The storm had passed, but the city didn't wake.
Zeira Ward lay still beneath the veil of dawn—broken alleys, flickering lights, and the faint hum of generators that refused to die. Reiji walked alone through the ruins, his coat heavy with rain, his hand still wrapped around the broken chain. Every step echoed between the steel walls like a reminder that silence had teeth.
He had not slept since the bridge. The encounter with Rin left more than blood on his skin—it tore open the memories he'd locked away for years. The name Kaede still pulsed in his skull like a wound refusing to close.
The Court of Shadows.
They were supposed to be gone.
He had made sure of it.
So why had that masked woman carried their insignia—why did she know Kaede's name?
Reiji stopped beneath an old signal post, the kind used before the war. The red light blinked in intervals, faintly illuminating his tired eyes. His reflection in the puddle below was distorted, cut into fragments by the ripples of rain.
He looked like a man halfway erased from the world.
A sound broke the rhythm—boots on wet ground.
Reiji turned sharply, blade half-drawn, but the figure that appeared wasn't an enemy.
It was Kurogane, his former handler from Division 9.
Older now, grey streaks cutting through his once-black hair, but the same steel gaze as ever.
> "You still attract ghosts, Reiji," Kurogane said, his voice low. "I thought you buried them all."
> "Some things don't stay buried," Reiji replied. "Not in this city."
Kurogane glanced at the chain in his hand, then at the wound on his shoulder.
> "Rin again?"
Reiji nodded once.
> "He's still chasing justice that doesn't exist," Kurogane muttered. "Can't blame him, though. None of us walked out clean."
Reiji looked up.
> "What are you doing here, old man?"
Kurogane exhaled smoke from a half-lit cigarette.
> "I came because someone's been asking about you. A survivor from the Eclipse Incident."
The words hit like a hammer.
Reiji froze. His voice dropped.
> "That's impossible. There were no survivors."
> "So we thought," Kurogane said, his gaze sharp. "But someone's been leaving messages at the old archive. Coordinates. Warnings. And a name—'Kaede.'"
The cigarette fell from his lips, extinguished by the rain.
Reiji's chest tightened, the chain cold in his grip. The name again. The past again. Everything circling back like a curse that refused to die.
He forced his voice steady.
> "Where?"
> "Sector 12. The old courthouse."
Kurogane paused. "Be careful, Reiji. They're watching the place. The Court… might not be as dead as we thought."
Reiji didn't answer. His mind was already moving, tracing the paths through the ruined sectors, the hidden alleys, the old tunnels. He had walked them once before—on a night soaked in fire and betrayal.
The night everything ended.
---
The courthouse stood like a tomb.
Once a monument of justice, now a skeleton of concrete and glass. The main hall was filled with dust and silence, the emblem of the old regime shattered above the judge's seat.
Reiji entered slowly, each footstep stirring ghosts.
On the bench sat a single object—a holo-recorder, still glowing faintly blue. He approached it with caution, pressing the activation switch.
A projection flickered to life.
A woman's voice—soft, trembling, but unmistakable.
> "Reiji… if you're hearing this, then you finally followed the trail."
Reiji froze.
He knew that voice.
> "I don't know how much time I have left. They've erased everything—records, memories, even names. But the truth still lives in fragments. You need to find the Last Witness. She holds what they tried to destroy… and what you need to remember."
Static filled the air. The hologram shook.
> "You weren't the only one they lied to, Reiji. You were their weapon. Just like me."
The image flickered one last time—and vanished.
He stood motionless. His fingers trembled. That voice, that tone—there was no mistake.
Kaede was alive.
But before he could process it, a sharp sound sliced through the silence—metal against marble. Reiji turned just as a blade darted past his face, grazing his cheek.
From the shadows above the broken pillars, figures descended—cloaked in black, masks bearing the Court's insignia.
Three of them. Moving with precision, no wasted breath.
Reiji's hand went to his weapon instinctively.
> "So it's true," he murmured. "The Court's back."
They didn't answer. The leader stepped forward, twin daggers drawn, voice calm and cold.
> "The Witness belongs to us. You were never meant to find her."
Reiji's eyes narrowed.
> "Then you already know what happens next."
The fight erupted in silence.
Steel clashed against steel, sparks scattering through the dust. Reiji moved like a ghost—every motion calculated, every strike born from instinct sharpened by regret. One assailant fell, throat cut clean. Another lunged, only to be slammed into the bench, bones cracking beneath impact.
The leader remained.
Quick. Precise. Deadly.
Their blades met once, twice—then a flash of movement, a kick, and Reiji's sword flew from his grasp, spinning across the floor. The masked attacker pressed a dagger to his neck.
> "You shouldn't have come back, Reiji."
He stared into the mask. The voice… familiar. Not the woman from before—someone else.
He twisted suddenly, grabbing the attacker's wrist, forcing the dagger aside, and headbutted them hard enough to break the mask's edge.
The mask cracked—and beneath it, Reiji saw a face he thought he'd never see again.
Not Kaede.
But Yoru—one of his comrades from the old unit. Dead for six years.
The shock froze him long enough for her to push him back. Her eyes—hollow, lifeless—met his as she whispered:
> "They saved me, Reiji. You didn't."
Before he could reach her, she threw a flash charge, blinding white. When the light faded, she was gone.
Only silence remained, and the faint echo of her words.
Reiji stood amidst the debris, breathing hard, his reflection split across the cracked marble floor.
They saved me. You didn't.
He picked up his sword, the blood still dripping from the blade, and turned toward the broken window where dawn was beginning to pierce the city's fog.
The past wasn't just haunting him anymore.
It was hunting him.
And somewhere out there, Kaede—the Last Witness—was waiting.