Looking at the brackets, I scratched my chin. Three rounds to get to the quarter finals, huh? Then after that I just need to win at least one match to make it into semis. After that, it's the championship round. If I lose in the semis, I'll just have to fight the other loser for third place.
I wonder what the third place prize is? Ooh! Maybe I should aim higher! Second place! Yeah, that sounds good. I think Goku wins the Tenkaichi Budokai and who am I to disrespect canon?
...Hahaha. Good one, me. I'd butcher and kill canon if it meant I lived longer. Fuck being a firework for Frieza. Still, better to not have butterfly effects this early on. I'll just make it to… To… To… What round did Krillin lose at? What round am I supposed to lose at? Wait, is it this tournament or the next one that Master Roshi hops in? Or was it both? I have SO many questions. Oh. Oh. Oh fuck, I don't remember canon half as well as I should have.
...Ah well, we have the bullshit Dragon Balls and some shit. I'm sure everything will work out so long as I don't stop training with Goku. Just gotta make it until the Saiyan arc and then I'll start the slide into irrelevant… Am I lying to make myself feel better and escape existential dread? Absolutely fucking yes. More importantly, is it working?
"Krillin! Krillin! You're up next!" Goku shouted, shaking me with excitement. "Go show them your skills!"
Hopefully yes to that last question.
Wriggling free of his grip, I grinned and hopped onto the stage, "Sure thing, Goku. I'll see you in the finals."
"Sure thing!" Goku shouted as he dashed away to his own ring. Shaking my head, I smiled at my meal ticket. Go. Be strong! Now… Who am I fighting?
Oh! It's one of my old templemates. Same bald head, same six incense dots. Just a couple years older. Ah, it made me nostalgic back to the days when I was but one of many students in the Orin Temple, learning how to brutally and efficiently turn the human body into a weapon. Technically, we were Buddhist. In practice, we were more like the League of Shadows from Batman. Except less bloodier and much more incompetent. The martial arts form was pretty good though, basically an expy of Shaolin mixed with a few other Buddhist styles. Everything else was shit though. Crappy ass indoctrination into becoming a child soldier made everything else shit.
"Well, if it isn't my old friend, Krillin," the skinny monk said, slipping into the opening Orin stance, the horse stance. He smiled evilly, "Fate is smiling upon me! Giving me such an easy first match."
This would be… would be… Fuck, I forgot his name. Jim, for lack of a better name, had been one of my bullies back at the Orin Temple. Older than me, he was only stronger than me because he had had more time to grow and develop his body. Other than that, he was hella weak, always ditching practice with his friends. There had been many times I wish I could shove something in his face, but alas, I was simply too weak.
Not anymore though. I'm strong now, HOO! RAH! I didn't bother replying, settling into my own stance. The words of the weak rarely leave change in this world. It is only through action that one leaves their mark. Or something like that. Point was, I didn't feel like replying.
"START!" the referee shouted.
Immediately, Jim dashed forward with a warcry.
Right into my fist.
The punch that he had been throwing immediately paused over his head and slowly drooped as he stumbled backwards, clutching his stomach with his other hand, gasping and wheezing for breath. I didn't hesitate, stepping forward to deliver two weak jabs, one to his forehead then another to his chest. I lifted my right foot into a rising high kick to the chin.
I had to shield my eyes to protect it from the dust and plaster that dropped from the ceiling when his body hit it. I had to take a few steps back to avoid the insensate body dropping back to earth. Oof. I really did a number on Jim's face. He's not missing any teeth, but it was a close thing with that nasty bump on the head.
Not wanting to bother with a countdown, I grabbed one of Jim's legs to drag him to the side of the stage. With a quick twist of the hips, I tossed him out of bounds. There, instant victory! Clasping my hands together, I bowed respectfully to his side of the stage before walking off to cheer on Goku. Two more matches.
I got there just in time to see Goku kick a man three times his size off into the distance. Coincidentally, the ref finally announced, "VICTORY TO NUMBER 93!"
Damn, being a side character is awesome. All the badassery with none of the whole WORLD DEPENDS ON YOU, DO NOT FUCK THIS UP mojo.
As Goku bowed respectfully to his former opponent, I smiled. Yeah, things were definitely going to be okay for now. So why did I have this impending sense of doom?
Piccolo doesn't show up yet, I know that for a fact. Saiyans are far off in the future, Freeza is literally out in space, and if I play my cards right, I can wish away the Cell saga completely, so why do I feel as if I'm forgetting something very important!? Like near in the future kind of important?
...Don't think about it. Just focus on the matches. Today is the final day you match Goku in fighting power! Enjoy it while you can!
As expected, my next two matches were a cinch. I was now in the quarter-finals. And
panicking because I didn't remember canon nor did I remember who the hell I was fighting. In my defense, I did kind of fell asleep in the drawings for quarter-finals However… Okay, it's kind of embarrassing since I was in the latter half of the drawings, I should remember who I'm fighting.
Walking onto stage, I tuned out the blond pompadoured announcer. I have to be ready for anything. Tienshinhan and Chiaotzu were strong and I was definitely going to have to fight them at some point. The ground thudded as my mystery opponent walked out and it was...
"Bacteri--!" The announcer choked, backpedaling away. Covering his mouth with a handkerchief, the announcer pointed at the… Why is he half naked? Why are there flies flying around him? Why is he here? Okay, that last one was stupid, but who the fuck is this?
Between his gags, the announcer mumbled out the answer, "BACTERIAN! Who is reputed to never have bathed once in his life."
"I'm going to crush you," said… Bacterian as he flexed, fat rolls squelching loudly.
...Oh right. This was a… thing. Hot damn, early Dragon Ball was weird before the reliance of power levels and laser beam sizes. Toriyama-sensei had to rely on weird martial arts styles to keep up interest and… I guess using stink as a weapon is creative, but it feels like I'm fighting a walking, talking embodiment of poop jokes. As it was, I want this disgusting hobo-slob and his 'martial art' erased out of memory and existence.
...I'm so grateful that I don't have a nose. My sense of taste may be forever weakened but in exchange I never have to worry about throwing up from the smell of thirty years of being a failure of society and an affront to nature and a mistake that Gods and Buddhas actively try to forget about.
We waited for the announcer to finish reading out the rules for the audience, waiting for the signal to start. I wish it would start, so I could begin rectifyign this mistake and beat some sense into this man. Failing that, some basic hygiene. I don't want to live in a world wit--
"MATCH NUMBER ONE BEGIN!"
I snapped awake. Fuck. I got distracted with stupid thoughts again!! Bad habit! I barely managed to leap backwards to avoid the first blow from him. Immediately, I dropped back low into a stance, but it was too late! He had already followed up and was about to release his next attack!
"Nice dodge!" the mistake of society complimented before he stepped forward and breathed in my face, "TRY SMELLING MY BREATH!"
..I didn't move. Beyond the disgusting warmness, I couldn't smell anything. And… I don't want to sound whiny because that's asking for Murphy to fuck me over. I never want to fight anybody strong enough to kill me, but… this is sad. I'm sad. Why is THIS the first person I have to fight seriously??
Reaching inside his underwear, the only article of clothing he was wearing, Bacterian thrusted out that same hand at my face. I merely leant back and snapkicked at his wrist with my foot, breaking it. Have some fucking class, you disgusting slob.
Oh. My question is answered. I'm sad because I have to fight this fucker. Fucking hell, Toriyama, what the fuck were you on writing these early arcs?
"How!?" he yelled, stumbling back. Then he felt the pain from his broken hand and clutched it, falling onto his knees screaming, "WHY!? I HAVEN'T CLEANED IN THIRTY YEARS! MY SMELL SHOULD OVERPOWER YOU NOW!"
...How do you function? The accumulated filth should have given you gangrene and a whole shitload of other health problems! I just… Let it go, Krillin. Just… Let it go. Rolling my eyes and shaking my head, I answered, "I have no nose."
"...Uh oh," Bacterian visibly slumped.
"Uh oh indeed," I parroted before launching forward with a flying kick. I really didn't want to touch him, but if I had to, I was going to with the protection of good old shoes. Now is he… Yup, out of bounds. And into the…
May Buddha forgive me and that particular section of the crowd too. I'm so sorry for kicking that health hazard into the crowd. I bowed respectfully and hightailed it out of there before anybody in that area could think to begin threatening me or something.
"...AND VICTORY BY RING OUT!" the Announcer shouted, leaning his head back and punching the sky, "THIS HAS BEEN THE TENKAICHI BUDOKAI'S FASTEST MATCH IN HISTORY! DO YOU HAVE ANYT-- Oh, he left already."
Shower. Shower. Where is the fucking shower? I want water and soap to cleanse the filth from me.
That was an amazing shower. I feel reborn. It was as if I took a bath in the Sanzu river, cleansing all my sins to be reborn. I still don't think I can ever forget fighting… fighting that nightmare. He wasn't even a decent fighter, just a stupid gimmick one. But I feel clean now and that's all that matters.
Walking into the waiting area, I wrapped the towel around my head as if it was a turban. Hm… Where was… Ahah! There's Goku! Sleeping under a tree and against a wall. Ah, he's so innocent. Though, he really needs to learn how to clean his face better. Where did he even get the grease?
With a bit of work, I got him onto my back to carry him to the waiting area proper. Knowing him, he'd probably sleep past his match if somebody didn't wake him up. Huh. I wonder what match we're on?
"SILENCE PLEASE! FOR MATCH NUMBER 4!" the announcer helpfully answered with a shout, "CONTESTANTS SON GOKU AND GIRAN! BOTH CONTESTANTS PLEASE STEP FORWARD!"
Setting him on the bench, I took the towel off my head to wipe his greasy cheeks. Then poking him, I tried to prod him awake, "Yo. Yo. Yo. It's your match."
I flinched when his opponent, a dinosaur-pteradactyl hybrid suddenly roared. Unfortunately, that did nothing to wake Goku up. I shrugged, giving up, and slapped him awake.
"Wha--?" Goku mumbled sleepily. His cheek was fucking solid. Stupid Saiyan biology that's overly evolved and focused on surviving battle. My palm hurts.
Cradling, I nodded at the arena. "It's your match."
"Oh! Yay!" Goku jumped up into the air and dashed off into the arena. I'm going to win!"
I shook my head. Of course, he was. He was Akira Toriyama's Prized OP Mary Sue character! It was me I'm worried about. As I walked to the viewing area, I pondered my next match. Do I fight Master Roshi? I think OG Krillin fought Roshi next, but that might have been the next tournament. Who am I fighting next?
"So you're who I'm fighting next?" a clean cut man in a… tacky chinese martial arts uniform answered my question.
Looking him up and down, he looked vaguely familiar, but… Oh! Bulma! Vegeta! First casualty in the Saiyan arc! Most useless human by the end of Dragon Ball Z! We fought together in the Sleeping Princess Debacle!Pointing at him, I snapped my fingers as I realized, "Oh. You're Bulma's ex! Uh… Yams!"
"What? No!" Yams snapped, growing angry, "I'm dating her! And it's Yamcha."
"Oh, shoots," I winced as I realized my mistake. Silly future knowledge making faux pases. Bowing low, I apologized, "Sorry, you're not broken up yet. My mistake"
"...Are you trying to trash talk me?" Yamcha asked. He still sounded angry, but also confused? No idea why, but I'll take any form of de-escalation.
"Oh no. If I were to trash talk you, I'd talk about how your uniform looks tacky. Or how you don't look like you've trained recently. Or how your haircut makes you look stupid," I answered honestly.
Yamcha stared blankly at me before suddenly facepalming, "You actually mean that, don't you?"
Furrowing my brow in confusion, I cocked my head, "I said it, so I must have. Though sometimes, I do get my words confused with my meaning. Nice to meet you again though! Thanks for helping me and Goku at the Demon Castle."
"...Let's just watch the match," Yamcha sighed, sounding defeated for some reason.
I shrugged. If he wanted to be weird, he could be weird. I hopped onto the divider to watch Goku fight the dinosaur thing. He's still hopping around too much, presenting an easy target that flew along a line from Point A to Point B. The reason most martial arts had an emphasis of keeping one foot on the ground was to be able to control momentum. Until one could fly, hopping in the air meant commiting to one direction and if your opponent predicted it...
"OOF!" Goku grunted as he was slammed into the wall by a tail flick. Yeah, he shouldn't have jumped forward like that. And he should have DODGED.
"So you're goku's classmate? Training mate? Friend?" Yamcha asked.
"Fellow disciple," I offered, kicking my legs as I watched Goku. Beyond the initial charge, Goku was doing quite well. His small size made his quick movements that much more confusing and he was using… Giran's? Giran's body as a jungle gym, pounding and kicking at the joints.
"Yeah, that. How was the training?"
"Lots of conditioning," I replied, remembering the stupid morning chores that lasted all the way to afternoon. "Then we had homeschool for a bit with Master Roshi. Then me and Goku fought until the moon was up."
"...Oh. So what was it like training wi--"
"DODGE!" I shouted as Giran spat something slimey at him. I'm going to abuse Pavlov and train Goku to DODGE.
For some reason, Goku immediately froze and allowed the goopy spit to curl and twist into a binding. I stared incredulously. Then shouted, "YOU DIDN'T DODGE!"
Honestly! We've been training for so long together! I'm trying to train you so that you'll always dodge and you don't have to sacrifice yourself to kill Raditz! Just DODGE!
"BECAUSE YOU YELLED AT ME!" Goku snapped as he struggled in his bindings. Grunting in frustration, he tacked on, "ASSHOLE!"
Well, that's just mean. Growling, I shouted quickly, "STUPIDIDIOTSAYWHAT!?"
"WHA--!?" Goku was cut off by a tail smack from Giran. As Goku flew off into the distance, he turned to face me and gave me a thumbs up. I returned it.
Sure, he may have been Goku's opponent, but that was a perfect punchline to that joke. Also Goku deserved to be smacked. He didn't DODGE. He needs to learn to DODGE, so he doesn't die and leave Krillin, AKA me, and the Z-Warriors to be meatshields and speedbumps to the arc's villain as we wait for his sorry ass to be Rezzed.
Oh shit, Yamcha! Turning to face him, I apologized for being distracted. "Sorry, he has a bad habit of not dodging. I like to remind him to. You were saying?"
"He's just been knocked out!"
"He's fine. I've hit him harder than that in worst places. Worse comes to worse, he's just disqualified."
"KINTO'UN!" Goku shouted, summoning a magical cloud to catch him and carry him back stage.
"See?" I pointed, nodding with self-assuredness, "He'll be fine so long as he remembers to DODGE!" I shouted that last part so Goku could hear.
"FUCK OFF!" Goku answered as he hopped back onto stage.
As the announcer and referee deliberated over the usage of Kinto'Un, Yamcha asked slowly, "When did Goku learn to swear!?"
Patting my chest, I proudly answered, "I taught him how."
"When!? Why!?"
"Well," I shrugged, "he needed a way to vent frustrations whenever he lost."
"...Lost?" Yamcha asked, sounding oddly confused.
"Yeah, remember? We did chores and training in the morning, schooling in the afternoon, and then sparred until the moon was up."
At the moment, I hated it. Hated the training. Looking back, it was pretty damn fun. Especially with someone like Goku to pick up the mood whenever it dropped. He was… a really good friend. I guess nostalgia does make people crazy.
"As in you and him were fighting?" Yamcha asked, a strange hint of desperation entering his voice.
I stared at him before slowly answering"That IS how sparring works, yes."
"What was the win-loss ratio?" he asked hurriedly
"Pretty even actually. But only because he cheated and used energy attacks sometimes. Hand to hand, I can beat him." I answered, though most of my attention was on the match. Goku had been leveling up his DODGE skill quite nicely now that he can't attack, but he was going to get hit if he didn't "DODGE!"
Oh no. He got hi… Oh! Wait! Goku grew his tail back,using it to dangle on Giran's arm. Nice. Going to have to figure out how to deal with that if we fight later. Going to be tricky dealing with another limb if we fight.
"Can you use energy attacks?" Yamcha raised his voice over Goku's angry shouting.
Ignoring Goku's cussing about me shouting DODGE unnecessarily, I replied, "No, but he can. The asshole. In his defense, he tried to teach me, but he sucks. All I can do is make this." I demonstrated the small Ki ball.
"...I uh," Yamcha stuttered as he slowly backed out of the waiting room and into the main hall, " have to go to the bathroom."
"Don't take too long," I call out after him as he turned and ran, "Goku's about to win. If he could just DODGE!"
"SHUT UP!" Goku shouted as he kicked the dividing wall that I was sitting on, completely reducing it to rubble.. Too bad for him, I saw it coming and backflipped onto the roof. Unfortunately, the pterodactyl dinosaur did NOT capitalize on the DODGE moment and immediately surrendered for some reason.
"When we fight," Goku growled, uncharacteristically annoyed, "I'll show YOU to DODGE!"
I cackled gleefully even as the announcer called Goku back so he could announce the result. Ah, that's hilarious. Don't worry, Team Fourstar! I shall make sure the Art of the DODGE continues across worlds.
But... Now that the match was finished, I finally had to face my biggest worry. That's a lie. I have far bigger worries. My whole life is nothing but worry and anxiety. My biggest and most present worry right now is my fight against Yamcha though. I don't remember canon quite well, so I can't remember if Krillin wins or not, but he does give a good showing. So all I have to do is give a good showing too in my next fight.
...Ugh, damn it. I'm going to lose, aren't I? I remember Krillin eventually becoming the strongest human, but right now I'm definitely one of the weakest out of all of the human Z-Warriors. Wait, Didn't Yamcha fight against Oozaru and succeed in cutting off the tail? He's probably, no, definitely stronger than me.
...Well, fuck it. We're still in early Dragon Ball where technique matters more than who can scream the longest and loudest. Thirty years of MMA spread across two lives! Don't fail me now please!
I walked out onto the stage and waited for my ass-kicking to begin. I might as well give him a good showing.
Yamcha was… not looking forward to this. Not looking forward to fighting Goku's fellow disciple. He had already resigned himself to losing upon fighting Goku. He had lost in their first meeting and that was before he began training under the World's Strongest Man. Now he had to fight somebody that fought him to a draw near daily? Have mercy and knock him out already.
He didn't hear the announcer introducing him. Or rather, he did hear, but he couldn't listen to the words. The monk had already settled into a stance, face completely blank of emotion and eyes narrowed in focus. It was freaking Yamcha the fuck out.
Earlier, when Yamcha had been talking to him, he had the impression that he was talking to somebody like Goku. A balder, smarter Goku, but something inherently innocent. Viewing the world from that angle that made you want to treat them as stupid, but if you took the time to realize that they just didn't know any better.
He had hoped that Krillin had been… accidentally misleading about how good he was at sparring, but the sheer presence that was overflowing from him was evidence that he had trained. It was different. So different from Goku. Fighting Goku had been like playing with a child, especially with the Rock-Paper-Scissors move that he was so proud of. There had been no aura of threat. Even when Goku had him flat on his back, Yamcha had never truly felt fear. Fear at Goku's strength, but never of Goku.
Just standing before Krillin felt as if somebody had stepped on his grave and poured ice on his back. Every movement, every breath, it felt as if everything about Yamcha was being broken down and searched for weakness as the monk stared, never blinking and simply standing as still as a statue.
Yet the monk himself didn't feel frozen. Merely tensed, coiled, ready to spring into action. Settling into his own stance, hands in the shape of claws, Yamcha breathed in and out, pushing back the fear and calming himself. No. He had to remain calm. Give a good showing. Get a few hits in at least.
As soon as the signal was shouted, he leapt forward, shouting, "WOLF FANG FIST!"
The first strike was his and he had to make it count. Aura coating his blows in the silhouette of wolves, Yamcha unleashed a flurry of blows, at times clawing and others punching. It was his strongest move, one trained by fighting against the wolf packs that sought to kill him in the desert. It was one that he had created himself and powered with his Ki. Fast and unrelenting like a pack of wolves on a hunt, the only person who had survived it unscathed had been Goku.
Until now.
Initially, the barrage of blows seemed to work, pushing the bald monk back. In fact, his blank face had even begun to panic. The problem was the body. Even as Krillin's face contorted, his arms had moved in small circular motions. Nothing big or overwhelming, but that small movement was somehow enough to cover the entirety of the torso to redirect all the blows and strikes.
Yamcha was tiring. He wanted to stop. In fact, he had begun to slow down when he saw something enter Krillin's eye. The panic stopped clouding it and sharpened into focus and then Krillin stepped forward, arms still rotating to block. And eyes filled with disappointment and… apathy. As if Yamcha had stopped being important and was now merely a chore to deal with.
That was the point Yamcha decided to keep the Wolf Fang Fist up. Longer. Faster. Harder.He couldn't stop because as soon as he stopped, Krillin would recover. More importantly, he'd be forgotten. He didn't know why that thought was so frightening, but Yamcha didn't want to be forgotten. He wanted to be remembered. In fact, fuck it, he wanted to win.
He had peeked and scouted out the competition earlier. Goku's matches first, but then he saw Krillin talking with him. So he had watched him, just for kicks, to see the person that Goku saw as a rival. He then continued watching to figure out a strategy against him.
Krillin's fighting style was fast and efficient. He never traded blows if he could, opting to dodge and develop a few surgical strikes. Each of his matches was fast and didn't leave much to hint at how to beat him. Just that he ended things fast. So Yamcha had to be faster than him. That was step one done seeing as he struck first.
Yamcha was working on the rest of the steps, but this was working. He had Krillin effectively pinned in place, having him on the backstep. That look of apathy was gone replaced with grit and determination. It was a war of territory where he was attacking and Krillin defending. He could win this if he kept the barrage up and push him back up against the boundary and then out of the ring.
So Yamcha didn't stop. Keeping his arms moving, Yamcha stepped forward to press the advantage and--- His world tilted. A small part of Yamcha noted that the foot he had stepped forward with had been sweeped.
The larger part had him bring his arms in front of his face in a cross-block against One. Two. Threefourfivesixseveneight Punches. The first two hits had hurt the most. By the time three to eight had arrived, he had already begun flying back out of range, so those punches didn't hurt even a quarter of much as the impact of the wall did. Just a bit to the right and he'd have been out of bounds.
After sliding down the wall, Yamcha leant against it and wheezed. Getting back onto his feet, Yamcha dropped into his stance again, asking remarkably clearly, despite the tilting of the world,"What the hell was that that!?"
"Wing Chun Style," Krillin answered, taking slow, measured steps that somehow crossed more distance than expected. He quickly but cautiously approached Yamcha, still keeping the rotating arms, but much slower. "By keeping my arms close to the center of my body and using small circular motions, I can block any blows to the torso and head with my forearms. In theory, I can block then counterattack, but your attacks moved too fast for me to even think beyond defending. Fortunately, the style also utilizes kicks and sweeps. Which is what I did. Sweep your step that is."
...That was a surprisingly simple explanation for something that hurt like a bitch. Spitting a bloody loogie to the side, Yamcha breathed in and out. His arms burned with exhaustion, but if he wanted to win, he was going to have to do that again. Trying to buy more time, Yamcha insulted Krillin, "Bullshit."
"Nah, I just practiced my fundamentals," Krillin shrugged, stopping his forward march, a body away from Yamcha. "What I call bullshit is how long you sustained that fucking bullshit barrage of hits. How long was that ref?"
Yamcha didn't know why Krillin was stalling, but he sure wasn't complaining about having extra time to recover.
"Well, you two were in the center for about five minutes," the announcer hummed. Yamcha was surprised, he was sure that it had been much shorter. "It was… actually kind of boring because we couldn't see what was happening beyond a blur."
"Invest in high speed cameras next time then. Ain't my problem when bullshit like that starts happening," Krillin dismissed casually. Stepping forward once more, he casually said, "Okay, maybe it is my problem since I'm part of it, but I'm not slowing down. That fucker almost stabbed my eyes out."
Despite the monk's words, Yamcha doubted that he felt anything at all. His face hadn't changed much from the beginning. If Yamcha wasn't looking at the eyes, he wouldn't even known that the monk could feel. And damn it all, Krillin wasn't even breathing hard. Fuck, Yamcha kind of wanted to give up now. Knowing Goku was going to be here was one thing, but to have a calmer version? A calmer version that thought beyond the next few blows. Fuck that. He opened his mouth to surr-
Biting the inside of his cheek, Yamcha recovered from his bout of fear. Fuck that. If he was going to lose, he wasn't going to wimp out. And didn't he say he want to win earlier!?Settling into his stance once more, Yamcha snarled, "You're going down, Baldie."
"Krillin. My name is Krillin."
Nodding his head, Yamcha reintroduced himself, "Yamcha." His name was going to be remembered. He was the Wolf of the Diablo Desert! He would not be forgot--
"...Um," Krillin stared blankly, arms pausing for once, "I knew that? We just talked?"
...It was kind of funny how Krillin was so like Goku, completely destroying the feel of a serious conversation. Despite how Krillin seemed to have a switch when it came to fighting, he was surprisingly naive, missing certain social norms just like Goku. Both of them were strong. Both of them had a natural talent for fighting. And both of them fought at their own pace. That last three was the terrifying part. Nevertheless, Yamcha leapt forward once more.
"WOLF FANG FIST!"
Fist. Claw. Palm. Knife. Strike. Kick. Move to the side. Hit. Slice. Strike. Move to the side. Axe kick. High kick. Low kick. Scratch. Bite. Gnaw. Relentless was what this attack was and relentless was what Yamcha strived to become.
Longer and faster and stronger than before, Yamcha felt his Ki go from mere illusionary wolves to solidify into actual ones that bit and gnawed. He felt giddy. Before, he called it that because he had based the movements on wolves. Now though. Now he was a wolf, he was many wolves. He was a pack of wolves. Somehow, he was improving in the fight, learning a new technique that made his strength grow and shine even as he honed this new revelation of Ki usage..
Which made it all the more terrifying that Krillin hadn't even moved from his spot. Even as Yamcha circled around him, Krillin shifted to face him. No matter how many hits or feints, Krillin blocked them. Even when Yamcha began trying to hit his legs in an attempt to break Krillin's stance, it felt as if he was fighting a statue.
Still, he couldn't stop. He was getting too tired to continue though, so he had to end this! Lunging with a final two handed punch, one fist aimed at the stomach and one aimed at the head, Yamcha shouted, "LUNGING WOLF!"
It wasn't even a surprise when both fists were nudged off course by the rotating hands, leaving his chest open for the two palmed strike that followed into a devestating counterattack. Much as he tried, he couldn't find the strength to cling to the stage with all the air knocked out of his lungs.
"VICTORY BY RING OUT!" Yamcha heard the announcer as his lungs slowly reinflated.
"Thank you for the fight. I learnt much from you," Krillin bowed to him, walking to the edge to the stage to do so. When he stood up, his entire demeanor changed, taking on that relaxed, easy manner that was so much like Gohan. Crossing his arms behind his head, Krillin stretched, yawning, "Whelp, I'm going to get something to snack on. See you later"
Yamcha could only nod at that, leaning back to wheeze for breath. ...Yeah! He lasted! He lasted longer than any of his other opponents! AND he even got Krillin to say something! Multiple somethings! None of his other opponents got that, only him! The Great Yamcha! He showed him! He sure showed him! Ha! Maybe Bullma even found him cool? He lasted against somebody that even Goku had trouble with! And… was that all he wanted? To just last.
...To be… a decent bump in the road?
...What did he want to be? If two kids younger than him could be stronger than him, what did it mean? Was he useless? Should he give up? What did he, Yamcha, Former Desert Wolf, want to be?
By the Six Realms, that was a hard fight. Was the Wolf Fang Fist always that fast and brutal? I swear he manifested actual Ki Wolves! Fucking BULL-SHIT! It took everything I had to keep up that defense. And the asshole kept it up for a total of fifteen minutes straight!
If I hadn't been using Ki to reinforce my limbs, I'd have broken bones and bitemarks. Who the hell manifests wolves!? I don't remember that being canon! Or maybe it was? Yamcha did get forgotten pretty fast. Ugh, shoving all of that in the Don't-Think-About-How-Fucked-Up-Canon-Is-Right-Now box.
Being an MMA nerd was a definite plus. Good to know that applying martial arts that have been empowered by Ki can bring about some pretty useful bullshit-tier techniques. I blocked half the hits without fully seeing them and that counterattack was just flat out instinctual! Huzzah for practice makes perfect! My techniques are probably never going to match up to laser beam fights, but right now? Technique beats power every day! Even if it hurts like a bitch. Even if there were no bite marks, my arms hurt from blocking those Ki Wolves. Seriously, could Yamcha always do that!?
Still, that went better than expected. I won! I'm in the finals! After the next match, I'm going to rest and SLEEP! After all, today has been a long day. Got on a plane, got on a car, got on a lot of things. I had a few scuffles. Looking at the moon in the sky, I grinned. After the next match, the day was finally going to be over.
The moon… I feel like that's important…
Meh, I'm hungry. I should get something to eat. I'll probably regret it and throw it up in the next fight, but fuck it! I'm a shoo in for second or first place. I'm bound to win something even if I lose the next match.
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(this is the sad thing about 4 stars lines, some are just too funny not to use)
