The market was loud—too loud.
Voices collided in waves, laughter cracking through the air, metal clanging against stone, merchants shouting prices that meant nothing to anyone who already knew how to bargain. Smoke from roasted meat drifted lazily above the crowd, mixing with incense and dust. To anyone else, it was ordinary.
To Alex, it felt staged.
He moved through the crowd with slow, deliberate steps, his senses stretched thin like a blade drawn too far from its sheath. Every laugh felt forced. Every shadow felt a second too long. Since the river, since the mist and the warning that still echoed in his chest, the world had shifted. Or maybe he had.
A familiar voice cut through the noise.
"Alex!"
He turned.
Ryo waved from across the square, his smile wide, genuine—or at least convincing enough. He pushed through the crowd with his usual careless confidence, clapping a hand on Alex's shoulder like nothing in the world was wrong.
"You look like you're about to fight the market," Ryo said with a chuckle. "Relax. If someone wanted you dead, you'd already be bleeding."
Alex studied him carefully. Same posture. Same tone. Same grin.
And yet…
"You ever notice," Alex said calmly, "how people smile more when they're hiding something?"
Ryo blinked, then laughed. "You're spending too much time alone, man."
But for just a fraction of a second—so small it could've been imagined—his smile twitched.
Alex felt it. A ripple. The same one from the river.
They walked together, side by side, like they always had. Like brothers forged by bloodshed and shared survival. Ryo talked—about rumors, about the Guardians regrouping, about how quiet things had become since the Dark Claws vanished. Too quiet.
"That's what worries me," Ryo said, voice lowering. "Peace doesn't just… happen."
Alex nodded. "No. It's usually borrowed."
They stopped near a narrow alley where sunlight barely reached the ground. The noise of the market dulled here, muffled, distant. Ryo leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.
"So," he said casually, "are you still chasing ghosts? Or have you finally decided to live?"
Alex met his gaze. "I'm trying to figure out who's real."
Silence settled between them.
Then—pressure.
Not physical. Not visible. A weight pressed against Alex's chest, subtle but undeniable. His instincts screamed, muscles tightening before his mind could catch up. He shifted his stance just as something missed his spine by inches.
A blade slammed into the wall where he'd been standing.
The alley exploded into motion.
Three figures dropped from above, cloaked in dark fabric that drank in the light. No insignias. No wasted movement. Professionals.
Alex moved.
His body flowed without thought—duck, pivot, strike. His elbow crushed into a masked jaw, bone snapping under the impact. Another attacker lunged, but Alex twisted, catching the wrist and driving the blade back into the attacker's shoulder.
Blood hit the stone.
Ryo backed away, eyes wide. "Alex—!"
A fourth presence surged forward.
Stronger.
Faster.
Alex barely blocked in time, metal screaming against metal as the force drove him backward. The ground cracked beneath his heels. His heart thundered—not with fear, but recognition.
This one isn't ordinary.
The attacker paused.
And smiled.
Not beneath a mask.
But behind familiar eyes.
Alex froze.
"…You," he breathed.
The attacker tilted his head slightly, smile calm, knowing.
"Still sharp," he said softly. "Good."
Then smoke flooded the alley—thick, unnatural, swallowing sound and sight. When it cleared seconds later, the attackers were gone.
So was the smile.
Alex stood alone, chest rising and falling, blood dripping from his knuckles. The market noise rushed back in like nothing had happened.
Ryo stepped forward slowly. "That was close," he said. "You okay?"
Alex turned to him.
Really looked at him.
Ryo's expression was concerned. Steady. Perfect.
Too perfect.
Alex said nothing.
But somewhere deep inside him, something ancient stirred—angry, awake, and no longer patient.
Trust had cracked.
And next time, it wouldn't hesitate.