Dragon Ball Z: The Beast Within - CH39

[Escarot POV]

I…

I don’t even know how to begin explaining what happened.

One second I was on the ship, mid-image training. I'd just managed to land a perfect counter on fake-Frieza. The next, something tore through the training pod like it was made of wet paper, grabbed me like I was the last pringle in the can before ripping me clean out.

Then boom—apron. Chef’s hat. Kitchen.

And in front of me?

A purring purple cat-God and his flamboyant handler. 

The purring part is a lie, and we are totally not under threat of complete and total annihilation by an all powerful entity who swore to destroy us if we ever said he purred.

"Delicious!!!" Beerus howled, smacking the table with his tail. “Delicious! Delicious! Delicious! DELICIOUS!”

Across from him, Whis moaned.

Like actually moaned, with enough passion to make some adult entertainers feel jealous. “Awwwwwww~” Hand on his cheek. Twinkle in his eye.

Egh…

“What in the actual fuck is happening?” Okara muttered under her breath.

“We were kidnapped,” I muttered back, calmly sautéing what looked like space garlic with one hand while stirring a sauce that smelled like pure heaven with the other.

“That much is clear, sir…” Garlik replied, blinking as he peeled onions. “The question is, how are we, uh, escaping?”

“We fuckign aren’t,” I replied with a scoff.

Okara stopped scrubbing. “What?”

“By all means,” I said, still cooking, “Go ahead. Try escaping the all-powerful God of Destruction and his attendant. See how that goes. Personally, I prefer my atoms to remain in place.”

“Okara the potato cleaner,” she mumbled, dead inside. “Not how I imagined my life would end.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that being his personal chef might actually extend our lifespan. If we kept his stomach happy, we might buy a few more years of existence.

Still, this wasn’t how I imagined things would go either. I knew becoming the best chef in the universe would give me some leverage over him. But I wholly underestimated just how much of an impact that would have.

“This is the BEST!” Beerus beamed, shoving a rice-and-spice combo into his face like he was starving. His cheeks puffed out. Tail flicking happily.

“Your dishes…” Whis moaned once more, eyes closed, biting his lower lip. “They’re enhancing my understanding of existence~”

Egh…

The worst part is that I think he meant that.

Three straight hours of cooking. Dozens of dishes. And more moans than I ever wanted to hear from a deity and his zesty handler. Not how I imagined spending my afternoon or any afternoon for that matter.

I flipped a skillet of something I’m 90% sure is just space-octopus and turned to the God of Destruction himself.

“Lord Beerus,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Sorry to interrupt your bliss, but... when exactly are you letting us leave?”

Beerus didn’t even look up. “Never.”

Of course.

Okara dropped her potato.

Garlik muttered something that sounded like a prayer.

Whis, ever the cheerful sadist, smiled. “Oh, don’t worry. Lord Beerus is simply leasing your services momentarily.”

“He is?” I asked.

“I am?” Beerus blinked, mid-chew. “Ahem—yes! That’s right. Leasing! Temporarily. Consider it an honor.”

Oh, well that’s a relief.

“So… how long is ‘temporary’ exactly?” I asked, stirring sauce with one hand while plating the current dish with the other.

For someone that 1000 years was a nap, the word temporary was worrying.

“It would’ve taken you roughly a year to return to Planet Vegeta,” Whis said, helpfully. “Instead, you’ll remain here for three months. Cook during that time, and we will drop you off directly.”

Oh. That… wasn’t bad. Still felt like forced indentured culinary servitude, but it was way better than being obliterated.

“So,” I said carefully, “did you like the pillow?”

Beerus paused. Chewed. Nodded furiously, mouth too full to speak.

“I believe your food eclipsed the pillow,” Whis giggled, sipping from his cup.

Well… that was underwhelming. Best pillow in the universe, and the entire reason I was able to leave Planet Vegeta, and he has little to no reaction about it.

On another note, I have to admit that seeing these two so in love with my dishes does give me a sense of accomplishment.

“I have a request,” Beerus said suddenly, licking his bowl. “I want this again. But with that purple sauce you made. You know, the one that made Whis do the little foot shake thing.”

“My foot did no such thing,” Whis gasped, insulted.

“You levitated six inches from the floor and giggled.”

“That’s not the same as shaking.”

“Still counts.”

I sighed and reached for the spice jar. “As you wish.”

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

[Escarot POV]

After hours—hours—of cooking for the glutton of a God this universe had, he finally decided he was full. Two hundred courses in, not counting the improvised desserts he demanded between meals, or the second round of “that thing with the jelly sauce” six hours later.

By the time he flopped over with a satisfied sigh and declared himself “in a state of perfect bliss,” I was considering stabbing myself with a fork just to feel something again.

At least the hell shift was over.

Okara had passed out with her face in a bucket of dishwater. Garlik was curled up under the counter, quietly muttering incoherent words in his sleep.

Me? I was tired. Absolutely drained. But I refused to end my day with just this.

I could still squeeze a bit of energy out of me, and I would do the only thing that helped me clear my head and relax.

Train.

Simple shadow sparring at first. Light footwork, sharp strikes, working through some of the forms I had learned so far, taking it easy, but putting enough to remind my body that it still had a purpose beyond chopping vegetables and folding dumplings.

"Oh my, so diligent in your training."

Whis stood a few meters away, hands clasped behind his back, smiling like someone who always knew things he wasn’t supposed to.

I flinched slightly. I hadn’t sensed him approach. At all. Not surprising considering who he was… but still very off-putting.

"If only a certain destroyer took his training that seriously," he sighed, with just enough pout to make me think he was genuinely annoyed.

I glanced his way, but didn’t stop moving. “He’s already the strongest being in the universe. I imagine he has time for leisure.”

Which was a polite way of saying your boss is lazy as hell, but I wasn’t stupid enough to say that outright. Even second-hand insults felt like a bad idea when your life was hanging by the cosmic thread of a God who is easily insulted.

Don’t be mistaken, I love Beerus, fan all the way, but because I was his fan, I knew better than putting myself on that line.

Whis chuckled. “That he is. Oh well, enjoy your training~”

He started turning away.

And that’s when I realized something.

This… might actually be my chance.

I didn’t just become the best chef in the universe to eat better. This was the reason— a way to maybe… just maybe  get ahead of the curve. If Beerus and Whis liked my food, maybe they’d offer a help hand here or there. Giving me the leverage I needed to overcome what was to come.

Time to cash that in. Or try to at least.

“Mister Whis.”

He paused.

“Yes?”

I cleared my throat. “I was wondering if… it’s not a bother, of course… could you give me some pointers on my training?”

There was a beat of silence. Then that smile on his face stretched just a little too far.

"Oh my, so that’s why you wished to become the best chef. Very clever of you, using food as your leverage."

"Thanks..." I muttered. Not sure if it was a compliment or a warning.

His smile didn’t drop. “That said... you should be aware that manipulating divine beings for one’s own gain never ends well.”

I gulped. Loudly.

Angels can’t take action, right?

He can’t kill me… did I take this too far?

Is this how I die?

I took a step back, slowly, and through sheer force of will, I replied. “I—I wouldn’t call it manipulating. More like… a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Whis just tilted his head, blinked, and smiled again. “Oh well. In that case, sure.”

"...what?"

“I would be delighted to help you.”

My brain did a hard reboot.

...huh?

Was that it? One second he’s death taken form, and the next he's back to being approachable?

I swear my heart can’t take these ups and down. I almost got a heart attack back there.

He stepped forward and started circling me, hands behind his back, analyzing me like I was a blueprint for a collapsing building.

"Now, as weak and fragile as you are right now, there isn’t much I can have you do without instantly killing you," Whis said cheerfully.

"Excuse me?"

"I could run some basic drills to strengthen your overall foundation..." he tapped his chin. "But even that could prove lethal."

"I—"

"Shush, I’m thinking." He waved me off like I was a toddler interrupting an adult conversation. “I’ve never had to train something so incredibly fragile before…”

Wow. Thanks.

He began pacing. “Oh, we could—no, no, that would snap his spine. Unless! …no, that would kill him too.”

I blinked.

"Come on, Whis," he muttered to himself. "There has to be something you can have him do. Regardless of how weak, small, and utterly pathetic he is."

Okay.

Yeah.

That one hurt.

Self-esteem? It’s fine. Didn’t need that anyway.

“Oh! I got it!” Whis beamed, clapping his hands together. “You will kill the roaches in the basement.”

“…what.”

"Indeed," he nodded. “Exterminating that pest will be perfect for you. And there’s only a 52.49% chance you might die.”

Fifty-two percent? I have a coin flip chance of losing to roaches? The fuck do those roaches eat?

I stared at him.

"…what kind of roaches are these?"

“You’ll see,” he smiled, already summoning his staff.

Maybe he’s just messing with me.

I mean… How bad could it be?

…Right?

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

[Ten minutes later.]

“AAAAAHHHHHHHH—WHAT THE FUCK ARE THESE?!”

I sprinted down the corridor, dodging left as a five-foot-tall roach slammed into the wall beside me, mandibles clicking like castanets from hell.

Each fucking roach was almost as strong as me, but unlike me, they regenerated, and by regenerated I mean, if you cut a part of them and it was big enough… BOOM, another fucking roach just as powerful as the other ones.

And the last thing they needed were numbers, I lost the count after 91!

“Nope, nope, nope!” I screamed, leaping over what looked like an egg sac the size of a fridge.

They were fast.

Too fast.

One of them nearly clipped my ankle with its disgusting chitinous leg, and I swear I felt my soul leave my body for a second.

Up ahead, the hallway forked. I took the left path purely on instinct—which turned out to be wrong, because it led directly into a dead-end storage room filled with more roaches.

“Oh come on!”

I turned just in time to see the swarm closing in, dozens of beady little eyes gleaming, mandibles dripping goo, antennae twitching like they were excited to eat me.

"Whis!"

From somewhere—somewhere, because he wasn’t visible—I heard a faint chuckle. That fucking flamboyant asshole! If it wasn’t impossible to kick his ass I would!

I blasted the floor, launching myself up and through a broken ceiling vent.

They’re just roaches, I said.

How bad could it be? I said.

I am an idiot.

“How do you kill these things!” I shouted over my shoulder, blasting a ki wave behind me.

It hit one of the oversized bugs square in the chest.

It didn’t slow down.

In fact, it shrieked and started foaming at the mouth.

“Fuck no!” I screamed, dodging left as it lunged.

My feet slipped on what I hope was roach slime and not something worse, but I managed to stay upright, bolting into what looked like a golden broom closet and slamming the door behind me.

Heavy breathing. Sweat pouring. My pride shattered somewhere back down the hallway.

I pressed my back against the wall, catching my breath.

Outside, I heard them clicking their mandibles, scratching at the metal door.

And somewhere far off in the distance, I could now hear Whis laughing.