Morning light poured through the Capsule Corp windows, illuminating a quiet calm that belied the tension stirring among its visitors. Four years had passed since the defeat of Cell, and in that time, Broly, Launch, and Gojo had drifted through the cosmos. Now they were back on Earth, where Gohan—only fifteen—stood among seasoned warriors in a world that no longer knew Goku's presence.
The trio rose early, each contemplating the day ahead. Gojo, Infinity thrumming just under his skin, slipped into a corridor leading to the compound's central atrium. A gentle hum of staff and scientists passed by, nodding greetings but mindful of the man with an ever-shifting aura around his arms. He wore no visible Domain Armor now, yet it hovered in readiness beneath the surface.
He found Gohan waiting in the atrium, arms folded in a posture reminiscent of his father. The teen smiled, though a bit shyly. "Morning, Gojo. Bulma said there's a space in the complex for us to train if we want, or we can head to the wastelands. Mom always liked having fights far from civilization."
Gojo returned a courteous nod. "Morning. The wastelands might give us more room if Broly's transformations get intense. But it's your call."
Gohan lowered his eyes, a flicker of longing passing over his face. "Dad used to pick the wastelands too. But let's see how everyone feels."
They walked together toward a lounge where Broly and Launch were already gathered, the latter in her blonde state, rummaging through a small bag of capsules for any gear they might need. Vegeta stood by a window, his stance rigid as ever, scanning the horizon. Piccolo hovered in the background. Krillin and Yamcha leaned against a wall, talking in low voices.
Bulma entered, smoothing a few stray hairs. "You lot want a big training field? I can arrange a transport or direct you to one. We keep a few outposts for your… rough-and-tumble shenanigans."
Gohan flicked a glance at Broly. "We could head out to one of those. Might be safest."
Broly nodded, uncertainty flickering in his gaze. He still found it surreal that these Earth warriors welcomed him so openly, especially with Goku gone—Goku, the legendary Saiyan he'd heard so much about but never realized was the same Kakarot he'd grown to loathe since infancy. The name "Kakarot" still stirred something in him, though he hadn't connected it to Goku at all.
"All right," Launch said, tossing a capsule between her fingers. "Let's not blow holes in your fancy building if we don't have to."
Vegeta gave a curt grunt of agreement. "I'd rather fight without restraining myself in some cramped hall."
Piccolo merely inclined his head. "Let's do it quickly. No sense in stalling."
Within minutes, Bulma had arranged a transport aircraft large enough for the group. They set out, soaring over the city until it gave way to rolling hills and eventually the dusty, rocky expanses that had once witnessed countless battles. The flight was short and somewhat tense—Vegeta and Broly shared little conversation, their mutual Saiyan pride a quiet thread holding them apart. Gohan tried to lighten the mood by asking Launch about her cosmic travels, prompting stories of near-silent star-lanes and bizarre alien diets.
Once they landed, the wasteland greeted them with an empty stillness. Craggy outcrops and uneven ground stretched in every direction. The sun beat down, promising a day of dry heat. Krillin, shading his eyes, muttered something about old memories of training with Goku here. Yamcha shook his head with a nostalgic grin.
Piccolo floated a short distance up, scanning the area. "No one around. Perfect."
Vegeta landed on a flat plateau, arms crossed. "Who's first?" His gaze flicked to Broly and Gojo, an unmistakable challenge.
Gohan coughed lightly. "Maybe we can do a light demonstration, see where we all stand. Just… not too destructive, right?"
Broly inhaled, tension creeping along his shoulders. "I'm okay to spar, as long as you're sure. I don't want to… break things." The Legendary power in him stirred at the prospect of a fight, but he maintained calm.
Vegeta smirked. "We'll see."
Gojo stood off to one side, Infinity shimmering faintly around his arms. "I'll step in if it gets risky. But let's give you two some room." He gestured to Broly and Gohan. "Might be interesting to watch a clash of Saiyan potential."
Gohan nodded, stepping forward. He wore a serious expression, though still friendly. The memory of Cell's defeat at eleven lingered behind his eyes—he had once awakened fearsome power. Now at fifteen, he had honed it, though not under the same life-or-death pressure. "Let's go easy at first, see how we match up."
Broly squared his stance, giving Gohan a respectful bow. "I'll keep from going all-out." A swirl of mild ki flickered around him, greenish tinted, but not near Legendary transformation.
The two moved in a blur of quick footwork and measured blows. Gohan tested Broly's reflexes with a flurry of jabs, each strike carefully balanced so as not to push Broly too far. Broly, pleasantly surprised by Gohan's skill, parried and countered. Dust kicked up around them with each impact, but it was controlled, not the savage collisions that might crater the land.
"That kid's no slouch," Launch observed, leaning her rifle across her shoulders.
Krillin nodded. "He was a prodigy even when he was younger. You should've seen him fight Cell."
Broly heard scraps of conversation but stayed focused on Gohan. Something about the teen's presence—a subtle kindness, a paternal shadow behind his eyes—tugged at Broly's chest. Is this what Goku's child is like? he wondered vaguely. He only knew Goku's name from Gojo's stories, never actually having met him.
As the spar continued, Gohan upped the pace. A flash of golden aura flickered around him, his hair spiking briefly toward Super Saiyan. Broly responded by letting his own ki surge, green arcs dancing at the edges of his aura. The onlookers stiffened—Vegeta, arms crossed, raised a brow in mild intrigue.
"Steady, boy," Piccolo warned, voice echoing from above.
Broly forced calm, refusing the pull of unstoppable rage. Instead, he let just enough power out to parry Gohan's Super Saiyan speed. They exchanged a series of swift collisions, each blow rattling the rock beneath them. Yet neither let the environment suffer too much. Gohan, mindful of the planet's well-being, channeled his father's sense of restraint. Broly, mindful of his meltdown risk, held back.
A final clash ended with Gohan flipping over Broly's shoulder, pivoting to land a short distance away. Both paused, panting lightly. Gohan's golden aura faded, hair returning to black. "You're strong," he said, unguarded admiration in his tone. "I can tell you're barely tapping your real power."
Broly dipped his head. "You too. I know you're not showing everything either."
They shared a small grin, an unspoken bond forming. Vegeta scoffed from the sidelines, but there was no venom in it. The short demonstration had shown that Gohan remained a skilled, thoughtful fighter, while Broly possessed raw might under a disciplined veneer.
Gojo stepped forward, Infinity shimmering. "Nicely done. No craters the size of cities, so that's a plus."
Launch smirked at them, switching back to her gentler tone after a half-sneeze. "Good job not leveling half the countryside. I approve."
Piccolo descended from his vantage, cape fluttering. "Could sense both of you were playing it safe. That's for the best. We don't need a repeat of the old days if we can avoid it."
Vegeta gave a curt nod. "Another time, we'll see the limits. But for now, that's enough."
With that, the group relaxed, tension bleeding from the air. The day's demonstration had proven there was no immediate conflict, just old allies and new friends measuring each other's progress. Broly felt a swell of relief—he had come close to a meltdown, but never quite let the fury slip. Gohan's kindness and skill had eased him into a comfortable match.
As sunset colored the wastelands in orange, everyone assembled by the transport aircraft, ready to head back to Capsule Corp for an evening meal. Launch helped stow gear, Krillin and Yamcha shared jokes about the simpler fights from their youth, and Piccolo maintained his usual stoic watchfulness. Vegeta hovered close by, musing to himself about Saiyan pride.
Broly, glancing at Gohan, found an unexpected resonance—like they shared some intangible link through Saiyan blood and the legacy of greater conflicts. Gohan might never know that in Broly's darkest memories, "Kakarot's crying" lurked as an unseen trauma. Nor did Broly realize that Goku was indeed that same infant, the object of his hatred. For now, it stayed buried.
Before boarding, Gojo gazed out across the rocky horizon, Infinity trailing softly around his arms. "Feels good to see the Earth from a calmer perspective," he remarked to no one in particular. "Not a single sign of an apocalyptic threat."
Gohan, standing at his side, answered in a thoughtful tone. "I do miss Dad. But we've managed. Sometimes I wonder if something else big will appear. Seems trouble always follows Earth. But we'll be ready."
Gojo offered a faint, reassuring smile. "Between your power, Broly's control, and Infinity, we can handle a lot."
They loaded up and took off, the aircraft carrying them back to the familiar lights of West City. A sense of renewed connection bound them—this was their planet, their bond, their refuge. Four years in the stars had changed them all, yet Earth remained a place they could truly call home.
That night, a soft camaraderie settled over Capsule Corp once more. Tomorrow, they might spar or plan some new venture, but for now, Earth's peace welcomed them in a gentle hush.