The morning air was crisp and cool. The Iron Tread Plaza—a circular training ground sixty meters in diameter at the heart of the fortress—still had thin morning mist drifting across it. The events from last night's corridor lingered in the back of his mind. The weight of Lina's shoulder. Her body heat. The steady rhythm of her breathing. Every time he recalled it, the back of his neck grew warm, so Kenji was trying to shift his focus by looking at the stone floor of the training ground. Remnants of yesterday's rain had pooled on the stone floor. There were several puddles. (This has a bad feeling about it.) He didn't even need to use Yoken—the gift dwelling within Kenji that allowed him to fragmentarily foresee situations just two seconds ahead—to know this. Bad feelings like this usually came true before he even activated it. "Magic output stability test! I'll succeed today for sure!" Lina's water-blue short bob shimmered vividly in the morning light. She extended both arms forward, her golden eyes sparkling as she made her declaration. There wasn't a shred of doubt in her expression. Rather than supreme confidence, it was supreme innocence. The magic dampening formation affixed to the edge of the training ground—a special ground array installed as a countermeasure for Lina's runaway magic—seemed to be saying "here we go again." The soldiers doing morning practice nearby had subtly moved away from the edge of the training ground. It was a natural movement. The wisdom of living here. "You calculated the landing point, right?" Kenji asked. "Of course! I simulated it properly last night!" Lina replied. "Where are you planning to drop it?" Kenji asked. "On that rock!" Lina pointed. The target stone placed in the center of the training ground. It was certainly away from the puddles. No problem... or so it should have been. BOOOOOM!!!! Lightning erupted. Lina's aim itself wasn't bad. The problem was last night's rain. Electricity that had seeped into the edge of the magic dampening formation ran along the outside of the formation and struck directly at a large puddle that had accumulated in the corner of the training ground. The water exploded. More precisely, the water became a conductor for the lightning and scattered spectacularly. SPLOOOOOSH!!!! Kenji saw it for just a moment with Yoken. The next instant, before Yoken could even warn him, the actual water was already falling. On his head. Into his shoes. "………" There was a moment of profound silence. Only the sound of water dripping echoed through the training ground. Lina turned around. Her golden eyes had become perfect circles. "The dampening formation worked, so it's fine!" Lina said. "I'm not fine," Kenji replied. "But there was no explosion!" Lina protested. "Your standards are too low!!" Kenji shouted. The soldiers throughout the training ground turned lukewarm gazes toward Kenji. Gazes that could be read as either sympathetic or exasperated. No one came to help. Everyone in the fortress was aware of the probability that this would happen on Lina's training days. Kenji felt the water in his shoes. That squelching sensation. Three days in a row. (Three days in a row!! My luck for this week is completely finished!!!) While screaming that internally, Kenji wrung out his wet sleeve once. It was soaked. Lina approached, apologizing rapidly: "I'm sorry I'm sorry I really thought it would work this time but I forgot to calculate for the puddles—" At that moment— Kenji's feet stopped. Yoken activated. Something completely different from the sensation of stepping in a puddle cut into his mind. An image. Not clear. Fragmented, as if cut out. A dark room. The light of a small night lamp. Someone's large hand opening a wooden drawer. The hand moved quickly, with practiced ease, taking something out—no, pushing something in. A thin leather-bound file. A folded piece of paper sliding into the bottom of the drawer. Numbers in small print on the upper right corner of that paper. A familiar format. It resembled the format used when recording erosion data. It took less than three seconds. The image cut off abruptly. "Kenji?" Lina's voice reached him. Kenji felt the water in his shoes make a squelching sound as he slowly looked up. Lina was peering at him with concern. Real worry was evident in her golden eyes. "...It's nothing," Kenji said. "Your complexion changed," Lina said. "I think the water was just cold," Kenji replied. Lina started to say "That doesn't make sense..." but closed her mouth. She seemed to want to say something more, but perhaps she sensed that Kenji wasn't willing to elaborate further. She didn't press. (Whose hand was that?) Kenji replayed the image in his mind. The records room. The bottom of the drawer. The folded paper. Numbers resembling erosion data format. He didn't know what it was. But he had definitely seen it. A large hand. Practiced movements. The owner of that hand was somewhere in the fortress. Should he tell someone? That question lingered like water in his shoe, refusing to leave. --- The morning inventory work was supposed to be quiet. As Kenji checked the shelves in the supply storage, he continued thinking absently. Whose hand was it in that image? Which room was the drawer in? Yoken's images were always fragmentary, leaving room for interpretation. He couldn't figure out how to separate what the image actually showed from his own assumptions mixed in. "I'll help organize the medicinal herb bags!" Lina said, reaching toward the upper shelves. Preservation herb bags were lined up densely. White cloth bags stacked neatly. (I didn't ask for help, and I can reach that—) "Oh," Lina said. Her foot slipped slightly. Trying to catch her balance, she grabbed the edge of the shelf. Medicinal herb bags being dried were stacked on that edge. CRASH!!!! Lina's full weight came down on the pile of bags, and the bottom split open. White powder filled the air like smoke. It was dried medicinal herb—processed flowers of the healing tree. It spread throughout the entire supply storage. "Ah—uh—ACHOO!!!!" Lina sneezed dramatically. At the same time, she covered her eyes with her hands. Kenji's eyes also got the powder. "It hurts!! My eyes hurt!!" Kenji cried. "Achoo—my eyes—achoo!!" Lina cried. Both of them sneezing repeatedly, they pulled each other out of the supply storage and collapsed in the hallway. Pressing their reddened eyes with both hands. "Ow..." Kenji groaned. "I'm sorry I'm sorry..." Lina sneezed again. A soldier passing nearby slowed down—and then discreetly took a detour down another corridor. They had judged it best not to get involved. The wisdom of fortress life. Kenji pressed his eyes and leaned his back against the stone wall of the corridor. His vision was blurred. His nose itched. The image from earlier was still caught in his head, and on top of that, the sneezing and eye pain piled on. (I still don't know if I should tell someone. Should I tell Celia? But suspecting someone based on such a fragmentary image...) While the two of them crouched in the hallway pressing their eyes, that question alone kept spinning in his mind. --- In the afternoon, the excuse for going to the medical wing's "Chamber of Silence" was to change his bandages. To be honest, he wanted to hear Misha's thoughts. The Chamber of Silence carried its usual scent of medicinal herbs. A vial of healing tree sap caught the light from the window, glowing faintly. The sickbed was empty today, white cloth spread neatly across it. Misha emerged from the back of the room. Her silver-white long hair was loosely gathered, her completely white pupils directed nowhere yet walking toward Kenji without hesitation. As Misha rewrapped his bandages, she didn't ask anything. Her cold, delicate fingers simply moved across his wrist. In that silent time, Kenji spoke first. "I saw a strange image this morning," Kenji said. Misha's hands didn't stop. A sign she was listening. "It looked like a records room, and someone was hiding something in the bottom of a drawer. A folded piece of paper with numbers that looked like erosion data. It cut off after about three seconds," Kenji continued. Misha paused for a moment. After tying off the bandage, she spoke quietly. "Your gift might be showing you places the world hasn't been looking at," Misha said. "How is that different from me getting scolded?" Kenji asked. "...It's different, probably," Misha replied. "The 'probably' part is what scares me most," Kenji said. Misha looked at Kenji with an indescribable quietness. Her white pupils didn't reflect light, but her expression certainly held something. Neither empathy nor distance, but a unique serenity. "Your power moves slightly differently from normal foresight. It's possible it reacted to something other than two seconds ahead," Misha said. "Something else, you mean?" Kenji asked. "I don't know yet," Misha replied. "That's the kind of thing that doesn't get resolved," Kenji said. "Yes," Misha confirmed. Kenji gave up and looked at his bandages. Conversations with Misha were always like this. The point gradually shifted, and ultimately disappeared into fog. Whether that was "lack of information" as an honest attitude or "knowing but not saying" as a choice, Kenji still couldn't determine. Misha stood up and began organizing medicines on the shelf. Then, without turning to face him, she added just one more thing. "What you saw this morning. I think it exists within the fortress. Be careful," Misha said. Kenji's hands stopped. Within the fortress. Those words dissolved into the scent of medicinal herbs in the Chamber of Silence. Misha said nothing more. Kenji didn't ask anything further. --- When evening dusk began painting the fortress's stone walls orange, Kenji made a decision. He would tell Celia. Today. Nothing was certain. The image was fragmentary, he didn't know whose hand it was, and he didn't know what that paper was. Still, the judgment that he should inform the fortress's war leader had solidified within him, independent of Yoken. As he climbed the stone steps of the Dawn Tower—a stone spire twenty-two meters high at the fortress's center—Kenji considered how to explain it. "I saw this kind of image this morning." That was all. There was no evidence. Whether to believe it or not would be Celia's judgment. He walked down the top floor corridor. At the end was the executive office door. Kenji raised his hand. He was about to knock when— There was a window beside the door. A small window with thin glass set in it, a light opening. Depending on the angle, you could see slightly into the executive office. Kenji's hand stopped. Celia was there in the lantern light. Her silver hair was braided high, her outer coat closed, both hands pressing down on documents on the desk. Her white fingertips pressed hard on the paper's edge, the paper's rim slightly rippling from the pressure. Celia's profile from outside the window was at an angle where her expression was hard to read. But he could see her shoulders. The tension in her neck. Alone. For a long time. Looking at the same documents. The lantern light softly outlined her silver hair. That sight through the window glass kept Kenji's raised hand suspended in mid-air. The hand that was about to knock didn't come down. (This person is also carrying something.) It was less a certainty than a sensation. It felt like what he was about to bring in and what Celia was carrying had the same weight. Kenji lowered his hand. Quietly, he turned and began descending the stairs. About halfway down, he felt a presence behind him. He turned around. Naturally, it was Lina. Two steps back. "...Why are you following me?" Kenji asked. "Just a feeling," Lina replied. "I'd like you to explain that feeling," Kenji said. "I can't," Lina said. Kenji put his hand to his forehead. Lina looked away slightly, embarr