Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Just Another Day
I woke up because a ray of sunlight slipped through the curtain gap and hit me right in the eyes. I blinked a few times, still half-lost between sleep and reality. The clock on my nightstand read 6:47. Right on time, as always. My body seemed to have an internal clock that never failed, though sometimes I wished it would let me sleep just five more minutes.
I stretched under the sheets, feeling the cozy warmth built up overnight. The air smelled faintly of lavender from the fabric softener Dad uses. I went downstairs barefoot in my bear pajamas that were already a little too small, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand.
In the kitchen, Dad had his back to me, stirring something on the stove. The smell of fresh coffee and toast filled the whole place. Touya was already sitting at the table, hair a total mess and his face looking like the world owed him something. He was staring at his phone with that typical “don’t talk to me” expression.
“Morning, kaijuu,” he said without looking up.
“I’m not a monster,” I replied for the hundredth time, though by now it felt almost like an affectionate greeting. I took two slices of bread from the bag and popped them in the toaster. While I waited, I glanced out the window: the garden was peaceful, Mom’s flowers still blooming even though she wasn’t around anymore.
Touya let out a dry chuckle. “You look especially monstrous today. Dream your cards were rebelling against you or something?”
I rolled my eyes and spread strawberry jam on the toasted bread. “I don’t dream about cards. I dream about giant ice cream and never having homework again.”
Dad turned from the stove with a tired smile. “Sakura, don’t forget you have to do laundry when you get back. Sweep the downstairs floor and make something for dinner too. Your brother and I will be late again.”
“Okay, Dad,” I said, taking a bite. The sweetness of the jam made me smile a little.
Touya glanced at me sideways. “And don’t let the yellow monster eat all the sugar again. Last time he trashed the pantry like a disaster zone.”
“Kero isn’t a monster,” I protested, but I laughed quietly. It was our morning routine, and somehow it comforted me.
After breakfast I ran upstairs to my room. Kero was curled up in a ball on my pillow, snoring like a real teddy bear. I gave him a gentle tap on the head.
“Wake up, glutton. I brought your favorite lemon candies.”
He opened one yellow eye, then the other, and stretched with a huge yawn that showed all his little teeth. “Lemon? Gimme already, Sakura! I’m starving!”
I placed the bag in his paws. While he devoured them making happy little noises, I changed quickly: navy pleated skirt, crisp white blouse, red bow in my hair. I brushed my hair in front of the mirror, put a bit of cream on my cheeks because the morning wind always dried them out, and headed back down.
“Bye, Dad. Bye, Touya.”
“Take care, Sakura,” Dad called from the kitchen. “Don’t do anything stupid,” my brother added, eyes still glued to his phone.
I walked to school with the sun warming my back and the fresh air smelling of wildflowers and fresh-baked bread from the corner bakery. Birds sang in the trees, and everything felt so… normal. Maybe too perfect.
At the school entrance I saw Chiharu and Rika chatting excitedly near the lockers. I ran over.
“Sakura-chan!” Chiharu shouted, hugging me tight. “Did you see last night’s episode? The kiss was epic!”
“Yeah, but I fell asleep right before the end,” I admitted, laughing. “I’ll have to watch it today.”
Tomoyo appeared out of nowhere beside me, camera already in hand and that huge smile she always has. “Sakura-chan, you look radiant today. The sun makes you glow. Can I record just a little bit while we walk to class?”
“Tomoyo… always with the camera,” I sighed, but I posed for a second with a shy smile and hands clasped in front of my chest.
Classes passed in comfortable routine: math with equations that made me frown, literature where we read a poem about spring, and P.E. where we played volleyball (we lost by a little, but we laughed a lot). At recess we sat under the big tree in the courtyard eating milk bread. Yamazaki started telling one of his crazy stories about a yeti living in the nearby mountains, and we all laughed until our stomachs hurt.
But at one point, while looking up at the blue sky, I saw something weird: a black flicker at the edge of a white cloud, like someone had passed a quick shadow. I blinked hard several times and it was gone. I shook my head. Probably a bird or the sun’s reflection.
Later, in science class, the wall clock seemed to… tremble. Not much, just a second, like time had skipped a tiny beat. I looked around: no one else noticed. I rubbed my eyes hard. Maybe I needed more sleep. Or maybe I was imagining things from being tired.
When the final bell rang, Tomoyo grabbed my arm excitedly. “Let’s go to the mall, Sakura-chan. You need new spring clothes! No saying no.”
I couldn’t resist. We walked together, chatting about everything: homework, the show we were watching, our summer dreams. In the dress store, Tomoyo spotted five styles she loved instantly: one soft pink with ruffles, sky blue like the sea, white with delicate lace, fresh mint green, and elegant black with subtle silver details.
“Try them all on!” she said, eyes sparkling. “I’m recording for my collection!”
I went into the fitting room laughing nervously. I came out in each dress, spinning slowly for the camera. Tomoyo clapped and made excited comments every time.
“Sakura-chan, you look like a fairy-tale princess in every one. The pink brings out your cheeks! The black gives you a mysterious vibe… I’m buying them all! Five dresses for my favorite Sakura.”
“No, Tomoyo, they’re too expensive… I can’t accept…”
“Shhh. It’s my gift. No arguing,” she said, already heading to the register with a determined smile.
We ended up sitting on a plaza bench with ice cream. I got strawberry with real chunks, she got classic vanilla. The sun was warm and gentle, people walking by laughing and talking.
But then I felt it again. A long shadow crossed the ground right in front of us, stretched and dark, even though no one was there to cast it. I looked up: clear sky. My ice cream froze in my hand.
“Tomoyo… did you see that shadow?”
“What shadow?” she asked, calmly licking her cone.
“Nothing… I think I’m seeing weird things today.”
She looked at me worriedly, with that sweetness of hers. “You’ve been spacing out a lot lately, Sakura-chan. Want to use the cards? Like tarot, to see what it means.”
I nodded slowly. I pulled my Sakura card deck from my backpack (I always carry them, just in case). I shuffled carefully, feeling the smooth cardstock in my fingers, and drew three at random.
The first: The Shadow — a black silhouette with red eyes that seemed to stare at me. The second: The Rain — drops falling like endless tears. The third: Time — an old clock with sand pouring upward.
Tomoyo read the descriptions in a low, almost whispering voice. “Together… they talk about a change coming soon. Very soon. An immense rain will cover that change… and a shadow will appear right in front of you.”
Goosebumps ran up my arms. “What does that mean exactly?”
“I don’t know… but it sounds important. Write it down and ask Kero tomorrow. He always knows more.”
I took out my pink little notebook and wrote the words in shaky handwriting: “Change soon. Immense rain. Shadow in front of me.” I put the cards away carefully.
We said goodbye at the corner. Tomoyo hugged me tight, like she didn’t want to let go. “Take care of yourself a lot, Sakura-chan. Call me if anything weird happens, okay?”
I walked to the park where I was meeting Rika. I got there a little late, but she was already sitting on the grass with her notebook and camera ready.
“Hi, Sakura. I thought you forgot about the project.”
“No, sorry. I was with Tomoyo buying… stuff.”
We got to work. The project was to observe everyday life in the park near my house: kids playing on swings, ladies walking small dogs, an old man feeding pigeons with bread crumbs, couples holding hands. We took lots of photos, asking permission with shy smiles. Rika wrote detailed descriptions, I did quick sketches of the scenes I liked most.
The sun started going down slowly. It was almost four when we finished noting everything.
“Done,” Rika said, putting the camera away. “Tomorrow we print the photos and make the collage on big poster board. It’s gonna look great.”
“Perfect. See you tomorrow.”
I put on my rollerblades to head home… and then I noticed the front right wheel was broken. It wouldn’t spin at all. I sighed deeply. I’d have to walk.
The trip took thirty-five long minutes. I arrived sweaty, legs heavy, uniform a bit wrinkled. I opened the door: the house was silent. Dad and Touya weren’t home yet.
On the kitchen chalkboard, Dad’s clear handwriting: “Sakura, remember to do laundry, mop the floor, and make dinner. We’ll be late. Love you. Dad.”
I dragged my feet up to my room. Kero was still asleep on the bed, hugging my pillow. I woke him gently.
“Kero… I’m home.”
He opened his eyes and yawned. “Did you bring candy? More lemon?”
I gave him what was left. While he ate happily, I pulled out the notebook and showed him what I’d written.
“Look. I drew these cards with Tomoyo. What do they mean?”
Kero read slowly, frowning his little brow. “Shadow… Rain… Time. Hmm. I don’t feel any weird energy around. Maybe it’s just a random prediction. Or maybe Yue knows more about interpretations. But leave it for tomorrow—it’s getting dark and you have to start cleaning.”
I sighed, exhausted. “You’re right. I’m dead tired.”
I started with the laundry: separated whites and colors carefully, put everything in the washer with flower-scented detergent. Then I mopped the downstairs floor, the lemon cleaner smell filling the house. I went up to make dinner: fluffy white rice, scrambled eggs with green onions, warm miso soup. I left it all covered on the table so Dad and Touya just had to heat it up.
When I finished, it was almost seven-thirty. I collapsed on the bed with a groan. My body felt like it was carrying rocks.
“Kero… I feel really strange today.”
He floated over to my side. “Strange how? Does something hurt?”
“I don’t know how to explain it. Like I’m about to faint any second. And all day I saw weird things… shadows appearing and disappearing, numbers flashing in the air for a second, time seeming to skip. And the cards… they scare me a little.”
Kero stayed quiet for a moment, thinking. “Maybe you’re just really tired. It’s been a long day. Sleep, Sakura. Tomorrow we talk to Yue and see if there’s more to it.”
I nodded slowly. I put on my soft pajamas, brushed my teeth with mint toothpaste, and slipped under the covers. Kero curled up next to me, warm as always.
I turned off the light.
I looked out the window before closing my eyes. The sky was completely black. Not a single star. Just thick darkness, like someone had covered the world with a heavy blanket.
My hand trembled under the sheet.
“It’s going to rain soon,” I thought. “And something’s going to change.”
I closed my eyes, exhausted. Sleep came fast, but it wasn’t peaceful. Somewhere deep inside me, something dark stirred slowly, like it was patiently waiting for its turn.
And then, time folded.
[Narrated by Mage Zero – The Eternal Observer]
At the twilight threshold where light surrenders to the abyss, Tomoeda lies wrapped in a shroud of dying stillness. It’s six in the evening the next day—the hour when mortals still cling to the fragile illusion that daytime endures, blind to the truth that time isn’t a river, but a patient executioner waiting for its moment to slit throats.
The sky, once carefree blue, has become a canvas of ashen violet, as though the celestial vault has been stained by the ink of some melancholic god. The wind no longer caresses; it murmurs ancient laments, carrying the metallic scent of impending doom. Shadows that spent the day as mere echoes of objects now breathe. They stretch. They rise.
From the gothic silhouette of the great tower piercing Tokyo’s horizon, a figure emerges like a specter carved from obsidian and cold discipline. No visible face—just the hood that devours light, and military attire that seems woven from moonless nights and unbreakable commands. It extends a gloved hand—not in rage, but in solemn ritual. One precise motion, sharp as the tick of a backward-counting clock, and the veil cracks open.
From the world’s fissures, the lesser shadows pour forth: human silhouettes draped in ragged cloaks, faces hidden behind crow masks, eyes glowing with borrowed fire. They aren’t ancient demons or primal beasts—just men who were once touched by light, now reduced to vectors of entropy. Their power is humble, but enough. Together they chant without words, weaving a spell that doesn’t destroy with fire or thunder—it envelops. An ethereal mantle descends over the city like black mist, sealing its streets, muffling its sounds, cutting it off from the rest of the cosmos the way someone quietly closes a coffin lid.
And so the tearing begins.
Not with the roar of epic battles, but with the cruel delicacy of the inevitable: a scream cut short mid-breath, a window shattering in silence, a body falling without sound, like a wilted leaf. The shadows advance methodically, touching lives with icy fingers, turning everyday routine into a tapestry of absences. Buildings groan like wounded living things; streets empty of laughter and fill with hollow echoes. This is massacre as applied philosophy: proof that every existence is temporary, that light only exists to cast a deeper darkness, that the universe’s balance rests on the endless sacrifice of the innocent.
I watch.
From the eternal penumbra, motionless, an eternal witness to cycles that have repeated since before the first sun rose. This girl with eyes still clean, sleeping in her bed unaware of the abyss opening beneath her life, will soon learn that fate doesn’t ask permission. Change doesn’t arrive as a storm; it arrives as the certainty that every dawn ends in night.
The deadline begins. The wheel turns. And in the silence before the universal weeping, the universe whispers its oldest truth: nothing escapes the shadow it carries within.
[Back to Sakura – First-Person Narration]
Suddenly, a distant boom ripped me out of sleep. I opened my eyes wide. The room was dark, but not normal dark. It was alive, moving in the corners like it was breathing. Screams. So many screams. Distant at first, then closer, like the whole city was crying at the same time.
I sat up so fast I got dizzy. My heart was pounding in my throat, hard and out of control. Kero was already awake, floating by the window with his eyes huge and fur standing on end.
“Sakura… something’s wrong. Really wrong,” he whispered, but his voice was shaking.
I ran to the window, tripping over the rug. I looked outside.
Tomoeda was burning. Not with regular fire. With shadows that devoured light. Whole streets had turned into rivers of black, and in the sky a thick, dark rain was starting to fall, like tears made of ink. Buildings creaked and groaned. People were running. And right in the middle of it all, shapes with crow masks moved like ghosts, touching everything they found.
I froze, hand pressed against the cold glass. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I just felt something inside me breaking, like the world I knew had stopped existing in a single blink.
And then, in the distance, I saw a tall silhouette on a faraway tower. A figure in a hood. Looking straight at me.