The rager screeched, ready to lunge when a white line shimmered across its neck. A glint. Steel.
Everyone froze.
The spirit's head slid cleanly off its shoulders. Behind it stood a figure.
Rei Hanekawa.
He stood with practiced calm, dressed sharp in a black formal suit layered with a long coat. A dagger still gleaming, hung loose in his hand. His eyes, calm as usual, lifted toward Takami, who now stood unarmed while the rest of the team huddled near the corner.
"It's... Spirit Keeper Rei," the mage muttered, eyes wide.
Wazahi blinked, still in pain. Why's a Spirit Keeper here?
But while everyone else stared at Rei, Kiya's eyes were locked on Takami. "Where the hell did his weapon go? He had it just now…"
A low cracking sound snapped their attention. The walls trembled and then, like shattered glass, the dorm began to disintegrate. Particles rose and vanished into the air, dissolving. Around them, other dorms had been similarly cleared, with spirit slayers now standing in silence, their work done.
Takami turned away and moved to his team, slipping under Wazahi's arm to help him up.
Other spirit slayers quickly stepped in, helping the tank and the healer. Kiya limped but managed on her own.
"Takami." Rei's voice came sharp, calm.
Takami paused.
Rei walked over, steps smooth and deliberate. "So, you took one of the public missions," he said. "One that, by all indications, should've been far beyond your rank." His tone danced between curiosity and accusation. "I was passing nearby when I noticed something...off about this particular dorm."
"I see," Takami replied, voice cool and composed, still holding up Wazahi.
Rei's eyes narrowed. "Who killed the first rager?"
Takami tilted his head slightly toward Wazahi. "He did. Our team captain," he said without flinching. "Rank-1, High Grant slayer."
Wazahi's eyes shot wide, but he didn't speak. He understood the play. Takami was covering. A tactical lie. He nodded slightly in silent agreement.
Rei regarded Wazahi with an unreadable smile. "Protecting your team. Admirable." He turned his attention back to Takami. "When you're done, I'd like to talk. If you're okay with it."
Takami held his gaze for a beat, then walked off with Wazahi in silence.
Back with the team, three healers were already tending to them. Takami eased Wazahi down. A shared nod between them said everything. No words needed. The secret would stay just that for now.
Takami then walked across to where Rei leaned against a sleek black car, arms crossed.
"I'm here," Takami said.
Rei smiled faintly. "Don't you think it's enough? This whole act?"
Takami's brow creased slightly. So he's not letting this slide...
"I don't have proof," Rei added, now more serious, "but I know you took down that rager."
Takami let out a slow breath, carefully keeping his expression neutral. "No proof. That's good. Means I dismissed my gear before he could see it."
"I already told you," Takami said. "It was the captain."
Rei chuckled lightly. "Then prove it. Take a reevaluation test."
He stood upright and opened his car door. "You still have my card, right? I'll be waiting... Takami Ryusei."
He got in, slammed the door shut, and zoomed off, disappearing down the road.
Takami stood there a moment longer, watching the corner where Rei vanished. Then he turned and walked back.
He could already feel the eyes. Curious. Suspicious. Some in awe. Others... skeptical.
Back with his team, now fully healed, one the healers that helped them, approached him.
"What rank are you?" the man asked.
"Rank-3. Low Grant," Takami replied flatly.
Gasps fluttered around the group.
"Wasn't he just with Spirit keeper Rei?"
"Look at his body," someone whispered, a girl.
"He's definitely bluffing…I guess ," another guy said.
"I kinda wish he was on our team," a female voice chimed in, giggling.
"You don't even look hurt," someone added. "Like, you're not even limping. Your clothes are shredded, sure, but your body? Perfect. You fought, didn't you?"
"I… healed him," the healer from Takami's team spoke up quickly. "Used up everything I had. That's why I collapsed. He was in pretty bad shape."
That seemed to pacify the crowd. The other healer nodded, then stepped away.
Takami gave his teammate a brief look. Clever save. Then he turned to the team, his expression softer. "Thank you. All of you."
They nodded or murmured their acceptance.
Most of the spirit slayers had started to leave now, their work done. Takami glanced down at his outfit. Torn. Burnt. Barely holding together. More ash than armor.
"You know, there's a shop nearby where you can buy clothes," Wazahi said, grinning slightly. "I could walk you there if you want."
"Don't stress yourself," Takami replied. "You all need to rest."
A quiet beat passed.
"Thanks… for saving us," Wazahi said quietly.
"Yeah," Kiya added, standing behind him.
Takami shook his head. "It's nothing. Just…" he looked at each of them, "I'd appreciate it if we kept what happened in the dorm... between us."
"Of course," Kiya nodded.
"Got it," said the tank.
Kiya opened her mouth again, but the mage beside her nudged her side. "Ow!"
"You're not supposed to ask questions," she whispered. "If he doesn't want people knowing, respect that."
Kiya frowned, crossing her arms but stayed silent.
"I should go," Takami said, bowing slightly. He turned, but as he patted his pocket, he realized his phone was gone.
"Wait!" the healer called out, jogging over with it. "It fell off during the fight."
"Oh, thanks." Takami took it and walked away.
They all watched as he left. Quiet. Unreadable.
Eventually, they turned their own paths.
Taiwan - Hotel room.
A clean, modern hotel. A man packed his suitcase neatly, shirts, folded suits, belts stacked precisely. Probably in his mid-50s. Blond hair brushed back. Well-groomed beard. Calm, precise movements.
His phone rang on the bed.
He walked over, answered in Japanese. "Hello?"
A voice responded, calm and formal. "Good Afternoon."
"Afternoon to you too," the man said.
"You're aware of the situation unfolding here, I assume?"
"Yes. I'm heading back soon anyway."
"When?"
"Two days, max."
"We'll be waiting... Guild Master Shurin."
The line went dead.
He sighed. "So much for a break."
He closed his suitcase with a soft click, eyes distant, thoughtful. Then he zipped it shut.
Time to return.
Japan – Tokyo – Ome.
The sun dipped lazily over the cityscape, painting the skies in soft orange and streaks of pink. A breeze curled through the alleyways and gently tugged at the light-blue shirt Takami now wore. He stepped out of the boutique, a couple of paper bags swinging by his side, all filled with clothes, some for practicality, others… just because he could.
He checked his phone: 4:06 PM.
A soft exhale left his lips. The day had been long, and the dorm battle was still etched in the back of his mind.
He hailed a taxi, sliding into the back seat and giving the driver directions to his home.
The drive was quiet, filled with that comfortable hum of Tokyo traffic, half-muted radio static, and the smell of fresh cloth still clinging to his shirt. When the taxi dropped him off, he paid in silence and stepped out.
Sliding the door open, the house greeted him with a calm, almost too calm, silence.
"Hey mom," he said, closing the door behind him.
Akane, perched at the dining table with her glasses halfway down her nose and a paperback novel in hand, turned at the sound. Her eyes immediately locked onto the bags.
"Oh, welcome back," she said, brows slightly raised. "What are those? And is that a new shirt you're wearing?"
"Yeah. My shirt got torched by the spirit we fought. I stopped by a store to replace it... and well," he gave a small grin, "I just ended up shopping more."
He handed her one of the bags.
"That one's for you."
"For me?" she blinked. Her hands trembled slightly as she took it and peeked inside. Dresses, both elegant and casual. A designer purse. Her lips parted, eyes widening. "Takami… this isn't from your savings, is it?"
"Nope," he said, placing the other bags on a nearby counter. "I told you. I've been getting good pay recently."
Akane's expression melted. She stood, opened her arms, and embraced him tightly. The scent of old paper and fresh laundry clung to her sweater. "Thank you, for everything. For holding this family together. For watching over your siblings. For being here... always."
Takami chuckled softly. "I'll keep taking care of you. All of you. I'll make sure to keep you happy till your hair's all gray and you start forgetting names."
She laughed tearfully, burying her face into his shoulder. But the laugh was fragile. Wounded.
Takami's arms stiffened slightly. He felt it. The switch in her heartbeat. The change in her breathing.
"Mom… is something wrong?" he asked quietly.
Akane pulled back, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her sweater. "No, no. Everything's fine." Her smile returned, thin, stretched, and clearly hiding something.
"Tomoe and Yosuke took Mina to the park. Why don't you go clean up, hmm? I'm making curry tonight."
Takami didn't push it. "Okay. I'll just drop the gifts in their rooms."
As he disappeared down the hall, Akane sat back down and stared at the purse in her lap. Her hands clenched it slightly, the weight of the situation crawling back into her chest.
[5:23 PM]
Tokyo - Hachioji.
Café Amisu.
A gentle chime announced Takami's arrival as he pushed open the café door. The air inside was scented with vanilla roast and sweet pastries, the interior cozy and softly lit. He spotted the barista immediately.
"Good evening… Takami?" she blinked in disbelief.
"Yeah, it's me," he grinned. "How's it going?"
"Well! I mean fine, thank you. You've… changed. A lot. Since last time."
"I guess I have," he smiled. "Are Yuri and Jimin here yet?"
The barista pointed. "Jimin's already seated, but Yuri's not here yet."
Takami nodded and walked toward Jimin, who was seated at the corner table with a mischievous look on his face, signaling something with his hand.
Takami raised an eyebrow in confusion.
Before he could figure it out, two hands gently pressed over his eyes from behind, soft, sure, not immediately pullable. He froze.
"Yuri," he said, confidently.
But a deep, obviously fake voice replied, "Nope. Not even close."
He chuckled, then surrendered. "Okay, okay. I give up."
The hands were removed, and he turned to find Shion.
She smiled like the sun on a lazy spring afternoon. Up close, she had the kind of beauty that he never really noticed.
"Hiii," she waved casually.
"Shion?" he blinked. "Didn't expect you here."
"I told you I live around here," she said with a playful glare. "And guess what? Turns out I know your friend too, just didn't know his name until today."
"Oh?" Takami glanced at Jimin, who was now sipping his drink.
"Anyway," Shion continued, "I was leaving. Just dropped by for coffee. Won't be at the gym tomorrow, by the way."
"Alright."
She turned to Jimin with a wave. "Later, Jimin."
Jimin returned the gesture with a grin. As she left, Yuri finally arrived, chatting briefly with the barista before joining the table.
"Heyy," she said, setting her bag down.
"What's up," Takami responded.
"Yo missy," Jimin nodded at her.
The group settled in, slipping into the rhythm of easy conversation, jokes, stories, gossip, the usual. For a brief moment, Takami let himself forget the weight he carried.
Above a Rooftop
A figure sat with one leg crossed over the other, her hair fluttering like a shadow in the wind. Yona, rested her chin on her palm as she peered down through the café window.
"So it really is him," she muttered, voice tired with reluctant confirmation.
Her fingers gripped the rooftop's edge.
"Why... does it have to be his best friend?" she groaned, her face twisting with inner conflict. "Uggghhh."
She stood, slowly. Her eyes remained locked on Takami.
"I've come too far to back down now," she breathed.
Then she vanished into dark matter.
Back inside, Takami leaned back in his chair as laughter buzzed around him. Something about this night felt calm. Rare. But deep inside, something else stirred.
He didn't know it yet.
But this peace?
Wouldn't last long.