<span style="color: #FF0000">"How is that even a thing?"</span>Sage asked of the revenge potato. It was a fair question, don't deny it.<br/><br/>At the mention of training, though, her disposition brightened. To say she was interested in applying her physical power was one thing. Training with her father was like christmas and a birthday rolled into one. She practically bounced in her chair, grinning wide.<br/><br/><span style="color: #0080FF">"Couldn't hurt to get her head on straight."</span>Tarrok admitted. In front of the kids, he wouldn't voice his misgivings. They didn't need to hear about how many over eager rookies he'd seen rush into a million battlefields. How he'd find them torn limb from limb, committed to a fight before they knew they wouldn't win it.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF0000">"That would be the best thing ever! Think we could start tomorrow morning, dad?"</span>Sage asked. Shoveled in the remainder of her dinner even faster. How that was possible was something only very well trained biologists knew.<br/><br/>It wouldn't hurt to impress upon her the value of strength, how much and how little it counted for. It took Tarrok years to get that through his skull. Even longer for a good chunk of the saiyan race. Part of him couldn't deny the paternal desire for a successor, a light to cast into the future.