Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Slayer Mine ❯ More Than Fate ( Chapter 2 )

Piccolo had been following her for several blocks. At first he was a bit concerned about her. She was so small and alone and the night held many dangers. He knew only too well. Not that he was afraid. He could take care of himself. He always could. So he followed at a pace safe enough to be out of her sight and sensing range, if she could sense others the way he could sense them, and the way she had clutched at her stomach and winced just before those creatures had attacked her, he was quite certain that she could.

He was unsure, exactly, just why he felt the need to follow her. She was a homeless girl, of that he was certain, it showed in her unkept apperance, her torn and threadbare clothing and her hollowed eyes and guant cheeks. But, she was also much more than a mere homeless child. After seeing her put an end to the monsters who had decided to ambush her from all sides on a deserted stretch of road, the powerful namek had absolutly no doubt of that.

Not quite knowing why, but feeling as if what he did had to be, he had trailed her…watching her and waiting for the chance to appoach her when she was less…distraught. He did not know what, other than being alone and unsheltered on a cold October night, was exactly were the cause of her despair. He only knew that he had to help her, somehow, even if she refused. Some force other than himself seemed to pushing him towards her like a lodestone to metal.

It was the most infuriating feeling he'd ever experienced and he did not enjoy it one iota!

Piccolo's cape fluttered about him and he shivered in spite of himself. Wiether from the cold or from something else even he could not have said. He followed the girl to her resting place on the roof between the buildings, standing vigil, as he'd done the night before, below, always mindful of any possibility of danger to either himself or to the girl resting fitfully above.

She did not sleep. Not this night. She was too full of pain and contempt for herself to even entertain the possibilty of sleep. She wrapped her flea-ridden hole-filled blanket about her shoulders and stood, balancing precariously on the ledge as the blanket fluttered out behind her. She raised her arms to her sides, throwing her head back as the blanket, caught on the wind, flew from her shoulders to flutter away and down, so far…far down…like a gaint dead leaf from a shedding tree.

She thought, for half an instant, that perhaps what she was doing was wrong. That the world needed her. Needed her abilitlies as the slayer. Then she washed that thought clean of her head and opened her eyes, looking straight down. She knew doing so would make her dizzy and unable to resist the oncoming vertigo she would be unable to halt what she'd begun.

Everything was better once. She thought. Before. But it can never be better. It can only be now. And in this now she did not want to be. She took a deep breath and stepped off the edge, steeling herself for the hard, bone-crushing, blood-splattering end which would in moments be her's and her's alone.

He felt the disturbance almost before he'd seen the light blue piece of clothe that could have been a blanket at one time fell from the height of the building he knew she was soppose to be resting on. He floated upwards, gaining speed when he saw her, his heart leapt in his chest and seemed to freeze and just for a mere half-second he feared he'd be too late.

Then she was in his arms and he was carrying her to the ground, to safety. He did not know what had just possessed her to throw herself from such a height, and one who could not fly, he knew she did not know how to as she had always climbed up to her vantage point, falling from such a height would only mean a very messy death.

She opened her eyes, focused them and blinked, unsure of what she was seeing was reality or some last hallucination before death. She did not have time to wonder as a sudden blanket thicker than the blackest fog closed it's demanding hand over her and closed her within it's grip. Her last thought before she passed out was that of knights in shining armor…only this time she did not hear any biting sarcasm.

Piccolo looked at the girl he held. No more than a child really. Dirty and underfed. He looked at her and wondered what he was soppose to do with her now. He had saved her. He had felt compelled to. Now what?