Ren stirred, his body aching as consciousness returned. His senses were slow to react, his mind clouded in a haze of pain and exhaustion. The bandages wrapped around his torso and arms were tight, a testament to the injuries he had sustained. He blinked against the dim light filtering into the secluded hut, the scent of herbs and old wood lingering in the air.

  Memories of the previous day fshed through his mind—the explosion, the chaos, the pain. His body tensed involuntarily. Then, another thought surfaced: Akira.

  Before he could dwell on it, the sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. The door creaked open, and Akira stepped in, his presence as steady and unshaken as ever. In one hand, he carried a steaming mug of tea, while beside him, Raikou—the legendary drum—hovered steadily, bancing a second mug in pce of the arm he no longer had.

  “You’re finally awake.” Akira’s voice was as calm as the wind before a storm, his sharp eyes scanning Ren’s condition as he pced the tea beside him.

  Ren struggled to sit up, gritting his teeth. “How long was I out?”

  Akira exhaled through his nose, taking a sip of his tea. “Long enough.” He gestured toward the tea Raikou had set down. “I have no health potions on me, but drink that. It’ll help.”

  Ren hesitated, but the warmth of the cup was reassuring in his palm. He took a slow sip, letting the silence settle between them. Then, just as he opened his mouth to ask the inevitable question—about Akira, about what had happened—Akira cut him off.

  “None of that matters right now.” His tone was firm, brooking no argument. “What we need to focus on are the Kuroda Cores.”

  Ren’s grip tightened around the mug. “You knew about them?”

  Akira’s expression darkened slightly. “Of course. I’ve been tracking Kuroda’s movements for years.” He leaned forward, his voice lowering. “They’re trying to mass-produce them, and they’re not stopping in Japan. The pn is bigger than that.”

  Ren narrowed his eyes. “How big?”

  “Global.” Akira’s fingers tapped against the side of his mug. “Kuroda already had ties to the former president of the U.S. He pns to release the cores in a densely poputed area—New York City. There’s a major event happening soon. A perfect pce to introduce chaos.”

  Ren’s expression hardened. “Why not drop it here first? Why go overseas?”

  Akira set his mug down. “Because it’s not just about destruction. It’s about history. And control.” He met Ren’s gaze. “You ever wonder how the Musabori came to be? Kuroda didn’t just build them overnight. Their first act was killing Ancient.”

  Ren’s breath caught. His fingers stiffened around his tea. His mind instantly spiraled backward—to that day. That moment.

  ?

  The past crashed into him all at once.

  A boy stood among the crowd, watching in awe as the Ancient Hero descended from the sky. His heart raced as he finally saw his idol in person. With wide eyes, he had asked, “How did you get so strong?”

  The hero had smiled warmly, ruffling his hair. “As I age, I have more to protect—that’s why I became the hero you see before you.”

  Those words had stuck with him.

  Years ter, the boy had grown, and his focus had shifted. Training gave way to academics, and he found himself drawn to someone—a girl who challenged and captivated him in ways he couldn’t expin. Life felt different then. Lighter.

  Then, everything changed.

  He had been at the school gate, surrounded by whispers.

  “Oh wow, is she gonna jump? Is she really gonna jump?”

  Panic fred inside him, but he couldn’t push through the crowd fast enough.

  What would the Ancient Hero do?

  The answer had arrived in a fsh of light.

  The Ancient Hero soared onto the rooftop, reaching out—

  “DON’T TOUCH ME!”

  The voice rang sharp through the air.

  Then—

  “Burst.”

  A blinding beam struck the hero.

  The crowd gasped.

  And in the next instant, the hero exploded—ripped into unrecognizable fragments before the stunned onlookers.

  The boy—Ren—felt something inside him snap.

  Anger. Regret. Self-loathing.

  He turned, demanding answers, interrogating the crowd with a fury he had never felt before. But no one had them. No one knew why. His questions were swallowed by the chaos.

  Then—

  A dull thud.

  A nametag fell from the sky, nding at his feet.

  He picked it up. Slowly.

  Read the name printed on it.

  And when he looked up, the body at the edge of the crowd—the girl he loved—was lying there, lifeless.

  Tears blurred his vision. His knees hit the ground. His voice broke into a scream that no one could soothe.

  “THIS CAN’T BE—I didn’t even get to tell you…”

  The rain poured.

  The sirens wailed.

  The world around him blurred into meaningless noise.

  And in that moment, everything about him changed.

  ?

  The hut was silent when Ren returned to the present.

  Akira was watching him closely, as if reading the emotions flickering behind his eyes.

  After a long pause, Ren finally spoke. His voice was quiet.

  “I was there that day.”

  Akira’s eyes widened. “What?”

  Ren exhaled slowly. “I saw Ancient die.” He met Akira’s gaze. “I saw everything.”

  Akira leaned back slightly, absorbing the weight of Ren’s words. After a moment, he let out a dry chuckle.

  “Damn, kid. I may have lost an arm, but you… looks like you’ve been through just as much pain as me.”

  His tone cked its usual teasing edge—there was something raw beneath it.

  A beat of silence.

  Then—

  A shift in the air.

  Both men tensed.

  Tamashkii energy. Faint, but unmistakable.

  Someone—or something—was approaching.

  Ren’s fingers twitched toward his bde. “No one should be able to find us out here, right?”

  Akira’s gaze didn’t leave the door. His grip on Raikou tightened. “They shouldn’t.”

  The wind outside picked up.

  Footsteps echoed faintly.

  And then—

  A knock.

  Cut to bck.