ESCAROT

I roll my shoulders; feeling the tension settle where it needs to be as the ground beneath my boots cracks, dust shifting in lazy spirals from the energy bleeding off both of us. 

Okara stands across from me, loose stance, confident. Too confident.

Her training in Yadrat had made her a bit too cocky, but I suppose if I was in her shoes, and I knew how to teleport, I would be a bit cocky as well.

I exhale slowly through my nose.

“Show me how much you have learned,” I mutter.

She grins like I just complimented her.

Then she vanishes.

A spike of intent flares behind me half a heartbeat too late.

Her heel slams into the back of my head and the world jerks sideways. My vision snaps white for a fraction of a second before I catch myself mid-stumble, boots skidding across loose stone.

Fast.

This technique gave her the upper hand, letting her set the flow of this fight, at least for now.

I barely have time to reset before she disappears again.

Left.

No—right—

No—

Another hit. I guess wrong. This time to my ribs. Not deep enough to break anything, but sharp enough to make my breath hitch.

Teleport.

Strike.

Teleport.

Strike.

Again.

Again.

Again.

My body reacts before my thoughts can fully form—turning, guarding, absorbing—but I’m always just behind it. Always catching the tail end of the attack instead of stopping it.

Her movements aren’t random.

They feel random—but they’re not.

Another flash behind me—this time I twist just enough to catch her forearm against my guard. 

Why?

If she can appear anywhere around me—

Another vanish.

Another strike, this time low.

—I grit my teeth—

Then why isn’t she committing? She could land a powerful ki blast, which would do much more damage than her physical attacks were doing.

Teleport.

Strike.

Teleport.

Strike.

A pattern starts to form—not in space, but in timing.

There.

A delay.

Half a second.

Not long. Barely anything.

But it’s there.

She’s not chaining the technique instantly.

Which means—

I take another hit to the shoulder on purpose.

Let it land.

Observe.

There’s a flicker—barely noticeable—right before she appears.

Not visual.

Not sound.

Ki.

She’s anchoring herself to my signature.

That gives her full radius.

Anywhere around me.

But it also means…

She has to reacquire me every time.

That’s the delay.

Half a second to lock. Half a second to pick where to go.

I breathe out slowly, letting another strike land across my back.

Alright.

If there’s a pattern, I can work with that. Nothing is ever random, I just need to understand it, then dismantle it.

She vanishes again.

I don’t turn this time.

I don’t react outwardly at all.

I just wait.

There—

That flicker again.

Behind me.

I move before she fully arrives.

My fist drives backward with everything I’ve got.

There’s a split second where nothing is there—

Then she appears directly into my fist.

Impact.

Solid and clean.

Her body folds around my punch and then launches away like she’s been fired out of a cannon. The sound alone cracks the air as she rockets downward, smashing into the ground hard enough to send debris erupting outward in a violent ring.

Silence follows.

Dust rises.

I straighten slowly, rolling my neck until it pops.

“If you use a technique too often…” I grinned, “…it eventually becomes predictable.”

I glance toward the crater.

“And even if it doesn’t… what’s the point if you can’t do any damage?”

A beat.

Then through the debris—

She laughs.

Okara pushes herself up from the crater, brushing blood from the corner of her mouth like it’s nothing.

“You’ve gotten a lot tougher, huh.”

“Plenty of juice and veggies,” I replied flatly.

She grins wider.

“That was just a warmup.”

Of course it was.

She disappears again.

I tense— predicting her move, however, this time the strike isn’t what I expect.

Instead of her fist, something massive slams into me from the side.

A fist the size of a great ape’s

I barely register the shape before impact sends me crashing into the ground, tearing a trench through stone as I skid violently across it.

What was that?

I grit my teeth, forcing myself up, one hand pushing a slab of broken rock off my chest. 

I look up.

Okara stands there again—but now her arm… no.

Her fist.

Enlarged.

Massively.

Easily ten times the size it should be.

Is that another technique from the Yadrats?

The weight behind that hit…

It wasn’t just size.

It was density.

Not only that, but also… she was using more power for less output.

Spirit control, I reckoned.

I exhale slowly.

She’s been busy.

I can’t help it—I grin.

“My turn.”

I don’t wait.

I don’t give her space.

I move.

Not a burst.

Not a charge.

Just—there.

Her eyes widened—but it’s too late.

My fist drives straight into her abdomen with everything I have.

I feel the resistance.

Then I feel it give.

My knuckles punch deep enough that I can feel her back with the force behind it.

The air leaves her in a violent gasp.

I don’t stop there.

My elbow comes down immediately after, smashing into her and driving her straight into the ground.

Then, before she can recover, I fire a ki blast point-blank.

The explosion engulfs everything—light, sound, heat—blasting outward in a violent sphere that rattles the terrain.

I land a few feet away, watching the smoke.

Counting breaths.

One.

Two.

Three—

Movement.

She steps out of the smoke.

Armor shattered.

Blood dripping down her mouth and body.

But still smiling.

“It’s clear…” she says, her voice lower now, more serious, “…I can’t beat you if I don’t go all out.”

Something shifts.

Her energy spikes—

Her muscles tense—then begin to swell.

Her body pulses, like a balloon about to pop; as her ki twists inward and outward at the same time.

I blink.

Wait—

Is she doing what I think she’s doing?

“You’ve got to be kidding me…”

“Behold!” she roars.

Her form expands violently, bones cracking, muscles bulging, fur erupting across her body as her size increases exponentially.

The ground trembles under the weight of it.

A Great Ape.

But how? She isn’t using the moon, or the power ball?

“My ultimate technique—Blutz Aura!” her massive voice booms. “By changing the way my ki flows using spirit control, I replicate the conditions of a full moon—only for myself!”

That—

That’s insane.

The control required for that…

The precision…

The trial and error alone—

“That woud— oh shit,” I muttered, watching as her fist—already massive—grows larger still.

Giantification stacked on top of Great Ape size.

The shadow of her fist alone swallows me.

Impact.

Everything goes dark.

Pain detonates across my entire body as I’m launched backward, air ripping past me as I tear through the sky before crashing violently into the ground far beyond the battlefield.

Bouncing in the ground twice, before finally coming to a halt, leaving a deep scar in the earth behind me.

For a moment…

I just lie there.

Breathing.

That…

hurt.

If I hadn’t reinforced myself fully at the last second—

She might’ve won right there.

I pushed myself up slowly, wiping blood from my mouth with the back of my hand.

My arm trembles slightly, in pain.

“I won’t let you transform,” her voice echoes from a distance, massive and confident. “So you better give up, Escarot! This battle is mine!”

I stare at the ground for a second.

Then I chuckle.

“No.”

A roar tears out of me, raw and unfiltered, ripping through my chest as my ki surges outward. The ground around me cracks under the pressure, loose stone lifting and trembling before getting blown back.

My body reacts with it—muscles swelling, growing denser, heavier. 

Okara’s voice cuts through the dust, confused now.

“What the fu—”

I move.

One moment I’m standing there—

The next I’m in front of her.

Her eyes widen, still mid-reaction, her body not even close to catching up to what she’s seeing.

Too slow.

My fist drives forward.

It connects square with her giant furry torso.

The impact caves her in for a split second before the force sends through her entire body. The air around us cracks as the shock travels outward, kicking up a ring of dust and debris.

Her transformation doesn’t hold.

The Great Ape form collapses instantly, shrinking down as the energy sustaining it breaks apart under the hit.

Her body follows, dropping out of the air like a stone.

She hits the ground hard, unmoving.

Silence settles over the battlefield again, broken only by the faint sound of debris falling back into place.

I stand there for a moment, breathing steady, the Ikari state still running through me.

It felt amazing.

Then I let it fade.

I look down at her.

“…You talk too much,” I mutter, wiping the remaining blood from my mouth.

DODORIA

I hated being called in when Lord Frieza was in one of his… moods. 

Not the angry ones. Those were easy. Loud. Direct. You knew exactly where you stood.

No—this was worse.

Quiet Frieza, was worse than angry Frieza.

The kind of quiet where he spoke softly and smiled, and you couldn’t tell if he was amused… or deciding how you’d die. That version of him was far more terrifying than his anger.

I stood near the edge of the chamber, trying not to shift my weight too much. The floor beneath my feet was polished to a mirror sheen, reflecting the soft glow of the overhead lights and the faint purple of Lord Frieza’s hover pod.

He was reclining, as usual.

One arm draped lazily over the side, fingers tapping in a slow, absent rhythm. His tail curled and uncurled behind him, not restless–like it had a mind of its own.

He wasn’t looking at anything in particular.

Which meant he was thinking.

Which meant I kept my mouth shut.

A soft chime echoed as the doors slid open.

I didn’t turn, but I already knew who it was.

Only two people ever walked into this room like they had insurance against death itself. Zarbon and the old hag of Blueberry.

Zarbon stepped in, posture straight, expression perfectly composed. He stopped at the appropriate distance and bowed his head just enough to show respect without looking weak.

“My lord.”

Lord Frieza didn’t respond immediately.

His tapping slowed… then stopped.

“…Zarbon,” he said at last, voice smooth, almost distracted. “You’re interrupting a rather pleasant moment of silence. I trust this isn’t trivial.”

Zarbon didn’t hesitate.

“It is not, my lord.”

A pause.

Lord Frieza’s eyes slid toward him without turning his head fully.

That alone made my spine stiffen.

“Oh?” he murmured.

Zarbon straightened slightly.

“The former Queen of the Saiyans has arrived.”

That got a reaction.

Lord Frieza’s fingers curled inward, resting against his palm.

“…Has she?” he said.

His tail gave a slow sweep behind him.

“She has come a long way for someone who no longer has a throne,” he added idly. “Or any use at all.”

Zarbon continued.

“She is not alone. She has brought her son… and another Saiyan, I think his name is Nappa, my lord.”

Lord Frieza let out a soft hum, tilting his head just a fraction.

“I assume she did not come merely to reminisce about better days.”

“No, my lord.”

Zarbon paused—just long enough to choose his words carefully.

“She claims the current King of Planet Vegeta is preparing an uprising against your rule.”

Silence settled over the room.

Lord Frieza exhaled softly through his nose, the faintest hint of amusement curling at the edge of his lips.

“…An uprising,” he repeated. “Ohohohoho~”

He shifted slightly in his pod, one leg crossing over the other with casual elegance.

“How quickly rumors spread,” he said, almost to himself.

His gaze drifted upward for a moment, unfocused.

“I remember the child, the new King of the monkeys,” he continued. “He did not strike me as particularly… reckless.”

That faint smile lingered.

“If anything, he was quite the opposite.”

Zarbon remained silent.

Lord Frieza’s eyes sharpened just a touch.

“And yet,” he went on, voice still soft, “his predecessor’s mate arrives, breathless and desperate, whispering of rebellion.”

His tail flicked once.

“Tell me, Zarbon… did she seem frightened?”

Zarbon inclined his head.

“She seemed… determined, my lord.”

A quiet chuckle slipped from Lord Frieza.

“Yes. I imagine she would be.”

He lowered his hand, fingers resting lightly on the edge of the pod again.

“After all… she has lost quite a great deal, hasn’t she?”

Zarbon nodded.

“I suppose,” Lord Frieza added lightly, “that would make one… inventive.”

Another pause.

Longer this time.

“Did she offer anything beyond her claims?”

Zarbon shook his head slightly.

“No, my lord.”

Lord Frieza nodded once.

“Of course not.”

His tone didn’t change.

“But we can start an investigation on the matter at once, my lord,” Zarbon added, bowing in respect.

“Whether she speaks the truth or not is largely irrelevant,” he said after a moment, his gaze locked on Zarbon.

This didn’t bode well for the Saiyans, even the slightest rumor usually ended with Lord Frieza exterminating a race, and that was for the ones he was fond of… 

He wasn’t fond of the saiyans, at all.

“Then what do we do, my lord?” Zarbon asked after a brief moment.

“Nothing, if the boy has grown… ambitious,” he continued, “then that is something I would prefer to confirm personally.”

His smile returned.

Polite.

Refined.

Cold.

“I do dislike uncertainty.”

He tapped his finger once against the pod’s edge. 

“Bring her to me,” he said.

Zarbon bowed immediately.

“At once, my lord.”

He turned to leave—

“Zarbon.”

He stopped.

Turned back slightly.

“Yes, my lord?”

Lord Frieza’s gaze lingered on him for a second longer than necessary.

“Do remind her I hate liars,” he said lightly. “I would hate for her to expire before she proves… useful.”

Zarbon inclined his head again.

“Of course.”

The doors slid shut behind him.

Silence returned.

Lord Frieza leaned back, resting his cheek lightly against his hand again, though this time his eyes remained open.

Focused.

“…Rebellion,” he murmured.

The word hung in the air.

Then, slowly, his lips curved again.

“Now that would be disappointing.”