Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Dragonball Victory : Legends Never Die ❯ XII ( Chapter 12 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Faia Saiyajin 
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Occult / Martial Arts / Comedy / Adventure / Action | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 09.26.2002 | Pages: 1 | Words: 240 | Visits: 171 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Occult / Martial Arts / Comedy / Adventure / Action | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 09.26.2002 | Pages: 1 | Words: 240 | Visits: 171 | Status: Completed
XII
Piccolo returned to the Lookout, to find that the pooped party goers had abandoned their revelry, the lofty perch having been restored to its usual pristine splendor.
Dende was up, on his morning walk, when Piccolo touched down.
"Where did you and Kaeru dissapear off to?" The younger Nameckjin asked casually, the smile on his face alluding to more than the words did.
Even if Dende was God, it didn't stop Piccolo from emitting a warning growl under his breath. "I took her to an island and sparred with her." He stalked past him, headed for his room, a shower, and a change of clothes. But at the last moment, he shot a look over his shoulder. "And by sparred, I mean the exact denotation of the word. Not as a euphemisim for sex or any other sort of Chikyuujin-defined intimacy."
Stunned by Piccolo's defensive nature, he could only blink as Ma Juniya dissapeared behind the doors of the mansion. But when he did regain his composure, he was grinning, from pointed green ear to pointed green ear. It didn't last long, however, as Dende suddenly found himself clutching to his walking stick, floored by a tremendous rush of displaced ki. It felt as if someone had projected their physical energies straight into his brain with terrible force, assaulting his mind. Like thousands of white-hot daggers, they dug into his brain, unrelenting, until he collapsed, face-first on the floor.
Piccolo returned to the Lookout, to find that the pooped party goers had abandoned their revelry, the lofty perch having been restored to its usual pristine splendor.
Dende was up, on his morning walk, when Piccolo touched down.
"Where did you and Kaeru dissapear off to?" The younger Nameckjin asked casually, the smile on his face alluding to more than the words did.
Even if Dende was God, it didn't stop Piccolo from emitting a warning growl under his breath. "I took her to an island and sparred with her." He stalked past him, headed for his room, a shower, and a change of clothes. But at the last moment, he shot a look over his shoulder. "And by sparred, I mean the exact denotation of the word. Not as a euphemisim for sex or any other sort of Chikyuujin-defined intimacy."
Stunned by Piccolo's defensive nature, he could only blink as Ma Juniya dissapeared behind the doors of the mansion. But when he did regain his composure, he was grinning, from pointed green ear to pointed green ear. It didn't last long, however, as Dende suddenly found himself clutching to his walking stick, floored by a tremendous rush of displaced ki. It felt as if someone had projected their physical energies straight into his brain with terrible force, assaulting his mind. Like thousands of white-hot daggers, they dug into his brain, unrelenting, until he collapsed, face-first on the floor.