Late night had broken loose. Not early evening, not the quiet transition from dusk to dark—but the lethal hour. The hour when the creatures began their roaming, slipping through Aoshima's streets like shadows with hunger.
A full moon hung high above the city, bathing the skyline in a cold, pale glow.
"Full moon…" a woman muttered under her breath, her attention fixed on the device in her hand. Its screen displayed a digital map of the entire city, and dots were beginning to appear—small pulsing markers scattered across districts.
"One… two… four… seven…" Her voice grew tighter with every number. "They keep going up. How many are out there tonight?"
She clicked her tongue against the inside of her cheek, eyes narrowing in disbelief as the numbers continued to rise.
"Seventeen…"
She didn't have to say more. The sight alone told its own story—too many, too fast.
But before she could update the data, the dots suddenly began disappearing. One after another. Rapidly. Violently. As if something were wiping them from existence entirely.
Her breath hitched.
"What…? Why are they dropping so quickly?" she whispered, leaning closer to the screen. "This doesn't make sense. They never die this fast."
Only three dots remained.
"Someone's killing them?" she whispered, stunned. "But that shouldn't be possible…"
Her hand trembled slightly.
Because if something—or someone—was destroying these creatures at this speed. It meant the rules of Aoshima's night were changing.
And not necessarily for the better.
Standing on the highest street lantern overlooking Aoshima's silent highway, the red-haired girl balanced with the ease of someone far too used to perching above danger. The night wind whipped strands of hair across her face, carrying the metallic scent of the city and the faint vibration of distant sirens—far away, but never gone. Below her, the empty asphalt stretched endlessly, a black river under the moon's pale glow.
Her eyes narrowed as she flicked through the readings on her device.
Her fingers moved quickly, fluidly—clearly trained—yet no matter how many detection modes she cycled through, the answer didn't change.
"Zero…" she breathed, the word slipping out with a quiet disbelief.
Every dot was gone.
Not one trace of movement registered across the city grid. She turned the map, rotated it, pinched it to zoom—again and again—but nothing. The interface was clean, empty, silent.
Aoshima's night creatures didn't just disappear.
Not like this. Not ever. And yet the map insisted otherwise.
She lowered the device slightly, her expression tightening. There was no comfort in the quiet—only suspicion.
But something else pressed against her senses.
Something far more real than the blank screen.
It started as a pressure—subtle at first, like the air thickening—but it quickly grew heavier, pressing against her chest, coiling around her spine. Her breath caught for a second as the sensation intensified. It wasn't the normal oppressive feeling the creatures emitted.
No—this felt older. Stronger. Alive.
A slow chill crawled up the back of her neck.
Her stance shifted automatically, boots gripping the metal beneath her as she brought her guard up. Her pulse quickened—not out of fear, but pure instinct.
Then it hit.
A roar split the night.
Not a normal roar—no natural throat could produce something so warped, so jagged. It sounded like metal grinding against bone, like multiple voices screaming through one corrupted mouth. The streetlight trembled beneath her as the noise rippled through the highway, vibrating through the steel frame up into her legs.
She spun halfway around, heart hammering once against her ribs.
Another screech followed, closer—so close it felt as though it were clawing at the inside of her skull. The shadows along the rooftops wavered, stretching unnaturally as if the darkness itself had been torn open.
And then—
She saw it.
A massive form burst from the void behind her, leaping from the fractured darkness above. Its body was elongated and sinewy, its movement flickering in and out like frames missing from reality. Its mask—if it could even be called that—clung to its face like molten bone frozen mid-drip, reshaping itself in shivers of white and gray as it roared again.
Its claws carved into the air itself as it descended.
She reacted too late—only a half-step, a sharp inhale, a widening of the eyes.
The creature lunged for her, jaws unhinging, ready to tear straight through her spine.
She barely had a heartbeat to comprehend the danger.
The night outside was pitch-black, the kind of darkness that swallowed depth and distance alike. Beyond the door, the world felt unseen—unwelcoming. Silent.
Takumi quietly reached for the jacket hanging from the hook beside the entryway, slipping it over his shoulders before opening the small cabinet near the door and retrieving his keys. The soft metallic clink sounded far louder than it should have in the still house.
He glanced down at the watch on his wrist.
"It's about time," he murmured to himself. "Nearly midnight."
Fifteen minutes remained—just enough. Enough time to prepare. Enough time to step outside without being noticed.
The house was asleep. His family lay unaware behind closed doors, breathing evenly, oblivious to what he was about to do. Takumi paused for a moment, listening—then dismissed the hesitation before it could settle.
"Gotta figure out how long it takes for those hunters to retreat by morning," he whispered.
He exhaled softly, blowing his fringe out of his eyes, and unlocked the door. Cool night air seeped in immediately, heavy and unfamiliar. Without another glance back, Takumi stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind him and activating the timer on his watch.
The lock clicked into place.
And the night welcomed him in.
Takumi wasn't the only one willing to break the curfew.
Yuna had stepped into the night with the same unspoken intent.
It was late—far too late. The city had already crossed into that forbidden stretch of time people whispered about as the hour of blood. Streets lay empty, stripped of life, every window dark and sealed. Yuna moved carefully through Aoshima's narrow alleyways, each step measured, each breath controlled.
"I saw it…" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible against the hush of the city. "There was something moving. In daylight."
The memory refused to leave her mind. That distortion—brief, unnatural—sliding past the reinforced windows of Aoshima High. It hadn't belonged there. It had been too fast, too deliberate to dismiss as imagination.
She wouldn't ignore it.
She couldn't.
"If these things start hunting during the day…" she murmured, fingers tightening at her side, "then we won't survive. Not like this."
Her pink hair flowed softly behind her as she edged around the corner of a towering building, peering out with cautious precision. The only movement came from the restless wind and the intermittent flicker of traffic lights switching endlessly over empty roads.
Red.
Yellow.
Green.
For no one.
She knew the risk she was taking. If she were caught outside now—by the authorities or by something far worse—there would be no excuses, no second chances. But the thought of remaining ignorant terrified her more than the consequences.
The night held answers. Or at least clues.
The same night that had swallowed an entire train outside Aoshima's mainland. The same darkness that had left bodies, silence, and unanswered questions in its wake.
Yuna checked the time again.
Only a few minutes remained before the city became a feeding ground.
And she was still out here—watching, listening, waiting for something to move.
Time began to slip faster, seconds piling onto each other until the air itself felt strained. The city seemed to tense, as if Aoshima were bracing for something inevitable.
Then it struck.
A bell rang out across the city.
Low and metallic, its sound tore through the silence, echoing between buildings, down alleyways, and across empty highways. It wasn't loud in a panicked way—it was loud in a final way. A sound meant to be obeyed.
Moments later, speakers embedded throughout the city crackled to life.
"Attention all citizens of Aoshima: it is now 12:00 a.m., Restricted Hours are in effect, and all civilians are required to remain indoors with windows and entry points sealed until sunrise for your safety."
Screens across buildings flickered, advertisements vanishing as warning symbols replaced them. Traffic lights froze mid-cycle, bathing deserted intersections in unmoving red, yellow, and green.
The bell rang again.
Wind swept through the streets, carrying the echo of the announcement like a lingering afterimage. Doors were already shut. Curtains drawn. Lights extinguished. Anyone with sense had retreated long before now.
The city had crossed the line.
From this moment on, Aoshima no longer belonged to its people.
And anyone still outside—Takumi. Yuna. Anyone else who dared, had just stepped into the feeding hours.
The moment the announcement faded into silence, it happened.
A roar tore through the city.
Not one—but many.
Layered, overlapping, ripping through the night all at once.
The sound was unbearable. A violent chorus of screeches and distorted howls erupted across Aoshima, forcing Yuna to clamp her hands over her ears as pain detonated through her skull. The air itself seemed to shudder. Weaker structures trembled under the pressure—metal shutters rattled, loose signage shook violently, and cracks spidered across already worn walls. Above, a massive cloud rolled in, swallowing the moon and plunging the city into even deeper darkness.
The night screamed.
And then—just as suddenly—it stopped.
The silence that followed felt unnatural.
Yuna staggered back and ducked behind the corner of the building, pressing herself flat against the cold concrete. After a tense second, she carefully leaned out, peeking around the edge to scan the street she'd been hiding from.
"Ugh… I hate that sound," she muttered under her breath, her voice strained. "Every time… it messes with my ears."
She pulled her hands away and froze.
Crimson stained her fingers.
A thin trail of blood had begun to leak from her ears—something she'd expected, something she was already used to. With a frustrated sigh, she reached into her pocket, pulling out a handful of tissues and carefully wiping the blood from her skin and the side of her face.
Her ears were too sensitive for that kind of noise. Always had been. The creatures' roars hit a frequency her body simply couldn't endure. There was no way to block it out. No way to brace against it.
The only real protection was distance.
Or shelter.
And right now… neither was an option.
She pressed her back against the wall again, steadying her breath as the city settled into its hunting silence.
To be continued...