His was the desert. An endless expanse of wasteland northeast of Frypan Mountain. It was a difficult life, living only off of the things he could steal off of unlucky travelers. Still, it was his territory. He was the only person in the area for miles. He liked it like that.

Kouson was a fairly small town to the east of the desert. It had a few thousand residents, and lived off of trade with various other ports. It was a harsh town, unlivable for anyone who wasn't used to hard living.

Sometimes travelers would find themselves through the northern mountain pass and find themselves in the city of Kouson. Most of the time, however, no one wanted to risk travel through the mountains or the deserts. So the citizens of Kouson lived for generations, seldom seeing outsiders move in, or out.

Hitomaru worked the docks like all of his friends, and he married his love, Yasashina, at a young age. They had rough lives, but they loved one another and lived well, if frugally. Then came the day Yasashina gave birth.

Everything went wrong from the moment it all started. The birth went wrong in every way. The doctors weren't sure they would be able to save the baby or Yasashina. The baby survived, but the mother did.

Hitomaru sat alone in the waiting room, his eyes gazing on the floor. He was only twenty-one, and he was saddled with a baby. He didn't know how to raise a child. Still, he'd take care of his boy the best he could. He wouldn't let his child, nor his wife, down. Little Yamcha would have a dad, Hitomaru would make sure of that.

Seven Years Later

"I'm going to go see Watarimaro, dad." Yamcha said, eyes narrowed.

"Why?" Hitomaru asked, glaring at his young son.

"He's gonna teach me how to fight, how to read, how to do math." He said. "We don't have a proper school here, why not let me learn?"

"Let me tell, you, boy. Reading and math aren't going to help you on those docks. There's nothing you can learn to help you on those docks. Still, if you wanna waste your time, go ahead."

"What if I don't want to work on the docks? What if I want to do something else?"

Hitomaru couldn't help but laugh. "Come on, boy, you know that's not going to happen. There's nothing else to do in this town."

"Then I'm going to leave one day." Yamcha said.

"Through the mountain pass? Into the desert? Then where? We're hundreds of miles from civilization, kid. Face it, you were born here, you're going to die here."

"You're wrong. I just hope I can prove it to you!" Yamcha shouted, slamming the door as he stomped out.

"I hope you can too, kid." Hitomaru said to the closing door. "I hope you can too."

Yamcha sighed as he walked towards Watarimaro's house. His dad gave up on a life outside of Kouson, why should he? He was going to leave the tiny dust bowl and see the world.

Old man Watarimaro sat on his front step like he usually did. His crutch sat beside him, ready at a moment's notice. He was one of the few people in the village with any real education. He was a tutor to the local boys and girls who wanted to learn more than how to be a simple dock worker. Some of the parents weren't happy with his influence, but most figured a little learning was harmless.

"Ah, Yamcha!" Watarimaro said with a smile. "What brings you here today?"

"I was wondering if you could tell me about your time at the World Martial Arts Tournament.

Watarimaro grinned. "Have a seat, then. I'll tell you about my last trip. That sound good?" Yamcha nodded.

"I was young and foolish. I was only twenty years old and the star of my school. In the preliminaries I was untouched. I couldn't be stopped by anyone. So, when I got to the semi-finals, I assumed I'd get through and win the tournament for a second time. Then I saw my opponent."

"He was a little old man in sunglasses with blue hair. He wore the robes of the Crane school. I didn't know it at the time, but I was gazing on Master Shen of the Crane school. He had trained personally with the legendary Mutaito nearly two hundred years before. I didn't know any of this, of course, I just saw a small old man."

"The fight lasted less than thirty seconds. I charged at him as fast as I could, ready to knock him down. He sidestepped me effortlessly and struck a pressure point here." With that, Watarimaro pointed to his right shoulder. "My shoulder felt like he shattered it. I landed and tumbled towards the end of the ring. I managed to pull myself back to my feet and jumped into the air to land a flying kick."

Watarimaro sighed and looked down. "Shen caught my foot in mid air and slammed his palm right into the back of my knee. He completely shattered my thighbone. The damage never quite healed right, and I was forced to retire from fighting. Still, I didn't leave. I wanted to see the finals."

"Shen's opponent was a man called Roshi. He was the Master of the Turtle School. They were the two finalists. I can say without lying that I was terrified of both men. They moved with strength and speed that was inhuman. You could hear the blows struck from anywhere on the island."

Yamcha's eyes went wide. Watarimaro had been, as far as Yamcha knew, a great fighter. How powerful were this Shen and Roshi if they were capable of fighting like that?

"Shen aimed his finger at Roshi and began speaking. I saw him begin to glow as light gathered at the tip of his finger. I don't know why, but Roshi threw his coat off. His whole body bulged with muscle as he began shouting. I'll never forget what he said, what he did. His whole body glowed with a bright blue light as he chanted Kamehameha. Then Shen let go, and Rosh let go. Two beams of light collided in mid-air. The sound nearly deafened me. The stone blocks beneath their feet cracked, cracked because of what they were doing. I could barely see what was happening through the light.

When the light faded, Shen was laying outside the ring, groaning in pain. Roshi had blasted a hole in the side of the arena he was facing. No one had been standing on that side. He looked down at his hands, and looked terrified. It was as if he didn't expect the attack to have such a powerful effect. He took his prize money, and as far as I can tell, never participated in the world tournament again."

"Do you think he's still alive? Roshi I mean..."

"I doubt it..." Watarimaro said. "That was a little over forty years ago. Still, the rumor was that he'd trained with a master named Mutaito. Mutaito died nearly three hundred years ago. Maybe those two, Shen and Roshi, were and are immortal. He could still be out there for all I know."

Yamcha nodded. He wondered why Roshi never fought in the Tournament again. Did he go home and die, content that he truly was the strongest? Did he fear the power he could wield and decided never to fight again? Or did he simply retire because there were no more foes to challenge him. Yamcha decided that if he ever got the chance, he would find the old Master and ask him to his face.

Six Months Later

Yamcha struggled not to cry. His father had gotten drunk down by the docks. Someone got angry, someone threw a punch. Someone pulled a knife. His father bled out on the floor while his friends desperately searched for someone with the training to save his life. Hitomaru died a stupid, pointless death. Yamcha was alone and he knew that it was how life went. Life was cruel, unfair, and unjust. He resolved, once and for all that one day he'd leave town and never come back.