The night had fallen silent — too silent.
Toshio Shinji sat by the window of his small apartment, staring out into the drizzle-slick streets of Natsukawa City. The neon lights reflected on the wet pavement, painting streaks of blue and pink that bled together like forgotten dreams. He could hear the echo of laughter from somewhere distant — a memory perhaps — but here, within his room, there was only the hum of the refrigerator and the rhythmic tap of rain against glass.
He had barely slept since that evening at the train station — the evening when she appeared.
Lyra.
A girl whose voice had echoed inside his mind, soft and trembling, as if whispered from another world.
"Do you remember me… Toshio?"
He didn't. But the way she said his name — as though it meant everything — haunted him.
He ran a hand through his golden hair, his reflection flickering faintly in the glass. The fatigue in his eyes betrayed him — dark circles like shadows of unspoken truths. He thought of Sora, his childhood friend and next-door neighbor, the one he'd tried so hard to protect. And yet, even her smile now felt distant, as if part of a story he was no longer living in.
"Lyra… who are you?" he whispered to the empty room.
The lamp beside him flickered.
The air shifted.
Then, just like before — her voice returned.
"You're not supposed to remember yet."
Toshio froze.
The sound wasn't in the room — it was inside him. A whisper against his thoughts, a vibration beneath his skin. His pulse quickened as he rose from the chair, scanning the shadows.
"Who are you?" he demanded aloud. "Show yourself!"
Silence. Then — the faint shimmer of light by the mirror.
A silhouette formed — faint, translucent, like moonlight given shape.
Lyra stood before him again. Long silver hair cascaded like liquid glass, her eyes glowing softly with ethereal blue light. She wasn't entirely human; her form flickered at the edges, data-like distortions rippling through her presence.
"You're… real?" he breathed.
She tilted her head, a fragile smile curving her lips.
"Real enough. For now."
Her voice — it carried sadness. Regret.
"Why do I keep hearing your voice in my dreams?" he asked, stepping closer. "Why do you keep calling my name?"
Lyra looked at him — really looked.
"Because you once promised me," she said softly. "You said you'd find me… even if the worlds broke apart."
Toshio blinked, confusion clouding his thoughts. "Promised you? I don't—"
The mirror shattered.
The sound was sharp and clean — like a scream turned to glass.
And suddenly, the world tilted.
He stumbled back, shielding his face from the shards. But when he opened his eyes again, his apartment was gone.
Instead, he stood in a vast white void. The ground beneath his feet shimmered like polished marble, endless and perfect. The air felt heavy, yet there was no sound except for the faint echo of his own heartbeat.
"Where… am I?"
Lyra's voice came again, from everywhere at once.
"Inside the echo."
He turned — she was there, standing barefoot on the glasslike floor, her expression unreadable.
"The echo of what?" he asked.
"Of your heart," she whispered. "The world of shattered voices. This is where the memories you've tried to forget come to hide."
A tremor rippled through the air. Around them, fragments of light began to rise — like floating shards of glass, each one containing scenes, faces, and laughter. Toshio reached out to one — and froze.
Inside the shard, he saw himself — younger, smiling — standing beside Lyra.
They were holding hands beneath a dying star.
"No way…" he whispered. "That's not possible."
"It was," Lyra said, stepping closer. "Before you were reborn."
Toshio turned sharply. "Reborn? What are you talking about?"
"You don't remember because you're not supposed to. You chose to forget — to live again, free of your past. But…" her voice broke slightly, "…you can't run from what your heart remembers."
The world pulsed with light. More shards floated upward, each carrying a glimpse of forgotten time — battles, tears, laughter, fire.
And then — a scream.
Toshio's breath caught. Inside one of the shards, he saw Lyra falling, her hands outstretched toward him.
"Toshio, don't—!"
The shard shattered into mist.
He stumbled forward, trembling. "I did that? I let you fall?"
Lyra didn't answer. Instead, she touched his cheek gently.
"Not all promises can be kept… but some can still be redeemed."
He closed his eyes, feeling the strange warmth of her touch. It wasn't physical — yet it reached him deeper than anything had in years.
"Then tell me what to do," he said. "Tell me how to fix this."
Lyra stepped back, her form flickering again.
"You must awaken the core. Only then can the echoes align."
"Core? What core—?"
Before he could finish, the entire world trembled violently. The floating shards began to collapse, spinning faster and faster until they became a storm of light. Lyra turned, her eyes suddenly filled with urgency.
"They found us."
"Who—?!"
"Wake up, Toshio!"
The storm imploded.
He gasped — eyes flying open — and found himself back in his apartment, on the floor, the lamp still flickering faintly. The mirror was whole again. The rain had stopped.
But his heart was pounding like thunder.
"Was that… a dream?" he whispered. His hands were shaking. On his palm, however, glowed a faint, blue symbol — one that pulsed softly with light.
It was her mark.
A knock at the door startled him. He jumped, grabbing a shirt before opening it.
Sora stood there, eyes wide with concern. "Toshio! Are you okay? I heard something break."
He blinked, trying to form words. "I… I think I just saw her again."
Sora frowned. "Who?"
He hesitated. "Lyra."
Something flickered in Sora's gaze — a hint of fear, or maybe jealousy.
"Toshio," she said slowly, "there's no one by that name living here."
"I know. But I still saw her."
For a moment, neither spoke. Then, Sora reached out, brushing a piece of glass from his shoulder. "You've been having too many dreams lately. Maybe you should rest."
He smiled weakly. "Maybe."
But as she turned to leave, Lyra's whisper echoed once more — faint, hidden beneath the hum of silence.
"She's lying to you."
Toshio froze.
He turned to look at Sora, but she was already walking down the hallway.
His hand clenched. The mark on his palm pulsed brighter.
"Sora… what aren't you telling me?"
Outside, thunder rolled across the city. The storm was coming back — and with it, the voices.