A basset hound walks through dead Tokyo looking for something that no longer exists. The film doesn't move fast enough to distract you from that fact, it moves slowly enough that you feel it too. Piano opens every scene like a funeral, and by the end you realize the entire OVA was written as a love letter to something already gone, which means you've been grieving the whole time without noticing when it started.
A basset hound shuffles through the empty streets of Tokyo, searching for something that no longer exists. Humanity has vanished from the world, leaving behind only concrete and silence. The dog moves through this abandoned landscape with a singular purpose: to experience human touch again, to feel warmth against its fur, to know companionship one final time. What drives a creature to seek connection with a species that's already gone? The dog's journey becomes a meditation on loneliness, memory, and the bonds that persist even when the world has ended. Each empty building and silent avenue deepens the question of whether some desires can survive anything, even extinction itself. This quiet science fiction piece strips away dialogue and narrative complexity to focus on something smaller and more profound: the emotional weight of a single being moving through absence. It's a contemplative work that trusts its imagery to convey loss and longing without explanation. Viewers drawn to philosophical storytelling and willing to sit with melancholy will find something genuinely moving in this dog's quiet pilgrimage.