The air in the Chūkan Yūrei shimmered.

  Ayase and Koharu stood atop the grand pavilion, the endless horizon of the spirit realm stretching before them.

  The sky was a vast canvas of shifting colors, its hues pulsing in rhythm with the energy of the world.

  But their eyes were fixed elsewhere.

  Between them, the air rippled.

  Not from wind.

  Not from movement.

  But from intention.

  With a single motion, Ayase lifted his hand—

  fingers pressing lightly against the space in front of him.

  The fabric of the Chūkan itself shifted.

  A window to the outside world formed.

  ?

  The battlefield appeared.

  The smoke had not yet cleared.

  But Yasuke was dying.

  And Watari stood up alone.

  Bloodied. Scarred. One eye missing.

  And then—

  They heard it.

  The final words.

  “That beast. Kuroda… he gave it Ancient’s blood.”

  “And he’s got more. For himself.”

  The image froze.

  A heavy silence fell between Ayase and Koharu.

  Then—slowly—

  Ayase turned to her.

  Koharu’s arms were still crossed, her usual smirk absent.

  Their eyes met.

  A single nod.

  And then—

  A single sentence.

  “This is now a Chūkan matter.”

  ?CUT TO BLACK.