Alice's head shot up when she heard her name, jumping slightly. All of the attention in the room was suddenly on her, and that realization made her shrink back on instinct. Her eyes darted nervously between Tenzing and Juniper, like she was a deer about to be spooked by oncoming headlights.

  "...W-what?" she mumbled, her voice barely loud enough to hear.

  Tenzing met Alice's gaze and...smiled.

  It was a small smile—nothing like the smirk she'd given Juniper earlier—just the slightest upturn of her lips that held a surprising amount of understanding behind it.

  She took a few slow, purposeful steps forward, stopping a few feet away from Alice before crouching to meet her eye-level.

  "Can I ask a question?" she asked gently.

  Alice swallowed, the words catching momentarily in her throat before nodding stiffly.

  She'd never heard Tenzing sound so...calm, so soft-spoken. It felt almost surreal to hear such a steady, non-sarcastic, non-deadpan voice coming from the usually stoic monk.

  "...Uh, sure?" Alice mumbled, still sounding about as tense as a rubber band about to snap.

  Tenzing hummed quietly, studying Alice's body language with a keen eye for a moment.

  The girl was nervous.

  Nervous and scared.

  And she could think of a dozen reasons why Alice was like this right now.

  "...Can you answer a hypothetical question?" she continued after a moment, keeping her voice level-toned like you would when trying to speak to a terrified animal.

  A…hypothetical question?

  Alice's brow furrowed in confusion, though part of her still felt like she was in trouble of some sort. She glanced towards Juniper, who was still over by the door, looking like she had a thousand unspoken thoughts running through her head.

  "...Uh, y-yeah," she managed to croak out, "I can answer a hypothetical question.”

  Tenzing didn't miss the way Alice's eyes flicked over to Juniper, even if it was only for a moment.

  She also didn't miss how hesitant Alice's voice sounded, or how her shoulders tensed when she was asked to answer a question.

  This was all so much worse than she thought.

  Tenzing studied Alice's demeanor for a few seconds in silence, then finally asked:

  "...Can you tell me one thing that you feel afraid of right now?”

  Alice froze.

  Tenzing's question hit her like a bucket of ice water, and for a second, she just stared at the monk with wide eyes—like she hadn't expected that to be the question being asked.

  And worse?

  Worse was that Alice actually knew the answer right away.

  Her gaze flickered back toward Juniper again—just for half a heartbeat before darting away—as if worried about what reaction this might cause.

  "...I-I don't..." she started quietly, then trailed off when no further words came out on their own. She fidgeted in place under Tenzing’s patient stare until finally muttering:

  "...Juniper yelling.”

  Damn it, she knew it.

  The minute Alice's eyes shifted to Juniper again, that was exactly the response Tenzing expected.

  The way her shoulders had tensed, the way she sounded so nervous answering—like she was afraid the wrong answer would set Juniper off.

  And the answer itself...was so, so, so telling.

  Tenzing's voice was still gentle as she asked, "Why is that? Why do you feel afraid when Juniper yells at you?”

  Alice's breath hitched.

  Tenzing was good at this—asking questions that made it impossible to lie without feeling like a coward.

  And worse? Worse was the way Juniper stood frozen in place, watching with an expression Alice couldn't quite read yet but felt heavy on her skin.

  "...I-I don't know," she lied quietly, voice wavering slightly as she tried (and failed) to keep eye contact with Tenzing. "I just...don't like it when people get loud."

  The second those words left her mouth, Alice regretted them deeply because they sounded so damn weak even to herself—like an excuse instead of a real answer.

  Tenzing gave a slight nod before murmuring: "Hm~”

  That was the weakest lie Tenzing had ever heard in her life.

  Even without the fact that Alice's expression changed like she expected Tenzing to call her out on it, the answer itself was so flimsy, a toddler would've been able to poke holes through it.

  The fact that Alice was clearly trying to avoid Juniper's gaze as well only proved that there was so much more to it than just a 'dislike' of people yelling.

  Tenzing had to bite back a small sigh.

  Not because of how thin this lie was, even though it did bother her somewhat.

  No, it was the fact that Alice tried to lie in the first place that made Tenzing feel sorry for her.

  The way she averted her gaze—the way she looked so nervous, as if expecting Tenzing not to believe her—all of it made one thing about Alice very, very clear.

  She was afraid of being called out for honesty.

  Tenzing's gaze shifted between Alice and Juniper, her expression unreadable for a moment—until she finally sighed.

  This wasn't just some small argument or misunderstanding. This was something deeper, more ingrained than either of them realized.

  "...Alright," Tenzing murmured after a pause, "Let me rephrase the question then."

  She turned fully toward Juniper now—not at her like an accusation but to her with quiet intent in every syllable:

  "Juniper… when you yell at someone? Do you ever think about how that makes them feel?”

  Juniper flinched—not a small, easy-to-miss flinch, but an actual full-on flinch.

  It felt like the question was directed right at her, and from how her expression darkened, it was.

  There was a beat, as if Juniper was unsure of how to answer, but then she met Tenzing's gaze again and said:

  "...Sometimes," she muttered, the word sounding like it came out through gritted teeth, "Yeah. I do think about how it makes people feel.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Tenzing raised an eyebrow.

  That answer was very different than the answer she expected, which was either some smartass quip or an outright no.

  Instead, Juniper admitted—if a bit reluctantly, and with enough tension in her voice to make a bowstring look slack by comparison—that yes, she did think about how her volume affected the people around her.

  "Can I ask," Tenzing began, "how long you two have known each other?"

  "Like, a day," Juniper replied with a slight shrug.

  Tenzing's eyebrows shot up so fast they nearly disappeared into her hood.

  "A day?" she repeated, voice drier than a desert wind.

  Juniper just shrugged again—like it was no big deal that two people who barely knew each other were already arguing loud enough to make someone flinch and panic at the mere thought of being scolded.

  "...Hm~" Tenzing exhaled through her nose, looking between them like this entire situation was some kind of bizarre puzzle missing half its pieces.

  Alice looked down at the floor as if willing herself to become one with it while Juniper crossed her arms defensively.

  "So you're telling me," Tenzing continued slowly, "in less than 24 hours, you've managed to get yourself yelled at by Juniper—who admits she thinks about how yelling makes others feel—and instead of telling anyone or trying to fix whatever issue started this mess…you just kept quiet?"

  Alice opened and closed her mouth once before letting out a tiny: "...I don't know what I did wrong.”

  That answer felt like a punch to the gut.

  The way Alice said it so quietly, so sadly—with genuine confusion in the admission that she had no idea what she'd done wrong—made Tenzing have to fight the instinct to wrap the other girl in a blanket and never let go.

  Instead, she continued in the same patient tone from earlier, like trying to calm a spooked wild animal: "Can I ask how the argument started then?”

  Alice bit her lip, clearly unsure where to start with explaining what had led to all of this.

  She fidgeted again, fingers picking at a small thread on the edge of her jacket while her eyes darted to Juniper again before she finally exhaled.

  "...I-I..." she started quietly, then stopped to swallow, "I just got quiet and upset about the news about Pride..."

  At the mention of the Sin, a strange look crossed Juniper's face—a mix of something like irritation and... something else.

  Tenzing's brow furrowed in confusion.

  She'd suspected the argument might've started over Pride, but she didn't expect that to be how things started.

  Something was definitely going unsaid—she could see it in the way Alice hesitated to continue and the way Juniper went very still at the mention of Pride.

  "Can you elaborate?" she prompted again, still keeping her tone level to keep Alice talking.

  Alice's shoulders tense up and it took a noticeable effort to keep from looking at Juniper again before continuing to explain: "I got upset and—and just kind of shut down and got quiet...then everything started spiraling. Juniper was yelling and then you came in..."

  She shrugged weakly at the end of that, like she couldn't explain how the situation had gotten worse so quickly.

  All while Juniper went completely silent, her expression turning to a mask of carefully controlled indifference.

  Tenzing saw that reaction.

  She didn't need to be a mind reader to know Juniper was hiding something—she could see it in the way her jaw tightened, in how she refused to look directly at Alice while this was being discussed.

  It made Tenzing pause for half a second before speaking again, choosing her next words with deliberate care:

  "...Alice," she said evenly, "Why did the news make you upset?”

  Whatever control Alice had over her composure vanished in that instant.

  Her head dropped again, shoulders hunching in on themselves almost like she was trying to make herself look small, and she fidgeted again, fingers picking so hard at the thread that it started unraveling.

  Her next words were so quiet, Tenzing had to lean in to hear them:

  "Be-because..." her voice trembled slightly, "B-because I'm tired of fighting. Deadly Sins, Depraved...I just want to take a break from it all but I can't.”

  Tenzing's heart broke right then, right there.

  It was all she could do to keep a neutral expression when she heard Alice's voice tremble like that.

  This young woman was exhausted, hurting down to her bones.

  A part of her felt a sudden and very justified anger—how dare the world push this kid so far that it's a fight to stay standing —but she kept a lid on it as she asked the next question.

  "How long have you felt this way?”

  Alice flinched at that, shoulders hunching in even more like she was bracing for a blow.

  The way she avoided making eye-contact, the way her voice trembled, the way her fingers picked at the unraveling thread of her jacket--it was painfully obvious that way too long was the answer.

  "...Too long," she admitted raggedly after a pause, like the words were getting caught in her throat, "...Too goddamn long.”

  Tenzing's breath hitched—she knew.

  Of course she knew. That was a wound Tenzing herself had carried, and hearing it in Alice’s voice like that made her chest tighten painfully.

  For once, the usually composed monk didn't have words ready to say—just a sharp inhale through her nose as she looked at Alice with something close to heartbreak in her gaze.

  "...I see," Tenzing murmured after too long of silence, softer than before but no less firm for it: "Alice... you don’t deserve this.”

  Alice looked up with a start, confusion mixed in with the exhaustion in her gaze—like the idea that she didn't deserve to struggle like this was something completely impossible.

  Her voice trembled as she spoke, eyes shining with a sheen of fresh tears that said she was seconds away from outright breaking down: "...But..."

  Tenzing was already shaking her head before she could finish that protest.

  "...No," the monk said—gentle but firm, "Don't even finish that sentence. You don't.”

  Alice's mouth snapped shut at the firmness in Tenzing's voice, and this time the tears did start flowing.

  Her breathing hitched hard in a choked half-sobbed sound, like even a hint of kindness—of empathy—was enough to break the dam holding all that pain back.

  "I-I don't-?" she tried again, only to be cut off immediately by another firm shake of Tenzing's head.

  "No," Tenzing repeated, "You don't.”

  The tears went from a trickle to an outright flood as Alice's shoulders shook, every carefully built-up wall of defenses cracking and crumbling at the blunt insistence that she didn't deserve to suffer like this.

  It took everything for Tenzing to not just pull the other girl into a hug right there and hold her while she cried.

  She had a feeling Alice needed to let some of this out first, and so the monk settled for the next best thing: asking: "...Can I hold your hand?"

  It sounded like an absurd question, given the circumstances—asking to hold someone's hand while they were on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

  But Alice was nodding her head before Tenzing even finished the question, reaching out blindly with a trembling hand and gripping the monk's like a lifeline.

  The moment their fingers twined together, Tenzing wrapped her other hand over Alice's—holding tight enough to make it clear she had no intention of letting go.

  Alice just clung back, fingers digging into Tenzing's like she was afraid the hand holding her was some kind of hallucination that would vanish if she loosened her grip even a little.

  For several minutes, the only sounds in the room were Alice's uneven breathing—shaky exhales and hitching, choked-back sobs—as she fought the urge to just fall apart completely.

  Tenzing kept holding just as tight as when they'd first laced their fingers together, her thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles over the back of Alice's hand.

  Finally, after a long, agonizing stretch of silence... Alice took in a sharp, hiccuping breath and spoke up in a voice so raspy it was like gravel:

  "...I'm so tired.”

  Tenzing's heart ached to hear those two little words, like a knife straight to her chest.

  Without letting go of the other girl's hand, she gave a soft exhale out through her nose while her thumb brushed over Alice's knuckles.

  "I know," she breathed, speaking just loudly enough to be heard, "I know you are, kid. You've been fighting for too goddamned long."

  She turned her head to Juniper, who was just standing there looking guilty as all hell the whole time. "Come here."

  She said it like a command rather than a request. When Juniper was just an arm's reach away, she gave a nod and said: "Hug her.”

  Alice barely had time to process what was happening before Juniper's arms wrapped around her shoulders in a firm embrace, leaving no room for escape—not that Alice tried to pull away anyway. If anything, she melted into the overwhelming warmth immediately despite how stiffly Juniper held her.

  The tension in the air was so thick you could've cut it with one of Ai’s blades.

  "...I'm sorry," came out of Juniper after another agonizing pause—mumbled against Alice's hair where they pressed together: "Didn't mean ta yell at ya earlier.”

  Alice's breath hitched, like she was fighting the urge to sink into Juniper's hold and bury her face into the other girl's shoulder. Her fingers twitched in Tenzing's grip, like she wanted to move and return the hug—but that part of her was too scared of rejection.

  "...'s fine," she mumbled raggedly, trying not to let her voice shake when everything else about her body said she wanted to just sob. "...You already said sorry. Stop apologizing.”

  Juniper didn't loosen her hold, just held tighter. "Can't help it," she mumbled into the other girl's hair, "I was bein’ a real bitch—"

  Tenzing tsked like she was scolding a misbehaved child. "Language," she chided, her voice almost too soft to be a lecture. "It wasn't all your fault and you know it."

  Juniper huffed under her breath, her arms still around Alice like a band to keep her together. "...Yeah, I know…”

  Alice was shaking again—almost like she was fighting to keep from completely falling apart now. But she still didn't make any attempt to pull away.

  If anything, a quiet part of her was soaking in the feeling of being sandwiched between Juniper and Tenzing. She wasn't sure when the last time she was hugged was, and Tenzing's hand holding hers while Juniper embraced her was too much.

  The tears came again, a little less forceful than before but no less painful.

  Tenzing's grip on Alice's hand tightened just enough to be grounding, her other arm wrapping around Juniper in a one-armed embrace that pulled them all closer like she was physically refusing to let either of them pull away.

  Alice’s quiet sobs filled the space between their bodies, and Tenzing pressed her forehead against Juniper’s shoulder with a quiet sigh.

  "...Breathe," she murmured, not just for Alice this time but for all of them, "Just breathe."

  Juniper swallowed hard but didn't argue; if anything, she held tighter too as the three stayed tangled together like an anchor keeping each other from drifting apart again.

  The room fell silent except for shaky breaths and muffled cries—no more words needed for now.