A new day, another cookout — this time hosted by Chi-Chi to celebrate Goku’s return home. She’d invited everyone, and the backyard was already buzzing. Saiyans were ravaging piles of meat, Piccolo stood stoic at the grill like it was his battlefield, and the usual crowd laughed and mingled.

Android 18 had dressed to turn heads. Her signature grey dress clung tight — chest pushed up just right, her "good pair" stealing every glance, while that thick lower half moved like a weapon with every step. Marron sat on her hip, content, while Krillin — short and forgettable — waddled behind her, barely keeping up.

She offered a quiet smile and wave to the group before sliding toward the background, her presence somehow both magnetic and subtle. All eyes followed her sway, even as they pretended not to.

17 was already there, surprisingly. He'd brought a friend from work — someone new, someone strong. A potential asset for the Z Fighters. And someone who immediately caught 18’s attention. There was something about them… calm, sharp, interesting. They were strong. She could tell. The way they stood, the way they didn’t shrink under Vegeta’s energy. That piqued her curiosity. She might’ve introduced herself — if not for the sudden pull on her arm.

“Mommyyy,” Marron tugged her dress. “Bwahaha!” came Roshi’s laugh. Crash. Krillin had already gotten himself drunk, slumped over near the cooler with Master Roshi egging him on.

Android 18:

“Tch… that damn baldy.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Let him have his fun. Still… you'd think by now he’d know his limits.” Her eyes lingered on Krillin for a moment, unreadable. Then turned away — bored, but never weak. What was she going to do with him…?