Darkness.

  Then—light.

  A familiar warmth, the gentle glow of a sunlit afternoon, a slight breeze rustling through the trees.

  A boy stood in the clearing, a wooden sword in his hands. His grip was tight, too stiff, too forced. Across from him, a tall figure observed in silence.

  Itsutsu Hayashi.

  His father.

  “You’re doing it wrong.”

  Watari—young, small, eager—huffed in frustration. “What do you mean? I’m swinging it just like you showed me.”

  Itsutsu’s arms remained crossed, expression unreadable.

  “The Hayashi have a special style,” he said simply.

  Watari blinked. “A style?”

  Itsutsu gave a small nod. “It’s simple.”

  A pause.

  “You must focus on the thing you want most.”

  Watari tilted his head, confused. “That doesn’t sound like a technique… that sounds like luck.”

  Itsutsu exhaled, a hint of amusement fshing in his gaze. “There’s more to it than that. But…” He reached out, ruffling his son’s hair. “You’re just a kid. You wouldn’t understand even if I told you.”

  Watari pouted, shaking off the hand. “I could understand if you actually expined it.”

  Itsutsu let out a short chuckle. Then, turning away, he raised a single finger.

  “One day,” he said, “when you’re ready… your bde will understand for you.”

  The words lingered.

  The scene faded.

  ?Light.

  Watari’s eyes opened.

  The ceiling above him was familiar—too familiar. The wooden beams of the Chūkan’s recovery rooms, the faint scent of medicine in the air. He could feel the weight of bandages wrapped around his torso, a dull ache settling in his limbs.

  But his mind wasn’t here.

  His mind was back there.

  “One day… when you’re ready… your bde will understand for you.”

  His father’s voice lingered in his head, the words like an old whisper carved into the wind.

  What I want most…?

  His fingers twitched. Unconsciously, his hand reached toward his side, where Takemikazuchi should have been.

  For the first time in a long time, his sword felt distant.

  Like it didn’t recognize him.

  A slow exhale.

  He pushed himself up. No time for that now.

  His mind was still half-dazed from sleep, but his first thought was—

  “I wake up like this way too damn often.”

  A slow exhale.

  “What happened…?”

  Then, it hit him.

  Kenzo.

  Daisuke.

  YuYu.

  The fight.

  His breath caught.

  “Where’s Yumi? Where’s Kaito?”

  Ignoring the pain in his ribs, he forced himself up. The bnkets slipped off as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. The moment his feet touched the cold floor, his muscles protested.

  Too bad.

  He pushed forward, heading straight for the door. His fingers barely brushed the handle before—

  “Rex, kid.”

  A voice.

  Watari turned—Ren.

  The man stood casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, observing him with an almost amused expression.

  Watari wasted no time. “Where’s Yumi? Where’s Kaito?”

  Ren exhaled. “They’re fine.”

  Watari blinked, tension still in his shoulders. “Then why—”

  “You’ve been out for a week, kid.”

  Silence.

  A week.

  “The attack’s already been reported,” Ren continued. “Koharu’s already been to the Judgment Hall. Things… have happened.”

  Watari clenched his jaw. “What kind of things?”

  Ren just shook his head. “Things that mean it’s about to get serious.”

  A quiet pause stretched between them.

  Then, Watari clenched his fist. His mind was still spinning, still trying to process. The memory of Kenzo’s voice echoed in his skull—

  “Your father would be so disappointed.”

  His grip tightened.

  Then—“Ren.”

  Ren raised a brow.

  “Do you think I’m weak?”

  The question hung in the air for a moment.

  Ren’s expression didn’t change. Instead, he asked, “Do you remember when I first met you, kid?”

  Watari frowned, thinking. “Yeah.”

  Ren nodded. “I would never have activated a Core for someone I thought was weak.”

  A beat.

  “And the you then and the you now are completely different people.”

  Ren’s gaze sharpened slightly. “The you now is someone even stronger.”

  Silence.

  Then—slowly, Watari let out a breath, the faintest smirk pulling at his lips.

  The two fist-bumped.

  Watari cracked his neck, shaking off the st remnants of sleep. “Alright then.”

  He met Ren’s gaze, determination settling in his chest.

  “Fill me in.”

  Ren sighed, rubbing the back of his head.

  “It’s been a lot.”

  CUT TO BLACK.