An Omake, entitled "The Lonely Lookout"
gone
***
You accelerate for a timeless eternity, light bending around you (through you? within you?) in a way words don't really convey.
You stop. The entire galaxy lays spread before you, stars hanging in the black. They don't twinkle as they always have at home, and you realize there's no air in the way.
"Kais on high," you say to yourself,
"Where am I?"
You pause, studying the stars. You know, deep down in your bones (however far away those must be by now) that your home must be near one of those pinpricks of light, but you couldn't hope to guess which one.
As you watch the stars with unblinking eyes, you feel a tiny presence. You rotate to look for it, idly noting the nearby star.
Your keen eyes pick out a bright, moving object in roughly the same orbit as you are. It is coming closer, at a crawl.
Your Sight brought your shade here for a reason, you decide, and that looks like the most likely one. Locking onto the faint signatures you can detect - they feel like plants - you bring your fingers to your head.
vip
The sky is blue overhead, with the star shining through it cheerily. You find yourself someplace you never thought you would see. Pillars rise on either side of you, and flagstones are smooth beneath your immaterial feet. A row of oddly-shaped trees juts out from either side of the area you have appeared in, and a grand palace rises a short way away.
No one who was raised knowing your legends could fail to recognize this place, but to actually
be here is impossible.
"Kami's Lookout," you whisper.
"It was. Then it was Dende's. Now it is waiting." The calm voice fills the air around you, making you leap into the air in surprise. Turning, you see the speaker.
He looks exactly as the legends say. His eyes are white circles contained within a completely ebony face, and they stare unblinkingly at you. Atop his head sits a turban. That turban, in addition to his flowing pants, is the only bit of clothing the being wears.
"Are...are you Mr. Popo?" you ask, awed. Then you pause. The texts you've read portray him very differently. In most of them, Mr. Popo was portrayed as a friendly, helpful person. He was eager, willing, and able to help the Ancestors. In the rest...
"I am." Mr. Popo wanders slightly to the side, bending forward to water a flower.
Well, he hasn't berated me, swallowed my soul, or laughed yet. Maybe I'm in luck. You decide to press forward.
"You said the Lookout is waiting. Waiting for what?"
Mr. Popo doesn't even pause as he answers your question. "This Lookout is the home of the Guardian of Earth. It's waiting for the next Guardian."
You eye the sky, knowing the emptiness beyond the blue.
"That...might take a while. Earth was blown up over 500 years ago."
"Yeah, those maggots are taking their sweet time this time. I'd expected them to gather the Dragon Balls within a year or two." Mr. Popo's voice is nonchalant as he walks the rows of trees, stopping occasionally to water a plant.
"Have you been alone all this time?" you ask. Then you catch sight of a skeleton, distinctly non-human, scattered across the steps Mr. Popo is approaching.
"Oh my no. I've had visitors over the years. Most of them have made quite the mess." He idly kicks the misshapen skull as he walks, sending it clattering to the bottom of the stairs. "Some of them were looters, some were travelers, and one group even wanted me to train them."
Mr Popo's hand reaches out, one chubby digit pointing at your arm. "By the way, are you going to eat that?"
You glance down at Dazarel's shade, neck clenched in your fist so tightly that he can't speak. His eyes are wide with apparent fear, and he is futilely struggling to escape your iron grip.
"No. But soon he's going to be telling me a lot of what he knows."
"Pity."
"But...can you tell me where I can find Dragon Balls? Or help me in any way? It's sorta urgent, you see my planet is home to," you start speaking, only to be cut off.
"Don't care, don't wanna know." Mr. Popo says dismissively. "But if you clean up the mess that last guy left, I'll answer your question about Dragon Balls." He points at the skeleton, aged bones shining white in the sunlight.
You try, though you know it's futile. But you can no more touch the bones with hands or ki than you can breate the air or feel the wind. Finally, Darazel's incessant clawing at your arm begins to annoy you.
"What do you want?" you hiss at him, loosening your fist slightly.
"Get us out of here," he gasps,
"The void-eater known neither mercy nor pity, and is rapidly growing bored!"
You glance up in sudden panic, seeing Mr. Popo's bright, soulless eyes staring right at you. His thick, red lips twitch upwards into a smile. "He's right you know."
The centuries of isolation don't seem to have done Mr. Popo's temperment any good. His eyes follow you, his head motionless, as you launch into the false sky. You pass through it into the soundless, airless void, but you are certain those eyes are still following you.
As you reach for your Sight, asking it to take you instead to New Friends, you swear you hear his demonic voice echoing in your ears.
He says, "Goodbye...for now," and you unconsciously shudder.
