One Last Goodbye

Dende sat on the edge of Kami's, or rather his lookout and sighed, his feet dangling over the side. It was late at night and he had much to think about, but he hardly knew where to begin. So much had happened to him over the past few days. When Kami had fused with Piccolo in order to fight Cell, the Earth had needed a new Guardian. And so here was Dende, thrust into this position of honor whether he truly wanted it or not.

So, this is where I shall be spending the rest of my life. The young Namek mused, tapping his heels on the rim of the big dinner plate of a lookout. It wasn't that he was unhappy to be on Earth, but he was still very young and he missed his home and the other Namek children. His father, Guru, couldn't help him; the old Namek had elected to remain on Earth, but had died soon after, as he had known he would.

Gohan would be coming to visit him every now and then, but he had a life to live too. And, with Chichi as his mother, most of that life would revolve around studying. Dende smiled. He had met Chichi once, just briefly, and he saw her as being quite bossy. He liked her; she had a good heart, and obviously loved her son. Still…

Also, Chichi was with child. She and Gohan would be busy with the new baby. Though Gohan had intended to visit often, both he and Dende knew that the visits would be few and far between.

Then there was Mr. Popo, who was supposed to be his assistant, but was really more of a teacher for the time being. Dende had liked the strange-looking Djinn immediately, and had already learned much from him. It was almost like having a parent again. Dende had often wondered how Mr. Popo had come by this position. He knew next to nothing about the race of Djinn, save for what Popo had told him. There were very few left. Many were enslaved in magical talismans, and forced to grant wishes. When asked if he himself could grant wishes, Mr. Popo had said no. The Djinn had begun to look uncomfortable, even grieved, so Dende had apologized and let the matter drop. Mr. Popo had said 'Not at all', and that was that.

Dende got to his feet, and decided to go for a short walk through the gardens.

* * *

"Magic Carpet." Mr. Popo called, making a throwing motion at the ground near his feet. A red ball fell from his seemingly empty hand and opened into an ornately woven rug, on which the Djinn seated himself with a sigh. Rising up into the air, he closed his eyes. The grief of losing his friend smote him hard, and he found himself on the verge of tears.

"K-Kami…" he wept brokenly, his face buried in his hands. All alone he indulged himself in his grief, just as he had done for the previous Kami and the one before him, and just as he would someday do for Dende.

This situation was somewhat different, though. Kami had not died, but he was gone just the same. Piccolo, who had fused with Kami to create a stronger being, was now living at the lookout; he served only as a reminder of the friend that was no more. This made the healing process slow and painful.

* * *

Dende sipped from the water bottle that was always on his belt and gave a satisfied belch, reveling in the fact that he was alone and could get away with it. He almost giggled, imagining what Mr. Popo would say. Polite almost to a fault, the Djinn would be scandalized by Dende's little breach in etiquette.

Bending to admire a rare orchid, Dende cocked his head and listened. His sharp ears had picked up on a sound that he had never before heard coming from an adult. At least, not up close. Someone was crying, and the sound was coming from directly overhead. Dende felt a brief tug of sadness. Mr. Popo.

The Namek rose up cautiously into the air, and spotted Mr. Popo's magic carpet from below. The Djinn hadn't noticed him, and Dende wondered if he should interfere. He didn't have time to wonder for long, though. He was soon level with the carpet, and Popo was sure to notice him. Lowering himself lightly on the other end of the carpet, Dende gently touched the Djinn's shoulder. "Mr. Popo?"

"Dende!" Popo jumped, "Forgive me, I…" He had thought he was alone! He quickly got himself under control, and looked up at the small Namek in front of him.

"Forgive me," Dende murmured, "I don't mean to intrude. I'll-I'll leave, now…"

"No. No harm done." Popo sighed, lowering the carpet with them on it. "I welcome the company."

"Why…why were you crying?" Dende asked, stepping off the carpet.

Mr. Popo felt tears coming to his eyes again, but he forced them back. He had done enough grieving for one night. He picked up a few dead leaves and crumbled them in his hands, making them disappear. "I miss Kami." He said simply. "I miss every Kami when his time comes."

"But he didn't die, he merged with…oh." Dende mentally kicked himself when tears began trickling down Popo's cheeks. "I'm sorry. I never really thought about it that way."

"Nor I. This situation was unique. He was the first Namekian Kami ever to live here. With Piccolo living here as a constant reminder…I'm afraid I don't know how to handle this."

Dende found his facial expression unnerving; though the Djinn's cheeks glistened with tears, his face had an almost serene quality to it. Mr. Popo had mentioned that Djinn sometimes become rather stoic during their long lifetimes, and though he wasn't what Dende would have called jaded (had he known the word), his face was unsettlingly blank. "I…wish I could help you, sir. Forgive me, I spoke out of turn!"

The Djinn only smiled and shook his head. "Your efforts are appreciated, young Kami. No fear, I shall mend with time." I always do.

* * *

The next morning, Dende approached Piccolo. The older Namek was hovering several feet above the ground in a lotus position and seemed to be asleep, but Dende knew better. Sure enough, as the young Kami drew near, Piccolo turned his head.

"Piccolo?"

"Dende?" the Namek smirked.

"I need to talk to you." Dende began uncertainly. Piccolo raised an eye ridge.

"Why? Is Popo busy?"

"Well…yes he is, but actually it's about Mr. Popo. You see…um…"

Piccolo lowered himself to the ground, and folded his arms. "Well? If something's wrong, out with it. It must be important, or you wouldn't have interrupted me."

"Well, um…he misses Kami…"

"And?"

"Well, last night I heard him crying…I've never seen a grown-up cry before."

Piccolo nodded, his expression less severe. "I heard him." Piccolo didn't say that he had considered approaching the Djinn to get the story from him; he couldn't admit to himself that it was compassion that compelled him to do so. Perhaps it was the Kami in him. Perhaps it was Nail…

"Why didn't you go to him?" asked Dende.

"You beat me to it." Piccolo said reluctantly, rising into the air again.

"Maybe you can talk to him? I mean, since you're older? Maybe…you could let him speak with Kami."

"It's not that easy, kid. If I let Kami use me as a mouthpiece, he might not want to give me back my body."

"I'm sure he wouldn't do that!" Dende protested, shocked at the very idea. "Mr. Popo told me about him, and he was too good to do that."

But I'm not…that's what I would have done. Piccolo thought, feeling a twinge of shame. "I'll talk to him."

* * *

"Popo."

The Djinn jumped, dropping his watering can. "Yes, Piccolo?"

You better appreciate this, kid… "Look, I'm not good at talking, so I'll be blunt. Do you want to talk to Kami one last time?"

Mr. Popo, who had just picked up his watering can, dropped it in dismay. He tried to speak, but found that he could not; he just stood mutely with his mouth ajar. Piccolo grew impatient.

"Well, do you or don't you?"

Mr. Popo managed to nod his head, and Piccolo closed his eyes. The Namek stood very still for several minutes, and when he opened his eyes once more it was obvious that the entity behind them was a different one.

"K…Kami?" Popo asked cautiously. The Namek smiled, an odd and rare expression for Piccolo to wear; the smile was not cynical, but joyful.

"Old friend!" The Namek said in Kami's aged voice. "How good it is to see you again!"

"Kami…that really is you!" the Djinn started forward, but stopped suddenly. It may have been Kami's spirit, but it was Piccolo's body. Kami, however, was having none of it. He knelt and embraced his friend and mentor, who was laughing and crying at the same time.

"If I'm speaking to you right now, I gather we won!" Kami smiled as he stepped back.

"Oh, yes. We did indeed. Cell's victims have been restored to life. Your successor is quite prodigious, allowing the dragon balls to grant two wishes instead of one."

"Dragon balls…he must be a Namekian!"

Popo nodded, fishing in his pockets for a handkerchief. "Yes. He will make a splendid Kami."

Kami paused for a moment, and seemed to be listening. "Piccolo tells me you're still grieving for me. That's why he's letting me speak to you."

"I cannot help it. You've been here much longer than any of the human Kamis, and you didn't die so much as disappear…but it is good to speak to you again."

"I'm not gone, Popo. I'm still here in Piccolo. Although…" he considered briefly, "We must not impose on him. Today must be the last time we speak."

"Yes…I shall miss you, old friend."

Kami smiled, then closed his eyes. When the eyes opened again it was Piccolo who was looking through them.

"Thank you, Piccolo."

The Namek glanced down at the Djinn, and nodded. Though he had been able to communicate with Kami, he hadn't witnessed the reunion firsthand; as a person who valued his own privacy, he was glad he hadn't. "Well, I don't think I'll be doing this again."

"That's all right." Mr. Popo smiled, "Once was enough."