Elsewhere—far from the Chūkan, beyond its rifts and rituals. The Earth Realm. In the stillness of a mountain forest where no Setai operative would ever bother to look…

  Tamashkii lingered in the air.

  Invisible. Veiled.

  An abandoned path led to a dead shrine. Weather-worn, colpsed, forgotten.

  But beneath it—

  Tamashkii pulsed.

  Not wild. Not warped.

  Refined.

  A veil peeled open in the air like smoke pulled sideways—and a figure stepped through, arms full of konbini bags, hoodie drawn tight over their head.

  “…Home sweet outw base.”

  They passed through the gate.

  And the Hayashi mansion revealed itself.

  Not pristine. Not royal. But old and proud. Bamboo fences grown over, stone nterns cracked with time. Enough space to house twenty. Maybe more.

  Inside—

  The Hayashi were awake.

  In one wing, a healer passed glowing hands over an injured shoulder. The wound stitched itself shut.

  In the courtyard, two teenagers sparred with wooden swords, their footwork tighter than most full-fledged Gate Watchers.

  Past the main corridor, a Hayashi sat cross-legged, eyes closed, holding still as Tamashkii floated between her fingers in rhythmic pulses—inhale, flick, settle… exhale, flick, settle.

  No one bowed. No one barked orders.

  They weren’t a squad.

  They were a family.

  And even in exile—they’d only grown stronger.

  Voices echoed through the hallway leading to the communal room.

  “You felt it two years ago, right?”

  “Obviously. That wasn’t just some Earthrealm pulse. That was a Captain-css csh. It felt like Ancient had resurrected.”

  “The news said it was another asteroid crisis but it had to be Kuroda.”

  “Yeah… and the Chūkan still didn’t call us.”

  Someone dropped into a seated position near the window. Their voice lower now.

  “So what does that mean? Even when Earth itself shook, they didn’t reach out. Maybe they really don’t need us anymore.”

  Another voice replied, sharper. Older.

  “Or maybe they’re still afraid of us. ”

  Silence followed.

  Deep inside the compound, a single door slid open.

  A younger Hayashi stepped inside.

  No lights.

  Just a soft blue glow illuminating a single room. Simple. Silent. Reverent.

  In the center: a sealed bde mounted on a wall.

  Beneath it, a cracked emblem.

  On the floor—paper diagrams. Blueprints.

  A Reibaku’s original design.

  He knelt in front of it.

  Not to pray.

  Just to feel closer.

  “You created power… and they called it dangerous.”

  “Now everyone uses what you made.”

  He reached forward, fingertips brushing the old paper.

  “I wonder if you’d be proud… or pissed.”

  Footsteps behind him.

  A woman entered—hair tied back, carrying a tea cup.

  She watched him for a moment, then spoke:

  “Don’t stay in here too long. You know how the others feel about clinging to the past.”

  He didn’t turn.

  “He’s not the past. He’s the reason we survived.”

  She sighed, set the tea down by the door.

  “He’s also the reason we’re banished.”

  He finally looked up at her. “That’s not fair, Kiyosada had nothing to do with it. It was Itsusu who——”

  “Maybe not.” She interjected, her eyes softening. “But it’s still true.”

  Out in the courtyard, the wind shifted.

  A ripple passed through the veil.

  Like someone had tapped on the edge of their world.

  Inside, the woman’s gaze flicked toward the wall.

  “Did you sense that?”

  The boy nodded.

  “That was a tracking technique…Someone’s looking for us.”

  A pause.

  Then, from deeper inside the compound, a low voice called out.

  “Let them look.”

  “We are the Hayashi Household. We hold Ancient’s blood within us. They may try, but they will always fail. ”

  CUT TO BLACK.