Serou's house. One week later.
The message came in a way none of them expected.
Not Kanai himself—a small folded piece of paper, marked in a specific way, slid beneath the door during the night. Serou found it at dawn.
He read it.
And did not hand it to Kaito immediately.
He spent the morning alone in the courtyard, drinking slowly, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
Kaito noticed.
And did not ask.
He waited.
At noon, Serou said, "A message from Kanai."
He handed him the paper.
Kaito read it.
Serou.
Root moved. Not toward you—toward Konoha first.
Danzo is collecting information about the third layer.
His source is internal. Someone who knew Kimi.
Sato was moved. I do not know the new location.
But the trail is old—at least two weeks.
Most dangerous of all: I saw part of a report.
Your name was in it.
Not in detail—but the name is there.
Assume you are partially exposed.
Do not wait for confirmation.
—Kanai
Kaito lowered the paper.
Then looked at Serou.
"How long have you known?"
"Since this morning."
"Why did you wait?"
"I wanted to think first," Serou said with a calmness that hid nothing. "A first emotional reaction to dangerous information helps no one."
Kaito did not argue.
"What does it mean that they know your name?"
"It means the circle is tightening." Serou looked toward the horizon. "They haven't arrived yet. But the road to us has become shorter."
"And Sato?"
"She was moved."
"That makes her harder to find."
"Yes."
"That means Kanai needs more time."
"Yes."
Silence.
Kaito looked down at the paper in his hand.
Two phrases stayed in his mind:
his source is internal
someone who knew Kimi
"Among the people who knew my mother… who could be feeding information to Root?"
"A good question," Serou said slowly. "And not one I want to answer too quickly."
"Because the answer hurts."
Serou did not reply.
That was the reply.
Kaito went inside.
He sat down in his room.
Looked at his wrist—the mark pulsed, regular as ever.
One week since the first touch.
Live.
And in that same week, Root had moved. Sato had been relocated. Serou was no longer invisible.
The seal opens. The world outside it does not wait.
He said to himself, in a voice no one could hear,
"One year and nine months."
Since Kori.
And since the last time Sato had been there.
He went back out into the courtyard.
Serou was still in the same place.
Kaito said,
"I want to ask you something."
"Ask."
"If we leave now—before the full two years are complete—what happens to the seal?"
Serou looked at him.
"That depends on why you leave."
"I didn't say I would." Kaito's voice remained calm. "I asked what would happen."
"The seal is tied to intent," Serou said slowly. "If you leave out of fear, it will answer fear. If you leave with clear purpose, it will answer purpose." He looked at him. "But in both cases, the door you have begun to open will close."
"For a while?"
"I don't know."
Kaito said nothing.
But Serou saw something in his eyes—something familiar. A decision forming. Not recklessness. Not panic. Something slower, more dangerous. Taking shape the way the seal itself seemed to.
Serou said,
"Kaito."
"Yes."
"Whatever you decide—tell me first."
Kaito looked at him for a second.
"Yes."