Skyborn

Chapter V: Wrong Place, Awful Time

Alright, so in retrospect the Diablo Desert shouldn't have been Yamcha's first choice of a home. A series of unrelated struggles and otherwise unfortunate events had driven him there, away from the tropical Tlaxcala Town in the west. Not that it mattered now. He told himself he was more comfortable here.

He had never gotten over the way people looked at him because he only had a mother and no father... It was hard. People made living hard. You had to struggle to fit in with society, you had to fight, everyday, fight their perceptions of you, fight their prejudice and disdain.

At the end of the day, you were still a pariah. 

Lady Puar had the right of it: you shouldn't have to convince people to like you; if they were the right people, they wouldn't need convincing.

Solitude wasn't so bad. The natural caves protected them from the worst of the heat. And the number of idiots that came crossing the desert, unaware of its dangers, was as high as he could have hoped for.

Yamcha wasn't all by himself either. Since he had run away from home, Yamcha had faced many dangers and gone through the weirdest parts of the Earth. No wonder he had found a friend in the foul-mouthed old woman from Espelette. Lady Gentili Puar was a tiny woman, and so old Yamcha had never had enough courage to ask her age. Her hair was white as snow and her entire skin was marked with deep wrinkles and other age marks. But the golden lady often proved to possess more stamina than Yamcha and she always had funny remarks to make — even when — well, especially when — he wished she would just shut the hell up.

Right now she was perked at the window, dressed in a pink sweater she had knit herself, polishing a frying pan, which was her weapon of choice. That reminded Yamcha of the day they had met. The flood, the burnt barbecue, the piñata, the naked people, and of course, the bulls. He couldn't forget the bulls.

Life had its moments. All of his bad experiences helped him recognize the good things when they came.

Lady Puar let out a gasp. Yamcha dropped his fork and got up. The food was dry anyway. He stopped beside her and glanced out the window.

"There's two of them," she said in that wicked tone she saved for when addressing men. She had made it clear since day one that she particularly despised men. For some secret reason, she had decided to make an exception for Yamcha. On some rare occasions, she even seemed to like him.

Yamcha saw nothing down there. Lady Puar rolled her eyes and pointed a bony finger. Was it possible her sight was better than his? He might have to get his eyes checked soon.

"Well, it's about time," he said, pretending he could see whatever she was pointing to. "I was beginning to wonder if word had finally got out of the business we run around here. So they're...?" He let the words die out and Lady Puar gave him one of her dirtiest looks.

"A scrawny brat and a fat man," she said and then mumbled something that sounded like blind oaf.

Yamcha felt his lips twitch into a smile.

"They might've capsules," Puar pointed out.

Yamcha nodded. He was aching for some fun. Things were getting boring around here, the food was getting stale. Lady Puar had too much free time to think of new insults.

He unsheathed his katana and stared at his own reflection. "Prepare our jet, Lady Puar," he ordered, feeling confident. This was his moment to shine.

"Prepare your own jet, you dope," she retorted and proceeded to watch their foes through the window.

The guy in the jet was maybe two years older than Goku, tall and broad, with visible muscles, and scars Goku didn't want to know about. His hair was a tangled mane that went down to his waist. He had a mischievous smile that told Goku right away he could not be trusted. He carried a katana sword on his back.