“Wait... what?”
Neries had been bracing for a lecture, certain he was going to start shouting. When Yugo nodded deeply and instead offered her his empathy, she couldn't hide her shock.
Faced with her wide-eyed stare, Yugo looked back on the bitter memories of his own past and began to tell his story.
“I’ve been through something similar. I love heroes, you see? And whenever I was honest about that, most people would just laugh. They’d call me childish or ask me when I was going to finally outgrow it. But honestly, who cares? It’s not like I was hurting anyone.”
“I-I don’t... understand?”
It was an experience from his previous life. As a die-hard hero otaku, Yugo had never stopped watching Nichiasa, even well into his high school years.
The burning battles, the bonds of friendship, the moving stories, and the triumphs of the heroes were things that made his heart race no matter how old he got. He had never lost his childhood wonder; if anything, his yearning to be a hero only grew stronger as the years passed.
But whenever he shared that passion with his friends, most of them just ridiculed him.
They pelted him with the same tired remarks—that he was being a kid, that he should have grown out of it by middle school—and treated him like a social pariah.
Still, Yugo never compromised. He never hid the fact that he loved heroes and the shows they starred in. He wasn't causing trouble for anyone, and having a passion for heroes was nothing to be ashamed of. He felt that if he backed down, he’d never be able to look his idols in the eye again. So, he continued to be public about his hobbies, even when people snickered behind his back.
That didn't mean it hadn't hurt, though. It didn't mean he hadn't been angry.
Channeling those old emotions, he spoke to the stunned Neries.
“It’s strange, isn’t it? Those people don't know the first thing about heroes, yet they treat them like trash. How can they act like something is worthless when they haven't even seen it? ...Anyway, sorry, I’m getting off track. My point is, I think the people mocking you are exactly the same.”
“What...?”
“Those people don’t know anything about the Magic Armor Beast you fought, do they? They have no idea how terrifying it was or how strong it felt. It’s infuriating to be mocked by people who’ve never actually stood face-to-face with a monster like that, isn’t it?”
Neries’s eyes widened further.
Yugo had heard enough beforehand to realize that the Magic Armor Beast she had encountered was the transformed version of the siblings from the Insect Museum. Even though he had won his own battle against them, seeing the Level 2 form—that further reinforced state—had been a massive shock to him as well.
Neries and her team had witnessed that transformation in the heat of combat. The impact must have been devastating. It made perfect sense that they had lost, and it was only natural that her initial shock had spiraled into an overwhelming, paralyzing fear.
“I get it. You were scared to death. You were fighting for your life against something that defied your imagination. There’s no way you wouldn't be afraid. In fact, it’s only natural that you were.”
Neries gave a sharp flinch as his words struck home.
Her reaction wasn't one of fear or surprise, but rather the visible trembling of someone whose heart had been moved by a sudden, unexpected sense of validation. As the atmosphere shifted, Yugo pressed on.
“Thank you for telling me. For being honest about how sad and frustrated you felt. It takes real courage to talk about the things that hurt us. Because you were brave enough to speak up, I finally understand how you feel.”
Yugo gave her a few gentle, encouraging pats on the shoulder, praising her for her honesty. At those words, Neries finally broke.
“Ugh... uwaaaaaaah! H-Hnnngh... waaaaaaah!”
She curled into a ball, her sobs turning into raw, guttural wails as her pent-up emotions came flooding out. Watching her weep, Verda and Peewee both let out quiet, shaky breaths.
“We... we were only focused on making Neries listen to us...” Peewee whispered.
“Yeah,” Verda agreed, his voice thick with regret. “We were so desperate to fix things that we weren't actually looking at her.”
Both of them had been frantic to save Neries from herself. They had focused entirely on getting her to listen, dragging her out of her room, and figuring out how to handle the expulsion crisis. But in their desperation, they had failed to actually stand beside her.
They shouldn't have been demanding she listen to them; they should have been listening to her. They shouldn't have been trying to drag her out of her room; they should have been stepping into her world.
Just as they realized they should have been helping her open her heart to address the root of her pain—just as Yugo had just done—a voice echoed from the doorway.