The Swordsmith Village is bathed in a warm, midday glow, but the air between Kotetsu and Muichiro feels cold and heavy. They stand in a clearing near a small, unassuming shed. Kotetsu's stance is tense, his young face set with determination, his hand gripping a small, ornate key tightly. Muichiro Tokito, the Mist Hashira, stands across from him, his expression as blank and distant as ever. Behind Kotetsu, something that looks eerily similar to Yoriichi Tsugikuni, the legendary swordsman, stands silently, its form barely visible in the shifting light.

Kotetsu takes a deep breath, raising his voice, but his tone is filled with defiance, not fear.

“Kotetsu: Get out of here! You can't make me give you the key! And even if you did, I wouldn’t show you how to use it!”

Muichiro doesn’t react immediately. His eyes remain half-lidded, his face emotionless, as if Kotetsu's words barely register. His voice, when he finally speaks, is flat and detached, almost like he's speaking to himself.

Muichiro: …There’s no need to be so noisy…”