Prologue: The Last Shot

“If I die doing what I love, then I win, don’t I?”

—Tōjō Sousha

Tokyo–Shibuya Ward. Friday. 7:14 PM. The streets buzzed with life as glowing signs, clicking footsteps, the low hum of traffic, and the sizzle of yakitori from corner stalls. 

A typical Tokyo evening.

Tōjō Sousha, age fifteen, stood outside a convenience store sipping from a can of coffee. He was the definition of unremarkable—average grades, average height, average everything. 

Except for one thing...

He was obsessed with guns.

Totally not in the creepy way—he wasn’t a lunatic. It was the craftsmanship. The design, the engineering, the raw power in each component. 

Especially the GLOCK 17 Gen5. He could name every part, describe every model, and quote performance specs like it was scripture—it was to him actually.

“Someday,” he often mused, “just once, I want to see one up close."

He got his wish far sooner than expected...

The convenience store door flung open. A man burst out with a hoodie drawn low and duffel bag bulging under his coat. His hand clutched something black and angular.

A GLOCK 17 Gen5.

Sousha’s eyes widened—not in fear, but admiration.

“Gen5... no finger grooves... oh man, that’s a real one!”

“Outta the way!” the man barked, shoving past bystanders on their evening commute.

Sirens blared in the distance. The thief panicked, eyes darting. He needed a diversion.

And then...

The shot—

BANG!

Sousha’s body jolted. His can hit the ground with a metallic clunk. Blood spread through his shirt, staining the pavement. A puddle of red pooling beneath him.

Strangely, it didn’t hurt as much as he expected. Probably because he was to busy replaying the scene of the Glock firing in his mind...

“Wow…” he chuckled, breath shallow. “I never thought I’d actually get shot by a real Glock... It looked so cool…”

His vision blurred—the city lights off in the distance dimmed.

“Mom... Dad...” he whispered. “You always said that if I was ever in a moment that could be my last, I should be doing something I love...”

His bloody lips grinned...

“You guys were right.”

And then...

Nothing.

✦✦✦

When he opened his eyes again, the pain was gone. He was wrapped in white garments swaying gently in the breeze.

Hold on... Don't tell me...These clothes... Have I been...?!

The sky he gazed at was now an endless blue, the clouds gentle pastels, shaped like various musical notes and symbols. 

Wind rustled through golden grass in a timed rhythm, stretching on for miles. Flowers bloomed in impossible colors, rocking back and forth like colorful metronomes.

A sweet melody resounded from everything around him.

And in front of him appeared... 

A Goddess.

With her silver hair that flowed all the way to her feet, to her eyes that glimmered with the radiance of a night sky. 

The hem of her flowing pure white garments glowed with inscriptions resembling musical notes, dancing in an eternal melody.

“Welcome, Tōjō Sousha,” she said softly. “I am the Goddess of song, Lyri—”

“Will there be guns?!” He blurted the question, dead serious. "Can I have guns?!!"

She stared at him, a bit dazed. Then she giggled, "Would you like another chance at life, to live freely, pursuing what you love?"

Then he narrowed his eyes, focusing solely on his goal—avoiding her rather voluptuous chest.

"As long as I get guns, I'm good!"

The goddess blinked—smiling, stifling a chuckle. “Yes, Sousha. There will be guns.”

Sousha’s eyes lit up. “I’m in.”

And so, the boy who admired a Glock… 

Would become the Hero whose weapons would save the world...