It’s been weeks since the firebombing that turned Kobe into ash. I sit on a cold concrete platform at Sannomiya Station, my body hollow, my mind drifting. Around me, others lie motionless—starving, forgotten. A janitor approaches, sorting through the dead. He finds a small tin in my pocket, opens it, and tosses it into the field without care.

The lid pops off. Ashes scatter.

And then—light.

Setsuko appears, glowing, whole, laughing. She reaches for me. We climb onto a spectral train, silent now, watching our lives unfold like distant memories.

We see ourselves again: alive, together, fighting to survive. This is where it begins.

Where would you go first, if you had to protect someone with nothing?