Kize's arrival was met with immediate wariness, with Arius Squad wordlessly gesturing him along to the council room. He barely was able to glance at the plum blossom saplings, somewhat trembling against the wind, yet held its ground. They were closely guarded by Ground Squad, who saluted him, the bandages wrapped around their forearms not lost on him. They saw him, and saluted to him.

He didn't have much of him to salute back, as he followed Arius Squad.

The sun had already began to set, the dusk beginning to settle onto Arius.

But Arius couldn't settle for a moment.

"We know why you're here, Sensei," Saori began. He didn't speak any further, sliding the dossier towards her. She caught it and opened it wide for the other members to see. Each passing second of observance, someone points out a discrepancy.

"We're never supplied with M4s." Atsuko pointed out.

"The Arius standard Assault Rifle is the SIG M400. Not the M4." Saori followed up. "The specs and equipment that comes with them aren't exactly something we can even obtain from the black market, either."

"We... Don't have it in us to do any of these petty violations either." Hiyori called out.

"They are idiots." Misaki summarized the entirety of her feelings to what she saw.

Kize said nothing. He wanted to trust them. And yet, even he needed to be on arm's reach here. He crossed his arms, eyes closed.

"Explain why you have yet respond to Trinity's attempt at contact."

"We had to make our own investigation, Sensei. They're not the only one under attack." Saori proclaimed. Kize's bandages itched for half a second. Kize's lips parted, the immediately closed again.

'Why didn't you...?' He couldn't say it.

"But as far as we can tell, these are genuine evidence," Hiyori pointed out.

"It's none of us, however." Atsuko finished.

"Rogues." Misaki's simple declaration caused Saori's grip on the dossier to whiten. "Those that reject reformation and rehab."

Misaki ruffled her hair immediately after. "Cultists. They're annoyingly loyal."

"Here's what we found on our end, Sensei." Atsuko slipped, grabbing a file nearby. Remnants of marker smudged the file's cover, but it did have a label, 'investigations'.

Putting it on the table, she flipped it open, and Kize bore witness to the very same students, wielding the very same weaponry, now violating a Millennium drone with their bullets. A closer observation allowed the sight of a brand on their wrist resembling a rose with a bulging eye on its petals, one that resembled bullet holes. In another image, graffiti depicting Beatrice's rise from the ashes...

And a vague image of his silhouette, gripped in her hand, limp.

"......" Kize fell silent.

"You're stuck with us now," Hiyori pointed out.

"Sensei. We need you to trust us. We're not the culprits. None of us are," Saori proclaimed.

"Then contact Trinity."

"........."

The tension in the room was palpable, as if his words were a knife cut too deep into their own psyche.

"We shouldn't."

"This is no longer about Arius rogues, Saori." Kize pointed out, flipping the dossier Trinity supplied to them. Anecdotes. And the depot.

"It's about Beatrice."

"........."

Her grip on Trinity's dossier tightened further, leaving indents onto it.

"So you're suggesting an alliance?" Atsuko questioned.

"Temporary." Kize knew their histories. And seeing that Trinity and Arius are irreconcilable, this was the least they can accomplish out of each other.

"..... No one is going to like it."

"Who wouldn't?"

"... I wouldn't mind." Atsuko stated. Arius Squad and Kize's eyes landed onto her.

"Princess?"

"Arius needs alliances. Granted, we only have Shanhaijing, but only for Shun-sensei's involvement."

She looked at her fellow members.

"Just think about it. For so long we have been enemies of each other. We're not appeasing our enemies. We're destroying our enemies by making friends with them."

"......."

Kize and Arius Squad fell silent. For Kize, it was the mention of Shun, immediately adjusting the thermos unconsciously. Its warmth could burn a hole into his pocket and he would feel every sensation of it. His bandages itched, and whether it was salt or sweat, he wouldn't know.

Saori looked down, biting her bottom lip. Hiyori shook in place, the thought of meeting Trinity again ever so slightly fears her.

Misaki didn't care, as she sighed. "Let's just get this over with."

"All in favor?" Atsuko called in.

——

The meeting was adjourned, and like a ghost, Kize disappeared to tend elsewhere. But even the Shittim Chest knows his next direction, with how he had been holding the thermos since his exit. Night had dawned upon him, and Shanhaijing's lamps had lit a path for the ghost.

"Destination: Shanhaijing. Probability of Instructor Sunohara Shun's presence: 87%."

"Sensei, you're really going to ask for her help?!"

Kize didn't dignify them with a response, as he stepped into the Plum Blossom Garden building once more. He passed by a room that reeked of ink, the sounds of cheering children coming out faintly, followed by Kokona's instructions.

"No, that's not how you hold the brush! It's like this."

Why was that so clear...

He turned around a corner to the left, and for a moment, he noticed the papers hanging on the left walls of the hallway. The sizzling noise and the faint smell of karaage lingered at the end of the hall, alongside the faint waft of oolong.

"...."

"Sensei, that must be their drawings. Let's take a look," Arona suggested, the Shittim Chest glowing in his pocket.

Kize didn't say anything, his eyes lingering on a single drawing. Of him holding a shield up against what seemed to be falling stars, with the children standing behind him.

The shield was visibly cracked. But the children clung tighter to his coat. His left hand twitched, raising ever so slightly, before he forcefully shoved his hand down to the depths of his pocket.

Another close by, was of a silhouette of him on one knee, his hand reaching out towards a figure that resembled Sh--

He averted his eyes. He barely noticed Kokona's signature at the bottom of it, the dents on the thermos snagging against his bandages, threatening to unravel it.

"Status: Heart rate elevated. Assessment: Sensei does not desire such an image."

Kize walked past the drawing, with it fluttering against a breeze from a nearby window, before stilling itself.

More drawing dawned to his side, as he kept his straight and narrow forward, never to avert or to even glance at what could be a reckoning. The faint colors, figures, caricatures. All in the corner of his eye that he never looked for nor wished to see.

He had barely just stepped into the kitchen when he heard Shun's voice.

"Hello, Sensei. Glad to see you're back so soon."

The warmth radiated out of her as she turned to face him from the stove. Her sleeves were rolled, a hint of ink seen at the cuffs, but she wore a blue apron, the undeniable smell of fried chicken wafting intensely in the kitchen.

"The karaage's nearly done. If you can stay for a while, the children would most definitely enjoy your presence."

"It's about Arius."

Her smile slightly faltered, but the sizzling of the chicken persisted.

"So you're not here for the karaage."

"Arius rogues are defacing Trinity." He stated. "And Beatrice is reputedly using a depot in no man's land in-between their borders as her hideout."

He watched as Shun turned her attention back to the food, before switching the stove off.

"And you need my help. Again."

"..." He heaved a small sigh, his arms crossed.

"Children shouldn't see war."

"And we should?"

"It's our responsibility."

"Keep telling yourself that, when you have your own war inside of you."

"........"

His hand immediately clenched, averting his eyes from her. Once again, she saw through him. Once again, it was without his consent.

And once again, it burned through him.

His bandages, fraying against his forearm, unraveled before Shun's very eyes. Remnants of dried wounds, sticking onto his skin, half-healed. She inevitably noticed.

She took one step forward, reaching out to him. He did nothing. When she took another step, he did nothing,

And when she reached out to take hold of his sleeve to pull him closer, he did nothing.

"Sensei. Why do you fight a war you cannot win alone?"

Shun’s fingers hovered over the unraveling bandage, the frayed edges trembling like the last leaves of autumn. The kitchen’s steam curled around them, blurring the lines between wound and weapon, between healer and haunted.

Kize’s breath hitched. Not from pain, but from the unbearable gentleness of her touch.

"Because no one else will."

The words scraped his throat raw. A confession, not an answer. Shun’s thumb brushed the edge of his wound, where the skin was pink and puckered—not fresh, but never allowed to heal.

"Look at me."

He didn’t. He wouldn't.

"Look at me, Sensei."

The sizzle of oil in the pan had gone silent. The children’s laughter down the hall felt like it stretched too far away.

"Kize. Please."

The way she spoke his name sent a shiver down his spine, enough for him to slowly look back to her. When he finally met her eyes, he found no pity there. Only a reflection of his own exhaustion, glazed with something fiercer.

"You’re wrong," she said. "You’re not alone. You never were."

Her palm pressed against his, bandage to ink-stained skin, and for the first time, he didn’t pull away.

The thermos between them hummed with residual warmth.

"Arius needs you. Those children need you. And I--" Her voice cracked, as if restraining herself to say something deeper, "--I refuse to watch you dig your own grave."

Outside, a lantern flickered to life in the courtyard, casting their tangled shadows against the wall; a single silhouette, fractured but whole.

Her warmth felt so foreign. So welcoming. Every single cell in his body screamed at him that this was what he needed.

But why does his mind keep rejecting it?

"Come on. Let's fix these before you disappear on me again."

"... Will you help?" His voiced sounded... Off.

"Why wouldn't I?" A few seconds of silence, and then she pulled away. He almost moved.

"I'll be there at the meeting with you."

The words lingered between them, heavier than the steam curling from the stove. Kize’s fingers twitched against the thermos, the dents pressing into his palm like a question he couldn’t answer.

Shun didn’t wait for his reply. She turned back to the stove, flipping the karaage with practiced ease. The oil hissed, angry and alive.

"But first, you should eat before we go," she said, as if they hadn’t just torn open the seams of his silence. As if his bandages weren’t still unraveled between them, raw and exposed.

Kize exhaled, slow and controlled. The scent of fried chicken filled his lungs, foreign in its comfort.

"...I don’t have time."

"You don’t have time not to." She didn’t look at him. "The children made extra. They’ve been expecting you."

A lie. They both knew it. The children expected Sensei, whoever that was. Not this hollow thing standing in her kitchen, half-wrapped in gauze and guilt.

The Shittim Chest buzzed in his pocket. Plana’s voice slipped out to earshot.

"Caloric intake insufficient for 72 hours. Compliance mandatory."

Arona’s face popped up beside it. "Sensei! You gotta eat! Even Misaki eats!"

Kize’s jaw tightened. Across the room, Shun’s shoulders shook, laughing at him. A warm, heartfelt kind.

He should have left.

He stayed.

—

The karaage was too hot. It burned his tongue, the flavor overwhelming; crisp and salty and alive. Kize froze, chopsticks hovering mid-air, as if he’d forgotten how to swallow.

Shun watched him, her chin propped on one hand. "Too much?"

He didn’t answer. The heat spread through his chest, a wildfire in a man made of kindling.

A child’s laughter echoed down the hall. The drawing of the cracked shield fluttered on the wall.

Shun reached over, nudging a glass of water toward him. Her fingers brushed his. Warm, calloused.

Real.

"Slow down," she murmured. "It’s not going anywhere."

He hesitated. And soon, he slowed.

Only now did he notice a child’s drawing pinned to the fridge. A crude plum blossom with "For Sensei" in crayon.

Somewhere, a child's sandal squeaked against linoleum, fleeing before he could turn.

——

A chill breeze of the night blew against their clothes as they stepped onto the train. Kize, his bandages renewed and wounds cleaned, stood rigid by the window. The thermos was a lead weight in his coat, refilled with her tea. Shun leaned against the railing beside him, close enough that their shadows merged again.

"You never asked why I’m helping," she said.

Kize stared at his reflection in the glass, fractured by the speed of the train. "You didn’t ask either."

Shun’s smile was a blade turned inward. "I already know your answer."

"Because no one else will."

The train lurched. Their shoulders bumped. Neither moved away.

Arona’s whisper crackled from the Shittim Chest: "Heart rate stabilizing. Finally."

Plana’s cursor blinked. "Hypothesis: Proximity to Instructor Shun correlates with improved vitals. Inquiry: Continue monitoring?"

Kize shut off the screen.

Outside, the first plum blossoms of spring unfurled against the glass, pink as a promise. Fragile as a wound.

Shun’s hand hovered near his elbow. Not touching. Not yet.

"Ready, Sensei?"

He wasn’t.

He nodded.

The doors slid open. Cold air rushed in. Neither moved.