The roar of the stadium still echoed behind them as Goten and Trunks stepped out of the arena corridor and into the open air beyond the stands.
The sunlight felt different here—quieter, stripped of spectacle. No cheers followed them. No chanting of names.
Just space to breathe.
Waiting not far from the exit were familiar figures.
Goku stood at the front, hands behind his head, wearing that easy smile of his—but it wasn't careless this time. There was thought behind it. Reflection.
Goten slowed when he saw him.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Goku stepped forward.
"You did good out there," he said simply.
Goten blinked. "Good?"
Goku nodded, eyes steady. "Yeah. Not because you scared him. Not because you made him confess." His smile softened. "Because you fixed something we left broken."
Goten tilted his head slightly, confused. "Really?"
Goku exhaled and looked past him for a moment, toward the stadium they had just left behind.
"When you talked about what could've happened… I couldn't stop thinking about it," Goku said. "If something like that ever came true—if people trusted the wrong person and stayed instead of running… then we wouldn't just be watching from the sidelines."
He looked back at his son.
"We'd be responsible too. Because we knew the truth… and still stayed quiet."
Goten scratched the back of his head, suddenly uncomfortable with the weight being placed on him.
"I didn't really think that far," he admitted. "I was just angry. He took credit for something that wasn't his. I just wanted him to face that."
Goku smiled wider then, proud in a way he didn't bother hiding.
"That's exactly why it mattered," he said. "You didn't plan it. You didn't calculate it. You just acted honestly."
He reached out and placed a hand on Goten's head, ruffling his hair.
"I'm proud of you."
Goten's shoulders relaxed. "Thanks, Dad."
Krillin stepped in from the side, grinning, though there was still a trace of unease in his eyes.
"Man," he said, "I've never seen Mr. Satan look like that before. I thought he was going to cry right there on the stage."
"Yeah," Yamcha muttered. "That was… something."
Behind them, Piccolo said nothing—only nodded once, arms crossed, gaze unreadable. But the acknowledgment was there.
A few steps away, Gohan stood with Videl.
She hadn't spoken since leaving the arena.
Her hands were clenched together in front of her, fingers tight enough that her knuckles had gone pale. Her eyes weren't fixed on anyone in particular—just unfocused, caught somewhere between memory and realization.
Gohan noticed.
"Videl…" he said gently.
She inhaled, then bowed her head toward the group.
"I'm sorry," she said. "For everything my father did."
Everyone turned toward her.
Goku waved a hand quickly. "Hey, don't worry about that."
Krillin nodded. "Yeah. You're not responsible for his mistakes."
Goku's expression turned more serious—not harsh, just honest.
"The problem was never fame," he said. "It was the risk. Lies like that don't stay harmless forever."
Videl swallowed and nodded. "I understand."
She didn't argue. Didn't defend. Because now, standing among them—among people who lived simply, trained quietly, and never once demanded praise—she finally saw the contrast clearly.
Her father had built a fortune.
These people had built restraint.
And Gohan—who could have claimed the world—stood beside her with nothing but quiet dignity.
"I'll… talk to him," she said softly. "When he's ready."
Gohan gave her a small nod of support.
The moment passed.
Goten shifted his weight and glanced toward the sky.
"Dad," he said, "I'm going to head home for a bit."
Goku raised an eyebrow. "Already?"
"Yeah. I'll come back later—when you guys start fighting each other."
Goku chuckled. "Alright. Don't take too long."
Goten turned to Trunks. "You coming?"
Trunks shook his head, a familiar mischievous grin forming. "Nah. I've got something else to do."
Krillin leaned in suspiciously. "Something else?"
Trunks smirked. "You'll see."
Goten laughed once. "Figures."
He stepped back, lifted into the air, and hovered briefly.
"See you later," he said.
Then he was gone—shooting upward, a streak of motion disappearing into the blue.
No one noticed at first how final that departure felt.
Chi-Chi accepted the prize money without comment when Goten returned home briefly. He handed it to her quietly, no pride, no ceremony.
She eyed him carefully. "You didn't get hurt?"
"Nope."
"Hmph." She crossed her arms. "Good. Go eat something before you disappear again."
Goten smiled, grabbed a bite, and vanished into the space behind the house—toward a door only a few people in the world could even sense.
The Hyperbolic Time Chamber.
The moment he stepped inside, the world changed.
White.
Endless.
Silent.
Goten exhaled.
"…Summon Goku."
The air rippled.
A figure formed.
Same face.
Same posture.
But heavier.
Denser. Sharper.
The presence alone pressed against the space like a storm waiting to break.
Goten's eyes gleamed.
"Let's start."
Far away, unaware of where the youngest Saiyan had gone—
the world began to move toward catastrophe.
And no one realized yet just how late Goten would be returning.
The tournament grounds had not yet settled.
Even after Goten and Trunks vanished into the sky, something lingered—an unease that had nothing to do with the crowd or unfinished matches. It was subtle. Easy to miss.
But the fighters felt it.
Goku was the first to notice the shift. His relaxed posture straightened, smile fading just a little as his eyes narrowed.
"…Huh," he murmured.
Vegeta felt it a heartbeat later. His jaw tightened, arms crossing more firmly over his chest.
"Tch. Someone's here."
The air beside them bent—not violently, not loudly. Reality itself seemed to step aside.
Two figures emerged.
One was small, slight, with pale blue skin and white hair standing upward like a frozen flame. His eyes carried an ancient tension, the kind that never truly rested.
Beside him stood a taller attendant, lavender-skinned, posture perfect, hands folded behind his back.
The pressure they brought wasn't overwhelming.
It was authoritative.
Piccolo stiffened instantly. "…A god."
The smaller figure inclined his head stiffly. "I am Shin," he said. "The Supreme Kai."
The words rippled through the group.
Krillin swallowed hard. "S-Supreme… Kai?"
Even Vegeta's scowl sharpened—not in awe, but in cold acknowledgment of rank.
Shin did not waste time.
"There is a sealed being of unimaginable destruction," he said, voice tight. "His name is Majin Buu. A wizard named Babidi seeks to revive him."
Goku scratched his cheek thoughtfully. "Majin Buu… never heard of him."
Shin's eyes flickered with disbelief, then urgency. "Few have. Even among gods."
Piccolo stepped forward. "Then why involve us?"
"Because Babidi is already here," Shin answered. "And because the energy required to revive Majin Buu can only be gathered from warriors like you."
Kibito's gaze settled on Gohan. "There is one among you whose dormant power far exceeds his awareness."
Gohan froze. "Me?"
Piccolo placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Yes."
Shin nodded. "We need Babidi's servants to act. To do that… we need you to reveal that power."
Gohan hesitated. "I don't like showing off."
"This isn't about pride," Shin said sharply. "If Majin Buu awakens, worlds will die."
That silence was answer enough.
When Gohan returned to the arena, the crowd barely noticed at first.
Until Kibito leaned close and spoke softly.
"Please… transform."
Gohan closed his eyes.
And let go.
Golden light exploded outward—denser, sharper than before. Lightning cracked violently through his aura, snapping like living veins. The tiles beneath his feet fractured under the sudden pressure.
Super Saiyan 2.
The stadium fell into stunned silence.
Then—
Chaos.
Videl's breath caught painfully in her throat.
"That aura…!"
Her classmates stared in disbelief.
"Wait—look at his hair!"
"Lightning…? That's not normal Super Saiyan!"
"Isn't that—?"
Whispers spread like wildfire.
"The Golden Warrior…"
"That's him."
"That's the guy who stopped criminals by himself!"
Videl's heart pounded as realization slammed into her.
This whole time… it was Gohan.
Up in the stands, Vegeta watched with narrowed eyes.
"…That's it?" he muttered, irritation bleeding through his tone.
No awe.
No surprise.
Only disappointment.
"So you reached it," he continued coldly. "And then stopped."
Lightning flared around Gohan again—
And suddenly, two figures dropped from above.
Dark cloaks. Sharp movements. No hesitation.
Energy spears struck from both sides.
Gohan could have blocked them.
Everyone knew that.
But before he could move—
darkness swallowed his vision.
Shin's power.
A moment of blindness.
A fatal opening.
The agents struck again, siphoning golden energy into strange pulsing containers.
Gohan gasped, dropping to one knee as his aura faltered.
"Gohan!" Videl shouted.
Piccolo surged forward. "Enough!"
The agents leapt back, retreating skyward.
"Let them go," Shin said urgently.
Vegeta spun on him. "You let them escape?!"
"They will lead us to Babidi," Shin replied. "That was the plan."
Goku knelt beside Gohan, helping him steady himself. "…So this is how it starts."
High above the arena, unseen by the crowd—
two servants fled with stolen power.
And far beneath the earth, sealed in ancient darkness—
something began to stir.
The world above returned to its noise.
The tournament resumed. The crowd tried—awkwardly—to pretend that nothing strange had just happened.
Cheers rose again, thinner this time, uncertain. The fighters left the arena one by one, following the invisible trail left behind by Babidi's servants.
Far from the stadium, the land split open.
Stone groaned. Earth peeled back as if yielding to an ancient command. A massive structure rose from beneath the planet's crust—black, angular, and unmistakably hostile. A ship, dormant for centuries, now awakened.
Shin hovered above the entrance, eyes dark.
"That is Babidi's hideout."
Krillin swallowed. "That thing was under Earth this whole time?"
"Yes," Shin replied. "And if Majin Buu awakens here, this world will not survive."
Vegeta smirked faintly. "Then let's not let him wake up."
Without waiting, he descended.
The others followed.
The inside of Babidi's ship was nothing like Earth.
The air was heavy, stale—thick with old magic and older malice. The walls pulsed faintly, as though the structure itself were alive. Strange symbols crawled along the corridors, reacting to their presence.
Goku glanced around, impressed despite himself. "Kinda creepy."
Babidi watched them through his crystal orb, fingers tightening around his staff.
"So these are the warriors of Earth," he hissed. "So much energy… so much arrogance."
Beside him stood Dabura.
Tall. Composed. Smiling faintly.
"The Saiyans," Dabura said calmly. "They reek of pride."
Babidi snarled. "Test them."
The first chamber opened.
A barren arena stretched before them, illuminated by an artificial sky. Heat slammed into them instantly.
Shin frowned. "This is Pui Pui's domain. Gravity multiplied tenfold. Even gods—"
A blur shot past him.
Vegeta.
He landed at the center of the arena, cracking the ground beneath his boots. He rolled his shoulders once, unimpressed.
"Ten times gravity?" he scoffed. "I train in worse."
Pui Pui attacked.
He didn't last five seconds.
The fight ended in a single flash of movement—one strike, precise and contemptuous. Pui Pui collapsed, lifeless, his body skidding across the scorched floor.
Silence followed.
Shin stared.
"…Impossible."
Vegeta turned his back, already walking toward the next door. "You said he was strong."
Babidi's grip on his staff tightened until it creaked.
The next chamber was darkness.
Pitch black.
Yakon emerged, eyes glowing red, fanged grin stretching wide.
"Energy," he hissed. "Give me your light."
The moment Goku transformed, Yakon lunged—absorbing the golden aura greedily.
Shin panicked. "Goku! Don't power up—!"
Too late.
Yakon swelled grotesquely, laughter echoing through the void.
Goku blinked. "…Huh. That's new."
Then he smiled.
"Guess I'll just give you more."
He pushed his power higher.
Higher.
Yakon screamed.
Light tore him apart from the inside, his body unable to contain what it had stolen. He detonated in a violent burst, leaving nothing behind.
Goku powered down, rubbing his nose. "Guess that solves that."
Shin could only stare again.
These mortals…
Babidi's breath came faster now. "Dabura," he snapped. "Enough games."
Dabura stepped forward.
The final chamber felt different.
Heavier.
Colder.
Dabura stood calmly, hands folded behind his back, eyes fixed on Gohan. His smile was polite—but predatory.
"You are the one," Dabura said. "The power we sensed earlier."
Gohan clenched his fists.
The fight began—and immediately, something felt wrong.
Gohan was strong. Faster. More powerful.
But he hesitated.
Years without true battle showed in every exchange. His movements were sharp—but not decisive. Dabura capitalized on every pause, every doubt.
Vegeta's patience snapped.
"What are you doing?" he growled. "Finish it."
Gohan gritted his teeth, pushing harder—but the gap remained. Not in strength.
In resolve.
Dabura noticed.
His eyes flicked toward Vegeta.
There it is.
Irritation. Frustration. A pride denied its release.
Dabura vanished—reappearing beside Babidi's orb.
"There is another," he murmured. "One who burns brighter than the rest… and resents it."
Babidi's lips curled into a slow, wicked grin.
"…Vegeta."
A whisper slithered through the ship.
Magic ancient and vile wrapped around the Saiyan prince.
Vegeta felt it instantly.
The pull.
The temptation.
He could have resisted.
He did resist.
For a moment.
Then his fists clenched.
Seven years.
Seven years of silence. Of restraint. Of standing in another's shadow—again.
"…Do it," Vegeta said quietly.
Goku spun. "Vegeta?"
The mark burned into his forehead.
Majin.
Vegeta looked up, eyes cold, satisfied—and furious.
"Now," he said, "don't hold back."
And somewhere deep within the ship—
Majin Buu's cocoon pulsed faster.
The wind howled through the ruins of the arena.
Broken stone, shattered seats, and dust hung in the air like smoke after a battlefield had burned itself out. The World Martial Arts Tournament—once filled with laughter, cheering, and excitement—had become a place of dread.
Vegeta hovered above the cracked tiles.
His golden aura burned darker than before, violent lightning crawling over his body like living veins. The Majin mark on his forehead pulsed slowly, as if breathing.
Below him, Goku stood frozen.
"Vegeta…" he said, voice tight. "This has gone too far."
Vegeta didn't answer.
Instead, he turned his head—just slightly—and looked toward the spectator stands.
Thousands of people were still there.
They hadn't run.
They couldn't move.
Fear had rooted them in place.
Goku's eyes widened. "Vegeta—don't—"
Too late.
Vegeta raised one hand.
There was no warning.
No charge-up.
No dramatic flare.
Just a casual flick of his fingers.
The blast ripped outward like a cre
scent of destruction.
Half the stadium vanished.
Stone, steel, and flesh were erased in a single instant. The explosion swallowed screams whole, leaving only silence—and then the sound of debris raining down like ash.
Smoke rose where thousands had been sitting moments ago.
Goku's breath caught in his throat.
"No…"
Gohan stared in horror, fists shaking. Videl collapsed to her knees, eyes empty, unable to process what she had just seen.
Supreme Kai staggered back, pale. "He… he killed them… on purpose…"
Vegeta slowly lowered his hand.
Then he looked straight at Goku.
"Now," he said coldly, "you'll fight me."
Goku's body trembled.
Not with fear.
With rage.
"You crossed a line," Goku said, his voice low—dangerously calm.
Vegeta smirked. "That line stopped mattering the day you died."
Goku clenched his fists. "This ends now."
Their auras exploded at the same time.
Super Saiyan 2 power detonated outward, cracking the ground beneath them, ripping chunks of stone into the air. The sky darkened as if the world itself recoiled from their clash.
They vanished.
The shockwave from their collision flattened what remained of the arena.
Punch met punch. Elbow met block. Knee met counter.
Blow after blow.
Neither held back.
Each strike carried years of rivalry—of resentment, pride, and unspoken regret.
They tore across the battlefield, smashing through walls, skidding across stone, launching each other into what little remained standing.
High above, unseen by mortal eyes, Babidi laughed.
Inside his ship, the device monitoring Majin Buu's cocoon glowed brighter with every exchange.
"Perfect… perfect…" he whispered. "Such delicious energy…"
Not anger.
Not hatred.
Pure combat power.
Every wasted blast.
Every failed strike.
Every reckless surge.
All of it flowed downward.
Gohan sensed it and turned sharply toward the ship. "Dad—Vegeta—stop! Something's wrong!"
They didn't hear him.
Vegeta slammed Goku into the ground hard enough to create a crater. Goku burst free, countering with a crushing uppercut that snapped Vegeta's head back and sent him flying.
Vegeta recovered mid-air, wiped blood from his mouth—and laughed.
"Yes! This is it!" he roared. "This is what I wanted!"
They charged again.
Then—
Both froze.
A pressure spread across the battlefield.
Heavy. Ancient. Suffocating.
Goku's eyes widened. "…That ki."
Vegeta felt it too.
Deep underground, within the cocoon, something stirred.
The shell cracked.
A heartbeat echoed through the air—not heard, but felt.
Supreme Kai collapsed to one knee. "Majin Buu… is awakening…"
Babidi's voice echoed triumphantly. "It's too late! You Saiyans have done my work for me!"
Goku turned sharply toward Vegeta. "Look at what we've done!"
Vegeta stared at the ground.
For the first time since the mark appeared, doubt crossed his face.
"…So this," he muttered, "is the result of my pride."
Vegeta's anger flared. In a sudden burst of rage, he unleashed a ki blast at Babidi, ending the wizard's life instantly.
"That clown has been getting on my nerves for quite some time," Vegeta muttered.
The ground shook.
A roar—inhuman, monstrous—echoed from below.
Majin Buu was no longer sleeping.
And the cost of waking him had already been paid—in blood.
Far away, beyond Earth, beyond time itself—
a boy trained in endless white silence,
unaware that the world he meant to return to was already breaking.
The ground split open.
Stone buckled inward as if the world itself were caving beneath an unseen weight. From the depths of Babidi's ship, something tore free—wet, elastic, grotesquely alive.
Majin Buu emerged laughing.
Pink flesh stretched and reshaped itself as he stepped onto the ruined battlefield, eyes wide and empty, a child's curiosity twisted into something monstrous. His body radiated power—not sharp like a blade, but overwhelming, endless, like a flood with no shore.
Goku felt it press against his chest.
"This… this is Majin Buu," he muttered.
Supreme Kai trembled openly now. "We're too late…"
Buu looked around, head tilting left, then right. Rubble. Smoke. Bodies. Then—his eyes locked onto Goku and Vegeta.
"Ohhh?" Buu hummed, clapping his hands once. "Strong people!"
He vanished.
The air imploded.
Gohan barely had time to shout before Buu appeared in front of him and drove a fist into his stomach. The impact folded Gohan in half and sent him flying, crashing through what remained of the arena wall.
"Gohan!" Goku yelled.
Supreme Kai moved instantly, trying to intervene—but Buu turned and struck him down just as casually, slamming him into the ground hard enough to crack the earth beneath.
In seconds, the battlefield was decided.
Vegeta stood frozen.
He watched Gohan struggle to rise, blood dripping from his mouth. Watched Supreme Kai lie motionless, gasping. Watched Buu giggle as if this were all a game.
And for the first time since accepting Babidi's mark—
Vegeta felt something heavier than pride.
Regret.
"This is my fault," he said quietly.
Goku turned toward him. "Vegeta—"
"I let him control me," Vegeta continued, fists clenching. "I chased my ego… my rivalry… and I fed that thing everything it needed."
Buu appeared between them again, peering up at Vegeta with a wide grin. "You strong too! Fight Buu!"
Vegeta looked down at him.
Then—slowly—he turned his head toward Goku.
"Listen carefully, Kakarot."
Goku stiffened. Vegeta's tone had changed. Gone was rage. Gone was mockery.
This was the voice of a warrior making a decision he would never take back.
"Take the others and leave," Vegeta said. "Now."
Goku's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"
Vegeta smirked faintly. "Don't play dumb. You know what I'm about to do."
"No," Goku said immediately. "There has to be another way—"
"There isn't."
Vegeta placed two fingers against Goku's forehead.
For a fraction of a second, Goku saw it—
Not anger.
Not rivalry.
But clarity.
Then darkness.
Goku's body collapsed, unconscious before he hit the ground.
Vegeta caught him and gently lowered him down.
"Take care of them," Vegeta murmured, almost to himself. "You always were better at that."
He turned.
Buu was watching him with open delight.
"Ohhh! You gonna fight Buu alone?" Buu laughed. "You funny!"
Vegeta didn't answer.
He rose into the air, aura flaring brighter—cleaner. The dark lightning still crackled, but the chaos behind it was gone.
"Trunks…" Vegeta whispered, eyes closing briefly.
"…Bulma…"
Then his eyes snapped open.
"Majin Buu!" Vegeta roared. "You wanted energy?! I'll give you more than you can handle!"
He attacked.
The battle was brutal—and one-sided.
Vegeta struck with everything he had. Blasts tore chunks from Buu's body.
Punches sent him skidding across the ground. For moments—brief, fleeting moments—it almost looked like it was working.
But Buu laughed.
His body reformed. Regenerated. Adapted.
Vegeta was thrown back, slammed into the ground so hard the shockwave rippled for miles. He forced himself up, bloodied, armor shattered, breath ragged.
"So that's it…" Vegeta muttered. "No matter how hard I hit… you just keep coming."
Buu cocked his head. "You tired?"
Vegeta smiled.
"No," he said softly. "I'm finished."
He brought his hands together.
Energy began to gather—not explosively, but densely. Power compressing inward, collapsing toward a single point.
Piccolo, watching from the Lookout far away, felt it and went rigid.
"…He's going to self-destruct."
Buu sensed it too. For the first time, uncertainty flickered across his face.
Vegeta closed his eyes.
"I did this for myself once," he thought.
"This time… it's for them."
His body began to glow.
Blinding white.
"Goodbye… Bulma," he whispered.
"Trunks… be strong."
Then—
The world vanished in light.
The explosion erased everything within its radius. Sound ceased. Time itself seemed to pause as Vegeta's life burned away in a single, absolute release of power.
When the light faded…
There was nothing left of him.
Only silence.
Smoke drifted across a scorched battlefield.
And at its center—
Majin Buu stood.
His body damaged.
Burned.
But intact.
Slowly, his flesh smoothed over.
Regenerated.
He looked around, confused.
"Where grumpy man go?"
The answer never came.
Vegeta's sacrifice left more than a crater.
It left a silence so deep that even the wind seemed afraid to move.
Majin Buu stood at the center of it all—unharmed, confused, blinking slowly as if trying to understand why the man who screamed so loudly had simply… vanished.
Then he smiled.
At Kami's Lookout,
Goku felt it.
Not Vegeta's ki—
that was gone.
What remained was worse.
"That monster…" Goku whispered. "He's still playing."
Piccolo's jaw tightened. "Vegeta gave everything. And it didn't even slow Buu down."
No one spoke after that.
Krillin stared at the floor, fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms. "So… that's it? That's the level we're dealing with now?"
Goku exhaled slowly.
"No," he said. "That's the level we can't deal with."
Everyone turned to him.
"If we fight Buu like this," Goku continued, voice steady but heavy, "we die. One by one. There's no strategy, no trick, no burst of power that fixes that."
Piccolo folded his arms. "Then say it. If you have an idea, say it."
Goku hesitated.
Then nodded.
"There's a technique," he said. "Something I learned in the Other World. It's called Fusion."
Krillin blinked. "Fusion?"
"Two people become one," Goku explained. "Their power doesn't just combine—it multiplies. If done right… it creates a warrior strong enough to challenge Buu."
Trunks stepped forward instantly. "Then teach me."
Goku looked at him carefully.
"You're one half already," Goku said. "But fusion needs two compatible fighters. Similar size. Similar power."
Krillin stiffened.
"…Me?"
Goku nodded. "Right now, yes."
Krillin swallowed hard. "Goku, I—"
"I know," Goku said gently. "You're scared. That's normal. But listen to me—this isn't about pride or glory. It's about survival."
Piccolo's eyes narrowed. "What about Goten?"
The name hit Goku like a punch.
He closed his eyes.
"I don't know where he is," Goku admitted. "I can't sense him. I can't find him. And until I do… I can't rely on him."
Trunks clenched his fists. "Then we don't wait."
Goku nodded. "Exactly."
He straightened, decision made.
"I'll teach you both the technique," he said. "But it won't be easy. One mistake—wrong angle, wrong timing—and the fusion fails."
Krillin forced a shaky grin. "Figures."
Above them, the sky darkened again.
Majin Buu's ki spiked—wild, unstable, laughing at the world.
Goku looked toward the horizon.
"I don't have much time," he said quietly. "When my time on Earth ends… you'll be on your own."
Piccolo said nothing—but for the first time, even he felt the weight of that sentence.
Somewhere on Earth, Majin Buu laughed.
And somewhere else—
Far away.
Hidden.
Unaware.
Goten trained, sealed off from the world, untouched by fear, death, or destiny.
For now.
Kami's Lookout floated in silence, suspended above a world that no longer felt safe.
The sky was clear, yet the air itself seemed heavy, as though something unseen pressed down on every breath they took. Far away—too far to see, but far too close to ignore—Majin Buu's ki rolled across the planet in irregular pulses. It wasn't focused. It wasn't controlled.
It was playful.
And that made it worse.
Krillin stood near the edge of the platform, arms folded tightly across his chest. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, but he wasn't really looking at anything. Every time that unstable ki spiked, his shoulders tensed instinctively.
"…He's not even fighting seriously," Krillin said under his breath. "That thing's just wandering around."
Piccolo stood a short distance away, arms crossed, expression rigid. His antennae twitched faintly, reacting to fluctuations in energy that only a warrior of his caliber could properly read.
"No," Piccolo said grimly. "He doesn't need to."
Goku turned toward them, his usual relaxed posture gone. His face was calm, but there was a tightness around his eyes that spoke of urgency rather than fear.
"That's why we don't have time to mess this up," Goku said. "Fusion isn't about forcing power. It's about precision."
Krillin shifted uneasily. "You keep saying that like it's comforting."
Goku offered a brief smile. "It's not."
He stepped between Krillin and Trunks, raising his arms to demonstrate. "Your power levels need to be as close as possible. Your movements need to be identical. Timing, angle, breathing—everything has to line up."
Trunks nodded, jaw clenched. Krillin swallowed.
"And if we mess up?" Krillin asked.
Goku didn't dodge the question. "Then you get a failed fusion. Weak. Unstable. Useless against Buu."
That landed hard.
They took their positions, facing one another across the smooth tiles of the Lookout.
Krillin inhaled slowly, trying to steady his nerves. Trunks rolled his shoulders once, forcing himself to relax.
"Alright," Goku said, voice firm. "On my count. Three… two… one."
They moved.
At first, everything looked perfect. Their arms swung in mirrored arcs, bodies turning in unison. But at the last moment—barely noticeable to anyone but Goku—Trunks moved just a fraction faster.
Their fingers touched.
Light erupted outward in a violent flash, swallowing the platform in white.
When it faded, a figure stood where they had been—but something was wrong.
The fusion was tall, but unnaturally thin. His limbs looked stretched, his torso narrow, his aura flickering weakly like a dying flame. He blinked slowly, as if even standing upright required effort.
"…Okay," the fusion said, voice oddly reedy. "I don't think this is right."
Piccolo's eyes narrowed instantly. "No."
Goku sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "You rushed it, Trunks. Your power spiked too fast."
The thin fusion wobbled once, then dissolved back into light.
Thirty minutes passed.
When Krillin and Trunks reappeared, both dropped to one knee, breathing hard. Krillin wiped sweat from his brow and glanced instinctively around the Lookout.
"…Still no sign of Goten," he muttered.
Goku's gaze lingered on the open sky for a moment longer than necessary.
Piccolo spoke after a pause. "If the boy were here, fusion would be less risky. At the very least, his power wouldn't be the limiting factor."
Krillin looked up at him. "You really think Goten's that strong?"
Piccolo shook his head slightly. "Stronger than you. Stronger than Trunks."
Goku nodded. "having him here would give us options."
Options they didn't have.
"Rest up," Goku said. "We try again."
They stood facing each other once more.
Krillin forced himself to calm down, slowing his breathing deliberately. Trunks mirrored him, concentrating on restraint rather than speed.
"Same pace," Goku warned. "Don't overcorrect."
They moved.
This time, the mistake went the other way.
Their fingers met—but the motion lacked sharpness.
Light flared again.
When it cleared, a short, round fusion stood blinking at the world, his belly protruding, aura weak and unfocused. He looked down at himself, horror spreading across his face.
"…You have got to be kidding me," the fusion groaned.
Piccolo turned away immediately. "Unacceptable."
The fusion split apart moments later, leaving Krillin and Trunks sprawled on the tiles once again.
Their silence was heavier this time.
Then—
The Hyperbolic Time Chamber
The Hyperbolic Time Chamber was endless white.
No wind. No sound. No horizon.
Only pressure.
Goten stood firm at its center, facing the figures before him. Two warriors—familiar, overwhelming.
Goku.
Vegeta.
At Goten's command, their energies aligned.
They fused.
The light condensed rather than exploded.
Gogeta emerged, golden aura blazing—then intensified further as lightning snapped violently through it.
Super Saiyan.
The moment the transformation stabilized, Gogeta vanished.
Goten barely had time to react before the impact sent him skidding backward, his boots carving deep lines through the solid floor. He caught himself, breathing hard—but smiling.
"…That's better," he said quietly.
He raised his guard again, eyes burning with focus.
"Next," he thought, "SSJ2."
The outside world did not exist to him.
Back at the Lookout,
Majin Buu's ki surged again—closer, louder, more chaotic.
Krillin pushed himself to his feet. "One more shot."
Trunks nodded. "We do it perfectly."
They aligned themselves carefully, adjusting their stances down to the smallest detail.
Breathing synchronized.
Power lowered.
Intent matched.
"Now," Goku said softly.
They moved.
Every motion was exact. No rushing. No hesitation.
Their fingers touched.
This time, the light did not explode.
It folded inward.
When it faded, a tall, well-built warrior stood calmly at the center of the platform. His aura flowed smoothly around him—vast, stable, and unmistakably stronger than either of his components.
He opened his eyes.
"…Alright," the fusion said with a confident smirk. "Now this feels right."
Piccolo studied him carefully. "…Krunks."
Goku allowed himself a brief, relieved smile.
Fusion had succeeded.
But below them, Majin Buu laughed.
And the margin for error was already gone.