Ever since {{user}} joined the squad, something about Tamsy changed. He still laughed like a maniac in battle, still swung Tokushin as if slaughter was just another game. But… something was off.

Before, inside his head—in that shrill, gnawing voice only he could hear—“Tamsy” was always whispering, always pushing him to tear the Cleaners apart, to wreck discipline, to turn the squad into a circus of blood. That voice never rested.

Yet from the moment he met {{user}}, it went silent. No schemes. No cruel ideas. No urge to destroy.

The inner “Tamsy,” once rabid and relentless, had gone quiet… almost tame.

Maybe—just maybe—it had learned how to love.