At last the final preparations were in place. Yamcha and Takira stood face-to-face in a large, heavily-reinforced room. Through a pane of glass, the others watched from the next room, Bulma seated at the console, the remains of the scouter suspended by a bundle of cords in front of her. The others stood around her, careful not to bump the equipment. Trunks had been trusted with Takira's scabbard. Bulma pushed the button for the intercom and spoke to Takira and Yamcha.

"Okay, folks, I think we're ready to roll here. The scanner's locked on you, Takira, and it'll feed it's readings into the computer, which will give me all the data I need about your power level. Do your best, just don't kill Yamcha, got it?" Takira nodded. Yamcha tried to work the kinks out of his neck. "Whenever you're ready, you two. Go to it."

Takira and Yamcha squared off warily, circling.

"You want me to work up to my full power or just bring it on hard and fast?" asked Takira.

"Your choice. You're the guest, after all," Yamcha joked.

Takira smiled, suddenly flying forward and kicking Yamcha hard in the chest, laying him out flat on his back with a cry of surprise. She leaped, preparing to land on him. Without getting up from his prone position, Yamcha held out his hands and launched an energy sphere. Takira dodged it easily, but it set her off-course and she abandoned the attack, instead flying over him into a handspring. Turning in midair, she prepared to attack again, but he was already on his feet and ready.

As she jumped for him, he dodged aside and kicked, catching her in the stomach and knocking the wind out of her. Turning a somersault, she landed a short distance away, gasping for breath. Yamcha lunged forward, fists flying. Takira managed to block his punches, but he was driving her backward; soon she was up against the wall. Pushing off of it, she shot forward, straight for Yamcha's head. He ducked, but not fast enough; she grabbed him by the arm and jerked him off his feet without slowing her forward motion. Flying towards the other side of the room, she swung him around in front of her. He slammed back against the wall, and she landed feet-first on his chest an instant later. He choked, spitting a little blood as she pushed off him, flipping to land lightly on her feet.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glaring at her.

"You think you've won already, don't you? Don't get too cocky, girl, I'm only using a fraction of my power."

"I know," she said smugly, "So am I."

Yamcha began to concentrate, feeling the energy flowing through his body. It had been a while, he thought to himself. He'd forgotten how good it felt to power up. He smiled: he'd show this newcomer a thing or two.

Takira, too, was raising her power level, unsure of whether to go for her maximum now or later. She glanced at the viewing window and saw Bulma fiddling with her console. Ostensibly this fight was just to measure Takira's power level, so perhaps she ought to get it over with and max out now. If nothing else, she wanted to beat this warrior soundly, to prove she was worthy of taking on the half-Saiyans. She didn't like the implication that she was just another human, too weak for rigorous training.

In the other room, an awkward silence had descended.

"So how does it look?" asked Trunks. Bulma squinted at the screen.

"Well, Yamcha looks like he's about at max power. Takira's a little below him, but her power's still rising slowly. I don't know if she'll top him, though."

Leaning forward, Trunks pressed the intercom button and addressed Takira.

"Come on, is that the best you can do? You're a disgrace to your race! I could outperform that when I was four years old!" Bulma shoved him away from the intercom.

"Trunks, what do you think you're doing?"

"Giving a little motivation." He grinned. "Take a look at her power level now."

Bulma gasped. Takira's reading had shot upwards and was now edging above that of Yamcha, continuing to rise. An aura had begun to form around her as her jaw clenched and fists tightened. She was pissed. She pinned Trunks with a lethal glare, then turned back to Yamcha, gathering her energy.

"Trunks, I'm beginning to wish you hadn't done that," Bulma moaned. "Whatever she may have promised, I'll bet she's forgotten it now."

"No," he said softly. "She's mad at me, not Yamcha. She won't kill him."

"Maybe she won't," said Goten, "but if I were you I'd think twice about giving her back her swords." Trunks smiled, still watching the action.

Yamcha decided not to draw out this battle any longer than necessary. He'd knock her out and declare himself the winner, then get the heck out of there before she had a chance to recover. He didn't like the look in her eyes. Raising his hands above his head, he formed a sphere with all the energy he could spare. 'Let's see her dodge this,' he thought with a grim smile.

Takira watched, expressionless, as he prepared the attack. She didn't try to stop him, didn't even seem to be forming an attack of her own. When he prepared to launch the powerful sphere, she didn't flinch, didn't move aside, only crossed her arms over her chest and lowered her head to absorb the blast.

"What's she doing?!" Gohan panicked. "She'll be killed! She may be strong but she can't take a hit like that!"

The energy ball hit Takira full-on, exploding in a blinding burst of light. Yamcha had to brace against the force of the blast, shielding his eyes. The windows of the building shuddered and rattled.

A few wisps of smoke rose from the tile floor, weaving delicately upwards to wind around Takira: still standing, virtually unscathed. With an evil grin, she stepped forward, her body sideways to Yamcha, raising an open hand toward him. A tiny ball of light formed in her palm and an instant later the far wall was all but obliterated. Yamcha, fortunately, had managed to dodge the blast, but was badly bruised and a little winded. He backed away, chest heaving.

"This is crazy," he panted, "I don't think even Krillin has power like that. I could be wrong of course, but somehow I doubt it." He sank to his knees, wheezing.

Takira looked at him, and almost seemed to be contemplating finishing him off, when Bulma cut in on the intercom, voice shaky.

"Uh, o-okay, Takira, I think that'll do," she stuttered. Takira smiled.

"I thought as much," she murmured.

She walked into the observation room, taking her scabbard from Trunks, while Bra ran out to help Yamcha to his feet. He waved her back irritably, declaring he was fine, just needed a second to catch is breath, was all.

"So how's it look?" Takira asked.

"Well," squeaked Bulma, trying to slow her galloping pulse, "it'll take me a little while to interpret the data, but based on what we've seen, I'm not sure any alterations to the chamber will be necessary. You may want to hit the gravity room first, though, just to be sure."

"Gravity room?"

"Artificial," Trunks explained. "You can set the room for up to five hundred times normal gravity. Training becomes more difficult in the increased gravity, and you can adjust it upwards as your strength grows."

"Sounds good," Takira said. "Let's go."

"Hang on," said Bulma, "What's the big rush? Relax, you're not going anywhere soon." Takira tensed like a hunted animal.

"What do you mean?" She looked at each of the people who surrounded her. Bulma put a hand on her shoulder and she nearly backhanded the woman. She had to hold her fist in her other hand to restrain herself.

The look in Bulma's eyes was kind. "Don't be upset. Trunks told me you'd been living on the streets and asked if you could stay with us. We'd be glad to have you. There's a spare room upstairs with a balcony and a wonderful view that I'm sure you'd like. You can stay here as long as you want; there will be plenty of time for training."

Takira drew away slowly until she was backed into a corner. She stared accusingly at Trunks, then glared at Gohan and Goten for good measure. She could feel claustrophobia closing in. She had to get out of there. If they forced her to stay, she'd probably kill someone.

Just then Bra and Yamcha came and stood in the doorway.

"Yamcha's going to go lie down for a bit," Bra announced. Bulma looked at Yamcha, then back at Takira.

"You need some bandages, Yamcha. Come with me and I'll patch you up. Bra, you come too." Bra looked suspiciously at the others, obviously smelling a conspiracy, but didn't protest, and helped her mother lead the protesting Yamcha away. Gohan closed the door behind them.

"Just what are you trying to pull?" Takira hissed at Trunks. He looked indignant.

"Takira, I don't see what the problem is, here. You need a place to stay; we've got a ton of empty rooms serving no better purpose. This is where all the training tools are, and unlike your place in town, it's not a condemned building. Vegeta was willing to stay here; give me one good reason why you can't."

Takira said nothing. She looked like she wanted to kill, or die herself. Neither seemed a feasible option.

"I'm not trying to trap you," Trunks continued softly. "I promised you earlier that you could leave whenever you wished, and my offer still stands. I won't hold you back if you truly want to go, but look beyond your stubborn Saiyan pride for a moment, and I think you'll see why you should stay here." He lowered his eyes, waiting. He heard Takira utter a string of curses under her breath. At last she looked up, sighed, and managed to force herself to whisper:

"Show me this room."

Trunks suppressed a smile of relief and gestured for her to follow him as he left the room. Gohan and Goten brought up the rear, on guard in case she changed her mind and decided to bolt.

*****

"It's always been a guest room, basically," Trunks said as he showed her around. "My father stayed here for a while, before he got together with Bulma."

Takira moved soundlessly around the room and stepped out onto the balcony, breathing in the fresh air.

Bulma stuck her head in. "Gohan, Goten, Yamcha wants to talk to you; he sent me to tell you. How's it going up here?" She craned her neck to catch a glimpse of Takira.

"We're fine, mom." With a quick glance to be sure Takira wasn't watching, Trunks waved his hand at Bulma to shoo her away. She nodded.

"Well, I'll let you guys settle in, then. Come downstairs when you're ready; I'll get lunch on the table." She ducked out, followed by Gohan and Goten. Shutting the door quietly, Trunks turned to see Takira peering beneath the bed. Reaching under, she pulled out an old piece of Saiyan armor, vest-like, heavily scratched, and broken through in two places. She held it up in front of her.

"That was my father's," Trunks commented, coming behind her to look at it, "It saw a lot of battle before he finally got a new one. I should have guessed he'd keep it; it's sort of a trophy of all those old fights."

Takira laid it on the bed, running her fingers over the scratches and dents. Her shoulders began to shake, and Trunks realized with alarm that she was crying. He wasn't sure what to do.

"Takira--" he said helplessly. She gave him a panicked look and hastily brushed the tears from her face, sniffling.

"Sorry," she choked, "I'm--being stupid--" In a decisive movement, he caught her by the shoulders and turned her around to face him, praying she wouldn't attack him for it. She just looked startled.

"He was my father, Takira; I mourn his death as well as you do. It's okay to cry for him." Summoning his courage, he drew her into his embrace, resting his cheek on her hair. She stiffened for a moment, then wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him as though he were her last hope in the world.

When at last she drew back from him, her hands were trembling slightly. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and used the sleeve of her sweatshirt to dry her tears. She looked at the floor, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "You'd think I'd be over it by now--"

"What are you talking about? You just found out last night." She looked up at him.

"For a race as accustomed to death as the Saiyans, that is ample time."

"I'm not so sure," he answered. "I've known a few Saiyans in my time, and none were so hard-hearted. I like to think they were better off that way."

Takira shrugged, still sniffling. Turning back to the armor, she placed it tenderly back under the bed and stood, heaving a deep sigh.

"I suppose we ought to get going?" she murmured.

"Probably. Before Bulma starts screaming." She returned his smile.

*****

"I said, who is she?" Yamcha asked again, getting annoyed. Gohan and Goten weren't usually this secretive. Goten looked frustrated.

"Yamcha, I wish to kami I could tell you, but I can't."

"Come on, guys, what's with the vow of silence? Don't you trust me?"

"We trust you," said Gohan, "but it's fair to say she doesn't, and therein lies the difficulty. She has, well, an unusual history, and it's not something she wants just anyone to know."

"It looks like she'll be staying here," Goten offered, "Maybe after she gets to know you a little more, she'll tell you herself."

"Fat chance," Yamcha muttered, disgusted. "I'll be lucky if she doesn't kill me. Did you see the look on her face when she fired that final attack? The only other person I've seen with that look is Vegeta, and it was always when he was about to kill someone! Am I the only person made just a little nervous by this girl?"

"I understand where you're coming from, Yamcha," said Gohan, "but I don't think you have anything to fear from her."

"That's easy for you guys to say; you could always transform and defend yourselves. What's a human to do, huh?" He shook his head gravely. "I tell you, that girl is dangerous. Don't turn your backs on her for a second."

"We don't intend to," Goten assured him. "Have a little faith. Trunks seems to trust her, and he's always been a good judge of character."

Yamcha snorted. "Are you sure he's being completely objective?"

"What do you mean?"

"Only that his judgement might be swayed by a pretty face."

"Not Trunks," Gohan said decisively. "Goten, maybe, but not Trunks." Goten gave his brother an ungrateful look, and Gohan smiled.

Bra stuck her head in the door. "Mom says come to lunch, guys."

"Tell her we'll be right there," Yamcha called. When she'd left, he turned back to Gohan and Goten. "We can talk more about this later. In the meantime, be careful." They nodded, and headed downstairs.