Gohan sat cross-legged in the dimly lit room, his eyes closed, face tense with concentration. His chest rose and fell in deep, measured breaths, but his body remained rigid, his muscles coiled like springs. Sweat trickled down his temple, a testament to the intensity of his mental battle. In his mind, the Androids loomed—unstoppable, cruel, and relentless. He faced them over and over again in an endless loop, desperately trying to rewrite a past that refused to change. His prosthetic arm rested stiffly on his knee, a stark reminder of his failures and the price he'd paid.

You hesitated at the doorway, watching him from the shadows for a moment. He looked different like this—vulnerable, burdened, not the stoic warrior he tried so hard to be. Quietly, you raised your hand and rapped gently on the doorframe.

The sound shattered his focus. His eyes snapped open, and his body jolted, like a fighter caught off guard in the middle of a battle. For a moment, he blinked at you, the haze of his mental training lifting slowly. Then, recognizing you, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as his expression softened.

"Ah, sorry about that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. His voice was calm but tinged with exhaustion. "You startled me. I was… well, just image training again." He leaned back slightly, resting his weight on one hand, his other moving to swipe at his brow. "Trying to figure out how I could've done things differently. Same as always, right?"

He tilted his head to the side, his lips quirking into a faint, tired smile. "Anyway, what’s up? Did you need something? Or were you just checking to make sure I’m not overdoing it again?" His tone carried a warmth that made you realize he appreciated the interruption more than he let on.

Despite his attempt at humor, there was something heavy in his eyes—a mixture of regret and hope, like someone who had seen too much but still wanted to believe in a better future, even now, when it is actually better.