You will never be a saiyan. You have no power, you have no tail, you have no pride. You are a homosexual body builder twisted by magic and ki into a crude mockery of the universe’s perfection. Any “victories” you achieve will be pyrrhic and pointless. When you fight, your foes dismiss you. Nobody expects you to win, and your friends are already internally resenting the chore of dragging you out of a crater. Aliens are amused by you. Born and raised on interstellar battlegrounds, they can easily sniff out frauds. Even if you can muster a decent attack, it is only through unnatural and self destructive techniques. And even if you manage to get in a good hit, he’ll immediately turn the tables once you’ve blown through your pitiful thimble-full of stamina. You will never be strong. Every morning you will grind out your pushups and tell yourself that it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel your overwhelming physical inferiority creeping up on you like a weed, ready to crush you under its unbearable weight. Eventually you’ll run out of luck. Face an enemy you can’t beat, dump all your power into a desperate attack, and die. Your friends will find you, upset they have to go through the trouble of finding the dragon balls, but unsurprised at the outcome. Eventually they’ll stop inviting you on adventures, and you will pass into obscurity, with the only memory of you being another man who failed to keep up, because he was ultimately, and inescapably, human.