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Piccolo endured Gohan’s distance, he understood it, he welcomed it. Videl’s too. Once the battle dust had settled, the truth had landed in beautiful colour, in Krillin’s eyes and Bulma’s strained face. He considered himself lucky to not also be on the receiving end of his own attack at Gohan’s hands, and he turned his phone off. He meditated, or tried to, and sipped water; there was little else he could force himself to do. He trained, of course, but he let his doubles rip into him with claws and teeth until they felt bone. Then he did it again, day in, day out. Sipping water and meditating and beating himself to death.
None of it made his heart feel any better where it sat awakened and unpleasant in his chest. Piccolo groaned and rubbed his forehead, wishing he could go back, to think harder or plan better. He was supposed to be the fucking strategist but he had concocted a stupid and dangerous plan; but then they were all dangerous weren’t they? He’d been endangering the people he loved all of his life, he just hadn’t realised that he loved them. Piccolo screwed his eyes shut, haunted by Gohan’s final words as Piccolo tried to bullshit his reasons. In the end, he had simply stuttered.
“Gohan I…”
Piccolo had never once seen those dark eyes looking at him like that. Like he was Cell.
“Don’t”
Months had rolled by and Piccolo quickly realised that he may never see his student again, and in the very late night sometimes he thought he would cry. Only he wasn’t built like that, not really. He felt deep, harrowing horror for what he had done but he would not cry, even though he knew that it was what Gohan wanted. The boy needed Piccolo to come on his knees, begging for forgiveness to prove he was changed afterall. Not so evil, at the end of the day. Piccolo was stupid, guilty and desperate. The Namek knew all of these things were true but truth didn’t equal acceptance; like everything Piccolo was, he rallied up against it with his talons out.
It surprised him to sense Pan trailblazing her way into his forest and for an odd, embaressing moment, Piccolo wondered if Gohan had sent his daughter to finish him. Pan arrived at his door and he watched from across the lake as she rapped on the door with a tiny fist. After a moment of silence she turned and Piccolo’s blood dropped to his feet when she waved, face full of happiness.
“Piccolo!”
The Namek remained sat with his legs crossed, his thighs tensing. The little Saiyan flew over the lake with her newly acquired ability and he wanted to find it charming but it felt stolen. A gift forced upon this little girl because she would have died had she not suddenly pulled the power out of nowhere to save herself. Pan landed in front of him in a little black tracksuit with SATAN written across the back.
“Are you meditating Piccolo?”
He smiled, or tried to and replied carefully.
“I was, why are you here Pan?”
The little girl pulled at her little ponytail, a stub at the back of her head.
“I wanted to see you…I haven’t seen you in ages”
Piccolo sighed and uncrossed his arms, unable to hold onto the pretense like he had done years ago for Gohan.
“Do your parents know you’re here?”
The truth flashed on her innocent face so blatantly that Piccolo didn’t need to hear the words spill from her treacherous mouth.
“I…no, I’m sorry I know I shouldn’t but…my dad is so mad still”
Piccolo nodded and he stole a look at her lovely little face before responding harshly.
“Then go home and don’t come back”
Pan looked so hurt that he felt the edges of his ribs dig into his lungs, his own body revolting at the needless cruelty. The very same nastiness he had held in front of him like a barrier, the fang showing scorn he had weilded like chi in battle. He deflated and looked away when she didn’t budge. Pan’s eyes watered.
“Why? I miss you, why are you and papa fighting?”
Piccolo wasn’t too familiar with the careful words you saved for babes, so he spoke the truth.
“Because I put you in danger Pan and you nearly died. Your father has every right to…you should go home”
Pan plonked herself down in the dry soil but she didn’t know what to say, her four year old head was failing her. Pan played with a dandelion in her fingers whilst Piccolo looked at her. It was awful that he would not get to see her grow up, to see the warrior she would no doubt become. The woman, the wonderful person, her laughter even louder, with her father’s head and her mother’s spirit.
“Pan-“
She shouted and Piccolo’s ears dropped.
“No! I’m not a baby! I knew you’d protect me”
Her conviction made Piccolo want to throw up. He hadn’t been able to protect her, he had been half dead in Cell Max’s grip and Gohan had saved him. His mind whirred back to that human boy that had nearly been crushed at the Budokai, and the mother that flung herself over the child to die instead. He had scoffed then but that nameless woman was a better person than he was. That human was braver, more courageous and he, foolish.
“I didn’t protect you Pan and you nearly died because of me”
Pan looked up without blame and without judgment and it just made Piccolo feel worse. She thought it wondrous and exciting, and battle could be but that day had been a hellscape. Gamma Two had died so quickly, and the android had been far stronger than Pan. The little girl felt bad, it was written in her pink face but she had no reason to feel that way.
“But I didn’t and I can fly now”
Her simple reasoning was undoing Piccolo’s stern resolve.
“It doesn’t matter! Don’t you get it?”
He breathed in when her eyes went wide at his overly loud voice, he could hear his own words echoing around the landscape. The emotion he had kept so carefully bottled and stored started to pop and boil. He could feel the rush of blood come right up to his face, to his ears and it arrived at the base of his quivering antennae. He spoke quietly.
“You need to go, I’m sorry Pan”
Pan’s little lips shook and she stood up and approached him carefully, unsure, then she climbed up onto his lap and wrapped her tiny arms round his neck. Pan nuzzled into his neck and he could feel that she was crying. Her voice was muffled.
“It’s okay Piccolo, we all make mistakes. I make them all the time”
Piccolo felt his eyes betray him and he turned his head into her sweet smelling hair. She was so small in his arms and so fucking precious; what had he been thinking? Piccolo wrapped a thick arm around her back and pulled her closer. He whispered so quietly he half hoped she wouldn’t hear him.
“I’m so sorry Pan”
Pan squeezed Piccolo, terrified that she wouldn’t be allowed to come over again, that she wouldn’t be able to learn to fight or spend time with her favourite person in the whole world. That Piccolo wouldn’t pick her up from school ever again. She didn’t have the words to articulate any of it so she simply clung hopelessly, but she could tell Piccolo was upset too. That he was sorry and she couldn’t understand why her papa couldn’t tell too.
Gohan hung in the air with his arms crossed, watching them. He had followed her, of course he had, he wasn’t dumb and his little girl had talked of nothing but her uncle Piccolo. Normally the Namekian would have heard him, even with his chi down but the Namekian was clearly in too much turmoil. Gohan swallowed as he looked at his shaking girl and Piccolo’s drooping ears as he clutched her. Gohan’s anger was still present, roiling, but he breathed through it because his mentor was not a monster, he was just a man. A man that had risked Gohan’s heart for the chance of a good fight; a man that had not thought of the pain that would come after. He exhaled and waited but the two of them remained gripped in what they probably thought was their last embrace.
Gohan dropped to the soil and Piccolo looked up. Ruby black Namekian eyes met Gohan’s own and the half Saiyan could see the agony in them. Gohan barked at his daughter.
“Pan”
She turned around in Piccolo’s arms and started to get upset, certain she had done something wrong.
“Go home, now”
Pan hesitated for a moment before lifting into the sky and heading home obediently. She spared her father a wet eyed glance on her way and he smiled so she wouldn’t think any of this was her fault. Piccolo’s hands fell to his thighs and he dug his claws in as he watched the girl go. Gohan looked like he was going to murder someone and it was going to be him, he would be a corpse forgotten in the wilderness he had chosen for his home, and he couldn't find it in himself to feel bad. Gohan's ire was alive, hungry and Piccolo had been the fool to feed it. The Namekian waited, all emotion predictably draining from his face as he restored his stoic mask. It didn’t surprise Gohan, the man had only ever been open with the young; he never had worked out why.
“She could have died, Piccolo”
Piccolo looked down and his antennae dropped. This was it, Gohan was going to lay into him and he’d lay back and take it, he’d die and he would die a thousand times to prevent this from happening ever again. Gohan eyed his teacher where he sat on the ground.
“But she didn’t, luckily for you”
Gohan couldn’t help the bitterness, it came so easily on his tongue even though a large part of him didn’t mean it. He was a father first. Piccolo mumbled.
“I know”
Gohan watched and he saw that Piccolo was looking down, eyes clenched tight. It took him a moment to realise that it was because he was crying, though Gohan could only really tell because of his mint white fists and the teardrop that landed in the man’s lap. Gohan sighed and carefully walked forward, he knelt down in front of Piccolo. Gohan cocked his head but Piccolo remained steadfast, face turned down and all muscles tensed. Gohan reached out and lifted Piccolo’s chin, biting down on his own emotion as his thumb slipped in the Namekian’s tears. He forced Piccolo to look at him.
“Let’s move past it, yeah? I don’t wanna lose you”
Piccolo’s damp eyes welled and Gohan had to refrain from breaking down and cuddling him. He was so close to betraying himself and falling at Piccolo’s feet in horror that he’d made him shed actual tears. Gohan hadn’t once seen the warrior cry, except in death. Over him. Gohan had wanted a grand apology, spoken proud and poignant, a bitter but truthful admission but there was far more meaning in that rare sorrow. A hurt that dug deeper than the lip service he had craved. Gohan brushed his thumb under Piccolo’s left eye and smiled, choking on his words.
“Hey, don’t cry”
The Namek swallowed and nodded, flushing violet. Gohan laughed and brought his other hand up to wipe Piccolo’s other cheek. He held Piccolo’s face in his hands and looked at him not like a hero, not like an almighty and all knowing teacher, but like a friend. His friend, mistakes and all.
CC.