Bra collapsed ungracefully to the cold floor of the gravity room. The salty sweat poured from her forehead and dripped off her nose and the ends of her hair, creating a puddle where her tired head lay. It had been a hard day in the gravity room with her far more experienced father. He had cruelly set the gravity to a skull-cracking 300 times the regular earth amount, and Bra felt that it was more than her young body could take. She groaned in pain as she felt her muscles quivering under the strain of the spar.

She absolutely loved it.

"Stand up girl." Vegeta folded his arms and stood impatiently over her, tapping his finger in annoyance at the unexpected break. "I'm too nice to kick you when you're down, but that could soon change."

This was untrue of course. In fact when Bra was a good deal younger, Vegeta had a hard time hitting her at all. He supposed that it had mostly been because she looked so much like her mother, because when he found out that Bulma was pregnant with a little girl he was fully intent on training her at least as hard had he had Trunks. If not for Bra's insistent nagging as a toddler he might have never had bothered to train her as a full warrior.

However, as Trunks could barely stand 200 times gravity when he was eight while Bra was almost managing 300 at seven, it seemed that she would someday become a greater fighter than her brother, or at least a more determined one.

"I'm... Trying!" The girl felt as though her head might explode as she slowly rose back to her feet. The hot sweat from her unwashed blue hair trickled from the top of her ponytail down her back. "This. Is. Difficult."

"I can see that." Vegeta smirked as she struggled to keep herself standing. "I'm surprised you could fight at all. I'm impressed."

Bra growled and attempted a punch at her fathers arm, only to have him dodge at the last second. The Saiyan princess plummeted to the floor once again. "Don't make fun of me!"

"I'm not. I'm serious."

Bra smiled, though her father couldn't see it for her face being smashed into the floor. It was often hard to tell if her father was being serious with his compliments. It had always astounded her how her human mother could always tell the difference between the two, while their two half-Saiyan children struggled with their father's odd sense of humor.

Vegeta shook his head in annoyance before trotting to the gravity control system. "I think that's enough for the day girl. Time to wash up."

"What? Noo!" She attempted to push her body up again, only to slip on her own sweat puddle and fall again awkwardly. "Come on dad, I haven't hit you once yet! I can still spar!"

A small smile graced his lips as his daughter complained from the floor. It both pleased and worried him that she displayed such a liking for fighting. When she was a small child he was concerned that he would always have to be as gentle with her as he was her mother; she looked so much like the woman after all. Instead she proved to be just as durable as her elder brother had been, and possibly even more interested in becoming a warrior.

"Like hell you can. You're a mess." The Saiyan prince pushed in the proper numbers to return the gravity to a earthling's liking. "You've fought very well today; you should rest for tomorrow."

Bra gave an irritated huff as she rose to her feet. She knew very well that her father wasn't done training yet; Vegeta would train from morning till night if Bra's mother would let him. To imply that she was too weak for such a thing annoyed her.

Peering over herself she frowned. She did look a mess. Her red gi pants were soaked and gracelessly clinging to her legs, along with her matching red work-out tube-top that was equally as filthy. Her hair was mussed and her pink-painted nails were coming off in chips that were etching into her palms. Vegeta however, hadn't even had to pull his training top off, and was still wearing his clean white gloves. It was positively infuriating.

"Dad, I'll have to start training as long as you do eventually. I have to learn to keep with up with you!"

Vegeta blinked at his daughter in surprise. He never expected that she would try keep up with him; he was an experienced warrior with years of fiery battle to season him. Bra had never even seen a battle, not a real one anyway, only tournament matches and scuffles between Kakarot's youngest child and her brother. She must be extremely naive to think that she was anywhere close to matching him.

"You're extremely foolish if you believe that you can match me, girl."

"I don't see why not. I am becoming a warrior after all; that's what all this training is for right?"

He had to pause at that one. What was all this training for? Was it to make her a battle-hardened warrior, or simply so she could stand up against a new enemy that would surely arise? She didn't look much like a warrior; she wore far too much pink, not to mention frilly skirts that her mother bought her, and she almost never went without some kind of bright color painted on her stubby nails. All were things not expected to see on a warrior princess, yet there she was.

What was worse was the idea that she would have to go through what he did to get so strong. She would never live under a tyrant like Freeza, but it was undoubted that to become a true warrior she would need to go through more pain than any earthling could to come close to her father in strength. It would not be long before she will have battle-scars marring her perfectly pale skin, and have the softness in her eyes disappear only to show a cold sharpness like Vegeta's did.

He felt ill at the thought.

"Bra?"

Her ears pricked up at the use of her actual name, and not the usual title "girl". "Yes dad?"

"If you don't want to be a warrior you don't have to be one. You are under no obligation to be one simply because I am."

Bra felt her jaw drop in surprise. Was her father joking? He thought with all her Super-Saiyan might she would just pass on being an kickass fighter? It might not be what most girls her age did, but she loved it none the less. The loved the feeling of her muscles growing bigger and the sensation of landing a well aimed punch into someone's face. She knew how lucky she was to have such a powerful Saiyan father, and found the idea of not being smacked to the ground by her dad on a regular basis extremely boring.

"Are you kidding? Of course I want to be a warrior! I'm going to be the greatest warrior the earth has ever seen!" Giving a small humf at the notion of ending her intense training sessions, she spun around and began wringing out her hair. "I hope I never gave you the idea that I wanted to stop. There's nothing else I'd rather be honestly."

Vegeta felt in equal parts deflated and proud. Despite her human-like appearance she was a true Saiyan if there ever was one. He knew that she was far too much like himself for her own good: relentless and battle hungry. The prince secretly hoped she would grow out of it like her elder brother had somehow managed. "Well then, if that's the case we'll pump it up to 350 times gravity tomorrow. How does that sound, girl?"

Pulling out the frilly pink scrunchie from her hair, Bra gave a tired smirk.

"Fantastic."