Combat Power Detector

Three days later.

Piccolo's residence.

Raditz knelt beside a sun-scorched boulder, his tail hanging limp and listless behind him.

He clutched two massive metal buckets, his once-proud brown battle armor caked in mud and grass clippings, the shoulder guard on his right side long since lost.

"Piccolo..."

He looked up, his usually fierce slit pupils now filled with supplication.

"Can you let me rest? I've already hauled three hundred loads of water... all from a river a hundred kilometers away. My legs... my legs are shaking."

Piccolo sat coldly atop a towering rock, arms crossed, his green figure standing like a demon god under the scorching sun. He didn't even lift an eyelid.

"No."

"But—"

"Son Goku said," Piccolo finally lowered his head, his white eyes devoid of warmth, "no work, no food. Do you want to starve?"

Raditz's throat bobbed.

He looked down at his own hands. These hands had once condensed spheres of purple energy, once obliterated a city in an instant, once made countless low-level warriors tremble in fear...

And now, they were hauling water.

I must be the most miserable Saiyan in the entire universe.

He cursed through gritted teeth in his mind.

No, the most miserable high-level warrior. If Vegeta saw me like this... he'd laugh until his lungs burst.

Images of the Frieza Force flashed through his mind—cold metal corridors, the pungent smell of nutrient paste, the shouting of high-level warriors at their subordinates, the corpses littering the ground after a battle...

There, being a high-level warrior meant privilege. It meant being able to steal food from the weak, claim the best stasis pods, and decide the fate of those beneath you.

But here...

"Move faster!" Piccolo's voice cracked like a whip. "Fifty more loads before sunset, or you're sleeping outside tonight."

Raditz shuddered, grabbing the buckets by reflex. "Yes... yes!"

Damn it... damn it!

How did I end up in this state? I am Raditz! An elite with a power level of fifteen hundred! The trash on this planet...

He glanced back at Piccolo's silhouette.

That green monster, even though his power level is slightly lower than mine, toys with me like a mouse. And Kakarot... that brother of mine, born a low-level warrior, is now as strong as a myth.

Earth... what kind of hellish place is this?

But strangely, as he reached the riverbank and dipped the buckets into the cool water, the surge of humiliation was suddenly diluted by a strange sense of tranquility.

No pursuers.

No surveillance from Frieza.

No death orders that could descend at any moment.

Only the sound of the wind, the water, and his own heavy breathing.

Raditz stared blankly at his reflection in the water—disheveled, wretched, but... still alive.

Splash.

He jerked the buckets up, cutting off his train of thought.

What am I thinking?! Such weak thoughts... they are a disgrace to the Saiyans!

He gritted his teeth and turned back.

"Piccolo!"

A familiar voice drifted from the sky, as cheerful as ever.

Piccolo looked up to see Son Goku descending slowly beside the rock.

"Son Goku," Piccolo stood up, asking coldly, "you're finally here. Take this Saiyan away; his water-hauling efficiency is too low, and he's wasting my time."

"Heh, I'm here to take him home this time!" Son Goku laughed, his gaze sweeping toward the stumbling figure in the distance. "Raditz! Come here!"

At these words, the buckets in Raditz's hands clattered to the ground. He scrambled over, his eyes gleaming with the light of someone who had survived a catastrophe.

"Really?! Can I finally leave this hellhole?!"

Piccolo shot him a cold glance, his voice sounding as if it had been pulled from an ice cellar.

"What did you say?"

Raditz shuddered, his tail tucking between his legs instantly, his head shaking like a rattle. "N-nothing... I meant... Lord Piccolo's place has great scenery... very suitable for training..."

Son Goku burst into laughter, slapping Raditz on the back so hard he nearly collapsed. "Let's go! I'm taking you home!"

He turned to look at Piccolo. "Come on, you're coming home with me too!"

Piccolo frowned: "I don't need—"

"Chi-Chi made so much food," Son Goku interrupted, blinking his eyes, "including that Namekian-style vegetable soup you like."

Piccolo was silent for two seconds, then turned around: "...Lead the way."

West City, Capsule Corporation mansion.

Raditz stood in the center of the living room, feeling completely out of place. He looked at the luxurious decor and advanced equipment surrounding him.

"Th-this is Kakarot's home?!"

His worldview was collapsing.

In the Frieza Force, even the highest-ranking officer's quarters were filled with the stench of machine oil and the pungent scent of disinfectant. But here... this place was more luxurious than Frieza's mothership, yet it made him feel more... uncomfortable than anywhere else.

"So," Bulma said, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at the tall Saiyan, "this is your 'stupid big brother'?"

She emphasized the word "stupid" with extra weight.

Raditz felt incredibly uneasy. He instinctively wanted to strike an arrogant pose befitting a high-class Saiyan warrior, but his body reacted first; he shrank his neck and dodged her gaze:

"I..."

"Raditz," Son Goku slapped him on the back, "say hello. This is Bulma, my wife... one of the most important people to me."

Under Son Goku's "tyranny," Raditz bit the bullet and lowered his head. He tried to make his voice sound firm, but it came out as a mosquito's buzz:

"H-hello..."

"Too quiet." Son Goku narrowed his eyes.

"HELLO!!!" Raditz shouted, his voice echoing through the living room and making the crystal chandelier jingle.

Bulma dug at her ear, looking disgusted: "Alright, alright, stop yelling. Goku, why did you bring this guy back? You aren't planning on keeping him, are you? Our house is already lively enough."

"No," Son Goku took the scouter from Raditz and handed it to Bulma, "do me a favor. Remove the monitoring system inside this and improve it. Frieza can eavesdrop through this; it's too dangerous."

Bulma took the scouter and pushed up her glasses. The look of disgust was instantly replaced by technical fanaticism: "Oh? Alien technology? Interesting... the energy circuit design is completely different from Earth's... let me see..."

She turned and ran toward the lab, her lavender ponytail swinging behind her.

Son Goku looked over at Chi-Chi, who was also nearby.

Chi-Chi smiled gently, holding a spatula in her hand and wearing an apron, the warmth of the kitchen clinging to her hair: "Goku, you're back? Dinner will be ready soon. So this is... Mr. Raditz?"

"Yes," Son Goku nodded, "Chi-Chi, this is my big brother. He'll be living with us from now on, please take care of him."

Chi-Chi smiled warmly:

"Of course. Welcome, Mr. Raditz. Do you prefer rice or noodles? Or... curry? I happened to buy some beef today."

Raditz froze.

It was as if an invisible bolt of lightning had struck the top of his head, leaving him stiff in his tracks.

"Take... care of him?"

"Asking me what I want to eat?!"

In the Frieza Force, low-class warriors couldn't even get enough synthetic nutrient paste, and the orders of high-class warriors were absolute law.

No one had ever... asked him what he wanted to eat. No one had ever welcomed him.

"I..." Raditz said hoarsely, "Rice... is fine..."

"Got it! Curry rice tonight!" Chi-Chi smiled and walked into the kitchen, humming a tune, "Wuhao! Wuqi! Wash your hands and get ready to eat--!"

Raditz stood where he was, feeling his eyes grow hot.

He hurriedly lowered his head, not wanting anyone to see the expression on his face.

Is... is this what a home is?

Not a mothership, not a barracks, not a slaughterhouse... but a place where someone asks you "what do you want to eat"?

Son Goku watched his expression, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly, though he said nothing.

Raditz, in the original story, you were a complete bastard who begged for mercy when death was at your doorstep.

But this time... you will become our family.

After all, Saiyans... shouldn't just be about fighting and killing.