It was a dark dreamlike place where it felt like only one person existed, One, It was Itoshi and he whispered to himself.
"Yo.. White-Haired Woman.. What should I do?"
~~~Shioizaki Park~~~
[May 3, 2169 - 10:01pm]
Beneath the weeping sky, Itoshi sat by the old tree that lined the quiet road, its gnarled branches offering little shelter from the storm.
Rain fell in silver sheets, drumming softly on leaves and earth, washing the world in a restless hush.
Yet within him, a louder silence stirred—the echo of Roger's words, still fresh, still sharp. They threaded through his thoughts like lightning in the clouds, illuminating truths he wished had stayed hidden.
He did not shiver from the cold, but from the weight of understanding, as if the storm outside had taken root within.
"You're supposed to help me at these moments.. Right?.. I cannot decide on what to do.."
He muttered to himself, voice barely rising above the whisper of the rain.
Ayro watched him from a short distance, standing beneath the shroud of the storm. Itoshi sat unmoving beneath the tree, the rain soaking through his cloak, yet he made no effort to move. His posture spoke of exhaustion—not the kind that came from battle, but from thought.
Ayro could see it clearly—the heaviness in his shoulders, the faraway look carved deep into his face. Roger's words had done their damage. They had slipped past the walls of loyalty and brotherhood, rooting deep like a toxin that no storm could wash away.
Ayro narrowed his eyes, the rain running down his face in steady rivulets. He knew that kind of silence. He had worn it once before.
"Dang... it's useless, isn't it?"
He muttered under his breath, the words carried away by the wind.
"Ryujin... what are we gonna do?"
His tone trembled between frustration and faith, between needing an answer and fearing what it might be.
The silence that followed stretched endlessly. Only the rain dared to speak, filling the gap where Ryujin's voice should have been.
Ayro turned, seeking his leader's gaze—but Ryujin didn't look back.
His eyes were fixed ahead—sharp, unblinking, unwavering—on Roger, whose silhouette loomed through the storm like a ghost of the past refusing to fade. The rain distorted his outline, but not his intent.
There was no response. No reassurance. No plan.
Just that gaze—cold, calculating, silent as the calm before a strike.
And then, breaking through the rhythm of the rain, came a voice not born of flesh, but of something darker.
"Ryujin... You're holding back... Guess it's over?.. huh?..."
Ashura's voice dripped through the storm like venom—slow, deliberate, mocking. Each word struck with the weight of something ancient and dangerous, something that wasn't meant to be awakened.
The world seemed to still for a heartbeat.
Even the rain felt quieter.
Ryujin's fingers twitched slightly at his side, the tension rolling through him like thunder waiting to break.
The voice wasn't just in his head—it was in the air, in the storm, in the pull between restraint and destruction.
And for the first time that night, the storm felt... afraid.
~~~UWDS Asia HeadQuarters~~~
"Roger... Taylor. Huh? Seems like he's been sent to take our Rhythm too."
Mr. Hasegawa muttered, his voice low, breaking through the thick quiet of the meeting room.
All eight Trochanters sat in stillness, their silence heavy enough to drown the flickering hum of the lone overhead bulb. The dim light stuttered across the walls, throwing restless shadows that moved like ghosts of the past. The air itself felt old—stale with memory, sharp with tension.
At the center stood Mr. Hasegawa. Age had carved its map across his face, but his presence remained as firm as ever—one that needed no command to demand attention. Time had done that work for him. When he spoke, even the walls seemed to lean closer.
His words came slow, deliberate, steeped in years of weight and regret. The Trochanters listened—not out of respect, but out of instinct, as if something vital might slip away if they dared to move or breathe too loud.
"Ryujin knows what kind of person Roger is..."
Hachi began, his tone calm but taut with meaning.
"He used to be a member of Squad Segment On—"
"Squad Segment One... right?"
Mr. Hasegawa's voice slid in before Hachi could finish. The interruption wasn't sharp—it was smooth, like an old blade cutting clean through silk.
The words collided in the air. Hachi froze for a moment, his thought torn mid-thread, leaving a faint pause that filled the room like static.
Mr. Hasegawa didn't flinch. His gaze was fixed on nothing and everything at once, a man staring into memory rather than the present. Then, with a small chuckle, he cleared his throat.
"Sorry for interrupting you while you were speaking, Hachi,"
He said, his tone carrying a teasing warmth that briefly lifted the weight in the room.
"I just wanted to sound cool."
Hachi gave a faint smile, shaking his head.
"No problem, sir... You're plenty cool already. On that note..."
The air shifted as he continued, his voice steadying into the rhythm of someone delivering something important. Every word carried purpose.
"As Mr. Hasegawa said, Roger Taylor used to be a member of the Defense. He ranked among the top squads—together their strength already rivaling that of the Trochanters. According to Ryujin, Roger is the kind of man who never lets go of his goals... or his chances."
He paused, glancing around the table, his tone softening just slightly.
"They fought countless missions together. Much of the squad's success came from Roger's cunning and drive. But the incident in UKR two years tore everything apart. Ryujin left—disillusioned, distant. And as for Roger... he vanished."
"Hmm... He never lets go of his goals, huh?"
Nali murmured, her fingers pinching her chin thoughtfully.
"That is right,"
Hachi nodded.
"He kept telling Ryujin to let Ashura out... But will that really be the only reason he came to the park?"
Nali asked, her voice low, uncertain.
Hachi suggested, but hesitant.
"Hm... Perhaps he wasn't aware of The Rhythm. There must be another reason the Control sent him there."
"He definitely knows something about Itoshi though..."
Mugi reminded.
"There's a chance W.E.S.C.U. doesn't fully trust Roger yet. But then again... we don't know how long he's been connected with Control."
Hachi added.
The room slipped into silence once more, thicker this time, pressing against their thoughts like fog rolling through midnight streets. No one dared to break it.
Every breath felt like a question. Every heartbeat, a quiet dread.
What shadow did Roger's return cast upon them?
Was it Control's hand—reaching back to reclaim what had slipped from its grasp?
Or was it something older, darker... a reckoning born from the sins they had tried to bury?
In that dim room, beneath the trembling light, the past and present blurred into one—and for a long, breathless moment, no one could tell which was heavier.
~~~Shioizaki Park~~~
"Did I really make the right choice?... Perhaps..."
Itoshi muttered quietly to himself, lost in thought. Then, a small smirk tugged at his lips as something playful seemed to linger in the air around him.
With a chuckle, he finally spoke out loud.
"What a fool"
Itoshi rose to his feet, the weight in his posture now replaced with quiet resolve. He muttered to himself, almost like an afterthought, yet firm enough to mark a shift in the air:
"Alright... then."
~~~To be Continued~~~