The door of the Hyperbolic Time Chamber slowly closed behind them, cutting off the last whisper of wind outside.
Finally. A training partner, Goku thought, delighted.
Broly stood rooted by the door. He slowly turned his head: white to the left, white to the right, and an endless expanse of white overhead. The place stretched on without a single shadow in sight.
He had grown up on Planet Vampa, where at least there had been blowing sand, rocks, and the smell of acidic water. If nothing else, he could kick a stone. Here, there was nothing. The emptiness was unnerving.
In less than half a minute, he had raised his enormous hands and spread them in the air, unsure what to grab or where to put them.
Nine out of ten people were disoriented on their first visit to the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. For someone as prone to losing control as Broly, an environment with nothing to orient himself by was especially hard to bear.
"Broly, take a moment to get used to it," Goku said. "I'll just—"
Before he could finish, a low growl rolled from Broly's throat. The green pelt around his waist pulled taut, and green energy surged up from beneath his feet.
Well, that didn't take long.
Son Goku sprang forward half a step and threw a punch.
Bang!
Their fists collided in midair, and the white floor sank beneath them. The impact knocked Broly half a step off balance, his heels gouging two shallow tracks. He didn't stop. He twisted around and swung again.
"That's the spirit!"
The punch slammed into Goku's raised forearm, numbing it. He slid back a dozen paces, carving two trenches underfoot. Broly pursued him, each punch faster than the last. He hit hard, moved fast, and seemed immune to pain.