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The sun was on the verge of vanishing, the horizon bleeding a deep crimson that sharply cleaved the world in two. The final rays of daylight stretched toward the zenith, yet the eastern sky was already being consumed by the ink of night.
Piccolo stood in the vast grassland with Gohan, having accompanied him for a session of light sparring—something Gohan said he needed to clear his head. Both knew that if they fought in earnest, it would no longer be a contest. Still, the time spent had been fulfilling, and a pleasant fatigue filled Piccolo’s limbs.
"Do you know the story of Icarus?" Gohan asked suddenly, adjusting his clothes.
"The Earthling myth of the wings made of feathers and wax," Piccolo replied.
"That's the one. He flew too close to the sun... and his wings melted, sending him falling."
With the setting sun at his back, Gohan’s expression was lost in shadow, his features blurred. Piccolo’s memories still insisted Gohan was just a boy, a child, but the eyes looking back at him had matured into those of a man.
"Why bring that up so suddenly? Religious studies aren't your specialty, are they?"
Gohan seemed to ponder for a moment, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.
"Ever since I was a child, you’ve been like the sun to me, Piccolo-san. A dazzling light that protected and guided me..."
"I'm not nearly that grand," Piccolo muttered, shrugging his shoulders to hide the slight itch of embarrassment at Gohan's dreamy, gentle tone.
"No, you were. That’s why I thought I must never touch you... I thought that if I fell like Icarus, I’d never be able to get close to you again."
There was a weight to Gohan's cheerful tone that seemed to carry a meaning beyond his words. He was smiling, yet his true intent remained unreadable. A faint sense of unease stirred within Piccolo as he silently met Gohan’s gaze.
Gohan stepped closer and took Piccolo’s hand. Not sensing any hostility, Piccolo didn't resist, allowing their fingers to intertwine. The grip wasn't forceful, yet Piccolo found he couldn't pull away.
"But my way of thinking has changed. Or rather, I realized something."
"...Realized what?"
With a sudden pull, Piccolo was drawn in, Gohan’s arm wrapping firmly around his waist. As he was held tight, the sheer intimacy of their bodies pressed together made Piccolo realize it had been since Gohan was a small child that they had been this close. But the strength of the embrace and the breadth of the body against his own were no longer those of a frail boy. This was a young man. The arm anchoring his waist, the heat radiating from where they touched—it was all disturbingly intense.
Piccolo was not ignorant of human desires. He had long since sensed a "beast" lurking within Gohan, a side of him that watched and waited for the perfect moment to cross the line.
However, this was the first time he had been faced with a desire that so blatantly deviated from the path of master and pupil. Piccolo instinctively tried to twist away, but Gohan’s grip only tightened.
"Gohan, let go..."
"If you really wanted me to let go, you could resist much harder than that."
The earlier brightness had vanished. His voice was now low, feverish, and dark. Gohan looked up from Piccolo’s chest, his eyes harboring a smoldering lust that even the deepening twilight could not hide. Piccolo’s mind screamed that this was wrong for Gohan, that he had to stop him—yet his body refused to move.
Releasing his hand from the interlocking fingers, Gohan placed his palm against Piccolo’s cheek. The touch was feather-light, barely skimming the skin, as it slid slowly down his cheek to his throat, then to the nape of his neck. As that palm stroked his vulnerable skin, a sensation like a cold shiver—something entirely unknown to him—ran down Piccolo’s spine, making his skin crawl. His breath hitched. He tried to grab Gohan’s wrist, but again, his arms wouldn't obey.
"Icarus fell because he flew too close to the sun alone. Even if I'm doing the same—even if I melt and fall..."
Gohan whispered sweetly, his breath mingling with Piccolo's, further stripping away Piccolo’s will to move.
"I realized that as long as I’m holding onto you, you’ll surely fall with me. And if we're together... we don't really need wings anymore, do we?"
Gohan’s palm moved up from his neck, his fingertips tracing the line of Piccolo’s jaw until they touched his lips. It was only a light touch, yet it felt as if Piccolo’s very blood were being heated, paralyzing his thoughts.
The deep indigo of night had, unnoticed, draped itself over the entire sky. The sun, which supposedly never let Icarus draw near, had already lost its light, sinking helplessly into the darkness.