The final bell had rung hours ago, emptying the corridors of the noisy students whom Zen barely tolerated.
He had watched Ren leave the classroom from across the hallway — not their classroom, never the same one — the way he always watched. Unhurried. Unblinking. The way a person observes something that belongs to them without the subject's knowledge or consent.
Zen had followed at a distance of exactly one floor, close enough to track the sound of those footsteps, far enough to remain a ghost.
He already knew about Yurin before the smaller boy appeared from around the corner, already knew from the slight change in Ren's pace that almost imperceptible shift that only someone who had studied every variable of a person's movement would notice.
A quickening. Like anticipation.
So you came.
Zen's jaw tightened. He watched the two figures disappear through the rooftop door together, the rusted metal groaning shut behind them.
