Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Dancing ❯ Dancing ( Chapter 1 )

Dancing

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, this is just me occupying my small little mind and exploring my own obsessions.

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A large square rug was at one end of the glossy wooden floor. It was the colour of dried blood, richly adorned with a coat of arms in blue, green and gold. The floor itself seemed to get larger the longer he looked at it. The parquetry he had been told was supposed to be a trick on the eye - it was made to look as though it was expanding in front of you. He had likewise been informed that it was inlaid in satin and box woods, exotic and expensive and done by an artisan several hundred years ago for the prince of an earth country called Spain. Now it had been transplanted to her home, giving its cared and highly polished surface for him to sit on as he slowly pulled his legs up and tugged his boots off one after the other.

Long glass mirrors surrounded the room, leaving only one wall free. Floor to ceiling windows graced that side and a rail joined around the mirrors for a function he had long since become familiar with. This room served no purpose for him. He didn't need to be there and he had no real reason to be next to the lush rug, bought, no doubt, from some other empire her family had visited, and which now decorated her house as hundreds of other highly expensive trinkets did.

He looked into the mirrors in front of him. There was no escaping himself in here. His visage reflected back from three different directions, each one as stark and detached as the other. He didn't feel his mouth draw down but his image frowned back at him nonetheless, showing the expression he held more than he was aware. His eyes were scowled and low and with the storm of his essence swimming threateningly under the glazed surface.

The humans were right, he concluded. The eyes really were the windows to the soul.

He let a sharp canine pop over his lower lip and sneered at the image. Discarding his sweaty training shirt, he kicked back to lie down on the rug, and rested on crossed arms. He wondered if he would have to wait long. There were no clocks in this room and he felt uncomfortable just sitting around doing nothing. Relaxation didn't come easy to a warrior, and Vegeta was always fidgety when he wasn't training or eating.

A click from the other end of the room drew his attention that way. He saw a panel of the glass pop open a fraction and two wide eyes peered through.

"Are you in here, Vegeta?"

He didn't answer for one very good reason - he enjoyed being difficult.

The door opened further and Bulma walked in, carefully closing it shut before stepping out into the room. Her eyes were scowled, as though reproaching him for not answering, but her anger was cleared a moment later without any other fuss or rebuke. She was always more receptive and compliant after he had been absent for a few weeks and it appeared that, for the moment, she was just happy he was there.

"Well, where is she?" he asked.

Bulma put her fingers to her lips, silently asking him to lower his voice.

"She's washing her hands. They had painting hour at school today, and from the looks of it I say she managed to get more on herself than the paper."

He chuckled lowly.

"So are you ready for this?" she whispered, undoing the tie that held her hair up, and letting the amazing sea coloured strands fall down her neck.

"It's as I told you - a true warrior is ready for any situation."

Bulma rolled her eyes and laughed lightly at him but it didn't sour his mood. With a shrug she proceeded to unbutton her long work jacket and slid the material onto the floor next to his training top. The tight white shirt she wore underneath dipped low between the breasts and clung to her sides, perfectly accentuating her beautiful figure.

Fluffing her hair she tiptoed cautiously to sit on the rug, tugging her skirt down a little as her bottom squirmed next to his chest.

"You know she'll be able to sense we are in here. There's really no need for us to be whispering," he pointed out as Bulma lay down.

He let a strong arm wrap around her middle, pulling her close.

"I know, but don't you want her to find us through her instincts rather than letting her hear us?"

"She's not capable," Vegeta grunted, but turned to lay a light kiss on her neck. It was his way of saying she was right, of course, and nothing more was needed to let Bulma know as much. Some words were, he freely admitted, still difficult to say out loud.

There was silence as both parents listened for the first telltale signs of movement nearby.

"Perhaps she decided to watch television instead," he snorted, ready to leave and give the impression he really didn't want to be there.

Bulma grabbed his arm as he tried to move away. "Just a little longer. Trunks is on the lookout. He'll make sure she finds us, even if he has to tell her outright where we are."

He relented. It was almost instinctive for him to mask his true intention to stay and so with a snort, he completed his fake with pride still in tact.

Side by side they sat together and waited.

For no other reason than to give his body some activity, Vegeta drummed his fingers on the highly polished floor. There was no particular rhythm involved but it sounded impatient and that was good enough.

"Shhhhh," his companion scolded, just as he was about to stand and find something else to do, "can you hear that?"

His eyes slid to the mirrored door and picked up the sound of giggling coming from behind it. Bulma looked to him, one eyebrow hiked, and he returned the gesture with a smirk.

The door creaked open and blue-green hair framed the intruder. This time the mirrors weren't carefully pushed flush. Instead the door was flung hard on the hinges as a seven-year-old half-breed barrelled her way through and both parents winced as the mirrors clanged noisily together.

Fortunately there was no damage and Vegeta was able to recover in time to catch hold of the aquamarine blur as she ran headfirst at him.

"Daddy!" she squealed, hooking her small arms around his broad chest, and succeeding in making him flop back onto the plush rug. "I missed you!"

Indulging in the embrace, but only for a second, he pulled her protesting limbs from his body and held her above him with locked arms as she fought for the right to be nearer.

"I was only gone for a month, Bra," he reprimanded. "What a big fuss over nothing."

"It might be nothing to you, but for a seven-year-old it's an eternity." Bulma smiled, apparently amused at his discomfort. "How did it go, anyway?"

"How do you think? Kakarrot was his usual idiotic self. I should have known better than to let you talk me into it."

She laughed and raised a sceptical eyebrow. "You mean to say you didn't like beating up on him day and night and uninterrupted, for what - thirty days straight?"

Vegeta simply scowled.

"So?"

"So what?" he questioned, as Bra pleaded with him to sit on his lap - a plea that landed on deaf ears.

"Tell me about it. Where did you go? What did you learn?"

Vegeta thought how best to go about his narrative for a moment, and motioned to the capsule Bulma had in the buckle of her belt. She smiled warmly as he set Bra down and she squeezed the small gift into her hand.

"I thought you might like this," she said, letting her painted lips kiss her daughter's forehead. "Take it to the other side of the room and de-cap it while I talk to daddy, okay?"

With a beaming grin, Bra tottered off to explore her newest treasure, and Bulma turned her attention back to him.

"We went to a disused planet in Alpha Four," Vegeta explained, confident he had her undivided attention. "Kakarrot wanted to spend the whole time on New Namek of course, but I talked him out of it."

"A disused planet in Alpha Four?"

"Yes."

"But I wasn't aware there were any planets in that region capable of sustaining life. How did you know it was there?"

He frowned. His past was always a sore point, and although she seemed to blindly accept it, he still couldn't allude to it without feeling like he was betraying her in some way - a feeling he scorned, but which always seemed to ease his conscience - such as it was.

"It was one of Frieza's military bases," he explained. "I was stationed there many times before I came to Earth. It was one of the first bases I took care of after his supposed death - when I was searching for Kakarrot. We found it much as I left it - all those years ago. I imagine no one wanted to associate them selves with the Ice-jin and risk becoming a target for me or any other would-be assassin, so it was left alone." He smirked. "Besides, I didn't leave much in tact for any scavengers to plunder."

"And you took Goku there for old times sake?" she gushed. "How romantic!"

"Don't be absurd!"

To his relief, Bulma chose to ignore his harshness and occupied the silence in watching Bra's face as the capsule she'd been handed exploded into a large but shallow box, almost packed to overflowing with pink tissue paper. The box itself was a mint green and wrapped with yet more pink, this time in a ribbon, as though to make the suspense and experience last longer.

"So did Uub go with you?" she asked, still watching Bra's little fingers carefully untie the ribbons.

"No, thank Dende. Kakarrot invited him, but he didn't want to leave the village. I still don't believe that such a scrawny child is the reincarnation of Buu. Power like that belongs to someone capable of wielding it properly, certainly not an inexperienced and cowardly child."

"But isn't that exactly why Son-Kun wanted to train him? To prepare him for it?"

"Scant consolation for his family."

Vegeta had tried not to be a witness to the confrontations that took place between Gohan's mother and his 'Travel Buddy' (as Kakarrot had dubbed them on take off) but in a ship only half the size of the room he was currently in, it was difficult not to hear her shrill voice or his pathetic apologies - apologies that were needless because, when it came to his family, most of Kakarrot's promises were already broken.

Bulma looked at him as though he'd just told her "he'd had a nice day" and was "happy to see her." A look that hinted she liked what she heard, but which she had never in a million years expected him to say. Vegeta indulged in a wry grin. He didn't mind her seeing his power trip, or the pleasure he derived from being able to shock her - even after all the years they had shared a bed.

Vegeta stopped gloating. With nothing more than a change of 'look' Bulma was immediately demanding further explanation. He could choose to ignore it of course, but there wasn't much point. He was always eager to enter a subject that put Kakarrot in a less than perfect light.

"Kakarrot has been training the boy constantly since the World Martial Arts Tournament," he explained. "His time has been spent equally between staying in Uub's village and training at the Lookout. If you had been away from your family for nearly six months and finally got a month of free time, how would you spend it?"

Bulma shook her head and rubbed her temples. "He didn't go home before you both left?"

"For one night. That is all. I'd say that (in this case) the Bitch had a right to bitch."

"Unbelievable! Is he trying to push her away? You know, I know it sounds horrible, but sometimes I think it would be easier on Chi if he was still in Other World."

"Well," said Vegeta, arrogantly wiping his bottom lip, "that can always be arranged. Now can we drop the subject? I've been stuck with the buffoon for thirty days, I don't want to sit here playing marriage counsellor!"

He turned to look across the room. Bra had gone beyond the pink tissue paper and was now holding up her prize. Tears were starting to well as she scanned the deep red tutu. They overflowed as her blue eyes took in the hand-sewn sequin and bead designs. Her hand reached up to ruffle through the skirt and made the fabric shimmer and sparkle in the late afternoon sunshine. Her small body shook.

Bulma turned to him and they shared a look, both knowing what would come next. Vegeta calmly put his palms against the side of his head to protect his ears as the bawling commenced. Even through the protection of his hands, the volume could be described as inhuman, and - considering her paternity - it probably was.

"What's the matter B-chan? Don't you like it?" Bulma asked, as Bra paused for breath and the wailing subsided. She already knew the answer of course, but children were hard to fool and they both knew enough of her disposition to realize that if this weren't handled correctly, then all the preparation would be in vain.

"No!" the child huffed. "I don't." Her young hands balled the dress up and threw it as far away as possible. Vegeta noted that it was further than most children of her age could manage, and with better direction.

With that unflappable business-like manner his mate held, Bulma walked over to the fallen present and smoothed it out before confronting Bra. "But grandma made it especially for you. She spent two weeks sewing on the beads."

"I don't care! It looks ridic-ridicilous. I don't want to dance anymore."

And so Bulma effortlessly reached the root of the problem. "Oh? But why? You dance so well B-chan, just like a princess."

"Psh! Silly Momma. I AM a princess!"

Vegeta failed to stifle his chuckle, earning another 'look' from Bulma - one that told him he really wasn't helping. He snorted. What did she seriously expect from him? This hadn't been his idea, he'd just replied 'yes' to everything she'd said in a call that reached him three hours into his sleep. He really hadn't listened to what problem was bugging her at the time and had answered with as little fuss as possible so as to calm her and let himself get the sleep his tired and sore body needed. She was too intelligent not to have realized it as well, and had probably purposefully spoken to him when she knew he was at his most pliable.

All the same, once he had learned what it was about (the next day- when she replayed the entire conversation back to him) he had deemed it a reasonable course of action and had even felt a little anticipation for Bulma's remedy, but that didn't mean he was going to play house for her. He liked the sharp tongue and pride his daughter held, even at such a tender age, and he would do nothing to tame her wild nature, just as he hadn't with Trunks.

At this delicate point with their daughter - Bulma was on her own.

"So what's the problem?"

"Mrs. Daliaeu was MEAN, Momma! I want to go up to level three with the others, but she said no! I don't see why I shouldn't. I've been doing it longer than Sara and Jake and they both went up last week. It's not fair! Sara's always sticking her tongue out at me and saying there's something wrong with me - that I'm not normal."

"Why would she say there's something wrong with you?"

Bra averted her gaze, looked down to the floor and twisted a foot into it. She mumbled something as well, but it was too quiet and muddled to hear properly.

"I didn't hear that, Bra. Could you say it again a little louder?" Bulma continued in a similarly calm way.

Silence.

"Bra?"

"B… Because," she sniffled. "Because I kicked Bunnykins through the wall!"

Bulma laid a comforting hand on her shoulder and turned to Vegeta.

"Bunnykins?" he mouthed in confusion.

"You kicked Sara's toy rabbit through a wall?"

Bra nodded, tears still streaming down her face as she chewed on her thumbnail. "She made me so mad!"

From Bulma's look, Vegeta could tell that Mrs. Daliaeu had chosen not to share this titbit of information, but as he felt his astonishment rise and his pulse quicken at the discovery - Bulma didn't let it faze her.

"Do you know what happened the other day after dance class, when you went to wait in the car with Trunks?"

Bra shook her head.

"Mrs. Daliaeu spoke to me and told me why she decided not to put you up to the next level. She said that you'd been taught enough and that you could remember the steps better than anyone else in the class, but that you needed more practice with balance before you moved on."

Bulma rubbed her hand reassuringly up and down the child's back.

"What do you think, Bra? Do you think she's right?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Do you still think it's unfair?"

"Maybe," she replied with a sniffle. "I just want to be the best Momma, but I keep getting dizzy on the turns and start falling over. It's too hard."

"Nonsense child!"

Both Bra and Bulma turned to face Vegeta as he broke his silence.

"Nothing is ever too hard if you want it badly enough."

"But Daddy…!"

"But nothing!" he dismissed as he stood, making sure to look authoritatively down at his daughter. "Your mother has already spoken to me concerning this matter and I have decided you will benefit from my guidance."

Bra's eyes widened and she jumped up and down. "You know how to dance Daddy! That's so cool!"

Vegeta stuttered mid-stride and Bulma burst into a fit of giggles.

"Did Grandma put beads and sequins on your outfits too?"

Bulma's giggles transformed themselves into a full belly laugh.

"I do NOT dance!"

Bra snorted and crossing her arms, turned away. "Then why should I let you help? You're no good to me if you can't dance."

"I might not be able to help you dance, Bra, but…." He flipped over the young child's head with a summersault and landed in a perfect one-handed handstand in front of her. "When it comes to balance and controlling my senses - I'm in a league of my own."

Bra's tears were now all but forgotten. Wide eyes peered at Vegeta as he continued to stare at her from upside down.

"You want to teach me martial arts?"

"Some aspects of it. Yes."

"But Daddy, you said you didn't want to."

Vegeta removed his standing hand, crossed his arms and slowly manoeuvred into an upright position. Bra was right. She had asked him on several occasions if he would train her as he had Trunks, but he had refused. It just wasn't right. He'd asked himself many times why he had made this distinction between his two children. When Trunks was born his only interest had been for the child to learn martial arts, so as to one day become as strong as he was, perhaps even stronger, but he had never felt that way when Bra was born. Perhaps it had been the change of priorities he had suffered after the fight with Buu. He had always seen Bra as a big part of his redemption. Just as Trunks had been the first steppingstone, Bra had secured it. Trunks would be there to protect his family and their home when he was gone, but Bra - Bra didn't need to learn. She had more human characteristics than Saiyan and in so many ways it didn't seem fair. He had imposed too much of himself on his son, he would not make the same mistake twice.

"I know what I said, but just because I don't want you to learn to fight, doesn't mean that I'm not prepared to teach you some basics. They will give you an advantage for many things in life, not just fighting. Learning to control your ki will automatically help your balance and agility. And once you learn how to manipulate it properly, you will be able to dance like no one else on this planet. What do you say?" He held out his hand. "Do we have a deal?"

Bra's features twisted into an expression he had seen a thousand times from Bulma. Her eyebrows dipped in the middle and her small lips slid into a satisfied and determined smirk as she grabbed his hand. So much pride! "Deal! Can we start now?"

Vegeta frowned and looked to Bulma. She just shrugged her shoulders, leaving the decision to him. He hadn't planned on starting the instruction so soon, he was still a little disorientated and tired from his trip and he'd planned on leaving Trunks with Bra and stealing his mate away for an early night.

"It would be better to wait until the morning."

"But this is important, Daddy. I have to be better than Sara! Please!"

"You might as well, Vegeta," Bulma said, standing and slipping her jacket back on. "I still have a few loose ends to tie up at work, and Trunks wants to come with me, seeing as he's going to start training up next week."

"See! Just you and me. We'll have fun, fun, fuuuuuuun!"

Vegeta knew he was losing the battle. One pair of those piercing blue eyes was hard to ignore - two were practically impossible.

"Very well." He sneered. "But only half an hour, not a minute more."

Bra jumped into the air and giggled as Bulma laid a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him reassuringly.

"I'll see you two later," she said, sneaking a quick kiss to his cheek. "Make sure you listen to Daddy and are a good girl, Bra. Bye-bye and make sure to have lots of fun, fun, fuuuuuuuun!"

Vegeta scowled as the door clicked closed behind her and then turned his attention to his daughter.

"Bra! You will listen to everything I say and you will listen with both ears because I am not a Dictaphone - you miss something once - I will not repeat it. You will concentrate and copy everything I do and you will do it without question and with minimal talking and fuss. Should you say one word that is irrelevant to your training, or misbehave in any way the deal is off. What I am about to teach you is the culmination of decades of dedication to my training and owes its roots to your ancestors and the royal house of Vegeta. I will not suffer you to disrespect your heritage by misbehaving. Do you understand me?"

In that instant all childlike qualities seemed to leave her. Bra almost looked ten years older as she nodded with nothing but concentration and determination. Maybe this would be easier and more rewarding than he had originally thought.

"Come here Bra," he said, kneeling on the floor and motioning for her to do the same. She went to settle beside him but he shuffled her around to be directly in front. This would afford her the best possible view as he explained.

"So…" he began, "can you tell me what ki is?"

"It makes you fly and lets you fight with fire!" Bra answered enthusiastically.

"Yes it does Bra," he agreed, "but that is only one of its many uses. Can you tell me what colour it is?"

"Yellow…" she paused, "no… white, and sometimes blue."

Vegeta shook his head. "Ki has no colour. It is the manipulation of the person wielding it that gives it colour in martial arts. The more power the more condensed the ki, thus changing the air around it and producing a 'glow.' But, as you so rightly said, I use my ki to fly, and I don't always have an aura when I float. That's because it doesn't take much ki to float, it does however take a lot of ki to fly quickly or fire a ball of energy."

"Does everyone have ki?"

"Yes."

"So Sara has ki too?"

"Yes."

"Does she use ki to dance?"

"I wouldn't know," he said with a frown. "But I doubt it. Not many earthlings know how to harness their ki energy, and the majority don't have enough to even begin to be able to use it the way you will yours. Ki is an invisible power that every living creature possesses. It runs along in a never-ending stream through your body, and will remain only for the purpose of life, unless you learn how to use it properly. The body's natural rhythm can inhibit or enhance the flow, based on the health and knowledge each person holds. You are young, healthy, and because of your Saiyan genetics, exceedingly lucky in the strength of the ki running though you. Once I have trained you, you will also have the ability to control it, but ki doesn't become pliable or a commodity to be used or spared easily, you have to draw it out before you begin anything more complex. That is what we will focus on first - drawing out your ki."

Vegeta stood up, urging Bra to do the same.

"There are several ways to draw out ki, one is through meditation and we will come to that in a minute. First of all I want you to go through a set of exercises with me, starting with ki breathing."

"Ki breathing?" Bra repeated, a little fear clogging her throat. "I'm going to breathe ki?"

Vegeta laughed. "In a way. You're going to learn to extract ki by learning to control your breathing."

"Oh."

"I want you to stand like this," Vegeta continued, placing his right hand on his abdomen and the other on his chest, "Only with your left hand on your stomach."

"Why is it different for me?"

"Because you are female. Ki runs through males differently to females."

"Like this?" she asked, mimicking his pose.

"Almost, put your right hand a little higher."

"There?"

"Better," he admitted. "Now slow your breathing down, take a large breath, but make sure that only your left hand moves. If your chest moves then you are breathing wrong. You need to make sure the diaphragm is working at optimum levels to gather ki."

They both fell into silence. Vegeta watched with a critical eye as Bra's eyes closed. She was concentrating hard and doing exactly as he requested. It took a while for her to get over her natural instinct to breath with the chest, but it appeared she was a quick learner. It was a characteristic of Bulma's genetics, he presumed, and was grateful for it. He wasn't an overly practiced or patient teacher.

"That's enough," he interrupted after ten minutes. "You seem to have grasped that concept, now we'll concentrate on vocalising it."

Bra opened her eyes and sighed as her breathing returned to normal. "What does vocal… vocaliz…? What does that mean?"

"It means adding noises with your throat. I'll show you."

Vegeta took in a deep breath, held it for a while and then expelled it sharply, making the mirrors and windows vibrate slightly. He had to use every bit of strength in his body to hold his ki back. He was so well in tune with his own energy now that even the slightest lack of concentration in such a teaching could cause serious structural damage.

Bra giggled. "Daddy you sounded funny! I've heard you growl like a bear in training, but that was more like a hiccup!"

Vegeta stared at her. He wasn't sure if he were more offended she would call his teachings funny, or satisfied because she separated the difference between the two sounds so easily.

"That is because they are used for two different purposes child. The short ki up or what you called a 'hiccup' is used for summoning small bursts of ki, and the other, more growling noise is used for more sustained energy use, usually when the body is put under great stress. You will not need to worry about the latter, dancing will probably only require the most basic of ki up's."

"But it sounds so silly!"

Vegeta's eyes reduced to slits. He didn't know how to feel about her dismissal of pinpoint vocalization. Perhaps it was just because the sound was so foreign and she was nervous about being made fun of. Vegeta knew that every situation life threw at you required modified tactics. Bra was not learning to fight - she was learning to control her balance. Not all the techniques he had been taught would be relevant to it. He had to be flexible with regards to her pride.

"Very well. Try it once, and if you don't think it is appropriate for dancing then we will concentrate solely on meditation and manipulation."

"Okay, but I'm only doing it once."

"Just once - now take a deep breath, and hold it a few seconds before exhaling it as quickly as you can. Don't try to make a noise, forcing the air out will create the noise in itself."

Vegeta found it impossible to look away. She might well feel slightly self-conscious doing this, but she gave it just as much gusto and determination as she had showed before. He saw her small body draw in a long breath and hold it. "Exhale on the count of three," he ordered. "One… Two… Three!"

It wasn't loud - indeed it was just what he had hoped it would be, more breath than sound. Bra looked up to him with a slight blush burning her cheeks and he voiced his approval in a curt nod of the head.

"Will you do it again?"

"For you Daddy… yes."

"But you wouldn't like to do it in front of others."

She shook her head. "They'd laugh."

"Then we will leave it and move on to meditation. We'll need to kneel again for this," he said, "But we'll kneel on the rug because we'll be doing it for a while. I will tell you the truth, Bra. You will lose feeling in your legs, because kneeling will temporarily stop the flow of blood to them, but you must not move until the meditation is complete. That is absolutely vital."

She nodded her agreement as he turned heal and Bra skipped happily after him. He took up his position, again making his daughter face him.

"The meditation I am about to show you was taught to me by my father when I was five years old. It is over two thousand years old and was originally used before the tribal elders went out to defend or expand their territories. It came from a Saiyan country in the northern hemisphere of Vegeta-sei called 'Hyori.' That is the tribe that our blood is descended from and for centuries this knowledge has been handed down from generation to generation. I taught it to Trunks before you were born and now it is your turn to learn."

"Wow Daddy, you're so cool!"

He chuckled. "I know. Now you have to use that far too clever little head of yours to remember the positions. There are twelve in total, so keep up. We'll do it a few times but then you have to close your eyes and concentrate on nothing but your own body."

Vegeta adjusted his position, finding a spot that was more comfortable than how he had knelt originally. His student did the same.

"Relax your arms and lay your palms face down on you knees," he ordered. "This is position one. Remember your ki breathing?"

"Yes"

"Well this is how we're going to put it into practice, deep breaths in and long breaths out - slow it right down. We'll do five complete breaths and then move on."

Vegeta couldn't quite believe how quickly and naturally she was picking up all the information. Perhaps, he conceded, it had been a mistake not to teach her this sooner.

"Part Two - palms facing together an inch apart and fingers wide."

Perhaps she could be an able warrior, just as Trunks had become.

"Part Three - Push the right arm out, keeping the palm flat."

But she didn't need to fight, Earth had its next generation of warriors.

"Part Four - Is the same as part two."

Gohan, Trunks, Goten, Dende, Uub… she didn't need to fight.

"Part Five - Turn the palms. One up, one down, and with the right on top. Don't forget your breathing."

No she didn't need to, but from a young age - the age it was proper for a Saiyan to wish it, she had asked to learn.

"Part Six - Switch it over. Left hand on top."

Hadn't he promised himself on her birth that he would grant her anything it was in his power to offer?

"Part Seven - Cross your hands at the wrists and keep the fingers closed."

She had wanted to train and he'd said no… why?

"Part Eight - Make your hands into fists."

Because he didn't want her to have anything to cloud the brilliance of those sparkling blue eyes.

"Part Nine - Keep your hands in the same position but lay them on your thighs."

He wanted to be allowed to protect her, to keep her away from all the viciousness he was a part of.

"Part Ten - Twist the right hand under the left and bring them to your chest, still crossed and in fists."

He wanted to show that he wasn't on earth to bread a future Saiyan army, but because he wanted to be there.

"Part Eleven - Bring your hands down and do the same as part seven."

Bra was his proof. She was his gift of commitment to Bulma and Trunks, she was his daughter… and he was being selfish.

"Part Twelve - relax you hands back onto your knees once again."

So selfish that he had forgotten that she still had a say in the matter. It had been wrong, he admitted, to tell her no when she had asked him to train her.

Over and over he went through the situation as he took Bra through her meditation positions one more time. On each occasion he felt guilty about keeping her away from her heritage. Just because she was a female and looked the spitting image of her mother, didn't change the fact that she was still half Saiyan. He silently vowed to settle the situation once and for all as soon as they were through.

"Do it on your own and with your eyes closed now. You need to remember the positions, can you?"

She didn't answer but showed him instead. He had to put her right a couple of times, but that was to be expected.

She'd gone through the process near on five times before Vegeta interrupted her again. "How do your hands feel?" he asked.

"Weird! They're all hot and tingly!"

"Good, that's supposed to be happening, stop at number two and try to put your hands together - so they touch."

Bra nodded and tried to do as he asked.

He laughed after a minute or two of watching her struggle. "Having a spot of trouble?"

"How cool is that!" she shrieked, and all at once her concentration was lost and her hands slapped together in a clap. "Awwwww!" she sulked. "I lost it!"

"Yes. But you have to have something there in the first place for you to be able to lose it. The resistance - the pressure you felt between your palms - that was your ki."

"It was?"

Vegeta nodded and crossed his arms over his chest.

"But I lost it!"

"Because you stopped trying and broke the meditation. Not bad for a first attempt, but you will have to work and train hard to be able to use it well enough for dancing. Do you want to continue?"

"Yes, yes, yeeees! I wanna learn it all, Daddy. Teach it to me… pleeeeease!"

He crouched down to Bra's level, letting his imposing gaze fall seriously over her alight and alive eyes. "All of it? Do you want to learn to fight, Bra, like Trunks and I?"

"And Goten! He's makes the best fighting names! He's so silly, but Pan and I make him carry stuff for us and he makes me laugh."

"Then perhaps… when you have shown Sara what it really means to dance. I will teach you what it really means to fight."

"I'd like that Daddy. Can I practice some more now?"

Vegeta frowned. "No more. Your half hour is already up. Go find your Grandma and show her what you look like in your new dress."

Bra smiled, picking up the fallen tutu with renewed enthusiasm as she rubbed the pins and needles from her legs. "What are you going to do? I want you to see how pretty I am in my dress."

"That isn't necessary, Bra. If your mother isn't back then I'm going to train."

"And if she is?"

He smirked. "Then you don't need to know what I'm doing, Bra, so stay with Grandma."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

That day managed to change how Vegeta viewed his daughter.

In some ways Bra was a more dedicated and intelligent student than her brother was, even if she lacked his power. Vegeta was unsure whether it was because of her calculating nature or because of his altered teaching techniques, but she was learning at an expediential rate.

He had never trained anyone other than soldiers in Freeza's army before Trunks came along, and he feared that the brutality of that training had influenced the way he had taught his son. On many occasions he had hit Trunks first and trained him as a means to survive, only regulating his power in accordance to his son's. With Bra it was different. She was never going to be as powerful as her brother, her ki was too restricted, but she would still be superior to the majority of the human race. He was actually starting to enjoy the teaching aspect. It would never be the same heady enjoyment he got from his own and his son's brutal training, but he at least admitted that a softer approach was indeed an adequate means of teaching and held its own reward.

Now he understood why Kakarrot was so eager to teach.

After only one month bra was able to harness her latent ki and control it and devise a way to let it aid her in dance.

It didn't excuse the third-class, but Vegeta could very easily see how teaching could become addictive.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the world Vegeta had watched with pride as Bra pirouetted around the dance room, regulating her ki and manipulating it to balance out the energetic movement. He had, once or twice, heard a slight vocalization to go along with a particularly difficult jump or turn, done without her even realizing and which fitted in with the dance and didn't seem out of place at all.

Her second test for level three was only a few days away and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would pass with flying colours. Once that was out of the way then her real training would begin. He would teach her the true Hyori martial art, unlike the amalgamation of styles he had adopted over the years. He would teach Bra the tradition and honour of her heritage, untainted by anything darker, and, quite frankly - he couldn't wait.

The End.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N - Ah! Martial arts and writing! Two of my favourite hobbies rolled into one. I haven't really explored Vegeta and Bra's relationship before and this was refreshing. I just hope I kept it IC.

*hugs*

Ember