A few quiet days had passed since Razor's return. The chaos of his reappearance had faded, and the small house near Mount Paozu was once again filled with a strange peace — though "peace" was still something Razor was learning to understand.
He stood outside the house, fur glistening with sweat under the morning sun. His new attire was simple: loose gi pants and waist cloth shaded in layered tones of dark grey and black, accented by his black wrist wraps and boots. The colors blended with his sharp aura—balanced, powerful, and regal in their own way. The old battle armor was long gone; he said it felt like a burden of the past.
Inside, 18 sipped her coffee while Rizze munched on breakfast. Rizze's bright eyes followed her father outside. "He's at it again, Mama," she said with a knowing grin.
18 smiled faintly. "Of course he is. Your dad doesn't know how to take a day off."
Rizze hopped off her chair. "Then I'll join him!"
Before 18 could stop her, the tiny blonde girl dashed outside, dropping beside Razor. The two began training together like it was part of their morning routine.
After a while, Rizze flopped onto the grass with an exaggerated groan. "Dad, you still make it look too easy."
Razor looked down at her, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Then you'll just have to get stronger."
From the porch, 18 crossed her arms, watching them with a soft smile. Seeing the two of them together — her husband and daughter in sync — made the morning feel peacefully unreal.
Later that day, 18 called out, "We're going to West City."
Razor, still mid-sit-up, froze. "For what?"
"Shopping. Groceries, clothes, normal things."
Razor frowned, confused. "We have everything we need here. Hunt or trade—"
Before he could finish, Rizze ran up, clasping his arm tightly. "Please, Dad!"
Her eyes pleading. Razor sighed, defeated. "Fine."
18 smirked. "Good answer." She grabbed his wrist and began dragging him toward the capsule car. Razor muttered under his breath, "I preferred war missions." Rizze chuckled.
As they approached the city, 18 turned serious. "Listen carefully. No flying. No ki blasts. No fighting. We act like normal people after all we don't want to attract unnecessary trouble."
Razor blinked. "So… we walk everywhere?"
"Yes," she said flatly.
He looked down the long city road, clearly unimpressed. "This planet makes warriors lazy."
18 rolled her eyes. "Welcome to civilization."
West City was buzzing as always — cars zooming by, people chatting, neon signs flashing. Razor stood still for a moment, taking it all in. The noise. The smell. The chaos. For someone who'd spent years in battlefields, it was an entirely new kind of battlefield.
"Dad, come on!" Rizze tugged his hand.
Razor's steps were heavy but controlled as he followed her into the shopping mall. His size made people glance briefly before quickly looking away after all tall muscular guys or guys with animal like features weren't uncommon. Nobody recognized them, and that's how 18 liked it.
When they reached the escalator, Razor stopped, frowning. "It moves… on its own?"
"It's just stairs," 18 sighed.
He stepped on cautiously like a soldier testing a minefield. Rizze laughed uncontrollably the whole way up.
Inside a clothing store, 18 disappeared to look at some dresses while Razor and Rizze wandered around. They soon found a claw machine filled with stuffed toys. Rizze's eyes sparkled. "Dad! Let's play!"
Razor stared at the machine. "It traps the animals inside a glass prison?"
"It's a game," Rizze said, inserting a coin. She moved the claw, missed the prize, and pouted. After a few tries, she looked defeated. Razor, crossing his arms, examined the machine. Then, with a single finger, his strength controlled, he tapped the glass lightly — every toy dropped at once.
Rizze squealed. "You're the best, Dad!"
18 returned just in time to see the ridiculous pile of toys and Razor standing proudly beside it. She sighed, pinching her temple. "You can't punch everything into working, you know."
"I didn't punch," Razor replied simply. "Just tapped."
Rizze laughed. "Yeah he is right mom."
18 just smiled. "Yeah. And too strong."
They were heading toward the food court when loud shouting erupted. Several masked robbers burst in, waving guns. "Everybody down! Don't move!"
The crowd screamed and dropped to the floor. Razor instantly straightened — his battle instincts flaring like lightning. 18 noticed it and mouthed silently, "Act normal."
Razor took a deep breath, then copied the people around him. He raised his hands and slowly knelt, his figure making most around him look like children.
One robber froze when he saw Razor's size and muscles. "You—stay down! Don't move!" he yelled, voice trembling.
Razor didn't move just glared.
The robber, sweating, accidentally fired a bullet. The bullet hit Razor's chest and bounced off with a faint ping.
The mall went silent. Even 18 blinked in disbelief. The robbers stared, pale as ghosts, then screamed and bolted for the exit.
For a long moment, nobody moved. Then Razor, remembering 18's words, coughed once — trying to act harmed.
18 facepalmed so hard it echoed. "Unbelievable," she muttered.
Rizze burst into laughter. "You're a superhero Dad!"
Razor tilted his head slightly. "Super… what?"
"Like those people who save others!"
"I didn't save anyone," he said honestly. "They just ran."
18 covered her face, half embarrassed, half amused. "You were supposed to avoid attention, not become a news headline."
They managed to slip out before the reporters and police arrived. On the way back to the car, 18 scolded him the entire walk.
"You were supposed to blend in! How hard is it to act normal?"
Razor, calm as ever, replied, "Normal people don't fight. I didn't fight."
Rizze swung between their arms, laughing. "But Dad looked so cool! Everyone was staring!"
Razor smirked, scratching the back of his head. "If you say so."
18 groaned, though a faint smile tugged at her lips. "You're impossible."
As they walked down the empty road at sunset, the orange glow reflected off Razor's red fur and Rizze's golden hair. 18 walked beside them, shaking her head but smiling softly.
Rizze looked up at her father. "Dad, can we go out again tomorrow?"
Razor looked down at her, eyes softening. "We'll see."
18 shot him a teasing glance. "As long as you promise not to destroy another game machine."
He smirked. "No promises."
Rizze laughed, holding both their hands as they walked home.