Yamcha didn't yell.
He stepped closer, hand hovering casually, but dangerously, over his sword hilt.
"Big mouth for a little girl, sneaking up on folks out here is a good way to get dead. My sword almost answered before I did."
Yamcha's gaze dropped to the golden symbol on her chest.
The gears turned behind his eyes.
"Hold up... That crest. That's the Ox."
He looked from her uniform to the castle looming in the distance.
The pieces clicked.
A cruel, opportunistic smirk twisted his face.
"The Ox King hates people. He doesn't take students, which means you aren't a guard. You're family. The daughter."
Puar gasped, hiding behind Yamcha's leg.
"The Princess? Yamcha, watch out, she might be dangerous!"
"Dangerous?" Yamcha laughed.
He looked Chi-Chi up and down, unimpressed.
"She's a brat playing dress-up in her daddy's dojo. This is perfect."
He cracked his neck
CRACK
"I was sweating over how to get past the old monster up there. But now? I've got a ticket in."
He pointed a finger at Chi-Chi.
"Here's the deal, Princess. I'm gonna rough you up, drag you up that hill, and trade you for the Dragon Ball. If you're lucky, I won't break anything permanent."
Chi-Chi's expression didn't ripple.
She shifted her weight, locking into a deeper stance.
"You think the only thing to fear on this mountain is my father?"
"I know it is."
Yamcha dropped into a crouch, fingers curling into claws. Wolf Fang style.
"Now come here and take your medicine like a good little hostage."
He lunged, his fingers curled into claws, aiming to snatch her collar and bury her face in the dirt.
It was fast.
Fast enough to catch anyone normal.
"Gotcha!"
Yamcha shouted, hand snapping shut.
Snap.
Nothing but air.
Yamcha's eyes went wide.
His momentum betrayed him, throwing him forward.
He nearly ate the ground, skidding to a clumsy halt and whipping his head around.
"What the—?"
Gone.
No footsteps. No dust trail. It was like she'd just evaporated.
"Puar! Where is she?!" Yamcha yelled, scanning the horizon, sure she'd run for it.
"Yamcha! Behind you! Look out!" Puar screamed from above.
Yamcha spun, guard up. Empty air.
He looked left.
Right.
"I'm not a ghost, you know."
Yamcha froze.
The voice hadn't come from the distance. It was right in his ear.
Then, a light tap on his shoulder.
Tap.
Tap.
Slowly, stiff as a board, Yamcha turned his head.
Chi-Chi was standing right there.
Too close.
She wasn't even looking at him; she was casually picking a speck of dirt from under a fingernail, as if his attack hadn't even registered as a threat.
"You're wide open. If I was an assassin, you'd be dead already." she said, sounding bored.
Yamcha scrambled back to put ten feet between them.
His face wasn't just angry; it was burning.
Humiliation twisted his gut.
"You... you think this is a game? You mocking me?"
Chi-Chi sighed.
She looked at him with the tired disappointment of someone who expected better.
"I didn't think it was a game. I thought it was training." She let her arms drop, leaving her chest completely undefined.
"I thought you were a wolf. Turns out you're just a puppy barking at the moon."
That did it.
A vein bulged on Yamcha's forehead.
He didn't scream a speech about who he was.
He just growled, a low, animal sound.
The air around him shimmered, heat rising from his skin.
He dropped into a crouch, fingers hooking into claws, body coiling tight.
"Wolf... Fang... FIST!"
He exploded forward.
Yamcha became a smear of motion.
He wasn't just punching; he was tearing.
A hurricane of strikes aimed for the throat, the eyes, the heart.
The wind screamed with the sheer violence of it.
He roared, driving a clawed hand straight for her neck.
Dink.
The strike stopped dead.
He threw a left hook.
Flick.
He threw a vicious chop.
Stop.
He unleashed a storm, twelve strikes in a second, enough to shred a boulder.
Ping.
Ping.
Ping.
Ping.
Chi-Chi hadn't moved her feet.
She hadn't even raised her arm.
Her left hand was still tucked behind her back.
Only her right index finger moved. It darted out, meeting Yamcha's full-power fury and flicking the strike away like it was a mosquito.
Yamcha roared, pouring every ounce of sweat and rage into the assault, his arms burning.
But against her finger, his deadliest technique felt like a breeze against a mountain.
She caught his wrist on the tip of her nail, stopping him cold.
Yamcha scrambled back, boots skidding over the stone as he tried to put air between him and Chi-Chi.
His chest heaved, sweat stinging his eyes.
Chi-Chi hadn't even broken a sweat.
"No way..." Puar squeaked, paws over his mouth.
"Yamcha! She stopped it! With one finger! That's not... it's not possible!"
Yamcha stared at his hands.
They were shaking.
The fear finally sank in.
"What are you? Nobody blocks that. Nobody! I can shred rock with those strikes. How did you do that without even moving?"
Chi-Chi straightened, brushing a speck of nothing off her shoulder. She didn't look angry; she looked sorry for him.
"You've never heard of Ki?"
"Ki?" Yamcha blinked.
"What is that, some kind of trick? A gadget?"
"It's not a trick. It's spirit." Chi-Chi said. She didn't lecture; she showed him. She tightened her fist, and the air around it didn't just shimmer, it warped, like a heat haze on a road.
"I can make my finger harder than any steel you've ever seen. But you..."
She looked him dead in the eye, her gaze chilling.
"...You're just a thug swinging his arms. You're not a martial artist. You're just a bully who hasn't been hit back yet."
"Shut up!" Yamcha yelled, his face turning a dark, humiliated red.
"You don't get to look down on m—"
Chi-Chi didn't let him finish.
She didn't even move from her spot.
She just planted her heels and snapped a punch into the empty air, meters away from him.
BOOM.
The air itself cracked like a whip.
Yamcha started to sneer.
"You mis—"
THWACK!
An invisible hammer of compressed air slammed into his forehead.
His head snapped back, eyes rolling into his skull before he could even register the pain.
Yamcha folded.
No grace, no final words.
He just hit the ground like a sack of bricks, his face rebounding off the hard earth.