Smoke still lingered in the hollow chambers of Sanctum 13, the cursed bastion of the Hollow Gale. The air was thick with the stench of scorched metal and burning cloth as the ground trembled with distant echoes of alarm bells and crumbling stone.
Miss Mizuki led Kaito, Taru, Renn, and the unconscious Ayaka through a shattered corridor, ducking beneath collapsed beams and charred banners bearing the Hollow Gale insignia. Kaito supported Ayaka's weight as Taru swept ahead, watching every shadow, every flicker of movement with fire-and-lightning-charged senses flaring just beneath the surface.
But while they fled, another battle raged elsewhere within the compound.
Kazuki's team—comprising Kazuki, Shouta, Akiho, Kobito, Himari, and Erika—had splintered off to a lower level where the sound of sobbing echoed like ghosts in a tomb. Cells lined the stone walls, each one housing young children—emaciated, trembling, eyes wide with fear.
Kazuki slammed his fist into the control panel, sparks bursting as the locks clicked open. "Move!" he barked. "We don't have much time!"
Erika rushed to comfort two children hiding under a cot, while Akiho used her object manipulation to lift debris barring one of the doors. Kobito, face grim, guided the freed children with uncanny gentleness. Himari ran a hand along each child's head, whispering words of comfort.
"They were being tested on," Shouta muttered. "Venin tests. Forced resonance..."
"We'll mourn later," Kazuki growled. "Right now, we get them out alive."
The team moved with purpose, forming a defensive ring around the children as they began the ascent back to the surface, prepared to fight tooth and claw should more enemies appear.
Above, Miss Mizuki's voice rang through the communicator: "Kazuki, status!"
"All children secured," he responded. "We're heading to rendezvous point Delta. You?"
"We have Ayaka. She's alive, but weak. Rendezvous in ten."
As the two teams made their way out separate paths leading toward salvation the fires of the Hollow Gale base raged behind them.
They came not just to fight… but to save. And they had done both.
The air outside Hollow Gale's collapsed base was sharp and cold, carrying the sting of ash and bitter triumph. Rescue crafts dispatched from Shinsei Combat Academy had arrived hours earlier, camouflaged and silent, waiting just beyond the ridgelines. They now hummed quietly in the dusk as they carried precious cargo—the rescued children—toward a remote infirmary site known only as Health Delta.
A hidden facility deep in the forested borders of neutral territory, Health Delta was a sanctuary outfitted for recovery, trauma treatment, and classified rehabilitation. It was a place for scars to breathe.
Renn sat in one of the medical tents, bloodied bandages wrapped around his shoulder, chest, and ribs. He stared quietly at the sterile ground beneath him, eyes hollow with memory. The battle with Togaki still throbbed in his bones—not just the bruises, but the weight of it.
He had survived. His brother hadn't.
But victory had never felt this empty.
Miss Mizuki stood nearby, arms folded, watching him. "You should lie down."
"I'm fine," Renn muttered, though his breathing was still shallow. He winced as he adjusted, forcing himself upright. "There are kids worse off than me."
She didn't argue. She simply placed a folded blanket beside him and moved on to check the others.
Taru was in another tent, watching as one of the children gripped his fingers tightly, refusing to let go even while unconscious. His eyes—usually calm—were red. The little girl's hair reminded him of his sister. Ayaka was in a critical-care unit a few doors down, her body weak from prolonged experimentation, her breathing shallow but steady.
Kaito stood outside beneath the forest shadows, gripping the edge of the supply truck with white-knuckled fingers. He hadn't spoken in a while. The weight of everything—his mother, Akira's betrayal, Ayaka's fate, Renn's grief—pressed down on him like iron rain.
But they had done it.
They had burned through the darkness, scarred and shaken, but with more lives than they'd come with.
For now, they had won.
The wind that carried them back to Shinsei Combat Academy was lighter than the one they had fought through—but it did not sweep away the weight of what they had seen. The academy's gates opened slowly, as though holding its breath at the sight of its returning warriors.
Kaito, Taru, Renn, and the others stepped off the transport crafts in silence.
Their bodies had healed, but the silence between them said it all—some wounds went far deeper than the skin.
Behind them, medical units began offloading the children one by one, each guided by faculty in white coats and field medics who bowed gently at the sight of their burned uniforms and tired eyes. Ayaka was among them, eyes fluttering in and out of awareness, still fragile. She clutched Kaito's hand for a moment before falling into another deep sleep.
The children rescued from Sanctum 13—the Hollow Gale's twisted cradle—had survived, but many hadn't spoken a word since. Some stared blankly at the sky. Others cried at random. A few still screamed in their sleep. They were safe now, yes—but not free.
Kazuki, arms crossed, watched from the stairs of the main building. Shouta Aoi stood beside him, hands in his pockets, his usually defiant posture dulled with unease.
"They're back," Shouta muttered. "But... it doesn't feel like a win, does it?"
Kazuki didn't answer. He just stared at Kaito, Renn, and Taru—his rivals, his classmates, and now, his fellow soldiers. Something in their eyes had changed. The fire had not left… but it now burned quieter.
Miss Mizuki walked behind them with calm but stern steps, her gaze meeting those of the other instructors waiting at the academy steps.
"The operation was successful," she said quietly. "The facility is down. The captives have been retrieved."
Principal Rogiru emerged then, flamboyant as ever in movement but with seriousness cloaked behind his usual smile. He clapped once—just once—and said in a low, resonant voice: "Welcome home, warriors of Shinsei."
A quiet moment followed, then the rest of the students began to gather. Himari, Akiho, Erika, and others greeted them with relief and worry, ushering them back into the familiar halls of the academy.
But not all had returned unscathed.
Some of the students taken for the backup squad—those who hadn't been in the mission—now bore new roles. Orders were shifting. Defense classes were heavier. Surveillance towers had doubled.
The war wasn't over. If anything, it had just started.
That night, beneath the stars, Renn stood alone on the rooftop, wind curling around him like an old friend. His arms crossed, his eyes distant.
Togaki's final words still rang inside him.
"One of us had to die."
The soft beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound that filled the room.
Sterile light bathed the infirmary's ceiling in a cold glow, its faint hum broken only by the rhythmic hiss of the respirator near the bed. Curtains were drawn halfway, and the scent of medicine lingered like a quiet memory. Outside, the sun had just begun to rise, casting long shadows across the marble floor of the academy's medical wing.
Kaito sat beside Ayaka's bed, his hands clasped tightly, his knuckles pale.
She hadn't stirred in days.
Her breathing was steady now—calm—but her expression had remained unchanged, locked in some unreachable place far beyond even his voice.
And still, Kaito waited.
He didn't realize he was holding his breath until her fingers moved.
Just slightly. Barely. A flicker of motion.
Then her eyes opened—slowly, hesitantly—as if waking from years of silence.
"...Kaito?" Her voice was a whisper, hoarse, but unmistakably hers.
He leaned forward, eyes wide. "Ayaka…?"
She blinked again, struggling to lift her hand. Kaito reached for it instantly, holding it with trembling care. "It's me. You're safe now."
Her lips trembled as tears gathered beneath her lashes.
"I saw you," she said. "In that place. I wanted to scream but… I couldn't move."
"You're okay now," he whispered. "We got you out. Taru, Renn, Miss Mizuki… everyone fought to find you. We never stopped."
Ayaka's eyes flicked to the ceiling for a moment, then back to him. "I… I thought it was a dream. But it wasn't, was it?"
"No," Kaito said softly. "It wasn't."
A long silence stretched between them, but it wasn't empty. It was filled with something real—raw—like a bridge between two hearts long separated.
She gripped his hand tighter, her strength faint, but growing. "Thank you… for not giving up on me."
Kaito closed his eyes, swallowing the wave of emotion rising in his chest. "I couldn't. I wouldn't."
The door to the infirmary opened gently then, and Taru stepped in, holding a tray with a small cup of warm soup. His eyes met hers, and for a moment, he froze.
Ayaka stared at him, recognition flickering across her expression.
"You… You were there too," she said. "You're the boy who… cried at the cell door."
Taru looked down, then back up with a shaky smile. "I… I didn't think you'd remember."
She smiled faintly. "I remember everything."
Behind them, Renn leaned quietly against the wall, arms crossed, saying nothing—but his expression was softer than it had been in weeks.
Ayaka was awake.
She had come back.
But they all knew—this wasn't the end.
It was the start of something deeper.
The buzz in Shinsei Combat Academy was unusually intense. Ayaka's recovery had been steady, and her sudden enrollment caught nearly everyone by surprise. But that wasn't the only shock. Just a day later, the quiet, flame-eyed swordsman who had once stood against them with twin katanas appeared at the academy gates—Kazan.
The students gathered in whispers and stares as Kazan walked through the campus, his presence like a faint thunder rumble before a storm. Some flinched; others watched in awe. His hair—burnt orange and tied back—his eyes distant, and his bearing sharp and calm. He didn't wear the uniform yet, but Principal Rogiru had personally overseen his admittance.
Miss Mizuki gathered the students in the assembly hall.
"Listen up," she began. "You've all been through more than expected… but war doesn't wait for children to grow. Ayaka and Kazan will now be students like any of you. If you have a problem with that—talk to me."
There was silence.
From the back, Shouta crossed his arms. "Didn't we fight that guy in the forest?"
Kazuki cracked his knuckles. "Yeah… and he didn't lose."
"Enough," said Mizuki. "He's one of us now. You'll learn faster if you stop looking back."
Kazan stood quietly beside her, saying nothing.
Later that evening, Ayaka sat on the dorm balcony beside Kaito and Taru. Her voice was softer now, unsure, but clearer than when they first found her.
"I remember what they did," she whispered. "What they called me. Test Subject 9... But I also remember someone before that. A little boy with big, wide eyes. I think it was you, Taru."
Taru's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat.
"You remember me?" he asked, almost afraid to hope.
"I think I do. Your face was one of the last things I saw before they took me."
A soft breeze brushed past them.
Down the hall, Kazan sat alone in the training room, twin katanas crossed on the mat in front of him. He looked at them not as weapons, but as memories. Reminders. Miss Mizuki entered silently and sat beside him.
"You don't talk much," she said after a moment.
"I talked too much when I was younger. Then the Hollow Gale taught me silence."
"You're not there anymore."
He nodded. "But the silence still follows me."
Miss Mizuki didn't speak again. She just placed her hand on the floor beside his and sat with him in the quiet. For now, that was enough.
The academy lights dimmed. Outside, the stars were beginning to return to their usual shimmer. Yet something still lingered in the air—a hush before movement, like the academy was a bow being drawn… waiting for its next release.
A full week had passed since the rescue. Life at Shinsei Combat Academy had returned—at least on the surface—to something resembling normalcy.
Ayaka, once pale and fragile, now radiated vitality. Her once-thin frame had filled out with restored health; her cheeks now held color, and her presence was magnetic. Even among the crowded halls of the academy, heads turned—both out of admiration and curiosity.
She was beautiful, undeniably so. Her long black hair fell with silk-like grace, and her gaze held both kindness and a hidden sharpness, as if remembering too much yet revealing too little. Some of the boys whispered about her in the corridors, and there was even a near-squabble between two second-years behind the training hall—quickly shut down by Miss Mizuki.
Despite the attention, Ayaka stayed modest. She got along well with the girls—especially Erika, Himari, and yume with some other girls. They welcomed her easily, sensing the weight she carried beneath her smiles. To Ayaka, their friendship felt like sunlight after years of shadow.
And yet… she still didn't know.
She didn't know that Taru, the quiet boy who always lingered near but never said too much, was her younger brother. She only remembered his face vaguely—the last face she had seen before everything had been stolen from her. There was a strange comfort when he was nearby. But the truth… remained untouched.
The children they had rescued were now safe—transferred to Health Delta, then placed in a well-developed orphanage funded directly by the Academy. A place where they could learn, eat, and live without fear.
Kazan had adapted faster than anyone expected. He wore the Shinsei uniform now—its black and indigo pattern fitting him like second skin. While some students kept their distance at first, it didn't take long for him to earn respect. He didn't speak often, but when he did, it was either something meaningful or sarcastic enough to get a laugh.
Kazuki and Shouta had challenged him on the training field more than once—and while Kazan never went all out, it was clear that his swordsmanship was on another level. Even Kaito had started training with him in the early mornings. Their sessions were intense, wordless, focused. Swords clashing under rising sun, neither backing down, both learning.
Renn, meanwhile, was still recovering—but the wounds from that final battle with Togaki were more than physical. The medics said his internal bruising was healing well, but he spent long stretches just sitting by the window, staring at nothing. Sometimes Akiho sat beside him without a word, offering quiet company.
They all knew—this peace wouldn't last.
But for now, they held onto it.
In the evenings, Ayaka would sometimes wander out to the edge of the academy gardens. Taru would watch from a distance, wondering if this would be the day he told her. Wondering if she was ready… or if he was.
The courtyard was quiet, painted gold by the descending sun. Students trained in the distance, laughter and sparring echoing faintly through the air.
Ayaka sat alone on a bench near the training field, watching petals fall from the cherry trees with quiet wonder. Her uniform still felt strange—new, stiff around the collar—but there was a peace to this place she hadn't felt in years.
Then came the voice.
"You're always sitting here after classes."
She turned. Taru stood behind her, arms folded, hair slightly tousled. He looked… uncertain, as if debating whether to step forward or walk away.
Ayaka smiled gently. "You noticed?"
He walked up and sat beside her, leaving a polite distance. "Yeah. You always tilt your head when the wind moves the blossoms."
She blinked. "How do you know that?"
Taru didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked at the falling petals. "It's something you used to do when we were little."
A pause. Then Ayaka tilted her head. "I've been having these dreams. Faces. A small house. A boy with messy hair. I don't know if they're real."
Taru's voice was quiet. "They are."
She looked at him, studying his expression.
"…You're the boy, aren't you?"
His heart thumped once—loud, painful.
He nodded slowly.
"I'm your brother, Ayaka."
Her breath caught.
For a moment, she didn't speak. Her eyes shimmered as she searched his face—memory and instinct crashing together like waves on rock. She didn't remember everything… but his presence—his eyes—matched the warm blur of the boy she had always dreamed of.
"You… you're Taru," she whispered. "The name I said when I woke up."
Taru swallowed, trying to speak, but words failed him. All he could do was nod.
Ayaka suddenly stood, turned away, fists clenched.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"I didn't want to force it," he said softly. "You've already been through enough. I thought… I thought if I waited, your heart would remember me before your head did."
Ayaka's shoulders trembled. But when she turned around, she was crying—smiling, crying.
"I remember your hand… you used to hold mine when I was scared at night. I remember the wind chime outside our window."
Taru stood, taking a cautious step forward.
"And I remember," she whispered, "you tried to protect me when they came. You stood in front of me even though you were shaking."
This time, she stepped into him—hugging him tightly, her body shaking with sobs.
"I missed you, sister…"
He held her close, closing his eyes, the weight of years finally easing from his shoulders.
"I missed you too."
Turns out that taru was three years old when his parents hid him
In a basket to protect him so he only remembers little
Shinsei Combat Academy – East Courtyard, Afternoon
The day had felt… too normal.
Ayaka had gone off with Erika and Yume. Taru was in the library. Renn was still being stubborn about fully resting. And Kaito?
Kaito sat alone by the koi pond, absently flicking a stone across the water.
"Still nothing..." he muttered.
For days, he had pushed himself. Everyone else had awakened their Venin, or at least shown signs. Even Taru had begun to improve
But Kaito?
Nothing. Not a flicker. Not a spark.
He clenched his fists.
Why am I still behind?
And then — the air shifted.
Birds scattered from the trees. The water rippled. The koi vanished into deeper currents.
Kaito rose to his feet, every sense sharpened. His heartbeat quickened.
A shrill siren blared through the Academy halls — a security tone no student had ever heard before.
Then the scream.
It came from the western training field — high, sharp, and cut off too suddenly.
Kaito didn't think. He ran.
As he turned the corner, he saw it: a monstrous form, hunched and writhing like shadows given flesh. Its limbs were serrated, glinting with bone-like blades. Eyes like molten glass scanned the courtyard — empty and hungry.
A Blado Beast.
And not a juvenile. This one had grown — fed on something. Its Venin pulsed through its limbs like venom.
"No… how did one get in?" Kaito whispered.
All the teachers were in the staff dome. He remembered — some kind of internal summit. The defense wards should have kept this thing out… unless…
A memory sparked. Jin's warning.
The Hollow Gale is testing the perimeter… looking for weak points…
The beast let out a roar — and charged.
Kaito's body moved instinctively, dodging its first swipe as the blade-arm cut into a pillar like butter. Debris flew. Kaito rolled, skidded back, and reached for his training blade — but it shattered on contact with the beast's second strike.
His lungs burned.
His legs ached.
And the monster didn't stop.
"MOVE!" he screamed at nearby students frozen in fear. "GET OUT OF HERE!"
The courtyard erupted in chaos — screams, running footsteps, panic. The beast turned its attention toward a group of underclassmen. A girl tripped. The creature raised its arm—
No. No. I won't let this happen again.
Kaito's eyes widened. He threw himself forward—
"GET AWAY FROM THEM!"
The beast swiped.
Kaito raised his bare arms in defense.
But the pain never came.
Instead — flames.
Brilliant orange-red fire exploded outward from Kaito's palms, enveloping the Blado Beast's arm and stopping its attack mid-swing. The creature screamed — a horrible, gurgling cry — and staggered back, clutching its burning limb.
Kaito fell to his knees, gasping. His hands were… glowing. His veins thrummed with heat. Energy surged from his core — wild, raw, unfiltered.
The stone beneath him cracked from the heat.
The air around him shimmered.
His Venin had awakened.
Flame.
But not just fire — something deeper. Hotter. Controlled by emotion, memory, and purpose.
He stood slowly, the fire swirling around him like a cloak.
The beast lunged again.
This time, Kaito didn't run.
He stepped forward and struck — a punch wreathed in flame, sending the beast flying across the courtyard into the wall.
It roared again — angrier now.
More fire gathered in Kaito's hands. His body trembled, not from fear — but from the rush of power. The fire didn't burn him. It answered him.
"I don't know how long I can keep this going…" he muttered, "but I'm ending this now."
The beast charged again, blades ready.
Kaito ran to meet it.
Flames burst beneath his feet. He launched forward, ducking one slash, sliding under the second — and with a roar, drove a flaming uppercut straight into the beast's chest.
The fire erupted from within. The creature's roar turned to a hiss — then silence.
Smoke rose.
The courtyard was quiet again.
Behind him, students stared. Some wide-eyed. Some whispering.
And from the hallway, Miss Mizuki, Taru, Renn, and even Principal Rogiru arrived just in time to see the burning remains collapse.
Kaito stood in the center — panting, steam rising from his shoulders.
Miss Mizuki's mouth opened in shock. "…You awakened?"
Kaito turned, his smile faint — but unmistakable.
"Yeah," he said, exhausted. "Took long enough, didn't it?"