"Morning light warms my face and pulls me out of sleep.
Everything looks normal… but something feels off, like the day is holding its breath and waiting for me to notice."
Thump!
"Onii-chaaaan! Wake up!!"
A surprisingly heavy weight landed on his chest.
"Urgh!" he rasped, blinking up at his little sister's triumphant grin.
Rino, eight years old, twin tails already escaping their bows—bounced on him like she'd just conquered Mount Fuji.
"Rino… seriously," Daiki groaned.
It's barely six.
She puffed her cheeks. "Doesn't matter! We're suppose to practice katas before school. And today I will perfect that spinning kick!"
Despite the rude awakening, a fond smile tugged at his lips.
"Okay, okay." He eased her off and set her down. "Ten minutes."
"Ten minutes is an eternity on the path of greatness!" she declared, striking a pose that nearly toppled her.
"The morning waits for no one, and neither does a true warrior's training!"
Daiki chuckled, ruffling her hair.
"Yeah, yeah, the morning and the warrior. Ten minutes, and then we unleash our inner samurai."
—
By the time he came downstairs, the comforting aroma of Akemi's cooking filled the house.
Rino, now in uniform, sat perched on their father's stomach, watching morning news with half-interest. Takeshi lay beneath her, "snoring" loud enough to shake the floorboards.
"Morning, sleepyhead," Akemi said warmly, moving between stove and table. "Sleep well?"
"As well as someone can after a small gremlin used them as a trampoline," he said, sending Rino a look that made her giggle.
Takeshi cracked one eye open. "She gets her stealth from her old man."
Akemi smacked his arm lightly.
"Oh, please," she scoffed.
Energy, stubbornness, drama… she gets those from both of you. Now—table, all of you. We have a busy day ahead.
Breakfast became the usual cheerful mess: Rino reenacting her school play, Takeshi explain physics with ridiculous metaphors, Akemi keeping bowls full.
To the neighbors, Daiki was polite and studious.
But here, he was simply Onii-chan, the anchor holding this warm little storm together.
"Onii-chan, you'll walk me to school, right?" Rino asked, hopeful eyes big as planets.
"Of course." He ruffled her hair again.
Someone has to make sure my little sister's enthusiasm doesn't burn the whole place down.
She grinned, and their laughter echoed along the quiet Osaka streets…. completely unaware their world would be unrecognizable by nightfall.
—
The school day started like any other.
Nothing special. Nothing weird.
Daiki slipped into his seat, As he prepared his notes, a cheerful voice chirped up from right in front of his desk.
"Yo, Tsuwano-kun!"
He looked up, and there she was — Aiko.
Messy brown hair, bright smile, energy like a light switched on.
"Ah, good morning, Aiko-san," Daiki replied.
What'cha working on? she asked, leaning way too close to his notes.
''Just reviewing for Mr. Tanaka's history lecture."
All those epic battles and dramatic love stories… basically a real-life anime!" she said with playful wave of her hand, like she wasn't even sure what she meant.
Daiki chuckled.
"Pretty sure Mr. Tanaka would prefer a... slightly more academic approach."
"Easy for you to say, Mr. Top-of-the-Class!" she teased, wagging a finger at him.
He rubbed his neck, slightly embarrassed.
"Well… I am hopeless at sports, so I have to be decent at something."
Their voices blended back into the normal classroom chaos — jocks yelling near the windows, gossipers whispering in the back, someone sleeping, someone reading like finals were tomorrow.
And at the edge of it all, a lone girl with long black hair and silver-gray eyes sat silently, gaze fixed on Daiki with unreadable intensity.
Then… suddenly,
A faint hum slipped through the chatter. Too soft to place, but weird enough to make his skin prickle.
The air cracked.
A glowing circle burned itself into the floor, ancient-looking symbols flaring awake.
Fog exploded outward, swallowing desks and voices whole.
Screams erupted. Chairs toppled. Students scattered.
In her panic, Aiko seized Daiki's arm, clinging tight, pressing against him.
Daiki froze, suddenly and acutely aware of her softness.
His breath hitched.
"H-huh?! W-what's happening?!" she cried, her grip tightening.
Terror gripped him—yet beneath it pulsed something eerily familiar, like a memory whispering…. You've seen this before.
The fog thickened
Daiki blinked...
And the classroom was empty.
"Aiko, the students, Mr. Tanaka's history notes—gone.
Only the magic circle remained, pulsing, dying, the last trace of the impossible."
What… What just happened? he whispered.
A deep, resonant sound like a thousand angry bass strings vibrating at once, shook the empty room.
Daiki turned toward the window.
And that's when the world broke.
—
Dozens of shimmering portals tore open across the sky,
Reality itself peeling apart, bleeding light and shadow.
Daiki blinked. Then again.
Nope—still there.
He stumbled toward the school gate, nerves scrambling for any explanation.
But everything outside had already ramped from "weird" to oh-crap-I'm-dead in half a second.
From the portals Creatures poured free—
insectoid giants, reptilian beasts, shapeless horrors each more terrifying than the last.
Daiki's throat tightened.
"No way…" he whispered.
This can't be real. First my classmates vanished… and now—this? This isn't—this isn't a prank, Is it?!"
A portal boiled open above the school.
A creature leapt through—landed on the pavement—
and casually swallowed a bus.
"Nope. Nope. That one just ate a bus. Definitely not a prank."
His voice trembled.
"New plan—don't die. Ha. Yeah, like I've ever been good at plans."
He didn't linger to admire the apocalypse.
Screams tore through Osaka. Fire engulfed buildings. Shadows twisted, alive.
Some ran. Others froze.
Daiki froze behind a toppled vending machine, absurdly thinking:
Jurassic Park rules. Stay still. Maybe they won't notice.
A chunk of masonry slammed down inches from him, exploding into dust.
"Shit—too close," he wheezed, chest burning, a broken laugh escaping him.
"Crushed by bricks. Not even a monster. That'd be about right."
—
As the initial panic faded, dread crept in like a rising tide.
He had to get home.
"The closer he drew, the heavier the air grew—thick enough to choke on."
"Something's wrong," he breathed.
His street was unnervingly silent.
The front gate hung open, swaying like an omen.
The silence pressed against his eardrums, heavy, unnatural.
His pulse hammered. He swallowed hard, then pushed the gate with trembling fingers.
The house greeted him with nothing but shadows.
Each step creaked too loud. The faint metallic tang in the air made his stomach twist, but still he forced himself forward.
Then—
He froze.
Breath gone.
Thoughts gone.
His mother dangled in a grotesque grip, head lolling, eyes glassy, lifeless.
"Her shoulder… gone.
A gaping wound revealed shattered bone and torn muscle, blood ticking down like the hands of a broken clock."
Daiki's head shook. No. No.
His gaze rose—slowly, unwillingly.
His heart thundered.
One of them.
The insectoid creature loomed over her—tall, disturbingly slender, its two ant-like legs supporting a body of wet, gleaming chitin.
Its mandibles clicked and worked with methodical precision, carving and consuming as if she were nothing more than meat.
Bile clawed up his throat.
Nearby lay his father, a ruin of blood and splintered bone.
His head and shoulders were simply… gone.
One arm stretched outward, rigid—frozen in a final, useless attempt to protect.
And in the corner—
"Rino…"
Curled up like a broken doll, arms locked around her knees.
Her eyes stared ahead—wide, empty, unblinking.
Tears slid down her cheeks in silence.
No sobbing.
No breath.
Nothing.
As if her voice had been stolen along with her innocence.
Something inside Daiki cracked.
A cold, empty feeling punched through his chest. His mind barely worked everything was just noise.
Only one thought forced its way through the mess:
He couldn't lose her too.
He saw it—the shotgun. Inches from his father's outstretched hand.
His legs trembled, but he turned—because Rino was still breathing. And that meant he couldn't stop.
He lurched forward, faster than thought, fingers clawing at the shotgun. The cold metal bit his palms as he wrenched it free and seized Rino's hand.
"Rino, move!" His voice cracked, raw and desperate.
Her hand was ice. Dead weight. She didn't answer, didn't even blink—just stared through him, hollowed out by shock.
He hauled her up, slinging the shotgun, dragging her upright on legs that barely remembered how to walk.
"We're leaving—now!"
No answer. Only silence.
They stumbled out of the house, and the image of his parents' shredded bodies followed, clinging to him like a stain he could never wash away.
Behind them, the insect's mandibles clicked, wet and hungry, echoing like laughter scraped out of bone.
They ran.
Rino sagged against him, soundless sobbing, her legs refusing to obey. He half-carried, half-dragged her, every nerve screaming for escape, his body moving faster than thought could keep up.
They didn't look back. They couldn't. The monsters, the portals, the ruins of their home—every piece of their life—all of it was behind them now.
Only survival remained.
Their ragged gasps tore through the air.
And then—
It appeared.
Not behind. Ahead.
The creature moved impossibly fast, as if it had slipped through reality itself.
Teleportation? No—there was no time for questions.
Rino cowered behind him, her small frame trembling, eyes wide with terror.
I can't let her die here. The thought blazed through him, adrenaline burning away fear.
He shoved her back, raised the shotgun, and fired.
The blast tore through the air. The creature jerked back, sparks skittering off its shell>>> but there wasn't a single mark on it. It recovered instantly, way too fast.
It lunged.
Agony tearing through Daiki's body—a searing pain like lightning splitting him apart. His vision spun, the world twisting sideways, up becoming down.
Everything blurred.
His eyes fluttered. The gray haze thickened.
Somewhere, faint and trembling, Rino's voice reached him.
"Onii-chan…?"
His thoughts fractured, slipping into the dark.
I'm sorry… Mom… Dad…
And then—nothing.
The void swallowed him.
* * *