Location: Kyoto Jujutsu High – Underground Briefing Chamber
The council room smelled of cedar, ink, and the quiet tension of controlled politics. Four elders sat behind a lacquered table, faces obscured by shadow. Kido Sougen stood near the center, arms crossed, flanked by Gakuganji on the right.
Akira sat in a single wooden chair, ankles subtly bound by a cursed seal. His eyes were low, but alert. The last 48 hours had left sleep a myth. His body felt used. His cursed energy residue still hadn't stabilized from the forced psychic trial.
"His CE response to pain is nonlinear," one elder spoke, adjusting his lenses. "Borderline addict behavior."
"Temporal echoes respond without conscious control," another muttered. "Even outside combat."
"And yet he hasn't shown signs of rebellion," Gakuganji rasped.
Kido exhaled slowly. "He will."
A pause.
The door slid open with a sharp clack.
Momo Nishimiya stepped in, uniform still wrinkled from a late-night flight drill, face flushed — not from exertion, but from nerves she was trying to bury under indifference.
"She insisted on speaking," the Grade 1 escort behind her said.
Gakuganji squinted. "A student? This meeting is for ranked personnel."
"She's the one who flagged the anomaly," Kido replied coldly. "Let her speak."
Momo stepped forward, holding up a compact scroll-bound charm amplifier — something she'd used during a weather manipulation test. It pulsed faintly with residual cursed energy. "This picked up something it wasn't supposed to."
She tapped the charm. A grainy cursed imprint shimmered in the air: Akira in the school courtyard, training with weighted seals. But deep in the corner — behind the trees — a second figure stood. Identical posture. No CE output. Just watching.
"It wasn't on the training logs," Momo said. "And I didn't report it immediately because I thought it was… a glitch. Or fatigue."
"But you kept the footage," Kido noted.
Momo didn't answer.
Gakuganji scowled. "You stalked a classmate."
"No," she shot back. "I suspected something was wrong. Ever since that fight in the Southern field… he's been off. Repeating movements. Talking to people who aren't there. His cursed energy feels like wind wrapped in glass — sharp, unstable, constantly shifting."
She paused, then quietly added:
"I didn't want him to be dangerous. I just needed to be sure."
"Why not report it?" one elder demanded.
"Because I don't know what I saw." She stepped forward, pulling out a compact talisman from her pocket — a paper tag with the symbol for Reversal. Burn marks laced the edge.
"This was placed on my dorm door three nights ago. When I peeled it off… he was standing down the hall."
"You're saying he approached you?" Kido narrowed his eyes.
Momo shook her head. "No. That thing wasn't him. It didn't blink. Didn't breathe. Just watched. Then it mimicked my exact movement and stepped backward into a wall. Gone. No cursed signature. No residuals."
Akira didn't speak. His fingers curled just slightly.
"She's lying," one elder spat.
"No," Kido muttered, eyes never leaving Akira. "She's not."
Silence.
Momo turned toward Akira, gaze sharp. "How many of them are there?"
"I don't know."
"Do they speak to you?"
A longer pause.
Akira's voice was hoarse. "Some do. Some don't. Some remember dying."
Even Gakuganji went still.
Kido stepped closer. "Echo Zero. What did it say to her?"
Akira's brow furrowed. "I didn't tell it to say anything."
"But it did, correct?" Kido pressed. "We're not talking about involuntary rewind effects anymore. These things are beginning to move with intention."
Akira didn't answer.
The escort beside Momo suddenly tensed, eyes widening — a chill passed through the room. Something shuffled in the corner — not visible, but deeply felt.
A breath in a room with no air.
Momo whispered, "It's here."
The lights flickered.
A faint sound — almost like glass scratching steel — echoed once, then vanished.
Then silence.
Kido turned to the elders. "That's the third documented anomaly in less than two weeks."
"He's fracturing," Gakuganji muttered. "The technique is cannibalizing itself."
"No," Kido said. "It's evolving."
They all looked at Akira.
Eyes low. Pulse steady. Shadows writhing faintly behind his back.
One of the elders stood. "Recommendation?"
Kido didn't hesitate.
"Send him to Tokyo."
A beat.
"Purpose?" Gakuganji asked.
"Field recon under stress. Somewhere urban. Densely populated. Active veil. Let's see if the echoes react to panic."
"And if he snaps?" another elder asked.
Kido's eyes darkened. "Then we'll know his limit."
Momo stiffened, realizing what that meant. "You're sending him on a suicide mission."
"He's a liability if left uncontrolled," Kido replied. "And a weapon if tested correctly."
Akira finally spoke.
"Why not just kill me now?"
"Because corpses don't give data," Kido said, smiling faintly.
The meeting ended. Akira was escorted out.
Momo watched him go, lips tightening.
She didn't know what Akira was becoming — but it wasn't just a sorcerer anymore.
It was something fractured.
Something ticking.
And deep in her gut, she knew one thing:
They weren't watching him closely enough.