Sometimes you feel like something’s watching you, right? Hiro Ashida does. He doesn’t want to be an explorer—not at first. But life in Gale City has never fit him. Streets are too tight, air too clean, and an ache for the truth gnaws at his soul.
He dreams of distant stars. Then, a pale fire streaks across the night, shaking buildings. Gale City wakes to find a smooth, black pod by Lake Sora. Hiro has to touch it. “If I don’t look, whoever or whatever will leave. I’ll never know why I’m here,” he mutters, trembling.
His friend Minami, an engineer, tugs his sleeve. “Come home, idiots don’t poke meteorites.” A rough laugh, but her hands won’t let go. Tamon, calmer than both, follows their steps. Something in the pod’s skin glows. Their pulse matches its slow light.
When police cordon off the lake, an odd pulse echoes in Hiro’s chest. Not pounding, just… humming? Why does his mind start to hear scraps of speech not meant for people? “We’re threads… wake… calling home…” He grabs his head.
Everyone seems scared. Yet, as Hiro meets the vision of a twin-tailed blue child in the pod, fear shifts. Is he chosen? Trapped? The streets buzz, social feeds erupt: Possessed boy talks to an alien! But would you trust the news if you were there?
After days inside—doctors, flashy taps, no clear answer—his friends sneak him out. The city glows, tense not with joy but with questions. That odd child waits near Gale Tower, silent but seeing past city walls. Tamon whispers, “If this thing can speak to us, we need answers from it, not the news cycle.”
A distorted language, woven of music, filters into Hiro’s thoughts. The alien sends flashes—its home burned, so it flees. Is it lonely, scared, or sly about the truth? Data packets, sky paths, moons that speak. It shows him cities, not so different from his own. Are all refugees the same, beneath star skins?
One council member, Ikeda, arrives with guards. “What do you children take this for, a game? Diplomacy is—!” Police draw stun prods, the pod throbs. Lamps along the road burst when Hiro steps between lines. “Ask, don’t shoot. We need to find peace, not more bodies.” Want to stand where Hiro stands, or would you run?
The alien’s not just a child—it’s a scholar, once head of memory collection back home. Minami uncovers a data-point in its field, cracks a shimmer matrix with a math trick she’d learned while eating ramen last Thursday. The crew calls this thing Ruya. There’s laughter as it tries mint gum, confusion when Minami says, “I chew it for stress.” Ruya asks, tilting its head, “Do you eat anxiety here?” Even tense, you might smile.
With time, Ruya bonds with Hiro and his friends, showing faded star maps in secret—buried bases, traces of more ships, warnings: “They’re searching for me. Others may come.” After that, strange readings spiral across local scanners. Is Ruya just hiding? Even Tamon wants to trust it, but worries: “If there’s one fugitive, who’s hunting?” Who do you trust more—aliens or those that chase them?
The night sky scars as another array, darker and sharp-finned, breaks the clouds. Alarm bells howl. Crowd panic spreads in minutes. A voice, burned into speakers by unknown tech, calls Gale City’s leader to bring out “the object.” The pod ignites green, surrounding Ruya and Hiro in wild light, walls flicker with coded circles. You’re watching hiding end—and a stand start. Does your fear rise or are you swept in hope for contact?
Hiro, Minami, Tamon, and Ruya stand by the crater as battle-drones twist through the air. Gale City, half lit and shivering, gasps for survival. As charged wind lashes the group, Ruya extends shimmering shield-arcs, burning shapes into night fog. Hiro peers at the rain of glass and stars—asks, “Are we fighting for you…or alongside you?” A mild nod is all the answer.
Sudden stillness hits. Enemy figures, not machine, arrive—tall, faceless, bonded as a single unimpressed unit. Their first words: “Return our asset or this place falls to memory-ash.” Silence thickens. The episode fades on that pale threat, the pod pulsing between friend and fate. Do you already expect a rescue—or a betrayal?
