The Mentor and the Director

— Sometimes, a flower just needs a little more time to bloom. — S.H.

"You're looking well, old friend," said Hayashi, blowing on his still-hot tea.

"You too," replied Orion with a smile, stepping onto the tatami... without taking off his shoes.

In a flash.

With swift, fluid movement, Seiji stepped between Orion and the entrance, raising a hand.

A small plastic pellet stopped just a centimeter from the face of the Saito Corporation Director.

Seiji caught it between his fingers, sighing.

"Elcrist... how many times have I told you not to shoot at guests?" he said, turning to the other end of the room.

On an antique wooden cabinet, two guns rested side by side. Sophisticated. Technological. Out of place in that dojo soaked in wood, paper, and silence.

One of them let out a hysterical giggle. The other, still faintly smoking, just went: "Hmph."

Then it spoke.

"I hate people who enter without taking off their shoes."

It was Elcrist.

"Come on, sis, you can't do that every time—even if you admit it's funny, ahaha,"

replied the voice next to her: the other gun, Twisty.

Orion looked at them.

The two guns— one white, the other black.

The white one had bluish streaks, perfectly pristine. The black one had crimson marks, with a few dents from wear and tear.

Hayashi had tried to polish it, but the next day he'd always find it in the same condition. Twisty would say, "A few scratches add style," to the deep, disapproving sighs of her crystal-clear, ice-cold twin, Elcrist.

"I see you two always know how to welcome me, huh? Ahaha," Orion laughed while Seiji sighed.

"Hello, ladies. It's good to see you," smiled the director.

"Heya, Orion!" replied Twisty with a cheerful voice, vibrating slightly as a sign of joy.

Elcrist, cold as ever, still faintly smoking, responded:

"Hi. But please take your shoes off now. Just because you're our creator doesn't mean you can barge into someone else's house with bad manners."

"Sharp-tongued as always, huh? Elcrist?" said Orion, taking off his shoes.

The gun didn't answer, as if ignoring him.

"Can I come in, Hayashi?"

"Yes, let's sit down—but let's get straight to the point," the master said, turning around and going to the small table, pouring tea for the guest. "You know, one of my students is arriving soon. I have to train him for a regional tournament. Can't keep him waiting, ahaha."

Orion paused a moment and slowly placed his shoes next to the entrance. "You? A student? The former strongest hunter of the Saito Corp has a student? I didn't expect that."

Hayashi smiled slightly. "Oh yes, and he's quite stubborn, ahaha."

Orion walked to the table, taking the cup handed to him by Seiji.

"And how is this student?" he asked, sipping the tea.

Hayashi sighed. "Well, he has a lot to learn, but he's very determined."

Orion smiled, sitting at the table across from the master. "Sounds like someone I used to know."

Seiji laughed. "Ahaha, yeah, that's true. But let's get to the point—your visit isn't casual, Orion," he said, sipping the steaming black tea.

Orion put his cup on the table, rested his elbows on it, intertwined his fingers, and looked Seiji Hayashi—the legendary No.1 Hunter of the Saito Corporation—straight in the eyes.

"We found it, Seiji. We found the Mausoleum."

The friendly reunion atmosphere froze instantly.

Hayashi put down his cup and stared seriously.

"Seriously?"

"Yes. We found an entrance. The Mausoleum is a gateway," Orion said in a graver tone.

"A gateway to the Dream World."

"Explain, Orion. That entrance should've been sealed long ago. How did you find it?" the master asked.

"Your path isn't always the right one, Seiji," the director continued, sipping his tea. "Your inner link was sealed when you passed the trial of the Path of the Wretched Cherry Blossom as a youth." He pulled out a small palm device. "But that doesn't mean there are no traces of other Mausoleums."

Seiji looked up as Orion spoke with a foreboding voice.

"We both know there are energies in this world that most can't understand—some benign, some malevolent."

Seiji looked at the device with interest. "That's why the Japanese government invested in your work—to generate hunters."

Orion snapped his fingers.

"Exactly. The P.S.I.M. project—Protector Supporting Innovations Memory."

"Hey, I've heard that name before," asked Twisty from the other side of the room, followed by a "Tsk" from her twin Elcrist.

"You idiot, we were born from that project."

"Looks like your intelligence far surpasses your usefulness in battle, ahaha," Orion chuckled, earning a worried smile from Hayashi.

"Tsk! The usual arrogant windbag," Elcrist huffed.

"Anyway," Orion said, turning serious, "that's where we have a problem."

"What kind of problem?" asked Seiji.

"The gate to this Mausoleum is in Istanbul. Bureaucracy aside, the entrance is 500 meters underground. Since we found it, no one has returned."

Hayashi furrowed his brow as Orion changed the device's interface.

"Two squads of our best techs and hunters didn't make it back. I sent an elite team. All we found was this."

Orion showed a photo. Hayashi's expression changed.

Ten people. Ten dead bodies. Found intact—but their eye sockets were completely white.

Hayashi took the device, examining it carefully.

Then he spoke. "These people were devoured by something. Their souls ceased to exist."

"Exactly. Every living being holds a certain energy. We call it: Quarium."

Orion poured himself more tea and continued.

"Quarium can be compared to the energy linked to a person's soul—and the value in these bodies is zero."

Hayashi flinched, understanding the gravity.

"This energy is..." he started, but Orion finished the sentence.

"It's what you ancient warriors call Ki. Or rather..."

"The Remembrance of a person," concluded the master.

"Never change, Seiji Hayashi. Or should I say, the Demon Slayer," Orion smiled.

"So what do you want from me, my friend?" Seiji asked.

"Seiji," Orion stood up and walked directly in front of the master. "Come back to Saito Corp. Be my best hunter once more," he said, extending his hand toward him.