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Here is the next part!


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Today I know that it was a mistake to just let it fly on like this.


Minutes passed. Minutes full of fear, in which I could literally watch Piccolo's condition worsen more and more and we slowly but surely lost altitude.


He didn't even have nearly enough strength to fly a single meter further and suddenly ...


"Ok ... we ... we take a short break. But really ... just a short time ..."


We cautiously landed in the clearing of a small wood and when Piccolo carefully set me down on the moss and grass-covered ground, I was visibly relieved that he finally managed to make a short stopover.


Completely exhausted, the tall Namek leaned against one of the nearby trees and took several deep breaths.I was horrified to see how he was busy all the time with clenched hands and the matching facial features to cover a certain area of ​​his upper hip, even to hide it from me.


With a concerned step I approached Piccolo, who was now groaning in pain, and meanwhile I was prepared for the very worst. I saw how his purple-colored blood oozed out between his hands still pressed against his body and partly collected in a small pool on the floor in front of him. The whole thing was also cruelly underscored by threatening, growling noises on his part.


"I want you to show me this wound." I urged Piccolo calmly, but decisively, not to withhold the cause of his almost unbearable agony from me any longer. But he seemed anything but willing to voluntarily comply with my request.


"Arrrrgh! Let me ... damn ..."

"No, I won't let you! I'll have a look at this now, understand?" Piccolo glared angrily.


Not even in a dream would I have thought of my extraordinary arrival here that I would speak to the devil himself, let alone tell him what to do ...


In the next moment I noticed a small, inconspicuous sigh of the Namekian and watched how he slowly slid down the tree from exhaustion until he came to a standstill in a half-seated reclining position. Shortly afterwards he also let his hands, which previously covered the heavily bleeding injury, fall to the side. Whether voluntarily or forced by his dwindling strength, I could not say with certainty.

And now I saw the full extent of his wound. It was about a 30cm long incision from which the blood was now pumped out rhythmically to the rhythm of his easily recognizable weakening heartbeat.


"Oh damn ..." was all I could say in this situation, in which Piccolo was in need of help as soon as possible. Now I was no longer in the least astonished why Piccolo had become so weak in such a short time. He seemed to have lost almost a quarter of his blood already and it looked like the others wouldn't be too long in coming either.


I instinctively took off my shirt, or rather, the leftovers that were left of it, folded it as skillfully as I could and pressed it, without warning Piccolo in any way, onto his dangerous-looking cut.


"AAARRRGGHHH !!!"


"I have to stop the blood ... no matter how ..." I tried to explain what I had just done and secretly wondered how Vegeta had inflicted this highly fatal injury on him.

"It must have been one of the energy balls that Vegeta had fired at Piccolo, shortly before he had completed his spiral of hell ... He didn't seem to have stopped it completely ..." suddenly shot through my head . Yes, it must have been like that. In any case, I had no other explanation for the origin of his wound.


"You have to hold on, understand?" I said worried, trying to give my voice as much hope as possible. But Piccolo didn't answer.


I looked up at him helplessly and completely overwhelmed by the current situation ...


His eyes...


He had closed it ...


"Piccolo ...?"


When there was still no reaction from the great Namek, I sensed that something was wrong. Piccolo didn't react to any of my words, let alone touch. Panic rose in me. An almost unbearable fear for my motionless counterpart was just about to completely constrict my throat in order to gradually take the air to breathe.

"Damn ... Piccolo! Stay with me ... come on ..." I pleaded and noticed how the remains of my shirt, which I still pressed tightly on his wound to stop the bleeding, were completely soaked ... blood-soaked.


Without thinking further, I tossed it aside and began to shake Piccolo's shoulders tentatively at first, but then more and more violently, as if I had been able to just wake him up. Of course my efforts were completely in vain and the realization that the chance of help or even rescue was zero let the last spark of hope that I had in me slowly stifle like a small tea light under the cheese cover.


I decided to gently lay Piccolo on the floor to at least relieve his blood circulation and its weakening circulation ... even if I wasn't in the least sure that this would still be of great use.


As carefully as I could I brought him into a reasonably sensible lying position and placed a medium-sized, nearby stone under his head to prevent suffocation from the blood that might be in his windpipe.

"You can do it ... hold on please, do you hear?" I whispered gently in his ear and put an arm around him protectively. My head sank limply on his chest. I felt him breathe faintly. Felt his chest move up and down with every breath he took ...


And suddenly ... it stopped. Piccolo suddenly stopped breathing ...


In that fraction of a second, all thoughts and feelings were completely erased from my head and from within ... made space for a single memory ...


It was the memory of our first kiss ... Not only of that, but also of a very specific sentence that Piccolo had said to me shortly before ...


<"Hopefully you know that I won't let you go that easy, right?">


From this point on, these words, these few words became permanently and stubbornly stuck in my head ... And from then on I knew exactly what I had to do ...

"I won't let you go that easy either ... never ..." I swore bravely and at this moment saw only one chance to save.


With presence of mind I carefully lifted his head from the stone, laid it carefully on the soft, dense grass-covered ground and began to use it to ventilate him. I pressed my lips to his and once again realized how soft they were and how much I had enjoyed being kissed and caressed by them every time.


In spurts I tried to fill his lungs with my breath and every time I hoped fervently that his breathing would start again on its own at any moment.


"Come on ... now breathe ..." I pleaded almost imploringly before I paused again and looked down at him, hoping for even the smallest reaction on his part.


And indeed. Suddenly I thought I heard a small, inconspicuous rustling in his lungs and the next moment Piccolo reared up in pain ... gasped greedily for air ... gasped ... For me, however, these noises of the hasty breathing were that at that moment most beautiful of all gifts that heaven could have given me.

"Hey ... can you hear me?" I asked timidly, while I put my hands gently on his chest and thus carefully brought him back into the lying position.


Piccolo relaxed his clenched eyelids, slowly opened his eyes and was clearly trying to give me a powerless "Yes ..." back.


"Listen to me ... you have to stay awake, ok? Talk to me ... no matter what, but you mustn't pass out again, do you hear?" He nodded.


Piccolo seemed to have gotten worse than he'd revealed to me. The cut, which on closer inspection looked like an oversized laceration with severe burns surrounding it, appeared to be the center of his injuries. At least as far as the outer ones were concerned ...


I was honest. Honest to myself. We wouldn't make it. Piccolo didn't have the strength to walk, let alone fly and I ... I didn't have the physical ability to get him out of here.

I stroked his head caringly and checked his pulse over and over again along with his heartbeat. Of course I didn't have the slightest medical knowledge, but at this point I was more than happy to have endured the first aid course at school, which we all hated at the time.


And although Piccolo's body seemed to have lost all strength and energy, I noticed that every single one of his muscles was tense. Beads of sweat rose relentlessly in his face, which was more and more contorted under the sheer pain of his wounds.


"I ... I'm tired ..." Piccolo suddenly whispered and triggered the highest alarm in me with these words.


"No! You mustn't fall asleep now! If you do that, it may be that ..."


Interrupted by Piccolo's marrow-penetrating gaze, I felt how a small tear slowly made its unstoppable path down my cheek to my chin.

"Please ..." I begged him again and could no longer hold back my tears, which were now running through my face one after the other.


"... do not leave me alone..."


At the end of the sentence I had begun, I collapsed over him, crying bitterly ... looked for support ... hold in his always strong arms, which had so often strengthened and comforted me in all the time we were allowed to spend together ...






As always, I would be happy to receive your comments!