Donyatsu

Donyatsu

Summer in the 21st century, and Shinjuku is just a huge empty lot. No people. No traffic. Nothing but wind and dust where the crowds used to be, because something happened that nobody can explain. What is left behind: a cat crossed with a doughnut, and a cat crossed with a bagel. Sounds cute. It is not. These two and a handful of other snack-shaped animals have the whole ruined ward to themselves, and that means every stupid argument matters, every corner hides something strange, and there is no owner coming home to fill the bowl. They wander. They bicker. They poke at the rubble of a city that used to belong to somebody else. So what exactly wiped out every human in Tokyo, and why are the only survivors made of pastry?