The smell of raw meat still clung to my clothes as I waited for the train to Togokawa, the station about a mile from my house. It was a quiet wait, and I let soft music play through my headphones to take the edge off another long shift at the butcher's. When the train finally pulled in, the doors slid open and the crowd pushed forward, and I was swept inside with them. The cabin was already too full, leaving me stuck standing, one hand gripping a cold metal pole as the train lurched into motion. My reflection flickered in the dark window — short, spiky silver hair, tired azure-blue eyes, and a face that looked more worn than someone my age should.
My mind drifted back to everything that had been weighing on me, the music in my ears fading into the background as one problem after another surfaced. Without really thinking, I muttered under my breath, "Life can't get any worse."
The lights went out.
At first I thought it was just a flicker, but the darkness stayed — thick and complete. A few confused voices rose around me, nervous laughter mixing with uneasy murmurs as the train kept moving. Then I felt it: something small and cold wrapping around my arm, its grip tightening just enough to make my breath catch.
The lights came back.
A sharp breath caught in my throat as the cabin filled with a dim, golden glow. Standing in the aisle ahead of me was something I couldn't begin to understand — a figure with six vast wings rising from its back. Three curled inward, veiling its body, while the other three stretched outward, brushing the air with a slow, deliberate grace. The entire cabin had fallen silent, every passenger staring.
And somehow, the train didn't feel the same. The walls seemed farther away, the ceiling higher, the aisle stretching longer than it should have been — as if the space itself had quietly expanded to make room.
Before my eyes, the shape shifted. The wings folded in, light bending and reshaping, until a feminine form stood in its place — a body made of soft, muted yellow radiance. A white cloth covered her face, wrapped and held in place by a thin golden band circling her head.
Beside her stood another being.
Taller. Broader. His presence felt heavier somehow. A muscular, humanlike frame wrapped in a faint bronze glow, his face hidden behind a dark cloth bound with a band of dull metal. Unlike her, he didn't move at all.
He simply stood there.
"Huh… you think you can just—"
The man's voice shook as he pushed forward from somewhere behind me, anger and fear tangled together. He barely made two steps.
A cracking sound split the air — sharp and sudden — and he was just… gone. One second he was there, the next there was only a dark smear along the side of the cabin. Nobody screamed. Nobody even breathed.
Another man stumbled into the aisle; hands raised like that might help. "W–wait, please, I've got money. A lot. I can give you whatever you want—"
The glowing woman didn't move. Didn't gesture. Didn't even seem to look at him.
"Flesh," she said softly. "Your currency has no value here."
That was when the bronze-lit figure finally moved.
He stepped forward and lifted the man by the throat with one hand, like he weighed nothing at all. The man's words turned into choking noises, his feet kicking uselessly in the air. Then, just as suddenly, the struggle stopped.
His body dropped to the floor between the seats — wrong, incomplete, and horribly still.
Something warm hit my cheek. I didn't wipe it away. Judging by the horrified expressions around me, I wasn't the only one.
The small hand wrapped around my arm tightened.
The seraphim still hadn't taken a single step, yet in less than a minute two people were dead. The entire cabin stood frozen, the air thick and suffocating, everyone waiting to see what would happen next.
The glowing figure slowly turned her covered face toward us.
"Now that that's out of the way," she said, almost kindly, "let's play a game."
She paused, just long enough for the silence to hurt.
"It's called Old Man Out."
The rules were explained in a calm, almost gentle voice.
Only a few of us would survive. The rest wouldn't. She didn't say what would happen to the losers, but she didn't need to.
Someone behind me shouted, his voice loud and shaking. He singled out an older passenger with a desperate, hateful accusation, like offering someone else up might save him.
A nervous ripple went through the crowd.
Then the seraphim started counting down.
Thirty seconds.
Her voice wasn't loud, but each number felt heavy, like it was pressing down on all of us at once. Panic spread fast. People began pushing, shoving, grabbing at each other in blind fear. The cabin turned into chaos — yelling, crying, bodies slamming into one another as everyone tried not to be the one left behind.
I couldn't move. My feet felt glued to the floor.
That's when I noticed her.
A girl, maybe sixteen, standing a few steps away. She wasn't fighting. Wasn't screaming. She was just watching. And then she started walking toward me, carefully making her way through the madness like it wasn't even happening.
She reached my side just as a sharp beep echoed through the cabin.
The countdown was over.
The three of us — me, the girl, and the small presence still holding my arm — hadn't touched anyone.
The seraphim turned toward us.
"You three," she said softly. "Are the winners."
A chill spread through my chest.
The rest of the cabin went quiet in a different way this time — not calm, but broken. Someone nearby spoke up, their voice shaking so badly the words almost fell apart.
"W-what… what happens to us?"
The seraphim tilted her head slightly.
"Eliminated."
At first, I didn't understand what that meant.
Then the bronze-lit figure began to walk.
He moved slowly down the aisle. Wherever he passed, the noise stopped. Shouting cut off. Movement ended. It was like the air itself was being emptied of life.
I stared straight ahead, my whole body numb.
Then the small hand holding my arm suddenly loosened.
It slipped away and dropped.
A quiet thud reached my ears.
And somehow, that soft sound was worse than all the screaming had been.
And in all that horror, that was the moment my mind finally understood this was real.