The ocean did not care who they were.
It did not care about systems, titles, bloodlines, or the plans being shaped far from its reach. It knew only pressure, current, and time, and it measured everything in breath.
She stood at the edge of the black rock shelf, bare feet steady against stone worn smooth by centuries of tides. The sea below was restless today. Waves struck hard, retreating only to return with greater force, as if testing resolve.
Good.
She inhaled once, deep, unhurried, and held.
Jin entered the water first.
No hesitation. No wasted movement. He slipped beneath the surface in a clean dive, body streamlined, vanishing into the dark blue below. She tracked him by instinct rather than sight, counting the seconds in her head as the waves surged and fell.
Thirty seconds.
A minute.
Ninety.
Two full minutes passed before Jin surfaced farther out, breath controlled, expression unchanged, water sliding off his shoulders like he'd never left the air.
She nodded once.
Then she dove.
The cold wrapped around her immediately, sharp but familiar. She let it pass through her rather than fight it, sealing her lungs, letting her body adjust as she descended. The pressure pressed in, not painful, just present.
She went deeper than Jin had.
Not to prove a point. Just because she could.
Her heartbeat slowed. Muscles relaxed. Time stretched thin and quiet.
There was discomfort, yes, but not panic. Not struggle.
This was not suffering. This was conditioning.
At two minutes, she turned and rose smoothly, breaking the surface without urgency. She inhaled slowly, methodically, letting oxygen return on her terms.
Jin was already watching.
They didn't speak.
They didn't need to.
They repeated the drill.
Again and again.
Holding for two minutes each time, sometimes longer, sometimes under movement, swimming against the current, letting waves drag at them, learning how to conserve energy rather than waste it. They practiced sinking without motion, letting their bodies become part of the water instead of resisting it. They practiced silent coordination beneath the surface, pressure taps, brief contact, wordless signals refined through repetition.
Hours passed.
When they finally pulled themselves back onto the rocks, the sun was beginning its slow descent, light slanting across the water in muted gold. Salt clung to their skin. Muscles were warm, used, but not strained.
Jin lay back, one arm over his eyes.
"This won't be enough," he said quietly.
She sat beside him, knees drawn up, gaze fixed on the horizon. "We'll get there."
Not reassurance. Not bravado.
A statement of intent.
Silence settled comfortably between them, broken only by the surf below.
After a moment, she spoke.
"I met someone today."
Jin turned his head toward her, eyes sharp now. "Someone."
"Yes."
He didn't ask immediately. He waited.
She continued, measured. "Someone I have… a connection with."
That was all she said.
It was enough.
Understanding crossed Jin's expression, not jealousy, not surprise, but awareness. The weight of what she'd just implied settled between them.
"Like me," he said.
She didn't deny it.
His gaze searched her face, not for answers, but for truth. Whatever he found there seemed to satisfy him.
"What does that mean?" he asked finally.
"It means responsibility," she replied. "It means timing matters. It means I won't pull someone into my orbit while I'm standing at the edge of something bloody."
Jin exhaled slowly, thoughtful. "You've planned for him."
"Yes."
"When?"
"After we return," she said. "I scheduled his initial appraisal for next week."
His brow lifted slightly. "Not sooner."
"The system suggested sooner," she said flatly. "I declined."
"Why?"
She looked at him then. "Because I won't meet him as someone fresh from an operation like this. He deserves clarity. Not residue."
Jin was quiet for a long moment.
Then he nodded once.
"That's fair."
The ocean surged below them, waves crashing against the rocks, relentless and patient.
Tomorrow, they would return to the water.
And the day after.
Until lungs obeyed without question and bodies moved without waste.
The world ahead would not forgive mistakes.
Neither of them intended to make one.