—
Peace is a fragile thing.
Weeks after Hoshiro unmasked, Tokyo pulsed with rebuilding energy. The media called it "The Era of Light." But in the city's oldest corners—where the neon couldn't reach—something stirred.
Deep beneath District 9, a vault door groaned open for the first time in 40 years.
Inside, rows of cryo-pods flickered awake. Symbols from the *Crimson Syndicate* glowed faintly… but there was a new emblem carved above them now.
A black spiral.
—
Ayame stood on a rooftop near the city edge, scanning newsfeeds. "Something's wrong," she muttered. "Too quiet."
Kazuki joined her, tossing a drone chip into the air. "You feel it too, huh?"
Below them, Hoshiro walked through the city unnoticed. No mask. Just him. But his fingers still twitched at the absence of a blade.
He felt it too.
Not fear.
Not danger.
*A return.*
—
At midnight, an entire security outpost vanished.
Not destroyed. Not attacked.
*Gone.*
And on the walls left behind, a single message burned in crimson light:
*"The Spiral Remembers."*
—
Hoshiro looked up at the stars that night.
"…Guess I'm not done after all."
—