The Shizuoka watch post stopped responding at 02:13.
At 02:17, the second call received no answer either.
At 02:22, the emergency seal went out.
And by 02:30, there was no one left to ask for help.
The building was not large.
It did not have the size of a regional headquarters, nor the protection of Tokyo. It was a transit facility hidden between old warehouses and a secondary road, with four monitoring rooms, a small archive, and an entrance reinforced with containment seals.
It had been built to watch minor remnant movements.
Not to withstand a war.
The first hunter died beside the door.
He had tried to activate the internal lockdown, but his fingers never reached the seal. Something pierced his chest before he could finish the motion.
The second managed to draw his weapon.
He raised it.
Saw a shadow move across the ceiling.
Then the ceiling came down toward him.
Not physically.
Not entirely.
It was as if the darkness had decided to have weight.
The hunter dropped to his knees, eyes open, mouth full of blood.
In the communications room, a woman pressed the emergency button once.
Twice.
Three times.
The red light blinked.
Then went out.
"It's not responding," she said.
No one answered.
When she turned her head, she saw her companions lying on the floor.
And behind them stood a figure with part of his face covered by a mask and chains wrapped around his arms.
Zanshō tilted his head slightly.
"Hunters always take too long to understand when they've already lost."
The woman clenched her teeth and raised both hands.
Mana lit around her fingers.
It did not tremble.
It was not weak.
It was trained mana.
The mana of someone who had survived enough missions not to freeze in front of a monster that could speak.
Zanshō advanced.
The woman fired.
Three stakes of mana crossed the room.
The first struck Zanshō's shoulder.
The second grazed his mask.
The third was caught by a chain.
Zanshō pulled his arm back.
The chain moved as if it had a will of its own.
The stake shattered.
The woman tried to retreat.
She had no time.
Dark threads rose from the floor.
They were not Mukuro's green threads.
They were not chains.
They were thin, wet lines of black mana that seized her ankles for exactly the one second Zanshō needed.
The blow threw her into the wall.
The emergency button was less than a meter from her hand.
But her arm no longer obeyed her.
From the hallway, Shizuku watched the scene with a calm expression.
She was not smiling.
She did not seem to enjoy it.
That made it worse.
"There was no need to kill them all," she said.
Zanshō turned toward her.
"They were hunters."
"Yes. Exactly."
Shizuku walked among the bodies.
Her steps made no sound.
She stopped beside the fallen woman and looked at her with something almost like curiosity.
"They also believe they are doing the right thing."
The woman opened her eyes.
Her breathing was wrong.
But she was breathing.
"Then… why…?"
Shizuku crouched in front of her.
"Because your version of what is right always ends with us disappearing."
The woman wanted to answer.
She could not.
A black rift opened in the air at the end of the hallway.
Akuryō emerged from it, his cloak moving as though he had come from a place where there was no wind, but something still breathed.
"The archive is clean," he said. "They had nothing useful."
Zanshō released a rough sound.
"Then we wasted time."
"No," Shizuku answered, without standing. "An attack is not always meant to find something."
Akuryō looked toward the destroyed entrance.
"Reinforcements will arrive soon."
"Let them," Zanshō said.
"No," said a voice from the darkness.
Everyone went silent.
Even the wounded woman, who did not know who had just spoken, understood that something had changed.
Kokuen entered the post without hurry.
His mask was clean.
No blood.
No dust.
No marks from the fight.
He walked among the bodies as if crossing an empty room.
Shizuku stood.
Zanshō lowered his chains slightly.
Akuryō dipped his head just a fraction.
Kokuen observed the room.
Then he looked at the woman who was still alive.
She tried to move.
She could not.
"Why… are you doing this?" she managed to say.
Kokuen stopped in front of her.
For a moment, he did not answer.
Then he spoke with a calm that did not belong in that place.
"Because you built doors and called them cages."
The woman coughed.
"Not… all of us…"
"No," Kokuen admitted. "Not all of you."
He crouched.
His mask came close to her face.
"That is the problem with wars. There is always someone who believes they did not take part because they did not choose the first blow."
The woman looked at him with hatred.
With fear.
With something harder to hold than either.
"They'll come… for you."
Kokuen straightened.
"I hope they do."
Akuryō opened another dark rift in the air.
Shizuku moved away from the body.
Zanshō passed beside Kokuen.
"The post fell quickly."
"It was a small post," Kokuen said.
"Then why do it?"
Kokuen looked at the ruined building.
The broken seals.
The door torn away.
The dead hunters.
"Even small pieces help measure the board."
Shizuku watched him.
"And what did we measure?"
Kokuen did not answer immediately.
He lifted his gaze toward the broken ceiling, as if he could see far beyond that place.
"How long it takes them to feel fear."
The dark rift opened wider.
Before stepping into it, Kokuen looked at the watch post one last time.
"It won't be long now."
Then he vanished.
Silence returned to the building.
This time, no one was left to hear it.
The news reached Tokyo before dawn.
Kana did not shout.
She did not strike the desk.
She did not curse.
That made Tatsu Oribe stand even stiller than usual.
Kana's office was lit only by a low lamp and the gray light beginning to filter through the window. Outside, headquarters was waking slowly, still filled with that restrained noise of corridors, doors, and students who believed the day would begin like any other.
Inside, no one had that illusion.
Kato stood by the window.
Yuna remained with her arms crossed, her back straight and her eyes fixed on the folder Kana had left on the desk.
Tatsu stood behind Kana.
As always.
But that morning, he did not look like an assistant.
He looked like a closed door.
Kana had both hands resting on her cane.
"Six hunters dead," she said.
Yuna tightened her fingers against her own arm.
"Survivors?"
"One," Tatsu answered. "They found her unconscious when reinforcements arrived. She has not been able to give a statement yet."
Kato did not move.
"Common remnants?"
Kana looked at him.
"No."
The answer was short.
Enough.
Yuna lowered her eyes toward the folder.
"The organization?"
"Everything points to that."
Kato closed his eyes.
He did not seem surprised.
That was the worst part.
Yuna did seem angry.
Not loudly. Not like someone who needed to strike something. It was a cleaner, more dangerous anger, held behind perfect posture.
"They attacked a minor post," she said. "Not a headquarters."
"For now," Kana answered.
The sentence made the room colder.
Tatsu placed another report on the desk.
"The containment seals were either nullified from inside or breached by a technique that left no clear residue. External communication was cut before they could activate the full protocol."
Kato opened his eyes.
"They were measuring them."
Kana nodded.
"Yes."
Yuna raised her gaze.
"Measuring the post or us?"
Kana did not answer right away.
That was the answer.
Kato let air out through his nose.
"They want to see how long it takes us to move."
"And how much we are willing to protect," Tatsu said.
Kana took the folder and closed it.
"Then we move before they choose the next point."
Yuna looked at her.
"What did you order?"
"A full review of all minor watch posts. Double communication in the regional branches. Patrol rotation. No hunter on solo missions until further notice."
"That will reduce coverage," Kato said.
"I know."
"There will be blind spots."
"I know that too."
Kato looked at her.
Kana held his gaze.
"If I keep sending hunters out alone to cover every gap, the organization will keep choosing which ones to kill. I would rather accept blind spots than hand them names."
Kato did not argue.
Not because he agreed with everything.
Because he understood the kind of decision she was making.
Yuna took a deep breath.
"And the students?"
Kana lowered her gaze to her hands.
For one second, she looked much older.
Not weak.
Old.
Tired from having to choose between options no one should ever call good.
"I don't like this," she said. "I don't like having to prepare teenagers for a war I am still trying to avoid."
Kato looked away.
Yuna said nothing.
Tatsu remained motionless.
Kana continued:
"But pretending we can keep them far from danger would be more comfortable than realistic. And I am too old to make comfortable decisions."
The cane creaked slightly beneath her fingers.
"They will train more."
Yuna lifted her head.
"They already train every day."
"Not like this."
Kato looked out the window.
Below, in one of the courtyards, some students crossed in training uniforms. One of them was complaining about something. Another was laughing.
Kato could not hear what they were saying.
He did not want to.
"They are not soldiers," he said.
"No," Kana answered. "They are students."
Kato looked at her.
"Then don't turn them into something else."
Kana held his gaze without blinking.
"That is what I am trying to avoid."
The sentence was not harsh.
It was worse.
It was honest.
Yuna uncrossed her arms.
"What are you going to do?"
Kana looked at Tatsu.
He understood without her saying anything and handed her another document.
"The hunters who were still on leave after the first attacks have received partial clearance," Kana said. "Four return to service this week."
Kato frowned.
"Are they ready?"
"Not at one hundred percent."
"Then they aren't ready."
"No one is ready," Kana said.
Kato fell silent.
Yuna closed her eyes for a moment.
"You're bringing them in because you need to cover gaps."
"I'm bringing them in because they know what it means to survive an attack from organized remnants," Kana answered. "And because if it happens again, I prefer experienced wounded hunters over students with none at all."
Tatsu spoke in his usual low voice:
"They will not be assigned to the front line immediately. Support, internal surveillance, evacuation routes, and security reinforcement."
Kato looked at Tatsu.
"That sounds like you already expect headquarters to need evacuation."
Tatsu did not look away.
"I hope it will not be necessary."
"That isn't what I said."
"I know."
Yuna released a short sigh.
"There is something else."
Kana nodded.
"Yes."
Kato looked back at her.
"I don't like it when you say yes like that."
"I requested external support."
Kato went still.
So did Yuna.
The silence that followed was different.
More personal.
Kana looked at them both.
"I don't want complaints."
Kato raised an eyebrow.
"I would never do something like that."
Yuna said at the same time:
"Neither would I."
Kana watched them for one second.
"It was obvious I meant Kato."
Yuna's shoulders eased slightly.
Kato opened his mouth.
Kana pointed at him with the cane without looking.
"Not one word."
Kato closed it.
Tatsu turned toward the door.
"Should I let them in?"
Kana nodded.
"Let them in."
Tatsu walked to the entrance and opened the door.
"You may enter."
The first to enter was Kasumi Shirogane.
She did not need to announce herself.
The room seemed to understand who she was before anyone said her name.
She wore her light hair tied back with careless elegance, as if even haste had been forced to ask permission before touching her. Her hunter uniform was not flashy, but on her it looked like an aesthetic choice. She smiled with the dangerous calm of someone who knew exactly how much space she occupied in a room.
Yuna closed her eyes slightly.
"Shirogane."
Kasumi smiled.
"Kirino."
"You still enter as though the building belongs to you."
"Not the whole building. Only the interesting parts."
"Then you may leave. This is a work meeting."
"How lovely to see you still confuse coldness with professionalism."
Yuna opened her eyes.
"And you still confuse provocation with personality."
Kasumi placed a hand on her chest.
"I'm glad you missed me."
"I didn't say that."
"Your tension did."
Kato rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"You've already started."
Kasumi turned toward him.
Her smile changed.
It did not grow wider.
Only sharper.
"Ginjiro."
Kato lowered his hand.
"Kasumi."
"What a warm greeting. I'm almost moved."
"I'm trying to avoid a headache."
"That is also an emotion."
Yuna looked at Kato.
"I didn't know you two were that close."
Kato coughed.
"We aren't that close."
Kasumi tilted her head.
"We had years to discuss that definition."
"Do not help," Kato said.
"I never promised to."
Kana tapped the floor lightly with her cane.
Kasumi looked back at her.
This time, some of the playfulness left her smile.
It did not disappear.
But it became more respectful.
"Kana."
"Kasumi."
"I'm sorry about Shizuoka."
"I know."
Kasumi added nothing.
From her, that said more than any long sentence.
Behind her entered Ryo Kagami.
He did not enter with elegance.
Nor with theatrics.
He entered like someone who did not want to waste time pretending he was comfortable.
He wore his usual dark coat, a bag over his shoulder, and an expression of exhaustion that looked permanent. His eyes crossed the room once and stopped on Kato.
"Ginjiro."
"Kagami."
"You still have that face."
"So do you."
"Mine has justification."
"All ugly faces believe that."
Kagami let out a dry laugh.
It was not joy.
It was recognition.
Yuna greeted him with a brief nod.
"Ryo."
"Kirino."
"Thank you for coming."
"I didn't do it for you."
"I know."
Kagami looked at Kana.
"I did it because she asked."
Kana did not answer.
She did not need to.
Kagami set his bag on the floor.
"And because if you're calling people like us, it means things have gotten ugly."
"They are getting ugly," Kana said.
"Worse."
"Yes."
Kagami nodded once.
Then he looked at Kato.
"Is the kid from Misato still alive?"
Kato took a second to answer.
"Yes."
"And still sticking his nose where he shouldn't?"
"More or less."
"Then he's still alive by miracle."
"Very much so."
Kagami looked toward the window, as if he could see the courtyard from there.
"I want to see him later."
Kato watched him.
"Not to scare him."
"I don't make impossible promises."
"Kagami."
"I want to see how much he changed."
Kato did not answer right away.
Then he nodded.
"That, yes."
The third entered without asking permission.
He did not even seem to notice that a door existed as a social concept.
He wore his torso bare beneath an open jacket, as if temperature, common sense, and basic clothing standards were problems that belonged to other people. Old scars crossed his chest, some straight, some crooked, others too ugly to look like they came from a single fight. A worn leather mask covered his face. It was stitched in several places, with irregular holes for the eyes and marks that could have been decoration or memories of blows.
From his pants hung a short pick, something like a small combat hoe, fastened to his belt by a metal hook.
The man looked around the room.
Inhaled deeply.
"Ah. Smells like institutional trauma, old coffee, and decisions no one wants to sign. I missed Tokyo."
Kato closed his eyes.
"Baku."
The masked man spread his arms.
"Ginjiro! You're still alive. How inconsiderate."
"So are you."
"Yes, but in my case it's funnier."
Yuna looked him up and down.
"Shishido."
Baku turned toward her.
"Kirino. You still look like you could reject a funeral for lack of organization."
"And you still dress like you lost a bet against a chainsaw."
Baku touched his bare chest.
"This is tactical freedom."
"It is an infection waiting its turn."
Kasumi smiled.
"I missed him."
Yuna looked at her.
"That explains many things."
Baku pointed at Kasumi with both fingers.
"Thank you! Someone with good taste and poor emotional stability."
Kasumi tilted her head.
"I accept half of the compliment."
Kato opened his eyes.
"Don't start."
"Ginjiro, I entered less than a minute ago. Technically, I'm still warming up."
Kagami looked at him.
"You still talk too much."
Baku turned toward him.
"Kagami. You still look like the protagonist of a story where no one ever learned to smile."
"And you still look like the secondary villain who dies because he makes a joke too early."
Baku went still.
Then he placed a hand on his chest.
"That was beautiful. Almost like an emotional Kamehameha, but without lights and with more paternal abandonment."
Yuna closed her eyes.
"This is going to be unbearable."
"That's what they say until they survive because of me," Baku said.
Kana looked at him.
"Shishido."
Baku straightened slightly.
Not much.
But enough.
"Boss."
"No excesses with the students."
"Define excesses."
"That none of them end up like you."
The room went silent.
Baku's mask did not change.
It could not.
But something in his voice vanished before he even spoke.
For one second, there was no joke.
No movement of the pick.
No theatrical breathing.
Only silence.
Kato looked at Kana.
Kasumi stopped smiling.
Kagami looked away.
Yuna watched Baku with a more serious expression.
Baku lowered his hand to the hook on his pants and touched the short pick with two fingers.
"That would be difficult," he said at last. "You need very bad luck."
The sentence tried to sound light.
It did not quite manage.
Kana held his gaze.
"That is why I called you."
Baku inclined his head slightly.
"Then I'll try not to ruin the kids before lunch."
"Not after lunch either."
"Demanding."
The fourth entered last.
He made no sound.
He did not smile.
He did not greet anyone immediately.
He simply crossed the threshold and looked at the room once.
Once.
It was not a curious look.
It was an assessment.
In less than three seconds, his eyes passed over the window, the door, the desk, Kana's position, Tatsu's angle, the space between Kato and Yuna, Baku's pick, Kagami's bag, Kasumi's hands, and the exact distance to the nearest wall.
He was tall, with short black hair and a faint beard. He did not have a striking presence. He did not seem to want one. His uniform was closed up to the collar, without ornaments, without unnecessary pieces. He wore dark gloves and carried a small pouch of seals at his side.
Kana placed both hands on her cane.
"Masato Kanzaki."
The man inclined his head.
"Mizushima."
His voice was dry.
Not cold.
Dry.
Like a door that closed properly.
"Specialist in defense, rescue, and containment," Kana continued.
Baku raised a hand.
"Also a specialist in ruining rooms with responsible planning."
Kanzaki did not even look at him.
"And you still confuse noise with personality."
Baku placed a hand on his chest.
"That hurt because it was accurate."
Kagami observed Kanzaki.
"I didn't think you'd come."
"I was called."
"Many are called."
Kanzaki looked at him.
"I answer."
Kagami accepted that with a slight movement of his head.
Kasumi greeted him with a calmer smile.
"Masato."
"Kasumi."
"You still look at exits before people."
"Exits save people."
"I can't argue with that."
"You shouldn't."
Yuna watched him more carefully than the others.
"I read your reports on evacuations during class-three incidents."
"Then you read too much."
"They were good."
"Then you read what was necessary."
Yuna accepted the answer without annoyance.
That already said something.
Kato looked at Kana.
"You brought a circus, a storm, a walking funeral, and an evacuation plan."
Baku raised a finger.
"I want to be the circus."
Kasumi smiled.
"I can be the storm."
Kagami looked at Kato.
"Walking funeral?"
"I didn't think that one through."
Kanzaki spoke without changing expression.
"Evacuation plan is correct."
Kato sighed.
"Of course that was the part you were going to accept."
Kana did not look amused.
But she did not look regretful either.
"I called you because we do not have time to choose comfortable people."
Kagami crossed his arms.
"We were never comfortable."
"That is why you are here."
Kasumi placed a hand on her hip.
"Do the students know?"
"Not yet," Yuna said.
Baku tilted his head.
"Are we going to appear in front of them all at once? Because if so, I need an entrance. Something with smoke. Or screams. Or someone saying, 'Impossible, he was dead.'"
Kato looked at him.
"No one is going to say that."
"You could say it."
"No."
"With emotion."
"Even less."
Kanzaki looked at Kana.
"What is the priority?"
The question cut through the room.
It was not loud.
It was not dramatic.
But it ordered the noise.
Kana thanked him for that with a brief look.
"Survival."
Baku lowered his head slightly.
Kasumi stopped playing with her smile.
Kagami looked toward the desk.
Kato went very still.
Yuna did not take her eyes off Kana.
"I do not want students who believe they are training to win every fight," Kana said. "I want students who know when to cover, when to retreat, when to endure, and when to ask for help. I want them to understand that surviving is not failure."
Kanzaki nodded.
"That can be taught."
"Not completely," Kagami said.
Kanzaki looked at him.
"Enough for some to live."
Kagami did not argue.
Baku spun the short pick once without removing it from the hook.
The metal made a low sound.
"I can teach them how not to die embarrassingly."
Yuna looked at him.
"How comforting."
"It's more useful than it sounds. Half of all avoidable deaths start with someone doing something heroic and stupid."
Kato murmured:
"That is, unfortunately, true."
Baku pointed at him.
"Thank you! Academic support!"
"Don't call it that."
Kasumi approached the table.
"I can handle precision, combat reading, and control. The first-year students have talent, but it shows when they think too late."
Yuna looked at her.
"Including Mei?"
Kasumi smiled.
"Especially Mei."
"Don't use her to resolve family matters."
Kasumi's smile did not change, but her eyes did.
"I do not need to use her. She already decided to fight before knowing what to do with everything she inherited."
Yuna held her gaze.
"Then teach her without breaking her."
"I didn't come to break her."
"Good."
"But I did come to stop pretending she isn't breaking herself in some places."
Yuna did not answer.
Kato watched Kasumi with a more serious expression.
"Careful."
Kasumi looked at him.
"Always."
"That's a lie."
"That is why I said careful, not gentle."
Kagami spoke before Kato could respond.
"I want to work with Amane."
Kato turned toward him.
"No."
Kagami raised an eyebrow.
"No?"
"Not only with him."
"I didn't say only."
"You thought it."
"That doesn't count as an argument."
"With you, it does."
Kagami looked at Kana.
"I met him in Misato. I saw him before all of this fully landed on him. If he is copying techniques, he needs someone who forces him to understand what he is doing before repeating it."
Yuna looked at Kato.
"That isn't wrong."
Kato looked back at her.
"I didn't say it was wrong."
"You said no."
"Because Kagami said it."
Kagami let out a brief laugh.
"I'm glad you're still reasonable."
Kana intervened.
"Kagami will train field assessment, decision-making, and response under pressure. With Amane and with other students."
Kagami nodded.
"Fine."
"Without traumatizing them more than necessary," Kana added.
Kagami looked at Baku.
"Why does everyone look at me when they say that?"
"Because you're a broken moral mirror," Baku said.
"Coming from you, that is almost a compliment."
"Don't get excited."
Kanzaki removed one glove.
Everyone looked at him.
Not because the gesture was spectacular.
Because he did not make unnecessary gestures.
He crouched and placed two fingers on the floor.
A circular mark appeared beneath them.
Small.
Precise.
Made of clear, almost geometric lines.
Mana spread across the floor like an ordered root, touched one leg of the desk, rose slightly along the wood, and went out.
"The internal routes of this headquarters were not designed for frightened students," he said.
Tatsu observed him.
"We have evacuation protocols."
"You have maps."
Tatsu did not take offense.
That also said something.
Kanzaki straightened.
"A map helps someone who can read it while breathing properly. During an attack, students will run toward familiar voices, not painted arrows. If those voices are fighting, they will freeze. If they freeze, they die."
The room went silent.
Kanzaki put the glove back on.
"I will teach them how to move when the body wants to stay nailed to the floor."
Kana nodded slowly.
"That is why you are here."
Baku raised a hand.
"I can teach that too. My method includes yelling, personalized insults, and a moderate probability that someone cries."
Kanzaki looked at him.
"My method works before emotional collapse."
"Mine works during."
"Yours causes part of the collapse."
"Synergy."
Yuna closed her eyes.
"You are all going to fight before training anyone."
Kasumi smiled.
"Probably."
Kato looked at Kana.
"Are you sure about putting all of them in the same headquarters?"
Kana looked back at him.
"No."
Baku pointed at Kato.
"That was a very healthy answer. I would have lied."
Kato ignored him.
"Kana."
"I am sure that we alone are not enough," she said.
That was enough to silence him.
Because she did not say it as his superior.
She said it as someone who had counted too many losses and knew the next list could include students' names.
Kana stood.
The movement was slow.
But the room straightened with her.
"Starting today, the four of you will train our students."
Kasumi inclined her head slightly.
Kagami crossed his arms.
Baku gave a small two-finger salute.
Kanzaki remained motionless.
Kato looked at Kana.
"All the students?"
"All of them."
"Including Miyazaki?"
"Especially Miyazaki."
Yuna frowned.
"This will scare them."
Kana placed both hands on her cane.
"Then let them be scared here, where we can still teach them what to do with that fear."
No one answered.
Outside, headquarters continued to wake.
Students crossed corridors.
Teachers opened rooms.
The world still pretended it was an ordinary morning.
Inside the office, no one allowed themselves to believe it.
Baku was the first to break the silence.
"Well," he said. "When do we meet the future traumas in uniform?"
Yuna looked at him with immediate exhaustion.
Kagami let out a dry laugh.
Kasumi smiled.
Kanzaki's expression did not change.
Kato covered his eyes with one hand.
Kana sat again.
"After lunch."
Baku nodded with exaggerated solemnity.
"Perfect. That gives them one last happy meal."
"Shishido," Kana said.
"No excesses. I know."
Kanzaki walked to the window and looked out at the courtyard.
"I need updated headquarters blueprints, internal routes, number of students per year, known abilities, and the list of recent injuries."
Tatsu was already taking out a folder.
"You will have them in ten minutes."
Kanzaki looked at him.
"Five."
Tatsu held his gaze.
"Seven."
Kanzaki thought for one second.
"Acceptable."
Baku leaned toward Kagami.
"I think they just flirted in administrative language."
Kagami did not look at him.
"Shut up."
Kasumi approached Yuna.
"Is Mei all right?"
The question was lower.
There was no mockery in it.
Yuna took a moment to answer.
"She is alive."
Kasumi accepted the answer.
But it was not enough.
"That isn't what I asked."
Yuna looked at her.
This time, there was no edge in her eyes.
Only fatigue.
"Then no. Not completely."
Kasumi lowered her gaze slightly.
For the first time since she had entered, she looked more like an aunt than a hunter.
"Good," she said.
Yuna frowned faintly.
"Good?"
Kasumi looked at her again.
"If you had told me she was fine, I would have worried more."
Yuna did not smile.
But she did not answer sharply either.
Kato watched that exchange in silence.
Surprisingly, so did Baku.
Kagami approached the window beside Kanzaki.
"What do you see?"
"Weak points," Kanzaki answered.
"I see teenagers who don't know what's coming."
"That is a weak point."
Kagami let out air.
"Yes."
Kanzaki looked out at the courtyard.
"It is also a reason to stay."
Kagami glanced sideways at him.
"You're not as boring as you look."
"Yes, I am."
"Worse, then."
Across the office, Baku unhooked the short pick from his pants just enough to check the metal hook. The weapon dropped a few centimeters and hung there.
Kato looked at him.
"Put that away."
"I'm checking safety."
"You're scaring the furniture."
Baku looked at the desk.
"It looks like it's seen things."
"It's a desk."
"In this headquarters, that doesn't mean it doesn't have trauma."
Kana sighed.
"I am going to regret this."
Baku raised a finger.
"That is the foundation of every good decision."
"No."
"Many good decisions."
"Not that either."
Kato approached Kana while the others kept speaking in low voices.
"The kids aren't ready."
Kana did not look at him.
"I know."
"Sota least of all."
"I know."
"Amane will try to take responsibility for him."
"I know that too."
Kato clenched his jaw.
"That could break both of them."
Kana closed her eyes for a second.
"Or it could teach them to hold each other up."
Kato did not answer.
Not because he was convinced.
Because, once again, the correct answer was not in the room.
Kana opened her eyes.
"Ginjiro."
"What?"
"I am not asking you to send them to die."
Kato lowered his gaze to her.
Kana gripped the cane tightly.
"I am asking you to stop training them as if we could still choose when the war begins."
Kato looked toward the window.
In the courtyard, some students were laughing.
One tripped.
Another shoved him.
Someone shouted something from far away.
Headquarters seemed alive.
Too alive for what was approaching.
"I hate when you're right," Kato said.
Kana nodded.
"So do I."
Morning moved on.
The reports were distributed.
The students' names were laid out on the table.
Yūta Amane.
Taro Ishida.
Hina Tsukino.
Mei Shirogane.
Sota Miyazaki.
Kaito Mura.
Jin Harada.
Kenta Arimoto.
Yui Takashima.
Hana Sendai.
Chiho Wada.
And others.
Too many names to remain only names.
Masato Kanzaki read them as if memorizing evacuation routes.
Kasumi stopped longer on Mei's.
Kagami kept looking at Yūta's.
Baku passed his fingers over the list without quite touching it.
For once, he made no joke.
Kato noticed.
But said nothing.
Kana closed the folder.
"They will meet you after lunch."
Baku lifted his head.
His voice returned as if it had never gone.
"Excellent. Teenagers, imminent danger, and forced training. This is going to be like a school tournament, but with a higher chance of amputation."
Yuna opened her eyes slowly.
"I am going to forbid you from speaking to them."
"That would only increase my pedagogical value."
Kanzaki tucked the blueprints under his arm.
"I support the ban."
"Betrayal," Baku said.
"Prevention."
Kagami walked toward the door.
"I'm going to see the courtyard."
Kato watched him.
"Don't start without me."
Kagami opened the door.
"Then walk faster."
Kasumi passed beside Kato and patted his shoulder lightly.
"Come on, Ginjiro. You have students to scare."
Kato looked at her.
"I didn't come to scare them."
Kasumi smiled.
"That's the sad part. It comes naturally."
Baku burst out laughing.
Kanzaki opened the door fully and stepped aside.
Tatsu remained beside Kana.
Yuna was the last to move.
Before leaving, she looked at Kana.
"And if it isn't enough?"
Kana looked at the folders on the desk.
The death reports.
The students' names.
The maps.
The routes.
The places where the world was beginning to crack.
"Then we will make it enough," she said.
Yuna did not look satisfied.
But she accepted the answer.
Because sometimes, that was all they had.
When the door closed, Kana was left alone with Tatsu.
For a few seconds, neither spoke.
Then Tatsu asked:
"Do you want me to increase the guard around the central archive?"
Kana looked toward the window.
"Yes."
"And around the Box?"
Kana took another moment.
"That too."
Tatsu inclined his head.
"Understood."
Kana rested the cane against the desk.
The wood made a dry sound.
"Tatsu."
He stopped.
"Yes."
"No one gets near the students without authorization over the next few days."
"Is that a general order?"
Kana looked at the Shizuoka reports.
She heard, though she had not been there, the silence of a post that had stopped responding.
"It is an absolute order."
Tatsu inclined his head.
"Understood."
Outside, the reinforcements walked toward the courtyard.
Each carried a different story.
A different way of fighting.
A different way of being broken.
And yet, for the first time in a long time, Kana felt that Tokyo headquarters was not merely waiting for the next blow.
It was preparing to receive it.
Somewhere far away, Kokuen had said that it would not be long now.
Kana had not heard him.
But she knew.
And that was why, when she took up her cane again, her fingers did not tremble.