Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Dancing ❯ Part Two ( Chapter 2 )

Dancing

Part Two

Disclaimer: DBZ and the martial arts incorporated (from the Korean Martial of Kuk Sool Won) are not mine.

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Vegeta leaned back, supporting his body on the limb of a cherry tree, safe in the knowledge that he could do so without being noticed. His view of the dance room was unencumbered as he watched Bra spin around and around. Three weeks ago Bra had taken her second test for level three, and one week ago today she had received the results. That she passed was of little surprise to Vegeta. Bra had worked hard, trained well, and soaked up all his teachings in a way that only a young child could.

He wasn't, however, watching his daughter to take pleasure from her performance. He felt pride when he saw her stick the turns that no more than a month ago had her on the verge of defeat, but now he watched for a different reason. He was on the look out for clues on how to adapt her dance steps to the ancient practice of his very own tribal martial art. There were a lot of similarities. The intricate step work - the balance, control and training of the limbs to make them supple enough for involved movements - these were a good basis for any form of martial art, no matter the technique. The body conditioning her dancing had given her from a very young age, would more than make up for his negligence and it would give her the opportunity to pick up his new teachings faster.

He chewed on the end of his pen. Over the last week he had made many notes, forming a rough outline on how to change her movement for power instead of poise. It was going to be hard; there was no question about that, but there was a significant likeness between the two. The only trouble was that Bra's body had been trained to move in a very specific way, and to a certain extent, the similarities of dance were going to hinder, rather than help her in the beginning. It was too upright, too showy for martial arts. These fundamentals could be changed, however, if Bra was willing to forgo her previous training and accept his instead.

Flipping the notepad closed and pushing the pen securely into the binding at the top, Vegeta hopped down from the branch and onto the cushioned lawn, ready to eat the family dinner he had first smelled wafting his way ten minutes ago. That he had delayed for so long was testimony to the importance he put on his daughters training, and he was deadly serious. That being said, however, Vegeta knew he would scrap it all in a moment if Bra said that she had changed her mind and didn't want to learn. He would be disappointed, there was no question about that, but he would control that disappointment and move on.

Bulma accosted him the moment he entered the kitchen. "You're late."

"I had a few things to take care of," he replied, tucking the notepad into his back pocket and then sliding out a chair so he could sit at the table.

"Well, it doesn't matter that much. Trunks isn't back from the office yet and Bra… I have no idea where Bra is. Have you seen her?"

"She's dance training."

He picked up a pitcher of water and poured himself a glass.

"Were you spying on her again?" Bulma asked, placing his dinner on the table and letting him see her sly grin.

"I wasn't spying," he said. "I was merely taking notes, that is all."

"You're really excited at the prospect of teaching her, aren't you?"

"Perhaps," he admitted, catching her wrist before she could move away. "Are you concerned about that?"

He guided her into the chair next to him and to the food he had disturbed her from on his arrival. "A little," she admitted. "I remember how it was with Tru…."

"I see." His eyes slid to hers, thinning as he concentrated. "I'm not going to lie to you, Bulma. The training will be very hard for her, physically as well as mentally, but it will not, in any way shape or form, be brutal. The boy's training, I admit, was a little heavy handed, but we both know that this was necessary. I trained Trunks not just as a martial artist but also as a warrior - a future protector for your planet. I have refused to teach Bra this way in the past, and I will continue to do so. The training I will give her is very different. You have my word on that."

"I'm not sure I understand the distinction you've made," she said, picking up a fork and digging into her food. "Isn't being a marital artist the same thing as being a warrior? You're still going to teach her to fight."

"Yes - but it's all in how I teach her. With Trunks it was all about power. I taught him to fight without emotion, and without holding back. Bra doesn't possess enough latent ki energy to make this type of training worthwhile. My fighting style - it has changed considerably over the years and the martial art I originally studied has become polluted. You know better than most how desperate I have been for power and how obsessed I have been with gaining it - perhaps I still am."

She nodded.

"To attain the power I have now, I have had to merge a lot of individual and obscure styles together. Teaching Bra all of what I know will neither be desirable or necessary. She will learn martial arts not just to fight, but to appreciate the skill, dedication, and history involved. Her lessons will be directed towards the ability of martial arts - to keep her body healthy and as a means for protecting herself should she need to - no more than that."

Bulma seemed satisfied with what he said, and her cheeks were flushed with an emotion he couldn't place. "So what is this unpolluted style?" she asked.

"Hyori."

"Heyorai?" She scrunched her face trying to mimic the foreign word. "I'm guessing it's Saiyan. What does it mean?"

He shifted slightly on his chair, drawing out the suspense as he took a long sip on his drink. It intrigued him how something so little and relatively meaningless to Bulma could captivate her attention so entirely.

"Loosely translated it means 'King to the land' although there are several other connotations."

Bulma had started eating, but as the translation left his lips, she stopped.

"What?" he muttered, suspiciously.

She carefully positioned her fork along her plate and let out a long sigh. "It's just that I don't hear you speak like this very often - especially not when it involves translating for me. Oh I hear you swearing at me in Saiyan the whole time. I mean if I were ever to meet another Saiyan besides you and Son-kun, I'd be able to call him an idiot in about fifty different ways so he understood, but something like this. It's a treat. If you don't mind, I'm just going to sit here and let the moment sink in."

He chuckled into his food. "Then you don't want to hear any more?"

He wasn't sure whether to be highly amused or extremely angry when a small manicured hand darted between him and his food. She glared at him. "If there's more then I'm going to hear it, mister, and right now! No distractions."

"Why is it so important to you?" he asked.

She smiled. "Because it's a part of your life that you don't let anyone know about. I know this might come as a shock to you, but I don't lie when I say that I love you. It's a perfectly natural reaction for me to be interested in your past, and wanting to grab hold of any titbit of information you give me is all a part of that."

Catching her gaze, he drew his mouth into a thin hard line. "I tell you nothing because, a lot of the time, you are better for not knowing."

"I know," she said. "You want to protect me, and I appreciate that, but this is about before Frieza, right - about your home planet? I really want you to tell me more."

He still didn't understand, but relented nonetheless. It would do more harm were he to ignore her plea.

"Hyori is the name of the tribe from which the royal house of Vegeta is descended. It gave its name to the style of martial art I trained in under the guidance of my father and various other tutors before I entered Frieza's army. Bra, if she is still interested in learning, will receive the benefits and basic principles of this style."

It looked to Vegeta as though Bulma was about to push further, but Trunks entered the room and stopped their conversation short.

"Something smells good!" he said, laying his jacket and keys on the breakfast bar. "Did you cook, Mum?"

She laughed. "As if! Thank the housebots, not me."

"I'll be sure to do that. By the way, I fell over something pink and sparkly in the hall. She's washing her hands."

He pulled out a chair and started to pile his plate. Bulma sighed lightly, frustrated that she couldn't have more time alone with Vegeta. She didn't show this to Trunks, however, and was soon quizzing him on his first full afternoon in charge of Capsule Corporation. They talked incessantly, and Vegeta soon got bored of even feigning to show interest.

He only became aware again when his daughter skipped happily into the room; still in the pink tutu Bulma's mother had designed for her. She sat down the other side of Vegeta and dug into her food with the gusto and speed that only Saiyan blood could create.

"Make sure you eat as much as you can, Bra," Vegeta said, pushing another bowl of rice his daughter's way. "You will need the extra nutrition."

"Why Daddy?"

"Because once you have finished, you will have your very first martial arts lesson." He looked pointedly at her. "If you still wish to learn that is."

Her eyes grew wide and sparkled with excitement. "Yay! This is going to be so cool. Do you mean it? I get to train with you and Trunks?"

"Not with Trunks, but with me, yes."

Trunks laughed and patted her affectionately on the head. "It was nice knowing you, kid."

The sarcasm was lost on Bra. She was too excited and Vegeta found it amusing that she wolfed down the bowl of rice, and asked if he was ready before she had even swallowed.

"Maybe you should wait for your food to go down first," Bulma laughed as the housebots collected dishes around them.

Bra pulled a bizarre face and swallowed it all in one giant gulp. She then proceeded to open her mouth wide so everyone could see there was no trace left. "All gone!" she stated, just in case anyone was still in any doubt. "Now can we train?"

Vegeta chuckled and felt his anticipation grow as he nodded. He'd finished several minutes ago and had only stayed because of Bra.

"Can I wear this?" she asked, fluffing the skirt on her tutu.

"It's unorthodox, but it will do."

He only stood long enough to let Bra know she was to follow him, before marching out of the room. She walked eagerly behind, no longer skipping as she had earlier, but in a steady long stride that mimicked his own. "We will use the dance room for now," he said, turning down the curved corridor that would take them there. "The Gravity Room has no mirrors, and when you are learning, it is essential that you can see how your body moves."

"Just like ballet?"

"I wouldn't know."

It was a lie of course, but Bra didn't need to know about his 'spying' as Bulma called it.

He fiddled with the catch on the door, opened it and held it for Bra. She walked under his arm and as in their earlier lessons, headed straight for the rug. He joined her, but instead of kneeling he crossed his legs and told her to do the same. "You will need feeling in your legs for this and I have a fair bit to tell you, so for both our comfort it is better to just sit," he explained.

"Won't I need to be standing, so you can show me how to kick peoples arses?" she asked, clasping her hands together and looking the picture of innocence.

Vegeta controlled his amusement. It was as if she knew just what to say to alight his imagination and make him forget the control he so badly wanted to instil in her in its place.

"Is that what you think you will be learning?" he asked, curious as to her reply. "How to kick peoples arses?"

"Of course. I want to fight and you said you'd teach me."

"And I will, but you will not be learning to fight like Trunks. Your ki just isn't strong enough. What you will be learning is how to fight in a controlled manner, as I once learned as a child."

"But Daddy! I wanna learn like Trunks," she whined.

"Is that a fact?" He eyed Bra with a wry grin and a passive, deflecting gaze. "Well, I had planned on telling you things that not even Trunks knows, but if you want to be his punching bag then I guess I can change my tactics."

Bra's big blue eyes watered under a malicious grin. "You mean…" She lowered her voice and looked suspiciously around the room. "Secrets?"

Her face was alive, and Vegeta congratulated himself. He had heard people say that parenting was hard. Feh! It was all nonsense. All you really needed to know was how to push buttons and, in truth, Vegeta was more than equal to it.

"Yes," he replied, lowering his voice as well. "Secrets that only you and I will know. I am the only one alive who has trained in the true, elite martial art of Vegeta-sei, and soon, you will know it too."

She squealed in delight, throwing her small arms around his broad chest. He suffered it for a moment before pulling her off and to a respectful distance. Such contact was still too alien to be suffered for long, even in private. It took effort, but he managed to harden his gaze long enough to sober her exuberance.

"So now you want to learn?"

"Yes, a whole heap! I want to learn Daddy's secrets."

"Very well, but a secret is a secret Bra. I will only teach you if you promise me not to tell anyone what goes on in these lessons. Do you agree to this?"

She nodded. It was firm and spoke absolute sincerity. "Mummy says that a secret isn't special anymore if everyone knows."

Vegeta, despite appearances, was highly amused by this. He wondered just how long that pearl of wisdom would last from his mate when she realized that Bra was keeping quiet about these special classes. If their conversation earlier was any indication, then he didn't give her five minutes.

"Then listen to your mother's advice and know that I will stop training you immediately if I find out you've blabbed," he threatened.

"Then we'll pinky promise!" she agreed holding out her little finger. "That way it can never be broken."

Vegeta looked at the outstretched finger with mild disgust. "That won't be necessary. Your word will be fine."

Bra pouted and then relented with a sigh. "Okay."

Convinced that he had his daughters unwavering attention Vegeta began the narrative he had been preparing for days prior.

"The style of martial arts you are going to learn is called Hyori. It is a tribal, or family, martial art that was first devised three hundred years ago on my home planet of Vegeta-sei. However, it has its origins much further back - as far as Saiyan history is recorded. That's over two thousand years. As it stands now, this ancient art will be forgotten when I am no longer around, and I do not wish for that to happen. That is why I am going to teach you it in its purest form, so my heritage will live on. This is a lot of responsibility, Bra, and I am entrusting it to you."

He stood and walked a little distance away.

"If you are serious about learning then I will demand nothing less than one hundred percent commitment. I have no desire to waste my time. You will learn as I instruct, and I have no doubt that if you listen to me carefully, then you will excel and become a great master one day."

"I do want to learn - about fighting and your old home daddy. Tell me more about it."

He nodded. "I will, but only in reference to your training. You do not need to know any more."

He doubted Bra would understand the majority of what he was about to say, but that didn't matter. He would build on what limited amount she did, over the months and years to come. These beginning lessons were all about setting the foundations and forming her into a skilled and patient pupil. He cleared his throat, ready to begin.

"I will start with the main history and we'll take it from there," he stated. "In ancient Saiyan times there were hundreds of tribes all over Vegeta-sei. These consisted of two main factions. The Saiyans and the Truffles. The Saiyans lived in the east and the Truffles in the west. The differences between the two weren't huge, but enough to make deep segregations across the planet. The Truffles were a lot like the Earthlings are now; adept, intelligent and a generally peaceful race. They didn't like to fight, and only did so when it was absolutely necessary. That is not to say that they were overly weak. Back then they were far more advanced in mind than the Saiyans were. They preferred to rely on technology and created great weapons that not even the Saiyan physique was immune to."

"In close combat the Saiyans always had the advantage, but to get into such close quarters in the first place was incredibly hard. In general terms the Saiyans were content fighting amongst themselves rather than trying to infringe on Truffle territory. As a result, hundreds of differing Saiyan martial art styles were formed, each for the use of an individual tribe - Hyori was one of them."

He looked over his shoulder at Bra, just to make sure she was paying attention. He needn't have worried. She looked completely engrossed - cross-legged and gaping, as though she were listening to a good bedtime story.

"Things were a lot different then from when I was brought up. At this time it was the Truffles that had greater control. They had the great cities and the wealth that came with power and technology. They had just started to dabble in space travel and were beginning to enjoy the benefits that went with it. Compared to the Truffles, the Saiyans lived very simply. They didn't have cities, just small towns and villages where they lived off the land. To them, learning martial arts wasn't just an idle pastime - it was a means of survival. All the principle members of the tribe learned how to fight and how to hunt. It was essential to learn, and the difference between life and death if you didn't learn well enough. There were no laws for our ancestors, each tribe had to fend for themselves, and even within these there was a lot of fighting. The majority of the time it was territorial - over food, females or even contests of leadership, but it was also used for fun, as a sport and a means of entertainment. Indeed, there are several forms that were originally designed specifically for women, but which, when I was young, were taught to all, even the men."

Vegeta readjusted his stance and held out an arm, silently beckoning his daughter over. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see?" he said, when she stood next to him.

"Are you being silly, Daddy?"

He scowled. "Daddy doesn't do silly."

She looked confused. "I just see you and me."

"Do you want to know what I see?" he asked.

Bra giggled. "I bet you see the same."

"Yes and no. What I see is royalty - a prince and his daughter. Did you know that my father was a king and once ruled over the entire planet of Vegeta-sei?"

"You said I would have been a princess if we had been on your planet and not Mummy's." She sniggered. "Would I have had maids and people to boss about?"

"More than likely," he agreed. "I did when I was a child."

"I think I would have liked that, but was your daddy a Truffle?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "What makes you think that?"

"You said the Truffles were in charge. Your daddy must have been one to be king."

"The Truffles were in charge, but that was a very long time ago. When I was born there were no longer any Truffles."

"Did they go off in spaceships and leave the Saiyans behind?"

Vegeta thought for a moment. Did he tell her the truth, or did he deflect her question? What would it do to a seven year old to know that her father's race had, with the help of a rare full moon, totally destroyed the Truffles - men, women and children alike - taken over their cities and stolen their technology? It would probably do more harm than good right now, and he had made a promise to Bulma that he would only teach her what was relevant to her training.

"No," he replied. "It was a little more complicated than that, but this is in no way relevant to what you are about to learn. Perhaps, when you are older and when you can understand better, I will tell you more. For now I will only say that a certain event changed the course of history and due to a distinction in my tribe, the Saiyans rose from obscurity and first made their mark on the universe as a proud and powerful warrior race. Under our ancestor's rule Vegeta-sei became a very different place. All the differing tribes fell under one rule, and a very diverse and rich empire was formed. Each style of martial art was still taught and practiced diligently, but Hyori evolved and became the martial art used by both the palace and the elite guard."

Vegeta guided Bra to stand in front of the main wall of mirrors. "I have no doubt that all of these different styles were, in part at least, combined to the royal martial art over the years. No style remains totally pure for that long, but what I can say for certain, is that it is completely Saiyan. Up until my birth, other planetary martial arts had not been allowed to influence the style. It was a closely guarded secret when suspicion and double dealings were rife in the universe."

He held out Bra's arms, and wrapped his own hand around the upper part so that the forefinger and thumb touched. "Your body may be small and relatively weak, but that does not matter. Hyori is adaptable for anyone to learn, old, young, short, tall, weak or strong. It has no prejudices. The teacher himself decides who learns it. Trunks knows a little, it is true, but he does not know anything close to the amount you will learn, if you apply yourself well." He looked at her through the mirror, his black eyes holding hers. "Do you understand?"

She bit her bottom lip. "I think so."

"Good," he stated. "Then we will begin with the very basics for now and see how you get on."

He moved her back a little and positioned himself between Bra and the mirror. "We will start with the basic kicks. Your dancing has made you supple, and seeing as you have been doing it before dinner then we will, for this once, forgo a warm up. There are several basic kicks for you to learn and we will start with a front snap kick."

Making sure there was plenty of room he demonstrated this for her. "You are right handed and therefore probably right rooted as well, so we'll start on this side. You need to put your left leg forward and kick with your back leg. Put your hands up by your face and in fists, while keeping your elbows tucked in. This will help balance the kick and train your body for defence as well as attack."

"Like this?" she asked, copying his stance flawlessly.

"Just like that," he agreed. "For a front snap kick you need to bring your right knee forward, balancing on your left leg. The power comes from the snap you make with the lower half of your leg when you fully extend it. Like this," Vegeta demonstrated.

Bra tried to copy him.

"Close," he encouraged when she was done. "But this isn't ballet. You need to pull your toes back and kick with the ball of your foot otherwise you will break them. Also - keep your left foot flat on the floor. If you go onto tiptoes you will become off balance. The height of the kick doesn't matter. If you feel your back foot coming up then lower the kick. If you don't do this, at best your kick will lack power and at worst you'll fall flat on your arse and become completely vulnerable to a counterattack."

It took a fair bit of coaching before Bra got the right technique. Vegeta's suspicions were proven correct. Her dance training was hindering her. She had been trained to point her toes and to make her movement look elegant. When done correctly there was indeed a certain amount of grace involved in martial arts, but that came later, when balance and power had been established. For now he had to concentrate on constant corrections and retraining her body to work with, rather than against the dynamics of kicking.

Over the next half hour he took her through the rest of the basic kicks. Crescent, axe, straight leg, roundhouse, side, and hook kicks had all been gone through and with encouraging results. He'd decided to take the kicking as a first approach because it was more in keeping to what she was used to, and to be fair, once the initial stumbling blocks had been gone over, Bra did very well. Her body was very much equal to replicating his movements and for now that was good enough. Power would come with time and practice. There was only one more kick for her to learn and even though, theoretically, it wasn't as basic as the others, he had no qualms about teaching her. Their earlier dealings would help a great deal and so once she had finished doing her five set of hook kicks on each leg, he decided to introduce it.

"That is good enough, child," he said, as she wobbled slightly. "But it is getting close to your bedtime. There is one more kick left and if you manage to get it right then I will start teaching you some hand strikes tomorrow."

"This is so much fun, Daddy!" she enthused, looking at her legs as though she was seeing them for the first time.

"I have spent the last few minutes telling you not to use your dance, but now I'm going to scrap that. Those moves," he said, twisting his finger in circles because he didn't know the precise term. "The ones when you spin around several times."

"The pirouettes?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "Show me."

Bra did as he asked. With the addition of a little dip of the legs at the beginning she went up onto the end of her toes and spun around three or four times.

"Yes. That is it," he agreed. "Do you always do multiple together or can you do it just once?"

"My best is seven in a row, doing one is just too easy!"

He smirked and dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I have no doubt about that, Bra, but humour me and do just one anyway."

Unable to refuse, Bra did as she was told. "There!"

"And again," he insisted, but as she turned her feet to begin he stopped her. "Do you always begin like that, turning to face the opposite direction and then going onto tiptoes?"

She nodded. "Mrs. Daliaeu says that we need to."

"And do you likewise look over your shoulder to see the front?"

"Yes. You get really dizzy otherwise."

"So it's just the balance that needs working on then."

"Mrs Daliaeu says I have very good balance!" she huffed, indignantly.

"Perhaps you do." His brow creased. "This dance spin - it is almost identical to how a fighter moves when doing a spin kick. It's all in the toes again though." He stood on one leg, perfectly balanced, and moved his toes backwards and forwards. "I cannot see how you stay so centred on them. It must be the speed that keeps you upright more than anything else. I have no doubt that you could perform such a kick very easily with this method, were you to kick air all day, but," he looked up to Bra with a smirk. "If you had something to kick… I think it would explain what I am trying to say better."

He stood staunchly in front of his daughter. "Try it."

"Try what?"

"I want you to do that, pirouette thing again, only this time extend your leg, pull your toes back and kick with the heel. I want to demonstrate how, even though your dance training relies heavily on balance and control, that it really has to be changed to be useful in martial arts. Kick me."

"Don't be silly, Daddy. I'll hurt you."

He chuckled. "Believe me, Bra, it takes a lot for me to get hurt. I'm merely going to demonstrate a point. Your mother has a phrase that I think fits. It goes something along the lines of 'seeing is believing'. Here," he said pointing to his knee. "This is where I want you to aim for."

"And you're sure I won't hurt you?"

"Positive," he confirmed.

She smiled and practically jumped into stance. "Okay then," she shouted, sounding incredibly grown up. "You're going down, Daddy!"

Vegeta groaned and made a mental note to stop her from watching 'Mr Satan's Wrestling Superstars' with Trunks on a Saturday morning.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, and with no messing about she spun into the kick.

Vegeta was pleased with what he saw. She looked over her shoulder before raising her leg. The technique might have been instilled through dancing, but seeing where you were kicking, in martial arts, was almost as important as the kick itself. It was only after this that things went awry. Her kicking leg spun in the right way with the toes back, heel out and perfectly parallel to the floor, but there was the problem. She rose on her back foot too high, almost balancing on the very ends of her toes. The moment she kicked him her standing leg buckled. She hopped a little before falling heavily onto the hard wooden floorboards with a sickening crack.

Tears started to well in her eyes as Vegeta shrugged his shoulders in a way that didn't speak sympathy - only derision. "I can tell you need no need practice on balance at all, Bra," he sniffed sarcastically.

"Don't be mean, Daddy!" she screamed, rubbing her sore bottom. "Your body feels like a rock."

"That's because I am a highly trained martial artist, but I am not powered up now, I have no ki to aid me. I admit that even if you had kicked me correctly you would not have moved me, but that isn't the reason you fell. Power comes with balance. Had you kicked me with balance you would have managed to stay on your feet even if the kick wasn't powerful enough to move me."

"What did I do wrong?" she asked, hands on her hips and a little bit of wounded pride in her voice.

"Your standing foot was unbalanced."

Bra smacked the floor in frustration. "But Mrs. Daliaeu says I will fall over if I spin on my heel."

"And she's right," he agreed. "I will show you how to spin properly."

Bra eyed him warily for a moment, as though she were thinking about refusing. There was a battle raging somewhere in her young head. Vegeta knew that look. It was pride versus desire. She wanted to learn, but she had pride in her already established ability. This was a pivotal moment. Would she sacrifice her pride to learn his way, or was she going to disobey him and make his notes redundant?

To Vegeta's relief she nodded, but not before fluffing her hair and making a, "hmpppph" noise to let him know that she wasn't happy about it.

"Give me your foot," he instructed, knowing it was best to ignore her temper. Pandering to her mood swings would only make them more violent. That he knew from experience.

With a sigh, Bra did as she was told.

The anger melted the moment he touched her foot. She giggled and squirmed in his hold. "That tickles!" she screeched.

"You mean this?" he asked, experimentally doing the same movement again.

She shrieked and giggled again and there was something in the sound that made Vegeta take an interest. So this was what playing with children, interacting with them, was all about? Interesting. He might have to incorporate more of that into his future lessons, especially if it could be used to drastically change the mood of a situation. Every aid for effective discipline had to be explored, and this unexpected phenomenon definitely had potential.

"Daddy! Please stop!"

He did. It was hard for him to refuse Bra anything. "Okay," he agreed. "I will point instead of touching." He drew an invisible line around the ball of her foot. "This is where you need to be spinning," he said. "If you spin on the heel then you have nothing to control your rotation. On your toes you have control of the rotation, but not enough balance to withstand kicking an object. If you spin on the ball of the foot, you have the toes free to grip the floor with. They will give you greater balance, and should you over-rotate then your can put your heel down to stop you. Do you understand better now?"

Bra looked sheepishly up to him and nodded. "I'm sorry," she said, hanging her head a little. "I just got angry."

"I know. Do you get that way a lot?"

"Maybe," she said looking away and playing with a strand of her hair. "I do things when I get angry - things that my friends can't. It's weird. Am I strange?"

Vegeta shook his head. "You're not strange. You're part Saiyan. It is something to be proud of Bra and learning Hyori will teach you that."

He looked down at his daughter, concern etched into his features. He had felt regret at not teaching her before, but now he could see how much she had missed out by such a refusal. She looked human, was brought up as a human, and had deep emotional vulnerability as all humans seemed to, but she wasn't human - not entirely. He should not have tried to protect her for so long. It was wrong.

He sighed and shook his head. At least now he had a means to explain why she was different, why she could do things other children couldn't, and even though tonight's lesson was pretty much over, Vegeta couldn't help but feel great anticipation for what was to come.

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A/N - I had planned on keeping this a one-shot, but dammit if the little inspiration bugs just didn't keep on nagging at me to explore it thoroughly. Evil little critters! *Gnaws on one* Anyway - keep an eye out for two or three more installations of this fic.

Thank you for beta-ing, Lisa, and making me look like I know what those icky things called 'grammar and spelling' are all about.