The corridor had settled into something almost peaceful.
The sun leaned low outside the windows, turning the floor into a quiet river of gold. Tobi sat beside Sumi, neither of them speaking now, but the silence no longer felt empty. It felt shared.
For the first time since the word priest had been spoken aloud in the classroom, Sumi's shoulders weren't tense.
Tobi noticed that before anything else.
"You don't have to carry everything by yourself," he said, softly enough that it almost disappeared into the air. "Not here."
Sumi turned her head toward him. Her smile was small—barely there—but real.
"…You're strange," she said. "Most people look at me and only see what I am."
Tobi shook his head. "I just see someone who didn't deserve that."
For a heartbeat, her expression faltered.
Then—
Clack.
Footsteps.
Sharp. Deliberate. Echoing.
The warmth in the corridor snapped like a thread pulled too tight.
Sumi's eyes darkened before she even looked up.
Tobi felt it then—the pressure. Like the air itself was being pushed aside.
"Well," a familiar voice said, dripping with mock amusement,
"this is an interesting sight."
Simuya stepped into the light.
She wasn't alone. Two other girls stood behind her, silent, watching like witnesses who had already chosen a side. Simuya's gaze flicked from Sumi… to Tobi… and lingered.
Her smile widened.
"So this is where you ran off to," she said. "I should've known."
Tobi stood instinctively, placing himself half a step in front of Sumi. "What do you want?"
Simuya laughed quietly. "Still pretending to be brave?" Her eyes gleamed. "You really like getting involved in things that aren't yours, don't you?"
Sumi stood up too, calm but alert. "Simuya. That's enough."
"Enough?" Simuya repeated, her tone sharpening. "You don't get to decide that."
She stepped closer—too close.
"You wear that light like it's nothing," Simuya continued, voice lowering. "Like it didn't ruin lives. Like it didn't burn people who trusted it."
Tobi clenched his fists. "Don't talk to her like that."
That did it.
Simuya's gaze snapped to him, cold and furious.
"You," she said, pointing at his chest, "don't get to speak."
Light began to gather around her hand—thin, sharp, unstable.
The corridor dimmed as if recoiling.
Before Tobi could move—
"Simuya."
A firm voice cut through the tension.
Iruka stood at the far end of the hall, her expression hard, eyes blazing. Beside her was Mizumi, gripping her arm tightly.
"Put your hand down," Iruka said. "Now."
Simuya scoffed. "Oh? And if I don't?"
Mizumi's voice shook—but not with fear. "Then you'll prove exactly what kind of priest you are."
For a moment, it looked like Simuya might actually strike.
The light in her palm pulsed.
And then—
The temperature dropped.
Not cold.
Still.
As if the world itself had gone quiet to listen.
The light in Simuya's hand flickered—then warped, bending inward, swallowed by a shadow that didn't belong to anyone there.
Footsteps echoed again.
Slower. Heavier.
From the far end of the corridor, figures emerged.
They didn't rush.
They didn't glow.
They arrived.
Seven presences—though only a few were visible at first—each carrying an air so dense it pressed against the chest. Ancient. Disciplined. Watching.
Simuya froze.
"…That presence," she whispered. "No—"
A tall man stepped forward, his gaze unreadable. His voice was calm, but it carried weight that made the walls feel thin.
"Enough."
The light vanished completely from Simuya's hand.
She staggered back, shocked. "Who—who are you people?!"
Another figure moved—silent, composed.
"You do not threaten a child," a woman said coolly, her eyes briefly flicking to Sumi, then to Tobi. "Especially not under the false authority of light."
Iruka felt it. Mizumi felt it.
Even the watching students—hidden behind doors and corners—felt it.
This wasn't power like magic.
This was judgment.
Simuya clenched her teeth, fury and fear warring on her face. "You think you can interfere with priest affairs?!"
The first man's eyes narrowed slightly.
"We are not interfering," he said.
"We are correcting."
Sumi's breath caught.
Tobi felt it then—his chest tightening, his sword far away yet somehow reacting, humming faintly like it recognized something it wasn't supposed to remember yet.
The Guardians had arrived.
And nothing in this school would ever feel normal again.