Dragon Ball Z: The Beast Within - CH49

[Escarot POV]

Was there a book out there to diagnose if a baby was a potential psychopath?

You know, something like “So Your Child Is The Legendary Super Saiyan and Might Snap a Spine by Age Four: A Practical Guide to Not Dying.”

Because if there was, I needed a copy. Urgently.

Broly was still in his incubation pod, sleeping like the world’s most adorable time bomb, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if he ended up like the version I’d seen before. The one that could sneeze a planet into dust and was about as emotionally stable as your average hornet.

Even now, his power was growing. Not steadily, or logically for that matter—just growing. Non-stop, it was… concerning. Like a balloon filling with too much air. Eventually, it’s gonna pop.

And I had decided to spare the adorable balloon…

Which, in hindsight, made me the idiot here. But still—Saiyan instinct said, “let’s fight it” Saiyan pride said, “handle it.” Human logic whispered, “run bitch run.”

Still, despite everything, I couldn’t bring myself to kill a baby who giggled when he saw me.

So yeah, I was playing the long game.

And probably the stupid one.

But I didn’t care.

“I might end up being… Baned…” I muttered under my breath. “God, I hope he never Banes me.”

That image of Broly breaking me over his knee like a glowstick refused to leave my head.

Wasn’t helpful.

But what could I do? I couldn’t kill him—not yet, anyway. Not unless he turned into a rampaging monster. And even then, there was the tiniest part of me that hoped he wouldn’t. That with the right support—or at least a non-abusive father figure—he’d be okay

And hey, worst case scenario? If I failed to kill Frieza, maybe Broly would, he did seem a bit protective of Paragus, in a way… So a win is a win.

“So… any time-altering plans?”

I froze.

Then sighed.

Then rolled my eyes.

Potato.

This girl was relentless.

I turned around slowly, and there she stood—dressed like a damn detective. Pen. Paper. Hat. I think it even had a badge on it that said “SECRET SQUAD” or something.

Where the hell did she even get that outfit?

“…No?” I answered, unsure if there was a correct answer to that question. “Why?”

She scribbled something down like it was very important. “Hmm.”

“…What’s with the cosplay?”

“Investigative journalism,” she said, matter-of-fact. “I’m uncovering the truth.”

“Of what?”

“Girl stuff,” she said, dead serious. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re on the suspect list.”

I’m 90% sure this girl has some kind of mental disorder.

She squinted at me, pen hovering over her notebook. “So, where are your friends? And are they currently trying to tamper with forces they can’t possibly comprehend?”

My mouth opened. Then closed.

I genuinely had no clue how to answer that.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “Haven’t seen them in a while, so maybe?”

“Interesting,” she muttered, and jotted something down like I’d just confessed to a war crime.

“So,” I said, “is this your way of saying you like me?”

That got her attention.

She blinked. “What?”

“Well, following me around. Asking questions. Dressing up. I mean, if you’re trying to get my attention, just say so. I’ll still reject you, but you won’t look like a stalker.”

I gave her a once-over. “…I hate to break it to you, but your name matches your allure. You do look like a potato.”

Her pen snapped in half.

Oh no.

Here it comes.

“HOW DARE YOU!” she roared, throwing the poor pen like it had insulted her family honor. “YOU WOULDN’T KNOW FEMININE CHARM IF IT SLAPPED YOU ACROSS THE FACE!”

I couldn’t help it. I smirked.

“This,” she gestured dramatically to herself, “is how a true woman looks, you brat!”

Brat?

Weren’t we the same age?

I crossed my arms. “I have bigger tits than you.”

She recoiled like I slapped her.

“They’re pecs,” I added helpfully. “Man-tits. Still bigger though.”

“I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW,” she shrieked, voice cracking like an amateur opera singer, “THAT MY BOSOM IS GRACEFULLY MODEST!”

“Gracefully modest sounds like a polite way to say flat.”

Her eye twitched.

She started reaching for something—

I raised an eyebrow.

And then she froze.

Just stood there, breathing heavily, muttering to herself. 

“You’re… you’re impossible,” she finally muttered.

“Thank you,” I said, with a bow. “I try.”

She glared. “You’re going to regret this one day.”

“I regret most things already, this won’t even register.”

Potato fumed. I could practically see steam rising from her ears.

And then, just as suddenly as she arrived, she pivoted on her heel.

“I’m going to find your friends,” she declared, dramatically flaring her coat like she was in a noir movie. “And when I return, you will realize the error of your ways, Escarot! Mark my words!”

And she stormed off.

In the wrong direction.

“…The engineer’s wing is that way,” I called out.

“I KNOW!” she snapped, turning around immediately like that had been her plan all along.

I watched her go for a second. Then shook my head.

There was something odd about her.

Because she wasn’t a Saiyan, that much I had gathered after our first interaction. She had a tail, sure. But it looked like a Halloween prop.

Still… despite how suspicious she was, and annoying, she wasn’t boring.

And right now, I could use all the distractions I could get.

The weight of the future was pressing in around me again. Frieza. Cooler. Beerus. The Cold Clan. Broly. My own inevitable hand in these events and the consequences that would come with it.

Too many threats.

Too many unknowns.

I needed to train. I needed to prepare.

And I needed to make damn sure that the canon didn’t find a way to slap me down the line.

One wrong move and this whole house of cards would collapse.

But for now?

I was going to eat.

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

[ Potato POV.]

HOW DARE HE.

What kind of imbecilic brute says that to a lady? I gifted him with my presence. Blessed him with my conversation. And what do I get in return?

“You look like a potato.”

THE AUDACITY.

THE INSOLENCE.

THE FACT THAT HE’S TECHNICALLY CORRECT ACCORDING TO THIS DUMB ALIAS I GAVE MYSELF.

I stomped down the street, tail twitching behind me in frustration; which, by the way, still itched. Do you have any idea how dumb a fake tail feels when it’s glued to your back armor and tied around your waist with invisible ki thread?

Because I do. And it’s HORRIBLE.

It sways weird. It bends funny. It has zero emotional expression. It’s like dragging around a limp furry sock puppet.

I hate field work! This is why I have unpaid labor. Like Trunks.

Where was I? Oh yeah… THAT BRAT CALLED ME A FLAT TO MY FACE.

ME!, The Supreme Kai of Time. The girl who has watched empires rise and fall, seen mortal civilizations climb the ladder of progress and promptly trip over it face-first into extinction. I’ve babysat gods of destruction, I’ve un-glitched paradoxes that would make mortal brains explode, and I have personally wrangled dozens of Gokus through multi-dimensional stupidity—

AND SOME RANDOM MUSCLE GOBLIN FROM PLANET PUNCH-A-BABY JUST CALLED ME FLAT!

I stopped in the middle of the street, placed both hands on my hips, and screamed into the void of Planet Vegeta’s dusty sky:

“I AM A GODDESS, YOU STUPID MOP OF ABS.”

It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine. I’m just undercover, in a time period with nothing fun to do.

“I have bigger tits than you”

THESE ARE COMPACT. STREAMLINED. DELICATE.

They are not small, they are strategically aerodynamic!

You try running with galaxy-ruling cleavage, huh? Back pain is very real.

Also, also—he had the nerve to say I was following him out of romantic interest.

ME.

THE SUPREME KAI OF TIME.

Follow a mortal?

As if.

…

I am following him for research and temporal surveillance, thank you very much. There is nothing romantic about shadowing someone because they broke the timeline over their knee like a breadstick.

Besides, I’m far too mature for crushes. And far too old. And far too— everything for him

I swear I’m going to alter the time stream just to make “Escarot” the Saiyan word for “buttcrack.”

Let’s see how he likes walking around with that reputation.

Ugh.

I kicked a small rock off the road.

A few passing Saiyans gave me odd looks. I glared back. “What? Never seen a girl abuse geology before?”

They turned away.

Victory.

Still, I had to admit…

He was interesting.

That power suppression trick? Way more advanced than any Saiyan should know at this point. His awareness? Sharp. Way too sharp. And his personality?

Infuriating.

But layered.

And… maybe, possibly, a little charming. Too charming for the average saiyan of this era… there was something definitely off with him.

…

I have to keep observing him. Professionally.

For time related reasons.

And also because I’m going to destroy his ego by the end of this. Mark my words, Escarot. You may have won the first verbal exchange, but round two is coming, and I am loaded with sass, vengeance, and an actual bra this time.

Now…

Where did I leave that notebook?

…And also my dignity?

Eh. I’ll find both eventually.

Probably.

Maybe.

Shut up!