Chapter Text
Agrimonies are rich in vitamin C and can help treat common ailments such as coughs, and fevers. Some healers also believe that Agrimony can soothe an upset stomach and reduce swelling in the spleen caused by bacterial infections.
Dende yawned as he flipped through the pages of his botany book, the afternoon heat making him feel sluggish despite being indoors. He had spent the entire day reading this human text, which, while not essential to his role as Earth’s guardian, was still fascinating. His current interest was in the plants of the human world, their shapes, colors, and compositions were so different from the Namekian flora he was familiar with. His gaze lingered on an image of small, yellow flowers.
Maybe he should plant some Agrimony, they were quite beautiful.
Being Earth’s Kami had come with its share of challenges, especially during the first few years. Protecting the Dragon Balls, dealing with Cell’s attack, Majin Buu, and then the literal God of Destruction showing up. Needless to say, Dende hadn't had much time for himself. But lately, the visits from his friends had become less frequent, and it had been over a month since he'd had any real social interaction, aside from with Mr. Popo.
Dende enjoyed the quiet, much like his fellow Namekians, though more so than his younger brother Cargo. He thrived in solitude, finding peace in reading and writing rather than in combat or physical labor. In many ways, being Kami was the perfect role for him. Yet, recently, that silence had begun to stir feelings of homesickness for Namek. The main reason he stayed was to help create the new Dragon Balls and because of his newfound friends. But when those friends don’t visit…
Laying his head down on the long wooden table, Dende let out a deep, slow sigh. The soft exhale of air made the pages of his book flutter, the rustling sound reminding him of the silence that filled the room. The warmth of the afternoon sun filtered through the windows, casting a golden light over the room, but it did little to lift the weight he felt. The stillness, once comforting, now seemed like a vast emptiness.
Suddenly, in the quiet of his thoughts, Dende was no longer in his study on Earth. The scene shifted, and he found himself standing on Namek once more. The familiar green sky stretched endlessly above him, its calm hue evoking a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in years. It was a feeling that took him back to his childhood when life was simple and carefree. The wind swept gently across his face, and he instinctively blinked as it tugged at his eyelashes, cool against his skin. The breeze seemed to wrap around him, and in that moment, Dende felt his body relax, his tense muscles unwinding as if the air itself was pulling him into its embrace. He felt lighter, almost weightless, as though the wind might carry him off to another time, another place.
“Dende! Big brother!”
The sound of his name, so familiar, broke his reverie. His heart leaped as he whipped around, and there, running toward him with arms wide open and a beaming smile, was Cargo. His little brother, younger than Dende had last seen him, but every bit as joyful and full of life. Without thinking, Dende stumbled forward a step, the sudden rush of emotion overwhelming him. He couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. “Cargo!”
Cargo giggled, his small legs carrying him quickly as he launched himself into Dende’s arms, nuzzling his face into his chest, soaking in the warmth of the embrace. Dende’s heart swelled as he held him tightly, savoring the connection. For a moment, he wished he could stay like this forever, surrounded by the simplicity of it all. "I missed you. Where did you run off to,” Cargo asked, his voice full of interest.
Dende pulled back just slightly, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looked down at Cargo. “I went for a walk. You know I like being by myself sometimes.”
“But I missed you, big brother.”
The words made Dende’s chest ache, and before he could respond, Cargo reached up for another hug, and how could he refuse? Dende held his brother once more, his arms tight around him. But as he did, something gnawed at the pit of his stomach, a growing sense of unease.
The wind, once a soft caress, was picking up speed. Its tugging force seemed to intensify, as though it were trying to pull him away from this moment. Dende's grip on Cargo tightened without him even realizing it. His fingers dug into his brother’s arms, the pressure growing, and yet the feeling of wrongness deepened. He was with Cargo. He was home, on Namek. Everything was as it should be.
So why did he feel so uneasy?
The wind howled louder now, a shrill sound that scraped at the edges of his consciousness. Dende’s teeth gritted together in a reflexive effort to withstand it, the cold pressure in his gut intensifying. His heart raced, a sudden, irrational fear creeping into his chest. “Cargo-” he started, his voice strained, but before he could finish, the wind roared even stronger, and the world around him began to shift.
“Cargo!” he called again, his voice trembling, but the wind swallowed it whole.
“Dende, where are you,” Cargo cried out, tears in his eyes. Dende wanted to respond, to reassure his brother that he was here, but another gust sent him tumbling backwards, knocking the breath out of his lungs. “Come back, Dende!”
“Dende!”
Dende.
Dende shot upright from where he had been dozing at the long wooden table, the imprint of the paper sharp and painful against his face. His body tensed as a sudden wave of dizziness hit him, blurring his vision and making the room spin wildly. The feeling was a sharp punishment for standing up too quickly, the pressure in his head throbbing as his body fought to regain balance. He placed a hand on the table for support, trying to steady himself, blinking rapidly to shake off the disorienting vertigo.
When his vision cleared, he saw Piccolo standing a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, his posture as imposing as ever. The tall Namekian was watching Dende with his usual, unamused expression, almost expectant, but Dende could tell he had been calling his name for a while. “P-Piccolo! Erm–” Dende squeaked.
The strange, cold feeling from the dream lingered in his chest, like an unsettling echo that wouldn’t quite fade. It was one of those dreams that felt too vivid, but Dende had no time to dwell on it now.
The dizziness had passed, and with a quick, conscious effort, Dende straightened his posture, attempting to brush off the lingering unease. Dende gave a small, somewhat awkward smile. “Hello, Piccolo. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. What brings you to The Lookout?”
“I’m here for some information.”
His voice was blunt, as direct and to the point as always. No time for pleasantries. No idle chatter. It was the kind of approach Dende had long since come to expect from the stoic Namekian. The younger guardian’s polite smile faltered slightly, a small sigh internally resounding. While he was glad to see Piccolo, they’d never really been close like Gohan or Pan, and they never even talked about them both being Namekian. It made the encounter feel more formal than he had hoped for, and the abruptness of it all dampened the initial joy he’d felt at having a visitor.
“O-Oh! Well, maybe I can be of help,” Dende said, his voice lifting as he quickly recovered, hoping to be of service. He matched Piccolo’s straightforward tone, his posture shifting and standing up straighter. "What information do you seek?"
Piccolo’s eyes flickered for a brief moment, and for just the smallest of seconds, a reluctant expression crossed his face. It wasn’t much, just a faint hesitation, but Dende noticed it immediately. His brow furrowed in curiosity, and he tilted his head slightly, trying to appear as approachable as possible. Piccolo, for all his strength and composure, wasn’t one to easily reveal vulnerability. That alone made Dende wonder what this was about.
"Is the Earth in danger," Dende thought, feeling a sudden weight settle in his stomach. While Earth had been relatively peaceful as of late, he could never fully relax, knowing that another crisis could erupt at any moment. Piccolo was always at the heart of things when it came to protecting the planet, and while it would mean recognition for Dende as the guardian, the idea of having to face another Earth-shattering threat made his heart sink.
But Piccolo sighed deeply, pushing that momentary unease aside. His gaze hardened again into its usual steely resolve, and he leveled it with Dende’s. “What do you know about Namekian parental relationships?”
Well, that question certainly wasn’t what Dende was expecting.
“I–” Dende began, pausing as he tried to gather his thoughts, “I know some things.”
He was sure his facial expression reflected his surprise as he stared at Piccolo who only looked more gloomy. Recovering quickly, Dende made his face seem as neutral and friendly as possible so as to not make the other feel scrutinized.
“Well… On Namek, as I’m sure you are aware, we don’t actually reproduce like other species,” Dende answered, glancing up to see the older Namekian’s expression. Piccolo just waited for him to continue, Dende swallowing the sudden dry feeling in his throat. “Namekian’s give birth through asexual reproduction, spitting out an egg that contains a child Namekian. Once the egg hatches, well… There aren’t really parent-child relationships like on Earth, but more of a community effort to raise the children, all of us being brothers and all.”
There was a beat of silence, both of them staring at the other expectantly before Piccolo spoke first.
“Is that all?”
Dende rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, he really didn’t have any other basic information. Piccolo’s question was so vague with no angle, leaving Dende curious about his motive for asking. “I mean there is my own personal experience growing up with Moori and Grand Elder Guru if that sounds like it would help.”
“All information is helpful,” Piccolo stated dryly, growing impatient. “Don’t leave anything out.”
“R-right, erm…,” Dende trailed off as he wracked his brain for memories of his life on Namek. He suddenly was face to face with Cargo in his dream, quickly shaking his head in hopes that he would will the terrified face of his brother away. “Grand Elder Guru is the one who gave birth to me and as such is my father. While he is my father, he is the father to all on planet Namek.”
Feeling like there was no context, Dende continued.
“Many years ago, our planet experienced a rapid and devastating climate change that would've been the end of all life on Namek. The clouds would produce no rain, and all the rivers and lakes dried up. Namekian began to die of starvation, including the Grand Elder and keeper of the Dragon Balls.”
“Couldn't you have wished for the Dragon to stop the climate change?”
“I wish it had been so, but the Grand Elder at the time of this had also passed away before transferring the wisdom of the Dragon Balls to a young Guru. It took awhile for him to recreate the Dragon Balls from our ancestors' knowledge and by then…”
Dende couldn't help but falter in his speech, he remembered all too well the stories of how long it took to get things back to a working state on Namek. Dende had never himself experienced months where there was little to drink, but he knew of older Namekians who did.
“Also, the Namekian Dragon Balls are different… we do not use them like those on Earth do, only in times of dire need.”
Piccolo couldn't hold back his sigh of frustration. “I know all too well how Bulma and the others use them. It makes sense that the Namekians never did because they probably thought it wasn't an issue that could be solved with Porunga's wishes. But you were going to explain your relationship with Moori and Guru.”
“R-right, my apologies. Moori was sort of the leader of our village. Most of the time, we would instruct us on where to go or what to do. Moori was also in charge of making sure we all stayed hydrated and comfortable. He wasn't a warrior but he was a protector. When Freiza came, he tried to stop one of Freiza's men, but he wasn't strong enough… My only personal interaction with Elder Moori was whenever he would teach me things like reading or writing but that is because I was also very interested in that sort of thing.”
Dende stopped to see Piccolo's reaction but there was none so he kept talking.
“As for Grand Elder Guru,” Dende continued, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips as memories of his childhood on Namek resurfaced, “he was always kind and wise. I would ask him all sorts of questions about everything, and sometimes his answers were so cryptic that they only made me ask more and more.” He chuckled quietly, his gaze drifting as he recalled the warmth of those days. “Cargo and I would sit on his lap sometimes, and I still remember their laughter, especially when Cargo would make his silly jokes.”
A brief, bittersweet silence followed, as Dende’s smile faltered just slightly. It was hard to talk about those memories without feeling the weight of everything that had changed, especially now that he was not going back.
Piccolo didn’t say anything, but his expression darkened with a look of– understanding?
After a moment, Piccolo spoke, his voice calm but direct, as always. “Grand Elder Guru… he said you’d make a good Kami, didn’t he?”
Dende’s chest tightened at the mention of the words, his posture stiffening instinctively. Dende knew the ending to the story wasn't a happy one, and apparently Piccolo saw that hidden fact he kept to himself too. Guru had given him up to another planet, even though it was his purpose. The sudden pang of grief and guilt that washed over him took him by surprise, but he pushed it down, forcing himself to answer. He would not cry in front of anyone, especially not Piccolo.
“You would be correct, Piccolo,” Dende said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
There was a long silence after that. Dende felt the sting of unshed tears threatening to break free, but he clenched his jaw. Finally, Piccolo broke the stillness, his tone soft. “Then teach me– what it means to be a Namekian, I mean.”
Dende blinked, his eyes widening slightly.
“I- you what!?” Dende couldn’t help the squeak of surprise that left his mouth.
Piccolo wanted to learn about Namekian culture? Piccolo wanted to learn about Namekian culture. No matter how many times he repeated it, Dende was left supremely confused.
To hear him express such an interest in understanding their heritage was unexpected. It wasn’t just a casual inquiry; there was something genuine in the older Namekian’s voice, something deeper. Piccolo, ever the solitary warrior, had lived through so much, yet here he was, seeking understanding of the very roots they both came from.
“You heard me,” he said, the words sounding final but not mean, more embarrassed. Piccolo was looking away from Dende, and he could tell that whatever the reason, Piccolo was withholding information.
Dende stood frozen for a moment, his eyes wide with surprise.
“I never thought you’d care about that kind of thing," Dende said, almost to himself, his voice betraying the bewilderment that lingered in his mind. He then realized, again, how rude he must sound. "I mean, you’ve never seemed interested in our ways, or even in being around other Namekians. But…”
His tone softened as he spoke, the initial surprise turning into something more akin to compassion.
"Of course," Dende replied, his voice more sure now. "I’ll help you.”
Piccolo gave a single, respectful nod. “I’ll be back in a few days. I’ve got some things I need to focus on in the meantime, but once I’m ready, we can start the lessons.”
With that, Piccolo turned toward the edge of the Lookout, his long cape trailing behind him as he began to walk toward the precipice. Dende watched as Piccolo waved a short goodbye, before launching himself off the edge of the Lookout. The young Namekian stood still for a long moment, his eyes following Piccolo as he soared into the now twilight sky. Looking down at his green hands, he couldn’t hold back his smile. It was something Dende had only dreamed Piccolo might ask of him, but nonetheless it was coming true.
And as he turned back to the Lookout, Dende felt the excitement of the coming days ahead. A soft smirk came onto his face.
Luckily for him, Dende knew exactly what he would teach Piccolo.