I feel them before I see them.
Not like Luna—sharp, precise, cutting through time like a blade.
These are heavier.
Blunt.
Like footsteps on thin ice.
I'm halfway home when the pressure starts. A dull throb behind my eyes. Not pain—attention.
"…Great," I mutter. "Company."
I turn down a side street on instinct.
Bad move.
The air shifts.
Then—
The world locks.
Sound cuts out first. No cars. No wind. No distant sirens. The street freezes mid-breath.
Three figures step out of nothing.
No flash. No distortion.
Just… there.
They're dressed plainly. Too plainly. Clothes that don't belong to any era in particular. Faces forgettable in a way that feels intentional.
One of them smiles.
"Ren Arata," he says. "You've been difficult to observe."
I don't answer.
My hand tightens around the notebook in my pocket.
"Relax," another one says. Female. Calm. "If we wanted you erased, Luna would've already done it."
That gets my attention.
"You know her," I say.
"Of course we do," the first man replies. "She reports to the same system we do."
My stomach twists.
"So," I say slowly, "you're the stewards."
They exchange a look.
The third one—tall, silent until now—nods. "Caretakers, if you prefer."
"No," I reply. "I don't."
The smiling man chuckles. "You're sharper than expected. Even after today's loss."
I feel it then.
Anger.
Real. Hot. Clear.
"You don't get to talk about her," I say.
"Oh?" the woman asks gently. "But she's the reason you're valuable."
I step back.
The street ripples under my foot.
Time wants to move.
They're holding it still.
"You stabilize events," the tall one says. "You act where time fractures. You save lives that matter."
"And lose parts of myself," I snap.
"Yes," the smiling man agrees easily. "That's the trade."
My jaw tightens. "I didn't agree to it."
"You were born into it," he says. "Your family always was."
That lands.
"Every generation," the woman continues, "produced anomalies. Survivors. People who shouldn't have made it past certain points."
"So you killed them," I say.
"We corrected them," she replies softly.
I laugh. It comes out sharp. Broken. "You're not even ashamed."
"Why would we be?" the tall one asks. "Reality still exists."
I feel something shift behind me.
Cold.
Focused.
Luna steps out of the shadow of a parked car.
Her eyes are locked on the three of them.
"You're violating protocol," she says.
The smiling man sighs. "We're recruiting."
"He's not ready," Luna snaps.
"That's what you said last time," the woman replies. "About his father."
The word father hits something in me.
A hollow ache.
Luna goes still.
"…You promised," she says.
"We promised observation," the man corrects. "Not mercy."
I look between them.
"My father," I say slowly. "You tried to use him."
The tall one nods. "He resisted."
"And you erased him," I finish.
Silence.
Confirmation enough.
My hands shake.
Not from fear.
From rage.
"I'm not your tool," I say.
The smiling man spreads his hands. "Not yet."
The woman steps closer. "But you will be. Because when the choice comes—your family or the timeline—you'll choose them."
I think of the notebook.
Of the line I drew.
"You don't know me," I say.
She smiles sadly. "We know your pattern."
I feel Luna move beside me. Close. Protective.
"If you touch him," she says, voice low, "I will tear my seal and collapse this block."
The tall one studies her. "You'd be erased."
"Yes," Luna says. "But he wouldn't be used."
A beat.
Then the smiling man laughs quietly. "You're compromised."
"Then leave," Luna snaps.
The air loosens.
Sound rushes back.
The street exhales.
The three figures fade—not gone, just… elsewhere.
Their voices linger.
"We'll see you again, Ren Arata."
I sag slightly as the pressure lifts.
Luna grabs my arm, steadying me.
"They're coming faster than expected," she says.
"They killed my father," I reply.
"Yes."
"They want me to replace him."
"Yes."
I look at her.
"Then next time," I say quietly, "I won't just run."
Her grip tightens.
"…Good," she says. "Because next time, they won't ask."