The next few months flew by like a dream. Yamcha enjoyed a pleasantly laid-back summer, with Piccolo ever at his side. He spent most of the time learning all he could from the stoic alien. He could now speak and understand at least very basic conversation in Russian, and he was now able to play a few simple songs on the piano. He wasn't great at either skill, but it was enough to know that he was getting better. Of course, it helped to have the proper motivation, and what better drive to improve oneself was there than love?

Over the past few days, however, that love was being put to the test. Piccolo had gotten quiet again out of nowhere, his whole demeanor shifting suddenly. He became quite anxious and distant, and he always seemed to be distracted by his own thoughts. Whenever Yamcha asked him what was wrong, he would lie and say that he was fine before quickly changing the subject.

At first, Yamcha figured he must have recovered another memory that was bothering him. It had been a while since he'd remembered something from his former life, after all. But what could he have remembered that he wouldn't be willing to share with him? After all that Yamcha had seen already, and with how close they had gotten to each other, he'd figured there was nothing left that Piccolo wouldn't tell him. Now that there was, Yamcha found himself dreading what it could be. Perhaps he remembered an old lover, or perhaps...

Yamcha shook the thought from his head before it got the chance to properly materialize. No, he wasn't about to start doubting Piccolo now. That was something he just couldn't handle. Not now. Not again.

There were a few other things odd about his lover's behavior lately. Piccolo was going to see Dende quite a lot over the past week. That in itself wasn't terribly unusual. Piccolo still went up to the Lookout regularly to help train the young Guardian, not something that could be accomplished quickly by any means. However, he seemed to be staying up at Kami's Palace for longer than he used to. Yamcha tried to tell himself that the two Namekians must just be getting into subjects that required a little more in depth tutoring than usual, but with everything else...

Then there were his habits at home. For the most part, he was willing to do almost anything he would normally do. He wasn't even hesitant to have sex – much to Yamcha's great relief. However, there was one thing Piccolo absolutely refused to do, and that was any sort of martial arts training. The two of them had sparred nearly every day since Yamcha had moved in with him, but he'd declined to do so for nearly a week now. When asked for an explanation, he refused to give a reason, dismissing the subject entirely by stating that he simply didn't want to, and that was that.

The entire situation was driving Yamcha mad trying to deduce what was going on. He tried so hard to tell himself to be patient; that Piccolo would tell him what was happening in his own time, but damn if it wasn't hard to wait.

Luckily, a distraction from such thoughts found its way to him that day. The doorbell rang, which was such a rare occurrence that Yamcha hardly recognized it as such. He furrowed his brow in confusion at the brassy chimes. Who the hell would be all the way out there in the middle of nowhere, let alone manage to find the old mansion? He made his way downstairs and opened the door, at which point he was greeted by a familiar face.

"B-Bulma?!" he exclaimed in surprise, to which the blue haired scientist could only reply with an amused grin.

"Hey there! I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"U-uhh... No, but... How'd you find me out here? I don't remember telling anyone where we lived just yet..."

Bulma replied with a light chuckle.

"Oh, I just took a chance and checked the address of Piccolo's place from his old records. Looks like my hunch was correct! I wanted to see where you lived now, and I gotta admit I've always been curious what kind of place Piccolo lived in. Mind if I come in?"

Yamcha didn't really get the chance to accept or deny, merely moving aside as Bulma stepped into the foyer. She looked around the entrance hall, letting out a mildly impressed whistle.

"Not too shabby! This place looks just like the old mansions from historical movies!"

"Well, it kinda is…" Yamcha replied finally, pushing the door closed behind her.

"Neat! So, how about a tour?"

"T-tour..?" Yamcha repeated, a bit caught off-guard by the request.

"Yeah, show me around! I've never been to a place like this. I sorta feels like a museum!"

"A-alright, sure!" he replied with a nervous laugh, scratching at the back of his head. Somehow, he doubted he would have a choice in the matter.

He decided to keep the tour to the first floor, which was typically where guests were allowed to roam anyway. The upstairs portion was mostly bedrooms and personal spaces, most of which remained unused at the moment. As the two walked through the old Victorianesque mansion, Bulma found herself at ease to start more casual conversation.

"So, where's Piccolo? Not here today?"

The question seemed to stab right into the center of Yamcha's current insecurities, but he managed to keep his doubts to himself for now.

"Oh, he's up at the Lookout training Dende. Apparently the old Guardian usually trains their replacement for several years in what their supposed to do before passing off the torch officially, so the little guy's got a lot of catching up to do. Mr. Popo's teaching him a lot, but there's some things only Kami would be able to teach him, so… yeah."

"Okay, that makes sense. I never even thought of that… Guess we just kinda scrambled to find a Guardian who could create Dragon Balls without thinking of all the other things the job entails," she replied as they made their way through one of the sitting rooms without much comment on the surroundings. Then, she seemed to remember something.

"Oh, that's right! Speaking of Piccolo, how'd he like his birthday gift? I completely forgot to ask the last time everyone was over."

Yamcha had nearly forgotten all about having taken Piccolo to the theater for his birthday, but upon recalling the night, he couldn't help but grin happily.

"He loved it! It was actually the first time he'd ever gotten to go to something like that in person, but he apparently read the book it was based on a long time ago."

"That's great! What did you think of it, though?"

"Y'know, at first I thought it would be boring, but I actually liked it! It was a really cool story, and I was on the edge of my seat wondering what would happen next!"

Bulma couldn't help but snicker at that.

"You cried for the Phantom at the end, didn't you?"

"N-no!" he retorted forcefully, though the bright pink hue that spread across his cheeks was a dead giveaway that he was lying. She was merciful enough not to tease him about it, though, and merely responded with a light giggle.

Their tour eventually took them to one of Piccolo's favorite haunts; the library. Rather predictably, Bulma's eyes lit up at seeing the two-story-tall bookshelves crammed full of old texts. She dashed inside and, much like Yamcha the first time he'd discovered the room, she zeroed in on one of the few books there that she was able to read. She gingerly lifted the worn old tome explaining Einstein's theories of Relativity, fingering through it with rapt interest. After a moment of reading what she could of Ivan's old notes – the complicated mathematical equations, mainly – she looked back at Yamcha with her mouth hanging agape slightly.

"H-hey… These are all Piccolo's old notes, right? How old was he when he wrote these?"

Yamcha couldn't help but blink in confusion at the question, unsure what difference it made.

"Uhh… Somewhere between the ages of twelve and sixteen, I think?"

Her eyes seemed to only widen further at that, and she found herself frantically reading over the notes once more. He could practically hear the gears turning at lightspeed in her head.

"Th-this is really advanced stuff, especially for someone at that age! A-and this was hundreds of years ago…" she stammered out before finally looking back up at Yamcha again. "Does… Does he want a job?"

Yamcha couldn't help but chuckle at that, at first thinking she was joking. After a moment, though, it was clear she was dead serious.

"No, really! If he's capable of this level of mathematical thought – and self-taught, no less… I need him at Capsule Corp.!"


Eventually, Yamcha managed to drag Bulma from Piccolo's impressive library, continuing on with the tour. It was clear that she was only half paying attention anymore, now far more preoccupied with how she could make use of Piccolo's oft-forgotten level of intellect than of the subject at hand. Finally, however, he brought her to a fairly neglected portion of the ground floor that managed to pull her away from her internal calculations.

They ventured into what could only be described as a grand dining hall – the sort of space that, in some circumstances, was meant to accommodate several large tables for friends, family, and other important guests to dine at, tables which could eventually be pushed aside to allow for an evening of dance. It was a ballroom, something even Bulma's expensive Capsule Corp. home sadly lacked.

Bulma couldn't stop herself from letting out a high-pitched squeal, her hands pressing against her cheeks in joy as her eyes sparkled in wonder.

"Oh my gosh, this is perfect!"

Yamcha couldn't help but stare blankly in confusion.

"Uhh… Perfect for what?"

"For a party, of course!" she replied, at which point it took all of his self-control not to sigh audibly. It always came back to that, didn't it? Before he could respond, however, another voice interjected.

"So, exactly how much should I charge the great Briefs family for renting my hall for such an event?"

The two of them jumped in surprise when a third much deeper voice addressed them from behind. They turned, both coming face to face with the towering giant that was Piccolo. He smiled serenely at their surprised reaction, clearly amused that he'd managed to sneak up on them without the slightest sound. Of course, as the mysterious alien could hear damn near everything on the planet, such a task was not difficult for he of all people to accomplish.

"H-hey, welcome home!" Yamcha replied nervously, clearly still shaken a bit by that slight jump scare. It made him feel as though he'd just gotten caught doing something untoward, even though his relationship with Bulma was now purely platonic. He knew Piccolo didn't suspect him of such a thing by any means, but still...

"So, uhh… How was training with Dende today?" he asked, merely trying to progress the conversation forward to avoid any awkward conversation. However, the fact that Piccolo instantly blushed lightly and averted his gaze from the two of them was a source of mild concern.

"I-it… It went just fine…" the Namekian warrior replied before doing what he did best when such a thing was brought up: he rapidly changed the subject. "So, what sort of party were you planning this time, Bulma?"

Bulma, clearly too distracted by the promise of planning a party to notice the tension between the two men, replied with an excited grin.

"You'd really let me have a party here?!" she squealed out excitedly, as though she were a little girl who'd just been told that she could have full run of a candy store. "Well, if I can, I've always wanted to go to a fancy masquerade ball, and this would be the absolutely perfect place for it! What do you guys think? Would that be okay?"

"Uhh… What the hell is a masquerade?" Yamcha asked, genuinely confused by the phrase. He'd honestly never heard of such a thing. Piccolo was quick to provide an answer, ever present with his extensive knowledge of random historical facts.

"Masquerade balls originated in Renaissance era Europe, when many aspects of society became far more formalized than before. The masquerade was a kind of party, inspired by the Venetian Carnival, where one could shed the societal expectations of the time, appear in virtual anonymity, and mingle with others with no regard for class or status. Essentially, the only rule is that you are to appear in costume so that the others in attendance can't recognize you, but clearly that rule can be loosened for a party like this where we all know each other quite well. In essence, it is a semi-formal party dedicated to letting loose and having fun. By today's standards, it would still seem somewhat stuffy and proper, but back then it was quite the liberating experience."

"W-wow," Bulma responded, clearly amazed at how much he knew of the subject. Yamcha was equally as mesmerized, staring after his lover for a long moment. Piccolo was clearly uncomfortable with the long moment of scrutinizing stares, looking away with embarrassment flushing his face a deep purple.

"Th-that's, err… not important, though…" he mumbled out self-consciously, shrinking away slightly as though he was resisting the urge to run away from the interaction. Bulma, to her credit, seemed to sense his social anxiety as well as Yamcha himself could, responding with a friendly smile.

"Oh, not at all! That's really cool, actually!" she responded with genuine enthusiasm. "That really sounds perfect! I can arrange for all the catering and costumes for everyone if you'd let us have the party here. Is that alright?"

"Y-yes, that's fine," Piccolo stammered out in response, clearly not used to organizing such a gathering. "Just let me know when you'd like it to happen and I'll ensure that everything is ready."

"Great!" Bulma replied enthusiastically, already making her way towards the exit in anticipation of planning such a one-of-a-kind evening. "I'll call you guys later on tonight with the specifics! See ya later!"

And with that, the two men were left standing alone in the great dining hall. Yamcha couldn't remember experiencing such a moment as tense as that since the two of them had started dating. He knew something was wrong – he just knew – but he couldn't bring himself to ask what it might be. Similarly, Piccolo seemed to be rather tight-lipped on what it was that had been bothering him recently. The moment descended into a dreaded air of awkward silence, as the two of them seemed unable or unwilling to make eye-contact with one another. Finally, surprisingly, it was Piccolo who broke the silence.

"Look, I… I've been meaning to tell you, I…" but he trailed off there, apparently unwilling to complete his confession. Yamcha chanced a quick peek over towards his boyfriend, but the alien man had already thoroughly averted his gaze at that point, his hand rubbing nervously at his opposite arm. Finally, he managed to bring himself to respond verbally.

"I… It's nothing… Never mind… Everything's fine…" he replied in a whisper that was barely audible. Piccolo quickly took his leave of the situation, leaving Yamcha alone in the great hall to wonder after what exactly was going on.