The sky bent under his feet—water, yet not. Stars scattered like broken mirrors across the midnight canvas beneath him. Yozora felt no wind, no sound, only the tremor of something approaching. His dreams always brought unfamiliar places. But this… this was different. A plane between places, like the Final World but thinner, like a veil had been peeled back on unreality itself.

He stood, confused but alert, and then— “Hey?”

… nothing, he can’t see anyone. But he knows he’s not the only one there.