Escarot

Beerus and Whis left the morning after the feast. Beerus left in a rather pleasant mood, meaning nobody got destroyed, the kitchen survived thankfully, but unfortunately he took roughly half my dessert stores with him, even the ones I hid for later. Though to be honest, it was a fair price for the continued existence of the Saiyan race.

But the feast left something behind, something I had been dreading, because I knew it would come after dealing with Frieza.

The way they looked at me now.

I noticed it everywhere, in the halls, on the training grounds, in the mess. The Saiyans would catch sight of me and something would shift in their faces—not fear, or admiration, which they had for me, but above all, what they had was anticipation. Like they were waiting for me to say a word they'd already decided I was going to say.

I knew what they were thinking.

To them what came next was obvious, a clear result the second Frieza hit the ground. Frieza and his family ran the largest empire in the universe. Frieza was dead, their King had killed him. Therefore the empire… no, the universe was ours for the taking. We were the strongest now… The Super Saiyan legend wasn't a bedtime story anymore—it was real, and it was sitting on the throne, and surely, surely, the next step was obvious.

They wanted me to become the ruler of the universe.

Take the dead emperor's seat. Point the Saiyan race at the galaxy. Start conquering. To them it wasn't a dark thing—it was the whole point. Generations of bowing to a tyrant, and now the strongest tyrant the universe had ever seen was one of theirs. Destiny, finally tilting our way.

And I sat in my study staring at a map of conquered worlds and thought: absolutely not, I'm not doing that… I didn't kill Frieza to become him. I killed Frieza so there wouldn't be a Frieza.

The trouble is you can't just tell a warrior race that leaned towards evil to stop.

This is their entire reason for existing for most of them. Conquest isn't a job to a Saiyan, it's their identity. It's what they are. Take it away and tell them to do nothing and you don't get peace—you get a hundred restless killers with no outlet, which would end in a civil war.

And I didn’t just save them to kill them all.

I knew my people could change, Vegeta had done so in the anime, and if he could anyone could… but that had taken decades of work, and love.

This new chapter of my life was going to be the hardest one, because this was a problem I couldn’t punch my way through.

I had a few ideas though, so that gave me hope I would do a good enough job.

We love to fight, so maybe we could become mercenaries who protect instead of exterminate. Defenders. The strongest shield in the galaxy instead of a plague that consumes the universe. Or a culture built around the fight itself—tournaments, rivalries, getting stronger for its own sake instead of for some emperor's expansion. Saiyans who climb because climbing is the point, not because they want to subjugate others.

My ideas are vague, and perhaps a little bit idealistic, but that’s all I have so far, which is far better than trying to talk an entire species out of the only thing it's ever known without giving them an alternative.

I'd reformed their food… Now I had to reform their soul.

No pressure.

I was still glaring at the map when there was a knock at the door.

"Enter."

Bardock came in, and then did something that made me sit up, because he was not one for decorum—he dropped to one knee.

"My king," he said.

"...Bardock." I set down the map. "You can stand. You don’t normally kneel, what's this about?"

"It's a request," he said, staying down. "A formal one. I wanted to make it properly."

I replied. "Go on."

He lifted his head.

"Before the fight with Frieza," he said, "when none of us knew how it would end— remember we made arrangements. In case you lost. In case the planet fell." His jaw tightened a little, like the memory wasn't comfortable. "We sent the cubs away. The young ones. The infants. Scattered them off-world, to safe places, so that even if Frieza won and burned this rock to ash, there'd be Saiyans left somewhere. A future. Even a small one."

I nodded.

Bardock met my eyes. "The danger's passed now. Frieza is dead. The planet stands. There's no reason to keep them out there, scattered, alone. I'm asking your permission to give the order—to bring them home. All of them."

It was an easy answer. The easiest I'd given all week, a problem that doesn’t require my brain frying itself.

"Yes," I said. "Of course. Bring them home. Send word to every world we placed them on, get them back, I want our future under our own sky where it belongs."

And also avoid the babies destroying these worlds by mistake under a full moon.

Bardock smiled. "Thank you, my king."

"It’s weird when you’re this formal..." I picked the map back up, then paused, because he hadn't moved. 

"One more thing,” Bardock looked almost uncertain at this one. "I'd ask permission to retrieve my family myself. Instead of sending a unit."

I kept my face neutral, did he really need permission for that?

Man… I need to work on that as well, I can’t have the people working for me thinking that they need permission to take a shit or see their family.

"Granted," I said. "Go get your family, Bardock."

He stood at last, and for just a second the formality dropped and he looked like; what he was underneath all the muscle and scars—a father who'd shipped his wife and children across the galaxy not knowing if he'd ever see them again, and had just been told he could go bring them home, and was at his happiest.

"Thank you, Escarot." No 'my king' that time. Just my name, which was honestly better for me, it felt less weird. "I won't be gone long."

"Take whatever you need."

He nodded and turned to go.

I sat there for a long moment with the map in my lap and the strangest feeling in my chest. I was pretty sure that Bardock's family was on Earth, because fate loved to play jokes like this. Gine, Raditz, and the baby who, in another version of this story, hits his head and becomes the hero who saves everyone.

He won't hit his head this time, I doubt it, anyway. Things have already gone so far off the path I knew that I can't trust any of it anymore.

So who does that baby become, if nobody ever makes him forget what he is?

I had no idea.

But I suppose this time I would meet Kakarot instead of Goku.

Okara

Nail was on the ground again.

"Get up," I said.

He didn't move fast enough, so I kicked dust at him. "I said GET UP, green guy. We're not done. We are nowhere near done."

"We've been at this for six hours," Nail replied, dragging himself upright, his arm bent at an angle arms aren't supposed to bend at. He grabbed it, twisted, and it snapped back into place with that gross Namekian healing of his. 

Lucky. If I could do that I'd never stop fighting. 

"Okara. I need a break."

"Breaks are for the weak."

"Breaks are for the living...."

"Same thing." I cracked my knuckles and grinned at him. "Come on. Hit me. Hit me like you mean it this time, you keep pulling your punches and it's INSULTING."

"I'm not pulling my punches!"

"Then you're just weak, which is worse."

His eye twitched. Heck yeah. An angry opponent is a better opponent, Nail normally fights like a saint, all calm and measured and boring. Boring gets you killed, I want him snarling, I want everyone snarling! The best version of a fighter comes out when their back's against the wall and they've got nothing left but spite.

He came at me. 

I caught it on my forearm, felt the impact ring up to my shoulder, and laughed. "THERE it is!"

This is the only thing I've ever been good at. Fighting. Getting hit and hitting back harder. The burn in my muscles when I've pushed past what my body wants to give, some people train because they have to, I train because there is nothing—nothing—better than finding out exactly how much you can take and then taking a little more!

I needed this, I needed to become more than what I was.

…

A few days ago, I had a really stupid moment.

I'm not proud of it.

Escarot had left me behind.. watching him go gold. That blazing aura, that power that makes the air tremble, the thing every Saiyan who's ever lived dreamed about, The Super Saiyan. The legend.

And I felt something I hadn’t felt since that fateful day I meet Escarot on that mountain.

I felt small.

I hate that word… I hate that I felt it. But there it was. I looked at that gold light and for the first time I thought: I'll never have that, I’ll never be that. He's the legend. The once-in-a-thousand-years bullshit. The story. And I'm just—me. Strong, maybe. But always behind, always second to the myth. Second to a story. And no amount of training would ever close that, because you can't train your way into being a legend. You either are one or you aren't.

It sat in my chest, eating me from the inside out… to the point I didn't even feel like fighting, which is how you know it was bad.

Escarot noticed, of course he did. He notices everything, the smug little sentimental fool.

He cornered me about it. Asked what was wrong. I tried to play it off and he just stood there with that flat look until I gave up and told him, said it out loud, which made it worse. That he was up in the clouds and I was stuck on the ground and that's just how it was going to be forever.

And he looked at me like I was the dumbest person he'd ever met, and laughed.

"Okara," he said. "I'm not the legend."

"You literally turn gold!"

"Yeah. And so could you."

I told him to stop messing with me, you don’t play with the heart of a warrior like that!

He got serious—really serious, the way he almost never does. He told me the Super Saiyan isn't some gift handed out by the universe to one chosen freak, at least not his version... not really sure what he meant by that. He told me it's a wall. A thing you break through if you push hard enough, rage hard enough, want it hard enough, and that anyone—anyone—who trains hard enough and reaches deep enough can do the exact same thing.

And then he shrugged and walked off to go cook something, like he hadn't just rearranged my entire life, giving me a new life goal.

And just like that… The despair I'd been wallowing in; turned into the best feeling I've ever had, because it turns out there isn't a ceiling. There's a mountain, the tallest one there is, the meanest one. And my dumbass just told me I'm allowed to climb it.

I have a goal now. The best goal I've ever had.

I'm going to become a Super Saiyan!

And the second—the SECOND—I do, I'm going to find Escarot, and I'm going to walk up to him, I'm going to look him in the eye and I'm going to kick his smug ass all the way across this planet!

"Okara." Nail was staring at me. "You're doing the face again."

"I'm motivated."

"Should I be concerned?"

"Yes," I dropped back into stance, ready to continue my training.

Just you wait Escarot, I will reach you!