The last vow

Chapter 6 - Yamcha

It's been a few minutes since the girl with the blonde hair - what was her name again? - talked about her cat. But Yamcha had stopped listening to her for a while now. Not that the subject was uninteresting; he liked cats and pretty girls. No, if he stopped listening, it was because something else had caught his attention.

At the bar, on the other side of the dance floor, two soldiers were stuffing food in their mouths the same way Goku would have done it at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Next to them, there was a third soldier. But this one was not interested in food. He was small. His black hair stood up oddly in the air. And on his face, there was an uninviting, haughty, almost vicious pout.

They were three of Frieza's soldiers, probably aliens too, with a strangely familiar appearance. Nothing could be more normal, really. And Yamcha would have quickly erased their existence from his mind if it hadn't been for the fact that this third soldier was coveting something far too precious to be ignored.

Bulma. She sat next to him, fluttering eyelashes and devastating smiles activated. She had opened the valves and was flooding this tights-clad midget with her charms. And it worked, of course. It was Bulma, after all.

Yamcha initially cringed when he saw them. These two were flirting, no doubt about it. But his relationship with Bulma was over now, so he quickly tried to focus on what the cat girl had to say, telling himself that he should mind his own business anyway. His eyes fixed on his current date, however, he had not been able to control this internal radar which allowed him to detect the energy emitted by other living beings, and he had let his mind wander towards the pair who was chatting in front of the bar.

He was a little reassured to feel Bulma's Ki, bright, lively, familiar, as usual.

Then he began to scan him.

And he automatically retched.

The problem was not his Ki level. No. From what he could read, Yamcha could easily fight this alien, especially after the progress he had made during his last training.

The problem with this Ki was that something particularly dark was emanating from it. The energy coming from this man was sinister. Anyone getting too close to his soul could easily feel themselves being sucked into what Yamcha compared to a gloomy abyss. If it had been up to him, he would have stayed very far away from this guy with questionable haircut and probably macabre intentions.

Except Bulma was there, sitting next to him, and her body language screamed seduction.

Yamcha hesitated for a long time, wondering if he should intervene. He definitely didn't want to seem like the jealous ex-boyfriend. But he knew Bulma well, and genius or not, he knew she could easily loose her mind when it came to bad boys. And whoever was with her right now was probably the epitome of a bad boy. Ex or not, he didn't really want her to pay the price of her insouciance.

Torn between feigning ignorance and playing hero, Yamcha tore his gaze from the blonde girl and risked a glance in the direction of the bar. The armored man had stood up. His hands were resting on the counter, his arms on either side of Bulma's shoulders, who was trapped in this cage of muscles.

What the hell did he think he was doing?

The vision of Bulma's frail, vulnerable body, enveloped by such dangerous arms sent a wave of heat through Yamcha's chest, and it didn't take much for him to rush in their direction, leaving the girl he had imagined taking home with him behind. He didn't care what impression he made. Bulma was his friend, and he didn't trust this weirdo she had just set her sights on. He certainly wouldn't let him take advantage of the young woman's vulnerability and as a fighter, he had to protect her.