Dragon Ball Z: The Beast Within - CH51

[Potato - The Totally Real Saiyan – First Person POV]

I perched on the edge of a nearby building, legs crossed, arms resting on my knees, and a stick of what passed for candy in this dustball of a planet hanging loosely from my lips.

Below, two small Saiyans traded blows in a half-destroyed courtyard, as others cheered on.

Escarot and Okara.

From a distance, they looked like just another pair of battle junkies throwing fists for fun. But I knew better. They were training. Testing. Calculating. And most importantly, they were doing all of that, while—suppressing their true power.

They were holding back. A lot.

They were probably a… hundred times stronger than what they showed. 

I squinted, chewing thoughtfully on the candy stick. Tasted like dried protein powder. So, Saiyan-flavored.

But the fight… the fight was worth watching. A bit slow for my taste, but not everything had to be world ending level to be enjoyable.

Escarot weaved under a roundhouse from Okara, twisting his hips and slamming a sharp elbow into her side. She slid back, feet grinding into the dirt, but she didn’t go down. Just smirked, spat blood, and lunged again like it was the best day of her life.

They were smiling. Grinning. Enjoying themselves.

Saiyans.

Honestly, if I weren’t here on an extremely important multiversal investigation, I’d be tempted to call this a vacation.

My fingers tapped against my knee, trying to organize my thoughts.

—Who is Escarot?

Still no answer.

I had searched every file, every database, every scrap of time-thread documentation I had access to. There were records of Okara in more than a thousand timelines. Same with Garlik—though he tended to die early in most of them.

Even minor background Saiyans had footnotes. But Escarot?

Nothing.

Nada.

Not a name. Not a mention. Not even a line in a doomed-universe obituary.

This was an impossibility. Or at least should’ve been… I was working on new territory here.

That said… time doesn't just birth new people. You don’t just get a new character out of nowhere like someone rolled a D20 on DnD.

That’s not how timelines work.

They diverge. They shift. They're reflections, some very distorted, sure… but they are not rebirths.

But this… this wasn’t a divergence.

This was a new root entirely. A branch with no prior stem. A completely new tree of time growing in soil that shouldn’t exist.

And Escarot was the seed. Or at least the focal point of it all.

I took another bite of my stick.

Below, Okara cracked her knuckles, backed up, and threw a punch. Escarot deflected it with his forearm and returned with a low sweep kick, making her flip and land in a crouch.

It was honestly impressive how good they were performing while limiting themselves that much.

I was pretty sure they could level most of the planet if they went even half-out.

They had control.

Far too much for this era.

Escarot’s control was especially disturbing. His Ki control was far too advanced for the power he wielded.

“Maybe I should call Trunks,” I muttered.

I leaned back and stared up at the red sky.

I hadn’t brought this case to anyone else yet. I wasn’t even sure I had to. Technically, it wasn’t on the scrolls yet. Nor it had broken any rules… 

Escarot ducked under a blast from Okara, rolled, and launched a return shot—just enough to push her back but not enough to hurt her.

For the first time in eons, I wasn’t watching a timeline unravel into doom.

I was watching one grow from scratch.

I caught myself smiling.

Damn it.

“I hate that I’m enjoying this,” I muttered, tossing the candy stick aside.

Escarot landed a solid hit that sent Okara flying back into a pile of broken metal. She rolled, flipped upright, and laughed. “Okay, that one actually stung!”

He grinned. “Good.”

She launched again.

More dust. More shockwaves.

I sighed.

“Well, whoever you are, Escarot… you’re interesting.”

And that terrified me more than any corrupted time demon or collapsing timeline ever had.

Because I had no idea what you were going to do next.

And I couldn’t help but be excited to find out.

—---------------------------------------------------

[Escarot – First Person POV]

After my training sessions with Okara, I returned home tired, sweaty, and ready to eat. Thank the stars. 

It was surprisingly hard to train while limiting yourself. Mentally at least, it was taxing.

I stretched out my shoulders, letting the tension drain a bit. My tail moving from side to side as I yawned.

Still, having a moment to myself? Rare.

It was funny really, this chaotic rock of a planet was… somehow a peaceful haven for me.

I leaned against a busted column, one of the many "natural training props" we had smashed to bits during our warm-up.

Then I felt something.

A presence approaching—weak, but not with ill intent. No, this one had a nervous touch to his energy. Courier vibes.

Sure enough, a young Saiyan came jogging up to me like I was gonna break his legs if he was late.

Probably because someone told him I would. Okara probably would.

He stopped a few meters short, caught his breath, then presented a formal envelope like it was made of sacred dust. The paper even looked expensive. Not local, either. Imported.

I raised an eyebrow. “Fancy.”

The kid bowed, hard. “F-For you, sir Escarot.”

“Sir,” huh?

Great.

I took the envelope and cracked it open, ignoring the guy a decade older than me still bowing so deep his spine was probably sobbing.

Gold-inked letters danced across the parchment, all curly and formal. Real overkill. But the message was simple enough:

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO ATTEND THE CELEBRATION OF THE HEIR TO THE SAIYAN THRONE.

FORMAL DRESS REQUIRED. PRESENCE MANDATORY.

I blinked. How can one be cordially invited to something but be forced to go at the same time?

“Mandatory celebration.”

The saiyan straightened a bit, clearly waiting for me to explode or throw the letter at him or something like that.

Instead, I folded it and tucked it away. “Alright.”

His eyes widened. “You… accept?”

“I don’t have much of an option, don’t I?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

He bowed again, turned, and sprinted off like he’d just delivered a time bomb and was hoping to not be in the blast radius.

I watched him go.

A celebration, huh?

For Prince Vegeta. The one with the tragic baby hairline and permanent pride problems. So he was finally being paraded around like the next big thing.

To be fair, he was the next big thing. At least by Saiyan standards. If you don’t count Broly that is.

Born with a power level above 1900, royalty, expected to surpass even his father— who would eventually get pantsed by Frieza in every version of this tale except the ones where things go even worse.

Still.

I was surprised… I would’ve expected King Vegeta to… not invite me. It's no secret he doesn’t like me. Maybe he didn’t tell anyone not to invite, who knows…

I exhaled a long breath and started walking.

This celebration wasn’t something I was looking forward to, it meant everything was moving forward, and the events of Canon would catch up to me.

I wasn’t as worried as I had been at one point, though.

A part of me was still scared, sure… but more than scared, I was excited at what the future held. Frieza was just the first of many strong enemies I would face, and that excited me, it made my blood pump!

On another note. What did the King mean by formal wear?

I have yet to see the first Saiyan wearing something other than his armor.

What even passed as formal wear here? Did I have to wear an idiotic cape like him or something? Maybe dig up my old battle armor and try to polish the blood out of it?

…Wait.

Where did you even buy formal wear on Planet Vegeta?

I’d never seen a tailor. Did we even have tailors?

The thought made me laugh.

Imagine some poor Saiyan seamstress with a shop between two war factories, surrounded by people who’d rather punch their way into shirts than wear them properly.

I sighed and looked toward the castle.

Two weeks to find the Saiyan equivalent of a tuxedo.

I wonder if I can sneak Okara as my plus one, she ought to give the King an aneurism with her behaivor.

[Next Episode: The Coward King]