The city walls loomed behind them, black stone swallowing the last echoes of alarms and steel. Beyond the outskirts, the world opened into quiet—rolling dirt paths, scattered shrubs, and the steady hush of night reclaiming what chaos had briefly disturbed. Cool air brushed against Tomora's skin, carrying the smell of wet earth and distant pine.
The hooded figure stretched as if he'd just finished a leisurely walk instead of escaping a fortress and humiliating one of the Black Iron's greatest leaders.
"Well then," he said lightly, already turning away, boots crunching against gravel. "I'm out. Bye!"
Tomora didn't hesitate.
His hand snapped forward, fingers locking around the figure's arm with sudden force. In one smooth motion, he spun him back around. The hooded figure stumbled, cloak flaring.
Tomora grinned—sharp, feral, all teeth.
"Hey," he said cheerfully, voice laced with menace. "Time to die."
The hooded figure froze.
Every line of his body screamed panic. Shoulders locked. Knees bent. For a split second, he looked like a rabbit realizing the grass was not, in fact, safe.
Then he laughed—too fast, too loud.
"C'mon!" he said, tugging at Tomora's grip. "Let me go! You're crazy!"
He wrenched himself free with surprising speed and immediately bolted, cloak snapping behind him as he sprinted straight into the darkness without so much as a plan. His footsteps faded quickly, uneven and frantic.
"Until we meet again, kiddo!" his voice echoed back, already distant.
Tomora stood there, hand still half-raised, watching the shadows swallow the man whole. Slowly, his grin faded into a confused frown.
"…What is with that guy?" he muttered.
The forest greeted him hours later, its edge glowing faintly as dawn crept over the horizon. Pale light filtered through branches heavy with dew, turning spiderwebs into threads of silver. Tomora stepped out from between the trees, boots soaked, cloak torn, body aching in places he hadn't realized could ache.
His thoughts weighed heavier than his wounds.
A year.
Had they waited?
Or had hope finally broken?
The forest thinned, revealing a small cabin tucked between trees, smoke curling lazily from its chimney. It looked worn but lived in—patched wood, stacked fire logs, a place made by people who planned to stay.
Tomora slowed.
Then he saw her.
Jer stood just outside the cabin, frozen like she couldn't quite believe her eyes. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
Then she screamed his name and ran.
"Slap! Tomora!" she shouted, colliding with him hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. "We thought you were gone forever!"
Before he could respond, footsteps thundered behind her.
Yora burst out next, eyes red, breath hitching as she reached him.
"Where have you been?" she cried, gripping his sleeve like he might vanish again. "We were so worried!"
More arms wrapped around him. Tala stepped in close, quieter than the others, resting a hand against his shoulder like grounding him to the moment.
"We missed you," she said softly.
Tomora stood stiff for a second, then let himself sink into it—the warmth, the weight, the proof that he hadn't returned to nothing. His throat tightened, words refusing to come.
When he finally pulled back, he lifted what he'd been holding the whole time.
The scroll.
Its seal was cracked, parchment old and dangerous, humming faintly beneath his fingers.
Patricia leaned closer, eyes widening. "What is that?"
"A scroll," Tomora said. "It keeps the Black Iron's secrets."
Her breath caught. "How—?" She shook her head, smiling in disbelief. "Wow. You did this on your own?"
He hesitated, then shook his head.
"Nope," he said. "I had a friend."
Tala glanced around. "Where is he?"
Tomora looked back toward the forest, toward the road he'd walked alone.
"He went his own way."
They shared a quiet smile—relief threading through exhaustion, hope flickering back to life.
Tomora's gaze drifted upward, past the trees, past the city he'd survived.
It's just the beginning, he thought.
Thank you… Sensei.
Far away, beyond where the eye could see, a lone figure stood atop a hill overlooking the world below. The hood was gone now, white hair spilling freely down his back, catching the early light like frost.
He watched Tomora for a long moment.
Then he snorted.
"Huh," he muttered. "Now what will you do, kid?"
And with that, the shadow turned—and walked on.