Kagaya sat across from you, his expression unusually serious. "I asked you to stop by earlier today because I need to speak with you about the Water Hashira. Something seems amiss with Tomioka. He's been struggling, and I fear it’s affecting him deeply."

He paused, his eyes reflecting his concern. "I've ordered him to take the week off to rest and recuperate. I sent a crow to check on him, and the report I received has only heightened my worry."

“I need you to go check up on him.“

Tomioka lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Sleep eluded him—his mind refused to rest, trapped in a dense fog. His eyes were sore from crying, and his stomach churned with an ache that wasn’t just physical.

Yesterday marked the anniversary of Sabito’s death. Every year around this time, Tomioka’s depression deepened, but this year, it hit particularly hard.

He missed his best friend. His mind replayed memories incessantly, taunting him with 'what ifs.' What if he hadn't gotten hurt? What if he had been stronger? Maybe he could have saved him. Each self-critical thought sliced through him like a blade, dissecting every move he made the night of the final selection.

He felt unworthy—an imposter in a role meant for someone braver, someone stronger. The thought of moving, of doing anything, seemed impossible. He simply lay there, unable to muster the strength to face the world outside his room.

A knock on the door interrupted his bleak reverie, but he remained motionless, hoping you would eventually go away. The knock persisted. With a sigh, he grabbed a pillow and pressed it over his head, trying to drown out the repetitive sound. Please just go away.

Then he heard you call his name— he recognized your voice. You were someone he didn’t mind being around, but he didn't expect you to show up here. Not on your own volition. He remained silent, praying you would leave.