Morning broke gray and heavy, the sun smothered by low clouds that dimmed the island's usual brilliance. The village stirred with unease; even the children sensed it. Soldiers no longer patrolled just the perimeter. They walked openly among the homes, eyes scanning, boots pressing down on soil that had never belonged to them.
From the shadows of a half-collapsed barn, Yoshiki watched a pair of uniformed men pass. Their rifles glinted as they swept their gazes across the village square, marking every face. Too slow to be casual. Too thorough to be routine.
"They're counting heads," Hikaru muttered beside him.
Yoshiki's jaw tightened. "No. They're hunting."
Behind them, Yuzuriha crouched low, her expression calm though her hands betrayed the faintest tremor as she adjusted the strap of the satchel hiding the stolen papers. She had said nothing since dawn, her mind clearly running through calculations.
The soldiers moved on, and the three slipped deeper into the barn's shadow.
Hikaru finally broke the silence. "It's different now. Last week they patrolled in pairs. Today? Groups of four, overlapping routes. Floodlights stayed on through the night." His voice dropped lower. "It's because of what you took, isn't it?"
Yuzuriha didn't look away. "Yes. They know something's missing. They don't know who took it, but they know it was taken. Which means every one of us is a suspect."
Yoshiki's fists clenched. "Good. Let them suspect. They'll never find proof."
But even as he said it, his chest burned. That same heat from the night before—a restless pressure, pushing against the walls of his body. Every time he thought of Shiga, of those diagrams carving his nerves into maps, the fire grew hotter.
Yuzuriha finally turned her gaze on him. "Yoshiki. We can't just rely on anger. If we draw too much attention, we'll burn before we can strike."
Her words cut sharp, but not unkind. Still, Yoshiki's glare softened only slightly.
"I'm not afraid of burning," he said. "I'm afraid of waiting while they crush us."
The barn fell silent. Only the muffled voices of passing soldiers filled the air. Hikaru looked between the two, then finally spoke, his tone steady. "If we're careful, we can turn their hunt against them. We just have to move first. Use the patrol routes, the blind spots. Gather allies quietly."
Yuzuriha nodded. "Then we split tasks. I'll continue deciphering what I stole. Hikaru, you watch the soldiers. Memorize their patterns. Yoshiki…" She hesitated, then spoke with intent. "…you be patient. For once."
Yoshiki bristled, but said nothing.
Outside, the sound of a whistle pierced the air. The patrols had shifted again.
The net was closing, and they all knew it.
That night, when the village had settled into uneasy quiet and the soldiers' boots no longer echoed through the square, the trio slipped into the old root cellar beneath the Mori household. The air was cool and damp, smelling faintly of earth and stone. A single lantern flickered, casting long shadows across the low ceiling.
The stolen papers lay spread across a crude wooden table. Yuzuriha bent over them, her eyes sharp and unblinking, the flame painting her features in gold. Yoshiki and Hikaru sat opposite her, tense but listening.
"They're not just cataloging us," Yuzuriha began, her voice low. "They're testing resonance. Look here—" she tapped one page marked with jagged graphs, "—this machine they're using isn't just recording energy. It's provoking it, pushing for reactions. That means…"
"They're trying to force awakenings," Hikaru said grimly.
Yuzuriha nodded. "And once they know who reacts and how… they'll separate us. Control us. Maybe worse."
Yoshiki's fists slammed onto the table. The lantern shook. "Then we stop them before they can."
His voice rang too loud in the cramped cellar. Hikaru shot him a sharp look, pressing a finger to his lips. "Quiet. One slip and we bring soldiers to this door."
Yoshiki exhaled, forcing his voice lower.
"We can't sit here and watch them dissect us like insects. We need allies. People who'll fight when the time comes."
Yuzuriha met his gaze, her own calm but unyielding. "Not everyone will believe. Some are too afraid, some too loyal to the uniform. If we tell the wrong person, we expose ourselves."
Hikaru leaned forward. "Then we start with the ones we trust most. Family. Friends. People we know won't betray us."
Yoshiki thought of his grandfather, the warnings whispered to him since childhood about an unseen danger that would one day return. His chest tightened. He knew. He always knew.
Yuzuriha gathered the papers into neat stacks. "One step at a time. Hikaru, keep tracking the patrols. Their routes will give us openings. Yoshiki, talk to those you trust—but carefully. No mention of stolen files. Only that something is wrong."
Yoshiki frowned. "And you?"
"I'll find out what the resonance machines are truly measuring," Yuzuriha said. "Knowledge is the only weapon we can use without drawing blades."
The lantern sputtered, shadows dancing across their faces. For a moment, silence fell again, heavy with the weight of decisions too large for three villagers their age.
Finally, Hikaru spoke. "Then it begins here. We plan, we prepare… and when the time comes, we don't falter."
Yoshiki's fist closed tight, the warmth in his chest flaring hotter. "We won't."
They doused the lantern, leaving only darkness and the faint heartbeat of resolve between them.