Chapter Text
Master Fu's antique shop always seemed to exist outside of time.
Hidden between two old buildings on a forgotten street in Paris, it went unnoticed by most people. The faded wooden sign creaked softly in the wind, while the bell above the door swayed silently.
Inside, the air smelled of tea, aged paper, and incense.
Antique clocks adorned the walls. Some worked, others showed impossible times. Stacks of books covered narrow tables, and small sculptures silently observed the surroundings.
But that morning, not even the shop's usual tranquility could hide the tension in the air.
Master Fu sat before a small dark wooden table, his hands resting on his cane. His half-closed eyes stared at the steam slowly rising from a teacup.
Around him, six small creatures floated restlessly.
Tikki darted from one side to the other.
Plagg lay on his back atop a pile of books, chewing camembert cheese with utter nonchalance.
Wayzz kept his hands clasped behind his carapace, clearly worried.
Trixx spun in the air like a restless flame.
Pollen floated near the lamp, too electric to remain still.
Longg observed everything in silence, serene as a distant storm.
“The balance is worsening,” Wayzz said calmly.
“Oh, really?” Plagg replied with his mouth full. “I thought cosmic tremors, collective existential anxiety, and the feeling of impending disaster were normal.”
“You think it’s all normal,” Pollen retorted.
“Exactly, it’s much more relaxing.”
Tikki landed quickly on the table in front of Fu.
“Master, they’ve met.”
Fu remained silent for a few seconds.
“Sooner than I imagined,” he murmured.
Trixx crossed his arms.
“It wasn’t just a meeting, the connection began.”
Longg finally looked up.
“The city responded.”
The old master slowly closed his eyes.
He felt it too. Paris was changing.
Not physically. The streets remained the same, the buildings stood, and the Seine still flowed calmly through the city. But there were invisible currents in the world. Ancient flows. Rhythms that connected people, emotions, and destiny.
And those currents were awakening.
“They still don’t understand what they’re feeling,” Tikki said softly.
“Better that way,” Wayzz replied. “For now.”
Plagg let out an exaggerated yawn.
“Honestly? I preferred it when the bearers took decades to appear. Much less dramatic.”
“You complain about everything,” Pollen replied immediately.
“Wrong, I complain about almost everything.”
Trixx landed on an old box near the window.
“The girl of creation awoke first.”
“Tikki always awakens first,” Plagg grumbled.
“Because someone needs to compensate for your irresponsibility.”
“Look who’s talking, the cosmic entity whose power is literally called illusion.”
Longg ignored the two.
“The bearer of destruction has already begun to feel the bond.”
Fu opened his eyes again.
Adrien Agreste.
Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
Kagami Tsurugi.
Chloé Bourgeois.
Nathaniel Kurtzberg.
Luka Couffaine.
Six echoes arising simultaneously.
That hadn’t happened in a long time.
Wayzz discreetly observed the master.
“You are worried.”
Fu hesitated before answering.
“Not about the chosen ones.”
His fingers tightened slightly on the cane.
“About what might awaken with them.”
Silence fell over the shop immediately.
Even Plagg stopped chewing.
Outside, the wind blew stronger, making the small bells hanging near the window vibrate on their own.
Tikki looked at the shop door.
“Did you feel it?”
Everyone felt it. A distant, cold presence. Like ink slowly dripping onto white paper.
The entrance bell finally rang.
All the kwamis disappeared instantly.
The shop returned to absolute silence the moment the door opened.
A girl rushed in, holding a cardboard box in her arms.
Marinette Dupain-Cheng looked like a walking disaster.
Her hair was slightly tousled by the wind, her backpack slipped off one shoulder, and she was clearly trying to balance too many boxes at once.
“Excuse me.”
She tripped on the small step of the entrance immediately.
“Aaah!” The box tilted dangerously.
Master Fu moved his cane quickly enough to stop the fall before everything hit the ground.
Marinette froze.
“…thank you.”
“Carefull,” Fu replied calmly.
She let out a nervous laugh.
“Yeah, people tell me that quite a lot.”
The old man watched the girl intently and felt the energy of Creation pulsing around her like a heart slowly awakening.
Tikki reappeared invisibly behind Fu's head, watching Marinette with shining eyes.
“It's her,” she whispered softly.
Fu already knew.
Marinette placed the box on the counter, trying to catch her breath.
“My parents sent these sweets,” she explained. “They said you forgot your order yesterday.”
“Ah.” Fu observed the box. “Thomas and Sabine are still too kind.”
Marinette smiled slightly.
“My mother says you remind her of her grandfather.”
Fu tilted his head slightly.
“She was always a good child.”
Marinette began to answer, but then stopped abruptly.
A feeling surged through her chest.
She turned her face slowly, her eyes scanning the old shop. Over the clocks, then the books, and finally the silent shadows. And then, they fixed on a high shelf at the back.
For an absurdly short second, she was sure she saw two small red eyes watching her from behind a box.
She blinked.
There was nothing there.
“…strange.”
Fu immediately realized the connection was accelerating, faster than it should.
“Are you alright?” he asked calmly.
Marinette blinked a few times.
“Yes.”
Another sensation ran down her arms. Not threatening, just alive, as if the entire environment were breathing along with her.
She was still observing the shelf in the back when the smell of freshly served tea caught her attention again.
Master Fu had moved so quietly that she hadn't even noticed when he placed two small cups on the low table near the counter.
“You look tired,” he commented.
“That's because I am,” Marinette replied automatically, before widening her eyes. “I mean, not that your tea makes me sleepy! Or that you make me sleepy! Wow, that came out wrong…”
Fu let out a small nasal laugh.
“Honesty tends to slip away faster than good manners.”
That made Marinette relax a little.
“My mother says that.”
“She's right.”
She sat carefully at the table, still trying to act normally despite the strange feeling the shop was giving her.
Everything there seemed alive. Not literally, of course. But there was something in the air.
While Marinette held the warm mug in her hands, Fu watched her discreetly.
Anxious. Clumsy. Impulsive.
But her eyes never stopped, she noticed everything. Even while trying to hide it.
“Do you live alone here?” she asked.
“For a long time.”
“Doesn’t it get lonely?”
Fu didn’t answer immediately.
“Loneliness and silence are different things.”
Marinette tilted her head slightly.
She clearly wanted to understand what that meant.
Before she could ask, a dry sound came from the back of the shop.
Marinette turned her head immediately.
A small stack of old boxes had toppled over near a narrow shelf. An old vase was precariously slipping from the top edge.
Fu didn't move.
The vase began to fall.
Marinette reacted before she even thought.
She dropped the cup on the table too quickly, almost tripping over her own stool as she stood up. Instead of running straight for the vase, she first grabbed a towel that had fallen over a nearby chair and instinctively spread it open with both hands.
The vase hit the makeshift fabric seconds later, the impact almost tearing the towel from her hands.
“Woah.”
She managed to catch the object against her chest by pure reflex before it hit the floor.
Gasping, Marinette blinked a few times.
“…I saved it?”
Master Fu watched her intently.
She hadn't run to grab the vase directly. She had thought first. Improvised first. Protected first.
Creation.
Instinct to solve before reacting.
Tikki reappeared invisibly beside the master, her enormous eyes shining with happiness.
“Did you see?!”
Fu remained outwardly calm.
Internally, however, he felt something relax for the first time in many years.
Marinette carefully placed the vase on the table.
“Sorry, I might have messed things up a bit more…”
“No.”
Fu interrupted gently.
“You prevented something precious from breaking.”
She smiled awkwardly.
“Well… I’m kind of an expert at preventing disasters after causing half of them.”
Plagg appeared invisibly on a high shelf.
“Is she really going to be the chosen one?” he asked quietly. “Because honestly, she looks two seconds away from falling out the window.”
Tikki crossed her arms immediately.
“She’s amazing.”
“She almost destroyed a chair standing up.”
“Even so.”
Fu ignored the two.
“Why did you try to save the vase?” he asked calmly.
Marinette seemed confused by the question.
“Because it would have broken?”
“What if you had gotten hurt?”
She hesitated, the answer being too obvious to need saying.
“So I would get hurt?”
Fu watched intently the way she said that.
Without heroism, or even arrogance. Without even considering that it could be something special.
Wayzz appeared invisibly near the window.
“Compassion comes before fear,” he murmured.
Fu nodded almost imperceptibly.
Marinette looked at the vase again.
“Is it old?”
“Very.”
She immediately began examining the small crack on the side.
“Oh no…”
“It’s not your fault.”
“But it made the crack bigger.”
Before Fu could answer, Marinette was already opening her backpack looking for something.
Among threads, scissors, crumpled sketches, and even a crushed packet of cookies.
“Here!” She pulled out a small portable repair kit.
He arched an eyebrow slightly.
“You carry glue in your backpack?”
“Experiment.”
She quickly opened the kit and began to examine the vase with absolute concentration, the kwamis watching her curiously.
“Is she really going to fix it?” Pollen asked.
“She’ll try,” Longg replied.
And that, perhaps, was even more important.
Marinette carefully rotated the vase in her hands.
“The crack is still firm, so maybe it can be restored without making too much of a mark.” She was thinking out loud now.
Thinking aloud. Building solutions. Creating possibilities.
Fu remained silent.
Because at that moment, she was no longer just testing reflexes or kindness. She was observing something much rarer.
The ability to look at something broken and immediately think of how to fix it.
Tikki smiled softly.
The energy of Creation pulsing around Marinette, almost visible now.
And, for the first time in a long time, Master Fu began to believe that perhaps Paris really did have a chance.
-------------------—
That night, Paris seemed quieter.
As if the city were listening to something too distant for humans to perceive.
The light rain made the streets shimmer under the yellowish lights of the lampposts, while cars crossed wet avenues scattering golden reflections across the asphalt.
Inside the shop, Master Fu slowly closed an old red-covered book.
The kwamis floated restlessly again.
“You found the holder,” Tikki said, still unable to hide the happiness in her voice.
“Perhaps,” Fu replied calmly.
Plagg yawned.
“She literally risked getting a vase thrown at her face to save something broken. That’s very ladybug-like of her.”
“Plagg,” Wayzz sighed.
“What? I’m praising her.”
Fu stood up slowly, leaning on his cane.
“A correct choice doesn’t guarantee balance.”
Longg watched the rain through the window.
“But it means the awakening has begun.”
Fu didn’t answer.
Because he felt it too.
The six were approaching. Six stars being pulled by the same gravity. That rarely happened without reason.
The old man picked up the umbrella near the door.
“Are you going out?” Pollen asked.
“I need to confirm something.”
Trixx smiled slightly.
“Another test?”
Fu opened the door slowly.
“Perhaps.”
The bell rang softly as he stepped out into the street.
The cold rain trickled across Paris in thin lines as Master Fu walked along the busy sidewalks.
People hurried past without noticing him.
And who would notice a hunched, slow, and forgettable old man? That was exactly how he preferred to appear.
That’s how he ended up near the Seine. Its dark waters reflected distorted lights as street musicians played near the old bridges.
Master Fu heard a soft guitar melody, like waves slowly breaking against a bank.
Luka Couffaine played, seated near the river, partially sheltered by the roof of a small pier. A few coins were scattered in the open case before him, though clearly he wasn't playing for money.
Fu stopped discreetly across the street.
Luka played, gazing at the Seine as if listening to something hidden beneath the city's surface.
Wayzz appeared invisibly beside the master.
"The guardian of protection listens before acting."
Fu remained silent, observing the events unfold.
A bicycle appeared too quickly on the wet bike path. The tire slipped on the water, causing a girl to lose her balance near the slippery bank of the Seine.
The handlebars turned sharply. She was about to fall straight into the river.
Several people screamed, some recoiled, while others froze.
Luka stopped playing immediately.
But, unlike the desperate impulse of someone panicking, he moved calmly. Quick and precise, like water diverting from rocks.
He dropped the guitar on the bench and crossed the pier before the bicycle even hit the ground.
The girl slipped on the wet concrete, and Luka firmly gripped the back of her backpack before it fell into the water.
His own foot slipped slightly on the slippery ground, but still, he maintained his balance.
Other people finally rushed to help and pulled the bicycle away from the edge.
The girl was breathing too fast, clearly in shock.
“Hey.”
Luka’s voice came out low, with a saintly calm.
“You’re safe.”
She blinked a few times, trying to catch her breath.
“I… I thought…”
“But you didn’t fall.”
No pressure, no dramatization, just a quiet certainty. As if he were lending her stability to breathe again.
Fu watched attentively, for this was not just kindness, nor just courage. It was presence.
The rare ability to remain firm while the world around lost its balance.
The girl began to tremble slightly.
The boy noticed immediately, kneeling down slightly to be at her height.
“Breathe slowly.”
She failed on the first attempt, but Luka didn't get irritated, much less insist. He just remained there steadily, a silent anchor preventing someone from sinking.
After a few seconds, her breathing finally slowed.
Wayzz watched with gentle eyes.
“True protection doesn't prevent falls.” The turtle kwami smiled slightly, “It ensures that no one faces the fall alone.”
That was a rare characteristic that many wanted to protect, but few knew how to sustain.
Luka raised her eyes directly to Master Fu. The old man remained motionless.
For a second, Luka frowned slightly, feeling that sensation again. The strange note hidden beneath the city's music.
Fu inclined his head slightly in silent respect, and Luka returned the gesture without understanding why.
Then some people began to surround the girl, asking if she was alright.
The moment passed.
But Luka still discreetly watched the old man cross the street and disappear among the wet city lights.
And, far away, walking slowly in the Parisian rain, Master Fu was beginning to perceive something that made everything even more dangerous.
The chosen ones weren't just awakening. They were beginning to recognize each other.
-------------------—
The following morning, Paris awoke under a clear gray sky.
The previous night's rain still left its mark on the sidewalks, small puddles reflecting the city's hurried movement.
Inside the antique shop, Master Fu discreetly fed the kwamis small pieces of biscuit, fruit, and cheese.
Plagg chewed cheese in an offensively noisy manner.
“So,” Trixx began, floating upside down in the air, “we already have creation and protection.”
“Congratulations on your ability to count,” Plagg replied.
Wayzz ignored the two.
“You will continue searching today.”
Fu took a sip of tea.
“Yes.”
Longg calmly watched the steam rise from the cup.
“The next one has already begun to awaken as well.”
Fu closed his eyes for a moment.
He felt it. The energy of destruction was easy to perceive. Not because it was cruel, but because it was intense.
“Plagg,” Fu said calmly.
The cat kwami raised its eyes.
“Does the wearer influence the Miraculous, or does the Miraculous influence the wearer?”
Plagg took another bite of the cheese before answering.
“Both.” Then he smiled slightly. “That’s why it’s always fun.”
Fu sighed slowly.
That wasn’t exactly comforting.
It was like that, hours later, that the old man found himself walking through one of the shopping arcades near the Champs-Élysées.
There, Paris seemed different. More polished and artificial.
Shop windows shone impeccably under carefully planned lights, mannequins wore clothes more expensive than the monthly rent of many families, while tourists crossed the shops as if participating in an invisible parade.
Master Fu went unnoticed among them all, his eyes observing attentively.
It was then that he met Adrien Agreste.
The boy walked a few meters behind Nathalie, carrying several bags while security guards followed at a distance.
Even surrounded by luxury, Adrien seemed tired, someone too accustomed to measuring every movement.
Nathalie consulted her tablet as she walked.
“The photo shoot has been rescheduled for Thursday. Your father has also added an interview for…” She stopped abruptly.
A group of tourists had partially blocked the passage near the gallery exit.
Nathalie automatically diverted to another corridor.
Adrien followed her, but not before noticing a small boy observing a toy display on the other side of the corridor, too distracted to notice the delivery cart coming quickly towards him.
The employee pushed the heavy load, unable to brake in time on the wet floor.
Adrien dropped the bags immediately.
“Hey!”
The boy turned around, startled.
The cart was already too close.
Pulling the boy by the arm out of the way, the impact of the cart hit his own legs directly, and the boy fell sitting on the floor.
Adrien also lost his balance. The boxes partially toppled over, scattering packages down the aisle.
Some people screamed in fright. And the employee began to apologize desperately.
“Oh my God, I didn’t see it!”
Adrien stood up quickly despite the clear pain from the impact. The first thing he did was look at the boy.
“Are you okay?”
The child nodded, frightened, his eyes shining, holding back tears.
Adrien immediately knelt in front of him.
“Hey, it’s okay.”
The boy was breathing too fast.
“I was scared.”
“But nothing happened.” His voice came out soft, without any pretense.
Master Fu watched silently from the other side of the aisle. The most interesting thing wasn't the fact that Adrien had helped, it was the way he did it without hesitation, without calculating consequences, or even thinking about his own image. Pure instinct.
The employee remained nervous.
“Sorry, sir, I really…”
“It’s alright,” Adrien replied immediately.
Even though he was clearly injured and his knee was bleeding slightly through his pants.
“Adrien!” Nathalie finally managed to get through the crowd.
She assessed the situation in seconds.
“You’re hurt.”
“Just a scratch.”
Clearly it wasn’t just a scratch. But Adrien was already helping the boy up. Then, he noticed a small toy car lying near the shop window.
He picked up the toy before it was run over by the delivery cart's wheels and handed it to the child with a small smile.
Instantly, the boy relaxed.
Fu watched attentively.
Plagg appeared invisibly beside him.
“The problem with my Miraculous,” the kwami said casually, “is that everyone thinks destruction means hurting things.”
The kwami’s green eyes followed Adrien.
“But destruction is also freedom.”
Fu remained silent.
“Breaking prisons,” Plagg continued, “Breaking fear. Ending what prevents change.”
Adrien stood up slowly now, his knee clearly aching.
Still, he smiled calmly as the boy finally ran back to his mother.
Without expecting thanks or seeking recognition. As if helping was simply natural.
Fu felt the weight of years tighten slightly in his chest, for he already knew that kind of heart.
The most dangerous were always the kindest.
Adrien then raised his eyes and saw Master Fu watching. The old man inclined his head slightly.
After hesitating for a moment, he returned the gesture automatically.
“We need to go,” said Nathalie, placing her hand on his shoulder.
Adrien blinked, returning to the present, “Okay.”
Even as he walked away down the corridor, he still glanced discreetly back once, but the old man had already disappeared into the crowd.
Plagg crossed his arms over Fu's invisible shoulder as the two walked out of the gallery.
“So?”
Fu took a few seconds to answer.
“The Miraculous of Destruction requires someone capable of loving the world, without fear of changing it.”
-------------------—
Late afternoon tinged Paris with golden hues as Master Fu left the city center.
The streets were more crowded now. And yet, the old man walked slowly.
Inside the bag slung over his shoulder, the kwamis discussed in invisible whispers.
“So we already have creation, protection, and destruction,” Trixx commented. “Which one now?”
“I hope it’s mine,” Pollen replied immediately. “Someone needs to bring elegance to this group.”
Plagg made an indignant sound.
“Elegance? You literally choose bossy people.”
“Leadership isn’t a flaw.”
“It depends a lot on the leadership.”
Wayzz sighed.
“You can argue in any situation.”
“It’s a talent,” Plagg replied.
Fu ignored them all, because he had already found the next presence.
The Hotel Le Grand Paris loomed imposingly around the next corner, luxurious and excessively refined. Staff members crisscrossed the immaculate lobby while elegantly dressed guests circulated among gilded chandeliers and furniture too expensive to appear comfortable.
Master Fu entered silently. No one noticed him.
He walked through the lobby until he heard a familiar voice echoing near the reception desk.
“This is absolutely ridiculous,” said Chloé Bourgeois, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed.
Sabrina stood beside her, holding three bags and a school folder.
The receptionist looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
“Miss Bourgeois, I’m truly sorry, but there’s been a problem with the flower order for tomorrow’s event.”
“Then sort it out.”
“We’re trying…”
“‘Trying’ isn’t a word competent people use.”
Sabrina let out a small, tired sigh.
Fu observed silently.
She was arrogant, impatient, and controlling, but perhaps that was the perfect combination.
Plagg immediately smiled.
“Ah, I love this one.”
“You’d love a hurricane holding dynamite,” Wayzz murmured.
But Fu wasn’t looking at her superficial attitude. He was waiting, as people revealed who they truly were in the brief moments between masks.
One of the hotel porters appeared pushing a huge cart full of decorative boxes. The cart’s wheels got partially caught on the lobby carpet. The man tried to correct it, but one of the boxes started to fall straight toward a distracted woman holding a small child.
“Chloé!” Sabrina’s eyes widened.
Chloé was already moving.
“Watch out!”
She pushed the woman aside without hesitation.
The heavy box hit the floor near her feet with a loud thud. The entire lobby fell silent, the only sound coming from the child who began to cry in fright.
The woman hugged her son immediately, still in shock.
“Oh my God…”
The porter turned pale.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Bourgeois, I-I…”
“You could have hurt someone,” Chloé cut him off coldly.
But then, she looked at the crying child and something changed.
She lowered her posture slightly.
“Hey.”
Her voice was less aggressive now.
The child continued to cry, clinging to her mother, making Chloé hesitate in discomfort for a split second.
Then, she discreetly took a small golden keychain attached to her own bag. An absurdly expensive, limited-edition teddy bear.
She held it out to the child.
“There.”
The mother blinked in surprise, watching the child slowly stop crying.
“Are you… sure?”
“It’s just a keychain,” Chloé replied too quickly.
A lie. It clearly wasn’t “just a keychain.”
This time Sabrina wasn’t the only one to notice immediately, as Fu was also there.
Most importantly, Chloé seemed annoyed with herself for caring.
Pollen appeared invisibly beside the master.
“The bee protects what it considers its own.”
The child now hugged the keychain, smiling shyly.
Chloé immediately looked away, unable to bear being seen at that moment.
“Next time you push one of those things, look ahead.” She looked back at the charger.
“Yes, miss. Sorry.”
She crossed her arms again, the mask returning quickly.
“Obviously.”
But Master Fu saw that behind the arrogance and the constant need for control, there was instinct, presence.
The fierce need to prevent vulnerable people from being hurt.
Even if she hid it from herself.
Wayzz observed silently.
“She leads by force.”
“Because she believes weakness means abandonment,” Longg replied calmly.
Fu felt the weight of that truth.
Chloé turned to Sabrina.
“Let’s go. This place goes crazy when incompetent people panic.”
“You saved someone,” she commented, her eyes shining with pride.
“So?”
“It still counts,” Sabrina smiled.
Chloé rolled her eyes immediately.
“Don’t make that face.”
“What face?”
“That soft look.”
“I don’t even have a soft look.”
“Yes, you do. It’s awful.”
Chloé stopped abruptly, feeling that vibration under her skin.
She turned her face too quickly, finding Master Fu watching from across the lobby.
Her eyes narrowed immediately.
Fu tilted his head slightly.
Chloé hesitated. And then, almost without realizing it, she did the same.
A second later, the elevator opened behind her, breaking the moment.
“Miss Bourgeois?” "Jean-Pierre called out."
She blinked a few times.
"I'm coming."
When she looked again, the old man had disappeared.
Chloé frowned slightly.
"What's wrong?" Sabrina asked.
"...Nothing." She tried to hide what clearly wasn't true.
And as Master Fu silently left the luxurious hotel behind, Pollen smiled contentedly.
"Do you still think I only choose bossy people?"
Plagg crossed his arms.
"I still think so."
"She protected someone without thinking."
"And then humiliated half the hotel."
"Balance," Trixx replied amused.
Fu didn't smile, because he was beginning to realize something important.
The Miraculous weren't choosing perfect people. They were choosing incomplete people.
People who carried exactly what they needed to learn to overcome.
—-------------------—
Night slowly fell over Paris.
The city lights shimmered, reflected in the dark waters of the Seine, while the cold wind swept through busy avenues carrying distant music, the smell of rain, and the constant sounds of Parisian life.
Master Fu walked without haste, but his mind was restless.
He had already confirmed four: Creation, destruction, protection, and subjection.
Now only two remained: Illusion and perfection.
Trixx spun invisibly around the master's hat.
"You're worried."
Fu remained silent for a few seconds.
"I'm too old to ignore coincidences."
Wayzz appeared near his shoulder.
"Perhaps it's not a coincidence."
"That's exactly what worries me."
The old man turned a narrow corner near the Latin Quarter.
There, Paris changed again. The streets were smaller, more vibrant, and chaotic.
Old bookstores stayed open late. Small, crowded cafes overflowed with conversation on the sidewalks. Students crossed streets carrying backpacks and notebooks while musicians played near the illuminated squares.
It was there that Fu felt the fox's energy. Mutable. Restless. Brilliant.
Like fire reflected in glass.
He found Nathaniel Kurtzberg sitting near a small, tree-lined square, his knees raised against the bench as he drew, too focused to notice the world around him.
Marc, as always lately, was beside him, reading. Or rather, pretending to read. Because clearly he spent more time observing Nathaniel than the book.
Fu remained standing on the other side of the street. Watching Nathaniel draw very quickly. As if trying to keep up with images that emerged faster than his hand could register them.
Trixx smiled slowly.
"The imaginer."
Fu narrowed his eyes slightly.
No, it was more than mere imagination. Nathaniel saw possibilities, layers, versions. That was important. A strong wind swept across the square, some leaves flew across the ground, and a small notebook slipped from the open backpack of a girl sitting near the central fountain.
She didn't notice, but the notebook slid across the wet ground straight towards a drainage grate.
A few more centimeters and it would have fallen.
Nathaniel saw it. But, unlike the other chosen ones, he didn't react immediately.
First he observed, then he calculated. His eyes quickly scanned the entire square.
"Marc."
Marc looked up immediately.
Nathaniel pointed quickly.
"The backpack."
Marc understood instantly, pulling his own backpack from the ground and sliding it along the path of the notebook just as the wind pushed it again.
The notebook hit the backpack and stopped before the grate.
The girl turned, startled.
"What?"
Nathaniel was already getting up to pick up the object before she understood what had happened.
"I think it was going to get away." The girl blinked, confused. Then smiled in relief.
“Thank you.”
Nathaniel simply nodded quickly, clearly uncomfortable with the attention.
But Fu, on the other hand, observed that he hadn't tried to be the hero. He hadn't acted impulsively.
He analyzed and created a solution using the environment. Using people. Using possibilities.
Trixx smiled now, clearly satisfied.
“The fox never faces the world head-on.”
Nathaniel handed the notebook to the girl.
Then he sat back down on the bench as if nothing had happened.
Marc watched him with a small smile.
“You literally calculate accidents before they happen.”
Nathaniel immediately looked away.
“I don't calculate.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I just… notice things.”
Marc chuckled softly.
“It's almost scary.”
Nathaniel quickly opened his sketchbook in an attempt to escape the conversation and immediately froze.
There was a new drawing on the page.
Six figures again, but this time more defined.
The ladybug.
The cat.
The turtle.
The bee.
The fox.
And a sixth, partially incomplete figure.
Nathaniel frowned.
“Strange…”
Marc leaned forward, trying to look.
“What is it?”
Nathaniel closed the notebook immediately.
“Nothing.”
His heart raced at the lie.
Fu, in the distance, watched attentively.
The fox wasn't just an illusion. It was perception. The ability to see what others ignored.
Trixx rested his face in his hands.
“He sees patterns.”
“Yes,” Fu murmured.
“Even without understanding what he's seeing.”
Then Nathaniel raised his eyes directly to Master Fu.
The old man remained motionless, but that didn't stop the feeling from washing over Nathaniel immediately.
For a moment, his fingers lightly gripped the pencil. He was absolutely certain he had drawn that man before.
Fu tilted his head slightly.
Nathaniel hesitated, but automatically returned the gesture.
Then Marc called out from beside him.
“Nathaniel?”
The moment broke.
When he looked again, the old man was already crossing the street, slowly disappearing into the lights of the square.
Nathaniel remained staring in that direction for several seconds.
After a moment of self-reflection, he let out a small, frustrated sigh.
“I think I'm going crazy.”
Marc smiled slightly.
“If it's any consolation, you seem like an interesting madman.”
Nathaniel felt his face immediately heat up, quickly averting his gaze.
On the other side of the street, Master Fu continued walking silently.
Five were down, now only one remained.
But, for the first time since the beginning of that quest, the old man was truly beginning to fear what would happen when they all finally awoke together.
Inside the small pouch slung over his shoulder, the kwamis were unusually quiet.
Longg watched the sky invisibly above them.
“Perfection awakens last.”
Plagg grimaced.
“Of course it awakens, dragons love drama.”
“You confuse presence with drama.”
“You literally control wind, water, and lightning.”
Longg didn't reply. Which, honestly, seemed like confirmation enough.
—-------------------
Fu kept his eyes ahead. He could already feel it, for the dragon's energy was different from others.
It didn't pulse or oscillate. It advanced in a controlled and precise manner. Like a blade cutting through silk.
That's how he found Kagami Tsurugi.
She walked alone along the sidewalk outside an enclosed sports complex, carrying a training bag slung over her shoulder. Her dark hair was still slightly damp from her recent training, while her posture remained impeccable despite her evident fatigue.
Even walking alone, she seemed accompanied by her own discipline.
Fu watched silently from across the street.
Longg appeared invisibly beside him.
"The dragon seeks mastery."
"Over itself first," Fu replied calmly.
Kagami crossed the empty street when a metallic sound echoed above.
She immediately looked up, seeing that a partially detached scaffolding was trembling atop a building under renovation.
The night wind blew stronger, causing one of the metal bars to break off.
And it fell, directly towards a distracted man fiddling with his cell phone near the crosswalk.
Everything happened quickly. The man didn't notice. The people closest to him shouted too late.
But Kagami was already in motion.
Without hesitation, without panic.
She dropped her training bag on the ground and ran with precise, controlled steps. The kind of speed built by thousands of hours of discipline.
Kagami reached the man at the last second and pushed him out of the way of the impact.
The metal structure hit the ground with a violent thud exactly where he had been.
Sparks flew across the asphalt.
The man fell to the ground, completely shocked.
Kagami remained kneeling beside him, breathing a little harder now.
But her eyes were already assessing the situation.
If he was injured, the distance, the risk. All in a controlled manner.
"Are you hurt, sir?" Her voice came out firm.
The man blinked several times, trying to understand what had happened.
“I… I…”
Kagami extended her hand to help him up.
“Can you stand?”
He nodded, dazed.
The people around began to slowly approach now that the danger had passed.
Some commented in fear. Others looked at Kagami as if she had appeared out of nowhere.
But what caught Fu's attention was what happened next.
“You saved my life,” the man tried to thank her nervously.
Kagami hesitated, uncomfortable because she didn't know exactly what to do with that.
“I only did what was necessary,” she said seriously.
For Kagami, it was simply logic. Someone needed to act, so she acted.
Longg watched silently.
“Perfection is not the absence of fear.”
The kwami's golden eyes followed Kagami.
“It's acting despite it.”
Fu remained silent, because he could see clearly.
Kagami felt fear, but she treated it the same way she treated pain, exhaustion, or loneliness. As obstacles to be overcome.
Kagami turned her face and found Master Fu watching.
She narrowed her eyes slightly, for she never forgot faces. She was absolutely certain she had never seen that man before.
Then why did she seem to recognize him?
Fu tilted his head slightly.
Kagami hesitated a moment, but returned the gesture. Some part of her understanding a rule her mind still didn't know.
Then the sound of sirens arose in the distance, breaking the moment.
When Kagami looked again, the old man was already slowly crossing the street, disappearing into the city lights.
She stood still for a few seconds.
The man was still saying something, thanking her. Kagami barely heard.
Because for the first time in a long time, her perfect concentration had failed.
And that bothered her deeply.
—-------------------—
Later, back at the antique shop, Master Fu stood silently before the tea table.
The six kwamis floated around him now. All awake and watching.
“So it’s over,” Pollen said softly.
Fu took a few seconds to respond.
“No.”
His eyes slowly lifted.
“Now it’s begun.”
Silence fell over the shop, because everyone felt the change.
The connections between the chosen ones were growing faster than they should.
Trixx landed on a pile of books.
“They’re being pulled towards each other.”
“Like orbits aligning,” Longg added.
Wayzz looked worried.
“The balance is accelerating.”
Plagg crossed his arms.
“Which usually means trouble.”
Fu slowly closed his eyes, recognizing that feeling. He had felt it before, many years ago. Shortly before everything went wrong.
Outside, the wind swept through Paris again. The city lights flickered for half a second.
-------------------—
High above the illuminated streets of Paris, hidden in a place that seemed separate from the rest of the world, the silence remained heavy.
Rain trickled slowly down the enormous glass windows, distorting the city lights below. Paris remained alive despite the advancing dawn. Cars crossed wet avenues, signs gleamed reflected on the asphalt, and some windows remained lit like small stars scattered among the buildings.
But in that elevated place above the city, someone observed everything in absolute silence.
The figure remained motionless before the window.
The dark suit, perfectly tailored, absorbed the little light of the room.
Behind him, hovering near the shadow of an old bookcase, Noroo watched with growing nervousness.
The kwami's small wings beat too slowly. His hands remained clasped near his chest as he cast cautious glances at the figure before the window, as if trying to predict the man's mood before daring to speak.
Outside, a lightning bolt quickly illuminated the sky.
The figure finally moved.
Slowly, it approached a long table covered with old maps of Paris, scattered notes, and screens displaying different points of the city in real time. Some images showed empty streets, others, crowds crossing subway stations. Everything seemed random at first glance.
“It’s happening again,” the voice murmured calmly.
Noroo hesitated before answering.
“The awakening of the Miraculous…”
The figure nodded slowly.
“I can feel it.”
The gloved fingers lightly touched the surface of the table.
“Something has shifted in the city’s balance.”
Noroo lowered his gaze slightly.
“The Miraculous always respond to each other when they awaken.”
“Yes.” The voice became lower.
“And that means the holders have already been chosen.”
The small kwami clenched its hands tighter. He recognized that growing obsession in the man's tone. He knew how that calmness became more dangerous the quieter it grew.
“Perhaps there’s still time to…”
“No.” The interruption came immediately.
Noroo shrank slightly in mid-air.
The figure walked slowly to another part of the room, where enormous screens displayed strange patterns scattered across a map of Paris. Small energy fluctuations appeared at different points in the city like almost invisible pulses.
“The Miraculous are reacting,” the figure said. “I still can’t locate the holders… but I can feel the echoes.”
Noroo watched the luminous points blinking slowly on the map.
Six. There may have been seven once, but that was beside the point.
Stars trying to form a constellation before their time.
“They probably don’t understand what’s happening yet,” Noroo commented carefully. “The first signs are usually confusing.”
“Confusion breeds vulnerability.” The figure stared at the map for a few seconds. “Fear. Loneliness. Anger. Doubt.”
His fingers slowly closed on the table.
“Strong emotions leave marks.”
Noroo felt a shiver run down his wings.
The butterfly's power didn't track faces. It tracked pain. And Paris was full of it.
The figure raised one hand.
Slowly, small dark butterflies began to emerge from the shadows of the room, silently fluttering their wings around him.
Noroo watched apprehensively.
“People always believe they can hide suffering,” the voice murmured. “But emotions leave cracks.”
The butterflies swirled slowly around the room.
“And cracks…” the mask turned slightly toward the illuminated city, “…can be found.”
Noroo hesitated before speaking again.
“The power of the miraculous shouldn't be used this way.”
Silence.
The butterfly wings continued to fill the room like living smoke.
Then the figure finally answered.
“Power doesn’t possess a will of its own.” The voice came out calmly. “People do.”
Noroo immediately lowered his gaze. That discussion never ended well.
The man turned to the gigantic window.
Paris shone below him like a living organism, completely unaware that she was being observed from that height.
“The bearers will appear eventually,” it continued. “They always do.”
Noroo felt his chest tighten.
“And when they appear?”
The figure remained motionless for a few seconds. Then answered softly:
“I will be waiting.”
Outside, another thunderclap ripped across the sky.
And, while the dark butterflies continued to silently swirl around the room, Paris slept, unaware that something ancient had begun to awaken along with the Miraculous.