Kanzaki did not ask for silence.
He did not raise his voice.
He did not make a joke.
He did not need to strike the ground, or look at everyone like a threat, or turn his entrance into a scene.
He only walked to the center of the courtyard.
And, for some reason, everyone stopped talking.
Baku was still making his way back to the side, the short pick hooked to his pants again, his open jacket moving with the wind. He had said something about teenagers, fire, and medical insurance, but no one had reacted in time. The courtyard was still far too aware of the second when Baku had stopped making jokes.
Kanzaki passed beside him.
Baku tilted the mask.
"Good luck, Mr. Tombstone."
Kanzaki did not look at him.
"I don't believe in luck."
"That's why you're so fun at birthdays."
"I don't go to birthdays."
"That explains a lot and also nothing."
Kanzaki kept walking.
Baku watched him go for one second.
Then he spoke lower, just loud enough for Kato and Kana to hear.
"I hate when it's his turn."
Kato glanced at him.
"Why?"
Baku did not make a joke.
Not right away.
"Because Masato doesn't teach you how not to die."
The mask went still.
"He shows you how many times you already would have."
Kato did not answer.
Neither did Kana.
At the center of the courtyard, Ishida took one step forward.
His chains had not appeared yet.
But Yūta had the feeling they were already there, waiting beneath his skin.
Kanzaki stopped in front of him.
The other students from the containment and support block followed with less certainty. There were five of them in total. Some had minor defensive techniques. Others could reinforce structures, extend simple barriers, or detect movement within short ranges. None of them looked comfortable with Kanzaki standing in front of them.
Ishida did.
Or, at least, he looked determined not to show discomfort.
Kanzaki looked at him for a moment.
"Taro Ishida."
"Yes."
"Chains."
"Yes."
"Containment, depletion, capture, and restraint."
Ishida's expression did not change.
"Mainly."
"Wrong."
Yūta opened his eyes a little wider from the edge of the courtyard.
"He started strong."
Sota, who was sitting beside him, frowned.
"Wrong? But Ishida-san is good."
"Yes," Yūta said. "That's the kind of thing that usually makes the explanation worse here."
Ishida did not take offense.
That would have been too easy.
He only looked at Kanzaki more carefully.
"Wrong as technique or as approach?"
Kanzaki inclined his head slightly.
It was not a smile.
But it almost looked like administrative approval.
"As approach."
Baku raised a hand from the side.
"That was affection in graveyard language."
Kanzaki did not look at him.
"Correct."
Baku lowered his hand.
"I feel validated and threatened."
Kanzaki pressed two fingers to the ground.
A circular mark appeared under his hand.
It was not large.
Only a small circle of dark mana, with three inner lines crossing like routes on a reduced map.
Then another appeared several meters away.
Then a third.
Then a fourth.
The marks did not glow much.
They did not look dangerous.
That made them worse.
Yuna crossed her arms from the side.
"He doesn't use more mana than necessary."
Kato nodded.
"He never did."
Kasumi studied the marks with interest.
"Still unpleasantly efficient."
"Coming from you, that sounds like a compliment," Kato said.
"It is. That makes me dislike him more."
Kanzaki straightened.
"Exercise."
No one moved.
He pointed to three spots in the courtyard.
A training figure appeared at each one. They were not ordinary dummies. They had human weight, reinforced joints, and small mana seals on their torsos. Once activated, they dropped to the ground in different positions.
One on its back.
One on its side.
One near the edge of one of the marks.
Yūta felt the air change.
This was not a fight.
Not exactly.
Kanzaki spoke.
"Three wounded. Two possible routes. One safe zone."
He pointed to a rectangle marked with faint mana at the other end of the courtyard.
"Objective: evacuate them."
Ishida looked at the marks.
"And you?"
"The problem."
One of the support block students swallowed.
Kanzaki looked at him.
"That will also be a problem if you repeat it on a mission."
The student closed his mouth.
Kanzaki continued.
"Rules. If you stop me but lose a wounded person, you fail. If you reach the safe zone but leave a teammate behind, you fail. If you use all your mana to contain me and cannot move afterward, you fail. If any of you are immobilized for more than five seconds, it counts as a casualty."
Ishida listened without blinking.
"Then there is no combat victory condition."
"Correct."
"Only extraction."
"Now you're listening."
The sentence did not sound like praise.
But it did not sound like criticism either.
It sounded like a door had just opened.
Kanzaki looked at the rest of the group.
"I don't want heroism. I don't want unnecessary sacrifices. I don't want anyone staying behind because it was 'the right thing to do.'"
Baku clicked his tongue from the side.
"He's killing all the poetry."
Kanzaki continued without looking at him.
"Poetry doesn't evacuate the wounded."
"Depends on the poet."
"No."
Baku placed a hand on his chest.
"What a cruel man."
Kanzaki raised a hand.
"Begin."
Ishida's chains appeared immediately.
They emerged from his forearms with a low sound, like metal being dragged underwater. They were not bright. They did not need to be. They crossed the courtyard like dark, precise lines.
One chain went toward Kanzaki.
Another wrapped around the space between two marks.
The third extended toward the first wounded figure.
Fast.
Correct.
Too correct.
Kanzaki did not move.
The first chain caught his left wrist.
The second looped around his ankle.
A third closed the path in front of him.
For one second, everyone thought Ishida had stopped him.
Yūta thought so too.
Then he saw that Kato's expression had not changed.
And he understood that something was wrong.
Ishida pulled on the chain.
"First wounded, now."
Two students ran toward the dummy lying on its back. One took it by the shoulders, the other by the legs. They lifted it awkwardly, but they lifted it.
Kanzaki looked down at the chain on his wrist.
"Good capture."
Ishida did not answer.
"Bad priority."
A mark lit beneath the second wounded figure.
The ground did not explode.
It did not open.
It only tilted slightly.
Enough for the dummy to begin sliding out of the marked route.
One student turned his head.
"The second one!"
Ishida launched another chain.
But he already had three pulled tight.
Kanzaki was still bound.
The first wounded figure was half-lifted.
The second was sliding.
The third was still alone.
Ishida chose containment.
He pulled harder on the chain holding Kanzaki.
Kanzaki took half a step.
Not because he could not resist.
Because it was convenient for Ishida to think so.
Another mark lit.
This time behind the group.
A line of mana rose from the ground like a low wall, cutting off the most direct route to the safe zone.
The students stopped.
"Route blocked," one said.
"Left," Ishida ordered.
"Left has a mark too," another answered.
Kanzaki spoke from inside the chains.
"You contained me."
Ishida clenched his teeth.
A third mark lit near the first wounded figure.
The student holding its legs lost balance and dropped to his knees.
"And lost the field."
Ishida's chain tightened.
For a moment, it looked as if he might squeeze harder.
Then he released Kanzaki and sent a chain toward the fallen student.
Too late.
Kanzaki was already moving.
Not fast.
Not like Kagami.
Not like Baku.
Kanzaki did not seem to chase them.
He seemed to be arriving at places he already knew they were going to need.
He pressed two fingers against one of his marks, and the line on the ground changed shape. The left path closed. The right path opened slightly, but only enough to look tempting.
Ishida saw it.
"Don't go that way."
The student carrying the first wounded figure hesitated.
That half second was enough.
Kanzaki crossed the distance, touched the seal on the dummy with two fingers, and extinguished it.
"First wounded, dead."
The courtyard went silent.
It was not a real death.
Everyone knew that.
The dummy was still there, with its false weight and false joints.
But the word had fallen as if something living had stopped breathing.
Ishida lowered his gaze to the dummy.
The chain in his hand trembled slightly.
Kanzaki did not raise his voice.
"Continue."
One of the students looked at him.
"But we already failed."
"Yes."
"Then—"
"Continue."
The student did not understand.
Ishida did.
Or began to.
"Because a mission doesn't stop after the first mistake."
Kanzaki looked at him.
"Correct."
From the side, Yūta swallowed.
"I hate that he's right."
Sota watched the field with strange seriousness.
"This feels worse than fighting."
"Yes."
Hana, sitting a few steps behind, spoke very quietly.
"Because there's no clear enemy."
Harada looked at her.
Hana continued.
"Or there is, but that isn't the most important thing."
Kagami, who was nearby, heard her and said nothing.
But his silence sounded almost like approval.
On the field, Ishida tried to reorganize.
"Second wounded, two people. Third, with me. Don't cross lit marks. If a route opens too quickly, don't use it."
Kanzaki did not interrupt.
That made everyone more nervous.
The students moved.
Better than before.
But the damage was already done.
The first wounded counted as lost.
The second reached near the safe zone, but a mark on the edge lit and raised a mana barrier that forced the group back. The third was dragged by one of Ishida's chains, but the angle was bad. The dummy struck the ground with a dry sound.
Kanzaki raised a hand.
"Stop."
Everyone froze.
Ishida was breathing calmly.
Too calmly.
Kanzaki walked to the center.
"Result: insufficient."
One student lowered his gaze.
"It wasn't even possible."
Kanzaki looked at him.
"It was possible."
The student pressed his lips together.
"You were blocking everything."
"No. I was blocking what you chose to notice late."
No one answered.
Kanzaki looked at Ishida.
"Your chains are good."
Ishida did not move.
"That's why they're dangerous."
Ishida lifted his eyes slightly.
"Dangerous for whom?"
"For anyone who depends on you remembering that they are not only chains."
The silence grew heavier.
Kanzaki raised a hand and pointed to the chain still extending from Ishida's forearm.
"A chain can bind."
Another mark lit beneath his feet.
"It can also guide."
A line of mana drew a faint route from one dummy to the safe zone.
"It can mark a path when smoke makes it impossible to see."
He pressed two fingers to the ground.
A mark raised a low railing of mana.
"It can keep someone from falling."
Then he pointed at one of the students.
"It can tell a teammate where the exit is when they cannot hear."
Ishida looked at his own chains.
Kanzaki continued.
"You use them to stop enemies."
Ishida did not argue.
"I need to know whether you can use them to save allies."
The sentence was not cruel.
It was not kind.
It was worse.
It was exact.
Kato watched with his arms crossed.
"That boy thinks too much."
Yuna looked at him.
"That usually isn't a flaw."
"In a fight where someone is bleeding on the ground, it is."
Kasumi watched Ishida carefully.
"He has the kind of pride that doesn't make noise."
"The hardest kind to correct," Kana said.
Baku raised a hand.
"I like chain boy. He looks like he'd correct my will with a red pen."
Without looking, Kanzaki said:
"He would do it well."
Baku pointed at him.
"That offends and reassures me."
Ishida closed his fingers.
The chains came undone.
They did not vanish all at once.
They loosened as if accepting that they had been used the wrong way.
Kanzaki walked to one of the marks and touched it with his foot.
All the training figures returned to their initial positions.
The extinguished dummy recovered the glow of the seal on its chest.
"Again."
One student took a deep breath.
"Same exercise?"
"No."
Kanzaki pointed at the marks.
"Now there is smoke."
There was no real smoke.
But the marks changed.
A low mist of mana spread across the ground, rising to knee height. It did not hide everything, but it distorted distance. The dummies seemed farther than they were. The routes seemed to shift slightly whenever no one looked at them directly.
Yūta leaned toward Hana.
"That's legal, right?"
Hana looked at him.
"I don't know."
Harada spoke without emotion.
"If Kanzaki did it, probably."
Yūta sighed.
"I hate when serious people cheat. It feels more official."
At the center, Ishida looked at his group.
This time, he did not speak immediately.
First he looked at the wounded.
Then the routes.
Then Kanzaki.
Finally, the students.
"We are not going to catch him."
One of them opened his eyes.
"What?"
"We won't spend mana trying to immobilize him unless it is necessary for evacuation."
"But if he cuts us off—"
"Then we change the route before he closes it."
Ishida raised a chain.
But he did not launch it toward Kanzaki.
He placed it on the ground.
Extended.
Low.
Like a dark line marking a path.
"Left hand on the chain. Don't pull. Follow the tension. If it changes, you change with it."
The students looked at one another.
Then obeyed.
Kanzaki observed.
Something in his expression did not change.
But the silence did.
Ishida sent a second chain toward the first wounded figure. He did not drag it all at once. He wrapped it around the dummy's torso, firm but not too tight. Then anchored the other end to one of the students.
"Don't carry with force. Guide the weight."
The student nodded.
The third chain went to the edge of an unlit mark.
Not to close it.
To indicate it.
"Don't step there."
Kanzaki moved.
Ishida could have tried to catch him.
He was at the perfect distance.
Kanzaki's wrist crossed in front of him.
His ankle was exposed for an instant.
The chain would have reached.
Ishida knew it.
So did Kanzaki.
But Ishida did not throw the chain at him.
He threw it backward.
It looped around the waist of the second wounded figure and pulled it away from a mark that had just begun to light beneath its feet.
The mark activated one second later.
Too late.
The dummy was no longer there.
Kanzaki looked at Ishida.
"Better."
Ishida did not answer.
But his shoulders lowered slightly.
At the side, Kato smiled crookedly.
"There it is."
Yuna looked at him.
"What?"
"Stopping trying to win."
Yuna looked back at the field.
"That sounds strange, even for you."
"But you understood."
"Unfortunately."
Baku snapped his fingers.
"That was almost wise. It made me nauseous."
Kasumi smiled.
"I thought it was cute."
Kato frowned.
"It wasn't cute."
"Most things about you become cuter when you try to deny them."
Without looking at them, Yuna said:
"Focus."
Kasumi raised both eyebrows.
"Oh."
Kato looked at Yuna.
Yuna kept watching the field.
"We're observing an exercise."
Kasumi smiled softly.
"Of course."
The mana smoke shifted.
Kanzaki touched one of the marks with his heel.
The main route closed with a low barrier.
One of the students almost kept going.
Ishida's chain tightened in his hand.
The student felt the pull and stopped before stepping on the mark.
"Right," Ishida said.
"Right isn't clear," another answered.
"I didn't say clear. I said right."
The student understood late, but he understood.
Right was not an exit.
It was cover.
They passed behind one of the training columns. The first wounded moved with them, held by two students and guided by the chain around its torso.
Kanzaki appeared on the other side of the column.
Not fast.
Exact.
As if he had arrived there before they had decided to go.
He raised two fingers.
The mark beneath the third wounded lit.
Ishida turned.
He could save the third.
Or secure the first.
For an instant, his chains remained suspended between two decisions.
Before, he would have tried to do both.
Tightening more.
Tensing more.
Forcing more.
This time, he spoke.
"Place the first wounded in the safe zone. Now."
"But the third—"
"Now."
His voice was not loud.
It was clear.
The two students obeyed.
The first wounded crossed the safety line.
The seal on its chest changed color.
Safe.
Ishida sent two chains toward the third wounded.
One anchored to the ground.
The other to the dummy's torso.
The ground beneath it tilted.
The chain did not pull back.
It guided the weight sideways.
The dummy slid out of the mark before it finished closing.
The second wounded was still halfway there.
Kanzaki touched another mark.
The safe zone shrank.
Yūta opened his mouth.
"That's cheating."
Without taking his eyes off the field, Kagami said:
"No."
"What do you mean, no?"
"An exit that was safe can stop being safe."
Yūta closed his mouth.
He had no way to argue with that.
Sota watched the exercise with a tense face.
"Then it isn't enough to arrive."
"No," Hana said very quietly. "You have to arrive before the place stops being useful."
That sentence remained in the air.
Kana heard it.
She did not look at Hana.
But her fingers closed a little tighter around the cane.
In her mind, the courtyard was not empty.
It was full of smoke.
Screams.
Doors closing.
Hallways that had been routes a moment earlier and traps the next.
Children running toward familiar voices.
Hunters choosing who to carry first.
War did not begin when the enemy attacked.
Sometimes it began much earlier.
At the place where someone decided whether they were training to win or training to get someone else out alive.
Ishida was sweating.
Not much.
Just enough to show that he was spending more than before, but spending it better.
One chain marked the route.
Another supported the second wounded.
A third protected the left edge.
The fourth waited.
Kanzaki looked at it.
Then at Ishida.
He probably knew what it was for.
That made Ishida more uncomfortable than if he had not known.
Kanzaki advanced.
This time, straight toward the second wounded.
The opportunity was obvious.
Too obvious.
If Ishida bound him, he might gain three seconds.
Three seconds was a lot.
It could also be all his mana spent in the wrong place.
Ishida raised his hand.
The chain flew.
Not toward Kanzaki.
Toward the student who was about to fall behind.
It wrapped gently around his forearm and pulled him back to the route.
"Don't separate."
The student regained his balance.
Kanzaki passed beside the second wounded.
He touched the dummy's seal with two fingers.
Ishida clenched his teeth.
But a chain was already there.
Not to block Kanzaki's hand.
To pull the dummy toward the safe zone.
Kanzaki's touch brushed the air.
By one finger.
The second wounded crossed the line.
Safe.
The courtyard held its breath.
Only the third remained.
Kanzaki did not look annoyed.
That was the worst part.
He touched two marks at once.
The mist moved.
The route marked by Ishida's chain was cut in three places.
The students hesitated.
Ishida felt their panic as tension in his own hands.
He could not see all of them.
But the chains could.
The chain on the ground rose.
Not as a weapon.
As a railing.
"Hand on the chain," he said. "Don't look at the mist. Feel the direction."
One student obeyed.
Then another.
The third wounded was far away.
Kanzaki was closer.
Ishida ran.
Not toward Kanzaki.
Toward the wounded.
That surprised Yūta more than expected.
Because Ishida almost never seemed like someone who chose to run.
He seemed like someone who chose positions.
But now he ran.
A mark lit under his feet.
Ishida jumped.
Not enough.
The barrier brushed his ankle and threw him off balance.
A chain shot toward a column.
Anchored.
Pulled.
Ishida corrected his body in the air and landed on his knees beside the third wounded.
Kanzaki appeared in front of him.
Two meters away.
Ishida raised a chain by reflex.
Kanzaki did not move.
Neither did Ishida.
The chain trembled in the air.
Then lowered.
It wrapped around the dummy's torso.
Kanzaki spoke.
"Late."
Ishida pulled.
The students on the other side followed the chain-railing.
The safe zone was shrinking.
The third wounded advanced.
One meter.
Two.
Kanzaki took a step.
Ishida launched the chain he had kept in reserve.
Not toward Kanzaki.
Toward the safe zone.
He drove it into the edge of the rectangle and tightened the line.
The students understood.
They pulled together.
The third wounded slid across the ground, guided by the chain, while Ishida held the weight from behind.
Kanzaki's mark lit beneath him.
Ishida was caught.
Five seconds of immobilization counted as a casualty.
One.
The wounded figure was still moving.
Two.
Ishida tightened his jaw.
Three.
The chain tensed until it vibrated.
Four.
The third wounded crossed into the safe zone.
The seal changed color.
Five.
Kanzaki spoke.
"Casualty."
A line of mana closed around Ishida's feet.
The exercise ended.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Three wounded in the safe zone.
Ishida immobilized.
One student lifted his head.
"We did it."
Kanzaki looked at the seals.
"Partially."
The student lost his smile before it was born.
Ishida was still on his knees.
"Because I was immobilized."
"Yes."
"But all three made it."
"Yes."
"Then in a real mission…"
Kanzaki completed the sentence without harshness.
"The wounded would live. You would not."
The courtyard went still.
The sentence did not sound dramatic.
That made it worse.
Ishida looked at the ground.
The chains began to disappear slowly.
"Result," Kanzaki said. "Insufficient."
One student opened his mouth, but said nothing.
Kanzaki continued.
"Better than the first round."
Ishida lifted his gaze.
"Does that matter?"
"Yes."
Kanzaki touched one of the marks with his foot. The line trapping Ishida disappeared.
"Because tomorrow, I don't need you to be good. I need you to stop being wrong faster."
Ishida rose slowly.
He did not look satisfied.
He did not look defeated either.
That, perhaps, was progress.
Kanzaki looked at him.
"You decided not to bind me three times."
"Yes."
"Two were correct."
Ishida waited.
"The third killed you."
Ishida looked down at his ankle, where the mark had caught him.
"Understood."
"No."
Kanzaki did not move.
"You disliked it. Same as Mura. Understanding comes later."
Baku raised both hands.
"Hey! That phrase is becoming mine through pedagogical contagion."
Kanzaki looked at him for the first time.
"No."
"Cold. Devastating. Brief. I hate you with admiration."
Kanzaki looked back at Ishida.
"Your chains did not fail."
Ishida frowned slightly.
"I did."
"Correct."
The answer was so direct that Yūta made a face from the side.
"That hurt from a distance."
Kanzaki continued.
"A chain does not fail only when it breaks. It also fails when it arrives late. When it binds what it should guide. When it protects one person and leaves another without a route. When it turns extraction into a personal fight."
Ishida listened to every word.
Without defending himself.
Without nodding too quickly.
Without pretending he already knew.
"Tomorrow," Kanzaki said, "again."
Ishida straightened his back.
"Yes."
"And if you fail, stop failing sooner."
Ishida took one second to answer.
"Yes."
Baku clapped once.
"What a horrifying motivation. It makes me want to live out of pure contradiction."
Kana struck the ground with her cane.
"That is enough for this block today."
The support block students exhaled almost at the same time.
One sat on the ground.
Another laughed once, nervously, then covered his mouth.
Kanzaki did not scold them.
That surprised several of them.
He only said:
"Breathe now. On a mission, do it while moving."
The student who had sat down stood again.
Yūta watched Ishida as he left the center of the courtyard.
He did not walk like someone humiliated.
He walked like someone who had been handed something heavy and was still deciding where to carry it.
When he reached the side, Yūta raised one hand.
"Good work."
Ishida looked at him.
"It was insufficient."
"Yeah, well. I died today because I looked the wrong way. We're all building a catalog."
Ishida blinked.
"That is not encouraging."
"I never said I was good at encouraging people."
Sota, sitting beside them, spoke carefully.
"But you saved all three."
Ishida looked at Sota.
For a moment, he seemed about to correct him.
Then he breathed.
"Yes."
Sota nodded.
"That counts."
Ishida did not answer right away.
Then he looked at his own hands.
"What it cost also counts."
Yūta did not make a joke.
Because he understood that Ishida was not only talking about the exercise.
In Hisayama, Ishida had learned that a chain could become too dangerous if he forgot there was a person on the other end.
Now Kanzaki had just taught him something worse.
That a chain could also fail by arriving too late.
Not because it broke.
Not because it was weak.
But because it chose to bind when it should have guided.
On the other side of the courtyard, Kasumi closed her fan softly.
Mei, Hina, Chiho, and Yui were still waiting in their group.
Mei had not taken her eyes off her aunt.
It did not look like fear.
Not exactly.
It looked like anticipated irritation.
As if the wound already knew where it was going to be touched.
Kasumi smiled.
"Looks like tomorrow is my turn to ruin family bonds."
Mei spoke from the other side of the courtyard.
"Don't wait until tomorrow. You already started."
Hina looked at her.
"Was that a threat or a complaint?"
"Both."
Chiho held her unmanifested mana bow between her fingers without fully summoning it.
Yui took a deep breath, as if she were already raising an invisible barrier between herself and someone else's tension.
Yūta looked at that group.
Then at Ishida.
Then at Kenta, who was still looking at his own hands a few meters away.
The courtyard looked the same as always.
The ground.
The extinguished marks.
The dust.
The instructors.
The students.
But it was not the same.
Kagami had shown them that fighting near each other was not the same as fighting together.
Baku had shown them that an enemy could use their anger as a route.
Kanzaki had just shown them that survival was not retreat.
It was a technique.
A decision.
A responsibility.
And sometimes, a cruel calculation.
Ishida closed his fingers.
No chain appeared.
But Yūta had the feeling that this time, even if they could not be seen, they were not waiting beneath his skin.
They were looking for an exit.