Bad Seed

---

As Daika's mentally distraught state looked forward at Jagaimo as she spoke the encouraging words to her. Despite all of the trouble she had been, how pompous she had become in her few years of life being sheltered around people claiming to be superior, and despite all of the full-strength intensity she had unleashed on both her and the training hall, Jagaimo didn't falter. She didn't back down, back away, or try and end it in the old way. She pushed her way through the construct's heart and towards Daika with an offering hand, something no one had ever really done for the girl. Neither of her parents, nor any of her trainers before had thought of more than just strength in the matter. She felt herself a failure, but here stood someone who didn't.

"I... I'm sorry I..." She said between soft, labored sobs while her hands raised to her glowing crimson eyes. Balled fists rubbing her scuffed cheeks to get rid of the little emotional cascade that overcame the poor girl. As she continued, she slowly glided forward from the center of the Ki construct until meeting the outstretched hand of her trainer, moving her smaller hand to grab at the offered help. As she did, the Ki whirlwind around Daika would subside and dissipate slowly and methodically, it's energy dispersing into the nearby sandpits and bellowing around, leaving the girl in the air with Jagaimo, tears streaking down her face as she looked for help in her trainer's eyes. She was never the one to ask for guidance or help, determined to find her way through life on her own. This woman showed her she was not capable of such feats. She needed people, everyone needed someone to lean on. Jag just showed Daika how much she really needed others. "Ms. Trainer I'm so sorry I acted this way, I'm not sure what snapped in me I just... I can't stand to see this go this way... I really am a disappointment to our people." She continued to drag herself down through the sadness and rage in herself. The young girl was way too young to manage her emotions elegantly enough, with training and time maybe. "I... I'll listen. I need someone to show me the way. If I can't beat you, or anyone else, how could I ever consider myself a true saiyan. I put everything into those attacks, I couldn't control myself putting everything I had into trying to hurt you and you still danced around me like it was nothing. I wanna be like that. I wanna be like you Ms. Trainer. Like Queen Zuqetta, or King Taori before her. Strong. Independant. A force of nature."

As she spoke about it, Daika's eyes lit up thinking about becoming so great, so dependable. Her goal in life was to be the best, everyone else buckling to try and harm her or her people as she beat them back down. She didn't want to be oppressive, or control others. Her heart was set in becoming the force that could destroy any threat to her people, to their queen, and anyone else that she valued. Like her father always wanted her to be, the beacon of Saiyan strength.

"I want to train in your way. It worked for you, and you're so much stronger than I could have imagined... Please show me your way."

---

As the woman helped Daika to the floor explaining to her the rules she would adhere to, her refusal of the titles, Daika could just nod between soft sobs, trying her best to stare at Jagaimo with her still waning strength. The fight had done a number to her body. From the stress of the containment vest applying reverse pressure to her to counteract her own overpowering of her small frame, to the impact damage from Jagaimo's expertly placed strikes, Daika's body was beaten, battered, and worn. "Y-Yes Jagaimo." was the only words she could muster trying to keep up with her trainer's elegantly put speech.

Daika knew Jagaimo was right, deep down inside it was something she was always aware of. She was born with virtually the same strength she carried now. It made her a decent prodigy for a saiyan infant, born with the combative strength of some alien's most professional of fighters, but despite trainer after trainer, mentor after mentor, she had plateaued terribly in her training. She was ill equipped to call herself a warrior, let alone a competent one. This fight was just the straw that broke the camel's back for the little saiyan. Seeing firsthand precisely how lacking she was. Even when she was on relatively even ground, when she put her heart, soul, blood, sweat, and tears into the fight, she was destined to lose from the very beginning. There was no case or world where she was going to be the victor here. Her strength was too weak, that was obvious, but her technique was abysmal. She fought like a caged animal. Like something unhinged and imperfect.

"I... I would never aim low. When your goal is small, you only achieve small things. When your goal is always out of reach, you never stop growing..." Daika would mutter in response to Jagaimo's chuckle, rubbing her broken arm with her good arm. "That's something father always said. It's why he always aspired to be King. He knew he would never get there, but it means every achievement is one step closer to that goal..."

It was after Jagaimo's speech to her about the beast inside, her Oozaru spirit that begged to be freed, that Daika's heart sank at the realization of what she meant. She was unrefined, probably more so than just that, but a liability with her inability to properly manage her emotions. Her anger, her disdain, those inherent emotional rips and tears of her spirit that her parents had ingrained into her through years of indoctrination in the superior belief that she had always been led to believe was the truth. She was going to have to overcome the most dangerous part of her upbringing, and most certainly against the wishes of her father. It was something she was willing to forget, though with due time it would take, Daika was certain she would manage. The hardest part of giving up part of your upbringing is forgetting everything you were told growing up. Being so young, the saiyan girl wasn't really aware of how hard it would be, but even she knew how hard it had been to adhere to Queen Zuqetta's personal mantra of 'no class systems, just saiyans'. Even when trying, Daika couldn't help but feel the Elitist mentality grow. This would take just as much time as her martial arts training would.

"With only one broken arm I shouldn't take too lo-" The girl would start to say as the medic would arrive to the scene, completely caught off guard by Jagaimo's exiting move. Her stomach sank before spitting up at the crunching sound of her other, perfectly good arm's bone shattering just below the elbow. Her eyes bulged and looked in horror at the sight of her new mentor's shin being planted firmly in the newly wounded spot, gasping for air from the surprise assault as she hit the floor in agony once more, unable to fight back. She couldn't even muster another response as the medical staff began to immediately lift the girl off of the ground to apply aid where necessary. All she could do was watch as Jagaimo walked off from her, leaving her to be worked on by the professional staff members that were there to fix her broken bones and lacerations.

Daika's lips would part one final time as the stretcher was brought to take her away, surely too far for Jagaimo to hear her, but Daika felt it pertinent to say. The more regal speech of her professional voice, the one she reserved for the royals, other elite families, those who her family determined to be worth while to speak to. Something she hated doing, the emulation of fancy she despised.

"W-Well played... Jagaimo..."

With those final words, the girl would finally succumb to the call of the unconscious and fall into a deep slumber, the intensity of the wounds she had taken finally putting her over the edge and inoperable. By the time she would wake up again, she'd have already been loaded into a healing tank recovering from her broken bones with the highest form of care her father could afford. While he may despise Jagaimo for how she treated Daika, the girl did not hold immediate resentment. There was a modicum of respect she understood towards the much older, more mature saiyan warrior. Sure, she hated Jagaimo's guts for breaking her other arm out of nowhere, but she knew she'd have her chance to return the favor. Once her splintered ulna, radius, and humerus were returned to their former glory, she was going to become strong, experienced, and skilled enough to return the favor one day.