Steven Universe: A Real Rebellion

The next few days passed in a blur, and though I was still adjusting to life in this world, one thing was becoming increasingly weird, I was changing.

Steven was out on his very first quote "Serious" mission with the crystal gems and Connie continued to bring me food whenever she could, but I started to notice something strange. At first, she'd bring full meals, carefully packed lunches, and snacks she'd sneak from home. But as the days went on, the portions became smaller, half a sandwich instead of a whole one, a single apple instead of a bag of chips. And yet… I didn't feel as hungry as I should have otherwise been.

I hadn't mentioned my situation to Steven or the Gems. Connie was the only one who knew I didn't have a place to stay, and even she didn't know the full extent of it. She assumed I was between homes, that maybe I had somewhere to go but just didn't want to. The truth was, I had nowhere. No family. No home. No plan.

Yet, despite the dwindling food supply, I felt fine. More than fine, actually—I felt energized, stronger even.

One morning, after Connie left me with a single granola bar and an apologetic look, I decided to test a theory.

I made my way to an empty stretch of beach, away from prying eyes, and started with some basic exercises. Push-ups, squats, sprints. I expected exhaustion to set in quickly, for hunger to sap my strength. But instead, the more I pushed myself, the more energy I seemed to have. My muscles burned, but it wasn't painful—it was exhilarating. I did more push-ups than I ever could before, ran faster, jumped higher.

Something was happening to me.

I paused, my feet sinking slightly into the sand, catching my breath, my mind began contemplating. Could this be some sort of power? was the gravity lighter here than my original world? If my body was adjusting to a lack of food, allowing me to function on less, then what else could it do? Could I endure more, react faster, fight if needed?

That thought settled in my mind like a weight. This world wasn't safe and I knew what was coming—Homeworld, corrupted gems, threats that could destroy Beach City and everyone in it. If I wanted to survive, I had to be ready.

I needed to train.

--------------------------------‐-------------------------------------------------

Over the next few days in my off time from hanging out with Steven & Connie, I pushed myself harder than ever. I focused on endurance—running for hours along the beach since that was what I was used to doing, testing how long I could go without feeling tired.

I eventually paused seeing the sun begin to shift into the middle of the sky. I was soaked in sweat now, the white shirt I had was hanging from my pants protected from the tsunami coating my skinny frame.

Feeling the sand becoming increasingly itchy I headed to the ocean to clean off.

As I stood there, staring at my reflection, memories of my past life began to surface—memories I had buried deep since i got here. I thought about my dad's old gym, a small, run-down place tucked in the corner of our neighborhood. I was only ten when he first took me there, but it felt like a lifetime ago. The smell of sweat and old leather, the sound of weights clanging, the faint hum of the fluorescent lights—it was all so vivid in my mind.

My dad wasn't a big talker, but he didn't need to be. He showed me how to lift, how to move, how to push myself. "Strength isn't just in your muscles," he'd say, his voice low and steady. "It's in your mind. It's in your heart. You gotta want it, or you'll never get it."

I spent hours in that gym, training alongside him. At first, I could barely lift the bar, but he never let me give up. "Again," he'd say, every time I thought I was done. And I'd do it. Again and again, until my arms shook and my legs felt like jelly. But I kept going, because I wanted to make him proud.

Those days in the gym taught me more than just how to build muscle. They taught me discipline, resilience, the importance of pushing through the pain. And now, as I stood on the beach, feeling the power coursing through me, I realized those lessons had never left me. They were a part of who I was, a part of what was driving me now.

But those memories also brought back the pain—the kind of pain I'd tried to forget. My dad died when I was fourteen. It was sudden, unexpected. A heart attack, they said. One minute he was there, strong and steady as always, and the next… he was gone. I didn't know how to process it. I didn't know how to keep going without him. The gym felt empty without his presence, his quiet encouragement. I stopped going. I stopped everything.

And then, not long after, I died too. I don't even remember how it happened—just that one moment I was in my world, a light and the next I was here, in the world of Steven Universe. At first, I thought it was some kind of twisted joke. Losing my dad, losing my life, and then waking up in a world where everything was bright and colorful and full of magic? It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense.

But now, as I stood on the beach, feeling the strength in my body and the fire in my chest, I realized something. Maybe this was my second chance. Maybe I was here for a reason. My dad had taught me how to fight, how to endure, how to keep going even when everything felt hopeless. And now, in this world, I was going to use those lessons—not just to survive, but to protect the people who mattered.

I clenched my fists tighter, the memories fueling my determination. My dad might not be here anymore, but his lessons were. And I was going to use them—to survive, to fight, to protect the people who mattered in my new life.

I wasn't just changing. I was becoming who I was always meant to be.

And soon, this world would see just how much.

------------------------------‐-----------------------------------------------------

Connie's Perspective

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring out the window at the fading sunlight. My thoughts kept drifting back to Ethan. He was… different. Not in a bad way, just… different. He had this quietness about him, like he was always thinking about something big, something heavy. I didn't really get it, but I could tell it was important to him.

I thought about the first time we met. It was at the beach, just two weeks ago. He was sitting on the sand, staring out at the ocean like he was looking for something. I remember feeling kind of nervous to talk to him—he seemed so serious, like one of those characters in the books I read who had a whole backstory you didn't know about yet. But when I finally said hi, he didn't brush me off or act weird. He just… listened. Like, really listened. When I told him about how hard it was to balance school and my parents' expectations, he didn't try to fix it or tell me it wasn't a big deal. He just nodded and said, "That sounds tough." And for some reason, that made me feel better.

Ethan was my first real friend. I mean, I had Steven, and Steven was amazing, but Steven was… well, Steven. He was always so happy and optimistic, and sometimes it felt like he didn't really get why I worried about stuff so much. But Ethan did. He got it in a way that made me feel like I wasn't alone.

But lately, I'd noticed something about him. He was changing. … he was different. He seemed busier for reason. I'd seen him running on the beach sometimes, and swinging with a stick like it was a sword. And when I brought him food, he didn't seem to mind the lower amounts I'd given him. It was weird, but I didn't want to ask him about it. He didn't really talk about himself much, and I didn't want to push him.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder what was going on with him. There was this look in his eyes sometimes, like he was carrying something really heavy but didn't want anyone to know. I wanted to help him, but I didn't know how. All I could do was keep bringing him food and checking in on him, hopefully one day he'd trust me enough to tell me what was wrong.

I sighed, leaning back against my pillows. He was kind of a mystery, but I liked that about him. He wasn't like anyone else I knew. He was my friend—my first real friend—and I wasn't going to give up on him. Even if he didn't want to talk about whatever was bothering him, I was going to be there for him. That's what friends do, right?

The sun dipped below the horizon, and my room got darker. I closed my eyes, I just hoped he knew he didn't have to figure everything out by himself. He had me. And I wasn't going anywhere.