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He couldn’t remember how he got here. Slightly upset by this gap in his memory, Piccolo waded back to shore. He lingered on the beach for a bit and observed the sunset. Behind him, the woods murmured.
The land was lovely in its dusky ways. At the roots of old trees, mosses grew in green multitudes. Between the branches, sunrays of burnt orange tumbled. The wind carried whispers, for even the lightest hooves do not fall without sound.
Piccolo walked along the edge of the forest. He had not been to this part of the world. This much he was certain. However, he sensed a familiar presence.
Now the secret was unveiled, it was in every grove, every shadow. The rustling leaves spoke of it. A flock of startled birds invoked its name in their vanishing cries.
“I don’t like games,” Piccolo said. “And I don’t feel like looking for you.”
“Very well,” his observer replied. “That took you longer than expected.”
Piccolo watched in apathy as the man revealed himself, and he said: “I am dead, aren’t I?”
“I would say that depends,” the Demon King laughed. “But alas, I also don’t like games.”
“This is hell,” Piccolo pondered. “Or is this all in my mind?”
He paused, and said, mostly to himself: “How did I die?”
“Now that’s a great question,” the Demon King studied him in contempt. “How did you die? And more importantly, how did you fail so miserably?”
He was silent.
“Well, speak up, boy...or have you decided that weakness is simply your nature?”
“Quite the opposite,” Piccolo turned and started walking away. “I don’t feel like engaging in whatever lunacy this is. If this is hell, it’s not really working.”
The wind started to die down, and he could hear the waves lapping the beach in the distance. There were no sounds of footsteps other than that of his own. After a while, he couldn’t help but look back. The Demon King was not there.
Piccolo stood still. Frustration swept over him. He wanted to retrace his steps, in a manner of speaking, and get to the bottom of this surreal, but mostly annoying nightmare. He looked around him. Everything was calm, almost serene. He had no doubt that it was all meant to be ironic. It was meant to mess with him.
“You’re even more hopeless than I expected.”
The sound of his voice gave him a start. The old bastard was suddenly back and staring him in the eye.
“What kind of stupid punishment is this supposed to be?”
“How should I know,” the Demon King shrugged. “I have never been in hell.”
“No. You thought you were smart.”
“And I played myself, didn’t I?” the King offered him a malicious half-grin.
Piccolo started walking again, and this time, his shadow followed.
“You were supposed to rule the world.”
“I almost won.”
“And yet here we are.”
“Well, what did you ever accomplish?” Piccolo demanded. “For some reason, when I look through all the glorious memories, I mostly see the inside of a rice cooker.”
“So, you are angry? but what did you do to make things right?”
“I find you ridiculous.”
“What is ridiculous is that you let the monkey boy get the better of you, again and again.”
“I KILLED him. I succeeded where you had failed. You were beaten by a mere child.” And suddenly, he remembered.
“Son Goku is dead,” he muttered in disbelief. “But...there’s something else…”
“You killed him because he let you,” the Demon King pointed out. "You were eager to help him."
“Raditz.”
“It’s all coming back, isn’t it?”
“But how did I…”
“Never mind that,” the King sneered. “What did you tell the Saiyans? You told them that Goku would be back!”
“It was the truth.”
“It didn’t have to be. You simply wanted it to be.”
“I wanted to defeat him with my own power.”
To his irritation, the Demon King began to laugh.
“I needed him to get rid of the Saiyans,” Piccolo began, but despite himself, his conviction wavered. “If the humans are gone, what would I lord over?”
“A half-truth is worse than a lie.”
“Let me be,” Piccolo spat. “You’re nothing but a dead man.”
“You’re the only dead man here, and what did you just say about hell and lunacy?”
Piccolo regained his composure. "Sure. You’re nothing. This is all pointless.”
“You can keep telling yourself that, and it wouldn’t change the fact that this is the end.”
It was getting dark now. It was getting cold. The sun was almost swallowed by the ocean. The shades of the forest grew deeper and grew menacing.
“I never understood why you wanted the world.”
“You know the answer.”
“I do,” Piccolo said. “But I think it’s stupid.”
“Oh?” the old King feigned a look of surprise. “Why, you must be an expert on stupidity.”
“What would you have done when you’ve killed all the humans? I suppose there is the universe out there, but you would’ve been no match even against Raditz.”
“These are the questions you concern yourself with?” the Demon King shook his head.
“Yes, because I for one, actually think before I rush into things.”
“And is that why you did nothing all these years? Because you were considering what’s next after the humans are dead?”
“Yes.”
“Fool, you were jealous of them.”
“I pitted them,” Piccolo tried to keep his voice down, but he felt an indescribable anger rising.
“It would be sad enough if you did just that, but you longed for their lives, even though what I had given you was much greater.”
“So, what if I was curious about the humans and how they lived? It was just a way to pass the time. I couldn’t do anything to them until I killed Son Goku.”
“Couldn’t? You make me laugh. You stood by and watched him raise a family. You gave him time to live his life, while you wasted yours…all because you desired what he had. You fooled yourself so much that you were willing to give up your own life.”
Realization hit him like a gut punch.
“Gohan,” he said softly. “That’s how I died.”
“Indeed,” The King was laughing like a madman. “You died saving Son Goku’s child.”
But this time around, Piccolo felt a strange force grab hold of him.
“I did. I saved him. He’s going to be alright.” He realized that the feeling was joy.
“What insolence,” the Demon King stopped laughing. “You will get nothing out of it.”
“I don't care.” He said, almost triumphantly.
“I see that you’re pleased with what you have done but let me lay bare your fallacy – you thought so naively, despite all our power and knowledge, that you could’ve found love among the cockroaches that I had mercilessly stepped on. But you’re only king when you crush them. When you bow to them…in their eyes, you’re worse than scum. This child you care so deeply about will return to his parents, and he will forget you. Son Goku will live on, and he will have his happiness. You will have nothing. You have made yourself nothing. And now, this,” the Demon King motioned to everything surrounding them. “Is your reward.”
“They will not forget me,” he replied, though deep in his heart, he was uncertain. “Perhaps, they will even save me.”
“That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in 300 years. What makes you think they will forget what I did.”
“I am not you.”
“And yes, for that they will surely find it in their hearts to forgive you.”
“Goku respects me. He told his son that I was not so bad...that I am better than you.”
“You lie to yourself, because you wanted him to say that you were worthy. You wanted him just as you wanted his life. You are truly blind.”
“I wanted none of that.”
“More lies.”
“What is this place?” he finally had enough. “And why are you here?”
“The afterlife? Your dying dream? What does it even matter?” The Demon King smiled. “It’s an island without end. It’s the idea of the forest you wandered around in as a child, but now it’s forever. It’s what you deserve.”
“Whatever it is,” Piccolo let out a bitter laugh. “You’re here with me. It’s what you deserve, too.”
“You’re wrong, my boy. I was never in hell and I never will be. There is no I. There is only you.”
The Demon King was gone.
The sky was ink blue, and he noted that there were no stars. The forest was silent. There had never been a breeze that carried the sound of life. He walked towards the shore, towards a sea without a horizon.
“It was probably naïve of me to think I’d get another chance.”
“Is that what I wanted?” he looked up at a sky that was as endless as the waves. “To be accepted by humans? to be Son Goku’s friend?”
“I just thought it’d be a boring world if I had killed him.”
A boring world, and a lonely one. It’d be just like this one.
He felt a hint of nuisance at the thought. It was darkly ironic, but he must admit that he had an affinity for Son Goku. If he had lived, he perhaps would’ve even grown to care about the man. Still, he oddly did not think of this as failing himself. It was simply a choice, just like any other.
“So, this is it.” He mused. “I guess it’s not totally unfair or unexpected.”
To be honest, he had expected much worse, considering who he was and who he is. He realized that he also did not totally mind if Gohan forgot him or grew up to despise him. For once in his life, he had accomplished something completely out of goodness. Somehow, perhaps out of pure folly, he considered it worthwhile.
So, he had finally and unwittingly become more human than demon. For what is being human, but a reckless inclination to love despite knowing its pain and futility?
Thinking of this, he couldn’t help but smile.
On the ocean, to Piccolo's surprise, a bright moon began to rise.