Seeing West City come into view on the horizon, Dr. Briefs spared a glance at the boy in the passenger seat of his car. The wind whipped through his long, black hair, doing little to hide his face. A small cat rested on his lap, sleeping soundly while the boy stroked her every now and then. The awkward silence was making the air a little too heavy in the Doctor's opinion.
"So… what was a boy like yourself doing out in Diablo Desert?" He asked, taking his eyes off the empty road for a second to look at the child. He looked no older than five. "It's dangerous out there you know."
Silence was the only answer he received, the boy continuing to stare out into the scenery. He refused to meet the Doctor's gaze.
"How old are you, my boy? A kid shouldn't be out here alone." Dr. Briefs asked, only to be met with silence again. This was going nowhere. "Where do you live? I'll be sure to contact you parents and let them know you were-"
"I don't have any parents." The boy interrupted blandly, still refusing to look at the Doctor.
"Oh." The Doctor muttered, at a loss for words. For the next couple minutes, up until they reached West City's limits, the awkward silence hung over them. "Do you have a name?"
"Yamcha." The boy said lowly, resting his chin on his hand.
"Well Yamcha…" Briefs began, but stopped himself. He had a feeling that the boy had had his fill on talking for now. There was no reason to push his luck. He flipped a switch and the roof unfolded back over the car.
Capsule Corp came into view and Dr. Briefs couldn't help but think about how his family would react to their new guest.
Bulma sat in the front yard of Capsule Corp, playing with her dolls while her mother hung up some wet clothes. She was bored and crabby, having missed her nap after lunch. She had waited for her father to come read to her, but he had gone to the Desert after another scientist informed him of some metals they found or something. Bulma didn't care, she wanted to hear "The little Capsule that Could." for the upteenth time.
Hearing a low hum in the distance, the little girl perked up as her father's car appeared from behind a building. Standing up, the blue haired girl yelled out for her mother to come over. "Dad's back!" She chirped, watching the car pull into the driveway.
Dr. Briefs stepped out of the car, taking a quick puff of his cigarette. Bulma ran into his arms, giggling like a madwoman.
"There's my little Princess." He chuckled, hiking her up and giving her a twirl. Spotting his wife walking towards them, the good Scientist remembered his guest. "Ah, Honey, if you could set out an extra plate during dinner today, that would be great. We'll be having a guest over for dinner."
Panchy nodded, making a mental note before she went back to the laundry. Bulma tilted her head in confusion as her father let her down. "A guest? Who?" Was it one of his associates? She hoped not, they were all old and boring.
"He's right here." Dr. Briefs said, motioning to the car. "You can come out, Yamcha."
Slowly, the young boy, pushed himself out of the car, clutching his sleeping cat and an old looking Tommy Gun for comfort. Upon seeing Bulma though, his face heated up to a bright red, and he quickly retreated behind the car. sweatdropped.
"Who's that, Daddy?" Bulma asked, trying to look around the car, only for Yamcha to maneuver out of her vision again. "Hey! Get back here!"
Briefs watched as his daughter chased the scared boy around the car. Scratching his head, he muttered something about boundaries and outstretched a hand, grabbing Yamcha's arm. He felt the boy tense, and to his surprise, Yamcha threw a punch. It didn't hurt, as the boy was so small, but it certainly caught all three people off guard. Briefs didn't seem fazed, though he wondered what the boy must have gone through for his first reaction being that of violence. Yamcha quickly pulled back his fist, seeming to regret what he had done, and clamped his arms to his side.
"Sorry." He muttered, rocking his cat, whom seemed to be waking up. Briefs was about to tell him there was nothing to apologise for, but Bulma cut him off before he could talk.
Red faced and huffy, Bulma growled at Yamcha. "What's the big idea, jerk? Don't hit my dad."
"Now now, Bulma. It was an accident." Briefs chimed in, placing a hand on his daughter's shoulder.
"Lord Yamcha?" A small voice called. Bulma and her father paused, their heads slowly shifting over the the small boy. In his arms, the cat had awoken… and spoke. Seemingly not noticing their company, the cat floated up to Yamcha's eye level. "Where are we? Is this the city?"
"Puar…" Yamcha said in a weak voice, glancing at the father and daughter. They were both flabbergasted.
"You're cat can talk!?" Bulma yelled, now mere inches from the Desert boy and his cat. Yamcha gulped at the site of her, taking a set back. The blue haired girl was about to close the distance again, but Puar floated in between them, looking slightly angered.
"Hey! Back away from Lord Yamcha! He doesn't like girls being this close." She spat, though her high voice only made her look cute. Bulma was taken aback, huffing her cheeks full of air.
"Don't talk to me like that!" She growled, with all the fury a five year old could muster. "Don't you know who I am?!"
"No. But you seem like a brat." Puar said, squinting at the blue haired girl. Who does she think she is, making Lord Yamcha uncomfortable and then yelling in her face?
Yamcha and Dr. Briefs shared a look, unsure of what to do. As it looked like there was about to be a fight, Yamcha quickly cupped Puar's body. She seemed to calm down slightly, but still gave a foul glance at Bulma.
Briefs coughed, grabbing the attention of the other three. "Bulma, what have I told you about being rude to guests." He gave no time for his daughter to answer. "Yamcha, this is my daughter, Bulma. Bulma, this is Yamcha."
"Hi Yamcha." Grumbled Bulma, pouting to the side to avoid the Desert boy's eyes. Yamcha gave a quick wave, blushing a little.
"Aw, aren't you adorable!" Arms wrapped around Yamcha, and he was pulled into a tight hug from Panchy. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Yamcha. I'm Mrs. Briefs, though you can call me Panchy if you'd like." Yamcha froze, his whole body turning a bright red. Puar was about to give the blonde a piece of her mind, but Dr. Briefs beat her to it.
"Honey, Yamcha here is not used to physical contact. You're making him uncomfortable." He said, taking another puff of his cig. Panchy looked at her husband, then back to Yamcha.
"Oh, my apologies!" She said, letting go of the child. The redness slowly faded from his face, a wave of relief washing over him. "But it is nice to meet you. If you need anything, please just let me know." She said kindly, crouching forward so he wouldn't have to look as high up. The boy gave a quick nod, not used to such hospitality.
"Why don't I show you around, Yamcha? Since you'll be staying for dinner, I'll let you use one of our guest rooms to collect yourself. You can even freshen up a little." Briefs said. Yamcha looked around slightly, taking in just how big Capsule Corp was.
"Oh-okay." He muttered. Briefs led him through the building, silently taking a note on how close the boy stuck to him. Anytime another scientist, especially if they were female, passed by, Yamcha would inch a little closer to the doctor. What had this boy been through?
Yamcha looked around the bedroom, letting out a breath that had been resting in the pit of his throat. He didn't like this, not one bit. Not the room, but this whole scenario. He wanted to go back to the desert, to get away from all other humans. All he needed was Puar and his Tommy Gun.
"What are we going to do now, Lord Yamcha?" Puar asked, floating beside him.
"We are leaving." Yamcha muttered, spotting a window. He had to leave, he didn't belong here. In a quick step, Yamcha bursted towards the window, formulating a plan for what he'd do once he left. He needed to find a way out of the city. He didn't need to go to the Desert right away, but he needed to be alone with Puar and his thoughts.
Pushing open the window, a cool wind hit his face. It was… nice. While he had gotten used to the desert heat, that dry, hot air was awful.
But this wind wasn't worth staying. He'd find somewhere else with this nice wind.
"What are you doing?" He heard someone say behind him. Turning around, he saw Bulma in the doorway, holding a doll. Yamcha didn't say anything, rather he just stared back. Bulma started to look mad. "Are you leaving?" No response came.
CRASH!
Before he knew it, Yamcha was tackled to the floor by Bulma. Reflexes kicked in again and the Desert boy threw the girl off of him, reaching for the Tommy Gun. His fingers found the grip and… He stopped. Was he really going to shoot a little girl? For what, keeping him from leaving and possibly getting hurt?
Yamcha let his hand fall and rest to his side. He shifted himself away from the window and shimmied towards the door. Bulma was about to yell at him again, but the boy took off down the hall, leaving his Tommy Gun against a nightstand near the door.
"Hey!" Bulma called, chasing after him. Puar stayed, floating by the window, not sure what to do.
"So leaving is a no go now?" She muttered. Still confused, she floated over to the large bed and laid down. "Oh, this is nice~" She cooed, nuzzling into the soft blankets.
Dr. Briefs had expected his wife to not be completely on board with a guest coming out of nowhere. And as he expected, she wasn't. But to his surprise, she didn't seem angry, but rather concerned.
"Dear, where did you find little Yamcha?" Panchy asked, her usual smile replaced with a small frown.
"In the Desert." Briefs began, his shoulders slumping slightly. "He had tried to rob us with that gun of his, but he had no ammo." Upon seeing his wife tense at the mention of robbery, Briefs continued. "We offered him some food. He seemed surprised, but ate with us anyways. He's a quiet kid, that's for sure."
"But what was he doing in the Desert?" His wife asked, putting the lid back on the pot of stew. "A little kid shouldn't be out there, much less alone."
"I don't know, Sweety. I'm as confused as you are." The Scientist said, twirling the cup of tea in front of him with a spoon. "He said something about not having parents."
"Do you think he's a runaway? Maybe from an orphanage." Panchy asked, taking a seat across from her husband.
"I don't think so. I don't believe that there's an orphanage around that's close enough to the Desert for someone so young to make it there unharmed." He sighed, running through his thoughts again.
"Well, what do you think happened?" Panchy asked.
Briefs let his head hang low for a moment. He had an idea, by it made his blood boil. "I think… I think one of two things happened. Either his parents died somewhere in the desert in some accident, or…" He glared at noone, but his wife could tell he was angry. "His parents didn't want him and left him there to die." The thought made him furious. A parent leaving an innocent child to die.
"O-o-oh." Panchy muttered, wishing she had made herself coffee so she could spit take. "You really think he was left out there?"
"Again, I'm not sure. But it would make sense." Briefs began, not feeling like tea anymore. "It would explain why, if he was left only a couple of days ago, he looked unharmed. If not days, weeks and years. It would still explain his general disdain for other people and his theft attempt. He probably had to steal to survive."
An awkward silence overtook the kitchen, neither spouse wanting to talk about this subject.
"G-get off me!" The couple heard from the living room.
"No! You're not leaving!" Bulma yelled. The Briefs rushed into the living room to see Bulma pinning Yamcha to the ground, the boy's face was burning but he still fought back. Briefs and Panchy were quick to action, grabbing Bulma and prying her off the Desert boy.
"What's going on here?" Dr. Briefs asked sternly, standing in front of Bulma as she sat on the couch.
"He tried to leave!" She yelled, pointing at Yamcha, so was standing quietly in the kitchen as Panchy fetched some tea for him. Briefs looked over his little girl, trying to look for any hint of deception in her. He found none.
"Yamcha?" He asked, looking over to the boy. He had just gotten a cup of tea from Panchy, and he refused to meet the Scientist's eyes. "Did you try to leave?"
"..." Yamcha said nothing, his hair draped over his eyes. His mouth felt dry, and the air that was once cool and pleasant was now heavy with tension. Not meeting the man's gaze, Yamcha gave a small, slow nod.
Dr. Briefs felt his heart sink. He wasn't upset at the boy, but he couldn't help but feel concerned. "May I ask why?" He said, watching the boy with sad eyes.
"..." Yamcha bit his lip. "I-I, I don't know." He lied. He knew why he wanted to leave. But, these people just wanted to be nice and try and help him. He didn't have the heart to tell them. "I-I'm sorry." He squeaked, looking on the verge of tears. He wasn't ready to be in this position. He was so used to only having Puar that talking to others made him confused, anxious, scared. It was overbearing, it was too much. "I."
"Shh, shh. It's okay." Panchy muttered, dropping to her knees and hugging the boy. This time, he didn't tense as much, but he let out a few sniffles. "It's okay." She repeated, stroking his hair.
Bulma looked on from the couch, a bit of guilt stinging at her. Doctor Briefs said nothing, just watching the boy begin to cry with sorrow.
Puar splashed in the bath water, happy to feel the dirt slowly leave her fur. This was great.
Yamcha on the other hand, stayed perfectly still, letting Panchy scrub the dirt off his back. He didn't remember the last time he had a bath, how nice it felt to be clean. He blinked away a stray tear, his puffy cheeks red from crying earlier.
"Isn't this great, Lord Yamcha?" Puar asked, nudging up against him. Her soft fur helped Yamcha relax a bit, the familiar feeling letting his muscles loosen up.
"Yeah." He muttered dryly.
"Alright, Yamcha dear, I'm done." Panchy said, grabbing a towel from under the sink. "Are you ready to get out, or would you like to stay in a bit longer?"
"I'm ready to get out." Yamcha muttered, standing up, making sure to not splash Puar too much. He felt a warm cloth enclose his torso, followed by the towel rustling as Panchy dried him off. After a minute or so, he was completely dry.
"All clean. Come on, let's go get you some warm clothes." The mother said, holding out a hand for Yamcha to take. He did.
Now dressed in some spare pajamas that once belonged to Tights before she went to study with her Aunt, Yamcha sat on his bed. The clothes were a little big… and meant for a girl to wear, but they worked for now.
The boy stared out the window, watching the sun set behind a bunch of tall buildings. It must be around six, as Spring had just set in. The days would only get longer.
A knock at the door drew his attention from the window. Bulma stood there again, looking conflicted. She carried herself stiffly, but her eyes looked a little annoyed.
"Mom wanted to let you know that dinner was ready." She said, not meeting his gaze. "So… come and eat, or what ever."
MUNCH CHOMP GOBBLE!
The Briefs family looked on in amazement as Yamcha tore into his bowl of stew, devouring it with ease. This had been his third bowl. Panchy was smiling, happy that the boy found her cooking so great. Dr. Briefs took mental notes about the boy suffering from potential malnutrition before. Bulma. Bulma was just trying not to be too disgusted with the boy's lack of manners. Puar said nothing, preferring to nibble on her small plate of beef instead.
Yamcha put down the now empty bowl, breathing heavily. "Thank you." He said, before noticing that all eyes were on him again. He shrunk back into this seat, averting his eyes.
"I should thank you, Yamcha dear." Panchy began, grabbing the boy's bowl to put in the sink. "No One's ever been that happy to eat my cooking." She chuckled, moving back over to the table and sitting down. "If you ever want me to make you something, just let me know." Yamcha gave a quick nod, the promise of such good food overshadowing the nervousness he was feeling.
Bulma scowled, a hint of jealousy starting to boil in her stomach. This kid was taking all the attention! She wanted to glare at him, but with her parents present, that idea was out the window. Deciding that looking around was a better use of her energy, she noticed the cloak. It was now six thirty. Perking up, Bulma beamed.
"Thank you for dinner, Mommy!" She said, hopping down from her chair and running out of the kitchen. It was time for cartoons!
Yamcha watched her leave, confused at the sudden shift in her mood. Dr. Briefs chuckled, looking at the entrance to the living room.
"Guess it's time for her shows." He smiled. "Why don't you go watch them with her, Yamcha?"
"Huh?" The boy froze, nervousness washing over him. He didn't like being near Bulma, she made him nervous. Stupid girls! He'd much rather follow Dr. Briefs or Panchy around, they were far more interesting.
...But not wanting to be rude, Yamcha nodded, getting up and making his way to the Living room. Bulma sat on the rug in front of the TV, her eyes glued to the screen. Not wanting to go near her, Yamcha settled for sitting on the couch.
He didn't pay much attention to the cartoon, it really wasn't interesting. Instead, his thoughts lingered back to the desert. He wanted to go home, he didn't want to be here. He needed to get back, they might be there to get him.
A knot formed in his stomach as he thought about the sands that he called home. What if they were there, looking for him, ready to bring him home? His heart sank at the thought. He really had to leave.
But a part of him chastised himself for wanting to leave. He wanted to go back, but he didn't as well. He wanted to feel the sand under his feet, the rush of the wind in his hair. But… did he really believe they would come back? It's been two years.
The memory of his parents were blurry from age. He remembered the basic structure of them, but the details just weren't there. He wished Puar was here to talk to, but the cat had wanted to eat some more.
"What's wrong with you?" Bulma's voice pulled him from his inner turmoil. She stared at him with annoyance. "Stop staring at me, weirdo." Yamcha looked at her, tilting his head slightly as the dots connected.
He said nothing, but waved a sorry in her direction. Bulma seemed to accept it, returning her attention back to her shows.
Yamcha got up from the couch, heading for the front door. Bulma called out for him, but he ignored it. Before the blue haired child could respond, the boy was out the front door.
"Not again." Bulma groaned, springing up and giving chase. Barrelling out the door, Bulma scanned the yard for the black haired weirdo. "Where did he go?" She muttered, half tempted to leave the yard to look. She quickly discarded the idea, knowing how angry her parents would get.
Eventually, at the point where she had almost given up, Bulma found her family's guest. He was sitting under a tree, watching the moon. Moonlight shines off his black hair, and she blushed.
Being as quiet as possible, she stalked up behind the boy, fully intent on telling him off for being so stupid.
"Do you think my they're waiting for me out there?" Yamcha said, not shifting his body in the slightest. Bulma did a double take, surprised to have been found out so quickly.
"Who are they?" She asked, taking a seat next to the boy. He didn't seem tense like before, but she could still notice a faint blush on his cheeks.
"My Mom and Dad." Yamcha said. "Do you think they're out there somewhere, looking for me?" He turned to look at Bulma, observing her reaction.
Her nose wrinkled a little as she pondered the question. "I don't know. Maybe?" She said, feeling defeated. She was smart for her age, but she was still five. She wasn't ready for questions as important as this. "When was the last time you saw them?"
"About two years ago, almost three." Yamcha said. Bulma's jaw dropped.
"Three years!?" She yelled, before Yamcha shushed her. Giving a quick 'sorry', she found her composure. "That's a really long time."
"Yeah, it is." The Desert child said quietly. "But they would still want me right?"
"I-I." Bulma began, not knowing what to say. A shot of anger burned at her stomach. "Those, those buttheads."
"Huh?" Yamcha said, looking at her again. She stood up, balling her fists.
"They left you for three years." She spat, gritting her teeth. "Those low life-"
"Hey! Those are my parents!" Yamcha barked, standing up to meet her eye level.
"And? They left you for almost your whole life! Why would you want them to look for you?" Bulma said.
Yamcha was quiet, taking in what the girl had said. "..." His head fell. Bulma sank back a little, regret replacing her frustration. "I guess you're right." Yamcha fell onto his rear. "What do I do then?"
"What?" Bulma asked.
"Where do I go then?" Yamcha said, looking back up at the girl. "What do I do?"
Bulma was quiet. She didn't know. For Kami's sake, she was five! "You, you can stay with us!" She blurted out the first idea that came to her. "I think, anyway. It's my parent's call." She said, scratching the back of her neck.
Yamcha stayed silent, but nodded his acknowledgement. He didn't want to accept the idea that his parents didn't want him, and a big part of him didn't. After all, all parents loved their children more than the world… right?
"Can, can you not tell your parents about this talk?" He asked. He didn't want to make them worry about him more, he could tell they already did. Guess living in the Desert makes you more receptive to the small things.
Bulma nodded, extending out her hand. "I won't. As long as you stop being a stick in the mud, it will be between us." She said, balling her fist, save for her pinky. "Pinky promise." Yamcha looked at her hand confused. The little girl deadpanned. "This means that we will never break our promise." She explained.
"Oh, okay." Yamcha mumbled. He poked out his pinky and Bulma wrapped her pinky around his.
Yamcha didn't really know what to say after that, but for the first time in a while, he felt himself smile.