Time Span: May X770 → May X772
Age Progression: Kaito — 5 → 7
POV: Montage (Primarily Erza Scarlet)
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Two years didn't arrive all at once.
They stacked.
Days folded into weeks. Weeks hardened into months. Rosemary Village watched it happen the way people notice mountains growing—only when they finally stop to look.
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Spring, X770 → Summer, X770
Mornings were steel and breath.
Erza grew taller. Faster. Meaner with a blade.
Kaito stayed small—but heavier somehow. Rooted. His movements lost hesitation entirely. Great Sage refined him quietly, relentlessly. Thought Acceleration became instinct. Parallel Calculation never shut off.
Hunting became routine.
Predator digested everything useful. Meat fed growth. Bone and hide filled the Stomach—untouched by time. Faulty materials were isolated and broken down.
Money stopped being scarce.
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Autumn, X771
They hunted farther.
Bigger beasts. Smarter ones.
Erza learned to push forward without waiting. Kaito learned exactly how far to support without stealing her victories.
First proto-gear appeared.
Not armor yet—reinforced grips, weighted guards, training blades that punished sloppy form. Kaito built them slowly, patiently, waiting for Erza's body and magic to catch up.
She never complained.
Flirting sharpened.
Less teasing. More intent.
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Winter, X771
Cold didn't stop them.
Erza trained until her hands bled.
Kaito treated her without a word—medical knowledge precise, efficient. Protein bars evolved. Recovery accelerated. She noticed.
"I won't fall behind," she told him once, breath fogging the air.
"I won't let you," he answered.
Neither smiled.
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Spring, X772
Something changed.
Erza's strikes started carrying weight beyond muscle.
Magic—faint, stubborn, hers—answered her will.
Kaito noticed instantly.
Plans shifted.
Armor designs refined. Materials re-sorted. Predator's stores finally had a purpose approaching readiness.
They stood side by side more often now.
Not leader and support.
Partners.
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By May X772, no one in Rosemary Village called them children anymore.
Kaito was seven—calm, dangerous, openly strong.
Erza was seven—burning, relentless, on the edge of awakening.
Two years hadn't rushed them.
They had forged them.
And somewhere ahead—unseen but inevitable—the world was going to notice.