They met before the bells remembered they had a job.
The Eon hall held the golden light of almost-morning like water in a bowl. Light came in thin, obedient stripes through the high windows. Veins of luminite climbed the ribs. The floor was all dark plates and crosshatched channels sloping toward copper grates, as if the room preferred its accidents tidy. Between the columns, those patient black wall panels waited the way old cats wait - calm, sure, hungry only if you give them a reason.
Raizen stood alone in the center ring with his jacket folded on a pillar and both twins settled low at his back. Breath in his ribs, not his throat. Knees soft, but not weak. Hands relaxed to the edge before grip. He wasn't thinking about speed. He was thinking about "yes."
He drew the left blade a thumb-width. The steel took the faint gold of the hour and turned it into intent.
"Again" he told himself, and didn't mean harder. He meant truer.
