"You aren't focusing enough. Concentrate!"
"Empty your mind. There can be no obscurity in your conscience during a battle."

Eighteen days had already passed.

Eighteen days of being sharpened on the rock of Kuga Sakamata's ferocity, filled with endless hours of weight training and endurance procedures, battle tactics and villain drills, with reprieves only long enough to force protein packets and stamina bars into my wavering belly before being summoned into action once more.

Gang Orca had reacted rather off-puttingly when I vomited the remaining dregs of my old diet up over the first few days.
Did you thrive on literal garbage? He'd asked me.
I in turn couldn't stop asking questions about his dorsal fin or whether he could communicate with real orca. He, surprisingly, seemed to enjoy the questions and took great care to answer in detail whenever possible, hands moving in animated reenactments of marine life to accommodate my general lack of such knowledge.

Sakamata wasn't nearly as frightening if you could look past the murderous teeth, dried-out eyes, and general lack of human expressions.

"If you become distracted, you have already lost."

The second and third weeks focused on hand-to-hand combat; first defensively, then offensively. Two sidekicks entered the Paradox each week, varying in size to better teach the dynamics of fighting based on physique.
I had been glad to see another woman but her punches hurt no less than Gang Orca's, her shapely figure demonstrating just as much brutal wrath. I quickly learned to never underestimate an opponent based on size or gender after she nearly beat me beyond recognition.

Everything felt bruised but somehow lighter, like being in Uraraka's gravity shift. The heaviness of an action, like lifting my toothbrush, had changed; now I found myself using far too much force to do simple tasks and wound up hitting myself in the face or flinging items across the room.

This seemed to delight Gang Orca immensely.

My body was changing. The baby fat had burned like overused candles in the late hours of the night, when training continued. The softness of my stomach shed itself and gave way to strange dips and curves I'd never imagined before, unfed by the (un)wholesome foods I'd craved and cried over for the first week.

Now I only knew the taste of salt and metal, sweat and blood.

My legs drew sinews down my calves but, to my dismay, the thick weight of my thighs appeared to be a permanent feature, only heightened by near-constant use.
Something in my regime- either the arm workouts or rigorous combat training- had strengthened my chest muscles, and I was proud to show my slight increase in perkiness to absolutely no one, because I was stuck in a facility with a giant killer whale and Shota was probably hundreds of miles away, in both distance and time.

Which led us to the present week and new objective: wielding my quirk.

Gang Orca was right- using submersion the way I have, fine-tuned and near-molecular, drained me too quickly to depend on, the constant focus on not obliterating a person too tedious.
I needed to be swifter. Dodge the attacks myself, store the energy of submersion for offense instead.

Which is why I stood in the midst of a liquid tornado, sweat pouring from my limbs and a headache fracturing like lightning in my eyesight, feet warm on the pool's drained bottom.

A predator swam within the circling water, hungry for an opening.
This was his domain, five times more deadly than he was on land.
But I had been born of the water too.
I felt his fin cut a sharp left, aiming towards my blind side. With a grunt I shifted the water's flow, throwing off his trajectory.

After so many years of precision use, maneuvering tangible water felt nearly easy. Was I wrong about how my quirk works? I had gained strength and muscle, sure, but there's no way I'd be able to lift the thousands of pounds the pool's volume actually contained. So how? How is it that I can wield so much weight?

"Distracted again."

It was only a nick, but his clawed hand drew blood from my arm nonetheless. Crimson floated into the air before dissolving into the swirling water.

A flash of Mom, kneeling before me and sucking on a violent paper cut, tears drowning my face, swept before my eyes. My heart pattered at the memory.

And with it, the tornado came crashing down around me.

Sakamata's arms felt like glossy rubber as he snatched me up before the waves beat my head into the ground. I spit up half a gallon of water anyway, flailing on the poolside cement like a caught octopus.

"Your mind is burdened. Because of it, you will never be able to utilize your quirk's true potential."
The water bounced from my body like a trampoline hit after a rain shower. I reigned in my breathing to a trot.
"I know. I'm sorry."
Sakamata handed me a towel, forgetting my drying capability. For someone so large he held a surprising amount of grace, settling on the ground beside me and far from my burped-up little puddle. I tried not to take it personally.

"You believed your quirk was based on physical strength. Do you still stand by that notion?"
"I was just thinking that, when- you know," I gestured at my arm, nick already clotted and sealed with little effort. "There's...No way I would be able to lift that sort of weight manually."

"Quirks are often thought of as their own personal muscle. Do you feel this notion better suits your ability?"

Did I? A hand- the very one that had cut me moments ago- extended once he stood. I took it and hoisted myself up, following him out of the arena and towards the kitchen.
My thoughts clouded my concentration, and in turn wavered my abilities. But was that the extent of their tampering? Was it more than that?

"I have an idea," With newfound ease I caught the water bottle Sakamata tossed at me as he continued, "I don't think you are going to 'be a fan' of it, however."
Ah, another term of mine being reused with emphasis. I'd have to add it to the ever-growing list. Sakamata was less than ten years older than me, and yet a surprising amount of differences sat between our diction. I jumped onto the counter and eyed him warily.

"I haven't been a fan of anything we've done, technically. What's your idea?"
"There is an intuition I would like to examine concerning the basis of your ability. A sparring match would suffice, in whichever room you feel most comfortable."

I wouldn't like whatever he was planning at all, if he was willing to give me such an upper hand.

"What's the catch?"
"The losing opponent must admit defeat. Verbally."
Sounded easy enough. "No holding back?"

Sakamata's grin displayed too many teeth, all exact in their danger.

"You should know by now, guppy. I fight in only one manner."


Apparently the only one manner fighting style would now include a new level of brutality, if the appearance of a small, grim-faced medic symbolized anything. I tried to shake free the nerves along with my muscles, limbering up for the task at hand.
Sparring was an everyday occurrence for us- morning, afternoon, and night. This won't be any different, I kept reminding myself.

Even though Recovery Girl's fingers tapped nervously on her cane.
And Sakamata was looking more and more like Gang Orca, rather than my occasionally-friendly training partner.

Focus.

"You've gotten stronger, Tsutomi. And because of that, I will not hold back as I have in the past."

Oh.

He moved like a hurricane; wicked, violent. Submersion caught his movement and my arm braced against his attack just like the first time we fought, but now I knew what to do. I broke left and jumped, throwing my legs back and using the full force of my weight to pull him down as I wrapped an arm around his neck. A knee rose to my abdomen but I was smaller, quicker, coiling like a viper to use the elevated limb as a kick-off. My hand came into contact with his bicep. I burst the capillaries like celebration poppers.

If he wasn't going to hold back, I wouldn't either.

"Using my momentum, good," He praised. I forced the words from my head, recognizing a distraction if there ever was one. In an instant the stream-line curve of his cranium shot into my periphery. I jumped before his leg could sweep mine out, only to be thrown across the room when his fin viciously rammed into my chest. Shota would appreciate my newfound feline reflexes, swiveling to land on my feet regardless of the pain.

"Tell me, why do you fight?"

What?

Before I could decide whether he actually expected an answer a hyper-sonic wave screamed through the air. In a panic I tugged the tendons of his knees, crumpling his posture. I rushed him like a predator finally recognizing easy prey.

His hand closed around my throat.
A mongoose, waiting for the snake to slither by.
His teeth glimmered like knives.
"Why persist when you are clearly out of your league?"
Light and sound merged into one blinding entity.
The mats cratered into the wood beneath, spurred by my body's forced movement.

"Those too weak to protect others shouldn't seek out danger, guppy." His fingers were still around my throat. Wind blew into my lungs in weakened streams.
"Time to surrender."

God, I was tired.
I missed a soft bed and real sleep, and the limbs of the person I shared such spaces with. I knew this would be hard, only made worse by the complete inability to even call Shota, or Toshinori, or anyone- I just hadn't realized how hard.

I hadn't won a single sparring match so far, but this admittance of defeat felt different. Like Sakamta was offering more than just the end of this battle.
My body had changed. I had finessed physical prowess and enough muscle to single-handedly open every jar and bottle in the country.

Is it enough?
A voice whimpered in my conscience, prodding the words of defeat to my lips.
But something else, burning and gnashing, ripped my eyes open, curled my mouth instead.
I wrapped my fingers around Gang Orca's and blew out a bundle of capillaries- enough pain to draw his attention away from my rising leg. The muscle of my thigh dealt a heavy blow to his abdomen.
I breathed in through my nose and scrambled back. Blood dripped down Gang Orca's fingers. It didn't stop him from barreling at me again.

"I asked you a question."

The hyper-sonic wave stuttered my retreat. I was caught like a fish in a net, slammed against the deck to pacify my rebelling. Fatigue dripped into my bones as we sparred. Even with my training he was so strong, every movement deadly and precise.

He knew why I fought- we'd discussed it multiple times, struggling through small talk to become first amicable, and then- dare I assume- friendly. It was clear he didn't know All Might from Toshinori Yagi- my answers were carefully selected to avoid this information slip- but the message of dedication to protecting my friends still rang through. So why is he questioning me now?

"Surrender."
He caught my elbow, bowed my shoulders to slam a knee into my abdomen. Bile splattered like a burst balloon out of my stomach. He leaned closer, breathed into my ear, "You allowed yourself to be controlled like a puppet, for years. Your mind is a paper crane in a monsoon. I suspect it has been for your entire life." He applied pressure to my arm. The bones gave a sickening crunch. "This is the end of the line for you, Chiyo Tsutomi."
A snarl ripped between my clenched teeth, but it was soundless compared to his words repeating in my brain.

You allowed yourself to be controlled.
You allowed yourself to be controlled.
You allowed yourself to be controlled.

Blood trickled down, incensed my skin like a reaper's perfume. The vice grip on my already-broken arm showed no pity. I breathed in through my nose, regulation throwing pails of water onto the wildfire between my ribs.

Her hands, on my temple.
Her words, in my mouth.

"Always be in control. Always keep yourself veiled. Control the flow."

Run, don't fight.
Maintain, regulate.

You allowed yourself to be controlled.

My hands had been clenched around the tether for years. Even after learning there was no pit of sharks beneath, I hadn't let go- not fully.

Because I was scared.
Even imagined teeth can tear you apart- it's just a different sort of pain.

"Would giving up not be the simpler choice? Look at you."
I stumbled back, feinting his ceaseless blows, falling into an act of muscle memory.

Mom was out there. Alone, in some hospital.
Was she as scared as I was?

My moves were too predictable. Gang Orca seized the opportunity.

"Admit defeat." He spoke quietly, as though we were sitting together in the small kitchen sharing a cup of tea. As if my feet weren't dangling three feet off the ground, suspended by his cold fingers around my neck. "How many times can you face the sun until you fade to ash?"

Regulation fought desperately to cool my surging anger, to calm the shaking in my hands, the quiver of my lungs.

If Kotaro hadn't allowed his emotions to control him, he never would have tried to drown us.
If Hannei hadn't allowed her emotions to control her, she never would have dried my mind out like a dying bouquet.

But if I didn't feel anything, never succumbed to any emotion at all, was I really any better?

"Give up."
Shota. Toshinori. Manami. Momo. Bakugo. Tsu. Yamada. Kayama. Midoriya.
Mom.

"This is your last chance-"

"I can't."

Regulation gave one final attempt, caressing my heartstrings like a cellist's final, forlorn note. There was a moment of pure, breathtaking silence; the pause before the awakening.

"I can't give in. I have...to be strong."

Cicadas- starting with one, crawling up my spine, then another, vibrating across a rib. A chorus of others, trailing into my arms, perching within my fingers.

"For glory? So others will remember your name, is that it?"

Their iridescent wings fluttered against the chambers of my heart; their new sanctuary. I was humming with the sensation of letting go, unearthing what had lied beneath the surface all these years.

And in that moment, I felt the siren's call.

"Well?"

Red eyes glared up at me, demanding. I must have looked truly absurd when a grin split across my bloodied face.
Gang Orca tensed just as I swung my weight like a pendulum, wrapping my legs around his arm and bending as far back as my spine allowed. He released me with a hiss. A familiar snap resonated around the room.

I'd been so stupid, to think regulation was just about controlling my emotional state.

"I couldn't give a single shit about that kind of thing,"
I supposed I was the siren as the water answered my beckoning. It slithered in the halls, moved in silent fluidity. Why hadn't I thought of this sooner? Why hadn't I realized regulation capped my quirk's ability along with my emotions? "I told you before. There are people I have to protect. I won't watch another person I love be taken advantage of. By anyone."

Submersing into another person took too much precision and energy- that was true.
But using water itself, freed of restraint, boiling over with the reminder of why I fought and for whom, I found an entirely new playing hand.

Gang Orca's charge was met by a river, swirled into violent spires bursting from either side of my body. I'd moved to stand in front of the entrance, blocking his view of the traveling waters. It spread now like veins across my skin; a new layer, meant to take on the sun.

The vines of water led my arms to block, my spine to bend and avoid another choke hold. When I curled a fist the water did as well.

The impact, so similar to the one against the Nomu, didn't even break a capillary.

With his eyes closed, Sakamata really did just look like an orca, silent and still in a pile of debris across the room, unconscious.

An elderly snort broke the quiet.

"I suppose it serves him right for goading you like that," Her gray head bobbled as she rose and shuffled across the room. The tatami squished with each step, soaked from the water I'd pulled from the nearby pool, stained faintly pink with our mixed blood. Recovery Girl continued to mutter under her breath, "But I doubt he expected that sort of response so quickly."

Holy shit.
Holy shit.

"I just...took down a professional hero."

She snorted again; this time at the dumbfoundedness in my tone. "Imagine what you'll be able to accomplish now, after this little revelation."

"Revelation?"

Watching Recovery Girl smooch Shota had been funny; watching her now, in all her four-foot glory, kissing a menacing killer whale, should've had me in stitches. Gang Orca let out a watery cough. I hurried over, offering my shoulder to help him stand.

"Excellent work, guppy," His eyes looked even worse than usual, tired from the medic's quirk. I shook my head.
"This was- I can't believe you would go this far-"
Sakamata had just enough energy to shine a sharp-toothed grin. "It was effective though, yes? You displayed your conviction for heroism and, in turn, I believe you uncovered what empowers your abilities."

Conviction. But more than that- Acceptance of said abilities, and all the terrifying power- and danger- they held. I shook my head again.

"You broke my arm for this? You couldn't have just told me what your hunch was?"

At the mention of my arm two sharp eyes honed in on me. I didn't even try to fight what happened next.

"I could have, yes, but the lesson might not have submerged into your psyche as completely," Sakamata paused. "Pun intended."
"I- What? That's- You-"
"All men, Chiyo," Recovery Girl muttered while examining her handiwork. "All men are like this."
I stared at her. She looked back with grim acceptance of our thick-skulled counterparts.

Regardless of this more-violent-than-necessary lesson, I had uncovered several important aspects of myself:
Regulation was a shackle upon my leg, sinking my abilities into only shallow pools.
My determination- the drive to protect, to be strong for others as well as myself, seemed more impactful than my physical strength in terms of submersion.

And with this information, I realized I would never reach my full potential; not until I cleared the plagued thoughts of the past, of the bitter-edged sentiments surrounding one particular person, from my mind.

"Sakamata, I need to leave the Paradox of Tempus, temporarily."

He didn't have eyebrows to raise. The implication read all the same. I breathed in a careful, tired breath, blood jumping with startling emotion without regulation keeping it in check.

"I have to visit someone."