Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of the characters therein

Okay, so it's always sort of annoyed me, how they portray Bra in the show. She's both a Demi-Saiyan, and Vegeta's daughter. Why the heck shouldn't she be able to fight? Or at least fly, for cryin' out loud! Let's fix that, shall we?

Battle Ready

Ya know, it really just wasn't fair! She knew that she could fight just as well as those bozos, so why couldn't she just get up the courage to ask her father to train her? Or at least Trunks!

Bra let out an agitated sigh, turning the pages of her magazine with lethal flicks. Nothing on the pages registered, not even the hot new style advice that she normally ate up. At the tender age of seventeen, her thoughts should've been nothing less shallow than wether or not to wear her red boots out shopping. But not Bra. No, her mind was far away from the ho-humness of normal teenage life. Her mind was on the battle field.

Problem was, she had no idea how to bring those glorious dreams to fruition. Every day for the past six months, she'd snuck out in the dark hours of the morning to train in the GR. She was proud of her progress, proud of the calluses hardening her hands, proud of the new muscles cutting her arms and abs into sharp lines. Even her father had noticed the fierceness lighting her eyes. Unfortunately, noticing hadn't equalled an invitation from any of the men to spar, and she was far less than pleased about that.

Tossing the now thoroughly wrinkled mag onto her nightstand, she stood and went to take a long hot shower. She would need to relax her muscles. Her routine would begin again at zero-dark-thirty.




Bulma Briefs was a genius. As such, she prided herself on the keen observation skills that came with her large brain. So, it wasn't long after dinner had started that she became aware of her Saiyan daughter only picking at her food, where her father and brother were shoveling it in with a hearty gusto. She frowned in concern, hoping her baby wasn't getting sick. Setting her chop sticks down, she reached under the table and discreetly shook Bra's knee, instantly earning her attention. She gave her the look that always started their wordless conversations.

Hey, sweetheart, are you okay?

Bra gave her a strained smile.

Yea, Mom, I'm cool.

Bulma cocked a silky blue brow.

Are you lying to me, young lady?

Bra's mouth thinned dryly.

I'm fine, mother!Leave it alone!

Bulma gave her a haughty look.

We'll see about that. I'm your mother, Bra, I know everything. Something is bothering you.

"I really hate it when you two do that," Trunks said. "It always makes me feel like you guys are plotting something."

"Oh come on, Trunks," Bra said as she punched his arm lightly, " just because we did that once doesn't mean we're doing it all the time!"

"That's not the point! Do you know that Dad and I still can't look each other in the eye on Wednesday mornings? " He scowled, and both women cracked a conspiratorial smile.

"Oh stop whining," Bulma said laughingly, "and just console yourself with the fact that your expressions made our whole year! Bra, honey, could you please bring those dishes to the sink?"

Bra gave a peppy "sure" as she stood and scooped up the spotless plates right next to Vegeta's full one. The Saiyan let loose a low growl, the instinct to food-guard overriding the knowledge that the person near his meal was his own flesh and blood.

She whipped up the plates anyway, ignoring his warning. She squeaked when his hand shot up and grabbed her free one, his eyes locking with hers. She stared him down gamely.

"Dad, I'm just taking your empties. Relax, would you?"

Vegeta released her hand, though something in his gaze had shifted and he studied her retreating form. Since when did his daughter have calluses? Not just little ones either, but ones that came from many months of hardcore training. Something weird was going on with her, and he had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't going to like it.

Bra plunked the earthenware plates into the sink and called for the cleaning bots. She turned on the faucet, watching as the leftover stir fry ran off into the drain. This was stupid! He was her father, for cryin' out loud! The worst he could do if she asked for lessons was say no. Would that really be so horrible? She squirted a gooey pile of dish soap on a sponge and began attacking a salad bowl, completely forgetting about the little machines coming to take care of that for her.

Yes, she realized forlornly. That would be awful. But not knowing what he would do was worse. Rallying her courage, she spun to address her father, her prince, and found only her mother sitting at the table. She deflated, taking it for a sign. A bad sign.

"Honey, you're gonna scrub that bowl right in half."

Bulma's dry sarcasm acted like a bucket of ice water, and she dropped both bowl and sponge. She stalked to the table and sat heavily on the cushioned chair opposite of Bulma. Jewel blue met jewel blue as they locked gazes. Bulma folded her hands on the table, waiting silently for her daughter to spill it. Bra sighed and did just that.

"I want Dad to train me."

There, it was out. She felt much better already. Right?

Bulma stared at Bra, then sat back and extracted a crumpled cigarette from her breast pocket. She lit it, and blew the smoke away from Bra.

"So...you want Vegeta to teach you to fight, eh?" She took a long drag. "I knew this day was coming."

"You did?"

"Well sure! You are half Saiyan, after all. Battle's in your blood."

"You mean you're not mad?"

"Well, I'll admit that the prospect of you losing a few teeth is...disconcerting, but I'll bet with a little time, you could really handle up on those boys! You know, show them a thing or two about girl power."

Bulma's smile was met with open mouthed astonishment.

"You're serious...you're really not going to laugh at me."

"Laugh? Bra, fighting is never a laughing matter; but, I married your father knowing full well what our children might be like. I wouldn't laugh at you over something like this." She took another long drag, the cherry flaring brightly for a second. "However, I do find it amusing that you're skirting around your father like he'll punish you. That's not like you at all, sweetie." Her eyes crinkled at the corners mirthfully. "I'm sure he'll do anything but."

Bra sat for a minute more, a comfortable silence enveloping mother and daughter.

"Thanks, Mom, I feel better now." She grinned, looking at the half-smoked cigarette still clenched in Bulma's fingers. "Mind if I try one of those?"

"Not on your life, brat."




Vegeta watched curiously as his girl-child scuffed her socked feet on the carpet. She'd come barreling in five minutes before and snatched the remote from his hand, muting the football game he'd been watching disinterestedly. Something was obviously weighing on her, but he wondered why she had sought him out instead of Trunks or Bulma. He sat very still, lest he frighten her off. As it was, she looked like she was ready to bolt...or be sick. A sudden terrifying thought struck him, and his brows formed an even angrier "V" over his coal-black eyes.

"Girl, if you've come to tell me that you're pregnant, just turn around and leave now, because I'll kill the son of a bitch."

Her gaze snapped up to his, and her lip curled much like his own did when disgusted.

"Jeez, Dad, really? Thanks for that. I can see Mom's "Tact and Your Teen" book is really paying off." She scowled, and he relaxed again.

"Well, what is it? You've been staring a hole in the floor for quite a while now. Care to tell me what's bothering you, and why I should give a crap?"

She bristled, her hands slamming down on her hips.

"You should care, you salty old bastard, because this concerns you too!"

Now she really had his attention. He lifted a brow.

"Go on then, child, I don't have all night."

"I want to start training with you and Trunks, okay? There! Ya happy? I said it, and ya know what? I don't care if you don't like it or it makes you mad. I'm a Saiyan too, Dad, and I deserve the same chance to learn as the men!"

He stared at her, dumbfounded. Well, he hadn't been expecting that...

"You...want...to fight?"

"Ugh, yes! Why is that such a shock? I'm Saiyan royalty, for God's sake! Mom says that battle lust is in my blood, and I gotta say, she's right! Reading teen mags and talking about boys just isn't cutting the mustard for me anymore!" She broke off panting, and blushed at her outburst. Then she ran trembling fingers through her hair and looked at the wall behind his head. Man, she was really in for it now.

Vegeta studied her for the first time with a warrior's eye instead of a father's. She was well built, lithe but packed with muscle. Her stance, though she was flustered, portrayed confidence unique to only a member of his race. He looked at her hands, noticing not for the first time how tiny they were, but now seeing the calluses marring the soft skin. Such an insignificant thing, calluses; but they spoke of a much deeper desire to work hard and earn her title a a Saiyan princess. He couldn't help the surge of pride that flooded his chest. This beautiful young creature, his child, was finally asking him to help her be what she really was. The last of a dying warrior race. He smirked.

"So, you think you can handle my training, do you?" His tone was condescending, but she didn't miss the fire of a new excitement burning in his eyes. She felt an answering call bubbling through her breast, and shocked them both when a deep growl issued from her pink lips. He growled back, his instinct to be dominant rising. She backed down, but her shoulders were still stiff.

"I can handle it, Dad. I've been training on my own for months now. All I'm asking is that you give me a chance. If I can't measure up, then I'll leave you guys alone and go back to my bad music and shopping sprees during the day; but, know this. Before the sun rises is my time, and I'll never stop trying. I'll keep working until it kills me if I have to."

Vegeta sized her up as a sense of deja vu washed over him. He felt that looking at her, he was looking at himself thirty years ago. He felt an unexpected bond forming between them, and he knew no matter what happened from that point, their relationship was forever changed. He crossed his arms and "hmphed".

"Fine, little warrior, you have your chance. Training begins tomorrow at five a.m. sharp. If you're late, you'll be punished like the men. Do you understand?"

She nodded gravely and shifted to move. He grabbed her hand as she walked past him.

"Are you sure, Bra, that you want to do this? Don't expect anyone to take it easy on you because of your weak female body."

She yanked her hand from his grasp and looked down her nose at him snootily.

"I'm not weak, Dad. Not by a long shot. Maybe you're the one who should be prepared."




As an early riser by nature, Bra found that sitting outside the GR at four-thirty in the morning was not so tough. Her brother begged to differ. He leaned forward from his place at her side and stretched, a great big yawn rolling from his mouth. She, on the other hand, stood rigid, butterflies rioting in her stomach. It was T-minus thirty minutes and counting until her first day of training began, and she was beginning to second guess her decision to ask for this. She had talked a big game to her father the night before, but as she watched the Z-Group file out one by one from different places in the sky, she no longer felt so cocksure.

"G'Mornin', guys," someone chirped, way to perky for the pre-dawn hour.

She turned and saw Goku and Gohan walking up to them, a very shirtless Goten bringing up the rear. Frazzled as she was, she couldn't stop herself from ogling his firm chest, and the washboard abs that disappeared beneath the cloth of his pants. More and more lately, she'd found herself staring at him when she thought he wasn't looking, and had caught him returning her interest more than once as well. Krillin stepped from the shadows, closely trailed by his wife, and she scolded herself for letting her thoughts wander when he needed to be focusing in the day ahead.

"Hey, Bra," Goku said as he placed a loving hand on her head, " I didn't know you'd be joining us this morning! What a pleasant surprise! Right, guys?" He turned and addressed the others, who in turn smiled and waved at her, soft shouts of "Hey, girl" and "How ya been" thawing some of the ice that had settled in her gut. She mingled with her friends and family, starting to feel more and more at ease as the minutes passed.

And then her father walked out.

"Heya, Vegeta," Gohan said, " you didn't tell us we'd have an extra sparring partner today!" He clapped his hand around her shoulders, and she shrunk under the prince's withering gaze.

"More like an extra punching bag," he snorted. She tucked herself slightly more into Gohan's side, hating herself for feeling so nervous. Behind her, Goku scoffed.

"Well, now, that's just not nice, Vegeta."

The short Saiyan spun on his friend.

"Nice? We're not here to be nice, Kakarot, we're here to teach the girl how to fight. That goes for all of you! I don't want anyone taking it easy on her, or they'll have to answer to me. Everybody got that?"

There was a tense silence, filled only with the chirps of summer crickets. Finally, Krillin nodded.

"Okay, Vegeta, we get it. No freebies."

Vegeta looked down at him and nodded, turning on his heal to open the chamber. Goku followed first, then Gohan. Trunks and Goten shrugged at each other before they headed in as well. Krillin tossed Eighteen a knowing look before they strolled hand in hand up the gang plank. Finally, Piccolo strode up to her, staring down on the top of her head. She raised her chin to meet the giant green Namekian's gaze. His intensity made her take a small step back.

"Girl," he began, his rich baritone washing over her, " today isn't going to be easy. You can still back out right now, but once you step into that chamber, you belong to us. Are you sure you're ready?"

She gulped, but nodded firmly. His mouth turned up in an evil smile.

"Alright, then, come."

She followed timidly after him, marveling at the sheer width of his shoulders. She'd never really noticed how big he was until she was faced with the prospect of fighting him. The thought didn't ease her. She trudged through the hatch, marshaling what little gall she could muster...and was struck squarely in the gut with a ki blast.

Her breath came out in a loud "oomph!" and she flew right back out the door, nearly screaming when her bare back left a divot in the grass outside. She looked up after a moment, wanting to know what asshole had shot her already, and wasn't really surprised to see that her father held the smoking gun. Or in his case, smoking hand. The rest of the group were obviously trying to suppress winces and hisses, a few of them failing miserably. She locked eyes with Vegeta, a very clear "what the fuck" painting her expression. He frowned.

"I said that training began at five o'clock sharp. You walked through that door at five o' one. Next time, try to be little more punctual, would you? You're holding the rest of us up!"

Her head fell back against the grass as she struggled to get to her feet. This was gonna be one long-ass day.




"I said hit him, child, not tickle his belly button! Try again, and this time, at least pretend that you aren't pathetic!" Vegeta barked and grouched at Bra, his tone roughening more and more as she made mistake after mistake. He knew that he was upsetting her, but he also understood that his daughter was stubborn and didn't take too well to authority. So, he'd broken out the brass tactics to light a fire under her ass.

"Oomph! Ouch," Goten cried as she sent him sprawling. Vegeta smirked. Looked like brass tacts worked well for his little princess. Now it was time for guerrilla warfare. He splayed his hand in between her shoulder blades.

"Better. Much better. At least this time he looks a little pained." He let out a vicious smile as her eyes lit up. "Now, are you ready for a new lesson?"

She looked up at him and her eyes widened, too late feeling the hot energy gathering at her back. She almost got out of the way in time. Almost.

He unleashed a burning ki ball right on her spine and sent her flying into the far wall. As her face slammed into the cold metal, she could have kicked herself for leaving her back exposed to such a dirty trickster as her father. She fell back, smoke curling from her blistered skin, and blood spurting from her nose. Her vision cleared just enough to let her see Vegeta hunching over her prone form, a pompous grin on his face. That act shot her full of insta-rage.

She gathered a tiny white ki ball and launched it at his bitch nose. He stumbled back and yelped as his eyebrows were singed slightly. She knew she was going to pay for that, but damned if she gave a rat's ass. She crossed her arms and glared at the rest of the group from her prone position, all staring slack-jawed at the brave young woman who would soon be sacrificing her life in the name of martial arts. No way was Vegeta gonna let that slide.

Said Saiyan prince stood up tall and ramrod straight, feeling an itchy tickle on his forehead as a droplet of blood rolled down and fell on Bra's face. That...conniving...evil...maniacal little...genius! He had been starting to think she didn't have it in her! Not even Kakarot had ever pulled a dirty move like that during training! He felt something akin to joy as he realized that his daughter was every bit as cunning as he was at her age.

Too bad he was gonna have to take her down a few pegs.

He bent down and wrapped his hand around her throat, picking her up as if she weighed no more than a baby. The rest of the group tensed, ready to pull him off of her if the discipline went too far. She wrapped her hand, slippery with her own blood, around his thick wrist, trying to force him to release her as her rapidly dwindling air supply was causing her to get very dizzy. She struggled fruitlessly for a minute, wondering when someone would step in to help. After another second when he still had her feet off the ground, she made a snap decision, her survival instinct kicking in with full force.

Everyone watched in horrified fascination as she threw her leg back, and then brought her shin to rest firmly on his balls.

He dropped like a rock.

They hit the floor in a crumpled heap, both gasping for air that didn't want to come. Bra pushed Vegeta's heavy frame from her body, and scrambled up from the ground, fully intending to go and hide behind Goku. He caught her around the ankle and yanked her right back down. She smacked an angry fist on the floor, and began to bear-crawl her way to the door. Once again, he locked an iron-tight grip on her ankle, and dragged her back to him until they were at eye level with each other. As she stared at his sweaty purple face, it occurred to her that there were a great many things in life that she'd never get to do. Because he was going to murder her. Right now.

"Bra," he choked, "what on this pathetic mud ball planet possessed you to kick me in the family jewels?"

"Um," she heaved, "the need to live?"

"Did you really think that I was going to kill you?"

"Seemed like a distinct possibility at the time."

He lifted his head and glared at the others.

"Alright, everyone, it's four p.m. Practice is over until tomorrow morning. Now all of you, get out before I remember why I don't like you."

They all shifted warily, not really sure it was a good idea to leave the two of them alone after that fiasco. One thing was for sure though. If Bra lived to see the next session, things were going to be a lot more fun around there.

Piccolo was the first one to nod and make his way outside into the early evening dusk. Seeing the stoic Namekian take off, the others felt more comfortable leaving and sent each other off with well wishes and good nights. Even Trunks ran for the cover of the house, knowing that his father wanted to speak with Bra alone. Poor brave little Bra...he would miss her...




Back in the GR, Vegeta and Bra were still laying exactly where the others had left them. She had tried to get up and run, but he'd held her down, telling her that lecture time would begin shortly. Oh, wee...

She propped her head on a gloved hand and peered down at him. He seemed to be struggling to hold down his lunch, and she felt a brief pinch of guilt before she remembered why she'd jacked him in the first place.

"So, your training technique? It sucks."

He popped a bloodshot eye open and glared at her icily.

"It wouldn't suck so much if you had any natural talent for martial arts."

"Well, keep in mind that I'm your daughter, so any talent I may or may not have comes from you."

"Firstly, child, your mother is human. That alone is a major handicap. Secondly, and really think before you answer, are you implying that I'm a crappy fighter?"

"No, Short Bus, I'm saying that I would appreciate it if you'd quit throwing me off with your bullshit and tell me how I really did. I saw your face when I popped you with that ki ball. Gotta be honest there, Dad, you didn't seem all that pissed. Why the show? Afraid that the others will laugh if a little girl shows you up?"

She raised a silky blue brow, and for a moment he could have sworn he was looking at Bulma. Oh, great...like the world needed two of those...

"Alright, brat, the truth?"

She nodded tersely.

"You did well for your first group session. Even Trunks didn't show such fight the first time I smacked him around. He cried. Wimp..."

"Well, ya know, you are kind of a drill sergeant. You can be a bit...intense at times. Probably scared the hell outta the little guy. Wait, wasn't he like...four the first time Mom let you drag him out here?"

"Hmph. Let's get one thing straight, girl, your mother doesn't allow me to do anything. I'm Saiyan royalty, and I do as I please. And to answer your question, no. Your brother was two when he started training."

She gaped.

"Two? Seriously? Jeez, you crazy bastard, see if I ever bring my kids over here to visit their ol' Grandpappy Vegeta. You'll kill them!"

"Yes," he snorted, "well any potential mate you're likely to choose will dilute the Saiyan blood in them anyway. No need to embarrass them by making them feel as pathetic as their mother on the mat."

"You're a jerk, Dad."

"So I've heard. Alright, let's go. I'm sure your grandmother has dinner ready by now. "

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"I'll move when you move, old man."

They looked at each other, something undefinable passing between them. Then, she looked away blushing and twiddled her thumbs.

"So...ah...um...how're your...you know?"

"My nuts are fine, child, no thanks to you."

With that he stood and offered her a gloved hand. She took it and he pulled her up roughly. She made to pull away, but he held her hand tightly. She looked up at him quizzically, and he smirked.

"Do you promise to do better during training tomorrow?"

Her face fell for a moment, then hardened as a fierce determination lit her eyes.

"I can only promise to try and do my best."

His gaze softened the tiniest bit.

"That's all I ask. Now come, child. As a reward for your behavior earlier, you get to explain to your mother why she won't be getting laid for a few days."

She gagged.




The darkness of the pre-dawn morning found Bra pumped up and ready to go. Several months had passed since that first disastrous session, and she'd smartened up enough to sit inside the chamber and await her partners. Take that, Dad. As she booted up the machine, she felt a new kind of tingle in her belly beginning to replace the butterflies. She was excited; but, there was something else churning in her gut. Something was growling and straining just beneath the surface, trying to burst free.

The last few months had been a trial run, a good way to feel everyone out. Today, she felt more confident in her ability to handle her father's harsh training routine. She was also more wary, knowing that he would ruthlessly exploit any weakness she showed. The creature inside her writhed and snarled at the thought of being caught unaware.

She pulled her arm across her nearly bare chest and twisted her spine, sighing in relief as loud pops echoed on the walls. Man, she was sore! Even her normal hot shower had done little to relieve the burn every time she bent a certain way. She twisted in the opposite direction and cried out as a sharp sting smacked her in the stomach.

Well, it looked like Dad had arrived.

"Shake it off, girl."

She looked down at the blister already popping up and narrowed her eyes, something low and harsh rumbling through her chest.

And wasn't he just a peach in the mornings?




Their fists flew, volleying strikes back and forth far to quickly for the naked eye to catch. For every hit he threw, she ducked. Every jab she threw, he caught. She was getting good.

He smirked and caught the right hook she'd aimed at his chest, wrapping steel fingers around her much smaller ones. She was on fire today! He wondered what it was that was driving her. He yanked her bodily into him and dove for the ground, releasing her just before he hit. She landed hard, her body making a veritable crater in the cool metal.

She laid there panting, trying to control the sudden fire in her chest as the swirling creature broke closer to the surface. It was pulling her, tearing at her very soul in its desperate attempt to escape. She curled in on herself, shaking violently from the raw power that boiled the blood in her veins.

She screamed.

Vegeta looked down at his daughter, wondering if he'd truly taken it too far that time. Something seemed to be causing her great pain. Suddenly, he became aware of a strange power growing, filling up the GR at an alarming rate. He shot an nervous gaze to Goku, whose eyes were frozen on Bra. He looked back down and gasped.

Shots of gold were threading their way through her aqua hair, a shimmering fiery outline enveloping her shivering frame. He dropped next to her, hitting his knees, and scooped her up. He called her name and shook her.

"Uhn! Daddy, it burns! What's happening to me?"

She cracked open a teary eye. Not blue. Teal. His heart soared, and he felt the beast within himself calling to its child.

"I'll tell you what, girl, you're going to be the first female Super Saiyan! Kakarot, get over here!"

Goku didn't need to be told twice, and was at her side in an instant. He laid his hand on her head.

"Let it go, Bra! If you fight it, it'll hurt you! Release it!" Goku's own hair was lightening, the call of a female Legendary bringing forth his instinct to protect her.

"Ugh! I can't!"

Vegeta, now Super himself, grabbed her face roughly and made her look at him.

"Can't is not in a Saiyan's dictionary, girl! Do it! Let go!"

She ripped her face away, the outline around her widening and intertwining with the two males flanking her. Without warning, the stinging grew worse, consuming her entire being. She threw her head back and shrieked.

"Do it, Bra! Let go!"

A gutteral scream tore from her throat and and a bang as loud as a shotgun discharge popped their eardrums painfully.

Starting from her tiny feet, a golden chainsaw wound its way up her body. The burn was fading, a breath-robbing pleasure taking its place. Panting heavily, she stretched languidly on the floor, her blonde tresses spilling in a silky wave behind her. She arched her back and turned her head so that she faced her father. Had she the strength, she would have giggled at his expression.

He reached a trembling hand out and ran his now ungloved fingers through her hair, marveling at the new thickness of it. Then he smiled. Really, truly smiled, and it took her breath away all over again.

"Well, this is a gonna make for a neat party trick at my next sleepover."

Together the three of them laughed, and she finally felt like a princess to make her prince proud.

Raise your hand if you love girl power!