A shattered galaxy floated in the endless void of space. Its stars flickered faintly, as if struggling to hold on to their light. Planets drifted in pieces. The air—what little remained of it—was silent. Cold.
At the center of this ruin, two figures hovered.
The first was a girl, her hair flowing as if caught in an invisible current. A soft glow surrounded her slender form. She looked calm, though her eyes held something more—a sadness, heavy and quiet.
Before her floated a boy. His clothes were torn, his body limp and bruised. His breathing was shallow. A faint light flickered within him, almost gone.
The girl held his hand gently in both of hers.
"They say it's the end of our world... but not for the both of us," she whispered, her voice carrying through the void like a quiet echo.
She glanced down at him, her expression softening.
"You have to go on."
Slowly, she leaned forward, pressing her forehead lightly against his. For a moment, everything was still.
"Until we meet again."
A pulse of light passed through her hands and into the boy's body.
His fingers twitched.
Then, with great effort, his eyelids fluttered open. The boy's vision swam. Everything was a blur—shapes and light blending together.
But one thing stood out.
Her smile.
Faint, warm, full of something he couldn't quite grasp. Through the haze of exhaustion and pain, he saw her looking at him.
His breath caught weakly in his throat.
Instinctively, his arm moved. It was slow—painfully slow. His muscles trembled as he tried to lift his hand toward her.
A few inches.
A few more.
But it wasn't enough.
A force began to pull him downward. The space around him seemed to shift, drawing him away from her.
His hand stretched out as far as it could go. His fingers strained toward hers—so close, yet just out of reach.
The girl watched, her own hands lowering as he slipped from her grasp.
His eyes, half-lidded and heavy, stayed locked on her face until his vision blurred again. His body continued to fall, drifting down through the ruins of the galaxy.
The girl placed a hand over her heart.
"Don't forget me," she whispered one last time, her voice barely audible now.
The boy's body spun slowly as it fell, farther and farther away—until the shattered stars swallowed him.
Silence returned.
But somewhere, deep within him, the faint pulse of light remained.
The boy kept falling.
His body rotated slowly, drifting weightless through the remains of the galaxy. His arms hung at his sides, fingers half-curled. His eyes remained half-open, catching brief glimpses of starlight spinning past.
There was no sound. Only the cold pull of an unseen force guiding him downward.
Below him, a strange surface appeared—smooth, dark, and endless.
Water.
But there was no splash. No impact.
The surface rippled as his body passed through it, the liquid folding around him like a second sky. It absorbed him silently, drawing him in.
For a moment, all was weightless again.
He floated within the strange liquid, surrounded by shifting bands of light. The pressure faded, replaced by a strange warmth.
Then—his body rose slightly, as if carried upward.
His eyes flickered open again.
Before him stretched a breathtaking view.
A vast ocean spread beneath him, its surface shimmering with gold and crimson. Above it, the sky blazed with the colors of sunset—deep orange, violet, and red. Wisps of cloud drifted lazily across the horizon.
The boy stared weakly, unable to move, caught in the strange beauty of the scene.
But gravity—or perhaps exhaustion—claimed him again.
His body began to sink once more, drifting down from the glowing sky.
Fatigue swept through him like a wave. His eyes grew heavier. His arm floated upward for a moment, then fell.
Darkness crept in at the edges of his vision.
And then—
Darkness pressed in from all sides. The boy drifted deeper and deeper, his body no longer falling through space, nor floating through the strange ocean.
His senses dulled.
He felt warmth... then cold... then nothing.
Time seemed to slip away.
And then—
"Hello...? Hello...?"
A faint voice. Echoing. Blurry.
He couldn't place it.
"Hello...? Are you okay...?"
The voice came again—clearer this time, but still distant, as if heard through layers of fog.
A soft warmth touched his skin—real warmth. Not the cold of space. Not the strange liquid.
"Hello...? Are you okay?"
His eyelids fluttered.
Light spilled into his vision—bright, golden, blurred at the edges. He squinted, weak and disoriented.
A gentle face slowly came into view.
Eyes of violet-gray met his, soft and filled with concern. Her lips—naturally pink—moved as she spoke again.
"Are you okay? I saw you passed out on the road."
Her hair framed her face in deep black waves, catching subtle sapphire-blue highlights that shimmered faintly under the sunlight.
The boy blinked again, the blur clearing further.
He lay on a dirt path, small stones pressing against his back. All around him, trees swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves catching the orange glow of the setting sun.
The girl's face hovered above him, close but not intrusive, watching with calm patience.
"Can you hear me? You're safe now," she said softly.
Her voice this time was clear—no longer an echo.
His lips parted, but no words came. His body still felt too heavy. His arm twitched faintly.
She smiled gently.
"Don't try to move too fast. Just rest a moment," she said, her voice warm, reassuring.
The boy's breath came slowly now. The weight in his limbs began to lift little by little, though exhaustion still clung to him like a thick fog.
He blinked again, trying to focus on the girl in front of him.
She tilted her head slightly, studying him with quiet curiosity.
"Your clothes... they don't look like they're from here."
Her tone was casual, almost teasing. But her eyes were sharp, clearly noticing the torn, faded remnants of fabric that didn't match anything from this land.
"Where did you come from?" she asked, voice soft but now tinged with interest.
The boy parted his lips, but no sound came yet. His mind was still a blur—images of stars, falling, the girl's smile in the galaxy—none of it made sense here.
She didn't press him.
Instead, with a small smile, she raised her right hand and gestured casually in the air beside her.
A faint shimmer appeared—like a ripple in water—before a small, glowing space opened in midair.
Without hesitation, she reached into it.
From within the small pocket of space, she pulled out a simple bundle wrapped in cloth. With practiced ease, she unwrapped it, revealing basic cooking utensils—a small pan, a knife, and a few neatly packed ingredients.
She glanced at him again, her expression gentle.
"Wait here a little moment," she said. "I'll cook something for you."
Her smile this time was warm—sincere.
She turned away slightly, kneeling near a flat stone on the side of the path. With another gesture, a small, contained flame flickered to life beneath the pan. The ingredients floated briefly in the air before settling in her hands.
The boy watched through half-lidded eyes, his breathing slow but steady.
The warmth of the scene—her voice, the subtle hum of the flame, the scent of herbs—felt oddly comforting after the cold emptiness of the galaxy.
He wanted to speak.
To ask where he was.
To ask who she was.
To ask what was happening.
But for now—he could only watch.
The soft crackle of the small flame mixed with the quiet sounds of Yuna preparing the meal. The gentle rhythm of her movements—chopping, stirring, arranging—filled the space between them with an unexpected calm.
For the first time since... whenever it had begun, the boy felt something solid, something real.
As she worked, Yuna glanced toward him again.
"My name is Yuna."
She gave him a small smile, her eyes shimmering like crystal under the fading sunlight.
"Yuna Nozomi," she added, her voice light, friendly.
She stirred the pan once more, then looked back at him, tilting her head slightly.
"And yours?"
Her gaze held his gently, expectant but not demanding.
The boy's lips parted faintly. He struggled to move them, to force out a word, a sound—anything.
Nothing came.
Even more, beneath the weakness, a deeper uncertainty stirred within him. What is my name...?
His mind searched, but found only emptiness where an answer should be.
Confusion flickered in his half-open eyes.
Yuna watched him for a moment, reading the struggle on his face.
Then her smile softened even more.
"Well... never mind," she said in a gentle tone, waving one hand slightly as if to brush the worry away. "You can tell me when you're ready."
She returned her attention to the pan, humming softly as she continued cooking.
The boy lay there, watching her, questions swirling faintly in the fog of his mind.
Who am I...?
Where... is this place...?
Why can't I remember...?
But for now—all he could do was rest and watch the flickering flame, the shimmering sunset, and the girl with violet-gray eyes.
The boy lay still, eyes half open, watching the flickering flame and the gentle movements of her hands.
Then—a new voice cut through the quiet.
"Yoh! I'm back!"
It was strong, confident—clearly a woman's voice. It echoed down the path with a casual boldness that seemed to stir the air itself.
Yuna looked up, her smile returning.
"Over here!" she called back.
Footsteps approached—steady, purposeful.
A tall, well-toned figure came into view, her bronze skin gleaming faintly in the soft light of the setting sun. Wavy, silver hair streaked with bright teal shifted with her movements as she strode up the path.
Her sharp eyes—bright gold with hints of green—swept over the scene, landing first on Yuna, then on the boy lying nearby.
"Huh... what's this?" she asked with a smirk, planting one hand on her hip. Her other arm bore a worn leather armband, and silver hoop earrings caught the fading light as she tilted her head.
Yuna chuckled softly. "Found him on the road—looked like he'd fallen out of the sky or something."
The newcomer gave a low whistle, her dark rose lips curling upward in amusement.
"Interesting. You do attract the strangest ones, Yuna."
She shifted her weight casually, the dark leather of her cropped top and fitted pants gleaming faintly with each movement. The black boots she wore thudded lightly against the ground as she moved closer, crouching to get a better look at the boy.
"Still breathing, at least." Her tone was cool but not unkind.
The boy blinked weakly, his blurred vision trying to focus on the second woman's striking form—another face he didn't recognize in this strange new world.
Aoi shifted the bundle slung over her shoulder and tossed it down beside the cooking stone.
"I hunted some mountain bunnies on my way back," she said with a smirk. "Add their meat too—it's gonna be good."
Yuna giggled softly, her eyes sparkling as she adjusted the flame beneath the pan.
"Of course. You always bring the best ingredients, Aoi."
Aoi crouched down, loosening the bundle. Inside, a few small, plump rabbits lay neatly prepared. Without a word, Yuna began to work them into the meal, her hands moving with practiced ease.
As Yuna cooked, Aoi straightened and turned her gaze toward the boy again. Her bright gold-green eyes locked onto his for a moment.
She jabbed a thumb toward herself.
"My name's Aoi Satsuki. Remember that, okay?" she said, voice strong, a teasing edge beneath her words.
The boy blinked slowly, eyes still fogged with fatigue. But something about her presence—a mix of strength, confidence, and casual ease—cut through the haze.
His gaze drifted over her without much thought—taking in the toned lines of her arms, the slight sheen of sweat across her sculpted midsection, the defined six-pack on display beneath her cropped top. The curve of her neck, the powerful set of her shoulders—all burned faint impressions into his weary mind.
He managed a small, slow nod.
Aoi grinned.
"Good," she said, turning back toward Yuna, crossing her arms with a satisfied air.
Minutes passed in a quiet rhythm.
The soft bubbling of the pot filled the air, mixing with the faint sounds of the forest beyond the road. The boy lay still, slowly feeling the warmth of the fire seep into his skin, the ache in his limbs easing little by little.
Yuna stirred the pot one last time, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
"Done!" she called out excitedly, her voice light and cheerful.
She quickly reached for three simple wooden bowls and began ladling the rich, fragrant soup into each one.
Steam rose in soft curls.
The broth shimmered a deep golden hue, rich with oils and slow-cooked flavor. Slices of tender mountain bunny meat floated within—lightly seared at the edges, their pale flesh contrasting with the broth.
Bright green sprigs of forest herbs added a fresh, earthy aroma, mingling with thin cuts of orange root vegetables that bled subtle color into the soup. Small white blossoms—edible flowers—floated delicately on top, a final touch of Yuna's careful hand.
She arranged the bowls neatly, setting one before Aoi, one for herself, and the last before the boy.
"Here you go," she said with a gentle smile, sliding the bowl toward him. "It'll help you feel better."
Aoi grinned, taking her own bowl in hand.
"Tch. Not bad, Yuna—as always," she said, inhaling the aroma deeply. She took a sip straight from the bowl, clearly pleased.
As they began eating, the warm, rich scent of the soup drifted over to the boy, stirring a faint hunger deep in his weary body. Slowly, almost uncertainly, he reached out—his fingers trembling slightly—and managed to grasp the bowl.
The warmth of it grounded him.
"Tomorrow," Aoi said between bites, her tone shifting just slightly more serious, "we'll continue traveling."
She cast a glance at the boy, smirking.
"You too—amnesiac boy," she added with a teasing tone.
Both women giggled softly at that, their eyes sparkling.
The boy blinked, dazed but unable to stop the faintest hint of a smile from tugging at the corner of his lips.