The twenty-first edition of the World Martial Arts Tournament would take place on Papaya's Island, in only a few months. Now able to afford the travel, Yamcha would realize a life time dream and participate. He hadn't stopped training since he lived in the West Capital and knew he was much stronger than the average. But he also knew there was even stronger people, such as Goku and Master Roshi, so he started an intensive training, even missing the less important classes at school (what would eventually mean every single one).

Most of the time, Puar would assist him, but that day, Bulma had taken the cat's place. She liked to watch her boyfriend train. Then he would forget about the world around him. He'd be her desert bandit again, especially now that his hair needed to be cut again... He had tied a headband around his forehead and was wearing his red and black suit, looking just like the day they had met. The only difference was that he didn't have his sword anymore...

And when their eyes would meet, instead of reddening, losing balance and running away, he'd smile to her.

- Could you bring me water, please? he suddenly asked as sitting down for a little rest.

He was breathing heavily and drops of sweat covered his face, but he was smiling, satisfied of himself. Bulma brought him his bottle, loving the way his muscles were standing out after exercises. As he drank she started massing his shoulders.

- Aren't you tired? she asked, though she knew the answer.
- A little bit, but I gotta continue... The matches won't stop because I'm tired, you know.

Of course she knew; it was the tenth time he told her that. But she smiled.

- But this isn't a match, Yamcha...
- Come on, Bulma. But you can go if you want to...
- Oh no!

She wrapped her arms around his neck, filling her lunges with his wild odor.

- I love watching you training... But I don't want it to put your health in danger.
- Don't worry for me.

He patted her as he could and she liberated him, guessing he was already ready to return to his training. He stood and stretched slowly.

- I tried to find Master Roshi's house, then said Bulma. But I couldn't find it and they don't give the good number in the phonebook.
- Why do you want to see him?
- I want to see Goku! You think he'll go to that... Tournament?
- Maybe. I don't know. He's stronger than I am, so he'd have good chances, especially if Master Roshi trains him!
- That old pervert! He's gonna turn Goku into a younger version of himself!

Yamcha held back a laugh. He knew Master Roshi as an exceptional art martial artist and couldn't worry for Goku. The boy's innocence seemed to be endless and he doubted that even a huge perverted man like Master Roshi could ruin it.

- You should move back a little, he said gently. Or I might hurt you.

Bulma nodded, returned to her chair, then only watched him fighting against an invisible opponent. Many opponents in fact, judging by his movements. As the "fight" went on, his speed increased and Bulma even started to not see him. Pride filled her. That was her boyfriend and he'd surely win that championship of his.

Slowly losing interest since she couldn't really see him, Bulma's mind started to wander. Yamcha needed a haircut quite badly... She remembered when he first cut it, for her... Just to please her, because he loved her... He'd done so much things like that, not really important but that meant everything. Each time, she'd love him even more and feel worthless. What has she done to deserve him? Most of the time she'd yell at him, accuse him, fight with him...

Now that she thought back about it, she was fighting alone most of the time. She couldn't remember one time he had talked back. "Oh Yamcha... You're so nice and I'm just so mean..." With time it did get better though. She'd control herself, trust him... "I wish I could show him how much I love him..."

He reappeared, falling back on his feet, clenched fists and taken by his fight against ghosts. Bulma smiled. Her warrior... She'd fallen for his bad guy style, but now she knew better. He was soft and caring... The memory of his strong arms around her made her shiver.

The Valentines Day came back to her mind. They'd spent that night together, though not the way she had imagined. She was glad it'd turned out like that. Such a sweet memory to cherish... She remembered when she woke up in the morning, before him... He was so cute, looking just like a child, so innocent in his sleep with his creased shirt and his hand holding hers...

She sighed, a dreamy smile on her lips. She had always dreamt of a man like him: strong, brave, with dark and deep eyes, but also tender and caring... Of course, her imaginary lover wasn't scared of sex like Yamcha, but it was fine. "Part of his charm, I guess..." It was better like that anyway. With hindsight, she figured she wasn't exactly ready herself, in spite of her attitude.

Yamcha started to slow down and her eyes were able to follow him again. Tiredness started to fill him at last, but he wasn't ready to stop yet. As he described slow and large motions with his arms and legs, which would usually make her laugh a little, she admired his concentration.

She knew that sometimes, he'd fight against a few guys in the streets, those who sparred for money. A way to make his own money and to not be too dependant of her... After all, he had his pride and having bed and board at his girlfriend's was probably not that thrilling for a young man who's lived years in the desert by himself.

Bulma yawned. It was getting quite late. But Yamcha was still doing his yoga-style moves and it seemed he wouldn't stop until a while.

He slowly pushed a piece of hair behind his shoulder and placed his arms and hands as if he was doing a Kamehameha. But of course he didn't know the technique and anyway, he was just so tired now. Sighing deeply, he stood straight and walked toward the young girl. A smile lightened his tired face when he realized she had fallen asleep, lavender hair hanging down before her softened face. "She looks so innocent when asleep." Carefully not awakening her, he picked her up and headed toward her bedroom. He would just put her in bed... For a second he imagined how he'd change her into pyjama and almost dropped her.

As he made his way through numerous corridors, Yamcha couldn't stop himself from admiring her, so gently asleep in his arms. Suddenly he noticed how fragile she could be. Bulma played the though girls, sometimes she could be a real bitch, but somehow she was very fragile. When tears would run down her cheeks as she'd yell she hated him, she would unwillingly show her weak side. She was hurt and wanted to hurt back, to not lose the fight. Bulma was a proud girl, with strong will and amazing arguing skills. She needed to be on control. With time he'd understood that and managed to please her, yet not be totally dominated. She wouldn't like a too submissive boyfriend anyway...

Slowly, he laid her on her bed, still doing his best to keep her asleep. After he had tucked her up, he starred at the angelic figure illuminated by the already strong moonlight. She looked younger, peaceful. His fingertips brushed her soft cheek slightly, tenderly. "Who would believe you can be as cold as ice..."

It was so easy to compare Bulma to a rose. She was beautiful, her scent intoxicating (at least for Yamcha it was), but she had painful thorns that were able to hurt so much if you didn't know how to take her... And in the end, she was as delicate as a flower...

He remembered how it was to hold her close, very close, to feel her heart beat against his own chest, to just stay there in silence, as if the love they shared was too great for words. Such a wonderful sensation... Back to the desert, he would never even have imagined something like it... Now he wished it'd never go.

While gently brushing her silky hair, Yamcha realized how she had changed him. When he was a bandit, he didn't really have any ideal, any plan for the future. He'd just steal money, capsules or anything valuable he could sell afterwards, without caring who he was robbing, though always and carefully avoiding women. The only one he'd trust, his only friend, was Puar. But then they met Goku, Oolon and Bulma, decided they wanted the Dragon Balls and they both ended at Capsule Corporation. Someone would have predicted it one year ago, Yamcha would never have believed him.

But he was so glad it had all happened.

Despite her many fits of mood, unfair angers and scary jealousy, Bulma made him so happy. He knew he simply loved her, no matter what, and that was the best feeling ever. As months passed they seemed to only go along better and he couldn't picture himself without her anymore.

It was a little bit scary though, loving her like that. He was dependant of her, economically and emotionally, and knew it. What if she dumped him? What could he do? Just thinking of it was bringing a twisted feeling into his heart. He hoped he was just being a fool and that him and Bulma would last forever.

In her dream, Bulma mumbled something, turned her head to the other side.

She was so beautiful...

With a silent sigh, Yamcha kissed her, infinitely softly, on the forehead and left the bedroom, longing for a good shower. The image of a sleeping, adorable Bulma was occupying his mind, leading him to walk into a wall inadvertently, lost as he was in his awaken dream.

As he shampooed his dark hair, he vowed to win that Tournament for her. She'd be so proud... A smile appeared on his face and he was so focused on different thoughts (all related to Bulma somehow) that he barely felt the white liquid trickling into his eyes.

He'd win and be her champion. That was the least he could do for her.


Ok, I know this is short and to be honest, I don't really like that chapter. It didn't come out as I wanted it. I hope you liked it still... And if you didn't... I understand...


Chapter 9
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