The first sight of the Yardrats left everyone stunned.
Not only Bulma and Vegeta's elite subordinates…
Even Vegeta himself froze.
He knew what Yardrats looked like from the original timeline he carried in his head.
But what appeared before him shattered all his expectations.
Five distinct forms.
Five completely different races.
All calling themselves Yardrats.
It was absurd.
Most planets produced only one dominant intelligent species.
Saiyans were Saiyans.
Namekians were Namekians.
Even on rare worlds with more than one intelligent race, they were never this varied, never this harmonious.
Yet here they were.
Slim Yardrats.
Pudgy Yardrats.
Insectoid Yardrats.
Ghostlike Yardrats.
And froglike Yardrats.
All united.
All peaceful.
Vegeta had forgotten many details from the later arcs, but this much he remembered clearly:
Under their President and under their wise Grand Elder Pibala, the Yardrats developed in a calm and steady manner.
Their special abilities were incomparable.
Their spirit control was legendary.
Some had astonishing battle power, reaching ten thousand or even one hundred thousand.
But most were peaceful civilians with Ki far above average humans.
Similar to the Namekians… but with a population thousands of times larger.
Invading them would be a nightmare for any outsider.
Even the Ginyu Force would have ended up fleeing.
Bulma clung closer to Vegeta, whispering in a nervous voice:
"What are they saying? I do not understand a single word. Do they not speak any familiar language?"
All around them the Yardrats murmured in strange gurgling tones, their expressions unreadable.
Their odd appearances made Bulma uneasy.
They looked weird.
Almost dangerous.
Like they could swallow someone whole if they wanted to.
Vegeta placed his hand gently over hers.
"Relax. They are not hostile," he said calmly.
"They are discussing whether we are enemies, allies, or wanderers. If they intended to attack, they would have struck the moment we landed."
Hera stepped forward nervously and whispered,
"Vegeta sir… I believe they are also saying we look strange."
The other elites nodded in embarrassment.
They had all felt the Yardrats pointing at them and whispering.
Vegeta did not mind at all.
"To them, we look strange. To us, they look strange. That is fair," he said with a faint smile.
"And besides…"
His eyes narrowed.
"I already found their leaders. Those two at the center."
The crowd parted around two Yardrats surrounded by respectful guards.
Vegeta recognized one instantly.
A rounder body shaped like a tadpole.
Blue skin.
Two horns.
Catfish whiskers.
Grand Elder Pibala.
The famous spiritual master who would appear in a later arc.
Beside him stood a tall, muscular Yardrat with stern features.
Vegeta had no doubt.
That had to be their President.
The two leaders stepped forward solemnly.
"I am Pibama, President of the Yardrat people."
"I am Pibala, Grand Elder of the Yardrat people."
"Our world maintains no diplomatic relations with outsiders.
State your purpose."
"The Yardrat people welcome friendly travelers…
but we do not fear enemies."
Their voices were calm, steady, filled with an authority that came from inner discipline rather than arrogance.
Bulma gulped.
Hera and the elites stiffened.
Even with so many strange types, the Yardrats were no fools.
They knew how to project threat and unity.
Vegeta stepped forward.
His expression did not change.
These people could not intimidate him.
"I am not your enemy," he said in a clear, composed voice.
"I came here to learn several of your special techniques."
The statement caused ripples among the Yardrats.
They murmured in their strange twisting language.
It was just like the Namekian tongue.
Impossible for outsiders to learn without spiritual compatibility.
Pibama lifted his gaze.
"You say you are no enemy.
Then how do we know this is true?
Your Spirit carries the scent of blood and cruelty."
Vegeta blinked.
Spirit.
So that was their word for Ki.
"I do not need to prove anything," Vegeta replied.
"Because if I intended to harm you…"
He lifted his chin slightly.
"…not even your entire race combined could stop me."
Then he released his aura.
The ground trembled.
Dust spiraled.
Air cracked.
Space seemed to distort.
Half a month of compressed training surged outward in a terrifying wave.
His base power had soared to eight or even nine million.
This magnitude of Ki was no longer mortal.
It was like facing a miniature sun.
Even Pibala and Pibama staggered back.
Their faces tightened.
Their bodies trembled.
Not from fear…
But from sheer inability to resist the overwhelming Spirit.
The other Yardrats collapsed to one knee, gasping for air.
Bulma stared at Vegeta with wide eyes.
Her heart hammered.
A strange thought floated across her mind:
If Vegeta stands like this beside me…
what kind of man could ever compete with him?
Will my future husband… really be someone like him?
The moment startled even herself.
She quickly looked away, cheeks warm.
Meanwhile, Pibama bowed his head deeply.
"Honored warrior…
Your Spirit is beyond anything we have encountered."
He spoke with genuine reverence.
Vegeta smirked.
Yardrats were strong.
But more than anything…
They were cautious.
Extremely cautious.
He liked that.
It made negotiations easier.
~~~~~~
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