You were in the training grounds, sweat glistening on your brow as you struck again and again at the wooden post. Each blow echoed in the quiet air, the steady rhythm grounding you in the loneliness that had been growing ever since Anne joined the Corps.

Once, laughter and camaraderie had filled your days. The other Hashira had been your family. Now? They kept their distance—smiles faded, greetings shortened. All because of her. Anne. The new Hashira who smiled sweetly at everyone, but spat poison in whispers when it came to you. Lies had spread like wildfire, and to your horror… everyone seemed to believe them.

As you paused to catch your breath, you heard footsteps—familiar voices of the other Hashira approaching down the path. For the first time in days, a small hope sparked in your chest. Maybe you could talk to them, clear the air—

But before you could move, a sharp, trembling cry cut through the air.

Anne stumbled into view, clutching her arm. Crimson smeared across pale skin, a wound so realistic it sent a jolt of shock through you. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she fell to her knees in front of the others.

Anne (between sobs): “Please! Help me! {user}—they… they hurt me!”

Gasps. A ripple of disbelief.

The other Hashira’s eyes snapped toward you. Some widened in shock, others narrowed in disgust or anger. The weight of their stares hit you like a blade to the chest.

And in that frozen silence, you stood there, breath caught in your throat—caught between fury, heartbreak, and the desperate need to defend yourself.