Intertwined Destinies

DISCLAIMER: I don't own DBZ or Elfen Lied.

WARNING: The chapter up ahead gets a little bit raunchy toward the end, so if you're not comfortable with that kind of thing, then what are you even doing reading this fic? :P Nonetheless, I have warned you.

CHAPTER 7: Nighttime Issues

Gohan hadn't been this embarrassed in his whole life — there he was laying there on the floor, with Nyuu moaning and writhing on his chest like some of the girls straight out of Master Roshi's Hentai magazines that he had accidentally snuck peeks at, his hand clasped over Nyuu's round buttocks, and even worse, he was topless... right at the moment that Yuka entered that room; a more thoroughly humiliating situation, Gohan could not imagine, but he knew that he had to do something, to try and explain this — since it was quite obvious what this looked like.

"Y-Yuka-san..." he groaned, working in vain to get Nyuu off of him. "Th-This... th-this isn't really wh-what it l-l-looks like..."

Even to his own ears, the words sounded lame.

"Oh really?" Yuka responded in a deceptively polite tone, and Gohan practically shuddered with terror; any time a female used that tone, it didn't bode well for him. "And what would you call it when two teens are lying naked on the floor and fondling each other's bodies?"

Gohan winced; okay, put like that, it really seemed the way it appeared. Frantically, hoping to at least try and salvage what little dignity he had left, he worked his way out from under Nyuu, ignoring the last, glowing embers of the wave of passion which had so nearly consumed him. As he struggled away from her the horned girl slid off of him to the side and just knelt there, butt naked, with her luscious, perky breasts still firmed up, her features arranged into an expression of complete puzzlement as she tried desperately to comprehend why Gohan had extricated himself from her when Nyuu was enjoying it.

"Nyuu?" she chirped.

But Gohan couldn't focus on her right then. With his body now free and their situation in danger of deteriorating further, Gohan instantly shot to his feet, now desperate to explain where everything had all gone wrong, even if no explanation was possible.

"Listen, I-I-I'm sorry, b-but it's not wh-what you think!" he insisted. "Nyuu's clothes had to be ch-changed, and well..."

How much should I reveal? he wondered — he didn't want to alert Yuka to the fact that it had been Kouta's original idea, for it may mean Yuka would turn her wrath upon him, and in that instant, he knew his fate was sealed, for Gohan, kind boy he was, could not condemn Kouta to the pain and the humiliation that would be caused if his own cousin shouted at him for being a pervert — he would just have to take it.

"Look, I don't care what you do when you two are alone," the fiery brunette said, lying through her teeth and trying to suppress the wild emotions now raging through her body, feelings which confused her, "however... there is a child in the house and you have a DUTY to your younger brother NOT to act like a pervert in plain view where he can see it all!"

Gohan flinched — okay, he hadn't exactly thought of it in that way. Yuka was right and Goten could have walked in on them at any time. That would have required some serious explaining, and Gohan, as the one now responsible for his younger brother, honestly didn't know if he was ready for the "birds and the bees" discussion. However, before he could say anything, Yuka plowed on, apparently even more angry than Gohan had initially suspected.

"And next time before you begin groping girls, maybe you should try and find a private place to DO IT!" Yuka shouted, her face flaming red as she gave in and vented to all the torn, fierce, conflicted feelings in her heart. "Someplace where the WHOLE WORLD can't see you! I may not be living here but this is STILL my mother's house and I will NOT see you behave so... so... shamelessly!"

WHACK!

And just like that, Yuka slapped Gohan. The blow had no impact on him, of course, but the feeling that he had let Yuka down, that Gohan had disappointed her, even when she and Kouta had generously taken them in and sheltered him and his little brother, hurt worse than any physical injury, and he could only watch sadly, tail drooping with eyes downcast, as Yuka turned on her heel and stormed out of the room.

"Nyuu?" said the naked girl, absolutely clueless.

As Yuka marched furiously down the hallways of the Maple Inn, a thousand hot, intense, conflicting emotions now started burning and squirming their way through Yuka's conscience. Why... why does it bother me so much that he was with her? Kouta... Kouta is the one I love! Oh, Yuka, you idiot, you didn't have to be so harsh on him... but he was setting a very bad example — what if his brother had stumbled upon him? He shouldn't see those kinds of things! I mean, he is just a child! Gohan has a responsibility to that boy! Then again, it's not really my place to interfere. Is this being overprotective, or am I just a big hypocrite?

It was all quite confusing to Yuka, but, she was confident that with time, it would eventually be sorted out. All her childhood dreams and deepest desires would come true if she was merely patient enough. But, unbidden into her mind, unwanted and unwelcome, came the image of Gohan's sad, heartbroken face as she berated him, looking remarkably similar to Goten's, as she vented all her anger out on him for something Yuka didn't even quite understand herself, however...

She felt herself blushing as interspersed with those images came visions of Gohan's slender, muscular torso, the beautifully glistening biceps, those deliciously hard abs, the enlarged pectorals, as now Yuka found herself fantasizing about what lay beneath, his legs, that back, his butt, and what the mysterious Gohan really looked like near —

No, no, no, no, Yuka, bad girl! she chided herself. You can't be falling for him! You can't! You don't even know him!

And then Yuka sighed as she flopped down on her bed and just lay there, wondering what on Earth was wrong with her.

What am I going to do now?

The horned girl lay there, chained to the wall, naked as the day she was born and drenched in blood from gaping wounds spread all across her body. To say she was in pain was a serious understatement; she was wracked by mortal agony so severe it felt as if she could not even move a single inch without feeling the desire to scream. As she hung there, resisting the urge to cry, and hoping beyond hope that the pain would end sometime soon, her ears suddenly picked up something — the distinct sound of a door opening.

Slowly, fighting through the pain and the electric shock of her own broken bones and beaten muscles, limp from the exhaustion, hunger, and sheer, crushing hopelessness the girl lifted her head. A blurry form met her eyes, closing the door behind it, and walking closer to her, its shoes clacking with each and every step it took. The pinkette struggled to make sense of the approaching apparition, trying to get her eyes to focus as her head dipped, dropped, and lolled from side to side despite her best effort to control her shaking limbs, so disoriented and weary was she that she couldn't even start to put two thoughts together.

"Nana..." a soft voice — belonging to the shadow, apparently — whispered as it came closer and closer to her, a voice that sounded very familiar to the pink-haired girl — she knew that she had heard it somewhere before, long ago, perhaps some time before this horrible agony which had engulfed her entire world and filled her every waking moment, but... from where? Where had she heard the voice before?

And then, through a mind numbed with pain and senses clouded by confusion, with her body flopping bonelessly from chains and her limbs shattered and spirit broken, she remembered... she remembered...

"Pa... pa?" she asked.

The form had reached Nana, and it knelt down right in front of her. This near to her, she could see, through a dark, foggy haze, that the person was covered in the rags the humans wore called "clothing," in the style that her papa had told her was known as a "suit," a bluish-gray in color, with a rectangular wedge stuffed down into it — a "tie." Now fighting through the weariness that dragged at her head, Nana glanced up at the human's face, straining through the aches and the throbs of her smashed body to try and identify the man before her.

That face... it was of a light peach color, with the two rounded ovals over his eyes that Papa informed her were for correcting faulty vision — the hair was dark, framing his face, and came down over his eyes in bangs. And... as Nana forced her eyelids to stay open and her body to cooperate with her, she managed to claim a moment of lucidity from her mind, and she could clearly see those pupils... it was him.

"Papa... has come to see Nana?" she asked cautiously, unsure whether what she saw was real or if she was just imagining things.

"Nana-chan, are you okay?" the human asked, reaching forward and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

The awkwardness with which the human male touched her went unnoticed by the pinkette, as the physical contact served to convince her that what she was seeing, the person now kneeling right in front of her, was no illusion, no fevered trick conjured up by a drained, weary, and tired mind desperate for a few minutes' peace, but real, a tangible corporeal entity, right down to the eye-correction devices this human being had on and the stick clipped inside his pocket and the concerned expression written on his face, the last of which finally told Nana that all of her hopes, her deepest, most personal desires, the entire reason she persevered and survived and struggled to keep on living through another day, had at last come true.

"Papa, it's Papa!" the Diclonius girl cried happily.

Her papa ran his hand down her back, seemingly examining her, and Nana winced as her entire body shuddered when he had hit a bloodied sore spot which still felt tender to the bone, and the poor girl bit back a pained, agonizing scream that the normally thoughtful, gentle touch of her father now brought to her beaten and tortured form.

"Why haven't your wounds been treated?" Kurama asked Nana.

Yup, that was sure her papa all right, always thinking of her welfare first and foremost, and it made all the hellish torture she had endured over the last several hours worth it if it meant that Nana's papa took the time to show a lost, scared, frightened and hurting girl that special side of himself that he had given to no one else but those select few.

"Nana doesn't know," Nana said truthfully, her head sagging even now as the wounds plagued her being.

"Are you in any pain?" Kurama asked, tipping a finger under her chin and lifting it back up to face her.

As she stared into Kurama's dark hazel-gray eyes Nana felt happy, secure, and warm inside, like there was a softly billowing hot updraft swelling up within her stomach and spreading outward to every corner of her soul, and nothing, not even the state of Nana's body, would ruin this moment for her as she finally got to gaze upon those dark, loving pupils once again and Nana just knew in her heart that everything was going to be all right now that her beloved father had returned to her.

"Yes," Nana answered as she struggled, for the thousandth time, not to wince from the wounds spread across her smashed body.

"Don't fret, Nana-chan," Kurama told her, reaching out and draping a warm arm around Nana's shoulder, taking care not to bump one of the spots she had been "experimented" on, and any hint of awkwardness was now completely lost on the Diclonius girl as Nana literally hung on to the older man's every word, his flat monotone belying the paternal air he emanated. "I promise I will have you tended to. You won't have to suffer much longer."

Nana beamed. "Thank you, Papa! You're the best!"

Kurama sighed as he adjusted the glasses on his face. "Nana, there's someone I need you to kill."

Nana instantly recoiled at the thought. Normally, she would do whatever her father wanted, but... NO! How on Earth could she ever take someone's life away from them? Papa had told her killing was wrong, and to commit wrong would mean she was no longer a good girl, but Nana wanted to be Papa's Good Girl so very, very badly!

"It's easy once you do it the first time..." the voice whispered.

"I-I can't kill anyone," Nana stammered.

"Nana, listen... the target is a Diclonius, just like you," her papa said. Nana looked up, suddenly intrigued. One of her own kind? And she had escaped the facility? "Her name is Lucy. She killed a lot of people and she won't stop killing, not until every human is dead. It's up to us now to find her and prevent her from hurting anyone else. Please, Nana."

"Nana can't!" the pinkette wailed. "Nana can't! Nana does not want to take a life!"

She put as much feeling into this as possible; the very second she gave in to the dark, slimy, cold, and sinister presence inside her, Nana knew there would be absolutely no escape — she would belong to the darkness forever, as if it stained her soul with its blackened taint. To give in would mean to become something else, something wicked and cruel and evil, the antithesis to everything Nana was, everything she had been taught, everything she ever wanted to be, and once she had given in, she would lose everything that had ever meant anything to her; her papa would be dead to her.

Nana was willing to die to preserve her papa.

Kurama sighed. "Nana, you're the only one who can help us. I know you Diclonius have the natural ability to sense one another — only you would be able to find her. If you don't do this, then countless people, millions of innocent people, are going to die. Please, Nana, please help your papa now. We... we need you." He patted her with the hand on Nana's shoulder. "I need you."

Nana looked up. That was as close as he ever had come to plain admitting he loved her! Her papa needed her help. Her papa needed her. For a few seconds, Nana just lay there, the pain now secondary to her, torn between a desire to protect her beliefs and the drive to help her Papa and make him happy. If I do this, maybe Papa will finally admit he loves me, Nana thought with new hope, feeling very warm and fuzzy on the inside. Through all the pain and suffering she had endured at this hellish place, Nana had lived for the chance to finally hear those three little words from her papa, "I love you," to know that her needed her as much as Nana had always loved and needed him.

Decided, Nana said, "All right, I'll find her if you want... but I won't kill her, Papa."

Nana hung her head, feeling incredibly dejected, hoping she had not let her papa down at the time when he needed her the most and could finally prove herself to him. But she just knew that to kill would mean crossing a line she could never come back from, the first step towards becoming a heartless monster. I can't do it, not even for my papa.

"Then just find her," Kurama said. "I'll arrange for you to contact us when you've found her. I'm counting on you, Nana."

Nana glanced back up, now filled with a burst of happiness. "I won't let you down, Papa!" the horned girl vowed.

Kurama nodded, but before he could leave, Nana hesitantly asked a question, something she wanted to know before she embarked on her new mission to find one of her own. "Papa... is this person someone who's making trouble for you?"

"Yes," Kurama answered, indicating his eye and the clumsy prosthetics he now wore. "She did this to me."

"No!" Nana gasped, horrified to hear that someone had so badly hurt her papa!

Kurama stood up, looking down on her, solemnly serious. "Please, just find her, Nana-chan."

And as he left her, Nana almost hugged herself from sheer joy, remembering only at the last minute that to do so would bring her more pain from her battered body, but pretty soon that would be fixed, thanks to her papa! And he had even called her Nana-chan! Whenever she heard that, she felt she could just pop!

I'll find her, Papa. And when I do, I'll make you proud, I promise.

Kurama exited the holding chamber, still reeling from the emotional confrontation he had just experienced with his surrogate daughter, like he always felt whenever he came to call on her; which explained why his rare visits to the Diclonius girl were so far and few in between. They reminded him... of what could have been, what might still be if he was just strong enough to claim it, of the oaths he had sworn, and the chains shackled around his mind and soul, chains he himself had forged with his own actions, binding him irrevocably to his a past nevermore and a future now uncertain...

However, there was little time for reflection, because not a minute after leaving the holding cell, the technician and Shirakawa came up to him, now curious over what had transpired with that Diclonius girl.

"Well?" Shirakawa asked. "Is she going to do it?"

Kurama adjusted his glasses again, and that simple act appeared to jolt him to his senses — regaining the cool, calm equilibrium the Chief Director was infamous for by the facility, his only answer to her was the same detached, emotionless stare he showed to everyone else who worked near him, but far from being unnerved, Shirakawa found herself wanting to know more, longing to unlock what lay behind those startling cold orbs. What was his past, Shirakawa wondered? Why did he act this way? Was Kurama hiding some dark secret?

"Of course," Kurama remarked softly. "You have a day. Have her wounds treated and get her ready for combat."

Kurama turned to face the technician, his eyes now hardening as he pierced through the man with his gaze; if his eyes had remained stoic and calm before, now they seemed to be filled with a sort of cold fire, a tranquil fury that made the increasingly wary technician sweat where he stood as he considered what on Earth he could have possibly done that had gotten the creepy and eerie Chief Director to be so upset with him, and then, not a moment later, Kurama finally spoke, addressing the technician directly.

"And... be warned, the next time you leave her like this, you will have to answer to me."

With that said, Kurama turned and departed from the scene as the now-frightened technician swallowed down the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, knowing without a doubt and absolute certainty that he did not want to cross the scary man before him.

While the hapless employee standing there fretting and concerned, Shirakawa watched with mounting curiosity. Why are the way that you are, Dr. Kurama? she wondered. You must have your reasons, but... why do you care so much for this one girl that you are willing to cross Director Kakuzawa for her? Is there something personal about this?

She was left with no answers as she stared the spot which Kurama had once occupied, now more confused than ever...

Gohan lay in his bed, feeling restless, tossing and turning, unable to get to sleep. Ever since his altercation with Yuka, he had been wracked by shame, wondering if there was something that he could have done differently in dealing with her, hoping with every fiber of his being that this blunder wouldn't jeopardize their living arrangements and end up with both him and his brother being thrown out onto the street to fend for themselves alone in a very strange and unfamiliar parallel reality.

That boy deserves a normal life, damn it! Gohan thought as he struggled not to give in and cry. Remember the promise you made when he was born? You would train hard and fight so that he wouldn't have to see the kind of things you have, and now look at him. Goten lost everything he's ever known and cared about all because you were too weak, too pathetic to protect him, and now he may end up living rough on the streets because you were acting like a dumb child!

Gohan punched his pillow and it was only his weakened state which kept the pillow from blowing up into a billion fragments of feather and felt. He breathed deeply, trying to calm his racing heart and his torn emotions, repeating a calming mantra Piccolo had taught him, so long ago. I can't be acting this way, he thought. I shouldn't be acting this way now. I have to be better, stronger than this. For... for Goten. For Goten. If I'm not strong, his entire world is going to come crumbling down on him. I'll die before I let him suffer.

As he tried to sort of his emotions, his thoughts went in a different direction, and unwanted, almost reluctantly into his mind came images of Nyuu, the beautiful, innocent pinkette, visions of her nude body on display for him to see — those beautiful, dangerously curving hips; her long, flowing, feminine pink hair; those large, well-formed, appealing breasts; that unbelievably soft skin; those cute horns; and her —

Gohan shook his head, doing his best to clear it of those most stalwartly forbidden thoughts. No! No! Stop that right now! It's that kindof thinking which got you into this mess in the first place! You... you don't have the time to be falling in love! You must be strong. Be strong...

Now, accompanying those images of Nyuu came Yuka, that well-groomed, gorgeous brown hair framing her face, those soulful brown eyes, and her beautiful figure, and fevered fantasies erupted forth into Gohan's head as his brain conjured wonderfully-defined, beautifully-detailed mental pictures of just what exactly the feisty brunette really looked like beneath her clothes...

And then, oh so slowly, without any conscious thought whatsoever, seemingly without his own volition and almost against his will, Gohan could feel his boxer shorts tightening near his crotch as a wave of pure pleasure overwhelmed him down there, and he let out a loud groan.

No, I... I can't be feeling this right now! he pleaded to the heavens above him. I-I can't. I can't. Oh please, why am I feeling this way? As he reached his full, considerable height, Gohan clenched his teeth as the furious desire to relieve all that tightly wound tension now filled all corners of Gohan's body, aching, burning for a physical release. But... but they are so beautiful. I've never felt this way for anyone. Can I really be in love?

And it was then Gohan noticed his hand had been inching closer and closer, ever so closer and closer, towards his groin, and instantly, with a physical effort, it seemed, Gohan halted its approach, his body now trembling with the suppressed exertion of keeping himself in check. No... I... I just can't bottle this up, but this isn't the time or the place! he admonished himself. Goten... think of Goten! Think of your brother! Y-You have to take care of him... you have to be strong for him... you have tosqueeze Nyuu's boobs and touch Yuka's butt and...

He shook his head. No, no! Don't even think about that! Don't think about how big and lovely they are, and how they seem to just bounce and squish together like putty in the palms of your... no! Willpower! Exercise some willpower, Gohan! You can't be doing this!You can't be thinking about how shapely and pleasing Yuka's behind looks, and... no. No! No... I-I can't be doing this. Ishouldn'tbe doing this...

However, unknown to him, his hand, which had begun moving again towards that sensitive region of its own accord, now slowly and slowly, ever so slowly and slow, reached inside his boxers and with all of the manner of a train driver working the controls, he grasped the long, hard shaft as his fingers longingly closed around it, yearning, aching, burning to bring forth the furious fountain of sensations he knew would soon be coming just from rubbing it up and down, up and down, back and forth, back and forth within his grip...

Gohan gasped, shocked at this sudden turn of events, as he felt the last shred of what remained of his already flimsy self-control crumbling like a collapsing building falling headlong into the gaping void of dark eternity. No... no... he moaned inside his head. Must not give in... must not give in...

(LINK TO AO3 FOR THE UNCENSORED SCENE: h-t-t-p-:-/-/-a-r-c-h-i-v-e-o-f-o-u-r-o-w-n-.-o-r-g-/-w-o-r-k-s-/-1-0-9-0-5-6-3-0-/-c-h-a-p-t-e-r-s-/-2-4-2-4-7-3-2-9 [Just remove the hyphens!])