They didn't announce it.
There was no plan written down, no whispered agreement passed between them like a secret oath. It happened the way decisions that matter always do—not loudly, not bravely.
Just… suddenly.
Tobi stopped walking.
Sumi noticed first.
She had learned to read the pauses in people—the moments when the world shifted inside them before it showed on their face. Tobi's step slowed, his shoulders tightening like he was listening to something no one else could hear.
"You feel it too," she said quietly. Not a question.
Tobi nodded once.
Mizumi frowned. "Okay, I hate that tone. What's happening?"
Iruka glanced behind them, then down the empty street. "Whatever it is," he said, "it's not waiting."
Mai Ayase hadn't said a word since they left the school gates.
She walked slightly ahead of them, eyes unfocused—not lost, not distracted. Tracking.
She stopped suddenly.
Everyone froze.
"Not this way," Mai said. Her voice was calm. Certain. "If we go straight, we miss him."
Iruka opened his mouth. Closed it again.
Tobi didn't ask why.
He just turned.
And they followed.
That was how it started.
---
Elsewhere — Those Who Knew
Yanshi stood alone at the edge of the training grounds, hands folded behind his back.
He felt the moment they stepped beyond permission.
Not fear. Not defiance.
Choice.
"So," he murmured, eyes closing briefly, "you're walking it early."
The Dark Dragon Sword stirred behind sealed doors—once, then stilled.
Yanshi did not move to stop it.
---
Ishawa leaned against a broken pillar, gaze distant.
"Five of them," he muttered. "Of course it's five."
He smiled faintly, humorless.
"History really does repeat itself."
---
Miss Shiratori closed a file she had been pretending to read.
She did not reopen it.
Instead, she stood, straightened her coat, and looked out the window toward a direction no map would agree with.
"So the children chose first," she said quietly.
No alarm sounded.
No orders were given.
---
Above the City
Wind tore across the high places where buildings ended and sky began.
Hideo—Honoke Sato—stood where the world felt thin.
He didn't turn when the presence approached.
"They're moving," said the voice beside him.
Hideo nodded. "They were always going to."
"And Ren?"
Hideo's gaze darkened. "He's already standing at the door."
---
Those Who Felt It Without Seeing
One of the councillors spilled his tea.
Another went pale, hand pressing to his chest.
A third laughed nervously, then stopped when no one joined him.
"The echo is wrong," one whispered.
"No," another replied. "The echo is right. That's the problem."
---
A man far from the city—scarred hands, familiar blood—paused mid-motion.
A man familiar frowned.
"…So it's begun...Tobi" he said.
Somewhere else, another a man felt the same pull—and said nothing.
---
The Guardians
Light shifted.
Not descending.
Aligning.
Seven presences turned their attention—not toward the children, but toward what waited for them.
"The retrieval has begun," Hokuren said calmly.
Astraea rested her hand on her blade. "Will they survive it?"
"They're not meant to be protected," Kaien replied. "They're meant to arrive."
Elthea said nothing.
She was listening.
---
Ren
The place Ren stood in did not exist on any map.
Stone bled into memory. Memory bled into pain.
His sword trembled—not as a weapon, but as a witness.
He staggered, breath sharp.
Something was coming.
Not chasing him.
Finding him.
"…Too soon," he whispered.
The shadows around him did not disagree.
---
Back to the Five
They reached the edge of where streets forgot their names.
Mai slowed, eyes narrowing. "He passed through here."
Tobi's chest tightened. Not loss.
Nearness.
Sumi stepped closer to him without thinking.
Mizumi swallowed. "So we're really doing this."
Iruka exhaled. "Yeah," he said. "We are."
Tobi looked ahead—past buildings, past certainty, past safety.
"Ren," he said quietly, not calling, not shouting.
Just saying the name like a promise.
The wind shifted.
The distance began to collapse.
And far away—where memory refused to stay buried—
A lone swordsman turned.