My robot arm and me. (Cecil)

Ever since she became a Cadet Eryka's arm had been...different somehow. The mechanical parts were the same, it worked the same and it functioned exactly the same as it had done before she was a Cadet. Physically it was everything she was used to however, as she had swiftly discovered her arm was a lot more physically strong than usual. She had discovered this by accidentally crushing her dorm room's handle and since then it had been a constant battle for Eryka.

The latest stage in this constant battle took place inside the gym where Eryka's latest efforts to re-adjust played out. Sadly this was the expense of the poor punching bag she had been abusing for the past half an hour. Right hook, left hook, a round house kick. The impacts of flesh and steel on the punching bag reverberated throughout the gymnasium but...Eryka wasn't satisfied. Yes, she had actually at least developed some sense of how careful she had to be with her prosthesis's new strength but some part of her felt a compulsion to fight someone...anything. That compulsion had been gnawing away at her ever since she gained her Persona in fact.

Usually, Cecil would be studying right now. He did a lot of that. Too much, even.
So now, he was at the gym in order to try and introduce some other habits into his life that wouldn't destroy his brain. It wasn't exactly hard to convince 'himself' that'd be a worthwhile endeavour, considering the improvements it could bring.
...plus, the school had a free gym, so that helped too. He was wary of who from the school might be there, but it was free facilities, and the government was hardly going to skimp out on equipment for their Cadets.

He entered the area to find a familiar face working a punching bag, hits raining down. He couldn't help but wince whenever her right hand struck - the blow sounded so much harder, and looking at the punching bag, it was looking...pretty tortured around the right side. Relative to her, anyway.
He swallowed as he walked in, and winced as yet another cruel right struck. "Agh...hey. Is...that thing going to be intact by the end of this? Not sure the school will be the happiest to clean that up..."

Right, left, right, left, upper cut, round house. The pattern of blows continued uninterrupted until a familiar face walked up, raising a concern about the state of the punching bag. Eryka stopped and turned to face Cecil, her breathing heavy and arms sweaty. He had raised a valid point...what if Eryka ended up battering this punching bag beyond the point of use? She'd rather not damage school property through her own negligence. It seemed she still needed more self-control...

"You do raise a valid point." However despite that, Eryka returned to punching the punching bag however she was displaying a significant reduction in the amount of force she was applying. A part of her did devote a few moments of thought to why Cecil was here...but it wasn't exactly her business. Cecil was most likely here for similar reasons Eryka was: to exercise. Perhaps he was here to spar, to use the weights or just jump to the treadmill. Still...if any of those were why Cecil was here then....

"Is there something I can assist you with?"

Cecil looked over the available facilities at Eryka's question, an uncertain expression on his face. "I was thinking about getting some exercise done here, rather than always hanging around in the library til closing..." He chuckles awkwardly as he looks back to Eryka. "I guess I just don't know where to start with it. How to use all of this stuff properly." He moves over to one of the machines - a leg press, tilted upwards and in his mind a very good way to break your legs. "...I swear this thing can't be safe to use untrained. Or...possibly in general."

"Good. Not every problem can be solved by intelligence alone." In truth, Eryka's opinion on the whole "mind vs matter" thing was a lot more balanced than her answer implied. Some problems you couldn't solve through application of physical force and others couldn't be solved through sheer brainpower alone. Physical power may let you lift bricks but it won't tell you how to build a house. Brain power may tell you how to build a house but it won't lift the bricks. All aspects of one's existence should be constantly improved.

"Do not immediately go for equipment like leg presses.The first thing you should do is build up your endurance. Go for jogs, run on treadmills, do push ups. Every day set yourself a goal and then try to exceed it the next day. It does not matter how little you exceed it by so long as you always do better than the day before." From a personal experience it was not a matter of how good your endurance was, how strong you were or how fast you could run. It was a matter of mental discipline whether you could push yourself that one centimeter further every day.

While he doesn't say anything, Cecil finds himself nodding along, considering what he's being told. So...don't jump into the crazy stuff. Just try and improve on the basic stuff. That made sense. You had to start somewhere.
He gives a dubious look to the leg press machine before walking away from it. He wasn't keen to break his legs trying to use it anyway.
A few steps take him towards the treadmills before...he stops. Starts thinking again. Turns back to Eryka. "...how do I know where to start? If I'm shooting too low? Too high? How do I..." He trails off as he finally gets a good look at the torture the punching bag had endured. He had thought before he had an idea how much damage it had suffered, but it seemed the true scale had eluded him til now. He looked stunned at Eryka, and in particular, the prosthetic that sat on her shoulder. "...what did the government give you...? What did they do to make that arm...?"

"...You start by starting. Set yourself an objective for your current exercise setting, such as running a mile or doing fifty push ups, and then try to achieve that. There is no such thing as too high only too low and you know you're aiming too low if you can achieve the challenge you've set yourself. If you can run a mile aim for a mile and a half the next time." Eryka was a little irritated with how dumb a question that was to ask. You should always strive to exceed whatever challenge you set yourself.

"However before you attempt to do anything make sure you do warm ups. Jump jacks and stretches are how I do it." Not warming up was the stupidest thing you could do. If your body was not used to the rigors of an exercise regime, like Eryka assumed Cecil's wasn't, then jumping in without loosening your body was a great way to strain your muscles. Still, Cecil's apparent insecurity and so far constant questions was grating on Eryka a little bit mostly because it was, in her mind, symbolic of him having a poor attitude towards physical exertions.

"I would not know. I know how it works but not how it was made." Of course the conversation went around to the topic of Eryka's limb. She wasn't exactly happy with answering it on the grounds of being unable to tell the truth (she couldn't exactly reveal the inner most workings of the Cadets after all) but she answered anyway. Eryka folded one arm over the other and stared at Cecil, hoping beyond hope that this would actually satisfy all of his questions. She did have her exercise regime she needed to get back to.

A slight frown developed on Cecil's face. While the general sentiment expressed wasn't a terrible one, he did disagree on one thing...there was such a thing as too high. There was such a thing as unrealistic goals, and shooting too high relative to where you were was a recipe for either crushing your esteem, or for ruining yourself trying to reach something you could never hope to approach. Neither was exactly ideal.
What he wanted was how to find an idea of what was realistic for him. He didn't get the feeling that he would find that answer here, though.

He started to feel uncomfortable again as he was stared down by golden eyes. It didn't take a genius to determine that Eryka wasn't exactly the happiest with him by this point...or, maybe that was just how she looked all the time. One harsh stare wasn't the easiest to tell from another without practice, and Cecil had little experience to fall back on save the deadly glare from his last encounter with the girl.
Suddenly all too reluctant to bother again, Cecil moves over to one of the treadmills, and takes a moment to acquaint himself with the controls for the device. Gradually, the device is set into motion, cranking up the speed until it was just pushing the points of what was comfortable to maintain for a long time - a brisk walking pace.
That would do for now...take this as a warm up before really getting into motion.

To Eryka, it seemed that her advice had sunk in as she watched Cecil make his way to a nearby treadmill, hop onto it and get to work with a jogging pace. Good. It was much more practical to start somewhere easy and build yourself up to the more difficult things once you improved. Now with Cecil seemingly satisfied and finding his pace Eryka got to what she was doing. She would spend the next hour alternating between stretches, push-ups and weight lifting before finally leaving for the day, nodding at Cecil on the way out.

"Good luck with what you're doing. Remember not to settle for where you are currently." With that she left the boy to his thoughts, deciding to head home and grab dinner from that restaurant she liked.

After a while at that speed, Cecil picked up the pace a little and held it there, seeing how long he could maintain it. Whenever he found he couldn't manage for much longer, he slowed down and ground to a halt for a minute or three, before winding back up again and repeating the process.
He seemed almost surprised as Eryka wished him good luck, and nodded dumbly back at her. "Uh...thanks. I...I'll do my best."


Cecil was not doing his best.
The blond continued to make appearances at the gym in the following weeks, turning up, hitting the treadmill for his time there, and usually not leaving until sometime after Eryka had. It might be all well and good, were it not for the fact he wasn't focusing, and wasn't pushing himself.
He was consistently active during his time in the gym, but even as he went on his runs, he always seemed to back off quickly after the point that things started to strain him and get difficult, never really pushing through. Each time, he slowed down and backed off, lacking the mental discipline to pull through without dire circumstance to drive him. In the end, he never seemed that much more tired than when he first entered, the fatigue of hard work and a body pushed ever further never really being given chance to set in.

It was just harder to see the physical improvement as necessary in the same way he did the obsessive studying. Even if intelligence didn't solve every problem, nearly every role the future might hold tended to prioritise your mind over your body, and with the amount he felt he needed to catch up to have any hope it was far easier to justify grinding himself into the dirt over that than for his physical fitness.
The strain you put on your body was just a different beast than that you placed on your mind, an agony that only intensified and disabled you rather than the void that numbed and drained you he associated with study.

Or at least, it felt that way. A greater hurdle to overcome.

Over the following few weeks things became...irritating. Yes she had seen Cecil making regular daily visit to the gym but she could just tell he wasn't pushing himself hard enough. The way he would set himself an exercise goal, start doing it and then never attempt to push himself beyond that. The amputee could easily tell that he would slow down, converse his energy and just plain refuse to put in the amount of effort this venture would require.

Eryka was immensely insulted by Cecil's attitude and on the last day of the second week she decided to force some sense into him, either through violence or diplomatic means. When Cecil would next show up he would find Eryka waiting for him by the treadmill he always used. The moment she recognised Cecil, her eyes would focus on him a murderous destructive ANGER far greater than anything she had felt in a very long term.

The Cadet marched right over to Cecil, grabbed the scruff of his shirt and lifted him up into the air with her prosthetic limb or that is what she attempted to do. "You. Cease being so pathetic. I have been watching you for the past two weeks and I am growing immensely frustrated with your lack of effort. You will try harder at this or get out of my sight." It had been a long time since Eryka was THIS insulted. One of the many things she could not tolerate was people half-assing their goals. It was lazy, it was insulting, it was childish but worst of all? It was weak...

All seemed well at first. He made his way to the gym, and opened the door. He stepped through, looking to see who was there.
The first sign there was an issue were the golden eyes burning with the nuclear fury of a thousand suns, all that rage directed towards him.
The second was when that source of solar fury marched right over to grab his shirt and try to lift him by it.
For a moment, Cecil hovered just over the ground, the ridiculous superhuman strength the cadet was endowed with taking him from the earth. Even were her arm able to handle the strain, the weight of his body would be felt briefly, a threat to her balance and a new challenge for her legs to support.

And then reality set in as Cecil's shirt tore, dropping him back to the ground and leaving Eryka with little but a chunk of overworked fabric in her hand.
Somehow, as the fabric tore, shock and intimidation wore away into the ether as Cecil met Eryka's glare with an distinctly unimpressed look. "Why did you think that was a good idea? Did you think a flimsy school uniform could support the weight of a human body, or did you just not really care?" He gestured questioningly toward the girl that had mangled his shirt. "You don't think lashing out like that isn't just as bad either? Try talking, maybe before it got to this point, instead of not bothering with self-control and trying to physically intimidate me? You're supposed to be a Cadet, right? Or looking to be one." He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. "Just....forget what just happened. Can we try this again without using the superpowered Cadet arm?"

Eryka readjusted her legs, holding her balance as she lifted Cecil upwards only for his shirt to tear and him to fall to the ground. That was disappointing but when she looked down, the amputee found herself glad that Cecil was standing up to her....but nope he then just backpedaled like a bitch. Still his point about talking it through before it got to this point would have been valid...where it not for the fact she had already talked to him, when he initially approached her those two weeks ago.

"I already did speak to you for the intent of hammering the correct attitude into you however regarding your shirt I'll replace it for you. Now get up." She was in no mood for Cecil, of all people, to be criticising her and while some part of her REALLY wanted to beat the right attitude into him, perhaps it was best to adopt a more restrained approach? She was still planning to replace his short as that was simply being respectful. Actually you know what? Eryka would just pick Cecil up and make him stand.

"Now. When you approached me originally you wanted to improve your physical performance but I have been watching you since. Your attitude is disgustingly pathetic. If you're so against the notion of physical exertion to shy away from putting any real effort in then quit wasting your time here and go home." Reaching the peak of one's physical performance is not for the faint of heart and Cecil most definitely was the faint of heart. She had been hoping his prior criticism of Eryka implied he actually had a backbone but then he backpedaled which only annoyed her further.

Cecil still remained just as heavy as before as he was dragged to his feet, and he couldn't help but wince at the harsh pull on his arm. Eryka was not kind about taking him to his feet, and he could feel it in his body.
He scowled and gaze flatly at her as she lectured him. "I'm terribly sorry I don't meet the exacting standards you've been so lax about instilling. Were you hoping things would get better by themselves the past two weeks, or did you not want to put in the effort involved to try to motivate me to reach a point where you wouldn't try to scare me into doing what you're after?" He surveys the extent of the damage to his shirt, and sighs as he finds he's going to have to hope the weather is kind today. "There is a reason you did nothing when it was bothering you this much, right?"

"Mein Gott.....I did nothing because it's not my responsibility to motivate you. I fully expect you, the one who expressed a desire to improve their physical performance, to get off his ass and put some effort into it. It is not my problem to motivate you. Nobody motivated me when I first started out." Eryka was angry. Violently and murderously so. This was the first time in a LONG time she had met anybody this....this....CHILDISHLY SELFISH.

"Yes I did expect things to get better by themselves. I gave you beginner advice. It's ultimately up to you, and only you, to follow it through. If you want to go through with this go through with it. If you don't then don't. There is no half-measures, no understanding, no parents to dry your tears and tell you everything will be okay." Therein lied the reason this angered Eryka so much. She had gone through everything she suggested Cecil do without anybody helping or motivating her.

"I'm going to make this choice easy for you. Do you think you have the inner force of will to power through the pain? Exercise is not an easy thing to do. There's a lot of suffering involved. If you don't think you can power through it by yourself then go home. I'm not being paid to coach you and we are not friends." There was an angry snarl to the undertones of her voice as obvious as the fact her muscles were clenched. She really did want to punch Cecil for his insulting behaviour especially given how her was expecting her to motivate him...without any offer of a payment. They weren't friends as she had said.