"What happened?" Haru's voice cut through the silence as he approached the two girls.
Kaina and Aiko didn't answer right away. They looked... off. Aiko stood rigid, arms crossed tightly, staring at the ground like she was still processing. Kaina, usually quick to brush things off, was actually tense.
Haru sighed. He didn't need an explanation to guess what happened. He'd felt Eichi's pressure before—enough to know it wasn't something you just shrugged off.
Kaina was the first to speak. "I... I don't know, really. One second, he told Shino to spare Aiko, then when she asked to fight him instead, he refused."
Haru raised a brow. That was weird.
Aiko shook her head. "No. It was what she said after that."
Haru frowned. "What did she say?"
Aiko hesitated. "She told him, 'I would prefer it to be you, after all...' And then... I don't know. Something changed."
Kaina exhaled sharply. "Yeah. The second she said that, it got hard to breathe. Like the air got heavier. I don't even know how to describe it. He just—"
"Wasn't there," Aiko finished, her voice quieter now. "It was like... he was looking at something we couldn't see. Or remembering something."
Haru felt a knot form in his stomach. That wasn't normal.
"And Shino?"
Aiko's expression darkened. "She went with him."
Kaina crossed her arms. "Not like she had much of a choice."
Haru stayed quiet for a moment, piecing it together. Something about what Shino said must have triggered Eichi. But why? And why take her with him?
Then, Kaina suddenly stiffened. A memory surfaced—one that sent a sharp chill down her spine.
Eichi's upbringing wasn't exactly normal. And thinking back to what he had said on that rooftop...
Her breath hitched. "Oh no..."
Aiko frowned, noticing the shift. "What—"
But before she could finish, Kaina was already forcing herself up, her body still sluggish from the thraining.
"We—We need to go. Now!"
Haru stepped forward, concern flashing in his eyes. "Kaina, what's wrong?"
"Shut up and just get me there! Quick!" she snapped, panic creeping into her voice.
But Aiko didn't move. Instead, she grabbed Kaina and forced her back down.
"What are you doing!?" Kaina screamed, struggling against her grip.
Aiko's gaze was firm. "Calm down. Just explain what's happening."
Kaina's breathing was uneven, her hands trembling as she stared at Aiko—frustrated, desperate.
There was no time.
And if she was right about what was going through Eichi's head right now...
They were already too late.
---
"Well?"
In a secluded forest near U.A High's dormitory, Eichi and Shino stood face-to-face.
Or rather face-to-back, and it was more of an interrogation, really.
Far from any prying eyes or ears, a blade rested against Shino's jugular—perfectly positioned to end her in a single, swift motion.
Shino was terrified.
She had prepared herself for a beating, maybe even broken bones. After all, she was dealing with a shinobi.
But this? This was far beyond what she had imagined.
They were in a high school, for Kami's sake. If something happened, the whole world would hear about it.
That was her safety net. The reason she thought—no, convinced herself—that things wouldn't escalate this far.
A thousand thoughts coursed through her brain, making her stutter on the verge of tears. "E-Eichi, I-I l-look-"
And yet, here she was, on the verge of losing her life.
The pressure against her throat tightened. She squirmed, instinctively trying to pull off, but there was nowhere to go.
"If you don't talk right now," Eichi's voice was cold, "I'll make sure no one ever finds you."
Shino cracked.
"It was Nezu!" she blurted, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "The director told me to surveil you! I—I just wanted to be a hero! I had to do this! Even my family pressured me!"
The weight on her throat eased.
Eichi studied her. His Dojutsu—Kagura's Eyes—told him everything he needed to know, and she wasn't lying.
He exhaled, almost to himself.
"Shinobi huh?"
Shino swallowed hard, her voice still shaking. "Y-yes. I was excommunicated so I could become a hero, but I still had pocket money from my father. I needed that if I wanted to make it... S-so he pressured me to follow the director's command!"
Eichi snorted.
Then, in an instant—he was gone.
The blade vanished from her throat, and she collapsed, gasping as her hands flew to her neck. She ran trembling fingers over her skin, checking—no cuts, no blood.
She was alive.
Frantically, she turned, searching for him.
He was perched on a tree branch above her, crouched like a predator who had lost interest in its prey.
"So, you're not one of them," he murmured.
Shino's breath hitched. "I—I don't know what you're talking about! I swear, I don't!"
Eichi sighed, rubbing his temples. He had miscalculated.
Too hasty. Too quick to jump to conclusions. His paranoia had nearly cost him delays in his goal.
"Look," he said, his tone more level now, "sorry about that. But do me a favor—don't tell anyone what happened here."
Shino only stared, still frozen in fear.
"And about Nezu," he continued, "keep him informed about my whereabouts. I don't have anything to hide. Just... stay out of things that don't concern you."
As he slowly got up, the movement alone made Shino flinch.
Seeing her in such a state, he cursed inwardly. This was bound to cause problems.
With a sigh, he reached for the kunai he had used to threaten her. Holding it up for her to see, he said, "Don't worry, it wasn't sharp enough to do anything to you. I just wanted to scare you a bit."
Then, with a flick of his wrist, he launched the kunai forward.
It whistled through the air before embedding itself deep into the ground—a quarter of the way in. The sheer force made Shino flinch hard.
Her breath caught as she eyed the blade. Just as he said, the edges were dull—too blunt to cut. But the power, the precision...
That kind of efficiency shouldn't have been possible. Not in the modern era. That level of skill with kunai had faded with the ancient shinobi, yet he wielded it like it had never been lost.
Shino swallowed, her heart still hammering.
Then, as if he had never been there—he was gone.
Leaving her alone, shaking in the dark.
Her mind reeled, replaying his words.
A bit? A bit!?
---
As Eichi returned to the group, he was met with an unusual sight.
Kaina was shivering, looking completely shaken, while Aiko and Haru were doing their best to talk some sense into her.
For what felt like the hundredth time today, he sighed.
Fuck... Can't even get a moment of peace, huh?
Thanks to his clone's memories, he already had a pretty good idea of what had happened. He had rushed back from training the moment it faded, arriving right behind Shino.
After all, he wasn't far from them.
"Alright, calm down, all of you," he said, voice steady.
The effect was immediate. Aiko and Haru froze. Kaina, on the other hand, looked like she was about to have a full-blown panic attack.
Her mind spiraled into a storm of guilt.
Had she just made things worse for him? Brought him more problems when he already had enough to deal with?
The worst-case scenarios flooded her mind. If something major had happened, if Shino had been seriously hurt, if word got out that she was the one who had suggested Shino train with him... it would all be on her.
And above all, she was terrified that she had made Eichi face someone dangerous—someone who might have been after him.
With sudden determination, she forced herself to move, limping toward him.
Eichi raised a brow as she approached, looking at her like she had completely lost her mind.
Then, before he could say anything, she grabbed his face between her hands, her grip desperate.
"Are you okay?" she asked frantically. "D-did I cause you trouble? Where is she right now?"
Her grip on his face tightened, fingers trembling against his skin. Her wide eyes darted across his face, searching for any sign of distress—any hint that she had, in fact, just made everything worse.
Eichi blinked, taken aback. What the hell is she on about?
"Relax," he muttered, prying her hands off him. "I'm fine."
But that did nothing to ease her.
"You say that," she shot back, her voice unsteady, "but what if—what if she was one of them? What if I just—" Her breath hitched, panic creeping up again. "I shouldn't have—God, I shouldn't have asked her to train with you!"
Aiko and Haru exchanged glances, unsure whether to intervene or let Kaina get it all out.
Eichi, however, wasn't in the mood for dramatics.
"She's fine," he said, sharper this time, making Kaina flinch. "I just had a talk with her."
Kaina's breath came unevenly. "A talk?" she echoed, hesitant.
He sighed, rubbing his temple. "Yeah. She's not a threat. Not one of them. She was just following orders from Nezu."
That made everyone pause.
Aiko frowned. "The principal? He sent her to spy on you?"
Eichi clicked his tongue. "Something like that. But she's not a problem."
Kaina was still visibly shaken, though. "Then—then where is she?"
Eichi crossed his arms. "Let her, she need some time."
Kaina hesitated, biting her lip. "I... I should check on her—"
"You should sit down before you pass out," Eichi interrupted, staring at the way her legs trembled beneath her. "You look like you're about to keel over."
Kaina finally exhaled, her body giving in to exhaustion. She staggered slightly, and Haru instinctively reached out to steady her.
Eichi shook his head. This is a mess.
He had been fortunate to place a silencing seal over the entire area before every training session—a precaution he never skipped. After all, some of his training methods were best kept hidden.
"Look," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "just... take a breath. I handled it."
Kaina swallowed hard, finally allowing herself to breathe. But the lingering guilt in her eyes told him she still wasn't convinced.
Haru kept a steadying hand on her shoulder, keeping her upright, while Aiko remained standing, arms crossed and brows drawn together in deep thought. Then, after a beat, she asked, "Who's 'them'?"
Haru shot her a sharp look. "Aiko, this isn't the time for that."
Ah shit, here we fucking go...
Eichi let out a sigh, already bracing himself for the inevitable. "Look—"
But before he could even finish, Aiko raised a hand, cutting him off. "No," she said, her voice firm but not demanding. "I'm not pressuring you. If you don't want to talk about it, I don't mind."
That stopped him in his tracks.
Of all the things he had expected, that wasn't one of them. He had seen enough of this so-called 'hero society' to know how people operated—how they pushed and pried, always needing to know everything, always feeling entitled to answers.
Yet, here she was, saying it was his choice.
Even though he had already decided to tell them, the fact that they weren't forcing him into it made something settle strangely in his chest.
Pride? Surprise? He wasn't sure.
Before he could figure it out, something even more unexpected happened—he smiled.
It wasn't sarcastic. It wasn't mocking. It wasn't the smug grin he usually threw around.
It was small, faint, and undeniably real.
Aiko blinked, visibly thrown off. "Uh..."
She didn't know why, but now that she was actually looking at him, she felt slightly embarrassed for asking in the first place.
"Let's gather up," Eichi said, stretching his shoulders with a lazy roll. "Story time, shall we?"
Aiko blinked, slightly taken aback by his reaction. She had expected resistance, maybe even outright dismissal—but instead, it was... this.
That alone was enough to catch her off guard.
Eichi, on the other hand, wasn't sure why he was smiling either. Maybe it was because, for once, someone wasn't pushing for answers. Or maybe it was because, despite the fuck up tonight had become, the people standing in front of him weren't treating him like some fragile thing that needed fixing.
Haru, meanwhile, eyed him warily, still holding onto Kaina to keep her steady. "You sure about that?"
Eichi rolled his shoulders, stepping back and cracking his neck. "Might as well," he said. "You're all gonna find out one way or another. Better it comes from me."
Aiko crossed her arms, but there was something softer in her expression now. "Alright then," she said, nodding toward a nearby bench. "Let's hear it."
Kaina, though still shaky, managed to straighten herself up. Haru guided her toward base of a tree, while Aiko followed.
Eichi exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.
Eichi exhaled. "Alright," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Then he stopped. A thought crossed his mind.
"Wait, I need to do something first."
And just like that—he was gone.
Kaina flinched. "Wha—?" She looked at Haru, then Aiko. "Where did he—?"
Haru sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Of course."
Aiko smirked, arms still crossed. "Yeah, he does that."
Kaina blinked. Then, after a beat, she groaned. "Is he always like this?"
Before either of them could respond, Eichi emerged from the forest, Shino in tow.
She looked tense—shoulders stiff, her usual blank expression struggling to hold. The way she kept glancing around, like she was trying to find an escape route, was a contrast to the calm, composed mask she usually wore.
But none of them commented on it.
If she and Eichi had come to some kind of resolution, that was enough. Especially since, knowing Eichi, they had all expected this to end with something much worse than shaken nerves.
As they reached the tree, Eichi sat down first, followed by the others. Shino hesitated for a moment before lowering herself onto the grass, keeping just enough distance to breathe but not enough to seem outwardly afraid.
Silence stretched between them.
Shino didn't speak. Neither did Aiko, Haru or Kaina.
They were waiting for him.
Eichi exhaled, shifting slightly. His gaze flickered to Kaina before settling on the rest of them.
"Kaina knows part of it," he said finally, voice steady. "But I guess it's time I tell you all of it."
Aiko raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly does Kaina know?"
Kaina tensed slightly, shifting where she sat. She glanced at Eichi, silently asking how much she was supposed to say.
Before she could decide, Shino spoke up, voice quieter than usual. "...Know what?"
She looked genuinely lost—but there was an edge to it. A wariness that wasn't there before.
Eichi noticed. The way her fingers twitched slightly against her knee, the way her posture was just a little too stiff. She was unsettled, but not in the same way as before.
No, this was different.
She didn't want him to say it.
Eichi studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable.
Of course, she wouldn't want this to be known. The world saw shinobi as nothing more than a myth, an old story from the past. If that illusion was shattered, it would open doors she probably wished remained closed.
He could see it now—the silent plea in her eyes.
Don't say it.
Eichi clicked his tongue, leaning back against the tree. "Relax," he muttered, more to Shino than anyone else.
She flinched slightly but said nothing.
Aiko, oblivious to the silent exchange, exhaled. "Well, if you're gonna tell us, then tell us."
Eichi looked up at the sky for a moment, then closed his eyes briefly.
"Fine," he said, his tone calm but firm.
Then, he began.
"Do you remember what happened in District 69?"
The words sent a jolt through the group. Aiko and Haru flinched, their eyes widening at the mention of the infamous incident.
Kaina, on the other hand, remained silent, her gaze fixed downward, gripping her arms as if bracing herself for what was to come.
But it was Shino who reacted the most.
Her breath hitched, her entire body going rigid.
Because she knew.
It wasn't just the world that had been shaken by the incident at District 69—it was the shadows as well.
The various Shinobi clans, those who had long been believed to be myths or remnants of a forgotten era, had stirred. Operatives had been sent en masse, seeking information on just whose bloodline had been careless enough—stupid enough—to expose their existence in broad daylight.
After all, there had been a sacred vow. A pact that had kept them hidden for generations since World War 2.
Stay out of Japan's political matters.
Never interfere.
Never let the world know they still existed.
The only exception? If Japan itself was at risk from an external force.
And yet, one of their own had broken that vow.
The situation had been so dire that even the so-called "Ninja Hero," Edgeshot—whom the clans had severed ties with long ago—had been forced to call for assistance. He had been there when it happened, had seen it firsthand.
And the reason why it had sent the Shinobi world into disarray?
Because what had been used that day wasn't just conventional Quirk-based combat.
No.
It was Jutsu.
Hand signs.
Ancient weaponry lost to time.
Techniques that should have remained buried in history.
Now, the Shinobi clans knew.
It was time to move.
Time to prepare for war.
These were the words Shino's father had left her with before she departed for U.A She hadn't known if it would change anything at the time. If it would matter in the grand scheme of things.
But now?
As she sat there, listening to Eichi, the pieces were starting to fall into place.
And she wasn't sure if she was ready for what came next.
"Of course, we remember. Who doesn't? It was all over the news—that insane battle in the middle of the city. But what does that have to do with you?"
Haru leaned forward, brows furrowed. "Yeah. What are you getting at, Eichi? That whole thing was a mess, but are you saying you know something about it?"
Eichi remained silent for a moment, his face unreadable.
Aiko, growing impatient, narrowed her eyes as she glanced between Haru and Eichi. "The way you're bringing it up... You're talking like you know what was happening there. What those people were doing. Hell, half the stuff they pulled off didn't even look like quirks—" She abruptly stopped.
Her gaze locked onto the paper tag still resting on Haru's body.
Something clicked.
Her mind dragged her back to that scene—the chaos, the screams, the sheer devastation of District 69. But among the overwhelming destruction, one detail stood out with startling clarity.
A single moment, burned into her memory.
The teenager, bloodied and impaled by blades, his face twisted with pain—yet not with despair. No, in those final moments, there had been something else in his eyes. A declaration.
Then, the papers.
They had risen from the ground, slithering up his body, wrapping around him and taking with him an enemy who had struck him down.
She hadn't understood it then. The movement, the eerie, unnatural way those papers seemed to come alive before the explosion. But now, looking at the tag on Haru, something about them felt uncannily familiar.
Her stomach twisted.
Her voice came out barely above a whisper. "Eichi... is that your paper?"
Silence fell over the group like a heavy blanket.
Haru, sensing the shift in atmosphere, finally glanced down at the tag stuck to him. His brows knitted together, confusion flickering in his eyes. "Wait... what are you saying, Aiko?"
But Aiko didn't respond immediately. She kept her gaze firmly on Eichi, watching, searching for the slightest reaction. "Back during the District 69 incident," she said, her tone softer, more measured now, but no less intense. "That teenager who... who blew himself up—right before he did, papers started moving across his body. Almost like they were alive. Just like that tag on you, Haru."
Haru stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. "No way..."
From the corner of her eye, Aiko caught the subtlest movement—Shino's hands tightening into fists, her posture growing just a bit stiffer.
Aiko swallowed. "I couldn't read what was written on them, but the texture, the way they reacted, the way they—" She exhaled sharply, her jaw clenching. "They were just like this one."
She leaned foward, eyes locked onto Eichi now. "Is this your paper?"
Eichi exhaled slowly, tilting his head, watching her with an unreadable expression. Then, finally, he spoke.
"They're not the same kind of paper," Eichi stated. He gestured toward the tag on Haru's body. "This one is for gravity augmentation. It's part of my training methods—part of my quirk."
Aiko and Haru barely had time to process that before their questions came rushing forward, words ready to spill over each other. But before they could bombard him, Eichi silenced them with his next words.
"My connection to District 69," he continued, his voice lowering, "is that the one who blew himself up... that was my brother."
Silence crashed over them like a tidal wave.
Aiko and Haru froze, their questions dying in their throats before they could even form.
Even Kaina was stunned by the revelation, after all, she didn't know everything, she just thought that he was a friend, not a literal brother.
Aiko's mouth opened, then closed. She struggled to process his words, to grasp the weight behind them. "Your brother..." she finally managed, her voice unusually quiet.
Haru, still reeling, shook his head slightly. "Wait— What do you mean he was your brother? Are you saying—are you telling us that—?" His voice cut off, unable to finish the thought.
Eichi nodded once. "Yes."
"So you it was you with the baby?"
Eichi let out a slow, measured breath, his gaze flickering to the tag on Haru's chest before returning to them. "Yes," he confirmed. "My brother... he gave me an escape route. He made sure I got away with the baby—my nephew—while he stayed behind to hold them off."
The weight of those words pressed into the group, sinking deep.
Aiko, Haru, and even Kaina had seen the footage. They knew how that battle ended.
And now? Now they were looking at someone who had lived it—who had lost in it.
Haru swallowed hard, his voice hoarse. "Who were those people?" His eyes were sharp now, focused. "Who was your brother fighting?"
Eichi's gaze darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line before he finally spoke. "They were part of an organization that hunts people like us. People with... unique abilities." His voice was steady, but there was something else beneath it—something restrained. "They don't care about justice, about morality. They only care about control. And when they find something they can't control?" He exhaled. "They destroy it."
Aiko's jaw tightened. "And what exactly made your family a target?"
Eichi fell silent for a moment, his fingers twitching slightly at his side. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "Because of our quirk," he finally admitted, his voice calm but firm. "My family all share the same ability. We call it... Fuinjutsu."
The moment the word left his lips, Shino flinched.
It was subtle, barely noticeable—but it was there.
No. That isn't a quirk.
That was an ancient art—one that was supposed to have been lost to history since the end of the Heian Era.
And yet, here was Eichi, speaking of it as though it belonged to his bloodline.
She remained silent, but her body betrayed her. Her fingers trembled slightly in her lap, and she curled them into a fist to steady herself.
Aiko and Haru, oblivious to Shino's reaction, were still trying to process what they'd just heard.
"Fuinjutsu?" Haru echoed. "I've never heard of that kind of quirk before."
Eichi nodded. "Because it's rare. Extremely rare." His expression hardened. "It allows us to manipulate seals. We can bind objects, living beings, energy—almost anything—into another object, or even into nothingness itself." He exhaled, eyes flickering toward Haru's tag again. "It's a power that can be used for limitless applications. Storage, suppressing energy, enhancing one's own abilities... or, in my brother's case—" His voice turned bitter. "—turning himself into a bomb to take them down with him."
The revelation hit like a sledgehammer.
"Wait, space time?" Asked Shino, suddently joining the convesation.
Eichi's gaze snapped to Shino the moment she spoke. The weight of her question carried something more than mere curiosity—it had urgency, awareness.
He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Space-time. Fuinjutsu isn't just about sealing objects or suppressing energy. With the right knowledge, it can bend the very fabric of space—create rifts, store things in dimensional pockets, even alter the flow of time within sealed areas, and finally, teleportation itself." He studied her now, taking in the way she gripped her hands tightly, the slight tremor she was trying to hide. "Why?"
Aiko and Haru, still stunned by the revelation, barely noticed the shift in Shino's demeanor. But Eichi did.
Shino kept her gaze locked onto him, as if trying to find something in his expression. Then, she quickly looked down, hiding her face under the shadow of her bangs.
"...Nothing," she muttered. "Just surprised."
Eichi didn't believe her for a second.
Shino's reaction—her sudden shift from silent observer to urgent questioner—wasn't just curiosity. It was recognition.
She knew.
Or, at the very least, she knew something.
"So... that's how you guys appeared in the streets," she said, her voice quieter than usual.
Eichi let out a slow sigh, nodding. "Yes... At that time, when we were attacked, we had to resort to escape through Teleportation, but they were already there while the battle was still happening outside. They wanted to capture the heir to force our surrender."
Haru's breath hitched. "Wait—capture? So they weren't just trying to wipe you out? They wanted something from you?" His voice had an edge to it, unsettled by the implication.
Eichi's eyes darkened. "Of course they did. A family whose quirk allows them to seal anything into nothingness? A family who can bend space-time to their will? You really think people wouldn't want to control that power?" His lips curled into something bitter. "They didn't just want to loose so much just to kill us. They wanted to break us. To own us."
Aiko swallowed, her stomach twisting at the weight behind his words. "And the baby... your nephew?" she asked hesitantly.
Eichi's expression turned grim. "He was the key. The next in line. The heir of our family. If they got their hands on him... if they raised him under their control... our entire bloodline would be at their mercy."
The weight of his words settled over them like a thick fog.
"But wait, so you though Shino was one of them?" Asked suddently Haru.
"At first... yes," he admitted. "I thought she might be connected to them in some way."
Aiko's head snapped toward him, eyes widening. "What?! You actually thought Shino was one of those people who—who tried to take your family?!"
Eichi exhaled, crossing his arms. "I had my reasons."
Aiko, still processing everything, ran a hand through her hair. "This is insane..." she muttered. "You thought she was one of them, but now you don't? So what changed?"
Eichi exhaled. "Because if she was one of them... she would've killed me already."
Aiko inhaled sharply, but it was Haru who broke the tense air with a nervous scoff. "Okay, wow. That's—uh—dramatic."
But Eichi didn't smile.
And neither did Shino.
She didn't even react—not outwardly, at least. Because now, after everything, she understood why he had looked at her that way. Why he had been wary, cautious, guarded from the very beginning.
And the worst part?
If she had been in his place, she would've done the same.
A shinobi organization that hunted people—no, shinobi—for the sole purpose of control. Despite her own family's deep ties to shinobi history, she had never once heard of such a thing. It meant there was a deeper shadow than her legacy, one that even her own class of shinobi didn't know existed.
That realization gnawed at her, unsettling in a way she couldn't quite put into words.
But what worried her more was the existence of a clan that still retained those ancient teachings—real, battle-hardened shinobi techniques, not the watered-down versions passed through stories and relics of the past.
What if there were more of them?
What if, hidden in the depths of the world, entire clans still existed, buried so deep that the so-called "modern shinobi" had never even caught a whisper of them?
As much as the average person romanticized the idea of shinobi, the reality of their existence in today's world was far different. No longer the shadowy warriors of legend, they had become something else entirely—symbols of a bygone era, relics of a past that no longer had a place in the modern world.
Now, the life of a shinobi was mundane. Trained rigorously until the age of ten, then ordered to sit still and live quietly until they faded into obscurity. A quiet, uneventful existence, a title stripped of meaning.
Then what was all the training for?
What were all the exaggerated stories she had heard her father tell if they would never come true?
What was the point?
It had all been for nothing.
That was why she had discarded her so-called legacy, her so-called history. She had chosen a different path, one that wasn't bound to a single country or dictated by outdated traditions.
A more proactive path.
One where she was useful to the world, not just a name buried in a forgotten history book.
But now…
Now she wasn't so sure.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.
---
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Thank you,
Rejnid.