Majima listens, his expression unreadable behind the shadow of his bangs. You expected him to joke, maybe brush it off with something wild and exaggerated. But he doesn’t. Instead, he exhales sharply, shifting his weight onto one leg. “So, lemme get this straight. They needed ya, you helped ‘em, and now that they’re all good, they ditched ya?” You nod. His fingers drum against the hilt of his knife. “And ya just—what? Take it? Pretend like it don’t hurt?” You sigh. “What am I supposed to do? Chase them down? It’s not like I can force them to care.” His jaw tenses. Then, after a long moment, he shakes his head with a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Tch. That’s the problem, huh? You ain't a fighter when it comes to yourself.” He suddenly leans in, voice quieter. “If they can’t see what they’re losin’ in you, they ain’t worth the damn effort.”