One of Dimitri's most faithful servants, Gustave, used to talk about fishing in the past. Dimitri himself never forgot the lessons he received on holding a rod, casting the line, and waiting for the other end to bite. And some part of him thought that once he graduated from the Officers Academy, he'd rise to the status of King, fishing on those rare days he had off.

Instead, he was a student in the Academy, not yet graduated and far from kingship. Still, the rod was in his hands, and he tried his hardest not to break it as he did most things.

Yet one errant thought—a horrific remembrance of the Tragedy of Duscur, and all the blood that came with it—was enough to upset his balance, and he couldn't stop the wood from splintering. The rod was halved like a twig in his hands, and he sighed before bending down to pick up the broken pieces.

Dimitri quickly disposed of the rod. He returned to the fishing pond with a scowl on his face, wondering if it was just one of many other things he'd never participate in. Sewing, painting, cooking, sculpting, and now fishing—were his hands only good for violence, and nothing else?

"That was pretty severe."

He turned around to face none other than Professor Byleth, themselves. "Ah, Professor. I suppose you saw my attempts just then?"

"I did."

"Unfortunately, I struggle with controlling my own strength. In battle, it's not ever a problem, but for domestic things like this, I—"

"You can still fish," Byleth insisted, with a twinge of sympathy in their usually stoic expression. "You don't need a rod."

"Um, I'm afraid using a cage to catch fish isn't any better. I break those just as easily."

"Why not use your hands?"

Dimitri stared down at his hands, which were covered in metal gauntlets—yet another measure taken to prevent him from accidentally hurting someone. He tightened them into fists, metal clunking alongside his movements, and looked to the professor with a grave expression. "Do you truly think that will work?"

"I don't see why not. Someone as strong and mindful as you should be able to snag one, no problem."

"I'd look rather silly doing that, wouldn't you say?"

"In that case, I will join you." Byleth insisted, sitting down at the edge of the pier at once. "We will fish with our hands together."

"You can't be serious!"

"I am."

Dimitri conceded, absolutely floored at the idea of him and the monastery's most esteemed professor, fishing with their bare hands as if they were out in the wild. Even though it was a slow afternoon, and most students were out on the town or in their dorms, Dimitri was still embarrassed at the idea of Eagles, Lions, and Deer alike—all of them coming out and witnessing the head Lion and the monastery's Demon acting in such a manner.

The earnestness of the professor's actions was too genuine to go unnoticed, however. He would be remiss to deny them now, especially when they went out of their way to make him feel better about something he didn't really need to feel bad about in the first place.

Sitting cross-legged at the pier, Dimitri watched Byleth before doing anything. He took note of the way they sat on their knees, bent over the water with utmost balance and concentration. The pond's surface was calm, and the water was clear enough for the outlines of fish to be seen. Dimitri watched several shapes swim by the professor's outstretched hand, unbothered and ignored in their presence. Several times, Dimitri assumed a certain fish would be chosen to be grabbed bare-handedly, but each time the professor proved him wrong by remaining motionless.

Then, Dimitri caught sight of a large fish, swimming ambly towards their direction. The professor glanced at it twice before sucking in a breath, and swiping his hands into the water.

They came back up with a bullhead in hand. It flailed for water but remained locked in Byleth's grip. Dimitri quickly procured a bucket, and listened to the righteous thunk noise that resounded as the fish hit the bottom of the container. "That was incredible!"

"It was nothing. Look around us, Dimitri: hardly a laugh or a stare in sight."

He didn't need to look to know that other students were too preoccupied with their own problems to notice His Highness and the Ashen Demon, standing side-by-side and handling fish with nothing but their own fingers. The childish worry of being seen was soon disregarded, and Dimitri felt silly for being so self-conscious in the first place.

Inspired and reassured, Dimitri tried to replicate the process, but found that he would miss the fish's body entirely, or have the fish slip out of his grip right at the last second. He was on his sixth attempt when Byleth mentioned a helpful tip.

"Because of the way light tricks the eyes, when you see a shape in the water, aim lower than the actual shape itself. That way you account for the light as it acts on the water's surface."

Dimitri vaguely recalled a similar tactic mentioned in their combat study books, specifically the volume dedicated to environmental factors and external issues when fighting. He nodded and focused hard on the next catch. Then, when a large shape loomed near the dock, he inhaled deeply, and reached through the water's surface to grab at it.

He raised his hands out from the water, spraying droplets and scales around him. The beautiful, opalescent sheen of the platinum fish was a sight to behold, and he could hardly believe his eyes as the thing struggled in his grasp.

Byleth moved the bucket towards him, and Dimitri dropped the platinum fish into it without a second thought. "I did it," he said. "Oh, by the Goddess, I've done it!"

"You have," Byleth reassures him. "It is as I said."

"You're right. Thank you, Professor. While silly at first, this skill is sure to prove useful in the future." Dimitri fished a few more times using the bare-hands method, collecting several more fish as a result. He wiped at the sweat on his brow. "And the best part is that the fish can't break while in my hands. Er, well, I suppose it could if I tried it hard enough, but by then it'll have already served its purpose."

Byleth nodded in agreement, eyes trained to the setting sun. Dimitri stared after it, too, watching as the blues and whites of the sky bled orange and pink, instead. As the last of the daylight went away, Dimitri remained rooted to the spot, hands wringing each other over and over again.

Perhaps his hands were good for more than just fighting, after all.