The world was silent.
A dry wind swept across the battlefield, kicking up dust and ash. The ground beneath him was shattered, cratered from the force of the battle. His limbs trembled, struggling to move, but the pain was suffocating—his muscles torn, his bones fractured, blood pooling beneath him.
Goku gritted his teeth, lifting his head slightly. His vision swam, blurred by blood dripping down his forehead, but he could still see him.
Floating above, bathed in an eerie emerald glow, was a figure that should have been familiar—yet was unrecognizable.
His light green martial arts suit clung to him like an exoskeleton, its surface layered with a hardened, insect-like sheen, as if it had grown from his own body. His eyes, once warm and full of life, were now narrow red slits, empty of anything but cold purpose. His hair, no longer black, had turned a jade green, flowing like living strands of energy.
Goten.
No—not the Goten he had raised, not the boy who had once laughed and trained beside him.
The figure raised his arm, steady, precise. Two fingers extended—like a gun, aimed directly at his head. A faint hum filled the air, a quiet prelude to destruction.
"Goten..." Goku's voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. "You don't have to—"
A pulse. A flash of sickly green light.
The world was swallowed in silence.
Goten exhaled sharply. His fingers clenched and unclenched. He wasn't holding back because he was afraid—he knew, even now, he was strong enough to fight.
But he also knew that words cut deeper than fists.
"Dad… everyone's gone."
Goten's aura flared, and in an instant, he was in front of Goku, his fist colliding with his father's forearm. The shockwave shattered the ground beneath them. Goku held his stance, his muscles tensing against the impact.
Goten didn't let up. He swung again—a furious, blinding series of punches, each one echoing through the battlefield like thunder. But with every strike, he spoke.
"Mom was sick. So sick. But she still kept believing—even at her last breath—that you would just walk in through the door. She had hope."
A kick sent Goku skidding back, but he didn't counter. He simply listened.
"Bulma too. She kept thinking… hoping… praying that a miracle would happen, that you would come back."
Goten rushed forward again, appearing beside his father and slamming an elbow into his ribs.
"She said your strength could make a difference."
Goku staggered but didn't fall.
"Krillin died. No one was there for him. Dende was killed. The Lookout—destroyed. Master Roshi—gone. The whole planet was dead. Dying. And still, in their last moments, they looked up."
Goten's fist collided with Goku's jaw.
"They saw a light."
Another punch.
"A ray of hope."
Another.
"Like Bulma did."
Another.
"Like Mom did."
Another.
"Like I did."
He vanished, reappearing in the air, gathering power in his palms. Green lightning cracked around his body as he launched an energy wave downward. Goku raised his arms, bracing against the impact, his feet digging trenches into the earth.
When the explosion faded, Goten was in front of him again.
His breath was uneven now, but his voice didn't waver.
"Vegeta died. His heart crushed through his chest."
A flicker of something passed through Goku's eyes.
"Trunks had a hole in his chest."
Goten took a step closer.
"Gohan—" He stopped. His breath hitched.
His hands curled into fists.
"Gohan's arm was ripped off."
His voice cracked.
"But he kept fighting."
Goten brought his hand to his face, fingers tightening.
"His eye was next."
A shaky breath.
"Making him blind."
Goku felt something heavy settle in his chest. He tried to speak, but no words came.
Goten's hands trembled.
"And finally..."
A deep breath.
"His head was crushed."
Silence.
Goten slowly raised his hands, staring at them as if they belonged to someone else.
"These hands…" He whispered. "These hands were the ones that did it."
He curled his fingers, staring at his own palms as if expecting something—anything.
"And now I can't even feel it. The tears… they're not coming. I don't know why."
Goku finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Goten..."
Goten clenched his fists.
"That was the moment, Dad." His voice broke.
"That was when I needed you."
His eyes locked onto his father's—anguish, rage, and something else swirling within them.
"That was when they needed you."
Some Time Later…
The battlefield was silent, save for the faint, ragged breaths escaping Goku's lips. Blood pooled beneath him, his body trembling, barely able to move. Yet, despite the pain, despite the weight pressing down on him—
He pushed himself up.
It wasn't fast. It wasn't effortless. His muscles screamed, his vision swam, but slowly—inch by inch—he rose from the crater. His legs shook beneath him, but he forced them to hold. He had to.
Goten watched in silence. His hands were still clenched at his sides, his aura flickering violently, as if uncertain whether to lash out or fade away. His expression was unreadable.
Then, Goku took a step forward.
It was slow, staggering—but deliberate. He took another. Then another. Each one unsteady, weak. Yet he kept moving forward.
Goten's breath hitched. "What are you—"
Before he could finish, Goku was there.
And then, with what little strength he had left—
He pulled Goten into a hug.
Goten's body stiffened. His breath caught in his throat. His fingers twitched, as if unsure whether to shove him away or hold on.
But Goku held him tight.
"I wasn't there for you," Goku whispered. His voice was hoarse, but steady. "I should've been."
Goten's fists clenched against his father's back, his whole body trembling.
"I should've been there when you were scared. When you needed me." Goku's grip tightened just slightly, as if afraid Goten would slip away. "When you lost Mom. When you lost Gohan. I should've been there."
Goten squeezed his eyes shut. His breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling in sharp, ragged motions.
"I thought if I got strong enough, nothing bad would happen." Goku's voice wavered, filled with something deeper than just pain. "But I was wrong."
His hand gently rested on the back of Goten's head, the way it had when he was little.
"I left you alone."
A single, broken breath escaped Goten's lips.
"I'm sorry."
For the first time, Goten's hands moved—slowly, hesitantly. His fingers curled around the fabric of Goku's torn gi, gripping it like an anchor.
"I love you, son," Goku whispered. "And I'm here."
A choked sound left Goten's throat. His shoulders shook. His hands tightened, gripping his father's gi so hard his knuckles turned white.
Then—
The first tear fell.
It hit Goku's shoulder, unnoticed by both of them.
Then another.
And another.
Goten's breath broke. The dam cracked, the flood rushing through before he could stop it. His whole body trembled. His hands clung to his father, his head pressing into his shoulder as a sob tore its way out—raw, unrestrained, years of grief spilling out in a single, shattered breath.
Goku held him tighter. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to.
For the first time in years, Goten let himself be a son.
And for the first time in a long, long time—
Goku held him like a father.