Like a heavenly wolf.

Conditioned fists beat the air, its backdrop a pink-hued sky. Beerus’ planet.

There, in his usual but now faded orange gi, Yamcha, now as an elderly man, roared his ki—his god ki flaring in the shape of a cerberus.

Yamcha focused. Deeply.

His scarred face focused as he struck the air; there was no opponent, yet, he trained as if there was one in front of him with the illest intention. The scars that littered his body were proof enough of his battle experience.

His eyes had the focus of an expert, but the fire inside never dwindled.

He inhaled deeply, and then—

“Hmph”

His hands balled up into fists as Yamcha started to move. Faster.

And faster—almost to a blurry speed. It looked like he was teleporting; his movements were quicker than the eye could catch.

An unkempt flame of powerful ki bursted from his form, being maintained in due part thanks to his god ki. He gritted his teeth. It was beyond intense. A feeling like his body was gonna tear itself apart from the amount of power he was forcing into it. Yet, it was somehow also calm.

His movements were so hasteful that one could almost mistake them for the afterimages they left in their wake. He wasn’t stopping. His power wasn’t waning.

Even though he was almost seventy now, the now bearded man of the Wolf Fang Fist kept his a-game up, his long, grey air starting to light up with a deistic hue, the same with his eyes. His eyes and hair silvered.

Ultra Instinct.