Tainted Soul
Chapter 8
By Cremrock

Piccolo would have run to the edge of the world, if he could. He couldn't escape the odd, fleeting notion that he should have remained in his room, but in his present state, it was all he was. He was a frightened animal, having thought himself caged a bit ago, and now he was running for his life at a speed normal humans would have found impossible. Now that he had exited the city, he wondered what those strange, hard structures were? He would have been curious if he hadn't been so intent on his flight across the windswept valley that swept around West City.

His fled, anxious to get away from the person that his instincts told him to flee from. Green people... Nameksei-jin. The words floated across his mind, but in his current state, it wasn't a word from a language; it was a sound. Nameksei-jin hurt him. Nameksei-jin caused him pain, and he knew he had to flee from them. Much in the same way the herbivores of a forest warned one another, the sound Nameksei-jin was a warning to this one.

It was a shame. The smaller, paler skinned ones had almost seemed kind, if kindness were a concept that he could currently grasp. Instead, all he could grasp was... pain, suffering, and tears...

Since his psyche had been destroyed or detained, he had in a sense become reborn as a newborn child, and pain, suffering, and tears were all his conscious state had been exposed to. He felt like he should be remembering something... doing something... but he had no time to think, to ponder such thoughts. He looked over his shoulder, but no one was chasing him now. Spurred by memories of the pain he had suffered... he ran anyway.

---

Like a thunderbolt, Son Gohan streaked through the crisp, thin air in the blue sky. A normal human would have found the temperature at this altitude quite uncomfortable, but then, a normal human wouldn't be flying without aid of hang glider, airplane, or capsule jet. The ki that served as his propulsion kept him plenty warm enough, and thanks to that matter, the only distraction currently on his mind was what he was going to tell his mother when he got home.

"Mom sure won't want me to go chasing after Piccolo in lieu of my studies... but how can I make her understand? This isn't some joyride, this is about a threat to the world!"

At that thought, a frown creased his face, but he quickly banished it with another thought.

"If I can't make her understand... She'll just have to catch me."

He hoped it wouldn't come to that, but he supposed that being grounded for life was better than having someone wreck the world.

His immediate thoughts were trounced when he realized, to his surprise, that he couldn't sense his mother's ki. Granted, it wasn't as if she had an exceptionally large ki, but it was marginally greater than the ki everyday people possessed, and what was more, she was the only person for miles.

"Well... maybe she's asleep."

The expression of concern on his face belied his rationalization, and like it or not, he was about to become distracted. The ki surrounding him expanded and then became more focused, and the child hurtled through the air as quickly as his formidable power would allow him to.

---

As quietly as he could, Kuririn swept through the deep darkness of the cavern. He had discovered it almost by accident while flying past the mountainous region north of the city. It was just like a hundred other caves that dotted the landscape, except for one thing.

Kuririn had sensed a ki in this one. It had been faint, but easily recognizable. Only one being he knew of had a ki as dark as the one he had felt.

In spite of the cool air, beads of perspiration slid down the monks' face. He wanted to know why Diamaou's ki felt weak instead of strong, but that was not the reason he hadn't returned to find Neru and the others, not the reason he was risking a solo confrontation with the terrifying demon.

No, Kuririn crept through the cavern not for personal pride, but because he had sensed another ki with Diamaou's deep in the mountain. And when dealing with Diamaou, Kuririn knew that such weaker ki's had a tendency to get snuffed out like candles, and if Diamaou had a hostage...

He didn't want to go in without his friends at his back, but if there was an innocent life at stake, he had no choice. He resisted the temptation to raise his ki so that Gohan and Neru could sense it; but it would be like sending up a flare, and Diamaou would know he was there. All he wanted to do was sneak in, rescue Diamaou's victim, or perhaps discern if this other ki was an ally of his, and get out. Maybe Diamaou had captured Piccolo.

As he entered a wide-open cavern that would have been perfect for an ambush, he was tempted once again to raise his ki, but decided against it. It wouldn't offer him much of an advantage in an ambush, and if his senses were correct, the ki; Kuririn only sensed one now, was still ahead.

In the shadow of a large stalactite that had dominated the cavern, Diamaou clung to the ceiling with batlike tenacity, smiling as Kuririn passed by. The web had been drawn, and now this insignificant, and yet so crucial, human fly was being led straight in.

Quickly, Diamaou stalked off to close the web.

Kuririn gasped in surprise at the heat of the next cavern. He had known he was dwelling deeper and deeper into the mountain, but this had been entirely unexpected. Ahead of him the tunnel opened up into a wide cavern that looked as if it had been carved naturally rather than formed. Aside from a large island of a rock in the middle, roughly 300 feet away, there was only a twisted, curving bridge of solid rock that spanned the gap, a gap filled by molten rock, that surrounded the island. In the ceiling and the walls were holes, but if bridges had led to them, they had evidently collapsed long ago.

"My enemy doesn't need bridges..." Kuririn reminded himself.

The ki was shortly ahead now, and one of them had vanished. Kuririn wasn't sure which had; the kis had weakened, and he could no longer sense Diamaou's taint. Tentatively, he stepped onto the bridge, trying to be as quiet as possible. The heat from the molten rock produced a cumbersome haze, and as a result, the monk couldn't make out anything ON the island... the only thing that allowed him to know someone was there was the ki he felt. He sorely hoped it wasn't a large animal, or this journey would have been for nothing.

He heard a weak moan from the direction of the island, far too weak, (Not to mention feminine) to be Diamaou. His suspicions confirmed, Kuririn shifted uncomfortably at the sound, and then got down on his hands and knees. The fog was thick, and the bridge was constantly slanting upwards... For once, Kuririn was glad for his lack of height.

"I should remain concealed if I'm careful... It's show time, Kuririn!"

Quietly, he began his ascent. As he had suspected, the fog concealed him, and he couldn't even see his hand.

"I can't help but think that that's a good thing," He considered, before continuing his ascent.

The bad thing was that the fog left him blissfully unaware of the figure behind him.

---

Under normal conditions, Neru would have greatly enjoyed the cool breeze that left his antennae plastered to his forehead, his clothes ruffling around him, and the entire experience reminding him of the sheer joy that he felt at being alive, and what was more, to be flying.

Unfortunately, these were far from normal circumstances, and as a result Neru's expression was resolute and firm rather than tinged with joy.

The Nameksei-jin was trying to come to grips with what he felt deep within his soul. He had been weak, he had embarked upon a less than noble, less than courageous path, and now he believed that he might not be able to do anything to change it. Even in his despair, he felt he could live with that, but another disturbing possibility came to him.

Was it that he did not have the strength to want to change it? He had thought his plan a sound one; had all gone according to plan no permanent damage would be done to Piccolo, and he would go on his own merry way once Diamaou had been disposed of.

Obviously, it hadn't gone as Neru intended. He clenched his teeth, nearly shaking with rage over the current situation. How could he have been so blind to Diamaou's machinations?

As he flew, he found his thoughts drifting back to the past, where the first seeds had been planted, the first inklings that had made him wish he was separated from Piccolo.

It had seemed like such a noble thing to do at the time, or so he had thought. Fuse with Piccolo, give his race one last chance at victory over Freezer, or die in the dust, broken, useless, and defeated. The choice had been such an easy one to make at the time, but...

...It had gotten harder in a hurry as regrets accumulated. He remembered the first one, but at the time, he hadn't really thought he would be around to remember it. It was rooted in the same source that so many other Nameksei- jin regrets had been rooted in; the battle with Freezer. He remembered every moment of those fights with painstaking detail, whether he'd been in his own body or Piccolo's. The full range of emotions had certainly been invested during that battle. At first he had felt, even sensed that he had made the crucial difference needed, as Piccolo had shattered Freezer's second form with attack after punishing attack.

Such power he had felt! He knew that it was Piccolo's, but it was still amazing to feel, especially since he had had his own battle with Freezer to use as a reference. But after, when Freezer had changed forms, came the emotional turmoil and realization that Freezer possessed power beyond any that he had ever foreseen, though if the legends were true there had been a Nameksei-jin with that much power in the past.

Neru came to grips with it sooner than Piccolo had, but he had had the luxury of already knowing what it was like to be so outmatched, after his fight with Freezer outside of the Saichoro's hut. But it was after, when Freezer shifted to his fourth form, that Neru began to wonder about the merits of his choice. That was when he had watched Dende, the child he had always fancied himself a mentor to, had died at Freezer's hand. The slaughter of his people had filled Neru with pain, but this had been the first one he had witnessed personally, and as an aside, the first death he might have been able to do anything about, for he had been safeguarding the Saichoro the entire time.

After the ordeal was over, and Freezer had been defeated, Neru couldn't help thinking about what he would have done had he not been joined with Piccolo. His quarrel wasn't with the Namek himself; he felt the force of Piccolo's attacks after Dende had died, and the Nameksei-jin's rage was legitimate, as was the rage of his friends Son Gohan and Kuririn. Under the circumstances, he had no doubt he would have attacked in the same way, for all the good it did.

And yet... Neru often wondered what he would have done. Could he have pushed Dende out of the way? Dived in front of him and taken the blast? He reminded himself all to often that they were foolish thoughts and didn't mean anything; Dende was alive, as were his people, so the brooding thoughts didn't matter now. But it did make him begin to wish there was a way out.

Those feelings intensified when his people had left Earth a year later. Soon after, he began to wish that he had gone with them. He might have been able to live with it had Piccolo gone to Namek, but he knew that the man considered the world almost as foreign as he would considered Earth. Both men found beauty in the others' planets, but both also felt that they much preferred their own planets.

Shaking his head, and removing himself from his thoughts of the past, he scanned the landscape, sighing to himself at his most recent conclusion.

"I seek atonement... But am I going through this the right way?" Neru didn't know, as his antennae continued to blow in the wind, but he did know one thing as a strange howling reached his ears, echoing through the air. Down below in a small clearing, was a figure in tattered clothing, but one who was as tall and green-skinned as himself. He had found Piccolo. ---

Kuririn continued forward, inch-by-inch, and as he continued he was able to making out more and more of the island, while beginning to wish he hadn't.

Ringed around the island were five large statues, each depicting two men; one of them appearing frail and weak, wizened by the elements and thinned, as if his life had been leeched out of him. The other one of them appeared young and strong, in the prime of his life. The two appeared to be in different stages of disagreement. In the first statue the youth appeared to be pleading with the old man, while in the second the old man had his hand raised threateningly. Kuririn winced at the expression on the young statue's face, so real, and filled with terror. The third statue had the old man standing with his hands raised triumphantly, with the addition of a bizarre crystal above the youth. The fourth statue was the most bizarre of all; as there were now four figures in the statue, the old man, the youth, and two figures; bodies, Kuririn realized, lying on their backs to the sides of the youth. The crystal still lay over the youth, and the old man himself appeared incomplete; almost as if he was melting away, while the youth maintained the terrified look, with the exception that he appeared to be screaming. The statue was so vivid that Kuririn could almost imagine the shriek.

The fifth statue was auspicious in that there was only one figure, the youth, standing in it. But the face of the youth was the face of the old man, wild-eyed and cruel.

Kuririn suppressed a shudder under the intense gaze of the fifth statue. Hadn't Kami said something about dark rituals taking place when otherworldly souls had escaped the afterlife and found bodies to corrupt and inhabit?

"Quit scaring yourself," Kuririn chided himself softly. "Someone over there needs your help." He crept closer; the figure was tied to the ground, lying on their side, but Kuririn couldn't make the figure out yet. It certainly wasn't a stretch to presume that this had been the other ki he had sensed, and Kuririn felt relief at that. Diamaou was bad enough without having an ally.

He hesitated a moment, knowing that something about the situation wasn't right at all. Where was Diamaou? And why did this vaguely feminine figure look so familiar, even from behind? It was only when the semi-conscious figure rolled over, emitting another hollow moan, that Kuririn realized the truth.

"What the hell is Chi-chi doing there? I've got to get her out of here!" Not even bothering to worry about the consequences, he leapt to his feet and sprinted towards the woman. Had it been someone else, or had she not needed such urgent help, Kuririn could have hesitated, but he knew that Son Gohan would never have forgiven him, and Chi-chi was his friend, too.

Besides, she was only three steps away, and Kuririn had already formulated a simple plan by the time he had taken one; grab her and get the hell out of there. He resolved to blast a hole out of the mountain to escape, and damn the consequences!

Behind Kuririn, through the fog that apparently still concealed him from view; Diamaou sprung. Kuririn was only one step away from Chi-chi when the demon landed in front of him; such was his speed. The quick amount of ki Kuririn sensed told him that the trap had been sprung, even if his eyes hadn't yet realized that Diamaou was in front of him, and he instinctively rolled to the left, Diamaou's fist smacking off his shoulder as the demon made his first attack.

But Diamaou had been aiming at his head, and as a result of the demon's inability to change the direction of his blow, Kuririn was able to leap to his feet in a defensive posture, rather than crumple to the ground unconscious.

Suddenly faced with one of his worst nightmares, Diamaou leered over him, his smirk not unlike that of Piccolo's. Then he chuckled, noting the fear in Kuririn's eyes, before opening his mouth to speak.

"You dodged. Perhaps I underestimated you, little man."

Kuririn tensed as he finished the statement, but Diamaou made no move to attack, so Kuririn decided to talk with him; maybe even stall him until he could think of an alternate way to escape with Chi-chi.

After all, he'd been counting on a head start.

"What do you want with Chi-chi, Diamaou?" His voice was unwavering, though Kuririn had been frightened in many conflicts before, he had perfected masking his fear when the chips were down.

Diamaou grinned, showing all his teeth before a predictable, sarcastic reply.

"Maybe I was just lonely and wanted some companionship... It got you to come..." Kuririn would have rolled his eyes if he could have, but he refused to take his eyes off of Diamaou for a second.

"Considering what I did to you a few hours ago, I'm surprised you WANT my company," Kuririn said boldly. If he could enrage Diamaou, it might give him a way to escape, or so he reasoned.

Diamaou's response was cold and calculated, with nothing but a tone that even contained, Kuririn thought, a hint of respect.

"Yes... I was surprised that someone as weak as you would deliver an attack like that... As I said, I underestimated you."

Kuririn grinned savagely, remembering his first encounter with Piccolo; the real Piccolo, at the Tenkaichi Ichi Budoukai; or World's martial arts tournament. Hadn't Piccolo said something similar then?

"...But the problem was, you underestimated me." Diamaou finished, fading out of sight and leaving Kuririn to realize that he'd been talking to an illusion, an after-image.

"A projection?!" Kuririn realized, but he scarcely had time to consider what to do next, his expression of surprise shifting to one of pain, before all was darkness.

Diamaou grinned, standing over the monk's unconscious form, his hand still sticking out where he had chopped the man in the neck. Had he wanted to, he had strength enough to cleave the monk's head clean off, but Diamaou needed him alive.

After all, the 3rd statue had two bodies in the tableau, not one.

--- Piccolo clearly wasn't as happy to see Neru as Neru was to see him. He had been running as quickly as he could to escape Neru, only because his instincts told him to run, and now Neru had found him.

Neru landed on the ground several feet away from him, his face set, but Piccolo didn't recognize the look as one of concern, shrinking away from the Namek, almost too terrified to move.

"I'm here to help you, Piccolo."

In his current state of mindlessness, Piccolo didn't know what the word 'help' met. He remained still; that is, until Neru took a step forward, proffering a hand. Piccolo let out a shriek and stepped back, his head furiously scanning the area. What little sense of reality that remained in him told him that he could not possibly run faster than someone who could fly.

Neru recognized the panic, but he didn't recognize what Piccolo thought, didn't recognize what the tortured man was thinking. In his own way, Piccolo was acting logically; but more like an animal.

With all routes of escape blocked, Piccolo did what any animal that feared for its life and was cornered would do, even as Neru took another step forward, trying to appear unthreatening.

He attacked as savagely and as powerfully as he could, both hands lunging for Neru's throat, pouncing at him. Neru, taken aback by the unanticipated ferocity of Piccolo's attack, lost his balance and fell under Piccolo's weight, and for a split second, Piccolo actually held an advantage over Neru, despite his weakened state.

But Neru was more skilled than Piccolo in his current state, and had in fact only been delayed in his reaction because he hadn't wanted to cause Piccolo further harm. Unfortunately, he knew that he couldn't help Piccolo's body one bit; he had to free his mind. And in order to do that, he had to free his consciousness from its prison, then heal it, and there was only one way to free it: from inside Piccolo mind.

"I'm sorry," Neru said, before knocking Piccolo unconscious with one blow, an easy task with Piccolo as unfocused as he was.

He then pressed his fingers to Piccolo's temples; feeling his own eyes begin to droop with sleep. Sometimes, on Nameksei, he had sparred with his kin not physically, but mentally. It was a way to fight on an even plane and to learn strategy without any physical damage being done; he himself had employed the technique with many of his students, as there had been quite a gulf between his power and theirs.

Now, as he drifted into unconsciousness, he hoped it would take him back to where he was when he had attacked Kami; Piccolo's first line of mental defense, and the part of him that made him who he was.

It did.

--- Neru tumbled through blackness aimlessly, with no control over his direction or movement. His body still ached, but then, when he looked down, he wasn't entirely sure he had a body. Instead he was only... aware, drifting through Piccolo's subconscious as his perspective of the world around him shifted into an array of dazzling colors that clashed with one another, again and again. Brown and pink, blue and gray, and a variety of colors that couldn't really be called colors; he had never seen anything like them before.

He opened his mouth to speak, but found that in his current state, he didn't have a voice.

"What the hell's going on here?" The sound echoed around him, enough to convince Neru that he did have a voice, but he hadn't consciously spoken... no, he had thought that. It seemed to be working though; had there been anyone beside himself to listen. "Where am I?"

Again, there was no response. Truth be told, it was a stupid question... Neru knew where he was; somewhere in Piccolo's tortured and tattered mind, but he had very little idea of how to get to where he had to go. If his memory was correct, he should be seeing an island; something to represent Piccolo's mind, his consciousness, and his sanity... but instead there was... nothing.

That was when it opened up in front of him, a swirling vortex that began to spin the colors in his perspective around and around, again and again, faster and faster. Neru didn't exactly know how, but he felt himself being pulled towards that vortex. It was not a place he wanted to go, but he had little choice; he was... drawn to it.

He had nothing to say, or think, in protest as he felt himself be sucked in.

---

Neru was dizzy; so dizzy. Not so much because of the vortex, to his amazement, he had appeared with his body as soon as he had passed through it, or at least a representation of his body. No, what was dizzying was the landscape that swirled below him, as he fell straight through Piccolo's mind.

What Neru saw made him gasp with surprise, as he clenched his brow in amazement. He didn't know what twisted machinations had caused this, but he knew who was responsible. He decided to try out his voice; he would need it if he found some facet of Piccolo anyway.

"Diamaou."

Neru had found his island, but it was twisted, warped, with jagged rock formations all over, and no discernible path through. It was chaos, chaos in the form of a maze; a maze that might have no exit.

"So that's how he kept Piccolo on edge once I had... left."

Neru knew what he had to do; or rather what he thought he had to do. He had to find where Piccolo had been chained when he was last there... when he had been a permanent resident of this plane. He stared in silence for a moment, unsure of where to begin.

That was when he heard the screams. He tried to figure out the direction they were coming from, but they were at all decibel levels, and coming from all around him. He did recognize that they were Piccolo's... but that was about all. He craned his eyes back towards the maze; Piccolo had to be somewhere in there, but... where? He was still falling, but a quick look down at his newly formed hands told him all he needed to know; he was the captain of his ship again, he could propel himself through this plane, and did so, as he touched down in the maze. It seemed like as good a place as any to start.

A chill breeze blew across his back, and as he pulled his vest closer to him, he wondered why everything was so uncomfortable. Even during Diamaou's plot, he had always felt comfortable in Piccolo's consciousness, but now he felt different. Now he felt like he was...

"An intruder."

The cold, yet strangely familiar voice came across his ears with all the intensity of a gunshot, but as he spun around, he found nothing behind him, nothing to indicate that the voice had come from behind him... So why did he so keenly think that the voice had come from behind him?

His antennae drooped on his face, as he grit his teeth together and clenched his fists, relaxing himself for a fight, if need be. "Show yourself, whoever you are."

He didn't receive an answer, and was just about to relax, thinking it just a side effect of Piccolo's erratic mental state, when the voice responded with a reply, no less cold than before.

"Feed me. Maybe you'll find what you're looking for in the process."

"Who are you? I know you can't be Diamaou."

"Find me... and find out. Who says I can't be him?"

That was when the same scream he had heard before struck him, only this time louder, more pain-filled. In spite of himself, Neru took off running. He doubted anyone could do any more damage to Piccolo, but he was resolved to find him; to stop those screams.

"Those screams... that I helped cause." The landscape was flat and barren, no impediment to his speed, and he found himself hugging the left wall of the maze. He would follow this maze for miles, if necessary. He had to find Piccolo.

After what seemed like hours, but could well have been seconds in the actual world, the screams started to appear again, this time getting louder. Then the screams cut to silence again, and the voice returned just as Neru was faced with a dead end.

"You're close; I'll give you that."

"Enough of this. I don't know who you are, but release Piccolo... stop being a coward and show yourself."

"Why should I? As I said, you're close."

Neru frowned, and then smiled a bit. It wasn't what he normally would have done under the circumstances, but then he realized, here on Piccolo's consciousness, he shouldn't do what he wanted to do... he should do what Piccolo would've done.

"Like I said, enough." Neru raised his hand and blasted the wall in front of him to smithereens. Its fragments scattered across the sky, and Neru stepped through only to find himself in a large, circular area. In the middle was Piccolo, looking even worse than he had when Neru had attacked Kami. The once proud Nameksei-jin was staring quietly, his face a mass of bruises, swollen tissue, and a constant, pain-filled grimace. Neru couldn't see Piccolo's body from where he was, but figured that it couldn't have been much better.

He strode towards Piccolo purposefully.

"Hang on; I'll cut you down in just a moment, Piccolo."

"No, no you won't." Neru spun around as that same, cold voice was behind him, and got the shock of his life. This time, the owner of the voice was standing there behind him, a playful grin on his face, but cold, hard eyes producing an effect that was much different than the normal look of their owner. Instantly, Neru knew why the voice sounded familiar, too.

"Son Gohan?!"

Behind him, out of the corner of his eye, Neru saw Piccolo shudder, and then, in the faintest of gestures, shake his head. Neru took that to be a good sign; maybe the warrior still had some faint inkling of reality left.

"Not Gohan... evil. Bad. PAIN!" Piccolo gasped.

"Be silent! You know nothing of this!" Son Gohan, or rather, the creature that looked like Son Gohan, spat. Neru had had enough of the brief exchange.

"I'm going to untie Piccolo... I don't know who you are, but try to stop me, and I'll destroy you. Got it?"

Son Gohan shrugged his shoulders, amazingly, he didn't react angrily to the challenge... instead he cackled, and grinned at Neru. "Yes... I have been so hungry lately... since he left... and he despaired... feed me. Feed me more."

Immediately, Neru realized that Son Gohan felt stronger, maybe even looked stronger, and was standing a bit more confidently. "What are you doing? Who are you talking about?"

Son Gohan grinned. "Fight me. You'll lose, but you'll have the answers to seek..."

Neru's response was to run towards Piccolo. He was halfway there when Son Gohan materialized between the place where Piccolo was tied and Neru. Neru scowled.

"I've had enough of this. Who are you?"

Amazingly, Piccolo spoke... and in a coherent sentence. "He is... desire..."

Desire turned around and glowered at Piccolo before slapping him across the face, causing the Namek to howl in pain. "What? There's still a bit of you in there? I thought I had drained you completely... how dare you let me sit here, starving and starving?"

He made to slap Piccolo again, but Neru grabbed Desire's arm and kept it from striking.

"Leave him the hell alone."

Desire turned and stared. "Good idea. I'd much rather play with you... instead!" Faster than Neru could perceive, Desire whipped his leg around and connected with Neru's right knee, sending him crashing to the ground in pain. The warrior was up in an instant, but in that instant, he was completely on the defensive as Desire, still looking, "And fighting!" Neru thought, exactly like Son Gohan. Eventually, Desire found an opening in Neru's defenses, and struck towards Neru.

Desire might have been fighting like Son Gohan, but even a novice would have picked up Neru's feint, as the Nameksei-jin had deliberately left a hole in his defenses, hoping that his opponent would strike at that exact spot. Desire's punch met empty air, as Neru spun left and grabbed his opponent's arm with his left hand before slamming his right hand, a cruel fist with plenty of power behind it; into Desire's face.

Desire howled with pain, and Neru kept his grip, connecting twice more before putting all of his power behind his fourth punch; this time letting go of Desire's arm at the precise moment he connected, sending the being flying across the room before slamming painfully into one of the rock walls that encircled the chamber.

Neru dusted off his hands, thinking the battle over. "Huh. He was all talk."

He didn't notice Desire looming out of the rock wall, crackling with energy and looking, amazingly enough, stronger than he had before Neru had introduced the creature's face to his fist. He did, however, hear him, and he dodged out of the way of the ki blast just in time, his vest swirling behind him

"Heh. Surprised to see me again?"

Neru shrugged. "Perhaps a bit. I'll just defeat you again."

"You won't find it so easy... this time."

Neru rolled his eyes. "Nothing in life is ever easy..."

Talk was cheap, and the two collided once again, as Piccolo looked on. If Neru had had time to look, he would have noticed the Nameksei-jin shaking his head as vigorously as his battered body could.

---

Son Gohan landed in the grass, but even as he did, he senses told him something was wrong. He had been worried about his mother before, but in the short journey it had taken to reach his home, the worries had intensified. At the time, he told himself the lack of ki was probably his mother napping, but... Chi-Chi never took naps during the day.

Just the same, as he turned to the left and his eyes widened in horror, his senses were irrelevant; the fact that the door to the house was torn off its hinges told him a whole lot more. Every inch of him wanted to tear through that door, calling Chi-Chi's name, but his instincts held him back.

He didn't sense any ki, save for a smaller one that he recognized. He probed briefly, and was relieved to sense that it felt the same way it always did, but Gohan knew it didn't mean anything in regards to Diamaou's location. At least the Haiyaa dragon was okay. The small bit of relief he did feel was not enough to quell the fear that was slowly carving away at his heart.

Quietly, he crept into his house. It was to his benefit that he had lived there for several years, as he knew every crack, every creaky floorboard, and every spot someone Diamaou's size could hide. When he had played Hide and Seek with his father, his mother had insisted they stop playing the game in the house. They had, but not before he had an opportunity to gain an appreciation for every hiding space there was.

He didn't wind up exploring them all though, as he snuck into the kitchen and found it a mess. He felt the pounding of his own heart in his chest as he completely disregarded his previous plan to sneak around until he was sure upon seeing blood on the table. It was only a few droplets, and had already dried...

...But he knew that a wound the size of tiny hole was still enough to kill. A familiar whimpering sound reached his ears, and he spun around, only to be confronted with the Haiyaa dragon, quite unhurt aside from its previous wounds... and a message on the refrigerator; a message that could only have been scratched out by Nameksei-jin claws, the scratch marks tinged in blood.

Sudden rage bubbled up in him the moment he read the message, and in the blink of an eye, he was out of the house. The dragon was hurt that its master hadn't taken a moment to acknowledge him, but somehow, he had already sensed something was wrong. The woman hadn't been around to make sure he wasn't messing up the yard in some time, and even his memory knew that something had changed on the clean white service of the refrigerator, even if the dragon had known what it was, or what the symbols it briefly regarded met.

Symbols, letters rather, that said,

"You'll find your mother in the mountain cave to the north of East City...Hope she's still alive."

---

Neru crouched defensively, trying to get to his footing, breathing heavily. For the fifth time he had seemingly defeated Desire with the most punishing array of attacks he could think of, and for the fifth time Desire had risen from his defeat, looking stronger and more powerful than he had before.

Scratch that, he had been stronger and more powerful than before, as the many welts, and bruises on Neru's aching body indicated. Despite that, the warrior had sustained far worse, and even managed a challenge as he rose to his feet, having been knocked to the ground by Desire's last attack.

"Is that the best you can do?" Neru mumbled, spitting out a clout of blood (And a tooth, but he wasn't exactly paying attention) and preparing to go on the offensive again.

"You... will help me reach my best... you are... very tasty." Desire whispered. Neru's antennae shot up in surprise; Desire evidently hadn't thought he would hear, but he was dealing with a Nameksei-jin, far from a normal opponent.

"What is he prattling on about? What does this mean?" Neru thought, his mind racing. Out of the corner of his eye, he stole a glance at Piccolo, but the Nameksei-jin was unconscious at this point. Desire lunged at him with his strongest attack yet, and Neru chose to dodge rather than counter- attack. An instant later, Desire struck again, and again, Neru got out of the way of the blow.

"Coward!" Desire exclaimed, looking truly angry for the first time during the somewhat one-sided fight.

"I think I'm onto something..."

Desire lunged at Neru again, and this time the Namek wasn't able to get out of the way, but rather than counter-attacking, he let the blow connect. It hurt more than almost anything he had taken thus far in the fight, but it achieved its desired effect; Desire was angrier than before. What was more, he appeared to be rattled.

"Why won't you fight? I'll destroy you!" Desire exclaimed, his voice lacking the air of confidence that had been there before.

Neru shrugged. "For a person who seems to be winning, you're pretty angry."

Desire glared, and then smiled, reining in his anger. "Perhaps...But I'll leave you no choice this time! You'll have to counter this blow or be destroyed, Neru!"

Desire cupped his hands, and a small ball of ki appeared in them... before it grew, and grew, and grew, expanding to the size of an orange, then a grapefruit, then a basketball, before it doubled, then tripled in size past that, so large that Neru couldn't possibly dodge around it.

"Can I afford to take a strike like this?!"

There was no time; Neru made his decision, digging his feet into the ground and crossing his arms in front of him. Desire seemed a bit weaker; this might be the only chance Neru had to make a difference in this fight that he had to win.

Desire doubled his efforts again, but incredibly, the ki ball began to shrink instead of grow. "No! It can't be! I won't let this happen!"

He fired; and a split-second later, Neru was in more pain than he had ever felt; his vest was incinerated, his pants didn't fare much better, and it felt like his skin was boiling. It was all he could do to keep his arms in front of his eyes; did he even have arms anymore? He realized he was screaming, but aside from that burning light, and the hum of energy all around him, he could barely hear himself. Finally it all ended, and Neru fell to the ground, not even wanting to look at his charred, mangled arms. He could barely move; barely feel, and if Desire was going to attack again, he was done for.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, bracing for the attack... but it never came. Desire was lying on the ground several yards away from him, his arms wrapped around himself, sobbing uncontrollably and looking almost exactly like Neru; that is, completely spent and barely able to move.

"D...damn you! I just wanted to... feed... On your will to win... As I did his..." The creature, no longer in the body of Son Gohan, but looking more like a shadow, gasped.

Somehow, Neru found the power to get to his feet, this recent statement disturbing him greatly. "What are you talking about? Explain... and I'll let you go back to whatever rock you crawled out of to get here."

Neru was careful to keep his thoughts neutral; he wanted to know what Desire was talking about, but didn't want Desire to think that he had won, and somehow gain strength from this. He didn't know that Desire gained his power from physical desire in this realm, and not mental desire.

"Once you left... Diamaou... asked me... made me... tempted me... To feed off of Piccolo's desire to leave this place... it had worked until Piccolo... ran dry. He had no will... no desire... to leave."

"You monster. What has he; what have I, ever done to you?"

"Absolutely nothing... but I must live... Diamaou gave me power... let me feel some of his desires... I took the shape..." Desire craned his head towards Piccolo, "Of the one he desired... to protect."

Neru didn't like where this was going, and neither did Piccolo, who had apparently been listening to the conversation, and had begun to strain at his bonds. "No... hate... won't let you...!"

"Piccolo... calm down... or he'll get stronger again." Neru cautioned. He wasn't even sure Piccolo had heard him, but the Nameksei-jin remained silent. He turned his gaze back towards Desire, who, Neru noted, was still in the same shape as before.

"Tell me what you mean... and I'll let you feed off my desire to let you leave this place. What do you mean about his desired shape?"

"He means... to... take control... of the person whose figure I took... I don't know his name..."

"What?! He means to take control of Son Gohan? How?"

"I... don't know... let me leave this place now... please?" Desire begged. Neru sighed. "Fine, you're free to go... if Piccolo lets you. Piccolo, is he free to go?"

Neru wasn't sure if it would work, but Piccolo had to take control of his subconscious again... had to re-establish himself. This seemed like the easiest way. Neru went over and released the Nameksei-jin's bonds, and despite his ruined body, Piccolo managed to stand. He didn't show any improvement... until he limped over to where Desire stood, and pointed towards a small, fluctuating area in the sky.

Slowly, Desire floated towards that area... and as he did so, faded away into nothingness, apparently going back to wherever he had come from. In spite of Piccolo's condition, Neru smiled. Piccolo stood, glaring at Neru with contempt, but he hadn't spoken yet, hadn't said anything. Neru wasn't even sure if the Nameksei-jin could regenerate his subconscious the way one could regenerate a physical body... but now that Desire was gone, Piccolo seemed more relaxed.

Until he stared at Neru and clenched his teeth, his voice lacking the confidence it normally held, but also lacking the fear. It was weak; a nearly dead thing, almost like a whisper.

"What made you come back here... traitor?" He gasped. Neru sighed; he'd known this moment might come.

"Things have changed... You can kill me if you want. Or get rid of me. It won't change anything." Piccolo raised his fist, as if to strike Neru, but then, stopped, as if a sudden memory made him hesitate.

"Gohan..." Piccolo whispered. Neru knew what he meant, having been a part of the Nameksei-jins life and memories for so long.

"That's right... we have to protect... Gohan... and stop Diamaou."

"Stop my father... protect Gohan..." As Piccolo whispered those words, Neru noticed that the vortex and sky around him became a bit more stable; some of the rock walls surrounding him vanished, and the sky was returning to a more stable color. Neru couldn't help but be impressed. Somehow, apparently, Piccolo was managing to rebuild his consciousness... and as he did so, tap into memories that the pain of Diamaou's torture, his insanity...had caused him to forget. Then the stumbling block returned again, as Piccolo dropped to his knees.

Piccolo cradled his face in his hands, before throwing them away from his face, looking up into the vortex, and screaming, "Gohan... I killed... Gohan!" Immediately, the change in Piccolo's psyche was evident, as the island around the two of them cracked and shifted with this sudden development.

Even as Piccolo collapsed to the ground, shuddering and shaking, Neru had his answer. The final piece to unlocking Diamaou's puzzle; the key to Piccolo's sanity was one that only he could unlock, since the Nameksei-jin clearly couldn't, even with his consciousness unchained.

"I have to go deeper... How the hell am I supposed to do that, unless...?"

And then, Neru had it. The ultimate solution... the only solution. He wished he'd had time to think about it, but Diamaou was probably on the move, and any time could be critical. Still... regardless, he took five minutes.

To a man about to give his life away... for the second time, five minutes could be an eternity. He couldn't help smiling at that reflection, as he left Piccolo's shattered consciousness behind... for the moment.

---

One minute was spent staring at the clear blue sky, as the clouds continued their intricate dance across the heavens, and Neru couldn't help but think, even smile, that one of the clouds looked a bit like some of the children he remembered on Nameksei.

Two minutes was spent marveling at the wilderness around him; the birds, the animals, the plants... This planet's life was so strange to Neru, nothing like that on Nameksei, but just the same, it was breathtaking, the balance... the peace.

Another minute was spent in quiet meditation, as he pontificated this course of action one last time. "Is this the only way?" He banished that thought, and called to his memory the images of all those he loved, and all those that he knew he might not see again for a very long time. It was impossible to tell what fate he had earned himself after his previous actions, but...

The final minute was spent in a conclusion, a realization. Why was he so calm about this? He was sad, yes, but now he was... at peace. He tried to reflect on it, but as the final minute neared its end, then, and only then, did Neru understand.

"It's because... this time you have a choice... and you're making it. And you're content with it... You know that... that... this is what you were meant to do, the way things were meant to be."

With that final thought, he rose from his meditation. His new life wouldn't be so bad anyway... perhaps things would be different, or maybe... maybe... Piccolo would start to understand. He glanced over at Piccolo, who was still struggling to make sense of the world around him again, now that the mind-shattered Nameksei-jin wasn't being ruled by his instincts, his fear, but instead by himself.

"I'm ready, Piccolo." Neru said, staring directly into his eyes. Piccolo, incoherent again, but not moving, didn't respond, and Neru winced. Diamaou's scars had to run extremely deep to put the Nameksei-jin under after Neru had supposedly rescued him.

And then, for the second time in his life, Neru was bathed in a warm, blue glow... before once again fusing with the Nameksei-jin he had met while lying broken on his home planet. It was the only way, and yet it wasn't the only way. Before, Neru hadn't had time to consider the options... and now, he had. It was as simple as that.

He fused with a smile on his face... but this time, the smile was more genuine. He felt warm... at peace... and content.

In reality, he still had a lot of work to do, but he had resolved to depart the physical world with a smile on his face. The Saichoro, Dende, and all those he left behind would have wanted it that way.

---

Where Diamaou's scars ran, Neru's only choice was to dive deeper. He wasn't really in a physical state anymore, no more than a memory, another consciousness in Piccolo's mind, but as of now, he was the only consciousness that worked, as he dragged Piccolo behind him. The pain in Piccolo's heart, his consciousness, his very being; didn't lie in the Nameksei-jin's consciousness at all. Neru was taking a trip to a place that even he had never dared delve before, with the only comfort being the knowledge that someone else had successfully traversed the valley he had to cross, with all its potential pitfalls.

Neru was diving into Piccolo's subconsciousness, with no clear idea of whether he; or Piccolo, for that matter, would come out alive.

Or, if they did, if they would have any sanity left.

---

A Nameksei-jin opened his eyes, feeling like he had been beaten a thousand times over. He tried to rise to his feet; but they were stiff and uncooperative, feeling like lead. Grumbling, the Nameksei-jin rubbed them with his hands, before finally giving up on any sort of comfort and attempting to will himself to his feet, rolling twice in the soft, dew covered grass before finally standing up.

Night bore down on him; a concept that was once alien to him but was now... a familiarity. He doubted he would ever become comfortable with it. Living with three suns and no night would do that to a person. Shaking his head and trying to work the kinks out of his neck, he gazed around. Where was he? He had a vague impression that he had been on a journey, but somehow he had wound up in this field... what was his name, what was his purpose? Most maddeningly... who was he?

A quiet groan was emitted from the grass behind him, and the Nameksei-jin turned around, keen ears searching for the source of the groan. Finally, after hearing the groan twice more, he did find the source, pulling away the tall grass to find a man lying on the ground. A man with pointed ears, a sharp, distinguished face, antennae, and the greenest skin the man had ever seen. That is, until he looked down, only to find his hands the same shade of green.

As if the man lying in the grass was the catalyst to his thoughts, the memories came streaming back after they had nearly been torn away. Who was he? He was Neru; loyal protector of the Saichoro, and, well, formerly at least, the strongest Nameksei-jin who had ever lived.

"The trip through Piccolo's subconscious... did we make it? Are we... in the right place?" Not for the first time, Neru began to wish he had played a more active role in Diamaou's corruption. His honor never would have allowed him to do it, and to be honest, he was still glad he hadn't. Instead he was... afraid?

A part of Neru didn't want to see the horrors that Piccolo had been subjected to; didn't want to feel the pain. Because he would know that he was the reason most of it transpired, that he had played a part in it, all for his selfish gains, that he...

A groan from Piccolo snapped him back to reality, if life in a dream could be called that. Being reminded of what he had to do; whom he was here for, helped. As gently as he could, he hoisted Piccolo over his shoulder.

"Shut up! You've made the sacrifice to get back here... you're here... focus on what you came to do!"

A quick glance around confirmed his suspicions, now that his memory had returned... this looked like a clearing on Earth, but something was amiss. No animals were around... and the sun had apparently set recently; despite the nighttime stars, there was a faint glow on the horizon. This had to be one of Piccolo's dreams... But was it the right one?

He felt Piccolo shudder on his shoulder, and then felt the Nameksei-jin's body suddenly go rigid, as if startled. Quickly he set Piccolo down, only to notice that the Nameksei-jin's eyes were wide open, seemingly unseeing until they focused. Frantically, Piccolo swiveled his head from left to right, before finally gazing at the stars.

"No..." He whispered, before his whisper turned into a scream accompanied by raving. "Not again... I won't go through the pain AGAIN!"

Neru frowned, trying to extend a hand in support, but Piccolo shivered away, not afraid of Neru in this state but obviously focusing on somewhere else; as if Piccolo knew what this dream held next. If that was the case, Neru pondered, then he was definitely in the right place...

Or was it just a trap to mislead him? He had thought that things would be easy, but his the feeling of foreboding in the air reminded him that Diamaou might have more allies than just Desire. That was when he heard the screams coming not from Piccolo, but from a child.

The screams were soon accompanied by Piccolo's, as the Nameksei-jin somehow stood up. "No...not again... Not again!"

"Piccolo?" Neru asked, but before he could do much else, Piccolo charged and ran off into the trees as quickly as he could. "Damn it!"

He charged after Piccolo, but somehow, the Nameksei-jin always seemed to stay ahead of him, as the child's screams got louder and loud. Ahead of him, Piccolo tripped over a branch, but scrambled to his feet, the trees around him suddenly becoming more chaotic, as wind whistled overhead. That was when Piccolo suddenly stopped again, glancing all around.

"You'll never make it..."

The whisper, borne on the wind, cut through the air and reached both Neru's and Piccolo's ears. It was of little significance to Neru... until he saw the effect it had on Piccolo.

"STOP IT! I will make it... I will... I ... will..."

But Piccolo's voice died down, as the screams on the horizon did, as if the Namek doubted the conviction behind his words. A moment later, he dropped to his knees, staring at the ground beneath him.

"You failed... again."

And then, the world was torn to shreds.

---

Neru wasn't even sure if he could call it a void. But what else could this twisted, black, chaotic place be? It didn't feel like anything he had ever experienced before; he felt chilling mist at one moment, and unbearable fire the next, yet when he opened his mouth to scream, no sound came out. It was all he could do just to keep his eyes open, his senses keen. He attempted to use ki to study himself, but found that he wasn't flying so much as he was being pulled along.

He thought himself vaguely aware of things; Piccolo was there to his right, being pulled alongside him in the same torrent, but there was someone else near him on the left side, unless his eyes were playing tricks on him. To make matters worse, they were all being steadily pulled towards a tiny pinpoint of light in the distance; a pinpoint that was slowly getting larger.

A pinpoint of light that none of them knew would hold, but that Neru was fairly sure wasn't somewhere good. He craned his head to the left, but whatever force was pulling him along made movement difficult. He strained and strained, but it felt as if his neck was pinned by something. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but for all intents in purposes, that was paralyzed too. It took every ounce of his strength just to move his eyes, as he glanced to his left.

"Son Gohan?! Here?" Neru thought, but his thoughts betrayed him, and it was through that that he knew how to communicate on this journey. It was as if his mind had been opened, its curtain lifted.

"No..." Came a familiar voice, even though Neru had met it only a few... hours? Minutes? There was no way to measure time inside Piccolo's mind and subconscious.

"Desire? I thought you had left?"

"No... I thought I had, as well. But it appears Piccolo's desire to protect this Gohan is keeping me here. I am drawn to it... And I cannot escape this urge to feed."

"He can't do that..."

"Why not? Why can't he protect this... Gohan?"

If Neru could have groaned, he would have. "He thinks Gohan is dead."

Neru could have sworn he sensed... exasperation in Desire's thoughts, and he feared what that might mean. "Then... we may find ourselves here for a long time."

"What about this light?"

"I am at as much of a loss as you are... But it appears we shall find out soon enough."

Neru glanced upwards, as best he could under the circumstances, and saw that the pinpoint of light had become a sphere that was steadily getting larger. What was more, he could now perceive that it was threatening to envelope them all. He glanced to the right, but Piccolo continued to remain unresponsive.

"Hmmm. So it would... seem... Waitaminute. Why are you being so cooperative this time, if you're back?"

"Even I prefer to have free will... I cannot leave. Besides, you and he are the first beings in millennia to figure me out."

"Huh. Does that mean you'll help?"

"If I... Can."

Neru was about to think his agreement, but before he could, he found himself blinded by the intense light of the sphere; and could at that point only observe, only comprehend, one thing.

They were going in.

---

In the faint glow from the lava, Diamaou smiled; even as Chi-Chi and Kuririn drowsed in unconsciousness. The two of them were side-by-side and chained to the altar. His plan was working to perfection; the final plan, the one that would give him what he wanted most. He could sense it; the raw power, belonging to a boy that was coming near his location, if his senses were to be trusted.

It was almost hard to pinpoint the child's location through that wash of pure energy, but Diamaou found it.... And frowned. Gohan was on the other side of the mountain range, and looking in the wrong direction.

"Ignorant child... I suppose I shouldn't have trusted this to luck. Time to speed things along..."

Slowly, surely, like a hurricane building up in force, Diamaou began to tremble... and glow.

Behind Diamaou, Kuririn stirred, awakened by the massive ki he was sensing; the one that had now suddenly changed direction and was making a beeline... straight for the other ki he was sensing... the one in front of him.

"Gohan... no... You're being led... into a trap..." Kuririn whispered, but before the man could come to his senses long enough to break out of his chains and possibly mount an attack of his own, keen Nameksei-jin ears had heard the whisper, and a sharp chop ended all that Kuririn saw, sending him once more into the land of the dreamers.

Slowly, the cavern began to vibrate in the raw wash of Gohan's power. The child had to be quite close now.

"Incredible..." Diamaou whispered, even as he prepared himself to do battle with the beast he had unchained. His body trembled, even as the cavern did due to proximity with the raw force of Gohan's power.

Had he not planned everything this way, he might have had good reason to be afraid.

---

They had stopped moving; but Neru couldn't help feeling as if there were in more trouble than before. Beside him, Desire floated, apparently as helpless as he, and Piccolo was still on his right side.

"Where are we?" Neru thought, but immediately wished he hadn't; as the thoughts echoed throughout the sphere they found themselves entombed in; causing pain not unlike the pain caused by an extremely loud sound. Involuntarily, he clapped his hands over his ears, and in the process was surprised to find that he could move again.

"Close your thoughts..." Desire whispered, grimacing in pain, "...for they could be one's undoing here!"

"I'll be sure to make a note of that," Neru thought, but this time he took care not to telepathically project it. He glanced around a moment to survey his new ally more carefully; in his natural state, Desire appeared to be nothing more than a living, three dimensional shadow, with balls of glowing blue energy for eyes, and a line of the same energy for a mouth; a mouth that was even now slanted in a line that had to be representative of a smirk.

"Impressed?" Desire asked.

Neru rolled his eyes. "Hardly." The Nameksei-jin was pleased to find that even in this state; wherever exactly he was, he was wearing his traditional fighting garb. The thought of his clothes made him turn to the right, realizing that Piccolo had not spoken or uttered a sound since they had realized they could move again.

Piccolo was standing there, dressed in his standard clothing as well, but he was standing still, as if he were a statue. If Neru hadn't noticed the Nameksei-jin's eyes glancing around, he would have wondered if Piccolo were even alive.

"Piccolo? Do you understand what's going on?" Neru asked, but Piccolo suddenly moved, holding up one hand to indicate silence. The tortured look that had suddenly appeared in his eyes would have done enough to spurn Neru to silence even if the warrior hadn't already indicated he wanted such.

Behind Neru, Desire frowned. "I don't sense... anything in here... but hatred, and rage. There is a will here, but the only will there is here is to corrupt, to do harm, to... It feels as if there is a desire here, but I cannot feed on it, only... detect it."

Neru glanced back at him and shrugged. It was then that Piccolo spoke in quivering, whispered tones.

"Here... it all begins... here... In this... that is not mine."

Neru opened his mouth to ask Piccolo what he met, but suddenly the interior of the sphere had gone pitch black, and a hoarse, cackling laughter echoed through the room. Slowly, the sphere around them began to glow, illuminating the room again. A quick glance around in the dim light relieved Neru for a second as Piccolo and Desire were still there, but someone else was there too. Someone whose projection seemed vaguely familiar, almost as if...

"Diamaou!" Neru growled; and the room suddenly brightened again to reveal the demon, standing there smugly. Piccolo went on edge, shrinking away from him, but not cowering; and Desire merely placed himself in a defensive posture.

"Yes... and no." Diamaou replied. "While I am here, I am also... there. Fulfilling my purpose; so to speak. A purpose that will soon be done; and then I can saunter off to oblivion with the three of you."

"What are you talking about?" Neru barked; he had made no offensive move as yet, but Desire could tell that the warrior was sorely thinking about it. That was fine with him; it would just leave him to make the first move.

He leapt forward, intending to drive his fist into their adversary's rib cage, but before he was even half way there, he found himself floating in front of Diamaou's outstretched hand, unable to move.

"Admirable... but foolish." Diamaou grinned. "You see, I am the master here; even when your friend has managed to tear down all the good work I've done in Piccolo's mind. And I've no use for traitors." He made a sweeping gesture with one hand, and Desire flew to the right, smashed into the wall of the sphere with a sickening thud, and bounced right off it, careening to the ground and lying still.

Neru tensed; his instincts were telling him now was the time to attack, but suddenly he wasn't so confident after seeing Desire defeated so easily. Maybe Piccolo could get behind him... He was off to the side; but was making no moves either. As far as Neru knew, Piccolo wasn't entirely himself yet; still battered, still grieving over the perceived loss of Gohan, and somehow distracted.

"You can attack if you wish... it might be pleasurable delaying my final act until you've ended up like your friend over there."

Neru glared, but made no move. "Why are you here?"

Diamaou grinned. "Piccolo knows... why don't you ask him?"

To Neru's surprise, Piccolo began to speak, but his voice was so dry, so dead, that Neru would have mistaken it for someone else had he not been watching the warrior out of the corner of his eye.

"He is... the one who makes it possible... he is the tainted... the tainted... soul." Piccolo stammered.

"His soul?" Neru asked, shocked, but Piccolo was not forthcoming with more information.

"Of course, my soul." Diamaou mocked. "The final key to eliminating the last threat that could hinder... me. The physical portion of me, the living thing; gave me up... it was part of the condition; the only way to return to the world of the living and to enter Piccolo's mind. And it was the only way... to cover his tracks."

Neru tensed, not liking where this was going, even though he didn't fully understand. Talking was better than fighting, at this point. "Cover his tracks? What are you babbling about?"

The demon grinned, his voice tinged with venom. "What I'm saying, is that in a few moments, I will cease to exist... I'll be happily in oblivion... though I suspect the rest of you will have a problem with it. You see, I'm here to end it all... to destroy your soul, Piccolo's... and anything else that made it in here to oppose me."

"Huh. You can try... but what fool would willingly allow the destruction of his own soul?"

Diamaou shrugged, still smiling. "When you're immortal, having a soul hardly matters, now does it? All you need is a body powerful enough to wreak the kind of havoc you want to do once you've achieved eternal youth..."

"Body? Whose? You've already got most of Piccolo's power in that body of yours that's out there in the real world..."

"No more questions, Neru. It's time for all of us... to cease to exist. It's a pity you weren't able to get through to the only one who could get you out of this, but he seems... rather depressed right now." Diamaou gestured towards Piccolo, who suddenly dropped to his knees and began sobbing, images of Gohan flashing in front of his eyes.

"No... Diamaou... you won't get away with this."

"In a few minutes, I will have already done so. Pity my son can't seem to tell the difference between a dream and reality... if he knew that the brat was still alive, that this was nothing more than a nightmare in his own mind, then he might have been able to use the power within his own soul to banish me... this is his rightful place, not mine... but alas, it's that time."

Neru lunged at Diamaou, hoping to stop whatever he was doing, but the demon had already snapped his fingers, once; and the sphere had begun to hum.

"Perhaps a final battle then, for your amusement... you can't do anything to stop me now." Diamaou grinned; and immediately, he and Neru were grappling. Neru was truly angry; he knew that Diamaou was only playing with him, but his fighting spirit refused to give in. Through it all, Piccolo merely knelt there, still lamenting the perceived fate of Gohan, and Desire regarded the sphere weakly.

"Diamaou's soul... it's collapsing inward..." He murmured, even as the world around them began to shrink.

"What's... that mean?" Neru grunted, still struggling with Diamaou, who appeared for all the world to be treating Neru as if he were a child, holding him back effortlessly with one hand.

Weakly, Desire stood up, though he had no intention of joining Neru against Diamaou; he knew it was useless. His voice was tinged with despair. "With our minds in here too... we cease to exist."

---

In the cavern, Diamaou waited, seated on a large rock and idly tapping his claw-like fingernails on the rock. The rock walls itself had stopped vibrating, but Diamaou could still sense the power festering all around him, getting closer all the time. Finally, it was time. He took a quick glance behind him to ensure that Kuririn and Chi-Chi were still unconscious, and then turned his gaze on the only entrance to the cavern.

Son Gohan was happy to oblige the demon; he strode purposefully onto the walkway, not even stopping to care about the surroundings or the lava. His rage was hotter than the burning sun; lava would not impress him, and nor would Diamaou.

"Diamaou!" The tone in his voice betrayed his rage, and Diamaou knew that he would receive no parley. He hadn't really expected one, but at the same time he couldn't help but be impressed, allowing himself a small smile. With this much anger, this much power; the boy would be perfect. If, he reminded himself, his plan worked. He was reaching the dicey portion of his plan here; attracting the boy had gone off without a hitch, but even he was not sure about the limit of Son Gohan's power. It was entirely possible that he could lose in hand-to-hand combat with the boy.

The thrill of the ensuing battle was almost intoxicating; but, Diamaou reminded himself, the thrill of the power he would soon possess was even more intoxicating.

"Diamaou!" Gohan repeated. Diamaou's only response was to stop tapping his fingernails and to rise to his feet to regard Gohan, as the child had already blown away all the smoke in the chamber with a sweep of his hand. It was a simple gesture, but an intelligent one. Piccolo had indeed trained the boy well. Instantly, one of his advantages had been whittled away, Diamaou noted.

Fortunately, he hadn't necessarily been counting on that one, and his only response was to step away and allow Gohan's eyes to focus on Kuririn and his mother. It may have been against conventional wisdom to make the child angrier, but he knew what he was doing. At least, he thought he had before Gohan tackled him.

"Monster!!!!" The boy shrieked, using the momentum of his lunge to soar up into the air with Diamaou between his arms, before sending him crashing back to the cavern floor, resulting in a Diamaou shaped crater. He grabbed the Namek between his arms and zoomed up into the air, intending to drive Diamaou into the ground again, when Diamaou began to start thinking about fighting back, rocking his head back and driving his forehead against Son Gohan's; knocking the enraged boy back and breaking his grip, if only for a moment.

But Diamaou had speed to go with strength, and a moment was all he needed as he launched into a punishing series of punches, kicks, and chops, culminating with a brutal double-fisted blow to the child's gut.

Gohan didn't even flinch, and it was only then that Diamaou began to realize that he might be in trouble; and that his plan had better work.

"Heh... Piccolo's memories didn't lie." He stammered, about to begin another brutal attack. "You are indeed very pow- oof!"His eyes bulged as his voice left him, and he blacked out for a moment, before realizing that he was hanging on a hook; or rather, Gohan's balled up fist, which had slammed directly into his solar plexus.

But rather then get smashed to the ground, or prepare himself for the assault he knew that was coming, he heard a whisper, as Gohan drew closer to him. "You're going to pay for what you did to Piccolo." Diamaou couldn't resist, knowing that if he could goad Gohan into making a mistake, just one, that he could win. Because all he had to do to win was get away.

Diamaou quirked an antennae, and somehow found the strength to grin. "Am I?" He murmured. Son Gohan had had enough, and indicated as such, sending Diamaou crashing to the ground and coming to rest near Kuririn and Chi-Chi. Despite the ache in his body that said he probably had cracked several vertebrae, he seized his chance, using his speed to become a blur and settle next to Chi-Chi, holding one clawed hand against the woman's neck, daring Gohan to come closer.

"Do it again, and the woman dies, Son Gohan!" Diamaou spat, hoping that Piccolo's memories were correct. If they were; then his plan would succeed; from what he remembered... fleeting images of a battle on the Nameksei-jin home world, then Son Gohan could not become enraged at will. If he could be calmed down, lose his convictions... then Diamaou was confident that he could knock him out, and proceed with the rest of his plan.

Gohan hesitated, and Diamaou smiled. The power he sensed from Gohan was already beginning to wane; and Diamaou could read the fear in Gohan's eyes ever clearer, as the rage died down. Diamaou was sure that on some rational level, the child knew that Chi-Chi could be revived, but on an emotional level?

Well, the boy had already lost one parent. He did not want to have to deal with the pain of losing another.

"Stop! D-don't hurt her!" Gohan stammered; and Diamaou knew then that he had already won. "I'll do whatever you say... just... don't kill her."

Diamaou smiled. "Boy, how do I know that I won't just put her down and we'll begin this battle anew?"

"Because unlike you, I'll keep my word?" Gohan muttered. Despite the situation he had been put in, Diamaou could see that the child did indeed have courage. Perhaps not the courage to let his mother die; had Diamaou been in Gohan's shoes, he wouldn't have cared one lick about family, but the child obviously had stronger moral standards than Diamaou.

"I don't believe you." Diamaou said casually, before turning and tossing Chi-Chi over the cliff. Gohan's scream nearly shook the cavern walls to the ground, as he flashed with ki, racing for the edge of the cliff with stunning speed; his face a twisted expression of rage and horror.

Diamaou moved to stop him, intending to intercept him and snatch Chi-Chi before the boiling lava could claim her, but instead found himself suddenly frozen in place; for a moment, it felt as if his muscles were not his own.

"No!" His thought became a hiss. "I need them BOTH for my plan!"

As quickly as the feeling had come over him, it had passed, leaving Diamaou confused and disoriented until the sudden scraping of a shoe against stone brought him to his senses. That was when Gohan sprang up, supporting his mother with both arms. The hem of her dress was burnt, and her skin appeared red, but it was apparent that he had gotten to the woman in time. Which was fine for Diamaou's plan... unless he couldn't subdue Gohan before the child came to his senses. There would be no elegant way to do it...

...Except for pure, hard pain, as Diamaou pushed his body to its closest possible limit in his most savage attack yet. Had Gohan been defending himself, Diamaou was pretty certain that the boy could have handled it; his blows had left him weaker then he would have cared to admit, but with so much of Gohan's attention focused on Chi-Chi, it was just the opening he needed.

Gohan felt himself hoisted into the air, before being slammed into the floor face first. He mentally chided himself for letting his guard down, but he didn't have long to do so. His nose was broken, and he was totally disoriented, so much that he hardly felt it when Diamaou put his fingers and fists together and sent the child flying with a crushing two-handed blow to the back of the head. Even then, Gohan managed to stay conscious... But his last sight was Diamaou's foot flying rather quickly to strike him in the face, before two savage hands wrapped around his neck and deprived him of air, sending him into unconsciousness.

Diamaou rose, with his face covered in sweat and his body feeling wearier than it had in a long time. But with the unconscious forms of Kuririn, Chi- Chi, and Son Gohan lying around him, it was time to begin; the sooner, the better. He allowed himself a smile, before walking up to the altar and placing the unconscious Gohan on it.

Then he froze for a moment, a chill coming over him as he gazed at Gohan, lying there on the altar. For a moment, he thought he felt a presence that had once been quite familiar to him, yet somehow alien.

He found himself a moment later with no explanation for why he had frozen, why his muscles had gone slack, before deciding that it really was nothing more than weariness. He regarded Gohan, whose face was contorted in defiance even in unconsciousness.

"Marvelous boy... You did fight well. Thank you for giving me a glimpse at the power I'll soon possess..." ---

The walls continued to close in, and Neru continued to struggle against Diamaou's grip. How much time did they have to live, to exist? Five seconds? Five minutes? Neru wasn't even sure how time applied inside Piccolo's very soul, but he knew that if they didn't find a way out soon, it was all over.

Desire lay huddled on the floor, still unmoving, and Neru continued to thrash.

Diamaou leered at him over his fist.

"Surely you can do better than that... this is the last fight in your existence, Neru!" He taunted. But try as he might, Neru found that there was little he could do, but pray for a miracle. That miracle came in the form of, oddly enough, a window that revealed not the dark void that had been outside the sphere, but...

"Gohan?!" Neru thought. What else could this image be; Gohan, trapped in a cave somewhere, with a look of shock etched on his face as he rushed to the edge of some cliff. Puzzled, Diamaou stared at it with the same confusion, but couldn't help but grin as the image changed. It was obviously from Diamaou's perspective, as the visage loomed over Gohan and the woman he had rescued.

Even as they watched though; that wasn't the latest happening in the rapidly shrinking globe, as Piccolo looked up, and his eyes lit wide with shock.

"Gohan?" He choked, scarcely believing it to be true. Gohan was dead, or so his senses kept telling him, so he had kept seeing, over and over and over. His shock turned to rage, as the child was brutally beaten, and strangled by two green arms... but the child's chest had a rise and a fall.

"What... is this...?" Piccolo murmured, but the look in his eyes revealed not fear, but only clouded confusion, as if he were waking from a dream.

For the first time, Diamaou appeared to be concerned, flinging Neru roughly aside as he marched up to Piccolo.

"No... Son Gohan is dead... remember? It was your... your failure that enabled him to die." Diamaou argued. Piccolo looked confused again, and in that instant, Neru held the proverbial final key to the puzzle in his hands. He motioned towards Desire, but the being was not without wisdom; he too, thought he had figured it out, as they both remembered Diamaou's words.

"It's a pity you weren't able to get through to the only one who could get you out of this, but he seems... rather depressed right now."

"Piccolo! He's alive... Gohan is alive! And you have to get us out of here!" Neru shouted, prompting Diamaou to whirl around. Still teetering on the brink of confusion, but also on the brink of awareness, Piccolo hesitated.

"Neru... what?" Piccolo stammered.

But Diamaou had already made his fatal mistake, lashing out at Neru, shrieking for him to be quiet even as the walls of the soul rumbled and continued to contract. That was all Piccolo needed to see; confused as he was, he felt Neru was a friend. This Namek, whoever he was, was an enemy. Piccolo thrust forward with a chop; intending to beat the adversary off of Neru, but instead, his hand went clean through Diamaou's neck, severing it, and taking his head with him.

A head which, eerily enough, continued to speak, even as the walls of the soul expanded outward like a balloon, before suddenly exploding. "NO!!!! Curse you, how did this happen? You were all supposed to... to... die, along with me! How...? How did... you see what my body... saw?"

--- Somewhere, within the deepest regions of Diamaou's body, in his consciousness, the Namek that was known as Kami smiled. His last, desperate plan had worked, and now he only had to hope that he would get the opportunity to fight once more...

---

They were floating in the void... three of them, anyway. Neru stood staring at Piccolo, Piccolo rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, and Desire just floated there, watching the going ons with some interest.

"Piccolo... what is going on?" Neru asked, but Piccolo had no answers.

"Hmph. You tell me. And shouldn't we be getting to Gohan? From what I understand, my father plans to do something to him; and I'm pretty sure it isn't going to be a favor." The tone in the Namek's voice, more than anything else, excited Neru, because it was filled with annoyance, as well as the hint of sarcasm that made Piccolo Piccolo.

Neru dearly wanted answers, and he dearly wanted to explain everything to Piccolo, but somehow couldn't. There simply wasn't time, and so he turned to Desire.

"Can't you do something with his desire to save Gohan and get us out of here?" He asked. Desire shrugged.

"Well... wanting to rescue Gohan is a lot more palatable to me than wallowing in self-despair at his death. I'll see what I can do..." He murmured, before closing what accounted as his eyes, and beginning to fade away, even as the world faded around Neru, and Piccolo.

When they came to, they were standing on an island; but not just any island. A stable island formed of rock, with a purple sky. And though the rocks around had been scorched and scarred, the island nonetheless appeared familiar.

Piccolo's consciousness. Without the maze, without the shattered rocks. An island, much like a person, which had become whole again with the realization that had been brought by being exposed to a dose of reality.

Neru gaped, glancing around, but before he knew it, a firm hand grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. Piccolo's hand.

"I've been here before... and for whatever reason, I have the strangest recollection that I really, really don't like you, Neru... But we can address that later. Because it felt like you were... missing for awhile, as well." Piccolo muttered. "None of that matters to me right now... I'm going to rescue Gohan, and I need your help to do it."

Neru sighed, too taken aback to admit to Piccolo what had been going on... but a tiny part of him felt happiness, just the same. Piccolo was asking... asking¸ not demanding, his help.

"I'll... I'll do whatever I can." Neru vowed. A promise, shared between warriors... including one that was, for the most part, himself again.

---

Piccolo was surprised at the destruction around him, and the current state of his tattered clothes. He gazed around the wilderness, and then stopped for a moment to inhale the cool, clean air. For a reason he could not shake, though he felt as though he had just awakened, a part of him felt as if it hadn't experienced this for quite some time, which was preposterous.

Or was it?

"I'll explain all I can... on the way to Bulma's." Neru's thoughts echoed through his consciousness, and Piccolo understood. Piccolo frowned. He didn't want to go there; he wanted to get straight to Diamaou!

He reached out with his ki, feeling... and found nothing. He didn't understand exactly what Diamaou had been doing in the real world, but he knew that his father had started this whole mess, and knew that he had been a puppet, and that his student... no, his friend, was in danger.

Even without the possession, the fact that Gohan was in danger was enough to spur Piccolo on, as he rocketed into the air, buoyed with ki.

But not before he crossed his hands over himself and gave himself a fresh set of clothes.

---

He reached Capsule Corps in a time that had to be a world record, literally dropping in; through the roof. The four of them, Chaozu, Yamucha, Tenshinhan, and Bulma were all convened in the very same recreation room as Kuririn and the others had been before, though Yamucha was covered in bandages and strapped to several IVs, and Tenshinhan had his right arm in a sling similarly wrapped as Yamucha.

Chaozu leapt to his feet, fearing for his life but knowing he was the only one who could oppose this threat; by the surprise on their faces they all clearly thought it was Diamaou. How else to explain one dot on the modified Dragon Radar barreling over to another and causing one to disappear?

Piccolo didn't even stop to acknowledge the four of them, other than to shake his head at them, snatch the radar, and bust another hole in Bulma's roof to accompany the one he had created on his entrance. He was racing against time, and he knew it.

Instead, the four of them stood in shocked silence, staring at one another before Yamucha broke it.

"I see Piccolo's back." --- Bulma could only shake her head, flipping her boyfriend (or was it ex- boyfriend? Tenshinhan and Chaozu could never tell anymore) the bird and screaming curses in Piccolo's general direction. .

---

The first thing Son Gohan was aware of was that his head hurt. That, and something was jabbing into his chest; something small, but nonetheless quite pointy, and therefore quite painful. He tried to raise and brush it off his chest, but strangely, found he could not, as he was tied to something smooth and made of... stone? It was difficult to tell by feel alone. Tensing, he tested his limits, and by swiveling his neck to the left and right, discovered that his neck, wrists, and ankles were tied down.

"Maybe the altar I saw when I came in here..."

That was when he glanced to the side and saw his mother lying right next to him, her eyes clenched shut, and her breathing panicked, as if her dreams were filled with nightmares. To his other side was Kuririn, looking almost exactly the same as his mother had, though the former monk was sporting a bruise the size of a softball on his temple.

Gritting his teeth, he prepared to snap his bonds when he heard a quiet, chuckling voice in the darkness around him. How had the cavern gotten so dark, anyway?

"I wouldn't recommend that if I were you... though the bonds are quite breakable, even you would not survive if you rose up and drove that crystal into your own heart."

Gohan furrowed his brow and tried his best to raise his neck, just a little, finding that the owner of the voice; Gohan figured it was Diamaou, as he wouldn't have forgotten that horrible twist on Piccolo's voice anywhere, was correct. A sharpened shard of a crystal that he might have found beautiful was positioned perfectly above his chest, the tip of it drawing a bead of blood, for it was the small, pointed thing dancing just above his chest.

"What do you want? Why haven't you killed us yet?" Gohan asked, as he felt rage begin to boil up in him again, as surely as the bile that rose in his throat, though he was legitimately worried about his predicament.

No answer came from the darkness.

"You have your freedom... haven't you done enough?"

Again, there was silence.

"Bastard."

That was when the crystal fell, opening a more sizable gash in Gohan's chest, but grating off his rib cage even as Gohan gasped in surprise and pain. The wound was superficial, and certainly not life threatening yet, but it felt as if it was. In the darkness above him, Diamaou's face came leering in, one hand firmly on the crystal, for he was the reason it had suddenly fallen an inch or so.

"Quiet your tongue boy... You will never be able to comprehend what I am doing. Know only that it will result in your destruction, and that of your father's..."

Gohan continued to involuntarily wince in pain, but he shut his eyes tight, not wanting to allow Diamaou the satisfaction of seeing the fear in his eyes, when a sudden thought forced him to reopen them.

Mockingly, Diamaou grinned down at him again, venom in his voice, as he was clearly enjoying every moment of Gohan's predicament.

"Yes?"

Gohan glanced at Kuririn and Chi-Chi. "Let them go... I'm the one you want, right?" The words were difficult to say, for one did not easily agree to sacrifice themselves, but they were the words that he knew they would have said for him, and he knew in his heart that they were the words for him.

To his credit, Diamaou chuckled, genuinely amused, before regarding Gohan with the most evil of smiles. Mockingly, he brushed a hand against Gohan's cheek.

"Now boy... why would I do that? I have Son Goku's wife, Son Goku's son, and Son Goku's best friend, all in the palm of my hand... won't he be amused to find that I brought the three of you together for this, the final act of your lives? He might be almost as amused when he sees the body I face him in..."

Diamaou's voice trailed off as he chuckled lightly, before placing his hand again on the crystal above Gohan.

"You'll never get away with this!" Gohan shrieked, and Diamaou shrugged his shoulders.

"Now now, dear boy... I'm about to." Diamaou glanced beside Gohan, and saw Chi-Chi and Kuririn both begin to stir, dazed and confused. He regarded them with a smile, and even as Chi-Chi opened her eyes, she froze, though whether it was under Diamaou's evil gaze, or due to terror, Gohan could not tell. Kuririn's reaction was less subdued, as he took one look at Gohan before thrashing at his bonds, nearly breaking them before Diamaou gestured, and a crystal similar to the one keeping Gohan imprisoned dropped down and imbedded itself lightly in Kuririn's chest.

"Let us begin... This body grows tired. I want my new one." Diamaou said, raising his arms. Kuririn didn't know precisely what was going on, save that the cavern suddenly seemed to go mad. Lava bubbled and flowed into the air, forming arches but somehow not splattering across the rock island, and the darkness of the cavern was illuminated with bright light from somewhere, as a chill wind whistled around his face; though no opening to the outside appeared present. Beside him, he felt Gohan tremble as the wind passed over him.

And then, he felt himself in more pain than he had ever imagined, as a screeching noise seemed to emanate from the crystals above him, connecting with a ray of light from the crystal above Chi-Chi and sending that light flying into the crystal above Gohan's chest.

But by the time he would have noticed it, he was too busy screaming in agony to care, with Chi-Chi and Son Gohan screaming along with him.

Through it all, Diamaou watched... and waited. The screams tore across his sensitive ears, but he stared at them, surveying the chaos he had wrought, and waited. Though noisy, this portion of the ritual was necessary, and he had to be prepared to begin the final step at the proper time... or find two new people to fuel the burning power that could tear a mind from a body and allow it to enter another. He supposed the term soul would have been better; but, he reminded himself, he didn't have one anymore.

That thought brought a sudden miscalculation to his mind; the ritual would not be completed for several minutes, before the next step was to begin, and so he spared a few precious seconds to do something he had neglected to do; feel the surrounding area for ki. He didn't expect to find one, but decided he had better prepare for the possibility anyway. That three-eyed man, with the strong ki, perhaps. Or the one with the long hair.

There was a ki barreling down on his location; but as he sensed it his eyes widened with surprise, for the ki he felt belonged neither to Tenshinhan or Yamucha, but was nonetheless quite familiar to him, for it was his own son, and was neither insane nor erratic, but calm.

He reached out with his mind, trying to sense the connection with his soul; but it was no longer there, and if it were no longer there, then Piccolo had either solved the impossible puzzle, or his soul had taken him to oblivion. Obviously, the latter was impossible: Piccolo was here, somehow... but how?

"Couldn't very well let you occupy this fine body all by yourself, could I?"

The thought was not his own, and yet so similar to one of his own, both in tone and in mannerism, that he could almost have sworn that it was. This was ludicrous; was he himself going crazy in the way he had driven his son mad?

Perplexed, he sifted through his mind, searching for answers of his own. He was quite close to finding them, despite the outside distractions of screams and agony, when another distraction presented itself, and this one was far harder to ignore than the screams of dying humans; as Diamaou found himself snapping out of his trance and obeying his finest reflexes, just as a corkscrew shaped beam of ki whistled through the air and tore through the space where his head had been a moment before.

After that, Diamaou had no more time to consult the voices in his head, and the answer was simple.

Piccolo had arrived.

---

Piccolo knew he was in for a difficult fight, even as Gohan's screams spurred him on and as Diamaou dodged his Mekkankosappo. Though he wasn't about to admit it outloud, Diamaou still held a good deal of his power. What little Piccolo had had been augmented by Neru's power, but Diamaou probably still had the upper hand.

He charged in anyway; with the advantage of surprise on his side, and the fact that Diamaou was focusing on something else, he pressed the attack. Power was not everything; and he had other tangible advantages to his credit, which didn't become more evident until Diamaou threw a Masenko in his direction, and he diffused it with a fraction of the ki Diamaou had used. After all, how could his father defeat him with an attack he himself had designed? It was his body, after all.

Of course, the more he reflected on it, that was a bad thing, because he knew for certain that he, or rather Diamaou, would be able to take more punishment than he could. Which was fine; he just had to inflict more pain than he took. A lucky punch swept him off his feet, but he rolled aside and sprang back up. He could not; would not, allow Diamaou to go on the offensive for long.

Even as he continued his assault though, Piccolo was surprised to see that Diamaou was getting increasingly agitated, as if something was weighing heavily on his mind. He kept glancing back to the altar where Gohan was lying, and in truth, though Piccolo had figured his sudden attack was making the difference, it had really been the fact that Diamaou's attention had been divided...

The two of them found themselves grappling with one another, and for once, Diamaou had no room to glance back, as he and Piccolo were face to face, nearly nose to nose, with muscles straining on both sides, as each attempted to throw the other to the ground; rather unsuccessfully.

Piccolo could see the hatred in his father's eyes, eyes that once might have resembled his own; black as midnight, but filled with hatred, and with little to no regard for life. Blood streamed from a gash in his lip, tingeing his teeth with purple gore. Piccolo didn't look much better, but instead of hatred, his eyes were filled with determination. And if Diamaou could have looked deeper, he might have been able to swear he saw another pair of Nameksei-jin eyes within Piccolo's, staring at him with a ferocity born by few in this world. It was then that Diamaou knew, as he saw another ferocious look behind those eyes.

Neru was in there, as well.

"You fools... You'll ruin everything I'm trying to accomplish!" He shrieked, pushing forward with a sudden fervor, driving Piccolo back a step. Piccolo ignored the creak that was most likely his back giving out with the force of Diamaou's frenzy, and dug his feet into the ground. Their faces were so close, he was tempted to lash forward and tear out Diamaou's throat with his teeth, if he could have afforded the opening it would provide Diamaou.

His arms and muscles were taut, and he felt that they were about to give out; Diamaou was indeed stronger than he at this moment, but Gohan's screams energized him with a fury that Diamaou was finding difficult to match.

He spat the blood in his mouth at Diamaou's face, which did little but to further reveal the horrible parody of him. "I'll be damned... if I'll let you... do anything... to Gohan!" Piccolo finished, meeting Diamaou's charge and throwing him to the ground, even as the crystal above Gohan erupted with brilliant yellow light.

"NO!" Diamaou screamed, and lashed out at Piccolo with unbelievable force, using the momentum of his fall to pull Piccolo on top of him. Piccolo kept him pinned for the moment, but his hands were still locked with Diamaou's, and the movement had caught him off guard. The next thing he knew, his vision exploded in agony, as Diamaou, fighting with desperate strength, drove his forehead into Piccolo's brow, and under the force and impact of the blow, shattered the Nameksei-jin's orbital bones. (Author's note: The bones that ring the eye ^^;;;;; )

In the pain that followed, Piccolo lost his grip, as Diamaou threw him aside, rushing frantically to stand in front of Gohan as the light of the crystal changed from yellow to crimson. Gohan's screams immediately ceased, as if the pain had been ripped out of the boy and he had been put to sleep, but Kuririn's and Chi-Chi's continued.

Diamaou threw his arms to his sides and let out a shriek of triumph that echoed with Piccolo's cry of pain and Chi-Chi's and Kuririn's screams of agony; as the crystal pulsed once more, changing from crimson to a deep, violent light, but as it did so, a large crack opened down the side of it. The lava in the cavern bubbled furiously, as if itself disagreed with the unholy ritual that was taking place.

"I've won..." Diamaou grinned, moments before light emanated from the crystal to strike him, instantly burning straight through his chest. As his vision faded, the life vanishing from this current form, he focused once more on the marvelously powerful body that would soon be his; the instrument for his revenge...

...but a sudden movement crossed his eye as, looking like death, and probably feeling like it too, his son; the combination of two Nameksei-jin that was yet incomplete, with broken forehead and body, somehow found the strength and determination to throw himself in front of the beam of light between Gohan and Diamaou.

The savage grin on Piccolo's face was the last thing Diamaou saw with his physical eyes, and as his body disintegrated and the ashes fluttered to the ground, Piccolo swayed and fell to his knees, eyes shut, his face pale; and blood streaming from the gash in his forehead.

Gohan lay unconscious, while Chi-Chi and Kuririn continued screaming, even as the volume within the chamber decreased. Their screams were weakening, as the crystal above Gohan worked furiously to keep the connection between Diamaou and Gohan open, even with Piccolo thrust into the middle of the beam.

Piccolo looked like hell, and most likely felt like hell, but he had no feeling, not even awareness of where he was. Piccolo had lost this battle; physically, Diamaou was the superior warrior.

But this battle; the last battle, wasn't taking place in the physical world. Even as he felt his own vision fade; whether as a result of Diamaou's intrusion into his mind, or the blood that streamed into his eyes; he knew that he'd have his chance to win.

With a last gasp of strength before he succumbed to unconsciousness, for he could not afford to give Diamaou a chance at his mind unguarded, he hurled what energy he had left at the crystals that threatened to take the lives of his friends, before returning to his own internal affairs. ---

Lightning crackled; this was not a mind at peace, despite the solidity of the ground upon which Diamaou found himself. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was the ritual, and Piccolo's unexpected appearance... had he succeeded?

A glance around revealed to him the landscape of the mind he was in... solid rock, with only a few cracks in it... obviously a mind of health, with solid footing. The sky was not chaotic, but rather a deepening purple that flared with several intricate points of light; stars burning with symbolic rage, signs that he could use to interpret that he was in the mind of a warrior, if you knew the right way to look.

Ahead of him were several pillars of rock; had he been on the physical world, Diamaou mused, they would have almost looked like shards of obsidian. Here whatever they were supposed to represent was meaningless. He glanced around again, and then began walking towards them, the look of anger on his face betraying his emotions. For as he walked, Diamaou remembered, knowing the truth. This was not the innocent mind of a child... he had been here before, after all.

This was Piccolo's mind, and what was more, it was almost in the same state that he had found it in when he had made his initial incursion into his son's psyche. He had suspected it during their fight, but this had confirmed it; he had not been doing battle with a madman, or one who was only partially in control of their mental capabilities.

"Neru... I'll make him pay for this, since he's the reason things are back to normal."

Diamaou sighed; knowing he had only lost time. All he would have to do here would be shatter Piccolo's mind, and then he could take over this body, and use that to recreate the ritual, force himself into Gohan's mind, and possess the most powerful body on the planet Earth; possibly the most powerful body in the universe, if the latent energy he had sensed when he was dead had proven true.

After all, how hard could it be to conquer a will that had already been broken once?

"No... I will not conquer it. I will destroy it! There were mistakes I made the first time around... mistakes that will be corrected!"

Supremely confident, Diamaou strode into the circle of obsidian pillars. Quite obligingly, Piccolo strode out from behind one of them, looking the way he always had, but with a twist that had been long absent over the past days; a smirk.

"You really shouldn't be thinking such thoughts in my mind... I could hear them for the last five minutes."

Diamaou returned the smirk. What a joy it would be to attack Piccolo's mind directly this time, instead of slinking around the way he had before.

"I'll be thinking whatever thoughts I want, son... it's your mind now, but soon, it'll be mine, and I'm not foolish enough to let you stick around again."

Another voice emanated, this one from the pillar behind Diamaou, as Neru stepped out into the light. Diamaou regarded him with a sidelong glance. He was clothed in a long vest and pants; clothes didn't tend to matter when one was dwelling in the sub consciousness, but they could be a good way to identify faces. Besides, dwelling within the subconsciousness, one's tended to appear the way they thought they should. It had explained why Kami had appeared as a young Nameksei-jin instead of the elderly Namek when he had mounted his rescue attempt.

Neru grinned, more laid back then Piccolo, but the sternness of his eyes revealing the distaste he held by now. "Huh. It only takes one act of foolishness to damn the fool."

Fists were clenched, as Diamaou shifted position into one more advantageous to defeat two attackers. His cheekbones were high, his eyes narrowed, but he continued to return Piccolo's smirk even as he kept one eye on Neru.

"You two don't really think you'll win, do you? For years I drifted through hell, clawing for my chance to be revived; and in doing that, I learned exactly how to tap into one's full power; to enslave minds... what makes you think that either of you has the power to defeat me?"

Piccolo clenched his fists, raising his arms in front of him before relaxing the tension in his knuckles and assuming his preferred fighting stance. His voice was tinged with anger and confidence, but also the degree of wisdom he always carried into battle with him.

"You corrupted me before... but not on your own... you convinced Neru to help you... I would have to assume that you were afraid to face me head-on."

Diamaou was unwilling to give even an inch, determined to win in conversation as well as battle.

"Not afraid... merely taking the most advantageous path. Besides, will this question really matter when you're dead? Let's begin. I have a child to destroy..."

Piccolo's smirk faded as his brow furrowed, and his mouth revealed just a slight hint of clenched teeth.

"You just threatened the wrong person, Diamaou. Leave Gohan out of this... this is between you... and me."

"Don't I get a say in this?" Neru muttered. Piccolo tensed, but Diamaou relaxed his stance and smiled.

"Of course!" He exclaimed brightly, in a bizarre change from the way he had looked a moment ago. A split-second later, he blurred from view, pouncing on Neru from above as a scream of, "You get to die first!" echoed through the landscape.

Neru pivoted on one foot and managed to get partially out of the way of Diamaou's blow, taking it on the shoulder while cursing himself for being so smug. His shoulder throbbed with pain, but he was pretty sure he'd be dead, or unconscious, or whatever counted in Piccolo's mind; had he taken the blow on the back of the head. Even so, another blow swept him off his feet, and he was too busy defending himself to reflect on the situation again. Diamaou was playing for keeps; attempting to eliminate him as quickly as possible it made sense, since he was the weaker, easier target.

"But not much weaker," Neru reminded himself, as he blocked a blow that would have shattered a lesser warrior's wrist and kneed Diamaou in the stomach, knocking him out of his attack routine, if only for a second. A second later Piccolo was there to help him, driving his elbow into the small of Diamaou's back, causing him to howl with pain.

Diamaou had taken the blow on purpose, but now found himself in an awkward position with Neru near his feet and Piccolo near his arms. In other words, perfect for his plan, as he drove his elbow under Piccolo's ribs and kicked Neru across the jaw. The gesture sent him crashing to the ground, but the force of his kick had sent Neru crashing through one of the pillars of obsidian and, the elbow had Piccolo gasping for air.

Always happy to oblige, he backhanded Piccolo across the face before driving his left fist into his son's abdomen. He leapt into the air, his left hand raised into the air, with a luminescent ball of energy forming above it, intending to blast his son to ashes.

Neru pounced on him from behind, and in the ensuing struggle before he threw Neru off of him, he lost control, and the energy fizzled out of existence. The rush of air and a feeling of ki let him know what was coming; but just the same, he barely twisted out of the way as Piccolo streaked past him in a kick that would have broken bones had it connected. Diamaou blazed after him, grabbing him by the shoulders and using the momentum of his descent to swing and throw Piccolo to the ground.

Piccolo slowed his descent before realizing a painful landing, landing deftly on his feet beside Neru. Like a darkened angel, Diamaou hovered in the sky, observing both of them.

"He's too fast... We're going to have to attack him at exactly the same time." Piccolo growled.

"Agreed." Neru said, and a second later, they both charged towards Diamaou with ki blazing from their arms; kindred spirits united in their cause. Diamaou remained ready for them, but at this point, neither of them cared; being ready, and being strong enough to weather the blow were two different things.

"Predictable." Diamaou muttered, as the two of them streaked closer to him, before raising his own arms with his palms pointed towards the two of them, harmlessly deflecting the energy blasts, familiar with the tactic. Distract your opponent with the energy blasts, and then hit him while he's preoccupied.

It wasn't going to work, for the simple reason that Diamaou had been storing power in his wrists and hands as soon as Piccolo and Neru had landed alongside each other, before pointing his fingers at them; two fingers pointed on each hand, one hand at Neru, one hand at Piccolo. He wasn't even sure it would work; but he knew it wouldn't be expected.

The look of surprise on both their faces revealed that it had worked, as Neru crashed to the ground, a Mekkankosappo sized hole burned through his arm and abdomen, while Piccolo, realizing the danger at the last possible moment, had spun out of the way, a thin burn across his chest, but leaving him otherwise unscathed.

Piccolo had no time for concern, as he spun away and unleashed his own Mekkankosappo; it had been his plan from the beginning, the look on his face belying every indication that he had known the plan would work.

And missed entirely. Strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and chest, as Diamaou grabbed him from behind.

"Careless." He whispered in his son's ear, before flying into the ground at high speeds, taking Piccolo along for the ride and using him as a shield against the cruel rocks and overall hardness of the ground, shredding muscle as rocks snapped and ricocheted off of bone, before finishing his attack by rocketing back up into the air and sending Piccolo to rest near Neru.

"Good effort, but as I intoned, you're both hopelessly outmatched... I did not work so hard to have my plans foiled by those I have defeated before. It's time for you both to die."

Piccolo rose weakly to his feet, injured, but not completely spent yet, as he spit out the remains of one of his shattered teeth. His admiration for Neru increased as Neru rose to his feet beside him, obviously more injured than Piccolo; it looked like his right arm was broken, and the burn in his abdomen wasn't very encouraging.

"Neru and I were talking earlier, and I think we're in agreement... You don't hold a candle to Freezer." Piccolo replied.

Neru, too battered to waste time speaking, nodded in acknowledgement.

Diamaou grinned. "Freezer again? Then perhaps the two of you won't mind this."

He dashed higher into the air, his face split in a grin, and with both of his hands raised high above his head as the landscape was temporarily darkened. The size and light from the ki ball he had seemingly conjured out of nowhere was so immense, it seemed to drown out all other light, even as Neru gasped.

"I don't care if we're in your mind or not, an energy blast that large will destroy everything!" Neru shrieked, his mind racing furiously as he tried to think of a way to stop Diamaou before he threw the thing.

Beside him, Piccolo nodded hopelessly. Even if he had been in condition to conjure up another Makkankosappo on the spot, it wouldn't have reached Diamaou before he threw the blast.

He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the light of the blast; maybe he could reflect it back at Diamaou, or perhaps a lucky shot...

But he was too spent to move that quickly.

A moment later, the energy blast simply disappeared, as a much smaller burst of ki bowled into Diamaou's shoulder, sending him crashing through an obsidian pillar of his own and resulting in the energy blast he had accumulated dispersing harmlessly across the sky, even as Piccolo's eyes widened in surprise.

"What the... Neru, did you...?" Piccolo began, but the look on Neru's face showed that the warrior was as surprised as he was.

Growling, Diamaou rose to his feet, the burn mark on his shoulder already raising blisters, as he dusted himself off and glared at Piccolo and Neru.

"I don't know how you delayed the inevitable, but I'll..."

A third voice that belonged to neither Neru or Piccolo, calm and almost without emotion, but maddening to Diamaou anyway, cut him off, as all three Nameks turned, each with equal exceptions of surprise, but Diamaou most of all, towards the direction of the voice.

"But you'll what?" The voice echoed around the pillar.

"The hell?" Neru asked, but Piccolo smirked despite himself.

"Of course... I wondered where he was." He murmured, unwilling to spell out the puzzle for Diamaou, and knowing that Neru would figure it out soon enough.

A young Namek who looked almost identical to Diamaou; save for a face softened by kindness and not hatred, emerged from the third pillar, and regarded Diamaou, Neru, and Piccolo quite calmly.

In spite of the danger, and in spite of the victory that appeared to have been snatched from his hands, Diamaou allowed himself a venom-laced grin, even as his eyes blazed with hatred, and his voice sunk to a hiss, but still loud enough for all to hear.

"Damn you, Kami. How did you get here?"

Kami bowed his head, smiling slightly. "You thought to have left my consciousness in Piccolo's mind... Did you forget that we were once one?"

"We were never one... you were weak, like my son here."

"You cannot blindly throw away the past... our minds are identical... and so, finding my way out was a snap, though I owe Neru for making sure that my consciousness found its way into your mind."

"Clever. Am I now outmatched?" Diamaou murmured. Piccolo had moved to stand beside Kami, ignoring the feeling of revulsion he felt at once again having to fight alongside the god. Neru followed suit, stopping only to whisper a brief apology.

Diamaou regarded them all with the coolest of gazes.

"Every moment you waste is another chance that your friends could die... I wouldn't dawdle if I were you. And I'm still winning..."

"What? What do you mean?" Neru demanded. Diamaou shrugged, eyes locking briefly on each of them.

"Did you think passage to another body is free? Son Goku's mother and best friend are the ones powering it..." Diamaou looked away for a brief moment, and then turned back to look at them, chuckling.

"Didn't you hear the screams? Didn't you see those crystals, those lovely crystals, pulsating with their very life force?"

Kami's brow furrowed, even as Neru shot Diamaou a look of utter revulsion. Only Piccolo remained calm, stepping forward and beckoning for Diamaou to come; by rights, he could have well been the one to step back. Kami was completely fresh, and Neru had been in a much better state of mind than Piccolo over the past few days... In some ways, this was their fight too.

But Piccolo had been used; and here Diamaou was, trying to use him again, because if Diamaou won, it all would have begun anew. The fact that Diamaou had wanted Gohan had a way of pissing him off, as well. It was time to return the favor.

"You mean the crystals I shattered before I found myself here, Diamaou?" He taunted.

Diamaou's brow furrowed in rage as his eyes blazed. His plan to enrage the three of them into attacking him mindlessly had been shattered. He regarded Piccolo with his coldest of stares, before speaking the truth that had driven him this far.

"Get out of the way, you ungrateful whelp. You're just a failure... forgotten... a son I never had. It is only fitting that your last act is to return me to my former... no, better glory."

"No... father." Piccolo spat the word out as if it were a curse; he would have torn the word out of his chest, had it been branded there. But there was no changing the past... or reality. "I won't let you toy with my mind anymore... Or let you use anyone else's. Quite the contrary... It is only fitting that your last act is to experience hell itself within the very mind you sought to destroy... After what you did to me, it's the least a good, loving son, could do..."

And it was then, for the first time in a long time, Diamaou felt fear. Perhaps his son had not become as soft as he had believed... But he swallowed his fear and prepared himself, expecting to look up and see his son doing the same.

Piccolo was already finished, and coming straight at him, with a grin so savage that it could have been Diamaou's own reflection in a mirror.

He weathered the charge cleanly, sliding back a few feet but driving his son off the charge; stopping his momentum with his left hand and snapping his right hand forward, palm outstretched in a stabbing motion. He would impale his son through the heart right now, and end this!

Except that his arm met only air, and Piccolo's cape, which he had abandoned in the attack. The move was nothing sort of brilliant; in Piccolo's charge and in his full regalia, the cape had shielded him from Diamaou's eyes for that single moment!

Too quickly he realized his mistake, and attempted to do the one thing he could; get the hell out of there. Blocking was too difficult without an accurate measure of where his opponent was; countering was impossible since he had intended a killing blow.

He had managed to get about three inches off the ground before Piccolo's right elbow slammed into the small of his back, launching spittle from his mouth, as a crack of bone and a cry of pain erupted from Diamaou's body as he hurtled towards Neru and Kami.

Age went before beauty in this case, even though Kami and Neru didn't look that much different inside Piccolo's mind. Kami seized the advantage, booting the disoriented Diamaou into the air, before Neru sent him hurtling back down towards Piccolo with an elbow of his own.

Diamaou hit the ground hard, actually making a Namek-sized imprint into it, his entire body feeling as if it were aflame. Harsh, labored breathing revealed what were most likely broken ribs. For the first time, he was facing the very real possibility that he might lose, and in doing so, he failed to realize the truth as he staggered weakly to his feet.

The truth was, he had already lost.

It only dawned on him as Piccolo reacted in a most un-common fighting tactic, charging full speed from behind and tackling his father from behind, driving him to scrape painfully into the ground before using his own Ki to propel himself forward and to take Diamaou on his wild ride, skipping across the ground, into major rock formations, and whatever else he could find, using his father's body as the buffer. Piccolo could appreciate the pain, as Diamaou had done a similar thing to him during the battle.

The difference was, Piccolo did it better, and as a result, when he finally stopped, Diamaou was lying on the ground, scarcely able to move, looking worse than death itself. His forehead was a mass of purple, his limbs were fractured and at odd angles, and there were purplish bruises wherever he wasn't cut open.

In contrast, Piccolo was only slightly dusty, and had already retrieved his cloak and turban before moving over to loom over Diamaou. Neru and Kami came to join him. Diamaou opened his mouth to curse them, but nothing escaped from the pit but a ragged groan.

"It's over." Piccolo intoned.

"You'd... kill your own... father?" Diamaou gasped. Piccolo raised his arm and would have killed him right there, had Kami not grabbed his arm and stayed his attack.

Piccolo thrashed, struggling against Kami's grip, but the older Nameksei- jin held him back. "Wait, Piccolo! It isn't as simple as this!"

---

"Does it matter?" Piccolo snapped, breaking free, but appearing willing to listen to Kami, at least for the moment, though the fire in his eyes still raged. "There's no room here for mercy; old fool, he would have killed us all!"

"That may be, but he sacrificed... no, sold his soul to come here... I have seen his thoughts... There is more at work than just he at this..." Kami murmured.

Diamaou's only response was to laugh weakly. "Don't listen to him... slay me, son. Do one charitable act for your father and send him to the grave, kil-" Diamaou didn't finish, as Neru promptly swung his fist at the demon's temple, knocking him unconscious.

Piccolo and Kami both turned to look at Neru, who shrugged.

"He had it coming. Now, what were you saying, Kami?"

"I am not sure... but if what I gleaned from Diamaou's mind was true, then he wants us to kill him..."

Piccolo snorted, glaring at Kami with utter disdain etched in his eyes.

"That's preposterous. He's just got that in his head so that he has a way out..."

"How do you know?"

"Because he's ME. He isn't even supposed to be alive anymore... he's dead. He's in the past."

Kami sighed. For once, there was little mercy in his heart either, but he couldn't just let these lingering doubts slip away! There was a problem, he knew.

"If he dies... it's quite possible that he could tear the rift to the afterlife wide open. He sold his soul to come here, as you said... that can have terrible repercussions on King Enma's rules in the Afterlife."

Piccolo turned to stare Kami down. How could Kami be saying this? Diamaou had torn him to shreds, wronged him, and wronged those he cared about. Diamaou was clearly a curse that needed to be ended, once and for all, and if he had sold his soul, destroyed it, then all he had to do was kill Diamaou now and be done with it, forever.

Kami stood resolute. "Piccolo, I FORBID you to kill him." Piccolo scoffed, moving ever close to Kami, clenching his fists. The two looked about to come to blows when Neru interceded, stepping between them.

"Isn't there something we can do to him besides kill him? Trap him, somehow? Punish him, certainly, but the end result is that we need to be rid of him."

Kami looked thoughtful. "I could merge with him... he and I were once one, you know."

Piccolo rolled his eyes. "Can we afford to let you do that? You're almost as much of a nuisance as him, and it'd most certainly make you younger and more powerful... Possibly evil as well. He overcame you once in MY mind, what's to say he can't do that again in YOUR mind and start again?"

"I am older and wiser than you, and as I said, I was one with him... I know his tricks. You could even say, in a sense, that he is me."

"Feh. I'd almost rather he stay here... I know he won't defeat me again. He needed Neru's help just to get a foothold in my consciousness."

Kami shook his head. "No, he might become too much for you to handle... he needs to be kept in check! He is beaten, but not disposed of... and until we find a way to do it safely... I'll have to ask King Enma about that... He'll have time to recover."

Piccolo was about to respond with another outburst was Neru cleared his throat.

"Kami... I am always here. If Diamaou has to remain imprisoned in Piccolo's mind until all this is over, then I'll swear right now to hold him in check until that time comes... I would not wish to see his evil again, and..." Neru's voice trailed off.

Piccolo narrowed his eyes, harrumphed, and crossed his arms. "And?"

Neru didn't know how to say it. "I need... a purpose. Part of the reason I did what I did was because I was a fool... but the other part was because it was unbearable. The life I had, the life I now do not have... Once, I was the protector of my people, the guardian of our Saichoro. Now I'm just a memory... a soul, sitting around in your head. I do not desire release now, I accepted this fate freely, but..."

--- "But?" Piccolo asked. Kami chose to remain silent, not entirely surprised by Neru's feelings.

"Well... You know how to look into yourself now. It wouldn't hurt to visit once in awhile, and... though most would despise such a task, I would relish the task of keeping..." Neru paused for a moment, tried to think of a word loathsome enough, but then glanced at Diamaou and nodded towards him."...Him under wraps. Keeping people safe from those like him have been what I trained my entire life to do, now that the Saichoro is gone... Perhaps I could become a new protector, if only for a little while."

Piccolo didn't look convinced, but he didn't didn't appear to reject the idea immediately.

"It would have certain benefits, Piccolo... remember, that this is not permanent. We can find a way to do away with Diamaou after speaking with King Enma, and..." Kami began. --- Piccolo started walking away, not even turning to glance at either of them. "I'm going to go 'wake up' now and see Gohan. Get out of my head, Kami, you've got your own body."

Neru sighed, and glanced down at Diamaou. How like this it was before! Piccolo refusing to acknowledge his presence. He cared little for acceptance, but he had given his livelihood to assist Piccolo, the least Piccolo could do was alleviate some of the boredom, some of the pai-

Piccolo turned around, smirking slightly, but the tone in his voice belied his seriousness. "...And you'd better kick his ass while he's in here, Neru. I don't want to hear anything about him being trouble when I "check in" on my own mind."

Piccolo began to walk away again, but he could not help but smirk at the elation he felt elation in Neru's soul. Kami smiled at him, nodded his agreement, and faded from sight.

The god did, after all, have his own body to return to.

---

Someone was shaking him. Someone with small hands... actually, two pairs of hands.

"Piccolo-san? Piccolo-san?"

"Hey Piccolo, c'mon now... wake up already..."

"Hmph. I don't see why he should wake up, after he attacked me and played this little game..."

His eyes fluttered, until they opened fully, only to see three faces staring down at him, one overjoyed, one showing mild concern, and the other..."

The fist caught him in the forehead, with little power behind it, but it was enough to make him see stars, as it connected in the same spot that held his broken eye-socket.

"Ow! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, WENCH?!" Piccolo shrieked, sitting up.

Son Gohan's mother looked about to hit him again when Kuririn grabbed her from behind, holding the enraged woman back.

"He's fine! He's the real Piccolo! Not the bad one!"

"Bad one? They're ALL bad! And such language! Let me go, Kuririn!" She screamed.

The two struggled with one another even while Piccolo rose to his feet, an annoyed expression on his face. "This is the thanks I get!?" He shrieked, and the sound of his voice was enough to make the two stop and stare at him.

It was about that time, as his attention had been divided, that he happened to feel something clinging to his leg. Not surprisingly, it was the one person he actually felt like greeting at the moment. And that person happened to be blubbering; all over his pant leg.

"Piccolo-san! I thought I'd lost you, it was..."

Piccolo did his best to hide his elation at seeing his student, even if deep down, he did disapprove of the expression of emotion Gohan was displaying.

"Hey! HEY! I didn't train you like that, did I? Did..."

Another fist caught him in the forehead, similarly powered to the first, but this one held little violent intent behind it. More importantly, it connected with the other, less sore side of his forehead.

"Hey, HEY! Yourself! You'd better not talk to my little boy that way, or..."

Piccolo wisely ignored her, focusing on Gohan instead. His tone softened, as he reached down to pat Gohan on the head.

"It's all right, Gohan. I'm back now. You don't have to worry about Diamaou any longer. It's all fixed now... I know you fought well."

The child looked up at him through tear-filled eyes, but relaxed his grip somewhat. ---

"No I didn't! I almost killed you, and then I'd have lost both my dads! If I'd beaten Diamaou, then..." His voice trailed off, and Piccolo's arm around him told him all he needed to know.

Chi-Chi had no response. Kuririn had suspected the child held such esteem for Piccolo for the longest time, but had always though the Namek was more of a mentoring figure. And Piccolo...

"Gohan, you can't be serious..." Chi-Chi murmured, still in shock. How could Gohan consider THIS man a father figure?

Kuririn nudged Chi-Chi away. "I don't think this is the time to discuss this with him, Chi-Chi... The kid's been through a lot. If he wants to feel this way about Piccolo, then I'd say let him, for now... He'll, uh, come to his senses later."

Chi-Chi's demeanor softened. She certainly had something new to think about! But first...

"First he's bad, then he's good, then he's bad, now he's good again! Will someone please tell me what the HELL is going on?"

Kuririn nodded. "Yeah, I'll tell you... let's get out of here, though. We've got a lot to talk about."

He nudged Chi-Chi in the direction of the exit, casting a look back at Piccolo and Gohan. Piccolo's expression had changed again; his cheeks were tinged purple with embarrassment, as Gohan continued to blubber into his arms. But they were tears of joy, not of sadness.

The purpleness in his cheeks deepened as he looked at Kuririn and Chi-Chi; both were regarding him still. He returned their looks with his trademark- annoyed frown, before looking down at Gohan.

"Hey kid... I think it's time we get out of here too."

Gohan figured it was as good a time as any to ask Piccolo something deep, something meaningful, something Son Goku would have gladly granted, but something he hadn't dared to ask Piccolo. Children did, after all, have to try these opportunities when they came.

"Piccolo-san... will you let me ride out on your back?"

Piccolo blinked in surprise. Normally he considered such things beneath him, and as Gohan could attest, he'd never pampered his student (at least, not openly). ---

"Damn it... I've had my fill of "fatherly" things for a lifetime..." He began, but suddenly stopped, looking at the child's pleading eyes. Piccolo crumbled. He could always chock it up to not being mentally strong after his ordeal, he decided.

Would it be such an embarrassment to do something tender for the kid just once? He smirked inwardly.

"If I could throw myself in front of a blast of energy, I suppose this wouldn't be too difficult... at least that damn Kami can't see me while I'm in this cave!"

"Sure, kid. But we're going to be training later. I have a lot of practicing to do, now that I've gotten myself back in the right frame of mind."

"Can we go see the Haiyaa Dragon too? I bet it'd really want to meet you, and maybe you could feed it, and..."

"Don't push your luck." He muttered.

That was enough for Gohan to know he truly had his Piccolo-san back, even as Piccolo suddenly shouted across the cavern, his voice serious and tinged with mock anger, though he spoke the truth.

"AND IF ANYONE TELLS SON GOKU OR ANYONE ELSE ABOUT THIS, I'LL KILL THEM! UNDERSTAND?" He shouted after Kuririn and Chi-Chi.

Gohan giggled, Chi-Chi remained silent, and Kuririn simply continued walking, a slight look of relief on his face.

Things were back to normal. ---

Mr. Popo sighed. He'd had little reason to suspect that a change in Kami's condition was coming, but as he stood over the stove and took the boiling, screeching teakettle off of it, he decided to check on Kami anyway. Perhaps the aroma of the Orange Pekoe, a brew that even Kami himself enjoyed at times, just might bring him around.

Just the same, Popo's face remained etched in the same worried frown that had dominated it for the past few hours as he exited the kitchen with a cup of the steaming drink in his hand.

"Maybe I should check on Son Gohan and see how the others are progressing..."

--- He decided he should check on Kami first. The man was, after all, his responsibility. It would be best to leave Gohan and the others to theirs.

Popo rounded the corner, expecting to see Kami still unconscious, lying upon the futon that he had prepared for the god. Instead, he wound up forgetting about the tea entirely as he ran up to the futon, having found it empty. Panic gripped him. Had Diamaou come while he was away, and snatched his other half? Or worse...

Kami emerged from a pillar behind him, even as Popo stood staring at the futon in shock, still holding the cup of tea.

"I say, Mr. Popo, is that for me?"

Popo gladly would have surrendered the tea, but at the sound of the voice behind him, spun around in startled surprise, accidentally sending the cup flying across the lookout, only to shatter against the tile, as his eyes gazed upon his lord and master.

"Kami-sama!" He exclaimed, dashing over and nearly knocking the elder off of his feet as he embraced him, before remembering his position and releasing him. Though one of his previous Kami's might have scolded him for such a display of reaction, he was met only with Kami's chuckling, as the god leaned on his staff.

"Good to see you too, Popo, my friend. Now, I say again, though I'm not sure I'm inclined to ingest that cup all over the floor, is there any tea for me? I would much rather commune to meet with King Enma when I'm not parched with thirst."

Popo smiled, more than happy to perform his life's duty and serve. "Certainly, Kami-sama. What happened? Is Diamaou defeated?"

Kami motioned towards the kitchen, patting Mr. Popo on the back.

"Rest assured, Mr. Popo, what I have to say will sound much better over some tea. You should have some yourself, you look rather fatigued."

"But the spill..."

Kami laughed. "Always worried about duty, Mr. Popo... don't worry. You can get it later..."

Finally acquiescing, Popo returned to the kitchen, with Kami following behind, accompanied only by the sound of wooden staff clinking on stone.

---

Diamaou groaned and rose weakly to his feet. Where was he? His head throbbed, and the rest of him didn't feel much better. He gazed around, and realized that he was still alive; that he still existed. He snorted. That had not been part of his backup plan, and here as he was, he could not take his own life, to leave the door to the afterlife open, and thus satisfy the plan of the one who had helped him to arrive in the first place.

He didn't entirely agree with it, but it was the other part of the pact he had made to get into the living world. At least he could begin again, though this time he would have to destroy Piccolo's consciousness rather than imprison it, a much more complicated task. After all, he didn't have much of a soul to work with anymore.

"Heh... fools... do they really think I can't take over Piccolo again? Can you hear me, son? I'm coming to get you!" He shouted into the void, but the small, rocky island he was imprisoned on, though definitely part of Piccolo's consciousness by the calm, purplish hue of the sky, remained silent.

It was time to look for a way to escape, as he was confident that Piccolo thought he could control him through careful meditation and the mental fortitude that made up his prison.

The sound of a whistle alerted him to spin around, as he turned and saw Neru standing in front of him. Diamaou's eyes widened, and then he grinned.

"So in the end, Piccolo decided to punish you, eh? It's no problem... we can work together again, Neru."

Neru's eyes narrowed. "Not quite. You may consider me your new prison warden."

"You really think you can hold me, Neru?"

The former protector of Nameksei grinned savagely. "I was hoping you'd say that. You see, I'm not as different from Piccolo as you might think... Let's go."

--- The two began. It was to be a disappointing fight for Diamaou in a day filled with disappointments, as Neru defeated him rather handily, always being one to keep his promises...

--- Piccolo lay on the grass, staring up at the sky. Stargazing was stupid, he reminded himself, not for the third time. But after speaking with Neru, and after considering his own struggles when he hadn't even been in command of his body, let alone his mind, he found a certain appreciation for the things he had once taken for granted, even as a cool breeze rustled through the grass.

Beside him, nuzzled snug and secure in Piccolo's own cape, was Gohan, who found he was resting on a rather comfy, living pillow. The Haiyaa dragon, it's wounds nearly healed, slept peacefully, enjoying the rather human blanket as much as the child was enjoying the rather dragonish pillow.

He sensed the struggle between Diamaou and Neru inside himself, but shrugged it off, certain that Neru would win. He shifted his gaze from the stars to Gohan. The child was snoring contentedly, likely dreaming of his other father, the one that was somewhere out in the vast universe.

The gentle sound of Gohan's breathing, and the somewhat larger sound of the Haiyaa Dragon snoring somehow conveyed the sense of peace he felt. Slowly, he closed his eyes, and went to sleep.

There were no dreams, and more importantly, no nightmares, but only peaceful slumber.

The End

Well, it's done. I realize this chapter and chapter 7 were incredibly long, but I had determined that it was time to buckle down and get this thing done rather than have people wait six months for each chapter. Hope it was enjoyable. ^^ -Cremrock