From the outside tunnel, Mrs. Kurohana watched the darkness of the Yokoshima Tunnel with steady focus.
The air was tense—not loud, not frantic—but filled with held breath. Dozens of students stood behind her, packed along the stone path and training yard, whispering nervously, eyes fixed on the tunnel's mouth.
Then—
"They're coming out."
Figures emerged from the shadows.
A collective breath was released.
Ayame walked first, posture straight, sword sheathed, uniform torn but presence unbroken.
Rei followed close behind, light dimmed to a soft glow. Kurojin supported an injured swordsman, another limping beside him. More followed—wounded, exhausted, but alive.
Relief rippled through the crowd.
Some students clasped their hands together. Others bowed unconsciously.
"They made it…"
"They're alive…"
"Thank the spirits…"
Mrs. Kurohana stepped forward, eyes sharp as she counted heads. Mr. Yamaguchi moved beside her, staff tapping the stone once as his gaze assessed every returning student.
Ayame stopped several steps before them.
She bowed deeply.
"The Yokoshima Tunnel mission is complete," she announced clearly. "The threat has been neutralized."
A murmur spread through the crowd—relief turning into awe.
Ayame straightened. "Please escort the injured back to the academy immediately. Priority treatment."
Healers rushed forward at once.
Stretchers followed. Students stepped aside quickly, respectful and silent as the wounded were guided past them into the academy halls.
Mrs. Kurohana nodded once, tension finally easing from her shoulders. "You did well," she said quietly.
That was when Tsuramo became impossible to ignore.
He stood slightly apart.
Still. Silent.
Blood darkened the side of his uniform at the stomach, the wound clearly untreated. He neither leaned nor swayed—just stood there, unmoving.
Ayame noticed.
She turned.
For a moment, the courtyard went quiet again.
Ayame stepped toward him and bowed—deeply.
"Thank you," she said. "For holding the line."
Tsuramo blinked once.
Then he bowed back.
"…I suppose," he said calmly, "being insulted by a Shinryu and still standing counts as a victory."
A few students blinked.
Then—
A couple of nervous laughs escaped.
Mr. Yamaguchi turned sharply. "You were insulted by a Shinryu?"
Before Tsuramo could respond, Rei spoke up.
"We didn't defeat Koryu directly," Rei said honestly. "It was Tsuramo. He stopped it before it could fully awaken."
Mrs. Kurohana's eyes widened slightly. "Then it hadn't hatched…"
At that exact moment—
"Tsuramo!"
Footsteps pounded across the stone.
Masakiro came running from the side gate, breathless, holding something carefully in both hands.
A cracked egg.
Fragments missing. Shell fractured.
The energy around it faint—but unmistakably Shinryu.
The courtyard froze.
Masakiro stopped in front of Tsuramo. "You egg hatched…You have leveled up."
Tsuramo didn't move.
Didn't speak.
The silence stretched.
Students stared. Teachers watched. Even the wind seemed to pause.
Then Kurojin let out a low chuckle.
"Well," he said lightly, glancing toward Ayame, "guess you didn't get the finishing blow after all, Commander."
Ayame didn't respond.
She turned away calmly and began walking toward the infirmary, exhaustion finally visible in her steps.
Mrs. Kurohana gestured for healers to follow her.
"Take them back to shadowreach," she ordered. "All of them."
The crowd parted.
As the last of the team disappeared into the academy halls, the students finally allowed themselves to breathe fully.
The Yokoshima Tunnel mission was over.
And the weight of what had almost hatched lingered silently behind them.
--
The room was quiet except for the soft rustle of cloth.
Tsuramo sat on the edge of the futon, shirt pulled aside, methodically wrapping a clean bandage around the wound at his stomach.
His movements were precise, practiced—no hesitation, no wasted motion. Blood stained the cloth beneath him, but his breathing remained steady.
Kijin leaned against the wall near the window, arms crossed, watching in silence.
"You know," he said finally, "most people would've waited for the healers."
Tsuramo tightened the bandage once, then tied it off. "They had others who needed them more."
Kijin clicked his tongue. "You nearly split a Shinryu's core in half, and you're treating yourself like you scraped your knee."
Masakiro sat cross-legged on the tatami nearby, white hair catching the lantern light. Tsuramo's hat rested beside him, carefully placed. He glanced between the two, quiet but attentive.
Kijin pushed off the wall and stepped closer.
"…So," he said, eyes sharp. "How did you do all that?"
Tsuramo didn't answer immediately. He reached for his shirt, pulling it back into place, then finally looked up.
"I didn't," he said calmly.
Kijin blinked. "Huh?"
Tsuramo adjusted his gloves.
"Ayame's orders kept us alive," he continued. "Your illusions kept Koryu blind. Rei's shield stopped the collapse. Kurojin's traces held the ground. The supporters didn't break formation."
He paused.
"That's why it worked."
Masakiro's eyes widened slightly.
"You're saying… it wasn't just you?"
Tsuramo shook his head once. "If I had fought alone, I'd be dead."
Kijin stared at him for a moment.
Then he laughed softly, running a hand through his hair. "You're seriously annoying, you know that?"
Tsuramo glanced at him. "Because I didn't take credit?"
"No," Kijin said, smirking. "Because even when you win, you refuse to stand above anyone."
Masakiro picked up the hat carefully and held it out. "You dropped this."
Tsuramo took it, placing it back on his head, shadowing his eyes again.
For a moment, the room fell quiet.
Kijin turned toward the window. "Ayame's going to hate that you said all that."
Tsuramo's mouth curved faintly. "She doesn't fight for praise."
Kijin exhaled. "Yeah… guess that's why we followed her."
Masakiro looked down at the tatami. "…I thought you were invincible."
Tsuramo shook his head again, softer this time.
"No," he said. "Just supported."
Outside, the academy bells rang softly—signaling the end of the emergency.
Inside the room, the war finally felt over.
--
Ayame closed the door behind her with a soft click.
Only then did she allow herself to exhale.
She removed her armor piece by piece—gauntlets first, then the chest plate, the familiar weight lifting from her shoulders.
When it was finally set aside, she changed into simple academy clothes, loose and dark.
Her violet hair with pink streaks fell free, spilling over her shoulders, no longer bound or controlled.
She sat on the edge of her bed, posture still precise, hands resting on her knees.
Her mind hadn't left the tunnel.
Tsuramo's timing. The way he moved after the pressure hit—not before. How he never wasted a step.
"…He waited," she murmured.
"Waited for what?" Luna asked.
Luna lay upside-down on her bed, legs kicked lazily against the wall, boots still on like she absolutely did not care.
Her pale hair spilled toward the floor, eyes half-lidded with curiosity.
Ayame glanced at her. "For everyone else to be ready."
Luna rolled onto her stomach, chin propped in her hands. "I didn't know he was that strong."
Ayame's gaze drifted to the window.
"He is," she said simply. "He just doesn't like being called that."
Luna hummed. "Figures. Strong ones are always weird about it."
She paused, then grinned. "Still. When I fought alone back then? I thought I was cool."
Ayame's lips twitched. "You threatened demons with shadows and attitude."
"Exactly," Luna said proudly. "Peak performance."
Silence settled again—comfortable this time.
Luna watched Ayame closely. "So," she said lightly, "what do you think about him?"
Ayame didn't answer right away.
She stood, tying her hair loosely behind her neck, movements calm, practiced.
"I think," she said, "that he listens."
Luna blinked. "That's it?"
Ayame glanced back at her. "That's everything."
Luna stared for a moment… then burst out laughing, rolling onto her back. "You're unbelievable."
Ayame picked up her cloak, folding it neatly. "We need to return to class."
Luna groaned. "CM, right?"
"Yes. Go to your class."
Luna sighed dramatically. "I know."
Ayame paused at the door, hand on the handle.
"…Try not to scare the freshmen again."
Luna smirked. "No promises."
Ayame shook her head—just once—and stepped out, calm as ever.
Behind her, Luna smiled.