Broly vs Yamcha
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Broly vs Yamcha
by Yamcha 9/4/2012, 4:41 pm
A single oceanic wave careened on shore.
The minute residue of water crawled onto the sandy beach but stopped short of Yamcha's boots. It retracted back onto the ocean, leaving a distinct scent of saturated sea salt.
The ocean itself was calm yet fierce. Stygian, yet lucent. Both darksome and lightsome.
The former bandit could feel a bond form between the ocean and himself.
The relation came as a result of his own inner turmoil which ingested his self-esteem. A wave of self-doubt soaked his inner core. It brought with it a vehement salt that desiccated his confidence.
There was once a time when at the epicenter of the warrior's nucleus lied a passionate flame housed inside a furnace of self-importance.
Now there was only a dilapidated structure.
The furnace inside fell victim to an eerie winter chill. The icy draft of lowered self-worth blanketed the fire with pellets of snowflakes, each one carrying a message that read "I'm not good enough."
On the surface, one would find themselves unable to pull his card. His facade mimicked that of a professional poker player; a stoic visage with a stone glare that seemed to have boundless reach. He knew more than anyone the subtle changes that had occurred within him, yet he could do little to stop it. It was not as simple as inviting the devil to his play pin; he works in much more sinister ways than that.
It starts with a thought. A harmless reflection on one's past failures. But that is all it takes. For once one glances at the evils that lie within; the evils glance back. From then on it was only a matter of time....
Yamcha cursed himself for allowing such weakness in his heart. Dispelling it was his task for the day, which was why he ventured out to the beach.
A soothing exhale fled his nostrils, and the former bandit bent his knees and brought both hands behind him in a cusp. The ravenous waves before him reflected the storm from within, and Yamcha channeled the ice furnace that lied within and manifested without. A small sphere of azure light formed between his palms, signifying the start.
"Ka...."
Through gritted teeth he uttered the opening cadence. The sphere began to grow with each passing moment. Yamcha poured pieces of his sorrow onto it. The anguish that haunted his cerebral was like wood on an open flame; fuel to his fire.
"Me...."
The earthy sphere he harnessed doubled in girth. Already the former bandit could sense a spark deep inside himself. It was as if a match had been lit in the furnace ice, and the resulting flame chipped away at the caps. Keenness awakened, followed by warmth of rejuvenation which blanketed his conscious.
"Ha...."
The sphere had reached its maximum size. Between his cusps was everything he was, yet everything he's not. The ball's outer shell glistened in the sun light, but in its core was a dark tint. Yamcha's eyes were focused on the ocean still; checking for any waves headed his direction.
"Me...."
Yamcha caught wind of a titanic wave speeding towards him. In that instant, another titan of a wave crashed onto the shore of his consciousness; self-doubt. He found himself hesitating, far too afraid to relinquish himself from the grips of his own worries. It was then when the match of fire suddenly went nova, releasing a burst of fire, passion, and raw emotion.
"HA!"
Both of his arms jerked forward in spite of the demons that whispered failure as a certainty. In that single movement, all of his doubts, his fears, his worries, his trials, and his tribulations left his body and ravaged the open sea, taking the form of his most prized fighting technique. A grin of satisfaction etched his lips, and his body's posture straightened into a stand. He didn't need to gander at the furnace that lay dormant within him.
A clench of his fist was all the confirmation he needed.....
Yamcha was back.
The minute residue of water crawled onto the sandy beach but stopped short of Yamcha's boots. It retracted back onto the ocean, leaving a distinct scent of saturated sea salt.
The ocean itself was calm yet fierce. Stygian, yet lucent. Both darksome and lightsome.
The former bandit could feel a bond form between the ocean and himself.
The relation came as a result of his own inner turmoil which ingested his self-esteem. A wave of self-doubt soaked his inner core. It brought with it a vehement salt that desiccated his confidence.
There was once a time when at the epicenter of the warrior's nucleus lied a passionate flame housed inside a furnace of self-importance.
Now there was only a dilapidated structure.
The furnace inside fell victim to an eerie winter chill. The icy draft of lowered self-worth blanketed the fire with pellets of snowflakes, each one carrying a message that read "I'm not good enough."
On the surface, one would find themselves unable to pull his card. His facade mimicked that of a professional poker player; a stoic visage with a stone glare that seemed to have boundless reach. He knew more than anyone the subtle changes that had occurred within him, yet he could do little to stop it. It was not as simple as inviting the devil to his play pin; he works in much more sinister ways than that.
It starts with a thought. A harmless reflection on one's past failures. But that is all it takes. For once one glances at the evils that lie within; the evils glance back. From then on it was only a matter of time....
Yamcha cursed himself for allowing such weakness in his heart. Dispelling it was his task for the day, which was why he ventured out to the beach.
A soothing exhale fled his nostrils, and the former bandit bent his knees and brought both hands behind him in a cusp. The ravenous waves before him reflected the storm from within, and Yamcha channeled the ice furnace that lied within and manifested without. A small sphere of azure light formed between his palms, signifying the start.
"Ka...."
Through gritted teeth he uttered the opening cadence. The sphere began to grow with each passing moment. Yamcha poured pieces of his sorrow onto it. The anguish that haunted his cerebral was like wood on an open flame; fuel to his fire.
"Me...."
The earthy sphere he harnessed doubled in girth. Already the former bandit could sense a spark deep inside himself. It was as if a match had been lit in the furnace ice, and the resulting flame chipped away at the caps. Keenness awakened, followed by warmth of rejuvenation which blanketed his conscious.
"Ha...."
The sphere had reached its maximum size. Between his cusps was everything he was, yet everything he's not. The ball's outer shell glistened in the sun light, but in its core was a dark tint. Yamcha's eyes were focused on the ocean still; checking for any waves headed his direction.
"Me...."
Yamcha caught wind of a titanic wave speeding towards him. In that instant, another titan of a wave crashed onto the shore of his consciousness; self-doubt. He found himself hesitating, far too afraid to relinquish himself from the grips of his own worries. It was then when the match of fire suddenly went nova, releasing a burst of fire, passion, and raw emotion.
"HA!"
Both of his arms jerked forward in spite of the demons that whispered failure as a certainty. In that single movement, all of his doubts, his fears, his worries, his trials, and his tribulations left his body and ravaged the open sea, taking the form of his most prized fighting technique. A grin of satisfaction etched his lips, and his body's posture straightened into a stand. He didn't need to gander at the furnace that lay dormant within him.
A clench of his fist was all the confirmation he needed.....
Yamcha was back.
Yamcha- Apprentice
- Posts : 4
Join date : 2012-08-27
Character Info
Level: 1
Race: Human
Location: Earth
Re: Broly vs Yamcha
by Broly 9/4/2012, 5:25 pm
Yamcha's wave ripped through the tides like scissors through paper, shoving aside massive walls of water and foam as it forged its path across the seas. While the blast itself was probably one of the more powerful attacks that the man before him possessed, Son Goku was not unduly worried. It wasn't that he was confident in his victory, or even that he felt comfortable fighting one of his best friends at such a high level; no, it was more that he trusted Yamcha to know his limits. Never before had his friend led himself astray.
Birds cooed and cawed overhead, their voices screeching to the pair of warriors like warning sirens in the serene daylight. Something about their fear was so out of place, so unwarranted, that it felt almost wrong to force them from their homes. Admittedly, they'd have probably left anyway once the combat had started, but Goku had always been a friend to nature. He enjoyed the inhabitants of his home planet, just as his grandfather had before him. It was more than genetic, it was dispositional. He had long since grown accustomed to the series of traits which governed nature.
The birds overhead were fleeing because they were worried, naturally afraid of Yamcha's astounding energy output. Deep down in his heart, Goku knew that his friend was a powerful competitor and a force to be reckoned with. However, try as he might, he couldn't get himself to feel inferior to Yamcha. It wasn't that he felt superior, or that he felt entitled to a victory; he considered them equals on a level playing field, two pieces on a checker board. They both had the same chances of success, and try as he might to recreate Yamcha's rationale for their upcoming training bout, he couldn't figure it out.
A rough hand rubbed a bed head, matting down his hair as sand and foam crashed down upon the shores of South Beach. This was where the man had first encountered the Turtle Hermit, Roshi; he could see why he had decided to fight here. He just couldn't get why. He could feel something raw emanating from the hardened warrior before him. His body language screamed 'ready', his stance was near flawless. But, to Goku, it seemed he was missing the point. One of them was here to do battle, and the other was here to enjoy himself.
However, if Yamcha wanted to train with him, Goku would not deny the chance for some exercise. He'd been slacking off lately, what with having to train his child and bat aside the worries of his ever lovely wife, Chi-Chi. Ever since they'd gotten married, she had taken a rather firm stance on his training. While she didn't exactly disapprove of it, it wasn't often that he wore his training clothes around the house anymore. She'd also insisted on making sure his hair stayed manageable, which was the reason that it was so static.
As it happened, he was a pretty hairy guy. He'd been hit with the puberty bug late, from what he could gather. He could only hope that Gohan wouldn't experience the same growing pains as he, the man who'd shot up about four feet in a year. He, after all, only wanted the best for his son. He only wanted the best for his friends, his buddies, his pals. He only wanted the best for Yamcha, the man who worked so hard to surpass him and as it had seemed lately, merely to catch up. Ever since the whole Piccolo thing, he'd been different. Goku couldn't explain it, but he didn't need to. He could feel it.
It was like a strange tingling in his bones, whenever they were in the same place. Like they were moving toward some inevitable confrontation that he wasn't quite sure he was ready for. But, now, on the eve of their first training bout in years, he could not claim to feel any doubt. He was expecting a wonderful and climactic battle, not for supremacy, but for entertainment. Never had he considered Yamcha an enemy, and never would he dream of doing so.
”Are you sure about this, Yamcha? I mean, I think I'd rather catch up before we do this, but... If you wanna get started, I'm ready any time!”, his words were jovial enough; they matched the playfulness of the sun above, bearing down upon the bleached sands that now covered his boots. He was, as always, wearing the gi of the turtle, Muten Roshi. Now, as his hand dropped to his hip and his hips dropped to their standard stance, the Earth's Hero couldn't help but wonder why Yamcha had called this bout. It was natural that he'd feel like catching up with Goku every once in a while, verbally... But they hadn't said a word to each other.
He felt different, strange and foreign. He was like a man of fire, ever burning and passionate, whereas Goku was far less than fired up. The only competition he'd had was the occasional spar with Chi-Chi, but she didn't really like to fight all that much. They both had a kid to take care of now; over training was risky. Yet, here he now stood, body dropped into casual stance beneath the blazing heat of the sun, beside the shoreline he knew so well. While he was going to give his friend the benefit of the doubt, he couldn't help but feel that they were on two different planets, mentally. Goku was here for fun.
Yamcha, his dear friend and life-long comrade, the former lone wolf, the wild warrior of the desert; he was here in the name of absolution.
Birds cooed and cawed overhead, their voices screeching to the pair of warriors like warning sirens in the serene daylight. Something about their fear was so out of place, so unwarranted, that it felt almost wrong to force them from their homes. Admittedly, they'd have probably left anyway once the combat had started, but Goku had always been a friend to nature. He enjoyed the inhabitants of his home planet, just as his grandfather had before him. It was more than genetic, it was dispositional. He had long since grown accustomed to the series of traits which governed nature.
The birds overhead were fleeing because they were worried, naturally afraid of Yamcha's astounding energy output. Deep down in his heart, Goku knew that his friend was a powerful competitor and a force to be reckoned with. However, try as he might, he couldn't get himself to feel inferior to Yamcha. It wasn't that he felt superior, or that he felt entitled to a victory; he considered them equals on a level playing field, two pieces on a checker board. They both had the same chances of success, and try as he might to recreate Yamcha's rationale for their upcoming training bout, he couldn't figure it out.
A rough hand rubbed a bed head, matting down his hair as sand and foam crashed down upon the shores of South Beach. This was where the man had first encountered the Turtle Hermit, Roshi; he could see why he had decided to fight here. He just couldn't get why. He could feel something raw emanating from the hardened warrior before him. His body language screamed 'ready', his stance was near flawless. But, to Goku, it seemed he was missing the point. One of them was here to do battle, and the other was here to enjoy himself.
However, if Yamcha wanted to train with him, Goku would not deny the chance for some exercise. He'd been slacking off lately, what with having to train his child and bat aside the worries of his ever lovely wife, Chi-Chi. Ever since they'd gotten married, she had taken a rather firm stance on his training. While she didn't exactly disapprove of it, it wasn't often that he wore his training clothes around the house anymore. She'd also insisted on making sure his hair stayed manageable, which was the reason that it was so static.
As it happened, he was a pretty hairy guy. He'd been hit with the puberty bug late, from what he could gather. He could only hope that Gohan wouldn't experience the same growing pains as he, the man who'd shot up about four feet in a year. He, after all, only wanted the best for his son. He only wanted the best for his friends, his buddies, his pals. He only wanted the best for Yamcha, the man who worked so hard to surpass him and as it had seemed lately, merely to catch up. Ever since the whole Piccolo thing, he'd been different. Goku couldn't explain it, but he didn't need to. He could feel it.
It was like a strange tingling in his bones, whenever they were in the same place. Like they were moving toward some inevitable confrontation that he wasn't quite sure he was ready for. But, now, on the eve of their first training bout in years, he could not claim to feel any doubt. He was expecting a wonderful and climactic battle, not for supremacy, but for entertainment. Never had he considered Yamcha an enemy, and never would he dream of doing so.
”Are you sure about this, Yamcha? I mean, I think I'd rather catch up before we do this, but... If you wanna get started, I'm ready any time!”, his words were jovial enough; they matched the playfulness of the sun above, bearing down upon the bleached sands that now covered his boots. He was, as always, wearing the gi of the turtle, Muten Roshi. Now, as his hand dropped to his hip and his hips dropped to their standard stance, the Earth's Hero couldn't help but wonder why Yamcha had called this bout. It was natural that he'd feel like catching up with Goku every once in a while, verbally... But they hadn't said a word to each other.
He felt different, strange and foreign. He was like a man of fire, ever burning and passionate, whereas Goku was far less than fired up. The only competition he'd had was the occasional spar with Chi-Chi, but she didn't really like to fight all that much. They both had a kid to take care of now; over training was risky. Yet, here he now stood, body dropped into casual stance beneath the blazing heat of the sun, beside the shoreline he knew so well. While he was going to give his friend the benefit of the doubt, he couldn't help but feel that they were on two different planets, mentally. Goku was here for fun.
Yamcha, his dear friend and life-long comrade, the former lone wolf, the wild warrior of the desert; he was here in the name of absolution.
Last edited by Broly on 9/7/2012, 7:38 pm; edited 1 time in total
Broly- Staff
- Posts : 643
Join date : 2012-03-28
Age : 29
Location : Wellington, Ohio
Character Info
Level: 89
Race: Saiyan
Location: Earth
Re: Broly vs Yamcha
by Yamcha 9/7/2012, 5:39 pm
”Are you sure about this, Yamcha? I mean, I think I'd rather catch up before we do this, but... If you wanna get started, I'm ready any time!”
Ah, so he's arrived.
The kindred spirit; the Universe's most powerful fighter, the Saiyan orphan, his best friend....
Goku.
There was one thing about Goku which always puzzled him. He was like a running river. A hawk in flight. Wherever he went, an air of ease went with him. Was it because of his own strength? No, of course not. He had always been this way, even as a kid. It had to have been more than his jubilant demeanor, for his heart did not betray his guise.
Then what was it?
Was it his love for his family and friends? Did the warmth of companionship soothe his soul to a majestic calm?
Sadly, Yamcha couldn't relate.
He had no "family" so to speak. He was a loner by nature, and a wanderer by choice. Settling down was a thought that crossed his mind time and time again, but unfortunately, he could never bring himself to do it. For he knows that if he were to attempt to elope with a woman, he wouldn't be loyal.
To him, the closest thing he ever had to a family were his friends. Yet, he could never feel more distant. What measured his worth as a friend, as a comrade, was strength. But when things got rough, he quit. He quit on his training, allowed his power to deteriorate, and swore never to fight again. If there was anyone whom Yamcha disdained.....
It was himself.
Was that it? Was it hate that held him back? In comparison, did Goku truly hate anyone, let alone himself? Perhaps this is where the paths between the two diverged.
Goku's the road of compassion.
Yamcha's the road of contempt.
If it was his enmity that spurred him back into the ring, then why question it? If anything he should embrace it, for it made him stronger. The flame scorching in his eyes is fueled by the coal of bitterness externalized by his past. Without the fire, he is nothing. And that is something failed to acknowledge....
Until now.
He smirked in cognizance. Goku would no doubt sense the change in him. He knew him better than anyone.
"Goku, let's get started shall we?"
The eagerness to battle sprinkled with a tinge of cockiness; his tone was evidence of his acceptance.
Whose truth would reign supreme this battle?
There was only one way to find out....
"Here I come!"
Yamcha darted like an Olympic sprinter. He needed no more than a couple of steps to close the gap between him and his long time friend, but to the untrained eye it appeared as if he had only taken one. A hard balled fist was cocked and ready. He thrusted it forward but stopped short of Goku's face, selling the feint.
His knee rose in a flash towards the Saiyan's gut, zeroing in on his diaphragm. Twisting his base leg, he pivoted off of his foot in a half spin, extending the same knee that had risen into a straight leg kick to Goku's torso.
The bandit could not help but wonder if Goku could sense the unyielding passion that burned within him. The greatest of warriors could communicate through fists alone, so his message couldn't be clearer. He circled behind Goku and leaned in from his flank. Yamcha's right hand was mitten together, the fist surged with a spark of Ki, transmuting it into a weapon forged of his mettle.
"This is a taste of what I am....Goku!"
Winds whipped behind him, the ocean shifted, and the clouds parted. This punch was the embodiment of his psyche.
Yamcha was ready to send it to Goku's head, but was Goku ready to receive?
Ah, so he's arrived.
The kindred spirit; the Universe's most powerful fighter, the Saiyan orphan, his best friend....
Goku.
There was one thing about Goku which always puzzled him. He was like a running river. A hawk in flight. Wherever he went, an air of ease went with him. Was it because of his own strength? No, of course not. He had always been this way, even as a kid. It had to have been more than his jubilant demeanor, for his heart did not betray his guise.
Then what was it?
Was it his love for his family and friends? Did the warmth of companionship soothe his soul to a majestic calm?
Sadly, Yamcha couldn't relate.
He had no "family" so to speak. He was a loner by nature, and a wanderer by choice. Settling down was a thought that crossed his mind time and time again, but unfortunately, he could never bring himself to do it. For he knows that if he were to attempt to elope with a woman, he wouldn't be loyal.
To him, the closest thing he ever had to a family were his friends. Yet, he could never feel more distant. What measured his worth as a friend, as a comrade, was strength. But when things got rough, he quit. He quit on his training, allowed his power to deteriorate, and swore never to fight again. If there was anyone whom Yamcha disdained.....
It was himself.
Was that it? Was it hate that held him back? In comparison, did Goku truly hate anyone, let alone himself? Perhaps this is where the paths between the two diverged.
Goku's the road of compassion.
Yamcha's the road of contempt.
If it was his enmity that spurred him back into the ring, then why question it? If anything he should embrace it, for it made him stronger. The flame scorching in his eyes is fueled by the coal of bitterness externalized by his past. Without the fire, he is nothing. And that is something failed to acknowledge....
Until now.
He smirked in cognizance. Goku would no doubt sense the change in him. He knew him better than anyone.
"Goku, let's get started shall we?"
The eagerness to battle sprinkled with a tinge of cockiness; his tone was evidence of his acceptance.
Whose truth would reign supreme this battle?
There was only one way to find out....
"Here I come!"
Yamcha darted like an Olympic sprinter. He needed no more than a couple of steps to close the gap between him and his long time friend, but to the untrained eye it appeared as if he had only taken one. A hard balled fist was cocked and ready. He thrusted it forward but stopped short of Goku's face, selling the feint.
His knee rose in a flash towards the Saiyan's gut, zeroing in on his diaphragm. Twisting his base leg, he pivoted off of his foot in a half spin, extending the same knee that had risen into a straight leg kick to Goku's torso.
The bandit could not help but wonder if Goku could sense the unyielding passion that burned within him. The greatest of warriors could communicate through fists alone, so his message couldn't be clearer. He circled behind Goku and leaned in from his flank. Yamcha's right hand was mitten together, the fist surged with a spark of Ki, transmuting it into a weapon forged of his mettle.
"This is a taste of what I am....Goku!"
Winds whipped behind him, the ocean shifted, and the clouds parted. This punch was the embodiment of his psyche.
Yamcha was ready to send it to Goku's head, but was Goku ready to receive?
Yamcha- Apprentice
- Posts : 4
Join date : 2012-08-27
Character Info
Level: 1
Race: Human
Location: Earth
Re: Broly vs Yamcha
by Broly 9/7/2012, 7:38 pm
Yamcha's body sprang forward like a bat freed from hell, his fists cocked at his waist as he shot forward unto the breach. He was storming Son Goku's castle with all he had, and that was made very clear. Sand kicked up in his wake as he came to a screeching halt, his fist thrusting forward like a bullet toward the Saiyan's head, only to stop short and release a ferocious gust of wind. As the air forced the man's hair to buffet against his face, whipping fiercely at his skin. However, all of the wind in the world was no match for the man Yamcha was battling against in that instant.
He didn't flinch as the blow retreated, just as he had failed to react when it had flown in at him. His body stood perfectly still, eyes flying to the man's chest and then to his knee as a result of Yamcha's motion. It was easy to see what he was doing based off of the way he shifted and jumped; the attack itself was probably dangerous enough, But Son Goku knew better than to commit himself to a static defense like a block. Instinctively, he twisted his body to the side, pulling himself away as Yamcha's knee cut viciously through the air where his chest had been but a second prior.
Suddenly, the knee pulled back and the man's boot came flying upward from below. Because of his positioning, it would most definitely still strike him if he let it; yet, he had no such plans. His elbow thrust downward, muscles tensing as he prepared for the impact. Had he let himself go limp, the blow would have easily broken his arm and left him with a more devastating wound than he had ever hoped for. He'd suffered worse damage from stronger foes, but Yamcha was his friend, and he would not let him live with that guilt on his conscience.
”Woah!”, Goku exclaimed as a loud and thunderous boom rocked the beach. The sand beneath their feet was sent flying in all directions as the residual force rocked the world below. His teeth ground together as the shock wave rolled up through the air, shaking his teeth and forcing him to reconsider his defensive posture. He was wide open for a counter attack in the position he currently found himself, something that Yamcha seemed to notice. The wild haired warrior quickly spun to the side as Goku removed himself from point blank range, his own body dashing backwards across what remained of the sand.
Sparks of fatal energy burst into existence around his friend's fist, as it cocked in the air, the man himself having swerved to Goku's left side. Eyes widening with the realization of Yamcha's improvement, Goku quickly brought his wrist upward to defend his face. If he didn't block the blow somehow, then it was liable to knock him unconscious, something he wasn't really hoping for. Still smiling, the warrior ground his teeth together once again as the blow rocked his arm, energy and physical power combining to plow directly into his forearm.
His feet now went sliding backward into the sand as Yamcha's words rose above the clamor of battle, which echoed dully in his head. Son Goku had been born to experience conflict, and he had been in more than perhaps anyone else alive. His feet ground to a halt in the ground as the water shifted and came to a rest behind his training partner, who seemed ready to continue and prove himself against Humanity's Hero. Was there no end to his ability? Ever since he'd met Yamcha, the man had dedicated his very existence to improvement and an eternal game of cat and mouse with his best friend's power.
Now, as Goku's body burst forward over the sand, the stunning Saiyan pondered on his true progress. Yamcha was probably one of the most skilled people he'd ever met in his life, and a close runner up to the most determined. Never could he recall an instance where the master of martial arts before him had ever even thought of concession. Never once had Yamcha relented, never once had he permitted himself to yield; that personal grit and resilience was now paying off in the field of battle against an opponent once considered naturally superior by their peers.
However, Yamcha, to Goku, was just that; a peer. Even as his fist curved through the air like a haphazardly placed lightning bolt, Goku considered his friend an equal in every regard. It was true that Goku was more powerful in potential, but Yamcha had a spirit that could never be equaled, a fire that couldn't ever be extinguished. That was something that most men would have killed for.
”Tastes good, Yamcha!”, the warrior took time for laughter amidst a deadly struggle between titans as his fist shot out again and again, plowing forward with the precision of a sniper rifle and the punch of a tank shell. He had never been one to pull punches against an opponent; Yamcha was one of his best buds, and to give him anything less than one hundred percent would have been downright disrespectful. He had to admit though, for a friend, Yamcha was coming at him with a voracity reminiscent to their first meeting. It was quite possible that he'd emerge the victor from this training bout, but Goku didn't care.
He was having fun, and that was what truly counted.
He didn't flinch as the blow retreated, just as he had failed to react when it had flown in at him. His body stood perfectly still, eyes flying to the man's chest and then to his knee as a result of Yamcha's motion. It was easy to see what he was doing based off of the way he shifted and jumped; the attack itself was probably dangerous enough, But Son Goku knew better than to commit himself to a static defense like a block. Instinctively, he twisted his body to the side, pulling himself away as Yamcha's knee cut viciously through the air where his chest had been but a second prior.
Suddenly, the knee pulled back and the man's boot came flying upward from below. Because of his positioning, it would most definitely still strike him if he let it; yet, he had no such plans. His elbow thrust downward, muscles tensing as he prepared for the impact. Had he let himself go limp, the blow would have easily broken his arm and left him with a more devastating wound than he had ever hoped for. He'd suffered worse damage from stronger foes, but Yamcha was his friend, and he would not let him live with that guilt on his conscience.
”Woah!”, Goku exclaimed as a loud and thunderous boom rocked the beach. The sand beneath their feet was sent flying in all directions as the residual force rocked the world below. His teeth ground together as the shock wave rolled up through the air, shaking his teeth and forcing him to reconsider his defensive posture. He was wide open for a counter attack in the position he currently found himself, something that Yamcha seemed to notice. The wild haired warrior quickly spun to the side as Goku removed himself from point blank range, his own body dashing backwards across what remained of the sand.
Sparks of fatal energy burst into existence around his friend's fist, as it cocked in the air, the man himself having swerved to Goku's left side. Eyes widening with the realization of Yamcha's improvement, Goku quickly brought his wrist upward to defend his face. If he didn't block the blow somehow, then it was liable to knock him unconscious, something he wasn't really hoping for. Still smiling, the warrior ground his teeth together once again as the blow rocked his arm, energy and physical power combining to plow directly into his forearm.
His feet now went sliding backward into the sand as Yamcha's words rose above the clamor of battle, which echoed dully in his head. Son Goku had been born to experience conflict, and he had been in more than perhaps anyone else alive. His feet ground to a halt in the ground as the water shifted and came to a rest behind his training partner, who seemed ready to continue and prove himself against Humanity's Hero. Was there no end to his ability? Ever since he'd met Yamcha, the man had dedicated his very existence to improvement and an eternal game of cat and mouse with his best friend's power.
Now, as Goku's body burst forward over the sand, the stunning Saiyan pondered on his true progress. Yamcha was probably one of the most skilled people he'd ever met in his life, and a close runner up to the most determined. Never could he recall an instance where the master of martial arts before him had ever even thought of concession. Never once had Yamcha relented, never once had he permitted himself to yield; that personal grit and resilience was now paying off in the field of battle against an opponent once considered naturally superior by their peers.
However, Yamcha, to Goku, was just that; a peer. Even as his fist curved through the air like a haphazardly placed lightning bolt, Goku considered his friend an equal in every regard. It was true that Goku was more powerful in potential, but Yamcha had a spirit that could never be equaled, a fire that couldn't ever be extinguished. That was something that most men would have killed for.
”Tastes good, Yamcha!”, the warrior took time for laughter amidst a deadly struggle between titans as his fist shot out again and again, plowing forward with the precision of a sniper rifle and the punch of a tank shell. He had never been one to pull punches against an opponent; Yamcha was one of his best buds, and to give him anything less than one hundred percent would have been downright disrespectful. He had to admit though, for a friend, Yamcha was coming at him with a voracity reminiscent to their first meeting. It was quite possible that he'd emerge the victor from this training bout, but Goku didn't care.
He was having fun, and that was what truly counted.
Broly- Staff
- Posts : 643
Join date : 2012-03-28
Age : 29
Location : Wellington, Ohio
Character Info
Level: 89
Race: Saiyan
Location: Earth
Re: Broly vs Yamcha
by Yamcha 10/1/2012, 12:43 pm
”Tastes good, Yamcha!”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it!”
The two of them exchanged a light-hearted laugh in the heat of combat, a trademark between them. There were no hard feelings, no grudges, just fists. This exhibition of their raw skills and talent served as a litmus test for the former desert bandit. He needed to know where he stood in the face of what is considered the purest form of power.
“Now give me everything you got!”
In an act of confirmation, Goku began to deliver his opening assault upon him. The punches were as powerful as they were precise, so much so that Yamcha himself realized that a complete dodge was futile. Instead he used his hands to parry the strikes, swatting each blow harmlessly away from him.
“Come on Goku, I know you can do better than that!”
The smack talk came instinctively. It wasn’t a tool used solely to bring psychological harm upon his adversaries, but rather it was an ignition to get him going. The more he spoke, the more comfortable he became.
Enough of this.
No matter how quick Goku was, every fighter had a cadence. Each parry Yamcha had done got him more and more familiar with it. Now, as the Saiyan’s fist careened towards him, the wild haired warrior telegraphed it effortlessly. He ducked his head low beneath the strike and moved forward, sticking his rear foot out in an attempt to trip his opponent up as he positioned himself to Goku’s rear.
“Time's up! Wolf Fang Blowing Wind Technique!”
Yamcha’s body ascended to the heavens, a battle cry echoing from his lips, mimicking that of a hungry wolf. The human’s body was positioned in front of the sun’s glare so that Goku would not be able to get a clear glance at him should he try. Not even a moment later the former desert bandit descended upon his longtime friend, both legs stretched towards him.
“Take this!”
The shear velocity of Yamcha’s attempted attack would be powerful enough to shatter a rock to dust, but he wasn't stopping there. He performed kick after kick after kick, each one as devastating as the last. His final attack would come in an attempt to push off of Goku’s body, using his legs as a springboard to place him in front of his opponent. He looked to Goku with a soft smirk, but it was quickly wiped with a feral snarl.
Whirling winds whipped around him, causing his hair to stand on end. When he opened his mouth, an eerie howl escaped him. It was one so authentic that he drew the howls of wolves in the adjacent area, and he understood what they relayed to him. They spurred him on, they told him to finish what he had started, and that he would do.
“True Wolf Fang Fist!”
He stared at his friend menacingly, his body encased with a shroud of unseen savagery. Yamcha was no longer the man his friend knew. He was no longer mimicking the ways of the wolf; he had [i]become[/i ]a wolf at the price of his sanity. The only thing on his mind now was Goku’s defeat, no matter the cost.
He circled Goku on all fours, sizing him up. Low growls seeped from Yamcha’s lips, his teeth were gritted together and his teeth had become that of canine fangs.
Finally, he charged on all fours from Goku’s flank, brandishing his claws. He leapt from behind but then became eerily still. His body was also translucent, indications of the famed after-image technique. Yamcha manifested from Goku’s left and leapt at him again, only to utilize the same technique as before. It became increasingly clear that Yamcha was in fact playing with his prey, and his primal instincts fell on the after-image technique to do so.
“AAARRRGH!”
Again Yamcha fazed into existence, this time to Goku’s right side. He was done playing with his meal, and the unnerving howl was a direct indication of that. He bore his fangs and reared his right hand back, flourishing his claw-like nails. He swiped in a downward arc, from Goku’s shoulder down to his hip, Yamcha attempted to tear through the fabric of his gi and draw the first blood.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it!”
The two of them exchanged a light-hearted laugh in the heat of combat, a trademark between them. There were no hard feelings, no grudges, just fists. This exhibition of their raw skills and talent served as a litmus test for the former desert bandit. He needed to know where he stood in the face of what is considered the purest form of power.
“Now give me everything you got!”
In an act of confirmation, Goku began to deliver his opening assault upon him. The punches were as powerful as they were precise, so much so that Yamcha himself realized that a complete dodge was futile. Instead he used his hands to parry the strikes, swatting each blow harmlessly away from him.
“Come on Goku, I know you can do better than that!”
The smack talk came instinctively. It wasn’t a tool used solely to bring psychological harm upon his adversaries, but rather it was an ignition to get him going. The more he spoke, the more comfortable he became.
Enough of this.
No matter how quick Goku was, every fighter had a cadence. Each parry Yamcha had done got him more and more familiar with it. Now, as the Saiyan’s fist careened towards him, the wild haired warrior telegraphed it effortlessly. He ducked his head low beneath the strike and moved forward, sticking his rear foot out in an attempt to trip his opponent up as he positioned himself to Goku’s rear.
“Time's up! Wolf Fang Blowing Wind Technique!”
Yamcha’s body ascended to the heavens, a battle cry echoing from his lips, mimicking that of a hungry wolf. The human’s body was positioned in front of the sun’s glare so that Goku would not be able to get a clear glance at him should he try. Not even a moment later the former desert bandit descended upon his longtime friend, both legs stretched towards him.
“Take this!”
The shear velocity of Yamcha’s attempted attack would be powerful enough to shatter a rock to dust, but he wasn't stopping there. He performed kick after kick after kick, each one as devastating as the last. His final attack would come in an attempt to push off of Goku’s body, using his legs as a springboard to place him in front of his opponent. He looked to Goku with a soft smirk, but it was quickly wiped with a feral snarl.
Whirling winds whipped around him, causing his hair to stand on end. When he opened his mouth, an eerie howl escaped him. It was one so authentic that he drew the howls of wolves in the adjacent area, and he understood what they relayed to him. They spurred him on, they told him to finish what he had started, and that he would do.
“True Wolf Fang Fist!”
He stared at his friend menacingly, his body encased with a shroud of unseen savagery. Yamcha was no longer the man his friend knew. He was no longer mimicking the ways of the wolf; he had [i]become[/i ]a wolf at the price of his sanity. The only thing on his mind now was Goku’s defeat, no matter the cost.
He circled Goku on all fours, sizing him up. Low growls seeped from Yamcha’s lips, his teeth were gritted together and his teeth had become that of canine fangs.
Finally, he charged on all fours from Goku’s flank, brandishing his claws. He leapt from behind but then became eerily still. His body was also translucent, indications of the famed after-image technique. Yamcha manifested from Goku’s left and leapt at him again, only to utilize the same technique as before. It became increasingly clear that Yamcha was in fact playing with his prey, and his primal instincts fell on the after-image technique to do so.
“AAARRRGH!”
Again Yamcha fazed into existence, this time to Goku’s right side. He was done playing with his meal, and the unnerving howl was a direct indication of that. He bore his fangs and reared his right hand back, flourishing his claw-like nails. He swiped in a downward arc, from Goku’s shoulder down to his hip, Yamcha attempted to tear through the fabric of his gi and draw the first blood.
Yamcha- Apprentice
- Posts : 4
Join date : 2012-08-27
Character Info
Level: 1
Race: Human
Location: Earth
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