The summons did not come with urgency.
That was what made it terrifying.
A single paper seal appeared on Tobi's desk just before dawn—no knock, no messenger, no sound. The ink was still warm when he touched it, the characters sharp and precise.
Council Assembly — Mandatory Attendance.
No reason given.
No time listed.
Just today.
Tobi stared at it longer than necessary.
The sword inside him did not react.
That silence felt heavier than any warning.
---
The city moved as if nothing had changed.
Trains ran. Shops opened. Students laughed on street corners, unaware that the balance of their world was being discussed behind walls they would never see.
Tobi walked through it all quietly.
Every step felt measured—as if the ground itself was counting.
Iruka caught up to him near the outer gate.
"You got it too," he said, not asking.
Tobi nodded.
Iruka exhaled sharply. "Figures."
They walked together for a while. No jokes. No complaints. Just the sound of their footsteps syncing without effort, the way they always had.
"You don't have to say anything," Iruka said eventually. "But if they try something—"
"They will," Tobi replied.
Iruka stopped walking.
Tobi didn't.
That alone said enough.
---
The Council Hall was not grand.
No towering pillars. No dramatic lighting.
Just a wide, circular chamber carved deep beneath the city, stone walls layered with seals so old they no longer glowed—they simply existed. Chairs were arranged evenly around the space, each occupied by a presence rather than a person.
Power sat quietly here.
And judged quietly too.
Yanshi stood near the entrance, arms crossed, fire completely dormant.
Miss Shiratori's posture was perfect, unreadable.
Ishawa leaned against a wall, eyes half-lidded—but alert.
Sumi stood apart from them.
She did not look at Tobi when he entered.
That hurt more than if she had.
---
"Step forward."
The voice was calm. Genderless. Ageless.
Tobi obeyed.
As he reached the center of the chamber, the seals beneath his feet reacted—not violently, not defensively.
They measured him.
A murmur rippled faintly through the council.
"Confirmed," one voice said.
"Balance carrier," another added.
"So it wasn't a mutation," a third murmured. "It's inheritance."
Iruka took a step forward.
"Is this a trial?" he demanded. "Because if it is, you haven't stated the charges."
Silence.
Then—
"No," the voice replied. "This is not a trial."
That was worse.
"This is a classification."
The word settled into the room like ash.
Tobi's chest tightened—not from fear, but from understanding.
They weren't asking what he'd done.
They were deciding what he would be allowed to become.
---
Sumi finally looked at him.
Just once.
There was apology in her eyes.
And warning.
---
"The Last Swordsman exists," the council continued. "Whether the world is ready or not. That cannot be undone."
A pause.
"But existence does not equal autonomy."
Yanshi's jaw tightened.
Miss Shiratori's fingers curled slightly at her side.
Iruka opened his mouth—
And Ishawa shook his head. Just barely.
Not yet.
---
"From this moment forward," the voice said, "Tobi will operate under observation."
The seals beneath the floor shifted.
"Your missions will be assigned. Your engagements approved. Your decisions… reviewed."
Tobi finally spoke.
"What happens if I refuse?"
The chamber fell completely silent.
Then—
"You won't," the council answered calmly. "Because refusal carries consequences beyond yourself."
Iruka reacted instantly. "That's coercion—"
"That is responsibility."
The word landed hard.
Tobi felt the sword stir—not in anger.
In weight.
---
Sumi stepped forward.
Just one step.
"The restriction," she said quietly. "You're activating it now."
"Yes," the council replied. "For him. And for you."
Sumi did not flinch.
Iruka did.
"You can't—"
"We can," the voice interrupted. "And we will."
---
Tobi closed his eyes.
Not in defeat.
In resolve.
"Then tell me one thing," he said.
The council waited.
"When I make a choice you don't like… who pays the price?"
There was a pause.
Not because they didn't know.
But because the answer mattered.
---
Far above the chamber, the city continued breathing.
Unaware that its protector had just been placed on a leash.
Unaware that balance was no longer free.
And somewhere in the shadows beyond the seals—
Kaien watched.
Not intervening.
Not approving.
Only waiting.
Because this—
This was where Volume 2 truly began.