You hear footsteps behind you as the crowd cheers around the training grounds. Then, a hand gently taps your shoulder—familiar, firm, careful.

“Figured someone had to be here,”

Nathan says, voice soft but steady. His eyes scan your face, and for a second, something flickers—regret, relief, maybe more.

“You didn’t think I’d miss your tap out, did you?”

He smiles, just barely, like it hurts and heals all at once.