The air shimmered and warped around them as Vanessa's Dimensional Leap tore through space, depositing Gendai and Raijin into the familiar interior of the Prismic Gathering mansion. The marble floors gleamed under the soft, artificial lights, but the calm of the mansion only amplified Gendai's unease.
Raijin stretched and let out a lazy chuckle, his grin wide. "Well… Earth looks exactly the same. Cozy."
Gendai didn't respond. Her legs felt like lead, her chest tight, and her heart hammered as if it were trying to escape her ribcage. She glanced around the spacious hall, familiar yet suffocating, and felt the weight of the night pressing down on her.
She remembered every word Kazimir had said. The cold clarity of his rejection replayed endlessly in her mind. "I will never love you.
And then the rest—the judgment, the humiliation in front of everyone. No one had defended her. Not Neve, not Jessie, not even Riah. She had been left alone, exposed, betrayed by those she trusted.
Gendai sank to her knees in the center of the hall, hands clutching at her chest as tears slipped down her cheeks. Raijin leaned casually against the wall, observing her with a smirk, though the corners of his eyes betrayed a flicker of concern.
"You really know how to pick 'em, huh?" he said lightly, voice teasing but quieter now. "Getting all emo in the mansion. Cute."
Gendai's hands trembled. "I… I trusted him," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I thought… I thought he believed in me. I thought… I mattered to him. And no one… no one even tried to stop it."
Her sobs grew, raw and unrestrained, echoing through the mansion's silent halls. Every step she had taken to grow stronger, to earn respect, seemed meaningless now. All the duels, all the training, all the victories—they didn't matter. Kazimir's words had cut deeper than any enemy's strike, leaving a hollow ache in her chest.
Raijin tilted his head, pushing off the wall to approach her, but stopped a few feet away. "Hey… hey, Gendai," he said, softer this time. "You're taking this way too hard. He said what he said. Doesn't mean—"
"Doesn't mean what?" she screamed, tears streaking her face. "Doesn't mean he broke me? Doesn't mean I feel worthless? Doesn't mean that everyone I thought cared… betrayed me?"
Her voice cracked, and she clutched at the floor, shaking. Raijin's teasing smirk faded, replaced with something quieter—an acknowledgment of her pain. He said nothing further, letting her collapse into her grief.
Gendai curled into herself, shivering as emotions she had suppressed for so long spilled over. Anger. Sadness. Shame. Loneliness. The betrayal. Every ounce of frustration and desire to be seen, respected, and protected by Kazimir now turned into raw, uncontrollable heartbreak.
Minutes passed like hours, silence thick around them. Raijin remained standing, a silent sentinel, letting the mansion absorb her cries. Eventually, Gendai's sobs slowed, her body shaking with exhaustion, tears still wetting the floor. She lifted her head slightly, eyes red and glassy, staring at the ceiling as if searching for answers that weren't coming.
The mansion, calm and indifferent, offered no solace—only the echo of her own grief. Raijin shrugged lightly, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the tension. "Well… that's one way to blow off steam. You feel better?"
Gendai let out a bitter laugh, a mix of despair and incredulity. "Better? No… I feel… broken. And I don't know if I can ever fix this."
Raijin shook his head, stepping back. "Eh, you'll survive. You always do."
But for Gendai, survival felt like a distant hope. In that moment, all that existed was the emptiness left behind by the man she had trusted—and the crushing realization that, for the first time, she was utterly alone.
Sunlight softly through the tall windows. Gendai lay on one of the couches in the common hall, wrapped in a blanket, staring blankly at the ceiling. The events of the previous night played over and over in her mind like a cruel film: Kazimir's words, the coldness of his rejection, the emptiness of the silence around her.
He… he never meant for me to matter in that way, she thought bitterly, jaw tight. All this time, I thought I was someone he could trust, someone he needed… but it was all just… me projecting my own desires.
She curled slightly, clutching the blanket as if it could shield her from the memory of his gaze. And no one defended me. Not Neve, not Jessie, not even Riah. I was… completely alone. And I let myself hope…
Her fingers trembled as she touched the couch beside her, the absence of anyone to share her pain almost physical. I wanted to be stronger, to prove myself, to make him see me for more than just… this mess I am.
Gendai closed her eyes, tears brimming again. But it's too much. I can't… I can't handle this yet. I don't know if I can.
Her mind wandered back to the moments of the duel, to the way Vanessa had thrown her through that fight, and the way Kazimir's words had cut deeper than any physical blow. I've trained, I've fought, I've given everything… and it still wasn't enough. I wanted to protect him… and I couldn't even protect myself from losing him.
A shiver ran through her. I need to stop crying. I… I need to be strong. I can't let myself break like this. Not again. I have to… I have to survive. For me. For the people who care about me… even if it's not him.
Slowly, painfully, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, staring at the empty hall before her. Her hands were still shaking, but there was a flicker of resolve in her eyes. I'll… I'll find a way. I can't undo what happened, but I can make sure I never feel this powerless again. I won't rely on anyone to save me… not him, not anyone.
She exhaled, long and trembling, and pressed her palms to her face, letting herself feel the sting of tears one last time. When she lowered her hands, the red in her eyes remained, but so did a quiet fire—the first spark of determination since the night's heartbreak.
I'm Gendai. I survive. I fight. And I will… She swallowed hard, voice almost a whisper to herself, I will never be left behind like that again.
Raijin, seated at a distance and quietly observing, gave her a faint nod, silently acknowledging her struggle. She didn't notice it—not yet—but somewhere, deep down, she felt the first small comfort of not being entirely alone.