It was a bright morning—like no storm had ever passed the night before. Only the scattered leaves along the roadside hinted at what had come and gone.
"All of the Seele in Okinawa are gone?!"
Mr. Kiriye's voice trembled.
"No..."
Ryujin replied quietly.
"All of Ryukyu."
The words hung in the air—soft, but heavy. Mr. Kiriye's hands shook slightly as he set his teacup down, the porcelain clinking gently against the saucer.
"T-That's amazing..."
He murmured, eyes distant.
"Time really has changed, he thought. These youths... They're not just survivors. They're warriors. Hope."
Mr. Kiriye thought to himself.
"My squad fought in Okinawa,"
Ryujin said, his tone calm yet somber.
"And more recently, in Kaba."
"Kaba... right. A demon was there, wasn't it?"
Mr. Kiriye asked.
"Yeah. Just one."
"And since you're here, I'm assuming you defeated it."
"We did.. But it wasn't easy."
There was weight in Ryujin's voice—not arrogance, but quiet reverence. The kind that came from facing something too big for words.
"Good... finally,"
Mr. Kiriye whispered.
"Maybe now, the souls in Kaba can rest."
A warm breeze drifted through the café window. Dust floated in the sunlight like tiny, golden ghosts. Ryujin said nothing—only watched the swirling light as Mr. Kiriye's voice softened into memory.
"That island..."
He began,
"I remember it well. Back in my teenage years, it was the jewel of Kyushu. Our main mining site. Ore everywhere. It changed everything. Kaba stopped being a fishing town and became something more. Factories rose, trade routes opened, families came with hope in their pockets. We weren't rich—but we were proud."
He paused, lips tightening into a weary line.
"Then they returned. I don't know how or why. One day... everything burned. That demon—the one you defeated—he didn't leave anything behind. Not even the birds."
Ryujin leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the timeworn table. His hands were clasped tight, knuckles pale. Silence settled between them—not uncomfortable, not empty. Just... respectful.
"We escaped on boats,"
Mr. Kiriye continued softly.
"All of us—except one man. Our town leader. He refused to leave. Said the land was more than homes and ore—it was a promise. A vow. So we left him multiple boats.. Just enough fuel to reach the next island if he changed his mind. But..."
"That explains the boat, then,"
Ryujin interrupted gently.
"We found it—still tied. Untouched."
Mr. Kiriye gave a short, breathy laugh—fragile, like the memory itself might shatter.
"Heh... When I saw one of the boats come back.. For a second, I thought maybe he'd survived. Maybe he was waiting all these years. But... with time..."
Ryujin inhaled softly.
"Ahh—sorry, sorry,"
Mr. Kiriye said quickly.
"Didn't mean to drag you into the past like this."
"No... it's alright,"
Ryujin replied.
"I wanted to know. It matters."
The old man smiled—a small, tired smile that belonged to those who had buried too many faces and counted too many winters.
"So, what now? What are your plans?"
"We're heading to the mainland,"
Ryujin said.
"We've been given a commission."
"A commission? Can I ask what for?"
Mr. Kiriye asked.
"Of course. After we cleared Ryukyu, the other squads were motivated. We're coordinating a large-scale cleansing of the entire mainland."
Mr. Kiriye's eyes widened.
"All of Japan?"
"Yes. Eight squads. Each assigned a region. We're part of that mission."
Mr. Kiriye looked toward the window, the sea shimmering faintly beyond the slats.
"That's... a monumental task."
"It is,"
Ryujin agreed.
"But we're not alone. And the country doesn't deserve to rot in silence anymore."
A pause followed before the old man leaned in, his expression darkening.
"What about her?"
"Her?"
Ryujin blinked.
"The child. Jayu-chan. Are you taking her with you?"
Mr. Kiriye pointed out.
"Ah... yes. She's from Tokyo. A child separated from her home should be returned to it."
Ryujin answered.
"And we'll protect her."
"I believe you can,"
Mr. Kiriye said softly.
"But protection's not everything."
Ryujin tilted his head, curious.
"What do you mean?"
"If violence is all she sees... if all she learns is how to survive the way you do... then what will she grow up to become?"
Ryujin's eyes softened. He didn't answer immediately. His mind drifted—to Jayu's tears, her laughter, her curiosity.
To the way she clung to Kara's hand when the wind howled, or how her eyes sparkled when Itoshi silently handed her a cup of tea.
Finally, he spoke.
"We have those two."
He nodded toward the café door.
Kara and Itoshi stepped inside, sunlight trailing behind them. Between them, Jayu skipped in like a soft breeze passing through two immovable stones.
"Ah. The siblings?"
Mr. Kiriye asked with a grin.
"They seem to understand her better than anyone,"
Ryujin replied.
"Good. A child needs balance. Structure... but also warmth."
Mr. Kiriye chuckled as he smiled.
"Kara brings that. And even Itoshi, in his own way."
Ryujin shrugged.
"Heh. I suppose it really helps to have a lady on the team."
"Haha. That's right."
"Ryujin-sama!"
Jayu's voice rang out—light, sincere. She ran toward him, arms outstretched.
"Thank you so much!.. Ryujin-sama!"
Ryujin smiled and patted her head gently.
"Jayu-chan, have you eaten breakfast?"
Mr. Kiriye asked kindly.
"Mhm! I had it with Itoshi-sama and Kara-sama!"
"Heyyy, Jayu,"
Kara laughed, hands on her hips.
"Didn't I tell you? Just 'big sis' or 'big bro' is good enough!"
"Tch."
Itoshi clicked his tongue, glancing away. Kara's gaze sharpened, her tone teasing but firm.
"That's good enough... right, Koya?"
"Alright, alright! Fine..!"
Itoshi agreed, forced.
"'Sama' sounds greater."
Mr. Kiriye chuckled softly, eyes bright.
"Hehe... are you sure about these two, Ryujin?"
"Yeah. I'm sure."
Ryujin smiled.
They watched as Kara knelt to fix Jayu's ribbon while Itoshi handed her a pouch of dried fruit.
"She's going to grow strong,"
Mr. Kiriye said quietly.
"Not just because of her power... but because of the people around her."
Ryujin looked at them—the light pouring over their backs like a promise. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe in something gentler than war.
"Yeah..."
he murmured.
"I think so too."
~~~UWDS Asia Headquarters~~~
The heavy meeting hall doors burst open with a sharp, echoing slam—the sound reverberating like a war drum.
Hachi stood in the doorway, the fabric of his coat flaring behind him as if caught by the tailwind of urgency itself.
His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, sweat trailing from his temple down his jaw. His presence didn't need words—the pressure of it was felt the moment the air shifted around him.
"Sorry I'm late."
He exhaled heavily, fingers running through his disheveled hair before straightening his tie in one swift, practiced motion.
Without ceremony, he slid into the open seat beside the members of Squad Trochanter.
"You're late!"
Nali leaned forward with a half-grin, her tone sharp but laced with familiarity—the kind of scolding only old comrades could get away with.
"Sorry. Something came up... in Kenya."
His voice was steady, almost too calm for how disheveled he looked. He rested one arm on the table, pretending not to notice the subtle glances from the others.
A sharp scoff came from the other end of the long conference table.
"Tsk. Reckless as ever, Hachi."
It was the Trochanter of squad 660.
The trochanter's words carried an edge of annoyance, but also a hint of begrudging respect—like a soldier chastising a legend who never learned to play by the rules.
"Welcome!"
Trochanter of squad 330 greeted.
The lighter tone cut the tension for a second. A few others followed with small nods, the kind you give to someone whose name carries more weight than their rank.
Some of the squad Trochanters smiled faintly, others offered no reaction at all—their gazes already fixed forward. The air buzzed faintly, alive with focus and unease. The Cleansing Era wasn't just an idea anymore—it was an execution about to start.
All eyes drifted to the central platform, its spotlight unlit but humming with restrained anticipation.
Then—
a creak.
This time, the doors opened slowly. Deliberately. The kind of sound that made everyone instinctively sit straighter.
A UWDS staff member entered, uniform crisp, steps measured.
"All rise!"
Chairs scraped gently back, and every individual—regardless of rank or reputation—stood as one.
It wasn't formality; it was muscle memory. The kind of respect drilled through years of service, and one man who had earned it all.
From behind the staff member, an old man stepped into the light. His entrance was quiet, but his presence struck like thunder.
His back was straight despite the decades, his steps slow yet deliberate. The medals on his chest gleamed faintly—not for vanity, but for memory.
He paused at the center, scanning the room. Every soldier, every trochanter, every ambitious youth—silent. Watching. Waiting.
He offered a small, almost amused smile.
"Ah... So you've all grown polite, huh?"
A ripple of warmth passed through the hall—half nostalgia, half reverence. Like veterans remembering the commander who once led them through hell.
In perfect unison, the room saluted.
"Good afternoon, Sir Hasegawa!"
The old man's expression shifted.
The softness vanished.
The faint smile evaporated, leaving behind only steel.
The weight of countless decisions lined his face. The light in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something colder—something forged from history itself.
He slowly lifted his gaze to meet them all. When he spoke, it wasn't merely a command.
It was legacy made sound.
"Well then... Let's begin the Cleansing Era, young ones."
A heavy silence followed.
But it wasn't hesitation.
It was a breath—
the collective inhale of a generation standing at the edge of something vast, righteous, and irreversible.
"The Cleansing Era had begun."
~~~To be Continued~~~