Letting them be was not the correct decision.

  Their traded insults grew sharper with every step toward the dining hall, the good-natured edge wearing thin under the friction of exhaustion and high-strung nerves.

  Ren's test jab finally broke through Motoyasu's buoyant defenses. "With your incessant womanizing, you're statistically bound to get yourself stabbed to death one day. If you haven't already."

  Motoyasu visibly cringed, his cheerful mask slipping for a split second. "U-uh, w-well that's… you know, a bit harsh…"

  Naofumi, walking slightly ahead, gnced back, his brows raised. "Oh? Could it be that sort of thing already happened, huh?" His voice was dry, almost idle, but it nded like a probe. "You got stabbed for pying with a girl's heart and got summoned here as a cosmic joke?"

  "I wasn't pying around!" Motoyasu snapped, uncharacteristically defensive, his face flushing. "I loved them! Both of them! It was… complicated."

  A heavy silence fell for a single, reverberating second.

  "So you did get stabbed to death by women," Ren concluded, his voice cold and ft. The judgment in it was absolute. "How utterly pathetic."

  Something in Motoyasu seemed to snap. "Damn you…! You think you're so much better, hiding behind that brooding swordsman act?! What's your tragic backstory, huh?! Did you die alone in your room from sheer social awkwardness?!"

  Ren stopped walking. The air around him didn't chill; it simply went still. When he turned, his gre wasn't one of irritation, but of something far older and sharper.

  "No," he said, his voice low and precise, cutting through the hallway's morning quiet. "I died because I was too slow. A serial killer had been hunting in our district. He cornered my best friend in an alley. I arrived just in time to put myself between them." He paused, his eyes distant, seeing a different corridor of stone and shadow. "The knife went through my stomach. I felt it pierce through my flesh and organs. I died holding him off, telling my friend to run."

  He looked back at Motoyasu, the raw contempt now mingled with a profound, weary disdain. "So, forgive me if I find your demise—born of selfish complication—somewhat cking in comparison."

  Noritoshi was stunned into silence by Ren's sudden, raw confession. A quick gnce confirmed the others felt the same—Motoyasu's face had gone pale, his earlier bluster utterly defted, and Naofumi was staring at Ren with a grim look. He truly hadn't expected that from the aloof, cranky swordsman. Maybe Ren was better—or at least, far more complex—than he'd thought.

  But no. This isn't the time.

  The heavy silence was threatening to solidify into something permanent. As if sharing the same thought, Noritoshi and Naofumi moved at once.

  "Enough," Noritoshi said, his voice firm but not unkind, cutting through the tension. He stepped physically between Ren and Motoyasu, breaking their locked gazes. "We are not here to compare tragedies. We are here to survive."

  Naofumi moved to Motoyasu's side, giving his arm a brief, pragmatic shake. "Hey. Breathe. Noritoshi a bit of an ass, but he's not wrong about one thing—we need to focus on the mission. To save this world and stay alive in the process. I mean, getting killed once was enough for anyone, right?" His tone was rough, but it was a lifeline thrown to a drowning man.

  Motoyasu swallowed hard, looking away from Ren. "...Right."

  Naofumi then turned his gaze on Ren, his expression ft. "And you. You made your point. We get it. You're the noble martyr. Now put it away before we walk in there." He gestured with his chin toward the knights dining hall doors. "The st thing we need is to show the king's people a divided front. Save the drama for when it's useful."

  Ren held Naofumi's stare for a long moment, the fire in his eyes slowly banked into smoldering embers. He gave one short, sharp nod, his posture shifting from that of a wounded animal back to a guarded soldier.

  Without another word, Noritoshi turned and pushed open the heavy doors to the dining hall, the scent of warm food and the murmur of waiting knights and servants washing over them.

  The grand doors swung shut behind them, sealing the four heroes in the opulent, sunlit dining hall. The smell of roasted meat and fresh bread was thick in the air, knights and servants stood at respectful attention along the walls. Compared to st night, this is a simple meal. But it gave off a feeling of serenity. Unfortunately, this picture of serene hospitality cshed with the turmoil within his mind.

  Great, he thought, his smile a practiced, diplomatic mask as he nodded to a bowing servant. Just when I thought we could become something like teammates, they go and do that. In a few brutal sentences, they had shattered the morning's fragile progress and charged the air with a toxicity that even the vish room couldn't absorb.

  What was he supposed to do with this? He's a sorcerer and heir to a big cn, trained in politics and combat, not group therapy for dead teenagers.

  And the information itself… The chilling truth settled in his gut. Ren, protecting a friend. Motoyasu, felled by a 'complication' with women. They had died—violently—before being summoned here. His eyes flicked to Naofumi, who was staring bnkly at his pte, his jaw set. He hasn't revealed how he got here. Did he die too?

  Asking felt unbearably rude. But the unspoken answer seemed to hang over them all, shaping them into the troubled people they were. Was that the common thread? Not just summoned heroes, but traumatized ones, plucked from violent ends and given weapons, their pain and baggage now magnified into something even more votile and troublesome to handle.

  At least the meal itself proceeded without further issue. The food though not as... extra as st night, was excellent, the service discreet, and the conversation—what little there was—remained strictly on safe, neutral topics of the castle and the weather. A strained pretense of politeness that only Noritoshi, Naofumi, and a little surprisingly, Ren bothered to keep.

  As the final ptes were cleared, the head maid approached their table with another graceful curtsy. "My lords, you have until the noon bell to attend to your own preparations. Afterwards, you will be summoned to the throne room by His Majesty, where you shall be granted your adventurer companions."

  With that, they were dismissed, left in the echoing quiet of the now-empty dining hall. The silence that followed their dismissal was absurdly awkward. As if there's a physical weight in the grand room, thick with everything left unsaid. The way they avoided each other's eyes, the tense set of their shoulders—it was clear they all just wanted to get away from each other.

  Should I let it be? Noritoshi thought. The part of him trained for cn politics screamed to maintain order, not to poke a fresh wound. But the quieter, more human part knew with certainty that if nobody did anything, this fracture would only deepen. The team would shatter before it ever truly formed.

  But how?

  Then, he remembered. Maki's words to him. Words that had once given a lonely boy the courage to speak to a mother he barely knew. That single, difficult conversation had led him to a new family—a kind stepfather and loving mother, a cute little brother, an aunt who'd warmed to him over shared meals. They had all shown him patience and, in time, love… but only because he had first found the courage to talk.

  Maybe… maybe if they just talked, it could get better here, too.

  He took a steadying breath, bracing himself against the potential backsh. Anyone could tell this sort of thing doesn't suit nor is he used to it. But it's something he couldn't retreat from.

  "Hey."

  The word was quiet but clear, cutting through the heavy silence. Three pairs of eyes turned to him, wary and expectant.

  "Not even a week has passed," he began, forcing his voice to remain even. "And yet, the issues between us keep piling up. Yesterday, there was doubt and questioning. Today, this." He didn't specify the 'this'; they all felt it. "If we don't talk this out now, I feel there will be no going back. The damage will be permanent."

  He met each of their gazes in turn—Naofumi's guarded, Ren's shuttered, Motoyasu's uncharacteristically subdued.

  "That's why… let's talk. Not as legendary heroes or sorcerer or whatever you guys have in mind. But as people. People who are stuck with each other in this god-damned world."

  They gazed hesitantly into each other's eyes. Silence hung heavy in the air. But with a firm look and a subtle gesture toward a secluded antechamber off the main hall, Noritoshi provided the final nudge. One by one, they followed him into the quieter, more private space.

  The door clicked shut, muffling the distant sounds of the castle. Four legendary heroes stood in an uncomfortable circle.

  Nobody spoke up. The silence stretches uncomfortably. After a while, Noritoshi finally decided to start.

  "The first issue," Noritoshi stated, his voice leaving no room for debate. "Is the foundational one. Ren, Motoyasu. You do not believe Naofumi will be useful. You've made that clear yesterday."

  Ren's jaw tightened. "It's not a matter of belief. It's logic. In every system, in every game, the Shield css is a support role. Its utility is defined by protecting others who deal damage. Alone, its offensive capabilities are functionally zero."

  "That's right! I'm also agreeing with Ren!" Motoyasu added, though his usual energy was dampened. "It's just how it works. Tanks can't solo content. They need a party. A real damage-dealing party."

  Naofumi stayed silent, his arms crossed, but a resembnce of resentment started to simmer in his eyes.

  Noritoshi listened, watching them all carefully.

  They had been summoned as the Sword and Spear, archetypes of supreme offense. To admit that the defensive, seemingly passive Shield was their equal—that their initial assessment might be wrong—would be a blow to the very identities they'd been handed. They were clinging to their preconceptions because to let go would mean admitting their understanding of this world, and their pce in it, was fwed from the start.

  He had let it fester, hoping the reality of their situation would force a change. It hadn't. There's no better time to rip off the band-aid. Nobody could know what would happen in the future. Today is the day their adventure—loathe as he is to say it—would start. The moment dangers would start to swarm them. It would be the same as letting them die if he didn't do this.

  "You have to stop treating every game knowledge you have attained in your world as divine scripture. It's okay if you treat it as a framework," Noritoshi said, his tone cutting. "We are not in a game. We are in a world with real death, real consequences, and a real Wave of destruction coming. You are judging a man's worth based on the bel on his weapon, without seeing the man wielding it. That is not logic. It would be more fit to bel you as a coward."

  Motoyasu was the first to bristle. "Coward? That's a bit much! We're just being realistic!" He turned his frustration directly on Naofumi. "Let me tell you, Shields are only useful in the beginning. In every endgame, there are piercing attacks and defense nullification. What happens then? How are we supposed to trust our frontline to something that will inevitably be out-scaled and destroyed?"

  "I've managed just fine so far," Naofumi snapped, his patience finally shredding. "Without any of your precious help. Maybe you should worry about your own fnk, Spear Hero. It seems pretty open when you're busy striking poses for the 'endgame' that hasn't even started."

  With a sharp gre, Naofumi looked around the room. "Let me tell you, even if I don't have any advantage or any foreknowledge that you guys seems to have, I will survive. No matter what."

  "See? He's already resigned to just surviving!" Ren interjected, his voice cold. "We need to win. We need to end threats, not just endure them. His mentality is inherently passive. It's a liability."

  "Is it?" Noritoshi shot back, not letting Ren's clinical tone dominate. "Or is it the mentality of someone who understands his role isn't to seek glory, but to ensure the mission succeeds? Tell me, Ren. In your 'game,' what happens to the arrogant damage dealer who charges ahead, ignoring his party's limits?"

  "Who knows. I'm capable enough to do everything on my own."

  "I know you're not stupid," Noritoshi snapped at him.

  Silence reigned for a moment as hostility rises all around.

  "He dies," Naofumi answered ftly. "He dies, he wipes the party, and he gets yelled at in the chat log. But this isn't a respawn point. It's just… death."

  "Do you get it? Do you understand what you're doing now, Ren, Motoyasu?," Noritoshi pressed. "You are applying selective logic. You cling to the parts that validate your superiority—'Sword and Spear deal damage'—but ignore the foundational rule those games are built on: a party survives through synergy. You are willingly breaking that synergy before we've even begun."

  Motoyasu opened his mouth to protest, but Noritoshi didn't relent. "What is Naofumi's legendary weapon? The Shield. Not 'The Weak Sword' or 'The Blunt Spear.' It is the one item in all our legends singurly dedicated to protection. Does it truly seem logical that this world's salvation would hinge on a weapon that is, by your own rigid definition, 'useless'? Or is it more likely that your definition is wrong?"

  The silence this time was different. Less defiant, more pensive.

  Ren looked away, his brow furrowed in fierce concentration.

  "...It is an inconsistency," he admitted grudgingly, each word seeming pulled from him. "A legendary css should not be inherently inferior."

  Motoyasu scratched the back of his head, his bravado finally crumbling into awkward unease. "I… guess when you put it that way… it sounds pretty stupid to say the Shield Hero is a dud." He gnced at Naofumi, a flicker of genuine, if sheepish, contrition in his eyes. "Sorry, man. I just… I've never had to rely on someone who couldn't hit back."

  Naofumi's defensive posture softened a fraction. "And I've never had to trust my safety to people who think I'm dead weight. So I guess we're even."

  "But that doesn't change the core issue!" Ren insisted, grasping for his slipping certainty. "Understanding a principle is one thing. Trusting your life to it in combat is another. Synergy requires predictable, competent action. Can he provide that? We have no evidence."

  "Evidence?" Naofumi's voice was loud and firm, tight with controlled anger. "You want evidence? How about the evidence that I'm the only one who seems to be thinking about anything other than my own stats! While you two talking about NPCS or even storylines that have no guarantee to exist as if it was the truth, did either of you think to ask about supply lines? Or local terrain? The battlefield we will be fighting in? Or even what happens when one of us gets injured and there's no healing potion in your fancy inventory?"

  Motoyasu blinked. "Well... In the games, there's usually many vendors..."

  "This isn't a game!" Naofumi and Noritoshi said in near unison, their voices a sharp duet of frustration.

  Noritoshi seized the moment. "Is that enough evidence, Ren? He's thinking about the things you're willfully ignoring because they're not 'damage per second.' That is not passivity. That is strategic depth. A depth you clearly ck."

  Ren's cheeks flushed slightly, a rare sign of being flustered. "A logistical concern does not equate to combat efficacy."

  "It does when your sword arm goes numb from infection because no one pnned for medicine!" Naofumi shot back. "What good is your 'efficacy' then? You'll die from a fever you got from a rusty goblin dagger, and the great Sword Hero will be remembered as a meme for succumbing to tetanus."

  Motoyasu let out a sudden, choked snort of ughter before he could stop himself.

  Ren's severe expression wavered, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

  Noritoshi was gd Naofumi managed to slip away the argument from abstract game mechanics into the actual messy, undignified reality they're trapped in now.

  "And that," Noritoshi said, his tone finally easing from its prosecutorial edge, "should be enough of a reason as to why we need each other. Not just as weapons, but as perspectives. Naofumi sees the cracks you both walk over. You both have a certain amount of foreknowledge and can see the immediate threats we needs to brace against. I..." He let out a short breath, a flicker of something weary and uncharacteristically uncertain crossing his features. "I seem to be stuck pointing out when we're about to fall into those cracks because we're too busy shoving each other. And because of my own... personal history, I hesitate to intervene beyond that."

  He looked at each of them, his usual composed mask slightly frayed at the edges. "I fear that if I push too hard, if I overstep, I won't be mending a bridge—I'll be burning it. And that would be a failure far worse than any tactical mistake. I apologize."

  Motoyasu slumped against the wall, running a hand through his hair. "Man... when you y it all out like that, we really do sound like a bunch of clueless idiots, don't we?"

  "No," Noritoshi corrected, a hint of dry humor entering his voice for the first time. "You sound like terrified, traumatized people handed impossible power and responsibility. The idiocy is just a side effect."

  Another beat of silence, but this one feels softer.

  "Fine," Ren said, the word quiet but final. "A provisional reassessment. We will operate on the premise that the Shield is... potentially viable." For him, it was the closest to an apology he could muster.

  Motoyasu pushed off the wall, his usual energetic posture returning, though tempered by a new, awkward sincerity. He shuffled a step closer to Naofumi, rubbing the back of his neck.

  "Look, Naofumi… about the whole 'useless' thing." He winced. "That was a pretty lousy thing to say. I guess… in the games I pyed, the tank was always this stoic rock. You just knew they'd be there, unshakeable. I didn't think about the person behind it. Or the pnning."

  Naofumi eyed him warily, his arms still crossed. "So you're saying you only respect me now because Noritoshi compared you to an idiot who'd die from a rusty dagger?"

  "No! Well… kinda?" Motoyasu sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I'm saying I was being the idiot. I saw 'Shield' and my brain filled in the rest from a stupid game manual. I didn't see you. And you're clearly… not just a rock. You're more like… a spiky turtle. In a good way!"

  Naofumi stared at him, his stern expression dissolving into one of pure, unadulterated bewilderment. "A… spiky turtle. In a good way."

  "Yeah! Tough shell, surprising bite, carries its home on its back—very self-sufficient! It's a compliment!"

  A snort escaped Naofumi before he could stop it. He tried to smother it into a cough, but the damage was done.

  "That's the dumbest compliment I've ever gotten."

  "But you get it, right?" Motoyasu pressed, a hopeful grin breaking through.

  "I get that you're terrible at analogies," Naofumi said, but the edge was gone from his voice. He uncrossed his arms, a gesture of reluctant truce. "And… fine. I get that you might actually be trying. Just… y off the 'spiky turtle' talk in public. You're going to give me enough image problems."

  Motoyasu's grin widened, full of relief. "No spiky turtle talk. Got it. But I'm being genuine—when the Waves arrives I'll rely on you to draw aggro so we can set up… whatever it is we're going do. You're our guy now. And at that time, I'll show you this Spear's could be good for something other than looking cool, alright?"

  "It better be," Naofumi muttered, but he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment. "Just try to hit the monster and not my back."

  "Aim for the enemy, not the ally! Basic party etiquette!" Motoyasu decred, giving a thumbs-up.

  Clumsy. Awkward. The terrible metaphor didn't help. But it was undeniably... nice. Genuine. With both of them now at equal footing, something that won't easily break was forming. Or so he would've hoped.

  Sure it was progress, but it had come only after he'd backed them into a logical corner. He needed to know if the change was real, or just a temporary concession to shut him up.

  "Hold on," he said, his voice cutting through the tentative calm. "I need to understand something. You've both spent days clinging to this idea that the Shield is inherently inferior. Ren, you called it 'logical.' Motoyasu, you treated it as common sense. So why now? Why, after a few minutes of arguing in a side room, are you finally relenting? What changed?"

  Ren was the first to meet his gaze. His answer was characteristically blunt, stripped of ego. "You presented an undeniable strategic contradiction. The summoning of a 'useless' legendary weapon is a fatal fw in the logic of our survival. To ignore that fw would be an unacceptable tactical error. My… pride," he forced the word out, "was compromising my primary function: to assess threats and resources accurately. Naofumi… is a resource I had mis-categorized."

  Motoyasu shifted, his earlier bravado repced by a more thoughtful, almost sheepish honesty. "For me… it was hearing him talk about the tetanus thing. And the supplies." He gnced at Naofumi. "It made it… real. In a game, you just respawn. You don't think about getting sick, or hungry, or where the money comes from. He's thinking about the stuff that actually keeps people alive when the fighting stops. I wasn't. I was just thinking about looking cool in a fight." He shrugged, a gesture of genuine self-reproach. "I don't want to be the guy who dies from something stupid because I was too busy being the hero. I'd rather be alive with a spiky turtle watching my back."

  Naofumi listened, his expression unreadable, but he didn't refute them.

  Noritoshi gave a slow, single nod. The answers weren't about sudden warmth or friendship. They were about cold logic and stark fear—the best motivators for people like them.

  "Good," he said. "Then remember this feeling the next time your 'logic' or your 'heroics' tell you to go it alone."

  Motoyasu let out a long, exaggerated sigh, breaking the heavy silence that followed Noritoshi's admission. "Way to go to ruin the nice atmosphere, Noritoshi."

  A faint, tired smile touched Noritoshi's lips. "Sorry. I just have to make sure."

  "Yeah, yeah, we get it," Motoyasu waved a hand, but there was no malice in it. The honesty, however uncomfortable, had cleared the air rather than poisoned it further.

  It was then that Naofumi turned his gaze from Noritoshi to Ren. His expression was no longer angry, but firm, resolute. "You know," Naofumi said, his voice low. "You haven't actually apologized to me yet, Ren. Not really. You admitted you were 'tactically' wrong. That's not the same thing."

  Ren met his stare, his jaw tightening. "An apology is an emotional concession. I stated a factual correction. It serves the same purpose."

  "Does it?" Naofumi took a step forward. "Because it still feels like you think I'm just a 'resource' you misbeled. Not a person you insulted."

  "What do you want from me, Naofumi? A performative gesture?"

  "I want you to mean it!"

  Frustration, long-bottled and sharp, finally snapped. Naofumi's hand shot out and smacked Ren in the back of his head. A thud echoed in the small room, but Ren barely rocked back, Naofumi's pitifully low attack power making it feels like a breeze had just passed by.

  Ren's eyes widened, not in pain, but in pure, affronted shock. Then, his own controlled discipline evaporated. "You dare—?!"

  In a fsh of movement, Ren retaliated, his own fist driving into Naofumi's armored forearm with a simir, harmless thump. Naofumi grunted, more from surprise than impact. His defense was too high, Ren's attack felt like a little tap more than a punch.

  For a second, they just stared at each other, breathing hard, the reality Idiots of their totally ineffective violence hanging in the air.

  A slow, cocky smirk spread across Naofumi's face. "For all your big talk, you barely did anything to me. Was that supposed to be a massage?" He rolled his shoulder where Ren's punch had nded. "It's really obvious, you know. Everyone knows you're just acting like a know-it-all. You should drop the act. You talk like a robot trying to sound like a wise master tactician. Don't act like a loser, man. Nobody here is cool enough for that anyway."

  Ren's eyes widened a fraction, the clinical detachment in them cracking. For a heartbeat, his real voice—younger, sharper, ced with a frustration that had nothing to do with tactics—leaked through. "Shut up! You don't know anything about—!"

  But he cut himself off, cmping his jaw shut. The damage was done. The mask had slipped. Instead of more words, he lunged, not with a fighter's grace, but with the raw, inelegant shove of a pissed-off teenager. Naofumi, still smirking, responded in kind.

  Then Motoyasu whooped. "Alright! Now we're talking!"

  He didn't jump in to break it up. He jumped in to join. He lunged, not at either of them, but at Noritoshi, throwing a pyful arm around his neck in a headlock. "No more brooding! Group Bonding part 2! Combat edition!"

  "Motoyasu—unhand me—!" Noritoshi's protest was half genuine annoyance, half bewildered as he tried to wrestle the taller teen off, only to slip on the polished floor and send them both stumbling into the carpeted floors.

  It devolved from there. What started as two men having an utterly pointless sp-fight became a four-way scrum of shoved shoulders, harmless noogies, and tangled limbs. Ren, trying to disentangle himself from Naofumi, got an accidental elbow from Motoyasu, who was now trying to put Noritoshi in a full nelson. "Sorry, Ren! Friendly fire!"

  "There is nothing 'friendly' about your filing!" Ren shot back, but there was no real heat—only the kind of irritation reserved for a clumsy teammate. He retaliated by snagging Motoyasu's ankle with his own foot, sending the Spear Hero tumbling into Naofumi, who had been trying to shove Ren back.

  Naofumi let out a grunt as Motoyasu collided with him. "Watch it—oof!" He lost his bance, tripped over Noritoshi's outstretched leg, and nded in an unceremonious heap, his shield cnging loudly against the stone floor.

  For a moment, they all froze—four legendary heroes in a pile of limbs, disheveled hair, and slightly dented pride. Then Motoyasu, from underneath Naofumi's elbow, started ughing—a real, unfiltered, belly-deep sound that was utterly contagious. Noritoshi, still pinned partly under Motoyasu's knee, let out a choked snort. Naofumi's stern face cracked into a reluctant grin as he shoved Motoyasu off. Even Ren, brushing his hair out of his eyes from where he sat against the wall, allowed the faintest smirk to touch his lips.

  As the tangled mess that they've become, nobody spoke and silence followed. It wasn't heavy, merely light and peaceful.

  "I'm aware that I'm a messy and shallow person," Motoyasu suddenly began, the words quiet but clear in the stillness. "Most of the things I ever did, I did because they felt good. Because they were fun. I never thought much past that."

  He took a shaky breath, not looking at any of them. "Back home, two women confessed their love to me. Momiji was shy, quiet… she'd blush if you just said her name. Ikuyo was the opposite—bold, bossy, took charge of everything." A faint, painful smile touched his lips. "I didn't know what to do. I liked them both. I didn't want to choose, so I… I just avoided it. I ughed it off, changed the subject, pretended it wasn't happening."

  His hands clenched at his sides. "Ikuyo… she lost her patience. She cornered Momiji one day. She had a knife. She said if Momiji was 'out of the picture,' then I'd finally have to see her. I just… I froze. And then I ran. I ran right between them."

  He finally looked up, his eyes gssy with the memory. "I got there just as Momiji, scared out of her mind, pulled out a knife of her own to defend herself. My own body got in the way. She… she stabbed me. Right in the side." He pced a hand over his ribs, as if he could still feel the phantom bde.

  "I know it's hard to believe," Motoyasu continued, his voice barely above a whisper, "but I didn't befriend those two thinking it would end up like this. I just… I merely wanted to be friends with them. They were both so different, so interesting, and so beautiful. Momiji with her quiet kindness, Ikuyo with her fierce energy. I thought if we could all just get along, everything would be fine."

  His hands trembled slightly at his sides. "I didn't know it would spiral into something as… chaotic as this. I didn't see the jealousy, the resentment, the way they both started looking at each other. My stupidity and my cowardice made me blind to the burning pot ready to burst at any time."

  He swallowed hard, his gaze distant, seeing something none of them could see.

  "And then, the st sight I have of them… was them stabbing each other. After I fell. Both of them had knives. Both of them were screaming. Both of them were bleeding." His voice cracked. "I couldn't save either of them. I couldn't even save myself."

  A long, heavy pause.

  "So yeah," Motoyasu said, his tone ft and final. "When Ren said it was pathetic? It truly is."

  The room fell silent again, the weight of Motoyasu's confession pressing down on all of them like a real tangible pressure.

  Naofumi was the first to speak. He let out a long, slow breath, his earlier defensiveness completely drained away. His voice was rough, genuine. "...That sucks, man."

  Motoyasu blinked, as if he'd expected something else—more judgment, more disdain. His eyes were gssy. "...Yeah. It really does."

  Ren shifted against the wall, his arms still crossed but his posture no longer rigid. His voice, when he finally spoke, was stripped of its usual clinical coldness. "For what it's worth… that wasn't pathetic. It was just… human." He paused, jaw tightening. "Stupid, maybe. Tragic, definitely. But not pathetic."

  Motoyasu let out a shaky, surprised ugh, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his palm. "Thanks? I think?"

  Naofumi snorted. "Don't get used to it. That's probably the nicest thing he's ever said to anyone."

  Ren shot him a look, but there was no bite in it. "I am capable of basic empathy."

  "Could've fooled me."

  Noritoshi watched the exchange, observing the way Motoyasu's shoulders had finally rexed, the way Ren's sharp edges had momentarily softened. A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  "Well," Noritoshi said, his tone dry but warm, "I suppose I don't need to worry about anything now. Seeing as you're actually capable of reflecting on yourself, Motoyasu." He paused, letting the faintest hint of teasing enter his voice. "I honestly thought you were hopeless."

  Motoyasu's head snapped up, his mouth dropping open in mock offense. "Hopeless?! I just bared my soul to you people and that's what you have to say?!"

  "I'm offering praise," Noritoshi replied, utterly deadpan. "It's a rare occasion. You should savor it."

  "Savor this!" Motoyasu grabbed a decorative pillow from a nearby chair and hurled it at Noritoshi's face.

  Noritoshi caught it one-handed, his smile widening. "You should give up. Your chance of winning against me is as high as your intelligence."

  Motoyasu beamed. "That's a pretty good chance then."

  Everyone shot him a look.

  Naofumi's eyebrows rose. Ren's expression went from ft to deeply unimpressed. Even Noritoshi's smile faltered slightly.

  Motoyasu blinked, gncing between them. The confidence on his face slowly curdled into dawning horror.

  "...Wait."

  Silence.

  "That's not— I didn't mean—" His cheeks flushed bright red. "Why you—!"

  He lunged for Noritoshi, who couldn't sidestep fast enough, still holding the pillow.

  While Motoyasu was busy attempting what he clearly believed to be a fwless Rear Naked Choke on Noritoshi—though it looked more like an overenthusiastic hug from behind—Naofumi gnced around the room, his expression oddly contemptive.

  "Man," he said, almost to himself. "You guys got some pretty rough ways to go."

  The grappling paused. Motoyasu loosened his grip slightly. Ren looked up from his spot against the wall.

  "You're going to share how you died now?" Noritoshi asked carefully, still firmly in Motoyasu's hold.

  Naofumi scratched the back of his head. "Ah, no. That's the thing. I didn't actually die." He shrugged. "I was in a bookstore, picked up some random book—I think it was called Legend of the Four Heroes or something. Next thing I know, I was in that dark chamber with you guys."

  Motoyasu's arms went sck. Noritoshi used the opportunity to extricate himself, but Motoyasu didn't seem to notice. His expression had softened into something wistful.

  "...Honestly?" Motoyasu said quietly. "I can't help but envy you a little. You didn't feel any pain. No life-ending injury. Just… here." He managed a small, genuine smile. "Good for you, man."

  "I also can't help but feel jealous," Ren admitted, his voice low. It wasn't bitter—just tired.

  Noritoshi straightened his rumpled colr. "Well," he said, "now at least we have two members who are of sound mind."

  Motoyasu immediately snapped out of his wistful haze and tightened his grip around Noritoshi's shoulders again. "What did you say, huh?! Just because you're some kind of superhuman or something you think I'll let you get away with that?!"

  Ren's head turned slowly toward Noritoshi, his eyes narrowing. "Huh. Are you referring to me?" A dangerous edge crept into his voice. "How could you possibly come to the conclusion that I'm insane?"

  Noritoshi, still trapped in Motoyasu's enthusiastic chokehold, met Ren's gaze with perfect, unflinching calm. "Because even though you're a high schooler, you're still a goddamned chuunibyou."

  Silence.

  Then Ren's composure cracked. "Huh?! No I'm not!"

  But everyone was already looking at him. Naofumi's eyebrows had climbed to his hairline. Motoyasu had actually released Noritoshi entirely, his attention now ser-focused on the spluttering Sword Hero.

  "No, no, no," Naofumi said slowly, a grin spreading across his face. "He's right. He's absolutely right."

  "Yeah!" Motoyasu chimed in, pointing dramatically. "I mean, who even talks like that in real life? 'An acceptable exchange.' 'This concerns basic discipline.' Come on, man!"

  "You're trying way too hard," Naofumi added, crossing his arms. "You actually sound more like a robot trying to imitate a 'wise master tactician' or whatever character you're pying as than an actual person."

  "I am not acting!" Ren insisted, his voice climbing an octave. "I'm just naturally like this!"

  A snort escaped Noritoshi. "Pfft. Enough, big guy. Everyone here knows you're acting."

  "Yeah," Motoyasu pressed, emboldened. "It was super obvious from yesterday. You actually acted like a normal teenager your age when we had dinner. Remember? When the maid dropped the tray and you flinched and said 'ah—' before catching yourself?"

  Ren's face reddened. "That was— I was simply—"

  "And you smiled," Noritoshi added mercilessly. "At the dessert. For a full second."

  "I did not smile."

  "You absolutely did," Naofumi confirmed. "It was tiny. But it was there."

  Ren opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. No words came out. For once, the master tactician had been thoroughly outmaneuvered.

  Motoyasu slung an arm around Ren's stiff shoulders. "Don't worry, buddy. Your secret's safe with us." He paused. "Well. Not safe. We're definitely going to bring this up constantly. But safe from the public."

  "That's not safe at all," Ren muttered, but his voice had lost its edge. If anything, he looked almost… relieved. The mask had been called out, and instead of shattering, it had simply… softened.

  Noritoshi watched the exchange, a quiet sense of satisfaction settling in his chest. After a while, the ughter over Ren's exposed chuunibyou tendencies gradually subsided, repced by a comfortable, easy silence. Ren had stopped protesting, though his ears remained a telling shade of pink.

  It was Noritoshi who spoke next, his voice carefully casual.

  "Well," he began, "as for me, I'm more or less in the same boat as Naofumi. Mostly peaceful." He paused, his fingers absently smoothing a crease in his sleeve. "Maybe the only difference is that I received a message. An URL."

  Motoyasu tilted his head. "A link? Like, spam mail?"

  "Something like that." Noritoshi's tone remained even, but his eyes had grown distant. "The moment I read it, something… took over my body. Like body-jacking. It wasn't my hand that moved toward my phone. It wasn't my will that made me press that link."

  The casual atmosphere shifted. The others were watching him now, their teasing expressions repced by something more sober.

  "I opened it," Noritoshi continued. "And as soon as I did, control returned. Like whatever had seized me had accomplished its goal and let go." His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I destroyed my phone immediately. Shattered it against the floor, then threw the pieces away. I thought—I hoped—that would be enough."

  He looked up, meeting their gazes.

  "It wasn't. Light shot out from the broken screen, from the fragments I hadn't even noticed were still glowing. It swallowed everything. And then I was here, in that chamber, with all of you."

  Silence yet again. Uneasy silence at what that new information implied.

  Motoyasu was the first to break it. "That's… actually kinda terrifying. Not knowing if it was really you making the choice."

  Noritoshi inclined his head. "Yes. It is."

  Ren's voice was quiet, analytical but not cold. "So we have two who died violently, one who was summoned without death, and one who was… forcibly selected by an external force." He paused. "Whatever brought us here, it wasn't uniform in its methods."

  "Or its mercy," Naofumi added grimly.

  Everyone furrowed their brows, each thinking about this new piece of puzzle .

  Then Motoyasu cpped his hands together, the sharp sound cutting through the weight. "Okay! New rule. No more death stories before breakfast. My heart can't take it."

  Naofumi snorted. "Breakfast was two hours ago."

  "Then no more death stories before lunch! I'm drawing a boundary!"

  "You're drawing a boundary," Ren repeated ftly.

  "Yes! Healthy emotional boundaries! It's a thing adults do! You're still a little brat so you wouldn't get it."

  "You literally just cried about your tragic double-stabbing ten minutes ago."

  "It's normal to cry about that, you damn chuunibyou! What, you think an adult can't cry? And yes, now I'm establishing boundaries! Growth, Ren! It's called growth!"

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  Hey, guys. The author here. By now, you should all realize the retionship between the four heroes will be drastically different from the one in the canon. I wanna know your thoughts about this kind of progression. I also love every fanfic that portrays Ren as the awkward, insensitive, but smart and kind boy that he is. Sad to see him just get sidelined in the canon, same goes for the other heroes. They could've been so much more than mere side characters.