Translation
Fanfic: Abschied
round pancake on the horizon.It was one of those nights that were very bright, lit by the light of the stars and the moon. Yamcha liked these nights, he loved to exercise on such nights. And there were steps that led him there too. To a lonely, deserted place in the desert, far away from the little house where he could train in peace.
He did that, took one last look at the moon and began to concentrate his strength. He trained long and hard, so that in the end large beads of sweat adorned his body. But he didn't do it for himself or to fight the cyborg Trunks had announced. He did it for himself and his feelings in order to be at peace with everyone. And he enjoyed the feeling of the mild wind that brushed his hair, this strong desire to let all his strength go, this feeling to just fight with body and soul. Again and again he saw Bulma standing in front of him, but he ignored her. That gave him strength, strength enough to make his Kame-Hame-Ha appear even stronger, as strong as he had never conjured it up before.
Only when the sun began its everyday path does it stop. He sank to his knees, breathing heavily, sweat dripping at a steady pace onto the floor. His combat suit stuck to his body and he was exhausted like never before. And yet he felt free, free from all the worries that had plagued him the day before. Smiling, he stood up and looked east, straight into the red of the sun. It was a beautiful, almost majestic sight that presented itself to him, just as it had on the previous evening. But this time he enjoyed it, because this time he had no worries that kept him from ignoring such a sight. His worries were washed away with all the sweat he let pour from him all night. Yamcha took a deep breath, enjoying the wind blowing through his clothes and tingling his skin. There are moments, he told himself, when you have to be able to let go. Bulma did that and so would he. Of his own free will, not because he had no other choice.He could try to fight, maybe he could even win. But he didn't want that, he didn't want to go through something like the night again. Not with the same woman.
"Take care, Bulma!" he whispered towards the sun as he turned around and went back to the pool, back to her house of memories, which also contained memories of a certain woman with turquoise hair. But that was fine with him. Memories were beautiful, they prevented us from forgetting. And he wouldn't do that, because who would like to be forgotten?
He did that, took one last look at the moon and began to concentrate his strength. He trained long and hard, so that in the end large beads of sweat adorned his body. But he didn't do it for himself or to fight the cyborg Trunks had announced. He did it for himself and his feelings in order to be at peace with everyone. And he enjoyed the feeling of the mild wind that brushed his hair, this strong desire to let all his strength go, this feeling to just fight with body and soul. Again and again he saw Bulma standing in front of him, but he ignored her. That gave him strength, strength enough to make his Kame-Hame-Ha appear even stronger, as strong as he had never conjured it up before.
Only when the sun began its everyday path does it stop. He sank to his knees, breathing heavily, sweat dripping at a steady pace onto the floor. His combat suit stuck to his body and he was exhausted like never before. And yet he felt free, free from all the worries that had plagued him the day before. Smiling, he stood up and looked east, straight into the red of the sun. It was a beautiful, almost majestic sight that presented itself to him, just as it had on the previous evening. But this time he enjoyed it, because this time he had no worries that kept him from ignoring such a sight. His worries were washed away with all the sweat he let pour from him all night. Yamcha took a deep breath, enjoying the wind blowing through his clothes and tingling his skin. There are moments, he told himself, when you have to be able to let go. Bulma did that and so would he. Of his own free will, not because he had no other choice.He could try to fight, maybe he could even win. But he didn't want that, he didn't want to go through something like the night again. Not with the same woman.
"Take care, Bulma!" he whispered towards the sun as he turned around and went back to the pool, back to her house of memories, which also contained memories of a certain woman with turquoise hair. But that was fine with him. Memories were beautiful, they prevented us from forgetting. And he wouldn't do that, because who would like to be forgotten?