Sometimes I wonder if they’re ever gonna tell us what’s really going on.

  Takeya leaned back against the stone ridge, Reibaku resting across his shoulder as he watched the others spar in the distance.

  The sun in the Chūkan never changed—it wasn’t real sunlight, just a pale blue sky with shifting yers of Tamashkii mist. But even so, it felt… calmer here. Quieter than the st Gate.

  Almost too quiet.

  They say the Nimōnban is all about tactics. Strategy. Leadership. Stuff that decides wars before a bde’s even drawn.

  And honestly?

  I get it.

  Takeya had studied under Masaki for years. Strategy wasn’t new to him. Predicting enemy movement, creating formations, baiting with pressure trails—he could do all that in his sleep.

  Leadership though…

  That was different.

  He gnced over toward the far ridge, where Sada Uemura stood with his arms crossed, watching a simution unfold. Lieutenant Imani paced beside him, shouting orders to the squad of dummies the group was meant to intercept.

  The test was simple.

  Simuted battlefield.

  No Reibaku allowed.

  Get from Point A to Point B without losing a single member.

  Of course, things never stayed simple.

  Ryuko dove in first—slicing a dummy’s legs with calcuted precision, shouting to Ren for backup. Akira followed behind, quiet but sharp-eyed, adjusting angles and calling out Tamashkii surges before they activated.

  They were Setai.

  They were used to reading unknowns.

  Takeya couldn’t deny it—they worked damn well together.

  Ryuko in particur had adapted fast. He practically lived at Sada’s side, always asking for a duel, always getting denied.

  “Come on, Captain. Just a little csh. We can even use a wooden one.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?!”

  “Because if I say yes, your limbs might say no.”

  Sada hadn’t drawn his weapon once.

  Not even a flicker of Tamashkii.

  And yet, Ryuko kept asking.

  Takeya chuckled softly.

  He probably heard the rumors how no one in the Chūkan knows what Captain Sada’s form even is. Not even the Elders. If you’ve seen it….. you’re either dead or dead.

  Then he sighed.

  He looked toward the far training edge—toward Kaito.

  Don’t even get me started on that idiot.

  Kaito was currently supposed to be forming a backup perimeter near the cliff. Instead, he was standing beside Imani, pointing at some yout on her map, clearly offering the worst suggestion Takeya had ever seen.

  “No no, see, if we put the dummy there, and then I use a fake Yūhō to make them think I’m behind it, then I can pop out behind them—”

  “You just described your own death, Kaito,” Imani said ftly.

  Kaito blinked. “Wait really?”

  “You’d be the first casualty.”

  He scratched his head. “Damn. I thought that was one of my smarter ones.”

  Imani rolled her eyes—but there was a faint smirk there.

  Takeya exhaled. He’s getting way too comfortable with her.

  At first, Takeya thought it was just nerves—Kaito being Kaito. But now? They were chummy. Like, weirdly chummy. He’d never seen Kaito act like this around a captain—let alone a lieutenant.

  It was almost impressive.

  And incredibly stupid.

  Still… he seemed happy. And she didn’t seem bothered.

  So Takeya left it alone.

  Guess it’s not my business. Even if it’s dumb as hell.

  He stood and walked toward the central tower where Sada’s chambers sat atop the spire. He passed by the room divisions along the way. There were only three.

  Setai room—Ryuko, Ren, Akira.

  His and Kaito’s room—never quiet. Always dumb.

  And the st one…

  Yumi and Watari.

  He paused near the hallway for a second.

  That room had been the quietest.

  But somehow… it was the one carrying the most weight.

  Because whatever was happening in there—it wasn’t just training.

  Watari had started off behind the others. A two-year gap of missing data, techniques, and methods.

  But now?

  He was catching up.

  Quick.

  It wasn’t just because of Sada’s lessons either. Or Imani’s breakdowns.

  It was Yumi.

  She’d been through Musabori. Trained by Mori, The Unbreakable Shield.

  She knew how to lead. How to build a squad from ruin. How to push someone forward without breaking them.

  And from what Takeya had seen…

  She was doing exactly that.

  They moved together now. Always side-by-side during exercises. Not out of attachment—out of flow. Their styles were syncing. Their Tamashkii bancing.

  Yumi never said it out loud.

  But she was helping him prepare for something.

  And Takeya didn’t know what.

  None of us really do.

  That was the thing. For all their training, for all the simutions and battlefield lectures and breakdowns—

  Something still felt off.

  The Gate was tense.

  The air in the Chūkan always whispered with residual pressure—but here? It was almost like the pressure was waiting.

  Even Sada was different tely. He hadn’t said anything, but he hadn’t smiled in days. Imani didn’t pace like she used to. And sometimes Takeya caught the two of them standing outside the main tower, looking toward the sky like they expected something to fall from it.

  No one had said it outright.

  But something had happened.

  Something big.

  And no one was telling them what.

  Takeya leaned back against the wall, arms folded.

  The world’s still moving. That’s what gets me.

  Like… we’re here training, ughing, learning how to lead—and outside this Gate?

  Something’s already burning.

  He closed his eyes.

  The wind drifted past. Cold. Still. Heavy.

  Training wasn’t over.

  But neither was the calm.

  He could feel it.

  Something’s coming.

  And I just hope we’ll be ready for it.