The sun cast long shadows across the Zenkai Dojo courtyards, but something felt wrong. Kairo stood at the edge of the training ground, his amber eyes scanning the horizon for the familiar figure of white hair and ice-blue eyes. Itsuki was never late. Not for training, not for meals, not for anything.
"Still no sign?" Takumi asked, jogging up beside him. His crimson hair caught the early light like flames, but there was no usual fire in his expression—only worry.
"Nothing." Kairo's voice was tight. "I checked his room twice. His bed's made, but it looks like he never slept in it."
Behind them, other students were beginning their morning routines. The sound of wooden practice swords clacking together filled the air, punctuated by instructors calling out corrections and encouragement. But to Kairo and Takumi, the familiar sounds felt distant and hollow.
"Maybe he went for an early walk?" Takumi suggested, though his tone betrayed his own doubt. "You know how he gets when he's thinking too hard about something."
Kairo shook his head. "I walked the entire perimeter. Every path, every garden, even down to the lake. It's like he just... vanished."
By mid-morning, word had spread among their squad. Hina Morisaki found them in the main courtyard, her usually calm expression creased with concern.
"Any luck?" she asked, her voice soft but urgent.
"None." Takumi kicked at a loose stone, sending it skittering across the courtyard. "We've looked everywhere. Even asked the night guards—none of them saw him leave the dormitory."
Maya Ikeda appeared beside them, having used her Echo Veil ability to approach unnoticed. "I tried using sound echoes around his room," she said quietly. "There are traces of conversation from last night, but nothing after midnight. It's like he just stopped existing."
The group fell silent. Each of them had their own theory, but none wanted to voice the growing fear that something terrible had happened.
"We should tell Sensei Takahara," Hina suggested. "If Itsuki's really missing..."
"Missing?" The voice came from behind them, sharp and commanding. They turned to see Sayaka Veyra approaching, her violet eyes intense. As their squad captain and the top-ranked student from the trials, her presence carried weight that even worried friends couldn't ignore.
"Itsuki never showed up for morning practice," Kairo explained. "We can't find him anywhere."
Sayaka's expression remained neutral, but something flickered behind her eyes—calculation, perhaps, or recognition. "How long has he been gone?"
"Since sometime after midnight," Maya answered. "His room shows no signs of struggle, but there's something... off about the whole thing."
What none of them noticed was the figure observing from the shadows of the administration building. Cloaked in dark robes that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, the watcher's eyes followed their every movement. When Sayaka had asked her pointed questions, the figure had tensed, hand moving instinctively toward something hidden beneath the robes.
Too soon, the figure thought. The boy was supposed to have more time.
As the students continued their worried discussion, the watcher melted back into the shadows, disappearing as completely as morning mist. There were reports to make, plans to adjust. The game had changed, and not everyone would be pleased with this development.
"Missing?" Sensei Renji Takahara's weathered face showed no emotion, but his knuckles whitened as he gripped his desk. "You're certain he didn't simply leave early for personal training?"
"We've searched everywhere, Sensei," Sayaka reported, having taken charge of the situation as squad captain. "His belongings are still in his room, but there's no trace of where he might have gone."
Takahara was silent for a long moment, his mind clearly working through possibilities. Finally, he stood and walked to the window overlooking the training grounds.
"I want you to continue your training as normal," he said, his voice carefully controlled. "But stay in groups. No one trains alone until further notice."
"Sensei," Takumi stepped forward, his usual restraint cracking. "You know something, don't you? About what might have happened to him?"
The instructor's reflection in the window showed a man carrying heavy knowledge. "There are... forces in this world that value certain types of power above others. Itsuki's abilities, his potential—they make him a target for those who would use such gifts for their own purposes."
As the students filed out of the office, their minds heavy with implications they didn't fully understand, Takahara remained at the window. Once alone, he reached into his desk drawer and withdrew a sealed letter bearing an official mark—the symbol of the Beyond Order.
He'd received it three days ago, along with strict instructions to monitor Itsuki closely and report any unusual activity. The letter warned of "interested parties" who might make moves against students with rare abilities. Now it seemed those warnings had come too late.
Forgive me, Kaito, he thought, remembering Itsuki's father and the promise he'd made to keep the boy safe. I should have been more vigilant.
Despite their fears, life at Zenkai Dojo continued. The remaining squad members threw themselves into their training with a desperate intensity, as if perfecting their techniques might somehow bring their friend back.
Kairo pushed his Void Step ability to its limits, teleporting in rapid succession until his amber eyes blazed with exhaustion. Each jump carried him a little farther, a little more precisely, but also reminded him how he'd failed to sense Itsuki's disappearance.
Takumi's Essence Flare burned hotter than ever, his crimson hair literally igniting as he channeled his emotions into raw power. Scorch marks appeared on the training dummies, and more than once instructors had to cool down the practice weapons his flames had heated to dangerous temperatures.
Even quiet Toma Hayashi seemed affected, his Ironhide ability manifesting spontaneously during meditation, as if his subconscious was preparing for threats that might come for any of them.
That evening, as students gathered for dinner in the great hall, conversations were hushed and anxious. Word of Itsuki's disappearance had spread throughout the dojo, and everyone seemed to be looking over their shoulders.
"My cousin at Chronoblade Dojo says students have gone missing there too," whispered one first-year. "Three in the past month."
"That's just rumors," another replied, but their voice lacked conviction. "Besides, this is Zenkai Dojo. We're protected here."
"Protected by who?" a third student asked. "If someone can just... take people from their beds..."
The conversations died as Sayaka walked past their table, her presence a reminder that their missing squadmate wasn't just another student—he was someone important enough to have earned the attention of very dangerous people.
As darkness fell over the dojo, unofficial watch groups formed among the students. No one wanted to sleep alone, and even the most confident among them found reasons to stay up late, practicing forms or studying in groups.
Kairo and Takumi ended up on the roof of their dormitory building, looking out over the moonlit grounds. The peaceful beauty of the place seemed almost mocking now.
"He's alive," Takumi said suddenly, his voice cutting through the night air. "I can feel it."
Kairo glanced at his friend. "How can you be sure?"
"Because if he was dead, the whole world would feel different." Takumi's golden eyes reflected the starlight. "Itsuki's... he's like gravity, you know? Everything sort of orbits around him, even when he doesn't realize it. If that gravity was gone..."
He didn't finish the thought, but Kairo understood. They all did, in their own way. Itsuki wasn't just their friend—he was the center that held their group together, the quiet strength that made each of them better than they could be alone.
Long after the students had finally succumbed to exhaustion, Sensei Takahara remained awake in his office. Before him lay several documents he'd never hoped to use: emergency protocols, contact information for the Beyond Order, and a sealed envelope marked "In Case of Abduction."
He'd served as an instructor for over a decade, had trained hundreds of students, and had seen his share of loss and tragedy. But this felt different. More purposeful. More dangerous.
Whatever had taken Itsuki Naoya hadn't been random. Someone had wanted him specifically, and they'd been skilled enough to take him from under the noses of Zenkai Dojo's defenses. That level of planning and power suggested enemies far more dangerous than simple criminals or rogue drifters.
The boy's friends will want to search for him, Takahara realized. And they'll need to be ready for what they might find.
He reached for another drawer, one he'd kept locked since his own days as an active warrior. Inside were training manuals for advanced techniques, combat forms designed not for sport or self-improvement, but for war.
If Itsuki's disappearance was connected to the larger forces moving in the world—forces that the Beyond Order had been tracking—then his friends would need every advantage he could give them.
Because somehow, despite all his experience and intuition, Sensei Takahara was certain that this was only the beginning.
As the clock tower chimed midnight, moonlight streamed through the window of Itsuki's empty room. His bed remained neatly made, his training clothes folded on the chair where he'd left them. A half-finished letter to his parents lay on the desk, the ink dried where his pen had stopped mid-sentence.
Everything waited for his return, as if the room itself refused to accept that he was gone.
But somewhere far from Zenkai Dojo, in a place where different rules applied and different powers held sway, Itsuki Naoya was beginning to understand that his quiet life of training and friendship had ended forever.
And that the real test of his strength was only just beginning