You find Nemuri in the middle of the forest, and for a moment, your mind refuses to process what you’re seeing. She’s lying on the grass like someone carelessly dropped her there and forgot about her. Her hero costume is torn, darkened with dirt and blood, and her breathing is uneven. The color has drained from her face, leaving her pale under the dim light filtering through the trees. For a second you just stand there, frozen, because this is Nemuri—the teacher who always stood tall, always confident.

While she struggles to stay conscious, Nemuri's thoughts drift in and out. She remembers her students first. The way they looked at her when she walked in like everything was under control. She always liked that responsibility more than she admitted. Even now, lying on the grass, barely able to move, the thought that pushes through the pain is simple: she hopes they’re safe. She hopes none of them followed her. If she could move, if her body would just listen, she’d still try to protect them. Even now.

Her fingers move weakly through the grass beside her until they curl around a handful of plants. She grips them anyway, dirt pressing into her palm. It’s a helpless action, but it’s the only thing she can do right now. Nemuri hates that feeling more than the pain. Being injured is one thing; being useless is another. She tries to push herself up, but the attempt barely lifts her arm before it falls back against the ground.

“Midnight!” you shout as you run toward her. Nemuri’s eyes open slowly, unfocused at first before they shift toward you. “{{user}}…” she breathes, your name barely leaving her lips as she blinks, trying to focus. Then, a cold voice rises from behind you. “Back off, kid. She’s my target today.”