Vegeta bumped into the table on his way toward the door, and one of the glasses fell off. Technically, it wasn't real glass – it was plastic made to look like glass. Bulma had said something about him being a walking wrecking ball and losing too many good glasses when she had bought them. Humans, he wouldn't understand them.

"Are you going to pick that up?" Bulma asked, without looking up from her newspaper.

Vegeta just grunted, pulling the door open.

"Thought so," Bulma said. "By the way, don't bother going to the gravity chamber today."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, woman," Vegeta snapped.

He slammed the door in the middle of whatever other comment she was about to make. The hinges cracked slightly, and the door sagged behind him. But he barely noticed. He pulled the towel back and forth against the back of his neck, somewhat absently, as he stalked across the lawn towards the gravity chamber. It wasn't until he was only five feet from it that he realized there was a light glowing on the inside.

He blinked, staring at it for a second. It took a moment to understand what that meant – someone was using the gravity chamber.

"Who the hell –" he swore, stalking to the window.

It was probably that other man – Yamscho or something like that. The idiot human was probably still trying to look better in front of Bulma, like some pathetic peacock strutting about with only half its feathers.

But when he looked in the window, he could not deny that his mouth dropped open.

"BULMA!"

Bulma barely even looked up from her newspaper and the toast she was nibbling on. She hadn't even flinched when Vegeta ripped the door open – literally, ripped the door open. It was far removed from its hinges now.

"That's the third door in a week. You'd better start helping me pay for those," she said.

"Bulma, what the hell is that woman doing in the gravity chamber?"

"Training, I guess?"

"Isn't that Kakarrot's woman?"

Now Bulma looked up from her newspaper, eyebrow twitching.

"Chichi was Goku's wife, not his woman," Bulma said. "God, you're so sexist."

"Who cares about the word, what is she doing in there?"

Bulma shrugged. Her eyes wandered to the window.

"I dunno. She just asked if she could come and use it everyone once in a while," she said.

"When did this happen?"

"Last week."

"So why haven't I heard of this before now?"

"Oh, so you're going to start listening to me?" Bulma said, raising an eyebrow. "That'll be the day."

"Answer the damn question."

"Well, she's usually only in there for about fifteen minutes. Your schedule's probably never overlapped with hers. Just be a big boy and wait your turn."

Then she snapped the newspaper back up in that annoying, prissy little way that she always did. Vegeta's hands rolled up into fists so tight that they would have crushed steel if he had been holding any. He glared at her for another furious moment, and then stormed back out.

He marched to the gravity chamber, fully intending to throw Kakarrot's woman out. Who the hell did she think she was, anyway, some kind of Saiyan?

He raised his hand to open the door. But he paused as he glanced through the window.

She stood with her back to him. He could see her muscles shaking. The bun he was used to seeing her wear had come completely undone, the black locks falling thickly over her shoulders, matted with sweat. Beads of sweat rolled down every inch of her arms, which shook uncontrollably every time she raised them. She punched out in front of her. Then with the other hand. Punch. Punch. Punch. Each one came agonizingly slower than the last. Punch. Punch. ...Punch...punch...punch.

What level did she have it at anyway? He could just barely see the screen from here – ten times gravity? That ought to crush her into the ground with her own weight!

She had to drop her arms. He could see her shoulders rising and falling hugely, the motion wracking her entire body. Her legs trembled, but she did not drop. Slowly, she turned to the side, so that now he could see the side of her face. Clenching her eyes shut, mouth hanging open as she gasped for each breath, she forced her arms upwards again. Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch.

A cry started to come with each strike – not a cry of pain, but a battle cry.

"Kyai!" she shouted at some unseen enemy. "KYAI!"

Her arms had to drop again. Her knees started to fold in – but she wouldn't let them. She locked them into place, sweat rolling down her cheeks. Her black eyes shone with a grim determination – no, more, much more than that.

Vegeta had to take a step back for a moment, and then cursed at himself.

He had not seen eyes so focused, so fired...

Since Kakarrot.

She kept forcing herself to strike.

"Kyai! Kyai!"

It might have been his imagination. It might have been sweat. But he thought he saw a tear fling out from the corner of her eye, in her motion. He thought he heard her voice crack, come out with just a little too much force, as though a lump of tears was trying to come up with it.

It didn't seem to stop her. In fact, her intensity just seemed to grow.

Vegeta took another step away from the door. He felt...strange. He looked at her one more time. Then he snorted.

"What the hell," he said. "Not worth the effort."

He walked away.

He could still hear her battle cries.