The morning sun crept gently over Zimala, bathing the battered city in soft gold. Dew clung to the leaves of fruit trees along the north square, and the faint scent of smoldering wood drifted through the air from damaged homes and barricades.
Tsuki stirred beneath the pavilion canopy where Judgment Squad had made camp. She rubbed her eyes, her limbs stiff from resting on stone.
Danzo was already there, arms folded and tapping his foot as the others began to rise.
"Good morning," he said. The usual bark in his voice was softened by fatigue. "Hope you all slept well."
Tsuki yawned. "Managed to forget about the scorched streets and angry citizens long enough to actually sleep. Temporarily."
Geo grunted, rolling onto his side. "Can the sun go back down? I'm not ready for round two."
Knoxx mumbled something unintelligible, still wrapped in his blanket. Azumi sat up with a stretch, shaking out her hair. Hatori stood beside Danzo, arms crossed with his head down. He'd stayed awake from the last watch shift.
Danzo waited until all eyes were on him. It took a kick to both Geo and Knoxx's bedrolls, but eventually he had their attention.
"Right. Here's the deal. Lantern and Nighthawk confirmed last night: the APC's full retreat through the Retora Bridge is legit. Zimala is officially under Memento control."
A moment of quiet settled over them, heavy with the weight of what he'd just said.
Then Danzo continued.
"Maro's orders are clear. Today's a restoration day. We help clean up the damage, assist the civilians, and start laying the foundation for services. The idea is to win hearts, not just territory."
Tsuki nodded. "Win them over after blowing up their walls. Should be a breeze."
Hatori added calmly, "War doesn't end just because the enemy leaves."
"Exactly," Danzo said. "The APC still supposedly holds six of the nine districts. We've taken three. But rumors are spreading—Jon might be stirring up a revolt, and Riche may have declared neutrality. Much to go, but this is the first big step."
Azumi tied her dirty blonde hair back. "So it won't be as simple as 'invade, liberate, move on.'"
"Correct. It's only going to get more complicated from here."
Knoxx groaned. "I hate plans that involve thinking."
Azumi smirked. "Of course you do."
Knoxx shot her a glare but didn't follow up. He was still too tired.
Danzo crossed his arms. "One more thing—rumors of another Ghost sighting. This time, at the Galion-Eden border. An entire fortress wiped out. No survivors. Every Stalker dead."
The squad tensed.
Tsuki's eyes widened.
The Ghost again… just who the hell is this guy? Why does he keep helping us?
"A whole fortress… alone?" she asked quietly.
"Supposedly," Danzo replied.
Geo shook his head. "Must be a crazy sight."
Azumi muttered, "I'm telling you—he's not human. He's a devil in that grinning mask. No one should be able to do that alone."
"That mask…" Tsuki whispered. "It's burned into people's minds. His legend's growing faster than ours."
Danzo shrugged. "Could be truth. Could be propaganda. Who knows? Helps the APC justify their fearmongering. Still… makes you wonder."
He laughed dryly and turned to leave—until a voice called from behind.
"Danzo!"
A familiar figure approached from the eastern street, sunlight trailing behind him like a halo. Loose black hair caught the breeze. A coat draped over baggy cream pants. The white scarf around his neck fluttered gently, hiding just enough of his expression to leave it unreadable.
But his violet eyes shimmered.
"Tona!" Tsuki said, perking up.
He waved lazily, his iconic half-grin already working its magic.
"Ah! What's up, Judgies?"
Azumi clasped her hands dramatically. "You've returned—for me, I presume?"
Tona chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Not quite."
Knoxx sat up. "You missed the invasion, man. Where the hell were you?"
"Recon mission," Tona replied casually. "Maro needed eyes out near the Riche border. Always gives me the glamorous jobs."
His eyes flicked to Hatori, still seated on the ledge.
"You gonna say hi to your best friend, or what?"
Hatori raised a cracker in greeting. "Hi."
Tona snorted. "As talkative as ever."
He sat down on a crate, shuffling his hair through his palm. Tsuki's gaze drifted to his hand.
A silver ring caught the sunlight on his right index finger.
"Hey… that ring," she asked, tilting her head. "Has that always been there?"
Tona lifted his hand dramatically.
"Oh, this?" He pointed to the sky. "Seals my overwhelming charm. Gotta keep it under control."
He flashed her a wink.
"You're an idiot," Tsuki replied, though her smirk betrayed her affection.
Hatori wandered over with a cracker still hanging out of his mouth. "You know he has an actual fan club in Persetta, right?"
Tona groaned, hiding his face in his arms. "Don't remind me."
"Oh yeah," Hatori continued with a grin. "What do they call you again? Our Beloved Norasachi? Tona the Angelic? Scarf-Daddy?"
"Shut it," Tona mumbled.
The squad burst into laughter.
For a moment—just laughter, sun, and warmth. A complete normalcy.
"So," Tona asked, glancing up, "what's the mission today?"
"Cleanup," Geo said. "Helping the city recover. Viper Squad's working the south with us."
"Viper Squad, huh…" Tona rubbed his chin. "Naru, Makoro, Enzumaki… and…"
He paused. A flicker of disappointment crossed his face.
"…Neko."
Azumi raised an eyebrow. "Got history?"
"Not really. He's an interesting one though."
Tsuki nodded. "Naru said his ability was 'hit or miss.' Still trying to figure that out."
Tona grinned. "Wasn't wrong. Neko calls it Jackbox. He summons a box that contains a random item. It varies in helpfulness. Could be a fruit… or a Solena-draining war hammer."
Tsuki blinked. "That's... actually kind of terrifying."
Knoxx scoffed. "Sounds useless."
"Not when he's lucky," Tona said, ignoring him. "The unpredictability is the weapon."
"Fits his personality," Geo noted.
"Yeah. He doesn't shut up either," Hatori added, nudging Knoxx. "Kind of like someone else I know."
"Stray shot!" Knoxx clutched his chest. "Knoxx has been mortally wounded!"
Azumi rolled her eyes. "Please. We'd notice if you died."
Tona stood, brushing off his coat. "Well, I'm off. Maro's waiting."
His sleeve shifted as he moved—red stained the edge close to his right hand.
Geo noticed first. "Tona... your sleeve."
Tona looked down briefly. "Oh. That?"
He gave a small smile. "Nothing to worry about. You should see the other guy."
He turned and walked off, waving without looking back.
"Later, Judgies."
"Bye, Tona!" Tsuki called after him.
Geo and Azumi waved too.
Knoxx muttered, "One day I'm gonna beat him."
Azumi didn't even look at him. "No, you won't."
He groaned. "At least give me a little hope. Isn't that what good squadmates do?"
Azumi shook her head in a playful manner.
Meanwhile, Tsuki watched Tona disappear into the street's light and shadow. His silhouette converged with the path the further he went.
He brings peace just by existing.
Power and calm… Is this... What having a brother feels like?
She smiled quietly before pushing herself upwards, dusting off her dark Memento cloak.
"Alright," she said. "Let's get to work."
"Right!" the squad responded in unison, shaking off the last bits of morning fog.
The sun was rising, and Zimala was waiting.
In the outskirts of Zimala, a half-destroyed courthouse now served as temporary HQ for Memento forces. Maro's quarters were dim, thick with the scent of parchment, burning oil, and the lingering smoke of long-forgotten fires. A lone lantern sat in the center of the wooden table, casting an amber glow across maps, supply manifests, and a half-eaten apple — browning at the edges, untouched for hours.
Maro leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. Beside him stood Danzo, posture as rigid as ever, though a rare glint of satisfaction flickered behind his stern eyes.
Footsteps approached outside — slow, unhurried, confident.
Tona pushed open the entrance door.
"Evening," he greeted, voice easy.
"Ah, just in time," Danzo said, gesturing with a nod.
Tona strolled in and dropped himself into the open chair across from them. His legs stretched out casually, one ankle resting over the other. He folded his hands behind his head, the ring on his finger catching the low lantern light. Despite the relaxed pose, his violet eyes gleamed beneath his messy hair—calm, but razor-sharp. Watching everything.
"You called?" he asked, casual as always.
Maro nodded. "We've got another solo operation for you. One we wouldn't trust to anyone else."
Tona arched a brow.
Danzo stepped forward, voice even. "We've detected strange Solena patterns deep in Alden Central—entire readings disappearing overnight. Not relocating or dormant. Gone. Like they were swallowed."
Danzo drew in a slow breath.
"Someone's murdering ability users, and all signs point to it being unrelated to the APC."
That caught Tona's attention, though he didn't act surprised.
Maro leaned in. "You'll go beneath their noses. While Memento pushes toward Jon, all eyes will be on the front. You'll slip past the noise… and find out who's causing this."
Tona didn't flinch.
"So," he said, a crooked grin forming. "You're sending me straight into the lion's den?"
Maro smirked. "More like the lion's stomach."
Tona chuckled, letting the words hang in the air.
"Well," he said, spinning the ring slowly on his finger. "Your word's final. I go where you send me."
The room fell still — just the flicker of the lantern between them.
"You're not worried?" Danzo asked, his tone oddly curious.
"Would it help if I was?" Tona replied, the ever-calm smile resting on his face.
But Maro was watching more closely. Watching the way Tona's eyes flickered toward the maps, the slight way his breathing had slowed.
"Tona," Maro said quietly. "This mission might not be like the others. If the Solena readings are correct… we may be dealing with someone, or something we haven't seen before."
Tona finally moved—his fingers tapping lightly against the table.
"Then I'll see it first," he said. "And if it's dangerous…"
He paused.
"…I'll handle it."
Maro held his gaze a second longer — then smiled.
"Good. Get some rest. You leave at dusk. Might be a few days out, depending on what you find."
"Sweet," Tona said, standing with a stretch. "A vacation with death lurking in every shadow."
He toyed with the ring again; the strange silver band pulsed faintly with energy.
Maro tilted his head. "Still holding up for you?"
Tona looked at it fondly. "Haven't had a problem. Kind of grown attached, honestly. Doubles as a good luck charm."
He gave them a grin, but Danzo's eyes lingered on the ring a little longer than necessary.
"Glad to hear it," Maro said.
As Tona turned toward the exit, Danzo added, "Oh—one last thing. Your friends in Judgment Squad… they put on quite the show in Zimala. You'd have been proud."
Tona paused at the door.
"Proud?" He echoed with a quiet laugh. "C'mon... I never doubted them."
Maro chuckled. "That's what I like to hear."
Tona gave a lazy wave and stepped outside, the wooden frame closing behind him.
The wind caught the hem of his oversized coat, lifting it behind him like a cape. His hands were tucked in his pockets, posture relaxed, but his stride was purposeful—the kind of walk that didn't belong to someone ordinary.
The ring on his finger pulsed once with a dull violet gleam.
Danzo pursed his lips before speaking.
"He's changed," he said, still staring at the door. "More composed than usual. Still Tona… but sharper. Colder."
Maro remained seated, fingers steepled beneath his chin.
"He always gets like that before a real mission," he said quietly. "You know that."
Danzo turned toward him. "I wonder if he suspects we're sending him into something bigger than what we discussed."
"He doesn't need to suspect," Maro replied. "He already knows."
Danzo nodded slowly, arms folding. "You ever think about what would happen if the ring came off?"
The question hung heavy in the air.
Maro didn't answer right away. He stared at the faint glow of the half-eaten apple on the table.
"Enough to lose sleep," he admitted, tilting back his chair.
Danzo's voice lowered. "It's not just a limiter, you know. That ring? It's a seal. Power like his isn't meant to exist unchecked."
Maro finally met his gaze.
"That's why we've kept it quiet. Why I gave him the mask."
Danzo's jaw tightened. "And what happens when the world learns the truth?"
Maro's silence returned. "Then we pray the enemy fears him," Maro finally said, "and that our allies still recognize him."
Danzo glanced down at the maps. At the territories marked red. At the cities lost and retaken. "He's the difference between winning the war and losing everything."
Maro nodded once. "But he's also still a person. I've seen what it does to him," Maro continued, quieter now. "Inside, he's walking a razor's edge."
Danzo exhaled through his nose. "And if he falls?"
Maro looked toward the room's entrance, where only minutes ago, Tona had disappeared into the soft orange glow of dusk.
"Then Alden falls with him."
Back in the streets of Zimala, Judgment squad continued with cleanup duty. Smoke still lingered faintly in the air, though most fires had long been extinguished. The once-pristine city now bore signs of battle: shattered windowpanes, fractured stonework, blackened craters carved by Solena clashes. But amid the damage, movement bloomed.
Judgment and Viper Squads worked together in the heart of the city square—not as warriors, but as rebuilders. Clearing debris. Moving broken carts. Speaking to confused civilians when they dared peek from cracked doors.
From a distance, one boy watched—brow furrowed as the 'devils' he'd heard about swept glass and cleared rubble.
"Aye, Azumi!" Knoxx called out, hoisting a boulder-sized chunk of fractured wall over his head. "Check out this beauty! Thing's huge!"
Azumi glanced up from gathering splintered wood. She raised a brow.
"You're a child."
Knoxx grinned with zero shame. "Only partially! I'm nineteen, you know — still got a few inches left to grow!"
He flexed for dramatic effect, nearly toppling the stone chunk in his hand.
Tsuki, a few feet away, summoned thin tendrils of shadow to sweep broken glass into a pile near a cart. The darkness curled smoothly across the ground like ribbons, her hands barely moving.
"Smart," Hatori commented from nearby; arms crossed as he leaned on a collapsed fence. "We don't see many high-IQ moments around here."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Tsuki said, smirking.
"You should," Hatori replied.
"That's not a problem in our squad," Neko chimed in with a dramatic finger raised. "We're practically geniuses."
"Not you," Naru said flatly without looking up from stacking bricks.
Neko puffed his cheeks. "Hey! I act dumb — that's my thing. Keeps people guessing."
Makoro rumbled nearby, brushing debris off a toppled fruit stand. "No. Just stupid."
Neko wheeled on him, hands flailing. "That's rich coming from you, Rockhead!"
Makoro beat his chest once. "Bring it, tiny monkey! Me smash powder monkeys!"
Before the tension could bubble further, Enzumaki stepped in, tapping Makoro gently on the forearm. The change was instant. The fury in Makoro's face softened like morning mist. His posture relaxed. His shoulders sagged just slightly—like a mountain finding peace.
Everyone paused.
"…You know," Geo said, watching the shift, "I've been meaning to ask. Enzumaki, what is your ability?"
Tsuki nodded, curiosity dancing in her expression. "You seem to have this… calming effect. Especially on Makoro."
Enzumaki tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, speaking softly but clearly.
"I channel my Solena into what I call Emotive Touch. I can imbue calmness, nostalgia, and positive emotional memory into those I touch. It's like… painting a warm memory over their current state. It can ease fear or anger."
Makoro, now quietly humming, leaned against a wall nearby — a far cry from the roaring threat he'd been moments ago.
"It doesn't work on everyone," she added. "Those who are too far gone, too stubborn, or mentally locked into their emotions… they can resist it. Especially high-tier stalkers or those with fractured mental focus. But for most civilians, or protestors during the invasion? It helped."
She smiled gently.
"I just gave them a moment of peace."
Naru looked over from where he was stacking old roof tiles. "Enzumaki's a core piece of our squad. Couldn't do this without her."
He gave her a thumbs-up. She blinked in surprise before smiling wide—a rare full smile that warmed the group.
Even Makoro clapped slowly.
"Aww," Neko sniffled dramatically, wiping an invisible tear. "You guys are gonna make me cry. This is so wholesome."
Azumi grinned. "You're already emotional. That's probably Enzumaki's fault."
Enzumaki looked playfully guilty. "Oops."
Eventually the sun dipped low behind the rooftops of Zimala, painting the broken city in hues of gold and soft lavender. Shadows stretched long across the plaza as the final crates were stacked, the last debris swept from the square.
Judgment and Viper Squads moved slowly now—sweat-dampened, dirt-streaked, and thoroughly worn out. But the job was done. For today, at least, Zimala could breathe.
"Alright," Naru said, clapping his hands together. "That's a wrap, folks. I think we earned a bit of sitting down before our legs give out."
"No argument here," Geo muttered, dropping onto a nearby crate with a satisfied groan.
As dusk rolled in, the two squads gathered near the central pavilion where they had earlier regrouped. Someone—probably Neko—had built a small campfire from leftover wood and torch remnants. It crackled softly, casting warm flickers of orange across tired faces.
Makoro sat cross-legged near the flame, already snoring lightly with his arms folded.
Knoxx was telling a wildly exaggerated story about a "solo duel" against an APC stalker (that he definitely didn't win alone).
Tsuki, sitting beside Azumi, let her legs stretch out toward the heat, hands wrapped around a tin mug filled with hot water and herbs. The scent of citrus and mint drifted upward. She watched the flames, lost in their dance.
Neko poked at the fire with a stick. "So… anyone else feel like we're all becoming one big, happy, dysfunctional family?"
"More like a chaotic militia," Enzumaki replied, sipping tea from her flask.
"I like 'dysfunctional family' better," Knoxx said.
Azumi nudged Tsuki gently. "Not bad for your first real deployment, huh?"
Tsuki smiled softly. "I expected more blood… and less sarcastic banter."
"Oh trust me," Azumi replied, "the sarcasm is worse than the blood."
Across the fire, Naru leaned back against a crate, arms behind his head.
"You all did good work today," he said. "Not just fighting. But this — helping people rebuild. This is the part the history books leave out."
Geo nodded slowly. "Still doesn't feel like they want us here."
"They don't," Hatori said from the edge of the firelight, his back against a pillar. "Not yet."
"But they will," Tsuki added, her voice quiet but sure. "Eventually."
There was a silence—not heavy, not awkward—just the kind that settles when there's nothing left to say. Only the crackle of the fire and the occasional clink of gear being adjusted.
Stars emerged overhead, piercing the navy sky one by one.
Makoro stirred in his sleep and mumbled something about 'powder monkeys.'
The laughter returned.
And for a little while longer, they all stayed there—rebels, soldiers, misfits—basking in the rare warmth of peace.
The next morning, Judgment and Viper Squadrons gathered outside Memento's newly claimed command outpost. The squads stood in a loose semicircle as Maro stepped forward, his phoenix insignia stitched clearly on his chest. Danzo stood just behind him, arms folded, eyes scanning the group.
"Judgment. Viper."
Maro's voice carried across the room like a low drumbeat, steady and commanding. It wasn't loud, but it didn't need to be—there was a weight to it that made even Knoxx straighten from where he'd been leaning against a post. The chatter in the room stilled.
"Hope you all managed to get some rest last night," Maro continued, his gaze sweeping over both squads.
Tsuki felt the air change as he spoke.
"Zimala was a turning point," Maro said, each word deliberate. "Thanks to your efforts during the assault and the clean-up, the district is stabilizing. The people aren't with us yet…" His eyes narrowed slightly. "But they're watching. And we intend to give them a reason to believe."
He stepped aside and gestured to the planning table. A large map of Alden had been unfurled across its surface, its edges held down with stones and knives. Colored markers dotted the parchment—blue for Memento positions, red for APC forces—and thin chalk lines showed routes, supply chains, and contested zones. Near the northern edge of Jon District, a faint red circle had been drawn around a small, mountainous settlement.
"We'll be installing a semi-permanent overwatch presence in Zimala," Maro said, placing his hand on the southern side of the map. "I've selected Nighthawk Squadron—Shonjo, Rin, Doji, and Averin—to hold the perimeter and monitor any remaining APC activity."
At the name Rin, Tsuki's breath caught. Rin? Her mind flickered with unease. That name… it sounded familiar. Where did I hear that before…?
She shook the thought aside and stepped forward. "And what about us?" she asked. "You said there's a new mission."
Geo crossed his arms, his posture already stiff with anticipation. "Are we moving into Jon already?"
Maro nodded once, his expression sharpening. The area seemed to grow quieter.
"Yes," he said. "Jon District is beginning to stir. Reports of unrest, civilian protests, even clashes with APC forces. It's early… but promising."
He leaned over the map and pointed to the circled mining settlement near Jon's heart—a place carved into the mountainside. Its name written in black ink but half-smudged from wear.
"This is where we start," Maro said. His tone carried the weight of a man about to shift the course of the war.
"The people there are workers—tough, angry, and fed up. They're demanding fair pay, fair treatment, and an end to the APC's exploitation. Sound familiar?"
A few squad members exchanged glances, the weight of Maro's words sinking in.
"We believe Jon is ready to tip," Maro continued, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of urgency. "If they do, we'll have access to the largest mineral and weapons supply chain in Alden. That could shift the balance of this war."
Naru took a single step forward, his boots thudding softly against the ground. His stance was solid, his expression resolute.
"Just say the word, Maro," he said. "What do we need to do?"
Maro's gaze swept over the group, meeting each set of eyes before he answered. "Get the people talking," he said firmly. "Spread what happened here—Zimala's liberation, the truth about the APC's cruelty. We don't need to fabricate anything. We just need to be loud."
From the back, Neko grinned. "Sounds easy enough. I've been told I talk too much anyway."
Knoxx smirked. "For once, I agree with the jester."
Neko spun toward him, feigning offense. "I swear, Knoxx, one of these days I'm putting you in the Jackbox."
Several members chuckled, but the mirth died the moment Maro's sharp voice cut through the air.
"Enough," he said. The room fell silent again. "You'll depart after the Nighthawk debrief. This mission isn't just about intel—it's about winning hearts. If Jon joins us willingly, we gain more than territory—we gain momentum."
The two squads straightened as one, their voices ringing out in unison. "Yes, sir!"
Maro gave a single, satisfied nod. "Then get ready."
Danzo stepped forward, his usual grin replaced by something more serious. "That's it for now," he said, his tone brisk. "Gear up—you move fast."
As the squads dispersed, Tsuki lingered a moment longer by the map, her eyes tracing the red circle around the Jon mining settlement. Her pulse quickened. This wasn't just a mission—it was the start of something much bigger.
As the squads filed out of the command post, the midday light gave the courtyard life. Tsuki fell into step beside Geo and Azumi, the crunch of boots on gravel filling the brief silence. Viper Squadron trailed close behind, their chatter quieter now, the weight of Maro's words still hanging in the air.
"Huh," Tsuki murmured at last. "A war of words instead of fists. That'll be… different."
"Different, yeah," Geo agreed, his expression thoughtful. "But important. People follow hope just as fast as they follow power."
Azumi tilted her head, twirling her katana between her fingers. "A propaganda war, huh? Though if what we're saying is true…" Her smirk was faint but knowing. "Is it really propaganda?"
Tsuki slowed her pace slightly, eyes on the ground. "Hard to say. I'm used to taking what I want through force. But this? Getting people to choose us? That's a different kind of fight."
Geo smiled, then reached out and tapped her shoulder. "You'll do fine," he said simply. "We believe in you."
Tsuki managed a small smile back. The reassurance meant more than she expected.
A breeze drifted through the battered courtyard, carrying the scent of ash and fresh soil—the smell of Zimala rebuilding itself. The two squads were already breaking off, checking weapons and tightening gear straps, when a new presence cut through the air.
Boots clicked sharply on the stone.
Tsuki turned, her gaze drawn to the figure approaching from the far side of camp. Leading the group was a girl with a massive warhammer strapped across her back, its polished head gleaming in the fading light. Her frame was small, almost childlike, but there was a spring in her step and a spark in her eyes that left no doubt she was dangerous.
Tsuki's eyes narrowed. "Wait… is that—?"
Before she could finish, the girl's voice rang out — cheerful, loud, and completely at odds with the weapon she carried.
"Hey all!" Rin called, flashing a grin wide enough to be seen across the square.
The rest of Nighthawk Squadron followed in her wake. Doji was the first to break formation, a lean man with sharp, calculating eyes and a quiet, predatory calm about him. Behind him walked Averin, the tall, broad-shouldered anchor of the squad, his armor still bearing faint scorch marks from the last Zimala skirmish. Shonjo followed shortly behind, an older man with a beer mug in his right hand.
Geo raised an eyebrow as they approached. "Nighthawk Squadron, I presume?"
Doji gave a curt nod, posture crisp and military-like. "That's right. We're here for the debrief—and to make sure Zimala stays in one piece after you all leave." His tone was even, but there was a subtle edge to it, like he was sizing them up as he spoke.
Rin leaned on her hammer casually, grin never faltering. "Hope you're ready for Jon," she said brightly. "The APC isn't gonna like what you're about to do."
Tsuki kept her expression neutral, though she felt a flicker of unease at Rin's presence. Rin, she thought again, the name still gnawing at her memory like a half-heard melody.
Viper Squadron arrived from behind just as the conversation picked up, boots crunching softly against the courtyard stones.
"Well, if it ain't the Nighthawks," Naru said with a grin, folding his arms.
"Good to see you again, Naru," Rin replied warmly, resting her massive warhammer on one shoulder with casual ease.
Averin's smirk drifted toward Neko, his amber eyes glinting. "Neko," he said dryly, "did you shrink since I last saw you?"
Neko groaned loudly. "Okay, what's with everyone roasting the jester today? Seriously, I am seconds away from committing war crimes."
He puffed his cheeks out, cracking his knuckles as if warming up for a fight.
Enzumaki simply placed a calm hand on his shoulder. "Better?" she asked, voice even.
Neko deflated instantly, shoulders sagging. "Better," he muttered.
Laughter rippled through both squads, lightening the air. Even Shonjo, usually as quiet as a stone wall, let out a low, surprised chuckle.
Hatori stepped forward, his presence commanding instant attention. "Anyway," he said, voice cool and steady, "we were ordered to brief you before heading out. Zimala's stable for now — crowds have calmed, cleanup's finished, and public tension is low." His eyes narrowed slightly. "But that won't last. The APC will want this district back. Keep your guard up."
Shonjo grunted, his tone like distant thunder. "Don't worry. We've got this."
Doji gave a single, sharp nod. "We'll take good care of Zimala."
"Glad to hear it," Geo said, adjusting the cuff of his bracer. "We're heading out now—both squads are bound for Jon."
Averin gave a short, amused snort. "Jon, huh? Land of coal miners and attitude problems. Be careful out there."
Tsuki cocked an eyebrow, watching Averin's smirk linger. Attitude problems, huh… she thought, curiosity flickering. Was that meant as a warning… or a dare?
The air between the squads settled, a quiet moment of understanding passing between them.
"Yeah, thanks for the heads-up," Geo said with a smirk as he slung his gear over his shoulder. "Stay sharp, Nighthawk."
"Safe travels!" Rin called cheerfully—then her tone softened. "Oh—Tsuki!"
Tsuki turned, surprised by the sudden call of her name. Rin jogged over, her hammer shifting slightly on her back as she closed the distance. She caught Tsuki gently by the arm, tugging her a step aside from the others.
"Yeah?" Tsuki asked, her voice cautious.
Rin fidgeted, brushing a strand of hair back and glancing down at the dirt. For a moment, the usual spark in her expression dimmed.
"I just wanted to say…" Rin's voice dropped, almost hesitant. "I'm sorry. For how I acted the other day."
Tsuki blinked, caught off guard. She hadn't expected Rin—bold and unshakable Rin—to sound so unsure.
"I misjudged you," Rin said, her fists clenching tight at her sides. "I thought… maybe you were still with the APC. And I hate them." Her jaw tightened. "I really do."
Tsuki said nothing at first, letting the weight of Rin's words hang in the air.
"But I heard what you did," Rin continued, her tone gaining strength. "The wall. The fights. The mission before that. You earned it." She hesitated, then met Tsuki's eyes. "My respect, I mean."
Something in Tsuki's chest loosened. She offered a gentle smile and extended her hand. "It's okay," she said quietly. "Let's just start over. This time, we're allies. Yeah?"
For a moment Rin simply stared—then her face brightened with a grin that seemed to light up the courtyard. She clasped Tsuki's hand in both of hers, shaking it with a firmness that surprised her.
"You got it!" Rin said, her cheer returning in full force.
Tsuki couldn't help but laugh softly. For the first time since meeting Rin, the tension between them felt gone, replaced by something warmer—the spark of a real alliance.
The handshake lingered for a beat longer than expected. It wasn't awkward, but purposeful. It sealed more than just forgiveness. It marked the beginning of a bond that, though neither realized it yet, would matter deeply in the days to come.
Rin turned with a bright grin and jogged back toward Nighthawk Squadron, her warhammer bouncing lightly against her back. Tsuki watched her go, then lifted a hand in return before heading back toward her own team.
Geo nudged her with his elbow the moment she reached them.
"What was that about?"
Tsuki smirked, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Nothing. Just clearing the air, a bit."
Around them, both squads were finishing the last of their preparations. Crates slammed shut. Weapon straps tightened. Carriages creaked as gear was loaded up for the long journey toward Jon District. The morning air carried a crisp chill, mixing with the faint scent of ash still clinging to Zimala's rooftops.
Footsteps approached from behind — firm, quick, unmistakable.
Danzo's voice cut through the breeze.
"Judgment. Viper. Hold up, got an update for you."
The squads paused mid-step, some already perched on the carriage platforms or bracing themselves against the railings.
Geo turned. "Update?"
Danzo folded his arms, his expression unreadable.
"You're getting a plus one. Maro's personal assistant, Ringo, will be accompanying you on this mission."
A ripple of confusion moved through both squads.
Azumi raised a brow. "What for?"
Danzo folded his arms, eyes serious but calm.
"Ringo's… special. Shy kid. About fifteen."
He paused for a beat.
"His ability? He can link minds. Send thoughts directly to others across great distances. A perfect info relay."
"Whoa… telepathy?" Neko blurted out, eyes widening.
Danzo nodded. "Sort of. But there's a catch."
He let the moment hang, keeping the squad's attention fixed on him. Then he continued. "His ability only works with people he's emotionally bonded with. No bond? No link."
Azumi tilted her head, brows knitting. "That's… new."
"So you're sending him with us to build that bond?" Geo asked, his voice thoughtful. "So we can stay in touch across missions?"
"Exactly," Danzo said.
Hatori crossed his arms. "As long as he can follow orders, we'll get along."
Danzo chuckled at that, then turned toward a covered carriage waiting behind him. "Already brought him along. Ringo!"
The canvas shifted, and from beneath the shaded canopy a small figure stepped down carefully. A boy emerged—his brown hair messy, his sleeves too long for his frame. Wide, nervous eyes darted between the squad members as he approached, clutching a leather satchel to his chest. He stopped just short of the group, hesitant, as though crossing that last step might take all the courage he had.
"H… hello. It's nice to meet you all," he said.
He gave a slight, clumsy bow, barely able to make eye contact.
Azumi's face lit up the moment the boy stopped before them. "Aww… look at you! So polite! So cute!" she exclaimed, ruffling his hair with a grin.
Ringo's cheeks turned crimson at once. "Ah! Uh… thank you… ma'am…" he stammered.
Danzo smirked at the sight, clearly satisfied. "He'll fit in just fine." His gaze swept across both squads, his tone sharpening. "Guard him well. He's important to Maro — and more important to this war than he realizes."
Then he crouched slightly to meet Ringo's eyes. "Be careful, kid. Stick close, listen, and don't hesitate to speak up when it matters."
Ringo nodded quickly, clutching his satchel tighter. "Y-yes, Danzo. I will."
"Good." Danzo rose, clapped him firmly on the shoulder, and turned away with a casual wave. "Alright then. Off you go, soldiers. Jon awaits."
As the carriages began boarding once more, Ringo shuffled nervously into the group. He was met with warm greetings, teasing introductions, and curious questions from his new companions. Tsuki offered him a seat beside her, giving him a small smile. For just a moment, she noticed the faint, flickering glow of solena sparking around his fingertips — subtle, but unmistakable.
We'll keep you safe, she thought, studying his nervous posture. And maybe… you'll do the same for us.
The wheels groaned and the carriages rumbled forward, carrying Judgement and Viper eastward, toward the looming mountains of the Jon District. The road ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear — the war was far from over. When they reached Jon, a new era of conflict would begin.