Three days had passed since the school was destroyed.
The place that once echoed with footsteps, laughter, and arguments between students was now nothing more than sealed ruins. Yellow warning tape fluttered in the wind, mixed with spiritual seals that shimmered faintly when seen from the corner of the eye. Officials called it an accident. A tragedy. Something unfortunate but explainable.
The truth was buried deeper.
Tobi sat beneath a sakura tree far from the ruins, where the city had chosen to celebrate instead of mourn.
The Hanami Festival had arrived right on schedule, as it always did.
Paper lanterns lined the park paths, glowing softly as dusk settled in. Stalls buzzed with life—vendors shouting cheerfully, metal pans sizzling, children laughing as they chased drifting petals. Traditional music played faintly from speakers hidden among the trees, blending old culture with modern noise.
Petals fell like slow rain.
Tobi leaned back against the tree trunk, closing his eyes for a moment.
His body still ached.
Bandages wrapped tightly around his chest and shoulder, hidden beneath casual clothes. Every movement reminded him of the blast, the pain, the moment everything went dark.
But the pain wasn't the worst part.
It was the weight.
Even now—without holding the sword—he could feel it. A presence resting deep inside him, calm but watchful. Light and darkness, not fighting… waiting.
He opened his eyes and watched a petal land on his palm.
"…So this is what peace looks like," he murmured.
"Don't get used to it."
Tobi looked to his side.
Iruka stood there, holding two cups of soda from a nearby stall. He handed one over and sat down beside him without asking.
"The doctors said you should still be lying down," Iruka said. "But you're terrible at listening."
Tobi gave a tired smile. "You came anyway."
Iruka shrugged. "Someone has to make sure you don't disappear again."
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of the festival.
Iruka spoke again, this time quieter. "I thought… when everything started shaking… that we were all done for."
Tobi didn't answer.
"I couldn't even move," Iruka continued. "My body just froze. But you—"
He stopped himself.
Tobi's fingers curled slowly around the cup.
"I didn't do anything," Tobi said. "It just… happened."
Iruka looked at him carefully. "That's what scares me."
Nearby, Mizumi laughed as she struggled to catch a goldfish with a paper scoop. Her light-blue yukata swayed as she moved, hair tied loosely at the side. Sumi stood beside her, quiet as always, her eyes focused not on the game—but on the barrier seals placed subtly around the park.
She noticed Tobi watching.
For a moment, they just looked at each other.
Then she gave a small nod.
Not reassurance.
Understanding.
Mizumi eventually noticed and waved. "Hey! You're not allowed to look that serious today!"
Tobi managed a small wave back.
From a distance, the teachers observed.
Yanshi stood near a lantern post, arms crossed, eyes sharp despite his casual clothes. He scanned the crowd methodically—not as a teacher at a festival, but as a warrior guarding a battlefield.
Miss Shiratori adjusted a hairpin decorated with sakura petals. "They need this," she said calmly. "Normalcy. Even if it's temporary."
Ishawa lay on a picnic blanket, hands behind his head, staring at the sky through the blossoms.
"Temporary is fine," he replied. "That's how life works."
A breeze swept through the park.
The petals suddenly lifted higher than before, swirling unnaturally for just a second—before settling again.
Tobi felt it immediately.
His chest tightened.
"…Did you feel that?" he asked softly.
Iruka frowned. "Feel what?"
Tobi didn't answer.
Across the river, beyond the lantern light, Hideo stood atop the stone embankment.
He watched the festival in silence, hands tucked into his coat pockets. Fireworks reflected faintly in his eyes, but his expression never softened.
"So you're resting," he murmured. "Good."
A shadow shifted beside him.
"The council is watching," a hidden figure said. "They're concerned."
Hideo didn't look away. "They always are."
"The Last Swordsman has awakened."
Hideo smiled faintly. "Then they should have acted sooner."
Back at the festival, the first firework exploded into the sky.
The crowd gasped—then cheered.
Light bloomed across the night, scattering petals in gold and crimson. Reflections danced across faces, laughter rising with each explosion.
Tobi looked up.
For a split second, the light above felt too bright.
Something inside him stirred.
He clenched his fist, grounding himself.
"…I don't want anyone else to get hurt," he whispered.
Sumi had moved closer.
She spoke quietly. "Power doesn't ask permission. But it listens to resolve."
Tobi turned toward her. "Do you think I can control it?"
Sumi hesitated. "…I think you'll have to."
Another firework exploded—this one strangely colored, gold bleeding into deep violet.
Yanshi's eyes narrowed.
Miss Shiratori noticed.
Ishawa sat up slowly. "That's not normal."
The sky shimmered briefly—light and shadow overlapping.
Tobi felt the sword answer.
Across the river, Hideo watched the distorted reflection and smiled faintly.
"The petals fall," he whispered. "And the blade sharpens."
The final firework burst across the sky.
And somewhere beyond the city, something ancient stirred—aware that the Last Swordsman had taken his first step.
The fireworks faded, leaving behind drifting smoke and lingering echoes.
People clapped, laughed, and returned to their food stalls, unaware that the night itself had grown heavier.
Tobi lowered his gaze from the sky.
His chest still felt tight—but not from pain.
From awareness.
"…Sensei," he said quietly.
Yanshi turned his head slightly. "You felt it too."
Miss Shiratori adjusted her stance. "So did I."
Ishawa stood fully now, his earlier laziness gone. "Well, well," he muttered. "Looks like we've got an audience."
The lantern light flickered.
Just once.
Then steadied.
Across the park, near the edge of the river where the shadows gathered unnaturally, three figures stood.
They hadn't been there before.
The first leaned casually against a tree, wearing a long coat and a fox-shaped mask tilted to the side of his face. One visible eye gleamed sharply, amused.
The second stood upright beside him, dressed in dark formal clothing, hands folded behind his back. His face was calm—too calm—like someone observing insects beneath glass.
The third sat atop a stone railing, legs crossed, smiling openly. Her hair was pale, almost silver, and her eyes reflected the lantern light strangely, as if absorbing it rather than reflecting it.
None of them moved.
None of them attacked.
They simply watched.
Sumi stiffened. "They're not hiding their aura."
Mizumi swallowed. "That means… they want to be seen."
Iruka's voice dropped. "Who are they?"
Hideo, still across the river, straightened slightly.
"…So they've come already."
The man with the fox mask lifted two fingers from where he leaned—an informal greeting.
"Relax," he said lightly, his voice carrying just enough to reach the teachers. "We're not here to ruin your little festival."
The silver-haired woman tilted her head. "Yet."
Yanshi stepped forward, fire faintly flickering at his heel. "State your names."
The calm man in formal clothes smiled politely. "Names have power. Faces are enough for today."
Ishawa laughed softly, though his eyes were sharp. "Heh. Bad manners."
The fox-masked man's gaze shifted.
And stopped on Tobi.
"…So that's him," he said. "The balance-breaker."
Tobi felt the sword pulse—once.
Not aggressively.
Warning.
The silver-haired woman's smile widened. "He doesn't even realise how loud he is."
Miss Shiratori's voice was steady. "If you're not here to fight, then leave."
The calm man bowed slightly. "We merely wished to confirm the awakening."
Hideo's eyes narrowed. "And now that you have?"
The man looked toward him, surprised—then intrigued.
"So you're still walking your own path, Hideo Sato."
Hideo didn't respond.
The fox-masked man straightened. "Tell the council this," he said calmly. "The Last Swordsman exists. And he belongs to no side."
The silver-haired woman leaned forward slightly, eyes locked onto Tobi.
"We'll meet again," she said. "When he's ready to choose."
A sudden gust of wind swept through the park.
Petals scattered.
Lanterns swayed.
And when the wind passed—
The three figures were gone.
No sound.
No trace.
Only silence.
Tobi exhaled slowly. "Sensei… who were they?"
Yanshi stared at the empty space they'd occupied.
"…Enemies," he said. "Not ours yet."
Miss Shiratori closed her eyes briefly. "The world has noticed him."
Ishawa smirked faintly. "Guess the real story starts now."
Across the river, Hideo turned away from the festival lights.
"Welcome to the stage," he murmured. "Last Swordsman."
The sakura petals continued to fall.
Unaware that peace had just been put on notice.