The hum of the car engine filled the silence. Raindrops clung to the window, streaking downward in slow, winding trails as the city blurred past. Watari leaned against the gss, his breath fogging up the corner slightly, eyes lost in the passing scenery.

  His mind wasn’t here. It was everywhere else.

  The st few months. The core. He could still feel it—when he first activated it, when its energy surged through his body like a second heartbeat. The way it had changed him, made him faster, stronger—sharpened his instincts. It felt like a lifetime ago.

  The Shadow Beast. He clenched his jaw slightly, remembering the way it lunged, how it towered over them with all its malice. He had cut it down, pushed past the exhaustion, past the fear.

  Then—Yumi.

  She appeared in his thoughts without warning, the way she always did. The way she fought beside him. The way she was always there, whether she was scolding him, saving him, or—well, just being there.

  He exhaled sharply.

  Then his mind drifted again.

  The Musabori. Their first infiltration. The test. The tension in the air as they walked into that den of monsters, not yet knowing just how deep it all ran.

  The first fight against Yasuke.

  The difference in power. The sheer gap between them. That feeling of being completely outmatched.Of knowing that if Yasuke wanted him dead in that moment, he wouldn’t have stood a chance.

  Yumi again.

  He frowned, his fingers tapping against his knee.

  Why does she keep showing up?

  Then—Kaito.

  His chest tightened slightly. He could still hear his voice, still see his smile before everything went to hell. Before Mori. Before Yasuke in that hallway. Before—

  The explosion.

  His grip on his leg tightened.

  The bst. The wreckage. The aftermath. The way it had all been ripped away in a moment.

  And then—Yumi again. Again.

  He exhaled sharply, shaking his head.

  Why is it always her?

  No matter what he thought about—no matter how much chaos had unfolded in his life—her presence was always there, lingering, unshakable.

  It wasn’t just habit. It wasn’t just attachment.

  His fingers clenched into a fist.

  “Shit… I love her.”

  The thought hit him, heavy and absolute, as if it had been waiting beneath the surface all along.

  His breath was unsteady for half a second before he steeled himself, pushing the feeling aside.

  “I just hope she’s okay.”

  Then, after a pause—No.

  “I hope they’re all okay.”

  His gaze hardened, his grip tightening further.

  “I need to get back in time. I need to hurry back before any of them get hurt. But first—”

  He exhaled deeply, gaze shifting toward the road ahead.

  “I have to handle this.”

  The car slowed, turning down a familiar path. The vehicle rolled to a stop, the rain having settled into a quiet drizzle.

  The Setai advisor in the driver’s seat turned slightly, his voice even, formal.

  “Sir Hayashi, we’ve arrived.”

  Watari blinked, momentarily pulled from his thoughts.

  “You can just call me Watari.”

  He pushed open the door, stepping out into the cool air. The orphanage loomed ahead—a familiar structure, yet something about it felt off now.

  Maybe it was just him.

  Maybe it was the knowledge of the trap, the lingering unease twisting in his gut.

  He inhaled deeply, steadying himself.

  “Let’s do this.”

  And with that, he walked forward.

  ?

  The scent of aged wood and faintly burning incense lingered in the air as Watari stepped inside. The halls were quiet—too quiet.

  And then—

  “Ah, Watari.”

  A familiar voice greeted him, light and pleasant, but with that ever-present falseness beneath it.

  Chizuru.

  She stood at the end of the hall, that usual perfectly pced smile stretched across her lips. But Watari had spent too much time around people who actually smiled to not recognize a fake one.

  It didn’t touch her eyes.

  “It’s been a while,” she continued, voice smooth, rehearsed. “You must be exhausted after everything. But I must say, I’m delighted to see you here. It’s truly wonderful that you’ve come back.”

  Watari didn’t react at first. He just studied her.

  Then—he forced an easy smirk.

  Py along.

  “Yeah, well, the pce wouldn’t be the same without me, right?” he said. “Figured I’d check in on the kids real quick before I see Mary.”

  Chizuru’s expression didn’t waver.

  “Oh, that’s delightful,” she said sweetly, tilting her head slightly. “I’m sure they’ve missed you.”

  Watari nodded once and stepped past her.

  It was when he turned away from her that he saw it.

  The bracelet.

  Thin, barely noticeable, peeking from beneath her sleeve as she folded her arms behind her back.

  A faint shimmer of Tamashkii-infused thread.

  Ren was right.

  Watari kept walking, his face unreadable, but his mind racing.

  “She’s one of Kuroda’s people. But…” He exhaled through his nose, resisting the urge to look back at her.

  “She’s not a combat specialist. I can feel it. Her aura—she’s nothing like Mori, nothing like Yasuke.

  So then…”

  His brows furrowed slightly as he reached the next hall.

  “What does she want?!”

  CUT TO BLACK.