Dragon Ball: Enlisted

– Wraak –

"Wasn't Instructor Gruen's class kind of boring, Wraak? It was putting me to sleep." Wraak didn't respond, choosing to keep walking.

But the other guy following him did. "It's probably because you couldn't understand what he was saying, you dumbass." 

"I understood what you said just now, so shut up before I kick your ass."

"We're not allowed to spar yet, dumbass. You'd know that if you weren't so…"

Wraak continued walking to the gym, ignoring the bickering of the fools who decided to follow him around like hatchlings.

They'd latched onto him after he secured rank three in their batch, practically begging for guidance in training. He'd thought about turning them away—but they were ranked five and six. Swallowing their pride to approach him had to count for something.

And now, they acted like the three of them were bonded for life.

"C'mon," Wraak rumbled, shoving open the gym doors. "We're here."

Metallic clangs echoed in the otherwise quiet gym, the air heavy with the smell of iron and sweat. The gym wasn't empty—far from it.

Roughly half of their batch was here.

Some pushed themselves on treadmills, others strained under barbells, sweat pooling beneath them. Even the weaklings weren't slacking.

"Looks like everyone's training hard," one of the fools muttered.

Wraak barely heard him. His eyes had already locked onto someone across the room.

Irelia.

She was by the weight racks, gripping a bar loaded with more plates than Wraak had ever dared to touch.

He stopped mid-step.

'...Why. Just why is she here if she's that strong already?'

As she lowered the bar to her chest and pressed it back up, the metal strained, groaning under the weight. Not a tremble in her arms. Her breathing stayed even.

Just looking at her was completely staggering—overwhelming him with a sense of inferiority.

The rumors whispered about her strength felt downplayed as he watched her work out. There was no way he could believe she was a trainee, her power on an entirely different level.

"...Damn," one of the idiots behind him muttered, finally catching on. "I heard she's only a year older than me. How is she so strong?"

The other fool opened his mouth, probably to say something equally pointless, but his words died halfway out.

"Oi… look over there."

Wraak followed his gaze across the room, eyebrows drawing together.

Jyn was on the weight bench, struggling through a set. His form was barely passable, the bar swaying with each lift like it might topple at any second.

"Even the dead last is doing extra training," the idiot snickered.

"Isn't it ridiculous, though? Why'd he waste his life lazing around just to start working hard now?"

"Dunno." The fool's eyes narrowed as Jyn's arms trembled, barely getting the bar up. "But look, doesn't it seem like he's about to pass out again?"

Wraak huffed but didn't disagree. Watching Jyn grind away at those weights almost felt painful—like secondhand embarrassment.

But for some reason, the idiot didn't stop.

"Still, he just keeps going… that's kinda funny, isn't it?"

Wraak's smirk faded.

"Funny?" His voice rumbled low, making the two glance at him nervously. "Stop wasting time saying pointless shit when we can be working just as hard."

Neither responded.

With a grunt, Wraak stepped forward, leaving them to stare awkwardly at the floor.

In silence, the three began to work out in earnest. 

Wraak's arms burned from the earlier training he did in between Aprico's calisthenics. However, he embraced the pain, letting the familiar sense dull any nagging remnant of inferiority he felt after watching Irelia.

Waarthar's were a clan of warriors. They did not get jealous—they simply devoted more time to training.

The clang of metal on metal filled the room as he powered through his sets, focusing on the rhythm—lift, hold, lower.

But midway through his third set, something shifted in the corner of his vision.

Wraak slowed, letting the bar rest against his chest. He glanced over—just a quick flick of his eyes.

Edith.

She sat on a bench, curling a dumbbell methodically, clearly feeling every muscle strain as she did so. Blonde hair pulled back tight, not a strand out of place. Even at rest, her posture was sharp.

He let the bar sit longer than he should've, just watching.

She didn't stand out like Irelia. There were no ridiculous displays of power, no rumors that left him questioning reality.

But she was the one who took rank two.

Wraak's grip tightened on the bar.

That wasn't something he could forget.

Irelia was a different breed—something distant, untouchable. But Edith? She was close. Close enough to see, close enough to catch.

'I won't be beaten by you again.'

Edith's hand paused mid-curl as if she felt the weight of his gaze.

Her eyes flicked toward him, locking eyes with him without hesitation. It wasn't like he was being subtle while sizing her up.

Her brow twitched. Wraak's lips quirked.

"You got a problem, lizard?" she asked, voice flat but loud enough to carry.

Wraak met her gaze but didn't say a word.

The two idiots flanking him, however, bristled immediately.

"Aye, what you talkin' to him like that for?" one snapped, stepping forward like a chihuahua pretending to be a guard dog.

"Yeah, show some respect! Wraak doesn't need to explain himself to you," the other chimed in, puffing his chest.

Edith stared at them for a beat, unimpressed.

"Relax," she said, folding her arms. "Your breath smells bad enough already without you running your mouths."

The pair faltered, eyes narrowing.

"Don't blame me," Edith added with a shrug. "We've been eating the same crap all week. So what's your excuse?"

One of them actually sniffed his own breath, earning a quiet snort from someone nearby.

Wraak didn't react. He just kept his gaze steady, unreadable.

Edith met his stare, then raised a brow.

He'd figured out a while ago that she wasn't always so caustic and blunt. For some reason, she only reserved that side of herself for him from what he'd seen.

While he still didn't know what he'd done to earn her ire, her demeanor only fueled his belief she was the perfect rival.

Edith crossed her arms, leaning slightly on one hip. "Look, if you're gonna stare, at least do it with some subtlety. It's creepy."

Wraak's expression didn't shift. "I wasn't—"

"Shut up a sec," Edith muttered suddenly, her gaze sliding past Wraak and locking onto something across the gym.

Wraak frowned but followed her line of sight.

Irelia was moving across the gym, slipping between machines with that same calm, deliberate stride she always carried—right where Jyn was struggling through another bench press.

Wraak's grip tightened on the bar.

Unlike how everyone looked up to Irelia with jealousy or determination, she had not once looked back at them. It was as if she were so far above them she hadn't noticed their attention.

'So why is she suddenly interested in him of all people?'

Jyn tilted his head, blinking up at her. There was a brief exchange—just a few words on her part. Whatever she said, it was quiet enough that no one else caught it.

Wraak watched as Jyn racked the bar and sat up slowly, wiping sweat from his face. Irelia stayed where she was, arms loosely crossed, waiting for his attention. She spoke again, lips moving in short, clipped sentences.

Jyn's brow furrowed. He glanced at the weights, clearly trying to puzzle something out.

She pointed at the weights, at his grip, and was making various gestures at him and the equipment. Whatever she was saying, she was serious about it.

No one could hear them.

"...What is she saying?" one of the guys whispered, leaning in.

"Beats me," the other muttered.

Wraak said nothing, watching as Irelia gave one final nod and turned to leave, heading straight for the exit without another word.

Edith exhaled, adjusting her grip on the barbell. "Weird," she muttered but didn't seem inclined to say more.

No one moved, continuing to watch blatantly.

Jyn sat alone at his bench, eyes flicking to the doors as they shut behind Irelia.

Then his gaze drifted sideways—right in their direction.

Wraak immediately looked down, focusing on the dumbbell rack like it was the most interesting thing in the galaxy. His hanger-ons followed suit, suddenly busy adjusting their laces.

Edith, however, kept staring.

"You two can sit here pretending not to care," she said, rising to her feet. "I'm gonna go ask him what that was about."

Wraak's head jerked up. "What?"

She shrugged. "Better than sitting here wondering."

Before anyone could stop her, Edith was already crossing the gym floor, weaving between machines and trainees.

Wraak could only watch, jaw tightening.