October 22, 2029, 7:34 PM. Tokyo, bustling and vibrant city, is at its peak of activity. The sky tonight is breathtakingly clear, a deep azure canvas where twinkling stars in the Milky Way seem to hold an enchanting magic, captivating anyone who gazes upward.
Amid the crowded city, two girls sit together on a stone bench in a park quieter than usual.
"Nomi-chan, try this!" Shion holds out a string of candied hawthorns she just bought.
"Ugh, no—I told you I don't like sweets…" Nozomi raises a hand to refuse, but before she can finish, Shion pops the candy into her mouth.
"Eat it! You keep saying no, but I told you today you're not allowed to refuse!"
Nozomi says nothing, simply taking the candied hawthorns and starting to eat. Though she dislikes sweets, this isn't too bad.
Tsukimura Nozomi and Kagurazaka Shion are childhood friends, inseparable since they were little. Their homes are close, and they've attended the same schools through every grade, making them as close as family. Shion is the outgoing, energetic type, easily befriending others, while Nozomi is calmer, preferring solitude over company. Yet, Shion always drags her along, and over time, Nozomi has grown used to it, no longer protesting.
Today is no different.
Nozomi had planned to stay home and watch movies, but Shion showed up at her doorstep, insisting they go out. Knowing Shion wouldn't give up, Nozomi reluctantly agreed. She assumed Shion had a plan, but Shion's vague "We'll go wherever feels right" left Nozomi speechless. They wandered through Tokyo, but the crowded city center drove them to this quieter park.
While Shion chatters happily about her snacks and stories, Nozomi sits silently, gazing at the sky. For some reason, the sky feels different tonight. The stars seem more vivid, almost… larger, as if they're drawing closer to Earth.
Nozomi chuckles, dismissing her wild imagination.
"What's that? What's so funny, Nomi-chan? Tell me!" Shion demands.
"Nothing, just some silly thoughts," Nozomi replies casually.
Shion puffs out her cheeks. "You're always thinking weird stuff. Bet you're imagining something bad's about to happen, right?"
Nozomi's expression stiffens slightly—Shion's guess hits too close to home.
"Knew it!" Shion grins.
They continue their back-and-forth chatter until Nozomi suddenly hears an odd sound, prompting her to scan their surroundings.
"What's wrong, Nomi-chan?"
"Did you hear that?" Nozomi asks, her senses on high alert as she searches for the source, but finds nothing.
"Huh? I didn't hear anything. Are you overthinking and hallucinating now?" Shion says, her tone light, though Nozomi's seriousness makes her a bit uneasy. She tries to reassure herself
Nozomi frowns. She wishes it were just her imagination, but the sound persists, unlike any song or noise she's ever heard.
"I can hear it…" She whispers.
Closing her eyes, Nozomi focuses. The sound is like a whisper… no, a melody, but distorted, chillingly warped. It reverberates, weaving through the cold breeze, and strangely, it doesn't come from any specific direction. It's as if the entire sky is singing.
She shudders. "No… this isn't my imagination," Nozomi murmurs.
Shion tilts her head, growing worried. "Nomi-chan, you okay? You look really pale…"
Nozomi tend to respond, but the sky abruptly changes. The vibrant, starry night shifts to a deep, blood-red hue. The stars transform, no longer twinkling but glaring down like enormous, unblinking eyes.
The wind picks up—not the crisp autumn breeze, but a heavy, electric gust carrying the scent of metal. Trees around them tremble, and the strange sound grows clearer, more sinister. Now, Shion hears it too.
"What… what is that?" Shion stammers, leaping to her feet and staring upward. "Nozomi… Nozomi, do you see this…?"
Nozomi stands, her eyes fixed on a single point: high above, where the stars converge, swirling into a strange circle that tears open a rift in the sky.
From this cosmic fissure, a bizarre entity emerges. Its form vaguely resembles a human, but something is profoundly wrong—a dissonance that makes it hard to breathe when looking at it. Sprouting from its back are dark, majestic wings, woven from pure shadow, unfurling with an eerie, mesmerizing grace.
It wears a long, ceremonial robe, like those of ancient priests, but its seams glow with crimson threads, as if stitched with dried blood. In its hands, it clutches a thick book—its cracked leather cover bound by iron chains, emanating a frigid, forbidden aura, as if opening it would unleash unspeakable horrors.
Its face is obscured by a thin white veil—not enough to block sight, but sufficient to prevent anyone from glimpsing its true visage. Its very existence feels like something that should not be witnessed.
Behind it, more entities emerge, each resembling a twisted blend of human and angel. They carry grotesque instruments: a violin with strings of red sinew, a harp framed by curved bones, a trumpet exhaling gray, icy mist…
They say nothing, moving in silent procession, like a sacred yet perverse funeral orchestra preparing to play the first notes of an apocalypse.
Nozomi and Shion aren't alone in witnessing this. Across Tokyo, people react: some panic, others excitedly pull out phones to record, and the devout fall to their knees, tears streaming as they believe they're beholding divinity.
After a deathly silence, the grotesque entourage begins to move. Those holding instruments raise them with solemn reverence, as if preparing for a warped religious rite. Their skeletal hands glide over strings, keys, and valves, as though they've awaited this moment for millennia.
The entity with the book remains still, save for its hands, which weave intricate, unnatural patterns. Its fingers twist and contort, tracing cryptic symbols in the air. No incantations are spoken, yet the atmosphere freezes under an invisible weight.
Before it, the floating book trembles violently. The chains binding it, etched with glowing runes, flare red before crumbling like ash in a fire. The world holds its breath as the book's cover slowly creaks open.
And then—BOOM!
A cataclysmic shockwave erupts from the void, so powerful it shakes the earth as if it might split apart. Distant skyscrapers sway, streetlights snap, and windows shatter like torn paper. No one has time to react. The roar of an awakened planet drowns out all else.
Then, the music begins.
The violin's notes twist like the wails of tormented souls. The trumpet's breath is a chilling dirge, echoing like a death knell. The drums pound with the rhythm of a monstrous heartbeat stirring from an abyss.
This apocalyptic symphony isn't meant to soothe—it's meant to tear the world asunder.
Those nearby scream in agony, their eyes glazing over, bodies collapsing as if their souls have been drained. Some fall lifeless, others stand frozen, their gazes hollow, as if the music has lured their minds to a place from which there's no return.
Then, the sky—
The stars begin to fall. Streaks of fire slice through the heavens like divine blades, but these are no ordinary meteors.
Upon impact, each star explodes into a ghostly halo of light, unleashing invisible shockwaves that ripple through the surroundings. This catastrophe isn't confined to Tokyo—across the globe, bustling cities and towering metropolises crumble to dust under the destructive force of these cosmic weapons.
But that's not all…
From the glowing bursts, a strange mist spreads, like smoke from another realm. This "stardust virus" begins to infect everything.
Survivors twist grotesquely, their bodies contorting unnaturally. Faces distort, skin blisters and peels, replaced by scales, fur, or something inhuman. Vegetation shifts, green leaves turning black or red, stretching like living creatures. Animals flee in panic but can't escape their fate, sprouting extra limbs or growing a third, crimson eye on their foreheads.
In mere minutes, the world becomes alien. Tokyo, once aglow with neon, now bathes in an eerie, otherworldly light, the haunting music unending.
Amid the chaos, the book-wielding entity stands like a regal conductor, orchestrating its macabre ensemble in a farewell to this world. From an angle unseen by all, a warped smile curls beneath its veiled face.