Three weeks had slipped by since the Strongest Guild dragged Brughor from his forge vault. In that short span they cleared two lesser ruins, escorted a caravan, and submitted to the Guild’s practical exams, achievements that vaulted every member to Rank C. Yet promotion only sharpened Shunjiro’s appetite. He and Itsuki were crossing the colonnaded heart of Radiance Guild Hall this morning, boots echoing on polished quartz tiles, when he slowed beside an arched doorway labeled record archive- authorized personnel only. “Let’s peek at our ledgers,” he whispered. Itsuki raised a brow. “You mean ask the clerk politely?” “Totally,” Shunjiro said, already easing through the doorway. Inside, cedar shelves towered to a glass roof that sifted midday sun into ribbons. Junior clerks bustled between ladders, stamping rank seals and threading mission slips onto brass rods. Shunjiro flagged down a bespectacled assistant, flashed his rank C badge, and requested the Strongest file. A thin parchment folio arrived, only six sheets thick. Six little pages, Shunjiro thought. We’ll need a bookcase one day. He scanned the progression column: current average rating, B-minus; next evaluation in sixty days. “Two months, huh,” he murmured. “We clear another dungeon or two, maybe a bandit siege-” Itsuki smiled. “We’re ahead of the curve, Shun. Most guilds stay C for half a year.” He nodded but kept leafing, eyes drifting toward the thicker tomes stacked on the “SSS-A” shelf. Curiosity tugged. He slid the Strongest folder back and, while the clerk turned away, eased out a heavy slate-gray binder embossed with a stylized numeral 8. The spine read: Squad 8 – SS-Tier Mission Ledger (Current Quarter) Shunjiro’s pulse jumped. Squad 8 … the mythical top guild? He had heard tavern whispers: feats that made dragons blanch, a team that appeared in crises like stormfront lightning then vanished. Hands slightly shaky, he opened to the summary page. Completed SS missions, last 30 days: 13. And in the “Principal Signatory” column, the same name repeated: Guildmaster: Takeshi. Air stopped in Shunjiro’s lungs. Big brother… He blinked, throat closing, and felt Itsuki’s presence at his shoulder. She’d leaned in, reading silently. Her fingers touched the page just under the guildmaster line. “Shunjiro, it’s him,” she breathed. A wave of pride, disbelief, and ache rose so sharply tears pricked his eyes. “He’s not just an adventurer, he’s number one,” Shunjiro exhaled. “All this time…” Itsuki slipped an arm around his back. She could feel his muscles trembling between awe and grief. “We’ll find him,” she said, firm as a vow. Shunjiro swiped a sleeve across his eyes and turned to the most recent column. Mission Locale – Coastal Kingdom – four days ago. The clerk finally approached, clearing his throat. “That ledger is restricted. SSS data, sir.” “Right, sorry.” Shunjiro replaced it carefully, heart still hammering. But the spark had already caught fire. The guild’s attic dorm smelled of pine shavings and drying laundry. Tetsuo sat on a trunk polishing gauntlets; Ryuji leafed through a swimsuit catalogue Aiko had procured for “research.” Yoshinori inscribed calculations at the central table. The door burst open. “Pack light!” Shunjiro announced. Five heads turned. “Squad 8 took a mission in the Coastal Kingdom last week,” he said, breathless excitement tripping over words. “Leader’s name, Takeshi. My brother! Coastal Kingdom is one day west by coach. We leave at dawn.” Silence, then Tetsuo pumped a fist. “Beach trip count me in!” Ryuji grinned. “I hear Coastal girls wear seashell tops. Purely academic interest, of course.” Aiko set down her sample bottle of Lumenleaf cider. “The Coastal Kingdom distillers age rum in kelp barrels. I volunteer to judge its quality.” Itsuki smiled softly. “I’m going to help Shunjiro. Anything else is a bonus.” Only Yoshinori remained expressionless. He spoke in measured tones. “Our fastest charter takes forty-eight hours. If Squad 8 finished an SS contract, probability is high they’ve already shipped elsewhere. We may find nothing but old footprints.” Shunjiro met his gaze. “Maybe. But every clue leads to the next. Someone had to have seen them.” His voice cracked, raw sincerity spilling through. “I have to try.” Yoshinori closed his book. “Understood. Just don’t sell this as a pleasure cruise.” Tetsuo slung an arm around Yoshinori. “We can do both. Sun in the day, archives at night.” Yoshinori sighed, half annoyance, half acceptance. “Very well. We move fast; we stay alert,” Yoshinori summarized. “Remember, the Coastal Kingdom’s streets are safe, but rival guild spies throng every tavern, especially for a guild like Squad 8. Definitely some prices on their heads. Keep our objective quiet.” Ryuji saluted with the swimsuit pamphlet. “Top secret, strategist.” Shunjiro closed his eyes a moment, imprinting the plan beside childhood memories of Takeshi. A heavy mix of hope and terror thrummed in his ribs. What if he’s changed? What if I’m still a kid in his eyes? Then Itsuki squeezed his hand under the table, steadying, reassuring. He opened his eyes, resolve returning. “Pack whatever you need. In forty-eight hours, we chase a legend.” Later, dorm lanterns dimmed. Tetsuo already snored. Ryuji counted sit-ups to pre-beach vanity. Aiko swapped an empty bottle with a new one from the kitchen, giggling softly. On the window ledge, Yoshinori wrote by moonlight, notes about Shadow Inns, coastal wind-roses, and an older entry labeled Father’s charts. He paused, glancing across the room to Shunjiro sitting on his bunk, staring at a small worn necklace, a keepsake from Takeshi. “You know,” Yoshinori said quietly, “statistically we have less than thirty percent chance of catching Squad 8 before they depart again.” Shunjiro’s grip tightened on the pendant. “That’s higher than zero.” A thin smile. “You’ll help me boost the odds.” Yoshinori closed his journal. “I already allocated coin for bribes.” Shunjiro laughed under his breath. “Predictable strategist.” He slid the necklace under his shirt and lay back, listening to rain patter on the dorm roof, gentle, nothing like the endless downpour Yoshinori had described in the Shadow Realm. Somewhere beyond that roof, beyond the coastal horizon, Takeshi walked a path of legends. Wait for me, brother, Shunjiro thought, eyes finally drifting shut. The Strongest Guild is coming.