On seeing Futaba's expression, Connie winces. She'd been victim to the exact same feeling of inadequacy far too many times. She wouldn't be able to bear it if what she said accidentally dredged up those feelings for her anxiety corner buddy. "I'm honestly not the one most qualified to be giving this speech," Connie shifts slightly, "but, um. As much as my sense of self worth is apparently tied to my swordsmanship skills--that's probably something I, er, should work out--fighting isn't everything. My best friend taught me that. You don't have to be a spiky haired protagonist with a giant sword, something to prove, and a traumatic backstory to make a difference.

"Sometimes..." Connie rubs her wrist, half-expecting to feel a long dead glow bracelet wrapped around it. The accessory's absence was an aching reminder of that horrible night. "All it takes to be a hero is the guts to suffer in someone else's place." She could see that now. Steven only had the best of intentions. But what he did still hurt. "And the wisdom to not try to martyr yourself when there's a better solution," she adds, something bitter in her voice.