[Kenji's POV]
I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
Sakura had been getting stronger—more focused, more determined. Ever since she recovered from the katana incident, she was obsessed with mastering the weapon. It was like a part of her, and she didn't want to be caught off guard again. I watched her, day after day, slicing through the air in the clearing. The blade sparked with energy every time it moved. She was synchronizing with it, and it was mesmerizing to watch.
But I couldn't focus. Not really. Not when I kept seeing those same two men in suits. They'd started showing up more often. The same ones I saw talking to my mom that day. Always watching. Never saying anything. Just waiting.
I didn't tell Sakura. She already had so much on her shoulders, and she was pushing herself harder than ever. I couldn't drop another weight on her back.
But that all changed the night the phone rang.
I was sitting at my desk, flipping through the journal for the hundredth time, trying to make sense of any hidden message, when my phone buzzed. Unknown number. I hesitated, then answered.
"We know what you've been up to, Kenji. Let's talk. Tomorrow. Alone."
Click.
No name. No explanation. Just silence after that eerie voice. My throat went dry. I stared at the phone until the screen dimmed. That was it. One call, and I felt like the ground under me had shifted.
The next morning, I found a black envelope tucked into my backpack. No one saw it being placed there. No one could have. But it was there, like a ghost had slipped it in.
Inside was a single card. A time. A place.
3:15 PM. Old train tunnel. Come alone.
I tucked the card into my pocket, mind reeling. Should I go? Should I tell someone?
But I didn't. Not yet.
Later that afternoon, I met up with Sakura in the clearing again. She was practicing with the katana—her movements sharper, more fluid now. It was like watching a storm, all energy and grace.
"You've improved," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
She smiled, wiping sweat from her forehead. "Not enough."
I wanted to tell her everything. About the call, the envelope, the men in black. But when I looked at her, with her hands gripping that sword, her expression set with quiet resolve—I stayed quiet.
Not yet.
Not until I knew what I was walking into.
I arrived at the old train tunnel ten minutes early, the weight of the card in my pocket somehow heavier now. The place was abandoned—graffiti-stained walls, rusted tracks, and nothing but silence. The kind of silence that made your skin crawl.
They showed up right on time. Two of them, same black suits, same unreadable faces. One was tall and broad-shouldered, the other shorter but with a sharpness in his eyes that made it clear he did most of the thinking.
The tall one stepped forward. "Kenji Nakamura?"
I nodded slowly.
"We're with a special division of the government. Call us... observers."
I didn't say anything. My fists were clenched at my sides.
"You and your friend—Sakura—have drawn attention. More than you realize. We've been watching her. Watching you."
My heartbeat picked up. "What do you want?"
The short one spoke this time. "We want her location."
"No."
"Think carefully," the tall one said. "We believe she poses a danger to the public. She's unstable, unpredictable. This power she's developing—it's not something a high school girl should be wielding."
"She's not a danger," I said firmly. "She's trying to control it. She's trying to protect people."
"And what happens when she can't?" the short one snapped. "When she loses control? People will die, Kenji. We've seen it happen before."
I shook my head. "I'm not giving you anything."
The tall one sighed. "We thought you might say that. So, we're prepared to offer... incentive."
He pulled out a manila envelope and held it out to me. "A full ride to the best university in the country. Security for your family. A future. Just give us a location. We'll handle the rest. No one has to get hurt."
I didn't take the envelope. "I'm not selling her out."
The short one narrowed his eyes. "You should rethink that decision."
I stood my ground.
"Very well," the tall one said. "But understand this, Kenji—we're not going away. And the next time we ask, we won't be so polite."
They turned and walked off without another word, leaving me standing there alone.
The card in my pocket suddenly felt like a brand.
And for the first time since this all began, I felt the real weight of what we were up against. Not just ancient powers, or mythical threats—but the real world, and the people in it who were more than willing to treat us like problems to be erased.
I pulled out my phone and stared at the screen.
I needed to tell Sakura. Soon.
But not yet.
Not until I figured out what this really meant.