Silence followed the Guardians' arrival.
Not the peaceful kind—
the kind that settles after something irreversible.
Students peeked from half-open doors. Whispers died before they could form. Even the walls felt like they were listening.
Simuya stood frozen, her pride shattered so cleanly it hurt to look at. Her fingers trembled—not from fear alone, but from rage she couldn't release.
"…You think this ends here?" she spat.
One of the Guardians—older, his presence sharp but restrained—turned his gaze toward her. It wasn't hostile.
It was dismissive.
"Light that seeks control will always rot," he said. "You are not the first to mistake authority for truth."
That was worse than an insult.
Simuya's jaw tightened. Her eyes burned as she turned away, cloak snapping behind her as she stormed down the corridor. Her followers hesitated—then followed, unsettled.
But as she passed the corner, Simuya glanced back once.
At Sumi.
Not with hatred.
With recognition.
Sumi noticed.
She said nothing—but her hand slowly clenched at her side.
Tobi exhaled shakily. Only now did he realize how tense his body had been. "Are you okay?" he asked again, quieter this time.
Sumi nodded. "…I am. Because you stood there."
That simple sentence hit harder than anything else that day.
Iruka stepped closer, eyes sharp. "Who are you people?" he demanded. "This is a school."
The Guardian woman inclined her head slightly. "And you are protecting children. That earns you honesty."
Another stepped forward—broad-shouldered, scarred, carrying himself like a battlefield that learned to walk.
"We are called the Light Guardians," he said. "Not priests. Not rulers."
"Watchers," another added.
"Correctors," said a third.
Seven of them now stood fully revealed.
Seven.
Mizumi swallowed. "Seven… that's not a coincidence, is it?"
The first man—the one who spoke with quiet authority—looked past them all.
His gaze landed on Tobi.
And stopped.
For a fraction of a second, something ancient passed through his eyes.
"…So it's true," he murmured.
Tobi felt it then.
A pressure deep in his chest. Not pain—weight. As if something long asleep had shifted.
Far away.
Very far away.
A sword reacted.
Not the Dark Dragon Sword in his hands—but another. One he didn't remember holding.
Tobi staggered slightly, gripping the wall. Sumi caught his arm instantly.
"What's wrong?" she whispered.
"I—don't know," he admitted. "It felt like… someone called out."
The Guardians exchanged glances.
This time, there was no doubt in their expressions.
"The echo has begun," the leader said.
Iruka's voice sharpened. "Echo of what?"
The Guardian answered slowly.
"Of a swordsman who vanished instead of dying."
The corridor felt suddenly too small.
Sumi's eyes widened just a fraction.
"…Ren," she whispered—so quietly only she heard it.
Tobi didn't hear the name.
But his heart reacted anyway.
The leader turned toward the exit, cloak shifting. "We move soon. The one you are searching for is no longer hidden by chance."
"Where?" Mizumi asked.
The Guardian paused.
"Somewhere memory bleeds into the present," he said. "And pain refuses to fade."
Tobi swallowed. "You're going to find him."
The man looked back at him—not stern, not gentle.
Certain.
"No," he said.
"We're going to wake him."
Sumi tightened her grip on Tobi's sleeve.
Outside, the wind shifted.
And somewhere far beyond the school—
a lone swordsman felt the past knock, hard, against his soul.