Morning light filtered through the academy windows, casting long golden beams across the stone floors. The building felt calmer than it had in months. No whispers of blame. No rumors of fire or gunshots tied to Kaito's name.
For once… it felt steady.
Kaito stood near the training grounds, watching students practice in pairs. Eryo stood beside him, arms folded loosely, observing with quiet curiosity.
"They move differently now," Eryo said. "There's less fear."
Kaito nodded faintly. "They needed something to believe in again. Something solid."
Eryo glanced at him. "And you gave them that."
Kaito didn't respond.
Instead, he looked toward the distant mountains beyond the academy walls. Something tugged at him. Not danger exactly. Not yet. But a pressure. Like air before a storm.
Behind them, Ryo approached, carrying a small stack of papers. "The villagers are finally calm," he reported. "No more talk about us causing the attacks."
"That rumor fell apart too cleanly," Kaito muttered.
Eryo tilted his head. "You think someone wanted it to?"
Kaito's eyes sharpened slightly. "Rumors don't just dissolve. They get replaced."
As if summoned by his words, a sharp ringing echoed faintly through the air.
Not from the academy bell.
From him.
Kaito's hand instinctively moved toward his chest. A pulse of energy rippled beneath his skin—subtle, but unmistakable.
Eryo felt it too.
Their eyes met.
"You felt that," Eryo said quietly.
"Yes."
It wasn't the fragment. That energy was different—cold, calculated. This was older. Familiar. Resonant.
The same frequency they had once shared across oceans and skies.
A memory flickered at the edge of Kaito's mind—not a full flashback, not yet. Just a sensation:
Standing beside others.
More than one.
Power braided together.
Hope.
Eryo stepped closer. "It's not just us anymore, is it?"
Kaito exhaled slowly. "No."
Ryo looked between them. "You two are doing that thing again where I feel left out."
Eryo gave a small smile. "Sorry."
Kaito's expression shifted—not into secrecy, but into decision.
"We're not chasing rumors anymore," he said firmly. "We're following signals."
"Signals?" Ryo repeated.
Kaito turned toward the academy gates. "If Eryo remembered… and I remembered… then the others won't stay quiet forever."
The wind shifted suddenly, rustling leaves across the courtyard.
And somewhere—far beyond the village—a pulse answered.
Stronger this time.
Eryo's eyes widened slightly. "That wasn't imagination."
"No," Kaito said, and for the first time that morning, a spark of excitement lit his voice. "That was a call."
Not from the enemy.
Not from the fragment.
From something older.
From someone.
Kaito stepped forward.
"Chapter by chapter, we've been reacting," he said quietly. "Now… we move first."
Eryo walked beside him without hesitation.
And for the first time since his reincarnation, Kaito didn't feel like he was rebuilding alone.
Somewhere out there, another echo was waking up.
And it was looking for them.