The Judgment Hall was colder than usual.

  Not by temperature—but by presence. That invisible weight that pressed on every soul in the chamber.

  For the first time in decades, the Captain’s Corner was near full.

  Nine figures stood aligned in silence, each accompanied by their lieutenant. A sea of cloaks, coats, and Shinsei-Gai etched with their Gate numbers. Only one space remained empty—Koharu’s.

  And though unspoken, it was felt.

  The Elders hovered high above the ptform, their faces obscured by veils of Tamashkii. Their voices—cold, timeless—echoed through the room in a low, steady rumble.

  “She endangered the realm.”

  “She saved the realm.”

  “She lost control.”

  “She shielded the Chūkan.”

  “We sealed her Reibaku for a reason. If she had used it—soul alignment across the gates may have ruptured. We’re already struggling with the Kegare-induced instability.”

  “She is stronger than before. Perhaps she has learned to master it.”

  “You saw how she raged. Who’s to say she would’ve stopped?”

  “You speak of the girl like she’s a threat.”

  “She is.”

  Their debate spiraled. Words like viotion and imbance flickered through the air. Still, the Captains remained silent. Until—

  “She’s fine,” Masaki muttered.

  The voice came from the Captain of the Ichimōnban, his arms folded as he leaned against the railing. Across from him, the Hachimōnban Captain stood, long hair falling zily over one eye, her sharp gaze locked upward. This was Sayaka Renmeiji.

  She looked like someone who should never be underestimated—but smiled like someone who knew she always was.

  “Even for her, this is rare,” she said. “To be taken out like that…”

  “She and Ayase spent every ounce of Tamashkii shielding the realm,” Masaki replied. “It wasn’t the Kegare that dropped them. It was duty.”

  He gnced up toward the Elders, disgust thinly veiled beneath his voice.

  “And none of them seem to care.”

  Sayaka hummed. “So it was herself who pushed past the limit. That makes sense.”

  She folded her arms. “If that’s the case…” Her gaze lifted again, colder this time. “…then these people are truly vile.”

  Masaki gave a faint nod. “Truly so.”

  “Still—thank you for showing up when you did,” he added after a moment.

  She smiled wryly. “You don’t have to thank me, Masaki. But I’ll take the fttery.”

  A new voice cut in.

  “Hey now, don’t give him all the praise. If someone had given me a heads-up, I’d have gotten a few licks in too.”

  The Captain of the Shimōnban. Jinta Arakaki. He leaned zily over the railing beside them. His purple-hair was tied back, eyes full of reckless energy. A walking idiot-type with too much charm and not enough filter.

  Masaki exhaled. “It all happened too fast. Haruka visited my Gate at the right time. If he hadn’t—I would’ve missed it myself.”

  Jinta ughed. “Figures. His detection’s always been freakish.”

  “Freakish or lucky?” said another voice.

  The Shichimōnban Captain appeared next—tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a long coat with a jagged scar running across his throat, stopping just shy of the jugur. This was Tomoaki Shirogane. His eyes held years of battles, but his smile was always a second away.

  “My gate was there first, by the way. So even if you did show up, Jinta…” He cracked his knuckles. “There would’ve been nothing left for you to do.”

  “Tch. You ruin all my fun, old man,” Jinta muttered, but there was a chuckle behind his words.

  They shared a moment.

  Then—

  “How can you ugh at a time like this?”

  The Sanmōnban Captain interrupted. Elegant. Tall. Dead-serious. She bore the air of someone whose presence always made people sit straighter. This was Kanae Fushimi. A teal-haired woman with sharp eyes and a voice that could cut steel.

  “We let them get away. A core was used inside the Chūkan. You may have protected the realm…” Her voice tightened. “…but the cost was high.”

  Her words fell like bdes.

  And none of them had anything to say.

  Until—

  “Now, now…”

  A familiar voice—teasing, lighthearted.

  “Being able to ugh in times like these is actually the healthiest thing we can do.”

  Haruka Kobayashi stepped into the circle, his coat swaying gently as he adjusted his colr. His smile was present. But his eyes were tired.

  Kanae scoffed. “You faced a Shingan, and you let him escape. What kind of Captain does that?”

  Haruka tilted his head, unbothered. “One that’s faced two of them. And got rid of the first. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

  Kanae narrowed her gaze.

  “Kidding, kidding,” Haruka chuckled. “I can’t resonate anymore, remember? We did what we could just to keep him from healing his Phantoms. If he had…”

  He shook his head.

  “It would’ve been a war.”

  That settled Kanae. She looked away, thoughtful now.

  “And besides…” Haruka’s voice dropped. “Koharu could’ve ended it. If it weren’t for their stubbornness.”

  That echoed.

  The Elders stirred.

  “Haruka Kobayashi,” one said sharply.

  The hall fell silent.

  He stepped into the center of the Judgment Circle.

  A spotlight of Tamashkii fred above him.

  It’s been a while since I stood here, he thought. Too long.

  “You say we were stubborn. What was stubborn about it?”

  Haruka didn’t flinch.

  “This was our one chance to end it. We had every major Kegare head in one pce. Letting Koharu finish it would’ve changed everything.”

  He gnced up.

  “Sure, their underlings would’ve remained—but underlings don’t matter much against full reign Captains and Lieutenants.”

  Murmurs flickered from the Elders.

  “And the alignment?” another challenged. “Would you have doomed us all for a fleeting victory?”

  Haruka’s expression hardened.

  “Your alignment issue isn’t a threat. It’s a math problem.”

  Gasps.

  “The Chūkan’s barrier can’t withstand extreme Tamashkii pressure. You fear overflow. Leakage. Fine.”

  He tilted his head.

  “But what if the barrier didn’t have a limit?”

  More murmurs. One Elder shouted, “An infinite barrier? That’s a myth! Not even Ancient could create one before his exile!”

  Haruka smiled faintly.

  “Koharu can.”

  The Hall exploded in disbelief.

  “She cannot!”

  “Ludicrous—”

  “The girl raged, lost control—”

  “If she’s that strong, she could rip the Reibaku from us next!”

  Through it all, Haruka chuckled.

  “She’s stronger than me now. And I could make one.”

  That silenced everything.

  Every Captain’s eyes widened.

  The Elders were stunned.

  “…You could?”

  Haruka gave a zy nod.

  “Before I lost my resonance. Yeah. It took everything out of me. But I did it.”

  He gnced up.

  “And Koharu? She’s surpassed me tenfold.”

  The Elders’ silence was thick.

  “So what are you suggesting?” one finally asked.

  Haruka shrugged. “That you had a chance to end this war. And now the only one who can save you… is the girl you just betrayed.”

  More outrage. More fear.

  Until—

  “That’s enough!”

  The Hachimōnban Captain stepped forward, voice firm. Sharp. Regal.

  “I’ve had enough of this snder. Koharu has done nothing but devote her life to this realm. She’s fought. Bled. Succeeded. And all you do is question her!”

  The Elders snapped toward her.

  “The Eighth does great work for the realm. But who are you to speak so boldly to us?”

  She took a breath.

  Straightened her coat.

  “I am Sayaka Renmeiji. Captain of the Hachimōnban.”

  Haruka smirked at her side.

  “And she’s absolutely right.”

  One Elder pointed a finger. “Do not forget your pce, Haruka.”

  Haruka waved zily. “I never do.”

  “But you forget that my pce—resonant or not—is still Captain of the Kyūmonban. And until the day you kill me, that’s not changing.”

  He turned away, walking back to the corner. Sayaka followed.

  The Elders remained silent for several seconds.

  Then—

  “A decision has been made.”

  Their voice thundered from above.

  “We shall wait for the Jumōnban Captain to recover.”

  “If any Kegare incidents occur before then…”

  A faint chime.

  Dozens of small, ethereal creatures—slightly crystalline, like insects of shimmering Tamashkii—floated down toward the Captains.

  “Each Captain will now carry a Hikari Mushi. These spirits will notify you of Kegare activity instantly.”

  They floated gently into each Captain’s palm, dissolving into their Shinsei-Gai.

  “We trust you will all answer the call.”

  And with that—the Elders vanished.

  Silence returned.

  Haruka stretched, arms above his head, and sighed.

  “Would’ve been easier if they just let her make her squad.”

  Sayaka chuckled.

  “You think anything around here is ever easy?”

  Haruka smirked.

  “Not with Elders like these.”