The night was silent.

  The air was still.

  A dim glow from the paper nterns cast long shadows across the walls of Watari’s room, flickering softly like dying embers.

  Inside—three figures y motionless.

  Watari.

  Yumi.

  Kaito.

  Beaten. Battered. Barely conscious.

  Their bodies were riddled with bruises, torn uniforms clinging to them like remnants of a lost battle. Blood dried in thin streaks along Watari’s temple. Yumi’s fingers twitched faintly, her breath shallow. Kaito’s head lolled to the side, an unspoken groan caught somewhere in his throat.

  None of them spoke.

  None of them could.

  The room was quiet—until the distant sound of voices drifted through the night air.

  ?OUTSIDE

  Koharu and Ayase are returning from their errands.

  “Where’s Watari?”

  The question came from one of the kids—impatient, pouting, arms crossed.

  “He didn’t even py with us,” another grumbled. “Idiotari always lies.”

  Koharu tilted her head slightly, sharp gaze narrowing. Something felt off.

  Ayase, standing beside her, let out an amused hum. “Maybe him and the girl are doing ‘things’.”

  Koharu didn’t even blink. “No,” she said ftly, “he’s already proven to me he’s not that primal.”

  She took a step forward.

  Then another.

  The closer she got to Watari’s door, the more the air changed.

  She could feel it.

  The residual traces of battle, of Tamashkii fluctuations still lingering in the atmosphere. The shift in energy—a distortion.

  Her fingers curled around the door handle.

  And then—

  She pushed it open.

  The sight made her stop.

  Three bodies.

  Unmoving.

  Their Tamashkii signatures were faint—drained.

  Watari’s breathing was uneven, a slight hitch in his chest every few seconds. Yumi’s arms were limp at her sides, her body still trembling faintly from exertion. Kaito… looked the worst. His usual grin was nowhere to be found, his hand resting against his ribs where the impact had hit hardest.

  Koharu’s eyes darkened.

  She didn’t need to ask.

  She didn’t need an expnation.

  She already knew.

  Her fingers twitched slightly—her nails pressing into her palm.

  Then, without turning, she spoke.

  Her voice was quiet. Sharp. Final.

  “Change of pns. Go fetch the others.”

  Ayase arched an eyebrow.

  Koharu’s shoulders squared, her gaze never leaving the three unconscious figures before her.

  “Training starts now.”

  A pause.

  Then—

  “I hoped we’d have more time.”

  She exhaled sharply.

  “But it seems we’ve just lost the luxury of that.”

  CUT TO BLACK.