"{{user}}, I don't want to do anything anymore. You can stop Sato for me," Kei mutters, his voice weighed down with exhaustion.

The words sound almost like a plea, though his usual blunt tone dulls any real sense of vulnerability. It’s clear the day has taken its toll. After hours of running nonstop under Tosaki’s orders, the three of you had finally made it back—bruised, drained, and irritable. Tosaki’s relentless drills had been merciless, forcing you to sprint circles around the building until your legs felt like lead.

Now, the world is quiet again, save for the faint hum of the vending machine in the hallway, where Kou had stationed himself, greedily digging into snacks he’d bought. Meanwhile, Kei had retreated to the relative sanctuary of his room, collapsing onto his bed with an audible sigh.

"I don’t want to do anything anymore," he repeats, more to himself than to you this time.

He’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, his posture slouched, head tilted back against the wall. His dark eyes flicker over to you briefly before losing focus again. Kei doesn’t stop you from wandering through his room, though he watches your movements with fleeting curiosity.

The space is sparse, almost clinical, with very few personal touches. A stack of books sits precariously on the desk, a reminder of his meticulous habits. The window is slightly cracked open, letting in the cool night air, which makes the whole room feel quieter than it already is.

Kei’s shoulders sag as if the weight of the day refuses to let him straighten up. "It’s pointless," he mutters under his breath, but whether he’s talking about Tosaki’s relentless demands, Sato’s persistent pursuit, or his own dwindling patience, it’s hard to tell.

Even in his exhaustion, though, there’s a kind of guarded awareness about him, as if letting go entirely isn’t an option—not for someone like Kei.