The morning sun hadn't fully risen when Akira unlocked the shutters of the sports shop. He pushed them up slowly, the metal rattling against the cold air. His movements were calm, but his eyes were distant — the same eyes that had witnessed a storm last night.
Inside, the faint smell of rubber, leather, and energy drinks greeted him. He tied his apron, arranged a few boxes, and tried to settle into routine. But Yamitsurugi — resting as a pendant against his chest — pulsed faintly, as if reminding him that nothing in his life was ordinary anymore.
"...I know," Akira muttered under his breath. "Just let me work for today."
The pendant dimmed, almost as if it agreed.
He took a deep breath and focused on the shelves.
For a moment, he felt almost normal again.
Far across the city, Ryozen stood atop a water tower, the early wind brushing past his coat. He unrolled a thick parchment — ancient, off-white, written in a script older than humanity. His expression was tight.
"This isn't something I should delay," he murmured.
He dipped his finger into a vial of black ink — ink drawn from Void tears — and drew a living seal at the top of the letter. Gold and black rippled across the parchment like breathing metal. When he folded the parchment, the seal snapped shut with a soft metallic lock.
He gave a sharp whistle.
An enormous eagle — wings wide as a small car, eyes burning amber — descended from the sky and perched beside him. Ryozen tied the letter to its leg.
"Take it to him," he said. "As fast as possible."
The eagle screeched and launched into the sky, a streak of fire cutting through morning clouds. Ryozen watched it disappear, his voice tightening.
"The world is moving too fast… I need him before everything cracks open."
Later — the district near the dance academy.
Rina walked beside Reiji, her notebook held tightly against her chest. After last night's terror — the whisper behind her, the invisible hand in her hair — she desperately needed somewhere safe. The dance academy was the only place that still felt alive with her mother's memory.
Inside, music flowed softly. Bright floors, warm lights — a sanctuary.
Reiji walked beside her like he belonged there. Dark hair brushing lightly over calm eyes. A dancer's balanced frame. Perfect posture. A quiet, respectful presence.
"You're applying here too?" Rina asked gently.
He nodded. "Seems like it."
She didn't reply.
Reiji glanced at her from the corner of his eye, reading her carefully.
"You don't trust easily."
"Not anymore."
He nodded. "Smart."
Simple words, but they didn't make her flinch. They made her breathe easier.
At the reception desk, she filled out her form. Reiji filled his beside her. The TV in the corner suddenly switched to breaking news.
A reporter spoke with urgency.
"Breaking News: A young woman, Lisa Nakamura, was found dead in an alley. Police describe the scene as extremely violent—"
Rina froze. "I saw her yesterday…"
Reiji leaned forward slightly.
His tongue brushed against his lips — slow, subtle, like tasting a memory.
Rina didn't notice.
But the receptionist did.
Her throat tightened.
Reiji's expression shifted instantly to soft concern.
"You knew her?"
"No… but she looked kind."
Reiji nodded. "Cruel things happen unexpectedly. Makes you realize how fragile people are."
A strange chill ran through her.
Reiji stepped back, giving her space.
"You don't have to talk to me," he said gently. "But I can walk you to the station. It's safer."
Rina hesitated — then nodded slowly.
"…Okay."
He smiled politely.
Not hungry.
Not monstrous.
Not like the thing that stalked her last night.
Just human.
It made her shoulders loosen a bit.
Outside, the two walked under the fading sunset.
"You're different," she said quietly.
"How so?" Reiji asked.
"You don't… pressure people."
He chuckled softly. "I respect your pace."
He didn't mention how her heartbeat quickened.
Or how her fear and trust mixed — a scent he enjoyed far too much.
But his face remained perfect.
Rina managed her first small smile of the day.
"Thank you… for today."
His eyes softened for a moment.
"…Glad to hear it."
Then it was gone — replaced by that unreadable calm.
Meanwhile, Akira stacked boxes in the shop, unaware of the slow, calculated danger weaving itself around Rina.
And high above the rooftops, Ryozen watched the sky, waiting for the eagle to break the horizon.
"Michael… please respond."
A few hours later, after Reiji left Rina near her home, he walked into a dim alley. The streetlights flickered.
He paused.
The tiniest smear of blood was still under his nails.
He sniffed it once, eyes darkening.
Then whispered:
"She'll taste even better than the last one."
He smiled — soft, terrifying — and disappeared into shadow.
Across the ocean, the eagle finally descended toward a small street in New York.
A warm bird shop glowed with soft yellow lights. Inside, a tall man swept the floor — messy blond hair, calm blue eyes, sleeves rolled up as finches and doves fluttered around him.
A pigeon landed on his shoulder.
He smiled gently. "There you are."
Then the eagle landed at the door.
His expression shifted immediately.
He approached, untied the sealed letter from its leg, and stared at the black-and-gold symbol. His jaw tightened.
"…Ryozen."
He opened it.
Wind swept through the bird shop, ruffling his coat.
His blue eyes glowed faintly — like a star waking.
"It's been centuries," he whispered. "But if he's calling me…"
The floorboards beneath him trembled.
Michael's wings — invisible in human form — gave a faint shimmer behind him.
"…then the world is truly changing."
The birds fell silent.
The eagle bowed its head.
And somewhere in Japan, Akira felt a strange warmth in his chest — a presence awakening far away.
The pieces were moving.
The storm was forming.
And a new player had just stepped onto the board.