In the middle of the night, stars shine like celestial beacons painting the sky like a serene canvas, while fireworks lit up the sky a stark contrast to stars in the sky.
In a breath, the night sky shattered. Not with a crash, but with a silent, brilliant bloom of light. A rocket, a whisper of silver, arced upward and burst into a fountain of liquid gold. It hung for a moment, shimmering, before drifting down in a gentle, glittering rain.
Then, a constellation of crimson and sapphire exploded across the darkness. The colors bled into one another, swirling like a dream and leaving behind trails of emerald dust. They sizzled and popped, each tiny sound a fleeting heartbeat in the immense silence of the night.
The city streets, once quiet and apathetic, now hummed with a life of their own. A sea of people, shoulder to shoulder, filled the avenues. Laughter and shouts of "Happy New Year!" echoed off the buildings, a joyous chorus that drowned out the distant rumble of cars.
Confetti, a blizzard of color, swirled in the air, catching the glow of the streetlights before settling on upturned faces and tangled in hair.
Hugs were exchanged freely, and strangers became friends for a single, fleeting moment. The air crackled with excitement and hope, a collective breath held and released as the clock struck midnight.
There was an intoxicating sense of possibility, a shared belief that the coming year would be brighter, bolder, and more beautiful.
A young man named Yukio had exited a casino, The casino's facade is a monument to excess, its architecture lost beneath a frenetic tapestry of neon.
The lights don't simply illuminate; they dance and pulse, a fever dream of color. A stream of white strobes mimics a waterfall, spilling down the side of the building, while a massive marquee flashes in an endless loop of electric blue, fuchsia, and gold.
The air itself feels thick with the buzz of electricity, the hum of transformers and the silent, hypnotic flicker of bulbs. It's a beacon of artificial splendor, a siren song for the hopeful and the desperate, promising a world of chance and fortune within its gleaming, illuminated walls.
A quiet smile played on Yukio's lips, but his eyes, two dark pools, burned with a triumphant fire.
"It seems luck was on my side tonight,"
He said, the words a low rumble, almost to himself. The grin spread a little wider, crinkling the corners of his eyes.
"Yeah... I won big."
There was a finality to his voice, a quiet authority that left no room for doubt.
Yukio looked younger than his eighteen years, a slight frame at five-foot-nine, with a face that was both serious and surprisingly gentle.
A shock of deep black hair fell across his forehead, a stark contrast to the startling, almost piercing blue of his eyes.
In each ear, a small, silver earring glinted, a tiny symbol of his faith in fortune. He was dressed for comfort and function, not style—a faded green hoodie and a pair of well-worn, baggy jeans that pooled around his sneakers.
The clothes didn't hide his nervous energy, a slight bounce in his step and a constant adjusting of the hoodie's drawstrings as he spoke.
"173,425,500 yen,"
Yukio said, the numbers sounding immense yet strangely casual on his tongue. He pulled out his phone, his thumb tapping across the screen with practiced speed.
With a single press, he initiated the transfer, the fortune disappearing from his account and into the ether. Then, he typed out a message.
"It's time your lives got a lot easier. All of it is for you."
The message was short, simple, and filled with everything he couldn't say aloud.
Minutes later, in their cramped apartment, Yukio's parents sat at a small, cluttered kitchen table. The space was barely big enough for the two of them, and every inch was a testament to a life of scrimping and hard work.
Suddenly, his mother's phone chimed with a notification. Her eyes went wide. She stared at the screen, her breath catching in her throat, before she thrust it toward her husband.
"Look... just look at this,"
She stammered, her voice a thin whisper.
He squinted at the screen, and his face went from confusion to utter disbelief. The number was so long, so impossibly large, that he had to count the digits twice.
Then, a follow-up message from Yukio popped up.
"It's time your lives got a lot easier. All of it is for you."
A moment of stunned silence passed, a silence so profound it felt louder than any sound. Then, a laugh bubbled up from his mother, a single, joyous sob that was followed by her husband's own choked cry of disbelief.
They hugged each other tightly, their tears mixing with their ecstatic laughter.
"How, how did he get this?"
His father said, pulling out his own phone to call their son.
"Yukio, what did you do? Where did this money come from?"
The questions tumbled out, filled with a whirlwind of confusion, relief, and overwhelming joy, as they stared at the fortune now sitting in their account.
The joyous chaos in the small apartment rippled through the thin walls, right into the room Megumi shared with her brother. At sixteen, she valued her sleep, and the noise was far too much to ignore. She pushed herself up from the futon on the floor, her dark hair a mess around her cute, youthful face, and padded into the living room.
"What's all the fuss about?"
She grumbled, rubbing a sleepy eye.
"Some of us are trying to sleep, you know."
Her mother, Nozomi, a still-beautiful woman of forty-seven, was clutching her phone to her chest, her face wet with tears of joy.
Her father, Tsutomu, a fifty-year-old man whose hands were calloused from a lifetime of construction work, was just standing there, a look of stunned disbelief on his face.
"Your brother,"
Tsutomu began, his voice thick with emotion.
"He… he sent us money. A lot of it. He said our lives are going to be much easier now."
Megumi's sleepy haze vanished in an instant. She strode over to her mother and gently but firmly took the phone. Her sharp eyes scanned the messages, the impossibly large number, and the promise of a better life.
Her jaw dropped open. This wasn't some joke or small gift. This was a monumental change. A jolt of a thousand questions and a surge of disbelief hit her all at once.
She thrust the phone back at her mother and pulled out her own, dialing Yukio's number immediately. As soon as he answered, she said,
"Yukio, you better explain this right now! What in the world did you do?"
On the other end of the line, Yukio let out a deep, satisfied laugh.
"Don't worry, Megumi. I'll explain everything when I get home."