The force hit them like a tidal wave, a blast so powerful it seemed to tear the very ground apart.
Arata’s grip slipped as the shockwave ripped through them, and he watched in helpless horror as Sakura was flung backward,
her small shoe flying off and landing amidst the rubble. His heart clenched, the sight a visceral reminder of her vulnerability.

The blast sent him reeling, transforming their familiar surroundings into a twisted nightmare of choking darkness and noise.
Amid the smoke and chaos, a colossal shape emerged from the shattered orb, its grotesque, humanoid form absorbing the light as it descended with an eerie grace,
like a dark titan whose malformed limbs seemed to defy natural laws. The creature towered over the buildings, each step sending vibrations through the broken earth.
Its hollow gaze fixed on them, a deliberate malice in its movements.

Arata’s heart pounded as he scrambled to his feet, his mind screaming to reach Sakura. He surged forward,
but the rubble and chaos stretched the distance between them like an unbridgeable chasm. His thoughts raced, flickering between panic and determination.
Images of their shared past flashed in his mind—a laugh shared on a quiet afternoon, a gentle touch, a whispered promise, a kiss.
Those moments felt impossibly fragile now, their weight driving him forward.

Sakura’s trembling hands reached out as she saw him moving toward her. “Arata…” she whispered, her voice lost in the chaos.
But the creature’s attention shifted fully to her, its massive form casting a shadow that swallowed her entirely. She froze,
the raw malice in its hollow eyes paralyzing her thoughts.

The last thing Sakura saw was Arata’s face, horror-stricken, his mouth forming a desperate shout she couldn’t hear.
“Today was meant to be perfect,” she whispered, her voice cracking. Her hands clenched into fists as she stumbled forward.
If I could just reach him—just this once, everything would be okay. I could make it okay.

But before she could close the distance, a cascading wall of debris crashed down between them, its deafening impact shaking the ground.
“Arata!” she screamed, her voice swallowed by the roaring destruction. The air grew heavy with choking dust, and the world around her dissolved into chaos.

The ground beneath her feet gave way, and she fell, tumbling into the darkness. Pain shot through her body as she hit the ground hard,
the impact knocking the breath from her lungs. Everything around her became a blur of sound and motion—crashing rubble, piercing screams,
and the relentless roar of destruction. Slowly, the overwhelming noise began to fade, replaced by a suffocating stillness.
Then, there was nothing but silence.

When Sakura opened her eyes, she was curled tightly into herself, her knees pressed to her chest.
A piercing ringing filled her ears, muting the distant cries and the crumbling of debris around her.
Dust clung to her hair and clothes, coating her in a fine layer of ash, and the sharp taste of copper lingered in her mouth.
Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, and for a moment, she couldn’t tell if she was awake or still trapped in the nightmare.

“It’s not real… it’s not real… it’s not real…” she whispered, the words tumbling from her lips like a broken mantra.
Her trembling hands gripped her arms as though trying to anchor herself to something solid.
The swirling haze of dust made it hard to see, but the faint outlines of destruction loomed around her.
Her gaze darted frantically in search of Arata, but all she found was more wreckage, each jagged shadow twisting her fear into despair.

Her chest tightened as panic clawed at her throat. The nightmare felt endless, an inescapable vortex of fear and chaos.
She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her hands against her temples as if trying to will it all away.

In the distance, Arata spotted her huddled figure, a small shape amidst the devastation, and staggered to his feet, every movement weighted by pain.
His mind screamed at him to run, to reach her before it was too late. “Sakura!” he called, his voice breaking through the dust-choked air,
thick with desperation. Forcing himself forward, he pushed through the rubble, ignoring the searing pain in his side, his arm outstretched, willing himself to reach her.

But then, the towering, grotesque figure moved with calculated intent. Its hollow gaze fixed on Sakura as it raised its massive hand and struck
the building beside her with brutal force. The impact sent a torrent of debris and rubble hurtling toward them, filling the air with the deafening crash of collapsing structures.
Arata’s heart pounded as he pushed himself harder, trying to reach her before the debris engulfed them both.

Sakura’s eyes lifted slightly, her dull gaze sharpening as the shadow loomed closer.
Her vision locked onto Arata, his face twisted in horror and desperation. A single, heart-wrenching thought surfaced in her mind: This was meant to be a beautiful day—a day just like that day.

Just as his fingers reached out in vain, a cascade of falling rubble closed in between them, sent crashing down by the creature’s strike.
The last thing Arata felt was a sharp, crushing blow as something struck his body, driving him into the ground, his vision fracturing into darkness.

In the hazy moments that followed, faint light flickered in his vision as his eyes cracked open, struggling to focus on the chaotic scene around him.
Dust hung heavily in the air, fragments of stone were scattered across the ground, and the sounds around him were reduced to an eerie, muffled hum.
His head lolled to one side, and his gaze caught on something small lying in the rubble, inches from his outstretched hand—a small, blood-stained shoe, delicate and still.
His chest tightened, the ache deep and piercing, but then the darkness swept over him again, dragging him down, deeper into oblivion.

When Arata awoke, his mind was in a fog of pain and confusion. Dust and smoke filled the air,
the silence only broken by the distant sounds of screams and collapsing buildings. Blinking through the haze, he struggled to his feet, his heart pounding as he glanced around.
“Sakura?” he called, his voice thick with desperation. “Sakura!”
There was no response, and panic rose within him, sharp and unforgiving. A dark, monstrous shadow loomed over him,
and he glanced up to see a towering Kaiju, its hollow eyes glinting with a terrifying hunger.
The creature let out a guttural roar, its gaze fixed on the city below, its massive claws reaching out toward Arata.
But just as the creature was about to strike, a figure appeared—a tall, imposing man dressed in a sharp, dark navy suit. His face was strikingly handsome, yet his strong, unyielding expression commanded immediate respect. With a swift, graceful motion, a massive sword struck, severing the Kaiju’s claws in one fluid movement. The creature recoiled, roaring in pain.
 The man didn’t hesitate. "With a powerful thrust, he unleashed a colossal mechanical fist that rocketed forward, each piston firing with brutal precision. The impact crashed into the Kaiju, propelling it backward through building after building, the creature’s massive form splintering concrete and steel in its path. The force rippled through the air, leaving a shockwave that echoed through the shattered cityscape." The Kaiju let out a final, anguished roar, its colossal form collapsing in a heap of twisted limbs and broken concrete. Dust rose around it, swirling in the now-silentiary as the creature's life force faded.
The man in the dark navy suit moved with quiet grace, his every step deliberate yet gentle, as though he carried both strength and understanding in equal measure. He turned, and his steady gaze found Arata, who was barely standing, swaying with exhaustion and confusion. For a moment, the man’s eyes softened, a calm warmth cutting through the cold aftermath of the battle.
“Are… are you alright?” the man asked, his voice deep, his tone steady and reassuring.
Arata nodded weakly, but his mind was already elsewhere, gripped by a sickening dread. “I… I think so…” he managed to say, but his gaze darted anxiously around the rubble-strewn ground. “But… Sakura… please… can you help her?” His voice broke with desperation, a fragile hope clinging to his words.
The man’s expression softened, and he inclined his head slightly, his dark eyes unreadable. He approached a pile of rubble where Sakura lay, her body pinned beneath heavy slabs of concrete. Arata’s breath caught as he watched the man kneel beside her, his stomach twisting as he waited for some sign that she would be alright.
But the man’s silence spoke volumes. His face held a grim understanding, an awareness of the truth that Arata, in his injured state, couldn’t yet accept. With the solemnity of someone well-versed in the weight of loss, he summoned a large, translucent orb. Gently, almost reverently, he placed Sakura’s broken body inside, the orb glowing faintly as it closed around her, preserving her in a fragile peace that contrasted starkly with the chaos around them.
The man returned to Arata, his face composed but touched with sympathy. Leaning down, he met Arata’s searching gaze. “Rest,” he said quietly, releasing a fine mist from a small device in his wrist. The mist drifted toward Arata, and within moments, his eyes grew heavy, his body finally succumbing to exhaustion. The last image he saw was of the man’s steady, watchful gaze before his vision went dark, sparing him, if only for a moment, from the agony of reality.
The man glanced down at the orb containing both Sakura and Arata, his expression unreadable, his mind calculating yet touched with an undercurrent of empathy. “Time to get you both to safety,” he murmured to himself. With immense strength, he lifted the orb, his muscles flexing with ease beneath his tailored suit, and with a precise, powerful motion, hurled it skyward. The orb shot through the air in the direction of the hospital, propelled with a force that defied its seemingly delicate appearance.
As it soared, the man bent his knees, then leapt into the sky with a powerful burst, jets igniting from the soles of his polished shoes. The ground beneath him cracked, fragments of stone splintering from the impact as he propelled himself upward, quickly catching up with the orb. His focus was unwavering as he guided it with a fierce precision, descending upon the hospital’s entrance in a controlled arc.
As he landed, the ground beneath him shook with a powerful tremor, the impact sending a rippling shockwave not only through the crowd outside but reverberating through the walls of the hospital itself. People inside paused, startled by the sudden quake, heads turning toward the entrance, while outside, a hush fell over the onlookers and staff, all eyes drawn to the man standing at the centre of the quake’s aftermath. His presence commanded attention, his very stance radiating quiet, formidable strength.
He took a steady breath, his voice cutting through the stunned silence. “I need help—now!”
The urgency in his tone jolted the hospital staff into action. Doctors and nurses surged out from the hospital doors, rushing toward him, their initial hesitation replaced with swift purpose.
The man carefully lowered the orb to the ground, opening it with a wave of his hand. As the translucent shell dissolved, it revealed Sakura and Arata within, both battered and bloodied. Sakura’s face was nearly unrecognizable beneath the bruises and blood, her limbs twisted in unnatural angles. Arata lay unconscious beside her, his body covered in cuts and bruises, his breathing shallow.
The medical team’s faces darkened as they took in the severity of Sakura’s injuries, a silent understanding passing among them. Moving with quiet respect, they gently placed her body in a dark body bag. The soft hum of the zipper closing was almost unbearable in its finality, a sound that seemed to press into the silence with an unspoken sorrow.
Just as they were about to zip the bag fully, Arata’s eyes flickered open, his vision hazy as he tried to sit up, his memory a whirlwind of fractured images—the explosion, the rubble, Sakura’s smile before it all went dark. He glanced around, and his eyes locked onto the dark bag the doctors were closing around her. The scene snapped into place in his mind, and his heart lurched with a horrible realization.
“No…” he whispered, his voice a choked murmur. Panic clawed at his chest, and he struggled against his weakness, his voice rising with desperation. “No!” Arata’s voice cracked, raw with desperation. “That’s Sakura—don’t take her! She’s not gone!” His body convulsed as he reached out, his words fading into broken sobs.
He tried to lunge forward, but his battered body refused to obey, his movements weak and slow. The medical staff attempted to restrain him gently, their hands steady as they tried to calm him down. A nurse placed a hand on his shoulder, her face filled with empathy. “Sir, please, you need to rest,” she said, her tone soft.
But Arata’s panic only intensified, his cries filled with raw agony as he fought to reach her. “Don’t… don’t take her! Sakura, please… please!” His voice was hoarse, broken with a grief so deep it echoed through the air. Tears streamed down his face, his heart shattering with each desperate plea.
Finally, a doctor approached, a syringe in hand, his face a mask of sympathy as he injected a sedative into Arata’s arm. Within seconds, Arata’s struggles slowed, his breathing evening out as his consciousness slipped away once more. His eyes locked on the body bag one last time, his voice fading into a pained whisper. “Sakura…”
The medical team continued their work in silence, wheeling both Arata and Sakura through the hospital doors. Their faces were sombre, burdened by the weight of the tragedy they had witnessed, yet their hands moved with care, treating both young lives with the respect they deserved.
Hours passed before Arata’s eyes opened again. The sterile light of the hospital room felt harsh and unforgiving, the soft beep of machines a hollow, repetitive reminder of the present. His left side was bandaged heavily, his body aching with every small movement. He lay still, his mind raw with the fresh memory of loss, each thought of Sakura like a jagged wound reopening.

Outside, the man in the navy suit stood in the hallway, his tall frame casting a shadow against the door. He exchanged a quiet conversation with the lead doctor, his voice low and resonant. “How is he?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the door with a look of profound understanding.
The doctor hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Physically, he’ll recover, but emotionally…” He paused, the empathy evident in his tone. “He’s been through something most wouldn’t survive. Healing from that kind of pain will take time.”