Escarot

I was still lying in the dirt when Whis walked over.

Beerus had wandered off to find more dessert, which meant I would probably have no leftovers. Whis crouched down beside me, staff resting against his shoulder, that calm little smile on his face he normally wore.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"Only my pride." I sat up, rubbing the side of my head where the slap had landed. "And maybe my skull."

My head was ringing…

"You'll live." He offered a hand and pulled me to my feet. "May I tell you something, Escarot? About your training?"

"Sure," I nodded, dusting my armor.

He looked at me for a moment and with a smile said, "You've reached your limit."

I blinked. "...That's not very encouraging."

"Let me finish." He giggled. "You've reached the limit of what your body can currently handle. Not your potential. Your potential is for the most part still untapped—Lord Beerus wasn't being kind back there, your growth has been remarkable. But growth and capacity for it are two entirely different things."

"You're going to have to explain that one." I replied, scratching my head.

"Of course." He started walking, slowly, and I fell into step beside him. "Think of your body as a container. Everything you do, every transformation, every technique, is built on top of it. The Super Saiyan multiplies your base. So the larger the container, the more these give you."

"I know."

"Well, what you might not know is that your container is full."

I frowned. "What?"

"Completely. You've trained it as far as it will go for now," He glanced at me. "If you try to push past this in order to gain more power you'll only injure yourself, and gain nothing for it."

This was my limit? That has to be bullshit.

I'd been throwing everything I had into getting stronger as fast as possible. Training until I dropped. Pushing past every limit because I knew—from a lifetime of watching this story—that there were enemies coming who'd make Frieza look like an insect.

"So that's it?" I said, refusing to accept such fate.

"No." He laughed softly. "Far from it. It appears you've misunderstood. There are two ways forward, and one of them is wide open to you."

This sadistic bastard, he almost gave me a heart attack.

"Elaborate?"

"Mastery." He tapped his staff against the ground as we walked. "Your base might not grow for the time being, but from what I saw, your Super Saiyan is anything but the tip of the iceberg. As you are right now—you can barely enter the form. It takes you screaming and straining to transform, and when you do, your energy pours out of you like water through a broken dam."

I winced. He wasn't wrong… but damn, give me a break, I just got the transformation.

"Master it," Whis went on. "And the results will be… interesting to see."

"Okay," I said, nodding. "Mastery. I can do that, it was already my plan anyways. But what's the second way you’ve mentioned?"

Whis's smile got a little bigger.

"The second way you cannot do anything about," he said. "The second way is to grow your container. To raise your base limit itself."

"And how do I do that?"

"You wait."

I stared at him.

"...Like… how long?"

"It seems you might have forgotten a crucial fact about yourself, Escarot, and that is the fact that you're a child." He smiled. "Your body hasn't finished becoming what it will be. Right now your container is as large as it can be for someone in your situation. It will grow as you do and by the time you're fully grown, well… the limit you're slamming against today will be far behind you, without you lifting a finger."

Oh, right… Well, that makes sense.

"So I just have to grow up," I said, frowning.

"You just have to grow up." Whis seemed delighted by my expression. "I know. For someone as impatient as you, it must be agony, but that’s life."

"I'm extremely patient."

"You are one of the least patient beings I have ever met."

"Thanks."

He chuckled. We walked a little further in silence. The Saiyans were still scattered across the field, half of them recovering from the feast, half of them watching us from a respectful distance.

Then Whis said, lightly, almost to himself:

"I'd master that form soon, if I were you."

Something in his tone made me stop, was that a warning?

"...Soon?"

"Mm," he said. "Just a feeling. I find it's wise to be ready, when one can't yet say what one is being ready for." He smiled again, perfectly serene, and started toward the castle. "Now. I believe Lord Beerus has found your desserts, and if I don't supervise, there won't be any left for me."

He left me standing in the field.

Master Roshi

We'd been standing on that hill for three days.

Three days. In the wind. In the cold. Eating cold rice out of bowls because Kami insisted we couldn't leave, not even for a moment, because the moment would be the moment they arrived.

I'm an old man. I've trained my whole life. I've fought things most people wouldn't believe and lived to grow this beard about it. But even I could feel it now—something coming down through the sky. A weight. A pressure that hadn't been there a week ago and got heavier every hour, like a storm you can taste before you see it.

Beside me, my student Gohan rolled his shoulders. Good lad. Earnest as the day is long, he'd trained harder than anyone these past months, ever since Kami pulled us together and told us the Earth was about to have visitors.

"You feel it too?" Gohan asked.

"I'd have to be dead not to."

"And the other one?"

I didn't answer right away. Because yes. I felt the other one.

There were three powers descending toward us. Two of them were... strange. One was large, twice as strong as me but not threatening. One small and innocent in a way I couldn't explain, like a sleeping infant.

And then there was the third.

The third made the hair on my neck stand up…. This power was unlike anything I had ever seen or felt before, and it was beyond what I thought possible.

"The strongest amongst them," Kami said quietly, eyes fixed on the sky, "There is darkness in it. Pride. Cruelty. Whatever this being is, it carries something rotten at the core."

"I can feel it," I said.

We saw it then—two streaks of fire across the sky, screaming down toward the field below the hill. The three of us braced. Gohan dropped into stance. I felt my old bones light up as I gathered everything I had, every year of training, every ounce of strength left in this body, because if it came to a fight, I was going to need all of it and then some.

The pods hit the ground hard enough to shake the hill, pushing dirt and smoke everywhere.

We waited, as the hatch hissed and racked open, with steam pouring out.

And out climbed our doom.

The first one out was the dark one. A boy—gangly, wild black hair down past his waist, a scowl already on his face. He couldn't have been more than six. And the power coming off him was monstrous. Far beyond anything Gohan or I could match.

The boy planted his feet, crossed his arms, and looked us over like we were dirt.

"So," he said. "These are these planets warriors." He sneered. "Pathetic. I could flatten this whole planet myself. You should be honored I'm even—"

A hand came out of the pod behind him and smacked him across the back of the head.

CRACK.

The boy yelped and stumbled forward.

We blinked.

"Raditz!" A woman climbed out after him, a baby tucked under one arm, glaring at the boy with the specific fury that only mothers possess. "What did we say? What did we say before we landed?"

The boy—Raditz—rubbed the back of his head, scowling. "Ow! Mom—"

"What did we say?"

"...To be nice," he muttered.

"And?"

"...And not cause any mayhem."

"AND?"

"And not threaten to flatten the planet the second we got out." He kicked at the dirt. "But MOM, they were standing there all dramatic and ready to fight, what was I supposed to—"

She smacked him again.

"OW! Stop that!"

The three of us stood frozen on the hill.

I looked at Gohan. Gohan looked at me. As for Kami, well he was staring down at the scene with his mouth very slightly open.

The woman shifted the baby on her hip and looked up at us. And then, to my complete bewilderment, she bowed.

"I am so sorry about him," she called up. "Truly. He's at a difficult age, you know when they want to kill everything on sight. Please ignore everything he just said." She elbowed Raditz. "Apologize."

"I'm not apologizing to a bunch of—"

She turned her head toward him slowly.

Raditz folded instantly. "...I… But… Ugh… Sorry," he mumbled at us.

I have fought demons. I have fought kings. I have stared down the end of the world more than once in this long life of mine.

I was not prepared for this, this woman was disciplining a kid who could toy with King Piccolo like he was nothing.

"...Kami?" I said quietly, out of the side of my mouth, never taking my eyes off them. "Is this the threat?"

Kami did not answer for a long moment. "I am... reassessing," he said.

The woman started up the hill toward us, the baby gurgling happily against her shoulder, Raditz trudging behind her with the body language of a boy who had been smacked one too many times today and knew there were more coming if he stepped out of line, yet his stance was oddly protective of them.

"My name is Gine," she said, smiling now, all that warmth I'd sensed from above made flesh. "This grumpy one is my son Raditz, and this little terror"—she bounced the baby—"is Kakarot. We've been traveling for months and I would give anything for a hot bath and a meal that isn't ration paste. We're not here to hurt anyone, I promise. We were sent here to be safe. That's all."

The baby, Kakarot, reached out toward me with both tiny hands and laughed.

Gohan, beside me, made a sound I can only describe as melting. "Awww."

"Gohan," I warned.

"He's so small and adorable."

"Gohan, that is allegedly an alien invader—"

"Can I hold him?"

Gine beamed and held the baby out. "Of course!"

And just like that—months of training, the guardian of Earth himself bracing for war—it all collapsed into Gohan cooing over a baby, while the strongest being on earth stood off to the side, arms crossed, glaring at the ground, radiating enough raw power to make my old bones shake.

I stroked my beard.

Kami leaned over to me. "This is… unexpected," he murmured, "But I have never been so relieved to be wrong."

What a strange day to be alive.