It had been a month since Razor and Android 18 landed on Earth. Life had… shifted, though Razor wouldn't admit it out loud. The battles, the war-torn skies, the metallic clang of Tirax's armies—all of that felt like a distant storm. Now, mornings started with the gentle hum of nature, the whistle of mountain wind, and 18's voice calling him for breakfast.
Before any of this, 18 had made a clever deal. Every piece of alien technology and plasma cannon salvaged from Tarix's wrecked ship had been sold to Bulma at Capsule Corp. Razor had raised an eyebrow when he saw the credits transfer to her account.
"You sold everything?" he asked, almost surprised by how quickly 18 managed to turn alien weaponry into wealth.
"Of course," 18 replied coolly, counting through the balance on her tablet. "We won't need those anymore. Besides, Bulma was thrilled—said the tech could help Capsule Corp revolutionize weaponry."
Razor crossed his arms. "You didn't even hesitate."
18 looked up, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "I needed money for shopping."
He blinked, utterly unamused. "Shopping."
She tilted her head slightly, her eyes dancing. "And for a house. You don't want to sleep in that old ship forever, do you?"
That shut him up.
With the money, they bought a quiet home near a mountain range—peaceful, secluded, but close enough to a small village where they could buy food. Razor had almost decided to leave Earth when he found out it was only a few ridges away from Goku's place, 18 noticed his faint glare when she mentioned it.
"I didn't know it was that close," she said apologetically. "I just liked the view."
Razor sighed. "Next thing I know, he'll show up asking for a spar everyday."
He was right.
Goku visited almost every morning, cheerful as ever, with that trademark grin and boundless enthusiasm. Razor didn't mind fighting—it was in his nature—but Goku's friendliness still baffled him. He was their mortal enemy two years ago but it was as if Goku had memory loss and forgot everything.
"Morning, Razor! You ready for another round?"
"You never tire of losing?" Razor replied dryly, stretching his arms.
Goku laughed. "Hey, I've been improving! You'll see today."
Before long, Vegeta would sense their energy and arrive as well, unable to resist the pull of battle. His pride wouldn't allow him to stay behind if Goku was fighting and improving.
"Tch. You two start without me again?" Vegeta barked, landing with a smirk.
"You're here again," Razor replied, the corner of his mouth twitching.
Soon enough, the mountain air would echo with shockwaves and golden light. The trio sparred nearly every day, their blows shaking the surrounding valley. Their power had grown, though compared to him, it was still far off.
One evening, after a particularly intense spar where Goku nearly managed to push Razor into using more than his Super Saiyan form, Vegeta flew off muttering something about surpassing "that long-haired freak." Goku laughed and waved before teleporting home for dinner.
For Razor, these daily battles were less about growth and more about staying sharp. After years of conflict, his instincts refused to dull. But for Goku and Vegeta, the sessions were invaluable. Every exchange pushed them further, increasing their strength.
One afternoon, Razor stood alone in a secluded clearing, his golden aura flickering before vanishing completely. Sweat glistened on his skin, his chest rising and falling steadily. Then his eyes sharpened—his focus tightening—and the air around him shimmered.
His ki surged, not explosively, but with focused intensity. The transformation was seamless. His hair extended, wild and long, his brow ridge deepened, and his teal eyes gleamed with calm ferocity.
Super Saiyan 3.
The air rippled faintly around him, leaves dancing in slow motion. The pressure was immense but controlled—not the chaotic storm it once was. Months of disciplined training had tamed the wild form into something stable, efficient. His ki no longer poured out endlessly; it pulsed in calculated bursts.
"Finally," Razor murmured, feeling the energy hum through him like a caged dragon that had learned restraint.
Moments later, two familiar energies approached.
Goku and Vegeta landed nearby, their expressions a mix of awe and disbelief.
"Whoa… Razor, what is that form?" Goku asked, eyes wide.
Vegeta clenched his fists, his pride visibly stung. "This power—it's… beyond anything."
Razor looked at them, expression unreadable. "A transformation beyond your current reach. Super Saiyan 3."
Goku's eyes lit up with excitement. "Super Saiyan 3… incredible! You actually pushed it that far!"
Vegeta scowled. "Don't sound so impressed, Kakarot. We'll reach it soon enough."
Razor smirked faintly. "Then I'll be waiting. Train hard."
The next few days, Goku and Vegeta pushed their training even harder. Their rivalry reignited like a wildfire, each determined to surpass Razor's power. Razor observed them silently, amused but detached. He didn't care who was stronger. He didn't seek recognition or companionship—just the thrill of challenge.
The evenings, however, were different.
When the sun dipped behind the mountains and the golden light faded, Razor would return home to find 18 sitting by the window, reading or polishing a small plasma core she had kept as a memento. The moment he entered, her usual calm expression softened slightly.
"Tough day?" she'd ask, not looking up.
"Same as always," Razor replied, dropping into a chair.
"You're going to break that mountain one of these days."
He shrugged. "It'll hold."
18 smiled faintly, shaking her head. "You really can't stay still, can you?"
"Not my style," he said, glancing at her. "Though… this planet isn't as dull as I expected."
Her blue eyes met his. "That's the closest thing to a compliment I've heard from you about Earth."
He looked away, pretending not to hear her teasing tone. "Don't get used to it."
Sometimes, 17 and 16 would visit too, joining 18 for quiet dinners or helping her with work. Razor rarely joined their conversations, content to sit back and listen. He didn't need to speak; his presence beside 18 was enough.
Despite his stoic exterior, even Razor couldn't ignore the peace that Earth offered. The scent of the forest after rain, the warmth of sunlight on his skin, and the sound of laughter from nearby villagers whenever 18 would force him to come with her, yet… it was grounding.
Still, deep down, the warrior in him stirred restlessly. The calm was temporary. He knew it. Peace never lasted forever for people like him.
As the night fell and the stars began to fill the sky, Razor stood outside their house, looking up at the moonlit peaks. 18 stepped beside him, arms folded.
"Can't sleep?" she asked softly.
"Just thinking," he murmured.
"About what?"
He paused. "How long this peace will last."
18 looked at him, then at the stars. "As long as we want it to."
Behind them, the quiet mountain breeze whispered through the trees. The once battle hungry Saiyan and the stoic android—warriors forged in conflict—stood side by side, watching the night in silence.