A/N: My first ever DBZ story, so hoping this goes well. Reviews would be appreciated, y'know.

Enjoy, my lovelies!~

With a flurry of punches raining down on me, the most I could do was block them with my forearms and skip over the sweeping kick that threatened to knock my feet out from under me. Trunks had given up on the spar almost an hour ago but was still watching from the side lines shouting encouragement to me. The heavy gravity had slowed us down enough that I could barely sprint any longer but Vegeta hardly seemed to notice the difference.

I got in a solid kick to the ribs that I'd hoped would send him careening into the wall but he stood unfazed by the blow, smirking as he readied to deliver a finishing blow. He always had the same gleeful smirk when he knew he was about to win – although there technically shouldn't be a victor in a friendly spar.

The floor gave way, creating a detailed dent in the shape of my face as I hit the metal. Trunks ran to my side, shouting about how his father had been far too rough with me yet again but the words were muffled as I began to black out.

It couldn't have been much later that I woke up, cradled in a pair of strong arms that I couldn't really put a name to. There was the undeniable stench of blood and sweat but that was most likely coming from me, so I could only guess that it was Trunks or Goten at this point. Bulma's light humming tapered out as we came to a halt in a bright room. I hid my face in the fabric of the man carrying me to block out the intense lighting and to shy away from the bluenettes screeching voice as she lectured us over getting blood everywhere. As much as I loved Bulma, I wished she would shut up and give me a senzu bean already instead of complaining; I was in a reasonable amount of pain after all.

Several minutes passed and she slowly ran out of steam, ripping a bean off her modified plant supply stored in the greenhouses and let whoever was carrying me to pop it into my mouth. Warmth and energy surged through my body but the undeniable jolts of pain left my body throbbing as my bones snapped themselves back into place and my skin started to weave itself back into one piece again. The bitter after taste of the bean left me gagging on the thick residue it left in my mouth but calloused hands rubbed my back as I coughed and spluttered.

"Next time, you should think about calling it quits BEFORE you black out," the smooth voice that I could now recognise as Trunks lectured me. He was quite clearly annoyed at having had his ear nagged off by his mother on my account.

I struggled in his arms, but he refused to let go just yet. "Then how am I supposed to get stronger, boxer boy?"

"Fight someone you stand a chance against perhaps," he quipped. The snide comment made me wince slightly as my ego took a heavy blow.

"The only person stronger than me is your dad," I jabbed him with a sharp nail. "If you kept up with your training then maybe I'd have a semi-decent sparring partner – one that doesn't try to kill me several times a week."

He shook his head dismissively and finally set me down on the floor. I barely reached his shoulder in height and his tussled lilac locks were much longer than my own after Vegeta recommended ditching the long hair in exchange for a shorter do that wouldn't get in the way of fighting. My mum had laughed that night when I'd returned in tattered clothing and unevenly spiked hair that still smelt burnt for the ki blast we had used to cut it. She had recalled when my dad had recommended something similar to her as a teen and the fact that she still kept it short for that reason alone. There had been a time when my mother had wanted me to lead a normal girl's life but years of fighting had only led her to realise I was exactly the same as she was before I had been born – with the addition of a little saiyan blood running through my veins.

I went my separate way from the older half-saiyan, who was slyly watching me attempt to walk out with some kind of dignity in the raggedy remains of my clothing. Vegeta was leaning nonchalantly against the wall outside the lab, ready to boast about his latest win. His obsidian eyes glinted with joy and thin lips pulled into his trademark smirk as I glared him down. The stare-off didn't need to last long however as he nodded his approval at my attempt and sauntered back in the direction of the gravity chamber. Pride welled up inside me and a small squeal escaped my lips as I danced in celebration. It was a hard task to receive any kind of recognition from the prince of our race, but apparently I deserved it today.

"Don't see why you're so happy, he never said anything," Trunks snorted as he followed me out into the corridor. I observed the tears in his spandex suit and the blood that mottled the royal blue and had dyed the ends of his purple hair a rich crimson.

"He didn't have to. In fact it's much better if he doesn't, then I don't get an earful of his gloating."

He shook his head in disbelief and shrugged it off, "You're mad, Panda."

I stuck out my tongue childishly as he swaggered out of the room towards the showers. It wasn't too bad an idea, so I snuck off to grab a shower in my own private room that I always used when staying at CC. Bra should be home soon enough so I could hang around to see her and maybe get in a bit more training while I waited.

Entering the room, I searched out a new gi and laid it out on the bed for after my shower. The remnants of my last outfit were peeled off my bloodied skin and dropped into the bin. I would have to order some new clothes soon; I was going through them at too quick a rate nowadays. Switching on the shower, I stepped under the icy stream of water and felt my skin tingle as goosebumps covered my entire body. Slowly but surely the water heated up until steam filled the room. I lathered my hair with shampoo and conditioner as well as scrubbing every inch of my body to get rid of the blood that had been beginning to dry and flake off my tanned skin. As I washed my back, I realised there was one area near the bottom of my spine that was still sore and sensitive but it didn't faze me. Senzu beans may be miracle workers but even they can sometimes miss something.

Once the water was no longer running scarlet, I hopped back out and used a burst of ki to dry me off instantly – much more efficient than towels. I could sense Bra was still nowhere nearby so I shrugged on my gi and headed down towards the kitchens for a pre-training snack.

The kitchen was always fully stocked with anything I could ever ask for. Having a saiyan family was like trying to feed a whole town at every meal. I pulled out some bacon, two dozen eggs and a variety of sausages to fry up hoping it would be enough to keep me going until I got home or when the rest of the saiyans had decided it was time for a proper meal.

"Do I smell bacon?" I turned to watch as Trunks peered through the doorway, sniffing the air excitedly. It was hard not to giggle at the usually suave, egotistical boy as he followed his nose right to me with his mouth watering. He raised an eyebrow at the raw ingredients but still looked hopeful.

I set down the container of eggs I was about to crack and crossed my arms tightly across my chest. "I've not even started to cook it yet!"

"Why not?!" he whined pathetically.

"Give me a minute, geez," I huffed, reaching into the fridge for even more bacon. "Anyone would think you weren't human."

"Ha ha, very funny," he snorted, wrapping both arms around my waist and resting his chin on the top my head. His calloused thumbs were rubbing circles into my sides as he examined the half dozen types of sausages that were laid out on the counter. "Now, are you gonna cook me some grub or what?"

I brushed off the oddly affectionate behaviour with a shrug. He'd do anything for a well cooked meal after all, something that Bulma didn't provide very often with her lack of culinary skill. With a swift elbow to the chest, I surprised him enough to pry his arms off me so I could focus on cooking. He whined and pouted but resorted to watching me cook from the nearest table. I tried to ignore the fact that his eyes never left me for the duration of the cooking, he couldn't be that hungry surely, and dished up the food as quickly as possible. Still his eyes lingered on me as we sat in silence and he took his time to shovel the food into his mouth instead of devouring it with a flourish like I was. It was plain odd, and more than a little annoying at this point.

"Is there something on my face, or am I just that gorgeous that you can't help staring. Eh, boxer boy?"

"Maybe a bit of both," he smirked, reaching forward to wipe away some egg yolk that had managed to get on the tip of my nose in the process. All I could do is blink as he got up and wandered out the room leaving a half empty plate. Two things were running through my head at that moment: what the hell just happened and did this mean I could eat his food?