As they stepped off the train, Iris moved quietly, ready to slip away into the crowd. But just as she turned, the old woman's hand clamped around her wrist. Not harshly—but with a strength that defied her frail appearance. Her grip was steady. Unyielding.
Iris froze. Her heart thudded against her ribs like a trapped bird.
"G-Grandma... I-I can go home from here, I..." she began, her voice small, inching back, trying to twist free without drawing attention.
Then—ring.
The old woman's phone vibrated in her hand. She answered, her tone composed at first, her gaze distant.
But slowly... something shifted.
Her eyes narrowed. Her head turned. And then—her gaze locked on Iris, sharp and heavy, like a blade hidden behind calm eyes.
"She knows..." Iris thought, her breath catching. Panic coiled in her chest like smoke. "She found out..."
The call ended with an eerie slowness. The woman lowered the phone. Her lips curled into a smile—but not the warm kind. It was tight. Stretched. Off.
"My friend's a journalist," she said with a quiet chuckle, "and quite the talker."
She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping.
"She mentioned a child went missing this morning in Sapporo. Strange thing is... the description matches you exactly."
Iris's face turned pale. Her lips parted—maybe to lie, maybe to explain—but the old woman took a step forward and gently cut her off.
"No need to panic, dear," she said, voice laced with artificial sweetness. "We'll just make a quick stop at the police station.
They've called me, you know. Said they found some... interesting documents about my missing grandson."
That's when Iris ran.
Adrenaline surged through her veins like ice.
The old woman lunged, catching the strap of Iris's backpack—the one with all the stolen money, the maps, the notes—everything she had prepared.
"No—!" Iris screamed.
The fabric gave way, ripping violently from her shoulders.
Gone. Her bag, her lifeline—snatched away.
But there was no time.
Without a second thought, barefoot and breathless, Iris bolted through the station crowd.
She pushed past startled strangers, heart pounding, lungs burning.
Behind her, the woman's voice rang out, distant, fading.
"Little girl! Wait! Come back!"
But Iris didn't look back.
She couldn't.
She just kept running—alone—into the heart of Tokyo.
Toward the unknown.
Toward destiny.
The city was cloaked in silence.
Iris wandered through the empty streets of Tokyo, her small frame trembling.
No food. No money. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, each step heavier than the last.
Hunger gnawed at her insides like a beast, her vision swimming with static. The neon lights above flickered coldly, indifferent.
Then, through her haze, she saw it—bright yellow tape strung across the street, bold black letters screaming: DO NOT CROSS
But to a starving child, warnings held no weight.
With trembling hands, she climbed over.
Unknowingly, she had crossed the invisible boundary—just one building away from the epicenter of the forbidden zone.
And then, it happened.
The air trembled.
The oval-shaped object at the heart of the anti-force field began to glow—no, pulse—with terrifying brilliance.
Golden flares danced across the sky as arcs of pure energy tore through the air.
The containment field sputtered, fractured lines spreading like glass under pressure.
A moment later, the night sky lit up like day.
High above, a patrol helicopter circled frantically.
"Child spotted near the object! She's too close!" the pilot barked. "We can't reach her—field's absorbing everything!"
The radio crackled.
Then—
Silence.
The force field collapsed in an instant.
A blinding flash erupted—brighter than a thousand suns—swallowing the city in pure white.
Time itself seemed to fracture. For a heartbeat, the world held its breath.
Then came the quake.
The ground convulsed. Skyscrapers shattered like brittle glass, their steel bones twisting midair before vanishing into ash.
Entire blocks within a 500-meter radius were erased—no fire, no explosion, just silence and ruin.
And then...
Amidst the swirling dust and broken sky, something moved.
From the heart of the annihilation, a figure stepped forward.
A human?
No—something more.
A young man stood among the rubble, untouched by the destruction around him.
His body was impossibly perfect—elegant muscle carved like marble, skin pale and smooth as porcelain. His soft black hair drifted gently despite the absence of wind.
But it was his eyes—golden, burning with celestial light—that silenced the world.
They held no confusion. No fear.
Only calm. Absolute. Terrifying.
He hadn't survived the cataclysm.
He was the result of it.
Not born...
But awakened.
Just then, Iris stirred.
Her eyes fluttered open to darkness and dust, her small frame buried beneath shattered stone and twisted metal. The world around her was broken—a landscape of smoldering ruin.
Somehow... she had survived. The debris had missed anything vital, sparing her by mere inches.
Her lungs burned with every breath, each inhale dragging dust and ash into her chest. She coughed weakly, her body trembling, blood trickling down her temple.
The weight of the rubble pressed down like the sky itself had fallen.
Groaning, she shifted, barely able to lift her head.
All around her, fire crackled in the distance. Sparks drifted through the air like dying stars—beautiful, haunting.
Then... she heard it.
Footsteps.
Heavy. Measured. Unhurried.
Drawing closer.
Each step echoed like thunder across the fractured silence. Not the clumsy steps of a rescuer, nor the chaos of fleeing survivors.
These steps were different.
Steady.
Slow.
Powerful.
Something—or someone—was coming.
Through the swirling haze of ash and flame, she saw him.
A boy—no older than a teenager—walking through the chaos like a ghost made flesh. His figure shimmered behind the warping heatwaves, each step silent, every motion eerily calm amid the screaming wreckage of the world.
Iris, half-buried and broken, reached out with trembling fingers.
"H-Hey... please... help me..." she rasped, her voice barely more than a breath.
The boy stopped.
He turned.
Golden eyes—glowing like molten stars—locked onto hers.
And in that instant, time slowed. Her breath caught. Not from awe—but primal, instinctive fear.
His gaze wasn't human. It didn't just see her.
It consumed her.
Like a god peering into the soul of an ant.
She felt her heart seize in her chest, her ribs tighten as though the very air around her had turned to lead. Each step he took toward her bent the space around him, the pressure swelling like a silent scream.
And then...
Something changed.
Something... unexpected.
With nothing but a glance, the wreckage binding her trembled—then rose, weightless, as if the laws of gravity bent to his will. No sound. No gesture. Just power.
Silent. Effortless.
He stepped forward, knelt beside her, and gently lifted her broken frame into his arms. His touch was strangely gentle... almost reverent.
Around them, the world burned.
Sirens wailed like distant screams. Power lines crackled, raining sparks like falling stars.
The sky bled orange, swallowed by the inferno consuming what remained of Tokyo.
Barely clinging to consciousness, Iris looked up, her vision blurring at the edges. Her lips parted, breath shallow.
"W-What... are you...?"
He looked down, eyes glowing like twin suns behind a mask of calm.
His voice was low. Emotionless. Final.
"...A human."
The screen began to fade—slowly zooming into his golden eyes, where flames danced and reflected the ruin of a dying city.
Cut to black.