The night was heavy with silence, broken only by the desperate sobs of a man on his knees.
"Please… I beg you," he cried, hands trembling as they pressed against the cold marble floor. "Change my fate! I'll do anything—just don't let me die like this!"
Raichi stood motionless, silver eyes glinting faintly under the moonlight. His voice was calm, measured, yet carried the weight of eternity.
"What you've done cannot be undone," he said softly. "The path you chose has already sealed your end."
The man's plea caught in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak again, but a sudden gust of wind swept through the chamber. He flinched, eyes wide, heart pounding—but before he could react, something unseen slammed into him. His body crumpled, lifeless, at Raichi's feet.
Raichi's gaze lingered on the fallen figure, unreadable and cold. "Even gods," he whispered, "must obey the laws of fate."
"You did right, Raichi. I'm proud of your honesty."
Raichi's silver eyes narrowed slightly as he turned. From the shadows, a figure emerged—Akito, the God of Death and Birth, his presence cold yet serene, as if time itself bowed to him.
"I know," Raichi replied evenly, voice calm, almost detached. "I am honest. You don't need to remind me of myself."
Akito's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. Without another word, he extended his hand. The lifeless body hovered briefly, as if suspended by invisible threads, before Akito carried it away. The faint scent of ozone and moonlight lingered, leaving Raichi alone beneath the silver glow.
Raichi's gaze lingered on the empty space where the man had fallen. Even as a god, he understood the weight of every choice — fate was absolute, and mercy could not alter it. Yet a flicker of something unusual passed through him, a whisper of threads yet untangled… threads that might one day lead to a life he hadn't expected to touch.
The first rays of sunlight sneaked through the curtains, warming Naori's room—except she didn't have time to enjoy it. Her alarm blared like a siren.
"8 a.m.?!" she shrieked, flinging the blanket off. Her heart raced as she bolted out of bed, narrowly avoiding a collision with her desk.
Chaos reigned in the bathroom. Toothpaste squirted on her shirt, water splashed her face, and her favorite mug tipped over. "Why is morning like a personal attack?!" she groaned, scrubbing her hair into submission with a sigh.
By the time she threw on her clothes, she realized she'd grabbed two different socks. "Perfect," she muttered, kicking her shoes under the bed and grabbing her backpack in a panic—leaving her cat staring at her like she'd just offended the universe.
Downstairs, the smell of slightly burnt toast wafted from the kitchen. She snatched a slice and nearly dropped it again as she ran out the door.
"Today is definitely going to be… interesting," she muttered, completely unaware that the threads of fate had already begun tugging at her life—and that someone very, very unusual was about to trip into her morning chaos.
Naori hurried down the street toward the convenience store, still shaking off the chaos of her morning. The crisp air bit at her cheeks, but it did nothing to calm her racing thoughts. She nearly collided with a lamppost when a sudden crowd in front of a modest house caught her attention.
Curious, she edged closer. People were murmuring in low, uneasy tones, their faces pale and tense. A strange heaviness clung to the house, as if the walls themselves had swallowed a part of the world's warmth.
"What happened here?" she asked a young man standing nearby, his eyes darting nervously toward the house.
"The owner… he died yesterday," he replied, voice hesitant.
Naori's eyebrows shot up. "What? But… he was young! How could he die?"
The young man shrugged, a shiver running down his spine. "Something… hit his head."
Naori frowned. "Something hit his head? What do you mean—what hit him?"
He shook his head, avoiding her gaze. "I don't know… just… something. The doctors couldn't explain it. They said it wasn't natural."
A chill crawled up Naori's spine. She glanced at the house, then at the murmuring crowd, and felt an almost imperceptible tug—a whisper in the back of her mind, like invisible threads brushing against her consciousness. For a fleeting moment, the scene didn't feel entirely real. Something… unusual… lingered here, just beyond her understanding.
But somewhere, just beyond the crowd, a pair of silver eyes glimmered quietly, unblinking. For a moment, the light seemed to dance unnaturally across them—was it moonlight, or something else entirely? Raichi had noticed her. She didn't know it yet, but her fate had already brushed against his hands—and the threads were beginning to twist in ways neither of them could yet imagine.