"Dad! You're home! Would you train with me?"

Vegeta's tattered boots hadn't even touched down before Trunks came running from the house, jumping up and down with excitement. Inwardly, he groaned. After today's grueling training of his own, all he wanted was to eat the dinner he missed, wash the dried blood and sweat from his skin, and sink into a relaxing sleep. Watching a child attempt to perfect punches and kicks was far from the relaxation he sought.

Training with his son wasn't nearly as satisfying as he'd hoped it would be when they first started. He'd been expecting to train his son the way all young Saiyan warriors were trained on his planet. But the first time Trunks arrived at the dinner table bumped, bruised, and bloodied, Bulma decided her baby boy would never be trained as a true Saiyan.

Vegeta never had a chance in that fight. So he'd agreed to train his half-Saiyan son in a more earthling style of teaching. It was much slower, but made living in the same house as Bulma more bearable.

"It's late," Vegeta snapped and headed into the house. Trunks followed, dejectedly dragging his feet. Vegeta noticed an aura of sadness around his son, and tried to push down the feeling of regret creeping up from somewhere deep inside him. He sighed...part at his son's reaction to his curt response and part from the domestic lifestyle that threatened his hard-forged demeanor. "I thought you were going to train with Kakarot's son today."

"I was," Trunks answered, perching on a stool to watch his father empty the refrigerator, "but he said all I was doing was beating him up. He said he wasn't learning anything fighting with me, and he'd rather train with his mom. So I came home."

"You are older, stronger, and much more experienced," Vegeta reminded him. "If you want a better sparring partner, you'll have to take the time and effort to teach him. He could learn much more from you than an earthling woman who can't even control her energy."

"Yeah, but those practice exercises are so boring. We want to fight, not worry about stance and form and all that stuff."

Vegeta carelessly dumped random food onto the serving platter he used as a dinner plate and thought back to his own training days as a young boy. He remembered the monotony of working only on skills and wanting nothing more than to put them into action. It was only when he was in active battle that he really learned to fight.

"Then teach him by action. Show him stance and form and new moves while you're fighting. You'll need to restrain your strength and abilities to stay more to his level for awhile, but if he's anything like the rest of his family, he'll learn and grow stronger quickly."

"So you're saying I should hold back and let him win when we fight?"

"Not win," Vegeta corrected, his stomach lurching at the very thought. "If you let him win, he won't learn anything. He needs to be able to think there's a chance of beating you if he just keeps working harder. That will drive him to want to train with you more, which will only help your own training. He'll grow stronger and more confident and start coming up with his own attacks which you can then learn from him, making you an even stronger fighter as you work to keep defeating him. That's how you get a better rival."

"Thanks! That sounds like a great idea!" Trunks happily bounded from the stool, turning back to his father before leaving the room. "But we're not rivals, Dad. We're friends."

Vegeta froze as Trunks ran up the stairs to his bedroom. The advice he'd just given his son echoed in his head, making his chest tighten to the point of pain. Dropping the half eaten turkey leg, he rose as if in a dream and walked outside. Slowly, he drifted upward into the night sky, comparing his son's situation with his own. In his tactical mind, he knew Goku was only helping Vegeta become stronger, but in his prideful heart, he resented the need for the other warrior's help.

Coming to a halt high above his home, he turned to look at the mountaintop far in the distance. The familiar anger washed over him at his continued attempts to become the strongest, most powerful Saiyan in history. He'd wanted to achieve it on his own. He'd wanted to do it on his own terms, using the only other remaining Saiyan as an unpleasant, yet necessary, means to his own goal. He'd wanted to be the commanding force in his own destiny.

But someone else had been in charge of his fate all this time, making Vegeta stronger, faster, and a more powerful warrior while holding himself back...keeping him motivated enough to strive to succeed against his greatest rival.

"Damn you, Kakarot!" he shouted, releasing his frustration into the starry sky. Feeling considerably calmer and more in control, he whispered one word before descending back to earth.

"Thanks."