Goku stood amid the rubble, his Super Saiyan hair a stark gold against the dying light. Across from him, Frieza—or what remained of him—trembled. Half his skull was missing, his tail severed, his body a patchwork of cuts and fury. But his eyes still burned with the arrogance of a tyrant who refused to understand defeat.
“Goku, what are you doing?” Krillin shouted, feeling the shift in his friend’s ki.
Goku’s golden aura flickered and faded. His hair returned to black. His muscles softened. He was no longer a Super Saiyan. He was just a man. A father. A friend.
Because Goku wasn’t going to summon Porunga.