Dragon Ball: Enlisted

– Jyn –

"Uh… why?" I asked the blonde—Edith, I think—as she'd randomly decided to interrogate me. 

"I'm just curious. It wasn't a secret, was it?" She leaned in, whispering.

For some reason, she was rather interested in what Irelia had to say to me. I'd only just learned her name then, but maybe she was a big deal around here…?

Either way, it wasn't that big of a deal.

"Nah, just seemed weird," I replied honestly. "All she did was tell me how to use the weights correctly. Something about my posture and breathing being wrong."

"What?" Edith leaned back, fixing me with a look. Her words sharpened. "That's it? Are you messing with me?"

"No, that's really what she said." I thought for a second, scratching the back of my head. "Oh, and she told me I could go to her if I'm ever confused about something in the gym."

Edith blinked.

She didn't say anything right away—just stared at me with this odd, unreadable expression.

I shifted slightly, suddenly more aware of the sweat clinging to my shirt.

'...What? Do I smell bad, or something? Why is she looking at me like that?'

Before I could ask, Edith narrowed her eyes a little. "Are you two close?"

"Huh? No, not at all." I shook my head, more confused than anything. "That was the first time we've actually talked."

She hummed under her breath, crossing her arms as her gaze drifted toward the gym exit.

"...Weird taste in men," she muttered to herself.

I paused mid-wipe with the towel around my neck.

'Rude.'

"What was that?" I asked flatly.

"Nothing." Edith waved me off and turned, already walking away.

I just watched her go, briefly wondering if everyone here was going to be this weird.

I let out a breath and shook my head.

Whatever.

Irelia's advice had actually been helpful, and I wasn't about to waste it just because someone else thought it was strange. I grabbed the bar again, resetting my posture the way she'd shown me.

Back straight. Feet planted. Don't let my elbows flare too wide.

I was just about to start when a shadow loomed over the bench.

I glanced up—and there was Wraak.

He stood there, arms crossed, his scaled tail flicking lazily behind him. His eyes narrowed like he was trying to size me up.

"...So," he rumbled after a beat, "what did Irelia say to you?"

I stared at him.

"Seriously?"

He didn't blink.

I sighed, letting the bar settle back on the rack.

– Edith –

The gym was quiet at night, with just the faint hum of the overhead lights and the occasional creak of metal shifting to accompany her.

Edith liked it this way. No useless chattering, no one to distract her from training.

She wiped the sweat from her brow and ducked under the bar, letting its weight settle across her shoulders. Her legs trembled slightly, but she forced herself to stand tall.

"One more rep," she muttered, a mantra she always repeated to herself. "Just one more rep."

The bar dipped as she lowered herself, muscles screaming in protest. She'd lost count of how many repetitions she'd done tonight. 

It didn't matter.

If she wasn't moving forward, she was falling behind. It was that philosophy that had gotten her this far, and it was that philosophy that she wouldn't abandon.

"Push through," she muttered under her breath, raising herself up.

The burn felt good. Familiar.

She racked the bar with a heavy clank and leaned forward, catching her breath. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she winced. Nearly midnight. She'd have to shower quickly if she wanted even a few hours of sleep.

As she reached for her water bottle, movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Her head turned, scowling when she spotted him.

Jyn.

He was at the far end of the gym, drenched in sweat and mid-set. His breathing was steady, arms shaking as he pushed the bar upward.

Of course, he was still here. She wasn't sure if the guy ever left.

Edith rolled her eyes and took a long sip of water, but her gaze drifted back to him. His form was still a little sloppy, but the sheer tenacity that he trained with irritated her to no end.

"Tch," She scoffed under her breath. But even as she did so, she felt her lips press into a thin line. Sloppy form or not, he was still working hard. Still here.

Edith knew what people said about him:

'Lazy bum.'

'Weakling.'

'An embarrassment to the patrol.'

She'd thought the same at first if she was honest, but now…

Now, she wasn't so sure.

Her fingers tightened around the water bottle as an unwelcome memory surfaced. Her father, bent and broken, dragged his body out of the mines long after his shift ended.

"If you stop, you die," he'd told her, his breath shallow and voice hoarse. "I'm sorry, my child but that is how the world works."

She hadn't truly understood it then, but she did now.

She bent down, grabbing the plates to add more weight. The metal was cold against her palms.

"Damn it," she hissed, shaking her head.

Nothing had come easy for her.

She wasn't born to become a warrior. Her race was a frail people blessed with exceptional metabolism—able to survive without the need for sustenance for extremely long stretches of time. Food, water, oxygen, she didn't need any of it for months.

Which is why they were the perfect people to enslave.

That was where she came from. A dusty mining colony on the fringes of the Galactic Patrol's territory, where they were forced to push themselves to the limit to survive. Her father had died in an accident down in the pits, and her mother—despite her advantages—had followed soon after from overwork.

By fourteen, Edith had been on her own.

She gritted her teeth, setting the plates down harder than necessary.

She hadn't joined the Patrol because she dreamed of being a hero. She joined because it was her best shot at getting out—at having something more than rusted metal and empty skies.

But she wasn't the strongest. Or the fastest. She didn't have Irelia's raw talent or Wraak's brute strength. What she did have was grit. She could outlast anyone. She'd made rank two because she refused to stop, no matter how much it hurt.

Edith adjusted her stance beneath the bar and prepared for another set. As she lifted, the strain in her muscles flared back to life. Her breath hitched, arms trembling.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Jyn switch to the treadmill.

He wasn't leaving.

Her grip tightened, irritation sparking beneath the exhaustion. It wasn't fair. She was supposed to be the one who worked the hardest, the one putting in extra hours.

Irelia made sense, she was apparently the princess of the whole damn galaxy—but him?

'Why is he still fucking here?!'

Her arms buckled, the bar lowering faster than she meant. She barely managed to rack it in time, sitting down with a frustrated huff.

Jyn hadn't noticed. Or if he had, he didn't care.

Edith grabbed her towel, draping it over her shoulders as she stood. Fine. Let him stay. She wasn't about to compete with some half-assed dead last.

At least, that's what she told herself as she gathered her things and headed for the exit.

- - - - -

A/N: Happy New Year! •ᴗ•