Hit steadied himself against the table and shuffled off the stage on unsteady legs. Thank heavens — no one who knew him had seen him like this. If they had, he'd never live it down.
He had lost. Lost without a shred of drama. Everyone had seen it coming, because Son Goku had been absolutely ecstatic, cramming dorayaki into his mouth one after another with a ferocity that defied description. How many days had this man gone without eating?
Three dark lines appeared on Chichi's forehead. The way her husband was shoveling food made it look like she'd been starving him at home. Without thinking, she grabbed a frying pan and began swinging it in wide, vicious arcs — clearly imagining it connecting with a certain someone's skull.
Gohan and Goten rushed to restrain their mother. "Mom, you know what Dad's like — he's a complete idiot! Put free food in front of him and of course he's going to go feral!"
The second match was the Sixth Universe's Gabe versus the Seventh Universe's Vegeta.
"Master Vegeta, I will not lose to you!" the boy Gabe declared with complete seriousness.
The two had chatted briefly beforehand and hit it off surprisingly well. When the topic of Super Saiyan transformation had come up, Vegeta hadn't held anything back — he'd walked Gabe through it in full detail. Gabe could now transform into a Super Saiyan. That was no small thing; before coming to Earth, the Saiyans of the Sixth Universe hadn't even known Super Saiyan transformation existed.
So the boy had taken to calling Vegeta "Master" as a mark of respect.
Nothing wrong with the title. Nothing wrong with the person using it. The timing, however, was deeply wrong.
Vegeta's face darkened. What exactly are we doing right now? We're in an eating contest. The kid's words made him sound like a complete glutton with no other talents to speak of.
Both competitors took their seats. This time it wasn't dorayaki — stretched along a table several dozen meters long were a hundred plates of grilled meat.
Whoever ate the fastest and the most would win the round.
Both of them unleashed the iron-stomached appetite of a true Saiyan, snatching up piece after piece, barely chewing before swallowing, then immediately reaching for the next plate.
Grand Zeno was noticeably less engaged with these two than he had been with Goku. Neither Vegeta nor Gabe had whatever quality it was that drew his attention. He simply sat with his arms folded, watching in silence.
The Grand Minister offered no commentary, maintaining his role as the composed attendant, standing calmly behind Grand Zeno. Ino stifled a yawn and kept equally quiet.
Out on the floor, the two competitors were going at it ferociously.
Gabe had been hungry for days and wanted nothing more than to eat his fill — and to prove himself. Champa had given their team some generous incentives to compete, and the Sixth Universe's Saiyans, who had been living as wanderers, needed those rewards.
Vegeta, for his part, simply refused to lose. Goku had just won his match — how could Vegeta possibly lose his? Even in the arena of shoveling food, he was going to measure himself against Goku.
"I can still... I can still eat..." By the ninety-eighth plate of grilled meat, his stomach was beginning to rebel. Acid was surging up, and the incompletely digested food was churning inside him like a stormy sea. He clamped his mouth shut, strained with everything he had, and tried to force down every wave of discomfort.
If it were a normal, paced meal, he could absolutely keep going — this was nothing. But they'd been eating too fast and too aggressively, and his digestive system had slipped just that one critical step behind.
He had a full six years on Goku. He was already past forty, barreling toward fifty.
Saiyans had long primes and long middle ages — but their total lifespan wasn't all that much longer than an Earthling's.
Pit a fifty-year-old man against a twenty-year-old in an eating contest and the outcome was pretty much written in advance.
Gabe won the round. Vegeta was helped off the floor by his wife and son.
The original third match was set to be the Sixth Universe's bear warrior Botamo against the Seventh Universe's Gohan. But just as the two were about to take the stage, the Grand Minister spoke softly:
"Since this Big Eater Contest was brought about by Champa and Beerus, I think it would be fitting if the two of them settled the deciding match themselves."
His tone was conversational — but no one in the room believed for a single moment that the Grand Minister was actually asking for their opinion.
Grand Zeno, for his part, was entirely indifferent to who went up. From where he stood, the entire multiverse was just a game anyway.
Ino was the first to voice her support. Both Angel Attendants smiled pleasantly. Champa and Beerus found themselves unable to think of a single objection.
The two Destroyers tied their napkins around their necks, picked up their knives and forks, and stared each other down. The mutual contempt in their eyes was unmistakable.
"Bag of bones — you're going to lose!"
"Lard barrel — the one losing today is definitely you!"
With the trash talk concluded, the food began to arrive.
These were the Destroyers of two entire universes, after all — they couldn't be fobbed off with dorayaki and grilled meat.
The kitchen went into full overdrive. Bring out the serious dishes.
Given the feline nature of both competitors, the opening course was naturally shark fin soup.
Shredded shark fin. Crab roe shark fin. Claypot shark fin. Beyond that, countless other preparations that Ino couldn't even identify — the kitchen staff moved with swift hands, carrying plates out one after another. Two absolute gluttons who looked like they hadn't eaten in eight hundred years tore into each dish with savage intensity, and whenever one of them finished a plate before the other, they'd shoot a contemptuous glance across the table.
Once the shark fin courses were cleared, the full fish banquet began in earnest.
On one side, Champa demolished a plate of fish braised in sour cabbage. On the other, Beerus polished off two whole fish heads smothered in chili paste.
The rich, intoxicating aroma, combined with the sheer feral commitment of both men attacking their fish, made the entire audience's mouths water without them even realizing it.
Ino very discreetly caught the eyes of her wife and daughter. Eat. Don't hold back. Make sure you get your money's worth — especially you, Kale. Load up. We're not cooking at home tonight.
Over on Frieza's side, he had made it to his seat, leaning on Chief of Staff Sorbet's arm.
The man was running on fumes, barely a sliver of health left — obviously no one was going to give him any trouble in that state.
Whatever the other guests were being served, he got the same.
Frieza was utterly miserable about it, but in this particular moment there was nothing else to be done. Spiritual victory was the only option — eat them into bankruptcy.
Crunch, crunch, crunch — he ate alongside the rest.
And he had to admit: Earth's food really was delicious. Much of it he was tasting for the first time, and partway through, tears actually streamed down his face — it was so damn spicy! He was covered in wounds from head to toe and they were feeding him this? Were they worried he wasn't dying fast enough?!
Conventional wisdom holds that in an eating contest between a very hungry fat man and a very hungry thin man, the fat man wins every time — digestive capacity, body size, sheer volume, they all speak for themselves. And yet the final outcome between Beerus and Champa managed to surprise everyone.
Beerus won.
Lean and wiry as he appeared, the reputation of the Number One Destroyer was no empty boast. Champa's stomach bulged out like a drum. He lay flat on the ground, eyes staring wide at the ceiling, gasping for breath in great heaving gulps. Beerus, meanwhile, stood leaning calmly against the table, steady as a rock. The difference was plain for all to see.
Goku won. Vegeta lost. Beerus won. Two victories out of three — the Seventh Universe had taken the championship of the Big Eater Contest.
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