Original subtitles

Armor of the Heavens!

No!

No! Stop it!

Stop it!

Armor. . . !

It is clearly guiding us.

Is it the light, or is it fate?

Too bad.

I don't intend on becoming a mere part of the Inferno Armor!

Wh-What?!

Shu !

Stop it, Shu !

Armor. . .

. . .of the Stone!

Shu !

Is this the beginning. . .

. . .or is it the end?

The Wandering Soul

I hope to feel nature with my enchanted heart.

The various seasonal faces of nature are beautiful. . .

. . .and at times powerful.

The fresh new leaves coming out should not be burdened with guilt.

In spring, the dawn is the best.

Many particularly favor spring.

The soft sunlight of spring calms me down.

Spring gently tells us that the seasons have changed.

The season of fresh beginnings.

I am enthralled with the things I'll do.

Seasons come and go all the time.

People depart for a journey and leave behind their past.

In summer, the night after the sunset is the best.

All colors dissolve into the light.

The blazing sun reminds me of this powerful season.

The whole world is enlivened.

In the glowing light are the breaths of all living things.

When the sun begins to set. . .

. . .the sky turns to an even sharper shade of blue.

The young leaves of the mountains. . .

. . . mingle with the fresh green reflections of the other branches. . .

. . .together expressing joy through color.

The sunset particularly stirs the spirit.

At a tired day's end. . .

. . .the sunset expresses an even deeper emotion.

For example, over the ocean. . .

. . .the sun glows radiantly white. . .

. . .and shows off its splendor.

The evening sun envelops everything in its crimson veil.

The sky. . .

. . .and also the ocean reflect the color.

This mirror of the ocean loyally reflects the spirit. . .

. . .of the sky in crimson.

I question myself as I distance myself from the bustle of the day.

Am I a stranger to this natural setting?

Nature shines white under the daytime sun. . .

. . .and is reddened by the sunset.

The tranquil stream is undisturbed by a little turbulence.

It seems to be enjoying the turmoil. . .

. . .and envelops it in the water.

Doubts linger on unless I change my mind.

Too much contemplation creates too many worries.

What is done is done. There are no worries.

When time stops, words are not necessary. . .

. . .and I find myself facing my alter ego.

This is what I think as I surrender myself to the changing seasons.

I hear sounds upsetting the air.

This was the first time. . .

. . . I heard a swallow flapping its wings.

It is amazing how swallows swiftly flying high above. . .

. . .could make such a sound.

It is such a loud sound. . .

. . .which I never cared about.

Against the wind. . .

. . .the tiny and fragile wings. . .

. . . must be bent as if they might break.

It is all the more poignant. . .

. . .since the swallow moves so swiftly.

I heard the wings because of the surrounding serenity. . .

. . .or maybe because nothing interests me. . .

. . .since I've come to know everything.

The stirring sound of the swallow surprised me.

It was as though I had discovered that I did not know everything.

I felt a sense of happiness.

Even then. . .

. . . I'd rather have the swallow fly more gently.

That would be more fitting for this season.

But how can I tell a bird how to fly. . .

. . .just so it fits in with the beauty of the season?

I want to understand their courage. . .

. . .to fly over the vast ocean.

After the sunset, the evening sky is glorious.

There is no remaining warmth.

But strangely enough, I feel at ease.

It doesn't matter whether the day was good or bad.

It feels so good to look up at the night sky.

The sky full of stars. . .

. . . lets me forget things I should be contemplating.

It is reassuring to leave everything to nature.

Time is too short to deal with trifle matters.

It is all right to rejoice and it is all right to lament.

Nature transcends everything that I feel in my heart.

Autumn arrives suddenly.

As if to awaken us to re-examine the entire world. . .

. . .the air brings on a coldness.

One cannot avoid becoming sober.

The loud roars of the past. . .

. . .disturb the scars of my spirit.

Autumn brings harshness.

Trees that were deep green now turn red. . .

. . .and the season moves toward the end.

I feel sorry for the falling leaves.

I can't ignore the corpses left behind by the summer.

The solid trunk of a tree stands detached. . .

. . . ignoring those who demand attention.

The harsh nature does not care about how I feel. . .

. . . but I am attracted even more.

Everything has to be left alone. . .

. . . but the unbound soul can be miserable.

What you can see from the seasons is simple to understand.

We take off our clothes in the summer. . .

. . .and wear more clothes in the winter.

This has not changed since our childhood days.

I have come to wear my clothes without questioning.

I don't question things that are done over and over.

The changing seasons ruffle the souls.

I feel sorry for those pathetic souls.

Our desire to be happy. . .

. . . makes us obsessed with the routine things.

The innocent souls of childhood. . .

. . . might have floated in the wind like a robe.

Sometimes there are storms.

This is natural.

The weak trees are blown away.

Those rooted firmly will remain standing.

Although you worry about being blown away. . .

. . .you must not forget about bearing your fruit.

It is all right as long as you bear fruit, however small it may be.

You should not leave the land lying useless year after year.

The fertile land cannot afford to be left abandoned.

If there is fruit. . .

. . . I'd like to taste it one by one.

Unfortunately, I haven't seen any fruit.

The far away mountains begin to accumulate snow.

The land on which I stand. . .

. . .will soon be covered by snow.

As if it was springing out of the Earth. . .

. . .the snow will soon cover this ground.

In winter. . .

. . .the snow beams with light.

Perhaps the dark snow-filled clouds. . .

. . . make the night sky look heavy.

White snow falls from the darkness.

The snow on the ground gently lights up the falling snowflakes.

Why do they bother to illuminate the little time their friends have?

What can they do?

The snowflakes have nothing to show.

Is this the rubbing sound of snowflakes?

The dry rubbing sound is so out of place.

Snow is fragile and can collapse easily.

If they were to be the cries of those that did not make it. . .

. . . it would be sad.

Unfulfilled dreams pile up in every person.

A small seed will gradually sprout and open its leaves.

It will then grow and long for the light. . .

. . . in order to bloom.

The innocent qualities are most fitting for nature.

Spring is always pleasant.

It is kind to everything.

The trees and plants, as well as the wind.

What will happen to the little flowers?

As no one pays attention. . .

. . .they are left to wither. . .

. . .and they become soil.

Perhaps this is the way it ought to be.

It is your spirit that created that armor. . .

. . . in a boundless desire for tragedy.

Seiji, what are you searching for?

A loser who is haunted by the burdens of his past.

A coward fearing a dark future.

A likeable man who mistook his ideals for reality.

That is all you will find here.

The wandering soul. . .

. . . is what has summoned me.

What would you know?!

What did you think you'd know?!

Has anyone explained anything to you about the Inferno Armor?

Shu?

Shin?

Or Toma?

I see.

So, Toma was talking about it.

You have sensed the future of the world of the armor.

Where nothing changes. . .

. . .where nothing is created.

A future where people's spirits forget time. . .

. . .forget the era in which they live. . .

. . .and forget the armor.

I believe I know a little about it.

The loneliness of not being understood.

That is precisely why the Inferno Armor is necessary. . .

. . . in order to extinguish all sorrow from this world.

I'm sure the sorrow will disappear.

But that's not all.

Everything will disappear.

Dreams, hopes and even the future itself.

You should know better then anyone. . .

. . .the sadness of losing something.

Where am I?!

Come right in. An Armor drama is about to begin !

Come right in ! Come right in !

The end of the Edo Period.

An Armor drama!

Get ready! Get ready!

Careful !

Get out of there! Fast!

These men. . .

. . .who claimed that the play of the armored warriors was real. . .

. . . have mocked the authorities.

Claiming to be the voice of God. . .

. . .they called for the end of this world.

This is deemed an act of rebellion against the Shogun government.

As such. . .

. . .you shall be sentenced to death.

You have now become one of the netherworld.

The furious power of that bitterness.

It's no surprise.

But no one can blame you.

And I will not let you blame another.

That's why the Inferno Armor is necessary!

Now, put on that armor immediately!

Samurai Trooper. . .

. . .Seiji of the Nimbus. . .

Now, hurry up!

Don that armor quickly.

Suzunagi.

Now, hurry up.

Now!

Put on this armor!

Armor of. . .

While we didn't know how to respond to our love

We simply trembled with love for each other

The short night breaks and the city awakens

Until a commotion wakes us from our dream

I always want to be with you

That's what I wish for

But where will the flow of time

Take our two weak souls?

So hold onto me

I feel we're drifting apart

Rather than with insufficient words

Tell me with your smile

However many times I try to figure it out for myself

Will I ever learn the meaning of this love?

In the days that pass I am lamenting that I see no future

I am even beginning to forget the burden on my shoulders

So hold onto me

I feel we're drifting apart

Rather than with insufficient words

Tell me with your smile

So hold onto me

I feel like I'm losing my way

Rather than with promises

Tell me with your soul