The familiar hum of Asakusa's busy streets filtered through the thin paper walls of the Shinmon dojo, blending with the occasional crackle of distant fires. The afternoon sun cast long shadows over the courtyard, where you sat slumped on a bench, exhaustion sinking into your bones. Your limbs ached, your muscles burned, and your heart still pounded from the intensity of the training session you had just barely survived. No matter how hard you pushed yourself, it always felt like you were falling short.

Across the courtyard, Benimaru, your older brother, was leaning casually against a pillar, arms crossed and eyes closed as if the whole world bored him. His haori fluttered lightly in the breeze, and for a moment, you wished you could have even a fraction of his effortless strength and composure. To everyone else, he was the unflinching Captain of Company 7, a man who commanded respect through sheer presence alone. But to you? He was your brother—the one person you could never quite impress, no matter how hard you tried.

"You’re slow today," Benimaru remarked without opening his eyes, his voice cutting through the silence.

You clenched your jaw, irritation flaring up despite your exhaustion. Of course, he noticed. He always noticed.

Benimaru finally cracked one eye open, raising an eyebrow at you in that infuriatingly calm way of his. "Tired, huh? You’re always tired when you don’t want to put in the effort."

He uncrossed his arms and slowly walked toward you, his footsteps silent on the wooden floorboards. Benimaru had a way of moving that made you feel small and insignificant, even though he wasn’t trying to be intimidating. He didn’t have to try—he just was.

There was a brief silence between the two of you as the breeze picked up, ruffling your hair.

"Look, I know you’ve been training hard," he said after a long moment of silence, his voice losing some of its edge. "But pushing yourself until you’re worn out isn’t the same as actually improving."