???'s POV
The sun set here in Nagoya, Japan, the home of our old Dystopian sector, the Ikigami Order. I, a death creature as an Ikigami Messenger named Ren Nishimura, admitted that we basically came straight from the Japanese movie "Ikigami: The Ultimate Limit", a source material our former master Kal Black had used for his twisted reign over this world. As I placed white lilies and burn incense sticks on the marble gravestone of one of my victims, 18-year-old engineering college student Sakura Nishimura, I couldn't help but remembered that day, the dark day when the last human on earth, Francisco Alissenda, was killed in his Valencian home by one of our fellow death creatures as a Fahrenheit 451 fireman named Ceo and Kal was overthrown by the death creatures in the Colosseum and into the fiery Abyss. On that day, when Kal's spell broke, I had also killed Sakura 24 hours after I had given her a death notice. The nano-capsule that had been planted in her childhood had claimed her life for the sake of this wretched prosperity for the state. I still remember the time when she collapsed on the sidewalk in Nagoya and puked out blood from her mouth. As she died, I cried and clutched her body while disregarding my black suit and tie being stained by her blood. She was the last human here in Nagoya. The silence and guilt were absolutely so bad that the only thing we hear other than the sirens of the ambulances and cremation fire and rites at funeral parlors are our cries. The silence turned our city into a silent wasteland of empty skyscrapers, neighborhoods, buildings, and institutions aside from the headquarters of our sector.
After that grueling week of funerals and cremation rites, we burned the stacks of death notices and boxes of the nano capsules in public bonfires. We condemned them as harbingers of the loss of humans. I also took a step further when I started crossing out the names signed in some death notices and replaced them with the Japanese words for "Nobody" before tossing them into the blazing bonfires.
3 years since the Dark Day, we are now running the city. Some of us took the last names of our precious young victims and moved into their abandoned homes and continued their unfinished lives both for ourselves and for them. We run the city, alongside some death creatures as regular civilians who settled here and provided company for us. The screens of our sector now display the photos of our victims and announce and declare when they had died with commemoration on the exact timestamps of their final 24 hours after receiving these wretched, demonic death notices.
"Tiago Kurosawa," the screen from a nearby shopping district announced with solemn sincerity. "21, Japanese Brazilian. One who loved football, Brazilian cuisine, and had once wished to travel to Brazil for a vacation but wasn't able to do so. We are sorry, Tiago-san. To anyone who was interested in traveling to Brazil for a few days or more, I suggested doing so. That is not mandatory. That is your choice, your free will. Thank you for this afternoon."
Tiago died at 5:21 p.m., three years ago.
I teared up a bit and eventually prayed for his soul and Sakura, whose last name was honored by me.
I eventually left the cemetery and returned to Sakura's home in the suburbs by train, planning to finish that assignment of hers for her finals in her third year.