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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2126391
Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Fanfiction · #2126391
The reformed thief transforms into a planet busting god slayer? Find out on Dragon Ball X!
As the Z fighters continued to fight stronger and stronger opponents, Yamcha quickly found himself outclassed. He became successful and even found himself in the best company more than he could count, sleeping with women that he thought would be out of his league a couple years ago. Even with all this going for him he envied his friends. He had a glowing ember in his heart, a desire to be a fighter again. A desire to be strong.

"It's been a long time, Krillin. How are the girls?" Yamcha began, struggling to hold his voice level.

Krillin, the stocky, middle-aged man hunched over the bar under dim lights, sipping from a glass of red wine. Yamcha was almost twice his height, wearing several scars along his eye and lip and leanly built.

"Well, Marron just graduated to middle school. She's quite the overachiever not that I mind-" Yamcha forced a smile in response, downing a shot of whiskey and calling for another.

"Eighteen just had our honeymoon. That was wild! Y-Yamcha, are you okay?" He chuckled, stopping abruptly.

He nodded, catching the next shot and swallowing it without incident.

"Hey, that's your eighth shot man! If you need to say something, I'm all ears." Krillin eyed him as he looked to call for another shot.

"Look, I-It's been a rough couple of months, alright," Yamcha said, leaning into his hand.

"It's more than that, isn't it?"

"I don't really want to talk about it."

"Look, I get it-"

"No, no. You couldn't get it if I threw it underhand to you."

"Are you angry with me, is that it. W-whatever I did to upset you I-"

"I'm not... I'm not mad, dude."

Krillin faced him, a serious look on his face as he put his hand on Yamcha's shoulder.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me alright? I'm here for ya buddy. If you need to talk to Eighteen, she's a pretty good listener too."

Yamcha sighed, standing up from the bar.

"I want to be... I want to fight again. Fight to save the world again. Ever since Vegeta learned the Super Saiyan technique, you guys have all but forgotten me. Goku and the Z fighters are going up against gods and here I am, fucking around and getting nowhere with my life." Tears dribbled along his face as he continued, wiping them away when he cared to.

"You at least found someone who loves you and settled down. You've got a daughter to be proud of and a wife who's proud of you. All I've got is money and an endless stream of tramps who could care less about me, the real me. The thief who used to mug people for money."

Yamcha began to leave, stopping and addressing his friend one more time.

"Thanks for being there for me. I'm glad you stuck around when no one else did but... I don't want to drag you down to my level."

He left, shoving his pockets full of fists as he walked slumped over, tears dripping from his chin. The lonesome walk home was long and wet as it began to rain. When he finally made it to his apartment he couldn't hold it in anymore. Dropping to his knees, Yamcha broke down in tears, his heart in pieces and his face scrunched in pain.

"Why!? I have all these things but they don't matter... I just... I just-"

"You just want to be a hero. A reasonable goal."

When he looked up in the direction of the voice there was a lanky young woman sitting in one of the dining chairs a couple feet from him, her legs crossed and her eyes shut behind rimless glasses.

He rolled to his backside, sitting on the floor in a cross-legged position and held his face in his hands.

"Who are you and what do you want. If you want money, you'll have to wait in line." Yamcha murmured, his voice dulled and monotone between sniffles.

"I'm not here for money, Mr. Yamcha. I want to help you," she explained, her chipper voice drawing his eyes.

She was beautiful, he thought, though a different kind of beauty than he was used to. As she stood up he could see her tall figure, almost his height with supple curves and an undeniably cute pair of purple eyes behind rimless glasses. She wore her red hair in a loose ponytail and was dressed in a black and gray gi, colors held never seen on a gi. Even the gi itself seemed unusual, sporting a mid drift and tightly fitted near the ankles.

"My name is Ambri. I've been watching you for some time Mr. Yamcha," She said, her face stern, yet undeniably youthful and cute.

"How old are you, kid?" He asked.

"I'll have you know-" She stammered, stamping one foot.

"I am twenty-one years old, thank you very much. Hardly a question for a lady!" She grumped.

"S-sorry, miss. I just... I'm in a bad mood, alright so if you'd please leave. I need a nap," He yawned.

"Please, Mr. Yamcha I really think I can help with your problem."

"How so, huh?"

"I need a-a hero, that's how."

"Well, why don't you ask the god-tier aliens, I'm sure they can help you," Yamcha groaned.


"What you've never heard of the-" Yamcha stopped, remembering his prior agreement.

"N-nevermind. Please, just go. If you're looking for a hero, then you came to the wrong place."

"Wh-Wh-What about a-a date then?" She asked, looking at the ground.

Yamcha looked at her seriously now, trying to discern her intentions.

"If you don't want to help me, can you at least hear me out, over lunch?" She began to redden.

Yamcha agreed, straightening his shirt and coat out. The two left the apartment and came to a softly lit restaurant downtown. Sitting at a booth by a window, the two sat across from one another, waiting tensely for the other to speak.

"So, where'd you come from, you don't look like a tourist but-" Yamcha broke the ice.

"I'm from a city far from here. Takeo. Umm, can you keep a secret?" Ambri asked in response.

Yamcha nodded, leaning in.

"I'm actually not from this universe. I'm actually from number 24," she whispered.

Yamcha nodded again.

"You're not surprised?"

"I've met people from other universes before. It's not unusual to me."

As the waiter came for their order, the two looked at each other, gaze locked tightly. They got the same meal, Ambri explaining that she'd loved the soba for years and had been waiting for an instance to try it hard-baked. The two spent the next couple of seconds silent, communicating with nothing but body language.

"So, about this hero thing... what exactly did you want from me?" Yamcha once again broke the silence as he began to reconsider his position.

"My world, my planet, in particular, is overrun by of explosive suicidal creatures. Some have called them Saibamen," she explained.

Great, Saibamen. The multiverse hating me is has got to be the explanation for this.

"But more than that, a great and evil force that we have no precedence for comes for us, saying that we are descendant of slaves that must be returned to his rule."

"And so you come to find a washed up former bandit to help you stop it? Seems like your setting yourself up for failure."

"I've seen you fight, well, not quite. The way you handled yourself in those baseball games, I started following you after I caught your first one. Those techniques are meant for battle, not some game." Ambri pointed out, leaning forward quickly and coming within breath's distance to Yamcha's face.

He couldn't help but agree with her. His Wolf Fang Fist was a fighting technique, tried and true, and yet his only use of it was in a sporting event that did nothing but inflate his own ego. He felt his gut telling him she was right.

"I-I don't know. Don't you know anyone else who can do this?" He scampered around the question with his tail between his legs.

"If you really don't want to, I understand," She sighed, falling back against the cushion of the booth seat, smiling slightly.

Yamcha looked down at his lap, unable to face her.

Are you really going to deny her request? After all that talk of being a hero, you're just going to pass on the first chance you get. You really aren't a-

"Ambri..." Yamcha breathed, hanging limply as he began to clench his fists.

"I-I'll do it. I'll help you but, I need to know one thing,"

Ambri looked up with wide eyes.

"I need training. I'm years out of practice and decades out of shape. Do you know anyone I can train with?" Yamcha finished, never once looking up at her with the last question.

"You're looking at her. I may not be a tough girl, but, I'm plenty smart. I can teach you any technique that can be learned and tweak any technique that needs work. You can count on me!" Ambri smiled, giving him an excited thumbs up.

A New Home, A New Hope: Yamcha's Wolf Fang Fist Gets an Upgrade

Ambri helped Yamcha pack as he headed out with her. He stopped by Krillin's house and to the Kame House to say goodbye to friends before riding out with her on a capsule corp spaceship to the foreign planet of Trebal. From space, the planet was a giant marble, speckled with reddish dots and strokes of purple. On several spots, a blooming green seemed to be fading.

"Is this your home?" Yamcha breathed, the sight mesmerizing him.

"Yes. As damaged and bleeding as it is. This is my home planet. The gravity's twice that of Earth, but I'm sure you can handle it, right?"

"I'll manage," Yamcha replied, stretching his muscles a bit.

"When we get to my base, I'll have to do some tests to determine your body's limitations so I know how best to overcome them. I'll also be studying your fighting style, Wolf-Kata as I've begun calling it." Ambri explained, tapping and swiping on her tablet.

"Wolf-Kata? Catchy." Yamcha forced a chuckle.

"You know, I never believed those stories. The ones they write about you, that is," Ambri said, her eyes glued to the screen.

"What stories?" Yamcha asked.

"The stories of the Z Fighters and how you were more of a bother than any help. They showed you to be a cheating dog, a liar, and a crook."

"To tell the truth Ambri, I was a thief at one point. I made money off the suffering and even death of others."

"But, you rose above it! You became a hero, overcame your fears- "

"Of women..."

"Sure your methods afterward were bad. call me crazy, but, I prefer a man who's made mistakes and made amends to a man who thinks he is without flaws."

Yamcha smiled genuinely, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Here we are. The staff will guide you to your room once we land. Here, this device has a link to all important staff in the base, myself included. Don't hesitate to call if you need to." Her last words were gently said as she reddened, smiling brightly but awkwardly.

The craft landed bumpily on the grassy terrain but landed all the same. Yamcha stepped out onto the planet, his chest suddenly tightening as he nearly collapsed. Blood pressed in his veins as his heart accelerated its process. When Yamcha noticed Ambri fussing over him, he waved her away with another of his sayings, hoping to assure her with his bravado alone. The long hallways of Abri's base were decorated with photos in gold frames.

"Who are these guys?" Yamcha asked.

"These are the dead, honored and here to remind us all what were fighting for. We're coming to the AR room. Yamcha, are you ready?" Ambri asked, looking back slightly.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

The room was a massive tower, domed with a slick glass ceiling. The walls were inset with deep grooves that went all the way to the ceiling and the floor looked like a massive drain.

"I'm loading up some practice dummies, they can take anything you can dish out, up to a certain threshold. Let's see what you can do!" Ambri seemed to restrain a child-like excitement as he stepped inside the chamber. Soon the walls lit up a blinding white light as Yamcha felt his body sag further.

"I'm turning up the gravity to times five, in order to start you off," Ambri called from nowhere in particular.

Before Yamcha could ask, she told him that she could speak to him as though she were right next to him due to the speakers in the ground. Yamcha looked down to see nothing but red earth and a group of static green creatures posed like mannequins. The motionless creatures seemed to move as he got closer. Was it his imagination, he wondered. He knew they weren't moving, but his chest began to throb, his heart racing and his palms growing cold and sweaty. He could feel the tingle of heat singing the skin on his back as a bloodcurdling scream was heard over the explosion...

"Yamcha, are you alright?" Amber's voice called him back to the present.

He came closer, after assuring her he was alright and hesitantly jabbing at the fake saibamen.


"So, this is the human you chose, Ambrosia? He seems less developed than you went on about" A deep, feminine voice spoke from behind her.

"Yes. I've seen a tiny glimpse of his potential, but I believe he's capable." Ambri forced herself to stay neutral.

"But, is it feasible. We have little time to devote to a lost cause, Ambrosia. Very little time and just as much patience."

Ambri touched the one-way glass, looking out to see the out of shape fighter struggling to keep up after a few thousand punches and sighed.

"I know what I saw sister. If this is about my feelings I can assure you I've put them aside!" Ambri stomped her foot spitefully.

"Trying to replace him won't help you. It'll just get everyone on this planet killed and I'm trying to make sure you don't pay the blood price for a half a planet of innocent deaths. Think about it, Ambrosia! How many more lives are you willing to sacrifice to make your lover come back from the dead."


Yamcha hammered the saibamen dolls as fast and as hard as he could, doing intervals of pushups and situps in between. As he stood back from his latest set of punches and kicks he wiped sweat from his forehead and looked up to the ceiling, losing himself in reverie.

"Vegeta, you're injured! Are you alright?"

"I can't believe he was almost my father!"

Yamcha felt his face dripping, and not from sweat. He brushed off the forlorn tears and the painful voices echoing in his mind as he crouched down to do push-ups again. his muscles ached from use and he struggled to keep breathing under pressure but he kept going.

"Yamcha!" Ambri called.

He glanced her way for a second and saw her dressed in different clothes, a lacy flower print dress, and ballet flats. She came his way, holding a large wicker basket, a bottle sticking up out of it.

"Hey, I thought you might want lunch about now and we won't be able to eat like this for long so, here," she smiled, handing him a small rectangular box.

Yamcha opened it and examined the contents, a handful of spring rolls and fried fish. It brought some drool to the side of his mouth. His stomach joined in, growling like an angry wolf.

"T-thanks, Ambri," He smiled back.

While he stuffed his face, Ambri popped open the bottle and chugged its contents.

"Wow, you sure can drink!" Yamcha laughed, chunks of fish flying out of his mouth.

He swallowed and apologized, wiping the chewed food off her dress.

"It's okay, Yamcha. It's just a dress. I'm just happy you like my cooking."

"You cooked this? Sweet"

With renewed vigor Yamcha returned to his training, waving to Ambri as she walked off.

She's pretty. I wonder what she see's in me. What I don't see...

He glared at the saibamen dolls. The fake versions of a creature that killed him once already. Clenching his teeth and closing his eyes, Yamcha focused on the image. As he did, a howl could be heard in the distance, the howl of a wolf. This howl was joined by several more as he continued to focus, drawing a clear picture of the saibamen in his head. Suddenly the shape morphed into another one, from a green bulbous headed monster to a humanoid face with a cruel grin and spiky black hair. Yamcha's will faltered, his knees growing weak.

"What a pathetic excuse for a warrior!"

I thought you loved me? "Love you? you're a playboy who flirts with other girls around me, I'd never marry you!"

He died just as he lived, a fool!

Yamcha fell to his knees his arms falling beside him as he reeled back and screamed into the air. He screamed and screamed as his voice began to shred and crack. Tears rolled down his cheeks and he didn't breath once as a black and green aura surrounded him. The simulation glitched and fizzled, eventually stopping altogether as the ground shook and cracked. Suddenly he could see no faces in his head, nothing but a brilliant shining moon.

His screams grew feral, the gravelly voice relinquished control as a demonic howl rose to choke it out. Yamcha's canine teeth enlarged dramatically as the molars began to sharpen. His face grew thinner and sharper, a wolf-like nose growing to replace his own. His ears began to shift back and widen. As his pulse raced and his body widened out making room for larger muscles skin tore apart revealing bloody white spikes of bone protruding out of his shoulders and collar bone. Lastly, two large horns exploded from his forehead, curling and pointing behind him as he stood up, hunched and primal. Yamcha had gone from six feet tall to seven and a half with a spiky mane of black and green hair and a pair or red eyes. His breath sparked flame around his lips and the clenching of his fingers shot lightning across his arms. The ground cracked as he walked and exploded as he dashed towards a saibamen doll and sliced it in half before it disintegrated into dust.


"He's awakened. See sister, I told you he had potential, humans rise to strengths unimaginable when faced with insurmountable odds!" Ambri chuckled to herself.

"Dr. Valence, his power output is exceeding the expected model and is rising." A short stocky assistant explained.

"Yep, just like I thought."

"If I may, Doctor-"

Ambri nodded to confirm his unasked question.

"This form he has assumed, I've never seen anything like it. Is there a name for it?"

"There is. The legend says that they're all born from a single wolf, Fenrir. Werewolves."

The Werewolf Within, Yamcha's Training and Ambri's desire

Yamcha awoke in the evening, lying prostrate on a less than comfortable cot. His skin felt like acid coursed through it, but he sat up regardless. Catching a deep breath he began to think on the last thing he could remember, a burning rage and a deep feeling of worthlessness. His limbs, though functioning twitched rather violently when he flexed them in the slightest.

"Yamcha, you should be careful. Your body underwent some serious strain yesterday." Ambri called from the door, her soft yet wavering voice dually noted.

"I-I'm fine, Ambri. I need to-" he cried out jaggedly, curbing the sound with a guttural growl.

He tried to get off the cot and move but as soon as his foot touched the cold metal floor a jolt of pain shot up through the ball joint.

"Yamcha please."

"I gotta..." Yamcha spoke through his gritted teeth.

Images flooded his mind, faster than he could truly process them.

"...get back..." As he staggered to his feet, Ambri held her hand to her mouth, her eyes creased with fear and worry.

"...to... my... training!"

Every step felt like standing on upward facing sharp glass and salt. He walked in a stilted and jarring fashion, trying to ignore the pain. Tears dribbled from his face as he continued to walk to the training area. It felt like the longest hallway he'd ever seen. He clenched his teeth tighter as his knees throbbed and pinched. His now bloodshot eyes coursed with pure emotion as he continued against his better judgment. Finally, his legs went somewhat numb and began to sway underneath his torso. One eye shut, giving up on him. he clenched his teeth tighter, blood pooling up underneath as he came ever closer to the door.

I... I just want something solid. Something to really fight for. Someone to fight for. Maybe even someones. I see my friends living the life I never got and I wonder... What did I do wrong, why don't I deserve that? don't I get to retire happily with loved ones?

As he came upon the door, he began to go entirely numb. He couldn't feel anything, his arms his legs, not even his own heartbeat. When he turned, he saw, lying on the ground, his own lifeless corpse.

At first, he laughed. "I died again. Not even from fighting but from training."

For a moment he stood there in the doorway as people crowded around his body. When he noticed Ambri falling to her knees he tilted his halo-topped head.

"What's wrong with her? If I'm dead, she should just go and find someone stronger. right?" he laughed again.

Then he watched her longer. She held her hands out then pulled them back quickly, pushing her face into them. He could hear faintly the sounds of her crying. She was sobbing, from what he could tell. He looked on in a query.


A chubby looking man in a lab coat gently took hold of her, pulling her away. The group of people surrounding him, meanwhile, carried his body away. He followed them to a large door labeled incinerator and watched them dump his corpse like a used up napkin. When he came back she was gone. He found her waiting in her room as she sat at the foot of her bed, waiting and crying. As days turned to months, time seemed to speed by for the ghost of Yamcha. He slowly began to weigh the time in his heart. Suddenly an alarm went off after what seemed to be a couple of years. A series of explosions rocked the core of the base until it came ripping through the room. Ambri didn't fight back as a silver plated humanoid creature walked through the tears in the building and came closer and closer to her. She didn't move she just fell to her knees and hung her head. With one hand, the creature summoned a beam of white energy that evaporated her. Nothing, not even ash remained.

Yamcha leaned back, feeling now a grip of fear. Why didn't she fight back, he thought. He looked around the room until he saw something on her table, a picture of her and a young man. The man had long scraggly black hair and a wily smile, not unlike his own. Scrawled on the corner was a caption: Ambri and Yamcha, our home awaits. Though he wore no scars and was dressed in a dark suit, Yamcha recognized him.

"That must be, her Universe's... me." Yamcha gazed deep into the picture as though it were a portal to another life until the surrounding walls collapsed in and the building was destroyed.

"Such a shame. A pretty young thing like that, gone. Yamcha, you fool." A throaty old voice.

"Old Kai! Are you here to... to take me away?" Yamcha replied.

"Nope. I'm here to give you these, and to give you a warning. Don't overdo it this time." He smirked wickedly.

In the purple skinned man's weathered wrinkly hands a pile of golden orbs, each holding a number of stars in them. Yamcha gasped and looked up.

"Good luck, kid and make sure to get a good look at her naked for me will ya?" He laughed wildly as he grew more and more transparent, eventually fading into nothing.

Yamcha cradled the pile gently looking down at the silver menace as he thoroughly blasted the planet into a burning heap. As he felt his spirit solidify, the orbs beginning to touch him rather than float in his presence, he looked up to the blasted sky and breathed deeply.

"Shenron! Dragon God eternal! I ask one wish from you! I wish to be sent back in time to before this planet was threatened by whatever powerful entity is here now! Please, grant my wish!"

In an instant he could feel an overwhelming force throw him to the ground as the golden orbs displaced, flying across the universe to their home universe.

"You will wait the time you must be sent back, 12 years. You will wait here on this planet. It is in order, mortal. I expect you seek to change the past?"


"This is unprecedented but I can do these things. Now I rest mortal until called again, I rest." The powerful thundering voice left him.

As he stood still and shaken, the world began to slowly reverse. Destruction became reparation. Walls fell up and deaths reverted like the rewinding of a VHS tape. Yamcha watched as Ambri returned to life and walked forward towards his corpse as it disappeared. He saw events change, not at all happening like they did when he was there because now, he wasn't. As time regressed Ambri scrolled back, searching for answers, or perhaps undiscovering them as time rolled on. Yamcha turned away and began to train, standing far away from the facility, watching war and destruction undo itself. He began to fight a shadow, practicing his strikes on mountains as they grew and shrunk and moved in time. He felt no hunger, no thirst. All he focussed on was the flow of energy in his hands, his feet his heart.

The wolf fang fist, his signature move and it's subsets were all perfected but not experimented. He first tried to change the angle, the amount of energy he extended. His moves began to vary and transform. His aura became a soft flowing blue shaping like wolf ears upon his head and a large flowing tail behind him. Seasons seemed to come and go faster and faster as he struck at the air and at the stone.

A tweak here.

A change of pace here.

"Wolf-Kata. Ambri... I will be a hero. Not yours though. As much as I hate to think it. Your beautiful and smart and you care so much, I thought I didn't deserve it but you gave it anyway. Geez, I'm not a poet or a philosopher. I'm just a common thief. I was a common thief. Goodbye to what once was." He let go of himself with a smirk and a tear.

As the twelve years came to a close, the cities growing and shifting around him, Yamcha began to go over his training and meditate.

"Whoa!" A voice called in the middle of the night.

Yamcha looked up and saw the night sky, moving forward.

Don't overdo it this time.

He clenched his fists and crouched low to the ground, forcing it to collapse under his feet. He launched himself into the air and flew across the sky, searching for a very distinct energy signature. He found a cafe in the downtown area, a good distance away from where he ended up and landed. As he passed the window he noticed Ambri sitting, a goofy smile crossing her face. Across from her a leanly built young man wearing a white suit looked at her with a similar grin. Yamcha smirked.


Inside the brick and mortar cafe, a young man sat across from his girlfriend, smiling dopily. Something catches his eye though and he looks out the window to see himself in a shredded orange Gi. When he rubs his eyes, the reflection is gone.


Yamcha Vs. Lag: Battle for the Planet
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