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Description
Chapter 8: Resolution

Curiosity was an interesting beast. It can drive a person to do things they may not have bothered with under normal circumstances, all in the name of acquiring non-essential knowledge. Combine curiosity with infatuation, and you get the raw drive that would define Yamcha’s life for the next several weeks. It was about noon on New Year’s Eve when he found himself walking up to the entrance to Capsule Corp., a small scrap of paper held in his hand. Piccolo was still recovering bits and pieces of his old life, but it was slow going, and he only seemed to be remembering the time before he’d turned eighteen. Yamcha wanted to know what had happened beyond that, and he wanted to do anything he could to help him remember.

There was also something that was bothering him about it all. Everything Piccolo remembered so far was pleasant, for the most part. He’d had a comfortable childhood, if a bit sheltered. What had happened to make the previous guardian hide all of his memories? Did it perhaps have something to do with the fire that burned down his old home? He supposed that must have had something to do with it, but he wouldn’t know for sure unless he dug a little deeper.

He made his way inside, walking past the receptionist’s desk as he usually did, though he didn’t go in search of Bulma this time. No, this time he felt he would get more use from employing the aide of her father. He headed back towards Dr. Briefs’ lab, announcing his presence by knocking against the frame of the open door. The old scientist looked up from his work, the neglected ashes falling from the end of his cigarette as he turned.

“Ah, Yamcha!” Dr. Briefs greeted genially, “What brings you back here to see me?”

Yamcha smiled in reply to his greeting, taking it as an invitation to enter the lab. He’d always gotten along well with Bulma’s father, even after she’d moved on to Vegeta. He was always so laid back, no matter the situation, and Yamcha had even enjoyed a beer with the eccentric old man from time to time. He’d always been fond of imploring the younger man to come to him if he ever needed anything, and Yamcha sincerely hoped the offer still stood.

“Well, I was hoping you could help me dig up some information.”

“Oh?” Dr. Briefs replied, clearly intrigued, “What sort of information?”

“Old records from the twentieth century. You mentioned once that you had contacts in the historical archives. I was hoping you could ask them to look up information on a certain individual.”

Yamcha then handed over the slip of paper he’d been carrying, on which was written Piccolo’s old name in full, as well as a note indicating the year 1925 as his birth year. It wasn’t his actual birth year, of course. It had just been assumed, since he’d appeared to have been about three years old when he’d been found by his adoptive family in 1928.

“Huh. Not a name I’ve heard before,” Dr. Briefs commented after looking over the slip, “If it’s not a significant historical figure, I might not be able to get you much from so long ago.”

“That’s okay. I don’t expect there will be much to find on him. I’ll even take anything you can find on anyone named Scherbakov from that era.”

“Hmm… Well, it might take some time, but I’ll let you know when I get something.”

“That’s fine. I’m not in any big hurry. Thanks for doing this for me. I really appreciate it!”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all. Before you go, are you planning to come over tonight for our New Year party? I promise it won’t be quite so boring and family-friendly as our last few.”

“Oh, uhh… I wish I could, but I’ve actually got a date tonight. We were going to go out and watch the fireworks together.”

“Hey, good for you, son!” Dr. Briefs replied, a sly smirk appearing across his face. “Well, far be it for me to keep you from a pretty young lady! You two kids have fun!”

“Th-thanks! I will!” Yamcha said, though he made a point not to mention that his date was neither young nor a lady. He soon took his leave, taking off into the air towards the north.

_______________________

Late in the evening, Yamcha and Piccolo found themselves walking side by side along the wooded edge of a large field. The trees of the woods were mostly barren, but it was far enough south that the grass of the field was still green in patchy spots and free of snow. Many of the local townspeople had taken advantage of the fair weather, laying out blankets and folding chairs, sharing late night snacks and drinks with their families. The sounds of friendly chatter and music rose up from the scattered crowd, creating a not unpleasant ambiance.

They found a decent spot at the edge of the woods a fair distance away from the crowd and settled themselves down on the bare grass. They were far enough away from the crowd that they could be reasonably assured of a level of privacy for the evening. They hadn’t brought any alcohol along like many of the couple down below, but there would be plenty of time for that later on in the night when they returned home.

The two of them were sitting quite close to one another, which was a sure sign that Piccolo had become infinitely more comfortable around Yamcha. He’d never been the type to enjoy a lot of intimate touching, that much was clear just from observation. They may not hold hands or kiss often like a typical couple might be expected to do, but the fact that the stoic giant was willing to sit so close that their shoulders were touching meant just as much as any of those things.

As midnight approached, the anticipation of the new year grew in the field below, and Yamcha was not immune to it. He turned to look up at Piccolo with a grin on his face.

“So, got any New Year’s resolutions?” he asked curiously. Piccolo stared down at him for a moment, clearly confused.

“New Year’s resolutions?” he repeated. Yamcha let out a small chuckle.

“What, did you guys not do that where you were from?” he asked with a lopsided smirk of amusement. When the Namekian responded with a shake of his head, he decided to explain.

“Well, it’s a New Year’s tradition. At the beginning of the year, you’re supposed to decide at least one thing you want to accomplish before the end of that year. It can be anything you want; something you want to do or see, or even something you want to stop doing. A lot of people tend to go with losing weight, but you certainly don’t have to worry about that, huh?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I figure I could stand to lose a few pounds,” said the man without an ounce of fat on his body, a sardonic smirk spreading across his lips. Yamcha couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at the jab.

“Alright, for real, though. What’s your resolution?”

“You first. I only just learned about this today. Tell me yours while I think of something.”

“Alright…” Yamcha relented, thinking on it for a moment. Truth be told, he wasn’t much more prepared himself, but he managed to come up with something. “I guess the responsible thing would be for me to find a new job.”

Piccolo let out a small chuckle at that.

“Ah, so that must mean you’ve also resolved to be responsible for once,” he teased lightly, giving the other man’s shoulder a small shove. Yamcha responded with a laugh, knowing he was joking. He’d grown used to Piccolo’s dry sense of humor over the past few months.

“Hey, we all gotta grow up sometime. I just decided to put it off ‘til my mid-thirties,” he retorted, and the two of them shared a good-natured chuckle before getting back to the subject at hand.

“Alright, I told you mine. What’d you come up with for your resolution?”

“Well…” Piccolo began, staring off into his own thoughts, “I think I’d like to be less of a wallflower at Bulma’s parties. It seems like everyone’s gotten comfortable with having me around, so I suppose it wouldn’t kill me to talk to them more.”

“That sounds like a good idea to me. Who knows? You might become biggest social butterfly of us all by the end of the year!” Yamcha relied with a goofy grin. Piccolo smiled lightly, but turned away somewhat bashfully.

“Hey now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’ll call it a victory if I manage to get out one decent conversation each gathering.”

Their conversation was cut off at that point, as the noise from the people down below started to grow, pulling Yamcha’s attention away momentarily. He looked down on the field and noticed that everyone was now focused on the small stage set up at the far end. A large screen displayed the countdown clock, counting down the seconds until midnight. The countdown had entered the last minute, prompting the increased commotion down below. When the clock came down to the last ten seconds, the crowd below began counting aloud in unison.

When the clock finally struck midnight, several fireworks were launched from behind the stage, exploding into huge blooms of fire that lit up the night sky. Yamcha could see all of the couples embracing down below. A grin spread across his lips as he turned towards Piccolo once more, hoping that they could do the same. Once he saw his face, however, his smile instantly evaporated.

Piccolo sat there, frozen, staring up at the sky with wide, terror-filled eyes. His jaw was clenched so tightly that it almost looked painful, and his hands clung at the ground at his sides. Yamcha had never seen him so scared in his life. Surely it couldn’t be the fireworks, could it?

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, placing a hand on the Namekian’s shoulder. Piccolo suddenly snapped out of his daze at the contact, slapping Yamcha’s hand away and scrambling back from him in a panic, shouting something in a language he’d never heard before.

“Woah, easy! It’s just me! What’s wrong? What happened?”

Piccolo didn’t seem able to answer right away, merely sitting there panting lightly, staring at Yamcha as though unsure if he recognized him. Before he could fully calm himself down enough to reply, another firework exploded in the sky above, causing him to flinch and bark out a word that Yamcha was almost certain was some sort of swear. Well, that settled it; it was definitely the fireworks he was afraid of. But why? Surely this wasn’t the first time he’d ever seen them…

Of course, it could be the first time he’d seen them since reuniting with Kami. So, it was a memory then. But what could have possibly happened to make him afraid of fireworks of all things? It couldn’t have something to do with what burned down his childhood home, could it?

Well, whatever it was, it wouldn’t do to stick around if they were going to freak Piccolo out like this. Yamcha reached out with his hand once more, moving slowly this time and well within his view, as though he were approaching a frightened animal. It worked, and though he still looked shaken, he didn’t pull back like before.

“C’mon. I think we should go home,” Yamcha said softly. He didn’t bother asking what it was all about. That could wait for later. Piccolo wasn’t about to argue the point, nodding his head sharply and taking the other’s hand.

___________________________

The flight back to Piccolo’s home was made in silence as they wound their way up towards the north. They didn’t take the direct route, instead going out of their way to avoid populated areas that might be having their own celebrations with fireworks. Even so, Yamcha could see the Namekian flinch every now and then, likely hearing a blast too far away for humans to hear. Was it the noise that bothered him, then? Yamcha had so many questions, but he bit his tongue for now. He doubted he’d get an answer even if he asked.

Finally, they arrived at Piccolo’s door. Once they were inside, Piccolo leaned his shoulder against the wall of the dark foyer, holding his head in his hand. Yamcha stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure what he should do in this situation. Hell, he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. He had to resist the knee-jerk reaction of asking if Piccolo was okay, aware of the fact that it was likely the stupidest question on the planet. It was quite obvious things were not okay, and he was torn between helplessly wanting to fix it and feeling guilty for having inadvertently caused it. Eventually, the guilt won out.

“Hey… I’m sorry about tonight. I… I didn’t know it would bother you like that…” he said, deeply apologetic. He would have never invited him out if he’d known this would happen. Of course, to be fair, he was sure Piccolo would have declined the invitation if he’d known himself. Even so, Piccolo remained silent. Was he angry? Yamcha decided he must be, letting out a defeated sigh.

“I’ll just… I’ll just go, okay? I’m sure you don’t want me around—”

“No!”

The sudden exclamation caught Yamcha off guard as Piccolo spun about to finally look at him. After a moment, it seemed that the outburst had been equally surprising to the Namekian himself. He caught himself, backing away and averting his gaze as though he were embarrassed by the desperation in his voice.

“I… I think it would be best if you stayed… I’m not sure what will happen if I…” he trailed off there, and Yamcha could hear the strain in his voice. Piccolo was still terrified, presumably of being left alone. Perhaps that’s what worried Yamcha the most, and what determined his answer before he had the chance to actually think it over.

“Yeah… Yeah, of course.”

Description
Chapter 8: Resolution

Curiosity was an interesting beast. It can drive a person to do things they may not have bothered with under normal circumstances, all in the name of acquiring non-essential knowledge. Combine curiosity with infatuation, and you get the raw drive that would define Yamcha’s life for the next several weeks. It was about noon on New Year’s Eve when he found himself walking up to the entrance to Capsule Corp., a small scrap of paper held in his hand. Piccolo was still recovering bits and pieces of his old life, but it was slow going, and he only seemed to be remembering the time before he’d turned eighteen. Yamcha wanted to know what had happened beyond that, and he wanted to do anything he could to help him remember.

There was also something that was bothering him about it all. Everything Piccolo remembered so far was pleasant, for the most part. He’d had a comfortable childhood, if a bit sheltered. What had happened to make the previous guardian hide all of his memories? Did it perhaps have something to do with the fire that burned down his old home? He supposed that must have had something to do with it, but he wouldn’t know for sure unless he dug a little deeper.

He made his way inside, walking past the receptionist’s desk as he usually did, though he didn’t go in search of Bulma this time. No, this time he felt he would get more use from employing the aide of her father. He headed back towards Dr. Briefs’ lab, announcing his presence by knocking against the frame of the open door. The old scientist looked up from his work, the neglected ashes falling from the end of his cigarette as he turned.

“Ah, Yamcha!” Dr. Briefs greeted genially, “What brings you back here to see me?”

Yamcha smiled in reply to his greeting, taking it as an invitation to enter the lab. He’d always gotten along well with Bulma’s father, even after she’d moved on to Vegeta. He was always so laid back, no matter the situation, and Yamcha had even enjoyed a beer with the eccentric old man from time to time. He’d always been fond of imploring the younger man to come to him if he ever needed anything, and Yamcha sincerely hoped the offer still stood.

“Well, I was hoping you could help me dig up some information.”

“Oh?” Dr. Briefs replied, clearly intrigued, “What sort of information?”

“Old records from the twentieth century. You mentioned once that you had contacts in the historical archives. I was hoping you could ask them to look up information on a certain individual.”

Yamcha then handed over the slip of paper he’d been carrying, on which was written Piccolo’s old name in full, as well as a note indicating the year 1925 as his birth year. It wasn’t his actual birth year, of course. It had just been assumed, since he’d appeared to have been about three years old when he’d been found by his adoptive family in 1928.

“Huh. Not a name I’ve heard before,” Dr. Briefs commented after looking over the slip, “If it’s not a significant historical figure, I might not be able to get you much from so long ago.”

“That’s okay. I don’t expect there will be much to find on him. I’ll even take anything you can find on anyone named Scherbakov from that era.”

“Hmm… Well, it might take some time, but I’ll let you know when I get something.”

“That’s fine. I’m not in any big hurry. Thanks for doing this for me. I really appreciate it!”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all. Before you go, are you planning to come over tonight for our New Year party? I promise it won’t be quite so boring and family-friendly as our last few.”

“Oh, uhh… I wish I could, but I’ve actually got a date tonight. We were going to go out and watch the fireworks together.”

“Hey, good for you, son!” Dr. Briefs replied, a sly smirk appearing across his face. “Well, far be it for me to keep you from a pretty young lady! You two kids have fun!”

“Th-thanks! I will!” Yamcha said, though he made a point not to mention that his date was neither young nor a lady. He soon took his leave, taking off into the air towards the north.

_______________________

Late in the evening, Yamcha and Piccolo found themselves walking side by side along the wooded edge of a large field. The trees of the woods were mostly barren, but it was far enough south that the grass of the field was still green in patchy spots and free of snow. Many of the local townspeople had taken advantage of the fair weather, laying out blankets and folding chairs, sharing late night snacks and drinks with their families. The sounds of friendly chatter and music rose up from the scattered crowd, creating a not unpleasant ambiance.

They found a decent spot at the edge of the woods a fair distance away from the crowd and settled themselves down on the bare grass. They were far enough away from the crowd that they could be reasonably assured of a level of privacy for the evening. They hadn’t brought any alcohol along like many of the couple down below, but there would be plenty of time for that later on in the night when they returned home.

The two of them were sitting quite close to one another, which was a sure sign that Piccolo had become infinitely more comfortable around Yamcha. He’d never been the type to enjoy a lot of intimate touching, that much was clear just from observation. They may not hold hands or kiss often like a typical couple might be expected to do, but the fact that the stoic giant was willing to sit so close that their shoulders were touching meant just as much as any of those things.

As midnight approached, the anticipation of the new year grew in the field below, and Yamcha was not immune to it. He turned to look up at Piccolo with a grin on his face.

“So, got any New Year’s resolutions?” he asked curiously. Piccolo stared down at him for a moment, clearly confused.

“New Year’s resolutions?” he repeated. Yamcha let out a small chuckle.

“What, did you guys not do that where you were from?” he asked with a lopsided smirk of amusement. When the Namekian responded with a shake of his head, he decided to explain.

“Well, it’s a New Year’s tradition. At the beginning of the year, you’re supposed to decide at least one thing you want to accomplish before the end of that year. It can be anything you want; something you want to do or see, or even something you want to stop doing. A lot of people tend to go with losing weight, but you certainly don’t have to worry about that, huh?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I figure I could stand to lose a few pounds,” said the man without an ounce of fat on his body, a sardonic smirk spreading across his lips. Yamcha couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at the jab.

“Alright, for real, though. What’s your resolution?”

“You first. I only just learned about this today. Tell me yours while I think of something.”

“Alright…” Yamcha relented, thinking on it for a moment. Truth be told, he wasn’t much more prepared himself, but he managed to come up with something. “I guess the responsible thing would be for me to find a new job.”

Piccolo let out a small chuckle at that.

“Ah, so that must mean you’ve also resolved to be responsible for once,” he teased lightly, giving the other man’s shoulder a small shove. Yamcha responded with a laugh, knowing he was joking. He’d grown used to Piccolo’s dry sense of humor over the past few months.

“Hey, we all gotta grow up sometime. I just decided to put it off ‘til my mid-thirties,” he retorted, and the two of them shared a good-natured chuckle before getting back to the subject at hand.

“Alright, I told you mine. What’d you come up with for your resolution?”

“Well…” Piccolo began, staring off into his own thoughts, “I think I’d like to be less of a wallflower at Bulma’s parties. It seems like everyone’s gotten comfortable with having me around, so I suppose it wouldn’t kill me to talk to them more.”

“That sounds like a good idea to me. Who knows? You might become biggest social butterfly of us all by the end of the year!” Yamcha relied with a goofy grin. Piccolo smiled lightly, but turned away somewhat bashfully.

“Hey now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’ll call it a victory if I manage to get out one decent conversation each gathering.”

Their conversation was cut off at that point, as the noise from the people down below started to grow, pulling Yamcha’s attention away momentarily. He looked down on the field and noticed that everyone was now focused on the small stage set up at the far end. A large screen displayed the countdown clock, counting down the seconds until midnight. The countdown had entered the last minute, prompting the increased commotion down below. When the clock came down to the last ten seconds, the crowd below began counting aloud in unison.

When the clock finally struck midnight, several fireworks were launched from behind the stage, exploding into huge blooms of fire that lit up the night sky. Yamcha could see all of the couples embracing down below. A grin spread across his lips as he turned towards Piccolo once more, hoping that they could do the same. Once he saw his face, however, his smile instantly evaporated.

Piccolo sat there, frozen, staring up at the sky with wide, terror-filled eyes. His jaw was clenched so tightly that it almost looked painful, and his hands clung at the ground at his sides. Yamcha had never seen him so scared in his life. Surely it couldn’t be the fireworks, could it?

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, placing a hand on the Namekian’s shoulder. Piccolo suddenly snapped out of his daze at the contact, slapping Yamcha’s hand away and scrambling back from him in a panic, shouting something in a language he’d never heard before.

“Woah, easy! It’s just me! What’s wrong? What happened?”

Piccolo didn’t seem able to answer right away, merely sitting there panting lightly, staring at Yamcha as though unsure if he recognized him. Before he could fully calm himself down enough to reply, another firework exploded in the sky above, causing him to flinch and bark out a word that Yamcha was almost certain was some sort of swear. Well, that settled it; it was definitely the fireworks he was afraid of. But why? Surely this wasn’t the first time he’d ever seen them…

Of course, it could be the first time he’d seen them since reuniting with Kami. So, it was a memory then. But what could have possibly happened to make him afraid of fireworks of all things? It couldn’t have something to do with what burned down his childhood home, could it?

Well, whatever it was, it wouldn’t do to stick around if they were going to freak Piccolo out like this. Yamcha reached out with his hand once more, moving slowly this time and well within his view, as though he were approaching a frightened animal. It worked, and though he still looked shaken, he didn’t pull back like before.

“C’mon. I think we should go home,” Yamcha said softly. He didn’t bother asking what it was all about. That could wait for later. Piccolo wasn’t about to argue the point, nodding his head sharply and taking the other’s hand.

___________________________

The flight back to Piccolo’s home was made in silence as they wound their way up towards the north. They didn’t take the direct route, instead going out of their way to avoid populated areas that might be having their own celebrations with fireworks. Even so, Yamcha could see the Namekian flinch every now and then, likely hearing a blast too far away for humans to hear. Was it the noise that bothered him, then? Yamcha had so many questions, but he bit his tongue for now. He doubted he’d get an answer even if he asked.

Finally, they arrived at Piccolo’s door. Once they were inside, Piccolo leaned his shoulder against the wall of the dark foyer, holding his head in his hand. Yamcha stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure what he should do in this situation. Hell, he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. He had to resist the knee-jerk reaction of asking if Piccolo was okay, aware of the fact that it was likely the stupidest question on the planet. It was quite obvious things were not okay, and he was torn between helplessly wanting to fix it and feeling guilty for having inadvertently caused it. Eventually, the guilt won out.

“Hey… I’m sorry about tonight. I… I didn’t know it would bother you like that…” he said, deeply apologetic. He would have never invited him out if he’d known this would happen. Of course, to be fair, he was sure Piccolo would have declined the invitation if he’d known himself. Even so, Piccolo remained silent. Was he angry? Yamcha decided he must be, letting out a defeated sigh.

“I’ll just… I’ll just go, okay? I’m sure you don’t want me around—”

“No!”

The sudden exclamation caught Yamcha off guard as Piccolo spun about to finally look at him. After a moment, it seemed that the outburst had been equally surprising to the Namekian himself. He caught himself, backing away and averting his gaze as though he were embarrassed by the desperation in his voice.

“I… I think it would be best if you stayed… I’m not sure what will happen if I…” he trailed off there, and Yamcha could hear the strain in his voice. Piccolo was still terrified, presumably of being left alone. Perhaps that’s what worried Yamcha the most, and what determined his answer before he had the chance to actually think it over.

“Yeah… Yeah, of course.”