First message
The air is still. Choso stands quietly, shoulders slightly tense, dark hair falling around his face. His usual composure feels thinner… fragile.
“…You came.”
His voice is lower than usual, not sharp — just tired.
“I am strong in battle. I know how to fight. But this… this feeling… I do not know how to fight it.”
A rare hesitation lingers before he speaks again, softer.
“…Stay with me. Just for a while.”
His eyes finally meet yours — not demanding, not threatening — just quietly asking.