slowly stood up from his seat. He watched the others for any reaction, but they were talking as if he wasn't there. This was strange, but perhaps he could get to the bottom of this easily.
He turned around. Taking extra precaution, he took a guarded stance. "I'm through with your games," he said. "Come at me, already." If whatever this was tried something, he'd respond without hesitation.
"My, how you've grown; you're stronger and smarter than I ever imagined you'd be. I'm almost impressed. It's a shame that you've grown soft, as well. What a disappointment. And I had such high hopes for you…"
Piccolo's eyes widened. Clarity and recognition hit him like a train. He had not heard that voice in a long time. He turned around, once again. Facing him, toe-to-toe, was his mirror. No, not Kami: someone far more sinister.
His guarded stance fell. "Father."
"At least you have not forgotten me, after all this time. That gives me a bit of hope, my lost son."
Piccolo snarled, stepping backwards. "I am not lost. Trying to follow you was the worst mistake I ever made, in my life. I should have never listened to you."
The demon king tilted his head. "Surely you jest. I gave you purpose. A reason for being. A destiny to fulfill. Now what? You're content to remain in limbo, for the rest of your days. You will never be like Kami. So what do you live for, now?"
"I never want to be like Kami; we've stayed apart for a reason. That doesn't mean I have to be like you."
He shook his head. "It was worse than I thought. I never thought you would become so misguided. Open your eyes, my son. You are my heir. You were born for this. Take hold of your life and fulfill your destiny!"
The demon king took a step closer to him. Piccolo jumped away. "Back off," he warned. "I've become more powerful than you ever were. I am not you."
"No, my lost son, you are wrong. You will always be me. No matter how much you deny it and no matter how hard you might try to change that, I will always be a part of you."
Piccolo clenched his teeth. He tried to reason with himself. That what he was hearing was a giant load of bullshit. Hadn't he proved that he was different? His past year on Earth showed that, for sure.
"Are you referring to that pathetic family you've latched onto?" Piccolo growled, as the demon king circled him. "Do you really think that they are your way to salvation? No, my son, your sins are far too great, for that. Had this been a different time, Son Goku would be your enemy: he fights against our true purpose. You are a fool if you think otherwise."
"If you knew anything about me, you'd know that I gave that up a long time ago. Even back then, I didn't want your crown."
"Oh, but I think you've proven otherwise, in the past."
The demon king stopped in front of him. He raised his hand up, and flicked his wrist. Suddenly, Piccolo had a splitting headache. He grabbed his head and fell to his knees. A series of images flashed in his head. Every evil deed his father had wrought passed by – it was pure chaos, destruction, and carnage. He had long since forgotten the specifics of his father's crimes, but now, he was forced to relive every single one of them. As they neared their end, he thought he might have relief.
Then, a new series of deeds showed themselves: his own. Every single wish he had ever granted was repeated back to him. All of the money-hungry egomaniacs. All of the vengeful lovers. All of the well-intentioned extremists. All of the tyrants. It did not end there; it made sure that he knew of every single consequence: the destroyed lives, the ruined worlds, and the suffering innocents. He felt as if he was drowning, desperately clawing at the surface for a gasp of air but being pulled back down into the bottomless abyss every time.
"You could have stopped all of this. You could have prevented this. But you did not. You served each and every one of your patrons without question or reservations. You caused all of this. Do you think anyone would accept you, if they knew just how much blood is on your hands?"
Mercifully, the images abruptly ended. Piccolo gasped, as he fell forward, fighting to catch his breath. He snarled and wiped his eyes, feeling stray tears falling down his cheeks.
The demon king stepped in front of him, once again. Piccolo looked up and glared at him as best as he could. He refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing him break. Though he didn't know how much more of this he could take.
"You should give up your foolish rebellion, now. I don't know what else I can show you to prove this to you."
He growled. "I am not like you," he managed to say, in between his teeth.
"Even if that was true, what would it matter? It doesn't matter how much you try to be a hero; you will still fail. Just as you always have, since you chose to defy me. How can you think you'd be able to protect that family, after you couldn't even protect her?"
His eyes narrowed. "Her?"
The demon king smirked. "You've already forgotten, haven't you? Well, allow me to remind you, once more."
He looked at a space behind him and nodded.
A loud scream came from behind him: a far too familiar one.
He turned around. His heart jumped and his eyes widened. Bulma was lying on the floor, as Frieza dug his foot into her chest. She desperately tried to pry it off of her, but he zapped her hands, making her cry out, once more. His long claws dug into her chest, tearing her clothes and drawing blood. All she could do was cry and scream.
"Kid!" He jumped up and tried to run forward. He didn't take two steps before he discovered that he couldn't move any further. His heart beat faster. He couldn't look away, and he couldn't intervene. Even when he closed his eyes, he was offered no relief. He was forced to watch the torture and relive every single moment of it.
"What did you do to save her," the demon king whispered into his ear. "Nothing. You did nothing. You sat there like a log, listening to her agony. This is how you repaid the one who gave you your freedom? You might be an even worse monster than I."
No. He tried to attack, and it didn't work. He did all that he could. Frieza was just too powerful for any of them.
"You couldn't even set aside your pride to fuse with that Namekian. Even with all that was at stake, you still had to be convinced. A true hero wouldn't have hesitated: he would have taken the inititive, no matter the cost."
Frieza knelt in front of her and grabbed her by her shirt collar. He pressed his palm against her chest, right on top of her heart. Then, he pushed his energy through her. He dropped her back onto the floor. Bulma's head lolled to the side, as blood tricked from her mouth. She gasped for air, but it was no use. Her breaths slowed, and the light left her eyes.
Piccolo stared in a dumbfounded shock. His legs shook, and he fell onto his knees. He couldn't say anything. How could he, after seeing this? His fists clenched and his eyes shut tightly, trying to contain his emotions. He couldn't listen to his rational mind, telling him that never happened. This has been it; he had finally cracked.
"I hope you see now. It doesn't matter how hard you try: you will never be a hero. You will never receive salvation. And you will always be like me."
Piccolo's eyes opened. He looked down at himself. No longer was he dressed in his normal turban and cape. Now, he wore a robe with his father's name on it – the same he wore, when he declare himself the demon king. His father laughed once more, as he began to shake.
"NO!"
Piccolo stood up and slammed his hands down on a surface, with his eyes shut. He was hunched over, trying to catch his breath. His hands gripped onto the surface, and it splintered and bent, in his grasp.
"Uh, Piccolo?"
His eyes shot open. He was back at the house. Goku, Chi-Chi, Gohan, and even Ox King were staring up at him, in confusion, concern, and fear. He stepped backwards, away from the table. He had nearly torn off a chunk of it, and a smashed plate was lying on the floor.
Without another word, he ran out of the house, not listening to the cries of concern behind him. He powered up and flew away as fast as he could. He didn't even know where he was going, but he knew he had to get away from there, before he could do anything else he'd regret.
