The Guild's safehouse never felt quiet again after the note.
Even in silence, Seigi swore the walls carried whispers. Doors clicked too loudly when shut, footsteps lingered in the hall too long. Aya said it was paranoia. Riku said it was instincts sharpening. Hana said nothing at all.
That was worse.
The Briefing
Kurogami gathered them two nights later in the strategy room. Maps and screens glowed faintly under low light, casting everyone in fractured shadows.
"The Veil has been stirring," he said, voice smooth, steady, but laced with something Seigi hadn't heard before—anticipation. "Smuggling routes disrupted, signals crossing districts, operatives moving like pieces on a board."
He tapped the table. A symbol flared to life: the jagged circle. The same one from the coin on the riverbank.
"They are drawing closer. Probing. The note was not a threat—it was calibration." His eyes flicked to Seigi. "They wanted to see how you would carry it."
Riku leaned back in his chair, boots thudding onto the table. "So what's the verdict? He didn't cry, didn't crack, didn't run. That earns him a gold star, doesn't it?"
Seigi shot him a look. Riku smirked wider.
Aya folded her hands, her voice quiet but sharp. "It earns him attention. And attention is never a prize when it comes from the Veil."
Hana finally spoke, her tone clipped. "They will strike. They always do. The question is not if, but how."
Kurogami's gaze swept them all, but lingered on Seigi like a weight. "When the storm comes, you will not have the luxury of asking whether you are ready. You will only have the choice to stand—or break."
Banter in the Aftermath
Later, in the training hall, the tension fractured into something lighter. Riku shoved a staff into Seigi's hands, circling him like a wolf with too much energy.
"Origin veins or not," he said, "you still hold a stick like a rookie. Grip it higher or I'll make you eat the floor."
Seigi tightened his hands on the wood. "You talk a lot for someone who bleeds every time I get lucky."
"Oh?" Riku feigned offense. "Aya, did you hear that? Our little detective thinks one lucky punch makes him dangerous."
Aya didn't look up from adjusting bandages. "You're both children," she said softly. "One of you just swears more."
That earned her the faintest smile from Hana, who leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
Seigi swung. Riku blocked. The crack echoed sharp through the chamber. Sweat built fast; laughter followed slower, but it came. For a few minutes, the note and its shadow vanished in the rhythm of strike and counterstrike.
The Watcher
That night, Seigi walked home from the facility instead of taking the Guild's transport. The city smelled of rain and exhaust, alive in its restless way. He welcomed the normal noise, the dogs barking down alleys, the ramen shops closing shutters, the drunk businessmen singing tuneless songs.
Normal. He craved it.
Until the streetlamps flickered.
He paused, hand hovering near his coat where his weapon rested. The hum of the city pressed in too close, like a held breath.
A shape moved at the end of the street. Not close enough to see, not far enough to dismiss. Just… there.
He walked. It followed.
Two blocks later, he turned a corner sharp and fast. Empty. No footsteps. No shape. Only the still drip of rain from a gutter, tapping like a clock.
Seigi's jaw tightened. The note's words burned again at the back of his skull. Every thread is paid for. With hope, or with hurt.
Sato
When he finally reached his apartment, Sato was waiting by the stairs. The older man smoked with his usual patience, but his eyes were harder than usual, like glass under strain.
"You've been moving like a hunted man," Sato said without preamble.
"Maybe I am."
"Not maybe," Sato muttered. "The Veil doesn't play tag. They play endings." He exhaled smoke through his nose, the lines on his face deepening. "You're running out of choices, Seigi. Figure out which side of the thread you're standing on before they cut it for you."
For once, Seigi didn't argue.
The night closed over him heavy and thick. Somewhere out in the city, the Veil was preparing its next move. He could feel it.
Smoke before the fire.
And the fire was coming.