Chapter Text
This was easier with Trunks.
Yamcha smiled into the unfocused eyes of the blue haired baby Bulla in front of him. He was holding a stuffed brown bear, while laughing in a sing-song way to get her attention. Her affection was expectedly fleeting, given that she had only just been born. But even in her miniature stature, her visage haunted him.
This was easier with Trunks. When Trunks was born, he had Bulma’s hair, and slightly softer features, sure. But the rest of him was a carbon copy of Vegeta, right down to the eyes. It hurt, admittedly. Yamcha was well aware of the fact that he and Bulma had their problems. Still, some quiet part of him always believed they would work it out one day. She had her son, but he looked more Vegeta’s son than her son. By now she was supposed to have realized that she’d made a mistake, and come back to him. And he could easily love Trunks in Vegeta’s place.
But this girl was Bulma reborn. He could see it in her eyes, in her hair, in her laugh. He smiled to her face. He smiled to all of their faces. He had gotten very good at fake smiles and forced laughter in the company of his friends. It was easier for him to go with the flow, rather than fight the current of progress. Being here meant he would be ignored; it would draw more attention if he didn't come. All he had to do was make it through this party, and then he could go back to his own home.
“Hi there Bulla,” Yamcha said, wiggling the bear’s arms and bubbling his voice to sound like a children’s character. She giggled, and his heart shattered all over again.
“Hey, you’re pretty good with her!” Bulma shifted Bulla in her arms as she spoke to Yamcha. “Maybe I can count on you to babysit every now and again?” He flinched at the notion. He was trying to be happy for her, and to think of her as only a friend.
“Heh, yeah! Anytime!” Yamcha lied, scratching the back of his head with a chuckle. He shuffled sheepishly in place until Puar came up and whispered in his ear.
“Yamcha the food is ready! We should go grab a bite before Goku and Buu eat everything!” Yamcha’s eyes widened, and he turned to look at his friend.
“Ah! Good idea, Puar! Let’s go,” Yamcha whispered back, quietly setting down the stuffed bear and shuffling away from the crowd around Bulma. The benefit of his worthlessness meant that he blended into the background seamlessly at these events. Bulma spared no expense in the welcome celebration for Bulla, which meant that her estate was decorated down to the pavement, and a professional DJ kept the atmosphere vibrant with catchy tunes. But most importantly, it meant that the catering was top notch.
Yamcha grabbed two plates and balanced the second on his forearm as he made his way down the decadent buffet. He scooped a bit of each dish onto both plates - one for him and the other for Puar - careful to make sure that they were able to try a bit of everything. The Saiyans ate at break-neck speeds, and Buu had a nasty habit of hoarding everything tasty for himself. Yamcha had nearly made it to the end of the table before he heard Tien come up and whisper “Good idea.”
“Oh, hey Tien!” Yamcha said with an honest smile. It was relieving to have someone else here to speak with that wasn’t a strength obsessed Saiyan, or a former love interest.
“Good to see you,” Tien smiled back, grabbing a plate for himself. Chiaotzu was at his side, looking about to keep watch before grabbing his own plate and floating to the other side of the table.
“Hi Yamcha.”
“Hey Chiaotzu! You two wanna sit with us once you’re all set up? Come to think of it, I never got the full story on the Tournament of Power! I want to know what happened,” Yamcha said, quickly grabbing a pair of seasoned dumplings. Puar whirled around him to pluck two cold beers out of a technicolor cooler.
“Yeah, we’ll meet you at one of the tables over on the balcony,” Tien said, and Yamcha gave a quick nod of agreement. He looked over the buffet spread once more to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, before gliding over to a table out in the sunlight. Yamcha set both of their plates down and then pulled a chair out for Puar, who took it with a quiet cheer.
The two took tentative bites of their food until they were joined by Tien and Chiaotzu. Yamcha slid over in his chair to give the pair more table space. Then he felt a familiar presence approach from his flank. “Well well! Looks like you guys got your own party going on over here! Room for one more?” Krillin asked.
“Hey Krillin! Yeah, pull up a chair man!” Yamcha said, once again relieved at the familiarity. He looked to Puar who grinned back in response. Puar knew that Yamcha usually dreaded these events now, and that he’d somehow become an afterthought for his friends. They were all busy with their own families now. But this reunion - however futile - was nice.
“Oh, smart move getting your food before the others get going. Actually… I’ll be right back,” Krillin affirmed, and everyone gave him a knowing nod of support.
“Alright, so tell me everything. How was it? What happened?” Yamcha asked, and Tien brought a hand up to cover his mouth as he chewed.
“It was insane! It was nothing like the World Martial Arts tournament at all. It was one big battle of eighty of us, all at the same time, for about forty eight minutes. And the Kai used their powers to make it so we couldn’t fly,” Tien explained, and Yamcha’s eyes widened.
“Oh man, that must have been rough! I’ve gotten so used to flying, I don’t remember how to live without it!” Yamcha said. It was true. There was a time in their younger years when they were all reliant on the ground. But ever since their first encounter with Nappa and Vegeta, even his own close range fighting style adapted with the expectation of battling in the air.
“No, exactly!” Tien exclaimed with a point, and then dug in for another helping of rice. “It’s part of all of our styles now, so it was a huge hurdle. And then we couldn’t kill anyone, er…not that I wanted to,” Tien clarified awkwardly, but then continued. “But also you weren’t eliminated by being knocked unconscious. It was all entirely by ring out. The team with the most survivors at the end wins.”
“Oh, you’re telling him about the tournament?” Krillin asked, now back with a sizeable plate of food. Tien nodded, helping himself to more food as he scooted over for Krillin to sit between them. “Yamcha it was hands down the most insane thing any of us have ever seen. And we’ve seen some things!” Krillin exclaimed, taking a bite.
“Heh, I’m starting to feel disappointed now. How did it all go down?” Yamcha asked, feeling a familiar knot in his stomach. He kept his expression bright and cheerful, even as his spirit sank. Krillin shook his head in ignorant astonishment.
“I’m gonna be honest with you, it was a lot at once, it’s kind of a blur. When the battle started, all of us were fighting at the same time. In the beginning we were all back to back, but then all HFIL broke loose and we got split up. The rest is a blur. You’d have to ask everyone their individual stories. As far as our universe goes,I took a couple out, but I was the first one out,” Krillin confessed sadly.
“Ouch. Sorry man!” Yamcha winced. It wasn’t an unexpected outcome, given the competition. But Krillin was a proven warrior. The notion stung for him sympathetically.
“No no, I’m honestly happy. The other fighters there were insane. Just being on the same ground with all of them was a huge confidence boost,” Krillin said with a smile, as he shook himself out.
“Agreed,” Tien added with a nod, and a mouth full of chicken. “Then I was the next one out, but I took another guy with me. Then it was Master Roshi.”
“Wow. The old man lasted longer than I expected,” Yamcha exclaimed. Chiaotzu and Puar both nodded with similar surprise.
“Oh yeah, he’s still got it,” Krillin shook his head in disbelief. “Uh let’s see…then I think it was Piccolo, right?”
“Yeah it was Piccolo,” Tien agreed.
“No way! Piccolo was knocked out? ” Yamcha asked. The betrayed feeling in his body dissipated into thin air. He could still measure up to Krillin and Tien if he pushed himself, but Piccolo had always been out of his league. If Piccolo couldn’t last, perhaps it was better that they left him at home.
“Yamcha, these guys were ridiculous. This was nothing short of a miracle. We’re not even at the best part yet,” Krillin explained. “After Piccolo went down, Eighteen sacrificed herself to keep Seventeen in the fight. Then everything was starting to fall in line for us, until it was just us and the eleventh universe,” Krillin rattled off, before grabbing at a compact rice ball.
“Wait, just how many universes are there?” Yamcha asked, baffled at the casual admittance of parallel universes over a child’s birthday buffet.
“Apparently twelve, but only eight were in the tournament. I don’t remember why,” Tien explained with a shrug.
“That’s no fair,” Chiaotzu added. “Why did we have to fight but they didn’t?”
“No, but then here’s where everything got super tense! Frieza and Gohan took on this guy Dyspo. Fastest thing you’ve ever seen. Gohan had to hold him down and sacrifice himself to give Frieza the knockout,” Krillin said. Yamcha remembered that it had been Frieza that had been added to the team, instead of him or Buu. It was the ultimate snub.
“Yeah, so Gohan was out. And then there was this guy Top, who turns out to be an apprentice God of Destruction, like Lord Beerus. He just accepted the mantle of Godhood in the middle of the tournament, and got this insane boost of power from nowhere,” Tien explained. Yamcha’s shock was reignited anew. He remembered their brief skirmish with Beerus at Bulma’s birthday. His power was so immense it was actually imperceptible.
“Seriously! It was nuts! But then Vegeta put it to him, but he had to just about detonate himself to do it. He blew out all of his ki . And then Jiren!” Krillin rambled.
“Jiren?” Yamcha and Puar asked.
“Jiren!” Tien and Krillin said at the same time.
“What happened?” Yamcha asked, taking a bite of soba. He was fully invested in the story now, hanging on the edge of his seat for details.
“Yamcha he was next level scary. He made Cell look like an absolute cake-walk. First he beats the ever-loving-crap out of Frieza, and then Seventeen tries to stand up to him and nearly sacrifices himself. They were both still in the ring, but they were in bad shape,” Krillin recounted, his eyes vacant in bewilderment.
“Yeah, and then Goku was down for the count, so Vegeta had to fight Jiren one on one. It was brave, but it didn’t go well for him. He gave his last bit of energy to Goku before he got knocked out. Then Goku got up and went toe to toe with Jiren for a while, but before he could finish him off, he ran flat out of energy again,” Tien explained. If Yamcha’s eyebrows went any higher, they would touch his hairline.
“No way! He beat Goku?” Yamcha’s voice was rich with the appropriate level of fear.
“Goku was almost out. To everyone’s surprise, Frieza saved him. Then Frieza and Goku teamed up in what must be the most epic fight I’ve ever seen! They moved in perfect tandem with each other, and worked together to force Jiren out of the ring. Seventeen was the last one standing. We barely won,” Krillin explained. Yamcha turned to look back at the rest of the party, his eyes landing on Frieza. The tyrant stood apart from the group, looking away in a bored sort of irritation.
“You know…I never met him myself, but it’s hard to believe Frieza really came through for us, given all the things I’ve heard,” Yamcha said, letting his eyes rest on Frieza.
“Trust me, no one’s more surprised than I am. I mean this is the guy who repeatedly impaled me on one of his horns as he laughed, and then blasted me right up to snake road,” Krillin recalled with a traumatized cringe.
“H-horns?” Yamcha asked, looking back and forth to verify.
“Oh! Yeah, that’s his base form right there, but when we fought him on Namek he was a tiny little guy with horns. He had a few more transformations too. Turns out they were actually power limiters so that he wouldn’t attract the attention of Beerus and Buu while he was out conquering the universe. According to Goku and Vegeta, he never had to train. He was just born strong,” Krillin said. He turned to look now, but then Frieza’s gaze turned to them and both men immediately looked away in rigid fear.
“Don’t worry. He looks intimidating, but he won’t try anything now. He’s outnumbered with Goku, Vegeta, Whis, and Lord Beerus being here. If there’s one thing we learned about Frieza in the Tournament, it’s that he isn’t stupid,” Tien said, calmly taking another bite of food.
“Y-yeah, you’re right,” Krillin agreed, unclenching and relaxing back into his plate.
“...I wonder what that’s like,” Yamcha said, and then noticed that everyone’s eyes were on him with confusion. He elaborated. “I mean, being born strong that is. The three of us had to train for years to get to where we are. And even then, when you look at us compared to Goku and Frieza,” Yamcha said, shaking his head.
“I know what you mean. But honestly, I think we keep each other strong. And our strength passes on to the children. I mean look at Trunks and Goten. And remember how strong Gohan was when he was a little guy? I suppose it’s one of those things that just sort of happen,” Krillin said.
“I know one thing though; I’m even more inspired to get back to training. The next time one of these tournaments rolls by, I’m going to earn my spot on the team,” Tien said, setting his food aside. Yamcha smiled. There was a time when he considered Tien his perfect rival. It was inspiring to see him continue, in spite of their limitations.
“Maybe I’ll be able to come along next time too. And you too, Yamcha,” Chiaotzu remarked. Yamcha flinched.
“Heh y-yeah! Wouldn’t that be something? Hahaha,” Yamcha chuckled. “Hey uh, I’ll be right back, okay?” Yamcha said, sliding his chair back.
“Everything okay, Yamcha?” Puar asked.
“Yeah, just a quick bathroom break!” Yamcha appreciated Puar for asking. They had a mutual signal worked out for when they were ready to leave. The shapeshifter scanned Yamcha for the sign. They relaxed when they saw nothing.
Yamcha weaved through the party guests and staff, making his way to the nearest restroom of Bulma’s estate. He took a moment to relieve himself and then washed his hands, before coming back out. By now, the Saiyans had made their way to the buffet, so the cooks were working overtime to compensate. Most of the mothers flocked to Bulma and Bulla, swapping stories and celebrations. But most noticeably, Frieza had moved from his perch at last.
The tyrant was standing at the bar behind the stools with his arms folded over his chest. His tail waved back and forth as he concentrated. Yamcha froze in fear of being this close to the fallen emperor. He immediately diverted his attention, looking back to the table with Puar and his friends, but then every hair on his body stood up when he heard a sharp voice lash against his ear. “You.”
“H-huh? What?” Yamcha asked, shaking as he turned back to Frieza. It had been the tyrant who spoke, and it was only now that Yamcha dared to probe for the emperor’s power. His ki was massive . Being in his presence made Yamcha feel nauseous and insignificant, not unlike a pebble slowly plummeting to the ocean floor.
“Come here, human,” Frieza beckoned without looking. Yamcha swallowed and hesitantly approached the tyrant. He looked around to see if anyone saw him, just in case anything happened. Puar had eyes on him, and was already motioning for Krillin and Tien. Yamcha relaxed a little then, if only slightly. If he died here, someone would know his story.
“Y-Yes! Yes, hi! I-I’m human! H-Hello!”
“I require relief from the revolting nature of this tiresome reunion. You will recommend this bar’s finest red wine for me as an honored guest,” Frieza stated, still not bothering to look at Yamcha. Yamcha’s eyes widened, and he felt his chest seize with panic.
“U-um…yes, of course! T-tell me uh…y-your majesty. D-do you prefer a sweet red, or more of a dry?” Yamcha asked. He brought his hands together, assuming the role of a servant all too quickly. It was only then that he realized how badly he was trembling.
“Dry. I detest sweets. Choose wisely, ” Frieza warned. Yamcha was on the cusp of heart failure.
“O-oh! Um! Well! In that case..m-m-maybe a S-Syrah? I recommend the Cayuse En Chamberlin! Y-Your majesty - sir!” Yamcha said, and Frieza snapped his fingers. The bartender urgently poured Frieza a glass of Yamcha’s recommendation. The Tyrant delicately grasped the stem of the glass, tapping a manicured venomous nail to its rounded bottom, before giving it an elegant swirl. And then he brought the glass to his lips.
Yamcha turned back to look at Puar, but then he saw that the entire table, and now the rest of the Z fighters were all looking at him. Even Bulma appeared to be clutching Bulla with panic. And now that Bulma was panicking, Vegeta was nervous too. It was only Goku, Whis, and Beerus who remained indifferent. The music quieted to a hum.
“... An excellent recommendation, human. I suppose there are a few things worth salvaging on this backwater planet,” Frieza remarked with a spine chilling smile. Yamcha’s mouth fell open.
“I-I-I’m glad you like it, your majesty! H-Happy to help! I-it’s the only one worthy of someone of your uh…caliber?” Yamcha stumbled. Why did he say that? What was he thinking?
Frieza spared him a glance at last. The Tyrant’s eyes widened for a moment, and then narrowed again in a way that made Yamcha nearly fall off balance. It was only a moment, but it felt like a lifetime of tantalizing torture. At last Frieza closed his eyes and shrugged.
“Then it seems my reputation precedes me after all. Who knew Saiyans associated with such sensible and handsome creatures,” Frieza said. Yamcha was speechless. He couldn’t move. Evil radiated off of Frieza in a way that warranted quarantine. He thought he was a goner for sure, but he had somehow managed to charm his way out of certain death.
“W-why of course! Your immanence!”
“Tell me your name, human. Perhaps I might spare you when I return to obliterate this pitiful rock,” Frieza said nonchalantly.
“Y-Yamcha! Your grace!” Yamcha said a little too quickly. It was pathetic how he was acting. But Frieza’s might was transcendent. There was no scenario where this went well for him as an opponent. He needed to play the part.
“Do something about that stammer of yours Yamcha, it’s unbecoming. You have impressed an Emperor. It would behoove you to carry yourself with pride. You may return to your festivities,” Frieza said, taking another sip of the red wine. Yamcha bent into a sharp ninety degree bow, and then side-shuffled away from Frieza with urgency. He locked eyes with Bulma who sighed with relief, and then turned the music back up.
Yamcha trembled all the way back to his seat where he was immediately pounced on by Puar. “YAMCHA I WAS SO WORRIED!”
“Y-Yeah! Me too Puar! ” Yamcha admitted, immediately squeezing his friend in a stabilizing embrace. He let Puar sob over him dramatically. At least someone cared.
“What did he want? ” Krillin asked in a hushed whisper.
“...A wine rec.. ” Yamcha said quietly. The answer seemed sufficient to Krillin, who blinked in stunned silence.
“Are you alright?” Tien asked knowingly. Yamcha nodded.
“Yeah! Yeah I’m fine, all things considered,” Yamcha said, his hands still shaking as he moved to drink a glass of water.
“How long is he staying here, Krillin? Do you know?” Tien asked, already tired of co-existing with a card carrying villain. Krillin sighed with a similar exhaustion.
“Whis brought Frieza back to life as a reward for doing so well in the tournament. But it appears Beerus’ generosity stopped right there. As of now, Frieza’s stranded on the planet until Bulma rebuilds a ship capable of warp.”
“Oh man. Any idea how long that’s gonna take?” Yamcha asked.
“She’s fixed a Namekian ship before, so she has the technology. But building one from scratch might take a while, even for Bulma. But like Tien said earlier - Goku and Vegeta are here. As long as we all stay away from Frieza, I imagine he’ll stay away from us. He’ll have to cooperate if he wants to get back home,” Krillin explained. It was an astute analysis, lending to his profession as a police officer.
Yamcha spared Frieza one more quick look, but instead of fear it was now a mixture of curiosity and a small trace of pity. It was an unearned pity, true, but he would hate being stranded on a planet surrounded by enemies. The moment was fleeting and fickle, as Yamcha’s eyes turned back to his plate.
“Hey! Who stole my pork cutlet?”
“Move your feet, lose your meat,” Krillin teased with a playful snicker and click of his chopsticks.