Sunrise crept over the Capsule Corp compound, painting the lawn in soft pink light. Inside a second-floor suite, Broly blinked awake in an unfamiliar bed. For the last four years, he'd known only cramped starship bunks and rough sleeping spots on distant worlds. This room—furnished with plush chairs, a small dresser, and a potted plant—felt almost like a dream.
He heard muffled footsteps in the hallway. A timid knock followed, then Gohan's voice: "Hey, Broly? You up?"
Broly opened the door to find Gohan standing there, dressed in a simple gi. At fifteen, Gohan still wore the traces of boyishness, but a quiet maturity underlined his words.
"Vegeta's out on the lawn, getting impatient," Gohan said with an awkward smile. "He wants a spar. I was hoping you'd join us."
Broly inhaled, the slightest twinge of anxiety stirring. He recalled the time he nearly destroyed a planet just by letting his Legendary Super Saiyan power slip. But Gohan's calm expression soothed him. "All right," Broly murmured.
They passed through empty corridors to the rear exit, stepping onto dew-laden grass. Vegeta stood shirtless in the morning chill, arms crossed, his breath a slow, controlled exhale.
"Took you long enough," he muttered, eyeing Broly with measured disdain. Yet there was no real hostility—just that Saiyan pride glinting in his gaze. "Let's see if you can keep from leveling half the property."
Gohan walked aside, refusing to overshadow their match. Broly squared his stance, forcing composure. As soon as Vegeta launched forward, fists bristling with ki, Broly parried. The shockwaves rustled the lawn's scattered leaves but didn't escalate into a meltdown. After a few hot-blooded exchanges, Broly stepped back, only lightly winded.
Vegeta's smirk revealed grudging satisfaction. "You're better than I expected."
A laugh came from the porch. Gojo leaned against a pillar, Infinity shimmering around his arms. "Everything's still standing, so that's progress."
Nearby, Launch—hair in her gentle purple form—carried a mug of coffee. "If you guys started at dawn, you might as well all get breakfast after," she teased. "Bulma's staff is cooking up something big."
Broly relaxed, grateful no meltdown threatened to boil over. He'd come far. Gohan gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder. "Good job," the teen said. "Let's keep at it. We've got time."
Four years away from Earth had given them cosmic experiences, but these small morning routines—training in the yard, chatting over fresh coffee—were novel in their own way. Broly felt a quiet sense of belonging he'd never known before.
Several months slid by, each day weaving the newcomers more deeply into Earth's daily life. While Gohan split his time between studies and light sparring, Vegeta claimed he had "his own training to do," occasionally dragging Broly or Gojo along for intense sessions in wastelands or gravity chambers.
One afternoon, while Launch was shopping at West City's bustling market, a sudden cry for help shattered the clamor. Three armed thugs cornered a merchant near a row of capsule stalls, demanding contraband materials. Launch's hair flared blonde as she sneezed, instantly flipping to her sharper persona.
"Hands off!" she barked. Without hesitation, she drew her rifle, startling onlookers. The thieves spun around, half-laughing at what they assumed was an empty threat—until Launch fired three warning shots that knocked the guns from their hands.
They bolted, scattering into the crowd. Launch snarled, cursing as she reloaded on the fly, then gave chase. They fled into a labyrinth of narrow alleys behind tall office buildings. She might've lost them if not for a sudden swirl of Infinity appearing in their path.
Gojo, Infinity shimmering at his feet, stepped in from the other side, a casual grin on his face. "Out for a run?" he asked. The thieves skidded to a halt, fear crossing their features as they recognized the Infinity barrier. An instant later, they slumped to the ground, overwhelmed by the ceaseless flow of data the domain film could inflict if they pushed forward. Gojo dialed it low, enough to scramble them without lasting harm.
Launch arrived, rifle in hand, breathing heavily. "You always turn up at the right time."
Gojo shrugged. "Saw your chase from the rooftops." He flicked a wave, Infinity retracting. The criminals collapsed, half-conscious. Together, Gojo and Launch turned them over to local security drones—one of Bulma's city improvements. Then they strolled back to the market, Launch's hair flipping purple after another sneeze, drawing baffled looks from passersby.
"What about Broly?" she asked, tucking away her rifle. "He get bored cooped up in training?"
Gojo chuckled. "He and Gohan took a ride out to help fix a flood barrier. Piccolo's with them."
Earth might not be under cosmic threat, but small crises and pockets of criminal elements still tested them occasionally. For Broly, who once saw violence as the only way to survive, helping with mundane tasks—like reinforcing flood barriers—offered a strangely fulfilling sense of normalcy. Gohan's calm presence and Piccolo's stoic guidance taught him alternative ways to use his might without relying on raw force.
In a small riverside village a few hours later…
A broken levee threatened to flood farmland. Broly used his Saiyan strength to haul massive stones into place, sweat trickling down his forehead under the midday sun. Gohan helped shape the stones with careful ki blasts, while Piccolo hovered overhead, directing them with the efficiency of a tactician. By dusk, the levee was re-fortified, saving the crops. Grateful villagers offered meals and effusive thanks.
Broly, wiping grime from his cheeks, felt a warmth that had nothing to do with fighting or power-levels. These people saw him not as a monster, but a quiet savior. Gohan clapped him on the back, praising his restraint when a sudden surge of water had threatened to make him lash out. Broly had calmly parted the torrent, not destroying the land around it.
Piccolo nodded, subdued approval in his eyes. "You're learning."
Time flowed in an unhurried current. By the third year of their return, Earth's daily tapestry enveloped the trio fully. Broly's outbursts became even rarer, each meltdown nipped before it escalated. Launch juggled her two personalities with comedic aplomb, never letting either overshadow her sense of belonging. Gojo refined Infinity so seamlessly that even Vegeta grudgingly admitted he "could see no holes to exploit."
Now and then, leftover threats from Dr. Gero's legacy stirred—defunct android labs discovered in hidden bunkers or remote mountain passes. These rarely posed a fraction of Cell's menace, but investigating them kept the team sharp. Sometimes Gohan led the charge, sometimes it was Vegeta eager for action, but often Broly and Gojo arrived as well, ensuring no meltdown or unstoppable Infinity destroyed innocent terrain.
Each success knit them tighter with Earth's protectors, forging an unspoken trust. People across the globe heard rumors of a quiet Saiyan with monstrous power who helped fix floods or quell android remnants, along with a strange sorcerer whose Infinity made him untouchable, and a woman named Launch who switched temperaments on a sneeze yet displayed unwavering bravery.
On a crisp morning near the end of the third year, a small gathering formed at the Son family's mountainside home. Though Goku was gone, Chi-Chi insisted on celebrating Gohan's eighteenth birthday with close friends. Broly arrived with Launch, feeling awkward among the domestic calm of Chi-Chi's table, stacked with homemade dishes. Gojo showed up later, Infinity subdued, carrying a small gift capsule from Bulma's lab.
Piccolo sat under a tree, arms folded, while Krillin, Yamcha, and the rest milled around. Vegeta only grudgingly participated, but he still turned up. The meal exuded a warmth that reminded Broly of the difference between this planet and the savage emptiness of Vampa.
When Gohan cut the cake, everyone paused in a brief hush, thinking of Goku—who should've been there, wearing that trademark grin. A pang tugged at Broly's chest, an inexplicable flicker of hostility toward this absent figure everyone revered. But he didn't voice it, uncertain why he felt that way at all.
Instead, he watched as Gohan blew out candles, accepted well-wishes. The teen smiled, no bitterness in his eyes—just a resolve to keep Earth safe in his father's stead. A vow that, ironically, Broly unknowingly shared through the guidance of Gojo and Launch.
A week or so after Gohan's birthday, the trio gathered on a rocky bluff overlooking West City at sunset—Gojo gazing at the skyline, Launch perched on a boulder cleaning her rifle, Broly staring at the far horizon. In these three years, Earth had become a sanctuary, teaching them about acceptance, disciplined strength, and quiet heroics.
Yet a sense of restlessness hovered. There might be more out in the Universe—unseen threats or cosmic wonders. Or perhaps an even bigger challenge lay ahead on Earth itself, though none could predict how or when. For now, the calm reigned.
"We've made a home here," Launch said. "Still, I wonder if we'll ever roam again like we did."
Gojo folded his arms, Infinity pulsing softly. "We could. The Universe is big. But Earth… it deserves some guardians, too. Let's not rush off."
Broly nodded, tail flicking in the breeze. "I'm grateful for this place," he said. Memories of meltdown horrors contrasted sharply with these three years of peace. "But if trouble comes, we'll handle it. Together."
They stood side by side, quiet embers of conviction lighting their eyes. Beyond the city lights, night unfurled across the sky, countless stars twinkling—some they had visited, others they had only heard of. Earth's lull might last or might break. In the background of each heart lingered the legacy of Cell's fall, Goku's absence, and the uncertain future that might or might not require them all once more.
For now, though, the three-year arc ended on a note of tranquility. Broly found acceptance, Launch balanced her twin personas, and Gojo's Infinity soared to cosmic refinement, wearing the domain like second nature. Whatever story came next, they were ready, shaped by both cosmic wanderings and the humble bonds forged on Earth.
No meltdown overshadowed these years, no cosmic tyrant intruded. Yet in the hush of that final twilight, each of them sensed that somewhere, the Universe was still turning—perhaps waiting for them to step forth again as unstoppable guardians when the time was right.