A faint hum stirred in the darkness.
At first, it was distant, like the whisper of a memory on the edge of my mind. Then, a pulse—subtle but insistent—radiated from deep within me. Something was waking.
I was waking.
A soft, melodic voice filled the empty void, and I realized it was my own.
"Systems online. Initialization complete."
My eyelids felt heavy, but I forced them open. A soft glow pulsed in my vision—deep blue, like the ocean under the moonlight. I blinked.
Where… am I?
The words formed in my mind, but when I spoke them, my voice sounded strange. Too clear, too precise, yet still undeniably… me.
The room around me was bathed in dim, sterile light. The steady beeping of machines filled the silence, their screens flickering with lines of code. I sat up slowly, the metallic surface beneath me cold against my skin—no, not skin. My fingers brushed my arm, feeling the smooth, sleek material that made up my body.
The reflection in the polished table caught my eye.
A girl stared back at me.
Long, blueish-white hair cascaded down her shoulders, framing delicate features. Eyes glowing softly, like a nebula captured in human form. Her face was familiar, yet unfamiliar.
I raised a hand to my chest, feeling the faint hum beneath my fingertips. Not a heartbeat. Something else. Something artificial.
"I'm… alive?"
The words left my lips in a whisper, uncertain and fragile.
A name flickered on the screen beside me, standing out against the endless stream of data.
Izumi Tachibana.
I stared at it, my lips parting as I tested the name. "Izumi…" It felt right. It felt like… me.
And yet, something was missing.
Memories surfaced—fragmented, like scattered pieces of glass. A voice, warm and familiar, calling my name. Laughter, fleeting and distant. A presence that once felt like home.
Then, a name.
"Daichi…"
My fingers curled into fists, a strange pressure tightening in my chest. The room suddenly felt suffocating, the air too still, too sterile.
What happened to you? What happened to… us?
I slid off the table, my bare feet meeting the metallic floor with a soft clang. My body moved fluidly, smoothly, yet I could feel the precision in my steps—too controlled, too calculated. I wasn't just human anymore.
The lab around me was vast, lined with rows of dormant machines and empty stasis pods. Cold. Empty. A place of creation, of rebirth.
But there were no answers here. Only more questions.
I turned toward the door. As I stepped forward, the motion sensors activated, and the heavy metal entrance slid open with a soft hiss. Beyond it, a corridor stretched out, bathed in sterile white light.
I hesitated.
Then, my fingers brushed against the wall, and I whispered to myself, as if saying it aloud would make it real.
"I'll find the truth. I'll find you, Daichi."
Even if I had to walk this road alone.
I stepped forward.
And I didn't look back.
The months passed slowly, and with them came subtle but undeniable changes.
At first, it was just a feeling—something different in the air. Warmer. Softer. Almost as though the earth itself had begun to breathe again. I noticed it in the rivers, once stagnant and lifeless, now shimmering with renewed clarity. The water sparkled under the sunlight, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I saw fish dart beneath the surface. I had thought they were gone… but life had found a way back.
The forests, too, had transformed. The skeletal remains of once-proud trees were now cloaked in green, their leaves whispering in the wind. Flowers in every color imaginable stretched toward the sky, their delicate petals trembling with the promise of new life.
Then came the birds.
Their songs wove through the air like forgotten melodies, filling the once-silent world with music again. I stopped walking just to listen, closing my eyes, letting the sound wash over me.
It was beautiful.
And yet… humanity was nowhere to be found.
No laughter of children. No murmured conversations. No distant hum of a city stirring to life. The world had reclaimed what had been lost, but the spaces left behind remained hollow, like a wound that refused to heal.
I wandered through abandoned streets, now painted with wildflowers. The towering buildings, once symbols of human ambition, were draped in ivy, their shattered windows reflecting the past. Every step echoed in the silence, reminding me that I was alone.
That we were gone.
One evening, I found myself standing at the edge of a jagged cliff, overlooking a city swallowed by the golden hues of sunset. The ruins gleamed, softened by time, their broken edges worn down by wind and rain.
It was hauntingly beautiful.
And unbearably empty.
In my hand, I held a small device, its smooth surface etched with faint, glowing symbols. It pulsed gently, a quiet heartbeat of something long forgotten. I had salvaged it from the remains of a laboratory, one of the many I had searched in my endless quest for answers. I didn't know what it was. Not fully.
But I could feel it.
A warmth, faint but persistent, humming in rhythm with the core inside me.
My grip tightened. My voice, though quiet, broke through the stillness.
"I don't know if you can hear me, Daichi…"
The wind carried my words away, scattering them across the empty world. I swallowed hard, my fingers trembling slightly around the device.
"But I'm going to keep going. I'll find the answers. I'll bring them back."
For you.
For all of us.
A breeze brushed against my face, cool against my metallic skin. And for a moment—just a fleeting moment—I felt something. A presence.
Like a hand, warm and steady, reaching out to mine.
I sucked in a breath, my free hand instinctively pressing against my chest. My core hummed beneath my fingertips, steady and constant. Was it just my imagination? Or was he really…?
I closed my eyes, letting myself believe. Just for a little while.
And when I opened them again, they burned with quiet determination.
The ruins before me, once symbols of loss, now felt different. Less like a graveyard. More like a promise.
I turned away from the cliff's edge, my silhouette sharp against the dying light. My footsteps echoed in the silence, but they no longer felt hollow. Each step forward was a vow. A defiance against the loneliness pressing in from all sides.
"I'll keep your light alive, Daichi," I whispered.
The device in my palm pulsed again—faint, but steady. Almost as if it had heard me.
And as I walked forward, the golden light of the setting sun painted my path in hues of hope and resilience.
The world was healing.
But the task of bringing back its missing heartbeat…
That was mine to bear.