I'm just releasing the chapter I was writing before I stopped, I'll come back in a few weeks, The cause of my absence is a lot of fucking problems, Author curse is real.
--
I was asleep on the couch in my quarters. I hadn't meant to fall asleep; I had just sat down to close my eyes for a minute after stressing over what could happen.
I drifted in a haze of half-dreams. My head was resting on something firm but soft. Something warm.
Ruca was sitting up on the couch, her back against the armrest. She was reviewing a tactical datapad, scrolling through deployment schedules. She hadn't pushed me off. In fact, her hand was resting absently on my shoulder, her thumb tracing small, rhythmic circles against the fabric of my tunic.
Perhaps she didn't know why she was letting me do this. It felt safe.
Hiss.
The door slid open.
Broly stood in the doorway. He looked confused, his dark eyes scanning the scene.
He saw Ruca. He saw me, asleep, my head in her lap.
He tilted his head.
"Why is...?" Broly asked, his voice a low rumble of innocent curiosity. He gestured vaguely at my head. "Is he hurt?"
Ruca froze. Her face went from pale to a violent shade of crimson in less than a second. The intimacy of the moment shattered like glass.
"Wake up!" she shrieked.
She shoved my head. Hard.
"Gah!"
I hit the floor with a thud. I snapped awake instantly.
"Ouch!" I shouted.
I saw Broly standing in the doorway. I saw Ruca on the couch, looking like she wanted to die of embarrassment, her hands covering her burning face.
"Uhh..." Ruca stammered, pointing at the door. "Broly... needs you!"
I looked at the boy. "Ugh," I sighed. 'It's okay.'
"Report," I ordered, my voice sharp.
Broly looked at me, then at Ruca, clearly not understanding the tension.
"The purple cat," Broly said slowly. "He is angry."
I stiffened. "Beerus."
"The King is on the floor," Broly continued. "Vegeta and Raditz are hiding. They... sent me. Bee..rus is hungry."
I processed the information instantly.
The Prince and Raditz had broken the lockdown. They had gone to the palace. And they had run straight into the God of Destruction. And now, the God was angry because the food was bad.
'It isn't their fault Beerus is hungry but they went against the rules, I didn't expect Raditz to also break them.' I thought.
"Move," I said. "Now."
'I really do not want to meet Whis especially but I guess, there's little options right now...'
--
We sprinted through the palace corridors.
I led the way, followed by Ruca. We picked up Vegeta and Raditz nearby. They were expecting me to do something but I didn't, for now at least.
We burst into the Royal Kitchens.
It was a massive space filled with steam and the smell of burnt grease. The Royal Chefs, burly Saiyans with aprons over their armor, were cowering in the corners. The King's guards were shaking near the pantry.
"They look kind of goofy." I mocked but they all tilted their heads in incomprehension. "Forget it..."
"Clear the room!" I roared. "Out! Everyone out!"
The chefs didn't argue. They fled, happy to abandon their stations.
I stopped in the center of the kitchen. I scanned the pantry.
It was archaic. Massive slabs of raw, bloody meat hung from hooks. Bins of bitter roots and tough grains sat against the wall. There were no spices, no sauces, nothing refined. Saiyan cuisine was barbaric.
"What are you doing?" Vegeta demanded, his voice high with panic. "We need a feast! We need delicacies! Not... this!"
"Beerus doesn't want 'delicacies' that taste like mud," I said, ripping off my gloves. "He wants flavor. He wants texture."
I looked at the ingredients. Meat. Eggs. Oil. Roots. Grain.
I wasn't a master chef. But I had the memories of Earth. And I had the memories of trying to cook with Mr. Popo on the Lookout, and I had to admit, he was good at it.
I knew exactly what to make. The best of the best.
"I'm making a burger," I announced.
"A what?" Ruca asked.
"Just help me," I ordered. "Vegeta, Broly, grab the heaviest slabs of meat you can find. Raditz, peel those roots. Ruca, fire up the flat-top grill. Hot. As hot as it goes."
I moved quickly.
Broly dropped a massive haunch of beast meat onto the table. It was dense, marbled with fat. Perfect.
I drew a kitchen knife. I infused it with a layer of Ki.
Slash-slash-slash.
I minced the meat by hand, moving so fast my arm was a blur. I didn't want a paste; I wanted texture. I formed the patties, pressing them not too tight, leaving room for the juices. I seasoned them with salt rocks I crushed in my fist.
I found the grain flour. I mixed it with water and a reactive yeast culture I found in the back.
I didn't have time to let it rise naturally.
I held the dough in my hands. I flared my Ki, generating a gentle, pervasive heat. I accelerated the fermentation process, watching the dough expand in seconds.
I formed the buns. I threw them into the oven. I placed my hands against the oven door, pushing Ki inside to create a convection current that baked them in two minutes flat.
"Eggs," I demanded.
Vegeta handed me a crate of large, blue eggs.
I cracked them, separating the yolks with high precision. I tossed them into a bowl. I added oil.
I grabbed a whisk.
Whirrrrrr.
I whisked at supersonic speed. The mixture turned white, thick, and creamy in seconds. Homemade mayonnaise. I squeezed a local citrus fruit into it for acid.
Raditz had peeled the starch roots. They looked like potatoes, but purple.
I sliced them into batons. I threw them into a vat of boiling animal fat.
Hiss.
First fry, low temp to cook the inside. I pulled them out. Second fry: I cranked the heat with a blast of Ki under the vat. I threw them back in. They crisped up instantly, turning golden brown.
The buns came out. Soft, steaming. I toasted the insides on the grill.
I threw the patties onto the screaming hot iron.
SSSSZZZT.
The smell of rendering beef fat and of caramelized proteins exploded in the room.
"Oh my," Raditz whispered, sniffing the air. "What is that?"
Even Vegeta stopped pacing. He looked at the grill, his nose twitching.
I flipped the patties. A perfect, dark crust.
I assembled them fast.
Bun. A generous slather of mayo. A leaf of crisp local lettuce. A slice of a red, tomato-like fruit. The hot patty. Bun.
I didn't have plates. I grabbed clean parchment paper intended for wrapping raw meat. I wrapped the burgers halfway, street-food style, so the juices wouldn't drip onto a God's lap.
I piled the crispy fries onto the side.
"Done," I said, wiping sweat from my forehead.
I grabbed a large metal tray. I loaded three servings. Two for Beerus (just in case), one for Whis.
"Let's go," I said.
--
The doors to the Banquet Hall swung open with a groan.
I walked in.
The room was silent as a tomb. King Vegeta was still face-down on the floor, trembling. Lord Beerus sat on the throne, looking bored, dangerous, and ready to erase the solar system.
"You're late," Beerus drawled, tapping his claw against the armrest.
I walked forward, as I crossed the threshold, the scent hit them.
The rich, savory aroma of seared beef and fried starch cut through the stale air of the hall.
Raditz's stomach growled. It sounded like a dying engine.
Prince Vegeta sniffed the air, his composure slipping. He looked at the tray with genuine hunger.
Ruca walked beside me, her hand on her sidearm, but her eyes were glued to the fries. Even the Royal Guards by the door were drooling.
I stopped before the God of Destruction.
I lowered the tray, presenting the offering.
Beerus looked down.
He saw the paper-wrapped bundles. He saw the grease staining the parchment. He saw the messy pile of fries.
He frowned.
"What is this?" Beerus asked, his voice dripping with skepticism. "This looks like a disaster. A stacked mess of bread and burnt meat."
He leaned in, his golden eyes narrowing.
"If this tastes as chaotic as it looks... I will destroy you first. Then the kitchen. Then the planet."
Whis leaned over Beerus's shoulder.
"Oh my," Whis noted, smiling. "It smells... heavy. But delightful. Very rustic."
Beerus huffed. He reached out with two claws and picked up the burger. It was hot. Soft.
He sniffed it.
He opened his mouth.
I held my breath. Ruca held her breath. The King stopped breathing entirely.
Beerus took a bite.