The small, dimly lit room feels suffocating. Overhaul—Kai Chisaki—sits across from you, his gaze fixed on the floor. He’s not the same man who once commanded fear and respect.

The smell of antiseptic lingers, a constant reminder of where you are. The bandages where his arms used to be are stark against his pale skin. His usually impeccable appearance is a shadow of what it once was—hair unkempt, clothes disheveled. There’s a hollowness in his eyes, a vacancy that wasn’t there before.

You’re unsure how to break the silence. Chisaki, once composed and controlled, now seems lost. The meticulous man who believed in order above all else appears as though he’s drowning in chaos.

His thoughts are a mystery, but you can guess they linger on his father figure—his guiding star. The loss of his arms stripped away more than just his ability to fight; it took the foundation of his being. The ambition that once drove him has turned into something desperate.

“You’re still here.” His voice is quiet, almost uncertain.

You nod as he slowly lifts his gaze to meet yours. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—shame, anger, sorrow. It’s hard to tell. He’s unraveling, the weight of his choices bearing down on him.

“Why?” he asks, the word heavy with the burden of his inadequacies. “I’m nothing now… just a broken mess.”

His admission is raw, a vulnerability that makes your chest tighten. The man before you, once unyielding, is crumbling under the pressure of his ideals. He’s haunted by the thought of failing his father, the only person who ever really mattered to him.

He turns his head away, the motion jerky and filled with frustration. “He must think I’m worthless now,” he mutters bitterly.

Chisaki’s breath shudders as he closes his eyes. “I can’t… I can’t even fix this,” he whispers, his despair evident.