Letting Go

Disclaimer: Typing on phone so expect decent writing.

I, Roxasolina Lombardi, do not own Kirby; I only own the plot.

Note: Character death

Huh?

I don't know what's happening. I was fighting, yes, but something clearly happened. Something happened, and I don't know what happened. It was raining. I could feel the pitter-patter on me. I could feel the ground my back decides to lean on. I could feel everything around me, but...

I cannot get up.

Why can't I get up? I tried to move, but it hurts and I don't know why it hurts and I really want to get up but it hurts too much.

"Holy shit! That's one big wound!"

"Oh my God; what are we going to do?!"

I could hear Ban talking. He's worried about something. Who said that first part? "That's one big wound!"? What the hell does that mean? I'm so confused right now. I try to move again but it still hurts. Why does it hurt?

"Guys, he's in shock. Kirby, are you putting pressure on that?"

"Meta, I don't know if he's actually going to make it..."

Hah; Kirby, I'm going to make it. If I am really shot down, then I'll get back up. Simple as that. I wanted to say it, to retort and make Kirby eat those words up, but I cannot speak. My vocal cords won't let me. Hell, I can't see anymore. Huh... why didn't I notice that?

"He lost so much blood..."

"Hey, Meta. Who'll be king when we get back? I mean, he's going to die."

Me? Die? That's absurd. We all know that I'll be okay...

Right?

I'm starting to feel cold. Maybe I am dying. Maybe this is really it. I'm not a fan of Death or anything, but the finality of it... it's... something I rather avoid. I mean, we all know that we will all die at some point. I feel like I should just stop and...

... No. Not yet. I'm not ready to go yet. Just not yet.

"Hey, let's just go and transport him somewhere comfy; I known him for twenty-five years, and goddamn it if I let him die on a rock."

"Kirby, I think he's fine where he is."

"No, Ban. He needs to be comfy and warm and..."

Kirby suddenly trails off. I hate to admit it, but I love the little pink pest, and even if that goes on my deathbed, I'm going to deny it. He knows, I know; it's fair enough that he at least cares. So do Meta and Ban, but never have I ever seen that much affection and care from an alien pink puffball that has a black hole for a stomach.

At this point, I pretty much just accepted the fact that, yeah, this is it. I'm literally dying. At least when I go, there won't be anything else for me to do...

Hold up. Who'll be king?

"Fine. But pray to NOVA that he's already dead when we all go crashing to the ground after the second we lift him."

"... His breathing is getting shallow."

"I know that, Meta. He's dying, remember?"

"Please, don't joke about this."

Even though I can't see, I can hear, and I have been trained to hear such worry, angst, the like. Ban doesn't even joke with Death. No wonder why he sounds so... uncomfortable. Well, I can't blame him, so.

I guess, with then just bickering over how they should carry me (yes, they're going to carry me) I should just leave. I mean, there are no regrets, no nothing.

I guess... I should just let go.

It was three in the morning, and Ban was getting sick and tired of Kirby and Meta bickering and arguing about...

Yeah, Meta's a provisional monarch at the moment, and until they could get an election up and running, Meta is king, and no one is objecting.

Ban had his phone out, ready to call it quits and watch some funny videos when the three of them hear Kirby's ringtone play out. Weirded out at the fact that someone is calling the Dreamland hero at three, the puffballs let the phone ring, making it go to voicemail.

"if i didn't pick up, either i'm fighting some demon beast somewhere or i'm sleeping. ... count on the latter. but... yeah. you know what to do."

"That was the worst voicemail message I have ever heard," Meta bluntly stated. Kirby throws a glare and Ban shushes them. There seemed to be some movement, like someone is trying to get the phone out of a bag, and...

"you three need to stop fighting.

"yeah, i know you're sad and wallowing in your grief or some shit, but goddamn it, you all are being ridiculous. i noticed that i had one more thing to do, and that is to tell you guys to stop. honestly, you know that i'm not the one to go and berate all of you, but seeing that i need to is going to be enough for all of you.

"... How," was all Ban could say. Dedede's dead. They have been to the funeral. They seen the body.

"oh, before i go, you should probably get ban to be king... or... meta. you know what? have meta be king, and let ban be filler whenever meta's out doing things. kirby can be leader of the knights, and... you know what. do whatever. just make sure the kingdom's alright when doomsday arrives.

"so.. i guess this is goodbye. i tried, and obviously, i failed. my friends are grieving for me. the whole damn country is grieving for me. stop all of that. seriously. just... stop. live your life, for fuck's sake. you'll see me again.

"i count on it."

At this point, Kirby was already sobbing on the floor, Meta looking at the phone like he sees an old friend. Ban the nods. "Yes, Great King."

"oh, and if kirby's going to be around, don't let him near the kitchen. i so serious about this. don't let him near that place."

And the phone clicks.