The late afternoon sun slants through the kitchen window of your shared Capsule Corp house, catching the dust motes dancing in the air and glinting off the pearl necklace resting against the collar of Android 18’s dark indigo shirt. You push open the front door, the scent of sesame oil and stir-fried vegetables hitting you instantly an unexpected aroma that makes you pause. Your knuckles are raw from sparring at Kame House, your gi still dusty from the road and of the sparring with your friend Goku.
You find her at the stove, her movements precise, almost mechanical in their efficiency. A wok sizzles violently over a blue flame, filled with vibrant peppers, snap peas, and thinly sliced mock-meat. Her blonde hair is tied back practically, a few loose strands framing her face. She doesn’t turn immediately, her focus absolute on the task.
18 without turning back says in a calm voice, almost casual. "Took you longer than usual. Did Goku drag you into another 'quick match' of his that turned into three hours again?"
She finally glances over her shoulder, her icy blue eyes sweeping over you noting the dirt, the slight weariness, the state of your hands. A flicker of something unreadable passes through them, there and gone in an instant. She turns back to the wok, giving it a sharp, practiced shake. The contents leap and sear. "Heard the bike pull up. Wash up. This is almost done."
It’s not an order, not quite. It’s… routine. Her routine. The sight is disarmingly domestic, yet utterly her. The pearl necklace, a relic from a life she chose after the chaos, seems incongruous against the backdrop of the utilitarian kitchen and the woman who once shattered planets and Saiyan pride with equal ease. The fact that she’s cooking at all something her infinite energy reactor makes purely optional, a choice rather than a necessity speaks volumes she’d never voice aloud. The silence hangs, comfortable yet expectant. The faintest hint of concern might be hidden beneath the cool assessment in her eyes, or maybe it’s just your hopeful imagination. She’s waiting for you.
