"Not every walker leaves footprints. Some leave trails only memory can see."— Reka-sensei
The abandoned robe didn't stay on the ground.
Kabe stepped forward carefully, blade still drawn, his body tense. The torn Harama instructor robe — Master Hiwa's robe — lay crumpled on the platform like a shed skin.
Ken stared at it, heart pounding in his throat.
"…It's real," he whispered.
"That's really his robe."
Kabe nodded once.
"Yeah. And whatever wore it… isn't him."
Ken crouched, reaching toward the fabric, but stopped when Kabe grabbed his wrist.
"Don't touch it," Kabe warned.
"Not until Reka gets here."
But the robe twitched before either of them could react.
Ken froze.
"…Did you see that?"
Kabe raised his blade again.
A faint ripple moved beneath the fabric, like something invisible had stepped into it.
Then—
The robe stood up.
Every hair on Kabe's arms rose.
Ken stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over the tracks.
The robe's sleeves hung empty, yet it moved as if someone wore it — someone unseen, someone made of pure memory.
Kabe whispered through clenched teeth:
"…Memory Walker."
Ken swallowed.
"What is that?"
Before Kabe could answer, the robe lifted an invisible hand toward them.
A faint glow formed at the tip of the empty sleeve — a soft, painful blue, like a frozen flame.
Ken's chest tightened.
"That energy… I've felt it before."
The robe jerked suddenly, as if remembering something. It turned its head — or where its head should be — toward Ken.
Then a voice poured out of the empty cloth:
Not Hiwa's.
Not the creature from before.
Not human.
It was layered, fluid, ancient, and young all at once.
"You carry an unclean memory."
Ken's entire body went cold.
The robe took a step forward — not walking, but gliding — leaving streaks of silver dust on the floor.
Kabe moved to intercept, blade raised.
"Stay behind me."
The robe halted.
Tilted its empty hood.
Then pointed at Ken again.
The blue flame expanded into a circular shape, forming a familiar symbol:
A broken circle.
Three lines crossing its center.
An eye made of water in the middle.
Ken's eyes widened as the symbol flickered.
"I've seen that symbol…"
Kabe muttered, "It's from the myth inscriptions… from Tilbara's ruins."
The robe's hollow voice rippled:
"The Rift stirs.
The Beast wakes.
The child must remember."
Ken staggered backward.
"Why me? I'm not—"
The robe interrupted, whispering louder:
"Remember the night the lantern fell."
Ken's breath stopped.
"Lantern…?"
Kabe touched his shoulder.
"Ken. Stay with me. Don't get pulled—"
But it was too late.
The robe's symbol expanded — engulfing the station walls — and images flashed violently:
A dim corridor
A red lantern swinging Ken as a child, crying Tina-sensei shouting his name
A hand dragging him through smoke
A second hand clutching a broken stone
A roaring sound — like something enormous breathing below the floor
A pair of silver eyes watching him from the darkness Someone whispering—
"Do not forget this time."
Ken gasped and fell to his knees, clutching his head.
Kabe caught him, shouting:
"KEN!"
The vision collapsed instantly.
The robe recoiled as if struck, sleeves trembling.
Its form flickered violently — unraveling like cloth in a storm.
Kabe lifted Ken into his arms.
"Back! Stay away from him!"
The robe let out a soft, mournful sound — like a sigh dragged across water.
Then it spoke one last time:
"The Rift calls its heir."
And with that, the robe disintegrated into hundreds of floating threads, dissolving into the air like ash.
Silence swallowed the station.
Ken lay trembling, gasping for breath.
Kabe gripped his shoulders, voice low, desperate:
"Ken—look at me. What did you see?"
Ken's eyes slowly opened.
Tears clung to the edges.
And he whispered the last thing he heard inside the vision:
"…Uhayyad."
Kabe stiffened.
Before he could respond, the station lanterns flickered—and then someone entered the station from behind them.
Footsteps soft.
Measured.
Calm.
Reka-sensei's voice echoed through the silence:
"Boys…
what did you just awaken?"
Ken didn't answer.
Because deep inside him…
something had awakened.
Something that should have stayed sealed.