He tossed a dossier onto the table.

  Watari grabbed it, flipping through the pages. “Oh? What’s this? A real mission?”

  He smirked. “What, you getting soft on us, Yasuke?”

  Yasuke ignored him, eyes shifting toward Yumi. “You might wanna bring that cute little Heishi you always keep around too. I don’t expect a Yoriki can handle anything on his own.”

  Watari scowled.

  Yumi scanned the file. Her eyes widened.

  Watari noticed. “What? What is it?”

  Yumi didn’t answer. Not fully. Instead, she let the pages slide through her fingers, her expression darkening.

  “It’s… just a scouting mission.”

  But the way she clenched her jaw told Watari there was more to it than that.

  ?

  The mission led them to a rundown bar deep in Musabori territory.

  A man inside was suspected of working against them, and they needed to confirm it.

  Simple, right?

  Except nothing was ever simple with the Musabori.

  “So, you’re the one we’re looking for.”

  Yumi leaned forward, voice calm, yet edged with steel. “Why don’t we cut the crap and tell me what I need to know?”

  The man sneered.

  He was built like a mountain—scarred knuckles, broad shoulders, a face twisted in irritation.

  “Tch. They send a damn girl to interrogate me?” His chair scraped back as he stood, towering over her. “Shouldn’t you be off making tea or something?”

  Watari saw it—the tiny twitch of Yumi’s eyebrow, the subtle tightening of her fist.

  She was getting pissed.

  And before she could react—

  Watari flicked the guy on the forehead.

  Not hard. Just enough to—

  CRASH!

  The man flew backward, smming into the bar with a deafening BOOM, bottles shattering, patrons gasping.

  He slumped against the wall, unconscious.

  Silence.

  Watari stared at his fingers. ”…Oops.”

  ?

  The bar exploded into chaos.

  Fists swung. Drinks flew. Tables shattered.

  Yumi and Watari found themselves dodging attacks from every direction.

  Watari ducked under a flying mug, snatched a passing gss of juice, took a sip, and then chucked it at someone’s face.

  “Okay, this is kinda fun—”

  As the chaos in the bar reached its peak, the man they had knocked unconscious earlier stirred, groaning.

  He pressed a hand to his temple, blinking rapidly as if his entire skull had been rattled.

  Then, slowly, he reached into his coat.

  Watari, still mid-duck from a thrown chair, paused when he saw it.

  A small, pulsing core.

  But this one was different. Smaller. Compact.

  And the way it hummed—it sent a shiver down Watari’s spine.

  The man’s lips curled into a smirk as he turned it over in his palm.

  “Guess the boss wasn’t lying after all.”

  His fingers tightened around it.

  “He really can make gods out of us nobodies.”

  Then—

  He crushed it.