The world has ended. Not in fire or ice, but in a creeping, suffocating shroud of Grey. We, foolish creatures, believed ourselves capable of understanding everything, even when we couldn't understand ourselves. The world had its own order, its own solutions for its errors and missteps, bound by a law that was never meant to be broken—a law we should have respected. But we didn't. We reached too far, greedily seeking answers that our fragile minds were never meant to grasp. Like ants trying to comprehend the words of gods, we too became insects in the eyes of something greater. Something incomprehensible.
---
Somewhere in Shinjuku.
The Grey had consumed the city, swallowing it whole. Buildings jutted like broken teeth from the fog, their edges blurred and crumbling into shadow. A lone figure trudged through the desolation, his entire body obscured by layers of clothing. Not a sliver of skin showed, his winter goggles pulled tight against his face. Every step was careful, deliberate, as though the mist itself might reach out and drag him under.
He clicked his tongue, the sound sharp in the suffocating quiet. "This was a waste," he thought bitterly, his inner voice echoing in the silence. "There's nothing here. No shelter. No food. Nothing."
In his gloved hand, he gripped a rusty iron pipe—his only weapon. He'd been wandering for hours, maybe longer; time had long since lost its meaning. Suddenly, he froze, his instincts screaming at him to stop. A faint, wet grunting noise seeped through the mist, low and guttural.
Carefully, he crouched behind a rusted car, his breath shallow as he peered through the narrow lenses of his goggles. The sound came closer, shambling footsteps dragging across the cracked pavement. He knew what it was before he saw it: a Hyouryusha—a Drifter.
Once human, now a twisted husk of blackened flesh and mist-soaked veins, the Drifter moved with a jerky, unnatural rhythm. They were fast, vicious, and utterly mindless. And they were never alone. Where there was one, there were always more, lurking unseen in the Grey.
Slowly, he crouched lower, gripping the iron pipe tightly as he considered his options. He reached down, fingers brushing against a small stone on the ground. Picking it up, he weighed it in his hand before tossing it to the side, where it clattered against the broken remains of a streetlamp.
The noise echoed faintly, and he held his breath, hoping it would be enough to draw the Drifter's attention away. But instead of scurrying toward the sound, the Drifter remained eerily still, its head cocked to one side.
Then, a faint yip of pain broke the silence.
The man's heart sank. Slowly, he craned his neck, peering over the edge of the car. There, in the mist, was a young girl, her small hand clutching the back of her head where the stone had struck her. She was exposed—her skin bare, her frail form vulnerable to the Grey.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath. She was already lost. The Mist would take her, if it hadn't already. He should leave her there. No one survived long after the Mist claimed them.
But something—an old, stubborn part of him—wouldn't let him walk away.
The Drifter lurched forward, its movements quickening. Without thinking, he surged out from his hiding spot, the iron pipe swinging with all the force he could muster. The pipe collided with the Drifter's skull, the sickening crunch reverberating through his arms. The creature staggered but didn't fall, its grotesque form still twitching. He struck again. And again.
By the time the Drifter crumpled to the ground, black ichor leaking from its broken body, he was gasping for breath, his stamina spent.
He turned to the girl, who was staring at him with wide, frightened eyes.
"Hurry," he said, his voice sharp as he reached for her hand. "We don't have time."
She hesitated for a moment, but when the guttural cries of more Drifters began to echo from the fog, she grabbed his hand. Together, they ran, her small fingers trembling in his grip. The streets seemed to twist and shift around them, the Grey pressing in closer with every step.
But he knew where to go. He had to. The place he'd been searching for—the place he'd hoped might save him—was their only chance now.
And so they fled, two fragile lives against a world devoured by the Grey.
The girl's legs were too small, her steps too uneven to keep up with him. He glanced back, his breath ragged, and saw her stumbling, tears streaking down her dirt-smeared face. "She's not going to make it," he thought bitterly, cursing himself for dragging her into this.
With a growl of frustration, he stopped, crouched down, and hoisted her into his arms. She was light—too light, like she hadn't eaten in days—but even her weight pressed down on his already weary body. Holding her tight, he bolted, his boots slamming against the cracked asphalt as the distant groans of the Drifters grew louder.
And then, through the swirling mist, he saw it: a subway entrance, the stairs descending into darkness like an open maw. Relief flickered through him. The subways were one of the only places untouched by the Mist. The only places safe.
He didn't hesitate. He rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping in his haste, the girl clutching at his neck. When he reached the bottom, his heart sank. The gate blocking the subway platform was sealed shut, heavy chains and rusted locks securing it from the other side.
He set the girl down gently and began pounding on the gate with all his might. "Hey! Anyone in there? Open up! Please, let us in!" His voice was hoarse, desperation tearing through it.
No answer came.
"Damn it," he muttered, his hands trembling as he gripped the bars. His mind raced, trying to think of another way. He turned to look around, but the distant sounds of shuffling feet and low, guttural growls told him he didn't have much time. The Drifters were closing in.
The world had no true refuge from the Mist. It seeped into everything—homes, streets, forests—bringing despair and death wherever it spread. The Drifters followed, relentless and unyielding. The only places the Mist seemed to avoid were the sewers and the deepest parts of the subway system. Those who survived long enough to figure that out hid themselves away underground, carving out a fragile existence in the darkness.
But now, there was no way in.
He grabbed the girl's hand again. "We can't stay here," he said, his voice low but urgent. She nodded, her face pale with fear, and together they scrambled back up the stairs.
The Mist felt heavier now, clinging to his skin and filling his lungs with its cold, metallic taste. He could feel them before he saw them—their presence was suffocating, the air vibrating with an unnatural wrongness.
Two Drifters emerged from the fog as he reached the top of the stairs, their warped forms moving with unnatural speed. They lunged at him, and he swung the iron pipe, putting all his strength behind it. The first Drifter staggered but didn't fall, its body barely reacting to the blow. The second rushed in, its claw-like hands reaching for him.
He swung again, this time at its head, but the strike only slowed it for a moment. "It's not enough," he thought, panic clawing at his chest. He had no time, no weapons strong enough to stop them.
"Run!" he shouted, pushing the girl ahead of him as he swung the pipe wildly to keep the Drifters at bay. The creatures snarled, their movements jerky but relentless, and he knew he was running out of options. Grabbing the girl again, he forced his legs to move, his muscles screaming in protest as he sprinted back into the maze of the mist-covered streets.
The Drifters were faster, stronger, and he was out of time. "There has to be somewhere—anywhere," he thought, his mind a frantic blur. But all he could do was run, clutching the girl tightly as the Mist pressed closer, the groans of the Drifters echoing in his ears like the tolling of a bell.
As I reached the girl, I lifted her into my arms and forced my legs to keep moving. The Drifters were close behind, their guttural snarls growing louder with every step. I couldn't think about what lay ahead—only that I needed to keep running. It didn't matter if I faced something worse; stopping wasn't an option.
The minutes blurred into eternity. It felt like I had been running for an hour, maybe longer. My legs burned, each step heavier than the last. My lungs felt like they were tearing themselves apart, raw and desperate for air. My vision swam, the edges darkening, narrowing to a tunnel that grew smaller with each pounding heartbeat.
Finally, my body gave out. My knees buckled, and I collapsed to the ground. I twisted mid-fall, shielding the girl with my body as we hit the pavement. My arms stayed wrapped tightly around her, holding her close to keep her safe from harm.
She squirmed under my weight, her small voice breaking the silence. "Hey... Wake up. Wake up!"
Her tone was soft yet urgent, laced with fear and desperation. I could feel her tiny hands shaking me, her fingers tugging weakly at my sleeves. I wanted to respond, to tell her it was okay, but my body had reached its limits. Every ounce of strength had drained away, leaving me unable to move. All I had left were my thoughts, looping endlessly in the dark: I can't leave her here. I can't let her face this alone.
Through the haze, I opened my eyes. Blurred shapes and streaks of grey filled my vision. She was kneeling beside me now, her hands gripping mine as she tried to pull me up. She was so small, her effort almost laughable, her trembling frame barely strong enough to stand.
But she kept trying.
I couldn't help but smile, just faintly, at the absurdity of it. Her determination, her refusal to give up on me, sparked something deep inside.
With a groan, I forced myself to move. My arms pushed against the ground, and I staggered to my feet, swaying under the weight of exhaustion. The girl looked up at me, her face a mix of relief and concern.
The silence around us felt heavy. For the first time since the chase began, there were no snarls or footsteps. No sign of Drifters. The Mist hung thick and quiet, an uneasy stillness settling over the ruined street.
I didn't trust it. The night was coming, and the Mist grew worse after sundown. We couldn't stay exposed like this.
I reached down and lifted her again, her small frame fitting snugly in my arms. "Let's find shelter," I said, my voice hoarse and cracked. She nodded, her fingers clutching tightly to my jacket.
I stumbled forward, my legs screaming in protest with each step. The light was fading, the shadows deepening, and the streets stretched out like an endless labyrinth ahead. But I couldn't stop. Not now.
The night was coming. And in the night, the Mist ruled everything.
The apartment building loomed ahead, its cracked facade and broken windows cloaked in the Mist. It wasn't much, but it looked stable enough to provide shelter for the night. Desperation made the decision for me. I stepped inside, the girl still in my arms.
The interior was eerily quiet. Dust coated every surface, and the faint scent of mildew lingered in the air. I scanned the halls carefully, checking for any signs of Drifters. There were none, which was both a relief and a warning.
After setting the girl down, I searched the open apartments, gathering whatever I could find. Blankets, pillows, candles, even a few odds and ends to distract the girl—anything that might bring her some comfort. All the while, a grim thought gnawed at me: she had been exposed to the Mist for too long. By morning, she might not be the same. I might have to kill her.
In one of the corridors, I found a locked door. It looked sturdy, and something about it gave me hope. "Stay here," I told her. She nodded, her wide eyes silently watching as I pulled a hairpin from my pocket.
The lock gave after some fiddling—a skill I'd learned in my years of hiding and scavenging. I pushed the door open cautiously, iron pipe in hand. Inside, I checked every corner, every shadow, making sure no Drifters or, worse, Shades were lurking. If a Shade were here, we wouldn't stand a chance.
The apartment was untouched, like someone had simply stepped out and never returned. The furniture was still intact, and there were even some leftover supplies in the kitchen. I stripped the children's room of its mattress and brought it to the space with the fewest windows, draping blankets over the glass to block out the Mist.
Finally, I turned to the girl. "Here, put these on," I said, handing her some oversized clothing I'd found. She hesitated, but eventually relented, changing into the baggy outfit. I helped adjust the sleeves and hood, making sure every inch of her skin was covered. Her head, however, remained bare—there was no hiding her face.
Once she was settled, I lit a candle, the flickering flame casting soft, wavering light across the room. I sat down across from her, pulling off my goggles and mask. For the first time, my face was revealed: blue eyes dulled by exhaustion, semi-long hair falling messily around my face, and the beginnings of a beard that hinted at time spent without proper care.
I stared at her for a moment before speaking. "I'm Arata. Kaito Arata. And you are?" My voice was as gentle as I could manage, hoping to ease her obvious tension.
She looked at me with wary eyes. "Haruka. Just Haruka."
Her response made me pause. "Haruka? You're not going to tell me your last name?"
Her gaze sharpened, and she replied with a bite. "What's the point? You asked for my name. It's Haruka. That's it."
Her sharp tone caught me off guard. I raised my hands defensively. "H-hey, what did I do?"
She glared at me, her words dripping with sarcasm. "What did you do? You carried me! You hit me with a stone! And you almost got me killed. Twice!"
I blinked, struggling to process her outburst. "Listen, Haruka, I was trying to save you. And besides, if I hadn't stepped in, you'd be Drifter food by now!"
She crossed her arms, still fuming. "Great job. I'm sure that Iron Pipe of Doom was really intimidating to them."
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. This was going nowhere. "Look," I said, trying to shift the focus. "Where are you from? How long have you been out there like that? Don't you know touching the Mist means death?"
Her expression shifted, her sharpness giving way to something quieter. "I know," she said softly. "I've seen what it does to people. They don't look healthy at all."
I frowned, watching her closely. Her skin was clear, her movements steady—nothing about her suggested she'd been tainted by the Mist. But if she'd been out there for as long as she implied, she should've turned already.
The thought gnawed at me, my mind racing with possibilities.
"How old are you, Haruka?" I asked.
She hesitated for a moment before answering. "Sixteen."
Her voice was calm, but there was something in her eyes—something older than her years, something that didn't fit the fragile girl sitting across from me. I didn't know what it was, but I knew one thing: Haruka wasn't ordinary.
"Haruka, how long have you been outside?" I asked her, my voice low, cautious. She looked at me, her expression tightening as she seemed to wrestle with the answer. After a pause, she finally spoke.
"Not too long. Just today… I left the place I was staying with my mother. Supplies ran out a month ago. That was the last time I saw her." Her voice was quiet, almost detached, but there was a rawness beneath her words that sent a chill through me. "After that, I ate whatever was left. Today… I left the shelter."
My heart sank. For a moment, the weight of what she'd said hit me like a brick. She hadn't just wandered out by chance. She had nothing left—no one left.
I leaned toward her, my movements slow and careful, and pulled her into a gentle hug. She stiffened at first, surprised by the gesture, but I didn't let go. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice heavy. "But I don't think your mother is coming back."
I barely finished the sentence before her hand cracked across my face. The sting was instant, a sharp reminder of just how much strength could hide in someone so small.
"How dare you say that!" she shouted, her voice filled with rage, but her hands were trembling. "My mother will come back! Or I'll find her myself—sooner or later!" Her words began strong, defiant, but as the last syllables left her lips, her anger gave way to something else. Her voice softened, cracked, then broke. Tears welled in her eyes, and she covered her face as the sobs overtook her.
I pressed my hand to my cheek, rubbing the spot where she'd slapped me. It hurt like hell. "Damn, she's strong," I thought, my lips curling into a faint, humorless smile. But the sight of her crying erased any amusement.
"I'm sorry, Haruka," I said softly, my tone earnest. "I didn't mean it like that."
She didn't respond, just sat there, her shoulders shaking as the tears fell silently. I stood up and moved to the mattress I'd set up earlier, arranging the blankets and pillows to make it more comfortable.
"You should rest, Haruka," I said, glancing back at her. "After everything we've been through today, it's the best thing for both of us." I pulled off my heavy jacket and hoodie, the weight of them a relief to shed, and lay down on the bed.
For a moment, silence hung in the room. I closed my eyes, the exhaustion of the day dragging me toward sleep.
But then I felt something.
I opened my eyes to see Haruka sitting on the edge of the mattress, her knees drawn up to her chest. She looked small, vulnerable, her eyes staring at the floor.
"I'm scared, Kaito," she said quietly, her voice trembling. "Will we be safe here?"
I didn't know how to answer her. I wanted to tell her yes, to reassure her that nothing would happen, but the truth was I didn't know. Instead, I said the only thing I could.
"We should be," I said softly. "I promise you that. Now go to bed and rest."
I turned onto my side, facing away from her, hoping she'd listen. The silence stretched on, and I began to drift off again.
Then I felt the blanket shift.
Her small hands wrapped around me from behind, tentative and trembling. Her heart was beating so fast I could feel it against my back. I froze for a moment, unsure of what to do, but then I let out a soft sigh.
I decided to let her be.
As her grip on me steadied, I stared into the dark, letting the sound of her breathing lull me. And slowly, despite everything—the Mist, the Drifters, the endless nightmare of the world outside—I let sleep take me.
When I woke, the room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of Haruka's breathing. The faint flicker of the candle I'd lit last night had burned itself out, leaving us in near darkness. I shifted slightly, realizing her arms were still around me, her grip loose but lingering.
She must've been terrified to hold on like that. For a moment, I stayed still, staring into the shadowy ceiling, my thoughts churning. How long had it been since I'd let anyone close to me, let alone trusted someone enough to sleep in the same room? And yet, here was this girl, a stranger, clinging to me like I was her last anchor in a drowning world.
Carefully, I peeled her arms away, making sure not to wake her. She murmured something in her sleep but didn't stir. I stood up, stretching my stiff limbs, and grabbed my gear—mask, goggles, jacket—layering them back on like armor.
The apartment was still. It felt too still.
I checked the windows, lifting the blankets I'd hung to block the Mist. The thick gray fog pressed against the glass, swirling in unnatural patterns. I couldn't tell if it was morning or night; the Mist erased the concept of time. Outside, the street was silent, no sign of Drifters or Shades. But that didn't mean they weren't there, hiding in the shadows, waiting.
Returning to the room, I found Haruka awake, sitting on the mattress with her arms wrapped around her knees. She looked up at me, her expression unreadable.
"You're leaving, aren't you?" she asked.
I blinked. "What makes you think that?"
She shrugged, her voice quiet. "You look like someone about to run. Like my mother did."
Her words hit harder than I expected. I crouched down in front of her, meeting her gaze. "I'm not leaving," I said firmly. "Not without you."
Her eyes widened slightly, but she quickly masked her surprise. "Then where are we going?"
"Somewhere safer than here," I replied. "We can't stay long. The Drifters will catch on eventually. This place isn't secure."
She nodded, though her lips pressed into a thin line. I could see the fear in her eyes, the hesitation.
"Haruka," I said softly, "I know this is all… a lot. But you're not alone anymore. I'll keep you safe. I promise."
She looked at me for a long moment, then nodded again, more resolutely this time. "Okay. What do you need me to do?"
I handed her the oversized jacket I'd found the night before. "Put this on. Make sure no skin is showing. We don't take chances with the Mist."
As she pulled it on, I double-checked my gear, securing the straps of my mask and tucking my hair beneath the hood. Once we were both ready, I led her to the apartment door, pipe in hand.
"Stay close," I whispered. "And if I say run, you run. Don't look back."
She nodded silently, her small hand clutching the hem of my jacket as we stepped out into the hall.
The building was eerily quiet, every creak of the floorboards amplified in the oppressive silence. I scanned every corner, every shadow, my grip tightening on the pipe. Haruka stayed close, her presence a small but grounding weight behind me.
As we reached the stairwell, a faint sound made me freeze. A low, guttural growl echoed from below, followed by the scraping of claws on concrete. My heart sank.
Drifters.
I motioned for Haruka to stay still, pressing my finger to my lips. Slowly, I crept to the edge of the stairs and peered down. Shadows moved in the Mist, their distorted forms shambling and jerking unnaturally. There were at least three of them, maybe more.
"Damn it," I muttered under my breath.
Haruka tugged on my sleeve. "What is it?" she whispered.
I glanced back at her, my expression grim. "We need another way out."
But before I could move, a sudden crash echoed from below. One of the Drifters had slammed into something, letting out an enraged snarl. The noise was enough to stir the others, their growls rising in unison.
They'd caught our scent.
"Run," I hissed, grabbing Haruka's hand and pulling her with me.
We bolted back down the hall, the sound of pounding footsteps and guttural howls growing closer. I didn't know where I was leading us—just away from them. Doors blurred past as we ran, and my lungs burned with every breath.
We rounded a corner, and there it was: an emergency exit. The door was slightly ajar, the faintest trace of light filtering through the Mist beyond. Hope surged in my chest.
"Go!" I shouted, pushing Haruka toward it.
She stumbled but regained her footing, sprinting for the door. I followed, glancing back just in time to see the first Drifter rounding the corner behind us. Its twisted, gray body moved with unnatural speed, its eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.
We burst through the exit, the cold, damp air of the Mist hitting us like a wall. I slammed the door shut behind us, jamming my pipe through the handles to hold it in place.
For a moment, there was only silence, the muffled growls of the Drifters on the other side of the door. Haruka stood a few feet away, her chest heaving, eyes wide with fear.
I moved to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We're okay," I said, though my own heart was still racing. "We made it."
She looked up at me, her expression wavering between relief and disbelief. "How much longer can we keep running?" she asked.
I didn't have an answer. All I could do was tighten my grip on her shoulder and say, "As long as we have to."
It had been a while since we escaped the last group of Drifters. My legs were trembling, barely holding me up, and my breaths came in ragged gasps. I sat down heavily, leaning against a crumbling wall as Haruka stood nearby, watching me with concern.
She hadn't eaten in weeks, maybe even a month, she said. I hadn't eaten in three weeks myself, and my body was reaching its breaking point. I could feel it—the weakness in my limbs, the lightheadedness that made every step a struggle. I was running on borrowed time. My strength was fading fast, and worse, I couldn't do much for her either.
I needed to find food for both of us. But how? The Mist had swallowed most of the world, leaving behind nothing but ruins, monsters, and shadows of what once was.
My thoughts swirled with desperation as I pushed myself to my feet. "We need to find an open way into the subway," I said, my voice hoarse and tired.
Haruka tilted her head, watching me closely.
"There are people down there," I continued. "Small colonies under Japan. It's our best shot. If we can get inside, maybe we'll find some supplies—or at least shelter. Right now, I don't think I'll make it another week, maybe not even the week after."
I scanned the misty horizon, looking for any signs of an entrance or safe passage. Nothing but the endless gray stretched before us.
As I started walking again, Haruka's voice broke the silence. "Kaito," she said hesitantly, "how long have you been living in the Mist?"
Her question made me freeze for a moment. I didn't want to answer that. I didn't want to think about it.
"Long," I muttered, avoiding her gaze. "Is that enough?"
"How long, Kaito?" she pressed, her voice softer this time.
"Just… long. And stop asking," I snapped, my tone sharper than I intended.
I could feel her staring at me, but I didn't turn to face her. Instead, I kept walking, my boots crunching against the debris-strewn ground as the Mist thickened around us.
The truth was, I didn't know how long I'd been out here. Weeks, months, years—it all blurred together in the endless gray. Time didn't mean much when every day was a fight to survive.
Haruka didn't say anything else after that, but the silence between us felt heavier than ever. As we trudged through the fog, I couldn't shake the feeling that this journey was only going to get harder. The Mist was unforgiving, and every step we took deeper into its grasp felt like a gamble we were bound to lose.
My stomach growled loudly, the sound echoing in the quiet. I clenched my jaw, trying to ignore the hunger clawing at my insides. Haruka looked at me, concern flashing in her eyes, but she didn't say anything. She was just as hungry as I was—probably worse.
"We'll find a way," I said more to myself than to her. "We have to."
But as we moved forward into the dense Mist, I wasn't sure I believed my own words.
The Mist swirled around us, a suffocating, ever-present shroud that seemed to seep into the soul. Haruka's question hung in the air, unanswered. I didn't want to think about how long I'd been out here. Long enough to lose count. Long enough to stop remembering what life felt like before it.
She didn't press further, but I could feel her eyes on me, searching for something—an answer, a reassurance, a glimmer of strength. I had none of those to give.
Each step felt heavier, my body screaming at me to stop, to rest. But stopping wasn't an option. Not out here. Not with the Mist ready to devour anyone who lingered too long. I glanced back at Haruka, her small frame shuffling behind me. She was trying to keep up, but I could see the toll it was taking on her. Her breaths came shallow and ragged, her pace slowing with every step.
"We'll rest soon," I lied, hoping it would keep her moving.
She didn't respond, just nodded weakly.
The truth was, I didn't know where we were going. The subway seemed like the best option, but finding an entrance that wasn't already overrun or sealed off was a gamble. And even if we did find one, there was no guarantee the people down there would let us in. Desperation made people cruel.
As we walked, the Mist thickened, its cold tendrils wrapping around us like chains. My thoughts grew hazy, disjointed. Hunger clawed at my stomach, a gnawing, relentless ache that refused to be ignored. I hadn't eaten in weeks, and it was catching up to me. My legs felt like lead, my head light and spinning.
Then, in the distance, I saw it—a faint outline through the fog. A structure, squat and industrial, with a broken staircase leading down. My heart leapt.
"Haruka," I said, my voice hoarse. "There."
She squinted through the Mist, her eyes widening as she spotted it.
We hurried toward it, though my legs protested with every step. The staircase led to a rusted metal door, its surface streaked with grime and time. I reached out, gripping the handle, and pulled.
It didn't budge.
"Damn it," I muttered, yanking harder.
Haruka stepped beside me, her small hands joining mine on the handle. Together, we pulled, straining against the rust and decay. Finally, with a loud screech, the door gave way, swinging open to reveal a dark, gaping tunnel below.
The air inside was stale but mercifully free of Mist. A faint, flickering light illuminated the entrance, casting long shadows on the walls.
"We'll be safe here for now," I said, stepping inside.
Haruka hesitated, lingering at the threshold.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
She looked up at me, her eyes wide with unease. "What if it's worse down there?"
I didn't have an answer for that either. But staying out here wasn't an option.
"It won't be," I said, forcing confidence into my voice. "Come on."
Reluctantly, she followed me inside.
The tunnel stretched ahead of us, its walls lined with pipes and flickering lights. It felt abandoned, but that didn't mean it was empty. I kept the iron pipe in my grip, my eyes scanning every shadow for movement.
We walked in silence, the only sounds our footsteps echoing off the walls. The deeper we went, the heavier the air became, thick with the smell of damp metal and decay.
After what felt like an eternity, we reached an open chamber. It was larger than I expected, with makeshift barricades and scattered debris. Signs of life, though faint and long-abandoned.
"Do you think anyone's here?" Haruka whispered.
I shook my head. "Not anymore."
She wandered over to a pile of discarded items, sifting through them. A broken toy, a torn jacket, an empty can. Evidence of lives that had passed through here and moved on—or ended.
As she searched, I slumped against the wall, my body finally giving in to exhaustion. My head lolled back, my breaths shallow and labored.
"You need to eat," Haruka said, her voice quiet but firm.
I laughed bitterly. "You think I don't know that?"
She frowned, holding up the empty can. "Maybe there's something further in. We should keep looking."
I wanted to argue, to tell her we should stay put and rest. But she was right. If we didn't find food soon, we wouldn't make it much longer.
With a groan, I pushed myself to my feet, the effort nearly toppling me. Haruka steadied me, her small hands surprisingly strong.
"Let's go," she said.
We ventured deeper into the tunnel, the flickering lights growing dimmer with each step. The silence became oppressive, broken only by the occasional drip of water or the distant creak of metal.
Then, a sound—soft and distant, but unmistakable.
A voice.
Haruka froze, her eyes darting to mine.
"Did you hear that?" she whispered.
I nodded, tightening my grip on the pipe. The voice came again, faint and indistinct, echoing through the tunnel.
"Stay close," I murmured, leading the way toward the sound.
As we rounded a corner, the source of the voice came into view—a figure, slumped against the wall, muttering to themselves. Their clothes were tattered, their skin pale and gray.
A Drifter.
But they hadn't fully turned. Not yet.
Their eyes flicked up, locking onto us. For a moment, they seemed almost human, a glimmer of recognition in their gaze.
"Help… me…" they rasped, their voice raw and broken.
Haruka stepped forward, but I grabbed her arm, holding her back.
"They're already gone," I said, my voice cold. "There's nothing we can do."
"But—"
"No," I snapped.
The Drifter let out a low, guttural groan, their body convulsing as the Mist claimed them fully. I raised the pipe, ready to end it before it could attack.
But Haruka stopped me, her hand on mine.
"Don't," she said softly.
The Drifter's eyes met hers, a flicker of gratitude passing through them before they closed for the last time.
We stood there in silence, the weight of the moment heavy between us.
"We need to keep moving," I said finally.
Haruka nodded, but I could see the sadness in her eyes.
As we walked away, I couldn't help but wonder: how much longer before we ended up like that?
As we trudged through the tunnel, exhaustion weighing on us like chains, we finally reached a station. The faint remnants of artificial light from old emergency fixtures flickered on the walls, casting eerie shadows that danced in the grayish dim. It was abandoned, silent, and smelled of mildew and decay.
But there, nestled in the corner like a beacon of hope, was an old vending machine. Its cracked and faded exterior still glimmered faintly, the contents inside frozen in time. Sandwiches, baguettes, cookies, drinks—it was a treasure trove of salvation.
The only problem was the glass.
I clenched my rusty iron pipe, gripping it tightly as I approached the machine. Haruka stood behind me, her wide eyes reflecting both awe and hunger. Without a second thought, I swung the pipe hard against the glass, the shattering sound echoing like gunfire through the station.
"Take whatever you want, Haruka," I said, my voice muffled by the adrenaline and anticipation coursing through me.
I reached in and grabbed a sandwich, tearing it open with trembling hands. I buried my face into it, devouring it like a starved animal. The bread was stale, the fillings dry and tasteless. Some parts were rotten, the tang of decay unmistakable, but I didn't care. I ate with abandon, shoving piece after piece into my mouth, swallowing it down like it was the first meal I'd had in years.
I didn't stop. My body didn't let me. Once the first sandwich was gone, I reached for another, and then another, ignoring the growing pain in my stomach. It wasn't just hunger—it was desperation, the primal urge to survive overriding every thought in my mind.
Haruka was quieter but no less ravenous. She picked a baguette and some cookies, nibbling at first but soon devouring them with equal fervor. She looked almost overwhelmed, her face smeared with crumbs, her thin fingers clutching the food as if it might vanish any second.
"This is amazing," she whispered between bites, her voice thick with relief.
I nodded, too busy stuffing myself with a stale pastry to respond. For the first time in weeks, there was a flicker of hope—a moment of reprieve in the unrelenting nightmare we'd been living.
For now, we feasted.
We sat there for a long while, stuffed with whatever scraps we could find from the vending machine. My stomach was full for the first time in weeks, the heaviness a strange but welcome feeling. The lightheadedness that had plagued me finally faded, and even the ache in my legs began to ease. For a brief moment, life felt almost normal—almost bearable.
But I knew it couldn't last.
After our unexpected feast, we gathered ourselves and started moving forward into the darkness of the tunnel. The silence was thick, broken only by the soft echo of our footsteps on the cracked concrete. The air felt heavy, but there was no sign of danger. No Drifters. No Shades. Just endless, oppressive emptiness.
I felt calm for once, cautiously optimistic that our journey through this section would be uneventful. At least, that's what I told myself.
We had barely gone a few meters when Haruka tugged on my sleeve, her small hand pulling me to a stop. "Yes, what is it, Haruka?" I asked, looking down at her.
She fidgeted nervously, her gaze darting around the dark tunnel. She opened her mouth as if to say something but hesitated. Finally, she looked up at me, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"Can you… wait here for me, Kaito?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
I blinked, confused by the sudden request. "Wait? Why? Did you forget something back at the station?"
Her expression grew more uneasy, her face turning an even deeper shade of red. She shifted on her feet, avoiding my eyes. "No… I-I gotta… you know."
It took me a moment to understand what she meant. When it clicked, I let out a small sigh and nodded, trying to hide my own awkwardness. "Oh. Right. Yeah, I get it. Just don't go far, okay? I'll wait here."
She gave a quick nod, clutching her hands nervously before disappearing a few steps into the shadows. I stood there in the stillness, leaning against the tunnel wall as I listened to her footsteps fade.
The silence returned, heavier now. I glanced around the dimly lit space, my instincts sharpening despite the calm I'd felt earlier. The Mist had taught me not to trust quiet moments like this. They never lasted.
I shifted my grip on the iron pipe, holding it tightly as I strained to hear anything out of the ordinary. Every creak of the tunnel, every faint whisper of air through the cracks, sent a shiver down my spine.
"Don't take too long," I muttered under my breath, glancing into the darkness where Haruka had vanished.
The minutes stretched on, and my unease grew.
The silence dragged, growing heavier with every passing moment. I tapped the iron pipe against my palm, a nervous habit I'd picked up over the years. The echo of the tap bounced off the tunnel walls, vanishing into the depths of the dark.
"Haruka…" I called out softly, my voice swallowed by the thick air. No response.
I told myself to stay calm. She'd said she wouldn't go far. Maybe she was just taking longer than expected. But something didn't feel right. The Mist always found a way to make things feel wrong.
"Haruka!" I called again, louder this time, gripping the pipe tighter. Still nothing.
The unease in my chest tightened into a knot. I pushed off the wall and took a cautious step in the direction she had gone. My boots scraped against the ground, each step echoing louder than I liked. The further I walked, the more the tunnel seemed to close in around me.
"Haruka," I said again, this time barely above a whisper.
Then I heard it—a faint sound, just ahead. A scuffle, soft and uneven, like something dragging across the floor.
I froze, every nerve in my body screaming at me to stop, to listen. My grip on the pipe tightened as my heart began to race.
"Haruka?" I called out one last time, desperation creeping into my voice.
The sound stopped.
The silence that followed was suffocating, crushing. And then I heard it again—a different sound this time. A faint, wet noise, like something heavy being pulled through mud. It was coming closer.
I took a step back, my pulse hammering in my ears. The darkness ahead seemed to shift, a faint movement that didn't belong to the shadows.
And then I saw it.
A figure emerged from the black, lurching forward in slow, uneven steps. Its body was twisted, contorted in a way that defied anything human. The Mist clung to its form, swirling like smoke around its limbs. Its head tilted unnaturally to the side, and its eyes—those hollow, glowing eyes—locked onto me.
A Shade.
My stomach dropped, and my grip on the pipe faltered for a moment. Shades were worse than Drifters—smarter, faster, and infinitely deadlier. They were the Mist's true monsters, the ones who could think, who could hunt.
And this one had found me.
I stepped back again, my breath hitching. My mind raced, weighing my options. I could run, but Haruka was still out there somewhere. I couldn't leave her. But if I stayed…
The Shade took another step forward, its movements jerky and inhuman. The sound of its rasping breath filled the air, a grotesque, hollow noise that sent shivers down my spine.
Then, from behind me, I heard her voice.
"Kaito…"
I turned sharply, relief flooding through me as I saw Haruka standing just a few feet away. But that relief was short-lived. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with terror as she stared past me, at the thing in the shadows.
"Run, Haruka!" I shouted, positioning myself between her and the Shade.
She hesitated for a moment, then turned and bolted back toward the station.
The Shade lunged.
I swung the pipe with everything I had, the metal colliding with its twisted body in a sickening crunch. It barely flinched, its glowing eyes narrowing as it let out a low, guttural growl.
"Not today," I muttered through gritted teeth, gripping the pipe tighter as the Shade advanced again.
If this was how it ended, so be it. But I wasn't going down without a fight.
The Shade lunged again, faster this time, its grotesque form bending in ways that defied logic. I barely managed to dodge, stumbling back as its clawed hand swiped through the air where I had been standing. The sound of its claws scraping against the concrete was enough to set my teeth on edge.
It was huge—easily twice my size—with jagged, elongated limbs and a torso that seemed to pulse with unnatural energy. Its flesh rippled, shifting and changing as if alive, and then I saw it—a part of its arm stretched out, elongating and hardening into a blade of warped, blackened flesh.
"A weapon?" I muttered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my own heartbeat. The Mist wasn't just consuming and twisting—it was arming them.
The Shade raised its grotesque blade, the edge glinting faintly even in the dim tunnel light. My instincts screamed at me to move, and I barely managed to duck as it swung, the blade slicing through the air with a terrifying whistle.
I swung my pipe in retaliation, aiming for its head, but the Shade moved with unnatural speed, its twisted body bending and contorting to avoid the blow. It let out a guttural, almost mocking growl before charging again.
Each swing of its weapon forced me further back, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I struggled to keep up. My arms ached, my legs felt like lead, and every part of me screamed to give up—to let the Mist take me.
But then I thought of Haruka, her terrified face as she ran back toward the station.
No. Not yet.
I gritted my teeth and swung again, this time aiming lower, catching the Shade's leg. It staggered, letting out a guttural snarl as black, tar-like ichor oozed from the wound.
"Bleeds, huh? Good to know," I muttered, forcing myself to stand taller despite the exhaustion.
The Shade seemed to grow angrier, its movements becoming more erratic. It lunged again, its weaponized arm slicing through the air, and I barely managed to roll out of the way. As I scrambled to my feet, I caught a glimpse of its other arm, where the flesh was shifting once again, molding into a new shape.
A spear.
It hurled the weapon with terrifying precision, the spear grazing my shoulder and embedding itself in the wall behind me. Pain shot through me, but I couldn't stop. Not now.
I grabbed a loose piece of debris—a shard of concrete—and hurled it at the Shade. It hit its face, buying me a split second to close the distance. I swung the pipe with all my strength, aiming for the glowing core of its chest. The impact sent a shockwave up my arms, and the Shade let out a deafening roar as it staggered back.
I didn't wait to see if it recovered. I turned and ran, my legs screaming in protest as I sprinted back toward the station.
"Haruka!" I shouted, my voice echoing through the tunnel.
She was waiting for me near the vending machine, her face pale and streaked with tears.
"Come on!" I yelled, grabbing her hand and pulling her along. "We have to keep moving!"
"But—"
"No buts!" I snapped, glancing over my shoulder. The Shade was following, its grotesque body crawling along the walls and ceiling with terrifying speed.
We ran, my heart pounding in my ears, until we saw it—a maintenance door off to the side of the tunnel. It was slightly ajar, and I didn't hesitate, shoving it open and pulling Haruka inside.
The room was small, filled with old tools and broken equipment, but it had a heavy metal door that I slammed shut and bolted.
The Shade slammed against the other side, the door shaking under its weight. I braced myself against it, panting heavily.
"That won't hold it for long," I muttered, glancing around the room for anything that could help.
Haruka tugged at my sleeve again, her voice trembling. "Kaito… what was that thing?"
"A Shade," I said, gripping the pipe tightly. "One of the Mist's monsters. And this one's smarter than most."
She stared at me, her eyes wide with fear. "What do we do?"
I looked at her, then at the door, which was already starting to bend under the Shade's relentless assault.
"We survive," I said, standing taller despite the exhaustion. "That's all we can do."
The heavy thudding against the door finally ceased, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. I pressed my ear against the cold metal, straining to hear any sign of movement, but all that greeted me was the faint echo of dripping water from somewhere deeper in the tunnels.
Haruka clung to my arm, her breathing shallow and rapid, her wide eyes darting around the dimly lit room. "Did it… leave?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
"I don't know," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. I glanced at the lockers lined up against the wall, rusted and dented from years of neglect. Tools and scraps of metal were scattered on the floor, likely abandoned when the Mist first rolled in.
Then, my gaze fell on a secondary door in the back corner of the room. It was slightly ajar, revealing a narrow stairwell leading upward. "Haruka," I said, gently tugging her toward the door, "we're not staying here. If that thing finds another way in, we're dead."
She hesitated, looking back at the dented door we'd just come through, then up the stairs. "Do you think it's safe up there?"
"No," I admitted, "but it's better than here. Let's go."
I opened the secondary door fully and peeked into the stairwell. The air was musty but clear of the Mist, and the dim light from the emergency fixtures cast long, flickering shadows on the cracked walls. Haruka followed me as we climbed the stairs, each step creaking under our weight.
"How far do you think this goes?" she asked after a few minutes, her voice barely breaking the silence.
"Not sure," I said, glancing down at her. "It might lead to another maintenance level or—"
A loud crash from below cut me off. The sound of twisting metal and shattering debris echoed up the stairwell, and I felt my blood run cold.
"It's coming," I hissed, grabbing Haruka's arm and pulling her along. "Faster!"
The Shade had found another way in, and from the sound of it, it was tearing through the lower level with terrifying speed.
We reached the top of the stairs, where another door blocked our way. I shoved against it, but it wouldn't budge.
"Come on!" I growled, slamming my shoulder into the door. Haruka joined me, her small hands pushing against the rough metal. Finally, with a loud groan, it gave way, and we stumbled into what looked like an old storage room.
The room was larger than I expected, with shelves lining the walls and crates stacked haphazardly in the corners. It was dark, save for a faint light seeping through cracks in the ceiling above.
Haruka closed the door behind us, turning the heavy lock with trembling hands. "Will it hold?" she asked, her voice wavering.
"I don't know," I admitted, already searching the room for anything useful. My eyes fell on a length of chain hanging from one of the shelves, and I grabbed it, using it to secure the door further.
Haruka leaned against the wall, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Kaito… why do they keep chasing us?"
"Because we're alive," I said simply, my voice grim. "And they hate that."
As I searched the room, my hands brushed against a dusty locker. I pried it open, revealing a small stash of emergency supplies—an old flashlight, a box of matches, and a rusted crowbar. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.
"We need to keep moving," I said, handing Haruka the flashlight. "If this place connects to the surface, we can—"
A loud, guttural growl echoed through the room, cutting me off. My blood turned to ice as I realized the sound wasn't coming from behind the door—it was coming from somewhere inside the room.
I turned slowly, the crowbar gripped tightly in my hand. Haruka's flashlight beam swept across the room, landing on a shadowed corner.
Something moved.
From behind a stack of crates, a second Shade emerged, its grotesque form twisting and shifting as it stepped into the light. This one was smaller than the first, but no less terrifying. Its body was covered in jagged, bony protrusions, and its elongated arms ended in clawed hands.
"Haruka, stay behind me," I said, stepping in front of her.
The Shade tilted its head, its glowing eyes locking onto us. It let out a low, menacing growl before lunging forward.
I swung the crowbar with all my strength, the metal connecting with its head. It staggered back but quickly recovered, its claws slashing through the air.
"Run!" I shouted, pushing Haruka toward the opposite end of the room.
"But—"
"Go!"
She hesitated for only a moment before scrambling toward a ladder leading up to a trapdoor in the ceiling.
The Shade lunged again, its claws grazing my arm as I dodged to the side. I swung the crowbar again, aiming for its legs this time, and it let out a screech as it fell to one knee.
"Haruka, hurry!" I shouted, glancing over my shoulder. She was already climbing the ladder, the flashlight clenched in her teeth.
The Shade recovered quickly, its bony protrusions shifting and growing into jagged spikes. It lunged again, forcing me to backpedal toward the ladder.
I grabbed the first rung, hauling myself up as the Shade swiped at my legs. The trapdoor creaked open above me, and Haruka reached down, grabbing my hand and pulling me through.
The Shade let out a furious roar as the trapdoor slammed shut. I collapsed onto the floor, panting heavily as Haruka secured the latch.
For now, we were safe. But the question lingered in my mind: how much longer could we keep running?
We lay there in the dark, breathless and shaken, our hearts pounding from the chase. The faint hum of the old ventilation system was the only sound in the room as we caught our breath. I could feel the sweat on my forehead, the heavy weight of exhaustion pulling at my limbs. It was hard to believe that we had just narrowly escaped another Shade, a grotesque creature that could tear through flesh like paper.
I looked over at Haruka, who was crouched against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and alert, as if she were still processing the danger we'd just faced.
"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice softer now.
She nodded but didn't speak. Her silence spoke volumes, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. I could tell that the fear had taken root in her. How could it not? We were constantly being hunted, relentlessly pursued by these nightmarish creatures that thrived on our terror.
I tried to push the thoughts out of my mind. I needed to focus on the now, on the small victories, like getting to this underground storage room, finding a safe place to catch our breath. But even in the temporary safety of this place, the Mist pressed in on us, thick and suffocating. It was a constant reminder that the world had changed, that our time was running out.
"We can't stay here for long," I muttered under my breath, wiping the sweat from my brow. The old place felt like it could collapse at any moment. The ceiling was low, and the walls were lined with pipes that groaned in protest. The stale air only added to the unease.
Haruka looked up at me, her eyes searching mine, as if she had finally gathered the strength to speak. "Kaito, where do we go now? What are we supposed to do?"
I hesitated, my mind racing. The simple truth was, I didn't have an answer. I couldn't even promise her safety. We had been wandering for days, surviving on scraps, just trying to keep ahead of the Mist and the monsters that stalked us.
But I couldn't show her that fear. I couldn't let her see me crumble.
"We keep moving," I said, forcing a sense of determination into my voice. "We find shelter, we find people, we survive."
"People?" she whispered, the doubt in her voice clear. "How can there be anyone left? The Mist is everywhere…"
"I don't know," I admitted, running a hand through my hair. "But there's a chance. Some people—those who are strong enough—have found ways to survive underground, in the old systems. Colonies, hidden cities, whatever they call it. We can find them. We have to."
Haruka nodded slowly, though she seemed unsure. She was still just a kid, but there was a fire in her eyes, a resilience that impressed me. If she could survive the Mist this long, she had strength in her that I could never overlook.
I stood up, my legs still shaking from the exhaustion, but I couldn't afford to rest for long. The Shades were never far behind, and we needed to move before they found a way up here.
"Come on," I said, offering her a hand to help her to her feet. "Let's go. We've got a long way ahead of us."
Haruka took my hand, her grip stronger than I expected. As we made our way toward the ladder, she glanced up at me again, her expression unreadable.
"How long do you think we can keep this up?" she asked softly.
I didn't answer right away. I didn't want to lie to her. The truth was, I wasn't sure. The Mist was closing in, and our options were running out faster than I could count. But as I looked at her, I realized that it didn't matter. We couldn't stop. Not now. Not when she was depending on me.
"We'll keep going until we can't," I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "We're not dead yet, and we're not going to die today."
Together, we climbed the ladder, the heavy trapdoor creaking open above us. The air was stale, but it was better than what we had just escaped. Haruka clutched the flashlight, her hands trembling slightly, but she didn't say a word.
As we stepped into the next level of the tunnel, I paused, listening for any signs of danger. The sounds of the Shade had faded for now, but that didn't mean we were safe.
"We need to move fast," I whispered, pulling Haruka forward. "Keep your eyes open. Watch every corner."
We didn't know where we were heading, only that we had to keep going. There were no more answers, no guarantees. The world was a shattered wasteland, and we were just two more pieces scattered across it. But there was still hope, even if it felt like it was slipping through our fingers.
"Stay close," I murmured, glancing back at Haruka.
And with that, we continued forward, stepping deeper into the unknown.
I held my breath as I saw the figure—tall, cloaked in black, with a knife pressed against Haruka's throat. Her wide eyes locked with mine, filled with terror and confusion. The man's presence was suffocating, dark, and his grip on the knife was unyielding.
"Calm down," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the knot in my stomach. "We're not here to fight. We just need shelter."
The man's eyes darted between Haruka and me, sizing us up. His cold, calculating gaze never wavered. The blade at Haruka's throat glinted under the dim light, and I could see her shaking, every muscle taut in fear. I wanted to do something, anything, but the thought of making the wrong move made my throat tighten.
"I said, calm down," the man repeated, his voice gravelly. There was a quiet power in his tone, as if he'd seen too much to be scared of anyone anymore. "You come in peace, huh? I'm supposed to believe that?"
"We just came from the Mist," I said slowly, raising my hands to show I meant no harm. "We've been surviving off scraps for days, looking for a place to rest. We're not here to cause trouble."
The man didn't relax his grip, but his gaze softened slightly as he took in my words. His posture didn't shift—he was a statue, as if one wrong move would make him strike. I could almost feel the weight of the knife on Haruka's delicate skin.
"Please..." Haruka's voice was barely above a whisper. She was trying to hold back tears, but I could hear the desperation in her voice. "We're just... we're just trying to survive."
For a moment, the man didn't say anything. He only stared at us, his breath steady, eyes searching for any hint of deceit. It felt like hours, but it was only a few seconds before he finally moved.
"Fine," he said, lowering the knife, though still keeping a close watch on us. "But don't think you're safe just because you made it this far. No one is safe here."
I exhaled slowly, the tension in my chest easing just a fraction. Haruka, still wide-eyed, took a shaky breath and slowly stepped away from the man, rubbing her throat as if trying to ease the phantom pressure that lingered there. I couldn't blame her. That moment felt like it had lasted an eternity.
"Who are you?" I asked, keeping my distance. "What do you want from us?"
The man tilted his head slightly, as though considering whether or not to answer. His dark clothes and the hood that obscured his features made him appear like some kind of shadow in the room. He looked as though he had been living in the darkness for far too long, the weight of the world bearing down on him. His skin was pale, and there was a hardened look in his eyes, like someone who had seen more than their share of death.
"Name's Raizo," he said, still watching us cautiously. "And you're in my territory now. If you're looking for food and shelter, you'll have to prove you're useful. Nothing in this world comes for free, not anymore."
I nodded, swallowing the frustration rising in my chest. We had no choice but to play along for now. Haruka needed rest, and I needed to regain my strength. We couldn't afford to be picky.
"We can help," I said, trying to sound confident. "We're capable. We've survived out there for weeks now. We just need a place to lay low."
Raizo studied me for a moment longer, as if deciding whether he should trust us or not. The air between us was thick with uncertainty, but after a few tense moments, he let out a breath and seemed to relax just enough.
"Fine," he said again, though this time it didn't sound as guarded. "You can stay for now. But don't think I'll be running a charity here. Do something useful or you're out."
I nodded. "We understand. Thank you."
He gave a short, curt nod, then gestured toward the couch. "Take a seat. Rest up while you can. You'll need it."
Haruka, still shaken, moved toward the small kitchen area, looking for anything she could eat. I followed her and sat down on the couch, grateful for the small victory. Raizo didn't seem interested in talking further, retreating to the other side of the room. He was on edge, as expected, constantly scanning the room, never letting his guard down.
I glanced over at Haruka, who was rummaging through the small cabinets, looking for something to ease her hunger. She was still quiet, but I could see her shoulders relax a little as she found a can of beans and some old crackers. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
"We're safe for now," I said softly, though my words didn't do much to ease her nerves. "We have to be smart, Haruka. Keep your head down. Don't trust anyone too easily."
Haruka didn't answer at first. She just stared down at the food in her hands, as if lost in thought. Finally, she looked up at me, her expression weary.
"I know," she whispered. "But I'm tired, Kaito. I'm tired of running."
I didn't know what to say. I wanted to reassure her, but I didn't have the answers. All I could do was hold on, just like we had been doing since the Mist came. One day at a time.
Kaito's presence in the room reminded me of how much danger still lurked in every corner of this broken world. It wasn't just the Mist and the creatures that followed it. There were others out there, scavengers, survivors who'd lost their humanity along the way. Trusting anyone could get you killed.
But right now, we had no choice but to rely on each other. And for now, I trusted kaito's word. For all we knew, this was the safest place we'd find in this hellish new world.
"Get some rest," I said, settling back against the couch, my eyes heavy. "We move again when we have to."
Haruka didn't reply, but she nodded, sitting down next to me as the weight of the day caught up with us. In this moment of quiet, I allowed myself to close my eyes, knowing that tomorrow, we would have to face whatever came next.
And I prayed it wouldn't be a Shade.
Arata sat next to Haruka, his gaze shifting uneasily around the dimly lit room. He didn't trust Raizo, but the man seemed as wary and desperate as anyone else who had survived this far. There was no point in alienating him, not when they might need his help.
"Raizo," Arata began, his voice low but steady, "do you know where we could find a colony? I entered the subway because I heard there are colonies down here—places that can shelter us, maybe even help us."
Raizo leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed, his eyes shadowed by the hood he hadn't yet removed. He let out a heavy sigh, as though the weight of the question had reminded him of something he didn't want to recall.
"Not here," Raizo said, his tone grim. "This part of Shinjuku... it's a wasteland now. A while back, some idiots brought infected people into the colony here. People who'd been touched by the Mist too long. They turned into Shades. It was chaos. The whole colony packed up and moved out, those that could move fast enough. The rest…" He trailed off, his voice thick with unspoken horrors.
Arata's stomach churned. Haruka shifted uncomfortably beside him, glancing nervously toward the dark corners of the room, as if expecting a Shade to emerge at any moment.
"So, what's left?" Arata asked, pressing for answers. "Where can we go from here?"
Raizo ran a hand through his scruffy hair, pulling the hood back to reveal a face marked by exhaustion and scars. "Shinjuku's dead. If you're looking for colonies, you'll have to head to Shibuya or Kyoto. They're the main strongholds now. Shibuya has a few smaller factions operating underground. Kyoto's more organized, but it's farther, and the routes are crawling with Shades."
Arata frowned, processing the information. "What about these factions in Shibuya? Who are they?"
Raizo smirked faintly, though it held no humor. "Factions are just fancy names for gangs at this point. They all think they own a piece of the underground, but none of them are what you'd call stable. You'll have to tread carefully if you're dealing with any of them."
He held up four fingers and began listing them. "First, there's the Sukabenja Crew—they're scavengers, ruthless bastards. They'll trade, but only if you've got something they want. Then there's the Karasu Crew, named after crows. They're survivalists, smart and resourceful, but they don't trust anyone outside their circle."
Arata listened intently as Raizo continued.
"Next, you've got Sekizen. They're mercenaries, plain and simple. If you've got enough to pay them, they'll protect you. But don't expect loyalty—they're as likely to turn on you as help you if someone offers a better deal."
Finally, Raizo's expression darkened as he mentioned the last name. "And then there's Yamiyo. They're… different. Dangerous in ways the others aren't. They don't just survive; they thrive in this hellhole. There are rumors that they've found ways to control the Mist, to use it somehow. But no one knows for sure. People who cross paths with Yamiyo either join them… or disappear."
Arata's grip on his knees tightened. None of those options sounded safe, but what choice did they have? They couldn't stay in Shinjuku. The Mist would overrun them eventually, and the Shades were relentless.
"Shibuya it is, then," Arata muttered under his breath, glancing at Haruka. She was listening quietly, her small hands clutching the edge of the couch.
"Do you know how to get there?" Arata asked Raizo.
Raizo nodded. "I can get you close. I've been down here long enough to know the routes. But it won't be easy. The tunnels are a maze, and they're not safe. You'll need to stay sharp if you want to make it out alive."
Arata nodded in return, determination hardening in his eyes. "We don't have a choice. We'll do whatever it takes."
Raizo studied him for a long moment, then gave a slight nod. "Fine. Rest up while you can. We'll leave at first light. If you're serious about making it to Shibuya, you'll need all the strength you can get."
Haruka looked at Arata, her expression weary but resolute. "We'll make it, right, Kaito?"
He placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We will," he said, though his voice carried the weight of uncertainty.
In the world beyond the Mist, nothing was certain. But for Haruka's sake, Arata was willing to face whatever dangers lay ahead.
Haruka fell asleep quickly, her small frame curled up on the couch, exhaustion and the remnants of a meal from the vending machine overtaking her. I stood up quietly, careful not to wake her, and stepped out of the room. Raizo was sitting on an old, rusted chair, his expression distant, lost in thoughts far darker than the dim glow of the flashlight I carried.
"And why don't you leave?" I asked him, leaning against the doorway.
He didn't look at me immediately, just stared at the floor like it might swallow him whole. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low and weary. "I don't want to," he said simply, his tone as hollow as the tunnels around us. "My wife died here. This was our last shelter. I want to stay with her until the Shades find their way in. At least then, I'll be with her again."
His words hit me like a blow. There was a finality in his voice that I couldn't argue with. He wasn't just tired—he was broken. No amount of reasoning could convince a man who'd already decided where his story would end.
He reached into his coat pocket and tossed me a folded piece of paper and a flashlight. I caught them both and unfolded the paper. It was a map—crudely drawn but detailed enough, showing the layout of the subway tunnels and tracks. Routes were marked with hasty lines and small notes scribbled in the margins.
"This map," he said, pointing at it without much energy, "I've marked the way to Shibuya. It's not easy, and some paths are collapsed, but it's the best route I know. I was going to take it myself once… but I decided not to. I'll stay here. With what's left. And rest." His voice cracked slightly on the last word, but he swallowed hard, keeping his composure.
I stared at the map, then back at him. "Are you sure, Raizo? You could come with us. Leave this place. You don't have to stay here and wait for… that."
He finally looked up at me, his eyes heavy with resignation. "I'm sure. This place is my grave, and I've made my peace with it."
I clenched the map tightly in my hand. His resolve was unshakable, and I couldn't force him to change his mind. "I understand, Raizo," I said softly. "Thank you for this. If we make it… if we come back… I promise, I'll repay you. Wholesomely."
Raizo gave me a faint, tired smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You'll owe me nothing, Kaito. Just keep the girl safe. That's payment enough."
I nodded and stepped back into the room where Haruka slept, the map and flashlight clutched tightly in my hands. As I watched her breathe steadily, unaware of the dangers that surrounded us, I silently promised Raizo that I wouldn't let her down. For her, for him, and for everyone who still clung to hope in this shattered world, I would find a way forward.
The floor was cold and hard, but exhaustion had overtaken me. Haruka slept soundly on the couch, her face peaceful despite the horrors outside. I stirred, my body aching from the restless night, and glanced toward her. She looked so small, so fragile. I didn't want to wake her, not yet. Gently, I brushed a strand of hair from her face and sighed. She was light as a feather when I lifted her, her warmth barely noticeable in my arms.
I quietly left the room, cradling her carefully, determined not to disturb her slumber. The map and flashlight were tucked into my jacket as I searched for Raizo to say goodbye. The air was eerily still, the silence unsettling. I scanned the area, expecting to see him in his usual spot, but there was nothing—just dust settling in the dim light.
"Raizo?" I called softly, but no response came.
Then I saw him. He was slumped in the old chair where he'd spoken to me the night before, but something was wrong. My steps quickened, and the faint metallic scent of blood reached me before my eyes fully registered what had happened. His hands dangled limply over his lap, and the pool of crimson beneath him told me everything I needed to know.
Raizo had severed his wrists, choosing to let the life drain from him. He must have done it after we'd all settled in, sitting there silently as the blood pooled, taking the long, deliberate way out. I stood there, frozen, staring at him—this man who had helped us, who had shared a small piece of his broken heart, who had chosen to die with his memories rather than face the endless terror of the world outside.
I felt something tighten in my chest, a knot of anger and sorrow. But I couldn't let it consume me. Not now. Haruka stirred slightly in my arms, and I looked down at her. She was still asleep, her face soft and innocent. I had to keep moving, for her.
I glanced at Raizo one last time, swallowing the lump in my throat. His knife was still on the table, bloodstained but sharp. I reached for it and tucked it away, hiding it deep in my pocket. It wasn't much, but I couldn't leave it there, a monument to his pain.
"Thank you, Raizo," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I'll keep her safe. I promise."
With that, I turned and left, carrying Haruka out of the makeshift shelter and back into the shadows of the subway tunnels. The map he had given me would guide us now, but it was up to me to make sure we got there. Shibuya wasn't close, and the journey ahead would be unforgiving. Still, Raizo's sacrifice wasn't something I could let go to waste.
As we walked into the oppressive darkness, Haruka stirred in my arms, her eyes fluttering open. She looked up at me, her voice soft and groggy. "Kaito... where are we going?"
"To Shibuya," I said, my voice steady, though my mind was still heavy with Raizo's fate. "We're going to find the others. A colony. A safe place."
She nodded sleepily, resting her head against my shoulder. I carried her in silence, the weight of her slight frame nothing compared to the weight of the promise I now carried.
Raizo's map was clutched tightly in my hand. With every step, I vowed to make it matter. To make it count. We had to survive.