Yo!

So, this is a one-shot mainly for myself. I needed to get it out of my system. XD

I did my best staying within the canon lore to the anime, so if some things are off, let me know (without flaming, because that's completely unnecessary). It's been a long time since I got to watch the anime (much less during the Saiyan Saga), so yeah.

Enjoy!

The last thing he saw before entering Other World was the blurry figure of young Gohan crying over his dying body. The searing pain of Nappa's last attack faded along with his vision. All other senses eventually followed suit. His last thoughts were of Gohan and whether or not he would survive until Goku arrived. He couldn't fathom his rage if the kid ended up dead, too.

It was dark for a time.

Piccolo barely acknowledged his own existence as though he were in a deep slumber.

Then, without any warning, he found himself standing in Other World. Lumpy, yellow clouds filled in the distances between red buildings and walkways. Smaller puffs of cloud were lined up ahead of him, snaking down the walkway to a large, decorated building. A friendly looking, red man with a pair of horns jutting out of his head directed the incoming cloud puffs as they inched their way forward. Piccolo figured it best to ask this guy questions, seeing as he wasn't a cloud, himself. Was he supposed to stand in line, too?

"Hey!" Piccolo exclaimed to get the purple-skinned man's attention, which he did.

The ogre walked over with an exaggerated smile on his face. He didn't even wait to hear what Piccolo had to say, because he knew exactly what he was going to ask. "Just stay in line and King Yemma will see you shortly." Before Piccolo could actively question the ogre man, one of the clouds, who Piccolo began to assume were souls, bumped into another, and thus began a ruckus. The ogre immediately went about settling things down and continuing his instructions for everyone in line to hear.

With a sigh of anxiousness and frustration, Piccolo decided it best to remain in line. This King Yemma seemed like the guy to answer his questions.

But what questions would he ask first? Should he ask what will happen to him? What's beyond King Yemma's office? Something deep in Piccolo's chest told him that he would get those answers without asking. His thick brows knitted together, wondering if a certain question would even be acknowledged if he asked.

He had to ask, though.

She was here in Other World – somewhere – and Piccolo was determined to find her. This was his chance.

A new energy developed behind Piccolo, sending his senses ablaze. He whirled around to find someone he'd rather not have to be in this situation with, but he was.

"Kami," Piccolo wrinkled up his nose in disgust, baring his fangs.

With a straight face, full of his elderly wisdom, Kami held is composer all too well and replied, "I suppose this would be a surprise for you. But you should know that fighting here would only end badly for you."

A grunt escaped Piccolo, and he turned back around to step forward in line. He tried to ignore the old Namekian's presence, but his fragile voice rang in Piccolo's ears, "Will you be searching for her?"

Piccolo knew exactly who the old Guardian of Earth was implying to. The very words had his chest burning again with further anxiety. This line was moving far too slowly for Piccolo's patience. It needed to speed up. He thought about cutting in line, but the fear of losing his chances to get answers held him back.

The silence following his question was enough for Kami to know the answer. Piccolo had never had a tame conversation with Kami during his time on Earth, much less about the woman he grew up with. Kami had seen it all, though, from The Lookout. He had seen how the woman nourished Piccolo into a friendly young Namekian, how she was patient and playful with him, always happy to help him. Kami had seen her try to talk Piccolo out of getting revenge on Goku, though she didn't push the subject beyond the suggestion. Even knowing of Piccolo's plans, this woman trained him for 3 years. She softened his heart, and Kami began to see Piccolo's intentions waver.

Unfortunately, her efforts were wiped nearly clean the very moment some reoccurring bandits ambushed Piccolo and the woman during the night. Despite her expertise in martial arts, she was killed by a shotgun to her back. Kami had watched on, seeing Piccolo decline back into his hateful and secluded self. No doubt, now that Piccolo had died, he was determined to reunite with his foster parent.

Kami didn't bother Piccolo any further. He was more than happy to see that his figurative nephew was still harboring some of the woman's efforts.

For the remainder of the line, Piccolo and Kami remained in silence, tuning out the ogre's constant and overly cheerful directions to the souls that formed the line to be judged. It was, after an agonizing amount of time, Piccolo's turn to be judged by the massive King Yemma of whether or not he would be sent to Hell.

"Name." King Yemma didn't even look up at Piccolo. He held a firm, bored gaze at his papers that laid askew on his desk.

"Piccolo," the younger Namekian said, then remembered that his father had the same name, so he added, "Junior".

After a bit of grumbling to himself and flipping through some pages, King Yemma jotted notes - of what, Piccolo couldn't see. The large ogre eventually stated, "You may enter."

Piccolo didn't have to look behind to see the surprise on Kami's face, though Piccolo didn't know what the surprise meant. "Enter what, exactly?" Piccolo remained where he stood, knowing that he had more to talk about before entering anything.

"Heaven." King Yemma stated, still not looking up from his desk. He only raised his head just enough to free the hand he was resting it on so that he could wave Piccolo with a shooing gesture. "Go, before I change my mind."

The large ogre's disinterest in Piccolo annoyed him, but he held back his emotions. "I need to find someone."

Finally, King Yemma leaned forward and glared down at Piccolo. He recognized Kami, though, then sneered devilishly at the old Namekian. "Kami! It's about time I see you in this line!"

A sigh escaped Kami. He was waiting for King Yemma to tease him about his death. That didn't make it hurt much less, though.

By this point, Piccolo's anger was getting the best of him. He had waited long enough - while in the living world, while in that ridiculous line; he didn't want to wait for his answers any longer! "Hey! I asked you a question!" Piccolo snarled at King Yemma, earning a cringe from Kami.

With a knowing smirk, King Yemma eyed Piccolo, "You better watch your tone with me. I have enough on your records to put you in Hell."

"Just," Piccolo began, but paused to take in a deep breath to relax himself, even if it was just a little, "just please tell me where I can find Rosemri Spice." His furrowed brows trembled with determination as he tried not to show that he was practically begging for the information. Piccolo would never stoop to begging, even to a deity.

Arching a brow, King Yemma recognized the name almost instantly. "And what do you want with her?" The woman had created quite the name for herself in Other World. She had grown strong, far much so than anyone had expected. She had achieved Nirvana after many consecutive months of deep meditation. The news had only come about a few months ago and she was already revered by many of the Kais. Who knows where she might be, though. The woman did her own things in Other World, since she was very much only a soul in Heaven.

"Because she's," Piccolo hesitated, almost embarrassed to say how he thought of the woman out loud. He chose his words carefully, "She and I have a history."

"A peaceful history," Kami interjected. "And," Kami eyed King Yemma sternly, "I'm sure if she found out that Piccolo were here without being informed, there would be consequences."

The ogre's face paled at the thought of what Rosemri might do if he refused Piccolo. She wouldn't be able to kill him since she was a spirit, but that didn't mean she couldn't pack a punch. King Yemma quickly picked up his desk phone and dialed up a number. There was one place that he knew Rosemri often visited in Other World, so he figured that would be the best start.

Upon connecting to the other end of the line, King Yemma began mumbling into the phone as though he would successfully hide his conversation from a pair of sensitive Namekian ears. "Hey, have you guys seen Rosemri there lately?" He paused, listening to the response. A sigh of relief exhaled from his lungs and the color returned to his face, "Good, good. Give her a message and ask her to stay there. She has a visitor." King Yemma didn't bother saying goodbye as he placed the phone back on its hook.

The King of Ogres looked back down to Piccolo and Kami, "She's in the Kai Garden."

"And where is that?" Piccolo arched his brow.

"Oh! I can bring you there, if you'd like. Yes." A blue ogre with a pair of white horns stepped forward from the office exit, looking pointedly intelligent for his kind. "It's a long way, but worth the drive. Yes."

Piccolo wasn't sure if he wanted to ride in a vehicle to get to his destination. Flying would be so much faster, but he didn't know how Other World functioned just yet, and risking himself getting lost was the last thing he needed. With a nod, Piccolo stepped over to the guide's side, who in turn whirled around to lead the Namekian out of the office.

Kami watched Piccolo until he was out of sight. Not sure if he should have said any words of encouragement or if silence was best. His concerns were soon interrupted by King Yemma's devious voice booming in his ears, "Now, where were we, Kami?"

The late Guardian of Earth flinched, knowing that endless bouts of teasing were going to ensue.

Beyond the office building, Piccolo could here King Yemma and Kami quarrel with each other. The voices grew distant with each step he took. Part of him was listening to the guide babble on about the history of the Kai Garden and how beautiful is was, but Piccolo was more focused on his meeting with Rosemri.

"And this is the Messercschmitt KR! Yes," the blue ogre introduced the vehicle proudly.

With only a nod, Piccolo climbed into the car. The ogre pouted for only a second before his smile returned and he, too, climbed into the driver's seat. "It's been a few centuries since I've been to the garden, so this is rather exciting for me. Yes."

Piccolo remained silent. All of his attention was in the future now. He felt his chest tighten with thrill and panic, not even sure what he should say when he finally got to the garden. Hi, how's it been? No, that would be foolish. She's been dead, that's how she's been. It seems we're both dead, now. Yeah, okay. Point out the obvious, Piccolo. I see you can't stay away from nature, even in the afterlife. Better, but still not something he wanted as his first words upon meeting Rosemri again.

Would she even recognize him? Piccolo had grown since she was alive. He was much shorter and lanky, similar to a human teenager, during those last months. Now, Piccolo knew he would easily tower over Rosemri; and he was surely twice her width.

Would she remember him? It had been five years since her death. Plenty had gone on in that span of time. There were many times that Piccolo had tried to forget about Rosemri, but much of his lifestyle had been influenced by her. Every time he would look at nature, he would be reminded of her. Even the simple changing of the seasons had her silly bursts of excitement fill his head. Piccolo couldn't forget her, and that made him fear the possibility that she had forgotten him so much more.

Stewing in his thoughts for goodness knows how long, Piccolo didn't hear a word of the guide's ramblings. He seemed to not care if Piccolo was listening, anyway. Perhaps he simply liked to talk and state facts all day. There was a bit of Gohan's traits in this ogre. In turn, Piccolo noted how Gohan had reminded him of Rosemri. Or rather, his situation with raising Gohan reminded him of Rosemri. The fact that Gohan spoke to him like a normal person was one of the major traits. Piccolo never mentioned the woman to Gohan. Maybe one day he would. It still pained him when he was in the Living World, though. It would be nice, Piccolo pondered, if one day the three of them could sit down together and spend time with each other in a secluded wilderness. The thought forced a tiny smile over Piccolo's lips.

At this point, they were finally arriving at the Kai Garden. A massive red and white wall towered high, blocking out any possible view of the environment inside. Off to the side of the archway leading into the garden was another blue ogre, short and stout with a single horn atop his head, standing guard. Mounted on the wall behind him was a telephone, which Piccolo assumed was how King Yemma learned so fast of Rosemri's whereabouts.

The Messercschmitt KR screeched to a halt right at the garden's gate. "Here we are! Yes," the ogre guide exclaimed joyfully.

"Uh, thanks," Piccolo stepped out of the vehicle, already feeling his old ways during his time with Rosemri returning. He stiffly bowed to the ogre, then turned back to the gate. The sound of the ogre and his trusty car zoomed away, leaving Piccolo to gaze ahead. His nerves wracked, tingling all over.

Why was he so nervous?

It was just Rosemri, after all. She should be the person he feared least.

With a deep inhale, Piccolo mustered up his courage and stepped through the garden's archway gate. He released his breath, and repeated the practice as he searched the vast array of flora. There were tiny butterflies fluttering about, and he could hear birds singing, though he wasn't sure from where. The constant trickling of flowing streams and small waterfalls filled the air. Such a tranquil place, this was.

Stone walkways lead Piccolo around as he continued to search, his shoes faintly tapping against the solid surface. He had searched nearly half of the garden by now, and no sign of Rosemri to be found. He considered going to ask the ogre that was patiently standing guard near the gate, but the sudden warmth inside him made him freeze instantly.

It was her. He could sense her energy now. Was she doing that on purpose?

Piccolo's eyes darted in the direction of Rosemri's energy. He didn't bother walking. This was far too real now. He ran – sprinted – down the pathway as his heart pounded in his chest. What would she look like? Did spirits age in Other World? Has her personality changed over the years?

So much ran through Piccolo's mind as he rushed passed flowers, disturbing butterflies from their peaceful feeding on the nectar. He rounded a corner, skidding to a halt, as his eyes caught sight of the all-to-familiar woman he cared so much for.

Rosemri was hovering, meditating in grassy clearing just off of the stone path. It was one of the first things she had taught Piccolo, which was mostly to help him control his anger. Her soft, peach-colored skin seemed flawless compared to when she was alive. The woman's arms rested over her knees, open palms facing a little upward. Long, white hair gently waved around behind Rosemri; it had grown since Piccolo last saw her. Instead of her usual blue gi that Piccolo had grown up with, Rosemri was now clad in white. Her lowered head remained still for a few moments as Piccolo took in the view of his dear deceased friend. Then, she opened her eyes and raised her head with that familiar gentle smile Piccolo had grown to love.

Taking a hesitant step forward, Piccolo reached a timid hand out to the woman. She was lowering herself to her bare feet, still smiling at him. Piccolo couldn't find the words he had practiced on the way to the garden. His throat clenched, and he could feel his eyes stinging.

Opening her arms to welcome the Namekian, Rosemri walked over to Piccolo, her head gradually tilting up as she tried to hold eye contact with him. Her soft hands connected with his forearms, and Piccolo could feel his knees weaken. Rosemri stood there, staring at the green giant with her unwavering smile, "You've grown, my dear Pickle."

It was an endearing nickname she had given him back in the day. Piccolo's sour moods were frequent, especially when they had first met, and Rosemri didn't waste time to tease him about it. Oh, how he had missed her voice.

The welling tears in Piccolo's eyes broke free at the sounds of Rosemri's words, along with any strength he had left within his body. In an instant, Piccolo fell forward, wrapping his arms around the much smaller woman, "Mamma!" He buried his face into her neck, taking in her scent through his hiccups and sniffles. He didn't care that he was putting nearly all of his weight onto Rosemri, because he knew she could easily carry him like a baby, if she so chose.

The feeling of the woman's arms slipping around Piccolo's torso made the moment ever more real for him. He heard and felt a sweet chuckle emit from Rosemri, but that didn't stop him from sobbing into the crook her of neck, "Mamma, I've missed you so much."

Rosemri didn't say a word. She didn't need to. Her hug tightened, and she ran a hand up and down Piccolo's back, patiently letting him release all of his pain and grief that he had bottle up over the years. She wanted to ask him everything; how he had gotten here; how he had died; if he ever accomplished his goal of avenging King Piccolo; what he had been up to all these years. She wanted to discuss so much with Piccolo, her dear son Piccolo.

It didn't matter to them if they weren't genetically related. This was so much more. Both had helped each other grow as people. Both had taught each other so many life lessons. In their time on Earth, Piccolo and Rosemri needed someone. They needed each other. Neither of them really liked it, at first, but many circumstances caused them to realize their importance for one another. It was after those events that the two began to bond as mother and son.

Finally, Rosemri spoke up, never letting go of the large Namekian until he wanted to, "I don't remember eight-year-olds getting this big." Rosemri chuckled at her own joke. She knew Piccolo wasn't human, nor quite an Earthling, but she wasn't familiar with the Namekian race.

Piccolo laughed lightly through is slowing sobs. He lifted his head, reluctantly releasing his hug, though he slid his hands down Rosemri's arms until they were holding her own. His face was tear-stained, though it was hardly the mess he had created on Rosemri's shoulder. With a bitter-sweet smile, Piccolo managed to speak a full sentence with his still crackling voice, "There's a lot I need to tell you."