Morning leaked in—slow, diluted through a ceiling of thickening grey.
The charcoal and ash layers of the forest stacked without separation, crushing the distance into a single plane. Heat from the previous day refused to break; it lingered beneath the cloud cover until the air thickened, resisting movement.
Moisture sealed against my skin the moment I cleared the overhang of the Crouching Lion. My glasses polarized against the flat light, bleaching the trail into unreadable contrast. The sky sat low, heavy as a lung holding its breath.
"Ugh," Naruto groaned. His mesh tank top clung unevenly to his ribs, damp with sweat and a fine rime of salt residue. His ribs stuttered under the fabric in an uneven inhale-exhale cycle—an imbalance that mirrored the restlessness of the air pressing against us. "It's even worse today. Why is it worse?"
"It's changing," I said, though my voice sounded hollow.
Cadence spacing I'd been tracking fractured as we moved south. The volcanic soil broke down underfoot into a fine, dragging slurry. Ahead, Idate's gaze stayed fixed forward. Weight shifted forward through his stride, his body executing a sequence of weight-shifts to bypass the stiffness in his right side. A slight recovery lag followed every heavy step.
The treeline thinned, opening into the tidal flats. Brine replaced resin in a single breath. The wind hit asymmetrically—cooling my left shoulder while my right stayed slick with heat. Mud sealed around each step, holding for a fraction too long before release.
"Hey—" Naruto hopped across a patch of damp stone, his tank top snapping against his chest. A gust hit, nearly swallowing his words. He fell into step beside Idate. "You've been doing this a while, huh? Running?"
"Running?" Idate didn't turn. "…Yeah."
Naruto's grin forced its way across his face, but the expression lacked its usual weight. His jaw stayed tight, and his eyes tracked Idate's every micro-adjustment instead of the path ahead. Salt from the spray hit my lips mid-sentence as Naruto spoke. "Kinda reminds me of—someone I used to run with."
The inhale stalled. The horizon split into two skewed frames. My next step landed a half-inch off-center, the sandal skidding. Footing missed the next stone, a jolt of alarm spiking up my spine.
"Used to?" Idate asked, his voice flat, resisting the comparison.
"Yeah," Naruto said, his chest expansion hitching. "He'd always run ahead too. Super annoying. But useful."
"I don't know who... talkin' about," Idate snapped, his right side dipping as he favored his injury under the increasing load. "I run 'cause I have to. Not 'cause... not 'cause it's useful."
Nothing would lock into place. Labels skipped—forward scout, independent center, outlier. My mind threw up a name I'd buried, then rejected it, then forced it back until the edges of Idate's silhouette bled into a memory I couldn't stop. He wasn't him—but he moved through the exact gap the ghost had left behind. The conclusion set before I could stop it.
Air pressure dropped—everything went silent. The insects in the brush stopped their drone, replaced by an auditory vacuum. My own blood pumping behind my ears became a dull roar. Saliva thickened in my throat, and a sharp pressure drop made my eardrums ache.
SNAP.
A high-tension crack tore through the humidity. I jerked toward Idate, expecting to see his femur snapped through the skin, his weight collapsing into a spray of blood. My internal monologue shattered. No—it wasn't him. Was it the ground? The air? Equilibrium failed, the world tilting toward the sea.
"The hell was that?" Naruto barked.
We rounded the final outcrop. A plume of vapor refracted the light into a blinding glare, scrubbing the trail. Condensation filmed over my lenses, blurring the world until only shadows of iron bled through the haze. Humidity pressed into my lungs like a weight, the moisture making the next breath feel metallic. The tension rig finally emerged.
It stretched across the chasm, wooden planks darkened by age. The cables vibrated with a spiking, uneven amplitude. Wind tore through the flats in uneven gulps.
"That's our path," Idate said.
The sway... the prediction broke mid-formation. "It's skewed," I started, my voice tight. "The center... it's pulling wrong. It's going to—the wind is—everything is twisting."
Idate stood at the edge. His focus stayed on the wind hitting Anko's chainmail—the metal sucking heat from her skin as it clinked. Fine hair along Kakashi's forearms lifted, but his flak jacket held still for another half-second. Visual and tactile signals arrived skewed.
"Gonna tear if—!" Naruto shouted, stepping toward the first plank. He hesitated, his jaw locked, eyes chasing Idate's feet instead of the bridge. "I can hit... move!"
"Wait," I said, my hand reaching out, fingers ticking. "The timing... I think there's a lull. Every three... no, the window is—"
"Doesn't reset—it cycles," Idate interrupted, cutting through my aborted prediction. "Looking for a pause... isn't there."
"The rig... it needs to—!"
"Lose the window!" Idate said. He stepped forward.
I waited for the slip. He took a step; I expected a lateral slide. His sole met wood, but the plank jerked. He wavered, his knee buckling for a micro-second before he forced the weight through. He took another. I prepared for deceleration, but I couldn't pin his footing—he was a blur of overcorrections, his body lunging forward just as the bridge twisted against the wind. He sped up, his breath coming in sharp, costly rasps. He was riding the timing failure I thought would kill him.
I was reacting a step too late.
"Move!" Naruto yelled. He didn't wait. He was gone, a blur of orange mesh.
The first step refused to land. I stood at the threshold, my lead foot hovering while my tendons hesitated. The bridge screamed—a metallic sound of stressed iron that arrived a beat after I saw the cables stretch.
The chasm resolved under my lenses. The polarization collapsed the depth into a false wall, a dangerous misjudgment that made my knees lose load-bearing tension. The imprint wasn't gone; it was out there on the planks, moving in a timing that wouldn't repeat.
The pattern wouldn't lock. I moved anyway.
The sole met wood. The plank flexed. A beat later, the vibration traveled from ankle to hip. Wind hit my face while my chest still felt the stagnant heat of the shore. The lateral sway hit my knee joint, and I staggered. My commitment lagged behind my motion.
Then, I stepped into the wind.