The moment Hanae said, "There remains one matter before the younger generation arrives," Volkov stood.
Immediately.
"No."
The entire dining hall froze.
Hanae blinked politely.
"I have not explained yet."
"No."
Tanya pointed.
"She's right."
The major folded her arms tightly.
"This is exactly how it starts."
Several women immediately started laughing. Because unfortunately, Volkov had developed a reputation. And most of it was deserved.
Hanae folded her hands neatly in front of her.
"The Viewing Platform will be occupied shortly."
Nobody moved.
"The younger generation will be arriving at the Replica."
Still nobody moved. The room remained suspicious.
Then Hanae delivered the killing blow.
"The Valley should be experienced properly."
Silence. Absolute silence.
Naomi slowly lowered her tea.
"…oh no."
Hanae smiled.
The room immediately understood.
They were doomed. Again.
The operation began twenty minutes later. Resistance proved largely symbolic. The East Wing transformed into organized chaos. Attendants moved through the halls carrying folded garments while mirrors illuminated softly beneath warm lantern light. Historical records lined the walls, protected behind glass that caught the lantern glow and threw it back in soft amber sheets across the polished floorboards. Silk rustled. Tea appeared. Nobody knew where from. The mountain remained complicit.
Volkov attempted escape first. Naturally. She made it approximately twelve steps. Then Hanae calmly held up a folded blue kimono. Volkov stopped walking. Everyone saw it. Nobody mentioned it.
Out loud.
The major closed her eyes.
"…I hate all of you."
Leona immediately laughed.
"You picked the blue one."
"I picked nothing."
"You absolutely picked the blue one."
"I observed the blue one."
Tanya pointed.
"That's how it starts."
Volkov looked genuinely betrayed.
The women disappeared into separate fitting rooms. One by one. The results became increasingly unfair.
Haruka emerged first. The room quieted. A deep sapphire kimono patterned with silver blossoms flowed elegantly around her while subtle embroidery shimmered beneath the lantern light. Graceful. Refined. Timeless. Haruka looked briefly startled by the silence. Then Naomi smiled. Softly.
"You look beautiful."
Haruka immediately became emotional. Which started a chain reaction. Several women looked away. The mountain claimed another victory.
Naomi appeared next. Rose and cream. Elegant without trying. Warm. Kind. Exactly like her. Even Haruka blinked.
"…oh."
Naomi immediately pointed.
"Don't start."
Haruka laughed. Which only made it worse.
Sofia Navarro emerged in brilliant sunrise orange edged with feather-like embroidery. The room physically stopped. Sofia looked down at herself. Then toward Hanae. Then back at the kimono.
"…I hate how much I like this."
"You love it."
"I do."
Reasonable.
Alona Valerius looked like diplomatic royalty in deep plum silk stitched with gold thread along the collar. Susan Valerius somehow looked even more dangerous than usual, the dark garment cut sharp enough that it seemed designed for someone who might need to leave a room quickly. Celistine Mercier looked elegant enough to cause economic instability, the fabric catching light like something that had never once been asked its price. Elena Ibarra spent several minutes discussing the structural integrity of historical weaving techniques with one of the attendants before finally accepting, with visible reluctance, that she looked amazing regardless of thread count.
Then came the instructors. Which proved even funnier.
Tanya emerged first. The charcoal and crimson design Hanae originally selected fit perfectly. Professional. Sharp. Commanding. Dangerously attractive. Tanya took one look at the reactions.
"…don't."
Everyone immediately did.
Captain Solis looked magnificent. And unlike Tanya, she knew it. Completely. The aerial combat instructor spent several minutes enjoying herself in front of the mirror before anyone managed to stop her, turning once, then again, clearly in no hurry to move on.
Volkov emerged last. Because of course she did. Blue. Deep midnight blue. Silver embroidery tracing flowing patterns along the sleeves. The entire room stopped. Volkov immediately knew why.
"No."
Leona physically bent over laughing.
"It happened."
"It did not."
"It absolutely happened."
Volkov looked toward the nearest exit. Considering options. Unfortunately none existed.
Meanwhile, the men were experiencing a completely different problem. The moment Hanae saw Marcus Voss again, she decided he required assistance. Marcus regretted everything. Immediately. The sword masters had already convinced him to wear traditional attire. Hanae simply improved it. An hour later he looked less like a Supreme Commander and more like a warlord from an ancient painting, dark layered robes belted in a deep grey sash, the fabric heavy enough to move like water when he shifted his weight. George Benton laughed for six straight minutes. Leon abandoned him entirely. No one helped.
The older Forest twins proved worse. Liam and Luke emerged wearing traditional mountain formal attire. Both somehow looked perfectly natural. Which annoyed everyone. Especially because they remained synchronized. Even while getting dressed. Nobody understood how. Nobody wanted to. One attendant swore, quietly, that both men had tied their sashes at the exact same moment, in the exact same knot, without once glancing at each other. When asked how, Liam simply said, "We've had decades of practice." Luke added, "Not at this. At each other." Nobody found that reassuring.
Behind them, Volkov had not yet forgiven anyone. She stood near the railing tugging once at her sleeve as though the fabric itself might still be negotiated with. Solis drifted past her, unbothered, smoothing her own collar.
"You look like someone who lost a war."
"I did lose a war."
"You look good doing it."
"That is not comforting."
Tanya joined them, arms folded, taking in the whole disaster with visible satisfaction. "For the record, I never once doubted the blue."
Volkov did not dignify that with a response. She simply turned and walked toward the platform railing, sleeves catching the wind, silver embroidery flashing once in the morning light before she disappeared into the gathering crowd.
Then there was Tanaka. The room collectively surrendered the moment he appeared. The bowmaster attire fit him perfectly. The replica yumi rested comfortably against one shoulder. Haruka smiled immediately. Mito looked delighted. Daichi Ren looked exhausted. Supreme Admiral Hiro Tanaka looked happier than anyone had seen him in years. Which honestly said more about the Valley than any speech ever could.
Eventually the entire gathering moved toward the Grand Viewing Platform. The same platform overlooking the Replica below. The same platform John Ardent built so instructors and family could observe training from above. The morning sunlight reflected across Dragon Lake. Waterfalls echoed softly throughout the valley. Cherry blossoms drifted through the mountain air. And for one brief moment, the platform looked less like a gathering of admirals, commanders, instructors, and Great House elders. And more like something from another era. Traditional attire. Lanterns. Mountain wind. Ancient architecture. History standing beside history.
The lantern posts along the railing had been lit despite the daylight, small flames trembling inside glass housings that had clearly stood there for longer than anyone currently walking past them. Somewhere below, a bell rang once, distant and soft, marking a shift change among the Replica's hidden staff. Nobody on the platform reacted. They had already stopped noticing the mountain's small sounds days ago, the way a person stops noticing their own heartbeat.
Marcus Voss adjusted his sash once, self-consciously, and caught George watching him do it.
"Not a word."
"I said nothing."
"You were about to."
"I was absolutely about to."
Master Sora watched them quietly. Then smiled.
The mountain approved.
Below them, the Replica waited. The younger generation still slept. Completely unaware. The Gate of Dragons waited. The viewing platform waited. The challenges ahead waited. And soon the children would arrive.
The adults gathered along the railing overlooking the hidden training valley below. Waiting. Watching. Ready.
The next generation was finally about to meet the Replica.
Below the railing, unseen and unaware, the first light of morning had already begun crossing the great carved doors of the Gate of Dragons, warming the silver and gold scales one slow inch at a time.