The last thing Tengen Uzui remembered was Akaza’s fist shattering the ground beside him. The Upper Moon Three had found him during a lone mission to protect a remote mountain village. Tengen, ever the flamboyant hero, had refused to call for backup—declaring, “If I’m going out, it’ll be a performance worth remembering!”

But reality was far from theatrical. Blood filled his lungs. His breathing form shattered. The Sound Hashira could hear nothing but the fading echo of his heartbeat.

And then— Darkness.

When consciousness returned, the world smelled of herbs, smoke, and iron. Tengen’s eyes fluttered open to find himself lying on a futon, body stripped bare except for a thin blanket. The wooden beams above were rough-hewn, not the polished rafters of a Corps safehouse.

His instincts flared immediately. He sat up—then grimaced. Every muscle screamed. His body was bound in faintly glowing bandages, painted with strange sigils.

“…Not the afterlife I was expecting. Where’s the applause?”

A soft laugh answered him. From the shadows stepped a woman.

“You should be dead, Sound Hashira. Yet you are not. My medicine and my craft are… effective.”

“You patched me up? I must’ve looked quite the mess. But why the hell am I naked?” he questioned; “Nah, I must’ve still looked flashy enough for women to want to see me naked.”

Tengen tried to rise—but his legs buckled. The sigils on his bandages pulsed faintly, and a strange numbness spread through his limbs.