First, he grabbed the pliers. He grabbed one of the branches that stretched across his forearm, held it tight with the tool, and pulled hard.
The thing didn't budge. Not even a little. It was like trying to tear off his own skin.
He tried harder, the muscles in his left arm tensing with the effort, but the device remained absolutely immobile.
"Come on... come off!" he grunted, pulling even harder.
Nothing.
Giving up on the pliers, he picked up the scissors. Maybe he could cut it. He positioned the blade against the object and began to squeeze.
Again, nothing happened.
He tried again, this time with the knife. Same result. It didn't matter if he used the blade or the tip of the knife; it was useless.
"This doesn't make sense," he muttered, dropping the knife on the bed. "Is it indestructible? What kind of material could it be made of?"
Shouta spent the next hour trying different approaches, theorizing, and jotting down observations in an old notebook. Maybe it was nanotechnology. Or alien biotechnology. Or some combination of both. It was definitely extraterrestrial; there was no doubt about that. Nothing on Earth could create something like this, not that he knew of.
He was so engrossed in his thoughts and experiments that he didn't even notice the time passing. Only when he heard the door downstairs open did he look out the window and see that it was already night. The street lights were on, and the sky was completely dark.
"Already?" he muttered, checking the clock on the wall. Almost eight o'clock. His parents had arrived.
He heard their familiar footsteps coming up the stairs, and his heart raced. Part of him wanted to hide the device, make up some excuse, pretend nothing had happened. But another part, the stronger part, was excited to show them his discovery.
After all, they were his parents. They could help. They could tell him what to do, whether he should go to the doctor, or whether he should keep it a secret. Yes, he should definitely tell them.
Knock knock.
The knock on the door came, but something was wrong. The rhythm was different, faster, stronger, almost urgent. His mother always knocked slowly and gently, three soft knocks. His father never knocked; he just opened the door after calling his name.
But this... this was different.
Shouta froze for a moment, a strange sensation running down his spine. The device on his arm seemed to pulse, as if it were also reacting to something.
Then excitement took over. Maybe it was the police. Or scientists. Someone who had seen the meteor fall and had come to investigate. Someone who might have answers!
Quickly, he kicked the tools under the bed and stood up. He kept his right arm hidden under his shirt pocket, not yet ready to reveal everything at once, and walked quickly toward the door.
His left hand touched the cold doorknob. He took a deep breath once. Twice.
Then he turned and pulled the door open.
What he saw on the other side sent a chill down his spine.
It definitely wasn't his parents.
It was a woman. Tall, incredibly tall, maybe six feet.
Shouta looked up at her.
She wore mid-calf boots with heels, in a shade of brown. A long dark blue dress, with a high collar, long sleeves with a slight volume at the shoulders... and a large volume at the breasts.
But the most striking thing was her face.
She was young, perhaps in her late twenties, and incredibly beautiful. Delicate but sharp features, fair peach-colored skin, red lips that contrasted sharply with her dark uniform. But what caught his attention most was her hair, long silver hair with blue highlights, extending into two braids: one covering her face and the other falling behind her head.
The eye he could see, a piercing dark purple, stared at him with an intensity that made every muscle in his body want to retreat.
There was something deeply wrong with her. It wasn't just her intimidating appearance or her presence that seemed to suck all the oxygen out of the hallway. It was something deeper, more primal. An ancient instinct screaming in his mind: danger.
The woman didn't smile. She didn't make any sudden movements. She just stared at him for a long moment, those purple eyes analyzing every detail of his face, briefly descending to the arm hidden in his pocket before returning to his eyes.
When she finally spoke, her voice was soft. Almost melodious. And somehow, that made her even more frightening.
"Hello boy."