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– Jyn –

I sighed.

This was the problem with Irelia.

Everyone else thought she was some untouchable paragon of perfection—the kind of person you didn't just walk up to and chat with. But I knew better.

She'd been drilling me in training for the last few months. We talked more than anyone realized. And in that time, I learned something critical—

Irelia had no filter.

She assumed everyone could read her mind as if her intentions were so obvious she didn't need to explain herself. It was probably why she'd marched right up to me one day and decided to start giving pointers out of the blue.

'I still don't know why she decided to do that.'

That, and the fact she didn't seem to feel shame like normal people.

Put those things together, and she came off as this stoic, mysterious warrior. In reality, she just didn't care what anyone thought.

Despite all that, I understood her. Somehow. Maybe that's why she stuck around.

"What are you talking about, Irelia?" I asked, shooting her a glance.

"You already know," she replied without hesitation.

I turned toward her, taking in her expression.

She stared back at me, unreadable at first glance. But I noticed the subtle signs—slightly furrowed brows, the faintest crease near her mouth, that almost imperceptible twitch in her jaw.

She wasn't just annoyed. She was pissed. And worried, though she'd never admit it.

"I really don't," I said, breaking eye contact.

"...Edith."

Just the name. No elaboration.

I exhaled slowly.

"She was drowning," I said, shrugging. "What was I supposed to do? Watch?"

Irelia's gaze sharpened.

"That's not what I meant." Her voice carried that familiar edge—controlled but unmistakably annoyed. "One of the instructors would've intervened."

"Maybe," I shot back. "But they didn't."

"They would have." She insisted.

There was no give in her voice, like she was stating a fact. And maybe she was. They were probably a thousand times stronger than me.

That didn't change my answer.

"And if they hadn't? I can't just go around gambling on 'maybe', Irelia." I explained. "The instructors aren't infallible."

She narrowed her eyes. "That wasn't your problem."

I bit back the first response that came to mind, straightening instead.

"You could've placed in the top three," she said sharply, switching gears. "Instead, you threw it away for something that wasn't your responsibility."

I met her stare head-on. "I wasn't aiming for top three."

"No," she said flatly. "You never are."

Irelia's gaze flicked to the faint scars on my hands, her expression unreadable.

"You let emotion dictate your choices," she continued, shifting closer. "You gave up the chance to get personal instruction and other rewards for nothing but self-satisfaction? What did you really gain from this?"

I tilted my head. "You act like I care about the rewards."

"You should."

Her words carried weight, but I didn't flinch under it.

"Maybe I would," I said slowly, "if they actually mattered."

Irelia's gaze lingered on me for a moment before she scoffed, shaking her head.

"I don't get you," she muttered. "Do you think saving someone makes you stronger?"

Then she stood, brushing dirt from her uniform with sharp, clipped motions.

I frowned.

"That's not what I—"

"It doesn't," she cut me off. "And no one cares. The people who laughed at you before will keep laughing. The ones who doubted you will keep doubting. You didn't prove anything. You squandered all that effort for nothing."

I watched her expression carefully.

The words themselves were cutting coming from her of all people, but I couldn't bring myself to truly care.

Not because I didn't care about what she had to say, but because I could tell they weren't genuine.

"Why do you care so much?" I asked.

She froze for half a second—barely long enough for most people to notice.

But I caught it.

"You didn't have to help me," I said, standing to face her. "You could've ignored me like everyone else. So why didn't you?"

Irelia didn't answer right away.

For a moment, I thought she might just walk off without a word. But then—

"Because I saw potential in you," she said simply.

Her gaze drifted over the field as if her next words weren't meant for me at all.

"And because," she added, quieter this time, "I got tired of hearing idiots talk down to someone they hadn't even met."

I blinked.

That… wasn't what I expected.

Irelia shifted, arms crossing over her chest again.

"But maybe they weren't wrong," she said, voice sharp once more. "Maybe they knew what I didn't. Because after today, I don't think you're cut out for this."

Her words were cool—matter of fact—but they hit harder than I expected.

"That's it?" I crossed my arms. "And what, I ruined that by saving someone? As a trainee for the Galactic Patrol? You sound crazy."

Irelia's piercing green eyes sharpened.

"You're not getting it," She insisted. "Physical conditioning is one thing. It takes a ton of effort and willpower to get where you are in such a short time and that's really amazing. But the preliminary part of our training is over."

I met her eyes and held them. "And…?"

"And that means Calia will be starting combat training," She revealed. "If you want to catch up to everyone else, you need that personal instruction. I know you have no experience, Jyn. And effort alone isn't going to save you this time."

Irelia let the words hang, watching me carefully—like she was waiting for me to get it.

I didn't.

"So?" I said, shrugging. "I'll learn what I can in combat training. That's the point, right?"

She exhaled sharply, just shy of rolling her eyes. "She's going to teach you a few moves and a stance, at best. Then once you have the very basics, she'll throw you to the rest of the class to spar. You'll learn through getting pummeled. Every day. Constantly."

I frowned. "I can handle it."

"No. You can't."

The words were blunt, as always.

"You don't have the instincts to learn from battle," Irelia said, voice cooling again. "Nor do you have the talent. I can't teach those. No one can. And I'm not going to waste time trying."

I straightened, something stubborn rising in me. "So that's what this is really about? You being done helping me?"

"Yes."

That was a lie, it wasn't her only reason, I could tell that much from her face. But I let it go. It was obvious that she was worried about me in her own weird way.

"I think you'll regret your choices today, Jyn," she added, stepping back. "But I hope you prove me wrong."

A long silence stretched between us.

Irelia lingered for a breath longer, and for a moment, I thought she might soften.

She didn't.

"Combat training starts tomorrow," she added as she turned. "Try not to fall behind too fast."

And with that, she was gone.

I stared at my heat-scarred palms. 'No instincts, huh?'

The words didn't sting the way she probably intended.

Maybe she was right. Maybe I didn't have whatever natural talent everyone else did.

But talent wasn't what got me this far. I knew that her guidance was what pretty much doubled my stat gain, but did that really matter? I was already growing far faster than I had any right to be before that.

'I don't need a personal instructor,' I reassured myself. 'I just have to... adapt.'

…Maybe Irelia had a point.

I thought the system would be able to assist me, but it hadn't helped at all. There was no new skill, quest, or anything like that to help me with combat class.

And Calia herself was quite… useless.

Not that she wasn't a great fighter herself, and likely knew a lot, but it quickly became obvious that her class had too many subjects under its banner.

She was the 'technique' instructor, and that meant everything from how to start and pilot a spaceship all the way to shooting a gun.

So when it came time to actually teach us how to fight? Well…

It was over in five measly minutes.

That was all the time Calia dedicated to showing us how to stand, how to throw a punch, and how to guard.

Five. Minutes.

I thought, you know, considering she said she didn't want to teach bad habits that she would instill something more than that, but nope. That was all the time she felt was necessary before throwing us straight into sparring.

'I think I hate it here.'

Edith's fist connected with my jaw for the third time, snapping my head to the side.

I barely caught myself before falling, but the ringing in my ears made it hard to focus.

I scrambled to regain my footing, throwing a punch at her as I straightened up, but she easily dodged it, her body moving like water slipping around a rock.

Her next punch drilled into my ribs like a sledgehammer, forcing the air from my lungs. I scrambled to backpedal, but she kept on me, driving me toward the edge of the sparring circle.

Her movements were fluid, precise, and relentless.

Mine were... not.

I swung, but it felt more like flailing than fighting. Edith ducked under it with ease, pivoting to slam her palm into my chest, knocking me flat onto my back.

'Yep, definitely hatred.'

"You're not taking me seriously, are you?" she asked, her voice light, but there was a definite edge to it now.

I gritted my teeth. "Give me a break," I muttered, trying to blink away the stars in my eyes.

Edith didn't wait for me to get up. Her foot pressed lightly against my chest, keeping me pinned as she stared down at me with narrowed eyes.

"This isn't a joke, Jyn. What the hell are you doing?"

I grabbed at her ankle, but she twisted it free, stepping back and giving me space to stand—if I could.

I rolled to my side, coughing as I pushed up to my knees. "I am taking it seriously."

"Oh really?" Edith crossed her arms, tilting her head. "Because it sure looks like you're just winging it."

"…No shit," I grunted, wiping the blood from my lip. "I learned how to throw a punch five minutes ago."

Edith blinked, stunned into silence for half a second. "You're kidding."

I just gave her a flat look.

Her face twisted like she couldn't decide if she should laugh or strangle me. "You're telling me you've never fought anyone before?"

"Not unless you count getting roughed up when I was a kid," I muttered under my breath.

"That doesn't count." She crossed her arms, incredulous. "How did you even get into the Patrol without basic combat experience?"

"I figured that's what this was for," I replied, gesturing to the sparring ring.

Edith opened her mouth, paused, then slowly shook her head.

"That's insane," she said bluntly. "I thought everyone had to at least pass basic hand-to-hand before getting accepted."

I shrugged. "I guess not."

I would rather not dwell on my nonexistent past. Otherwise, someone would probably find a discrepancy, and then what would I say?

'Oh, yeah I was just transported to this universe randomly without any explanation while in a situation that conveniently no one questioned despite being highly suspicious.'

Yeah, right.

Edith's face suddenly scrunched into what I only call bewildered outrage.

"Then… what's wrong with you?"

I frowned. "What?"

"What's wrong with you?" she repeated, stepping closer. "Why the hell would you jump in after me if you've never been in a fight before?"

I almost rolled my eyes. 'This again?'

"You needed that top-three spot more than anyone else," she continued, clearly agitated. "And you threw it away. For what? To play hero?"

I clenched my fists as I pushed myself to my feet. My patience was running thin. "Sure. Next time I'll just let you die. Thanks for the heads up, dumbass."

"No, you idiot." Edith took a breath, trying to calm herself. "I didn't need saving. I don't even need to breathe. Even if the instructors ignored me, I wouldn't have died for a while."

I stared at her for a long moment. "And I was supposed to know that, how?" I said flatly.

That seemed to take the wind out of her sails. Her eyes shifted away, guilt flashing across her face.

"…Oh. Right."

Neither of us said anything for a moment.

"Yeah," I muttered, brushing the dust off my uniform.

"Look… I'm sorry, okay?" She shifted, rubbing her arm awkwardly. "I guess I owe you one. I just—I don't really know how to say thanks to something like that."

That took the anger right out of me.

That was a terrible thank you, but I could tell that she was trying her best.

Knowing she wasn't in any real danger probably made it really awkward since she was thanking me for the thought rather than the action. She appreciated that I would sacrifice my spot for her life, but from her perspective I hadn't actually done that.

Rather than press on, I'd rather just let it go.

"I–ow." I opened my mouth, but a sudden ache in my ribs stabbed into me. "You could start by taking it easy on me during sparring," I said, half-joking.

Edith huffed, crossing her arms. "That would defeat the point. You're not going to get better if I hold back."

"Not getting better seems like a guarantee at this rate," I muttered.

Edith's gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, her brow furrowed. Then, with a sigh, she dropped her arms to her sides.

"Alright," she said. "I'll train you."

That… was tempting. Really tempting.

But I didn't want a reward for something like that. I didn't save her for one, and the fact that the system forced one on me was already enough.

I could probably justify taking up her time by convincing myself that it was hinged on the fate of the universe, but that wouldn't make sense. Not only because I could die in a year or two and fail completely, but also because I didn't want to compromise my morals for power.

I wasn't a true hero being selfless—or whatever that one guy from My Hero always ranted about—I just didn't want this to weigh on my conscience later.

I shook my head, holding up a hand. "You don't have to do that. I didn't help you to get something in return."

Her expression tightened, but I kept going before she could argue.

"I mean it. I'll take your advice—whatever tips you've got during sparring—but you don't owe me anything beyond that."

Edith frowned for a beat as if she wanted to press the issue. But after a moment, she rolled her shoulders, letting it go.

"Fine. But don't say I didn't offer when you're flat on your back again," she muttered.

I grinned, though it faded quickly. "Alright then… what's the biggest thing I'm failing at right now?"

She hummed, her eyes narrowing as she tilted her head at me.

Then she tilted her head in thought, eyes closed.

"Surprisingly, you've got the movements down already," She commented, her eyes opening up. "I think what you're missing is… hm… It's hard to put into words."

I raised an eyebrow. "Give me an analogy, then."

"Sure," She said. "It's like you're piloting a ship for the first time. You know what all the little buttons and mechanics do. But when you're actually up in the air you're not sure what you're doing. 'Do I push this button before that one or after? Does it matter? When I hold this pedal, do I hold it for five seconds? Seven? When do I stop and focus on this other random thing?' Sort of like that."

I squinted at her. "So… I panic too much?"

"No, it's not panic. It's… hesitation." She crossed her arms, her brows knitting together in frustration, like she couldn't quite explain it the way she wanted to. "You know the moves, but you're not really familiar with them. Fighting isn't something you can consciously plan out in the moment. It has to have intent behind every movement, but it also has to flow."

"Flow," I repeated, nodding slowly. I didn't really get it. "How did you learn, then?"

"The way I learned—really learned—was by doing. Constantly." She glanced at me. "I fought. A lot. Every fight, I got better, even if I didn't realize it at the time. Eventually, the right way to move… it just happens. Your body learns. It stops being something you think about and just becomes instinct."

Ah. That made more sense.

It was the same thing that happened whenever I played a fighting game for long enough. At first, the controls and mechanics would feel clunky, but they eventually became an afterthought with enough experience.

It didn't really help me, but it made sense.

Constant fighting. Endless battles. That's what it took. Not a class, not a lecture, not a new random skill or quest.

Just… pure combat. Over and over again until your body couldn't help but learn.

I nodded slowly, pretending to take it in stride, but inside? Inside, I felt like screaming.

How was I supposed to match that? Edith had years of experience, likely countless fights under her belt.

Me? I was flailing around like an idiot with five minutes of training and no clue what I was doing.

But the more I thought about it, the more it gnawed at me. There had to be an answer. What Edith said made sense: the only way to get better at fighting was to fight. But I didn't have years or even months to catch up.

I needed to cram years of experience into days. But I didn't have a hyperbolic time chamber.

Was there a technique that was even remotely similar to that?

My breath hitched.

Wait.

My mind spun as the answer began to take shape, vague and half-formed. But the more I thought about it, the clearer it became.

If I couldn't fight constantly in the real world…

An idea clicked into place, and I almost laughed out loud.

Edith's voice pulled me back to the present. "You good?" she asked, frowning. "You've got a weird look on your face."

I shook my head quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… thinking."

Edith gave me a skeptical look, clearly unconvinced. "Thinking about what?"

I smiled, just barely. "Nothing you need to worry about."

She raised an eyebrow, her arms crossing again. "You sure? Because if it's an idea as good as 'rescue the drowning—"

"I said it's nothing," I interrupted, my tone sharper than I intended. Her eyes widened briefly before narrowing, but thankfully she didn't press.

Instead, she just huffed and turned away. "Fine. Whatever. Just don't blame me when you get your ass handed to you again."

I didn't respond. My mind was already spinning with the possibilities.

This could work. It had to work. If I couldn't match the other recruit's experience through normal means, then I'd just find another way.

A better way.

The thought sent a chill down my spine—a mix of excitement and fear.

If I was right, this idea could change everything. With it, I would have both power and skill in spades without a single obstacle in my path.

And if I was wrong…

No. I couldn't be wrong. They had clearly explained how the technique worked in the manga. If this wasn't possible, then this wasn't even the canon Dragon Ball world.

A slow, confident grin tugged at my lips.

'It's time to learn how to train in my mind.'

A/N: This chapter bothers me a little. Probably because I felt like there should've been more 'drama' after the whole drowning thing, but I feel like this is an appropriate amount without going overboard. Or maybe its something else, I'm not sure.

Anyway, I hope y'all enjoyed!

Reviews

UnClESaGe: Thank you for reading it! =)

Comeryleer: Glad you enjoy it. I don't have a concrete timeline of events going year by year, but if I had to guesstimate...? We're somewhere in the timeskip from Dragon Ball & DBZ.

hero-no-5: Nah, don't worry, you're pretty much right. I tend to design character personality and background before I think of their actual looks/name. So, when I had to actually write a name for my honorable warrior, my brain spat out Raak. Then I realized that's already a character, so I just combined Rak from ToG's first and last name and ended up with Wraak. And since I didn't have a design in mind, I just called him a crocodile. They have very different personalities, but they look pretty much the same in my mind.

PhilLordy: Great that you like 'em :) Have a nice day/night aswell.

Zwillingen700: That's a relief to hear about the time skipping. I'm probably going to keep skipping around for a while (I'll try not to make it jarring). Besides that, I think I've said my thoughts on everything else you mentioned. I appreciate how detailed your reviews always are. Thanks for reading, as always!

arawiguM: It's funny, I've seen multiple different people on different websites saying how remarkably grounded Jyn is. I'm not sure if that makes him boring, but its what I intended for him to be so I'll just take it as a compliment.

thhk1232: I'm trying my best, so thanks!