Watari stepped back into the war room, his expression dark. The room was still thick with tension from the st discussion, but now—something heavier weighed in the air. He didn’t sit back down. He didn’t even move past the doorway.

  “Guys…” he started, his voice lower than usual.

  Everyone turned toward him.

  “I can’t join you.”

  Silence.

  Yumi blinked, processing his words like they had to be some kind of mistake. “What do you mean, you can’t?” she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

  Watari clenched his jaw, looking at her for a moment before sighing. “Mi-chan… I’m sorry, but I can’t go to New York.”

  Yumi’s brows furrowed. Something about the way he said it—slow, deliberate—didn’t sit right.

  Ren, seated across the table, straightened. His eyes locked onto Watari, studying him. Something was off.

  But Yumi was the first to react. “What happened to it being you and me?” she asked, her voice rising slightly. “What happened to us being outws? And now I have to be an outw by myself?”

  Her words hit hard, but Watari barely flinched.

  “I want to go,” he said, his voice strained. “I really do. But I can’t.”

  The weight in his tone made Ren narrow his eyes.

  “What’s really going on, kid?” Ren finally asked.

  Watari exhaled. A long, steady breath.

  “It’s Mary.”

  The name alone shifted the room again.

  “She’s in critical condition,” Watari continued, voice quieter. “Doctors say she has a few days at best… and her st request was to see me one st time.”

  The silence was deafening.

  Ren’s eyes widened slightly before something clicked in his mind.

  A memory surfaced—the dimly lit hallway, the acrid scent of a cigarette he never got to finish, and Chizuru standing there, her eerie presence slithering into his mind.

  Kuroda had a spy at that orphanage.

  “Shit,” Ren muttered under his breath. He ran a hand through his hair, realization setting in fast.

  So much had happened since then—Seiji, Tenzan, Shigure, the Chūkan—that he’d completely forgotten.

  “Watari, listen to me—this is a setup.”

  Watari looked up, his expression unreadable.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Kuroda had a spy in that orphanage, Watari. That new caretaker was the one who called you just now, wasn’t she?”

  Watari’s grip tightened. He said nothing.

  “She’s setting you up, kid. If you walk into that, you’re walking straight into their hands.”

  Watari’s fingers curled into a fist at his side.

  “Even if it is,” he said, his voice edged with stubborn resolve, “it’s even more reason I need to go. I need to make sure she doesn’t hurt anybody.”

  “And what if you end up dead?” Ren shot back.

  Watari’s expression hardened.

  “Then at least I’d die making the choice I knew was correct.”

  The words rang out, hitting deep. Neither of them backed down, the room charged with unspoken emotions—loyalty, frustration, fear.

  And then—

  “Let the kid go.”

  Samberg’s voice cut through the air like a bde. Everyone turned to look at him. His arms were crossed, his face unreadable.

  “We’ll be fine with what we have,” he said, matter-of-factly.

  Yumi clenched her jaw but didn’t say anything. Ren inhaled sharply, but he, too, stayed silent.

  Watari cast one st look at his team—his newfound family—before nodding.

  “I’ll be back.”

  The words felt like a promise.

  The problem was, no one in that room truly believed it.

  CUT TO BLACK.