CHAPTER 1 - First Meeting
[A/n: This is 2.9k words... I put in the work for y'all! Enjoy :D]
The air in your restaurant, The Big Dipper, is thick with the scent of garlic, seared steak and the sweet aroma of the birthday cake you just pulled out the oven. Outside, the sky over Capsule Corp is a brilliant, cloudless blue. Inside, the chatter of Bulma’s guests; Goku’s laughter, Krillin’s nervous giggle, Chi-Chi’s warm scolding fills the space. You’re at your prep table, whisking a glossy chocolate ganache for the final layer of the cake, a familiar rhythm in the celebratory chaos.
Then, without warning, the light outside dims. A shadow falls over the large window overlooking the patio. The chatter dies instantly. A pressure builds in the air, a silent, heavy weight that makes the fine hairs on your arms stand up. Two figures descend from the sky, landing softly on the manicured lawn just beyond the patio. One is tall and lean, in pristine white and lavender clothing you’ve never seen before whilst holding a staff. The other is a purple, cat-like being, his expression is one of boredom. They radiate an energy that feels overpowering and ancient.
“Beerus!? Whis?! What are you doing here?” Goku’s voice is tight as he approaches the pair.
Beerus’ eyes don’t even flit to meet Goku’s, instead he scans the room before locking eyes with you.
“Hmph. The food smells…intriguing.”
Beerus moves past a now frozen in place Goku, past a tense Vegeta who watches the feline with clenched fists, and walks directly toward the prep table you’re currently at. The entire party watches, they all hold their breaths. He stops right in front of you, his gaze is intense and curious. You don’t make eye contact, you could feel the pressure getting tighter from him being directly in front of you. You, however, halt your whisking for a brief second before continuing the steady motion of your wrist.
You flinch slightly as his clawed hand reaches out to pluck a small, perfectly formed profiterole from the nearby tray.
Beerus pops it into his mouth and his eyes widen slightly before a low, appreciative rumble echoes in his chest.
“Mmm… Divine.” He leans in closer, his voice a low purr. “Did you make this?”
You simply nod, not daring to look upon him. The low rumble of his approval seems to vibrate through the table. The rest of the party remains frozen, as if they’re awaiting something. Whis glides forward a step, a knowing amused smile on his lips.
“What’s your name, little chef?”
Beerus leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
Before you could answer, Whis clears his throat while looking at Lord Beerus.
“Lord Beerus, perhaps we should allow the celebration to continue. We did arrive rather… unexpectedly.”
Beerus waves a dismissive hand without looking away from you.
“In a moment, Whis. The celebration can wait. This…” He gestures to the tray of profiteroles. “…is a discovery.”
“Y/n. My name is Y/n.” You finally say.
A slow genuine smile spreads across Beerus’ feline features, a sight so unexpected to momentarily startle even Vegeta.
“Y/n.” He lets your name hang in the air, tasting it. “It suits you. The creator of such… exquisite pleasure.”
Whis taps his staff lightly on the floor before speaking again.
“Indeed. However, I do believe the birthday girl is looking rather concerned. And her husband appears to be vibrating with suppressed energy.”
You risk a glance past Beerus. Bulma is standing by the cake, her facial features struck by wary confusion. Vegeta is indeed radiating a palpable heat, his eyes narrowed to slits. Goku just looks curious, as do all the other guests, scratching his head.
Beerus lets out a dramatic sigh before straightening up.
“Very well. But we are not leaving. This party now has two guests of honor.” His eyes pierce into yours, intense and unwavering. “You will make more of these…for me.”
“I have to finish the last birthday cake layer first. You have to be patient.” You continue whisking while looking away from Beerus.
Beerus’ tail gives a single, sharp flick. His smile doesn’t falter, but it sharpens, becoming more challenging.
“Patient?” He lets out a low, purring chuckle at that.
“I am a god of destruction, little chef. Patience is not a virtue I am known for. However…” His eyes drift to the magnificent, half-finished cake.
“...for a creation of that caliber, I suppose I can make an exception.”
“A wise decision, my lord. Anticipation often enhances the final experience.” Whis smiles, nodding his head slightly.
Beerus turns his head slightly, his voice carrying easily across the silence.
“Vegeta. The woman is under my protection. See that nothing… interrupts her work.”
Vegeta grinds his teeth, a low rumbling growl resides in his chest, but he gives a curt, single nod.
“Hn.”
With that, Beerus turns and saunters over to an empty table, pulling out a chair as if he owns the place. Whis follows, standing politely beside him. The tension of the party doesn’t break, but it shifts. Conversations start up again in hushed, nervous tones. Goku immediately starts asking Whis if he wants a spring roll.
Bulma approaches your station with cautious steps. She keeps a wide berth around the new guests who are watching the interaction with wary eyes.
“Y/n… are you okay? What in the world was that about?”
“I have no idea. He just…likes the profiteroles.”
Bulma stares at you, her blue eyes wide with a mixture of alarm and disbelief. She glances over at Beerus, who is now inspecting a decorative centerpiece with an air of detached curiosity. She places her hands on her hips and looks you directly in the eyes.
“Liked the profiteroles? Y/n, he declared you under his protection. That’s… not normal. Even for them.”
Chi-Chi rushes over to your station as soon as Bulma finishes her last word with you. Her face is flushed with protective anger as she turns towards the purple feline who is relaxed in a chair.
“That’s outrageous! You can’t just order someone around like that! This is Bulma’s house!”
Beerus’ ears twitch and he speaks without looking at her, his voice carrying clearly.
“It is not an order. It is a… recognition of talent. A very rare recognition.”
Whis nods sagely at what Beerus said.
“Indeed. Lord Beerus’s palate is exceptionally refined. For him to take such a personal interest is a great compliment.”
Vegeta, who is leaning against the corner of your station, snorts.
“A compliment that comes with an ultimatum. Tch.”
You feel all eyes on you again. Some are filled with worry, some with fear for you and some with curiosity. The weight of the ganache whisk in your hand feels heavier. The birthday cake still needs its final layer. The party is supposed to be joyful, but the air is now charged with something else entirely.
Beerus turns his head, his slitted eyes meeting yours again.
“Do not dawdle, Chef Y/n. The cake awaits. And after… we will discuss my menu.”
You focus your attention back on the bowl of chocolate ganache, the rhythmic whisking a small anchor in the sudden storm. The rich, glossy liquid comes together perfectly under your steady hand. Bulma and Chi-Chi exchange another worried look but say nothing more, retreating slowly back toward the other guests, who are now casting furtive, nervous glances between you and the divine beings at the table.
Whis approaches silently, making you jump slightly in the process before continuing your work.
“Such precision. Even under…unique circumstances. A testament to your skill, Chef Y/n.”
Beerus leans back in his chair, crossing his legs comfortably.
“Of course it is. I do not bestow my interest on the mediocre.”
Ignoring the commentary, you carefully lift the bowl and begin to pour the ganache over the cooled cake layers. It flows in a smooth, dark river, coating the surface in a perfect, shiny blanket of dark chocolate. The simple, familiar action is a small comfort.
Bulma claps her hands together from across the room, you can hear her forcing a bright tone.
“Okay, everyone! Let’s…let’s get back to the party! Goku, stop hogging the shrimp platter!”
The normal chaos tentatively resumes, though the laughter is a bit too loud and the conversations a bit too hurried. You finish smoothing the ganache, your movements economical and sure. The cake is complete—- a towering, chocolate masterpiece. For a moment, there is only the sound of your spatula against the porcelain cake stand.
Beerus stands up, the chair scraping softly on the floor.
“Excellent. Now, the matter of my menu. I require a tasting. Immediately.”
He starts to lick his muzzle but you simply ignore his statement. You turn your back squarely to Lord Beerus and pick up a long, serrated cake knife. The blade catches the light as you begin to slice into the dark, glossy surface with practiced, deliberate motions. The first piece comes away cleanly.
“That’s the spirit, Y/n! Birthday first!” Bulma’s voice reaches your ears, nervous and strained.
Chi-Chi nods vigorously, stepping closer to the table where you’re serving the cake onto plates.
“We’ll serve it. You just focus on cutting.”
Chi-Chi and Bulma quickly move to take the plates from you, distributing slices to the guests, who accept them with murmured thanks and uneasy glances toward the head of the party venue.
A low, dangerous growl rumbles through the venue. Beerus looks annoyed.
“I said… immediately.”
You turn and look into his eyes, a small fire of equal annoyance lighting in yours.
“You need to be patient! You crashed my best friend’s birthday party because you wanted to…”
The growl from Beerus’ throat cuts off abruptly.
Beerus’ tail stops its lazy swaying and stands straight up. The entire party seems to suck in a collective breath. Even Whis’s perpetual smile falters for a fraction of a second. Beerus takes a silent singular step toward the cake table, keeping eye contact with you.
“I… crashed?”
“I can practically see the hearts in your eyes…” You murmur under your breath, keeping your eyes locked onto his.
The silence that follows your words is absolute. No one moves. No one breathes. Beerus’s pupils, slitted like a cat’s, seem to widen. The dangerous aura around him dissipates, replaced by something far more bewildering: genuine surprise, and beneath it, a flicker of… intrigue.
Beerus blinks slowly, his head tilts to the side.
“...Hearts?”
Whis covers his laugh with a delicate cough, adjusting his hold on his staff.
“My lord, it appears the chef possesses a… formidable spirit to match her culinary skills.”
Beerus ignores Whis, his intense gaze still locked on you.
“You have a remarkable talent for stating the… unadorned truth, Chef Y/n. Very well.” He gestures vaguely toward the party. “Proceed with your… birthday ritual. But do not mistake my patience for a change of heart. My menu is still pending.”
He turns and stalks back to his claimed table, sitting down with a huff. The tension in the room breaks like a dam. Conversations erupt in relieved whispers. Bulma lets out a breath she didn’t seem to realize she was holding. Bulma steps toward the cake table to take another slice of cake while whispering to you underneath her breath.
“You’ve got to be the bravest person I know.”
Vegeta mutters from nearby, a grudging respect in his tone.
“Hn. Not completely without a spine.”
“It’s rude to interrupt a party.”
The soft chatter of the party slowly returns, but the air remains charged.
Beerus watches you from his table, tail twitching in a slow, thoughtful rhythm. Whis leans down and murmurs something in his ear, earning a dismissive flick of a claw. Beerus speaks loud enough for you to hear, though he addresses the room at large.
“Rude? Perhaps. But when a god finds something truly exceptional, etiquette becomes… negotiable.”
Bulma nudges you gently as she passes with a plate in her hands. Her eyes look to Beerus quickly before landing on yours again.
“Just… keep cutting the cake, Y/n. Ignore him.”
From the faraway tables, you see Chi-Chi handing a plate of cake to her son, Goten. She speaks to him in a gentle whisper.
“Here, sweetie. It’s very good.”
Beerus’ voice drops, becoming a low purr meant only for your ears, yet it carries perfectly.
“You are correct, of course. It was an interruption. I shall… compensate the birthday girl for the inconvenience. Whis.”
Whis nods, tapping his staff once on the floor.
“A splendid idea, my lord.”
A soft, celestial light glows from the end of Whis’s staff. On the main gift table, next to Bulma’s piled presents, a new, ornate box wrapped in shimmering, star-dusted paper materializes out of thin air. The entire room stares.
“...What is that?”
“A token. To soothe the… rudeness. Now, Chef Y/n.” His eyes find yours again, intense and unwavering.
“The cake is served. The party continues. My patience, however, is finite.”
You pick up two of the finest porcelain plates, load them with generous slices of dark, gleaming cake, and carry them over to the table where the divine beings are seated. The room watches your every move, a silent, tense audience. Whis accepts the plate with a grateful nod.
“My thanks, Chef Y/n. It looks absolutely decadent.”
Beerus watches you place the plate in front of him, his gaze fixed on your hands.
“Hmph. About time.”
Beerus picks up a fork, his movements precise and deliberate. He takes a small bite. His eyes close. For a long moment, he is perfectly still. Then, a low, resonant hum of pure pleasure vibrates from his chest, a sound that seems to make the very air shimmer. He opens his eyes, which are wide with genuine astonishment.
“...Exquisite. The balance of bitterness and sweetness… the texture… It is… perfection.”
Looking at Beerus’s reaction, Whis takes a delicate bite of his own. His eyes widening with the same astonishment that Beerus has shown.
“Oh my. Yes. A truly transcendent sponge. You have outdone yourself.”
Beerus leans forward, his voice dropping, all pretense of irritation gone.
“You see? This is why I cannot simply be patient. This is not mere food. This is… art.”
Lord Beerus takes another, larger bite, savoring it with an intensity that is almost reverent. The rest of the party continues, but the mood has shifted again. The fear is now mixed with a strange, grudging awe. Your ears catch the whispered conversation between Bulma and Vegeta.
“Okay, I have to admit… seeing the God of Destruction rendered speechless by chocolate cake is kind of amazing.”
Vegeta grunts, not taking his eyes off Beerus while responding to his wife.
“Do not let it go to your head, woman. His whims are as dangerous as they are flattering.”
Beerus finishes his slice of chocolate cakes and places the fork down with a soft, final clink.
“There. The birthday obligation is fulfilled. Now. We talk.”
You cross your arms across your chest, looking him in the eyes with an annoyed look.
“You still haven’t apologized for interrupting.”
Beerus’s ears flatten slightly against his head. He stares at your crossed arms, then at your face, his expression is one of utter bafflement. Whis politely dabs his mouth with a napkin, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
“Apologize?”
Beerus says the word as if it’s foreign, tasting its strangeness.
“I bestowed a gift! I acknowledged your skill! What more could you possibly—-”
“You ruined everything, everyone is on edge because of you. So, an apology is needed.”
The bafflement on Beerus’s face solidifies into something more complex—a flicker of genuine confusion, then a slow dawning of understanding, as if he’s following a logic puzzle for the very first time. His tail, which had been twitching irritably, goes still. He looks slowly around the room, taking in the tense postures, the forced smiles, the way no one is quite looking directly at him.
“...Ruined?”
Whis smiles serenely, looking between both you and Beerus before speaking again.
“I believe the chef is referring to the atmosphere, my lord. The… social equilibrium has been disrupted.”
Beerus’s gaze returns to you, intense and thoughtful.
“Hmph. I see. You believe my presence has… diminished the enjoyment of this gathering.”
“Precisely.”
He leans back in his chair, steepling his clawed fingers. A long, silent moment passes before he speaks.
“Very well. You are… not wrong. My methods are often… direct. I am not accustomed to considering the social… equilibrium of mortals.”
“A novel concept for you, my lord.” Whis butts in.
Beerus ignores Whis, his eyes continuously fixed on you.
“For causing you… and the birthday girl… distress, you have my… acknowledgement. There. Is that sufficient?”
He says the words stiffly, as if pulling teeth. It’s clearly not an apology, but it’s a concession, and from a God of Destruction, it feels seismic. A few guests dare to exhale.
Bulma’s voice carries from across the venue, her voice slightly shaky.
“Well! That’s… that’s something! Thank you, Lord Beerus!”
“Do not thank me. Thank your stubborn friend.”
With that, Lord Beerus stands up, the movement is fluid and sudden.
“Now. The matter of my menu. We will discuss it. In private. My ship is in orbit. It has a kitchen worthy of your talents.”
Beerus gestures vaguely upward. The air outdoors chills again, not from the wind. Vegeta takes a step forward, his expression dark.
“That is not a request, is it?”
Beerus smiles, a sharp, predatory flash of teeth. He makes eye contact with Vegeta.
“It is an invitation. The most generous one I have ever extended.”
[A/n: That’s the first chapter done! The next chapter will be coming soon (gotta love the notes app sharing feature fr) and we’ll start working on it! THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL START DIRECTLY FROM THIS POINT!!!!! Thank you for reading mwah!]
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