Dragon Ball: Enlisted

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.'