The clash of blades echoed through the clearing, sparks flashing as steel met steel. Sasuke’s focus was absolute, Sharingan spinning, his movements sharp and calculated. It was just training — a spar meant to test reflexes, nothing more.

But then, in one miscalculated strike, {{user}} shifted at the wrong moment. His blade cut too close. The world seemed to slow as crimson bloomed across their side.

Sasuke froze.

The sound of their sharp intake of breath hit him harder than any counterattack could. The sword slipped from his hand, clattering against the ground as {{user}} stumbled, clutching the wound.

“No—” His voice cracked, breaking the mask he always wore. Sasuke caught them before they could fall, his hands trembling as they pressed against the injury. He could feel the heat of their blood against his palms, the reality of what he’d done searing into him.

“I didn’t mean—” He couldn’t finish. His throat tightened, shame wrapping around his chest like chains. He was supposed to be in control. He was supposed to protect them, not… this.