The scene before him suddenly changed. The vast and desolate wasteland, once isolated from civilization, transformed into a city—one that was relatively prosperous yet uniquely distinct.
Yamcha found himself in a narrow alleyway between two buildings, a gathering place for small-time thugs and biker gangs. No one paid attention to this spot, and even if someone did, they wouldn't dwell on it for long.
He stepped out of the alley, observing the bustling streets filled with people, the rising and falling fountain in the distance, and the old-fashioned cars on the road—vehicles that couldn't fly. A strange feeling welled up inside him.
He had traveled through worlds again. Once more, he had broken through the "wall" and entered another universe.
"What an intoxicatingly mysterious ability."
Closing his eyes, Yamcha took a deep breath, feeling the distinct atmosphere of this new world, sensing how it differed from the one before.
morning～morning～morning～morning～morning～JO～ayo, good morning
Good morning
This is Morioh Town RADIO
A familiar yet foreign tune played in his ears, pulling him back to reality. As he took in the scene before him and listened to the music, a smile formed on his lips. His outdated attire, unlike modern fashion, drew glances from passersby. But with the morning rush in full swing, no one had the time to interfere, and no commotion ensued.
This was Yamcha's new destination—a place full of legends.
Morioh Town.
This was the world of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure.
"What's the first thing to do upon arriving in another world?"
The question arose in Yamcha's mind.
What should he do?
First and foremost—confirm whether he was in danger, find a way to blend into this world, avoid drawing attention, and, most importantly, ensure that neither the people nor the world itself noticed his presence.
If Yamcha were to write a handbook for interdimensional travelers, this rule would be at the very top.
There was no way to know if the world he had entered would reject him. In his understanding, some worlds even possessed their own awareness—Gaia consciousness, so to speak.
As the sun set and night fell silently, darkness consumed everything, staining the world in its hues. Only light could drive away the shadows.
In a secluded alley of Morioh Town, a man stood beneath a streetlamp, his face partially hidden by a cap and mask. The dim light cast a flickering shadow, making him resemble a shady contact from a crime film, seemingly engaged in some illicit trade.
And that was precisely the case.
Soft footsteps echoed as another man, slightly shorter but dressed similarly, approached from the opposite side of the street.
It was Yamcha. He, too, concealed his face with a mask and cap.
As they passed each other, the first man swiftly slipped something into Yamcha's pocket.
"Your item."
The man's voice was cold and indifferent.
Yamcha barely nodded before they parted ways.
No unnecessary movements. No extra words. Everything was smooth, seamless.
Once he had exited the alley, Yamcha retrieved the item from his pocket.
It was a key, with a numbered tag attached.
He weighed it lightly in his hand before tucking it back into his pocket. Before long, he disappeared into the midnight streets.
At Morioh Station, Yamcha stood before locker 996, inserted the key, and naturally retrieved its contents—a tightly wrapped cloth bundle.
After feeling its weight, he frowned slightly.
"There's less than I expected."
But he didn't linger. He knew that managing to sell his goods at all was already fortunate.
People have their ways, monks have their paths, and even desert bandits like Yamcha had their own underground networks.
Inside the bundle were money and identification documents—the two things he needed most. Whether real or fake, they at least provided him with an identity.
Unlike the world of Dragon Ball, where identities were often overlooked, modern societies placed great importance on documents. Money, too, was essential—Yamcha couldn't exactly resort to desert banditry in Morioh Town.
As for the goods he had sold... what was the most common commodity in the Dragon Ball world?
The answer—weapons.
While certain materials might be hard to come by in Dragon Ball, firearms were ridiculously easy to obtain. Even an average bandit could get their hands on guns, machine guns, or even rocket launchers.
You could never predict how heavily armed someone might be.
"Such a wholesome and peaceful world, the Dragon Ball universe."
Not to mention, weapons there were dirt cheap—thanks to the Black Ribbon Army, the largest arms supplier on Earth in that world.
A force so powerful that it could rival the legitimate military of the Dog King's nation.
Unfortunately, Morioh Town was relatively peaceful, meaning the resale price wasn't as high. Yamcha didn't make as much money as he had hoped.
But it was enough.
Aside from weapons, he had a couple of old model Capsule Corporation capsules—one for storing items and another containing an outdated jet bike.
However, he wasn't planning to sell them just yet.
Smuggling weapons might make him a dangerous figure, but revealing advanced technology from another world? That would be far riskier. Unless absolutely necessary, he had no intention of selling the capsules.
And if he did, it would be right before he left—one final big deal.
For now, this bundle was his entire fortune.
While "breaking the fourth wall" came naturally to him, his inexperience with it caused him to arrive earlier than expected.
Second question:
After confirming his safety, what was the second thing to do after crossing worlds?
Determine the timeline.
Before making any moves, knowing the timeline was crucial. This information would guide all future decisions and actions.
Intelligence was always the most important resource.
Three days ago, Yamcha had roughly confirmed the current timeline. During this period, he had used the local underground networks to sell weapons multiple times.
Not only had he swapped his outfit for modern clothing to blend in, but he had also rented an apartment and bought some daily necessities. Tonight was his final transaction.
Weapons were highly regulated outside of Dragon Ball, making repeated sales too risky. He didn't want to attract unwanted attention—it would be troublesome.
And Yamcha hated trouble.
Now, there was only one thing left to do.
Wait.
Wait for the perfect moment to reveal himself.
Because timing was everything.
(End of Chapter)