Synopsis: (Y/n) is overwhelmed by Piccolo’s ruthless training. Giving up wasn’t an option and admitting defeat would be a slap in the face to your pride. (Y/n) was going to prove herself, even though she's going to get wiped again.
“You’re alright? You’re not hurt?”
“No, no, no, I’m fine! Totally fine, no, no, I’m fine.” You wheezed, hands gripping your knees as you struggled to catch your breath. Sweat trickled down your face and neck, dampening the fabric of your clothes.
When, in fact, you were not fine.
Your muscles screamed in protest, your lungs burned, and your vision was beginning to swim at the edges. Fuck. You weren’t expecting him to take your words so literally and actually unleash on you today.
It had been a long time since you first experienced Piccolo’s full strength, but every time you faced him, it was like reliving that moment all over again. It was a brutal reminder of the vast difference in power between you. No matter how much you trained, how fast you moved, how well you anticipated his attacks—you simply weren’t built for raw strength. Evasion, redirection, and endurance were your game, but even that had its limits when facing someone like him.
How in the actual fuck am I supposed to compete with this?
“Really?” Piccolo’s deadpan voice cut through your thoughts. “Because you’re repeating yourself, you’re pale, and you look like you’re about to pass out.”
You blinked up at him, taking in his usual unimpressed stare. Without his weighted turban and cape, he seemed even more intimidating, standing there in his simple gi and moccasins—completely unaffected by the intensity of the sparring session. Meanwhile, you were dying.
“Yeah, you might wanna catch me.”
The second the words left your mouth, your knees buckled. Darkness tinged your vision for a split second before you felt strong arms catch you with ease. Piccolo’s hold was firm, steady, as if your weight was nothing to him. You found yourself slumped against his chest, the fabric of his gi warm against your cheek as you sucked in slow, deliberate breaths, trying to ease the ache in your lungs.
“Fuck— I’m sorry.” Your voice was muffled against him, and you barely had the energy to move.
“Don’t push yourself.” His tone was firm but not harsh. There was something softer in it, an underlying concern. “There’s only so much the human body can handle, and my training isn’t exactly meant for the faint of heart.”
You let out a breathless, exhausted laugh, your head still pressed lightly against him. No kidding. But just as you were about to make a joke, you felt it—
A subtle shift in his posture.
Piccolo tensed. Just for a moment. It was brief, almost imperceptible, but it was there. The way your breath hit his abdomen, the closeness between you—something about it affected him. You didn’t understand why, but if you weren’t so damn exhausted, you might’ve called him out on it.
Instead, you pushed yourself off of him, standing on shaky legs. You avoided his gaze, a sad smile forming on your lips.
“I knew what I was getting into,” you admitted quietly. “It’s my fault for thinking I could stand a chance against you.” You let out a self-deprecating chuckle, shrugging. “Guess that’s just one of the downsides of being human.”
Piccolo frowned. Deeply.
Something about the way you said that bothered him.
Your humanity was not a weakness. He had seen your strength firsthand, witnessed your skill, your intelligence, your resilience. You were far more capable than you gave yourself credit for.
From the moment you first threw Piccolo to the ground with alarming ease, he had convinced himself it was nothing but a fluke. A mistake. An error on his part for underestimating you—a human of all things.
But then the two of you sparred.
And everything he thought he knew about you unraveled in an instant.
At first, Piccolo was frustrated. Rightfully so.
Your combat skills weren’t just impressive; they were on par with his own. Whether you were humiliating him on purpose or not, the fact remained—his pride took a hit. Every counter, every movement, every effortless evasion of his attacks only confirmed what he refused to admit.
And then it happened.
A subtle shift in energy. His body froze.
His eyes locked onto yours, and something clicked.
He could see it now.
Your ki.
It wrapped around you like a barely visible veil, a natural extension of yourself, flowing with an effortless grace he hadn’t noticed before. Every strike, every well-timed counter—it all made sense now. The energy concentrated at your fingertips, acting as an unseen force that bound his limbs in place.
That explained why the moment your fingers had brushed against his arm, it had gone numb—why his body had betrayed him, allowing you to gain the upper hand so easily.
Piccolo’s sharp gaze lingered on you.
Maybe… you weren’t just an ordinary human after all.
“You’re wrong.”
Your brows knitted together at his sudden remark, uncertainty flashing in your eyes.
Piccolo folded his arms. “I have a friend who’s human. And he’s one of the strongest, most skilled fighters I’ve ever met… even if he’s a scaredy-cat when it comes to danger.”
He grumbled out the last part under his breath, but you still caught it.
A surprised laugh bubbled from your lips.
“The point is,” Piccolo continued, ignoring the way his chest warmed at the sound of your laughter, “humans can become strong. But it requires proper training.”
To emphasize his words, he lifted a hand, conjuring a small sphere of glowing energy in his palm. The orb pulsed gently, illuminating the sharp contours of his face with an ethereal glow.
Your breath hitched.
You had never seen anything like it before.
Cautiously, you stepped forward, leaning in just enough to examine it without risking contact. It was beautiful—like a miniature star resting in his hand, radiating warmth and raw power.
Piccolo watched you silently, noting the fascination in your gaze.
For a moment, something in his chest tightened.
He had seen warriors react to ki before. With admiration. With fear. With greed.
But never with wonder.
“This,” he said, voice quieter now, “is just a small taste of what can be achieved.”
You blinked, pulling your gaze away from the orb to meet his eyes. “It can? So, it’s not something only people born with strength can use?”
Piccolo let the energy dissipate with a flick of his wrist. “It works both ways. Some are born with talent but still need to train. Others start weak but can grow stronger through discipline. The key is learning how to control your own ki.” His expression darkened slightly. “It’s not easy. If you aren’t naturally attuned to it, the process can take years.”
He paused.
“But you’re lucky.”
Your head tilted slightly in curiosity. “Lucky?”
Piccolo studied you, his lips quirking into something just short of a smirk. “I saw you use it in our fight.”
Your brows shot up.
“You might not have realized it, but you were manipulating ki the entire time. Whether it was instinct or something buried in your training, you’re already exceptional at it.”
Your mind reeled at the revelation.
You could use ki? Effortlessly? But… you hadn’t felt anything different.
Your gaze drifted past him, unfocused, too lost in thought to respond.
“(Y/n),” Piccolo’s voice grounded you, snapping you back to the present.
You blinked rapidly, heat creeping onto your cheeks. “Sorry! I was just… trying to process all of this.” You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. “So, you’re saying I’ve been using ki this whole time? Without realizing it?”
Piccolo gave a single nod.
You exhaled, staring down at your hands. You clenched and unclenched your fists, trying to feel it—the energy he spoke of, the force that had unknowingly guided your movements.
Nothing.
No warmth. No shift. No spark.
Still, something within you stirred—determination.
Lifting your head, you met Piccolo’s sharp gaze, a small smile pulling at your lips.
“Then,” you started, voice filled with newfound resolve, “do you mind if ki training is added to my lessons from now on?”
Piccolo scoffed, arms still folded. But the small grin that tugged at the corner of his mouth was all the answer you needed.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
“Again.”
You exhaled sharply, your breath shaky with exertion. Wiping away the sweat gathering at your brow, you resisted the urge to collapse backward onto the grass. It hadn’t even been a full hour, and yet, your body already ached from the relentless training.
Piccolo’s ki training was far beyond anything you’d ever experienced. Martial arts required discipline, strength, and technique, but ki control? That demanded patience, precision, and an awareness of yourself so deep it bordered on maddening. You clenched your fists, staring down at your empty palms in frustration. No matter how many times you followed his instructions, no matter how much you tried to reach for that flicker of energy inside you—nothing. No spark, no light, not even a damn wisp of power.
“How the fuck…” You panted between words, head tilting up to glare at him. “Can you do this without feeling exhausted?”
Piccolo stood over you, towering as always, arms at his sides. Without his usual weighted cape and turban, his broad frame seemed even more imposing. “A lot of endurance and stamina training,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s hell at first, but over time, it becomes second nature.”
You shook your head with a tired chuckle, a mix of admiration and disbelief bubbling up despite yourself. “Geez, no wonder you’re so ripped. And insanely fucking fast. You never stop training. Do you even take a break?” You leaned back slightly to get a better look at him, only now realizing just how much your neck had to crane to meet his gaze.
He huffed. “Hmp. And risk slacking off? No.”
You rolled your eyes. “Really? Then how come you meditate so often?”
“It’s another form of training.”
“Of course it is.” You snorted before raising a brow. “Which is?”
“Ki focus training.”
You let out a slow breath, shifting your attention back to your hands. There was something there—a faint tingling at your fingertips, a pulse just beneath your skin. It was your ki. Your energy. It was there. It had always been there. You just couldn’t seem to grasp it the way Piccolo could.
Sensing the change in your expression, Piccolo knelt down in front of you, lowering himself to eye level. His presence was grounding, his gaze sharp yet unreadable. You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you barely registered how close he was, nor did you notice the way his usual hard stare softened ever so slightly.
“…You’re overthinking it.” His voice was quieter this time, lacking the usual blunt edge.
You blinked, caught off guard, before huffing a tired laugh. “Yeah? Tell that to my brain.”
Piccolo exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “Tch. That’s the problem.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, but before you could retort, his large hand reached out. You froze as he gently placed two fingers against your forehead, the contact unexpected. His skin was warmer than you thought it’d be.
“Stop forcing it. Ki flows naturally,” he said, voice steady. “If you keep trying to control it like a muscle, you’ll keep burning yourself out. Let it come to you.”
You swallowed, your heart beating a little faster—not from exhaustion, but from something else entirely. Whether it was his proximity, the way his voice dropped slightly, or the sudden realization of just how much trust he was putting in you, you weren’t sure.
But as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, you found yourself listening.
Focusing on the steady rhythm of your breathing. You sat straighter, just as Piccolo instructed, allowing the tension in your body to melt away.
Then, you turned your focus inward.
At first, there was only silence. A vast, empty space within your mind. But then—just behind your eyes—you felt it. A faint buzz, like static at the edge of your awareness. It started at your fingertips, a tingling sensation, before spreading into the center of your palms.
The current…
You remembered Piccolo’s words—energy, like water, flowing at the center of your body. You visualized it, a deep reservoir of warmth sitting just beneath your ribcage. It pulsed faintly, like the rhythmic ebb and flow of the tide.
Slowly, you willed the energy to move.
It was sluggish at first, like trying to push against an invisible force, but the more you focused, the easier it became. The warmth traveled upward, swirling from your core into your arms, and finally—
A faint glimmer of light flickered between your hands.
Your eyes snapped open, breath catching in your throat. A dim, shifting glow hovered in your palm, barely the size of a pebble. It was weak, unstable, flickering as if it might disappear at any moment.
But it was there.
Excitement surged through you, but you quickly tamped it down, remembering Piccolo’s warning about maintaining control. Taking another breath, you steadied your mind, focusing on keeping the energy contained.
The tiny sphere of light pulsed in response, solidifying just a bit more.
“That’s it,” Piccolo’s voice cut through the silence. You looked up to see him observing you with sharp, yet approving eyes. “You can feel it now, can’t you?”
You nodded, gripping onto the sensation before it slipped away.
Your lips curled up into a smile. You did it. You actually made a Ki sphere! Small, flickering, and unstable—but real. It wasn’t just some distant concept anymore; it was something you had drawn out from within.
Laughter bubbled up in your throat, giddy and breathless, as you looked up at Piccolo, eyes bright with excitement. He was saying something—probably giving more instructions or a warning—but the sheer joy coursing through you drowned out his words.
Without thinking, you moved.
Throwing your arms around his neck, you pulled him into a spontaneous hug, the action as natural as breathing.
For a moment, Piccolo didn’t react. His entire body went rigid, eyes widening in surprise. You were close. The warmth of your smaller frame pressed against him sent a jolt through his system. His hand hovered just above your waist, unsure if he should push you away or remain completely still.
Then, your voice—soft and sincere—reached his ears.
"Thank you for being patient with me, Piccolo."
His breath hitched.
Something in his chest fluttered, an unfamiliar warmth unfurling deep within him. The tension in his shoulders melted ever so slightly, and before he could fully process it, his instincts took over.
His large hand settled on the small of your back, hesitant yet deliberate. He hadn’t intended to pull you closer, but the second he did, something about the embrace felt… grounding.
Comfortable.
For someone who had spent most of his life avoiding unnecessary contact, it was strange how right this felt.
“Hmph,” he finally grunted, the corner of his lips twitching ever so slightly. “Just don’t get ahead of yourself. You still have a long way to go.”
But even as he said that, he didn’t pull away.
(2,537 words)
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(a/n)
The long awaited chapter has finally come! (after being on hiatus for months on this story ;-;)
After some set backs and other hyperfixations, I finally managed to write this entire chapter after sitting in my pc for hours (it's like… almost 3 a.m over here lol).
I've been juggling between many scenarios on where this story might take off. There's a rough idea in my head that I need to write down on paper before I forget (again).
Thank you for those who have waited (too long) for this chapter. For those that stuck around waiting anxiously, I apologize and thank you for your love and engagement. It really motivates me to keep on writing and to have fun with this story.
If you stuck around to read this silly note, thank you for reading!
