The air was thick with the scent of sweat and effort.

  The underground chamber where Ren and Ryuko trained was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from flickering nterns hanging from the stone walls.

  The echoes of their cshing strikes had long since faded, leaving only the sound of their bored breathing in the aftermath.

  Ren exhaled sharply, wiping the sweat from his brow.

  “It’s been a month and a half…” he muttered, rolling his shoulder. “And I finally feel fully recovered.”

  Ryuko smirked, stretching his arms behind his head. “And in that month and a half, I’d like to think we both got a little stronger.”

  Ren huffed out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

  The moment of levity was short-lived.

  A ripple of movement caught his eye—

  Ryuko’s shadow shifting unnaturally.

  He stiffened, muscles tensing in reflex, but then he saw what caused it.

  A faint twitch.

  A finger.

  A breath.

  Akira.

  They both turned toward the motionless figure lying nearby.

  For weeks, Akira had been unresponsive, his body caught in the limbo between life and death.

  But now—

  He was breathing.

  His chest rose and fell, shallow but steady.

  Ren crouched beside him, a mix of relief and disbelief washing over his face.

  “He’s alive.”

  Ryuko crossed his arms, nodding in satisfaction. “Well, if he hasn’t kicked the bucket, then I guess getting this other pyer on our side wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

  Ren looked up at him, brow furrowing. “Other pyer? Who?”

  Ryuko met his gaze, amusement flickering in his eyes.

  “You’re not gonna like this.”

  ?

  The cold night air bit at Ren’s skin as he and Ryuko stood outside the towering structure of the Setai HQ.

  Ren clenched his fists, barely containing his irritation.

  “What are we doing here? I’m done with this organization. They literally tried to kill me!”

  Ryuko, ever the instigator, merely grinned.

  “Look, Old Man Sato doesn’t run the show like you think he does. He’s just a pceholder—a poster boy. Kuroda’s the one pulling the strings. Sato’s nothing more than a convenient figurehead, a former U.S. president being used as a front.”

  Ren scowled. “And that’s supposed to make me want to talk to him?”

  “Just meet with him,” Ryuko insisted. “Hear him out. I promise you’ll understand.”

  Before Ren could argue further, Ryuko’s shadow coiled around them—

  Swallowing them into darkness.

  When the shadows dispersed, they stood inside Sato’s office.

  Sato jolted upright from his desk, smming a hand down in irritation. "God damn it, Ryuko! I told you about popping up like that!"

  Ryuko grinned. "I know, I know. But you know I just love a fshy entrance."

  Sato exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "If I had any damn sense, I’d call 2 Heishi down here right now to put you in the ground."

  Ryuko’s smirk widened. "I think we both know what would happen if you did. I’d be the only one who’d get enjoyment out of that."

  Ren stood stiffly near the corner, arms crossed, not sparing Sato a gnce.

  The old man turned his gaze to him, observing him carefully before sighing heavily. "I’m surprised you got him to follow along," Sato muttered.

  "Just tell him already," Ryuko said, rolling his eyes. "The guy’s been through enough."

  Sato let out a slow, heavy sigh. "Yamato… listen. First, I wasn’t the one who sent those assassins after you. I’m pretty sure Kuroda just overheard our conversation and used it to his advantage. Second, and most importantly…… this started long before you were in the picture kid."

  We then cut to a fshback. The office was different back then—back when Sato still held true power.

  Across from him sat Samberg, his right-hand man, and Ancient, the mysterious figure who had first brought knowledge of Tamashkii to the world’s elite.

  Ancient’s face was unreadable as he spoke. "Kuroda’s been running tests. His research… it's dangerous," Ancient warned.

  Sato leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "How dangerous?"

  Ancient’s expression darkened.

  "He’s toying with things beyond his understanding. The Chūkan Yūrei exists beyond what should be seen. My ancestors made sure of that—it was never meant for outsiders. B-But he’s trying to manipute the very essence of souls."

  Sato’s jaw tightened. He turned to Samberg. "Keep Kuroda under watch. If Ancient doesn’t like it, then you know I damn sure don’t."

  Samberg nodded. "Understood, sir. I’ll handle it."

  Sato’s voice echoed over the memory. "I thought I had it handled. But oh, how wrong I was."

  The memory shifted. Years ter, past the Oval Office crisis, past the global upheaval. Sato sat alone in his private quarters, wracked with violent coughs.

  Blood spttered into his palm. He stared at it, grimacing. "Ah… it seems it’s finally my time."

  Then, Kuroda had approached him with a deal. "You want to live, don’t you?" Kuroda had asked, offering him a vial of crimson liquid. "You want to keep making a difference? All I ask is that you continue to help move the world forward. You and me together.”

  Sato’s voice turned bitter.

  "The health potions you’ve seen? The miracle cures? They weren’t developed for the organizations at first.

  They were made for me. Kuroda was keeping me alive… in exchange for my compliance."

  Ren’s jaw clenched. "So you sold your soul to him?"

  Sato’s gaze hardened. "I did what I had to do to survive. Samberg wasn’t ready at the time. If i died then…. The Setai would be in a much worse pce."

  Ren’s temper fred, his voice rising. "And how many people suffered because of it?!"

  Ryuko’s voice cut in, calm but firm. "And how many more would’ve suffered if he didn’t? If it wasn’t him, Kuroda would’ve just put some other poster boy in this position.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  Finally, Sato exhaled, looking Ren in the eye. "I don’t expect you to forgive me. But understand—this fight against Kuroda? It started long before you.”

  He then stopped giving way to a small pause. “But it sure as hell won’t end without you."

  Ren hesitated. There was a long pause as a heavy silence filled the room. Then, slowly, he extended his hand. A silent truce.

  Sato took it, gripping firmly.

  "So what did we need Sato for anyway?" Ren asked, pulling back.

  Ryuko smirked. "It’s time for us to stop Kuroda."

  CUT TO BLACK.

  Far away, beneath the fractured sky, in a pce untouched by battle, a faint glow pulses in the darkness.

  The light flickers—soft, rhythmic, alive. It washes over the still form of a man, his breaths shallow, his body wrecked beyond human limits.

  A figure looms over him, silent, watching.

  Cloaked in shadow, his presence is neither rushed nor hesitant.

  The glow intensifies as something small, fragile-looking, is pced at the injured man’s lips. A vial. Faintly green. Faintly glowing. The liquid swirls like mist within gss—just like before.

  The same way the old man had healed the girl.

  The figure says nothing.

  The wind whispers through the cracks in the ruined walls, carrying only the faintest hum, like a drumbeat echoing from the past.

  Then, just as fast as the wind blows, the figure disappears.