The gates of Netsu, the smoky trade town nestled near the River Totsuru, groaned open with a deafening echo, scattering pigeons into the smoky dawn sky.

  "Ahh... this never gets old," Tsunamoto muttered, his silhouette tall against the haze.

  Sawai squinted. “So who again was the dude that owns this dump?”

  Before Tsunamoto could answer, a booming voice cut through the air like a blade.

  “Mind your tongue, boy! Show respect to Lord Gendō the Sweeper, the scourge of the Fifth Yao-Tanna War!”

  The figure that emerged was massive—scars crossing his chest like tiger stripes, a crimson bandana covering his forehead, and a gaze that could peel bark off a tree.

  “That’s his Lieutenant, Bakkurou Jin,” Tsunamoto whispered under his breath, straightening his back.

  As they passed through the fog-drenched alleys of Netsu, the smell of steel, soot, and fish filled the air. Glaring merchants stood by shady taverns, while guards in old war armor paced slowly, watching everything.

  Tsunamoto leaned closer to Sawai, his face growing grim. “During the Fifth Yao-Tanna War, Gendō sama crushed the joint army of Yao and Jeju in the Battle of Red Sand Narai. He obliterated them with only three divisions. That man is probably the second most dangerous soul in all of Tanna.”

  Sawai swallowed hard. “…Cool.”

  Inside the town hall, they sat on the polished tatami. Soon the hall doors slid open with a soft clack, and in stepped Gendō the Sweeper himself.

  “Long time no see, Tsunamoto the Rock.”

  His voice was deep as thunder.

  Tsunamoto nodded silently. Sawai, sensing the weight of the moment, stood up.

  “And who’s this pup?” Gendō asked, eyes narrowing at Sawai.

  “He’s a stray,” Tsunamoto began.

  “I’m not!” Sawai snapped. “I chose to tag along! My friends are probably back at the settlement. Lima and Imei should be training by now, and Kofi is probably still stuck with Kanzaki-sama!”

  The moment the name Kanzaki was mentioned, both Bakkurou Jin and Gendō sat upright.

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  “I’ve fought beside Kanzaki till my arms ached and my skin bled,” Gendō said. “If I had ten more years in me, I might’ve taken the title of Hakken Shikikan myself... But I doubt he’s still holed up at Fort Nakazawa. If I know him well, he’s near the Hill of Tatsuya… perhaps at Amonkai.”

  Sawai tilted his head. “What do you mean by that?”

  Silence.

  Gendō took a sip of his tea, steam rising like ghosts between them.

  “The most honest place in war,” he said slowly, “is where the great generals gather. And if Kanzaki is near Tatsuya, that’s the next hottest place in this war. I won’t disturb him—but I’ll go there too.”

  Bakkurou blinked. “What—without command from the council? Without orders?”

  “I make my own war,” Gendō muttered, and his Lieutenant was stunned. Sawai, however, was burning with excitement. For the first time, he felt aligned with a soul as reckless and passionate as himself.

  Amonkai.

  The barracks roared with movement—soldiers packing gear, horses neighing, commanders barking out instructions.

  From the top tower, Kanzaki peered into the horizon, arms behind his back, robe fluttering.

  “Tomorrow, we march,” he said.

  “To where, my lord?” asked his aide, Masaguri Yori.

  Kanzaki smiled faintly. “To the Hill of Tatsuya. The eye of the storm.”

  On a hill nearby, the grass swayed as Kofi, Lima, and Imei lay beneath the open sky.

  Suddenly, a clump of dirt landed square on Kofi’s face.

  “Oi!” he barked.

  “What are you doing?!”

  Lima laughed, “I can’t recognize you anymore, Kofi. That Kanzaki man, he treats you like…”

  “…like a son,” Imei finished.

  Kofi’s smile faded. That word rang through his heart like a silent bell. Son. He remembered the clan leaders calling him a bastard without a roof. Yet now…

  The world grew still.

  Meanwhile, Imei and Lima had moved on, arguing about who could cook better—Lima claiming he once roasted fish for a princess, Imei claiming he caught it with bare hands.

  Then Kofi spoke up, voice resolute.

  “We need to stick together. We’ve changed, and we’ll keep changing… for the sake of the future. For our settlement.”

  Lima nodded. “It’s been weeks. I miss the fires of Daigakure. I wonder when we’ll return.”

  Imei added, “That place is a second home now. But this whole Hitachi Rebellion gives me the chills… My granddad’s stuck in Shuri.”

  Kofi placed a firm hand on Imei’s shoulder. “He’ll be safe. Kanzaki Daishogun is here. And above all… the Lord Adonai is with us.”

  Their laughter eased the burden of war—if only for a moment.

  Suddenly, Captain Daisetsu arrived, armor clanking.

  “We must return. The escaped hostage is still at large.”

  Kofi blinked. “What hostage?”

  Imei chuckled. “Ahh, Lima captured a guy last week who turned out to be a spy. Tied him up with fishing nets and used tofu to bait him!”

  Daisetsu turned to Kofi. “Will you join the hunt?”

  Kofi looked toward the training fields—he knew there was still much to learn from Kanzaki. He hesitated.

  “I… I’ll decide tomorrow.”

  Daisetsu nodded and walked off with Lima and Imei.

  Kofi remained, alone under the stars.

  He unsheathed the sword from his back. The blade gleamed under the moonlight—etched in golden letters:

  “To the one who endures, victory is not a question, but a promise.”

  But he wasn’t alone.

  A chill ran down his spine. He turned toward the forest—nothing.

  But in the distance, past the shadows, two figures crouched on a branch.

  “He’s more than expected,” one whispered.

  “This changes everything,” the other smirked.

  The younger one asked, voice shaking, “My lord… does this mean the prophecy is real?”

  The older one, a young commander in black and silver, narrowed his eyes. “Only time will tell.”