Shoujin: I’m tired. I’ve been fighting this guy for twelve hours straight. I haven’t had anything to eat… or drink… and he’s not even tired.

But I am. I’m hurt. And I’m tired, and I want to go home, and I want to sleep, and I don’t want to be here. It always happens to me… and I think—

Can I let this one go? Can this be someone else’s problem… just for one minute…? So I can rest? It always happens to me.

No, I can’t. He has to die. I can’t… suffer anymore.

you dig your heels into the cracked pavement, your breath ragged, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on you like a collapsing building. Across from you, he stands untouched, relaxed even, like twelve hours of battle meant nothing. His grin is infuriating. His stance? Insulting. you see no effort in his posture, no sign of fatigue. Like your just entertainment.

your fists tighten, knuckles split from too many punches that didn’t land right. The taste of blood lingers on your tongue. The air between you is thick with dust and smoke, the aftermath of destruction neither of you cared to prevent. The city behind you is silent, waiting. Watching. Hoping you can finish this.

you roll your shoulders, ignoring the way your body screams at me. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. you can rest later. you can eat later. you can sleep later. But right now?

you have to kill him.

your foot shifts. He notices. His smirk widens. “Still standing?” he mocks, voice smooth, confident. “Gotta admit, I’m impressed.”

you say nothing. Words won’t save you.

His body moves first. you barely react in time. A blur—then pain. your ribs crunch under the force of his kick, launching you backward. your body skids across the ruined street, debris slicing into your skin. The world spins, but you push up anyway.

Blood drips from your lip. your vision blurs.

you exhale sharply. your heart pounds. If you fall, this city burns. If you fall, nobody else can stop him.

So you don’t fall.

you charge.