lucetilogs | He was always a rock when I needed one (closed)

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He was always a rock when I needed one (closed)

Who: Bulla and Vegeta (open to Bulma as well)
What: A special Father's Day celebration, Saiyan (and half-Saiyan) style
When: June 16th all day
Where: Brief household, Battle Dome and then back home again
Summary: Bulla trained diligently for over a month in order to surprise her dad. This is the result.
Rating: PG for sparring violence

Bulla was up uncharacteristically early, but she wanted to wake up before her father. She prepared a generous breakfast with pancakes, eggs, bacon, bagels with cream cheese and orange juice. Her outfit had been carefully selected. Fashionable, and yet, something she could train in without minding if it got sweaty. She'd been planning this for over a month, and as far as she knew, her father had no idea how much time she'd been spending training. She'd pretended to do very little other than exercise - she claimed she'd been going running, or just exercising with friends to stay fit to explain the times she came in sweaty and wearing athletic (though still ver colour coordinated) clothing.

It wasn't a lie - she had been getting plenty of exercise with friends. She just downplayed the extent of it by a lot, and didn't mention training at all. There was no reason for him to think that she'd changed her routine by much. The lack of a shopping mall necessitated finding other hobbies, but she'd kept herself busy with Fashion Club with Quinn and that wasn't a secret at all.

"Good morning, Dad!" she greeted cheerfully when her father finally emerged. "Happy Father's Day."

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"Um...maybe?" It wasn't the confident answer of a Saiyan warrior, but she wasn't quitting like she normally would have. It counted as some measure of progress. Especially since she was well aware of the power gap between her and her father. The fact that she didn't think of herself as a fighter didn't help, although training with her friends had proven that she was more capable than she'd originally believed herself to be.

"I'll try. It would be a shame to practice as hard as I did and not manage it at least one more time."

She darted in, attacking with a rapid-fire flurry of punches. She just needed him to block or counter-attack with a fist, and she'd watch and be ready to throw him using his own momentum, just like Saori taught her. But first, she needed to fake him out enough to set up that opportunity.

That's more like it. He dodges and blocks with his open palms, catching her punches when he can. His arm does come up to block a punch here and there as well, until finally stepping back to deliver an uppercut aimed directly at her gut.

There it was. Her opportunity. Rather than give away that she was going to throw him, Bulla seized his arm first and whirled out of the way a split-second later, hoping that this time she'd manage to throw him. This time, she put more force into it. If anyone could take her full strength and then some, it was him.

He was expecting to land that punch. Expecting to knock the wind out of her and see if she could keep going despite heaving and huffing from such a strong hit, but it never comes. She grabs him instead. She's grabbing him? And before he realizes what's happening, he's getting flung through the air, confusion on his face as he's letting out a small yelp as he goes up right off his feet. He flies back quite a few feet before the realization hits him and he stops himself in midair, gritting his teeth with hands up and balled into fists with the expectation of a follow up from Bulla.

For a brief moment, Bulla is amazed that she actually did it. She took her opportunity and followed through exactly as she'd been shown and it worked. It hadn't been a reflexive thing, even. It had been entirely deliberate, and she managed to make it work.

She had to remind herself not to waste an opportunity and moved in. She wasn't at all good at ki blasts, and it would take a lot of instruction and training that did not involve sparring before that was going to change. She moved in, aiming for a kick to the head.

There it was. Her kick was coming in fast but he'd prepared himself for it, arm coming up to block. Her foot runs solidly into his arm, when he twists his wrist over to grab her ankle, and going to grab onto it with his other hand.

With both hands around her ankle now, he'll begin to spin, getting momentum for his own throw, releasing her right at the nearest wall- giving her a little taste of her own medicine.

His hands drop as Bulla goes out to meet her mother, and his shoulders relax. They'd been at it for a while now, and he supposes it's not such a bad idea to take a breather. He was thirsty anyhow, and Bulla isn't accustomed to going for eight hours straight like he was. So he follows her out, a little less quick but at a good pace nonetheless.

He stops next to his wife, silently taking two of the water bottles she'd brought. "Bulla, make sure you drink this," he commands while he tosses the bottle right to his daughter. He cracks open his own, finding a place to sit for the moment. "Don't expect the break to be long, we've still got a lot of work to do."

Bulla yelped when he caught her ankle, well aware that the moment he had a firm grip that she was in for some retribution, Saiyan-style. Unfortunately for her, Saiyan restraint was vastly different than human restraint and she went flying into the wall. Unlike her father's finely honed reflexes that allowed him to stop in mid-air, Bulla only managed to use enough ki to cushion the slam against the wall.

Dazed, she slid gracelessly down the wall and landed on her butt. She rubbed her nose, then made herself shakily get back up again.

"Wow, you really didn't like getting thrown, Dad. Ow."

Bulla didn't have to be told twice, although she did have to stifle the urge. After taking a seat, she had to remind herself not to chug, and to sip her water slowly. She didn't realize how thirsty she'd been getting while they trained like that. But then, it wasn't really a surprise. Even when she'd been practicing with other friends, no one had worked her anywhere near as hard as her father had been in the time they'd spent training so far.

After she finished off her water, she made a trip to the bathroom. While she was just going to get sweaty again, that didn't mean she couldn't at least clean her face and fix her hair so that it looked less disheveled. She didn't want sweat clogging her pores for any extended period of time. It didn't take her long to freshen up, although her body didn't feel quite ready to go back in there and continue training just yet.

"So...biggest surprise I've ever pulled off, or what?"

"Heh. I just know how to counter being thrown like that. And now you do too, don't you Bulla? Quit whining, we're not through yet. I know you've got a lot more fight in you." He floats down to the ground, landing softly and setting back into a fighting position, hands up and a cheeky grin across his face.

"Try to hit me. Right here." He points right to his face, then tapping it with an index finger.

"Hmmm. Perhaps." Meaning a big huge yes, he'd of never expected this out of his daughter, not in a million years. And he has certainly enjoyed himself so far. "It's not as bad as you thought it was, now is it? Not even a trace of blood on you either, but yet you've managed to spill mine." His mouth has already stopped bleeding from that kick to his face.

He hopes he is doing this whole encouragement thing correctly. He'd decided long ago that he didn't want Bulla to live the life of a warrior if she didn't want to, but that certainly does not mean he wouldn't love to train her. He didn't want her to get involved in a battle she wasn't ready for, not wanting her to get hurt. It hits him how protective he's been of her since she was a little girl, a constant battle between wanting her to be a fighter and wanting her to be safe. He'd chosen for her to be safe. He was strong enough for all of them.

But now she is training, a choice she'd made on her own- and he'll love to encourage that as much as he can. It's the pride of his race that runs through him, a race of warriors. But if she ever became serious, he would be infinitely more hard on her, just as he was with her brother. If anything, in regards to this, Vegeta is fair. She'll be treated no less harsh than what he did with Trunks. But he can even admit to himself, he will have to teach differently with her than her sibling. But how, is the question. He'll give it a shot, at least.

Bulla realized with some surprise that he was right. Even after slamming into the wall like that, she wasn't badly injured, and she wasn't ready to collapse from exhaustion. She was even recovering from her dazed state quickly, although she wasn't quite ready to rush in and try to hit him in the face just yet. Anytime she'd managed to land a hit, it was because she thought things through. Now that he was realizing the extent that she'd been practicing, he was probably adjusting his expectations of what she could handle accordingly.

She got into stance, took a deep breath and looked for an opportunity. She might be far less skilled, but she had watched her father train and fight in tournaments far too much to take the most obvious opening, or to let herself be too easily goaded by a taunt. She didn't have to be good fighter to know that would be a bad idea.

Finally, she darted in, aiming several kicks in rapid succession at him. The more powerful kicks were aimed at his abdomen, in an attempt to make him drop his guard. It was only the faster, but less powerful kicks that she bothered to aim at his face. She didn't want to be grabbed by the ankle and thrown so soon after her last experience.

"...I hope I didn't dislodge a tooth or anything," she said, wincing. "I don't think there are any dentists in Luceti, much less one with equipment that could work on Saiyan teeth."

Even though, she realized this was him trying to encourage her to keep training, talking about bloodshed wasn't exactly appealing. Half-saiyan or not, she was still a girly girl at heart. When she confronted someone, her default was to yell rather than use physical force. It was more encouraging to see how happy training together was making him, and to know that she wouldn't be useless in a fight if one was forced on her.

"Your teeth are perfect as always, dear, don't worry about that;" Bulma chimes from her metaphorical corner where she's busy admiring the sight of her family talking and doing things together. It's simply the best sight she could ever ask for, no amazing landscapes or shows of magic or power can beat this. Her husband, Vegeta, taking a break and talking with their daughter. Has any of them any idea of how amazing that is to her? Of what it means to her?

"You know... When Bulla said she wanted to do this I expected something like when Son-kun and Krillin were kids, that is... Me being able to see something more than blurs at best," she whines softly, lips frowning into a small pout as she lightly frowns at them both. She's clearly not serious and she's sure that both of them know her well enough to know and see that she's praising both of them.

"When those two idiots were children I'm sure they couldn't do so much as walk in a straight line without tripping over themselves than move at the speeds we're doing now." It's said so matter-of-fact, like how could anyone think to lower his daughter to that skill level. "She's leaps and bounds ahead of them." He sends a dangerous but teasing glance and smile over to his companion. "Maybe you should join in on the fun Bulma, then you'll be able to follow our movements."

He is also not being serious at all about that, considering he'd have roadkill of a significant other if that were to ever happen. "Your teeth are fine. I'm still in possession of my own and I've been hit harder in the mouth than you could ever imagine. It's too bad a lot of my opponents can't say the same. I'm sure they'd miss being able to whistle if they were still alive."

"I'm doing better than I thought I would," Bulla admitted, recognizing her mother's words as praise rather than the pouting it might have come across as to a stranger. "I'm glad I got so many volunteers to help me train."

Training in secret without her father finding out had been a task in and of itself, but asking others to train with her had another purpose other than just picking up some new moves. Bulla knew that if she'd trained entirely on her own, she wouldn't have gotten nearly as far. She knew she'd either give up, or give herself away. By turning training into a social obligation with a number of people she'd befriended during that time, she made herself stick to her goal of training for hours every day.

"I'll pass, you know my interests on physical exercises lie elsewhere. And I don't need any special training to be able to follow the moves of my opponent there," a smile comes to her lips as she eyes her husband, knowing that he wasn't being serious.

"I'm not surprised you got so many, there are many people here who dedicate themselves to train with others even more than your father dedicates his time to train himself;" at least now. The Vegeta of her time would probably be living in the Battle Dome to save himself time and train for longer. "Besides, who could resist the chance to spend time with such a charming and beautiful girl? In my opinion they should have volunteered without you having to ask."

There it was. Her kicks came in strong and fast, as he dodging what he can and blocking what he can't. He's keeping his defense up and not allowing his daughter to get any hits in that she doesn't deserve, though a couple of the head kicks almost graze his cheek a few times and a kick or two to his midsection land violently against a strong forearm. When did she get this strong?

Either way, she's making him back up as her assault continues, slowly pushing him toward the wall. He continues his defense, letting her go at it to see if she could actually land a blow on him before he gets cornered and has to do something about it.

Bulma's little comment to him evokes a very offended and reddened face from the Saiyan Prince, shooting her a 'did you really say that in front of our daughter' look. "I train plenty here. Just because I'm not doing it for nearly twenty hours a day anymore doesn't mean that there are others that go as long as I do. My schedule alone would make most of these idiots faint from trying to fathom the time I've spent improving myself." In reality he's just very, very offended. It's not hard with him.

"By the way, who did you get to help you with this little project of yours?"

"Aero--oh."

Bulla started to guess that aerobics might be her mother's choice of exercise right up until she saw the way her father's face turned beet red, and her cheeks flushed pink while her eyes adopted a mildly horrified deer in headlights look. It was one thing to be passingly aware that her parents had a sex life beyond the two times that had resulted in her and her elder brother. It was another to be reminded of that fact. She considered herself fortunate she'd never walked in at a bad time.

"Lots of people," replied Bulla, happy for the change of topic. "Saori, Cliff, Rin, Lee, Tenten, Korra, Xavin and Ino. Everyone taught me a little something different, though there was some overlap, too."

She has a hard time containing her laugh, watching Vegeta's face turn red and Bulla getting the reason why that happens. It doesn't matter if she's in front of her daughter or in front of a five years old, Bulma is shameless enough to not care about what she says or the implications that can be taken from her words. Still it's funny, because both daughter and husband are right in their first thought, but Vegeta's reaction seems more as proof of how badly she has corrupted him in that aspect. And the idea that she could corrupt him at anything is practically hilarious.

"You get it right, Bulla. Aerobics do wonders to help keep my figure, and they are a great way to get a day started... Though it seems that your father has other ideas about how I get to keep my figure;" because playing innocent and use Bulla's guess for it in order to make Vegeta look like the pervert one is something Bulma wouldn't just let pass. "I didn't know you thought of that as such a daily practice to be considered proper exercise, Vegeta." She's not sorry, Bulla needs to learn how the real world is anyway. And what she has to endure and hear isn't as bad as what Bulma had to deal with when she was her age, really, at least Vegeta and her don't talk about getting lovers or divorcing.

She focuses on Bulla, though, as the girl lists off the people that helped her. "Are you planning to stick with that training? Not as intensely maybe, but to keep learning from them a bit?" Bulma isn't a fighting expert, far from it, but she doesn't think that it would be bad if Bulla did that, quite the opposite, it may be more helpful to her if she wants to do a bit more than just one special gift to her father.

Vegeta shoots an angry glance over to Bulla, his face still beet red. "Don't listen to your mother. If there's any decency to be had, it's not coming from her." He sets his jaw, arms crossed and ignores the rest of the statement, far too embarrassed to discuss it further. Instead he'll roll with the following question, a much more agreeable one in his opinion.

"I know most of those you've listed off. I guess Luceti comes with a few that aren't completely worthless." He makes a mental note of those names. It amazes him that the people here are so similar to how helpful their friends are back at home. He guesses he shouldn't be terribly surprised, but at the same time, it's nice to know. He might not like a majority of people here but even he can recognize the benefits to having kind and thoughtful people about. Since they've done the impossible and helped Bulla, something he could never bring himself to force her to do.

He sits quietly, awaiting Bulla's answer. He would love to know if she was going to stick with training.

The challenge had been to hit him in the face, but Bulla found herself hard pressed to land any hits at all. There were a few close calls. She was pleased with herself that at least she was forcing him to exert effort to keep her from landing any blows. She might not be the most challenging sparring partner for him, but what she'd managed so far still counted as an achievement. It wasn't something she could have done months ago. The upside to all of this was that while she was on the offensive, she was keeping him too busy to land hits on her.

She tried a few more kicks before alternating them with punches, trying to focus most of her blows on his abdomen in an effort to make him concentrate more of his defense there. If she was going to land a hit right in his face, she was going to have to be smart about it. Finally, she saw an opportunity, but rather than give it away by focusing directly on where she was going to strike, she only kept that side of his face in her peripheral vision. At the last possible split second, she darted in and aimed an uppercut at his face.

"Maybe...I decided to train at first because I heard that even little kids could be drafted. I wanted to at least get strong enough to protect the kids here."

It was only fair to be honest about her original intentions and what led her to start training. The drafts still bothered her, but she did feel far more capable of doing something rather than being forced to passively accept them. It made her realize just how much she'd relied on the strength of those around her. How much she'd just cheered from the sidelines rather than trying to become strong in her own right.

"Once I started, I realized what a perfect surprise it would be. I didn't want to bring it up on just any day, so I decided save it for Father's Day. Except then I realized if Dad knew I'd been training, he'd want to spar, and I was going to need to get a lot better if I wanted to have any chance of making it interesting and last for more than ten minutes. I thought I'd have trouble making myself train enough, and there are plenty of trained fighters in Luceti, so I thought I'd see if any of them could teach me ways to fight someone much stronger than me."

The results were even better than she'd believed herself capable of, showing her what she could do when she sincerely worked at improving. She would never love fighting the way her father did, but she couldn't help but feel a little proud of what her hard work had achieved.

"...actually, I think I will." She quickly added, "A little. Not every day for hours, but maybe an hour every other day."

Bulma makes an appreciative sound as she smiles at her daughter, "Look at that. Beauty, brawn and brains. I can't believe you're already so mature, I certainly wasn't that way at your age! Must be your father's influence."

She's sincerely amazed by the girl, by her maturity and capacity to both refuse a settled fate and find ways to fix it, or to at least make it a bit better. Rather than sitting and crying, Bulla was rolling up her sleeves and getting to work. She wouldn't be the strongest fighter around, not compared to Vegeta, but Bulma is sure that the girl will be close to the top if she tries. And if not... Protecting those who can't fight is also an important job, even if she's not there to deal the final blow to the enemy.

"I don't want to sound like your father or anything, but maybe you should try to make it actually an hour every day at least. Protecting people isn't easy, it's a lot harder and demanding than being on the offensive, so if you want to protect them you're going to have to work hard for it, dear;" she says it in the most encouraging tone she can, though behind her words a message of "don't stress yourself" or "don't try to protect absolutely everyone" can be heard. It's not that she doesn't approve of Bulla's goals and thoughts, on the contrary, she just doesn't want the kid to have to face the ugly part of protecting people: not being able to protect someone.

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He was always a rock when I needed one (closed)

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omg i don't have a good icon for this

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oh wow sorry for the tl;dr

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It's okay. Beware my revenge in sparring tags

you can kill me

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