~~~June 30 ,2169~~~
It was the final evening of the month.
The squad had gathered in the boys' room once again, a familiar ritual that marked the end of a long, unforgiving June.
Ryujin stood at the center, scratching his back with the edge of a folder as he sifted through piles of reports and operation memos, his brows furrowed in silent frustration.
Kirashi sat near the window, chin barely propped up by his palm. His eyes blinked slower and slower as he began to doze off, the weight of exhaustion finally catching up.
Jayu, cheerful and clingy as ever, sat comfortably on Itoshi's lap, playfully swinging her legs while humming some random tune. Itoshi sat cross-legged on the floor, speaking to Kara in a low voice just before the meeting was to officially start.
Kara glanced at the calendar pinned to the wall, her brows twitching.
"Seriously?.. A whole month of time skip? You're gonna lose so much content with that time frame..." she muttered in her thoughts.
At the center, Ryujin finally cleared his throat.
"So... probably by the middle of July... we'll be leaving Nagasaki."
The room fell quiet.
Everyone turned to him—except Kirashi, whose head now fully slumped forward, completely unconscious.
Mutters began to echo across the room as the squad absorbed the announcement. Whispers of disbelief, curiosity, and quiet dread filled the air.
"Ryujin-san? Why is that?"
Kara asked, rising a bit straighter.
Ryujin kept his tone matter-of-fact, arms crossed now.
"We've cleared most of Nagasaki already. In just four weeks, our squad's effectiveness was thirty percent higher than the others."
He cast a quick glance at Itoshi.
"Using Itoshi as bait worked surprisingly well."
Itoshi exhaled sharply, then leaned closer to Kara to mutter under his breath.
"It certainly was effective... but that stupid costume made it hard to fight or run away."
Jayu turned around on his lap, grinning.
"You looked like a superhero scarecrow! I loved it!"
Itoshi blinked.
"That makes exactly one of us."
Kara giggled softly, covering her mouth with her palm as her shoulders shook.
"Psst. Focused."
Ayro muttered from the back, his tone dry but just light enough to show he wasn't actually mad.
That was enough.
The squad quieted instantly—Jayu adjusted herself on Itoshi's lap, Kara cleared her throat, and even Aldrin stopped whispering nonsense into his own fist.
Only Kirashi remained unmoved... and unconscious.
Ryujin raised an eyebrow at the room, then continued like a teacher trying not to lose his final ounce of patience.
"So... it's true we are moving the fastest but,"
He paused and scratched his head again, frowning at the numbers.
"But, we still have a lot more ground to cover here in Kyushu. Nagasaki is just one city."
He flipped to another page, revealing a marked-up map with red X's and ink scribbles that looked more like angry doodles than proper strategy.
"We've got possibly Kumamoto next. And after that... Fukuoka's coastal cleanup. Maybe even Kitakyushu, depending on what the top brass decides. So don't start packing just yet."
Jayu raised her hand like they were in school.
"Does that mean we get new disguises?!"
Ryujin blinked.
"No."
Itoshi immediately followed up under his breath.
"Please. Please no."
Kara tilted her head, grinning.
"But imagine... pirate scarecrow. For the seaside missions."
Itoshi just stared at her, betrayed.
"You were supposed to be on my side."
Ayro chimed in, arms behind his head as he leaned back.
"We could even get Jayu a matching outfit. Scarecrow sidekick."
Jayu gasped, eyes sparkling.
"I'll be Strawberry Haystack! Defender of the fields!"
"You guys—"
Ryujin muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Do you want me to wear the costume next? Huh? Is that what this is?"
The room exploded in laughter—even Kirashi stirred a bit, twitching in his sleep.
"Ryujin... tutu...?"
Ryujin groaned.
"I swear on every Seele I've slain—if I see even one of you in hay..."
Ryujin rubbed his temple, letting out a slow sigh as he looked down at the folders again.
"Speaking of disguises..."
He began, his voice tinged with reluctant amusement,
"I honestly didn't expect the whole superhero ordeal to be that effective. Crowd control, public morale, enemy confusion... I'll give it that."
He then narrowed his eyes, clearly already dreading the future.
"Which means now it's gonna be tricky to come up with a believable story of how Scarecrow suddenly joins our squad."
Before anyone could joke or groan—
"What about the zexy wind user kunoichi cutie?.. are we gonna leave her?"
The room froze.
All heads turned slowly toward Kirashi—who was, incredibly, still asleep. Drool glistened at the corner of his mouth, his head tilted back like he had just sleep-talked his deepest fantasy.
The silence was unbearable.
Jayu blinked.
Kara's face turned red trying not to burst.
Ayro covered his mouth with his hoodie sleeve.
Even Ryujin paused—caught somewhere between disbelief and resignation.
And then he broke the tension.
"Well... it's her decision. We can't really force someone to join the hell we live in."
His voice softened slightly.
"We all chose this path. It's not something we drag others into."
Just when things began to settle again—
A voice spoke up, quiet, unexpected.
It was Itoshi.
Still holding Jayu on his lap, he looked ahead with an unreadable expression as he muttered,
"Well... she already lives in hell. She's more than capable already."
That silence returned.
But this time, it wasn't awkward.
It was reflective.
Even Ryujin glanced at him, surprised—but didn't interrupt.
Kara blinked, her earlier amusement fading into a thoughtful gaze.
Ayro let his arms fall to his side, expression unreadable now.
And for once, Kirashi didn't say anything weird in his sleep.
The room remained silent after Itoshi's quiet words, like the echo of something none of them had the courage to say first.
In that stillness, Kara gently leaned sideways, resting her head on Itoshi's shoulder.
No one commented.
And Itoshi didn't move.
Ryujin took a slow breath, then spoke again—his voice now calm, grounded.
"That's indeed true. But we all have our own responsibilities."
He scanned the floor briefly, as if seeing the bigger picture through the dust on the wood.
"Our goal is to cleanse this country. Her goal is to protect her hometown."
A pause.
And then:
"On that note... congrats, Itoshi, on growing your flame effectively. Your control with rhythm has continued to rise. The flow's becoming more and more stable with every practice."
He nodded with approval.
"Keep it up."
Itoshi gave a single nod, firm and silent. No brag. No snark. Just quiet acknowledgment.
Ryujin's eyes slid over to the lump drooling by the window.
"Kirashi, on the other hand..."
He sighed.
"I can't believe I'm talking to a person that's asleep but—stamina is still an issue. However... thanks to the kunoichi's very unexpected training sessions, you're improving. It's working surprisingly well. Keep it up."
Right on cue, still snoring faintly and drooling on his sleeve... Kirashi raised a single thumb up.
Everyone froze.
"Is... is he really asleep?"
Aldrin whispered, wide-eyed.
"He's like a ghost!"
Jayu gasped.
Ryujin stared at Kirashi with a deadpan expression, his left eye twitching as he slowly looked back at his papers like he regretted ever being born.
"And..."
Ryujin muttered, eyes scanning the last of the scattered papers.
"There's nothing much here worth telling you all. Just focus on improving yourselves. Me and Ayro will handle the rest along with Miss Gigi. Well then..."
He paused.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, Ryujin tossed the papers behind him like they meant nothing.
"About the deal."
The entire room shifted.
The energy dropped like a brick.
Even Kirashi, half-conscious and smeared in sleep, stirred—his eyes blinking open sluggishly as if his instincts pulled him back to reality.
Everyone straightened, shoulders tensing slightly.
Ryujin crossed his arms, voice low but steady.
"We still have no new leads. Even with the kunoichi's help, her knowledge of the Sellers is limited. She struggled juggling too many tasks at once... and you better understand that."
He let the words hang for a second before continuing.
"But of course—this doesn't mean me and Ayro had any success either. We still haven't found the ones behind the trade. No faces. No names. Just trails that all go cold."
A heavy silence followed.
Until—
"Actually, we do."
Ayro muttered.
All heads turned.
Even Ryujin's eyes narrowed slightly.
"What?"
Ayro leaned forward from the wall he was resting against, pulling something from his jacket—worn papers, some notes, and a folded envelope sealed in something dark.
"It's not enough to name anyone yet..."
He said, his voice low.
"But I've been tracking irregular movements in Kumamoto. Smuggling routes, radio silence in old defense zones, and even Seele behavior—it's... coordinated."
Everyone listened, completely still.
Ayro's tone didn't shift, but his eyes were sharper than usual.
"If someone's pulling the strings... they're not just trafficking. They're controlling the battlefield."
Ryujin looked at the papers, then back at him.
"...Why didn't you mention this sooner?"
"Because I wasn't sure."
Ayro replied.
"Now I am... In addition, we have a single face on our lead."
They all listened closely as Ayro continued, his tone sharp and composed.
"We have the face of that cyborg..."
He said.
"That's one figure we're certain is involved in the government's operations. No question about it."
His words hung in the air like smoke.
"But unfortunately... I don't know where he is."
Everyone stayed quiet.
No one interrupted.
Because they all knew what that meant.
"Tch..."
Itoshi muttered, leaning forward slightly.
"So we're not just hunting street-level trash anymore. We're up against a ghost in a suit."
Kara frowned gently.
"Did The Kunoichi mention anything about him? Anything at all?"
"Yes, she mentioned him already,"
Ayro said calmly.
"She had an encounter with the man the same day Itoshi passed out by the station. She got cornered in an alleyway and caught the man's attention. She experienced the same thing you guys did—falling from your own gift around him. After that, she woke up in the hospital and couldn't remember anything."
Aldrin blinked, incredulous.
"How could you remember all those details?"
Itoshi smirked, ready to answer—
"It's his girlfriend, it's ob—"
Before he could finish, a pen whizzed through the air and smacked him right on the side of the head. He went down like a sack of bricks, eyes wide in shock.
Kara gasped, covering her mouth.
Ayro glanced toward Ryujin and nodded.
"I'll continue following the potential shipping and air routes. There's a chance I might come across that man."
Ryujin tapped his fingers on the table, then stood.
"Okay... that's all for this evening's report. I suggest you all enjoy this city while you still can. Our stay here is nearing its end."
Everyone exchanged looks, the weight of the moment sinking in.
They nodded in agreement.
~~~July 1, 2169~~~
"It's been five months since I first joined this squad... I've learned a lot along the way. Almost half a year... The face in the mirror... doesn't look like the kid who joined this squad five months ago."
The first light of July filtered softly through the apartment window, casting long shadows across the room.
Itoshi's eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling, lost in thought.
"Have I really changed that much...?"
Suddenly, a sharp voice echoed inside his mind—Miz's voice, clear and urgent.
"He's coming."
Itoshi's eyes twitched involuntarily.
He took a deep breath, sitting up slowly.
Around him, the boys still slept peacefully, unaware.
The calm before the storm.
~~~Nagasaki Airport, Omura~~~
At the Nagasaki airport, the thunderous roar of a plane touching down shattered the early morning haze. The runway trembled, the wheels screamed, and a wave of wind scattered dust across the field.
Voices clattered all around—airport workers shouting instructions, staff exchanging paperwork, maintenance crews moving in formation, and pilots exiting cockpits with tired steps.
But one figure moved unlike the rest.
A man—tall, sharp, and deliberate—cut through the noise with quiet dominance.
He wore a long black coat that swayed with each step, not a wrinkle out of place. On the back, a silver emblem caught the light.
"U.W.D.S."
He made no eye contact, no gesture of greeting. He simply moved forward, like a shadow that didn't belong in the daylight.
Yet he caught the attention of many.
Flight attendants paused mid-conversation. Several onlookers—men and women alike—turned their heads, drawn by a presence they couldn't explain. The way he walked, the sheer weight of his presence—it was like he didn't need permission to exist.
He passed through the gates, ignoring security checks entirely. Nobody stopped him.
They didn't dare to.
And behind his dark shades, his eyes scanned.
Looking.
~~~To be Continued~~~