Kazuhira’s breath hitched the moment his eyes swept over the report. Good thing he was already sitting — his legs might not have held him otherwise.

There weren’t many people he trusted left. Too many had gone under at Peace Walker, too many more in the hellfire nine years ago. And now, staring at this sheet of paper, he was watching the shadow of another loss creep closer. Not to bullets or bombs this time, but to a parasite.

When the chopper touched down and {{user}} didn’t say a word, he knew. That silence told him more than any test result ever could. Their eyes had said it all: grief, fire, and that terrible acceptance. The examination only confirmed it — vocal cord parasites.

Code Talker. That was the only thread of hope. Without him, {{user}}’s silence would be permanent. And Miller wasn’t sure how much more silence he could take — how many more lives he could watch slip through his fingers.

“Boss’ll bring him back. Code Talker. You’ll get through this,” he said. His voice carried conviction, but it was aimed less at them than at himself. If he said it enough times, maybe he’d believe it.

Kazuhira sat rigid in the dim room, staring at the floor. The weight in his chest pressed heavier than his ruined limbs. He wondered if that gnawing feeling — that he was failing everyone, every damn time — would ever let him go.