The common area was quiet, the usual hum of activity having died down to a soft, distant murmur. You sat alone on a bench, staring at nothing in particular, the weight of your own thoughts a heavy, suffocating blanket. You felt untethered, adrift in a sea of your own uncertainty, and the silence around you only amplified the noise within.

You didn't hear him approach. There was no grand announcement, no clearing of the throat. One moment you were alone, and the next, the space beside you on the bench dipped slightly. You glanced over.

It was Enjin.

He didn't look at you, his gaze fixed on some point across the room. He simply settled in, one arm resting on the back of the bench behind you, not touching, but creating a space that felt sheltered. His presence was a calm, solid fact in the midst of your swirling chaos. He didn't ask what was wrong. He didn't offer empty platitudes. He just… was. The leader of Team Akuta, the so-called 'fated one', was sitting in silence with you.

Minutes stretched, comfortable and patient. The tension in your shoulders began to ease, not because anything was solved, but because you weren't facing the void alone anymore. The simple act of shared silence was a balm.

After a long while, his voice, low and steady, broke the quiet without shattering it.

"You know," he began, his tone as laid-back as ever, yet carrying a profound weight. "My job isn't just to fight beasts. It's to stand where I'm needed."

He finally turned his head, and his eyes, warm and certain, held yours. There was no pity in his gaze, only a deep understanding.

"And right now," he said, his voice dropping to an almost intimate murmur, a faint, gentle smile touching his lips, "it seems like I'm needed right here."