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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"Oh, I don't think there's any need for that," said Bulla, glad for at least the warmup opportunity. Especially the chance to stretch. She was sure that her muscles would thank her later, when they were only sore for two or three days as opposed to an entire week. Ten times Earth's gravity might be easier than she'd expected, but this was still going to be way beyond any of the training she'd done with friends.

All of that time had been excellent preparation. Her reflexes were better than they'd ever been after such a concentrated effort. She also learned techniques for using an opponent's force against them, and those were the ones where she was most likely to have the element of surprise. The body contained all sorts of natural levers, and while she wasn't anywhere near his level of strength, she'd learned that she was strong enough to hit grown adults hard enough to knock them through trees or send them flying for several yards without much effort. It was enough to throw her father when they sparred, if she had an opening to do so.

He finishes up, walking over and rotating his arms a little to loosen them up. He might go easy on her for his standards but he still doesn't have a problem hitting her. She signed up for this and he's willing to let her have it, at least as much as he thinks she can handle.

"We've wasted enough time. Let's get started." He'll be nice though, and not surprise her by throwing a kick right at her head. Instead he sets himself in a fighting stance. "Ready when you are."

Bulla got into a fighting stance of her own, although rather than clench her fists together, she left her hands open and ready to grab at an arm, a shirt sleeve - anything that would give her leverage for a throw. She knew better than to expect that he'd be gentle. Bulla trusted that he'd hold back from doing anything that could seriously hurt her and that he'd have a realistic expectation of what she'd be able to take. It was the realistic expectation that she wasn't looking forward to. He had a very good idea of what a minimally trained half-Saiyan could handle.

"I'm ready."

Ready, but she wasn't moving in to attack. She was going to avoid going on the offensive as much as possible and instead planned on making her defense her best offense. It was her best chance of holding out for at least close to the eight hours mentioned in the card. She didn't know if she could get that far, but she'd be disappointed in herself if she didn't at least manage five hours.

"Well alright then." The tone of his voice drops, and puts on a smile he usually reserves for combat. And without another word he moves in, not near as fast as he might of had he been fighting Trunks or even Kakarot, but it's still quick as he goes to try to land a punch right in his daughter's face.

It was quick, but it was easier to react when he had to come at her. Bulla side stepped to dodge the blow coming at her face and grabbed at her father's arm. The motion was fluid and circular just like she'd been taught, using the quick motion and incoming force to her advantage.

The punch doesn't connect as she side steps him, grabbing a hold of his arm and he instantly concludes that he's about to get thrown. Not bad, he thinks to himself, that certainly wasn't something he's gone through with when teaching her some basic self defense when she was younger.

As she goes to follow through what he thinks will be a throw, he'll be raising his hand up- and will fire a ki blast right at her.

Originally, the plan had been to throw him, but since he saw through her intent, she adapted. Instead, she used his arm as leverage to swing her leg up in time to kick at his wrist. It wouldn't do much damage, but if it made the ki blast miss, she'd consider it a success.

Her foot connects with his wrist and the blast goes off, flying at the ceiling and exploding harmlessly far above their heads. He'll have to take this opportunity to try to bring a turn kick into her side while simultaneously trying to remove his arm from her grip.

When that kick hit her side, it not only hurt, but it also forced her to let go of his arm. Bulla went flying to the side. Mid-air, she whirled around so that she landed on her feet and went skidding back in a crouch. She'd been hoping she could dodge three hits, but two out of three wasn't bad at all. There were world tournament competitors who'd fared worse against him.

"I know you're faster than that!" He can't deny it, that was pretty good of her to take care of his attacks like that. She certainly had been working on her skills and that little combo had shown it. So he'll give her a little more to deal with, his hands glowing with energy as he begun to throw smaller and lower powered ki blasts right at her.

Bulla let out a little squeak when the ki blasts started coming, and she was grateful for Cliff's training. He'd been a patient teacher who helped her work on her dodging, even if he got paint on her clothes during their training. She managed to dodge the blasts, and stifled the urge to complain that he'd thrown them at her without warning. To him, mentioning her being faster probably did count as a warning.

Unfortunately, very little of all the extra training she'd gotten in had so much as touched upon the use of her ki, and she'd never been good at using it offensively. For flying, yes, and for sharing it to make someone else stronger, sure. It meant she had to dodge and move in for more direct physical attacks.

Staying light on her feet, she rushed at him, feigning that she was aiming a kick at his ribs before dropping low and aiming a sweeping kick at his legs.

He can't help but be really proud of her while she manages to dodge all of his blasts, grinning widely at her moves as she approached him. He sees her feign, but doesn't think she'd be skilled enough to try to fake him out; so his arm goes up to block what he thinks is going to be a kick right to his side. His face opens into an expression of shock when her leg slams into his and knocks him clear off his feet.

He twists, hands going out to catch himself on the ground, trying to use the opportunity and momentum to swing his own legs at her to try to land a hit.

Both feet struck Bulla in the chest, knocking the wind out of her. She went flying back, and it was all she could do to turn around and land in an unsteady crouch as she coughed.

"Ow," she said between coughs. In the past, she would have quit at this point, with plenty of complaining until she was grudgingly allowed to leave. Instead, she took in a couple of slow breaths and got to her feet, determined to try again. She was dodging blasts she never would have been able to mere months before, and she successfully faked out one of the strongest warriors in the universe. For once in her life, Bulla wanted to see just how much she was capable of.

Hands up, he lets her catch herself and get up after his kick lands. No whining though, on her end. Good. He'd hit her pretty hard, maybe even a little harder than he intended but that's what happens when you spar sometimes. So he doesn't feel bad, because he could have hit her a lot harder. She's a Saiyan. She can take it.

He's really starting to realize that she wasn't kidding when she said she'd really worked for this day. Dodging all those blasts, it seemed like it wasn't something she hadn't encountered before- and not because he'd trained her to deal with it. Someone else did. He's a little sore that she'd faked him out successfully, but at the same time he figures she'd played on him underestimating her. Smart. That'll teach him to underestimate her, just as he hates it when his enemies do the same to him.

That display though, he's more than certain that if Bulla wanted she could easily be a skilled Saiyan warrior, pulling off those moves in a month's time like that? He shouldn't be surprised, she did have Saiyan blood in her veins and she was the daughter of the Prince of Saiyans. The instinct for battle resided in her, too. But how to bring it out?

"Think you can pull that off again? His hand comes up, fingers moving backward toward him in a taunt. Come, show him what you've got.

"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.

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."

"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.

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.

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.

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.

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omg i don't have a good icon for this

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