Warning(s): None
Word count: 1.9k
Synopsis: You and Piccolo agree on a friendly sparring match that solely relies on each other's skills in close quarter combat.
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The odd little friendship you had with Piccolo had evolved over the course of months. From hardly talking to one another, to engaging in a conversation—well, it was mostly you that did all the talking. Piccolo might not be a man of many words–a Namekian as you had recently learned– however, his body language accompanied by the way he pays close attention to every word you say and would gesture for you to continue on whatever you were explaining is proof enough that he's always listening.
Of the times that you aren't rambling like usual, he would be the one to initiate a conversation with you. In those moments when he did, it was him giving you pointers on certain techniques you were practicing, even sharing you a great deal of knowledge about his own martial art skills.
That's what he was doing right now, the only difference was that he was genuinely intrigued by your own techniques.
"Those techniques… are unlike anything I've ever seen. Where did you learn that from?"
You chuckled at his genuine curiosity as you straightened yourself from your stance. "They were taught to me by my sabumnim, of course I perfected them over time and tweaked them to my liking. Don't get me wrong I still uphold her techniques and will continue to do so in her honor. But I am always experimenting with newfound techniques that work for me nowadays."
His eyes shifted to the ground with his brows drawn together in thoughtful consideration before meeting your gaze. "I see… your master taught you well from the looks of it."
You smiled, placing your hands on your hips and puffing out your chest with pride. "Of course she did! People often questioned her brutal training methods as being too harsh, as crazy as her methods were. It gave results."
Piccolo raised his brows in surprise. "She? So your master was a woman then?"
"You sound surprised." You saw his features hardened almost immediately to hide whatever he was thinking.
"Well, yes, it's uncommon to see any women being a part of the martial arts."
Piccolo does make a valid point. Throughout your years of being a martial artist it was rare to see any women taking part in a mostly male oriented art. Knowing that not many young women take part in it is mainly due to the lack of inclusivity especially the stigma that women shouldn't be involved because of some dumb reason to scare them off and it was frustrating. You wanted to make a change, the same way your master did too to get to where she was. You worked your way up until you were worthy enough to open your own school and teach not only young boys but to young girls as well.
"You're not wrong. That's why I became an instructor in the first place. To prove those egotistical instructors and masters alike that a woman can be better and stronger than a man." You adamantly expressed.
Before he could even respond you had suddenly blurted out.
"Fight me."
His eyes widened and for a moment his left knee gave way in a comical way but he quickly righted himself. He wasn't even certain if he heard you correctly, quite ironic since he has a good sense of hearing. "W-What?!"
"I said: fight me." You repeated.
Your eyes remained locked onto Piccolo for a response. He remained frozen in place struggling to find the words and was hesitant to accept your request. You could tell from the look in his eyes that he was having an internal debate and you found it funny that he was freaking out about fighting you.
"How about this," He blinks to focus his attention on you, "We treat this like any other sparring match, with the exception of only using close quarter combat and kicks. No flying, no strange energy beams—you get the idea."
You were hoping he would at least consider it even if he refused. It wouldn't upset you in the slightest, in fact, you will be looking forward to it when he does decide to accept your proposal. It makes you wonder why he's even hesitating in the first place.
"Fine." Piccolo unfolds his arms and begins to take off his cape.
To your surprise the pointed shoulder caps that were attached to his cape landed with a loud crunching thud. Is his clothing…weighted? You couldn't believe what you were witnessing as he removed his turban revealing a pair of antennae that were hidden underneath.
Just when you were beginning to slowly learn more about him only to be reminded that there are still some details about him and his physiology that you're unfamiliar with. Fueling your ever growing curiosity towards him.
You gestured towards his discarded clothing with a chuckle. "Never would've thought those were weighted."
Piccolo's lips curled into a smirk. "Don't tell me you're easily scared by the weights alone."
Did he just…? He's teasing you!
"Pff, please! I'm not so easily scared." You took a deep breath as you shifted your stance, positioning yourself into an L-stance. With your palms open where you extend your left arm outward matching with your leg and your right hand resting lightly onto your forearm. This was your signature fighting position. "I'll be letting you know when we should start. I'm looking forward to this."
"Is that so?" Piccolo followed suit. The smirk being more prominent that you could see the white of his fangs poking out from under his lips. "I won't disappoint."
You and Piccolo remained grounded from where you two stood— still as a statue—until you shouted.
"Shijak!"
With unnatural speed, Piccolo bolted to strike you with a flurry of punches, of which you barely avoided if not for your instinctual evasion. He kept on striking with his speed to overwhelm your small frame. You won't lie, it had taken you by surprise and you should have known better since he's another race entirely, a Namekian no less. Gradually as you kept up with his pace you were able to predict his movements.
Without warning you evaded his oncoming strike and then simultaneously grabbed a hold of his wrist and struck him in the knee which caused him to lose balance. In one swift motion you twisted his wrist and used your free hand to add pressure to the back of his neck, more particularly where a pressure point was located. Piccolo's body went slack for a moment before his muscles flexed and was overcome by a wave of pain from both neck and wrist. He was gritting his teeth and his eyes were shut.
You then manipulated his body to move wherever you pleased and so you took him by the edge of the lake and then tossed him in.
By the time he went under you had already moved far away from the lake as you waited for him to resurface. You watched as the surface bubbled—the water rippled and suddenly breaking the surface was Piccolo soaked to the bone that his gi was sticking to his skin. It was comical seeing him dart his head around before eventually turning around to face you. He wasn't all too thrilled that you had puppeteered him so effortlessly and then had the balls to throw him in the lake. You could tell from the glare he was throwing at your direction that no one had ever thought to throw him in the way that you had, in fact, you were the first.
Your body moved along with the strong gust of wind that was hitting in your direction causing the fallen leaves and wildflowers to fly around with the current that was swirling around you. Your right leg curled elegantly in a semicircle, positioning yourself into a more grounded stance. Using your extended hand that was pointed towards him— "the giving hand" as you'd like to call it— and coaxed him to come over.
Predictably it set him off.
He jumped out of the water and once his feet touched the ground he instantly made a dash. When he was close enough he went for an uppercut initially aiming towards your stomach, however you simply moved out of the way at an angled displacement and struck him hard by the side of his neck with your fingers.
Piccolo cried out in shock, the feeling in his right arm was rapidly weakening as you went to strike him from behind. He was quick to recover however, and whipped around to grab your arm in an almost death grip, which he had to lessen so as to not accidentally break your arm. Piccolo was preparing to yank you towards him until you utilized a quick sleight of hand movement to free yourself from his grasp giving you a chance to distance yourself from him.
He was beginning to grow frustrated at how easily you have been outmaneuvering him with such little effort, barely breaking a sweat. Meanwhile, he was starting to pant and sweat was trickling down his face.
As he went to do a back kick only for you to dash towards him effectively stopping his kick midway through. You grabbed his already weakened arm by the wrist and twisted it in the opposite direction using your other hand to hold down his shoulder and forcefully made him bend over. There you forced him to follow you into a circle and he had no choice but to follow alongside you.
In the midst of it all the moment the two of you locked eyes and time seemed to slow down. You were fixated on him with a smile that reached your eyes. Through Piccolo's steely gaze you caught it just in time when there was a quick subliminal look in them that you couldn't quite pinpoint what he was trying to convey to you.
Then time seemed to resume and so did your match with Piccolo. Exchanging blows, blocking, and counter attacking each other's strikes. Piccolo went to push you away; he had accidentally used too much of his strength and because of this mistake he had sent you hurtling towards a tree. Almost immediately he extends his arm to incredible lengths catching you by the waist and pulling you towards him.
Your head was spinning for a good minute and massaging your temple to ease the wave of nausea that swept over you. Meanwhile Piccolo kept a close eye on you with his arm firmly wrapped around your waist until you had recovered your bearings.
Piccolo carefully lets you go. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm ok." Your hand was pressed up against his abdomen for support. When you met his gaze you were surprised to see the worry written across his features.
This is the first time you've ever seen him show a visible reaction besides the usual stern, if not, indifferent front. Seeing him worry for you was causing your chest to swell with a strange warmth.
His eyes examined you one last time as he then hummed in thought. "You fought admirably back there. It's not everyday I get to spar with someone that's different from what I'm used to."
"Different is good, you know?" You hid your hands behind your back and averted you eyes to the ground where your hair covered just enough to conceal the redness of your cheeks, "It has helped me in many ways by just sparring with different people, because if you think about it, do you really think your learning by sparring the same person? Or maybe someone similar? Not really."
As you looked up to him the redness of your cheeks were no longer present and the corners of your lips curled into a smile. "Thank you for accepting my proposal, Piccolo. I'm looking forward to sparring with you more often from now on!"