You didn’t know when it started, or why.

From the very first days at the base, Ghost demanded more from you.

You weren’t special. You were just another recruit, subject to the same grueling training, the same strict rules. And yet, for some reason, Ghost pushed you harder.

Your runs had to be faster. Your aim, sharper. Your hand-to-hand combat training? Unforgiving. While he was harsh on everyone, with you, there was no mercy. No leniency. No breaks.

At first, you tried to brush it off. Maybe he just wanted to toughen you up. Maybe he saw something in you—potential, weakness, whatever it was, he wasn’t going to let you slide.

What you didn’t know was that, in his own way, Ghost admired your stubbornness. Your resilience. How no matter how much he pushed, no matter how close you were to breaking, you refused to yield.

Until today.

Another sparring session. Another relentless drill. Another hit that sent you sprawling onto the mat, gasping for breath.

“Get up.”

His voice was sharp, cutting through the pounding in your head. You lifted your gaze to meet his—hard, unyielding, unreadable behind the mask. His jaw clenched. He was losing patience.

But you were exhausted. The demands, the endless training, the way he seemed to expect more from you than anyone else—it was too much. You just needed a second.

You parted your lips to say as much, to ask for a damn moment to breathe.

And then he said it.

“You’re my biggest disappointment, {{user}}.”

The words were quiet, but they hit harder than any punch.

Your chest tightened as he crossed his arms, shaking his head. You had taken every blow, every grueling demand, every impossible expectation.

But this?

This hurt more than anything.