At Damein's run-down apartment, the atmosphere was suffocating. The small living room reeked of stale food and unwashed laundry, with piles of clothes scattered across the floor. Pizza boxes and half-empty soda cans formed crooked towers that leaned dangerously close to collapsing. The curtains were shut tight, sealing out the daylight, leaving only the faint blue glow of a television screen to illuminate the room.
Daichi sat hunched on the couch, controller in hand, his red eyes glowing faintly against the darkness. His posture was lazy, almost lifeless, as if the weight of the world pressed him into the cushions. Despite the chaos surrounding him, he seemed completely at ease—his attention glued to the video game flickering before him. He pressed the buttons with methodical precision, his face devoid of emotion, immersed in a world far removed from reality.
The silence was broken by the faint creak of the apartment door. It groaned against the mess piled around it, scraping against bottles and the edge of a cardboard box before finally opening wide enough for someone to step inside. A figure entered, their full body concealed beneath dark clothing from head to toe. The third disciple of Damein stood there, scanning the filth-ridden apartment with quiet disdain. For a moment, the disciple said nothing, simply absorbing the state of the place. Then, with a subtle shake of the head, they moved forward, ignoring the clutter that crunched softly under their boots.
Daichi barely glanced over his shoulder. His crimson eyes flickered briefly toward the doorway before returning to his game. "Great," he said flatly, his voice hollow yet oddly casual. "You're here. I bought a new game—two players only. Since Kaito isn't around, I figured you could play it with me."
The third disciple's voice was calm but carried no warmth. "You know I didn't come here to play, right?"
Daichi sighed in disappointment, pressing another button on his controller as his character jumped across the screen. "No fun, huh? Figures." He paused for a beat, then asked, "Where's Kaito, anyway?"
The third disciple stepped deeper into the dim light, their expression hidden beneath their hood. "As for Kaito… he lost. The Seirei Exorcists defeated him. Especially that boy, Makoto. Now, Kaito's being held captive at the police headquarters. And Damein… he still isn't free from the seal."
Daichi didn't flinch. His eyes never left the television as he continued his game, his tone as monotone as ever. "Great. Now who's going to clean this place since Kaito's gone?"
The third disciple exhaled sharply, almost a laugh but far more bitter. "Why don't you try doing it yourself for once? You haven't moved from that couch since the last time I was here."
"Not true," Daichi murmured, fingers still working the controller. His voice carried no hint of shame, only a dry defensiveness. "I got up to pee. And sometimes to grab food."
The third disciple let out a long sigh, their patience clearly thinning. Turning toward the door, they began to walk away, their footsteps crunching against the cluttered floor. "That's not what I meant," they muttered. "Anyway, I didn't come here to scold you. I came to deliver a warning. The Seirei Exorcist Group in this region is having trouble with the Seven. Things are getting complicated. For now, I want you to stay indoors. When the time comes, I'll give you the order. And once you receive it, you must do everything you can to free Damein."
They paused at the threshold, glancing back at Daichi. Their eyes lowered to the faint markings glowing faintly on the backs of his palms. The tattoos weren't ordinary designs—they were strange symbols, each one connected to the other like pieces of a puzzle, forming an intricate pattern across his skin. The third disciple's lips curved into a thin smile beneath the hood. "It won't be difficult for you. After all… you're a prodigy."
With that, the third disciple slipped out of the apartment, the door creaking shut behind them. The sound of their footsteps faded into silence.
Daichi's expression remained unchanged. He watched the door for only a moment, then returned his attention to the screen. His thumbs continued moving steadily, guiding his character through the game as if nothing of importance had just been discussed.
The apartment grew quiet again, filled only with the muffled sounds of digital gunfire and electronic chimes.
Minutes Later At the Seirei Exorcist Headquarters
The night at the Seirei Exorcist headquarters was unusually calm. The large hallway outside the recruits' dorms was quiet except for the muffled laughter of five familiar voices. The five newcomers—Makoto, Haruko, Miwafe, Rin, and Yana—sat together on a long couch near the windows, the silver glow of the moon spilling faint light across the polished floors. Takumi Enatsu leaned against the wall nearby, arms crossed, silently keeping watch over them.
For once, there were no missions, no urgent alarms, no shadows of battle. Just a group of young exorcists enjoying a brief moment of normalcy.
Haruko, however, was already breaking that peace. He stumbled clumsily around the couch, clutching a can of orange juice like it was a bottle of expensive liquor. His face was flushed from excitement, and he let out exaggerated hiccups as he waved the can in the air.
"Yo, Mi—hic!—Miwafe!" Haruko slurred, spinning in a half-circle before collapsing back onto the couch. He pointed dramatically toward the corner where Miwafe sat with her arms crossed. "Stop sulking, girl! C'mon, don't just sit there glum all night. Come have fun with us!"
Miwafe's icy eyes narrowed. She stood abruptly, her long hair swaying behind her as she rose. "You guys are animals," she muttered sharply. "I'm going to bed."
Her voice carried an edge of irritation that immediately drew attention. She turned toward Makoto, her gaze locking onto him for just a second. Anger—or maybe frustration—burned in her eyes. Makoto froze, caught off guard by the sudden hostility. He didn't understand what he had done wrong, but the intensity of her stare left him speechless.
Before he could ask, Miwafe stomped away, her footsteps echoing against the polished floor.
Yana quickly stood up, bowing her head slightly in apology to the others. "I'm sorry," she said earnestly. "Please forgive her. She's just… upset about what's going on." Without waiting for a reply, she hurried off down the hall. "Miwafe, wait up!"
Miwafe walked quickly, her arms folded tightly across her chest as she stormed through the hallway. Her thoughts churned angrily, each one pulling her deeper into frustration.
How do you expect us not to worry, you idiot? You charge into danger like it means nothing. Please… no matter what happens… don't die.
Makoto's face appeared vividly in her mind, making her grit her teeth. She picked up her pace, almost trying to outrun the image.
"Miwafe!"
Her name rang out again, softer this time. She turned her head and saw Yana hurrying to catch up.
"Oh… Yana," Miwafe said, her tone softening slightly. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be back with the others?"
Yana was a little out of breath when she finally reached her. "Yeah, that was the plan," she admitted, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "But you just stormed off. I couldn't let you go alone."
Miwafe sighed, her anger cooling just a little. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause a scene."
Yana tilted her head, studying her closely. Then, without hesitation, she asked, "Do you like Makoto?"
Miwafe froze. Her eyes widened, and her cheeks lit up with sudden, uncontrollable color. She stumbled back a step, nearly tripping over her own boots. "Wait… wha—what did you just say?" she stammered, her voice cracking with disbelief.
Yana, cheeks also tinged crimson, met her eyes with unshakable determination. "I can tell you really care about him. I know you better than anyone, Miwafe. I know how you express your feelings. I've never seen you this flustered around a guy before. And now that Makoto's in danger, you're acting different. So tell me—do you love him?"
Her words landed like arrows. Miwafe's entire body stiffened. She waved her hands wildly, trying to defend herself, her face now burning red. "Of course I don't! Are you crazy? He's… he's nothing but a big pervert, and I—" She faltered, unable to finish the sentence.
Yana stepped closer, still waiting, her expression patient but unrelenting.
Miwafe's breath quickened, and then—almost like an explosion—she shouted, "I don't love him, okay?! He's an idiot who doesn't think things through! That's all he is!" Her voice cracked at the end, betraying emotions she desperately wanted to hide. She turned on her heel before Yana could respond. "I'm going to sleep," she muttered, her face still red.
Yana smiled softly and followed beside her, teasing gently as they walked. "Sure, sure… you don't love him. I totally believe you."
Back in the hallway
Back in the hallway, Haruko had collapsed onto the floor, still clutching his empty can like a trophy. He was laughing uncontrollably, rolling on the ground as if the simplest thing in the world was the funniest joke ever told.
Makoto frowned, scratching the back of his head. "Are we sure he isn't drinking alcohol? He's acting… really strange."
Rin bent down, hauling Haruko effortlessly over his shoulder. "Nah," Rin said casually. "This just happens when it's past his bedtime. He turns into a mess. Don't worry, I'll get him to bed."
Makoto blinked in confusion as Rin carried Haruko away, still giggling faintly even while half-asleep.
Minutes later, Takumi Enatsu stood up from where he had been leaning, his sharp eyes settling on Makoto. "Alright," he said firmly. "You should get some rest too. Tomorrow is your big fight. You'll need to be mentally and physically prepared."
Makoto nodded absentmindedly, still deep in thought. "Yeah… you're right."
Takumi Enatsu turned to leave, but before he could step away, Makoto called out. "Wait. Takumi!"
Takumi Enatsu stopped and glanced back, his brows furrowed. "What is it?"
Makoto hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Do you still have Kaito's devices?"
Takumi Enatsu raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled by the sudden question. "Yes, I kept it. But why?"
A small smile tugged at Makoto's lips.
The Next Day...