Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Deeper Than Colour -- The Kioku Story ❯ The Serpent Road ( Chapter 8 )

Disclaimer: Hi, everyone, my name's Leia. *everyone nods and smiles* Hi, Leia. *Leia smiles nervously* And . . . *sniffles* . . . I . . . I don't . . . *sobs* . . . I DON'T OWN DB/Z/GT!!!! *everyone nods sympathetically* We understand. *group leader grins brightly* See? That's the first step . . . admitting your problem. Next session, we'll work on how to deal with it.

A/N: It's been a long, dry spell for Kioku fans . . . but I wanted to make this chapter long to make up for the gap, and it just wasn't happening. So, it's six pages - longer than the chapters that most people give out, but shorter for me. To anyone that complains; bite me. Not really, but . . . if I'd tried to make it longer, then it probably would have dragged on and been boring.

Blame Bucky anyway. She said I should try to shorten my chapters, to put less pressure on myself and reduce update gaps. Hopefully it works and there will be more frequent updates, okay? *sighs* No promises, but I will try.

Well, chapter eight . . . finally.

Deeper Than Colour - The Kioku Story

Chapter Eight: The Serpent Road

"Walking. Wonderful. Whenever we hafta' train, we always gotta' walk," Briefs Trunks groused loudly, scuffing the toes of his boots against the impenetrable grey stone of The Serpent Road. The lavender-haired demi-Saiyajin had been complaining ever since he and Kioku left Enma Dai-Ou's audience chamber.

"And you always have to whine," Son Kioku shot back. Under normal circumstances he thought Trunks' constant bellyaching was almost funny, but at the moment, Kioku was too busy mulling over recent events to find humour in the continual torrent of laments.

Dad, Father, Vegeta-san, and the other Z-senshi had used Dad's Shunkanidou technique to get to a place where someone named "Kaio-sama" lived. They hadn't taken Kioku and Trunks with them, because Dad said that the journey to the Lord of the World's planet was an essential part of the training - Kioku didn't mind, but Trunks hadn't quit groaning the whole time.

Kioku scowled, thinking back to the second audience with Enma Dai-Ou . . . adults certainly were indecisive! The giant still hadn't decided whether or not to allow the boys to return to Earth . . . he'd stated he needed more time to think if it would be worth bending the rules.

"Unfortunately, I have not managed to reach a decision," Enma Dai-Ou reported gravely, rustling some papers on his desk and folding his hands. He gazed at them solemnly. "You must admit, there is a considerable amount of favouritism in your case. Though I contacted the Namekusejin and they are willing to wish you boys back, some were confused as to why you two were chosen. Why, for example, other fighters were not given such an honour."

Father growled impatiently and made a slicing motion with his hand, disregarding the importance. "We've been through this -" he interrupted.

"If you would kindly wait," Enma Dai-Ou's loud voice overrode even Father's protests, and Kioku mentally tallied up the points in their verbal battle. Father was still winning, but not by much. "I was getting to that. I told the Namekusejin of your proposal, and they agreed to a trial run. In short, they want to make sure you will become as powerful as Piccolo predicts you will be."

Kiokufrowned. "What?"

"You are to train for a year - or two - or three - or however long it takes for you to reach this supposed power level," Enma Dai-Ou raised a thick eyebrow, as if chastising Piccolo for assuming such an outrageous thing as children defeating the jinzouningen. "When you reach this plateau, you will be allowed to return. If you do not, you must remain here in the Other World, and may spend your eternity training with your fellow warriors."

Heavy silence reigned as those in the room considered the decision. Father scowled like he wasn't satisfied but was temporarily mollified, and Dad looked thrilled that Kioku would be able to stay with him some more. Vegeta, on the other hand, uncrossed his arms, glanced at Trunks, and stalked up to the desk.

"What about their minds?" the Saiyajin snapped. Kioku blinked, confused, and stared up at Dad. He shrugged.

EnmaDai-Ou seemed unimpressed as he plopped his chin in his palm. He looked annoyed at having to stave off someone else's arguments, having dealt with numerous ones from the grumpy Namekusejin across the room. "What are you talking about?"

"When warriors die, their bodies do not age," Vegeta explained, probably for the children's benefits, for the others were aware of this. "That is fine for us, but what about the boys? If it takes years for them to reach their new strength, they will have adult minds trapped in children's bodies. I do not wish my son, the heir to the Saiyajin throne, to endure such a thing."

All eyes were either on Kioku and Trunks, or Enma Dai-Ou. Father smirked a little, probably glad Vegeta had found something to fight over with Enma Dai-Ou, and Dad straightened up, looking suddenly afraid. At last, the giant spoke. "All right. I will remove the body preservation from these two boys until they reach adulthood - if it does indeed take so long."

"Good," Vegeta nodded once, with the air of a ruler who has been granted a favour by a neighbouring (but less powerful) country. He returned to Trunks' side, where his son stared at him with unabashed adoration - which was neither acknowledged nor rebuffed.

"Well, that's that," Dad announced brightly, the worry gone from his features and tone of voice. He had the ability to switch moods awfully quickly, Kioku noticed. "We'll meet you at Kaio-sama's."

"'Meet us'?" Trunks demanded loudly, "Whaddaya' mean, meet us? Aren't you gonna' do that funky instant whatchamacallit?"

Dad laughed, his dark eyes sparkling. "We are. You aren't. Part of the training is travelling on The Serpent Road."

Kiokuraised his brow ridges curiously, wondering if they really had to walk on a big snake. That didn't sound too appealing . . . "Where is it?"

EnmaDai-Ou extended his arm and pointed to a side door with his large finger. "There. Begin your journey, boys, and may fate be on your side."

"Look, buddy," Trunks grumbled, ending Kioku's flashback quite effectively. "You don't like my complaining, then don't listen to it. It ain't my fault your ears are too big."

"Yeah, yeah," Kioku replied half-heartedly, "Did you ever consider the fact that this walking might be good for us? I mean, Dad wouldn't have told us to do this if it didn't have some benefit."

Trunks snarled at him and ran his hand through his hair, which was straggling loose from its makeshift ponytail. He bugged out his eyes and raised the pitch of his voice in mocking parody of Kioku. "'Daddy this, Daddy that' . . . 'My Daddy is awesome, nobody is better than him' . . ." he dropped the squeaky tone and crossed his arms, now imitating Vegeta, most likely. "Man, Kiku, can't you ever talk about anything else? Geez! Your Dad can't be that great. I mean, he died, didn't he?"

"Shut up!" Kioku clenched his fist until his claws cut into his palm, but he was far too mad to notice. Trunks was his best friend, yes, but Kioku had recently decided that he had spent too much time with Vegeta than was healthy for the boy's personality. "Your Father isn't any better, either! At least my Dad is nice and not an arrogant jerk like yours!"

"Hey! At least I'm not adopted like you," Trunks pulled down his lower eyelid and stuck out his tongue. "'Least my Dad is my real Dad. 'Least I have a Mom! 'Least I didn't get puked out in a frickin' egg!"

Anger rose up inside Kioku as though he was being lowered inch by inch into a vat of molten lava and it was starting to make his blood boil. "Trunks," he growled in warning, dropping the "-kun" honorific. "Just stop it."

"And at least I didn't kill my Mom when I was born!" Trunks yelled his finale triumphantly, waving his arms around like a crazy demi-Saiyajin pinwheel.

"What?!"

"Didja' ever think that Piccolo mighta' lived if he hadn't used up all his energy to make you?" the boy's eyes were wide, and he smirked at what must have been a look of horror on Kioku's face. "Didja' ever think that maybe it was your fault that Piccolo is dead?"

The miniature Namekusejin paused, any words of his next arguments evaporating in the face of Trunks' carefully-aimed barbs. The logic, while all over the place in typical Trunks fashion, fit together into a bizarre puzzle of memories, feelings, and long-buried guilt, which gathered together to form the strange conclusion.

Kioku tried to talk, but all that left his throat was a strangled sob. Maybe Trunks was right - maybe Father's death had been partly Kioku's fault. Maybe, if Father hadn't died, he could have helped the other senshi and maybe they could have defeated the jinzouningen . . .

Trunks' jeering expression fell, but Kioku barely noticed as he sank to his knees on the road, wrapping his arm around his legs and burying his face in his spandex sleeve. "I can't believe," he hiccupped, his voice wavering like that of a little child's. "You would be that cruel!"

Through watery eyes he saw Trunks' expression shift into panic. "I'm sorry!" the boy blurted out, running to Kioku's side and gripping his shoulder. "I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to!"

The green-skinned boy started to nod, ready to accept another one of Trunks' apologies - but after everything he had gone through, Kioku didn't want to deal with anything anymore. He was tired of how Trunks could get so mean without any warning. He was tired of the way Trunks would say sorry and expect everything to be okay, like the hurtful words weren't still digging into Kioku like red-hot knives.

He was especially tired of how he accepted the apologies every time.

"No!" Kioku burst out suddenly, "I'm tired of you insulting me and apologizing and then forgetting about it. Do you think that makes everything all better?"

Trunks was taken aback, his mouth hanging open in unabashed shock. "Kiku, I said I was sorry -"

"You're always sorry! Have you ever considered how much it still hurts even after you apologize?" Kioku narrowed his eyes, feeling more angry toward his best friend than ever before. "This time you insulted my Dad, my Father, me . . . and I'm just supposed to sit here and let you? You're quite immature, do you know that?"

"Oh, right, like everything's my fault," Trunks snapped. "Listen to you, with your grownup talk and your perfect grammar and your bloody split personalities . . . you think you're so smart because you have Piccolo's memories and fighting skills inside your head. And your Dad, who's the strongest fighter of all of them . . . you think I wanna' hear you yap about that all the time? Geez! You blab on and on about me being immature when all you do is talk about how amazing you and your family are. Maybe I'm immature, maybe I don't know big words like you, and maybe my Dad isn't as strong as yours, but you're stuck-up and stupid!"

Kioku was ready to lunge at Trunks and start a brawl, but the back of his collar was suddenly caught in a heavy hand. "What the hell?" Father shouted, appearing out of nowhere. "What are you, a warrior or an infant? There is no time for pointless arguing?"

Kioku had no idea how his father had reached him so quickly, when he saw Dad standing off to the side and remembered the Shunkanidou. "I'm sorry?" he apologized meekly, his anger dissipating as he realized how childish his fight really was.

"'Sorry', eh? 'Do you think that makes everything all better'?" Father mocked, repeating Kioku's words. "'You're quite immature, do you know that'? Honestly! Is there nothing better for you to do than carry grudges? Live with your heritage, don't resent it."

The Namekusejin boy hung his head, feeling stupid. It was as though all the growing up he'd been through had been stripped away, leaving him as young and inexperienced as a hatchling. He was slightly mollified, however, when he saw Vegeta chewing Trunks out just as severely.

"- a disgrace! Yes, you heard me. You're going to have to train with that boy for years, yet you cannot manage even a few hours of walking? I am ashamed that you cannot curb your petty temper for even that long!"

"I'm sorry, Father," Trunks looked just as chagrined as Kioku felt, and he flung an apologetic glance in his friend's direction. "But I mean, dying is kinda' a big shock. It just weirded out my brain, that's all."

"Excuses, excuses," Vegeta scolded, "Your problem is your pride, brat. Learn to control it!"

Dad broke out into quiet laughter, though he tried to hide it, and both fathers rounded on him. Kioku didn't get what was so amusing, but Dad smirked. "This is funny, coming from you guys . . . grudges, accepting your heritage . . . controlling temper and pride . . . man! Like you should talk!"

Both Father and Vegeta glared, but Kioku and Trunks merely caught each other's gazes and shrugged. Kioku had a vague tickling in the back of his mind like he should know what Dad was talking about, but he didn't feel like chasing down the elusive wisp of knowledge. Besides, the expressions on the other's faces were good enough on their own.

"Stuff it, Son," Father growled, at the same time as Vegeta muttered, "Shut up, Kakarotto," Dad just kept on chuckling.

"Well," Dad grinned at the two young warriors, then his wide smile disappeared behind a stern frown. "They're right, though. You two have way too much ahead of you to waste your time with silly fights like that. Now, the rest of us are going back to Kaio-sama's planet, and I don't want to hear of you guys arguing again. Got it?"

Something about seeing the jovial fighter wearing such a serious expression, made both Kioku and Trunks nod solemnly. "Yes, sir," they both chanted in unison.

"Good," Dad's face brightened, and he slung his arms over the shoulders of his sullen friends. "Let's go, guys!"

"Don't touch me like tha -" Vegeta began to snarl, but the whoosh of air from the Shunkanidou technique cut him off. Kioku remained rooted in the spot, not quite sure what to make of the conversations he'd just witnessed. Sometimes having two telepathic fathers could be a real nuisance . . .

"Um," Trunks chewed nervously on his lip, catching Kioku's attention. "I know you don't believe me, but . . . I'm sorry. Again."

He waited, and Kioku knew he was wondering what the reaction would be. Kioku paused, then decided it was pointless bickering - after all, Trunks didn't mean any harm. He was merely the biological product of two of the most verbally-abusive people in the universe, that's all. It was his heritage, and nothing he could help. The younger boy grinned, showing his fangs. "That's okay."

Trunks' face lit up in a matching smile, and he stuck out his hand. "Buds again? Whaddaya say?"

"Sure," Kioku grabbed Trunks' hand and shook it soundly . . . then flipped his friend on his back and took off running down the road. "I'm going to beat you there!" he called exultantly, sticking out his tongue and giggling over his shoulder. Sometimes it was fun just to be a kid - especially with the potential threat of fusing with an adult hanging over him.

"NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO!" came Trunks' annoyed howl, "You cheeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaated!"

Kioku laughed hysterically and sped up, hearing Trunks' feet pounding on the ground behind him. Nothing like some good, old-fashioned skullduggery to close the rift between them . . .

******

"How . . . much . . . longer?" Kioku panted, flopping down on his back and splaying out his arms and legs. "So . . . tired . . ."

"Now who's complaining?" Trunks bantered, but he, too, collapsed in a heap on the unforgiving concrete. "Man, this is a long road!"

Kioku nodded, silently apologizing for every time he'd teased Trunks about whining. At the moment, all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep . . . which, come to think of it, wasn't such a bad idea. "Well, good night," Kioku yawned widely and stretched. He realized with a start that it was the first he had slept since before his death - and they had been travelling on the Serpent Road for days now.

Trunks grunted in agreement and closed his eyes, not even bothering to complain when Kioku moved close to him, pressing up against his side. Sometimes Trunks got annoyed at him and told him to back off, but usually he respected Kioku's fear of sleeping alone. Kioku still dreamt of Daimaou Piccolo's murder sprees if he didn't drift off next to the comforting presence of his best friend.

"Aww, they're so cute," Goku chuckled, appearing in the air with Vegeta and Piccolo. They dropped in at least once a day to make sure the boys were all right, though they never let themselves be seen. "Look at that . . ."

"I don't know why you bother to check on them," Piccolo grumbled, but he had to admit that it was nice seeing such a peaceful expression on Kioku's young face. "They aren't going to fall off."

"And if they did, it would be their own faults," Vegeta added caustically.

Goku shrugged. "It would be a pain if they did - we'd have to go through all the paper work, bla, bla, bla . . . or maybe even beat up a couple of the guards. I know you like that, but I really don't care. Besides . . ." he sighed, feeling a surge of protectiveness. "It's been years since I've seen the kid. I just can't get enough of watching him, you know? Like that'll somehow make up for all the time I've missed."

"Soft-hearted fool," snorted the shortest of the three warriors, but his frown lightened fractionally. "The brat looks like his mother."

"That he does," Piccolo's mouth twitched as he fought to keep a straight face. "Lucky him."

Vegeta blustered away to himself, but Goku noticed that he kept quiet, not wanting to wake the sleepers. At last, the Saiyajin sighed lustily and moved away, his hands falling on his friends' shoulders. "We should get back. They'll reach Kaio-sama's planet soon."

Vegeta crossed his arms and shook his head, looking at the end of the Serpent Road - which was less than fifteen feet away from the oblivious boys. "Children," he spat the epithet like a piece of foul meat, but without his usual vehemence. "Stupid little things . . ."

Goku laughed, then the air shimmered around them and they were gone.

Kioku whimpered in his sleep, frown lines creasing his smooth forehead, and he cried out. His voice, however, came out deep and guttural, dripping with malice and sadistic pleasure. "Kill . . ." he muttered, "I'll kill you all . . . send you all to hell . . . worthless creatures . . ."

His voice changed, becoming his own. "No!" Kioku protested, "I won't - won't let you -"

"We are one," the demon's tone returned, "Kill with me . . . feel the pleasure . . . hear their screams . . . taste their blood . . ."

"NO!" - pitiful, half-sobbing - "No -"

Trunks shot up into a sitting position, woken by Kioku's thrashing. "Kiku! What's the matter?" his eyes widened as he beheld his friend's condition, and he grasped the Namekusejin by the shoulders. This particular nightmare had become all-too-common in the past few years. "Fight it, Ki! Fight him!"

Kioku, still caught in the relentless grip of sleep, began to cry. "Too strong - he's too strong -"

Panic seized hold of Trunks, for the dream had never held Kioku in its power for this long. Usually, his friend only had to come to grips with his identity for a few seconds before waking, but it seemed as though the demon inside him was growing stronger. "Wake up!" he pleaded, and in a moment of frenzy, Trunks flung his arms around Kioku's shuddering form and hugged him tightly. "Don't let him take you!"

Kioku spasmed violently, nearly throwing Trunks off the road, then the dark voice screamed loudly and was gone. The boy shivered, pressing himself even closer to Trunks, who breathed a long sigh of relief. Kioku never remembered this sort of thing in the morning - the battle was one that existed in his subconscious only. Trunks held onto him for a few more minutes, making sure he was all right, then released him.

"Geez, you like to scare me, don'tcha," Trunks muttered, feigning indignance, though he wasn't sure why. No one was around to hear. "I don't know what's the matter with your head, but . . . man . . . I'm glad it's not me!"

Kioku immediately curled up next to him when Trunks lay down again, and his arm snaked around Trunks' waist. The demi-Saiyajin personally thought they were getting a little old for this, but on the other hand, Kioku's nightmares scared the daylights out of him. He'd rather suffer a little embarrassment than hear his best friend cry like that . . .

Within minutes, both boys were sound asleep once more, snoring lightly. Kioku mumbled something inarticulate, but gave no indication of battling with his inner self again. He gave a little sigh and rested his head in the nook of Trunks' arm, and the other didn't even stir.

******

A/N: There you have it! I hope that answers everyone's questions from last time. I'm not going to go through and individually reply to everyone's reviews like some people do, so if you have a question you really want answered, e-mail me and I'll do my best to answer it.

However . . . I want to shine the spotlight on one question, from "Chikyuu":

"how many totally polar opposit personalities can exist in one chosen body(i'm not mentioning peacefully b/c I don't see that as conceviably possible) before said body's mind is thrown into compleat insanity?"

I'm not going to answer that, because I'm not giving anything away. Just be aware that Kioku will be figuring that out . . . later.

But as Bucky says, it's no fun writing about stable characters . . . *wink*