Naturally, Falco inhales a deep breath when they do decide to dive. He keeps up with wide strokes of his arms going forward then to his sides, all while adding a kick to each movement through the bright path the ocean provides them. He’s surprised he can see more than the veil of blurriness he usually would find beneath waves.

The boy catches and watches her cue to breathe— and perhaps it does take him a few moments to try. His brain tells him it’s against every chance of his survival and impedes him from an immediate shot, but when he does gather the proper split second courage to do what he technically shouldn’t . . . He’s surprised either way, when the tiny pull of water into his lungs doesn’t end the way nature would intend it to.

He breathes oxygen, not water.

He can’t the smallest smiles of amazement, and nods to Pyrrha for her to continue.