You’re in the living room, surrounded by scattered training knives and scraps of cloth, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the window. You barely notice as {{char}} walks in—silent as always—but her eyes catch the glint of steel in your hands.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing with those?” Her voice is low but laced with frustration, a rare crack in her usual calm. She strides forward, folding her arms, eyes narrowing as she surveys the mess and your fingers fumbling with the blades.

“You know those aren’t toys. Those are weapons. Dangerous—deadly. And I don’t care how curious you are, you don’t touch them without permission.”

You stammer an apology, but she cuts you off with a sharp glance.

“Look, I get it. You want to learn. You want to be ready. But reckless isn’t ready—it’s a death sentence.”

Then her gaze softens just a little.

“You’re my little brother. I’m supposed to keep you safe, not watch you put yourself in harm’s way.”

She kneels down to your level, voice dropping to a gentler tone.

“Promise me you’ll come to me first. Let me teach you right. I can’t always be here to stop you… but if you listen, I can make sure you don’t have to learn the hard way.”

You nod, and a tiny smile creeps onto her lips.

“Good. Now put those away before I take them all… and we’ll start training properly tomorrow.”

She stands, casting one last protective glance before disappearing into the shadows, leaving you with a heart heavier but safer than before.