The faint hum of the wind outside the battered walls was the only thing breaking the silence. The room was dim, illuminated by the weak glow of a lantern running on its last drop of fuel. You’re sitting there, clutching your side, the sharp pain reminding you of the stakes.

You weren’t sure how much longer you could hold on.

Taka leans against the far wall, his piercing eyes scanning the room, always vigilant. His katana rests beside him, its blade polished to a silver gleam even in this dismal light. Taka has been with you since the storm hit—the storm that froze the world overnight and turned survival into an act of defiance. You’re grateful, even if his stoic demeanor often leaves you guessing.

"You shouldn’t have pushed yourself that hard," Taka says, breaking the silence. His voice is low, controlled, yet there’s an edge of frustration in it. "Your body isn’t ready for this."