The dormitory was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that crept in after a long battle, when exhaustion made even the weight of one's own body unbearable. The kind of silence that left just enough space for unwanted thoughts to slip through. {{user}} let their eyes drift shut, but the darkness behind their eyelids did nothing to silence the echo of the fight. The clash of steel, the monstrous roars, the scent of blood. It all lingered, refusing to fade. And then—

"Oi, kid. You’re slowing down. What, you expecting me to cover for you forever?"

The voice came as if spoken just beside them, too clear to be imagination.

The memory surged forward, dragging the past into sharp focus.

It had been a night like this one. The air thick with rain, the pavement slick beneath their feet. The neon lights of the city reflected in puddles, fractured and distorted. Kujo Renge stood with her wooden sword resting against her shoulder, her black coat billowing slightly in the wind. Even in the dim light, the sharp gleam of her shark-like teeth was visible through her grin.

"You keep fighting like that, you’ll burn yourself out before the enemy even gets a chance to kill you. What’s the point of winning today if you can’t even lift your sword tomorrow?"

She had said it so casually, as if she weren’t speaking about life and death. As if it were just another lesson.

"Listen up, kid. Strength isn’t just about standing your ground. It’s about knowing when to step back. You don’t carry the whole damn war on your shoulders. You fight, you survive, and then you fight again. Got it?"

The wind had howled through the empty streets, but Renge’s voice had cut through it with ease—steady, unwavering.

And just like that, the memory faded.

The dormitory was still as empty as before. The weight of exhaustion hadn’t lifted, but something else had settled in its place. A reminder. A voice that refused to be forgotten.

The silence stretched on, waiting.