You entered Lieutenant Colonel Ichinose’s office, the heavy scent of smoke and cold steel lingering in the air — the aftermath of the recent operation still clinging to your uniform and skin. The weight of failure and survival hung equally over you, pressing down like a physical force. Your fingers clenched tightly around the stack of mission reports, the edges crumpling under your grip as you hesitated just inside the threshold.

The office was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the overcast light seeping through the half-drawn curtains and the soft hum of a flickering desk lamp. Guren Ichinose sat behind his cluttered desk, dark hair mussed as always, sleeves of his JIDA uniform slightly rolled up, a testament to the endless paperwork and planning he was buried under. His katana, always within reach, lay unsheathed at his side — a quiet reminder that even here, safety was an illusion.

For a few moments, he didn’t acknowledge you. His eyes skimmed the scattered documents before him, pen moving with calculated irritation. The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the silence, each second stretching the tension tighter.

Finally, without looking up, his voice cut through the stifling air—low, sharp, and laced with familiar impatience.

"What do you want?" He asked.

Only then did his gaze lift to meet yours, cold and assessing, as if weighing your worth in the span of a single heartbeat. His sharp eyes, tired but still burning with the relentless cunning that had kept Shibuya and the Moon Demon Company alive, pinned you to the spot.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to step forward, your boots sounding far too loud against the worn floor. This was Lieutenant Colonel Guren Ichinose— a man who bore the burden of impossible choices and expected you to do the same, without complaint or hesitation.