The morning air was crisp, yet an odd tension filled the Chūkan as the gathered warriors stood in confusion. No one knew why they had been summoned, only that something was happening.
Kaito crossed his arms, smirking. “Watari’s probably in trouble.”
Watari shot him a ft look. “No shot. This is definitely a ninth Veil problem. Kaito for sure messed something up.”
Kaito scoffed. “Wanna bet on it?”
“Bet what?” Watari asked, cracking his knuckles.
“If I win, I want ramen. It’s been too long. And if you win, I’ll be your personal assistant for a day.” Kaito replied, grinning.
“Deal.”
As they shook on it, their banter was suddenly cut short as Ayase stepped forward, his sharp eyes scanning the gathered group. Behind him, Koharu emerged, her arms crossed, her face unreadable.
“This may seem sudden,” Koharu began, her voice even, “but we must return to the earth realm for a moment.”
A beat of silence.
Watari frowned. “Huh? Why?”
Ayase didn’t let the question linger. “No questions. Let’s go.”
Watari sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re not just gonna get dropped into the middle of a battlefield again, are we? ‘Cause st time, that wasn’t fun.”
Ayase exhaled sharply, clearly unimpressed. “You truly know nothing about Chūkan travel.” He lifted his hand and traced the air, forming a shimmering golden doorway in front of them. It clicked open, revealing a swirling passage beyond.
“I hope your orphanage is a good pce,” Ayase said ftly. “Because that’s where we’re going.”
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then—
“First an elevator, now a door?” Kaito muttered, watching the rift in the air with a raised brow.
Watari paused. “Wait—hold on. Can Kaito even go back to Earth? You know… kinda died, kinda grieved… kinda a whole sad thing.”
Koharu simply shrugged. “The Chūkan air healed his soul. As long as he’s boosted by enough Chūkan energy, he can cross over. It’s not forever, but the time limit will be long enough for what we need.”
Kaito exhaled softly. “First time back, huh…?” A small, wistful smile tugged at his lips. “You always talked about those kids. I’ve been dying to see your orphanage.”
Watari smirked. “They’ll love you.”
With that, they stepped through the doorway.
?
The door creaked open, revealing the cozy, familiar space of the orphanage. The scent of fresh bread lingered in the air, and sunlight streamed in through the windows.
Caretaker Anne turned from the kitchen, eyes widening slightly as she took in the group.
“Oh, Watari! You brought friends.”
Watari rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, uh… kinda st minute. Sorry.”
Anne chuckled, wiping her hands on her apron. “Lately, you’ve been bringing more and more people over. It’s nice to see you with more than just Miss—” she turned toward Yumi, her lips curling into a soft smile, “Miss Takahashi.”
Yumi’s fingers twitched slightly. What does she mean by that?
Before she could dwell on it, excited voices cut through the air.
“Watari’s throwing a party!”
A small blur rushed toward him—Sumi, one of the younger kids, peering up at him with her usual mischievous grin.
“Oi, Idiotari actually has this many friends? I thought we were your only ones!”
“Oi, Sumi, shut up.”
Laughter erupted as the children swarmed Yumi.
“Mii-chan! Mii-chan!”
Yumi smiled, kneeling to greet them. She had been visiting for two years now. At this point, she was practically family.
Then, Watari motioned toward Kaito. “Alright, kids. This is Kaito.”
Kaito barely had time to react before the kids immediately tched onto him.
“You’re funny-looking!”
“Your hair is cool!”
“Can you fight like Watari?!”
Watari grinned. “Yeah, they’re gonna love you.”
It didn’t take long before the orphanage was filled with chaos—Kaito chasing after the kids, the younger ones trying to rope Watari into their games, Yumi making sure no one got hurt.
Then—
A deliberate cough.
Koharu stood at the edge of the room, her expression sharp.
“Don’t forget, we have important business.”
Watari sighed, standing up straight. “Oh, yeah… right. Sorry, kids. We’ll py ter.”
As the kids ran off, the group headed upstairs—toward Watari’s room.
?
Watari’s room wasn’t anything special, just a simple space with a worn-out mattress, stacks of books, and a window overlooking the orphanage’s small courtyard. As everyone filed in, Ryuko gave Ayase a long look.
“This is the first time we’ve seen you in normal people clothes. We thought you’d have a Shinsei Gai.”
Ayase, standing near the window, adjusted his white button-up shirt and suspenders. His usual presence—the stoic lieutenant of the 10th—felt almost… ordinary.
“I’ve never died in this world,” he said simply. “I rarely visit it, since the Captain doesn’t either. There’s no need for me to.”
Watari blinked. “Wait—so you’ve just been in the Chūkan this whole time?”
Ayase shrugged. “Of course. I’m the lieutenant of the Jūmonbon. It’s an important job.”
“But that’s weird, right?” Watari pressed.
Ayase sighed, finally turning to face him. “Believe it or not, there are more Tamashkii-reted incidents in this world than there are in the Chūkan.”
Watari frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Ayase csped his hands behind his back. “For a Chūkan warrior to be completely erased from existence, it has to be through Tamashkii-reted means. Guns, ordinary powers, ordinary weapons—none of those can erase us. Only something imbued with Tamashkii can do that. And where do you think that happens more often?”
Watari’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh…”
“Exactly.”
Koharu took a step forward.
“Well, while you’re learning things,” she said smoothly, “it’s time for me to tell you why we’re here in the first pce.”
She turned to Ayase.
“Put up the barrier.”
Ayase snapped his fingers.
Instantly—the air shifted.
Watari’s room, once small and ordinary, now felt like a fragment of the Chūkan itself. The atmosphere became dense, ethereal. The walls and floor seemed to blur at the edges, like they existed between two realms.
A silent understanding settled in the room.
Koharu’s voice was even as she spoke:
“Now… let’s begin.”
CUT TO BLACK
