Feet paced across the tile. Stopped. Took another step. Turned on a heel, went back the way they came. Stopped again. Shifted in place. Kept walking.

"What is Piccolo doing?" asked Mr. Popo, peering out at the courtyard from the side of the doorway. Kami leaned in from the other side and narrowed his eyes.

"I think he's talking to himself."

"What? Why, Kami?"

Piccolo murmured quietly under his breath as he paced, hands gesturing anxiously in mimed conversation, eyes glued to the floor in front of him. He'd been at it for nearly ten minutes before Kami noticed his presence, and about ten minutes after that Mr. Popo joined in the snooping.

"If I didn't know any better," Kami said, "I'd say he was rehearsing something."

Mr. Popo looked to his master, his mouth open in surprise. "You don't think it could be related to that woman who was here last week? The one he was so worried about?"

Kami smirked. "I bet you're right. Only one way to find out for certain, though."

"HEY!" The two of them jumped and turned to see Piccolo storming towards the doorway. He halted just shy of the two interlopers and folded his arms across his chest. As imposing as his voice had sounded echoing across the Lookout, his posture was slumped and his eyes were troubled. "You think I can't hear you with these ears? You're ruining my concentration. I've almost got it down."

"Got what down?" asked Mr. Popo in feigned ignorance.

Kami grinned. "Yes, Piccolo, what were you muttering over there?"

Piccolo sneered back at him. "You know damn well, old man."

"Oh, I suppose I do," said Kami, his grin only widening. "But I was hoping to hear you say it."

Piccolo flashed his fangs and growled. "You just want me to humiliate myself in front of you."

"You should be concerned with humiliating yourself in front of her. Why not let us help? Mr. Popo is an excellent sounding board, and I say so from experience. He also knows the Earth ways of romance better than anyone I know."

Piccolo slid the little man and incredulous look. "Is that true?"

"I'm well-read on the subject," said Mr. Popo. "Very well-read."

The last of Piccolo's patience dried up with a visible grind of his teeth. "Why are you even here? Can I talk to Kami alone please?!"

Mr. Popo eyed Kami evenly and the old Namek nodded that it was all right for him to go. "I'll get supper started, then," he said, and he bowed out of the conversation and left for the kitchens.

Kami stood up a bit straighter with the help from his staff. "Well done. A perfect learning opportunity, squandered. And so impolitely, too."

"I said please, didn't I? Will you shut up and walk with me?"

The two green figures made their way across the courtyard of the Lookout. Piccolo slowed to a stop beneath the shade of one of the palms, sighed, rested his hands on his waist. At first he said nothing, just stood completely still and stared down at one of the chips in the tile, his brow creasing under the strain of some inner conflict. His frown deepened. Kami waited patiently.

"I know most of I want to say to her," Piccolo said at last, already blushing by the time the words left his lips. "It's just a matter of…starting."

Kami wracked his brain for a second or two. He had no personal experience with this sort of thing, but being the guardian of the planet he had been a witness to countless conversations—arguments, proposals, the darkest confessions. He tried to dredge up every example he could think of regarding professions of love, especially when it came to a woman. "Perhaps you might be wise to start with a compliment."

"A compliment?"

Kami nodded emphatically. "Yes, that should be the best way to begin. I'm certain of it."

"A compliment..." Piccolo put a hand over his mouth, drumming fingers against his cheek. "What should I say?"

"Well," said Kami, "what is it about her that you find attractive?"

Piccolo froze in place. "Wh-what?"

"What do you like the most about her physically?"

"Physically?" Purple flooded up Piccolo's ears and he darted his eyes to the floor again. "You mean…about her body? I can't."

"You can't?"

"I've heard the way men speak about women's bodies. It's disgusting and disgraceful. I-I won't do it."

Kami chuckled. "Your courtesy is certainly endearing, but you needn't be lewd about it, Piccolo. Pick something innocent to comment on. Her hair, her eyes? Or it doesn't need to be a physical thing at all. Surely there's something, anything about her you find pleasing."

Piccolo's brow lowered as he sunk into thought. For at least a good minute he remained silent and tried to come up with something, or perhaps he was only trying to find the best way to phrase his choice. Finally he pressed his lips together, took a breath in through his nose and said conclusively, "She's very soft."

Warning bells went off in Kami's head right away. "Soft?!" He shoved his staff into Piccolo's stomach so hard he forced him to double over around it. "Absolutely do not say that!"

Piccolo coughed and staggered back, clutching his belly. "Wh-why not?"

"What do you mean 'why not'? I refuse to believe you're this ignorant. It's common knowledge that you don't bring up a woman's weight whatsoever."

"That's not what I'm even talking about!"

Kami squinted at him and lowered his staff. "Go on."

Piccolo took a deep breath and wiped sweat from his neck, blushing even more furiously now. "Look, what I mean is, the other day, I—" He hesitated for a second, shook his head. "—I kept her from pulling away. She put her arms around me and I held her there when I thought she might stop. I just…wanted to keep her softness, her gentleness, there with me. Does that even sound like something I would do?"

"It sounds like you enjoy her company very much," said Kami, looking pleased. "And it seems to me that she enjoys yours as well. Are you still so adamant that she couldn't possibly feel the same for you?"

Piccolo huffed. "I can't imagine why she'd feel the same. I'm green and huge. I have a shit temper and worse patience." His eyes grew distant and he pulled the turban from his head to wring between his hands. "Hana's small and warm and…peaceful. She's good to Gohan. She's kind, too. Kind to a fault. I don't think I've ever known someone so good-natured."

Kami smiled at the fondness in his voice. Not once had he ever heard Piccolo speak such tender words about another person before. Even talk of Gohan didn't elicit such a delicate tone. "You see?" he said. "Now there's a good compliment."

Piccolo looked suddenly nauseous. "I can't say all that to her."

"And why not?"

"Because I'm going to make a goddamn fool of myself." He heaved a weary sigh, his antennae drooping down onto his forehead. Kami had never seen him look so defeated outside of battle, though he supposed this was a battle of a different sort. Piccolo stood there pitifully, not meeting the older man's eyes, the most profound misery on his pallid face. "Look, if I get this wrong and ruin the friendship I have with her, I—" He winced, unable to even complete the thought.

"You think Hana would be so cruel as to renounce your friendship over your admitted feelings?"

"Hana could never be cruel. She'd let me down easy and drift away slow, which would almost be worse." He crossed his arms, looking paler by the second. "Damn it, I lived through a fight with Freeza and this is what's going to do me in."

Kami nudged him with his staff. "Just talk to her. It won't be as hard as you think."

"I know. It'll be harder."

.

.

"Harder!"

Hana's fist connected with his open palm.

"Harder!" he urged her.

"I can't!" She cradled her hand to her chest, flexing the fingers and rolling her wrist. "I'm gonna break my hand if I punch any harder."

Piccolo eased up. They'd been training all week in the mornings while Gohan did his chores, and still the basics eluded her. He kept needing to remind himself that she had no background in this sort of thing, that the punch to his nose on her front porch had been her first physical altercation with anyone. This was why he let Gohan fend for himself in the wilderness for six months before attempting any real training. He had such little patience for explaining what, to him, was second nature. He might as well be trying to teach her to breathe or walk. They had a long way to go before bukujutsu would become a possibility.

"You're still striking without your ki," he said. "I thought we went over this yesterday. You have to push through the movement using your energy more than your hand."

Hana shook her arm out and rubbed her elbow. "I still don't get how, though. I can feel my ki but it won't do anything."

"That's because you're still treating it as something apart from yourself. Your ki is your self."

"It is my self." Hana spoke his words like a mantra, closing her eyes and drawing in a calming breath. Her fingers curled into fists again.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded and pulled her arm back to prepare her attack. This time Piccolo felt the air rush towards his palm well before her knuckles connected. "How was that? Did I do it?"

"Why do you need me to answer that for you? Surely you felt it."

Hana grinned. "I did."

"Then do it again."

Her second fist followed fast, a weaker effort but still an improvement. She continued to punch at him as her stamina petered out, and when he dropped his hands from in front of him her fist stopped short of his stomach.

"Why did you stop?" he asked.

"You pulled the target."

"Hana, every time you extend your arm to attack it must be with the intent of following through. Remember, my palms aren't your ultimate target. You're trying to attack my body."

Hana panted and brushed a bit of perspiration from above her eyebrows. "And what if I hurt you?"

Piccolo smirked. "You won't."

"Don't sound so sure of yourself."

"If you'd like to prove me wrong, come at me. Hit me once and I'll consider today a success."

And so they fought. For Piccolo it felt like sparring in slow-motion, but his concentration never wavered—if anything, he concentrated more during these sessions with Hana than with Gohan. With Gohan there was no need to hold back, but Hana was delicate and distressingly human. He spent nearly as much energy reigning himself in as he would letting loose in any other fight. The limitations of her training presented an interesting challenge at the very least, one he was surprised to enjoy so much.

Her strikes were sluggish but elegant in form. She focused too heavily on the positioning of her body and sacrificed fluidity and speed. He would need to address that first thing during their session tomorrow. "Your ki," he reminded her after an especially feeble punch that he swatted away, and the next one was worse. "Your ki!"

"It's hard to keep it up," she answered breathlessly. "I-I'm getting tired."

Piccolo wanted to make her stop right then and there, but he could hear Kami in the back of his head—"You go awfully soft on her, don't you?"

"Then give up," he told her.

Frustration reddened Hana's face as she redoubled her efforts, and Piccolo immediately regretted goading her on when she undoubtedly needed to rest. Her strikes grew desperate and stronger, but his focus kept darting to her eyes—intense and tenacious and so very green. Who knew she was capable of such fervor? His throat tightened, his pulse quickened. How easy it would be to catch her by the wrist and wrap his arms around her right here and now…

She hit with her right fist, shifted her weight, danced around his side to attack his back. Piccolo blinked and missed her. What was he doing with his head in the clouds during a sparring match? His arm swung behind him to block her punch, but he realized his haste too late.

His elbow met flesh and bone in a sharp, sudden impact and Hana went flying. She didn't even make a sound as he hit her, just landed in the grass and tumbled a good dozen meters or so until she stopped.

Panic flooded Piccolo like a breaking dam. "Hana!"

She pushed herself into a seated position by the time he reached her, one hand held firmly over her left eye. "I'm all right. I-I'm good."

"Let me see." Piccolo knelt beside her and gently moved her hand away. The skin beneath the eye was split and bleeding from the sheer force of the blow, and already the eye itself was beginning to swell shut. Every cell in his body ached with shame.

"How's it look?" she asked, her voice small but hopeful.

"Like I nearly broke your eye socket. Hana, I'm so sorry." He groaned at the sight of her. "We need to get ice on this."

Holding her gingerly, Piccolo brought her into the house and sat her down at the kitchen table. The bright indoor light only served to accentuate the severity of her injury. What he could see of her left eye was bloodshot and damp, and blood streamed down her cheek and stained her t-shirt and yoga pants with thick red drips. He wet a dishtowel and cleaned her face using all the tenderness he could muster, berating himself for this entire situation. He was so stupid. So irresponsible. Too rough. What was he doing thinking he had any right admitting his feelings to her, especially now? He'd been trying all week since his conversation with Kami, trying to get up the courage, trying to find that perfect moment. And this…this was far from perfect.

"It's okay, Piccolo."

"Huh?"

"You're making such a face right now," she said with a little laugh. "And your hands are shaking."

"S-sorry." He washed the last of the blood from her jaw and stood there, cradling her chin between his fingers. She looked dreadful, beaten, entirely expended. And yet, somehow, she found the strength to smile up at him. His breath caught just behind his tongue. "Hana, I—"

"Hey, no more apologizing. It was an accident," she said, waving him off. "I didn't go into this training thinking I wasn't gonna get hit at some point, so please don't worry."

Piccolo frowned and turned to the freezer. Thankfully Chi-Chi had enough ice packs in there for a small bruised army, and he fished one out for Hana and wrapped it in another dishtowel. She let out a low moan as he pressed the pack to her eye. "Sorry," he said again.

Hana leaned into the ice, sniffled, and a second later her expression crumpled and she started to cry. Piccolo reared back, unsure of what to do. He recalled unpleasantly the last time he saw her cry, when his makankōsappō had destroyed her car and frightened her, and he had mocked her to her face for it. He wanted to throw up. He wasn't even sure if he was capable of throwing up.

"Hey, s-stop that," he told her. "You'll just make it worse." He lifted the ice pack to check the swelling. Hana's eye was puffy but hadn't shut entirely yet, so that was a relief. Her mouth strained into a grin despite the tears. She should've been livid with him, or irritated at the very least, but she was trying to be brave, trying to lessen his guilt. Kind to a fault, just as he told Kami.

The front door opened and closed, and Chi-Chi appeared in the kitchen in a pair of dirtied overalls and a sunhat. "Those weeds are on another level, I swear," she said, making a beeline for the fridge. She got a drink, turned to Piccolo and Hana, and almost choked on it. "What on earth?! Hana, your eye!"

Hana waved. "Hi, Miss Chi-Chi."

"Don't be alarmed," said Piccolo. "I injured her during our training but she'll be all right."

Chi-Chi whirled on him with a furious stare. "You did this?"

He actually found himself shrinking back from her accusatory tone, though he knew he deserved a good raking over the coals. "Y-yes, I did."

"You idiot." Chi-Chi grumbled and dug into the fridge again. She poured some of the yellow contents of a pitcher into a glass and brought it to Hana. "Here you go, dear, drink up. Pineapple juice promotes healing. And I'll send you home with some marigold for tea, that'll help as well."

Hana sipped the juice appreciatively and dried her eyes. "Thank you, Miss Chi-Chi."

"You're very welcome. Unfortunately I have way too much experience dealing with this sort of thing, my family being who they are." Chi-Chi sighed, her pleasantry fading, and glared daggers at Piccolo. "And you. How is Gohan meant to do well in his studies if his teacher's in the hospital?" She snatched the ice pack from him and touched it to Hana's eye again.

"Aw, Miss Chi-Chi, it was—ow!—it was an accident."

Chi-Chi tended to her, lips pursed. "Hana, it's your business what you do outside of teaching my son, but if Piccolo won't be careful I beg you to reconsider this training."

Piccolo shrunk further into himself, positive that this couldn't get worse.

Little footsteps sounded down the hallway. "Mom, I'm done cleaning my room, can I go—" Gohan paused in the entryway to the kitchen. "—find Miss Hana? Woah. What happened?"

Chi-Chi jabbed a finger in Piccolo's direction. "He happened."

Piccolo felt his ears heat with humiliation as Gohan gazed up at him with those wide, questioning eyes. It got worse.

"Not on purpose," Hana clarified. That she would defend him so readily…god, it was like needles in his chest. Because accident or not, he had still hurt her terribly. Accident or not, there was no taking it back. He swallowed down his rising unease and watched in silence as Chi-Chi and Gohan fussed over Hana and bandaged the split skin on her cheekbone.

"I think classes are cancelled today," said Chi-Chi. "You should take it easy and recuperate. I can't imagine the rest of you is any better from getting beat up all week."

Hana laughed. "You should've seen me this morning, I could barely get out of bed."

Piccolo flinched.

Chi-Chi sent Gohan to his room with his books to get some studying done and then helped Hana out to the sofa. "I'm okay," Hana kept saying. "I can still teach." But in spite of her claims it was clear her pain was worse than she let on. Chi-Chi got her situated with pillows and blankets, fetched her painkillers and more juice, really went all-out on the caretaking and helicoptering.

Piccolo remained in the kitchen to mope with a glass of water, grinding his teeth so hard his molars throbbed.

When Chi-Chi came back she didn't look happy. She sat down opposite from him at the table and folded her arms over the bib of her overalls. "Hana's napping," she whispered to him. "She'll be fine, she's a tough cookie."

He thumbed at the edge of his glass.

"I just hope you apologized to her, Piccolo."

"Not nearly enough."

Her brow softened just a touch and she dropped her hands to her lap. She frowned, fiddled with her nails for a moment, then said, "Y'know, Goku's hurt me a lot on accident over the years."

Piccolo didn't respond, terrified that he was about to have a moment with this woman. His insides felt cold and heavy. Throwing up was still a very distinct possibility.

Chi-Chi shrugged. "Wasn't his fault, of course. He's just so strong, he doesn't realize sometimes what he's capable of. I remember one time he came home from a long fishing trip, scooped me into this great big bear hug. Nearly crushed my ribs. Bruised plenty of 'em. 'I'm sorry' was the only thing out of his mouth for a week."

"Chi-Chi, I don't—"

"I know, I know. You don't wanna hear this, and I'm honestly not sure why I'm trying to make you feel better about what you did. All I'm saying is that you're not the first person to unintentionally hurt someone they love."

Love.

"Wh—" The blood drained from Piccolo's head so fast he felt faint. "What?" It was hard to keep his voice quiet.

She cracked a grin. "Oh please, don't look so shocked. I've known from the start."

"How—"

"I'm not some idle housewife, Piccolo, I do pay attention."

Piccolo deflated into his chair as Chi-Chi went to the fridge and returned with a pitcher of water to refill his glass. He couldn't believe she'd known of his feelings for Hana this entire time, probably even before he did. He almost started laughing.

"By the way, if you're planning to tell her," Chi-Chi continued once she topped him off, "you'd best do it sooner rather than later. Someone's bound to snatch her up. Hana's a very nice young lady, after all. She's sweet, educated, responsible, loves kids. Y'know, good wife material."

Piccolo gagged, hacking and sputtering up water until he was purple. He clamped hands over his mouth to keep himself muffled so as not to wake Hana out on the couch.

Chi-Chi snickered. "I'm only teasing you, Piccolo. God, you with a wife, that'll be the day." She shook her head at him and put the pitcher in the fridge, but as she went to leave for the laundry room she hung back, a hand on the doorframe. "I'm giving her tomorrow off, by the way."

Piccolo just stared at her, water dribbling from his chin onto the table.

She sighed impatiently. "This is me trying to give you an opportunity, you dummy. And you might wanna wear something nicer than your dirt-stained gi when you inevitably show up at her house."

He looked down at this clothes and tugged at the neckline, and by the time he finished inspecting his cleanliness, or apparent lack thereof, Chi-Chi had left.

Guzzling the rest of his water, he stood from the table. Some serious meditation was in order.

.

.

Hana leaned in towards the bathroom mirror and put the finishing touches of concealer around her eye. A day later and it somehow looked darker and uglier than yesterday, but thankfully a steady diet of painkillers and Chi-Chi's marigold tea had brought the swelling down. Pills couldn't touch her headache, though. It pounded out from her eye socket and right into the center of her brain. If she moved her head too fast a bout of dizziness and nausea reminded her to take it easy. Chi-Chi told her to spend the day resting, and that had been the plan until Danny's text early that afternoon.

[boss cut my hours so i can come over at like 6 if it's not too much trouble, xo]

She'd dug up his clothes from the closet—two pairs of jeans, sweatpants, and a handful of old graphic tees—and folded them on the coffee table so he could come in, grab them, and be on his way. It would be quick and painless and then she could sprawl on the sofa again.

The doorbell rang as she snapped her makeup compact shut. "Coming!"

It felt like déjà vu opening that front door and seeing him standing square on the welcome mat. He wore his white work button-down untucked and had his unruly black hair pulled back in a short ponytail. For a fleeting, uncomfortable moment she thought he was staring at the makeup over her eye, but he grinned and rattled a small pink box in his hands. "Heya," he said. "Wanna trade?"

Hana eyed it covetously. Damn it, he knew her too well. "Sure, come on in. I've got your stuff in the living room." She led him inside to the coffee table and he went directly to the sweatpants.

"Oh man, that's them all right!" He gave her the box and took the pants into his arms, rubbing his cheek against the orange fabric and cooing.

Hana peeked inside the box. Whatever it was, it was absolutely drowned in powdered sugar and smelled so sweet her teeth zinged. "What's this thing?"

"That's a beignet. Probably still kinda warm, too. I made a batch right before I took off and figured you might like one."

"You figured right." Hana bit into the sweet, puffy pastry and melted down onto the couch.

"Good, huh? All that culinary school you paid for didn't go to waste." Danny gave a self-depreciating laugh as Hana busied herself with inhaling the beignet as fast as possible. He flipped through his t-shirts in the meanwhile, making a little disappointed noise once he reached the end of the stack. "Aw, you don't have the cat shirt?"

"The cat shirt?" she said with her mouth full.

"My 'cat loves food' shirt. Y'know, that dumb commercial?"

"I don't think so. I didn't see it in the closet."

"No worries, I'll go check real quick." He headed to the bedroom without a second thought and hit the light switch before Hana could stop him. "Ah, I remember this place. Different bedspread, though." He slid open the closet door and started sifting through hangers.

"H-hey!" Hana rushed after him and wedged herself in between him and the closet. Her head spun from the effort. "You don't live here anymore, remember? You can't just search through my stuff."

"What's this?" Disregarding her, Danny reached past her and lifted a hanger from the rack. Hana saw what he held and her ki spiked—the peach blossom dress that Piccolo made.

"It's just a dress," she said, a little miffed. Her heart beat high in her throat.

Danny gave her a skeptical look. "You don't wear dresses."

"I did sometimes, you just never noticed."

"Well I know I've never seen this one before." He felt the lace sleeves between his fingers. "Seems expensive. Who bought it for you?"

Hana snatched the dress back from him and hung it up again. "No one bought it for me, you dirty snoop." Technically not a lie. "Now let me look for your shirt."

"Awright, awright." Danny retreated from the closet with hands up and Hana resumed the hunt. She checked the rest of the hung clothing and under the things on the shelves. The box in the corner that had contained his things was empty now. His cat shirt was probably long gone. Or maybe it was in the bottom of his own closet. Either way, staying crouched like this was only worsening her headache.

"I don't see it anywhere," she said.

"Betcha you threw it out on accident. It was pretty ratty." His voice sounded distant and when Hana got her head out of the closet she saw him standing by the window. He had his back to her but she could tell his face was tilted towards the photo of the two of them on the table there. She watched him lift the frame to get a better look. "This was taken at your parents' anniversary dinner, right?"

"Yeah."

"Man, look how thin I was. Guess this is what working in a bakery gets me. Now that I got my lucky sweats back I need to hit the gym." His shoulders shook a little as he chuckled. "We look happy here. We were happy, right?"

"We were. For the most part."

Danny turned and gave her that crooked smile. "Why do you still have this out? Still got the hots for me, huh?"

Hana's eyebrows pinched together in aggravation. "Really, Danny—"

"Hey, no, I'm kidding!" He put his hands up again, laughing, and his ringtone went off. It was still the same obnoxious jingle that Hana remembered from a year ago. Danny grabbed the cell from his back pocket, checked the number. "I should answer this." He put the phone to his ear. "Hey, babe, what's up?"

Hana looked at him in surprise. Babe?

"Oh, sure, sure," he said to the person on the other end. "I'll stop by the store on the way over. I'm about to head out, so gimme like an hour? Okay. See you in a bit. Love you, too." He hung up and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Who was that?" Hana asked.

"Sorry, that was Sencha." He was a little pink now. "My girlfriend."

She almost screamed. "Your girlfriend?"

"It's not a big deal. We've only been dating for like a month."

She wanted to ask him a thousand questions—how did they meet? What was this woman like? But something wasn't sitting quite right with her about that phone conversation. "Wait, she doesn't even know you're here, does she? You didn't tell her."

His eyes got round and scared. "Of course not! You really think I'd be stupid enough to tell my girlfriend I'm going to my ex's house? Actually don't answer that." He poked his thumb towards the bedroom door and changed the subject before she could lecture him further. Typical Danny. "Hey, I should get my clothes and hit the road. Sen wants me to grab her some milk for the morning. That okay? I'm sure you've got stuff to plan and things to grade like always."

"Oh, yeah, that's okay."

It was probably best to just let him leave. They walked back to the living room. Hana scolded herself for the hypocrisy—she was right, he didn't live with her anymore. They weren't dating. How he decided to handle his current relationship wasn't her business. But god, just being around him for ten minutes had already been enough to dredge up her old urge to mother him.

"By the way, Hana."

The sudden uncomfortable sternness of his stare surprised her. "Uh-huh?"

Danny moved close to her, taking her face in his hands, freezing her in place with the sincerity of his gesture. He never used to be this gentle with her. What was he doing? "Listen," he said, "before I go, I just need to know you're okay. I need to know you're in a good situation."

"Huh?"

"Are you happy?" he asked.

She didn't bother hiding her blatant confusion at his question. "Danny, I broke up with you, remember? Shouldn't it be me asking you that?"

"That's not what I mean."

She placed her hands over his. "What are you trying to say, then?"

He licked his thumb and rubbed the concealer from under her eye. She inhaled fast from the pain and the unwelcome urge to vomit, but it passed a second later. "Hana, who did that to you?"

"That hurt. And it's not what you think, trust me."

"It's not?"

"No." She sighed. He might as well know. "I'm…kinda taking martial arts lessons."

"Martial arts—what?" Danny blinked and let go of her face. "Okay, I was willing to let the dresses thing slide. But I know you've never been interested in martial arts before. I even tried to take you to a tournament once, remember?"

"I can change my mind, y'know. I can develop new interests."

Danny side-eyed her with an eyebrow lifted in amusement. "Yeah, yeah. So how hot is this guy?"

Hana scrunched up her lips and gave him such a glare. She couldn't even think of a decent comeback. What was there to argue? He was right. She'd wanted to train mostly to get closer to Piccolo, and it irritated her that even after so much time apart Danny could still read her with zero effort.

He started laughing, not maliciously or intending to tease, but straight from the belly. "I'm just messing with you," he said, wiping the corner of his eye. "That's actually really great, Hana. You learned any moves yet?"

"We've mostly been focusing on strikes but I'm pretty slow. I'm not exactly a natural."

"I don't believe that for a second! What've you been working on? I wanna see.

Hana couldn't help but grin. "Don't you have a girlfriend waiting for you? Or has she already figured out that she needs to tack thirty minutes onto whatever timeframe you give her?"

"She can wait. C'mon, just real quick! Please?"

Her head was killing her, but god it was hard to say no to that excited puppy face. "Oh all right. But not in the house."

"Yes!"

They went out back, down the wooden porch steps, and found a decent patch of sandy grass between the house and the rising tide. Hana stood a few paces from Danny and took a deep breath, readying her ki for the demonstration. "Okay, you'll wanna hold your hands out in front of you," she told him, and he did. "If I do this right, you'll feel my punch before I even hit you."

Danny's eyes widened. "Cool!"

Hana sank into the fighting stance she'd picked up from Piccolo—left shoulder forward, knees bent, left arm outstretched but loose, weight on the back foot so she could push off and strike with her right fist first.

Danny looked at her funny. "What the heck kinda martial arts stance in that?"

"It's Piccolo's. The guy teaching me, he uses this."

"And this Piccolo dude…he's a good fighter?"

Now Hana almost felt offended. "He's incredible. Now do you wanna see this or not?"

Danny hushed up.

"Get ready!" She came at him fast, her ki surging out through her arm, and Danny caught her fist in both hands. The force of her shoved him backwards a few feet through the rough grass, the heels of his shoes leaving twin trenches in the ground. He blinked and let go of a startled puff of air.

"H-holy shit, Hana."

She beamed triumphantly in spite of the mad throbbing in her head. "That was awesome! I can't knock Piccolo back like that. Can we do it again?"

Danny flexed his fingers. "Sure, just ease up a little, will ya? That punch was no joke."

Hana put a bit more distance between them and lowered into Piccolo's stance once Danny readied his hands. Like last time, she raised her ki and pushed off with her back foot to sprint towards him and strike, but as she forced the energy through her fist she felt her entire body just give, and she staggered and collapsed against Danny's chest.

"Hana? Hana!"

.

.

She regained consciousness moments later to the sound of Danny's voice still calling out, only this time it wasn't directed at her.

"—hey, I'm talking to you, what are you—hey, don't walk away from me! Let her go!"

She was moving, rocking forward and back, held securely by familiar arms. Piccolo carried her effortlessly across the grass. He didn't speak. His turban was a magnificent burgundy silk, the fabric against her cheek soft ecru linen.

"It's you," Hana said with an outpouring of relief.

Piccolo didn't stop moving until he reached the house, brought Hana inside, and draped her gently across the sofa cushions. He stayed there for a moment, his hand lingering, thumb stroking her hair. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She knew she must be blushing. He looked so concerned. "Mm-hm."

Danny had followed them and now hovered by the couch. "Uh, what's going on? Who is this guy? This is your trainer, isn't it? I think I recognize him from TV."

Piccolo turned from Hana, all traces of gentleness gone, and snatched Danny by the front of his shirt. "I'm the guy you're going to fucking explain this to." He drove Danny into the wall hard enough to rattle picture frames.

"Ow! Dude, lay off, I-I didn't do anything!"

Hana sat up and tried to intervene but couldn't find the strength to raise her voice over them.

"Didn't do anything? You brought her outside to spar with you." Piccolo gave him another shove into the wall as added punctuation. "She's injured. She needs to rest."

"She was fine with it! She wanted to show me—i-isn't that right, Hana?"

"Don't you talk to her, you're talking to me. I don't care if she wanted to, you knew she was hurt."

A cold energy beat against Hana's breast and she realized it was Piccolo's ki coming off him in furious waves. Even when they trained she couldn't detect his energy, and now it was almost overwhelming, like drowning in ice water. "Piccolo," she said to him, nearly choking on the sound. "That's enough. Stop."

"We're just having a conversation, Hana. Man to man."

Danny fought in Piccolo's grip but couldn't free himself. "She doesn't need you playing white knight for her," he said. "She's a grown woman, y'know!"

Piccolo snarled. "A grown woman with a concussion!"

"Yeah, and whose fault is that?!"

Hana flinched, anticipating violence, but the suffocating force of the ki fell away all at once and the room suddenly felt strangely empty. Piccolo's fingers loosened and Danny smoothed out his shirt, eyes wide with confusion, looking like a cornered animal that had just been let go at the last second.

"Get out of here," said Piccolo. His voice was quieter now.

But Danny was determined to be stupid and defiant until the end. "This isn't your house, asshole. You can't kick me out."

Piccolo flashed his fangs.

"Guys," Hana snapped. Both men turned to her. "C'mon, Danny, your girlfriend's waiting on you. If you get roughed up, you're going to have to explain yourself to her. You really wanna do that?"

"I guess not." Danny took this break in the altercation to put some distance between himself and Piccolo. He gathered up his clothes, holding them to his chest, and moved hesitantly towards the door. "Look, sorry, Hana, I didn't mean—AHH!" Piccolo advanced on him without another warning, driving him to the door where he frantically reached for the knob and escaped into the fading daylight. The slam echoed through the house and her head.

Piccolo was breathing hard, a flush of anger coloring his face. He wet his lips with a pass of his purple tongue, turned, and met her gaze. A thousand words were there in the crease of his brow but he couldn't seem to voice them. He vanished into the kitchen instead and Hana closed her eyes. Just for a minute. The next thing she knew something cold and wet touched her bruise and some of the tension ebbed away. "Have you been icing it?" Piccolo asked. He had dampened a dish towel with water and wrapped several cubes from the freezer inside.

"I took some pills and the marigold tea."

"That's good, but the ice will keep the swelling down, and that'll help ease the pain." His voice was close, close enough for his baritone to resonate in her ear. He must have been kneeling beside the sofa. "That ex of yours should've been more careful with you."

"He's harmless." Hana let her eyes drift open and she attempted a reassuring smile, though it did little to smooth the lines in his brow. "Hey, he didn't pressure me into anything, just so you know. It was fun to show him what I could do. I'm proud of what you've taught me."

Piccolo averted his eyes as purple colored his ears.

"You look really nice by the way," she continued, wanting to steer the subject away from Danny as fast as possible. She reached to him and brushed the backs of her fingers down the pale linen tunic. His body tensed beneath her touch and she paused.

Wait. Why was he dressed differently? Come to think of it, why was he even at her house? Why had he come? She gazed up at him, at the anxiety etched in his features, at the bob in his throat as he swallowed and leveled his gaze at her once more.

"Hana." Her name was like a gasp as it left him. "I need to tell you something. Maybe it's the wrong time but I have to say it now before I lose my nerve."

She could sense the gravity in what he said and she slowly sat up. "What is it…?"

Something shifted in his expression. His mouth tightened and his jaw stiffened and he shook a little as if he might pop. "Forgive me, I'm a coward when I look at you, I can't—" He put a hand on her knee to steady his words. "How long have we known each other now?"

"Three months," she answered. "Give or take. Why?"

"And we're friends?"

The question seemed to cut her somehow. "Of course. Piccolo, what are you—"

"I've been trying for so long to tell you that I—that—god, why can't I just open my damn mouth and say it? I practiced it and everything."

His meaning dawned on her in one great swell of emotion. She sat dumbly on the edge of the sofa, staring into his miserable black eyes, seeing his whole heart laid out before her. This was really happening. "It's okay," she said. "Say it."

He drew in a terrified breath. "Hana, I…care for you. Very much." He took both of her hands into his. "It's taken me so long to recognize what this is, and it's taken me even longer to just get to this point. I hope—I just hope—shit, I'm losing it. I-I meant to say so many things here but it's all leaving me. Something about your kindness and how patient you are with Gohan. Something about being soft. Or wait, no, that wasn't the right—wh-what are you—?"

Hana lifted his hands to her lips. His eyes followed the motion. She kissed his warm fingers and her heart sang at the contact between them. The gesture felt so natural, so easy. It was a wonder she hadn't done it on accident before now. She'd wanted this for so long and never thought it possible, and now here he was, knelt on the floor of her living room, stumbling through the most endearing admission of feelings she'd ever heard.

She pressed a kiss into his palm and lifted her lashes to see his face, ashen and astonished. He didn't pull away from her. "It's all right," she spoke against his skin. "I care for you, too, Piccolo."

She felt him shudder. "You…you do?"

She nodded. "I do."

A strained sound started from somewhere in his chest, growing louder until it nearly seemed like a sob, but he was smiling. She could see his teeth. His eyes creased around the edges.

And she realized…he was laughing. Genuinely laughing.

Oh wow, she thought with all the fire and fright of a bomb going off inside of her, I'm completely in love with him.

I haven't forgotten about this fic! I know it's been a long time since the last chapter and I'm so sorry. It feels like every time I come back I just have excuse after excuse. I lost my job in October, worked someplace dreadful for a little while and got terribly depressed for a couple weeks there, then found a wonderful job that I adore! So now I'm feeling the writing bug biting again. Pretty soon I want to try my hand at an honest to goodness romance novel, like for publishing purposes and everything, and if that ever gets off the ground I'll probably mention it in an author's note at the bottom of a new chapter, haha.

Really though, I appreciate everyone who's taken time to leave a comment and encourage me to continue. :D I read every single one and I love you guys so much, and I promise that even though months may go by between updates, I'm still thinking about this story and still writing it, so please try not to give up on me. 3 Thank you all so, so much, and I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter - I know I loved writing it! I felt so great to finally let these two say part of what they've been wanting to say (and I laughed at poor Hana realizing she wanted to drop the L-word on him - that's still a few chapters away, Hana!).

Coming up in later chapters we'll see some Yamcha/Bulma fallout, a night out at a bar, Hana hosting the Z-gang at her place, and dun dun dunnnn...more Piccolo and Danny shenanigans. ;D