"The Fusion technique can only be performed by two individuals whose body types and power levels are nearly identical..."
As Yamiru explained to the two boys, he and Goku demonstrated the fusion dance.
'Come to think of it, how did Vegeta and Goku fuse in the original timeline? Their builds weren't that similar...' Yamiru mused privately.
Unlike Piccolo in the manga/anime—who would've cringed at the silly dance—Goku was fascinated. The man who'd mastered the Kamehameha at a glance, whose talent perhaps only lost to Majin Buu's instant teleportation grasp, absorbed the fusion steps effortlessly after just one demonstration.
"...That's the gist of it."
Yamiru and Goku pressed their index fingers together, completing the demonstration for Gohan and Denim.
They didn't actually fuse, of course. Successful fusion required synchronizing their ki to near-perfect harmony—something they hadn't bothered with for this demo.
"Uh... got it..." Gohan and Denim stared blankly, sweatdropping at the absurd choreography.
But if their dads could do it, who were they to refuse?
Goku grinned. "First, power up to your max!"
The boys exchanged glances. Childhood rivals (despite Denim' laziness—why train at all if not to one-up his friend?), they roared simultaneously:
"Haa!"
Gohan's hair spiked gold, his aura erupting in a blazing corona.
"About 10% weaker than his first Super Saiyan breakthrough," Yamiru noted as the wind whipped his hair.
"Still impressive," Goku laughed.
Beside Gohan, Denim' body surged with white energy, his black locks flowing like ink, golden eyes blazing brighter.
"His ki signature's similar to yours—hard to distinguish," Goku observed.
Yamiru nodded. "Gohan inherited your S-Cells. Denim got my God cells."
"But how do we match our power levels?" Gohan (now blonde and green-eyed) groaned, pointing at his partner.
Denim sighed. "I'll adjust mine to yours."
After a pause, Gohan asked innocently, "Done yet?"
"..." Denim glared. "...Lower yours a bit."
"Oh." As Gohan dialed back, he added cheerfully, "Just a little?"
Denim kicked at him. Gohan dodged, laughing.
---
Outside the training room, Bulma and Tights snacked on fruit while watching through one-way glass.
When the boys finally synced their ki, the dance began...
Both were prodigies. Both had excellent teachers—especially Yamiru, who'd drilled them separately first to avoid wasting time on failed fusions ('No chubby or skeletal mishaps this round').
"Fu—"
They moved in unison.
"—sion! HA!"
SNAP! Four small fingers met. Blinding light flooded the room, coalescing into a figure their size.
"..."
Bulma and Tights froze, fruit forgotten, as they stepped inside.
Yamiru turned, smiling. "Thoughts?"
Tights gripped his arm. "They just..."
Bulma approached the fusion—a teen with wild violet hair and golden eyes—and poked his head. "So you're...?"
The fusion nearly swatted her hand away before his dual personalities vetoed the impulse.
"I'm neither Denim nor Gohan," he declared, hands on hips, glaring at Yamiru and Goku. "I'm the one who'll defeat you!"
In a flash, he vanished from Bulma's reach and slammed into Goku.
CLANG! Goku's blocking arm numbed from the impact.
"Damn, kid!" he laughed, genuinely shocked. "You're strong!"
"He's matching your Super Saiyan strength without even transforming..." Yamiru mused, stroking his chin.
The fusion grinned cockily. Goku, still blocking, smiled back—then his eyes sharpened. Emerald irises blazed gold as his hair spiked upward like golden flames, electricity crackling around him.
Dehan yelped, backpedaling midair. With a shout, his hair turned gold, eyes gleaming, fusion vest and boots shimmering white. Confidence restored, he smirked and blitzed toward Goku in a platinum streak.
"Not bad!" Goku raised his arms—
—only for a giant hand to slam Dehan face-first into the floor.
Yamiru pinned the squirming fusion with one palm. "Alright, hotshot. You forgot to introduce yourself."
Thwap-thwap-thwap! Tiny hands slapped the tiles in protest until Yamiru relented.
Dehan scrambled up, then froze. Goku (Dad?!) now stood in Super Saiyan God form—crimson hair, ruby eyes. The fusion yeeted himself backward to Bulma's side, grabbing her hand to pat his own head.
Bulma & Tights: "..."
Reverting to violet hair, Dehan pretended nothing happened. His voice—a blend of Gohan and Denim—chimed: "Call me Dehan~"
---
Late April – Early May
As the 26th World Martial Arts Tournament approached...
Across the globe, fighters honed their skills:
- The Lookout: Piccolo clashed with Bardock; Gine babysat Tonapp while coaching Chi-Chi.
- Wilderness: Vegeta ignored rampaging dinosaurs as four-year-old Temada licked her lips at the towering reptiles.
- Tundra: Shirtless Tien and Chiaotzu trekked, pausing to touch the barren earth.
- Waterfall: Yamcha's silhouette blurred behind the torrent, feral as a wolf.
- Kame House: Krillin's Kamehameha parted the sea.
- West City: Yamiru defended against Dehan's onslaught until—POP!—the fusion split into Gohan (gold) and Denim (white), their simultaneous strikes caught in Yamiru's palms.
Ripples from their battle danced across the lake. Onshore, Bulma and Tights flipped through magazines. Above the water, Goku meditated midair, black hair fluttering—flickers of crimson-gold ki dancing at his edges.
---
THWACK! A dainty fist punched a sandbag.
The black-haired girl wiped her brow, energized after her workout.
"Daddy," she called, finding her father lounging with a fashion magazine. "The tournament's today. You promised to take me."