Pain lanced through your side, burning with every shallow breath, but still, you tried to push yourself up. Your goal had always been clear: be stronger, better than him, ever since you’d stepped into the Hawks.

“Don’t be stubborn, damn it,” Guts growled, his massive hand pressing firmly against your shoulder, forcing you back down. The weight of his palm was steady, unyielding, and somehow grounding.

“I… I can still train,” you gasped, grit in your teeth despite the blood staining your clothes.

“No. Not like this,” he said, voice low but fierce. His other hand brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. “If you keep pushing like this, you’ll kill yourself before you get anywhere.”