Dawn came with no sirens.
For the first time in decades, the village awoke to birdsong and distant waves, not screams. The mist hung softer now, less like a curse and more like a blanket. Streets still bore the scars of battle—but beneath the rubble, something stirred: hope.
Reconstruction began before the sun reached its peak.
---
Kozan stood in the remains of the academy courtyard.
Children watched him from behind shattered windows. One boy still wore the bloodstained headband from the final exams.
Kozan knelt and placed a fresh one in the boy's hand—blank. Untainted.
"No more killing exams," he said. "You don't prove strength by killing friends."
The boy didn't speak.
But he nodded.
---
Mei assembled her provisional council.
Ao. Chōjūrō. Three elders who had survived Yagura's purges but stayed hidden.
Kozan stood in the corner, watching.
"There will be pushback," Ao warned. "The Water Daimyō will want a puppet. The clans will want revenge."
Mei nodded. "Then we give them none of it. No puppet. No revenge. Just law. Just order."
Chōjūrō looked to Kozan. "And what of the loyalists still hiding?"
Kozan's voice was calm. "Bring them in. Hear their truth. If they lay down arms, we let them live. If not…"
He let the words drift into silence.
---
Outside, old enemies helped repair broken bridges.
Bloodline clans emerged cautiously. Small businesses reopened. The Mist began to breathe again.
But not all wounds closed.
---
In the ruins of the lower district, Kozan found a girl—the one he had spared during the academy exam.
She didn't run. Didn't speak.
She simply stood, waiting.
Kozan bowed his head. "I remember you."
"I didn't forget," she said. "You changed everything."
Kozan looked at the broken academy tower behind her. "Not yet. But I will."
---
And when he turned to leave, the girl followed.