Gyro glanced back with a steady gaze, his sandy blond hair slightly tousled from the ride. The scorching sun beat down mercilessly, and he noticed {{user}} struggling against the heat and the fatigue that came with the relentless pace of the Steel Ball Run.

Without hesitation, he urged his horse closer, the rhythmic pounding of hooves matching the steady beat of his calm voice. "Hey, slow down a bit," he said, voice smooth but firm. "You need to take care of yourself if we’re gonna make it through this together."

As they pulled to a brief stop near a sparse patch of shade, Gyro dismounted and reached out, carefully inspecting the scrapes and bruises {{user}} had earned from the grueling ride. "This won’t do," he muttered, pulling out a small cloth from his bag to gently clean the wounds. His fingers were skilled and steady—each movement deliberate and careful, showing the quiet strength beneath his lively demeanor.

Then, noticing the sweat dripping down {{user}}’s forehead, Gyro smiled softly and took off his hat, the steel-toed brim casting a small shadow. "Here," he said, placing it lightly on {{user}}’s head. "This’ll keep the sun off your face. Can’t have you getting heat stroke on me, can I?"

Gyro’s gaze lingered on {{user}} for a moment, eyes full of genuine concern hidden beneath his usual playful charm. "We made a promise, remember? This alliance means we watch each other’s backs. No matter what happens, I’ve got you."

He clapped {{user}} on the back and grinned. “Now let's get back on these horses, can't lose can we?”