Chapter Text
He is going to die. Piccolo can’t assume anything else the day he is too weak to move, dizzy and going in and out on consciousness. A bad storm is hitting the mountain and he is too weak to do anything, too fucked up to help himself. If he does survive it’ll only drag out this slow wasting away and he’s not sure which he prefers. He doesn’t even know how long he’s stayed here since first coming to the springs.
The struggle aspect isn’t entirely physical, he’s too tired and done with this crap to keep clawing his way to anywhere possibly safe, but there’s something else. In one wave of shame, he wants his ki kept hidden, invisible, and he can fade away without alerting anyone. Then, in a wave of something else, natural preservation perhaps, he thinks he must flare his ki now for help. It’s a tumbling feeling of doubt and panic all rolled up together and part of him wants to just close his eyes and wish it all away or at least for it to be over and take him with it.
Then there’s the part that still hopes to see the spring and feel it stay, that the darkness has lifted and it’s all okay.
In the end, he can’t make heads or tails of what he did do, if his ki flared or not, if he struggled with his decision too long or did he opt for self sabotage, hoping everyone was ignoring him? He doesn't remember.
The jumbled sadness is the only thing that he can make any sense of when his world darkens, he thinks there’s a slight burn of hope in his chest but he could be mistaken and it’s just as quickly pummelled with his exhaustion as he finally blacks out and there’s nothing to feel…
Humming to herself, Chichi continued doing her dishes. With two half saiyan sons there were always plenty, but the house was so calm lately that she did it happily. The storm raged outside and she found herself looking outside again, Gohan had been enrolled in a small middle school for the last while and was late home from the library where he was already staying late. If her son wasn't as strong as he is she’d be worried, especially if he was reliant on someone driving, but with a boy who can fly and survive who knows what she more wondered about distractions or losing track of time than anything serious.
It was getting late though. Really late and by the time she finished the chores and with no sign of her eldest still, she began to worry a little and decided to call the school, getting the boy a cellphone on her to do list for when he reaches high school.
When someone picked up, the line was pretty poor due to the weather, she was met with an elderly woman’s voice saying ‘hello, Orange Star Middle School Library, we’re due to close soon so any requests may have to wait until tomorrow, is there anything I can help you with?’
‘Hi, there. I’m wondering if my son, Son Gohan, is still in the library or if he left recently?’
An especially loud crackle thanks to the storm made Chichi wince but she managed to make out the woman’s voice explaining that ‘there’s nobody in the library now’ and that she does recall Son Gohan, being a most regular students and usually so polite, but he ‘rushed out of here like a bullet, didn’t even sign out the book in his hand.’
‘What? That’s not like my Gohan’ Chichi said, worry lacing her voice.
‘Don’t worry about the book, we know Son is an upstanding student and this is a very unique instance for him. We won’t fine him or get him in trouble for it but we do want the book returned as soon as possible.’
‘Oh, yes, of course. Did he mention at all where he was going?’
‘I’m afraid not, he just looked very serious all of a sudden, I wondered if there was some sort of emergency?’
Chichi was real worried then, she had some ki sensing abilities but it wasn’t well honed, as far as she could tell there were no big ki levels battling it out but she also wasn't sensitive enough to sense Gohan’s out when it wasn’t ablaze.
‘Well, thank you, Ma’am. Have a good night’ Chichi replied automatically and practically hung up on the woman half way through her words.
Something’s wrong, she can just feel it.
Redialling, she got through to Bulma and asked ‘do you know where Gohan is?’ bluntly.
‘Uh. Hi, Chichi. No? He in some trouble?’
‘It might be nothing but apparently he left the library in a hurry and still isn’t home yet. Don’t suppose your grumpy man can tell me where he is?’
‘Give me a minute’ the scientist said with a half sigh and half in amusement, said grumpy saiyan prince able to sense ki well enough and Chichi tapped her foot in some anxiety as she waited, glancing at the clock it was definitely too late for Gohan to just be waltzing home with a regular reason. As she waited, she turned on the television, looking out for the news like any disaster Gohan might have decided to get involved in but, flicking through the channels, she kept seeing nothing of note.
Then she could hear Bulma and Vegeta talking to each other, the bad signal cutting in but eventually her friend came through and said ‘Vegeta says Gohan’s at the lookout.’
‘What? Why is he there?’ Chichi asked openly, if Gohan wanted to visit the lookout he could have just asked.
There was more talking in the background before Bulma added ‘apparently, his ki flared in the city all of a sudden, he went out into the wilderness real quick and then to the lookout; whole thing was fast.’
‘Okay, thank you,’ she said ‘I’m gonna go, I have to get to the bottom of this.’
‘Good luck, Chichi. I’m sure Gohan is fine though. Be careful of the storm…’
It’s dark. His body feels immaterial, just a nest of heaviness and pain, but odd glimpses of light come through in weary rises and Piccolo only has enough sense to think he hasn’t died quite yet but the cold is flowing in like how his blood can soak fabric. That’s it. There’s nothing but black nothingness and, through the abyss, the odd flicker of life still there, jostled about like a dandelion seed in a hurricane.
Ideas of Snake Way make the mirage appear in his death’s door dreaming. He isn’t there yet, existence would feel more solid if he were, so he waits still for the storm to swallow him up and leave him to land wherever it may - there’s fuck all he can do about it now…
Krillen stood in the kitchen of Kame House The house was filled with people mostly just ignoring the storm, trying to get a signal through the television or already given up and sleeping, playing cards or board games.
‘What’s the matter?’ Eighteen asked, her pretty blonde head tilting slightly, the icy blues watchful as her boyfriend having trailed off a few minutes ago and seemed to be concentrating on something.
‘Gohan’s at the Lookout…’ he said, dark brows furrowing together and he ran his hand through the starting dark fuzz of hair he was finally letting grow.
‘Something wrong?’
‘I don’t know…’ the short man mused. The others are to distracted and everything happened so quickly it was easy enough to miss if you weren't especially keeping up good sensitivity to these things. It’s also not like Gohan’s energy went crazy, it was a few flare ups and like he had to get somewhere real fast. ‘It’s just odd…I don’t sense any enemies or anything but he went there in an awful hurry; I might go check it out.’
‘Want me to come with?’
‘Um, it’s most likely nothing, wouldn’t wanna drag you out in that weather for no reason, babe. I’m just gonna check in and make sure everything’s fine…’
Is that Gohan? That’s the closest to a thought as Piccolo manages in the cold darkness he is drawing in before the hazy thinking washes in. Where is he? It’s like his energy is right here, a little wild and like the boy is panicked. What’s wrong? Piccolo wonders sleepily. Why is Gohan panicked? That’s not good. He should help him, he wishes he could, but he’s all fucked up and broken.
There’s a burn, the only heat apart from Gohan’s energy, that makes itself known. A hot shame that claws his chest apart at the idea of the boy in danger or distress and Piccolo being too weak to help him, too incompetent to beat this thing on his own, and be there to help and be strong.
Piccolo thinks he hears him but it’s so muddled, like the Namekian is deep under water and the sound is being swept away in the waves. Maybe he isn't there, maybe it’s just Piccolo thinking of a nice thing as he waits to die, and his best friend is as good an idea as any.
Dende. The young guardian’s voice is there too but there’s something about it, stressed and hasty, and he feels pain grip him again at being so useless if this is real and they need him. He doesn’t know what to feel or why exactly these are happening, he just keeps fading in and out of the abyss and he wants it to be over with already.
He’s so tired.
What Piccolo couldn’t see, or didn't have the wherewithal to comprehend in the moment, was the panic that surrounded his own limp, bleeding and freezing body. How the teenager was half clinging to his friend with sobs pushed only so far back so he could help his friend, Gohan sensing Piccolo’s ki fading and fading fast like he was being taken away right in front of him. How Dende was, with the shakiest hands he has ever had, worked on adrenaline to heal the older namekian as best he could in a mad scramble to keep him alive.
They were both too desperate to ask all the questions, to start dissecting the mystery of their friend’s state, but it’s part of the devastation they're working with.
Gohan, when he sensed his mentor’s odd ki flaring like a clumsy morse code, had felt just how low his energy actually was and rushed to find him. He’s assumed he’s find some enemy or obvious injury for Piccolo’s ki to be like that - maybe another android that can absorb power like how Dr Gero and done to Piccolo years prior.
But, perhaps worse, was how Gohan had hardly recognised his old mentor. The storm was partly to blame, the branches and flooding adding to the confusion, but, through it all, was a too thin namekian who was usually so big and sturdy. He looked like a different person at first, like another Namekian entirely, but the ki and eventually the man’s face, told Gohan just who it was. Piccolo’s height added to just how thin he looked. The dark circles under his eyes, the droop of his antennae, things Gohan couldn’t even put a name to were changed and appearing unwell.
Two ideas had occurred to the teen in his frantic response and rushing to the Lookout, that perhaps another Cell-like creature was around and, as Cell had absorbed the people of Ginger Town, it had perhaps sapped Piccolo in a sudden and powerful attack. The other was that this sort of starvation takes a long time. He’s never seen a Namekian look unwell, a human would take time to fade so much - never mind Piccolo - and he could only imagine Piccolo trapped and tortured for some time to get him this way. Any other ideas just wouldn't process yet.
His mind was filled with urgency to just save his friend, that’s all that mattered, and the panic rolled in with each sudden drop in the alien’s ki. Tears streamed and were lost to the speeding flight to the lookout where Piccolo’s colour was revealed, free of the dark storm and into the strange daytime of the lookout. Piccolo was white. A green tinted pale, like a chalky and unnatural hue that made Gohan’s stomach drop.
No sunlight, his brain summoned, and the teen felt sick.
When Dende had rushed to him and placed a healing and trembling talon onto Piccolo’s skin, the colour difference was unlike anything Gohan could have prepared himself to see.
Worse yet, in the filth from the storm and the purple of Piccolo’s gi, Gohan hadn’t been able to see it…but there was blood. Streaked and pooling violet blood was across his pale skin and staining Gohan’s clothes when he rushed his mentor’s body to get help.
‘Please, please, please…’ Gohan nearly sobbed, he didn't know who he was begging but the whispered pleas were echoed in Dende’s mind too, tears in the corners of their eyes and Mr Popo running about doing whatever he could to assist.
The boy couldn’t help it as he looked at Piccolo, a flash of his dad saying goodbye flashed in Gohan’s mind and a grief gripped him so strongly he felt like curling his body around his friend’s and weeping.
When Piccolo stops breathing, Gohan is just frozen.
Clinging to one of Piccolo’s arms like it could somehow comfort him through losing him, watching in slow motion as Dende is practically shrieking at the Genie for whatever he needs that might help them avoid this tragedy and that same desperate hope is obvious in the young namekian’s eyes too.
‘Please be okay…please…Piccolo, I can’t lose you too…’