Sora Kurogane

“Breaking News: A sudden explosion has struck the west district of Shin-Oku City—caused by what investigators currently believe to be a gas leak beneath the public transit line.”

The broadcast moved through the demolished apartments, hospital waiting rooms, and police station walls—its tone unnaturally calm for the destruction behind it.

“The blast, taken place near an underground maintenance tunnel, has left eleven dead and dozens injured. Authorities cite a gas leak—possibly triggered by faulty pressure lines—as the cause of the explosion.”

“However, one of the casualties is raising serious questions.”

The image cut to a photo. A young man, early twenties. Disheveled black hair. Dead stare. Hoodie zipped up to his collarbone. No smile—just a kind of quiet defiance in his eyes.

“Among the deceased: Sora Kurogane, age 22. A known digital activist who operated under the online alias ‘Echidna Protocol.’”

“For the past three years, Kurogane had been at the center of several explosive whistleblower leaks. Some have called him a hero. Others—an enemy of order. And now, many are asking: was this truly an accident?”

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“Two years ago, Kurogane revealed the illegal use of facial recognition AI by the Shin-Oku Police Department.”

Grainy video played of security monitors, cameras tucked into vending machines and hallway corners—feeds of schoolchildren, subway riders, salarymen—being watched in real-time.

“The project had been quietly greenlit through a partnership with private surveillance contractors, with no public oversight.”

“Kurogane accessed and leaked internal logs and footage, revealing that innocent citizens were being monitored like characters in a livestream.”

Two blurred photos of police officers appeared beneath the word: “Retired Early.”

“Despite public outrage, the surveillance program remains active under revised protocol.”

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“Six months later, Kurogane exposed what came to be known as the Hayashida Food Subsidy Scandal.”

Cut to undercover footage: rotting grain bags marked “Welfare Distribution” being loaded into black trucks under night fog.

“Government-issued rice meant for children’s orphanages was siphoned off and sold to luxury hotel chains abroad—rebranded as ‘vintage artisanal grain.’”

Images appeared of politicians laughing in banquet halls, overlaid with scanned bank transfers, account names, and timestamps—all uploaded by Kurogane.

“No charges were filed. No one went to prison. But two months later, the director of one of the orphanages reportedly took her own life.”

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“And then came the final strike.”

A red headline slashed across the screen:
“TŌYAMA MAYORAL CORRUPTION RING EXPOSED.”

“Using hacked bodycam footage and backdoor access to government servers, Kurogane revealed how over 800 million yen in disaster relief funds had been stolen and funneled into building private offshore estates for elected officials.”

Clips showed satellite images, villa schematics, and expense reports—all with names, stamps, signatures.

“The exposé went viral. For six hours. Then it vanished—scrubbed from networks, removed from trending pages. Replaced by server errors and ‘unreliable source’ disclaimers.”

“Kurogane, in response, posted a final message.”

The screen cut to a single line from a dark-background forum post:

“They can delete my files, but not the truth.”

*“The next morning, he received a death threat: ‘Sora Kurogane will disappear like a deleted file.’”
“Three days later, the gas explosion occurred.”

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“Officials continue to deny any connection between the explosion and Kurogane’s past work. They maintain that this was a tragic gas-related infrastructure failure.”

“However, growing voices across the net are calling this what they believe it truly is—an assassination, masked as an accident.”

“With no family left, and no one to pursue legal action, the case may be buried—like the rest of Kurogane’s work.”

“Justice may never come. And in the smoke and ash of Shin-Oku’s shattered underground, one question remains:”

“Did Sora Kurogane die by chance… or by design?”

The feed cut to the last image:
A crater surrounded by blackened concrete.
And at its center—half-melted glasses, and a warped USB drive still faintly glowing with residual power.

[CUT TO BLACK]

Darkness.
Not the kind you see when you close your eyes.
The kind that consumes everything before you get the chance.

I was lying face-down on the concrete. Couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t even move.

The last thing I remembered was the metallic hiss of something rupturing near the street grate. Then the air changed—heavy. Cold. Sweet, but wrong.

I smelled rust.

Then... fire.

I should’ve died instantly. I should’ve blacked out. But—

⧉⧉⧉ 『級 〇』 ⧉⧉⧉

…why is everything moving so slow?

The explosion bloomed outward in a frozen halo.
Shards of glass hovered mid-air like shooting stars that forgot their purpose.
A crow in the sky flapped its wings—so slow I could count the rise and fall of every feather.
Even the sound—the sound hadn’t reached me yet. I could see the blast, but not hear it.

One second.

But to me, it stretched.

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty…

A hundred.

My thoughts raced. Faster than I knew was possible.

Was this what people meant when they say, “your life flashes before your eyes”?

Because mine didn’t.
No childhood smiles.
No family dinners.
No lover’s voice calling me back.
Just—silence. Silence and the overwhelming truth that…

I didn’t want to die.

I thought I had no reason to live.

I always said, “I don’t care if I die as long as the truth gets out.”

But now? Lying here like a burnt wire about to snap?

I want to live.
I want to live.
I wanted to live.
I don’t want to die here… not like some stray dog. 
No No No.....
I never laughed enough.
I never got to sit at a table where someone waited for me.
I never got to taste a meal that felt like home.
I never got to fall in love…
I don't want to die in this place—
Not like the one, who no one cared.

I never even got to be someone’s son again.

The weight in my chest burned. Regret wasn’t abstract anymore—it was physical.
Like hot wires knotting around my heart. My mind. My voice that couldn’t scream.

And yet…

In that single frozen second, something inside me twisted.
Something opened.

Not spiritually. Not a glowing hand from the heavens.
It was as if my brain—my consciousness—was peeling back layers of time, holding onto reality by sheer will.

This is wrong. This is wrong.
This second—shouldn’t exist like this.
Am I slowing down? Or is everything else just too fast?

Like a cracked lens sliding into perfect focus.
I could feel every atom in the air.
Count every tremor in the ground.

My brain wasn’t dying.
It was awakening.

The explosion finally reached me.

Light.
Sound.
Heat.
Everything collapsed.

But I wasn’t afraid anymore.

Because in that last moments

I chose to live, but i am going to die anyway.

[Soft voice off-screen, crying:]

“Haruto... Haruto… thank god, you’re awake…”