A single spotlight hit the center of the massive chamber, illuminating Watari as he stepped forward. Around him, seated in their respective positions, were the Ten Elders—watching. Measuring. Judging.
A long silence.
Then—
“Watari Hayashi.”
The voice came from one of the elders, firm and unyielding.
“You were inducted on December 31st, 2023.”
Another elder spoke.
“Your st report… December 31st, 2023.”
The weight of their words settled in.
Then, all at once, the elders let out a collective, unimpressed hum.
One finally leaned forward. “Do you see the problem, boy?”
Watari, in true Watari fashion, blinked. “I, uh… shouldn’t have reported in on holiday break?”
A heavy sigh rippled through the room.
Koharu, standing off to the side, covered her face.
The elder shook his head. “We have never had a recruit fail to report in for two whole years. This is an unprecedented situation.”
Ayase muttered, “He’s special like that.”
The elder continued. “The only logical course of action… is to confirm whether you can still resonate as you once did.”
Watari frowned. “Resonate? What do you mean?”
“This session has been adjourned.”
And just like that—the meeting was over.
The judgment hall was silent, but the weight of the elders’ words still hung in the air.
Near the entrance, standing in the dimly lit shadows, a young recruit kept his head lowered—but his eyes never left the scene before him.
He was a First Gate Watcher—one of the many who had only recently earned his sigil. The mark of his station, a crest with the kanji for “one” (一), sat proudly on the back of his uniform. It was a reminder of his duty, his rank, and most importantly… his pce.
And right now, he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing.
Two years?
The thought echoed in his mind, repeating over and over.
If I disappeared for two years… my captain wouldn’t just kill me. He’d personally drag my soul back from the Chūkan and kill me again.
The recruit stole a gnce toward the elders.
They weren’t angry. They weren’t screaming.
They were just… mildly annoyed.
He swallowed hard.
Who the hell is this guy?
The casual way Watari stood there, hands in his pockets, cracking jokes like this wasn’t the single most terrifying room in existence—it made his stomach churn.
If I talked like that to an elder, my entire bloodline would be erased from history.
Then came the elders’ decision.
A test.
Of course.
And yet, even then… the atmosphere wasn’t tense.
Watari didn’t react like a man being judged by ten of the most powerful figures in the Chūkan Yūrei.
He just blinked, barely processing it.
The recruit tightened his grip.
He had spent his entire life training, climbing, proving himself worthy just to stand where he was now. And yet, this guy disappeared for two years and still got a test as a sentence?
It wasn’t fair.
But it also meant one thing.
He must be that strong.
For the first time, the recruit allowed himself to meet Watari’s gaze from across the chamber.
Watari didn’t look back.
But he didn’t need to.
Even from a distance, even from the shadows—this was the first time the recruit had ever felt someone with a presence that strong… without even trying.
The First Gate Watcher clenched his jaw.
I need to see this test for myself.
The spotlight faded. The room fell into darkness once more.
Watari blinked. “Huh?”
The doors behind him creaked open again.
Koharu and Ayase stood waiting for him, Koharu pinching the bridge of her nose.
Ayase took one long look at Watari and immediately shook his head. “Two years. Two whole years.”
Watari opened his mouth to argue—before Ayase cut in again.
“Do you have any idea how many people would kill for the chance to be in your position? To reach this pce?” Ayase shook his head again. “And you just forgot it existed for two WHOLE years.”
Koharu sighed, rubbing her temples. “Honestly, I’m not sure why I expected anything different.”
Then—her gaze shifted.
“…Guess now’s a good time to expin the Four States of the Soul.”
Watari’s brow furrowed. “The what?”
Koharu met his eyes.
“The First Bone.”
“The True Eye.”
“The Divine Thunder.”
“And the Sacred Painting.”
Watari stared. “And you’re just now telling me this now?”
Koharu didn’t even blink. “I would’ve told you earlier if you’d appeared any time within the st….. I don’t know, two years?!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Watari muttered.
They began walking again.
Koharu continued, “The elders want to see your potential for themselves. As someone who’s reached the third state, they want to make sure you haven’t lost anything. And to do that… They’ve arranged for a fight.”
Watari’s interest piqued. “A fight?”
Koharu nodded. “You’ll be facing someone from the Ninth Gate.”
A smirk tugged at Watari’s lips. “Ohh, so Kaito’s been training, huh?”
Koharu didn’t correct him.
Watari rolled his shoulders. “It’s been a while, but there’s no way I’m letting Kaito beat me.”
Beside him, Ayase raised a brow.
Watari didn’t notice.
Finally, they arrived at their destination—the training grounds.
Empty.
Completely silent.
Watari frowned. “Where is he?”
Koharu motioned him forward. “Step inside.”
Watari did.
The moment he stepped in, he turned back toward Koharu and Ayase, a smirk forming. “So this is Tenth Gate versus Ninth Gate, huh?” His eyes gleamed with excitement. “My first real Chūkan fight. Guess it’s time to prove we’re the best.”
He cracked his knuckles. “Alright, Kaito—bring it on.”
Koharu’s expression remained unreadable. “Your opponent’s already here.”
Watari paused. “Huh?”
The room fell silent.
And then—
A shadow moved.
Watari’s entire body tensed.
It wasn’t just movement.
It was pure, undiluted bloodlust.
Instinct screamed at him.
MOVE.
He dodged just in time.
A fsh of steel cut through the air where he had just stood.
Watari spun, nding a few steps back. A slow grin spread across his lips.
“…Looks like you’re doing well, Ryuko.”
The shadow took form.
A figure stepped into the dim light, eyes sharp, stance rexed—but radiating danger.
On his Shinsei-Gai, the Ninth Veil’s crest gleamed.
Ryuko smirked, pointing his Reibaku at Watari.
“I told you not to sck off, kid.”
—CUT TO BLACK.
