The next morning, Tona stood at the river again, legs planted wide, arms raised with confidence.
As Maro passed by once more, Tona spun toward him, beaming.
"Maro! Look what I figured out!"
He extended both arms, and in a shimmer of energy, seven gates blinked into existence—stable, clear, and pulsing with Solena. Maro froze.
"I focused like you said. Channeled emotion. Not only can I hold more gates now... I don't even have to hold them at all!"
He grinned as the gates hung suspended around him.
Maro's eyes widened. "What in the hell…"
Tona clapped his hands proudly. "Pretty awesome, right?"
"I—yes—but… Tona," Maro said slowly, walking closer, "that took me years to learn. Most prodigies don't get that down in less than a few months…"
He stared at the boy like he was seeing something divine.
"You really are something special."
Maro paused.
"Have you ever trained for combat before?"
Tona shook his head. "Nope!"
Maro smiled. "Then allow me to teach you a combat form. With an ability like yours, you're going to need it."
Tona tilted his head. "Why?"
"That… is a conversation for another day." Maro stepped forward, lowering his voice. "But for now—just don't show anyone else what you can do."
He cleared his throat. "Najutsu. That's what I'll teach you. It's the most effective close-quarters combat form in Alden. Few can counter it."
Tona listened, fully absorbed.
"It focuses not just on what you see, but what you sense. Vision is easy to deceive. But hearing... touch... those are harder to manipulate. Najutsu trains the body to detect shifts in air, footsteps in grass, the tension of a raised arm. When sight fails, your instincts won't."
Tona's eyes lit up.
"Alright," Maro said, stepping into a stance. "Spar with me."
The scene faded as the two began their first match—Maro flipping Tona swiftly to the ground, though gently. Tona hit the earth with a grin.
A few weeks later, Tona sat by the riverbank, dragging a stick through the dirt, face scrunched in thought. One hand pressed against his cheek, mushing it like clay.
Footsteps.
He looked up to see Maro approaching from the trail.
"Maro!" he called, leaping to his feet. "Where've you been?!"
His voice was excited, but carried a trace of hurt beneath it.
Maro stopped, shoulders heavy.
"I'm sorry, young one. I've been… caught up in some things."
Tona frowned. "It's been weeks! I wanted to show you everything I've been working on! I can shape Solena now. Like, really shape it—into shields, spikes, whatever!"
Maro smiled faintly. "That's amazing, Tona. Truly."
But his tone shifted.
"There's something I've been keeping from you."
He hesitated, then asked, "Have you ever heard of Memento?"
Tona shook his head.
"Interesting," Maro murmured. "Memento is a group of ability users based here in Persetta. I'm… their leader."
Tona blinked. "Oh."
"You know the APC, right?"
Tona nodded.
"Well, they govern Alden. All nine districts. But not long ago, they revoked a key law—the Equal Protections Act. It gave people like us the same rights as everyone else. Without it… we became threats."
Tona's expression hardened.
"Memento fights to take back what was lost," Maro said. "But to them, we're just terrorists."
The words hung in the air. Tona's hands clenched.
Maro sighed. "I'll be gone more often from now on. Northern Persetta's heating up—APC raids, arrests. I'm needed at headquarters."
Tona looked up, voice steady. "You said there are more like me? Other ability users?"
"Yes," Maro nodded. "Plenty. Memento is growing."
"Then… can I join?"
Maro chuckled. "Tona, you're powerful. That's obvious. But you're still young. You deserve a childhood. Joy. Peace. This fight—it isn't yours yet."
"But I want it to be," Tona said, stepping forward. "I want to help people. I want to do something."
Maro gave him a long look. Then sighed—not from frustration, but resignation.
"If your guardian approves, you can come. You won't be on the frontlines, but we have younger members helping with things like deliveries and food preparation. You'll be useful. But promise me—no heroics."
Tona's eyes lit up. "Hell yeah!"
Maro raised a brow. "Watch that damn mouth, boy, or I'll have you scrubbing with soap."
Tona smirked. "Then grab two bars. You cursed too."
Maro blinked, then let out a real laugh. "Fair enough. Now go ask. I need to head back soon."
Tona sprinted into the house. Inside, he explained everything to Kokei.
The old man, weary and struggling more each day to keep up with the boy's needs, finally nodded.
"You've outgrown me," he said, voice soft. "Go find your place. But visit often, alright?"
Tona gave him a tight hug. "I will! I love you, Mr. Kokei."
Kokei smiled, hugging him back. "Good. Be careful boy. Take anything you need and make sure you're prepared."
Moments later, Tona ran out the door with his belongings in a small pack. He waved with both hands as Kokei watched him disappear down the trail with Maro.
The old man sat on the porch, lost in thought.
That boy… he's something else. His heart's too pure for the world he's heading into. I couldn't protect him anymore—not with this old body. But Maro… please. Keep him safe. I've always trusted Memento. I'm trusting you now.
Later that year, Tona walked alone through the center of Persetta, the sun high above casting long shadows behind him.
Awaiting his return at the square was Maro, arms folded, surrounded by dozens of Memento soldiers and citizens. Their eyes locked onto the boy approaching—bruised, dusty, but grinning from ear to ear.
Maro stepped forward. "I can't believe it…" he said, voice full of awe. "The youngest person to ever pass the Trial of the Phoenix. Thirteen years old…"
He threw his arm toward the crowd.
"We've got ourselves a new official member! Everyone—welcome Tona!"
The crowd erupted in cheers. Shouts and claps echoed through the plaza. Tona beamed, a smile too big for his face. For a moment, the boy felt ten feet tall.
A little older now, Tona embraced the life of a Memento soldier. Immersed into a duel, Tona stretched as he admired the architecture surrounding him. A combat dome. Torchlight flickered along the walls as two figures face off at the center.
Tona stood with arms loose at his sides, relaxed—yet undeniably confident. Across from him, taller and older, is Hajima—widely regarded as the strongest ability user in all of Memento.
Spectators watched in hushed anticipation.
Hajima launched forward, a spiral of violent energy forming around him—an all-consuming vortex.
Tona didn't flinch.
"Ria Minoris. Knull."
The vortex vanished instantly.
Hajima's eyes widen in shock—he's still charging forward, momentum unbroken, but his power was gone.
Tona's grin sharpened.
"Nothing personal," he said calmly.
He planted his feet. "Third Gate of Alden: Matter Bending."
A ripple pulsed through the space around them. As Hajima closed in, his trajectory suddenly skewed—his own body manipulated mid-air. He sailed just above Tona's shoulder.
Tona pivoted and drove an uppercut into Hajima's abdomen.
CRACK.
Hajima rocketed upward, slamming into the dome's ceiling with bone-rattling force.
Silence. Then gasps from on-lookers.
Maro blinked in disbelief. "…What?"
Tona casually cracked his knuckles. A tiny trail of blood trickled from his nose.
Maro stepped forward, concern creeping into his voice. "Tona… your nose…"
Tona wiped it away with the back of his hand, smiling.
"Happens sometimes. Not a biggie."
But Maro didn't look reassured.
Maro led Tona into a massive forge buried beneath Persetta. The air was hot and heavy, filled with the scent of ash and molten stone. Lava ran like veins along the perimeter of the chamber, casting the stone walls in a hellish glow.
"Velos!" Maro shouts. "I've got someone I think you'll like!"
A heavy clank echoed from deeper inside.
"Yo, yo, yo! Is that the old loudmouth himself?" came a voice.
A burly man emerged from the back, a bandana tied tight around his forehead, a wicked scar running down his cheek. His shirt was stained with soot, and his arms are as thick as Tona's legs.
"Who's the little guy?" he asked, eyeing Tona.
Maro grinned. "The new strongest member of Memento. A force from the heavens."
Velos raised an eyebrow. "High praise from the king of douchebags."
Tona snorted.
"What's your name, kid?" Velos asked.
"Tona Norasachi."
Velos waved dismissively. "Didn't need the full name, but alright. What brings you to my sauna of suffering?"
Maro stepped forward, serious now. "We need a ring of suppression."
Velos paused.
"A ring of suppression? For him?" He gestures to Tona. "Maro, I've never made one for a child before…"
"I'm serious, Velos."
Velos looked between the two, then sighed. "Alright. Come here, little man. We'll need a bit of info before we get started. Which finger?"
"Index," Tona said. "Can't do the ring finger—I gotta keep that one free. For when I meet my lucky lady."
He flashed a cheeky grin.
Velos let out a booming laugh. "Atta boy! But choose carefully, or you'll end up with a Gretta."
From deep within the forge, a voice bellowed
"The hell you just say, bastard?!"
Velos paled. "Nothing, my love!"
He winked at Tona. "Anyway… let's get to work."
The forge was quieter now. The ring rested on a steel slab, freshly cast and shimmering silver under the lava's glow.
Velos wiped sweat from his brow.
"There. One custom-forged suppression ring. But Maro…" he leaned forward, tone shifting, "why was this needed?"
Maro hesitated.
"Two reasons," he said at last. "First—Tona's abilities are too dangerous if discovered. We're hiding his identity. A new mask will be made. He'll operate solo. Codename: Ghost. By day, he's just another powerless recruit."
Velos nodded slowly. "The second?"
Maro looked to Tona, who avoided his gaze and kicked idly at the ground.
"…Unrestrained use of his power strains his heart. When he uses certain Gates, he bleeds—from his nose, sometimes his mouth."
Velos whistled low. "That's… depressing. But also badass. You're too damn strong, young blood."
Tona chuckled weakly.
Velos handed over the ring. "Alright. Slip that on. Your Solena should be locked down. I even added a supermax cast—just to be sure. It's made of strong yet moldable metal, it'll expand as your finger grows."
He took a step back. "Alright, give me something. Shoot a Solena blast at the far wall. Let's test it."
Tona cracked his knuckles. "Alrighty then."
He clapped his hands together in a familiar motion. A blast of raw Solena erupted from his palms—larger than expected—and slammed into the far wall, shattering stone and echoing through the forge.
Velos stared, jaw slack.
"…What?"
From deeper in the forge, Gretta's voice echoed:
"VELLLLOOOS! I SWEAR, IF ANYTHING IN THERE IS BROKEN—"
Velos panicked. "She's gonna kill me."
Maro stepped forward, calming.
"His output dropped. The ring's working. He just had some spare Solena in his system—it'll burn off soon."
Velos let out a sigh. "Right. Right…"
Tona scratched his head. "So… I'm not in trouble for the wall, am I?"
Velos glared. "You punk."
Back in the present, Tona sat alone in his tent. The area was clean, and the floor untouched. He still wore baggy white trousers, but his coat was off. In its place was a tight plain black tee, and his scarf remained wrapped around his neck.
The echoes and flames of battle had long since settled for the day.
He stared at the floor, expression soft, yet unreadable. He carefully played with the ring around his index.
"I'm still smiling. I hope you'd be proud."
A figure at the flap interrupted the silence. He knew who it was, he always did.
"Come in," Tona called.
Hatori entered, eyes catching on the familiar scarf now resting in Tona's fingers.
"You okay?" he asked gently.
Tona chuckled—just once. A quiet, hollow sound.
"Doing what I can."
He stood, brushing off his coat, but never looking away from the floor—until the last moment, when he glanced up and smiled.
"And you? How about yourself?"
Tona neatly folded the scarf and set it on his bed. The two left the tent together, the flap shutting gently behind them.
The scarf remained.