"This..." Gohan's expression was one of helpless resignation. "I don't know where New Namek is. And even if I had the coordinates, without Instant Transmission or a spaceship, I couldn't get there. Only my father knew Instant Transmission, and without Bulma, we can't build a ship."
"Those aren't problems," Rhode replied easily. "I know Instant Transmission. And I can find New Namek." He had relationships with several Namekian elders across timelines. Whether by locking onto their ki or using Super Instant Transmission to appear directly before them, getting there was trivial.
"Let's go together. I don't know this world's Namekians, but they know you. You'll do the talking."
Joy, pure and unguarded, flooded Gohan's face. "You mean... we can revive everyone? Please, Mr. Rhode! Take me now!"
"Easy." Rhode raised a hand, then paused. "First, there's something else. Your world's original Cell—the one from this timeline—is still out there. Hiding. We should deal with him before we leave."
Gohan's expression hardened. He nodded.
Rhode placed a hand on his shoulder. The world twisted.
They materialized in a dark, ruined basement. Before them, an immature, insectoid form—the embryonic Cell of this timeline—was in the act of draining a terrified survivor.
Gohan didn't hesitate. Rage and justice merged into a single, decisive strike. The undeveloped Cell was obliterated, his future of terror ended before it could truly begin.
Pathetic end, Rhode mused. Without the androids to absorb, without a time machine to escape, this Cell was the weakest possible version of the nightmare.
New Namek was lush and peaceful, a stark contrast to the ruined Earth. The Namekians, upon seeing Gohan—the hero who had fought for their world—welcomed them warmly. When they explained their purpose, the Elders agreed without hesitation.
The dragon balls were gathered. Porunga was summoned, his form majestic against the alien sky.
"FIRST WISH," Gohan declared, his voice thick with emotion. "REVIVE ALL THOSE ON EARTH WHO WERE KILLED BY THE ANDROIDS."
The dragon's eyes glowed. The wish was granted. Across the cosmos, on a broken world, fallen warriors drew breath once more. Piccolo returned, and with him, Kami. The Earth's Dragon Balls were functional again.
"SECOND WISH," Gohan continued, hope trembling in his voice. "REVIVE MY FATHER... GOKU, WHO DIED OF THE HEART VIRUS."
A pause. Porunga's voice was regretful. "THIS WISH CANNOT BE GRANTED. GOKU'S DEATH WAS BY NATURAL CAUSES. NOT EVEN THE DRAGON BALLS CAN REVERSE THE PASSING OF A LIFE BY ILLNESS OR AGE."
The hope in Gohan's eyes dimmed, but did not shatter. He had lived with this loss for years. The confirmation, while painful, was not a new wound. He simply nodded, accepting the immutable truth.
"Then I have no more wishes."
Porunga could not revive Goku. The Earth's fallen warriors had been restored. Gohan, his heart lighter but still carrying the quiet ache of his father's permanent absence, turned to Rhode.
"Mr. Rhode," he said, his voice soft but sincere. "Do you have a wish you want to make?"
"Me?" Rhode paused, genuinely surprised. For a moment, he considered. His power had grown to the point where he needed little from any dragon. But... there were always avenues of research, paths to explore. He listed several theoretical concepts he had been pondering—refinements to the Spirit Bomb's mechanics, biological data on certain rare races—and asked Porunga for guidance. The dragon provided concise, insightful summaries.
The second wish was used.
"Next..." Rhode mused, then a spark lit his eyes. "Shenron. Unlock my potential."
It was a simple request, with no downside. He was curious how much latent power the Namekian dragon could draw forth.
"THIS WISH IS VERY SIMPLE. "
Porunga's eyes glowed. Rhode felt a surge—not of foreign power, but of his own energy, clarified, optimized, flowing freely from reserves he hadn't even known were locked away. It was the accumulated refinement of his training, now fully integrated, along with sudden, crystal-clear understandings of techniques and concepts that had previously eluded him. His power didn't just increase; it harmonized.
"YOUR WISH IS GRANTED. FAREWELL. "
The light faded. Porunga was gone.
The New Namekian Elders extended a warm invitation to stay, fascinated by Rhode's fluent command of their language. But Rhode declined, and Gohan's heart was already pulling him home.
They materialized in front of a familiar house on Mount Paozu. The air was clean, the sky clear. A woman stood in the doorway, her face etched with years of worry and loss.
"Mom!" Gohan's voice broke as he ran. Chi-Chi's arms opened, and mother and son collided, holding each other as if they would never let go. Tears flowed freely, words tumbling out between sobs—explanations, apologies, expressions of love long suppressed.
When the emotional storm finally calmed, Chi-Chi gently cupped Gohan's face, her eyes wet but shining. "My boy... you've been through so much."
She then turned to Rhode, who had waited patiently at a respectful distance. She approached and bowed deeply, formally, the gesture of a mother whose child had been saved. "Mr. Rhode. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart."
Rhode accepted the bow with a slight nod. He felt he had earned it. "Haha. I just happened to be there. Gohan did the real work."
As the reunion settled, Rhode glanced at the sky, then back at them. "My time in this world is short. Chi-Chi... would you like to see Goku again? If the rules hold, he should have retained his body in the Other World."