Drifted to Tomorrow

Light. Soft as foam and bright as starlight, it wrapped Ren’s senses like silk, weightless and warm. He was floating. No, he was falling. But the fall felt like music—a slow crescendo leading to an uncertain refrain.
Then came the cold.
A shock of water kissed his cheek, followed by the coarse crunch of sand beneath his palms. Ren groaned as consciousness anchored him to his body, heavy with damp clothes and a racing pulse.
When he opened his eyes, the world was… impossible.
Above him, twin moons floated lazily in a gradient sky—a blend of turquoise and lavender. Neon streaks arced like veins of lightning between cloudbanks. The ocean beside him shimmered not silver or blue, but translucent rose gold, its waves rhythmically lapping at the glowing sand.
A breeze hummed—a literal hum, like a tuning fork set into motion—and it carried a scent that was both electric and floral.
Ren sat up slowly.
His heart stuttered.
This wasn’t Japan. This wasn’t anywhere on Earth.
Buildings rose like coral reefs in the distance—luminescent and organic in structure, some with spires shaped like tuning forks, others with rotating discs glowing with kinetic light. Airships drifted like jellyfish across the sky, leaving melodic trails behind them, as though the atmosphere had learned to sing.
He touched his chest. The necklace Kai had given him in the vision was still there, its silver cool and pulsing with a faint inner glow.
He was awake.
He was alive.
And this was the future.
“AquaCelestia,” a mechanical voice said suddenly, breaking the hush. Ren jolted.
A small, spherical drone hovered a meter away. It blinked at him, projecting a soft halo of light and symbols.
“Welcome to AquaCelestia, guest profile: Ren Arakawa,” it said again. “Your frequency signature has been pre-approved by Stellaris Agency. Please follow for induction.”
“I—I’m sorry?” Ren croaked, unsure if this was real or another illusion.
“Follow the resonance path,” the drone chirped. “Transport pod arriving in twenty seconds.”
He barely had time to stand before the sand under him shifted—then retracted like water draining from a bowl. A hexagonal platform rose, humming softly, and a sleek, translucent pod lowered onto it from above. Its doors opened with a sigh.
Inside the pod, holographic lights blinked to life. Musical notes and tuning scales danced across the dashboard.
“Destination: Stellaris Central,” the drone said. “New applicant Kai Virell waiting.”
Ren’s breath caught.
That name again. That impossible name.
He stepped into the pod.
As it rose smoothly into the air, he looked back at the glowing beach.
He was no longer just a boy with a song.
He was drifting into tomorrow.

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