Yūta was in Ishida's room.
He had not been invited.
According to Yūta, that was a minor detail.
According to Ishida, that was exactly the problem.
"This week was insanely boring," said Yūta, lying on his back on the floor as if the room belonged to him. "Training. More training. Then training to fix what we did wrong in the previous training. And on top of that, we still don't know anything about Master Kato."
Ishida was sitting by his desk with an open book in his hands.
He had not looked up since Yūta had walked in.
"Why are you in my room?"
Yūta turned his head towards him.
"That's not the important part."
"It is very important."
"The important part," Yūta continued, ignoring him, "is that we've trained enough. We could handle bigger missions by now. Real missions. Something that isn't running in circles, breaking practice dummies, or listening to Kaito tell us we're breathing wrong."
Ishida turned a page.
"Kaito is right."
"That hurts more coming from you."
"Then leave my room."
Yūta lifted himself slightly, leaning on his elbows.
"I can't believe you treat a teammate like this."
"I can be worse."
"I know. That's why I'm still here. I'm curious."
Ishida did not answer.
He kept reading.
Yūta stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, as if the ceiling might give him an official mission, a clue about Kato, or at least an excuse to keep talking.
It gave him nothing.
"And besides," said Yūta, "don't you think it's weird that Master Kato still isn't back?"
Ishida took a moment to answer.
"Kato does weird things."
"Yeah, but he usually does them near us so we suffer."
"Maybe someone else is suffering."
"That's very optimistic of you."
"It wasn't optimism."
Yūta smiled.
Ishida kept reading.
The silence did not last long.
Three hard knocks shook the door.
They were not polite knocks.
They were the knocks of someone who had searched too much, found too little, and decided the next door was going to open even if it had to break.
Ishida looked up.
Yūta was already on his feet.
"See?" he said. "That's a sign."
"That you should not be here."
Yūta opened the door.
Mei Shirogane was on the other side.
But she did not come in the way she usually did.
Her shoulders were not straight with that proud certainty she always carried. Her gaze was not sharp, ready to argue before even knowing the topic. She did not look annoyed.
She looked unsettled.
She had a letter in her hand.
The paper was wrinkled at one corner, as if she had held it too tightly for too long.
"Mei?" asked Yūta. "Are you okay?"
Mei opened her mouth.
She did not speak right away.
That was the first thing that made Yūta stop smiling.
Mei always had an answer.
Good, bad, unnecessarily aggressive, or directly offensive.
But always an answer.
This time, she took too long.
"It's Tsukino," she said at last.
Ishida lowered his book.
Not completely.
But enough.
Yūta frowned.
"What happened to Tsukino?"
Mei looked at the letter.
Then at Yūta.
"I went to her room to get her. She didn't answer. I thought she might be asleep or training, but the door wasn't locked."
Yūta said nothing.
Ishida closed his book with a dry sound.
"I went in," Mei continued. "She wasn't there."
She lifted the letter.
"This was the only thing on the desk."
Yūta held out his hand.
Mei gave it to him, but she did not let go immediately.
For one second, they both held the same piece of paper.
Then Mei loosened her fingers.
Yūta opened it.
Tsukino's handwriting was neat.
Too neat for a farewell.
As if she had tried to put the words in order because she could not put whatever was behind them in order.
Yūta read in silence.
Ishida moved a little closer.
Mei did not move.
The letter was not long.
It said that something had happened with her family.
That she had to go back.
That she could not explain it properly.
That she did not know when she would return.
And at the end, with a clarity that made everything before it sound worse, she asked them not to look for her.
Yūta looked up.
"What do you mean, she left?"
Mei clenched her teeth.
"I searched the whole headquarters."
"All of it?"
"All of it."
Yūta looked back at the letter.
"Maybe she went to talk to someone."
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
Mei noticed.
And that seemed to bother her more than the question.
"No," she repeated, lower this time. "Tsukino doesn't do things like this. She doesn't leave without telling anyone. She doesn't leave dramatic letters. She doesn't…"
She stopped.
The hand that had been holding the letter closed, now empty.
"She doesn't leave a letter for me."
Yūta looked at her.
He understood something then.
Not everything.
But enough.
He was not sure how many friends Mei Shirogane had.
Probably few.
Probably fewer than someone like her would admit even under threat.
But he knew one thing.
Tsukino was the only person at the headquarters Mei would go looking for without needing to pretend there was another reason.
"If I had gone earlier," said Mei, "maybe I would have caught her."
No one answered right away.
Ishida looked at the letter.
Yūta looked at Mei.
Mei looked away, annoyed at herself for having said that out loud.
"Then we catch her now," said Yūta.
Mei looked back at him.
Ishida said nothing.
For him, that was already an answer.
Yūta folded the letter carefully.
"We're going after her."
"The letter says not to look for her," said Ishida.
"Yes," said Yūta. "That's why we're going."
Ishida looked at him.
"That logic makes no sense."
"It makes enough sense to me."
"No."
"If Tsukino really wanted to leave without anyone doing anything, she wouldn't have left a letter."
"She left a letter to explain that we shouldn't look for her."
"Exactly."
Ishida closed his eyes for a second.
"You are interpreting the opposite of what it says."
"I'm interpreting what it doesn't say."
Mei looked at Ishida.
"Please."
That was worse than any argument.
Ishida opened his eyes.
He looked at Mei.
Then at Yūta.
Then at the letter again.
He sighed.
"I'm going," he said.
Yūta smiled.
"I knew—"
"On one condition."
Yūta stopped smiling.
"There it is."
Ishida raised one finger.
"If we get there and it's only a family problem, with no remnants, no danger, and nothing that requires our intervention, I'm going back to Tokyo."
"Yeah, perfect," said Yūta immediately.
"Don't accept so quickly."
"I'm accepting because you said you're coming."
"That doesn't mean—"
"It's done. You're coming."
Mei lowered her gaze a little.
"Thank you."
Ishida did not answer.
But he did not reopen his book either.
For him, that was the closest thing to full acceptance.
A while later, the three of them were ready to leave.
Yūta had a small backpack and an expression that mixed worry with that particular energy of his for getting into problems before fully understanding them.
Mei had the letter put away, but not far. She had folded it and placed it in an inner pocket, somewhere she could know exactly where it was.
Ishida carried only what was necessary.
And the face of someone already regretting this in advance.
"All right," said Yūta. "Station, train, Fukuoka, Tsukino's town, we find her and come back."
"Great plan," said Ishida.
"Thanks."
"That wasn't praise."
Mei started walking.
Ishida did not move.
Yūta looked at him.
"What?"
"How do you plan to get to the station?"
Yūta blinked.
Mei stopped too.
There was a silence.
"By train," said Yūta.
Ishida looked at him.
"To the train station."
Yūta opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Looked at Mei.
Mei looked at Yūta.
Yūta ran a hand down his face.
"I hadn't thought of that part."
"That surprises me less than it should," said Ishida.
Yūta was about to answer when a familiar laugh came from the corridor.
"Logistics problems?"
Kaito was walking towards them.
Beside him was Harada Jin, hands in his pockets and a calm expression that seemed to be observing more than he said.
The two of them had just returned from a mission. It showed in their clothes, in the fatigue in their shoulders, and in that way people walk when they have already returned to headquarters but have not completely returned yet.
"Mura!" said Yūta, almost too quickly.
Kaito raised a hand.
"Long time, Amane."
Harada inclined his head slightly.
"Yūta."
"Jin," Yūta greeted him.
Mei straightened her back.
Ishida stayed still.
Kaito looked at the three of them.
Then at the backpacks.
Then back at Yūta.
"Going somewhere?"
"Yes," said Yūta.
"I figured that part out."
"We need to get to the station."
Kaito raised his eyebrows.
"Now?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Yūta hesitated.
The hesitation was brief.
But not brief enough.
Mei spoke first.
"Kato left us a reconnaissance task near Fukuoka."
Yūta looked at her.
So did Ishida.
Mei did not look back at either of them.
Kaito blinked.
"Kato?"
"Yes," said Mei.
Kaito thought about it.
"That man sends people to strange places even when he isn't around."
Harada looked at Mei.
"I haven't seen him at headquarters in a while."
"That's why he gave us the task before leaving," said Mei.
The lie was correct.
Too correct for someone who had not prepared it.
Kaito looked at Harada.
"I can take you."
Yūta brought his hands together.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. My car's outside, and it smells like a long mission."
"After training with you, that doesn't scare me," Yūta answered.
"That's fair."
Kaito looked at Harada.
"Coming?"
Harada shrugged.
"I was going to sleep, but this sounds more interesting."
Ishida murmured:
"That was exactly what we didn't need."
Yūta pretended not to hear him.
Kaito's car did, in fact, smell like a long mission.
There was also an empty bottle on the floor, a jacket thrown across the back seat, and a small dark stain on the mat that no one asked about.
Yūta, Mei and Ishida sat in the back.
Harada sat in front beside Kaito.
The car left the headquarters and headed towards the station.
For the first few minutes, no one spoke much.
That did not last.
"So," said Harada, looking through the rear-view mirror. "What kind of reconnaissance did Kato leave you?"
Yūta felt Mei tense beside him.
"A normal one," said Yūta.
Ishida closed his eyes.
Harada smiled faintly.
"That answers nothing."
"Because it's normal."
"Normal reconnaissance tasks don't usually send three students to Fukuoka all of a sudden."
Mei looked out the window.
Yūta searched for an answer.
Ishida found it first.
"Before he left," said Ishida, "Kato said an acquaintance of his could take us to a house where there were signs of remnant activity. Direct presence has not been confirmed, so it is reconnaissance, not a combat mission."
Yūta looked at him.
Mei did too.
Ishida kept looking forward as if he had just read a sentence from a manual.
Harada watched him in the mirror.
"And you didn't inform headquarters?"
"Kato said it was preliminary," answered Ishida. "If we find anything real, we will report it."
Kaito let out a short laugh.
"That does sound like Kato."
"Too much like him," said Harada.
Yūta noticed that "too much" did not mean he believed them.
It meant he was still listening.
Harada rested one arm against the door.
"And Tsukino?"
The three of them went still.
Harada noticed.
Of course he noticed.
"The other teammate of yours," he said. "Tsukino, right? I thought you always moved together."
Yūta opened his mouth.
Mei gripped the pocket where she had put the letter.
Ishida did not move.
Before any of them could answer, Kaito spoke.
"Jin."
"What?"
"Stop interrogating the kids."
"I only asked."
"You never only ask."
Harada looked at Kaito.
Kaito kept his eyes on the road.
"They just got back from training, they have a strange task from Kato, and they probably don't even understand what they're doing."
"That last part is true," said Yūta.
Ishida looked at him.
"Don't help."
Kaito smiled.
"Sorry about Jin. He's attentive."
"Curious," corrected Harada.
"Too attentive."
"That isn't an apology."
"I never said it was."
The rest of the ride was quieter.
Not because Harada had stopped noticing things.
Because Kaito did not give him room to turn them into questions.
When they reached the station, the three of them got out quickly.
Yūta leaned towards the window.
"Thanks, Mura."
"Don't die on a preliminary task."
"We'll try."
Harada looked at Ishida.
"Report it if you find something."
Ishida held his gaze.
"We will."
The car drove away.
Yūta let out a breath.
"Finally."
Mei also seemed to breathe for the first time in several minutes.
"I didn't expect Harada to ask that much."
"I did," said Ishida.
Yūta looked at him with a smile.
"And I didn't expect you to lie that well either."
Mei nodded.
"It was pretty convincing."
Ishida clenched his teeth.
"I did it to make him stop asking. Nothing else."
"Yeah, sure," said Yūta.
"Don't smile."
Yūta smiled more.
Ishida decided to ignore him, which at that moment was the closest thing to losing.
Mei looked at the station signs.
"I'm going to buy the tickets."
"I'll come with you," said Yūta.
"No," said Mei. "If you come, you'll say something unnecessary and we'll miss the train."
Yūta froze with his hand half raised.
"That was very specific."
"Because I know you."
Mei went towards the ticket machines.
Yūta watched her go.
Then he looked at Ishida.
"Great. This month's money is going to disappear into trains and taxis."
"Is that what worries you?"
"I'm also worried about Tsukino. I can worry about two things."
Ishida did not smile.
Yūta noticed.
"What?"
Ishida looked towards the platforms.
"If we find something dangerous over there, we tell Kato or someone at headquarters."
Yūta nodded.
This time, without joking.
"Yes."
"We don't know what this is."
"I know."
"It could be a family problem."
"Yes."
"It could be a remnant."
"Yes."
"It could be something worse."
Yūta looked at the letter Mei still carried, even though it was no longer in her hands.
"That's why we're going."
Ishida looked at him.
Yūta put his hands in his pockets.
"Not to act like heroes. If it's something we can't handle, we ask for help. But if Tsukino left alone and asked us not to look for her…"
He paused.
"Then she probably needed someone not to listen."
Ishida did not answer.
Mei came back with the tickets.
"We need to get on now."
Yūta took his.
"Perfect."
Ishida read the ticket.
"There is nothing perfect about this."
"That's what makes it perfect."
"That makes no sense."
"You'll understand eventually."
"I don't want to."
They got on the train.
The carriage was half empty.
There were people sleeping, people wearing headphones, people staring at their phones with the lost expression of someone who no longer knows whether they are travelling or simply existing between stations.
Yūta sat by the window.
Mei sat on the other side of the aisle, with the letter still close.
Ishida sat across from Yūta and opened the book he had brought with him.
"You seriously brought the book?" asked Yūta.
"Yes."
"We're going to look for Tsukino."
"I know."
"And you're going to read?"
"I can also worry about two things."
Yūta looked at him.
Ishida turned a page.
Yūta smiled faintly and looked out the window.
The city began to move away.
Buildings.
Streets.
Lights.
Then fewer buildings.
Then more distance between one thing and another.
The movement of the train had something hypnotic about it.
Not calming, exactly.
Just constant.
As if the world had decided to move forward even though they still did not know where they were going.
Yūta thought about Tsukino.
The way she spoke.
Her axe.
The way she always seemed a little more serious than everyone else, even when there was no need to be.
He thought about Kato.
About the fact that he still did not know where he was or what he was doing.
He thought about the remnants.
About Toma.
About Masa.
About two boys who had been Sota's friends and had ended up turning into something no one knew how to mourn properly.
He thought about Mukuro too.
About his threads.
About the way he spoke.
About the way he seemed to understand far too well what he was doing.
And he thought about the other figure.
The one who had appeared to take him away.
That dark, quiet presence.
Obeyed even by Mukuro.
Some remnants did not only attack.
They thought.
They chose.
They followed orders.
And then he thought about his grandfather.
The hospital.
The white room.
The constant sound of the machines and that terrible feeling of sitting beside someone who was still breathing, but who had somehow already begun to leave.
He thought about the man who had raised him.
Not just a relative.
Not just someone who had been in the house.
His grandfather had been the person who filled the place others had left empty.
The voice waiting for him when he came home.
The hand that showed him the way without asking too many questions.
The father figure Yūta had had even before he understood how much he depended on him.
And then, one day, that person died.
In a hospital bed.
And the world did not stop.
It only changed shape.
He thought about the house.
About the simple conversations that had not seemed important before.
About meals.
About silences.
About the life that had existed before hunters, before mana, before learning that the dead sometimes did not leave completely.
He thought about Daiki.
About Seki.
About Nao.
About his friends from before.
About the life that was still there, far away from Tokyo, as if it belonged to another version of himself.
Tsukino's letter was still folded in Mei's hands.
Do not look for me.
Yūta rested his forehead against the glass.
"We're bringing her back," he said.
He did not say it loudly.
But Mei heard him.
So did Ishida.
Neither of them answered.
They did not need to.
Yūta kept looking out the window.
Not as a hero.
Not as a hunter.
As a teammate.
The journey was long.
Long enough for Yūta to fall asleep twice, wake up confused once, buy something expensive and awful at an intermediate station, and regret buying it before he finished it.
Mei barely spoke.
Ishida read.
Or pretended to read.
Because Yūta noticed he spent ten minutes staring at the same page.
Eventually, they arrived in Fukuoka.
Yūta stepped off the train with an expression of immediate relief.
"We're here."
Mei looked at him.
"No."
Yūta stopped.
"What do you mean, no?"
"This is Fukuoka."
"That's what you said."
"Tsukino's town is in Hisayama."
Yūta looked around.
Then at Ishida.
Ishida looked back at him.
Mei crossed her arms.
"Don't make that face."
"What face?" asked Yūta.
"The 'I thought this ended here' face."
"I did think this ended here."
"We need a taxi."
Yūta closed his eyes.
"My money for the month just died."
"Your money died when you decided to follow me," said Mei.
"That sounds like a threat."
"It was a late warning."
Ishida looked towards the station exit.
"Let's take the taxi before Amane finds another way to delay us."
"I'm not that bad."
Mei and Ishida looked at him.
Yūta raised his hands.
"Fine. Taxi."
The taxi took them out of the city.
Fukuoka was left behind little by little.
First, the large streets disappeared.
Then the tall buildings.
Then came lower houses, narrower roads, and green spaces that seemed to approach the road without asking permission.
Yūta looked out the window.
Mei had the folded letter on her lap, with her fingers resting on top of it.
Ishida watched the road.
The landscape changed without making a sound.
The way things change when one leaves a city and begins entering a place where people know the names of families before they know the names of streets.
Hisayama appeared among low mountains, scattered houses, and a quiet that at first seemed kind.
Then it stopped seeming that way.
Not because something was wrong.
Because they did not know where to look.
The taxi stopped.
"This is it," said the driver.
Yūta paid with an expression of pain he tried to hide and failed completely to conceal.
They got out.
The taxi drove away down the same road it had come from.
The three of them were left standing in a town they did not know.
Low houses.
Narrow streets.
Dark mountains in the distance.
A silence too wide for a place that, in theory, was still inhabited.
Mei tightened her fingers around the letter.
Yūta looked around.
"All right," he said. "Now we just have to find a house in a town we don't know."
Ishida looked at the empty street.
"Great plan."
Yūta smiled.
But the smile did not last long.
Because, for the first time since they had left Tokyo, Tsukino's problem stopped feeling far away.
And somewhere in that town, Hina Tsukino had arrived before them.