Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

if it ends here

by the side of the lake, there will be water in your shoes forever.

it will have been enough

At the start, there are still three groups.

Maybe it isn't quite the start. It's possible to trace them backwards - to sheltering under a half-collapsed house from the rain, to a child in the rubble or standing in a ramen shop, to the blaze of a fire in the summer. 

Even further back than that is a convenience store. Two foreign exchange students arriving at the same tent. A mountain or a school or a single bad decision that sets everything else into motion. 

It all begins from the same earthquake, and if there has to be a start, maybe it's the moment that the ground starts shaking and it's worse than anyone could have prepared for. 

Yuma picks his way through the rubble of a house. The stench of smoke still clings to his clothes, despite trying to rinse them in a nearby river a couple of days ago. Nicholas and Euijoo are talking softly behind him. It's almost quiet enough for his hearing aids not to pick up - but just loud enough that they do. 

Out loud, he complains and rolls his eyes. He jokingly flirts just to see the reaction of the other (there never is one - they're much too comfortable for that, but that doesn't mean it isn't still fun), or he pretends to look into a camera like he's on a television programme.

Inside, he notices that they speak slightly louder when he steps further away. The hum of conversation reminds him that they're both behind him even when he isn't looking in their direction. 

Fuma kneels down and cleans the dirt off of Harua's white rabbit bag with steady hands, moving slowly enough that the child doesn't flinch. Maki runs in circles around them. He's an endless ball of energy, bright eyes and confidence that only seems to waver when he feels completely alone. 

Jo stands just out of reach. There's a set of sketching pencils hidden in the depths of Fuma's bag for him. He needs to find a paper pad left in good enough quality first. He's still young (even if Harua and Maki are younger, he's still a child facing a situation he should never have had to experience), and Fuma refuses to forget that. 

He smiles at Harua. The rabbit bag is slightly cleaner. Maki hesitates before Fuma signals that he's okay to approach again. When he stands up, he heads back over to Jo before he can stand alone for too long. 

Taki winces at the blisters beginning to form on the back of his ankles. His last shoes had fallen apart from a combination of too-much-walking and a ground still wet from the slightly-acidic rain. The new ones are slightly too big. They slip off his heels despite the fact he's wearing multiple pairs of socks.

K notices. He doesn't allow Taki to protest them using some of their precious band-aids. He says they'll stop whenever they can next to search for a better-fitting pair, despite the fact that it'll more likely be a waste of time than not. 

They always need to be able to run, K tells him. In that, unspoken, is a promise. It isn't K's shoes that are broken. But he's not leaving Taki behind even if it could save himself - that's what he's saying, even if those exact words never leave his mouth. 

At the start, there were nine of them.

In the end, out of all the footage and the photographs, there's one moment that stands out against the rest.

It isn't filmed, even though it's just as important as anything else they've managed to catch through the scraps of attempted recording and documentation. 

The reasons are simple: for one, there's no tape left. It seems like a waste to be prioritising a new SD card for a camera when all the shops were looted months ago. There are no more packs of polaroid film to be found. They're all beneath the boots of people trying to outrun something they can't explain, or burning down the remnants of buildings to try and stay warm. 

The second is that out of the two film cameras and the Nicholas' polaroid that are left with them, only the polaroid remains. It's damaged by the rain and the exposure at this point. He hasn't had the chance or the time to fix it lately, not with everything else that has been happening.

It feels like it's coming to an end anyway. A shifting change that can't be stopped. Inevitable, unlike the earthquake that threw them all together in the first place, a creeping feeling that tastes like copper and feels like something stuck in your lungs. 

And when it does end - because that's what it is without the cameras - the scene is painted onto the back of their eyelids anyway. 

It goes like this:

There is a lake. Or a sea. Wider than a river for sure, but unclear whether the slight waves on the surface are just from the wind or any actual current. It would take up most of the screen if it was being filmed. More mud-coloured than anything else, with none of the shimmering surface reflecting the endless blue of the sky.

The person filming would be standing by the bank. One person in a line, so there would be sleeves just out of frame. Maybe the film is shaking. It pans down slightly, just enough to show that the bank of the lake isn't actually a bank at all - just where the water has stopped, seeping into the mud of a field. 

The person behind the camera has waded in. It comes up to just below their knees, where their trousers have been carefully pinned up around their thighs. There might be one person beside them or there might be two. The camera doesn't show any hint of temperature or time of year, but there are goosebumps where their skin is visible, and the audio might catch the chattering of teeth. 

There is a field on the other side as well. It's only just visible. Drowned under the weight of water that seems permanent, but hadn't been there only a couple of months ago. The camera swings out to reveal an even larger body - there isn't any sign of land on this side. It looks deep. 

If you ignore the shivering, it's completely silent other than the sound of two engines.

The first is barely visible in the distance. A ship - a boat, hard to tell its actual size from this far away. Not a vessel for personal entertainment. This is something with a purpose, the distance may obscure most of the detail but not the clearly scientific equipment hanging off the side. It's foreign - even if the characters on the side can't be made out, that's the only reason why a ship in such good shape would appear in an otherwise-desolate landscape.

The second engine is closer. This is what's being filmed.

A much smaller boat that has clearly been scavenged. Only large enough for one. The wood doesn't quite match - it's been patched up in several places. There's a sail extending from the centre, catching the wind through several sewn-up holes in the fabric, but also an engine. 

The wind is in the right direction. The engine is weak, but it's pushing the boat forwards towards the larger ship.

From this angle, it might appear like the boat is empty. The filming would only start after it had been pushed away - the reason why they're standing in the mud - or maybe it would be someone at the shore holding it, catching the exact moment that their fingertips touch the wood for the last time.

It might swing to the side, just long enough for the number of people to be counted. Five of them at the shore, three of them in the mud, all of them watching as the boat gets further and further away. 

It comes to an end, because the wood of the boat is dark and the skin of the hand caught just over the side is pale. And the two film cameras are packaged with every photograph taken, and they aren't waterproofed well, but it'll have to be enough. 

Chapter Text

In the weeks that pass after the fire, Yuma never quite forgets the way the smoke had curled into the air. 

He wakes up in the middle of the night thinking about it. His imagination plays tricks on him - half-asleep, it's hard to tell whether the ground is shaking or whether it's just paranoia. He can press his palms down either side of him, but the world still seems to rock back and forth, and at this point there's nothing left to fall down that hasn't already.

He doesn't have his hearing aids in, but he swears he can hear someone calling his name in a panic. It's garbled and unintelligible but - since it isn't real in the first place, he knows exactly what they're trying to say. It's Nicholas or Euijoo or his mother or a face that he doesn't even recognise. But if he does check his surroundings in a panic, there's only the buzzing of silence to respond.

They'd tried to wash their clothes to free it from the smoke-scent, but it hadn't been successful. Yuma has grown used to it now, but every so often his brain catches on the faintest hint, and it's like the world is ablaze all over again. He spins on his heel expecting to see flames behind him, or wakes up with a thundering heart imagining that they've already been completely surrounded.  

It isn't just him, either. Nicholas and Euijoo talk about it just as much as he does, which is to say not at all. 

But it took a while for them to use blankets through the night, because the extra warmth felt too painfully familiar. There were days where everything they coughed up was stained black from the soot they'd inhaled, and Yuma could still feel his lungs aching. They ate their tins of food cold, despite finding a camping cooker in semi-decent condition.

Isn't that how it had started? The smallest flame from something like that, tipped over once the shaking had come out of nowhere, and then become unstoppable. Yuma pretends not to notice the way Euijoo and Nicholas don't let their eyes move away from the stove even once they do start using it. 

But it's fine.

They're getting through it.

They don't have a choice, really. It's keep your head up and look to the future and survive, or it's drag your feet in the past and get lost in the changing of the seasons. If they don't start using blankets when the weather turns, they're going to get ill. If they don't use the cooker, they won't be able to purify their water. 

There isn't a chance to stop and think about the trauma. In some ways, Yuma thinks it's easier like that. He doesn't want to stop and think about every life that was lost in the fire, not when he could just as easily end up dead in another earthquake the next day.

"It looks like it's going to rain soon."

Euijoo looks up to the sky. He squints at the clouds like the shade of grey is going to reveal any more information. Yuma hadn't kept track of the days when he'd been travelling with the people from his village, but he sure wishes that he had now. With none of the three of them knowing what time of the year it is, they're having to rely on evidence rather than predictions.

"It must be late August at the least," Yuma says. "This is September weather. It's warm on the days when there are no clouds, but it's too wet for it to be June."

Nicholas raises an eyebrow. "You're probably right. We're going to need to find coats soon."

"We have coats."

At that, Nicholas turns to stare at him dead-eyed. "That," he says slowly, very pointedly referring to the coat they'd picked up about a week ago, now buried at the bottom of his bag. "Is not a coat. It's barely even a crop top."

"I think you'd look cute in it." Yuma tells him.

"I'd look cool in it. I can look cool in anything. And - it's not about the design, it's about the fact it's made for a five-year-old girl! It'll cover one of my shoulders and that's it!"

The coat they're referring to is exactly how Nicholas had described it. Something made for a young girl. It's made from decently waterproof material and covered in pink strawberries, complete with a red trim around the sleeves and the hood. The only reason they'd picked it up was a joke - there was no way that Nicholas would ever be able to put it on.

But the material wasn't worth wasting. They could cut the sleeves and drape it over the bags once it got really wet. And if they never found anything larger, then a child-sized strawberry raincoat would be better than nothing.

Distantly, Yuma thinks about the child who it must have belonged to at some point. He wonders what happened to them. Whether they even had the chance to wear it, whether it was a beloved item, whether they're still out there somewhere and they miss it. 

"I don't get your fashion," Euijoo says. He'd been watching the sky still, only now looking down to join in with the conversation. 

"We're wearing clothes we found in abandoned houses, this isn't fashion. Once we get access to phones again, I'll show you my Instagram. You don't have to get it. It's supposed to be trendy. Not casual."

And they're off.

He'd been joking around earlier, but the thought of the child who owned the coat before Nicholas has sobered him up. The others keep talking behind him, but Yuma pulls in front, not wanting to drag the mood down. 

It seems like they're coming up to another cluster of houses. The road hasn't been completely empty so far, but it's been a while since they came past more than just one converted farmhouse. If Euijoo is correct about it raining soon, it would be a good idea to set up camp here for the night.

He doesn't need to say that out loud. They've been travelling together for long enough that they've started to come up with the same ideas. Let's stop here for the night , or we've been walking for a few hours now, let's sit and take a break .

There are only so many sensible suggestions to be made, and only so many options that the desolate landscape has given them to choose between. This isn't the first time they've taken shelter in an empty house. Whilst they could still travel for another few hours before the sun sets, it isn't like they're travelling to reach somewhere specific.

(Talking about plans for long-term survival means that this is reality. As long as they keep walking, they can try to outrun the fact that this is now their future)

Euijoo and Nicholas are still bickering. It's soft. They aren't that far away from him, but Yuma is having trouble picking up on what they're saying. 

He thinks about switching his hearing aids off, just to be done with it, but something eating away in his chest makes him hesitate. He can still feel the flames at his back. He wouldn't be able to hear them cry out if he was in danger - or if they were in danger. 

This village hasn't been scouted out. It looks abandoned from the outside, but Yuma doesn't want to make an assumption that could cost any of them their lives. People have gotten better at hiding. It's an important skill to have, as the number of easily available resources dwindles.

When the first few houses are only a couple of metres away, Yuma stops to take in their condition.

Most of the houses have collapsed in on themselves. They're in the same state as almost every other village they've passed on their travels - having fared well in the earthquake, only to be hit by disaster in other forms.

The fire at the camp hadn't been the only blaze of the summer. They'd come across similarly scorched stretches of land, with no way to tell how long it had been since the fire had burnt itself out. Or how it had begun in the first place. Whether it had been accidental, or there were more people out there ahead of them setting places alight on purpose.

With the approach of the rainy season, there have also been new challenges.

Originally, they'd decided to keep walking in the direction they'd run from the camp. It wasn't like they'd had any better options, and it seemed almost poetic to keep travelling in a straight line. At least that way they'd know they weren't just doubling back on themselves.

But it had only been a week before they'd come across a town where half a hill had collapsed. The fractures from the earthquake weren't as visible there, but it looked like the ground itself was... softer. There was almost no sign of the buildings above where they'd been buried in mud and loose rockfall. Nicholas had kept walking when the others had stayed behind, only to turn back ten metres later when his trainers began to sink into the ground. 

There was no way to tell how old the mudslide was. It didn't seem like there was a risk of anything more collapsing, but that wasn't something that they wanted to put to the test. 

Yuma hadn't been surprised when he'd heard nothing in response to their shouts. But Nicholas and Euijoo hadn't heard anything either - and that somehow made it more eerie. The place was abandoned. The mudslide could have happened before or after the town had been evacuated in the first earthquake, and they had no way of knowing.

There certainly wasn't anyone still alive by the time the three of them had arrived, though.

That knowledge had been sobering. They might have been able to take a few days and travel around the other side of the hill, avoiding the mud, but the complete stillness to the air had been too unsettling.

Euijoo had suggested that they pick another direction to travel in instead. Neither Nicholas nor Yuma had protested. 

"This one doesn't seem like it's been too affected."

Yuma points towards a house on their left. The entire front seems to have crumbled away, and the greenery from the garden is beginning to take over - crawling in amongst the exposed walls, stretching across the entrance and into the house itself. 

But despite that, the rest seems to be still standing. The house next to it has been knocked over, with the remains of a tree trunk sticking out from where the branches have pierced the roof. To their right, the few houses there seem to have fared worse in the earthquakes. If any of them had had a second storey originally, they certainly don't now. 

The village is small. Yuma had thought there might be a few more structures out of view from their approach up the hill, but that doesn't seem to be the case. He can count five houses. Not even a small convenience store that they could raid for supplies.

Euijoo and Nicholas fall into place beside him. Euijoo must make some sort of noise, since Nicholas turns to look at him like he'd said something, but it's not anything that Yuma can pick up.

"You're right," Nicholas says. He glances back over his shoulder like he's confirming the rubble hasn't picked itself back up since they've looked away, and then back to the two in front of them. "Yuma, how far do you think the next town will be?"

He's the only one amongst the three of them born here. Yuma turns to squint into the distance, watching the road disappear into a grove of trees. He can't see any signs declaring where they are. The names on two of the houses are still legible, but that doesn't help him with figuring out where they are. Even if he'd passed through this town before, he wouldn't recognise it in its current state. 

"It's hard to tell," he admits. "It... well,  it's been a couple of hours since we last came through a village."

"Around six hours," Euijoo says.

"Six hours, then. It could take another six hours before we come across anywhere else. I don't know - towns this far into the countryside can be quite far apart."

"It could also be right over the next hill," Nicholas counters. He folds his arms, clearly not too happy with the stability of the house they're considering. But his shoulders sag only a moment later. "Or it could be even further away," he says, shooting down his own suggestion. "If we could guarantee the roads were in good condition, then it might not be too bad. But it's probably not worth risking it."

The number of times they've had to detour has added days onto their travel times. Cars abandoned on the road, their owners still in the driver's seat. The tarmac having cracked and fractured from the force of the earthquake. Or having been completely buried under mud and debris. 

It isn't worth debating any further. They've already had too many variations of this same conversation.

Yuma takes the lead. He steps over a fallen wall and makes his way up to the front of the house. Pushing against the material of the entrance checks how stable the foundations seem to be. There's not much give underneath his palm, so he ducks underneath a gap and steps inside.

Some sort of vine has invaded. It's spread over one of the walls completely, a pretty shade of green but clearly out of place. The exposed wood has been bleached from the sun and the heat. There's debris on the floor - a layer of dust and leaf litter. Scratch marks on a doorframe say that animals have been here at some point. 

Euijoo crouches down and enters next, Nicholas not far behind, and the three of them get straight to searching for anything useful. 

Yuma takes the first room to the left. He has to step over a television that must have once been fixed to a wall. Shards of glass sparkle through light cast from the smashed-open window. The rest of the room is taken up by an overturned bookshelf. 

There might be something interesting here. The books already on the floor have been destroyed by exposure to the elements, so it would have to be protected by the shelf to have survived. The shelf itself is too heavy to lift, so he has to get on his knees and press his cheek to the ground in order to see if there's anything he could reach. A couple of bugs just visible in the darkness - and that's the end of that.

Yuma makes a sort of strangled noise and flies backwards. He only just avoids the glass. It's instinct alone that stops him from putting his hands on the ground when he gets back to his feet. 

None of the bugs follow. He brushes his cheek more roughly than it probably needed. His skin crawls, and he shudders. His heart is still racing embarrassingly fast. 

Thankfully, it doesn't seem like either Euijoo or Nicholas heard him yell. Or if they did - then he just hasn't been able to hear them call his name from such a distance. Not that they'd be much braver than him when it came down to chasing out bugs. 

Searching the rest of the room is uneventful. It's the nearest room to the entrance, and half the front wall has clearly been damaged, meaning Yuma doesn't want to get too close. It may be held together with tangles of vines for now, but he's seen too many collapsed buildings to want to take that chance.

Everything else doesn't seem to have fared well in either the earthquakes or the time afterwards. There are a few chairs that might have been nice once. A couple of picture frames face-down on the floor. He searches a small chest of drawers that had been light enough to turn up-right, but there's nothing other than a couple of bleeding pens and an address-book with pages stuck together from rainwater. 

It's routine.

Yuma doesn't let himself get sad about the inhabitants of the house anymore, even though the thought of such loss getting easier over time makes him feel ill.

It's simpler to keep moving. Break it down to the essentials and nothing more than that. 

Just like this: taking three steps until he's out of the room and in the hallway again. Looking at the staircase. 

Or- what's left of the staircase. Half of the stairs have crumbled inwards, leaving splinters of wood in their place. The roof must have been damaged in the earthquakes. Yuma looks up and can see the ceiling near the highest steps is an odd colour, a clear sign of rot inside the walls. He presses his shoe at the bottom stair and finds that at least the ones closest to the ground floor seem fairly solid.

"What ---?"

Someone is by his shoulder. Yuma can't tell who by the voice. It's always harder to hear what someone is saying when he isn't expecting to hear anything. He spins around to see Euijoo looking at him expectantly.

"What?"

"Oh- What do you think about the stairs? I don't think it's worth... risking? Today. Do you think we could go upstairs tomorrow?"

Yuma hesitates. He puts his foot on the first step, with his whole weight. It's only one side of the ceiling that has visible rot, so there's a possibility they could get to the landing on the other side safely. But is that something that'll be worth the risk? There's quite a chance of injury falling from that height, and no guarantee there's anything upstairs. 

In the end, he shakes his head. "I don't think so. But we can look again when it's lighter." They can make an inventory of what they already have, a list of what they need, and then weigh up the risk versus the reward.

Euijoo nods, satisfied by that answer. He lets Yuma use him to pull himself back to the ground, and then they go and start setting up camp for the night.

Darkness falls sooner than expected.

Nicholas had taken the kitchen and the pantry, and ends up searching longer whilst Yuma and Euijoo roll out blankets and sip at their rationed water. Euijoo hums to himself whilst he uses a can opener on a mystery tin of food, three spoons laid out nearby, and Yuma presses himself close enough that he can feel the vibrations through his body.

Nicholas returns with a couple of salvageable items, just long enough to gulp down his portion of the tin, then disappears again. He doesn't say what he's doing, but he comes back before long. It's early evening now. There's no electricity so the house falls dark quickly, and they've all gotten used to falling asleep early to make the most of the morning light. 

Yuma and Euijoo are still sitting next to each other. Yuma has pulled a blanket over his knees, letting his thoughts drift. He only opens his eyes when Nicholas says something, crouching down until he's sat down with the two of them. 

"Hey,"

Nicholas shuffles closer until he's pretty much sandwiching Euijoo between the two of them. His expression is hard to make out in the dark, but there's a flash of amusement in the glint of his eyes, and the corners of his lips are turned up. His mouth is still visible enough for Yuma to follow. "Look what I found."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out something . 

Yuma squints at the object that Nicholas is cradling in his palms. It's misshapen, wrapped in silver foil at the ends, with something dark covering most of it. It isn't until Nicholas starts to pull away the foil that the odd shape finally makes sense.

It's chocolate.

A bar of chocolate that's survived this long. The foil is slightly worn through, but the paper covering is mostly intact. It feels like it's been months since Yuma last tasted anything as sweet as chocolate. It must have melted and reformed in the heat, but he couldn't care less about that. They've all eaten more dubious tins of food at this point.

"Where did you find that?" Euijoo asks, staring at it with the same reverence as Yuma. 

"One of the bedrooms. There was a drawer I had to-" he hesitates, not knowing the word and eventually mimes out breaking something open with a heavy object. 

The only reason it had still been there, then. The people searching through this village before must have been in a rush. Or they simply hadn't realised how long the effects of the disaster would stretch on for. 

A few weeks ago, Yuma might have felt sorry for them. He wishes that their line of thinking could have been true - that there would be helicopters dropping supplies or boats picking up refugees, or that the world would simply rebuild itself through some kind of naive magic. But now he's just thinking about how he's going to survive. There's no longer time to worry about anyone other than the three of them. 

"Do you want some?" Nicholas asks when he's eventually pulled off all the foil he can see. Some of the chocolate has melted around it, making it impossible to extract, but again. They've definitely eaten worse in the last week alone.

Euijoo says something softly. His face is turned away from Yuma so he can't read his lips - not on purpose, it's just easy to forget. Yuma doesn't care. He nods and he extends his hands, and he waits as Nicholas splits half of the bar into three roughly even pieces. 

He folds the foil back around the second half and tucks it back into his pocket. Then he passes one part to Euijoo, the other to Yuma, and keeps the last between his forefinger and his thumb.

It wasn't a large bar to begin with, and splitting it into six leaves them with only one chunk each. Yuma tries to focus on the weight of the piece in his own palm. It doesn't last long. The warmth of his body causes the chocolate to begin to melt. 

He puts it into his mouth at the same moment as Nicholas and Euijoo. The world is quiet. Yuma doesn't bite down; he lets the flavour seep into the space behind his teeth, coating his tongue and trying to commit the taste to memory.

"The first time I met Euijoo," Nicholas says in the distance, and Yuma is forced to open his eyes and pay attention to what's being said. It really is getting dark now. He'll have to ask them to speak up soon - but for now, the moment is soft and sweet and tender. "I tried to give him chocolate. He said no."

Euijoo elbows him gently. "You crept up behind me. I had no idea who you were - you can't tell the story missing out half the information."

Nicholas grins. "I was trying to be kind!"

"You were wearing a beanie and you had blood on your neck."

"Still!"

Yuma rolls his eyes, thanking the oncoming darkness that the gesture isn't too visible. He's not sure if Euijoo and Nicholas' conversation can be called flirting, but it's close enough to the word that he feels like he's third-wheeling sometimes. Half of the pain comes from the fact that - either they're very good at hiding their relationship, or they're both completely oblivious and in denial. 

He's going to get them together eventually. And even if he ends up third-wheeling even more than ever, it'll be worth it.

The taste of the chocolate still lingers in his mouth. It was sweeter than he'd remembered. 

"I'm glad you accepted it this time," Nicholas says. He's talking to Yuma as well, because he always over-emphasises his lip movement every time he suddenly comes back into the conversation. "I'll save the rest for a special occasion."

"Something to look forward to," Euijoo echoes. 

Yuma can't help but think that - despite everything that's happening around them; the rubble of civilisation, the endless walking towards somewhere that might not exist, the ache in his legs and stomach - he's looking forward to the next day anyway. 

Chapter Text

Taki's feet hurt.

It feels like his soles are numb and burning at the same time. Every time he puts one foot in front of the other, it makes him want to wince. If they could stand still, he's sure that he'd be hopping from one side to the other in order to try and distribute his weight. If they sat down for a short rest, he's not sure he'd be able to get back up.

He tells K this.

K, walking a couple of paces in front of him, doesn't react. It's the fifth time that Taki has complained about his feet hurting in the past hour (and probably around the fiftieth time today), and there are only so many times he can sound sympathetic.

Or not. It's more likely he'll tell Taki to stop complaining. They'd cut up a cushion they'd found a few weeks ago, and used the stuffing to act as padding. Except Taki had complained about the acrid plastic smell when he walked and thrown it out - so now K was refusing to acknowledge any time he complained. 

Taki will admit he was wrong at some point. It isn't in his character to stay stubborn. But for now his feet hurt and his back hurts and he doesn't think they're going to find somewhere comfortable to stay tonight, and he is a teenager after all. 

(The moment that K tells him to actually be quiet, Taki will close his mouth without a second thought)

One step and then the next. Taki glares at the forest ground. He adjusts his pace so that he steps on a twig, and then slumps in disappointment when it doesn't even make a sound. He watches the way his broken trainers reveal glimpses of his socks as his weight shifts. He tightens his fingers around the straps of his backpack and pulls it forward slightly, playing idly with the loose fabric.

He's so caught up in doing anything but looking forwards that he almost walks straight into K.

"This wasn't on the map."

There isn't anything on the map other than woodland. There's nothing out here, which is why K had suggested it as a route to take. He's weirdly on guard around groups of other people - and Taki knows it isn't because he almost got them both killed the first time they met. 

If they need to trade or there isn't an alternative around a landmark, then K acts like it doesn't bother him at all. In fact, he doesn't seem to worry about the large towns at all. It's the smaller villages that have him on edge, like he's expecting them to get jumped at any moment. Hence the reason they're trekking through the woods instead of taking the easier option of following a road.

Taki's feet ache for it. A road would have tarmac. That would feel amazing to walk on compared to the undergrowth of the forest. It would be flat . He's pretty sure he's been dreaming about flat ground. 

But K has his reasons, even if Taki's smart enough not to ask questions about them. He trusts K, so he trusts him dragging them off the roads and through the depths of the woods instead. He'd watched as K planned out the path they'd follow through these forests, and they'd both planned not to see civilization until they made it out on the other side. 

Yet K has stopped because there's a fence in front of them. 

It's mostly wire. A chain-link fence that's been stretched out between two wooden posts, both buried into the ground and roughly sharpened to points at the end. The metal of the fence itself doesn't seem very thick, but there's a coil of barbed wire stretching out across the top. 

Is that supposed to be for intimidation? Something about it definitely seems dangerous, even though it would be easy to push the stakes down and walk through that way. The forest on the other side seems eerily quiet and still. 

Maybe it's because of what the fence represents. There isn't a compound marked on the map, so this must have been constructed after the earthquake - after the rules of society had changed. And it's very clear that they don't want anyone trespassing. 

"What is this?" Taki says. He takes a step closer and realises that the ground has been cleared for a foot on both sides of the fence. Maybe his initial assumption that it would be easy to knock over is wrong. It seems maintained. Maybe patrolled - and that's enough of a thought to have him stepping straight back. 

It's nothing extraordinary, yet looking at it makes goosebumps erupt down his arms. His camera is neatly packed away, but he opens his bag and pulls it out anyway. He shouldn't really be wasting footage like this. It only ends up being a two-second clip in the end. Just enough to capture the fence and the barbed wire and the cleared ground.

K is also staring at it. "A warning," he says, and there's nothing funny about his tone. This is serious-K, the one that Taki doesn't question even when his feet hurt.

"... What are we going to do about it?"

K doesn't look away for a good couple of seconds. He's probably pulling their map up in his head, and Taki is doing the same thing, trying to work out which direction they can travel in next. They never turn backwards, that's the one constant about their journey. 

Eventually, K shrugs. His shoulders go back and his expression is light again. Whatever worry had been there before is now gone. "Keep walking," he says, "The map might be outdated. We're not going to go through it, but if we stick to the fence and keep walking right, it has to circle around eventually."

Taki slips his camera back into his bag silently, and then peers through the wire to stare at the other side. It's still just a load of trees and leaves. Nothing more exciting than what's on this side. "Ooh," he says as K takes his shoulders and physically turns him to the side, starting to walk again, "Maybe some rich person lives here, and this is like- their secret mansion or something."

"Maybe."

"Don't worry. I'm still not going to break in. What if they have like... secret rich-people traps in the ground or something. I'm good on that."

Taki starts daydreaming about the food that could be inside the manion anyway, though. They’d have warm water. Rich people all have their own electricity supplies from solar panels or whatever, so he’d be able to take a hot shower for the first time in months. He imagines sleeping on an actual mattress - one that’s not mouldy, not even a little bit. 

The acid rain has mostly stopped over the past couple of weeks, but K and Taki have still been checking the quality of every river they drink from. In the mansion in his mind, they have bottles and bottles of water. And not just water - soda as well, fresh fruit juices and long-life milk.

He’s so caught up in his fantasy that he trips over a root disguised in the dirt. It’s only his own instincts stopping him from face-planting. K snorts behind him, Taki expertly hops forward until he’s got his balance again, and then tries to play it off as on purpose. 

They keep walking.

The fence also keeps going. It starts to curve away from them, which is a good sign. K points out that there’d been a chance it was a curve towards them and that they’d actually been inside the fence. He says it with a shrug of his shoulders. Taki hadn’t considered that possibility before, and sends suspicious looks to the curve for five minutes - just to make sure that it is going away from them.

The odd clearing on either side of the fence doesn’t let up, either. They don’t see a single other person. Neither patrolling the border nor on the other side. The entire forest is silent other than the sound of their footsteps, and there’s nothing more than trees and more trees surrounding them.

After about thirty minutes, something changes.

The fence had a sharp corner at one point (still heading away from them, Taki had noted in relief), a contrast to the gentle curve from before. And only five minutes after this corner, they’d finally come across a gap in the fence.

Well. Gap makes it sound like it wasn’t there by design. The fence doesn’t connect any longer, sure, but that’s because there’s a huge metal gate instead. The wire on both sides is significantly more fortified. It reaches higher into the sky until it’s far taller than both of them, and there are more structural posts for stability. 

There are loops of barbed wire hung at several different heights. The cleared leaf litter stretches out further than before, and connects to what is clearly a road. It may not be paved, but there are deep tire tracks cut into the ground and a dusty path through the middle. Again, perfectly clear, as if even the leaves are afraid to land there.

Then there are the signs.

Actual signs .

Like- pieces of metal welded onto stakes and pushed into the ground. Their tops have been melted slightly, the bubble effect from the acid rain still visible, but the letters have been painstakingly maintained. A couple are even missing any damage, and must be more recent than the others.

There are around five or six in total, and whilst they don't display exactly the same words, the message is the same.

STAY AWAY. TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT WITHOUT HESITATION. On one hand-painted sign: YOU ARE HEADING TOWARDS SOMETHING BETTER.

The last one makes Taki shudder. Something about the phrasing just seems off. It's almost not a warning in the same way that the others are - it's more dangerous, it's a sentence without question. 

"I don't think this is a manion," he says. "It looks, um... military."

K's eyes have darkened. Neither of them have moved an inch from where they'd been standing when they'd noticed the gate, and K's spine is completely straight. "It's worse than military," is all he says in the end, "Military would mean official. Regulated - or at least as regulated as anything is these days."

He misses out the most important part, leaving it hanging unsaid. Taki can follow. Not military, but clearly armed and organised. Dangerous. The kind of group that Taki imagined only existed in comics and bad post-apocalyptic films - impossible to exist in real life, because people would always be kinder. 

Except clearly not, because they were standing right in front of the base of one.

Taki swallows. His throat is drier than he'd realised. "K," he says, "What do we do now?"

K doesn't turn to look at him, but he does answer. "Keep walking," he says after a second of silence. He starts to walk as soon as he finishes answering, and Taki doesn't hesitate to catch up to him. 

Leaving the shelter of the trees feels like putting themselves out as a target, but there's no point in turning back. They've already come this far. They'll have to cross the road eventually if they want to keep heading forwards - and it's just as likely that trying to circle around the other side will just lead to a matching entrance.

Or, even worse, an entrance that's being actively guarded.

Taki shudders again. He's a few feet behind K now and has to jog to catch up, not wanting to be left behind. The feeling of leaves beneath his shoes comes as a relief as they both make it into the trees on the other side. K doesn't even bother to go around a bush growing in their path, and Taki follows him. They're just less than ten metres away from the road when they hear the engine. 

A quiet humming in the distance.

It's the first engine that Taki has heard in a while. He's heard of people hopping from car to car, abandoning the old one when the fuel had run out, but K had never offered to drive them and Taki had been too young to learn. Since they usually stuck to forest trails, it hadn't really been an option.

Which is why it takes Taki a moment to - one, place the sound for what it actually is (a car or a truck or a vehicle approaching, coming around the road that they hadn't realised was on a corner). And two, actually react (he stands there frozen for a few seconds until K pulls him painfully to the ground). 

His elbow hits the dirt and sends a jolt of pain up his arm. He bites his lip to keep himself quiet. Beside him, K is shuffling back until they're both completely hidden in the undergrowth. The gaps between the leaves of the bushes leave just enough space for them to see what's happening, without a chance of being spotted themselves.

"Whatever you do," K hisses, right before the vehicle comes close enough that it would be a danger to whisper, "Do not move."

The teenage part of Taku's brain wants to roll its eyes. If he'd known K would boss him around like this, he would have made more of an effort to run away when he'd first started following him. The much more sensible part of his brain tells him that K is right. 

The engine comes closer. It's a car. Maybe at one point it had been a family vehicle, but now there are defensive modifications. A thick sheet of metal covers the bonnet and there's more barbed wire lining the edge of the roof. A few of the windows have been smashed out.

A trail of cigarette smoke hangs from the driver's seat. Taki catches a glimpse of the man sitting there - dark eyes, hair pushed back, something mean in his expression. Then the car rolls past and they finally get a view of what's behind it.

"Prisoners," Taki breathes, bowing his head apologetically when K sends him a hard look.

That's what it is.

There are a couple more men obviously in charge. They don't have a specific uniform, but their clothes are close to military-grade and their demeanours are hard. There's one in front behind the car, and then a few more walking at the end of the group. Between them are around eight more men. They have their heads facing the ground. Shoulders slumped, jaws set, in various states of disarray.

Some don't have shoes. None of them have bags - they're all piled in the back seat of the car - and their hands are empty. In contrast, the men in charge have weapons strapped to their sides. Taki can see the glint of what looks like a sword as one passes him. The black leather of a gun holster swings by their sides, heavy in a way that warns it isn't empty.

As they pass, it seems like one of the men finally realises that the end of the road is coming. He straightens up briefly, just for a moment before flinching away from one of the officers. 

It's a small movement. But it's enough to get the attention of the others. They all start to look up and the atmosphere changes. Taki doesn't know why they're being brought inside the fence, but he can tell that it's against their will. A few men drag their feet. That doesn't last long before one of the officers pulls out his gun.

He doesn't use it. He doesn't even raise it, or turn the safety off. He just holds it in his hand, and that's enough of a deterrent. 

Well. Enough for everyone except one.

A man at the end of the group doesn't stop struggling. He digs his feet into the ground. As Taki watches, he leans backwards and refuses to be pushed forward, even when the man walking behind him almost trips into his back. The neatly formed lines quickly lose their formation. The man with the gun turns in his direction, but it doesn't seem to faze him.

"I'm not going," he says. Taki hadn't realised they were close enough to hear what was being spoken. The man is raising his voice, which is possibly why, speaking like he's trying to announce something.

"You don't have a choice."

The man stares at him. He looks relatively healthy compared to some of the others. Dark hair just growing out long enough to brush the back of his neck, strong arms. "You've forced me this far. And for what? I'm not going to do any work for you."

The man with the gun stares back. "We'll see how long that attitude lasts," he says. There's a second where it looks like the tides might change - there are only a couple of them, far more prisoners, if they banded together-

The man shoots the ground.

Taki hadn't noticed the gun being drawn again. It was fast, sharp and loud and deadly. He jumps almost out of his skin, and it's only that everyone else also flinches that his movement goes unnoticed in the rustling of the bushes. 

There's a lump in his throat. A shiver of horror watching what's going down.

The atmosphere seems colder. Something icy settles over the ground. The bullet of a gun - the noise had been as impersonal as the blade of a knife, yet just as dangerous. It shatters whatever mood had been starting to rise. As effective as the heel of a boot, pressing a face into the ground. Stamping out any hint of resistance. 

The prisoners drop their heads. They shuffle forwards, not wanting to bear the wrath of the gun again. All of them except the protesting man. 

"You bastards ," he says. "You leave behind anyone you think is worthless. You walk past children - take their fathers and leave everyone else to starve . You look them in the eyes- how many do you think have died as a result of your actions?"

Taki's heart drops. "K," he says, completely forgetting that he'd been told to stay quiet. "They're going to kill him."

K doesn't react.

It's like he hasn't heard Taki over the argument and the rush of blood to their ears, but his hand twitches briefly. It's the only sign that he hasn't turned into a statue. Other than that, his skin has drained of colour and his eyes are wide. It's a sight that scares Taki more than the danger in front of them.

This isn't like K. He's proud and strong and he's a leader but he plays around with Taki like they're the same age. He'd refused to let Taki out of his sight like an annoying older brother, and from there they'd been stuck at the hip. He'd been unafraid at the sight of a gun before - what's different now? 

"K?" Taki says. "We need to do something-"

He can't let this man be killed. If they rushed out - the men had been willing to rebel before, if K and Taki took them by surprise it might work. 

But he can't stand up. The moment that he moves, K's arm shoots out. He holds Taki's shoulders down with probably more force than necessary, pushing him down again. Taki tries to protest and wriggle away, but K is strong. 

The argument in front of them gets louder.

The protesting man is still shouting. Taki is still moving - he can try and do something, he can't just let this go on in front of him without doing anything . He can't just watch. There's a shout and he tries to stand up again, but K pulls him into his chest and Taki is suffocating being forced to stay quiet and hidden.

"Is this what it's worth?" The man says. "Are you worth so much more than the rest of us? Have you forgotten your basic humanity? Do you have mirrors? How can you look yourselves in the eyes knowing who you've left behind to die ?"

He spits out the last word like it's something that tastes foul.

The man with the gun doesn't seem fazed. He's facing away from Taki, so there's no way of seeing his expression, but he doesn't seem bothered by the insults at all. He holds the gun up like he's contemplating something. When he does eventually speak, it's devoid of tone. More bored than anything else. Sick and apathetic, cruelly cold.

"Worth?" He says. Then he laughs. Something dangerous and empty. "How funny, that you brought that up. Considering that you're worth nothing ."

He shoots.

And-

The man goes down.

Taki's breath catches in his throat. In front of him, the group is told to keep walking. Not a single glance is cast to the man now on the floor. They're all terrified that they're going to be next. No one stops to see whether he's alright - protests at the clear abuse of power. But they're prisoners. What are they going to do?

The noise of the gunshot still rings loud in their ears. K's arms feel even heavier where they're wrapped around Taki's chest. They're like weights dragging him down and stopping him from doing something stupid. And Taki's no longer struggling, because-

His mouth is dry. It takes him a moment to realise that he's also frozen completely still. Him and K alike, matching in the way they're hiding and completely helpless. He can feel the way that K's hands are shaking where they connect. His fingers feel like lead, but he reaches out to try and hold them, because at least that's doing something. It does nothing to help the trembling, but he can feel K relax slightly behind him. 

They wait.

Neither Taki nor K moves until the group is firmly out of sight. The gate closes behind them with a sickening click, and they vanish into the treeline on the other side. The hum of the engine disappears into the reverberating echo of the gunshot.

It's only when he's completely sure they're alone that K loosens his grip slightly. Even then, he doesn't let go of Taki completely, and he has to struggle out of his arms before he can run into the road.

The man is still lying there.

His face is screwed up, expression taut in pain. There's- there's blood staining his clothes. It's more than Taki's ever seen before and he stumbles back slightly. He is no longer a stranger to death and the photograph he carries wears the weight of that, but there is a difference to being buried in rubble and a casualty of human cruelty.

But the man's chest is rising and falling. His breathing is shallow and his heartbeat is jackrabbit-fast, but he's alive.

The bullet wound is in his shoulder. That's survivable, right? There are worse places, and Taki doesn't know much about first aid, but-

"We can help," he says. His knees hit the ground. It's too hard, it sends a shudder through his body, but he's learnt that adrenaline works well to keep away the pain. There's blood on the road and his clothes are slightly damp, but there's a million more things to worry about. "K, we can help, right?"

K is always behind him. If there's one thing that Taki has learnt over the past few months, it's that K is always behind him. 

He doesn't even question it anymore. 

But the beat of silence makes his head spin for just a moment. He's only (in a field, alone and curled into a ball, a film camera a few metres away and everyone he's ever known gone in an instant) questioning for a second, and then K's voice comes.

"It's a clean shot," he says, speaking to both Taki and the man who's fighting not to shout as K forces him to let go of the wound. "No arteries nicked. No muscle that I can see. It's survivable."

He nods at Taki, who immediately shrugs off his bag. They have a collection of first aid items close to the top and easily accessible. They've never been used for anything important before today, but K had insisted for good reason. 

"You're going to be okay," K tells the man as Taki searches for bandages and... something to clean the wound. They're both a little shaken up, that's the only reason why there's something hollow and agonised in his voice. "You have to stay awake. Talk to me. What's your name?"

The man's expression tightens again, but there's a set to his shoulders. He isn't giving in. "My name," he says, around a choke of pain, "Is Fuma."

Chapter Text

Nicholas is the one that reaches the stream first.

It's only because he's a few paces in front of the others. Yuma had been talking to Euijoo about something - going over the pronunciation of words in Japanese and then repeating them in a form of sign language. They'd decided it would be useful for all of them to learn at least a few words. One day, Nicholas may no longer be able to fix Yuma's hearing aids, and then there'd only be so much that their fumbled understanding of the language could show through lip-reading. 

He's been trying to collect spare parts to delay that, though. Every house they've searched through, Nicholas has pulled apart electronic toys and drawers of garages. Batteries that haven't been soaked through water exposure at this point are a luxury, but he'll still get lucky every so often. 

They're wrapped in plastic and completely waterproof in a pocket of his bag. He has a spare set and some duplicate tools safely in one of his pants pockets, just in case something happens to them. 

His camera is next to them. Heavy, but the weight is more comforting than a nuisance. There are small stacks of printed polaroids distributed through all three of their bags. The last pen he'd used to write the captions had exploded, and the black stain still lingers at the hem of his shirt. He picked up a new one at the last house they'd explored, but-

It's strange.

To mourn over a pen. He supposes it's natural to cling to familiarity. The world around them is so changed. There's no expectation of normal, because there is no longer a normal that Nicholas once had taken for granted. It's just a pen, but it had come from his pencil case he'd packed back in his parents' apartment in Taiwan. 

There had been three of the same make and model. Plain black markers, specifically bought because they didn't smudge when he carefully inked letters onto the paper of the polaroids. Two of them are probably still in the bedroom of his host family's house. One of them is three days walk away, probably still bleeding into the dirt.

The pen he has now smudges. He'll have to be careful the next time he takes a photo. 

Behind him, Yuma laughs bright and loud. Nicholas forces himself to stop thinking about pens - something that's very easy once he glances behind him. Yuma's smile is blinding. His snaggletooth peeks out as he grins, and he repeats the action he'd been trying to teach Euijoo with confident hands. 

And Euijoo.

He isn't bright in the way that Yuma is. The way that Nicholas is - had been before the world went to shit, more like. Stand-out with his fashion and his sharp looks, well aware that the beanie-and-mask combo made him look a little intimidating, but happy to maintain that 'effortlessly cool' persona.

Euijoo is warm. He glows. He looks at Yuma with kind eyes. His bag is heavy but Nicholas has never heard Euijoo complain about it. He gets caught up in a conversation and sometimes misses when he's called for, but he's sweet and he's hardworking and he's quietly determined.

Even when he's walking at the back, it's like they both rotate around him. There's something magnetic about his presence, or gravitating - and if Nicholas could ever find the words in any of the languages he speaks to tell him, he's sure that he'd let Euijoo know. 

The way he has to tear his eyes away is... unrelated. 

He looks resolutely back to the path in front of him. They're drawing closer to water. He can hear the gurgle of a stream nearby, and must be in the direction they're heading towards. It's a good thing - they're running low in their water bottles, and even though streamwater isn't the cleanest, they can at least make an attempt to purify it later in the day.

They might even be able to wash up a little. Nicholas is fully aware that sweat clings to their bodies, even if he's unable to smell it himself. There's a tiny bottle of shampoo somewhere in Euijoo's bag as well - maybe they could rinse their hair as well.

Except he steps over the rotting remains of a fallen tree, and stops in his tracks.

There's a slight bank in front of him, a gentle slope leading down to the stream he'd heard earlier. It isn't large at all. The weather has been wetter lately, but the after effects of a dry summer means that there's hardly more than a trickle of water. A couple of mossy rocks jut out of the ground, the stream winding its way around them.

Even despite that, it could still be enough. The water appears mostly clear. They could crouch down and pass it through a scrap of cloth, then boil it over a flame. That's about as good as it's going to get, considering Nicholas doesn't think they'll be finding any more bottles. 

"Water!" Euijoo says behind him. They climb over the tree trunk as well - and as soon as Yuma can see the stream in front of them, he tries to dart forwards towards it.

Nicholas is only just fast enough to put an arm out and stop him.

It catches him right in his chest, and Yuma almost trips forwards. Someone other than the three of them might frown and push his arm back away, but Yuma stops the moment that Nicholas makes it clear. 

"There's something wrong," he says. Then, because he doesn't quite have the words to describe it - or because there's a sour taste in his mouth - he lifts a shaky finger to point. 

Yuma and Euijoo follow until they can see what he's looking at.

On the other bank, it seems like the stream must have backed onto a field at some point. Through the treeline, Nicholas can make out wooden fence posts. They've long since been knocked over. At this point, it's impossible to tell whether this was done in the earthquake or by escaping animals.

Because it was an animal field at one point.

On the other side of the bank, there are the bodies of three or four pigs.

Behind him, Yuma chokes back a retch. Euijoo takes a step back, not realising that he's still pressed up against the fallen log, and almost topples over. The three of them stand there in complete silence for a moment.

The bodies of the animals aren't the first they've seen. Not of animals - domesticated pets had struggled to survive the outside, it seemed - or of humans. In the refugee camp, there had been people arriving stricken with unsurvivable infection. Nicholas had forced himself to look away from the injuries that simply couldn't be helped with their limited supplies. In one of the districts, they'd become desperate enough for food to try and scavenge the wilderness themselves. No one had known the difference between edible and poisonous mushrooms until it was too late.

It doesn't make it any easier to see, though. The bodies of the pigs have obviously been there for a while, judging by the state of decomposition, but there are alarm bells ringing in Nicholas' head. 

Something doesn't seem right. The pigs are close to the water - could that mean that it's contaminated? Surely they could follow upstream until they were far enough away. Maybe he'd caught the flash of movement from a dog out of the corner of his eye - now waiting to attack them the moment they stepped too close?

In the end, it's Euijoo who points it out.

"Look," he says, "on the ground. The birds."

Around the pigs, Nicholas can make out smaller bodies. Euijoo is right. They're birds, tiny little song birds and larger crows, all in the same state of decomposition as the pigs. Whatever happened to them all can't have been recent, but...

The pigs could have been killed by other animals. Feral dogs that had escaped being buried in rubble, only to find a world that was no longer kind. It was hard enough for humans to find anything to eat. Hunger could drive any animal to desperation. 

But that didn't explain the birds, did it? There was something else wrong here. 

"It's the water."

Euijoo hadn't spoken like he was asking a question, but rather like he was realising something. He'd turned back to stare at the log they'd all jumped over. Then he stares at the tops of trees around them, the fence posts in the distance, the leaves on the ground.

"The water?"

Euijoo nods. He takes a step forwards, and Nicholas only just manages to stop himself from holding him back. Together, the three of them take cautious steps towards the river bank. Yuma grips onto Nicholas' arm with tight fingers. Nicholas secretly focuses in on the feeling as a way of grounding himself.

From this position, it's easier to see what Euijoo had spotted. The water level is low, but that reveals the discolouration on the rocks nearby. Streaks of white are stained right where the water reaches. Nicholas leans forwards and can see that the rock itself has been worn away. The water cuts underneath the bank - creating a ledge, a channel in the ground. 

"Eh?" Yuma says. "That's not normal. It's like it's.. reacting? Reacted. There's no way that normal water would be able to cut through rock like that."

"It's not just the rock, either," Euijoo says. "Look. The top of the fence posts have been worn away. The trees should have more leaves on them - and the ones that are left are..."

He trails off. They can all see what he means. The fence posts are warped, not with age or splintered in an earthquake like Nicholas had first assumed. Instead, it's like the wood has melted . The metal between has rusted, and there are visible pits in the material. The tops of the trees are in a similar state. There aren't many leaves - and there are odd yellow spots on the ones that remain. 

There's a pause as the three of them take it in. The dead animals are only feet away now. Nicholas feels a little ill.

"It's the water," Euijoo says again, thankfully. "Yuma, you were right. I think it has reacted to the rocks in the stream. It looks like it was acidic. That's what killed the animals. Or- there's something else in the water, at least."

"What?"

Nicholas can't help the way he pulls back, skin crawling. Yuma is right beside him, so quick in his attempt to scoot back from the stream that he almost forgets to let go of Nicholas' arm. The two of them are back up the bank in the same amount of time it takes Euijoo to turn back around. Thankfully, Nicholas has enough sense to play it off as Yuma having dragged him. 

"Is it safe now?" He asks, even though Euijoo can't know that much more than him.

Euijoo hums in response, before glancing at Yuma and vocalising instead. "I'm not sure. The rain must have been acidic at some point. But there are still some leaves on the trees. It might have been to do with the first earthquake."

Next to Nicholas, Yuma pulls a face. "Evil scientists?" He suggests. "An escaped ----- getting into the water?"

He gets a blank stare at the word Nicholas (and presumably Euijoo as well) doesn't recognise. There's enough context in his sentence to work out what he meant though. Some sort of chemical compound - something that would be marked with a cartoon-style skull on the bottle.

"We should be careful about what we drink," Nicholas says. He mentally draws up a tally of what's currently left in their water bottles. They might have to start rationing even more than before. Or find a stream without any dead animals nearby.

Euijoo bites his lip. "We should have been careful before," is all he has to say. Then he glances between Nicholas and Yuma like he's just realising the mood has gone stale, and he's smiling. Leading from the back . Not one to take charge, but still there when the moment needs it. "There's nothing we can do about it now, though."

"Do we keep walking in this direction?" Yuma asks. 

There's a steep hill in the distance. The land nearby seems to be becoming more mountainous the further they head. They'd peeled off slightly to the left at some point to try and avoid it, but it seems like a harsher turn is required if they don't want to start hiking.

"Left," Nicholas says, deciding for them. "Up the water. It looks flatter that way. Then we keep going."

It's not more of a path than any of the others they've taken. There's nothing about it that makes it correct . Nicholas decides off the top of his head because that's all they've been left with. Standing around the bank of the stream is starting to make him eager to move. Left is just as good as right. 

"I wish I'd paid more attention in Geography."

Yuma's voice cuts through the silence as they start moving again. No one comments about the water again. They pull away from the water without needing to communicate about it, heading at an angle back in the direction they'd come from, just enough until it's out of sight and out of mind. 

"What do you mean?"

"I wish I knew where we were right now."

Yuma glares at the ground. He glances up at the mountains, squinting his eyes at them, and then goes right back to glaring. It's obviously for comedic effect - Yuma isn't the type to get sulky over something like this - but it's enough. It makes Euijoo smile, at least.

"How many mountain ranges can there be in Japan?" Nicholas says. Yuma fixes him with a look, and he corrects himself. "Okay, how many mountain ranges are there nearby to you ?"

"If I'd paid attention in Geography, I might have been able to answer that."

"They're mountains , they're not exactly easy to miss!"

Yuma laughs at that. "I got turned around a lot," he admits. "But... I might know vaguely where we are. If we keep heading this direction, it should stay flat for a while. There might be a city a few weeks away as well."

A city. Nicholas doesn't need to reply to that; the tension in the group immediately lifts slightly. A city surely means people. Supplies, even if there's no one else there, but the chance of finding another camp if there is. There must be evacuation boats or supply drops somewhere , even if they've never seen a plane across the sky since the earthquake. 

A city means they have a chance of getting out of here.

A destination, rather than just wandering through the countryside of Japan. 

The lingering image of the dead animals is still imprinted on the back of Nicholas' eyelids. He imagines it's the same for Yuma and Euijoo as well. Catalogued alongside every body they've walked past, far too late to even attempt giving medical attention. They never quite leave his mind.

But the thought of a city drowns out the worry, slightly. 

Nicholas' mouth is dry, but Euijoo's words about the water echo in his mind. It's fine. 

They'll survive. 

----

Taki and K don't ever turn backwards.

They don't tend to come across men bleeding out from a bullet-shot to the shoulder either.

As it is, turning back around is the safest option. Staying outside the military compound any longer than needed is asking for trouble. Even if they hadn't been spotted hiding in the bushes, there's the chance that someone might come to drag Fuma's body out of the road. Another car might come past with another lot of prisoners behind them. Anyone else with a gun. 

K drapes him over his back. Taki pulls the bandage over his shoulder even tighter, and averts his eyes when K adjusts the position he's holding him. It causes Fuma to cry out in a choked sort of pain. The bandage is thin. The movement causes another patch of crimson to appear. 

Luckily, it doesn't seem to grow.

Taki walks behind the two of them in silence, watching it. K puts one foot in front of the other. It had taken them thirty minutes walking alongside the fence to reach the gate. There's nothing about the forest that makes the point where they'd originally stopped walking in a straight line look any different.

It's all just trees and leaves. Dirt on the ground and the occasional fallen log. They stick to the fence for a few minutes, and then K decides he doesn't want to risk coming across a patrol any longer. They pull off. Taki doesn't argue. 

The sound of the gunshot still rings loud in his head. 

Eventually, Fuma's head lolls forwards. His cheek rests on K's shoulder and his shoulders loosen. The tension that had been visible across his face finally eases, but even then there are still lines on his forehead. He's sweating - his hair sticks to his skin with a damp sheen. 

"How long until we stop?" Taki asks, softly. He's on edge. It feels like every cell in his body is expecting something to come crashing out of the forest. Every shadow cast by a bird is a bullet flying towards him. He's always been jumpy, even at the best of times, always the first to end up on the floor after a friend jumped out of a closet. And that had been when there was nothing to be scared of.

K glances over his shoulder, the one that Fuma isn't lying against. He's sweating slightly as well. They're not moving as quickly as they had been before, but it isn't a slow pace either. He'd never let Taki know if he was struggling. That's something he's determined to bear by himself.

"We passed a house in the distance," he eventually says. "It looked run down. It'll be good enough for a while."

Taki doesn't remember. If K had noticed it though, there's no reason to doubt him. 

He does purposefully slow down ten minutes later though. They're far enough away not to be in immediate danger any more. His throat is dry and he says that he needs to sit down for a moment - long enough to rest his aching feet at least, and try to swallow down some of what's been stuck in his chest since the road. If it's really because K's arms had been obviously straining, then that's not something anyone else needs to know.

They rest. Fuma wakes up at intervals. K tells Taki that he's fine, it's just that his body is coping with the stress of being injured, combined with how long he was forced to walk as a prisoner. 

Taki forces himself to listen, and pretends that he can't hear the waver in K's tone. 

Another half an hour, and the trees have disappeared. Another road appears, but this one is paved and cracked enough to show its age. It curls around the exposed rock of the nearby hillside. There's a layer of dirt and dust and dead grass marring the tarmac. Nothing like the clearing of the road in the woods. That's enough of an assurance to make both Taki and K relax a little.

It's only a short walk down until they finally reach the house that K had spotted before. 

House is a generous term. Maybe that's what it had been before - but even before the earthquake, it had surely seen better days. The roof is thatched, and almost green from the moss growing across it. Splinters of wood as large as Taki's palm jut out from panels forming the sides of the house. The white outside is practically grey with many years of weathering. 

Taki hops in front of K. He slides open the door with only a little struggle. They both step inside the entryway and K immediately sets Fuma onto the floor. The door slides closed behind them, and just like that, it's as if the rising tension suddenly takes a deep breath and relaxes. 

The inside is in the same state as the outside. The mats on the floor are stained, half pulling up at odd angles. Leaves blown in from the outside collect in the corners. Some of the walls have caved inwards slightly, leaving great strips of paper folding over to brush the ground. 

But there's the remnants of furniture. A heavy table in the centre of the room. A much smaller one that's been tipped over to rest against a wall, blocking access to a thoroughly abandoned kitchen. There's a futon visible through another door, but the colour of the sheets immediately makes Taki gag a little. 

There's a teru teru bōzu on the floor. Taki shrugs his shoes off and bends down to pick it up. Part of the fabric has turned an odd cream colour, but the doll stares back at him with an unaffected smile. A strange remnant of a normal life, left in a completely abandoned building.

"Keep your shoes on," K tells him as he works on settling Fuma into a more comfortable position. "There might be glass on the ground."

Taki makes sure that K isn't looking in his direction, and then pulls a face. It feels weird to wear shoes inside (scratch weird - stepping back into his shoes and stepping onto the mats feels practically blasphemous) but K has a point. 

They need to be able to run. An injury to his feet could spell... well, it could spell his death. The sound of a gunshot is still echoing inside his head after all.

K moves some of the leaves to the side. He produces a sheet of fabric from who-knows-where, shakes it out once, and then pulls Fuma until he's lying on top of it. The other man is back awake again. He blinks and reaches up on instinct to feel his shoulder. "Jo?"

"Not quite."

The man stalls at that. "Ah," he says, though his mind must be struggling to keep up with everything that's happened. He's taking it a lot better than Taki would. There would be a lot more screaming and writhing-around-in-pain if it were him on the floor. "Augh."

He tries to sit up, but Taki is faster. "Not so fast," he says, pushing him gently back to the floor. The man doesn't look like he's going to protest again, so Taki finally takes off his backpack and sits down beside him, stretching out his legs.

"K? How long do you think we're going to stay here?"

K has also taken off his bag. He's looking through it for something, but he pauses at the sound of Taki's voice to answer him. "Until Fuma is healed enough to walk. Or at least - not tipping over the edge of infection and into fever."

"I'm fine."

"You're fine now . Like I said. It won't be the bullet wound that kills you. It'll be the infection."

Fuma winces again. He reaches up to brush against the wound on his shoulder like forcing even more pain will make him heal faster. There's something tight in his expression. "I can't stay. I have ki- people to get back to. Someone your brother's age."

It's easy to sense that there's something behind his words. And in the way that K immediately tightens as well is odd. His shoulders come up like he's hunching down on instinct, going on the defensive. A tripwire has been crossed, something that even Taki didn't know existed. "Taki isn't my brother."

Taki stays quiet. There's a sting in his heart he can't quite process, and the conversation is moving too fast to linger on it.

"You seem to be taking care of him, though."

K turns. He stares at Fuma, but Taki can't quite see his eyes. There's a silence that's exchanged between them. It's something cold. He gets the feeling that he wouldn't quite understand even if he did see K's full expression. It's like they're having a conversation he isn't part of.

Eventually, Fuma speaks again. "It doesn't matter. I need to get back to them. I can't stay here that long. I'll wait for a few days until I'm strong enough to walk, and then you won't need to worry about me anymore."

"You won't be any use to them if you get back with a fever you won't survive."

"There are meds. Shops to raid. I'll find something."

"Is that something you're willing to bet on? What if you don't make it back at all? You might as well have been killed from that gun - it won't make any difference to them. Shot on that road or unconscious from fever on a road trying to get back, you still end up dead in the end ."

Fuma's expression darkens. "You don't understand," he hisses.

"Then make me," K fires right back. 

And Fuma-

His hands are curled into tight fists. There's a bite to his cheek, something drawn and tense even though he's lying injured on a scrap of fabric in an abandoned house. Taki's breathing sounds too loud in the silence that settles between the three of them. 

Something crosses his face. It looks like he wants to keep arguing, but then his eyes roll back and his muscles loosen. Slipping back into unconsciousness is one way to end the conversation. He's starting to bleed through the bandages again. They really need to clean the wound properly now that they've stopped.

Beside him, K slumps to the ground like he's also been drained of energy. He looks up at Taki suddenly, and it's like Taki gets the instinct to look away - like he doesn't want to be caught watching. If was slightly more aware he probably would. But as it is, Taki keeps watching K and K finally speaks again.

"Next time," he says, "We're finding out exactly who he is. And who he's trying to get back to."

There's much more that Taki wants to ask. But K turns away to start looking for something to clean Fuma's wound, and it's painfully clear that the conversation has ended.

Chapter Text

There must have been security camera footage. There was a camera in the corner of the convenience store and it had been filming, right up until the wall crumbled inwards and the wires were torn out. The footage would have been saved somewhere, though, right up until there was nothing more to be filmed.

If it exists, there's no way to find it.

It would have been saved to a computer that was shortly cut off from electricity. If it had survived the looters, it would have been crushed by the debris of nearby crumbling buildings. The fracture in the city centre was unstable and grew wider - the computer might have tumbled off the edge, pulled in with the roads and the trees and the dust.

The way that the footage met its demise doesn't matter. In the end, it can still be described as simply as this:

The shop is almost empty. It's the morning, still before lunch, but late enough that the office-workers from the high rises nearby have already made their commute. A college student picks her way through the instant ramen. An elderly couple are arguing next to the drinks fridge, their tone clear from the way they move their hands in frustration. 

There is a man working at the counter. He isn't looking up. There's a gleam to his metal name-tag that stops the letters from being read, and his posture hunches in on itself. The light of a gaming console screen badly hidden beneath the desk illuminates his face. 

Then the shaking starts. 

The elderly couple fall to the floor, holding onto each other's shoulders. The college student gets down and covers her head, only to be buried under a pile of ramen packets as the shelves shake. One of the lights snaps and swings down. It sparks as it hangs there - and there's no audio in the footage, but anyone viewing would still be able to hear the yelling.

The man at the counter is knocked off his chair. The gaming console falls to the ground with a silent crack, and the bright screen immediately goes dark. He tucks himself under the desk as the ground rocks back and forth. The rest of the shelves come down. The fridges are quick to join them. 

Then the wall with the camera goes. For a second there's a burst of light, as the glass from the windows finally shatters inwards. The convenience store door pulls forwards and backwards with the motion of the shaking, and then the wall itself crumbles. There's smoke coming from somewhere. The shop is a mess.

The wire connecting the camera to the computer is pulled. There's a bright explosion of static - a frozen screen of chaos, the worker's name tag finally visible and reading 'FUMA', a floor covered in sticks of gum and bags of chips - then it's gone forever. 

----

There is no convenience store in what he tells K and Taki. There's no point in backstory, because there's only so many variations of 'I narrowly survived being crushed by a collapsing building, and I've fought like hell to make it this far since' that people are willing to listen to.

He won't ask about what happened to them, either. There's a before and there's an after - and as it is, Fuma doesn't care about the before. Who'd they'd been before the earthquake has no effect on who they are now.

He's seen salary men join the ranks of gangs patrolling the streets, still in expensive suits and hair gelled back. He's seen a convict escaped from the ruins of a prison share the last of his supplies with an orphaned child. 

What he tells them is much simpler than that. 

It goes like this: 

Fuma misses the convenience store, sometimes. He misses the way that he could play on his switch beneath the counter, because his boss couldn't care less. He misses the customers that came like regulars, the aunts that took one look at his face and decided to treat him like a son they'd never had. 

He used to take days off and drive out of the city with a tent and a camping stove. The sky full of stars was a well-needed contrast to the LEDs of the store. It was silent and it was pretty, and he'd never thought he would be wishing it other way around.

But he's sleeping rough now, and it's not quite the same.

The four of them had left the last village about five hours earlier. They'd been following the roads and hoping to find another house to stay at, but it had quickly become more rural than either Fuma or Jo had expected. There wasn't another shelter. There wasn't even enough time to turn back and find another route, since Harua and Maki could only go so far in one day before exhausting themselves.

They'd found a rock instead.

A rock overhanging a small cave in the side of the hill, to be specific. It's large enough that they can stretch out their sleeping backs side-by-side and not stick out onto the nearby path. There's enough height to sit up without crouching down awkwardly, and it meets a clear end only a few metres into the darkness. 

Most importantly, it's secure enough that Fuma isn't worried about another earthquake dislodging it. There's a thick carpet of moss that's survived the last two large ones. He's pretty confident that nothing other than Japan itself splitting in half will move it.

Jo seems to appreciate that reassurance. He helps set out their sleeping bags for the night, then lets Maki drag him away to search for any edible berries nearby. They don't stray far from the camp. It's beginning to draw close to the end of the afternoon. They still need to make a proper plan for the night and the next day. 

Fuma can hear the two of them talking about something. Mushrooms, probably - they'd picked up a book about scavenging wild food and ripped out any pages that could be useful, only to decide it would be too dangerous to try anyway. 

Maki's voice carries bright and loud. Jo is much quieter, but Fuma's gotten used to listening out for him now. 

Under the rock, it's just him and Harua.

Harua sticks close to Fuma's side at times like this, tiny hand wrapping around a few of Fuma's fingers. He wriggles as far as he can get beneath the rock without touching the darkness. Something about confined spaces still causes him to quieten, breaths becoming small and panicked. Then he asks about his mother again, and Fuma never knows what to reply. 

"It's cold," he says.

"Stay out in the sunshine then," Fuma tells him. It isn't cold - just a little cooler than the heat of the past few weeks - but it will start to get cold soon. Autumn has arrived, he's pretty sure. And with the changing of the leaves, the weather will start to turn as well.

They need to start preparing for winter at some point. Once the frost starts to settle, camping outside will become a death sentence instead of a safety net. Even without any electricity or heating, finding a house to settle into will become safer than the risk of running into other groups of people. 

"I don't want to go into the sun," Harua says, because he's a kid and kids like to be contrary. "I want to stay with you."

The sound of his voice knocks Fuma out of his thoughts. Harua is a little more perceptive than some, maybe he'd realised that the silence wasn't quite as comfortable as some might have thought. Or he'd just gotten annoyed with Fuma not responding. 

"Well you can't have both."

"Mmm."

Harua pouts. He's starting to put weight back onto his cheeks again, finally making him look less haunted. His eyes sparkle even in the shadow cast by the rock above them. He clutches his rabbit-bag to his chest, fingers finally having let go of Fuma's hand to bury themselves into the material.

It isn't as clean as it had once been. Fuma imagines that the material had been pure white once upon a time. Now even cream would be a generous description - weeks of walking through the ash of a city and the dirt of the road has stained it a mottled colour. There's a matching streak of mud on Harua's cheek. A leaf has settled into his hair, right behind his ear.

Fuma leans forwards and pulls it out. Harua pulls such an offended face that Fuma can't help but snort in laughter. He twists his fingers to throw away the leaf and then chases after Harua trying to pull away, patting his hair back down.

Then the quiet breaks. 

It comes like the snap of a branch underfoot. Fuma hadn't heard anyone approach, but he'd been paying more attention to the six-year-old at his side than their surroundings. He'd taken care that no one was following them - hadn't he?

Or maybe they'd gotten complacent. It's been a few days since they last came across anyone, since most people had headed towards the sea as soon as the first earthquake hit. He isn't sure what has happened to them since. He doesn't remember even noticing movement nearby. But he also.. hadn't been looking out for it.

"Hey!" The voice is rough. Something in Fuma's heart twists dangerously. There is noise now, definitely. Whoever it is is making noise on purpose - they'd approached quietly with intent, so that they wouldn't realise they were being followed - and now there was no chance to run, they were making their presence known.

"We know you're there!" A second voice calls. A cruel laugh accompanies it. The cave had only been cool before, but now the temperature drops until it's freezing. "We saw movement! Don't think you can run away, either!"

Fuma grabs Harua's wrist. There isn't enough time to stand up or hide - and anything with a large movement runs the risk of attracting more attention. Their set-out supplies suddenly seem like brightly coloured targets. He pulls Harua until he's at least trembling behind him, and in the last few seconds, uses his leg to push their sleeping bags into a pile in the corner. 

 Then two men break through the treeline in front of them, and they're out of time. 

"Hah," one says to the other. "I told you."

They're uniformed, but any writing is obscured and despite looking almost military in style, there's nothing reassuring or controlled about them. One of them has a half-healed cut across his left cheek. Both their hair is shaved short. They approach with confidence, and Fuma's mind races. 

Jo and Maki-

Where are they?

They'd been in the distance, but now they've fallen totally silent. Fuma wracks his brain to try and remember which direction he'd last heard their voices - and even though he doesn't think the men in front of them had passed them, his chest is still tight with panic.

They're okay. They have to be okay. They're smart - they've gone quiet because they're hiding. It's exactly what Fuma would tell them to do. If they're in danger, there's no need for all four of them to get stuck in the middle of it. He silently prays that they're safe wherever they are, and that they don't come out.

Soon, he doesn't even have a chance to worry any longer. Harua makes a squeaking noise by his side, and one of the men reaches to his side to show off a gun .

There's no way they're military. Alarm bells are ringing in the back of his mind, drowning out almost everything else in the silence of the roadside. His own heartbeat is oddly amplified. Every movement Harua makes behind him is like the bright light of a warning flare.

"Just two?" One man says, the one who hadn't shown off his gun. But now Fuma knows where to look, he can see one secured by his own hip as well. "I thought there would be more."

They're talking as if Fuma and Harua aren't even there. It's not like they can run when there's the threat of a gun right in front of them. They're forced to stay completely still and listen, with no other options. 

The second man sniffs. "The groups are getting smaller and smaller these days," he says. His eyes drag across the entrance to the cave like he's sizing up a piece of meat, "We're thinning out the herd. Doesn't help that so many got washed away like fucking idiots . Waste of manpower, if you ask me."

For a moment, his eyes linger on the tangle of sleeping bags. But Fuma had kicked them earlier, and there's no way to tell how many are now in the pile. Jo is still carrying his bag. Maki's is all the way at the back of the cave, hopefully hidden by the darkness. It should look like it is just the two of them, as long as the men don't investigate too closely.

"If they were stupid enough to go to the sea, they weren't going to be useful to us anyway."

There's a beat of silence. The man's eyes flick towards Fuma, just long enough to monitor any change in his expression. There's no telling what he's expecting. Fuma doesn't even flinch, though. He keeps his face as relaxed as it can be under the pressure. Stony with a hard glint to his eyes, but without letting himself seem scared.

That last part is for Harua's sake. As long as he doesn't seem scared, maybe he can stop him from panicking.

"Useful," the second man says, coming off the back of the silence. He's also staring at them now. Talking to them, finally, instead of like they weren't even there. "Did you hear that?"

Fuma doesn't respond. Behind him, he can see that Harua's expression is hard as well.

"Stand up."

The man flicks his gun towards them. He's looking at Fuma, making eye contact. The barrel of the gun flashes at him darkly, so Fuma slowly gets to his feet, stepping forwards until he's outside of the cave and able to stand up properly. Harua follows him with shaky imitation, only to freeze when the second man laughs harshly.

"Are you fucking stupid, kid? We want manpower." He points to Fuma, "You're coming with us." Then his eyes slide to Harua and there isn't a hint of remorse in them. He's finding this funny. "You're going to die in a cave on your own. No more Daddy to tend every booboo. Fucking kids."

They both laugh at that. Harua steps closer to Fuma. With only tiny movements, Fuma pulls Harua until he's standing behind him, at least slightly protected by his body. Harua clings to his arm and doesn't let go even when Fuma tries to pull away. His fingers are cold and his hands are shaking. 

He hangs onto Fuma like he's terrified of letting go. He probably is.

But Fuma's racing mind can't help but think of Jo and Maki in the distance. They haven't been found by the two men, that's something he's almost certain about. But that doesn't mean they won't. Maki is only five, and Jo is just a kid as well. They're hiding - but what if Maki tries to pull forwards and Jo can't stop him? What if they step on a branch and reveal their location? What if-

The meaning behind the men's words hasn't been lost on him. They're only taking the people that are useful. That obviously includes Fuma, but Jo is sixteen - he's still gangly but he's tall, he could still provide manpower, which is so clearly what they want.

They'd take Fuma and Jo, and leave Harua and Maki alone. A six year old and a five year old alone, miles from the nearest city. It would be the same as sentencing them to death. And Fuma has the feeling that the men wouldn't bat an eyelid about it. 

He takes another step forward. His heart aches when Harua is pulled along with him, but the faster he can go along with the men, the less chance there is of Jo and Maki being found. 

"Harua," he says. It comes out quieter than he expected; half under his breath. "It's okay. I'm coming back."

Harua stares up at him. Fuma had hoped to speak so that the men couldn't hear what he'd said, but the sound of their laughter is enough of a sign that he'd failed. Fine. Next time he simply won't care whether they listen or not.

"Harua," he repeats, this time louder. "You're a smart kid. You'll be fine."

How close can he step to implying that Jo will look after him? He hadn't lied when he'd said Harua was a smart kid - he's probably got more of an idea about what's going on than the military men have given him credit for. But he's still a child. 

"You promised," Harua says. His eyes are hard as he stares up at Fuma. Caught between understanding and not wanting to be left alone, even if it's just until they've disappeared far enough into the treeline. "Papa. You promised you wouldn't go."

"I did," Fuma says. Something in his heart tugs like there's a sharp line hooked inside, but he stamps it out before it can rear its head. He's choking down anger more than the crumbling of his spirit. Harua's face is pleading and desperate, but Fuma doesn't have a choice. "I'm going to keep that promise."

"That's not fair !"

Fuma tries to step forwards again, attempting to shake Harua's grip on his arm, but he doesn't have the strength to be rough with him. Except- in a flash of movement, one of the men gets bored of listening to them. He's beside them in an instant, expression bored.

Harua is still clinging to Fuma. The man lifts his boot and kicks him in the stomach.

It works. Of course it fucking works, Harua is six years old and tiny for his age. He flies backwards and hits the ground with a sickening crack and whimper. 

"Hey!" Fuma shouts. He sees red, he’s moving before he realises it, shoving the man away from him. "What-"

He never makes it past the next word. There's a click that somehow seems louder than anything else, and suddenly the second man is pointing his gun directly towards him. He's no longer laughing. The man standing closer-by brushes off his jacket where Fuma had touched him, his lip curling.

"Times up," he says. 

Then nothing after that.

Behind Fuma, Harua picks himself back up off the floor. Or at least he tries to - he gets to his feet and then stumbles, landing back on his knees. One hand is clutched desperately at his chest. The other reaches forward like he's still trying to get to Fuma.

He makes a noise like a wounded animal. Or like a scared kid who's already lost everything, and is still terrified of dark corners and small spaces. His breath hitches. It echoes in the space beneath the rock, something desperate and confused and injured.

Out of the corner of his eye, Fuma can still see the gun.

"I keep my promises," is all he says. He can't apologise. He can't say it's going to be fine. He can barely choke out those few words over the rising fury in his chest. The gun and the fact they're so close to Harua still is the only thing stopping him from fighting back properly. It's too fast, he barely even has time to press his lips together before he's leaving.

He turns his head so he doesn't have to see Harua in pain any longer. Then, as he finds his place being marched between the two men, he glances at him one last time and burns the image into the back of his eyelids. 

And that's where what he tells K and Taki ends.

Of course, there's more after that. He'd walked with the men back to a car, where there'd been a few other prisoners waiting, refusing to meet his eyes when he tried to keep his chin up. They'd walked for over a day until they'd come across the gates of the compound. Then Fuma had realised it was his last chance to get out. Once he was inside of that fence, he'd never take another step outside again.

K and Taki know the story from there. 

"I know where I need to go to meet up with them," Fuma says. It's one thing he's immensely thankful for: he'd discussed with both Jo and the kids what route they would try and take away from the ocean. If they ever got separated, they'd agreed to wait at the next of a set of predetermined spots.

"Where?" Taki asks.

He has these huge earnest eyes that remind Fuma of Harua. The nerve he'd accidentally trodden on with K earlier still rings in his mind - he'd assumed they were biological brothers based on how close they were, but it seemed that wasn't the case. Taki can't be more than fourteen or fifteen. He's too young for all of this. 

"A nearby city. --------."

Of course, Fuma hadn't thought it would actually happen. He knows where the next location is, but the city had been a lot more nearby before he'd walked to the compound. Even the name of the city makes him drop his head back onto the fabric he's laying on. It's far. A few days walk at the fastest, and that's without anything getting in the way.

His shoulder burns with pain. Fuma tries to ignore it. Streamlining his thoughts on to how he's planning to get back to Jo and the kids works, for now. 

"------," Taki repeats. He looks up to K. There's an exchange in their expressions that Fuma simply isn't at the angle to see. He closes his eyes for a moment instead, biting his lip like that'll take away from some of the agony in his shoulder.

"We'll go with you."

Fuma opens his eyes again. Taki is looking at him now. Had they spoken? Fuma doesn't remember hearing voices, but he's also in a lot of pain, and he's not sure he'd pay attention to everything said under their breath. Certainly it seems like Taki has now made up his mind.

"We can monitor your infection as we go," he says, "It's away from that freaky camp as well. Plus the city - K agrees that we can stop and try and find more supplies."

K doesn't look at Fuma. Fuma doesn't look at him either. There's still a simmering anger beneath his inability to get up from the floor. He'd understand if he was in the same position with Taki, surely - the fact that Fuma has to get back to Jo and the kids. It isn't something he can delay for healing and taking it slow. 

This is in the forefront of his mind when he nods as well as he can. "That sounds like a plan," he says. 

He's slightly more protected in a group of three. He doesn't even have a bag with him - the men hadn't bothered to search through their supplies, one small thing to be thankful for - which means he's starting from scratch again.

And... as much as he hates to admit it, K has a point. It won't do Jo and the kids any good if Fuma never makes it to the city. If he passes out from infection at the side of a road, they'll never know exactly how hard he fought to try and get back to them.

He won't be able to keep his promise to Harua.

Funnily enough, that's enough to quell some of the frustration. He'll take arriving a few days later if it comes down to it. He'll just... swallow the worries about what could have happened to them since he's been gone. Part of his mind is screaming at him that every passing hour is another where something could go wrong, but he thinks of Harua's promise and it quietens a little.

Taki grins at him. Fuma musters up just enough strength to smile back at him, and then closes his eyes again. 

Chapter Text

They stay at the cave, even though Fuma would probably have told them to leave.

Jo just isn't sure what to do. He hadn't exactly been the most confident around the kids in the first place - or at least, not in the way they needed him to be. They needed outspoken reassurances. Someone who was able to keep the mood light and tell them it was all going to be okay, able to predict when the silence had stretched for a little too long.

It's not even like Jo has never been around children before. Back when he'd lived near the shrine, he'd interacted with the kids that came to visit and asked three million obnoxious questions. When the earthquake had struck and they'd moved the community beyond the torii gate, he'd helped keep the younger children entertained with calm drawing activities, whilst their parents built temporary shelters and divided rations. 

But that had been different. He'd always been able to take a step back once it all got too much, and he'd only ever been one of many people helping out. They'd been thankful for his help, but it hadn't been a requirement. He hadn't been needed . 

Not in the way that Harua and Maki need him now, at least.

Fuma would have told them to leave the cave. Even after they'd set out the sleeping bags again, it simply didn't feel like a safe space anymore. Harua refused to go more than a few steps into the darkness. Maki hadn't said anything, but he'd tried to drag some nearby branches to the entrance to act as a cover.

And Jo had woken up in the middle of the night anyway, when it was much too late to do anything. It had taken him that long to realise that the men knew exactly where their shelter was, and they could have returned at any point. It was simply luck that they hadn't. 

Fuma would have told them to move on. Strong and dependable and with both kids hanging off his arms like every word he said. Jo let them sleep like sitting ducks. 

There's no point in moving in the middle of the night. He's too busy worrying to get much sleep until the sun comes up, but luckily the kids don't protest too much when he gets them packed up almost immediately. 

Jo does finally make a good decision - he takes them off the main road for a bit, despite being much closer to where they'd camped and a steep hill between them and where they're heading. It doesn't have to be for long. Just enough that anyone lying in wait would be sorely disappointed.

Except, they start walking and Harua drags his feet along the ground.

"What if he comes back?" He says, expression caught half between a frown and a pout. He looks over his shoulder to the rock they'd slept underneath. His free hand fiddles with the fabric of his rabbit bag. "And- and he doesn't know where to find us. Because we've gone walking without him."

Maki stares at him like he hadn't considered it before. His eyes are wide, and he turns to Jo like 'are you hearing this?' . 

Jo had spent the whole night in-between fits of sleep. He'd endlessly gone over what his plan for the next day was going to be. But as soon as he's faced with a single question, it's like all his resolve crumbles. His confidence is a facade. A tissue-paper thin layer of someone the kids can rely on. 

In some part of his mind, he knows this is the right thing to do. He's trying to follow in Fuma's footsteps at least. Treading carefully and reassuring gently and keeping his chin up with shoulders bearing the weight of the world.

Had Fuma also found it this difficult? Or was it simply Jo - not strong enough, still sixteen years old and terrified of new found responsibility. 

"We can't stay," he ends up saying, swallowing thickly. "Those... bad men. They know where that cave is. What if they come back?"

"We can hide again," Harua tells him. "You hid last time. They didn't find you - and- that's where Fuma knows we are!"

"We can't."

"But-"

"Fuma planned for this," Jo says. The kids were there - he thought they'd understood, but he's now learning there's a difference between understanding in concept and realising what that means for real life. 

Harua and Maki, in practice, had watched Fuma mark on a map where they were heading. He'd listened to their suggestions. Even if they'd had nothing more than ' this blue line has to be a river, let's go by a river ' or ' I don't like hills, I'm not walking up a hill ' to contribute, Fuma had nodded along. 

He'd made sure they all knew where they would be meeting up next. Something in Jo's chest feels a little tight at that. He never would have come up with an idea like that, would he. 

But even though Harua and Maki know where they're heading, that doesn't make it easier to turn their backs on the last place they'd seen Fuma. Jo secretly runs all their questions through his head at the same time, and it's only the memory of Fuma's voice in his head that lets him stay strong in his position.

"You remember when we looked at the maps together?" He says, working hard to keep his voice smooth and not wobbly. Kids can sense hesitance. Harua and Maki both nod slowly. "Well, Fuma remembers that as well. Do you remember why we were looking at the maps?"

"The sea," Harua says, which isn't quite right.

Luckily, Maki gets there. "In case we get lost," he repeats dutifully, "Um. Not lost. If we got lost then we'd just walk back or you'd come and find us and it would all be easy. In case we got split up and it wasn't easy to walk back."

Harua watches him. He's a smart kid, Jo knows he is, but he's also just that - a kid. A kid who's already lost everyone he knows, trapped in the rubble of where he used to live with only the promise of a mother who'd return for him. He's already had to leave her behind. 

In his mind, it's very similar to what's happening with Fuma now. 

"That's right," Jo says, remembering to praise Maki. "Fuma isn't coming back here. He's going to meet us in the next city."

"What if he doesn't remember?" Harua says stubbornly, but for the first time Jo notices something else. Complete sincerity in his eyes. Only a glimmer, hidden behind the pout and the feet dug into the ground. 

"It's Fuma," is all Jo replies.

And that's the end of that conversation. He puts on a brave face and starts to walk again, praying that the kids follow him. There's a pause, but then two sets of feet resolutely trudging beside him. Two tiny backpacks, slightly more full than they'd been when they'd arrived. Anything of Fuma's worth keeping had to be distributed between the three of them. Anything they couldn't carry was left behind. 

They keep walking. 

It's how most of the days go, and it's a routine that's easy to slip back into. Jo listens to Harua and Maki chat amongst themselves. It's nice in a way, that he doesn't feel pressured to join in for them to know he's listening. Occasionally they ask a question and Jo answers. They bicker, but nothing serious.

Maki retells an anime series he must have seen on television. It's his favourite. He has a picture of one of the characters that Jo drew for him, but keeps it tucked safely in the bottom of his bag. At some point, the story becomes odd enough that it's clear Maki's making it up as he goes along.

It's entertaining. Harua listens just as Jo does, and they keep walking.

The hill slopes upward. It's steeper than they'd all thought, and the kids start to tire. Jo lets them take a short break for lunch. Except he fumbles with the tin opener and almost sends their food spilling down the side of the mountain. He almost forgets to give hand sanitiser. His hands shake when passing the water bottle around. 

Harua pulls a box of stale pocky from inside of his rabbit bag. It's slightly warm, the chocolate has melted at some point to stick them together, and they're oddly soft. He shares them, peeling each one apart with his tongue sticking out in concentration. 

They savour the taste. Jo pulls a stone closer so the kids don't have to sit on the ground. He doesn't tell Maki off for licking his fingers. Instead, he finishes chewing on the soft pocky and stares out into the distance. 

In the distance, he can see the ocean.

He doesn't need to look down to fumble with the zips and buttons on the camera bag strapped across his chest. It comes naturally at this point. Despite being so anxious that he almost dropped part of their lunch multiple times, when he lifts the camera up to his eye his hands aren't shaking at all. 

"Day 64 since the first earthquake," he finds himself saying. "View from the side of a mountai- hill. Taken by Asakura Jo."

It's been a while since he took a log of the view like this. There have been videos between, of course; clips of whatever Jo thinks shows a snapshot of life, videos of the kids with the camera held way too close to their faces. But they don't have the words he repeated every morning for twenty days. 

It's not the same view. Of course it isn't, he's miles and miles from the shrine and the mountain and the city. They might just be in the distance if he really squinted, but it's not a clear day and the clouds obscure any connection that might have been seen. But that doesn't mean it's any less important to film. 

Even with the view of the ruined world. Photos might have been taken from this spot before, but now there's cars abandoned in the road and rubble where there must have been houses. There's the remains of a car crash on the nearest road. The body of one vehicle is completely blackened, and Jo can imagine the smell of smoke still clinging to the metal frame. 

There are fields nearby. Once, they must have been well cared for. Now the weeds grow in-between the neat lines, the stalks long past harvest and starting to wilt. It should be nearly October, if Jo's counted correctly. Had the plants felt the shaking of the earth too, or were they standing wondering why the hands that had raised them with such care had disappeared?

And besides that, there's the one thing that Jo makes sure is captured in the gaze of the lens. 

The ocean.

Where the ocean should not be. 

A shimmer in the distance. They're not near the top of the hill, but they still have a good view of the land in front of them. It could be better, but the clouds are low today. Visibility is bad. The colour must be muddy or brown in reality, but from here the waves simply reflect the grey sky, and the ocean looks like it's shining. 

The peak of a high-rise in the distance sticks up. The water is blinding, making it hard to look without squinting. But even through the screen of Jo's camera, it almost looks like the building is surrounded by the ocean. One dark tower block standing up in the middle of the sea. Nothing nearby - or do the other buildings close to that height blend into the distance. 

"The water is closer," Jo says. "It's reached the city. It seems to be approaching at a consistent pace, though."

"It's too far for a tsunami," Maki says helpfully. His voice is only just caught in the tape, but Jo makes sure to pan down and catch half-a-second of them sitting on rocks, before bringing it back up to focus on the view. "But that's why we're walkin'."

Truthfully, Jo isn't sure if they're far enough to be safe from a tsunami. The ocean really is just a sparkle in the distance. They've been walking steadily upwards, so the wave really would have to be huge to reach them, but...

There have already been two earthquakes larger than he ever thought possible. One of them must have done something to the shoreline already. They'll keep walking inland, but one day they'll come across a huge ravine and realise this fragment of Japan has been slowly sinking. It wouldn't be too much of a surprise to see an impossible tsunami.

What could they do against that, though? Jo may be stressed about a lot of things, but he isn't going to start worrying about what he has no control over. 

He's shaken up because he's looking after two children. They're his direct responsibility, and if something goes wrong, then he's the one the fault falls to. If they're all washed away- there's nothing he can do about that.

A peaceful end. As peaceful as it could be, in a torrent of muddy water. 

He stops the recording. Even if he doesn't understand the cause of the approaching ocean, it falls under the same documentation his Father had asked him to take. One day, someone will see the recordings taken on his camera. The date and the view and the progress of the water will be invaluable. 

 The three of them will exist within the footage. 

The four of them.

"It's okay," Maki says, as Jo puts the camera back into his bag. He's standing up now. So is Harua, their bags already put on so they can take their place on either side of Jo naturally. Maki nods at Harua like he'd signalling something, and they reach up to take his hands at the same time. 

"It's okay?"

Maki nods. His expression is completely serious, nodding like he understands, but Jo doesn't know quite what he's talking about. They start to walk again anyway, but eventually Jo has to repeat himself. "What's okay?"

Maki hesitates. He glances at Harua. It's almost funny the way that they communicate, like they think he can't also see the way they're trying to communicate through raised eyebrows and silently exaggerated facial expressions. 

Eventually it's Harua who pulls on his arm gently. Jo bends down, letting him cup his fingers around his ears. He whispers like he's telling a secret that he doesn't want anyone to overhear. His breath is warm, and his whisper is clumsily the same volume as his normal speaking tone. 

"That you're scared."

Then he pulls away. 

And Jo almost stops walking.

His body takes control of itself and he only ends up hesitating for a moment. Harua and Maki both stare up at him like they've worked out something incredibly important. Maki is still nodding. Harua's palm is slightly damp where he's clutching at Jo. But they both look dead serious.

Somehow, that makes it all worse.

"I'm scared?" Jo says, because he needs to say something. He'd gesture to himself but his hands are full. 

"It's okay," Harua says, not bothering to whisper this time, even though they'd been treating it like some sort of huge secret before this. He rubs his chest absentmindedly, where Jo knows there's an ugly bruise in the shape of a shoe-print. "I was scared as well."

"They were very scary," Maki tells him. 

Jo blinks. "Yeah," he says. The truth is that he was scared, and he's not going to deny that. And the kids had been scared as well. But he can tell what this is - they can tell he's been terrified ever since that moment, so they're trying to seem brave in order to comfort him.

Of course, they've misunderstood what he's scared about. But in that innocence - childlike determination to comfort him - there's something that means more than Jo could ever put into words. 

"You hid very well," Harua says in complete seriousness. It's what Jo had told Maki to try and calm him down afterwards. It sounds odd and grown-up coming out of his mouth, but it's so Harua. 

"Thank you," is everything Jo manages to choke out in response. 

Their reassurance doesn't do much. At least, not in terms of calming down what he's actually scared about. But something about the earnest looks on their faces - the way that they must be terrified as well, but they're swallowing all that down because they can tell Jo feels the same way - it makes his heart swell and his hands curl into tight fists.

He can't let them down. Being scared isn't going to change anything about the future. That's the way he's considered his whole life up until now, why did that suddenly have to change? A calm and accepting way to exist - wasn't that what he'd told himself?

Maki wrinkles his nose. A few seconds have passed now, they're still walking, but that's obviously enough time for Jo to have recovered. "Are you okay now?" He asks, "If not... me 'n' Harua were talkin', we're going to have fun so we can tell Fuma everything we did!"

Maki might actually believe that. The way Harua's hand curls in Jo's says that he's not quite as confident. 

But it's up to Jo to keep them going. And - who says that they won't make it? Whatever happens is going to happen. There's no use worrying about a million possibilities. 

"That's a good idea," he says instead. If he swipes his thumb over Harua's knuckles, a silent symbol that it's okay and that he's right there, no one has to know. "You can think of everything you want to- you're going to tell him while we walk."

----

Since Jo is no longer scared, their mission becomes to get to the city as soon as possible. A single person travelling alone is much faster than someone with two young kids. That much is pretty obvious: the faster they get to the city, the faster they can see Fuma again.

Because of that, it makes the most sense to peel back off the side of the hills and stick to the roads. 

It's much faster. Walking over tarmac is easier than picking your way through tightly-grown trees. Roads are supposed to be accessible, even if they have to avoid toppled telephone poles and abandoned cars. It beats spirals of barbed wire across fences and impassable cliff-faces.

But they're not the only people with the same idea.

It makes sense. When they'd started travelling, most people had still been heading towards the sea rather than away from it. The coastline had been seen as a relatively safe place to stay - there hadn't been a tsunami after the first earthquake, and it had looked unlikely that there'd be an aftershock at the same scale. 

At the coast, there'd be gatherings of people. Boats to ship survivors into refugee camps, planes dropping supply packs near the settlements, military organisations forming organised shelters and handing out rations of food. 

To everyone that had been split up when the earthquake hit, the camps that had sprung up were like beacons to gather around. Jo and Fuma hadn't had anyone they were missing, so there hadn't been much point.

They'd been lucky, even if they didn't know it at the time. There was a good chance that everyone who'd gathered there looking to survive had simply been... washed away. No one headed towards the remnants of the coastline any more. In fact, the coast was catching up to them - everyone still around was walking directly away from it, before the cold muddy water could drown even more of the land. 

On the first day, they come across another small group. Two women around their early-forties with sun-kissed skin and stress lines etched deep into their faces, pulled along by a once-fluffy dog with fur now matted. One of them was injured. Her ankle was wrapped tightly in scraps of fabric, and one arm was slung over the other women's shoulders as they walked.

They'd eyed Jo reproachfully as he overtook them. It was quiet enough that the sound of their footsteps echoed in the silence. Their dog strained at the collar where the second lady had curled her fingers - enough of a warning for him to keep his distance.

Their gazes had softened slightly when they'd seen Harua and Maki. Enough to give them space to pass by safely. Not enough to stop their dog from growling dangerously.

Yet it's the second group they pass that has Jo feeling threatened.

A few hours after they pass the two women, the road they've been following gets a little wider. It merges with another coming from a separate direction. Both then converge to stretch into the distance. And maybe it's bad luck, maybe it's coincidence - but they arrive there at the same time as another party of people.

Five of them this time. Two men anywhere from late thirties to early fifties - one with white hair spotting his beard, and the other with a mask covering half his face. A third man in his twenties, and two women of a similar age. 

They don't look dangerous. There are no visible weapons like there had been on the men that had taken Fuma, and they certainly aren't wearing a uniform. One of them smiles in response when he sees Jo clearly looking them over. 

"Hey!"

Jo jumps. He had seen them before he heard them, he just hadn't been expecting them to call out. Even Harua and Maki seem surprised. Harua shrinks back until he's hidden behind Jo, but Maki doesn't seem to mind the attention, raising a hesitant hand to wave instead.

"Hello," says Jo as amicably as he can. There hadn't been much distance between to start with, but the group crosses the road until they're walking right next to each other with surprising haste.

One of the men eyes him. The one with the salt-and-pepper beard. "These kids yours?" 

His voice is gruff. Harua shrinks behind Jo even further. He doesn't let go of his hand and instead pulls his arm at a slightly painful angle, but inside his mind he's probably reliving the last group of strangers that talked to him - so Jo makes sure he's holding onto his hand tightly. Maki also shrinks into his side, but only slightly. 

One of the women laughs at their actions. "That answers your question!" As Jo watches, the shoulders of the group all seem to relax slightly. He hadn't even realised there was a tension, but it seems obvious as it slips away.

"Sorry 'bout that," the man says, this time a lot more relaxed. He puts a hand on Jo's shoulder, and Jo tries not to flinch. It's surprisingly painful. "You'd be surprised at how many people takin' advantage of a bad situation. Kids endin' up with people that aren't gonna look after them. You know what I mean."

He looks Jo in the eye. Jo feels slightly sick at the possibility of something he'd never even considered before.

"You're making him nervous," the second woman says, pushing the man who lets go of Jo's shoulder. She smiles down to Maki, "Aren't you just precious? They're clearly happy to be with him. What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Maki!" Maki tells her. He puffs out his chest a little. Too trusting for his own good, maybe - Jo's head is still spinning from the implication of the man's accusation. 

The lady's eyes go huge and she ruffles his hair. They've come to a natural stop now, but once she stands up they start moving again. The first woman is arguing good-naturedly with the bearded man. The masked man is still behind them and the younger man has taken the lead. 

There's nothing that says they've told Jo to join them. But the second lady has also started walking whilst still chatting to Maki, drawing him along. Jo's feet are moving before he's even thinking about what he's doing. Harua is still dutifully behind him. 

Except he's dragging his feet. 

Maki's not holding Jo's hand any longer, but he's also not straying any further than five feet away. The masked man easily passes by in silence, and Jo tries to tug Harua along a little faster so they don't get left too far behind. 

Harua refuses to speed up. 

"I don't like it," he says quietly. 

Jo pauses. It's not like there's anything wrong with the group they've come across. It isn't the first time they've passed another set of people, though it's certainly become less common with every passing week. If anything, if Jo asks a couple of pointed questions, they might be able to leave the interaction with more information than they'd had at the beginning of the day.

Maki doesn't seem to be worried, either. He hasn't gone too far away. Instead, it seems like he's realised Jo and Harua have stopped walking, and is now shifting his weight slightly awkwardly from foot-to-foot as he waits for them to catch up.

"What's wrong?" Jo asks gently, but Harua presses his lips together and shakes his head. 

Everyone's stopped walking now. All eyes are on Jo and the way that Harua is pressing his face into his leg like that makes him impossible to see. Even Maki is beginning to back up with wide eyes.

"Is something wrong?" The lady who'd been talking to Maki asks. 

And Jo-

There's something at the back of his neck. Or, not quite, but a shiver down his spine. A twist in his stomach that shouldn't be there. Something unsettling against his shoulders, but barely there - like the turn of a breeze or his hair standing on edge.

It starts from nothing, but all of a sudden Jo decides that he needs to listen to Harua. One moment the feeling is easy to ignore. The next he can't shake the feeling that something is wrong.

"Ah," he says, and Maki immediately knows something is wrong because Jo is raising his voice to make sure he'll be heard. "Har- Haru isn't feeling well. He's probably tired from walking too much."

"Ain't that the truth," the man with the beard laughs. And Jo can't tell whether it's slightly forced or whether he's reading too much into it.

"We're probably going to take a rest," Jo says. Maki is nearby now. The moment that Jo had started talking, he'd known something was up. There's distance between them and the other group now. No one moves again. 

They don't move even when Jo lets the silence hang.

"You're free to move ahead on your own," he offers eventually. "We don't want to slow you down."

His voice sounds strained even to his own ears. Is he imagining things, or has the air completely soured? Is it in his mind, or has something settled over them?

As he watches, the other group exchange glances. Or, a better way to describe it would be that they all glance to the man in the mask. He hasn't spoken a single word up until now. But as the eyes turn to him, he looks to Jo and speaks. "We'll rest too."

Every warning bell in Jo's head goes off. If someone says something afterwards, he doesn't hear it over the cacophony of noise.

Harua is still by his leg, but he's easily in position to let go. Maki is nearby - Jo makes eye contact, and both the kids are close enough that they can hear him when he speaks again, even though his voice is quiet enough without needing to whisper under his breath. 

"Go."

Harua lets go. Maki pulls ahead. There are two roads converging, but the path ahead of them is a series of car carcasses and people they're trying to avoid.

Maki darts to the right, so that's the way Harua and Jo follow. Jo should be faster than the two kids - his legs are significantly longer - but they're fast and they have no trouble keeping up with him. Maki catapults himself over a wall, Jo only pauses for a moment to help Harua climb over as well, and then they're disappearing into the bushes. 

For a second, Jo sees the group they'd left behind.

He'd half expected them to follow. Isn't that what usually happens - that they should be chased? But there are five sets of eyes watching him and not a single person has moved. Instead, they stand like statues as Harua struggles to hook his foot between the stones of the wall. They watch as Jo lifts him up and Harua jumps back onto the grass. 

They're still watching as he turns his head and follows Maki into the hedgerows.

They don't follow.

It doesn't make him slow down, though. Maki runs ahead until he clearly gets tired, and then that's a sign for all three of them to stop. Harua's cheeks are pink. Jo's heart is thundering in his chest. There's a long scratch down Maki's cheek - he must have caught himself on a bramble.

And Jo finally gets the creeping feeling that he might have overreacted to the situation. Seen something that wasn't there; too shaken up by their encounter with the military to trust so easily.

But he also can't forget the crawling sensation at the back of his neck. Even if it had only been slight and only there for a moment - and that their journey is now at least another day longer due to the detour they'll have to take - he finds that he doesn't regret it.

Chapter Text

Something in the earthquake has messed with the weather.

That's Taki's theory, at least. In reality he says that to K and Fuma and receives two matching blank stares. Maybe neither of them have been trying to keep track of the months like Taki was (key word: was . He'd been counting the days for roughly a week, and then gotten side-tracked by trying not to die). 

It makes sense. He might not know what exact day it is, but he's pretty sure it's around the end of September. The weather of the summer should have been humid and wet and warm. It should still be warm now, but as they draw closer to October, it should start getting a little drier. 

Except, that's not really what's happened. 

The summer has been exceptionally dry. The sky had been cloudless and blue most days, but there had been a significant lack of moisture in the air compared to almost every other year of Taki's life. When it had rained, the falling water had burnt holes through wood and hissed upon contact with the concrete. 

Or maybe they'd been giving him a look that said ' didn't we already know that? '

On second thoughts, the acid rain was probably a good sign that something had happened to the weather. 

It's a relief that the acidity seemed concentrated to a couple of weeks towards the beginning of the post-disaster period, and has only become weaker since then. They'd been able to survive by dodging between buildings that had survived the quake and drinking bottled water. 

It's been much better since then. Touching pools of standing water is safe, the soles of their shoes aren't wearing through as quickly as they did in wet weather before, and they've finally been able to collect rainwater for drinking.

It's a good thing. The summer had been dry. It should be drawing close to October and it should be getting dryer - but instead, the opposite seems to be happening. The sky is almost permanently greyed with thick clouds. Taki sits inside the house they'd only planned to rest in overnight, and watches the rain hit the window. 

It's been two days.

It doesn't look like the weather is going to improve any time soon.

"Stop looking so moody," K tells him from across the room. "We got lucky. This town barely seems touched by the earthquake. Would you prefer to wait out the storm outside?"

Taki pulls a face at him in response. He isn't being moody. There's a difference between staring out of the window because he's annoyed and staring out of the window because there's nothing else to do. 

It's just like K to push his buttons on purpose, though. Maybe when they first met, Taki would have even been annoyed by it. But part of the reason why they've stuck together this long is because Taki genuinely doesn't get offended by the way K plays around - he's just as fast to play along.

They've pulled almost everything from the house into one room. It's still warm outside, but the temperature dips during the night and it's easiest to stop the cold air from getting inside in the first place. The floor is covered with salvaged blankets and cushions and their bags, neatly piled to one side. 

What he can make out of the morning light spills through the windows. The glass is cold enough that Taki can feel it from where he's sitting. The sun must still be rising, though it's hard to tell behind a heavy layer of clouds. It certainly hasn't warmed up the air yet. 

"We should be moving."

Taki turns to look at the other corner of the room. The exact opposite of where they've piled their bags, Fuma is sitting on a mattress whilst leaning against the wall. His hair has fallen into his eyes. It shadows his expression, but he's hunched forward in pain and clutching his shoulder.

If he's trying to pretend like it isn't getting worse, then he's not doing a very good job at it.

It's been just over a week since he was shot. And just like K had said - despite their washing of the wound and sporadic dosage of medication - it had gotten infected anyway. The fabric of the shirt he's wearing has been cut away to reveal the wound in all its pink, shiny glory. 

Taki winces just looking at it. He doesn't need to imagine to know it's hot to the touch. 

"Moving," K says, his voice flat. "Moving where? From this side of the room to the other?"

"Moving out ."

There's a beat of silence. K's expression hardens. Taki has the urge to cover his eyes with his hands, only he knows that he'd open his fingers to peek through, so he might as well not even bother in the first place.

K levels Fuma with a look. "In this weather? We'll be soaked to the bone. If we don't all get ill afterwards, it'll be a miracle."

There's something implied in his words that Taki only just manages to catch. Fuma is already ill with the infection. Exposure to the elements when he needs to rest would just build off of that. They're already cutting it close with their limited medical supplies. That line doesn't need to be made any thinner.

"We're wasting time here," Fuma says. "Going through supplies whilst we aren't moving. Even an hour of walking would at least get us closer-"

"Are you able to walk for an hour?"

Fuma's eyes darken. He tilts forward and what Taki could make out of his expression disappears into the shadows. The rain beats down on the window throughout the pauses of the argument. Taki's breath hangs all too loud in the air. 

"I'd make it," Fuma tells K in a way that makes it painfully clear he isn't joking. His tone is laced with complete sincerity. "I'd walk all day if I could. I thought we were getting somewhere, I thought you understood-"

"I-"

Taki sneezes.

It comes out of nowhere - so much so that it actually surprises himself as well. He almost makes himself jump, and he knows that he looks shocked when his eyes open again. It isn't planned, but both Fuma and K look at him and stop looking at each other . 

The tension in the room dips a little, even as they all avoid each other's gaze. Fuma sinks back into his slump against the wall - even if he's stubborn enough to keep arguing, his physical state isn't in great condition. And K folds his arms briefly before going into a series of stretches.

None of them are good at keeping themselves occupied, it seems.

But with some of the strange atmosphere dissolving, Taki can finally voice his suggestion. "Hey. Why don't we find a pharmacy to stop at?"

K pauses mid-lunge. Then he keeps lunging, because it's K, but his attention is still on Taki. "Who are you calling 'hey' ?" He asks, but he's interested.

"The rain is easing up slightly. We're running out of medication. This town is definitely big enough to have a pharmacy - and if it's still standing, then it might have - y'know, stuff that's actually useful!"

"Antibiotics," Fuma says. 

"Yeah, those. No offence, but what we have at the moment isn't strong enough. Or it just isn't working well enough. I mean-"

Fuma shakes his head. His fingers tug at the fabric of his shirt near his shoulder again. He's trying not to touch it and dirty it more than it already is. "You barely have any bandages left. Antibiotics and antiseptics might also help. A pharmacy might also stock iodine tablets."

"Io-whatsits?"

At that, Fuma laughs. Only one short sharp note, but it's soft in how it's aimed at him. Despite how him and K keep butting heads with each other, Fuma has been nothing but gentle in the way he treats Taki. "Iodine tablets. They can be used to disinfect water in an emergency."

Ooh. That's a good idea. Taki is just about to say exactly that, but K chooses that moment to speak up.

"What happened to 'we should be moving'?"

His tone borders between light-hearted and heavy with irony that hasn't been missed. When Fuma turns to look at him, K simply raises an eyebrow and keeps stretching. 

It practically feels like a miracle when Fuma doesn't take the bait. "This is moving," he replies, "In the way that it's not wasting time." He raises an eyebrow straight back at K, and then when a few seconds have passed, he speaks again a little more seriously. "Hah. I just... don't want to take advantage of your supplies. If either of you two get injured, I don't want you to be left with nothing."

Because you've wasted it all on me.

That part goes unsaid. And maybe Fuma would say 'used' instead of 'wasted', but Taki liked the added flare of dramatism. He gets half caught-up on a thought that leads to a drama-like scene of Fuma and K on an enemies-to-lovers arc, before the rest of his brain promptly decides never to consider that again. For the sake of his own mental health. 

He's missed K's reply whilst being caught up in his own thoughts. It doesn't seem to have raised the tension in the room again though, so Taki turns to look out of the window again.

Just as he'd hoped, the weather does clear up slightly.

They leave their bags safely hidden in the house they're sheltering in, wrap themselves in thin waterproofs, and then set out to find a pharmacy. The sky is still a dark grey, but the air is warm when Taki steps outside. There's a thin mist of rain settling over the town still. It threatens to pour again at any moment, so they'll have to be quick.

It doesn't take too long to find a pharmacy. 

The town isn't huge. Following the wider roads soon takes them to a small stretch of shops. A hairdressers, something that could have once been a bar, a small convenience store that's long since been smashed to pieces. There are a few more houses and then the pharmacy. 

It's in a good state, and by that, Taki means the glass in the front of the store is still intact. It's covered in grime and the main door has been boarded off. He presses his face against the glass and tries to see through the dirt.

"Has it been raided already?" Fuma asks. 

Taki rubs the glass even though the settled dust is on the inside, and his sleeve just comes away damp.  K stands beside him and they peer in together. It might have been someone's shelter at one point - but it's been a long time, judging by the warped state of the planks across the door. Most of the aisles still appear to be standing, and they've checked through enough abandoned shops in their time to know that's about as good of a sign as it gets. 

Trying to open the door isn't sensible. It's loud, possibly dangerous, and if there is anyone left to patrol the area, enough of a visible change to be noticed. The three of them make their way around the edge of the shop. One side borders onto another house, but there doesn't seem to be a clear way into it. The other side seems more promising; there's a small window high into the wall. 

It's not that large, but it's also importantly open - only by about half a centimetre, but just enough for someone to hook their fingernails underneath and wedge it open. Taki stands on his tiptoes and attempts to do just that, K notices what he's doing and joins in, then together they manage to pull it free.

The window opens. There's just enough space for Taki to squeeze inside. 

It's the easiest option. It saves time searching for another way in, and it's such a small change that it would be missed by any patrol. They don't want to be caught in the rain, still threatened by the iron-grey sky. 

Taki isn't going to take no for an answer. 

"Lift me up."

K looks at him. "You're not going to be able to get back out."

"I'll use a shelf like a ladder. Or just prop something against the wall. Come on, it'll be fine." He does a few little jumps to prove his point on how easy it'll be, drawing his legs in close to his body. K and Fuma exchange a look, but they already know they've lost the argument.

Taki ends up being lifted by both of them. K has most of the weight, since he's not the one currently battling an infection, but Fuma is surprisingly strong even with the gunshot wound. He lets Taki rest one foot on his non-injured shoulder whilst K shuffles closer to the window. The latch is already open, so Taki just pushes the glass forward as far as he can. 

It's the perfect time for a one-liner. Unfortunately, most of his brain is focusing on not toppling over, and all he ends up saying is "Make sure to catch me when I come back."

Then he hooks his hands over the window sill, sticks his head through until his chest is completely flat, and uses K's palms as a spring-board to push his feet away from.

The next thing he knows is that he's in a crumpled heap on the floor of the pharmacy.

It's almost exactly as he'd seen from the outside. 

Rows of shelves, most of them empty. If they hadn't been secured down before either of the two earthquakes, their products are now lying in piles on the floor. Thick layers of dust have settled where they used to be displayed. Just looking at it is enough to make him want to sneeze.

Someone must have been here at some point. Some of the fallen packets have been pushed to both sides of the aisle, in an attempt to make a passage wide enough for someone to walk through. In one of the rows, it looks like some of the medications have been sorted back onto the lowest shelves. 

From his position, he can see a shelf that must have held the most valuable items. It's clearly in the worst condition in the shop - open packets littering the ground. There's probably more that's been already wiped clean by the first scavengers to come through. But there's enough medication left that he's still in luck. 

Taki's eyes trail across the floor. The cardboard display nearest to him has completely bleached of colour and doubled over. Whichever grinning celebrity's face had been printed onto it is no longer distinguishable from the catchy slogan underneath. 

It's some sort of headache tablet. A few packets have opened, and the pills inside have been crushed underfoot into a dusty powder. Taki picks himself up. He winces slightly, rubs a particularly sore spot right next to his ribs, and then grabs a box.

Caffeinated, painkiller - et cetera et cetera. Not what he's looking for in particular, but he checks the box is still sealed and puts it into the small bag he's carrying anyway.

First things first, antibiotics.

There are signs hanging above the aisles. Once upon a time they must have been legible, but now Taki has to squint to make out the characters under a thick layer of grime. It takes him longer than he'd like to admit to skirt around a toppled display of toothpaste (though he does grab a few tubes - his parents had always drilled the importance of avoiding cavities into him).

But eventually he finds what he's looking for. 

The obvious place is behind the counter. Anything stronger than simple painkillers isn't going to be as easy to access, and Fuma definitely needs something with a kick. It would be helpful if they had proper names on them instead of long lists of chemicals, but Taki crouches down and gets reading anyway.

Some of them have clear instructions on the back. He sees 'wound' and he puts it into his bag. They can head back to the shelter and sort them out properly later, for now it's better to just grab what he can. Rather than waste time.

The names all start to blur into one. At one point, he shuffles forwards and finds himself sorting through medication that he definitely doesn't want to be looking at. One of them has such an awful picture on the back of the box that he ends up dropping it, flinching backwards. It's hard to stop himself from gagging. 

It's just his luck that the box lands image-up. There's probably bleach in the pharmacy that he's now considering using on his eyes, but Taki's first thought is that he needs to get the box as far away from him as possible. 

He kicks it, body still flinching away. 

The box slides across the floor. It's only cardboard and Taki had probably put more force into kicking it than necessary. His eyes follow it as it spins, sliding all the way up until it hits a door set into the wall and is forced into stopping.

But-

Taki hadn't noticed the door before. He'd entered through a window on the other side, and pretty quickly made his way to the counter at the front of the store. He'd glanced at the shop-front with its smeared glass and boarded-up entrance, and then he'd started checking the medication.

He hadn't ever noticed a door. 

It's only slightly open. But there's a clear space around it in an arc, where the dust has been brushed away. Someone's been here - he already knows that - but when? The dust hasn't settled again. He hadn't heard anyone, but had he been listening? Are there footsteps above him? 

They hadn't thought about the flat above the pharmacy. They'd only looked through the window and assumed it was abandoned. Taki takes a step back. Could someone still be living here?

It's quiet. Or is his heart beating so quickly that he can't hear anything else? 

It doesn't matter. He's still considering freaking out completely, but K and Fuma are waiting for him outside, and he doesn't want to seem like he's too scared. Especially if it does end up that this place is abandoned. The door is wooden, perhaps there's a collapsed wall they hadn't noticed and the wind has been causing it to move. 

He hasn't completed his job, either. What was it? Io-something tablets for water - he probably should have made sure he'd actually listened to the name, but he's sure he'll remember it if he sees it. And bandages, antiseptic cream, the other stuff that had been by the bandages but he's also forgotten.

Taki takes one last glance at the door. 

It's probably been lived at some point. There's no one here now. 

The wall of behind-the-counter medication stares at him, but Taki isn't sure what most of it does, and now he just kind of wants to get out of here. He has the antibiotics he's pretty sure they'd need, so he finally pulls away and starts searching the aisles again.

Bandages.... where would they be? This row just has stuff for babies, and Taki is pretty sure they won't be needing that any time soon. There's a huge section of cold and flu tablets, so he grabs some of those just in case it could be useful. There are cough drops, a shelf that has fallen over, a display case of condoms that leaves his cheeks burning.

The 'First Aid Kit' section of the store is next, and that's where he assumes he needs to be. Taki steps into the aisle. 

And the door he'd been so sure about ignoring swings open.

The box he'd been holding up falls from his hands with a clatter. He steps backwards on instinct, but he'd already been bending down to get a better look at the packets on the floor - so he just ends up falling backwards, colliding with a pile of pill bottles. His arms go out like they're trying to contribute to staying upright, but he lands hard on the floor. 

There's someone there . 

The door hasn't swung open from the wind. There's someone living here. The worst case scenario that he's been trying not to think about this whole time - it's happening, and all Taki can do is lie on the floor in frozen shock. 

The sound of the box dropping hasn't been quiet. He'd fallen onto a pile of literal bottles, they'd rattled with the pills inside as he'd squashed them, his left hand had knocked the shelf with a bang.

But- 

Instead of the person running to his location, they don't seem to have heard him at all. Taki only catches a glimpse of them stepping out into the shop between the door and the shelves, and then they're out of sight. There's no rush of urgency to their movement. 

Taki watches, still frozen, as they make their way to - well, whatever they're doing. They come out from the shelf they'd disappeared behind, and he finally gets a view of what they look like. 

It's a boy with hair slightly grown out, just covering his ears and brushing the back of his neck. In the split-second that Taki can catch a glimpse of his face, he looks maybe a year or so older than Taki himself. Lips pursed in concentration. Holding something in his hand, but there's no way of telling what.

It's like every cell in Taki's body is completely cemented into place. He has barely dared to breathe since he fell over, and the bottles he's lying against aren't comfortable, but he can barely feel the pain over the adrenaline. His heart thunders louder than he's ever thought before. His thoughts repeat a mantra, like he can manifest not being noticed.

For one blissful second, it even seems like it's going to work.

The boy looks like he's going to head back through the door. He's got whatever he came down for, clearly, and he makes all the way to the dust-free arc. Taki is inches away from finally relaxing - and then the boy turns back. 

He isn't looking down the aisles, rather to the wall at the other side of the pharmacy. It takes him past where he could see Taki. 

Any movement Taki makes is going to send the bottles rolling everywhere. It had been a miracle the boy hadn't noticed the noise before, but now they're in the same room he'll instantly notice. Any chance Taki could have had of moving away is instantly gone - all he can do is sit silent and still, hoping and praying.

The boy walks past. He isn't looking, he's still concentrating with a tooth just visible over his lips and he's walking and-

Something must catch his eye. There's no telling what it is - like it even matters, maybe he has been checking down every row and Taki had been clinging to false hope this whole time. 

He hasn't moved, still lying splayed out, but it doesn't matter because the boy turns his head just slightly and that's enough for him to realise that he isn't alone in the store. 

They make eye-contact.

Chapter Text

For a moment, neither of them move.

Taki feels ill. He's so nervous that he's convinced he's about to throw up, even if it's really just every bone in his body telling him to get up. He suddenly can't feel the ache in his ribs from where he'd fallen, the bottles trapped underneath him, the dizzying thumping in his head.

The boy staring at him doesn't move either. He just looks with eyes widening only slightly. It's like they're both trapped in a freeze frame. He's trying to work out whether Taki is real or whether hallucination is the next step of the disasters haunting the country. 

A few seconds pass. Taki can feel his heart in his throat. Everything else has gone completely silent - his eyes have gone dry from how desperately he's locked eyes with the boy, as if blinking is going to suddenly spur them both into action.

In the end, that's what happens anyway.

The boy finally moves. He takes a step backwards with a strangled sound that doesn't resemble any sort of language Taki knows, all syllables and slurred sounds and something chokingly desperate. It's like the movement of his foot is the crack in a dam right before the wall bursts.

When they'd been staring and silent and frozen, there'd been an understanding that neither of them wanted to break the strange dream-like situation they'd found themselves in. But with movement, that disappears.

Taki scrambles to his feet. He almost backs straight into the shelf again, one of the bottles caught beneath his foot. He doesn't fall over. Instead, the lid twists off and the plastic cracks under his shoe, sending a crunch of pills across the ground.

In front of him, the boy also backs away. He reaches into his pocket like he's fumbling for something important. As Taki focuses on trying not to lose his balance, the boy desperately reaches up to his head. There's too much going on to actually catch what he does, but the next time they lock eyes - the distance between them increased, both backed up against walls - there's a newfound fire to his expression.

"Hey!" He shouts, "Who are you? Euijoo! Nicholas!"

The names he shouts don't sound Japanese. Maybe the boy is foreign as well - he certainly has a slight accent, although it's nothing like Taki has ever heard before.

And-

More importantly, he's not alone. The apartment above is probably inhabited. Maybe they haven't been here for long and it's just a coincidence - bad timing that Taki broke into the pharmacy this day of all days - or maybe they've been camping out the whole time. 

Two names, two people, right? Are there more people in his group? Are there some of them outside of hearing range, which is why he's only called two - are Taki and K and Fuma painfully outnumbered and this is how it all ends?

It doesn't seem like the boy is armed. One small relief amongst the fact that Taki is realising he's trapped with no way out.

He'd so confidently declared that he'd scale a shelf to reach the window before. But now he's looking, there isn't a shelf below for him to climb. There isn't anything except a wall and a distance he can't jump to reach. 

He pushes himself slightly further back. They're almost at opposite ends of the aisle now, staring at each other still. Neither one wants to lose sight of the other between the rows of the pharmacy. Taki can already hear movement in the direction that the boy can come from.

He's running out of time and he -

He can't climb back out of the window but it is still open and K and Fuma are still outside. He glances away from the boy fully aware that every moment they aren't watching each other is a chance for the other to attack. But it's worth it - the window is still open. 

"K-" Taki yells, even though the thundering of footsteps is coming closer and there's no way that K can come get him - but he's scared and he's panicking and so he calls out anyway. "K- help, there are people here-"

It sounds strangled and panicky even to himself, but that's the least of his concerns right now. 

The door swings open. Both Taki and the boy immediately turn to look at the source of the movement, and Taki's heart flies into his mouth when two strangers run in. The Nicholas and Euijoo that he'd called for earlier.

It's only a small relief that they don't look much older than twenty at most. One of them has slightly damp hair. The other has wide eyes as he scans the room, immediately rushing towards the boy when they notice where he's standing. The damp-haired boy is quick to follow him.

Their eyes are dark. With anger, fear, with the urge to protect, and all of that is aimed directly towards Taki. Damp-haired boy practically snarls as he falls into place. His gaze darts around the shop. One of his hands is gripping the arm of the boy who'd called out, pulling him behind him protectively. There's something terrifyingly sharp about his expression.

But it's the third person in the room that Taki is terrified of.

He's seen outbursts of anger before. He'd gone to class every day - well, almost every day - and witnessed puberty-filled students in the years above him get into fights over the smallest things. Their anger had been explosive. Sharp in the way that a sudden flash of colour could be sharp.

The other boy's anger isn't sharp like that at all.

He's not even frowning. He has big eyes and his mouth looks like it should be curled into a pleasant smile, but instead Taki is faced with complete absence of any expression at all. His gaze across the room is practically calculating. He's angry as well - but this is the same sharpness as the blade of a knife. 

They're here because the boy had called for them. He'd sounded scared - Taki's own cry had been scared, but they were only worried about their friend. All that anger is facing Taki down directly.

He panics.

Even more than before, if possible. There's barely half a second between the door opening and the two new arrivals finding their place, but Taki doesn't get the feeling they're going to be asking questions first. He needs to get away. He can't, he's trapped, he needs to keep them away.

There's nothing near him except for shelves of bottles, so he grabs a fistful and starts throwing. His aim is awful even without his hands shaking so dangerously, but it stops them from getting any closer, so he keeps going.

"Who are you?" The damp-haired boy shouts as Taki throws a bottle at his head. It misses and cracks against the wall instead. "How did you get in?"

"Yuma," the other boy says, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

They're speaking at the same time and every bottle Taki throws hits the ground with a shattering of pills. And maybe there'd been noise outside the whole time, but as soon as the damp-haired boy starts shouting it's immediately more urgent. The door to the outside - the one that had been boarded up - groans. The wood splinters so loud that it's audible even above the shouting. 

Taki throws another bottle. He grasps desperately at the shelf only to find his hand pressed up against the back. It's empty, he's thrown it all. The half-second of hesitation is enough. Damp-haired boy presses forwards, "Hey!" and Taki has nothing to force him backwards.

His throat spasms in fear. It's embarrassing but he doesn't even realise the half-strangled noise he lets out, he's not even sure what he's trying to yell back. 

The door opens with a sickening crack.

At first, all Taki can see is Fuma. One hand is clutching at his shoulder like he's pulled it. There are bits of wood on the floor, the door has been pushed so violently that it's caved in on itself. His eyes are wild - and it takes Taki a moment to realise that the protectiveness on his face is directed towards him. His other hand - the one that is hanging limp by his side - is dripping blood onto the floor.

It doesn't look like K is with him for a second. Then Taki realises that K had stepped into the pharmacy the moment that the door had fallen away. He'd been so quick - Fuma had originally been standing behind him - and now he barrels forwards whilst everyone else still turns to look at the source of the noise.

In the blink of an eye, he’s tackled the damp-haired guy to the ground. Damp-haired guy yells something in a mixture of pain and a language that Taki doesn't understand. Flat-anger guy is darting forwards in a second to try and pull K away, though his anger has now dropped away to reveal an expression wide-eyed and worried.

K doesn't let it happen easily. He puts up a fight as the man on the floor attempts to flip himself back over. They're a tangle of limbs and anger and the need to act before trying to work out what's going on. Fuma looks like he's a few seconds from joining them - or at least trying to stop the man attempting to pull K away. 

Taki is frozen into place. The shelf hasn't miraculously re-stocked itself in the five seconds since he last checked. He still stands uselessly, cowering against a wall whilst his mind tries to catch up with everything else that's happened. 

In the end, he doesn't get long to think it through.

His hands are still shaking but he can't tear his eyes away from K and the two other boys and Fuma, except he does and he meets the eyes of the boy who'd started all of this. He doesn't look angry. Had he ever looked angry, or had that always just been the two men who'd run to his protection?

Instead, he looks... scared.

Just as scared as Taki. Stuck trapped at two opposite ends of the pharmacy. The moment their eyes meet, Taki suddenly gets this awful feeling in his chest. It's not quite strong enough to drown out the mixture of terror and adrenaline, but it's like a shard of ice in the way it catches his attention.

"Hey!" the boy yells, finally looking away from Taki. "Stop!"

There hadn't been any words exchanged between them, but the sound of his voice is enough for Taki to know what he has to do. They move forwards at almost the same time. Taki is only a couple of steps behind him - and then his arms are wrapping around one of K's elbows, trying to pull him backwards.

K looks like he's about to shove Taki away. There's a moment where his eyes are clouded over with anger - but the second he sees that it's Taki in front of him, Taki trying to pull him away, he falters.

It's not much, but it's enough of an advantage for Taki to get him a few inches away from the man on the floor. At the same time, the boy is stopping flat-angered man from going after K again. Fuma's presence behind Taki is dark, but he'd been hesitant enough about his injury not to dive into the fight needlessly, and that means there's no need to pull him back as well.

As soon as K is far enough away - Fuma soon joining in, helping Taki to break up the flared tempers - the man on the floor sits up. His own friends help him off of the ground and then drag him back by his elbows when he immediately tries to lunge towards K again. 

No one says a word until there's a clear invisible line separating the two groups in the pharmacy. Taki and Fuma standing either side of K. In almost a mirror image, the man who'd been on the floor stands with the other two people on either side. 

The pressure is stifling. Taki doesn't dare move an inch. He feels like the slightest breeze will set the room off again, everyone too on guard to chance being caught unaware. 

They stand in silence for at least a minute. The seconds stretch on. Fuma finally stops looking like he's about to pass out from pain at any moment. The tension eventually bleeds from K's shoulders, an almost imperceptible change in how defensive he's being.

Eventually, it's the boy who'd first spotted Taki that speaks up. "Who are you? How did you get inside? What do you want?"

K and Fuma stay silent. They're deferring to Taki, allowing him to speak up as long as he wants. It was him that entered the pharmacy first, after all. He was the catalyst to this whole situation. 

At first when he tries to speak, it comes out with a crack in his voice. He has to swallow and start again. "I came in through the window." Very slowly, he gestures to the window, and all sets of eyes take in how it's large enough for someone to get in. "We couldn't find a door. We- I didn't realise there was anyone here, otherwise we would have left you alone."

He hopes his sincerity bleeds through into his words.

The man who K had tackled to the floor narrows his eyes. He hasn't actually looked away from K this whole time, but the other man puts an arm out in front of him. "Nicholas," he says in a low warning tone.

He must be Euijoo then. He does have an accent - and all of a sudden Taki is struck by a wave of what could either be pity or jealousy. He can't imagine being trapped in a foreign country and fighting every day just to survive. But then he imagines that Euijoo's family is most likely safe and far away, and it's suddenly very hard to feel bad for him.

"What do you want?" The boy is now the only one left without a name. 

Taki stares back at him for a moment, trying to work out whether he's joking or not. A few seconds of silence tells him that the question was in complete seriousness. "Medicine," he says eventually. "Something to reduce a fever. Or fight an infection."

He doesn't need to gesture to Fuma. They've all probably noticed the way he's standing, the way his cheeks are slightly flushed. 

He's about to say something else - something like how they'd only taken what they needed, they could check the bag Taki was still clutching onto if they wanted to - but Nicholas is stepping forwards again, and this time Euijoo doesn't stop him.

"That doesn't make sense," he says. "You came in through the window? We would have noticed that. Yuma was down here, there should've been-"

Taki gasps, affronted. "Are you kidding? I fell right onto the floor! I'm pretty sure I bruised a rib or something."

" What ?" K says at the same time that Nicholas and Euijoo turn to stare at the first boy. 

The boy has the conscience to look a little sheepish. His eyes slide over to where Taki and the others are standing, lips slightly parted like he's not quite sure whether to speak. Eventually, one of his hands nervously goes up to his ear. "I don't wear them all the time," he says. "It gets tiring."

There's a beat of silence. Taki has no idea what any of that had meant, but clearly Euijoo and Nicholas had understood.

"Yuma-" Euijoo says, but the boy puts up a hand to stop him.

"I thought we were safe," he says. "I guess not."

It's only then that the pieces fall into place for Taki. His ears had previously been covered by hair grown out slightly too long. But at some point it must have shifted, to reveal a bright piece of plastic snug behind his ear. That's what he'd done after he'd spotted Taki. That's why he hadn't realised that someone else was inside the shop - despite all the noise Taki had been making from behind the door. 

He's deaf. Or hard of hearing, or just something along those lines - the important part was that he simply hadn't heard him.

No wonder he'd been so shocked when he'd spotted Taki amongst the bottles.

K scoffs at that. "You're not safe?" he quotes, "Why? Because we managed to get in. We haven't done anything to you, and it's pretty obvious that we aren't lying about needing medication. Taki, did you get everything?"

Taki blinks, not expecting the conversation to turn his way. He glances down to his bag, but it still takes a second or two to remember how far through the store he'd managed to work. "Uh, I got stuff for an infection. And some toothpaste. But that's pretty much it."

He opens the bag to show K and Fuma, and then hesitantly angles it so the group at the other side of the aisle can see as well. There really isn't much in the bag. If he'd been trying to rob them of anything dangerous, he hadn't been doing a very good job of it. 

It seems to be enough to prove his innocence.

Or, now that the initial fight has over, both sides have realised that they don't actually want to be arguing. There's nothing that tells Taki that he should immediately be on guard around them, and that's a lot more than what he can say for most people he's come across.

It seems like... Yuma had just been as scared as Taki was.

Is that's what going on here?

Taki can't tell whether it's just an idealised view of the situation, or whether that's actually the truth. It could make sense. Of course Yuma would be scared and call for back-up if he saw that someone had successfully broken into his shelter - and of course his friends would immediately come to help without asking questions. The same way that K and Fuma had when Taki had called out.

He's been told that he looks on the positive side of things before. He's always been the type of person to believe that the world is good afterall, even if he's been faced with thousands of situations proving him otherwise. 

He can't tell whether it makes sense, or whether he's just looking for what he wants to believe. But if he isn't wrong... this could be good! They could make a deal, they could potentially find some new allies - and they'd be able to take all the time they needed to get Fuma the correct medication. 

He's just about to open his mouth and ask them. There's no point in beating around the bush. Taki can just be direct about it at this point. And then everything can be solved a whole lot sooner, and-

It doesn't quite work out like that. 

The roar of an engine seems to come from nowhere.

It's started to rain again, but not heavily. The apartment above the pharmacy should mean that the noise of the rain hitting the roof shouldn't even be that loud, but the conversation has caught everyone's attention.

If an engine had passed by a nearby street, they should have heard it. It should have been enough of a warning. There's only one group that Taki knows of still travelling in vehicles - and taking a chance on that isn't worth it.

His stomach drops. For someone who doesn't like rollercoasters, it feels like his internal organs have been shaken up all too much lately. 

He turns to K like he's going to ask what to do, except K also looks horrified and the engine is very clearly getting louder. Fuma has gone stock-still. All three of them are suddenly on guard, so it comes as no surprise when K's voice comes loud and clear.

" Get down."

Taki drops.

He goes down so quickly that his elbows hit the ground with a crack and he traps a bottle discarded from the fight underneath one of his shins. Fuma can't move as quickly with his injury, but he's also down on the floor in record speed, pulling himself forward until his body is hidden behind a shelf.

The glass is dirty, but not completely opaque. There are six of them in the shop - that's six chances to be spotted. Taki hadn't looked out to see whether the van was visible. It's been so long since he heard a car pass by that he can no longer tell how loud it should be. Whether the van had been right outside, or whether they'd had a few seconds to hide. 

And-

Taki's heart skips a beat. Of course his side of the store had dropped the moment that K had given the instruction. Even if they'd been arguing, Taki could still recognise the tone of his voice as nothing more than danger. Anything else could be put behind them - at least until the van was definitely gone.

Had the others interacted with the group before? They hadn't been working with them - no, Taki's pretty confident in that, the way Yuma had called out for help hadn't seemed like he'd been trying to hide something.

But they don't get down as immediately as Taki does.

There's at least a second before Euijoo's eyes widen. Long enough for them to take in K's voice - the instruction, why should they have to listen to him - before realising that he was being deadly serious. Even if they don't know why, it's clear this is important. Euijoo drops without another moment to spare - one arm on Yuma's sleeve to pull him down as well.

The sound of the engine gets louder.

"Now-" K hisses, because Nicholas is now the only person standing up.

It's only a few seconds that pass - his brain is probably still translating the words, trying to work out why everyone is trusting K so absolutely - but it's a few seconds too long. He eventually drops down with impressive speed. His elbows hit the ground in the same way that Taki's had. No regard for a small injury when compared to the alternative of being spotted.

Then the shop falls almost silent.

"Last time-" Fuma says. It's a hushed whisper, cut off with an inhale of pain. Still, every ear is listening to him and his flat haste. "Last time they followed us. When did you get here?"

He isn't speaking to Taki and K. He knows they're safe. They've taken precautions not to be caught out again, but the same can't be said for the group they know little-to-nothing about. 

"A few days," Euijoo replies. "Four- five, maybe. I don't think we were followed."

If they were, it was unlikely the military would have waited this long to make a move. A couple of days is surely the limit of sticking around. After that is a waste of time.

Fuma seems to agree. He nods once, and then when the confusion is clear upon Euijoo's face, he elaborates: "That's long enough. If you don't think you were followed - were you using the main roads? Or moving through the forests? "

"The forests, lately," Euijoo tells him. He doesn't need to ask for an explanation on that one. It's fairly obvious that a group moving through fields and forests is a lot harder to track than one travelling the country via roads. 

Outside, the roar of the engine starts to fade again. Taki isn't sure when it had peaked. He's thankful for the conversation distracting him from paying full attention, even if his heart still is thundering away in his throat and it'll take a few more minutes for the adrenaline to completely fade. 

"It doesn't sound like they're coming back," K says eventually, when they've all fallen silent again to listen into the distance. "I don't think they spotted us. But-" he slowly gets to his feet, even if he doesn't stand up to his full height just yet. He crouches until he's just tall enough to peer over the nearest shelf, looking towards the glass of the storefront. "We pulled off the door. Have you heard vehicles coming through here often?"

Again, directed at Nicholas, Euijoo and Yuma. Yuma shrugs, deferring to the other two, but Nicholas and Euijoo exchange a glance.

"I'm not sure," Nicholas says eventually. "We weren't listening out for anything."

K runs a hand through his hair, like he's resisting the urge to massage his temples. He does stand up properly though, and everyone else takes that as a sign to get to their feet as well. Taki rubs his elbows and pulls a face. Whilst everyone is brushing the dust from their clothes, he takes the time to pass Fuma one of the antibiotic sets he'd found earlier. 

He'll let him decide whether it's the right one to take himself. And if this situation ends up turning nasty after all, maybe Fuma can at least leave with one set. 

"The door is going to be an issue," K says.

His voice rings out because no one else has started to speak yet. "If they were doing regular patrols in this area," he says, "They'll have noticed the change. A pharmacy is a target. All the shops in town, anywhere there could be supplies - that's where they'll have been monitoring."

"Is it a grab-and-go situation?" Taki asks.

K nods his head. Time to get anything that could be worthwhile keeping, then. There's no point risking it by staying somewhere the military could turn up at any second. Sure, making the journey back to their own hideout might be dangerous with the van nearby, but it's better than being caught like sitting ducks.

"Grab-and-go?" Yuma says. It feels like it's the first time he's spoken up properly. 

"Get everything you can," Taki tells him. It doesn't really need much explanation, does it? He glances at K, and then tacks onto the end, "Um. Maybe you should do that as well. You don't really want to be around when those guys come back."

His own hand goes up to his shoulder, mimicking the place where Fuma is wounded. If Yuma hadn't understood what he meant about them being dangerous before, he certainly did now. 

"And just let you take whatever you want?" Yuma says - and maybe Taki had conveniently forgotten that part, where they'd been five-seconds from fighting about breaking into the pharmacy only a few minutes ago. "I don't think so. We're not enemies here. First, you owe us an explanation ."

Chapter Text

Maki's hands grab at the hem of his raincoat. It's a bit too big, which makes it a little hard to run, but he's confident that he can keep up with Harua and Jo without complaining about it. 

It's a very cool raincoat after all. They'd found it in the glass of a shop-front and the fabric on the inside isn't the same blue it was at one point, but it also has a racecar on the back. He's proud of himself for spotting it in the first place, even if Fuma had been the one to tell them to look out for wet-weather clothes.

The hem should probably come down to his hips. It reaches his knees instead.

His shoes are also completely soaked through. He pulls a face when he accidentally steps in a big puddle. Running in the rain had been fun for a little while - and he swears he used to enjoy splashing in puddles with his Mommy. But he'd had wellies then. He'd been walking home with his hand in his Mommy's, thinking about the fun games he could play at school the next day.

Now the water is just cold. He's all sticky because the air is warm despite the fact it's raining. He's a little bit hungry, and he has to hold onto the bottom of his cool coat to stop it from accidentally tripping himself up.

Harua is right next to him. He isn't wearing a cool coat like Maki's, but it does fit him properly. There's a little bulge in the side where his rabbit bag is tucked underneath the fabric. They're both wearing backpacks that make their shoulders hurt with how full they are.

Maki's Daddy used to hold up an umbrella whenever it rained. He'd sometimes let Maki hang from his arm like a monkey. One time, he even let Maki hold the umbrella himself, but then Maki spun around too quickly and accidentally hit him in the head. He was going to be allowed to try again when he was older.

"Harua," Maki says, because running without saying anything is boring, even if they're all so tired that they've slowed down to a jog anyway. "Do you have an umbrella?"

Harua looks at him. He's got this funny expression on his face that always makes Maki laugh - where he twists his lip and wrinkles his nose, and he swears he isn't doing it on purpose which only makes it funnier. "Um. No . You know everything that's in my bag."

He does. They've packed their bags together and exchanged little trinkets they've found and shared everything that could be shared. There isn't much else to do when they keep stopping in houses without anything fun. It's either that or endless card games. 

"I'm going to find one," Maki tells him. 

"A small one or a big one?"

Maki hesitates, thinking it through. "A big one," he decides eventually, "Then we can all go under it at once! And- I'll stand on my tippy toes so that we can all fit."

"That won't work. We can't run like that, we'll be too close together!"

"We won't need to run if we have an umbrella."

Harua pauses at that. Maki has a good point, evidently. Good enough for him not to argue back for a good five seconds - which is exactly how long it takes him to come up with something else wrong with Maki's plan. "Where are you gonna put it when it isn't raining?"

Maki hasn't thought that far ahead. He's about to reply - it's much nicer to run when he's talking with someone, it gets so boring when all he's doing is trying to build up enough speed to clear the puddles on the road - but Jo is slowing down.

They're not anywhere interesting. It's another road with another set of hedgerows on each side, and then trees bordering into fields. Just like everywhere else they've been. Jo had said he was looking for somewhere for them to shelter - that's why they've been running - but Maki is starting to think that just standing under a tree would be nicer than this. 

"Here," Jo says. 

He keeps running until he reaches a small gap between the bushes at the side of the road. It leads onto what's more of a track than anything else. It's all muddy and rocky and there are big fancy gates on either side. There's even a path at the side of the road, but it's more puddle than ground at this point. Maki jumps over a pile of soggy leaves as Jo begins to lead them further down-

"Woah."

The sound of Harua's voice makes Maki finally look up as well. They're still running. He ends up stumbling slightly and he can feel the splash of water up his socks, but it's pretty obvious what Harua is referring to.

The house in front of them looks like something out of a storybook.

It's huge . He can count the windows up from the ground - there are at least ten, does that mean ten different floors? It's not a house then. No one needs ten different floors. You'd get lost. And your legs would hurt from having to walk up and down everytime you wanted to go somewhere.

It's mostly still standing as well, which Maki is very happy to see. One part at the very left looks a little crumbly, but nothing nearby has looked as broken-up as it had been back in the city. 

There's a big sign and a huge car park. A hotel then! That makes more sense - there are huge doors in the side of the building like an entrance. The road they're running up borders a field that must have been nice before it was drowned in the rain. Maki can still see chairs and tables set up, though they've half sunk into the sodden ground by now.

They must have been having a picnic at some point! Only no one's come and taken everything back inside. Maki is a little jealous. This looks awesome. It's the kind of place he'd love to come on holiday. He hadn't gotten to go on holiday this year, but he remembers that his parents would let him stay up later than normal and eat at fun places and go swimming. 

He gasps at that thought. "Do you think they have a pool ?"

Jo isn't listening. Boo. "I didn't think it would be this big," he says, speaking to himself. Maki doesn't really know what he's talking about, but he and Harua have learnt to nod very seriously. There's not as much grown-up talk now that Fuma is gone, but Maki's sure he'll have perfected his nod by the time they find him again.

"What's wrong with big?" Harua asks. 

Jo glances at him. They're slowing down now. There's not much point running at full speed when the doors of the hotel are in sight. They reach the car park (which is very quiet, Maki would have thought with a hotel there would be way more people - but maybe they all ran away when the ground started shaking). 

"Nothing," Jo says, and then he does this odd thing where he pulls a funny face but he doesn't realise he's pulling a funny face. It usually means he's about to say something he'd originally not-said-out-loud-on-purpose. 

"...There are more likely to be people around. But this part of the country should be abandoned right now. Or at least, everyone should be trying to get away from the ocean."

"There aren't many cars," Maki points out helpfully. "Maybe they all drove away!"

Jo hesitates, and then nods at Maki's great suggestion. "There weren't many signs," he says, "I almost missed it on the map. It'll be fine."

Is that why they'd been stopping to look at the signs at the side of the road? 

Maki had tried to work out what they were saying, but they all had too many characters that he didn't recognise. There had been a frog nearby at one. Maki had tried to catch it with his hands, right up until it had jumped towards him and he'd decided that he didn't actually want to touch a frog. 

They've completely slowed down now because they've finally reached the big doors leading in from the car park. Jo pushes against the glass but there's no power so he's heavy. Maki helps out and also pushes as hard as he can, and together they manage to get it open.

Jo holds it as they all slip inside. 

The air is warm and stale. There's glass on the ground from a couple of broken windows, but Maki has had lots of practice with the puddles, so he jumps over it with ease. He's about to boast to Harua, but then Harua also jumps and makes it look way easier, so Maki turns a little bit red and doesn't mention it.

Aside from the glass, Maki can only see a few other things that look weird. There's this big cage thing with wheels on the bottom, but it's fallen over and no one's put it back up. Some of the corridors don't have windows, so they're completely dark. There's a receptionist's desk at the back of the room.

It must have once had loads of stuff on it, since it's now all over the floor. Maki speeds past Jo to jump behind. There's not a chair and he has to stand on tip-toes to look over the desk, but there's a pen on the floor that he picks up and pretends to write something down.

"Hello, do you have a rese- reservation?"

From the other side of the dark wood, Harua's fingers curl over the ledge. "I'll take your biggest room," he says, sweetly.

Maki pretends to look at his 'paper'. There's a computer here, but the screen is black and cracked and the keyboard is somewhere on the floor. It's much more fun to take his pen and pretend to draw looping characters in his neatest handwriting. "Our biggest room? Of course."

"I want it to have a big bed," Harua tells him. "And a bathroom with a jacuzzi. And a mini-fridge with snacks and a television that works so I can watch movies. In bed."

"What floor would you like it on?"

"Um. The fifth floor."

Maki nods along. Some of the drawers in the desk have been shaken free and now lie on the ground. But there are also a few still closed. Maki digs his fingernails into the handles and tugs them open until he finds a stack of plastic cards. "Here you are, sir."

Their roleplay is interrupted. Jo has been just walking around the room and not having fun playing with them, but now he's looked at everything because he comes back up to Maki and Harua.

"We should find a room," he says. "We shouldn't stand around in wet clothes. It'll end up with us catching a cold. And you're probably tired."

Maki would like to protest that. He'd been tired of running . Now that he's not running anymore and there's way more interesting stuff to look at than the side of a road, he's full of energy again. Surely Jo should know that. Grown ups are so weird sometimes - they're finally somewhere cool, and he doesn't want to immediately explore?

But Harua nods. "My feet are wet," he says seriously, and Maki realises his own feet are wet as well. He wiggles his toes in his trainers and listens to the squelch they make when they push down.

In the end, they follow Jo without complaining. Jo explains along the way that without electricity, the locks on the doors don't work and the keycards that Maki had found earlier don't do anything. In an emergency, he says, the doors don't self-lock so the guests aren't trapped in their rooms. They're fire doors so they're heavy, but they should be able to get into every single room.

Maki puts that to the test.

They find a staircase and climb. There's glass on the stairs as well, this time from a sparkly chandelier that once hung from the ceiling. Jo sweeps as much as he can to the side with the heel of his shoe. They keep going up past the first floor, the second floor, the third, the fourth.

Each flight of stairs leads to a small entrance way with grand doors. They're all gold and brown and glass, and Maki can see a hallway decorated with the same colour scheme behind every one. There's a metal plate fixed to the wall beside them. He can read the floor they're on with a number slightly larger than the others, and then a list of the rooms. 

"Look," Harua says. He points a finger towards the very top number and the writing beside it. "There is a pool."

"There are two pools!" Maki tells him excitedly. There's another one on the seventh floor - and apparently a spa and a jacuzzi and a steam room and - well, Maki doesn't know what half of those things are, but they sound grown-up and therefore he'll be excited about them. He can be excited about exploring them, definitely. There's no one around to tell him off if they are just for grown-ups!

"Two pools," Harua repeats. His eyes are huge and wide. "I've only ever been to one pool before. And then it closed because 'pparently the water was nasty."

That's sad. Maki used to go for swimming lessons. In fact, he's missed his summer swimming lessons this year by now. "It's okay. If we go in the pool, I can teach you! I got my twenty five metres badge last year."

They're all still slightly out of breath from climbing the floors. Maki would like to stay on the fifth floor, since that's what Harua asked for when they were playing around in the reception, and luckily it seems like Jo is thinking along the same lines!

"Not low enough to risk being found," he says under his breath, like that's going to stop Maki from hearing, "Not high enough to be an issue if there's another earthquake. Okay. This is fine."

There's dust on the carpet. Settled thick enough that even their footsteps don't disturb it. Cobwebs linger in the corners of the ceiling. They make their way past the first few rooms and the hotel stays completely silent. The twist of the corridor appears in front of them and Jo steers them left.

A couple more doors pass before he's apparently satisfied. The door he's chosen opens once he puts some effort into pushing it, and then all three of them walk into the room with bated breaths.

It's... a hotel room. They're lucky - it doesn't look like anyone had been staying here when the earthquake struck, since it’s all in perfect place. Harua runs across the room to open the curtains and the rest of the room illuminates as the light of the cloudy day streams through the window. 

The bed is perfectly made, and it must have been that way for months. There's another door that Maki pushes open to reveal a small bathroom - a shower, a sink, thick towels hanging up ready to be used. 

"Free soap!" He says.

Inside the bedroom itself, there isn't that much. "This is probably a basic room," Jo tells them, and they all think of finding a nicer room later in the day - once they've gotten settled down, "It'll do for now. We need to- rest, and get dry."

There's a fridge with a bottle of water in, long since gone lukewarm. A small wardrobe with a few spare pillows, a desk and a chair and charging sockets that are now completely useless. Maki almost throws himself onto the bed before remembering that his clothes are still soaking wet.

Well. There's one way to fix that. 

They strip off their clothes and throw them onto the ground. Or at least, Maki and Harua throw them onto the ground, only to immediately be reminded that they'll only dry if they hang them up. 

There's not a washing line like Maki's Mommy used to use, but Jo finds a series of chairs that are still intact and they help him drape their coats and pants and socks over the backs. Maki takes his shoes off and pulls a face at the way the soles have turned brown from puddle-water. He lets Jo turn them upside down near the window in the room.

Then Maki slings off his backpack. His shoulders are still sore. He's not putting it back on until they stop being sore, even if that means he won't have anything cool he's collected with him. There's a change of clothes in there, so he towels himself off in the hotel bathroom before jumping into his spare pair of pants.

Jo watches him move. "Those have a hole in them," he points out. Maki follows where he's pointing to a small rip at the very bottom, then sticks his thumb through the fabric just to confirm its existence. "Are they the only other pair you have?"

Maki blinks back. "Um," he says. "... I think so."

That's not the answer Jo wanted, considering he frowns. "We need to do another supply check."

He's always muttering to himself. Maki's Daddy didn't like muttering - he always told Maki to speak up properly or to keep his thoughts in his head. But he's sure that his Daddy would like Jo anyway, because Maki likes Jo. 

Beside him, Harua's trousers seem to be in a slightly better state. He's wearing a sock that has half his heel visible through a hole, though. His fingers have curled around the strap of his rabbit bag. Even if he's put his actual backpack down, the rabbit bag is never more than a few inches away from his body.

"You're makin' the hole bigger," Harua tells him when Maki sticks another finger through the hole.

"I'm tryna see how big it is," Maki tells him, since it's somewhere between two fingers and three, and he's sure that if he's careful he can get all three in without ripping it. He's well aware that his face has screwed up with concentration.

Concentration which lasts for about five seconds, right up until he gets his next idea. They're in a hotel now! It's quiet and empty and cool - and also not a boring road or cave. Why is he standing around poking holes in the hem of his pants when he could be exploring?

There's got to be some food around. Hotels do food like snacks and water bottles and tins - what if Maki goes and finds some of them to bring back! Jo would be super happy with him. Harua would be happy as well, since Harua loves snacks. They could even keep some of the nicest stuff until Fuma gets back, and then they can split it between the four of them (and Fuma can also say that's proud of Maki, that he's glad he's there to help out).

Maki hates following the roads when he doesn't know where they're going. He hates not being able to sort out their supplies, because his words trip over themselves and make them all get confused. He likes that they have a bed in this room, but it's usually his job to help spread out their sleeping bags.

Maki likes being helpful. 

"I'm gonna go explore," he tells Jo like a big boy would, because Jo is more likely to say okay to a big boy. "We're gonna find some food! I'll find a vending machine and then if we push it over, no one can tell us off!"

His plans come spilling out of his mouth at the same time his declaration does. Jo is only half paying attention anyway, too focused on the boring task of sorting out their clothes and food and water. He nods though, so he must have heard, and so Maki takes Harua by the hand and they run out into the corridor together.

"Remember what room we're in," Maki says, in the same voice that his Mommy always tells him with. 

"You remember the number," Harua tells him right back, but they both stare at the letters on the front of the door until they've definitely remembered them anyway. 

Then they're free to roam. Maki wants to go to the vending machine that's surely on their floor, but Harua tells him they should start from the bottom floor and move up - and he's right. The most interesting stuff is surely going to be there. It's like a film, where they have to first make a plan of the building before they can work out what they're going to take.

Snacks from a vending machine are nice, but downstairs there could be something even more useful.

... Maki isn't sure what it is just yet, but he's sure it's there!

They race down the stairs. Unfortunately the bannister is a bit too high to slide down, but there's also a lot of glass and broken stuff on the ground, so Maki has learnt to be careful and safe anyway. The staircases blend into a spiral. Before long they're back on the ground floor.

"This is where we came from," Harua says, pointing at the doors to the reception. 

"Then we go this way!" Maki exclaims. He grabs Harua's sleeve and they push through a second set of grand doors, finding themselves in the next room along. This one seems to be some sort of... bar? It's not a restaurant, the chairs and tables are all wrong, but it also seems more like a connecting corridor than anything else.

There are high counter tops set into the walls, and stalls that Maki would have to scale to sit upon. Cracked vases and long-dead flowers lie on the ground. There's a green information sign further down the hallway, but something else catches Maki's attention first.

"Look!"

There's another desk, like the one they'd seen in the reception. This one seems a little more intact though, without a computer set into the wood, but also-

There must have been a bowl on top of the desk at one point. And then, probably during the earthquake, it had tumbled to the ground between the counter and the wall, spilling contents all over the ground. Behind the desk are at least fifty little plastic-wrapped sweets. 

Harua and Maki exchange glances. Then they immediately dive towards it. Sweets like this - practically gold dust! They don't even need to break into a vending machine. Maki peers into a wrapper and leaves an orange sweet to one side, picking up a much nicer pink-coloured one instead.

They're small enough that they're easy to pack into their pockets. A few of the stickier ones get left on the ground, but Maki fits a good few into the pocket without trouble. Harua has opened his rabbit bag and picks out some of the nicest looking ones, tongues sticking out in concentration.

It's only because they're both caught up in collecting the sweets that they hear it, really.

Voices . 

It doesn't sound like it's coming from the room. Maki freezes at the same time Harua does - but the voices keep going, distant like the breeze and from far away. Slowly, they both turn their heads to the panel on the wall they hadn't noticed before. 

A vent. That's where the sound is being carried from. In normal circumstances it should be inaudible in the noise of a hotel, but the world is quiet except the rustle of candy wrappers on the ground. They're still too far away to hear what's being said, but the sound of people speaking is unmistakable. 

"There are people !"

Harua has frozen in place. He's older than Maki (even though Maki is admittedly the one dragging him around most of the time), and usually Maki would say that they're basically the same age. But sometimes Harua does stuff that Maki would never have thought of, when it only occurs to him afterwards that it would have been a good idea. 

"Jo won't want us to listen," Harua says, suddenly serious, "He'll want to know that there are people. But-"

"That's not fun," Maki interrupts him. "We can go and look! We can listen from around a corner so they can't see us, and then Jo will be happy because we know what they're doin'!"

Except Harua's eyes darken. "Maki," he says, "Get down ."

He pulls his hand so hard that Maki is yanked to the floor before his mind can catch up to the instruction. He's about to cry out or complain, but something instinctual in his mind keeps his mouth closed. Instead, he watches as Harua picks up something shiny and metal from the floor, and-

They're beside a vent. It's exactly like the ones seen in the movies, which is why Maki's eyes go wide and he suddenly realises what Harua is going to do before the grille comes off. 

It wasn't attached very well to start with. It's all shiny and new, but someone hadn't tightened it properly in the first place. The metal has already come away from the wall, probably in one of the earthquakes. It doesn't take Harua very long to pull it away, even with his six-year-old strength, and the grille falls onto the carpet beside them with a quiet thud.

"Maki," Harua says. "You can go and listen, I think."

"Like in the movies?"

"... I think so."

Even if Harua doesn't know, Maki thinks this is so cool. He's already crouched down, so getting onto his hands and knees and shuffling around until he's right in front of the vent is easy. They're only two rooms away from the voices. That's a straight line, then he can just crawl backwards until he gets out again - and then they can go and tell Jo what they heard. 

He puts his hands inside the vent. It's made of metal - obviously, he could see that it was shiny before Harua even opened it - but it's colder than he expected. Maki shivers. There's a churning in his stomach. A combination of excitement and something that takes him a few moments to identify as nervousness. 

He's not sure why. There's nothing to be nervous about. Not really, especially since Harua is right behind him. 

Maki ducks his head. The vent isn't huge. There's no way that an adult human would be able to fit inside. It's the perfect size for a five year old though, and so Maki is able to crawl forward easily with a couple of centimetres on each side of his body. He moves until he can feel the toes of his shoes hit the lip.

It's a little darker than he thought it would be. There had been light streaming in through the windows in the room he's just left - but with his body in the way, the metal tube is dark and shadowy. Maki hopes he doesn't find too many spiders. The vent seems clean, and it had definitely looked new from where they'd been sitting, but it's been a while since it was last used. 

Behind him, Harua's voice is soft and urgent at the same time. "You have to go, Maki! What if they stop talking? We need to know what they're talkin' about!"

Maki hesitates. "You're... not coming?"

It echoes inside the vent. Too loud, or maybe it just sounds that way to his own ears. He swears he can hear the way that Harua hesitates. Is he really not coming? Something else curls in Maki's stomach, finding its way to the nerves and making a home there.

He's fine as long as Harua is next to him. But Harua stays quiet in lieu of an answer, and all of a sudden Maki is remembering a small window and passing through a bottle of water to a boy he could barely see outside of a faint voice. He'd forgotten that Harua is still afraid of small spaces.

And it's too late now to admit he's scared as well. Maki can't be useful by counting their supplies or reading the signs to a hotel. He swallows down his emotions and tells himself that he doesn't want to be weak in front of Harua. He can do this. It's two rooms worth of vent, it isn't far.

So he tells Harua, "It's okay, you can wait here," because he still hasn't had a response.

He thinks that he might back out if he stays still any longer, so he starts crawling. It's warm outside so it's warm inside the vent as well, even if the metal is still cold beneath his palms. He has enough space to turn back and look at the way out, but he doesn't want to look like he's scared so he keeps going forwards.

The next opening in the vent comes up. Maki pauses and looks out into a staircase - the one they'd climbed up, he can still see the glass from the chandelier where Jo had tried to push it out of the way. It isn't what he's looking for, so he keeps going.

He's closer now. Crawling through the vent hadn't been loud before, but it also isn't quiet, so he's very slow and careful as he approaches the next grille to his side. Light streams in through the grate. He doesn't want to be spotted, so he doesn't make it all the way, but he shuffles just close enough that he can peer into the room.

It's the reception. He's in the right place. His heart is thundering in his chest, so loud that it's probably making more noise than the scrape of his trousers against the pull of the metal. He can hear his own breathing.

It's... not that scary. He'd been nervous before, but this is just like when he went down that really tall slide in the park. It's scary right up until he was falling, and then he was flying in the air and it was the most fun he'd ever had. 

This isn't fun. But he's putting the dizzying emotion he couldn't name behind him, and it's kind of interesting to see the world like this. It is something out of a spy movie! Maki is cool and grown-up and he's being helpful, and his eyes adjust to the light to see-

It's the group they'd met before?

Maki blinks, but the scene doesn't change. He recognises the clothes even if he doesn't quite remember their voices. It's the same number of people. One of them turns just a few degrees around and Maki catches a look at their face - and it's the lady that he'd been speaking to! 

Except the way they're talking isn't quite right. Maki remembers them being super nice. He hadn't protested when Jo and Harua told him to run away, but he hadn't thought there was anything weird about the situation - even when Jo had explained that they just had a bad feeling.

Is this what he'd meant?

They're not talking super nice now. They're standing like they're wooden or something, none of the casual friendliness from before, and there's a weird atmosphere in the room that makes Maki think of whenever his Mommy would come home from work and shut herself in her room for a few hours.

"They definitely went this way," one of the women says, and it sounds like this is something she's said before. "I saw them! If you hadn't told us all the split up-"

"They would have noticed they were being followed." The other woman finishes. 

They? Who's they?

Maki frowns. There's no one else in the hotel apart from them - although they haven't exactly had time to check that thoroughly. Who are they talking about?

"Damn kids," the man with the beard says. It's like he could hear Maki's thoughts, which might be cool if it weren't also so creepy. Despite the fact he'd been warm only a few moments ago, Maki is suddenly very, very cold. 

"We should have just chased after them!" The first woman cries. "How fast can a teenager and two kids be? I'm willing to bet that the older one wouldn't have left the babies behind, either. And even if he had, then we wouldn't be in this situation in th-"

"Be quiet."

It's a voice Maki doesn't recognise, and it takes him a moment to realise who'd spoken. It's the man with the mask over his face. Only his eyes are visible. The rest is obscured in dark fabric like it's Halloween and he's putting on a costume. Maki hadn't paid him any attention when they'd met the first time. There'd been more interesting people that were talking to him, so he'd smiled back brightly and only focused on responding in the polite way his Mommy had told him.

But now it's like he can't look away. Something about the masked man makes him even colder, his stomach doing flips inside his body. 

The room falls silent at the sound of his voice. He must be the one in charge. 

"They were expecting us then," the man continues eventually, after a few seconds have passed. It feels more like minutes have gone by. "They're not expecting us now."

And-

At some point, Maki has realised who they're talking about. He can't pinpoint the exact moment, because he's barely sure he can make out one second from all the words flying around his head. Him, Harua and Jo - they'd run away, they'd walked here - they'd been followed . 

His breath hitches in his throat. It suddenly isn't fun anymore; to be inside the vent, listening in on a conversation that he wasn't supposed to hear. Every alarm bell inside his mind is ringing, even if they barely mean anything concrete to his five-year-old mind. He's not sure what he's supposed to do. He's not sure about half of what he's just heard.

Maki finds himself shuffling backwards again, before his brain has even caught up with his body. It's pure instinct. Something in his mind telling him to get away, to get back to Harua.

That he needs to tell Jo what he's heard. Immediately .

Chapter Text

Yuma holds his hands above his head in an attempt to keep himself dry. It doesn't do much for his hair, but it's more important that he cups his fingers above his ears. If the rain gets any heavier, he might be in trouble. 

Risking his hearing aids getting wet isn't an ideal situation. But neither is trying to make his way somewhere he doesn't actually know without being able to hear anything.

The sky above his head seems to sense his problem. Yuma swears that the clouds get slightly darker. The wind whips through the streets, warm and sticky despite the water, and the inside of his coat sticks to the skin of his arms uncomfortably.

"Are you okay?"

Taki's voice filters through how Yuma is cupping his ears, and he's helpfully looking right at him. "It's not far. We can run, if you want?"

Nicholas is at his other side, slowly getting wet. He's sacrificed actually wearing his raincoat properly in favour of pulling the back of the fabric up over his bag. The hood doesn't quite cover far enough. His hair is plastered to his forehead. Despite the rain not actually being that heavy - yet - the droplets are fat and soaking. 

"I'm fine," Yuma says. There's a moment where he can't make out the expression in Taki's eyes - whether it's pity or something else. He doesn't know him well enough yet to tell the difference. And he's well aware that making himself seem like a burden so immediately is a bad idea.

The three of them are on the way to Taki's shelter.

The events of the past hour seem to have almost taken place in a dream, with how much has both happened and then-since changed. As soon as the vehicle had driven past the pharmacy, it was like both groups of people had suddenly realised that they weren't actually at risk of harming each other.

Taki's excuse about needing medication for his friend - Fuma, if Yuma recalled correctly - made sense. The other man was clearly injured. He hadn't attacked Yuma when they'd finally come across each other in that space between the aisles. He'd just lain there shocked until Yuma had come to his senses and called for help.

And there wasn't really any blaming him for calling out as well. 

As for Yuma, Nicholas and Euijoo, it wasn't like they'd been able to lie about hiding in the pharmacy. Yuma had so clearly walked down the aisles like he'd been comfortable. That's why he hadn't been wearing hearing aids (so stupid, looking back on it, but he wasn't going to dwell on things that couldn't be changed).

Being in the same place at the same time had been a coincidence. 

Nothing more than that.

When the vehicle had driven past, it hadn't taken long before most of the apprehension between the two had disappeared, broken down by the appearance of an enemy able to unite them. 

That was how Fuma had been shot. He'd mentioned another group, children, but there had been something pained and desperate in his eyes - a hand flying up to the gunshot wound to press against the skin - so no one had pushed. And when they'd spoken about a sorting , a selection of the people who could be useful and a discarding of the ones who weren't - Yuma was suddenly more aware of the plastic on his ears than he'd been for a while. 

Staying in the pharmacy was dangerous. The boarded-up door was a sign that people had been through since the last time the area was scouted. It was such a small change, but the look in Taki's groups' eyes had told Yuma it wasn't something worth risking.

In exchange for Euijoo's knowledge on first aid, Taki's group had offered up their temporary shelter for the six of them to share.

None of them would be able to move far from the town with the weather still so awful. A peace treaty that benefitted both sides - and they'll work out where to go from there. Looking at the weather, Yuma is convinced they'll have at least a few more days before the skies brightened enough to even consider splitting up.

"It's not far," Taki says again. 

He's wearing a bag filled with all the pharmaceutical supplies they decided they could possibly need. They'll go through it properly once they get back to the house. Euijoo had left early with Fuma and K, carrying most of his stuff on his back and with a few most important supplies.

Nicholas, Yuma and Taki were left to pick up anything else they thought could be useful. Then, pack everything from the apartment space above the shop up, and get out before they could risk anyone coming past.

In the months since the earthquake, Yuma has learnt not to spread out his belongings too much. He'd barely needed to roll blankets back into their coverings and re-lace his shoes. Getting out of somewhere quickly had already saved his life once - and he'd leant from that experience.

"The rain is getting lighter," Nicholas says, squinting up at the sky. It's a miracle he can tell, considering how wet he already is. "I don't think it's going to stop any time soon, but it isn't as heavy as it was a few minutes ago."

Yuma watches the colour of the clouds shift from one shade of grey to another. He almost says something, but decides it's much funnier to simply side-eye Nicholas. 

They try to avoid the puddles on the road. Yuma lets the rain hit his hands and feels the water roll down his wrists to soak his sleeves.

"It's a good thing that it seems to be better now," Taki says out of nowhere.

"It?"

"The rain," Taki blinks at them like there was nothing else he could have been referring to. Like the rain being better is an extremely obvious thing to say - and that they're the odd ones for not realising what he was talking about. "You know. It was acidic for a bit. You... didn't notice?"

He gestures to their surroundings. Yuma hadn't noticed anything corroded until Taki pointed it out. Now he can see that the metal of the railings by the side of the road is more rusty than it should be. There's a strip of ground pock-marked right where the water gathers around a drain. 

It's not as bad as the scene they'd come across by the side of the river. He hasn't been looking for it, so it's not a surprise that it had been something he hadn't noticed. 

Yuma exchanges a glance with Nicholas.

"It doesn't look that bad here," Taki says, following Yuma's gaze as he looks at the bent frame of a metal street sign. "They got off lucky here, huh? And it's a good thing that it stopped properly weeks ago - otherwise this rain now would be a lot more dangerous!"

He laughs. Yuma can't find it in him to laugh as well.

"We know about the rain," Nicholas says. He doesn't elaborate. It doesn't matter, since Taki takes a turn and suddenly they're entering through the door of a house. They shrug their coats off as soon as they get it, leaving them spread-out in an attempt to dry them out slightly faster, and then they follow Taki into what must be the main room.

Inside, Euijoo is sitting next to Fuma, who must have had the green light to move around properly. Or at least - he's lying down with Euijoo keeping a careful watch on his shoulder, but he's exercising his legs whilst keeping his torso as still as possible. 

"You're back." K is on his feet immediately. 

Nicholas raises his eyebrows. "You don't need to say it like an accusation."

Before anything can spark between them, Yuma pulls his bag off his back and puts it on the ground. Taki quickly follows suit and Nicholas does as well, and it's enough of a change in pace that the danger is quickly forgotten. 

Yuma shakes out his hair to try and get out the water. It doesn't work especially well, so his next step is simply to sit down on the floor. Packing up and searching the pharmacy and walking to the house has meant he hasn't had time to relax for a few hours. Taki is quick to mimic him. Nicholas stays standing. 

Euijoo stands up. He brushes his trousers with his hands, like that's going to do something against the days-worth of dirt that's built up on all of their clothes. The room immediately turns to watch him. Yuma is amongst them - yes, he's well aware that having all of them staring down Euijoo is probably making him uncomfortable, but it's not like there's anything else interesting in the room to look at.

Euijoo is like a breath of fresh air in the tense atmosphere.

Except, he looks up with his wide eyes and says, "Right. I'm going to head out and sort out some of these supplies. I can work out what we need. And what we can carry."

"Out?" K says. Yuma can't tell if he's overthinking the tone of his words. He's caught between making a joke, since Euijoo isn't seriously talking about going outside, but it somehow falls a little flat and sour.

Judging by the reaction of everyone else in the room, he'd heard correctly.

"--- space for that?" Taki says, mumbling enough that Yuma doesn't quite catch the beginning. "Can't you just do it here?"

"Ah-" Euijoo hesitates. His eyes close like some sort of anime character - the kind of pose that would have one hand at the back of his head and little sparkles glittering in the air around him. As it is, there are only sparkles in Nicholas' eyes. Gag. "I wanted to lay everything out. It'll be easier to concentrate as well."

His hands are clutching the bag of medication. He's telling the truth. It isn't like Euijoo to lie, not really. Yuma has learnt that Euijoo doesn't really do things like that - if he's going to play up, it'll be something small and laughed off in a few moments.

"There are plenty of rooms in the house," Fuma says after everyone else stays quiet. He waves his palm in the air, "Take your pick."

It's enough permission for Euijoo to turn on his heel immediately. Is he worried that it'll be taken back if he hesitates a moment too long?

Yuma scoffs at that. There's nothing keeping them here, not really. If the temporary group truce ends up hiding something sharp beneath the surface, they can simply leave. Just like the burning tent in a camp about to be reduced to ashes. Yuma hasn't stayed in one place for more than a few nights since then. It's oddly easy to get used to that.

He also isn't surprised when Nicholas stands up only a few seconds after Euijoo has disappeared through the door.

Fuma raises an eyebrow at him, not caring enough to speak his thoughts out loud. Taki watches with his mouth forming a tiny 'o'. K, it looks like, is a million miles away staring out of the window. 

"I'll go and keep him company," Nicholas says. To his credit, he keeps his expression level. It really is like he's trying to convince them all that's all there is to it. Yuma hasn't sat through days of the two of them in their strange mixture of argue-tease-flirting to be fooled. 

Nicholas is stubborn. If he's going to go up and sit with Euijoo (which he is, there's no doubt about that), that's what he's going to do. All that Yuma can change is the shade of red which his face turns - or how much denial he can make come stammering out of his mouth. Nicholas is normally so composed. It doesn't get old to see.

But Yuma stays quiet, and just like Euijoo before him, Nicholas turns tail and heads into Euijoo's shadow before he gets a response.

From his position on the floor, Yuma can feel the vibration of his footsteps against the ground. He counts them for as long as he can. Right up until Nicholas moves too far away. 

Slowly, Taki turns to look at him. His face is screwed up into a tangle of three hundred emotions. He's biting his lip and frowning and twisting up one side of his mouth all at the same time. He looks at Yuma like he's trying to convey a message without saying a single word.

Yuma stares back at him. They've known each other for two hours maximum . They're not quite at the communicating-without-needing-to-speak level yet. 

"Dude," Taki eventually does say, when his attempt at telepathy doesn't end up successful. He says every word like it takes an immense amount of effort to get out - or like he's desperately trying to tread as carefully as he can. "Are they... always like that?"

Something in Yuma's ear pops. He catches most of what's said, but just in case, "Like what?"

"... That ."

Yuma glances back towards the door frame. 

"You've been a group for a while. Have you been third wheeling this whole time? "

He says it with such a mixture of awe and concern that Yuma practically chokes on his own tongue. He has to swallow frantically to stop himself from descending into a coughing fit. Taki is still watching him by the time he eventually produces an answer.

"Oh, you haven't seen half of it."

Taki's eyes widen. "What do you mean?"

"This-" Yuma gestures in the direction of the door, "is only because they're around new people. If we stick together long enough, you'll see Nicholas attempt to push every single one of Euijoo's buttons at the same time . I think that arguing is their way of flirting."

It feels quite vindictive; the way that Taki winces and looks horrified at exactly the right time. 

"The worst part is that they're both in denial about it," Yuma says, only to come abruptly to a halt.

Another step forwards and it feels like he's crossing a line, almost. He doesn't want to talk about them behind their backs. They probably have very good reasons for staying firmly in 'just friends' territory, even if they both clam up every time he's tried to prod out an answer. Euijoo's eyes go cold. Something looks a little sad in the corner of Nicholas' mouth, right before they both stand up like they have the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Yuma complains about it, in his head. He rolls his eyes when Nicholas teases Euijoo, and fake gags when Euijoo only reacts with a soft hit to his chest. 

But he's been travelling with them for a while. Taki, as nice as he seems, simply doesn't understand. He can't.

He's overstepping into something personal and private and deep cut enough that he's not sure he'll ever fully understand the relationship between them. 

When Taki gasps this time, Yuma only hums in response and hopes that's enough of a sign for the conversation topic to be dropped. He watches Taki's expression twist, and wonders if it's in bad taste to pretend that his hearing aids are playing up and that he also needs some space.

As it is, the relief from the conversation comes in the form of something else.

They're not the only ones in the room, even if it's just been the two of them talking. Fuma is still lying in his Euijoo-prescribed position, head tilted up to stare at the ceiling. K is staring out of the window with glassy eyes. But as Yuma watches him, he pulls back. 

He's frowning. His movements are a bit mechanical.

"What is wrong with you?"

Fuma's voice cuts through the silence like a knife.

He's slightly sitting up now. Propped against one of the walls, eyes narrowed and his gaze pointing directly towards K. He's obviously trying not to put any pressure on his injured shoulder. 

Had K said something? It seems awfully out of the blue. With only a couple of words, the atmosphere of the room has plummeted several degrees. Yuma suddenly feels incredibly out of place. He's watching something he's not supposed to see. This should be between K and Fuma and Taki, whatever it is.

Is it too late to get up and leave? That would just bring attention to him. If he were a little more confident he'd try to diffuse the tension by pretending he can't recognise the serious tone of Fuma's voice. And even if he tries to deny it, some part of him wants to know what's about to go down.

Curiosity killed the cat. Yuma sits where he is and watches.

"...What?" K says. Genuine confusion, or trying to stay defensive? Yuma is glad that they're both in positions where he can see the expressions on their faces and the movements of their lips. Taki, still beside him, is the only one not facing him, but there's enough of a turn to his head that Yuma can still see a good portion of his face.

"Why have you been acting so... off lately?"

"Off?"

Fuma waves a hand. "Don't pretend you don't know what I mean. Staring out of the window instead of doing something. Panicking when you should have stayed cool. Don't say-"

"You don't know what you're talking about," K cuts him off. "I didn't realise you were monitoring my every movement." There's a pause, just long enough for K's eyes to darken even more, "And what do you know about who I am? We barely know each other. We're working together to get you to your kids, and then we're done."

Yuma almost flinches at that. It sounds needlessly cold. He bites his bottom lip and thinks of the scene playing out in front of him like something from a movie instead. If the group disintegrates in the next hour, at least he'll have had some form of entertainment for a while.

That's one thing to keep him sane. The two halves of his mind are torn between not caring at all, and caring all too much. 

Fuma bites back almost as soon as K stops talking. "I've known you long enough to tell something is wrong."

"You don't-"

"He's right."

All three heads in the room turn to look at Taki. His hands are balled into fists. He's looking at K like he's the only other person around. Yuma wishes he were closer so that he could look into the reflection of his eyes. He wants to know if they're hard like steel or cold or ablaze with the flame of anger. 

He doesn't know them well enough to tell just from this. He tucks his legs into his body and shuffles a little closer to the wall. 

"Taki," K says. There's a pause. Did he mean to say something else afterwards? Yuma watches his lips stay firmly closed, despite his expression opening up, and the silence stretches on.

Eventually, it's Taki that speaks again. "You've been acting differently lately. Even when we first met you weren't like... this - I don't know how to explain it."

No one says anything. A silent request; try . 

"When we met," Taki says, "You followed me even though I was in danger and it was my fault and I was more trouble than I was worth. You're not allowed to say that isn't true, by the way. You weren't afraid of anything. You acted like we could take the whole world if we needed to - and you were confident. But now..."

Keep going . 

His words get faster and faster. Yuma can only work out what he's saying from the context. Taki's cheeks are turning a shade of pink that deepens by the second. Yuma imagines his eyes shining. 

"I don't know. It's like you're thinking about something else. I mean, you were smart with the fact we should avoid main roads in the first place, but now it's like you're being overly cautious. Is there something out there that you're afraid of? Because I don't care, I just want-"

He stops.

It's not a natural stop. It's like a car veering off the highway, crashing into the side of the road. It's all the devastation of pulling the cable on life support. Yuma can't hear the breath that Taki takes in, but he can see the way that his chest fills full to burst and then stutters like an engine. 

"Taki," K says.

Fuma isn't lying back down, even though he must be in pain by now. Yuma can admire that - the conversation is no longer about him, he's no longer even in it. But he lit the flame that led to the explosion unfolding in front of them, and he's at least determined to see it through to its end. 

"I just want to help," Taki says.

And K-

He straightens up. Shakes his head slightly and then slaps himself on the cheeks. When his palms fall away from his face, there are red marks left behind. 

"You're right," he says. "I've just been worried. Once we get out of this town and we're out of danger, I'll be better. I promise."

Taki's body sags with relief. He practically throws himself across the room and into K's arms. Yuma can hear that he's saying something, but his mouth is pressed up against the fabric of K's t-shirt and it all just sounds like a hum. Fuma finally nods to himself. He twists until he's lying back on the ground, and starts his leg exercises again. 

Maybe it's because Yuma is new here, but the diffusion of the situation so easily baffles him. It doesn't feel like the conversation is over at all. He'd expected more tears and anger and something worth substance. There's too much left unsaid in the room. 

He glances out of the window. 

The rain beats down against the glass. The sky is still grey and the air is still heavy with humidity. A part of him feels like they've forgotten him in the room. Moving will suddenly remind them of his presence - Fuma pretending like he didn't initiate the whole breakdown, K and Taki still tender in a way he can barely look at.

Yuma closes his eyes. There's the beginnings of a headache forming behind his temples.

Chapter Text

Maki scrambles back just as they start talking about waiting and biding time . Something about food and supplies and rain - but at this point he's not really listening. The metal tube is a lot smaller around his shoulders going backwards. His knees clink-clank softly against the ground. His palms are so sweaty that they leave little marks where they've been pressed up against the vent. 

He feels it when his shoes emerge out the other end. One moment there's support beneath them and the next they're an inch up in the air. He's moving so quickly that there isn't really time to prepare. His knees are soon to follow and with that the rest of his body tumbles backwards.

He balls straight into Harua. They're a tangle of limbs - Harua squeaking because of how warm and sticky Maki is from being inside the vent, Maki surprised at falling backwards without expecting it. 

"Did you hear them?" Harua asks when they're no longer knees-to-face and elbows-to-chest. His eyes are really big. "What did they say?"

Maki's stomach does a tumble. The cover to the vent still lies on the ground. Harua has picked up the rest of the candy whilst he's been gone. If he really listens, he can still hear distant conversation, but he doesn't really want to listen. 

"We-" He grabs Harua's shoulders, pushing them closer until their faces are almost touching and Harua can see how serious he is, "We need to get to Jo. It's the people... on the road, we were walkin' and then they followed us here. We ran away!"

He's sure that's not the right order, but it comes spilling out of his mouth that way. Harua's shoulders are solid beneath his fingers. Maki tries not to squeeze too tightly, because everything his Mommy said about being nice and gentle still comes back to him - but Harua is real and Maki just wants to cling to him. 

"What?" Harua says.

"We ran away." Maki can feel his bones through the T-shirt he's wearing. One of his hands is just brushing against the bunny bag that Harua refuses to take off and refuses to let anyone else touch. Maybe he doesn't realise just how close they are.

But Maki takes his hands away anyway. He gets to his feet and takes a big breath of air. The room spins a little but it's all fine by the time he looks up properly. "They're next to the stairs. How can we get up?"

"The stairs?"

"The- look, the doors are open, what if we're spotted?"

Harua's gaze follows where he's pointing. The huge staircase they'd climbed not that long ago with the fallen chandelier and the glass and the dust. His eyes are huge. When he gets up as well, there's dust all down his clothes. He takes Maki's hand and his own palms are really sweaty. 

"Oh," he says, and then he turns to face the other direction. Neither of them had paid much attention to the other end of the corridor when they'd first entered. Their attention had been caught by the sweets on the floor and the desk right by the doorway. But when Maki looks, he can see that the hallway leads down to a set of smaller rooms. They don't seem to go anywhere - but the important thing is that at the very end is a second set of grand doors. 

Harua drops Maki's hands in favour of holding his own out. His forehead is creased in concentration. Maki watches him with a heart beating as fast as the engine of a car, completely enraptured in what Harua is about to try and explain.

"Um," he starts, unsure, before shaking his head and trying again with more confidence. This time, he speaks with certainty. "In my old house. Where I used to live, I was up on a different floor, so I used to run up the stairs. And there were two stairs."

He says it like Maki should understand. It's a good idea, even if he doesn't quite understand it, and the fact he remains quiet probably tells Harua exactly that.

"Uhh... There was one staircase on this side," he moves his left hand, putting it diagonally in the air, "And then I lived on this side, so I always used this one. But there was another staircase on this side. Since there was lots of people livin' on the same floor, my Mommy said."

He gestures with his right hand. Two diagonal lines, and then the ruins of the apartment that Maki had found him in right in the middle. Maki wonders what Harua's house used to look like before it fell down. He wonders if Harua misses it - Maki misses his house, but that's because he knows it's still standing somewhere. When all of this is over he'll go back to his room and he'll finally see all the toys he's had to leave behind again.

But Harua's flat isn't still standing. It fell over and there weren't any proper walls or floors any more. How can you miss something that isn't actually a house any more?

Except when Maki thinks that, it doesn't feel quite right. 

"I get it!" He says instead, putting his own hands out to mimic Harua's. He's been to hotels before and Harua hasn't, not really, and he thinks he remembers seeing what Harua is describing before! "We go down this corridor- and there'll be more stairs at the other side!"

Harua nods mutely. He's still frowning in determination.

Maki grabs his hand again. Together, they run down past all the little shops and the doors that open into new exciting rooms. There's one that looks like it must have been a restaurant, one that leads just to another hallway, and one door that's firmly closed. But Maki and Harua keep running until they're all the way at the other end.

The hallway curves around. Maki hadn't realised it before, but it makes sense - the wall at the reception had been kind of concave. It's why they hadn't been able to see the other end when they'd been standing at the desk.

Now they can't see the desk, but they can see a huge set of doors that looks just like the ones at the other side.

They look at each other.

Then they push open the doors. It's hard to be quiet when they're so heavy, but Maki manages to get it open wide enough for them both to slip through, and then they're climbing the stairs. There isn't a chandelier on the floor on this side. There's a suitcase that looks like someone has forgotten it, spilling clothes onto the ground. Maki jumps over an orange t-shirt. Harua steps on it, and the fabric releases a cloud of dirt into the air.

Neither of them stop to investigate. Maki gets tired from running up the stairs but he doesn't want to look tired in front of Harua, so he keeps going. They take turns going in front and trying to take steps two-at-a-time. Eventually, they reach the fifth floor again. 

There's no point trying to be silent now, so both their feet pound against the floor until they get to the room number they'd both memorised. It takes both of their strength to push it open, and then Maki flies in forward first.

"Jo!"

Jo turns. He's set up the room in their absence. Their clothes line up on the backs of chairs and the doors of the closet. The blinds have been pulled up to reveal the dark clouds outside. Jo is holding his camera in his hands, with the kind of care that says that the film is still running.

Maybe. 

Maki doesn't really notice. Maki tumbles into the room and it's like everything he's been feeling since he crawled into the vents comes to a peak - like hitting the highest key on a piano and letting the note ringing into the silence, like a breath being held right before letting it all go again. 

"Maki?" Jo says. His eyes widen. He looks worried, his eyes go behind Maki to make sure that Harua is still there, and they don't clear up even when Harua steps inside and the door closes behind him with a click. "What's-"

He doesn't finish. The explanation Maki's been holding onto isn't waiting to be asked in response. "I was in the vents," he says, even though that part isn't important and it isn't how he meant to start the story, but it's what comes out first anyway, "And I heard people talking. It's the people we ran away from. With the nice ladies and the man who thought you were stealin' us."

"What?" Jo says. 

"The people . They followed us here!"

And Jo's eyes go wide. "What?" he says again, but this time he's definitely heard what Maki said. "They're here?"

Maki nods. His head moves a little too fast and it feels like the world is spinning. "Yes! They were standin' in by the desk with the doors. They said they were going to wait. They didn't see me though!"

Harua is by his side. "We stayed hidden," he tells Jo, "We went in the vent and then we went around the other stairs, so they didn't see us."

Jo's lower lip wobbles. He glances at the door behind them like he's afraid they're not safe in the room any more, and Maki -

He hadn't thought about that. His plan had gone as far as getting back to Jo and telling him what he'd seen - he hadn't actually thought about what would happen once he'd completed that task. The piano note finally fades out into silence and he can't hold his breath any longer.

It's odd. It's like one moment he's fine. His hands are curled into balls and his nails are a little too long, so they dig into his palms. One second he's standing up and he's proud of himself for being brave and coming to Jo the moment he realised something was wrong.

The next, it's like he crumples.

Maki doesn't quite realise he's crying until the floodgates have opened and he's hiccuping into the air. Harua has flinched back beside him, standing a safe distance away with his fingers tangled in the strap of his bunny bag. 

Maki tries not to sob but his voice comes out like that anyway. There's an immense sadness in his chest and he isn't sure where it's coming from - only that he's scared and he's tired and he doesn't know what he wants . 

He's alone and he wants his Mommy and Daddy. He wants to go home. He doesn't want to be here anymore. He's not sure why he's so upset but it's overwhelming and it drowns out everything he's ever felt until he's so sure that he's sadder than he's ever been in his life.

"Hey," someone says, because Maki's eyes have closed at some point and his cheeks are now pink with the force of his tears, "It's okay. You did a good job finding me."

It's Jo. He doesn't sound like he's sure of what he's saying. The camera is now off and lying on the bed abandoned, and Jo is leaning forward. He wraps his arms around Maki like he isn't 100% sure of touching him. His arms are bony and he's pulling his face backwards like he's expecting to be hit or to be told he's doing the wrong thing.

Except the moment that they touch, Maki throws himself at him. He lunges forwards until he's got his own arms wrapped around Jo's chest and he can bury his face into the space between his neck and his shoulder. He melts into the touch like it's one of his parents here and not-

Maki cries harder.

Jo flinches until he realises that Maki is clinging onto him like he never wants to let go. He moves his arm and starts patting Maki's back, slowly moving until he's stroking his hair and rubbing soothing circles onto his lower back with his other hand. He pulls Maki closer when Maki tries to push their bodies together - so desperate for the reassuring touch, and doesn't stop talking to him.

"Hey," he says again, "Maki- um, you're okay. I've got you, okay? It's okay to cry, thank you for telling me, you've done a good job Maki. It's okay to be scared. It's okay."

It means nothing. Maki isn't really listening to the meaning of the words. He's not sure that's what he's upset about. He keeps crying until his cheeks turn sticky with his dried tears and his little hands have probably stretched out the fabric of Jo's shirt. 

His breathing evens out. His sobs turn into hiccups and his hiccups turn into a shaking lower lip. He wipes his eyes and his nose on his sleeve. Jo's body next to him is warm and Maki doesn't ever want to let go even as he calms back down. 

There's another presence beside him. Harua grabs one of Maki's hands and squeezes it slightly, and then slowly lets him put it on the bunny bag. It takes all of Maki's control (and the fact that he's hanging off Jo) not to immediately try and hug him as well. 

"We probably needed that," Jo says. His eyes are red. Harua's cheeks look only slightly less sticky than Maki's, and his face is pink. 

"You can let go," he tells Maki whilst trying to shake his hand off of the bag. Maki lets go without protesting. He feels happy enough that Harua let him touch it in the first place, and whilst his chest still feels tight with that emotion he can't identify, he's no longer so overwhelmed.

"I'm okay now," he says, even though his voice sounds thick with something to his own ears.

He finally lets go of Jo as well. Jo lets him, even though Maki isn't sure he really believes that Maki actually wants it. And Maki doesn't really want it - he wants to be held like the world is ending (it already has, in some ways) - but he's smart enough to see that Jo doesn't really know what to do. 

"You don't have to be okay," Jo tells him. Outside, rain lashes against the window. There's a howling gust of wind that makes them all look into the darkness. It must be getting late in the day. Maki is hungry from a mixture of walking and crying, but he's more tired than anything else.

Jo also stares outside.

"We don't have to move today," Harua says, voice small. "Right? Maki said that they were waiting for us. Not searching. And- and there are lots of rooms. We can stay here... right?"

He looks tired as well. Maki thinks it and then yawns in a way he can't help, and Jo looks incredibly torn. Their clothes are still all hanging up to dry. It's warm outside, but it's also wet and dark and dangerous and they don't know where the next place they can shelter is. 

"... We can stay here," Jo says. "It's raining too hard outside."

"You can't play in the rain," Maki adds on, even though he ends up having to sniffle before he can finish his sentence, "My mommy says that's how you get ill."

Jo nods. "We can stay here. If they're not actively looking for us... that's probably the best decision. We can push something in front of the door so no one can get in. And you're right, Harua, there are a lot of rooms. Some of the doors are bound to be stuck as well - maybe they'll just assume the auto-locking system failed in some places."

Maki doesn't know what some of that means. He also doesn't like the fact that Jo doesn't sound entirely convinced about what he's saying. It reminds him of those few days after Fuma got taken away and him and Harua had to be the grown-ups because Jo was scared. It felt good to be responsible, but... Maki isn't sure he can do it again. Not yet, at least.

"The hotel is big. They'll probably want to rest and dry off as well. There's got to be a map somewhere. We can find it tomorrow and make a plan about where to stay next. There'll be a back door somewhere they won't be guarding, or..."

Jo trails off. His fingers twitch.

Harua and Maki exchange glances as Jo's words turn into mumbles. There's a free pack of paper next to the wall on the desk, and Jo starts sketching as he talks. Maki tries to peer over his shoulder to get a better look, but all he can make out is 'floorplan' and then a bunch of lines that could be rooms.

"This is what I remember," Jo says. He holds it up almost shyly. Maki still can't work out what's supposed to be what even when looking from the right direction, but Harua nods his head so he nods as well. Then he tries to hide another yawn in his sleeve. 

"You're tired," Harua says, turning to look at him. He's got his nose all scrunched up. "You should go to sleep."

"Nuh uh. I'm not tired."

"You are . You just yawned."

"You just yawned as well!"

Harua's nose wrinkles impossibly further. He turns his chin all prim and proper, "That's just because you yawned. And yawning is infe- inf..."

"Infectious," Jo says softly, still sketching.

"Infectious! And you yawned first, so you're the one that started it, so there."

Maki really should argue back, but Harua is right. He at least has a point in the fact that Maki's limbs are now incredibly heavy. He has to fight back another yawn just then, and one of his hands comes up to rub at his eye without him even realising. Having a bed so near isn't helping. He wants to stay up and help and explore more of the hotel before it gets too dangerous - but some of that is just what he's telling himself.

He wants to bury himself in his bed like at home. He wants his toys and his Mommy to come and tuck him in, and he even wants to get up and do the silly colouring-in lessons at kindergarten tomorrow. Some of that, he knows, isn't going to happen.

There's a bed here, at least. They've been sleeping on rolled up mats and sleeping bags mostly. A bed is as close as he's going to get to everything that he really wants, so he stops protesting about not being tired and starts pulling off his day-clothes instead.

His pyjamas are well-too-worn at this point. They'd been near the bottom of his bag and they're dry as he pulls them on. He's deciding to be mature so he doesn't mention it when he sees Harua hesitate before also starting to get ready for bed as well.

When he collapses onto the sheets, none of that really matters anyway.

There's no electricity in the hotel, so the room had turned dark the moment that the sun set outside. The heavy rain clouds meant there hadn't exactly been much light in the first place. Maki always used to sleep with a nightlight in the corner of his room. He'd never been scared of the dark, but... he wasn't going to complain about the comforting blue glow either. Even if he was getting a little old and his Daddy had mentioned getting rid of it soon. 

He hasn't slept with a nightlight for months now.

Distantly, as he pulls himself underneath the covers and curls into a ball, he wonders whether his parents will be proud of him. 

---

There isn't much point going outside when it's still raining. It hasn't changed in the two hours since Nicholas was last out there - on his way to the house from the pharmacy, walking alongside Yuma and a boy he'd only known for an hour - and it doesn't seem like it will any time soon.

Nicholas has the window open anyway.

He listens to the rain hit the glass. The air is heavy with humidity, but the fact that at least a quarter of the house has crumbled means that there isn't anything keeping it outside in the first place. The moisture clings to his skin. His hair still hasn't dried.

Behind him, Euijoo is slowly piling boxes and tubes and cartons together. He's already decided which ones are worth keeping. They're now safely in a bag, but will probably be re-distributed once they get back to where the others are still waiting. There's no point having a good supply of bandages if they get split up again. If someone gets injured and the only person with medical supplies isn't there, then they might as well not have any in the first place.

Now, all that's left is what they don't need. The surplus of five boxes of plasters. Medication that's gone past a sell-by date or was supposed to be stored in the cold. Euijoo moves the boxes around. He stacks them and then changes his mind, knocking his carefully-made towers over.

Nicholas turns when he hears another stack hit the floor. The scene outside isn't changing. There's no breeze. It's just rain and clouds painted across a grey sky, darkening the view of a town he never should have seen.

"You're just wasting time at this point," Nicholas tells him. "You don't have to pretend to keep busy. Just come and sit with me."

Euijoo's hands pause where they've hovering mid-air. He looks up at Nicholas and they make eye contact. "I'm not wasting time."

Something in his expression is blank. His eyes are round but they're more like endless pools when Nicholas thinks about it. There's something shimmering at the bottom that he's determined to find. That's the reason he finds it so hard to look away. He's never quite found what he's looking for. 

There's always something about Euijoo that he can't quite put a finger on. 

"You've already sorted them out. You could just throw what we don't need into the corner and be done with it. No one would care."

"I like having something to do."

That's all he gets as a response. Short and sweet, not even accompanied by a raised eyebrow or a flicker of change in his expression. Maybe it's because it's getting harder to make out the curve of his lips or the lines in his forehead without a light in the room, but Nicholas finds a deep insatiable urge within him to categorise every small movement that he makes. 

Nicholas wants to tear Euijoo into pieces.

In a good way, of course. In a way that draws right back to the way his anger and the arguments they'd held when they'd first met slowly bled into something that he still can't put a finger on. He wants to keep Euijoo in a room like this where the sound of conversation in the next room is muffled through the walls. He wants to be there as well. Pinned in the light cast by the only window. 

Something in him wants to poke and pry and prod until he gets the response he craves.

Acknowledgement. Something that tells him that Euijoo feels the same tension, the barely-there red string that ties them together. They're both thousands of miles from home. Trapped somewhere that shouldn't have turned out like this - with people that have lost everything, knowing that there's still somewhere they can fight to return to.

Does Euijoo feel it as well?

Nicholas wants the sting of his nails pressing into his skin. He wants to explode and coat the room with the dark red of his insides, only if Euijoo is stained the same colour as well. Does he hear the way that Nicholas' breath hitches when their eyes meet?

It doesn't show on his face. 

And it's Nicholas that looks away in the end. He can pretend that the rain against the glass is loud enough to drown out the thundering of his heart, and that he doesn't still think about Euijoo watching him as he turns his back. 

---

The sunrise is red-streaked in the sky, and Taki thinks about filming it.

On one hand, it's just one sunrise out of every single morning. Sure the sky has been painted grey with heavy rain clouds for the past week, but he can remember seeing the way the sun had risen back in the summer when he'd found himself sleeping outside for the first time in his life. Everyone has seen a sunrise. There is nothing special about this one, even as the crimson bleeds into the surroundings. 

On the other hand, isn't that just it? It's one sunrise out of a thousand, but aren't they each as special as each other? Who knows if the next day will bring another morning. There could be another earthquake in the night - one that Taki doesn't survive this time, just like millions others - and then would he regret it? 

 In the end, he thinks he'd prefer to run out of tape than regret anything.

His bag is by his feet and his camera is never far from where it's easy to grab. It doesn't take long for Taki to turn it on and fiddle with the settings until they're exactly how he likes them. A bad shot of the sunset is probably exactly what his teacher had assumed he'd be submitting when he'd first been handed the camera.

A sunrise and a sunset. Smoke in the kitchen from trying to help his mother cook, laughter in the distance. Blurry footage of his walk to school the morning that the assignment was due - because of course he'd forget about it right until the last second. A minute or two maximum. 

Now Taki can see the 'used space' on the camera creep up with every time he pulls it out of his bag. He's already had to switch out the batteries a couple of times, only getting lucky that he'd thought ahead and collected a few in the weeks soon after the earthquake. He's pretty sure he'll need another SD card eventually. But he barely even knows what one looks like, let alone how he's going to find one.

For now, it's fine. He rests his elbows on the sill of the window and pushes the glass open. His fingers leave prints behind where they touch. The view from the screen of the camera is steady.

"Are you filming?"

Yuma's voice comes from beside him, and Taki jumps so hard that it's only his weight supported on the window ledge that stops him from hitting the floor. He tries to regain his composure as soon as he can. Yuma graciously doesn't comment on it. 

"It was for a school project," he finds himself saying.

Despite the sun rising, it's hard to know exactly what time it is. With the months stretching on, it's hard to keep track of the days. The hours of daylight are surely getting shorter, but Taki doesn't think he ever actually paid attention to when the sun was supposed to come up in October. It's a small relief that midday at least doesn't change, and that there's no daylight saving time to worry about.

Although without anything to be late for, the exact time doesn't really matter any more. Taki is awake and therefore it is morning. Whether it's seven or eight makes no difference to when his body naturally wakes up by now.

"A school project?"

Taki hums in response. "Originally. I was supposed to document the week. It's been a lot longer than that now, I guess."

The early morning air is calm. He hasn't known Yuma for that long, but he likes him. And... it feels almost easier to be open with someone that's closer to his age. He loves K dearly, but there are some things that Taki just can't tell him because he knows he'd worry. 

"Just a bit," Yuma says back in the exact same tone. "And now... you're just filming for the sake of it?"

Taki's fingers hesitate over the buttons of the camera. A bird flies across the screen, painted completely black by the contrast of light. The buildings in front of them are a mixture of walls-still-standing and rubble. It's odd, how they've become completely used to such a sight. If anyone else does view the footage, Taki realises that the way the world had crumbled would be foreign and unnerving.

"I guess."

"There must be a reason.  Even if it's stupid."

Taki shrugs. "I just never stopped." He pauses, and it would be so easy to end there. That's enough of a reason. Yuma would get the hint and stop pressing. And for the most part, Taki would be telling the truth. But for some reason he finds himself still talking after the moment's silence passes.

"I don't know. It's not for any important reason - like... documenting for people in the future. I did make K speak into it like an interview at some point, but I think everything I've recorded has been for me."

"For you?"

"To watch at some point. It's like if I keep recording, then one day I really will be able to submit this for a school assignment. At this point it'd probably be the best thing I'd ever handed in. Like my teacher will watch it and give me a good grade, and then my parents will tell me how proud they are."

Outside, the sunrise is beginning to fade away. The red is slightly less blood-like than before. It looks like an ink spill that's getting washed away, the colour of tangerines seeping into yellow and then the early-morning blue sky. 

Yuma turns his head to watch as well. Having someone stare at your lips isn't something that Taki is used to, but he finds it's easy to forget about in the pace of a quiet conversation. 

"I went to get fruit," Yuma says. "That morning. I almost didn't check my phone, but I did, and my Mom had asked for fruit. The market wasn't far from home. I was planning to get there and back before my next lesson started."

"At least you were at school. I was skipping class. I don't even remember why anymore."

"By the time I did get home, I don't know. I kept thinking about the fruit. Like they were going to be okay and I'd feel stupid for not going to the market after all. I was supposed to be doing her a favour, and - when I was running, for some reason I thought she was going to have to go anyway. Except..."

Yuma cuts himself off. The yellowing sky casts a strange sheen to the tone of his skin. Taki imagines himself drenched in the colour as well. 

He thinks of the photograph in his bag. 

"Just like that," he says, when Yuma doesn't, "It was gone."

Chapter Text

Yuma and Taki sit in the window for a while longer.

There's no rush to move on. The sun climbs higher steadily into the sky, but it isn't long before the break in the rain draws close to an end. The downpour from yesterday isn't through with them yet. Taki only takes a step back once the rain has actually begun, though, camera long-since tucked safely away again.

It isn't heavy. 

Hopefully it stays that way. They'd all drawn together eventually last night once it had fallen completely dark. There wasn't much else to do but talk. Someone (Taki couldn't remember who, the adrenaline from the pharmacy had left him pretty drained) has mentioned the roads flooding if the weather continued like this. 

Even now, hours later, Taki pulls a face at the thought. Avoiding puddles is one thing. There's no reason to keep his shoes clean from mud when traipsing through fields. But flooding means having to wade through water possibly, and Taki is not about that. 

"It's raining again," he says to Yuma, because too much time passing without saying anything is awkward.

"... It is," Yuma says back.

Both the rest of the groups are packing up. Even if they're not planning to move on from this shelter today, it makes for a quick escape plan if needed. In the middle of the room, Nicholas has set up the small camp-stove. It looks like K has taken over cooking duties for the morning, busy inspecting the backs of food tins. 

It happens so fast that Taki almost doesn't process it.

Despite the people he'd only met yesterday, the day feels... normal. Sitting by the window and watching the clouds darken. Yuma's knee brushes against his because they're crammed too close next to each other, and it reminds Taki of gazing out of his classroom. 

The houses they can see are in a decent state. The rain hits the road and where the autumn leaves have already begun to fall, muddied piles of red and yellow collect in the gutters. 

A car slowly drives past, and Taki almost doesn't realise what's wrong with that. 

It's not even their road. He can only see it between the gaps of the buildings, all smooth engine hum and glossy paint between the twisted branches and crumbling walls. The front of the car is in excellent shape. The back not so much - Taki sees a dent and distantly thinks about who they've bumped into - with scrapes and rusted patches where the very back has been lifted to create more space.

He watches it disappear behind a wall. He watches it reappear. It's not too far away to be unable to make out the people inside. The man driving is wearing a uniform and smoking a cigarette. The uniform is familiar in a way that makes his chest tighten. The cigarette leaves a trail of smoke in the air behind them.

"Shit," he says out loud, arms moving to push Yuma out of the window before the rest of his body can even attempt to catch up. 

He can't look away. Just for a second, the man in the car looks in their direction. A hundred times over they might have just missed each other. But in this universe, his eyes meet Taki's, and it feels like the walls of the house come crumbling down around him. 

They've seen him. 

They know he's there.

Everything they've done to avoid this situation - gone like smoke in the wind, ruined in a single half-second. 

Yuma hits the ground in slow-motion. He tumbles in a pile of knees and elbows and then flips himself the right way up again. Taki wonders if he knows why he was pushed or whether he thinks it just came out of nowhere, right up until he sees the matching look of terror on his face.

"They saw us," Taki says. His mouth moves without his brain quite catching up to the words coming out. He can't hear the engine of the car in the distance. It's too far away, with the windows and the buildings between, but he'll surely hear it when they draw closer. 

At least it doesn't look like they're running out to come and confront him. They think he's alone. Yuma had been out of the window quickly and the house is dark enough to obscure the silhouettes of anyone that might have been standing behind him. The car is still moving slowly by the time he's throwing himself out of view as well. They'll circle like a predator before they pounce. Striking to kill.

His sudden fear must change something in the air, since it's like the room immediately gets several degrees colder. All attention is on him. Yuma is slowly picking himself up from the floor and Taki is only just throwing his own self out of the way. 

Nicholas comes around the doorway. He's the only one that hadn't been in the room originally. K is already on his feet with dark eyes, Fuma is slowly getting up from the corner, Euijoo has frozen mid-room. 

He doesn't ask why they've all suddenly gone silent. Taki doesn't know if he heard what was said - whether ' they saw us' was specific enough of a message to convey every thought that had passed through his head at that moment - but it doesn't seem like any additional explanation is needed. There's only one 'they' he could have been referring to.

"Details," Fuma says, the first one of them to act. 

Taki's brain immediately kicks back into life. "They were in a car. It was going pretty slowly, and it was a couple of streets away. There were... two people inside? I didn't get a good look at them."

"Only two. Okay. It could be worse."

"I pushed Yuma before they could see him. But I made eye contact with the man driving. I think I was far enough away that he didn't properly see me, but he definitely knows we're here now."

His heart is thundering in his chest. Every second that stretches on is like a lifetime of waiting. He's expecting the door to the house to break down at any moment. There's no rumble of an approaching car engine in the distance, but Nicholas runs a hand through his hair and even that sudden movement is enough to make Taki jump.

"We need to act quickly," Euijoo says. He's already taking steps backwards to where his bags are. "We need to gather everything up. If we leave quickly..."

He trails off, already turning to sling his bag over his shoulders, but the second half of his sentence doesn't need to be said out loud. The sooner they leave, the more chance they have of getting away.

Or walking straight into a trap. 

"What if we head straight into them?" Fuma counters, and it's enough to make Euijoo come to a complete track. 

"Do you want to split up?"

Something in Fuma's expression looks like it's being torn into pieces. "It's the safest bet. There are six of us, so... split into three groups. Each heading in a different direction. It's the only way we're going to be able to ensure at least someone stays safe."

Before a beat can even pass, he's cursing. It sounds out of place in his voice. 

Taki has seen Fuma argue with K before - even if it's been a while since that last happened. Most of the time, Fuma simply watches from the sidelines with a smile on his face, something unexpectedly devious in the way Taki's seen him lie just for the sake of it.

Here, he's solemn. There's nothing of that watchful gaze in his eyes. He's taking charge in the same way he must have when he was split up from his own original group, and Taki tries to remember whether this is the first time he's properly seen him like this.

" Shit ," he says, "We haven't come up with a list of places to use as meeting points. Does anyone even know where we are?"

Taki stays quiet. He'd been turned around in the first few weeks after the earthquake on his own, and never good at geography in the first place. Nicholas and Euijoo are silent at no fault of their own. Yuma watches their lips without offering anything of his own. 

K takes a step forward.

He doesn't say anything, but all attention lands on him anyway. There's something about the way he holds his body that just commands attention on a good day, and in moments like this when he really wants to stand out, he practically glows. 

"It doesn't matter," he says, "That's risking too many people. Three directions means two people going each way, unless you want to split up even more than that. It's equivalent to sacrificing two people. And Fuma's right - even if we don't care about the fact we were two groups anyway, splitting up into three means getting separated from those groups as well."

How would they meet back up? How would they decide who'd be pulled in which direction with who? How are they supposed to make that impossible choice? What would they do when one group inevitably disappeared, and everyone else was left to pick up the pieces?

Taki's mind is spinning. It feels like he should be running. They're wasting time by just standing here, and yet he knows that listening to K is the only thing he can do. 

"They just think it's Taki. That's one person. There's no way they got a good look at his face from that distance. Right?"

Taki nods. He'd only caught the eye of one of them, and it had only been for a few seconds at most. And without being able to make out the details of his face or his age, it could have been any one of them sitting in the window.

K opens his mouth like he's going to say something else immediately, but ends up taking a sharp inhale of breath instead. It comes at an odd time, like he wasn't expecting to cut himself off, and but there's a set to his shoulders when he breathes back out again.

"Here's the plan. I run and draw them away. The rest of you pack up and head in the opposite direction. Hide somewhere until either they leave or it gets to night, and then get as far away from town as you can."

"What?"

About five people exclaim at the same time. Taki thinks he's one of them. His mouth is open, definitely, but he's not sure whether any sound has actually made it out. He's afraid that trying to speak on his own will end up with his voice coming out as a croak, something desperate and weak.

"That won't work," Fuma says, but he's frowning like he's just trying to find a hole to pick. 

K turns to stare at him. "I'm fast," he says, "I used to run marathons. I was training for one before the earthquake hit. If anyone is going to be able to outmanoeuvre them, it'll be me."

"They have a car," Euijoo says, like they don't already know that. His accent has become thicker with stress. If his syntax is slightly wrong, no one mentions it.

"And normally that might be a problem," K says, "but half the roads are blocked. Half the side-streets aren't accessible unless they get out and chase me - and then there's no way they'll be able to catch up."

There's a beat of silence in the fast-pace of discussion. That's the time it takes for the plan to sink in. Taki wants to say something but his mouth remains painfully dry and the conversation impossibly fast. It's like K has already started running and Taki's just trying to keep up.

"I think he's right," Fuma says. He's crossing his arms, despite the fact that it must hurt his shoulder, adopting a position that makes him look slightly older than he is. He doesn't have any more authority than anyone else in the room, but he imposes like he has the final say. "This is the best chance we have to get out of this situation. Unless anyone else has a suggestion."

He doesn't even phrase it like a question.

K meets his eyes. Something unspoken passes between them. A begrudging respect. Taki has witnessed them fight and argue since the moment they met. They'd only come together when it revolved around him, before.

But now it seems like something has changed. Taki remembers Fuma telling them what he'd done to protect the group he'd been travelling with - letting himself be taken away in favour of letting the others stay hidden and safe. He hadn't bothered to fight back until he knew he was far enough away that they couldn't be used to ensure his compliance.

It's the same motivation to what's making K act here. This isn't how Taki wanted them to finally understand each other. Why does it have to be in these circumstances, out of everything?

"When I came across them before," Fuma continues, "They were arrogant. They didn't think Harua would be able to survive alone, so they just left him to die. I don't think they called for back-up when they found us - which meant that they didn't find Maki and Jo, but it was because they assumed they could handle it by themselves."

"We just hope the same applies here," K says. 

Fuma nods. "If they think it's only one person, they'll give chase. You'll either escape or you'll be captured, and then they'll come back to check out the shelter. It didn't seem like they needed supplies before."

Nicholas shakes his head. "How do you know?" He asks, "That's a huge risk! Why wouldn't they call for more people? It doesn't make sense."

Fuma and K exchange a glance. Taki stands on the outside of an invisible wall that seems to have appeared in the room, felt by suffocating presence alone. 

"Arrogance," K offers.

"They're surrounded by two types of people," Fuma says, slowly. "The people just like them. Or people that they've managed to break. Most of the survivors... they'd don't have much to live for. It's pretty clear at this point that there isn't going to be a rescue effort. It doesn't take much to simply give up."

Again, silence. Taki thinks back to the line of people he'd seen heading towards the gates. He thinks about the fact that Fuma had been the only one to fight back, and it's almost scarily easy to see the point that he's making. 

Euijoo stays silent. He's frowning, but doesn't offer anything in response. It's Nicholas who reacts again. He's explosive in the way that everyone else isn't, and he voices Taki's thoughts so easily that Taki almost falls to his knees in thankfulness.

"There has to be another way! You said it's a risk to go together - as if this is any better. I don't-"

"We don't have time to argue."

K cuts him off easily. When it's only Nicholas speaking up, it's easy to see him drowned out, even if K's the only one actually talking back to him. The room had felt cold before, and Taki certainly stills feel frozen, but the atmosphere between the two of them feels like it's ready to spark at any moment. 

"We can't waste our opportunity to act. If we stand here any longer, we won't have done anything. I'm leaving."

"Just like that? Without even saying goodbye? You're risking your life for them - in some sort of self-sacrifice, because you can't-"

Nicholas' words are all jumbled up in his anger. He's risen to K's bait, the frustration of being the only one to point out the obvious heat-shaped holes in the plan, when everyone else is just standing around and refusing to look up.

He stammers and he uses the wrong words but his point gets across clearer than anything else he's said.

When K whips around, it's with a matching fury in his expression. "You think I don't know?" He says, even if in his eyes he's barely there. "I'm doing this for -"

There's an engine in the distance now. It's unmistakable. Even Yuma, who might not be able to hear the low rumble approaching, can probably tell by the way the rest of them freeze in place. 

The anger disappears. Nicholas goes completely straight and takes a step back - or maybe he'd been moving the moment that K turned around to face him, and it simply coincides with the same moment the tension shifts. 

Whatever K had been about to say is lost. 

The short amount of time they'd had before the car arrived is now trickling down to the last few grains of sand in the hour glass. No one's come up with anything to oppose K's suggestion. As much as Taki wants to grip the sleeve of his shirt and refuse to let him go, there's an overwhelming part of his mind that freezes his feet to the ground.

He's the one they spotted in the window. He can bite his lip so hard that he tastes blood and tell himself that there's no way he could have known, but that doesn't change anything. 

He should have been smarter. He should have thought about the fact that the military might still be patrolling. He never should have risked it in the first place. This is a situation entirely of his own creation. 

It should be him offering to run, but... he's scared . He knows he isn't fast enough to pull off K's plan. And so even if his stomach twists with the knowledge of his own selfishness, he doesn't protest when K looks him right in the eyes.

It doesn't look like he sees him. He's looking right at Taki but as if he's looking through him. 

His hair has fallen into his eyes. It's normally pulled to the sides with a single few strands settling across his forehead. The image Taki tries to commit to memory doesn't quite look like the K he's seen every day since he stopped being alone in the end of the world. 

"K," he says, even though K pulls away to leave the shelter. "I'm sorry-"

And is K shaking his head, or is he just turning around? Is this the last time Taki will ever see him? Is he imagining it when he swears he hears K say "It's my fault," under his breath?

No one else seems to react. There's not enough time to come to terms with it. No one wants to stop him, because that means that all six of them are doomed to injury or separation, even if no one wants him to leave. 

K is strong. He's fast and young and a perfect example of the type of person that they want to pick up. They won't kill him like they might Taki or Yuma, both younger and weaker and perfect examples to be made for disobeying. He might even thrive working there. At least, Taki can tell himself that and it doesn't feel completely like a lie.

And in the end, it doesn't matter. He doesn't move even as he watches K's back disappear out of the door. The sound of the rain drowns out the noise of his footsteps against the road as he starts running. 

Chapter Text

The night passes, and Jo doesn't get much sleep.

Despite what he's told the kids, he can't trust in what they've told him. The words of a five-year-old are reputable when coming from a child like Maki, but that doesn't mean their interpretation is correct. Jo trusts Maki to tell him what he thinks he heard. He doesn't trust - no, he doesn't expect Maki to be able to pick up every subtlety of a conversation.

He's just a kid. He'd been trapped in a vent, eavesdropping on a conversation he wasn't part of, and he'd been terrified.

Both Harua and Maki seemed convinced that the group were waiting for them to make the first move. They'd set up in the reception of the hotel. From what they'd told him, it sounded like they were waiting for Jo and the kids to come down without realising they'd been followed. They were expecting them to walk straight into a trap. They weren't interested in chasing them down. 

When Jo finds that he can't sleep in fear of looking away from the door in their room, he goes over what that could mean.

It comes down to this: they're playing a game. 

Or, they're being played with like the pieces of a game. One point of Maki's story simply doesn't make sense: if he'd hidden like he'd said, how did the other group expect Jo to find out they were no longer alone in the hotel? 

As far as they were aware, Jo thought he was alone. Come the next morning, he should have been exploring the hotel with his guard down, if not making his way to the entrance to continue travelling. Would they lie in wait for that? Wouldn't the easiest solution - the way to avoid a stalemate before it could even begin - be to take Jo and the kids by surprise?

Perhaps they'd expected Jo to come down and escape before being caught. If they were counting on being spotted but not having the chance to capture all three of them, that would bring them back to the same situation Jo had found himself in anyway.

It still doesn't make much sense without the framing of a game. There are five people camping them out, as far as he knows. It's enough to cover all the viable exits on the first floors without a chance of Jo and the kids being able to sneak past. 

They don't need to move fast. They can hunt across each floor as slowly as they like. It's probably easier that way - a slow and methodical search means less chance of missing, say, a five-year-old attempting to hide. 

Already, they're so high up in the hotel that a fall from a window would cause serious injuries. If they weren't killed from the drop, there's certainly no way of outrunning the inevitable chase.

As it is, they don't need to search quickly. They don't need to get to the fifth floor on the same day they arrive, all because of one simple fact. 

There isn't a way for Jo and the kids to leave the hotel without passing them. 

Over the night, this is the conclusion that Jo comes to. It'll be at least a day before he can confirm this suspicion, but it's the only line of thinking that makes sense when drawn up across their actions. 

That fact doesn't calm his mind. He's sure he does manage to drift off a couple of times in the night. The kids sleep with heavy breaths, and it's a reminder every time he hears them inhale that they're both still there. But he wakes with a start surely every hour, and it takes a while for his thundering heart to calm back down.

It's hard to think of anything but their situation. He's half-sure that he's missed the sound of footsteps in the corridor whilst his eyes were closed. Or that the door is a few centimetres open in the darkness, pushed just enough for him not to notice. He has to get to his feet and press his palm against the place where the door meets the wall. 

In the morning, he feels like his eyelids are heavy. He's finally sleeping - or at least in that resting phase between sleep and wake - but the kids are up. They're attempting to be quiet. Harua is sitting on the end of the bed, swinging his legs into the air. Maki is investigating every cupboard in the room with wide eyes. 

They both turn to stare at him when they notice he's awake.

"Jo!" Maki says. His voice is loud for the morning. He's too young to realise that although he might have been awake for a while, the same doesn't apply to everyone else. In fact, Jo's voice probably doesn't reach that loud even when he is fully awake. 

Jo wipes the sleep from his eyes. There are a few moments of peace, and then his heart lurches. The sun has risen and the room is now illuminated with light, and he immediately leans forward until he can see the door and the cupboards they'd pulled in front of it.

It's still closed. There's no sign that anyone has tried to get in. Still, it takes a few moments to calm his racing heart again. 

"There's no one there," Harua says. He swings his feet again, heels hitting the mattress and probably wearing holes into his already-thin socks. Jo's glance to the door hadn't been subtle, even if nothing he does is an overwhelming movement. "We've been listening. It's been super quiet the whole time."

Maki nods from his place now on the floor. "n' I listened to the floor as well. I didn't hear anything!"

Jo doesn't want to think about how clean the hotel carpet is, even if it appears to be a fairly posh room. Then again, it's got to be cleaner than some of the other places they've stayed. It doesn't look like it's going to collapse over their heads for starters. The dust is just dust.

They both look at him like they're expecting a response.

Jo is in a spotlight in the middle of the room. It's moments like this where he wishes Fuma was still around, and for purely selfish reasons. Their eyes are like needles watching his every move. He pushes the covers from his body and is too aware of how they watch him fold the sheets. They're waiting for him to respond. 

He's supposed to set an example, except Jo has always found it easiest to slip into the background, and he's always been comfortable there. Usually, he tries to speak and his voice is drowned out by the chorus of group conversation. Fuma hadn't been particularly loud either - but he'd been someone else , and even that was enough for Jo to hide behind.

Now, he simply has to swallow and ignore his discomfort.

The kids don't mean anything by it. They're kids, after all. And he may only be 16, but that's still a whole ten years older than Harua, and they cling to him because he's all they have left.

"I think we should move today," he says after he's let the morning roll on for slightly longer. They don't have anything to heat food, but Maki had found a few stale biscuits next to a disappointingly-empty kettle, and they split them into thirds for breakfast. There are a few packets of instant coffee that aren't worth keeping. Alongside those are two small cartons of long-life milk. 

Maki gets one but he places it tenderly in his bag. Harua presses his lips to the seal of his own and drains it. The carton looks small even in his tiny hands. Still, when he's finished he wipes his mouth and tries to pass the plastic back to Jo.

It takes Jo a few moments to realise that it's still about a third full. He glances back to Harua, who's staring at him with such clear and earnest intent on his face that Jo doesn't even need to ask to confirm.

"Thank you," he says gently, and then drinks the last of the milk. He smiles at Harua afterwards, placing the empty carton down on one of the tables, and tries not to crumble when Harua grins in return. 

"Are we actually gonna leave?" Maki asks. His eyes are huge. "Leave the hotel? Um... it's not raining anymore."

He's so obviously trying to look on the bright side. It isn't raining. The clouds are still grey, but not the dark and stormy colour from yesterday. If everything had gone well, they would have looted the hotel yesterday and maybe have attempted to leave by mid-morning.

As it is, that isn't what Jo had meant at all. "Not leave the hotel," he corrects, "Leave this room. I think you're right, Maki, with what you heard yesterday. I don't think they're going to search everything to find us today."

"They're gonna wait?"

Jo shakes his head. "If they did that, we could survive up here for ages. I think... they're going to search a couple of floors a day. They'll make it so we can't get past them once they've gone up a set of stairs."

"I know!" Harua says. " Leave as in leave the room. We can just go to the next floor and stay there."

He's a sharp kid. Maki has thought that far as well, nodding along without looking like it's some huge realisation. But as soon as the words have left Harua's mouth, his shoulders stiffen. He's come to the same conclusion that Jo has. There are only so many floors in the hotel. Eventually, there won't be anywhere for them to run. 

That isn't a discussion for today though. Jo would like to prove his theory before really starting to worry. There are ten floors in the hotel, if he remembers correctly, and even though they may have started on the fifth, there's no way for the group to know that.

In the end, they pack up without the conversation continuing any further.

It doesn't take long. They brush their teeth. There hadn't been a bottle of water in the room they'd picked, but it seems that's an outlier. Jo has already picked up a couple from rooms on this floor, and plans to collect as many as he can from wherever they end up next. He lets the kids sip from it - the only toothpaste they have is strongly flavoured like mint, but Fuma hadn't let them complain about it. 

The weather is still fairly warm which isn't too unusual for early October, and their soaked clothes from yesterday have dried. They each pack them back into their various bags and then do a once-over of the hotel room for anything that might have been left behind. 

Then they move the cupboards back out from in front of the door.

Not the whole way. There's no point in pushing it back to the original place, when the missing cookies and milk cartons already give away that they'd stayed here.

So as soon as there's enough space for Jo and the kids to squeeze through the homemade blockade and open the door into the corridor, they leave.

It hasn't changed since they were last outside. Jo's heart beats like thunder in his chest, but there's no sign of someone hiding in wait. The other doors are just as closed as they'd been before. The carpet is clean. It's completely silent despite the rooms on either side of them, and Jo is suddenly struck by how eerie an empty hotel is. 

Harua pauses halfway down the hallway. He's stopped in front of a door, giving it big eyes as if he's just realised something. "Do all these rooms have cookies in?"

Jo hesitates. "I think so," he says, "Unless someone was staying there before they left. Then they might have eaten them already."

"Why?"

It takes him a moment to work out which part of the sentence he's asking about. "Why? ... Why do they have cookies in?" Harua nods, so he continues, "It's a gift from the hotel for staying here. There are cookies, the milk cartons we had earlier, the packets of coffee, the water bottles."

Harua turns to him. "Does this room have cookies?"

And Jo knows why he's asking before Harua can even get to that point. He's giving him puppy-dog eyes with huge blinking lashes, already pressing his shoulder up against the door with his fingers around the handle. It's a contrast to the shy child Jo is so used to seeing. Apparently Harua has more of a soft spot around snacks than he'd realised. 

"The rooms upstairs will have cookies as well," Jo says, but internally he's already given in. He holds the door open whilst Harua darts inside and scoops up the colourful packets into his palms. Maki isn't far behind him, even if he doesn't take anything of his own.

After that short detour, they head to the staircase at the end of the corridor. Jo opens the doors slowly, trying to listen out for any sign that there might be someone listening a few floors down, but he's met with silence.

Still. They move as quietly as they can. Jo holds the door until it's almost completely closed, muffling the sound of the swing until it's just a quiet click. Harua and Maki take gentle footsteps. They move almost comically slowly. Jo manages to catch up in a few seconds thanks to his longer legs, and together they climb up until they've reached the seventh floor.

There are ten floors in the hotel. Eleven if you count the rooftop, which is apparently a pool, a bar and a fancy-sounding restaurant - but must all be outside, and therefore unhelpful to them. If they stay on the seventh floor, that should put a considerable amount of distance between them and the group on the ground floor. 

It's also the floor with the pool. Distantly, Jo wonders whether he should be worried about the kids trying to explore. But there are so many other worries running through his mind that it simply gets buried within a few seconds. 

They move up to the seventh floor.

It's the same as the fifth. When they open the door to the random room they've chosen, it clearly wasn't in use when the earthquake hit. The sheets are clean and pulled neatly to the edges of the mattress, fresh towels hang in the bathroom, and Harua crosses to room to stash away the small packets of biscuits immediately.

There must be some rooms in a different style somewhere, but this works for them and Jo isn't going to complain about it. He sets his bag down and gets to work trying to improve his floorplan of the hotel. Now that he can properly see the paper it's easier to correct some of the mistakes. 

The kids say they want to explore and Jo follows them. They don't run - trying to make the least amount of noise possible is something they'll simply have to get used to over the course of the next few days - but they move with as much excitement as they're allowed.

The room with the pool smells distantly like chlorine. Looking at the water confirms that it hasn't been cleaned in a while, so the scent must simply cling to the walls and tiles. Harua and Maki run up to the edge with huge grins, only to sag in disappointment when they see the colour of the water.

Still. They investigate the spa rooms nearby. There are a couple of bags left behind in the locker room - doors opened by panicking people, contents spilled across the floor. It's mostly lipstick and worn t-shirts and dull coins, and the room is airless and stale. A child's pair of flippers lies upturned in the centre of the room. They leave not long after that. 

It still gives Jo a better idea of what the ground floor of the hotel must look like. Even if he can't predict the shape of the rooms or what they're used to, he walks up to the glass windows looking out and makes judgement about how the building must be shaped. 

They enter as many hotel rooms as they need to confirm this idea. Harua and Maki both fill their arms with water bottles that they won't be able to carry, but might as well keep in their room for the time being. Harua's bunny bag bulges with packets of cookies. A few rooms have clearly been lived in and his eyes light up at the prospect of more types of snack, only to find the fridges empty or the fresh-food long since moulded. 

Just as Jo had hypothesised, they never meet anyone when they're exploring the corridors.

He makes a short run and props open the doors to the staircases on as many floors as he risks. They already know they're there, so it doesn't make a difference in signifying their existence. And importantly, it allows sound to travel. It's much easier to hear someone heading up a flight of stairs without a set of wooden doors in the way. It could be the crucial few seconds that gave them enough warning to move.

The rest of the day passes in the same way.

Harua and Maki get their hands on a set of provided hotel note-paper and free pens. They tear through the sheets with glee. There are enough unused in rooms that the paper isn't a scarce commodity, and it's the most Jo has seen them smile in a while. Not having to worry about being wasteful lifts a burden from their shoulders.

He finds himself grinning as well as he's drawn into their shenanigans. Even with the stress lingering at the edges of his mind, he laughs when Maki says something unintentionally funny, or they draw him into playing a game with matching evil smiles. 

They break into one of the vending machines like promised. Laying a spare sheet on the ground means that Jo can bundle up the glass that falls to the floor when it cracks, and push it safely out of the way of injury. The kids' eyes light up when they see the snacks that become available.

For weeks now, they've been surviving on meagre rations of tinned food and attempts at filtered water. Snacks had been one of the things to disappear quickly once the earthquake struck and the realisation that life wouldn't be returning to normal hit. Of course the nicest food had been what disappeared first. 

A more fulfilling selection is probably available on the ground floor. The vending machine they break into is small and half-empty already, but it still has enough to be worth it. The drinks row has calpis and melon soda, as well as a few name-brands that Jo makes sure to tuck away for later with some packets of instant ramen. He tells the kids not to go overboard with the snacks, but then pretty much leaves them to it.

They deserve it. He wants to give them the opportunity to act like kids at every moment they get.

He's barely able to hide his laughter when they both complain about their stomachs hurting afterwards. They move up to the eighth floor the next day and he suggests breaking into the vending machine here as well. This time he can't hide the smile as both kids look a little green at the thought.

They've re-supplied with as much food and water as they're able to carry anyway. 

(In the early morning, he leaves them still sleeping in the room. He thinks about leaving a note, but finds that his hands are shaking too much to properly hold a pen. Instead he doesn't say a word, and creeps down the stairs as far as he risks to test his hypothesis.

He doesn't need to go far. Waiting on the landing of the first floor staircase, he looks down towards the ground floor. There's the flicker of light visibly cast from inside the reception. The faint smell of smoke tells him there's a small fire. It isn't strong enough of a scent to be out of control. A portable burner, then. Or something along those lines.

The realisation that someone must be awake to tend to it makes him freeze. They're taking shifts to monitor the staircases, then. The stairs on the other side also lead to the reception, so he'd find a similar scene. And the maintenance staircase they'd spotted earlier is probably blocked off.

They're being guarded. It only confirms what Jo had already been suspecting, but his heart still sinks with the acknowledgement. The only relief is that Harua and Maki are still sleeping when he returns to the room, and that even climbing back into bed doesn't disturb them.)

In the morning when he wakes, he is burdened with the knowledge that there are only two more floors above them.

Two more days where they can cut off the closing distance. Now is as good a day to make an escape plan as any other. 

Chapter Text

The plan is simple.

It has to be, really. It's being executed by Jo and two children - and although he trusts Harua and Maki to help to the best of their ability, there's still a limit to what they can do. There's a limit to what risks he'll allow them to take. 

He also doesn't want to risk them getting split up. This isn't something that crosses Jo's mind until they're all sitting cross-legged on the bed with a pen and paper in front of them. Harua shuffles closer until his legs are practically pressed up against Jo's calves. This wouldn't be unusual for Maki, but Harua doesn't tend to seek out affection - it's not that he doesn't like it, it's just that he receives enough without having to be the one to initiate.

Jo looks down in surprise. Harua isn't looking back up at him. Instead, he's staring at the paper with a determined frown and his lips set into a purse. His hand rests on Jo's leg like he's worried that he'll pull away and disappear. 

They don't plan to split up. 

The plan has three parts, instead.

One: wait until the group is split. If they've been taking night shifts, then there must be members sleeping during the day as well. Even just a couple of them resting takes them out of action. Then, assuming that some are searching the floors, that leaves one or two maximum guarding the stairs.

Two: sneak past them. There are a total of three staircases in the hotel. The two that are meant for guests both enter out into the reception. This is likely where the resting members are staying, and even if that doesn't turn out to be true, it's still the most obvious path of escape. There's no chance it isn't being monitored.

Next is the maintenance staircase. It had taken them a while to find - hidden back where presumably only the staff were supposed to access, and much narrower and less grand than those meant for guests. Maki had been the one to point out that this is likely also monitored. In fact, if there's a member of the group with the job just to watch the stairs, this is the one they're stationed at.

Their plan hinges entirely upon the fact that this is also a person searching the floors. Or at least, they're there to support the people searching. Even if they're still standing by the stairs, as long as they're not on the ground floor, their plan should work.

Three: run. Head initially in the direction like they're going to run to the road, but pull away to the woodland surrounding the hotel instead. This should make them much harder to follow. The trees should provide obscurity. And then, only relax once they're completely sure they're far enough away.

Jo gets the kids to take a midday nap while he organises the last of their belongings. To be sure, they're going to have to travel much later into the night than they usually would. They'll need the extra rest. 

And as a good sign, in the early afternoon the weather finally breaks. It's been damp all morning but nothing like the rain of the past few days. Sun has slipped through gaps in the clouds despite the drizzle. It comes to a stop over lunch, and by the time they've finished eating, the sky has completely cleared.

Jo sticks his hand out of the window. It's warm, but it's not sticky. This is a good sign. It's also exactly what they've been hoping for, and a sign to start their plan immediately. 

When Harua and Maki wake up, they split a packet of crackers and wash it down with one of the water bottles they're going to leave behind. They pull on their shoes and their bags and do one last check for anything they might have left behind. There's a strange thickness to the air as they close the door behind them.

It would be so much better if they could use any of the staircases inside. The risk that they'll accidentally pass or be spotted by someone is too high, so Jo leads them to a small gap between rooms in the corridor. This is where a stale water-fountain has toppled over, the exact space above the pool on the floor below.

Importantly, in this space is a large glass window.

It could be supposed to be a door. That's what they're going to be using it as, anyway. Maki helps by unhooking the latch on the window and opening it up, standing on his tiptoes to lift it as high as he can. Jo thanks him and then pushes it the rest of the way. 

It doesn't create a huge opening, but it's large enough for the kids to fit through easily. Jo has to fold himself a little more, but despite his height he's not large. He slips himself through the space first. His feet land on the metal grid of the fire escape outside with a clang, and he has to force himself not to look directly down.

He already knows what he would see. The metal fire escape clearly hasn't been used in a while. The window had been pretty securely sealed, and the steps leading from floor to floor are tinted with orange rust and green moss. It shakes slightly with the wind. It doesn't even stretch down all the way to the ground - cutting off at the second floor, ending in spikes of twisted metal and a jump that's too far to risk.

It's still their best shot. 

Jo steadies himself. He tests its security against the wall by bouncing up and down a little, even if it makes his heart turn sickeningly in fear. Nothing happens. It moves, but not by a concerning amount. 

He nods to the kids, and then helps them one after the other. Harua squeezes his eyes closed as his feet hit the metal, refusing to look down. Maki is slightly worried as well - his confidence faltering when he looks at how far away the ground is.

But this is how they're going to escape, and it's too late for the plan to change now. 

Jo goes first as a way of proving safety to the kids, but they're never more than a couple of paces behind him. They move slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. They peer into every window they pass to check that the corridor is empty, before ducking down and keeping as hidden as they can. 

Jo's heart thunders in his chest the entire time. He's sure it's the same for Harua and Maki as well. All three of them have turned pale despite the sunshine. Harua's hand shakes where he's gripping the railing. Maki is smiling, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. And at every window, every hint of movement is dangerous, but also a sign that their plan might just work.

It doesn't seem like long at all before they're at the second floor window.

"It's locked," Maki whispers. Now they've stopped again, Harua has gone back to closing his eyes, determined not to look down at any chance he gets.

The window isn't open, that's for sure. But Jo had been prepared for this. When they'd made their plan, he'd gone and searched for anything that could be used in a similar way to a crowbar. Now, he slips the piece of metal under the rim of the window, where it connects to the wall. 

It's made to be opened, if it connects to the fire escape, even if it obviously hasn't been that way in a while.

"Maki," he says, "I might need your help with this."

Together, the two of them push down and forwards. At first, it doesn't seem like there's any effect on the window at all, and all their efforts to get this far will have been for nothing. Then there's the tiniest give. It doesn't make a sound, but suddenly there's about a centimetre of space created where the window opens.

Jo grins down at Maki, who gives him the exact same expression back. It's enough space to hook their fingers into and pull upwards, until this window is open as well. Jo pats Harua on the back wordlessly, and then lifts him up. Once he's felt the sill on his legs, he opens his eyes and pushes himself back inside the hotel. Then it's Maki's turn, and finally Jo himself passes his backpack through, then his body. 

Even though they weren't out on the fire escape for long, the ground still feels oddly solid beneath his feet. 

He raises his finger to his lips, but the kids are one step ahead of him and nod mutely in response. 

The hotel is quiet. He'd expected to hear footsteps or something, but the floor above is silent. The air is completely still, but as they head out into the corridor and towards the maintenance staircase, it isn't calm at all.

The door to every room on the floor is wide open. And inside, everything is destroyed.

Jo only pauses outside the first one. The bed has been torn up into pieces of foam and spring, every lightbulb reduced to glass on the floor. The drawers no longer sit inside their chests - instead sprawled across the carpet, reduced to splinters in some cases. The packets of biscuits that Harua likes so much haven't even been opened. Instead, they've been trodden into the ground in a display of waste.

Every other room is the same. Every door opens up to the same sight, propped open with the corner of a destroyed wardrobe or chair. It's all been deconstructed in a way that's deliberate. There are no hiding places within these rooms, and that's on purpose. 

Jo tries not to look after that. Instead, he focuses on keeping one foot in front of the other. He slows down until the kids are beside him instead of trailing behind, and he exhales every breath like it might be enough sound to ruin their entire plan.

In and out. Steady, controlled. One moment he's breathing in, the next it's drowned out by footsteps.

"Holy shit," a woman's voice says. "I knew I heard something. I knew it was worth checking."

Jo spins around. The world speeds up and slows down at the same time. There's a woman standing at the end of the corridor. One of the ones from the group, staring straight at them and grinning as if she's just won a million-dollar-prize. 

In the brief moment when they don't know what to do, she glances over her shoulder and shouts, "Hey! They're down here!"

And just like that, the tension - or whatever it was that had been holding them in place - breaks. It isn't over yet. It can't be over yet.

Jo almost trips over his own feet in his haste to move. He loses balance momentarily and has to clutch the wall to right himself properly. The kids are two steps ahead of him. He doesn't need to speak out loud to convey the most important instruction: that they need to run . They still know the plan. That isn't going to change. 

And so he starts running as well. His feet seem to protest and he almost trips over himself again. He pushes forwards despite it though and his heart races in his chest. Harua and Maki are running, Jo picks up speed beside them. The open doors and the destruction seems to mock them. He imagines the smile of the woman when she'd spotted them in every crack of the wall, and maybe that's why it takes him a couple of seconds to properly come back to his senses.

Maki is no longer beside him.

Jo is much faster than the children. They'd had a head-start and he'd still been catching up in his mind, but their legs are short. They're five and six years old respectively, of course he's faster than them. Of course it had barely taken any time before he'd overtaken them.

Every time they've had to run, he's kept part of his mind to focus on the fact that he can't leave them behind. It's not that difficult when they're in fields or roads - the open spaces make it easier to watch them from the corner of his eye.

He doesn't realise that Maki is gone until he's already been left behind and there's too much distance between them.

"Jo!"

Jo spins on his heel again, but this time he doesn't lose balance. Instead of the kids being right beside him like he'd expected, Maki is several metres down the corridor. His wrist is caught by one of the women from the group. She's holding it so tightly that she's pulling him off the ground. Maki's shoes don't even grace the floor as he struggles, desperately trying to use his fingers to pry away her grip.

And she's pulling him further away. She holds Maki up and she steps backwards with shadows over her eyes, backing away to create more distance between them. 

Harua is between Maki and Jo. He's frozen in horror. Not sure whether to keep running or to go back and try to help Maki. Instead he's standing with his feet still in position, face screwed up in a way that Jo's never seen before, the immeasurable horror of the situation clear in his eyes.

"You're not getting away!" The woman says. There are feet behind her. The group may be split up and it's unlikely that all five of them will be at the other end of the corridor, but even just the arrival of one more has the potential to upturn the situation.

What is Jo supposed to do?

His eyes flicker up. He takes a step forward to try and get closer to Harua, but his feet don't want to move and he ends up just jerking between the two positions like he can't make his mind up. He glances between the woman and Maki, and for one awful second, their eyes meet.

Maki is terrified . That's what his expression is saying. It's saying that he's five years old and he's already been through more than he should have in his entire life. When he makes eye contact with Jo, everything is screaming that he wants to ask for help. His lip quivers as he dangles there, even as he says "Run!"

It's the same self-sacrifice that Fuma had made. The kids should never have had to witness that, they never should have to think that this is a decision they'll have to make - that their lives can be traded away in exchange for someone else's freedom.

Harua is almost sobbing in front of him. He's not actually crying, but his chest heaves like there's something about to burst free. His tiny hands are buried in his hair. It's a small miracle that when he stumbles it's towards Jo and not in the other direction.

And Jo can't breathe.

Maki may be imitating Fuma, but that's not the scene that plays out inside of Jo's mind.

Instead, it's much earlier in the year. There's the weight of a camera safe in a bag against his side, and a light breeze ruffling his hair. A courtyard stretches out in front of him. The torii gate is in the distance. There's no blood on the ground yet, but there will be soon, and Jo watches as the cold grey metal of a gun is waved in the air.

He can hear shouting. They were arguing. But even above the noise he swears he can hear his mother saying his name.

When was the last time he thought of a quiet death?

Every bone in his body tells him to run. This isn't a fight he has to win. It's not even one that he's likely to win. His racing mind tells him that this doesn't have to be the end - that he can leave and come back, that he can bide his time until he has a better chance.

There's no way he's winning now. He's not strong in that sort of way, it's better for the kids if he leaves and comes back with a plan. Something that at least has a chance of working.

Harua could follow. It's only Maki that he'd be leaving behind - and Maki had told him to run. His mother calls him Jojo a thousand times over in his mind. It all bleeds together, overpowered by the thunderous noise of his heart and the fact that he no longer feels like he can breathe.

Every thought in his mind passes in the blink of an eye. He sees the courtyard and the blood and the snap-crack of a gunshot ringing in his ears, but he's already moving despite the fact that he can't see his own surroundings. The corridor seems impossibly tight. The walls press in closer. There might still be footsteps approaching but Jo can't hear them.

He runs.

Except this time he isn't running away, this time he isn't leaving anyone behind. This time, he runs forwards .

He charges straight towards the woman holding Maki. Her eyes widen. She isn't expecting it. He'd seemed conflicted a few moments ago, or she'd assumed she could use Maki's situation with enough time to stall. It would be the perfect opportunity to threaten them, attempt to get some leverage. Nothing Jo has done before this has been reckless.

And yet here he is, running without a single second thought.

They'd seemed so far away before, but sprinting means he covers the distance in only a few seconds. He doesn't even slow himself down before he reaches them. Instead he collides. With her hands still gripping Maki's wrist, the woman can't even raise her arms to protect herself.

All three of them are sent flying. Jo may be tall but he's also willowy, and the only reason they're knocked so far is because of the pure speed and determination in his movements. The moment of connection sends pain down the shoulder he'd turned towards the lady. His chin connects with her skull with a sickening click. Their feet tangle together, and they all stumble backwards.

The woman drops Maki.

It's instinct. She needs her hands to regain balance and to push Jo away, so she lets go. Maki crumples to the floor, sent out to the side, but Jo's feet are still moving and the two remaining are carried further - to the end of the corridor.

In fact, they're not just moving. The end of the corridor approaches and they're bursting through the double doors in front of the staircase. They'd been propped open at some point. Jo can barely see where he's moving - the woman blocks his view, her hands now attempting to push him away, but he's still trying to slow down and it doesn't seem to be working.

They're only a few metres away from Maki still when it happens.

The doors to the staircase are open. That's the only reason why Jo finally comes to a stop - even though he's been trying since the moment he was sure Maki had been let go, it's only now that his feet finally freeze in place again. He's so caught up in the actions in his head that he can barely recognise their surroundings.

He pushes the lady away. She tries to grab back onto him, but Jo is faster and he pulls away. He's never been strong before, but something about the situation has his veins filled with adrenaline. When he pushes her, it's stronger than expected.

She stumbles.

The stairs are behind her. Jo sees the exact moment that her foot goes out only to find that there's no longer ground beneath where she'd expected it to be. Then she's falling out of his view. Falling down the stairs with a crack.

There's someone running up - the source of the footsteps he'd been hearing. But Jo is already turning away to get back to the kids. He only distantly recognises that the woman has already hit the ground, that she'd just lying there instead of getting back up, and that instead of chasing the man has crouched down by her side.

He doesn't stay any longer than that.

He's already turning on his heel. Nausea threatens to rise with a sick twist of his stomach, but he's no longer looking and his body is now running in the opposite direction. The kids are in the hallway. He grabs Maki's hand as he passes him.

His grip is probably too tight. If he was more present in his own head, he'd realise that he's pulling Maki behind him slightly, squeezing his hand with more force than what's realistically needed. But his mind is floating with a rush of adrenaline.

"Harua," he says, having to fight back a gag, and then he's using his other hand to grab him.

This is their opportunity. It won't come again. If he has- his stomach threatens to protest again - if he has killed that woman, they won't be given another chance to escape in the future. There won't be any more games played.

The maintenance staircase on the other side of the hotel is abandoned. Jo lets go of Maki and Harua's hands so that they can stumble down as fast as their legs take them. There's a chest of drawers pushed in front of the doors when they finally reach the ground floor. It's obviously there in an attempt to slow them down if needed.

Jo doesn't even attempt to move it. The doors swing open both ways, so they simply climb over the wooden top and slide through. Then they're back in the main body of the hotel, running like they're still being chased even though there's no one behind them, right until they reach a fire door.

It's good enough.

The seal has tightened from underuse, and Jo's already-sore shoulder protests as he pushes his weight against it. Whatever rush of adrenaline had given him the strength to move so quickly earlier is beginning to fade, but he swallows down his beating heart and forces it open anyway.

Maki's cheeks are damp. His wrist is bright red in a way that Jo knows will leave hand-shaped bruises later. Harua is shaking.

But they spill out into the world outside and don't stop running until they've hit the treeline. This time, Jo is sure that no one follows. 

---

K starts running, and it feels nothing like the beginning of a race.

His mouth is sour with acceptance instead of anticipation. His trainers are so well-worn that the soles are completely flat. Normally his mind is clear with single-minded focus, but right now he can't stop jumping from thought to thought, overrun with worry. He hasn't stretched and his heart is hammering in his chest before he's even started moving. 

A few months ago, he would have been completely confident in his ability to outrun anything he was up against. That confidence is nowhere to be seen. He's still certain he could outrun anyone on foot, but the danger of what he's leaving behind twists his stomach. Any wrong step could overturn the entire plan.

There's always a pressure to win. That, at least, has not changed. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots the slow lazy movement of a car. Just like Taki had said, it's battered and with only two people inside. He's not moving slowly enough to get a good look at either of their faces, but his goal is complete: they've spotted him as well. 

The engine comes to a spluttering halt. An interesting move. He'd assumed they'd follow him in the car for as long as they could, only risking leaving it behind when he tried to head down an alley too small for the vehicle to fit through. But he hears car doors slamming behind him and it appears that he'd assumed wrong. 

They're following on foot. That is enough to make him smile slightly, even if it doesn't look like his expression changes at all. He'll easily be able to outrun them. 

He picks up pace. 

Moving from jogging to a 'panicked' run comes easily. He glances over his shoulder messily and varies his pace like he's struggling, to make the act seem real. His breathing stays completely stable as he draws them further away from the shelter. They're heading in the opposite direction to where everyone else is escaping. It's already been five minutes, and the plan is working perfectly.

He doesn't think about what it feels like to leave them behind. Leave Taki behind. 

He focuses on putting one foot in front of the other instead. It doesn't quite clear his mind, but it's close enough, and he fills his thoughts with weaving a route between crashed cars and building rubble instead. 

It doesn't feel good, but he can't let this happen again. Even if it means he'll be facing the world alone, right back to how he was before he met Taki and his life regained colour, it'll be worth it. Just as long as they're safe. 

His heart isn't beating so loudly that he can't hear footsteps behind him. The two soldiers are keeping pace better than expected, but they're running with the intent of a short foot race rather than a marathon. K shines when it comes to long-distance. They can keep up while wasting their energy if they like, but there's a reason why he isn't running as fast as he could.

He glances over his shoulder again. With this speed, the world is blurry. It's more for show than anything else. 

He's already looking back ahead, not about to make the rookie mistake of keeping his eyes off the track in front of him, when he hears it.

"Yudai?"

And-

There's nothing nice about the tone that speaks his name - his actual name. It's shocked but it isn't kind. There's a sneer to the edge, a lilt that takes him completely off guard, and the syllables are spoken with such cocky malice that his body momentarily freezes up.

For the first time in years, K trips.

It isn't like he's falling in slow motion.

K is running and then he's plummeting towards the ground, so quickly that he could almost blame the movement on the sensation of falling in his stomach. 

It isn't a small trip. It's not something he can pick himself back up from. He stumbles like his legs no longer know how to take another step forwards, and ends up catapulting towards the ground. His hands skim the road in a burst of pain. It stops him from flipping over with the force of how fast he'd been running, but it knocks the air out of his lungs and he's left sprawled on the ground. Reeling from the impact, sure, but the shock of hearing his name echoes in his mind. 

"It is you, isn't it!"

The same patronising tone seeps into the way the woman speaks. There are footsteps slowing down, and K can still barely push himself up by the time they're surrounding him. He's on the ground but it still feels like he's falling. His mind is suddenly so lightheaded that Yudai is all he can hear on repeat.

"Holy shit," the lady says. She's holding a knife. K doesn't look up at her face. It's inevitable, but for a few short moments he wants to put it off for as long as he can. He doesn't want to confirm it. He wants to live in ignorance for a few more seconds.

When he raises his chin, the knife is so close that it kisses the skin of his neck. There's no sting of a cut. She holds the blade like it's an extension of her body. He won't bleed unless she wants him to bleed - and she hasn't kicked him like a dog yet. The fight will come after she's torn him to pieces. 

Except K doesn't look up straight away, and because of that, his eyes fall upon a space between two buildings at the corner of the road. 

He must have hit his head when he tripped.

That's the only explanation for why he swears he sees Taki for a second. 

Chapter Text

The earthquake hits when K is running.

Of course he's running. He's preparing for a marathon and that fact is enough to control his actions, but the feeling of his feet against the road also clears his mind like nothing else. The wind whistles through the trees. It's a warm day and there's sweat prickling the back of his neck. He focuses on his breathing and the way his arms swing by his side, the satisfying burn of his muscles.

Then the ground starts to move, and K gets down. He throws himself to a grass bank by the side of the road and curls into a ball. His arms go up to protect his head. The feeling of coming to such a sudden stop makes his legs cramp, but he barely notices with how the world shakes.

It's like nothing he's ever felt before.

The ground itself is protesting. He can hear the actual snap of trees in the distance, a car alarm and the sickening crunch of metal from further down the road. The dirt seems to fall to pieces beneath his knees. He's no longer even on his knees, body thrown further across the grass despite already being down. It knocks the breath from his lungs. His arm aches where he hit the ground, and the world still hasn't stopped moving. 

It stills eventually. K picks himself back up.

His heart is racing, and no longer from the run. That's the largest earthquake he's ever felt. His phone alarm didn't even go off beforehand, and checking the screen as he gets back to his feet shows him that it still has battery. There's no service though. He's not that far from town, there really should be a connection, but the symbol remains missing and it feels like a sign of what's to come.

His arm still aches as he starts to run back home. He isn't even halfway through his planned training, but the marathon is the last thing on his mind. 

It turns out that his town isn't too badly hit.

A few houses have collapsed. Volunteers have already gathered to dig people out of the rubble, cotton tied over their mouths to protect from the dust that's beginning to settle, crowds helping those injured into seats. The water lines have been damaged - probably broken with the force of the ground moving - so bottles are passed around instead.

Something in K's stomach doesn't sit right. He picks his way through the crowd and looks away when they pull someone from the rubble that isn't moving. Someone in the distance is crying. The ground is cluttered with branches snapped from trees and belongings thrown out from windows of houses. He passes a crashed car and there's someone slumped over in the front seat.

There's no one around. Or at least, no one around that has noticed. K calls over someone who looks like they know what they're doing - at least more than him - and is already running away by the time they can see a head wound bleeding onto the steering wheel.

He wants to sprint. Every moment where he's forced to delay by stepping around people pouring into the streets is another second where he has to jog. It feels like an age before he's made it onto his own street, and finally he can run as fast as he can up the short hill that leads to his house.

His mother is standing in the doorway. She has her back turned and she's clutching her phone to her ear, shifting her weight from foot to foot like she can't bear to stand still. Her free hand curls into the fabric of her trousers, clenching and unclenching in time with her anxious shuffling.

"Mom," K calls. She's okay, the house appears to still be standing. The remnants of the earthquake cling to the cracks in the walls and the upended shelves visible in the hall behind her, but she turns and her face lights up.

"Yudai," she says as the phone falls limp in her hand and her face lights up.

He flies into her arms like he'd never been away, and it feels like they've gone through the worst of it already.

Except they haven't. K has lived through earthquakes before - of course he has. They've never been that large before though, and when things still don't return to normal by the next morning, the odd feeling in his chest begins to take shape into something more tangible.

His father works in a nearby city and doesn't return that night. The phone lines are still down and their mobiles have no service, so there's no way to contact him. Someone from town heads a few miles up the train lines and reports back that they're in no condition to send any vehicles. The track is just as fractured as the ground. Even the stationary carriages nearby have been overturned.

The electricity also disappears. The signal on the television is grainy and shows nothing but a repeating emergency message, before ultimately disappearing for good. K hopes that he's okay. The roads are full of vehicles for a few hours, but it calms down when people begin to realise there's no point. 

Debris makes them impassable. Everyone else with the same idea clog up the lanes. There are still cars crashed from when the earthquake initially hit, and so K simply waits for any change to reach them first, rather than going to seek it out.

His brother returns from school. He's shaken up but okay. He's only eleven, not quite old enough to attend a larger school in the city just yet, and the classrooms in their town were as unharmed as most other buildings. He's even been assigned homework to finish his lessons for the day. Even at the time, K remembers thinking how odd that seems, when by the next morning school is cancelled and it doesn't come as a surprise. 

The military evacuates.

He doesn't realise it at the time, but this is where everything is set into motion. 

Three days after the earthquake and K hears about a team beginning to form nearby. He's always known about the military base a few hours walk away, but from what he knows, it's been functionally abandoned for years already. There are a few soldiers stationed to prevent citizens from exploring and coming across anything dangerous, but nothing on a scale that could be dangerous.

A group of people are beginning to transform it, apparently. Despite the lack of personnel, the remains of the base still contain useful supplies. They're looking for able-bodied people to help expand at first. The news ripples through their town like the waves of the earthquake, and K finds himself walking towards the compound with his family's hands pushing him to go help. 

And they are helping.

Or so it seems.

It may have only been a few days, but the complete lack of communication and aid delivery already has people whispering about the future. K and his mother exchange glances when his brother can't see. The unrest pulls at the threads of what's keeping their town held together. With no news soon, hope will begin to waver and riots will break out. It's likely they already have in the cities.

The compound is also aware of this. When K arrives, they barely need to test him physically before granting him acceptance. There isn't a marathon anymore, but K is still in good shape and much faster than anyone else. He's given the same pseudo-military uniform as they all wear and told to help distribute long-lasting food between storage units.

It doesn't seem like much, but it's helping. There's organisation. His clothes itch his skin, but he focuses on the work and what he can do, and when the walk home is too long for the lateness of the night, he's offered a place to stay. 

He pretends he doesn't see the weapons strapped to the legs of the people in charge. It is a military base, after all. Firearms could prove useful for control if disorder breaks out - even if only to fire into the air as a warning. 

The next morning, he's given more tasks. 

His mother and brother are in the back of his mind. They're waiting for him at home. Just like they're waiting for his father, who they're beginning to lose hope for with the trail of smoke above the city in the distance, K should return. 

Realistically, the delay on aid won't last longer than a few weeks. There'll be panic once the perishables begin to expire, but they won't be in any actual danger. It's more important to get first aid to those that need it, start helping to rebuild shelter and rescue anyone still trapped in the rubble. There are counts of people that need to be taken, medical supplies to be transported, food to be rationed. 

They'll understand, K thinks. Deep down, he knows it's true. His mother had been the one to push him towards this role, even though it's K who'd brought it up in the first place. She wouldn't mind him staying. He pictures his brother pouting at his disappearance, but he'll get over it. They have years ahead of them - and the people K's helping now have lost everything.

Their house wasn't badly damaged. It isn't at risk of falling down, and they have enough preserved food to last them out if they're careful. With K absent, it's one less mouth to feed. 

It doesn't help that this is repeated by his supervising officers. He mentions his mother and they talk about how proud she'll be with his contribution to rebuilding society. He thinks of his brother during a moment of rest, and is immediately called to help clear out another building.

There's barbed wire around the edge of the compound. 

K works, and he works hard. A week passes, and the riots hit nearby towns. Injured people turn up at the doors of the compound begging for medical aid. They're taken inside as K helps patrol the fence. They're tasked with keeping the perimeter clear of any leaf litter and debris - a sign that the compound is completely in control, a semblance of normality amongst everything else slipping away. 

The day slips into night again. The dawn breaks and fades to dusk. 

Something isn't right.

Some of the people seeking medical attention don't reappear. At first, he thinks their wounds are simply too severe to recover from, but something tugs at the back of his brain until he starts questioning that assumption. The barbed wire is painfully well-maintained.

He thinks they should be accepting everyone who is able to help. But he watches the crowds beginning to form and he notices that there's a clear divide between those wearing the uniform and those without. He notices more weapons attached to the hips of the soldiers, and he realises it's always those with a hard look in their eyes.

Maybe the compound was originally set up to help. But it's been over a week by now, there's no sign of any aid arriving, and even if no one says anything - it's obvious that the world as they knew it has morphed into something more cruel.

That morning, he's called to a meeting. A fellow officer pats him on the back and gestures with barely-held secrecy to his gun. It isn't a threat. "Congratulations, Yudai," he says. The twist of K's name in his mouth makes him want to throw up. 

So he doesn't go to the meeting. That morning, when the sun is just beginning to rise and the heat of the summer's day hasn't yet hit, he slips right out of the fence and the barbed wire. He runs like he hasn't since the earthquake. He makes his way back to his home, and he stops in his tracks. 

It-

His-

It definitely doesn't count as a mountain, but the houses in his town are on a slope. They're set into the grass with an incline. Every road leads with a tilt beneath your shoes, and though K's house isn't at the very top, he's well prepared to run up the hill every time he returns from training.

Except the town is missing. 

The hill is gone. The ground is freshly upturned soil and dirt and rubble and the roofs of buildings he'd grown up only just visible from the debris. There hasn't been much rain but the ground sinks beneath his feet when he tries to climb the path he's climbed so many times before. 

He doesn't need to reach his house to know. It's gone. Buried beneath a landslide set in motion by the earthquake. The soil is thick and heavy and the weight of the day presses down to trap everything below.

K's heart stops. He feels like he can't breathe. He's run too fast and his lungs are protesting, seizing up until he's choking for no reason around the very fact that his body refuses to act.

There are a couple of tents set up nearby. They're made from tattered and stained bedsheets, fluttering in the slight breeze. The sound of a child crying carries in the air. A woman is crying beside him. Their sorrow leeches out into the ground of the buried town, joined by everyone trapped beneath the hill they'd lived beside. 

K doesn't know how long it's been, but there is no rescue effort. It must have happened days ago. The dust has long since settled, the world has kept turning without him even realising.

An old man looks up as he approaches. He's not running, but every footstep is impossibly heavy. There are weights tied to his sneakers like he's attempting to wade through the mud only a few metres away.

"Yudai," he says. There is unspoken grief in his voice. There are only fifteen people near the group of tents, the only sign of movement in the flat field in front of the town. He knows the man as the person delivering the mail, even in his old age. He knows he has a daughter who cares for him. She is not visible in the fifteen remaining.

K can barely choke out the question burning a hole in his mouth. It tastes odd when he spits around the syllables. Something aged that gets between his teeth and coats his gums. Like rubbing earth into every corner of his mouth and getting the sour metallic sting of iron as it fills his throat.

"Are they-" he says, and the dirt gets thicker, "Did they- evacuation-"

It's not a question. It's a series of words. They're barely even connected, but the outstretched hands of the old man's grief tells him what he needs to know despite it all. 

He shakes his head slowly. It says everything that his hesitation doesn't. "There was no evacuation," he says. His voice is thick, filled with the same dirt that chokes K's throat. "We didn't know until it was too late. The earth was too fast. It took them so quickly."

"My family-" K chokes out.

"I heard you went to help elsewhere. You have a kind heart. I think they would be proud of you - Yudai, you mustn't blame yourself for acts of gods."

"What happened to them."

The old man pauses. "The dirt came from the mountain. They would have been some of the first to be lost. We... heard nothing. We thought they must have gone with you. We didn't check until it was too late, and-" his voice catches in his throat as the taste of metal gets stronger, "There were too few of us. There was nothing that could be done for anyone."

How many people had stayed in town after the earthquake? So many lives had been lost.

K hadn't realised he'd come to terms with his father's passing until this moment, and the grief for all three members of his family hits him with a force he can't put into words. The sky is blue and the morning is warm, but he swears he's never felt colder.

He should have been there. He should have dug them out himself, dirt under his nails and he would have been fast enough to save them. He should have kept the town running by helping here , and then the presence of his mother and brother wouldn't have been something that could just be... missed.

It's his fault. 

He should have come back earlier.

The feeling forces him to swallow a gasp of empty air. There is no pity in the old man's eyes. There is a deep understanding instead, the gaze of someone who has also lost everything he considered dear. It's numb to the tips of his fingers and a dizzying spell that almost makes him lose balance. It's a shape carved into his chest that he can feel the rough edges, and it's an agony that won't hit him for days to come. 

"Mother," he says, barely more than a whisper. It is not her standing in front of him, instead the old man, but he already knows deep down that he can never return to this place, "Niki. I'm sorry."

He walks until he's standing at the boundary of flat field and everything overturned, and his shoes sink into the soil. It stains his knees when he drops to the ground. There is no way to safely climb to the place where his house is buried, so this has to do.

K leans down and presses a kiss to the earth.

It tastes like he expects: soil and metal. Blood and the barrel of a gun strapped to a soldier's leg. The ground filling his mouth and returning him to the world.

Then he stands.

It is not enough to bring them back. It is not enough to return when he should have, to join them under the ground or to watch their eyes light up as he pushes open the front door one last time.

He does not say another word. He leaves the town, the memory of a mother and a brother that he failed, and his name behind. 

----

K blinks. Whatever it was that had looked like Taki has disappeared in an instant. His vision swims slightly and his palms are warm. When he glances down at them, there are spots of blood in an angry raised pattern. Pieces of gravel are stuck to his skin and fall off when he lifts his hands up. 

It doesn't hurt that much. There's a dull sting but the real pain is yet to hit. K wonders whether the adrenaline of running is still coursing through his veins, or whether the change in his situation is causing everything to numb down to nothing. 

He's shaking.

He doesn't shake. He stands tall and he doesn't let anything faze him. He keeps his shoulders steady. Even if he gets angry, there's still a degree of control to his actions. There are only a few people that have seen him without the layer of confidence plastered over his every waking moment, and at this point he's sure they're all dead.

But there's nothing else to describe what this shaking is. His hands quiver where he holds them up in the air even if his chest stays painfully still. He can't pull his eyes away from the spot where he still swears he'd seen movement, because that gives a few more moments where he doesn't have to look up.

K doesn't get scared, but there's something alive in the space between his ribs. It's the only description he can put to this feeling.

"It is you," repeats the woman. Her voice is low and cruel. There's a steely coldness to her tone, a degree of distance from whoever she is in relation to him. "We all assumed you'd fucked off and died in a hole somewhere. But no."

Finally, K looks up.

He isn't surprised when he doesn't recognise her. She must be somewhere between 25 and 30 years old, her face displaying age but without any of the lines to prove it. A few strands of dark hair have slipped free from her ponytail. When they meet eyes neither of them flinch, but there's an exchange of silent understanding that's almost worse. 

There's a knife in her hand, and she clearly knows how to use it. K can recognise the ease with which she holds it. She doesn't need fancy tricks with the way her fingers are wrapped around the hilt. The blade catches the light beginning to peek between the clouds above them. 

He doesn't recognise her silent companion either. He's a man of a similar age, with a pretty face, long eyelashes and short-cropped hair. The same cruel tone to the woman's voice echoes in the twist of his lip, souring what could have been idol-worthy features. He's folding his arms. But there's a gun tucked in a holster fastened to his leg, and K isn't foolish enough to write him off as not a threat. 

K stays silent. 

"It doesn't make much of a difference," the woman continues. She glances at the man at her side quickly, "What do you think? Do we kill him, or do we take him back to base?"

K can't stand up. He gets the feeling that any sudden movement will end up with a knife embedded in his back or a bullet in his skull. The way the woman is talking says that she's dangerous - not just because of the weapon in her hand, but because of the complete lack of care in her tone. 

They can't have called for back-up. Otherwise she wouldn't be asking what to do with him in that tone. If they were acting on orders from someone else, there wouldn't need to be discussion. He tries to look them up and down as subtly as he can. It doesn't appear like they even have radios on them. Maybe they left them behind in the vehicle in their haste to catch up to him.

"He's fast," the man says, sniffing noncommittally. He doesn't give any more hints as to which decision his answer is supposed to imply. 

The woman rolls her eyes. It looks like it's more for show though, since there's barely a second after the movement before she turns back to K. The corner of her mouth quirks into a cruel smile. There's barely concealed glee in the way her eyes have disappeared into half-moons. 

"You're right," she purrs. "We don't take traitors back. Not even the compound takes people that turn-tail because of their own pathetic weakness. I think that the dirt really would have been a kinder end."

K can no longer feel the grazing of his palms. He bends his fingers until his nails dig into his palms and the sting of pain tightens up his chest. He matches the woman who he doesn't recognise with a cold stare, because she clearly knows what he did even if he doesn't have a name to put to her face.

"Fuck you," he chokes out, even though he's cornered on the ground with no chance of getting away. 

She speaks like he should regret it. And he does - but not the part that she's talking about, just everything leading up to that moment instead. That sick confidence that coloured his actions and his mistakes all the same. The crumbling of the naivety that had cost his family their lives. 

It hadn't been weakness. How dare she suggest it was weakness.  

"How funny," she says. She's not laughing. Her smile hasn't disappeared though, instead morphing into something more cruel, more sharp and more deadly than before. "We can make sure you're dead this time, at least. Cut that pathetic spine out of you and then leave you to bleed out. It's not like there's anyone left to miss you."

It's supposed to hurt. It does, but not in the way she means it.

It hurts because K does have people that will miss him. Fuma, even though they've had their moments, because there's a silent respect between them that means more than their superficial arguments ever could. Euijoo, Nicholas and Yuma - who he barely knew, but had met his eyes when he'd declared he'd risk his life to get them out of the town safely.

Taki. 

Taki who means more than words, and anything that K can attempt to divide into something other than love. The little brother he'd come across in the ruins of the world. 

"Hey!

And maybe K had made a mistake. It's nothing like before. The house isn't burning even if he swears he can still smell smoke. He's not alone - and he doesn't count the two soldiers standing either side of him - but because he'd assumed that he would let him roll over and take the hit. 

"You have no idea what you're talking about!"

The glimpse of movement he'd seen earlier comes back to haunt him. It's not the wind pulling at a sheet of loose plastic. A figure is standing across the road from them. Taki's eyes burn bright in the rays of light cast from the gaps in the clouds. His shoulders are set. He shouldn't be here - K's heart drops, but somewhere deep inside he knows that he isn't surprised at this outcome.

Taki wasn't going to let K go alone.

He's a stupid kid. He should have taken the chance to get away, he should have been safe at the other side of town by now. He's a fool if he thinks he can take on this fight. This is nothing to do with him. Taki is an idiot for being here in the first place, for throwing away his chance of escape in favour of chasing down K's reckless sacrifice. 

K loves him more than he can put into words.

Chapter Text

The sun rises, and there isn't a pressure in Jo's chest.

They're sheltering in the remnants of a shed. The house it is likely supposed to be attached to has completely collapsed. Maki had climbed on top of the rubble and declared that he was now the tallest member of the group. He'd wobbled a little as he scaled what had once been a wall. But Jo had watched without saying anything. Letting Maki and Harua play was the least he could do.

Instead of the house, they'd found a wooden lean-to nearby. The weather had been kind to the boards of the roof, as it didn't look like any tears had damaged the tiles enough to let rain leak through. As such, the inside was dry. Wind whistled through the space underneath the door, but then they'd just shuffled closer to each other in the night. 

Now, Jo can see sunlight streaming through that same gap. The kids begin to wake up at the same time as him, blinking sleepily and rubbing their eyes with their hands. Jo pulls his knees to his chest and lets Harua snuggle into his chest. Maki yawns so widely that his mouth takes up most of his face.

His jaw clicks audibly, and Maki looks so surprised that Jo can't help but laugh. Still pressed up in his lap, Harua wrinkles his nose in protest. "Sorry," Jo tells him, trying to keep his body as still as possible, and petting his hair soothingly as an apology.

Harua won't stay asleep for too long, no matter what Jo does. He might get a couple more minutes of peace. But Maki is well and truly awake now, and soon Harua will be won over by the curiosity of the morning and their new location.

Even now, Maki pulls on a new set of clothes with such excitement that he almost topples straight into one of the walls when he tries to lace his shoes. He keeps standing on one leg to pull his foot closer. Except his balance isn't good enough to maintain the position and he keeps falling over, only getting half-way through a bow before he has to drop his leg and start all over again.

It doesn't keep him from trying. Jo's eyes adjust to the light and he smiles at Maki sticking his tongue out in concentration. 

It's sweet. It's peaceful, in a way the past week hasn't been. The pressure in his chest that he hadn't even realised was there - the lingering fear that he'd lose the kids, the stress from being constantly in danger - is gone. 

His head is clear. The air may still be warm and slightly sticky from the rainstorms, but it's crisp when it fills his lungs. 

Harua and Maki can feel it too. They're laughing more, playing up in a way that they hadn't in the hotel. It's nice that they've got a supply of food and water that can last a week or two. There are no pressing worries in the corner of their minds. It's enough to simply... exist.

Relax. Be children, because Jo is starting to realise that he's doing the best he can, but that this shouldn't be a position he should have ever found himself in. 

They're all acting a little younger than normal. Now that they're free from being forced to act like adults, Jo can feel the urge to stay inside and sketch all day, even if it's not the responsible action to take. 

"Come over here," he tells Maki, when Harua is finally sitting up with an appalling bed-head and no progress has been made on the shoelaces. Maki looks over. He gives Jo a screwed up face of protest, but then hops over anyway and extends his shoes with his feet pointed slightly inwards.

"I'll do one," Jo tells him, gently. His voice is quiet again. He feels safe enough to be quiet. "You watch. If you crouch down, it will be easier, and then you can have a go at doing the other."

When they find another pair of shoes for Maki, since he's going through this pair at an impressive speed, Jo hopes that they're velcro. He's done up more pairs of kids' laces at this point than he ever thought he would. His attempts to teach them to do it themselves have only been half-successful, as seen by Maki's mad hopping. 

"I know how to do it myself," Maki huffs. But he watches Jo eagerly anyway. Once one shoe is done he attempts to copy it onto the other side, clumsily fumbling with the laces until it's more of a knot than a bow.

Close enough.

"Good job," Jo tells him softly, and it's worth it for the way that Maki beams in pride.

He jumps over to the door and hangs off one of the shelves, kicking his feet into the air. It's obvious what he wants - for Jo to say he's allowed to unlock the shed and go outside - but he won't say it. Jo lets him hang there impatiently for a few moments. 

In his lap, Harua looks like he's still trying to battle off sleep. His eyes are puffy and there are lines from the fabric of Jo's shirt etched into his cheek. Half of his hair is standing upright, not helped from the fact that Jo was petting it earlier. 

"You look silly," Maki comments, lashing out because he's bored.

Harua twists around to face him. Jo can't see the expression that he sends him, but it must be pretty effective. Maki humphs in response and goes back to lifting his body into the air and tracing the tips of his feet across the ground, sulking. 

" 'm not silly," Harua informs Jo as he turns back. It appears to have woken him up though. His eyes are more open than they'd been a few minutes ago. He grumpily reaches up to his hair and tries to flatten it down against his head. 

It half works. Jo thinks they're all slightly overdue for a shower. They hadn't bathed whilst in the hotel. Their only options had been the green pool and the rusted brown water that trickled from the taps when turned on. They're coated in the grime from the floor of the shed and the dust of the hotel rooms. 

Jo had collected a few of the travel-size shampoos and conditioners from the bathrooms though, so he'll get the kids to wash properly when they next come across a stream. 

With all three of them awake, they might as well get a start on the morning. The kids have limited energy to keep going for long distances. Jo isn't worried about how long they're taking, but it's nice to still make progress even when he's decided they're going to relax for a few days.

"You can open the door," he tells Maki, when the five-year-old starts kicking the wall out of boredom. It immediately perks him up. "As long as you don't go far."

Maki grins. "Got it!"

Jo hesitates, "That means no climbing on anything that could collapse," he attempts to clarify. But Maki has already deftly undone the lock on the door and is skipping out into the morning.

The grass is wild and untamed. Despite the dry summer, a complete lack of human care is already beginning to show in the world around them. Plants are beginning to creep through the cracks in houses. Moss forms over piles of rubble, encouraged by the recent damp weather. The leaves on the trees are beginning to turn spotted yellow in parts, but wildflowers and weeds thrive in overgrown patches of lawn. 

Maki has to wade through the greenery to get close to the ruins of the house again. He doesn't climb on it, thankfully, but instead pokes around in the dust. Looking for who-knows-what. Even though he's spent so long with them, Jo still has no idea what goes on in the kids' minds. 

Beside him, Harua yawns. He stretches out and touches his toes with a look of impressive concentration. Maki yells that he's found a bug outside, and Harua ignores him.

He lets Jo gently move him out of the way and onto the floor of the shed, curling his legs sleepily into his body. Jo starts packing up their blankets back into their bags and Harua watches. 

"I want," he says.

"Want what?"

Harua blinks like it should be obvious. "I wanna film," he says. "We're out of the hotel."

His tone of voice is so ' duh, obviously ," that for a moment Jo almost doesn't question it. He watches Harua make expectant grabby hands and waits for the penny to drop. It doesn't.

"Uh," he says. Something in his heart is still a little selfish when it comes to the camera. The kids both know how important it is to him, and they'd never dream of being anything but careful with it. But it's still all that remains of his home by the shrine and the wishes of his father. He can't help being a little protective. 

"We're not in the hotel any more," Harua says again, this time voice faltering a little. 

"I know that. But why do you want the camera?"

Harua tilts his head to the side. He looks like some sort of cute animal. "Because..." his voice trails off, getting quieter as he speaks, "We're not in the hotel? Um, and you're filmin'. But you were filmin' in the hotel and not that we escaped. So anyone watching wouldn't know."

They'd... paid attention to that? He'd told both Harua and Maki the reason he was filming, the task left to him to document what happened to Japan after the earthquake, but he hadn't expected them to understand it. 

Yet here Harua is, with a better memory than Jo himself. 

Without thinking, Jo lifts the camera bag from around his chest and passes it to Harua, who sets it on the floor. He unzips it so slowly that it's almost painful, and when he takes the camera out, he handles it so gently that Jo's heart stutters.

"I know how to press the on button," Harua tells him, which probably means he doesn't know how to press the on button.

Jo is just leaning over to teach him when Maki comes skidding back into the room. His face is rosy with the exertion of running but his eyes sparkle and he's so excited that he speaks around his desperate attempt to catch his breath.

His words come out in such broken syllables that Jo doesn't catch what he's trying to say at all. He waits until Maki is done and then softly asks him to repeat himself.

"Bikes!" Maki says. "There's another shed at the back. And I got the door open by pulling it really hard, and there were bikes in there! There are two really big ones and only one small one, but that's fine!"

He puffs out his chest like he's suggesting that he'll be able to ride the adult-sized bike. 

Harua gets there first. "You won't be able to reach the pedals," he says, with complete sincerity. The fact that Maki only deflates and doesn't protest means that he already knows. 

"Come on," Jo says, before Harua can continue to point out all the ways that Maki is wrong. He gets to his feet and extends a hand to Harua, who carefully takes it and pulls himself up. They're both still wearing what they slept in, but at this point there isn't much difference between these and their other clothes. "Let's go and see."

Maki beams. He's practically vibrating with excitement as he takes Jo's other hand and pulls him to the back of the shed. There is a second covering here. It must have been dark enough the night before that they hadn't noticed.

True to his word, the door also looks like it's been pulled open. Inside are three bikes. Two are for adults, like Maki had said, though one has a flat tyre at the back. Jo steps forward to untangle them and Harua fumbles with the camera buttons until the recording light comes on. Maki helps him lift it outside, where they lean it against the wall of the shed.

"This is so cool ," Maki says. "I'm super good at biking, by the way. I can go so fast. I don't even use stabilisers! Well... most of the time. "

"Let's get the other bike out first," Jo tells him. There's no point getting excited if there isn't a way for all three of them to travel. 

The kids bike is bright pink. It has a basket on the front that's slightly discoloured with damp, bright sparkly ribbons hanging from the handlebars, and flowers printed down the body. Maki and Harua both gasp like it's the coolest thing they've ever seen in their lives.

"It's so pretty ," Harua says in awe. Maki runs his hand through the ribbons, completely spellbound. 

It's only then thatJo spots it.

In the corner, and so covered in cobwebs that he has to wipe his hands on his trousers when he finishes pulling it out, is a kid's bike seat.

It's big, probably meant for older toddlers than babies. The plastic seems sturdy. There are enough tools in the main shed that Jo is sure they'd be able to reattach it. The size might be a bit of a squeeze, but Harua and Maki are both relatively light for their age, a side-effect of the constant travel and the rationing of food.

It's perfect.

"Look at this," Jo says, unable to keep his smile from his voice. Harua and Maki are still gawking over the pink bike, but they look over when he speaks. 

"That's for babies," Maki says, even though he immediately stops touching the ribbons to come over and attempt to see if he'd fit. It looks like he would, which is a fact that makes Jo smile even wider. "I'm old enough to use a big bike. I don't need a baby seat."

Harua pouts like he's also about to protest, and Jo steps in before they can start to argue.

"We can look for another bike when we start moving," he says. "For now, you can take turns between the pink bike and the seat."

Maki frowns, all earlier excitement gone at the concept of having to sit in a child's seat. "Why do we even want bikes anyway? I just thought it was cool." He folds his arms.

"This means we can be faster," Harua tells him. He's still holding up the camera, hands shaky, but there's a quiet confidence in his voice. 

"You're right, Rua," Jo says. He knows they need to pack up first, but he wants to savour in this moment for a little longer. Of course, he might not even be able to attach the seat in the end. But this... it feels like their luck is finally improving. "And do you know what that means? It means we can get to Fuma faster."

---

The woman holds out the knife. 

It doesn't put Taki off. He keeps approaching like there's nothing in her hand, like he can't see the gun, and K feels like he's about to cry. 

"You don't know him," he says. His voice is steely. It's stronger than K has ever heard it before, and that's a fact that makes his heart soar at the same time as his stomach twists into knots. "Don't talk like you know him. You don't know anything ."

Taki is so incredibly dear to him. Seeing him like this is like watching a bird leap into the air for the first time, finally spreading its wings. Except K is wishing that this could happen at anywhere, any time other than right now. But Taki is glowing with his confidence, and K's heart contracts like it's about to explode.

The woman blinks. She doesn't move the knife. It stays in her hand with a lazy confidence. K can barely tear his eyes away - even as he watches Taki approach, the back half of his mind watches the blade, refusing to let it out of his sight.

"Oh?" She says. "And you do?"

"I know him better than you ever could!"

The woman laughs. It's harsh and cruel. "Did you know that he used to work for us? He was a model officer when I joined. Always willing to help out. He helped put the barbed wire up around the compound and looked away when we left those useless lay-abouts to fend for themselves. Do you still think you know him?"

It's not true.

Taki doesn't need to know that, and it isn't true.

K didn't know . At some level, he's aware that they were hiding the true nature of the compound from him. He's long since come to the terms with the fact he was being indoctrinated into following along - but they must have known he would have protested any cruelty he'd seen. 

They'd been careful not to show anyone until it was the right time. Until their claws were so deeply pressed into their skin that they had no way out, and they'd truly been convinced that this was the only way forward.

Secretly, K suspects that's what the meeting he should have had that fateful morning would have been about. His stomach rolls at the thought that they'd assumed he'd go along with such sadism. He wonders what he must have looked like to them. He feels nauseous that he'd ever come across as something who'd look away from suffering.

(He's still trying to atone from ever helping. He meets Taki, a child who's lost everything in the rubble of the world, and he sees his brother. He sees something that he can help, and he follows him until they're sheltering from the rain. The rest is history.)

Taki doesn't even flinch. 

"I don't care."

His tone doesn't waver. K has been half-expecting Taki to stare at him betrayed, wide-eyed and confused. But Taki keeps walking forwards. It isn't like he's known all along - he does glance towards K and it's enough of a motion to reveal his shock - but nothing else betrays him. His pace remains steady. His shoulders are set.

He didn't know, but... it's more that it doesn't matter . The grand reveal simply hasn't changed Taki's view of K at all. He knows the truth - or he must be able to guess at most of it - and it hasn't made a difference.

He's still here. 

"Don't put yourself in danger for me," K says, before the conversation can continue any further.

He wishes he could stand up and say something more forceful. Maybe he could save Taki if he was on his feet. Instead, it comes out weak from his position kneeling on the ground. There's no command behind it, and Taki continues on like K hadn't spoken a word. 

"Let him go. Just because you know his name doesn't mean anything! I don't care that he used to work for the compound. I don't think he knew what they were really doing. He'd never go along with something like that."

"Are you sure about that?"

The woman is bluffing. K really did have no idea, but Taki doesn't know that. Except even when he's being lied to, it doesn't seem like Taki believes her. His expression stays calm and determined. He's now only a few metres away and coming to a stop. 

Does he have a plan? K prays that he hasn't come unarmed and with no intentions other than to yell at them. He's going to get himself killed. K can't lose another little brother - but the relief of no longer being alone floods his body with endorphins, and it's hard to concentrate on how worried he is. 

As discreetly as he can, he turns his head to both sides, taking in the surroundings. 

There. Out of the corner of K's eye, he can see Fuma's face appear from behind the shell of a wrecked car. The body is close enough to the ground with ripped tyres that there's only an inch between the metal and the tarmac, but he can see more than one pair of shoes hidden.

There must be a plan. Or at least more of a chance than just Taki turning up alone. 

K can immediately guess that all five of them are there - Taki in front, and the others waiting for their time to strike. It'll be soon. It's the kind of situation where every second stretches out to feel like a year, and that waiting to bide their time will have seemed like a lot longer than in reality.

"You're trying to decide what to do," Taki says, like he's venturing a guess. The short-haired man scowls, fingers twitching at his side, but he doesn't reach for his gun. Not yet, anyway. The woman extends her knife like a warning, as if Taki could have forgotten about the danger.

K's breath is in his throat, but it doesn't show on his face. Taki's expression wavers but they're barely looking at him, and K's collection is all that matters. As long as they don't notice, it's fine.

Maybe they're about to respond, but when she holds up the knife she shifts her weight, and it's enough to startle Taki. His next words come out jumbled and far too quick. It's painfully obvious that they're the trigger word for what comes next, but by that point there's nothing else that can be done. "We can make that easier."

Then there's movement. Too much movement, and from all sides.

Fuma lunges forward. He knocks the shorn-haired man down to the ground with an almost expert grasp. Euijoo is quick behind him to pin his arms to his back. Together they work the gun from the holster, and Euijoo springs back as soon as it's in his hands, backing up far enough away to take the weapon out of the equation. 

Yuma is quickly in Euijoo's place to hold down his arms. Fuma presses the man's chest into the road. His cheek scrapes against the tarmac as Fuma holds down his head, but he can't wriggle out of their hold.

Nicholas is also there. He steps forward at the same time as Fuma, but isn't quite fast enough to knock the woman over. She's too far away. She's too well-trained. Whatever it is, she manages to move before Nicholas is anywhere nearby, and-

She dives towards K.

It's futile. For all her showy grip of holding the knife, her arm still moves awkwardly. It's not the grip of someone about to stab him. Everything happens so quickly that he's still trapped on the ground and unable to move, but part of his brain recognises this as a small relief. 

Except she might not be trying to stab him, but she's close enough to K that she can attempt to slash across his chest.

The point of the knife shines in the sun. It reflects the grey of the clouds and the bright patches of blue all the same. The handle is far too intricate. It's too showy and the blade is probably flimsy, but the power and the intent are all that matters, and there's nothing K can do.

Nicholas isn't close enough. Taki is . 

He's on the wrong side. Fuma and Nicholas had both lunged forward with the purpose of tackling them from behind, where the chance of getting injured was substantially less. That's why the man had been unable to pull out his gun until late, and why Nicholas hadn't been at risk of getting cut.

Taki is standing to the woman's side.

He darts forward anyway. The blade comes down towards K but she's being knocked back before it can make contact. There's the thinnest point of a cut across his jacket, but it doesn't break skin and there's no sting other than the contraction of his heart and the gravel in his palms. 

The blade comes back up. 

Taki knocks her to the floor, but the knife has already risen back into the air. This time, the tip is coated in red. It flies out of her grasp and clatters onto the ground. Nicholas is already there to pin her down. His knees press down on her chest and there's no mercy in the weight he leans into it.

And-

Taki was the one to knock her down, but Nicholas is the only one keeping her there. As soon as they'd hit the ground he'd pulled back. He's hunched over a few feet away, curled into a ball with his knees to his chin, making a small low noise.

It's like the world has gone completely quiet except for the two of them. K and Taki, practically alone in a street. K can hear Taki's ragged breathing as it hitches, and he already knows the combination of fear and pain and terror.

Taki's hands are pressed to his face. His fingers are splayed, K is crawling towards him but it seems like he can only move in slow-motion. Taki's hair falls to cover his eyes. His chin is angled inwards until he's facing the ground, trying to pull himself into as small of a space as possible.

His hands. There's blood on them. There's blood on the ground. It collects in the spaces between his fingers and trails down his wrist in bright rivulets, all the way to his elbow where it hits the tarmac below. 

Chapter Text

There's no time to stop moving.

K sits in shock for only half a second, then his limbs start pulling him towards Taki like they have a mind of their own. He barely registers the woman struggling against Nicholas's grip. Out of the corner of his eye he can tell that it isn't going to be successful, and then the entire rest of his mind is on Taki again.

He's hurt.

He's hurt badly enough that he's bleeding pretty heavily onto the ground. Blood pools in rivulets down his arm and drips from the end of his elbow onto the tarmac, where the dark colour is barely visible against the road. He curls in on himself even as K draws closer.

"Taki-" K says. He doesn't hesitate to put his arms around him, trying to pull Taki into his chest. Just for a moment - he needs to know that he's real. His body is still warm and his stuttering heartbeat just felt through the fabric of his clothes. He's still breathing through the blood, and K just... needs to know that he's still here. 

Thinking about the past has left his mind slightly fuzzy. Part of him is still numb from re-living the moment he'd come across his buried town. The other part is hyper-focused on the scene in front of him, playing every second like it's on full volume and intense colour. 

Just because K's world has shrunk to just the size of him and Taki, cradled on the pavement, doesn't mean their surroundings have also come to a stop.

Distantly, Yuma lets go of the man and races over to Euijoo. He's the person with the most knowledge of first aid. But he's also holding the gun, not foolish enough to let the main point of their leverage get dropped to the ground. Yuma relieves him of this duty quickly, and K barely recognises Euijoo by his side as he runs over to Taki. 

The gun is now in Yuma's hands. The safety is still on. There's no way to tell if Yuma actually knows what he's doing, but his finger hovers over the trigger and his thumb by the switch. His gaze is steely hard. He's a threat either way.

He has the barrel pointed at the man, who Fuma has now pinned down to defenceless. A switch knife has been pulled from his jacket and sent also in Yuma's direction, who's pocketed it with shaking hands. A walkie talkie had followed it, but is instead left on the ground.

Even with his injury, Fuma's adrenaline-fuelled strength has allowed him to keep the man down. Now he's been searched, he's weaponless. It barely even looks like he's struggling, recognising that the fight has been lost and too cowardly to attempt to try anything to turn the tides. Fuma relaxes his grip and stands back up, only slightly flinching when his shoulder unlocks. 

The man doesn't stand back up. He gets up from his position lying, but only to his knees. Yuma keeps watching until his hands have been pressed to the road and there's no way for him to make any sudden movements. 

Nearby, Nicholas is doing the same thing with the woman. Her knife has long since clattered to the ground, now lying somewhere between her and the man, still coated in Taki's blood. Euijoo kicks it further out of the way as he rushes towards them, only to double back and pick it up after a moment of hesitation.

Nicholas removes the woman's walkie talkie from the clip on her hip. K only catches a glimpse of his face, but there's such stark fury painted across his expression that K knows he isn't the only one hurting as a result of this interaction.

The other walkie talkie has been abandoned on the ground. Nicholas holds this one in his hand like he's contemplating throwing it over to join it. Except he doesn't, and in a move so fast that K wouldn't be shocked if he surprised even himself, he smashes it into the ground instead.

It's hard plastic. The casing doesn't shatter immediately, helped by the fact that half of Nicholas' weight is still concentrated on pinning the woman down. It doesn't seem to stop him though. The sound of the case cracking against the road and being destroyed down to a broken mess of wires rings out loud.

He doesn't stop until he's completely unfixable. Parts of plastic have skidded across the ground, sent there by the sheer force they were slammed into the road with. Nicholas' knuckles are bleeding when he eventually lets the now useless walkie talkie fall from his grip. 

Perhaps to her credit, the woman doesn't try to escape either. She's missing the look of bored surrender displayed by her partner. Instead, it's like she recognises the futility of trying to break free when Nicholas is pushing her down with no kindness. Any struggle will only make things worse for her.

There's a hint of fear in her eyes. It makes K sick. 

"Break the other one," Nicholas says. He doesn't look up. K almost misses the look that Yuma and Fuma exchange. Without saying anything, Yuma circles around until he's standing by the second walkie talkie. Then, just as silently, he crashes the plastic beneath the heel of his foot. 

It should be the only sound in the quiet of the street. But Taki's breath keeps hitching and his shaking hands are almost deafening to K's ears. After what feels like an eternity, Euijoo is finally by their side as well. His face has gone pale with worry.

"You need to get back," Euijoo says to K, and K almost swings out to hit him before Euijoo corrects, "Give me some space. I can't see - like this-"

K is cradling Taki to his chest. One arm has come over until Taki is completely tucked into the space there, and the fact that he's curled up himself means that Euijoo is probably correct. K's mind screams at him when he considers the thought of pulling away. It's such a visceral reaction that he swears he can feel his stomach flip with nausea. 

It doesn't help K's mind that Taki doesn't want to let go either. He's pressing his hands to his face, but his body right up to K with as much force as he can manage, as if he's trying to desperately connect them. He's terrified that K will leave - or at least that's how K's mind is choosing to interpret it. 

"You have to let me see," Euijoo says, and K distantly realises that he hasn't moved. He tries to pull his arm away from Taki but the most baseline part of his brain cries out. In the end, he lets Euijoo shuffle him to the side, refusing to let go of Taki for more than a second. They end up with Taki sitting still against K's chest but this time facing a little more outward, where Euijoo can finally take a look at him. 

K can also see. He's still processing what's going on around him, but he can't tear his eyes away from the blood dripping from Taki's head. 

Yuma kicks the destroyed walkie talkie across the pavement like he's making a point, even though there's no way it would be salvageable anyway. He hasn't let the barrel of the gun drift away from where it's pointed at the man the whole time.

Fuma is still only a few paces away, watching him for any sign of movement. "Leave," he says. His voice is stone cold, layered thick in barely-concealed rage. His hands are balled into fists - so painfully tight that his fingers have turned white. 

He glances at Nicholas. There's a silent exchange. Nicholas hits the ground next to where he'd destroyed the walkie talkie in frustration, ignoring his already-scraped knuckles. The woman flinches. When Nicholas stops pinning her down, she immediately scrambles into a sitting position.

Fuma is halfway between her and the man. Yet he crosses the distance in less than a second, and the crack of his fist connecting with her jawbone echoes in the empty street.

It's strong enough to send her gasping and sprawled back against the road again. Her partner flinches so hard that Yuma's finger jumps back over the trigger. When she lifts her head again, her jaw is stained bright red. There's a trickle of blood running past her eyebrow - she must have hit her head with some force when she connected with the ground. 

Fuma is standing so that he's facing away from K and Taki. They have no way of seeing the expression on his face, but they can see the way that the woman's face changes from outraged shock to terror the moment they make eye-contact.

"You're lucky I'm injured," Fuma says. He'd used his other arm for the punch, but his hand has now flown up to cradle his shoulder anyway. There's pain in his voice. With the amount of force he'd used, it didn't matter that he'd used his non-injured arm. He must have been in agony the moment that his fist connected. 

Beside him, Nicholas looks like he's about five seconds from following suit. "Get the fuck out of here."

He's speaking English, but it gets across despite the language barrier. Even if K couldn't make out the meaning, the tone of how he's speaking says everything that his words can't.

"Leave," Fuma says. "You heard him. Leave your car. Turn around and walk away. Don't ever show your faces here again. Don't think about calling for back-up. Don't think about trying to circle back."

Yuma is by his side now. One of his hearing aids must have been knocked in the fight - it's subtle, considering he's refusing to look away from the two people on the ground - but he's tilting his head slightly further in one direction than the other.

He's also got a sense of what's going on though. Without needing a reminder, he lifts the gun slightly higher, as if the presence of the weapon had left anyone's mind. He's sensible, staying a couple of paces away so that he's completely out of reach, and yet close enough that the shine of the metal of the gun is painfully visible. 

"That punch was-" Fuma is gritting his teeth, "that was me being kind. We should kill you right here. You know that, right? The fact that you're getting to leave with your lives is far more than you deserve."

He hisses an intake of breath, gesturing for them to stand up. Sensibly, they both follow his orders, shakily getting to their feet without a single sudden movement.

"Next time we won't be so kind," Fuma says. "Leave."

There's far more he could say, but the moment he says the last word it's clear that it's over. As soon as their backs are turned, K finds himself sagging with a relief he hadn't known he could feel, the part of his mind still overcome with anger finally letting go until he can truly focus on Taki.

There's no chance of him getting further injured now. It's over. For the first time since he collapsed to the ground next to him, K pulls back slightly, letting Euijoo get closer. 

"Taki," Euijoo says. His hand hovers awkwardly, not wanting to touch Taki's wrist to try and pull his hand away. "Let me see."

How many times will he need to say that?

Luckily, Taki listens. He drops his hand to his side. K's own hand goes to find it immediately. It's warm and slick with blood, something that should be disgusting, but K doesn't find it within himself to care. He slots his palm into Taki's as soothingly as he can, and lets Taki hold onto him like a lifeline.

"It's okay," K says, "You're going to be okay. We've got you, Euijoo is going to help. It'll be okay."

Euijoo leans forward. His hand hesitates again, but then something in his resolve must reappear, since his expression hardens. He reaches up and pins Taki's bangs to the top of his head. The wound on his face is finally much more visible.

It doesn't look good. The knife has caught the left side of his face, starting from near the centre of his forehead and reaching all the way to his cheekbone. It stops right before the soft flesh of his cheek, which K can't help but consider incredibly lucky, but there's so much blood.

The cut itself is hard to see through the crimson staining his face. Even though Taki had been using his hand to try and stop it, facing the road to let it pool away from him. K hisses sharply through his teeth. Is Taki going to bleed out? There's so much blood, it surely can't be good for him, and the right side of his face is becoming dangerously pale. 

If anything, it seems to sharpen Euijoo's determination even further.

"We need to see the damage properly," he says. He glances up and sees K's face, gone pale as well after looking at the sheer amount of blood, and says, "Head wounds bleed a lot. It looks like more than it is. We need to-" he loses the word, but mimics with his arm. They need to get Taki lying down.

K might not have much first aid knowledge himself, but he's seen enough injuries during races that he's also not completely out of his depth. The need to keep Taki beside him lays down quietly when faced with the need to get Taki better. Together, the two of them manoeuvre Taki until he's lying down on the ground, avoiding the small puddle of blood.

Getting him there screws his face up with pain.

"You have to keep your face still," K tries to tell him. "Every time you move, it's going to pull at the cut again. I know it's hard, Taki, but you're going to be okay. Just..."

Euijoo has obtained a bottle of water. It's one of their limited supplies, but no one protests when he uncaps it and begins to clean out the wound, avoiding the eye itself. At first he keeps it away, trying to wash away some of the blood so they can get a better picture of the damage, but soon he bites his lip and pours a gentle stream onto the cut.

"Taki, you're so brave," K says. Now that he's started talking, he can't stop himself. He keeps trying to desperately tell Taki that he's going to be okay, hushing his pained cries when Euijoo's water hits the wound, rubbing circles onto the back of his hand. "God, you're so brave Taki. You're so stupid for jumping in front of a knife, but you're so brave, and you're going to be okay."

Most worryingly, it looks like his eye has been caught in the damage.

K can barely look. Any first aid he's seen has been on skimmed knees, twisted ankles or the occasional case of dehydration. This is unlike anything he's come across. It's unlike anything he'd ever thought he'd come across - kneeling on a road in the ruins of a town, cradling a boy he thinks of like a little brother in his arms. 

Euijoo says something in korean. His own face is stricken with worry. He's clearly out of his depth, but still cursed with having the most knowledge. 

"Taki," he says, "You're going to have to keep your face as still as you can."

Then he looks up to K, and his eyes are wide and pleading. "I've never treated a wound this deep," he says, quietly as he can so that Taki doesn't overhear. Except Taki is still on the ground between them, so of course he hears, and he makes an awful noise in response that has K's heart shattering.

"Do you know what to do?"

Euijoo glances down, then back up. "He needs stitches," he says. "I'm not- I don't think I can do them. I'm not a doctor. Most of what I know is the basics - this is where we should take him to the hospital."

"We don't have a hospital."

Euijoo stares at him wordlessly. Then he drops his bag to the floor and starts searching through the largest of their first aid kits. He discards bottle after bottle of unknown pills as K watches, rifling through boxes until he comes across what he's looking for.

"What does this say?"

He's holding a box out. K blinks before reading off the label, "Butterfly stitches."

"Describe them - or read off the description. Please, I don't know the word in Japanese."

K takes the box and turns it over. "Bandages used to close small, sterile wounds. Used as an alternative to traditional stitches when the wound is smaller than 1/2 inch."

That doesn't exactly describe the cut across Taki's face, but Euijoo lights up like that's exactly what he'd been hoping for. He fumbles with the cardboard until he pulls out the contents. "Hold still, Taki."

Now that he's lying flat, Taki isn't bleeding nearly as much. It gives Euijoo a clear guide of where to apply the butterfly stitches, but that doesn't mean it comes without pain. Euijoo uses an alcohol wipe and then starts.

And Taki squeezes K's hand so hard that it must leave bruises. He gasps when Euijoo's hands touch his skin, and the eye that hasn't clouded over fills with tears as it finds K's face to stare at.

"You'll be okay," K says, squeezing Taki's hand gently right back. "Euijoo knows what he's doing. You'll be fine."

Taki's mouth opens in an aborted choke. "I-" he says, dry and stumbling, the first time he's tried to speak since he was injured. His voice is thick and young and so, so sad. "I can't see. My eye."

"You'll be fine," K tells him, like repeating the assurance over Taki's worries will make them go away. He hushes him like he would a baby, keeps looking into Taki's eyes and Euijoo's hands tremble in the corner of his vision. 

"My eye," Taki repeats, mumbling.

It looks like Euijoo has finished with the butterfly stitches. He tucks the cardboard packet back into his bag and then wraps Taki's head in a normal white bandage, looping it around his neck and securing it at the back. He allows K to lift Taki's head to reach around, and K tries not to crumble when his fingers brush the drying blood at the back of Taki's ear. 

When it's done, Euijoo sits back, and K feels like he can finally breathe again.

Without him realising, Nicholas, Fuma and Yuma have come to surround them. They're keeping their distance, and their solemn silence says measures that words wouldn't. 

"You'll be okay," Yuma offers, when it becomes clear that their attempt at first aid has now finished. Nicholas approaches somewhat hesitantly. He stands by Euijoo's side until he's finished tying his bag back up again, and then offers his hand for Euijoo to pull himself up with. 

"I'm-" Taki says. With a slightly reproachful nod from Euijoo, K helps him into a sitting position. "I- I don't know."

It isn't ideal to get him moving so soon after an injury. But already K's mind is spiralling into what their next actions should be. No matter how badly the two compound soldiers may have been scared, their hideout is no longer safe, and they cannot return there. Even staying in the town is asking for trouble. 

"There's a hospital near here."

Fuma's voice cuts through K's clouded thoughts like a warm knife through butter. Or more accurately, like the sting of antiseptic against an open wound.

"That's where I'm heading," Fuma continues. "It's where I'm supposed to meet up with my... group . I imagine it'll be abandoned, but it could be a start of planning where to head next."

Euijoo's eyes widen. "They could have more supplies," he says hurriedly, like he's trying to get his piece out over slightly broken Japanese, before anyone else can give their opinion. "We'll need more specifics than what the pharmacy can provide. This isn't a casual wound."

Even if the words aren't quite right, his meaning is crystal clear. This isn't a wound that can be treated with their collection of plasters and over-the-shelf antibiotics. If this injury had happened when the world was still running, Taki would be sent to see a doctor as soon as possible. They don't have that luxury now, but a hospital could bring them close.

"A hospital could be a target," Nicholas says. He's staring at Euijoo despite it being Fuma's suggestion. 

Fuma shrugs. "It's also a landmark. I didn't think I'd ever have to use the list of rendezvous locations."

"How far?"

K's voice is desperate. It's a sound that he might normally cringe at, but the adrenaline of the situation means he barely ever recognises it. 

"What?"

"How far is the hospital? If it has a chance of helping Taki, we're going. How far is it."

He's fully aware that it doesn't even sound like a question the last time he repeats it. Fuma doesn't comment. In fact, there's a strange expression, something layered in respect. K gets the feeling that Fuma would be heading to the hospital no matter what decision the rest of the group made - and that he'd drag Taki with him if he thought it had a chance of aiding Taki. 

There's a begrudging understanding between them. Beneath the tension that's coated every interaction they've had one-on-one, it's clear that their motives are aligned. 

Fuma pauses, doing the mental calculation. "At least three days walking," he says. "And that's with the only stops being overnight rests. Unless we find a way to transport Taki, it'll be even longer."

There's no way Taki will be able to walk for twelve hours a day, like in Fuma's presumable estimate. Even if they're lucky and he manages to avoid infection, they're in no shape to travel at such speed. 

Except-

"We don't need to walk," Yuma says. It's the first time he's spoken in a while. He silently points behind them, to the abandoned car from the pseudo-military. "We can drive."

Chapter Text

The car trip drags on.

It's nice to not be walking. After trudging across roads and through fields practically non-stop for the past few weeks, getting to sit down for such long amounts of time starts as a luxury. Yuma lets his head dip back against the car seat and closes his eyes. He isn't old enough to drive yet, so he's been banished to the backseat for the foreseeable future. 

The fabric of the chairs has definitely seen better days, but he can't complain. Letting the world pass him by through the window almost makes it seem normal. He could practically trick himself into thinking that it's his mother driving, and that they're on their way home.

After a few hours, it becomes clear that none of them are used to sitting down for so long, and then the cramps begin to set in.

They do stop during the night and whenever they need to pile out of the car to clear the road in front of them. There are the branches of fallen trees or toppled signposts or bodies of cars in worse shape than their own, and it takes all five of them in decent-shape to help out.

It isn't enough to stop Yuma's legs from painfully protesting. He understands that they're in a rush, and that even the few hours of stopping when it's too dark to continue could be deadly to Taki, but the ache sets into his bones.

There's not much to do except stare out of the window either. When the car eventually comes to its final stop, he'd last opened his eyes in the early morning, seeing the sunset bleed over the horizon to paint the sky in reds and yellows. He closes his eyes again, and the next time he wakes, it's because of the movement, not because of the sound.

K's mouth is moving. Nicholas is the one driving, so Yuma's seat directly behind has a good view of the shape of his mouth when he turns his head to lean over and stare at the controls. Nicholas leans back to let him. Maybe he's also talking, but it's lost on Yuma. 

He takes his hearing aids off to sleep, and has never been more thankful for the fact that every sound comes through muted than when he'd found himself in a car full of people. The conversation is low enough that he can't hear it at all. Even the noise of the car engine fades to nothing when he slips his hearing aids into his pocket for safe-keeping.

The drag of driving through the night is beginning to take a toll on everyone. It's hard to sleep with light pouring in through the car windows, even when they tie scraps of loose fabric around their heads in place of eye masks.

Yuma can see the dark circles of interrupted sleep beginning to form around all of their eyes. The light and the movement of the jolting car are one thing - but with all five of them trapped in one small vehicle, the smallest sound is enough to disturb the few moments of sleep they've been able to get.

With only two of those issues affecting him, Yuma is in a much better place than pretty much everyone else. 

Taki is the worst of all. Euijoo has been giving him carefully controlled rations of painkillers, but it doesn't seem like they're strong enough to completely knock out what he's feeling. Taki has to bite down on something every time that they change the bandages over his eye, and the tears only make the sting worse. He's taken to lying across the laps of the backseat passengers in an attempt to sleep, but the slightest brush of fabric against his face has him waking up again. 

K also isn't doing so well, for similarly obvious reasons. He's been struggling to sleep due to the stress of it all. They've been taking turns to drive, and whenever he's been in the back, he's kept one hand pressed over Taki's wrist like he's keeping track of his pulse. 

It helps that Taki sits up then. There are six people in the car, and only five seats. With the front two taken by whoever is currently driving and up to driving next, the other four are beginning to feel the squeeze in the backseat.

Taki lying over their laps is one way of solving the issue. But when K climbs into the back, folding his long legs into the tiny space behind the front seats, Taki climbs onto his lap, still slightly delirious from the pain and the drugs. Yuma can always get the best rest at times like that, when he's able to bring his knees up to his chest and rest his head against the cool glass window. 

Currently, Fuma is sitting next to him. Euijoo on the other side, and then Taki across all three of them. He has his head on Euijoo's lap so his feet are resting on Yuma's knees. 

He has to jostle him to reach his pocket again. Whatever is being said comes through muffled, but loud enough that he can tell they're not making an effort to keep their voices down. By the time he's managed to free his hearing aids again and can focus on the conversation, the entire car has been woken up. 

The car has stopped. There's a jolting, and when he turns his hearing aids on and tries to concentrate on the sounds around him, there's an ill-sounding splutter to the engine. 

"We're not that far away," Nicholas says. "And... a car is going to attract attention that we don't want. Especially one like this."

K hisses through his teeth. "It'll get us there quicker. That's worth it."

"Then do you know how to-" Nicholas waves his hand at the dashboard.

"I'm sure I'll work it out."

Yuma leans forward, trying not to disturb Taki or press too much into Fuma's personal space. Except Fuma opens one of his eyes slyly, shifting over so that Yuma can get a better look anyway. There's no way of telling how long he's been awake, or whether he's just waiting for the right time to jump into the conversation.

Immediately, Yuma can work out the issue. The 'low fuel' light has been blinking for a while now. They've chosen to ignore it, but it seems like that's finally come back to haunt them. The splutter of the engine is from a completely empty tank of petrol. 

Fuma hasn't closed his open eye. He raises an eyebrow when Yuma leans back into his seat, exchanging a look that turns into more of a wince between them. With half the car awake, it won't be long before Euijoo joins them. Taki is more of a wild card, depending on when the last time he took a dose of painkillers was.

When Yuma chooses to keep quiet, Fuma takes his chance. He opens both his eyes and stretches his good arm just far enough that the sound of his voice doesn't come as a surprise to anyone in the front seats. "We're almost there," he says. "There have been road signs. I think we could walk it in half an hour."

K turns to look over his shoulder at him. "It could take longer. Unless someone knows the city well, we're still going to have to find it without a map. That could take a lot longer than thirty minutes."

"The roads aren't going to be passable in a car."

Maybe they're keeping their voices at a normal speaking level so that Yuma can follow along. He notices that Fuma especially keeps his face angled slightly towards him. "We can't tell from here how badly the city was hit by the earthquake. But look."

He gestures at the window. Euijoo must have woken up at some point, since he also leans forward at the same time that Yuma does, all five of them turning to stare out of the front windshield.

The road is covered in abandoned cars. Some are reduced to shells, burnt out from incidents of riots or simply looters marking their territory. The barrier between lanes twists outwards in several places. Vehicles have crashed into both the central reservation and the railings on the outside of their lanes, the smoke from the crumpled bonnets long since disappeared. 

Concerningly, the road they're on seems to be cutting through a set of grassy fields, a barrier between the border of the city and the prevention of sub-urban sprawl. In the distance, the rising sun seems to sparkle against the untilled soil. 

Water.

Yuma sits up in his seat and watches it. Fuma had mentioned the flooding earlier, said that he'd been worried about the state of the city due to its proximity to the approaching waves, but this trip had been the first time Yuma had spotted it. Water where it was not supposed to be.

Fields completely sodden, from a mixture of recent rainfall and the ocean waves lapping at the ground. The sun glints off the water-logged grassland. In the distance, there should be houses or fields or some sign of civilization. Instead, it's like he's standing at the coast, looking out into the sea. 

The rest of them are discussing the state of the city from what they can see. In the end, K massages his temples and gives a curt nod. "We can get another car," he says, even though his voice is strained. It's hard for him to give in. "You're... right. I don't know how I'd transfer the fuel. And it is putting a target on our backs, looking like this."

Nicholas nods, pleased with this. "I'll help," he offers. He is the most tech-orientated member of their group, after all, even if his expertise is mostly around small machines and not anything as large as a car.

He has a printed polaroid of the sun rising over the drowned fields resting on the car dashboard. No one's touched Taki's camera without his permission to do so, and so Nicholas has started taking photos to document their journey. There's a caption underneath written in dark pen. It's not in a language that Yuma understands, and he distantly wonders what it says.

They've come to a conclusion though, so everyone is piling out of the car. Fuma pokes Yuma in the side to get him to start moving. Taki is draped over K's back, head resting against his shoulder and K's arms hooked around his thighs to try and support him as securely as possible.

The weather is cool. It might be the early morning or the sudden lack of body-heat pressed up against him, but Yuma shivers.

"You'll warm up once we start walking," Fuma says.

Yuma glances at him. He hadn't realised that Fuma was paying attention to him. It only half comes as a surprise. The relationships between different members of the group have been under stress lately. Nicholas and Euijoo cling together in denial, the same kind of odd codependency they've had since he met them. K has barely left Taki's side since he was injured. 

Yuma wonders if Fuma is doing it on purpose. He doesn't need to be looked after - he's 17, almost an adult. Yet he finds himself curling into the affection despite that. There's part of his chest that flutters every time he's taken care of, or that Fuma makes it clear he's looking out for him. 

It stings in a way that feels selfish. In a way that makes him realise there's a hole in his heart where he wants to be taken care of. He wants to lie in bed way past his alarm clock, and pretend that he's still sleeping when his mother walks in to gently brush the hair from his forehead. 

He stops to lace up his shoelaces, and everyone is so caught up in themselves that they keep walking. It's better not to stop for every little thing. Yuma jogs to catch up, and they keep walking as they get closer and closer to the city. 

There are signs that show the way to the hospital. Even without a map, they find it easy to follow the roads and streets. The earthquake doesn't seem to have knocked many buildings over, the ground feels steady beneath their feet and from the outside it looks like only the glass of the windows has shattered. 

It's abandoned, though. The wind whistles through the shards left clinging to the panes, loud enough that Yuma can hear it. The shops have long-since been looted, their remains dragged halfway out the door and scavenged a hundred times over. There's an eerie stillness. These sidewalks should be full. There should be reflections in the windows, cars speeding down the road, the warmth of people . 

The only movement ends up being seagulls circling around their heads. 

There's such a distinct mood to the place that Yuma's breath feels stilted and out of place. There's an atmosphere that's unlike anything he's felt before - the cold emptiness of the abandoned towns they'd stayed in dialed up to a hundred. 

He doesn't hear whatever makes the rest of the group tense, but the shift in mood ends up being just as powerful.

"People," K says. Taki's woken up since they left the car, but hasn't said much. He's walking on his own but his steps are slow, and he has one arm to lean on K for balance. 

They approach and the hum of community grows louder. Despite their apprehension at the thought of coming across a group similar to the pseudo-military, it doesn't look like K and Fuma - the two people both mostly-conscious and having seen the compound before - seem too worried.

There must be a different atmosphere. The broken windows in shop fronts are soon covered by brightly coloured sheets of fabric, neat writing declaring the family name of the inhabitants. A couple stalls have been set up on the street. They're created from broken planks of wood and corrugated iron. Things that survive easily, and they display wares scavenged from the city around them.

There's a large red cross on one such shop. There's a woman standing out the front. She watches them go by warily, watches Taki and the bandages wrapped around his head, but doesn't make a move to approach them.

There's a neat printed list of prices written on a board beside her. Fresh food and water are all that's written down explicitly - the rest to be 'bartered'. It's nothing they can afford. 

"Come on," Nicholas says, under his breath. "Let's ignore them. It's worth checking out the hospital."

Euijoo side-eyes him, but K nods and the decision is made for the rest of the group. They keep walking. A stall with what appears to be an oven gutted from a bakery has been pulled outside. A large cooking pot is carefully placed on top of the fire. The steam from the food curls in the air and a small queue has formed nearby.

A teenager sketches on the ground with multi-colored chalk, using her fingers to blend the colours. A baby cries where it's strapped to a man's chest. His eyes are dark with a lack of sleep, but his hand supports the baby steady. There are weapons strapped to their sides and a twitch that shows they aren't afraid to use them - but only if provoked. 

An old man smoking in a worn chair coughs as they pass. The town is less busy here, they've walked through the centre and are now approaching the edge. The ground here is cracked. Fuma presses his heels against the tarmac and keeps his weight careful. Yuma tries to follow, even if his balance has never been amazing. 

In the end, they don't make it to the hospital. 

It's not because of the road, even though it does eventually become impassable. Instead, it's because they reach the end of the past of the city still above water.

It's almost like an artificial beach. Mud is coated against the shore with the movement of the water. A shopping trolley is caught in the branches of a fallen tree, an abandoned car with its doors open letting the water lap through the body. 

The water is completely dark. A mixture of mud and dirt and soot has turned it opaque. The wire frame of the trolley is invisible the moment it's covered by the water. There's no telling what's hiding even a few centimetres below - whether the road still exists, or whether the cracks have formed a pitfall much more dangerous.

"That's it," K says, voice flat. "That's the hospital?"

In front of them is a building that can only be described as drowned. It's looted, but that's what they'd expected. The walls are blackened with ash and the windows have been smashed. The water has risen so high that the doors are almost completely covered. The mud is so thick against the helpful maps and signs that their lettering is now illegible. 

It doesn't need anyone to say it out loud. There's no point travelling any further.

There's no way anyone is left inside, not in the current state the building is in. The danger of the water means it would be stupid to even attempt to get close to search the second floor. The structural integrity is likely already compromised. 

It stings. Yuma's chest hurts at the disappointment. They start to withdraw, pulling away from the muddy water. They need to pull together another plan, but instead they simply start walking back towards the town like they're in shock. 

They're about halfway back when Fuma starts running.

It comes out of nowhere.

He doesn't make a noise that Yuma can hear, he doesn't start with a jog that builds up speed. One moment he's standing amongst the group, and the next he's sprinting down the road. He's running like he's trying to reach something. Arms in front of him, hands reaching out. He's trying to pull the air closer, skidding over piles of leaves collected by the curbs and practically tripping over his own feet.

Then he collides.

Not with something, but someone. 

It's not violent, it seems to be on purpose in fact, but it's also enough to break the rest of them out of their stunned frozen position. Yuma finds himself in the front of the pack, running forwards to try and get a better understanding of the situation.

And Fuma drops down to his knees.

His head tilts back with his mouth pursed into a straight line. Yuma has never seen him cry and gets the impression that he isn't someone who sheds tears often, but his head dips back forward and his face disappears like he's trying to hide it. His back shudders with the force of his emotion.

The boy he's holding is a teenager, really. He's probably somewhere between Yuma's age and Taki's - dark hair, long limbs that he hasn't grown into yet. There isn't a resemblance between the two of them. In fact, from a distance someone might mistake the teen for being uncomfortable in Fuma's arms.

That isn't quite the case. Instead, he's just awkward. His hands wrap around to Fuma's back like he isn't sure where else to put them. His face has gone red, and despite the fact that he isn't crying, there's such a profound wobble to his lower lip that there's no mistaking his emotion.

"- you're okay-" Fuma says, lifting his head again. His hands come back, cupping the teenager's cheek in one palm, pressing their skin together and trying to work out whether this is real. His eyes are lined with red. His cheeks look a little damp, sticky with undried tears. 

They've arrived close to the pair now, but Yuma stays back to give them space. Euijoo and Nicholas hover behind him. He can feel their presence behind each shoulder. Taki and K are still approaching, having chosen not to run like the rest of them.

And maybe it's because he hadn't heard the sound of their footsteps behind him, but two children appear and Yuma's heart freezes in his chest for a moment.

They push past, frantic little hands trying to fit between the space of Euijoo and Yuma, but they're both little enough that it doesn't do any more than knock Yuma momentarily off balance.

He's never been good at guessing kids' ages, but he'd put them at around six or seven. All soft cheeks and bright eyes and clothes that don't quite fit. One has a bag shaped like a rabbit, and even as he throws himself against Fuma he never lets go of where he's clutching the strap. The other one might be slightly younger, a dimple cut deep into his cheek. 

The younger one starts wailing. If Fuma and the teenager had been trying to quieten their emotion and hold back the tears, the two children have no such reserves. They're also running, and they make no effort to stop as they collide with the others. 

Fuma immediately opens his arms. He pulls them close to his chest, letting them rest their heads on his shoulders and press so close that it looks like they're never going to let go. The one with the rabbit bag twists his fingers around the fabric of Fuma's shirt. The other one has gone bright red with the force of his emotion. 

It's overwhelming. Yuma takes a step back - not because he's uncomfortable, but because it feels like he's intruding on a personal moment. When K and Taki finally arrive next to them, they keep a good few feet between themselves and the group reuniting on the ground.

These must be the people that Fuma has been trying to find. He's been playing catch-up with a trail left by a teenager and two literal children. No wonder he's been so determined not to give up - from the scene playing out in front of them, this is a desperation that's been matched by the others.

"I knew it," the child with the dimple says, pulling away from Fuma's grip to stand up and pull himself over his shoulder. Fuma mimics the movement. He finally stands up from where he'd been crouched to embrace the kids, and lifts the child up into the air with him. 

The child grins with an infectious glee. "I knew it!" He says again, "I knew you were coming back! I knew it!"

The other kid has wrapped himself around Fuma's leg, clinging to his trousers like a child would cling to their mother's skirts. His face is pressed up against him. It looks like his mouth is moving, but Yuma doesn't catch what's being said in-between the overjoyed cries and his muffled tone. 

"Of course I came back for you," Fuma tells him. "I said I would. And - look at all three of you, you've made it here to find me."

"We bicycled here," the kid informs him. 

Fuma looks up at the teenager for confirmation. The emotion from reuniting is starting to fade. The teen glances over to see the crowd of five strangers witnessing the exchange, and shifts his weight from foot to foot anxiously. The child is set down onto the ground again, and their little circle of bodies opens up. 

It's permission for the rest of them to approach, even if they're still awkward as they do so.

"We cycled the last bit here," the teenager says. "We arrived a few days ago. There seems to be a pretty established community here, but we've kept ourselves away for the most part. I can... tell you more about it later."

"We were at a hotel," the child with the bunny bag says.

"There was a pool!" says the other, tugging on Fuma's arm like he wants to be lifted up again, "Jo didn't let us go swimming though. The water was all green and nasty. I didn't want to go swimming after I saw that."

Fuma smiles at him. "This is the group I've been trying to get back to," he says, speaking for the first time to the rest of them, as if it hadn't already been obvious. He points to them as he speaks their names, "This is Jo, Harua and Maki. And - this is who I've been travelling with to get here. Yuma, Euijoo, Nicholas, K and Taki."

The kids nod along, but they're going to forget who they've been introduced to within five minutes anyway. They seem a little less hesitant of the strangers now that Fuma has given them a seal of approval.

Jo's eyes slide over them and finally land on Taki. "You're injured. Did - you come here for the hospital?"

Taki nods. He waves at the kids and they both wave back. He tries to give them a grin only for it to drop the moment it pulls at his injured skin. The kids are both staring at the bandages covering half of his face with wide eyes. They probably don't mean to stare with quite so much intensity, but Taki stiffens and K steps forward to break their line of view.

"We did."

"Did... you find out that it's flooded? I'm not sure there's anything left inside." His voice is so quiet. Yuma wonders whether he's naturally just soft-spoken. He'd almost miss it if he hadn't already been watching their faces.

K nods. "We have some medical supplies already. We just need a doctor to tell us what to do and-" he cuts himself off, deciding not to reveal too much information immediately.

These may be people that Fuma trusts, but even Yuma can understand the urge to keep some of your cards close to your chest. K's been through a lot with Taki lately. If he's a little slow to trust again, no one will be able to blame him.

But Jo doesn't seem put off by this. He looks at Fuma like he's trying to get permission, but when Fuma doesn't say anything, he stands up a little taller and pulls at one of the straps of his bag. 

"The camp works through trading. If you want something, you scavenge for whatever you'd be able to swap it for. The prices are high for people passing through, but..." he nods to himself, dipping his chin like he's trying to conjure up the confidence to keep going. "We have supplies that they'd want."

"A doctor is expensive," K says, cautious. 

Jo nods. "Ah - we have packaged snacks and unopened bottles of water. With some of the medication you might be able to trade off - if you want to, of course - it should be enough."

K can't accept the deal fast enough. Taki's knees almost buckle from relief, still standing behind K so he's trying to hide it. The two children watch the conversation with big eyes. Jo flinches back with the force of K's acceptance and his ears go bright red at the thanks, but the smile on his face reads that he's a kind person who would have offered anyway.

But Yuma watches Fuma.

He's taken a step to the side to allow K to properly see what Jo's volunteering to trade for Taki's medical care. But he hadn't looked away. The grin on his face is blinding. His eyes are still red-rimmed from the earlier reunion, but he shines so bright with pride that Yuma finds himself smiling as well. 

Chapter Text

Against all odds, it works.

Jo places his bag down on the ground in front of the make-shift doctor's office. The paint of the red cross outside has bled in its creation, but the woman nods when they approach. It seems more like a statement about the times, rather than a warning. 

Fuma watches him. A few weeks ago, he would have stepped forward and taken control of the situation. Jo wouldn't have gone this far into the deal by himself in the first place. They've both changed in their distance from each other, and Fuma doesn't want to cut short any of Jo's new-found independence.

The three of them - Jo, Fuma and K - have travelled to exchange the supplies from the pharmacy and the hotel at the stall. Taki sits against a wall a few metres away, resting. They have no idea how long this will take. 

K doesn't want Taki to see how much he's willing to trade away for the guarantee of his health. Fuma thinks it's foolish - but more because he's assuming Fuma wouldn't be doing the exact same thing regardless of his presence. Jo stands just in front of them with his bag open, ready to start whenever he's given the signal. 

"The hospital's flooded," the woman from outside says. Her voice is gravelly. A packet of cigarettes might have been a worthwhile item to try and bargain, but Jo hasn't thought to pick any up on his travels. He does glance at K and Fuma, who have accompanied him to the exchange, but they also shake their heads. "But I'm guessing you've found that out by now."

"You could've told us that when we first passed by," K says. He manages to keep his tone calm. Fuma has been travelling with him for long enough to tell it's a facade, though. Even though his voice might not betray him, not helping someone clearly injured has betrayed his personal morals. The fact that it's Taki injured isn't helping things. 

The woman fixes him with a stare. "You wouldn't have believed me," she says. "Besides, the people who don't check for themselves aren't the type to take risks. And then they have nothing good to trade, so we're all the way back to square one."

She waits for K to put the pieces together, and then grins. It isn't cruel. Just realistic, and it's unfortunate how often those two have been set together lately.

Fuma glances at K to assess his reaction. He's pleasantly surprised to see that K takes it well. If anything, he's lost some of the judgement from before. Maybe he can respect how straightforward the woman is being with them - Fuma certainly can, even if he's taking the back seat in this interaction. 

By the table, Jo waits for them to finish. He sets out a few bottles of water onto the table and watches her face for a reaction. 

"These unopened?"

Jo nods. "They're completely untouched. You can-"

His voice cuts off. The woman doesn't need his permission. She lifts up one of the bottles and inspects the seal, running her finger over the plastic with an approving tilt to her head. Once she's finished with one she picks up the next, moving through until all three bottles have been checked.

"That's nice," she says. "We have our own ways of getting drinkable here. It could be useful for cleaning wounds, but that won't be enough."

Jo glances behind him, checking permission with Fuma and K to continue. Fuma gives a subtle nod, so Jo starts their next round of bargaining chips. Real chips, brightly coloured packets apparently taken from a vending machine. About five packets, and then a few small cartons of long-life milk and wrapped hard candies. He adds a soda to the pile. The side is slightly dented, but the woman's eyes gleam when she sees the familiar logo.

"Better," she says. "Shit, I haven't had a coke in ages. But that's not everything, is it?"

And this is where Fuma steps in. 

"How much would this get us?" He asks. He draws the can of coke closer towards them, tapping his fingers on the rim lightly. "This is supposed to be an exchange, but it's completely on your terms at the moment. You could bleed us dry for everything we have. Don't think we haven't realised you've got all the power here"

The woman's grin widens. "This town works by trading. I wouldn't still be in business if my prices weren't fair."

K also takes a step forward, so all three of them are parallel against the table. Jo, standing between Fuma and K, looks a little out of his depth. "There are surely enough travellers passing through. You wouldn't need to scam the locals, just the people that aren't going to stick around and cause problems."

"I used to be a doctor. You think I'd do something like that?"

"I think we all know the world doesn't work like that anymore. Being a doctor means you have medical skills. It doesn't say anything about your morals."

At that, the woman throws her head back and laughs. It turns into a cough halfway through, but she's still smiling when she eventually leans back forward. "I could tell that I liked the look of you two. Fine. This much would get you treatment for that."

She lifts a finger and points to Fuma. He hadn't realised that he'd been holding his injured shoulder funny. It should have been mostly healed by now, considering the fact that it hadn't gotten infected, but continuous stress has left it still sore. There's a dark scab only just beginning to form. 

"I'm not a bad person. I'd take a look at the kid you've got over there as well. But since you won't even let him stand here, I'm gonna assume it's pretty bad. And if you want actual medical treatment-" she gestures to the pile, "It's gonna be expensive."

Fuma isn't wearing a bag. It pulls on his shoulder too much to be carried around needlessly. Instead, he glances at K in a silent confirmation of their next step. Without taking his eyes off the woman, he drops his own bag to the ground.

"We have medical supplies we're willing to trade," he says. "We raided a pharmacy. If you can treat Taki and take a look at Fuma as well, we'll happily give you whatever you want."

What they're currently carrying with them is about half of their overall supplies. They aren't going to risk everything - especially what could still be useful later - and this way it still appears like they're offering everything they have. Euijoo is taking care of the actual kit of first aid safely at camp. 

K lifts up the bag. It isn't open wide, just enough to let the woman see a selection of what's inside. 

"Deal." The light can barely have hit the contents, there's no way she saw more than a few boxes, but there's a gleam in her eyes. Fuma wonders how many people have already come through here seeking medical attention. 

And so, against all odds, it works.

They're let into the shop that the woman is working from. It's set up in an odd mimicry of an actual hospital - thin folding screens partitioning the room into a makeshift waiting room and a set of three wards. One is closed off. The second is occupied by a middle-aged woman lying eyes-closed on the bed. There's an old man by her side who watches them file in before pulling their 'door' closed. 

The woman leads Taki to the third bed. She points at Jo, "This one can come in as well. We'll sort out payment once I've assessed how bad the damage is."

K is immediately stepping forward to protest, but he doesn't make it far. The woman fixes him with the same hard-eyed look from outside, putting out her palm in a motion for him to stop. "That's why you're not coming in as well. Respect the rules, or you can leave."

Fuma sits down silently. The waiting room has been set up with an odd selection of chairs. There's a plush armchair in one corner, but the base seems to be turning dark with mould and there are a couple of rust-coloured stains on the back that makes his stomach turn. There's a park bench, a couple of dining chairs, and a small table with a few magazines.

They're old. Already a couple of weeks out of date before the earthquake would have hit. Their glossy pages have been so well-paged through that they're pale in places, corners curling inwards.

The park bench wobbles slightly when he leans forwards. The floor isn't quite even. K sits down beside him and it clicks back, but neither of them mention it as the woman leads Taki and Jo into the final ward and slides the divider closed.

There's still just a thin layer of material between them. But K sags in place like there's a weight taken off his shoulders the moment that Taki is out of sight. Anything they say louder than a hushed tone is probably still going to be heard. 

Fuma wouldn't mind sitting in silence to pass the time. But something in him turns to look at K for a reason he can't place. It comes at the same time as a realisation: he's not sure when it happened, but something has shifted between them. There's an understanding that wasn't there before. 

"He's gonna be okay."

It's low enough that it probably won't carry to where Taki is now lying. Maybe if Jo is paying attention he'll hear. But it's a message only intended for K, and the way his back stiffens is a sign that he's heard.

A few weeks ago, K might have taken caution to those words. Fuma would have meant them all the same, but there wouldn't have been the shared story behind them. Somewhere in the last few days they've changed from being on opposing sides working together for convenience. Fuma had broken into the pharmacy the same as K had. And K had pulled his entire journey off-route for Fuma to reunite with Jo and the kids. 

The world has caused them to put up walls, but when it comes down to it, they're more similar than they'd thought. The type of person to put others first when it comes down to it. It had just taken K putting the group above himself - even leaving Taki behind - for him to realise that.

They're on the same side. They have been this whole time.

"You don't know that."

"You wouldn't have let him go alone if you didn't think he'd end up fine. He's a strong kid. He'll pull through."

K's breath catches in his throat. He finally sits up again, turns to look at Fuma, and there's something raw in his eyes. Vulnerability. 

They're older than the others. Even Euijoo and Nicholas are only eighteen. There's a lifetime of experience between them and the others, and a desperate responsibility. There's nothing that can alleviate the guilt that Fuma feels about leaving Harua and Maki in Jo's care, even if it had been the only option at the time. There's nothing that can probably help K feel better about letting fourteen-year-old Taki jump in front of the knife. 

"What a stupid situation this is."

He's not talking about the make-shift doctor's office. He's talking about the city, the state of the country. The fact that they're on a park bench that doesn't quite stand evenly on the ground. 

Fuma raises an eyebrow. He's not sure K is looking for sympathy. And if he is, he's come to the wrong person. 

"And yet here we are," is all he says in response, and maybe it's exactly what K was looking to hear. 

-----

The rest of them find a house to set up camp in. It's near enough to the sea that the city locals avoid the area. Within a few weeks it'll probably be gone - with the rate that the water seems to be approaching, it may even be sooner - but that's fine.

They aren't planning on staying long. 

Neither Fuma nor Taki are showing signs of infection, but they need rest. Both groups have been on the go for far too long to reach the city, and it's beginning to wear them all down. They silently decide to rest for a couple of days before even thinking of their next steps. 

At a table - dragged in from another nearby house, and still covered with a layer of dust despite their attempts to clean it - Jo and Yuma sit opposite each other. Jo's sketchbook lies forgotten in front of him. Or, rather than forgotten, distracted.

It turns out that Jo knows a bit of sign language. His parents had taught him, in an attempt to greet as many people as possible. His hands stutter through the motions like he's doubting himself before every turn of his fingers, but Yuma's eyes had sparkled.

He'd barrelled over to Jo with an undeniable enthusiasm. Jo's pencil had been put down in favour of Yuma immediately trying to gauge exactly how much he knew, and now hasn't been touched in around twenty minutes. They pass the signs between them like a mirror. Nicholas can't quite figure out what each one means, but it seems like Yuma has now progressed to teaching him.

He doesn't know Jo well enough to wonder if the boy wants to be saved. But then he catches Jo's expression, screwed up in concentration as he tries to follow what Yuma shows him, and he decides that he's fine on his own. 

Fuma is also sitting nearby. He's trying to make it seem like he isn't watching, but his own hands twitch in his lap as he practices the signs without Yuma catching sight. He's doing a much better job at it than Taki - who's officially Yuma-banned from learning in order to rest and heal properly - but is also clumsily following along from the other side of the room.

Between Taki and Fuma, Maki is also frowning in concentration. He'd followed Nicholas around for almost the entirety of the first day, asking him constant questions and clinging to every word replied. Nicholas had basked in the attention, right up until the second morning had rolled around and he'd been replaced as Maki's favourite person. 

Today, Maki's idol is K.

When K had told Maki he used to run marathons, Maki's eyes went so huge that they almost fell out of his face. He'd immediately challenged K to a race. The fast that he lost didn't even seem to bother him - he'd simply come up with another rule to make things more interesting.

Even now,  K isn't really doing anything. He's balancing a book on his lap and trying to make it seem like he isn't half keeping an eye on Taki. Maki lingers around him even now. He has his own book to match, but Nicholas has his doubts about whether it's actually being read.

Euijoo is napping in the quietest corner, having taken the majority of the night watch. Even though Nicholas tries not to pay attention, he swears he can see the rise and fall of his chest. His breathing sounds like the whisper of wind through the trees.

It fills his chest with something. It makes him want to reach out and let Euijoo rest his head on his lap, but also crawl into his warmth and feel the weight of their bodies pressed against each other. 

Euijoo sleeps and every single one of Nicholas' thoughts revolves around him, so he removes himself from the situation.

"I'm going for a walk," he announces to the room. Fuma gives him a nod of acknowledgement. K glances up as he turns a page. The atmosphere in the room is stiflingly quiet and soft and delicate, as fragile as glass - and Nicholas thinks he may explode if he doesn't leave now. 

He turns on his heel and makes it all the way to the door before a tug on his trouser leg stops him. He almost thinks it's just caught against something, but he looks down and sees Harua instead.

His eyes are big. He has both hands twisted into the fabric of Nicholas' trousers, but he's just keeping them there rather than pulling. He doesn't open his mouth to say what he wants, but it's pretty obvious.

"Harua is coming with me," Nicholas tacks onto his announcement. No one moves.

But it pleases Harua. He drops his hands and when Nicholas starts moving, he sticks to his side and they walk together. The weather outside has dropped in temperature but it isn't cold enough to be uncomfortable in their thin jackets. There's a reedy breeze curling around their feed, blowing a few stray leaves in circles.

A crow caws overhead. Harua stops to watch it loop in the air, then runs to catch up with Nicholas again.

"Is there anywhere you want to go?"

Nicholas hadn't planned this out beforehand. A walk had only been the excuse, really. He needed to get out of the house before he bit his lip so hard it started bleeding. There's only so much silence he can sit in. There's only so much time wrapped up in the space of eight other people before he needs to breathe.

The streets of the city may be dusty and ruined, but the weight in his chest finally begins to ease. Harua shakes his head quietly, and Nicholas wonders whether he'd been feeling the same thing.

They don't walk in the direction of the stalls. It's best to keep away from other people when it's just the two of them - a child and a foreigner - but that leads them straight to where the sea laps against the road. It's just as sudden now as it had been seeing it before. 

The road simply disappears into water. Without a warning, the city is drowned. The tide has left mud washed against the walls of nearby buildings. The smell of damp seeps into the air and leaves it heavy with moisture. Harua stays a good few feet away from the water, and Nicholas joins him.

"It looks.." he starts, only to wonder what he was going to say. It looks apocalyptic. It's terrifying seeing the world like this to him, but Harua is just a kid. He wonders what it looks like through his eyes. 

Harua watches the water ripple. "My mommy..." he says, stepping closer to Nicholas, "She said there were fish in the sea. Are there fish here?"

Nicholas swallows. "It might be too-" his brain blanks on the word for mud , so he waves a hand and hopes that Harua understands the gesture, "brown."

"Oh."

They stand in silence. A bird - different to the crow from earlier - lands on the water. A family of sparrows dart from the carcass of a car to the empty windows of a fallen house. Harua unceremoniously sits on the ground, He wraps his hands around his legs and rests his chin on his knees. Nicholas sits beside him cross-legged. 

"Do you want to see something?" Nicholas reaches into his bag before Harua can reply. He can feel eyes trained on him as he brings his polaroid out into the open air.

"A camera!" Harua says, eyes sparkling. Shyness forgotten in favour of seeing something he's interested in, he leans a little closer to Nicholas. "Jo has one as well! But- it doesn't look like this."

He's looking at the fact the polaroid has no back. Jo's camera must be something more similar to Taki's - something that can capture film and save it to a card. Whilst Nicholas' polaroid can't do that and there's no way to check the image once it's been taken, he has a feeling Harua will like what comes next.

"It's not that kind of camera," he says. "It doesn't take video. But I'll show you what it can do. Let's take a photo together."

He lifts it into the air. Harua immediately tucks into his side and smiles in the little-kid way, all teeth and a screwed-up expression and not quite sure what to do with his hands. The view behind them probably isn't great. Due to its proximity to the approaching water, it's evidently been abandoned for a while.

But he points it towards them and takes the photo. When the polaroid starts to make noise and the image starts printing, Harua's expression is priceless.

"You have to shake it to make the photo appear," Nicholas explains. He shakes it in the air gently, much less efficiently than he would with any normal photo he's taken. But then he hands it to Harua and lets him have a go. Together, they watch as the image forms in front of them.

It's cute. He'd like to keep it in his collection at some point, complete with a date and their names. But Harua stares at it like it's the best thing he's ever seen, so Nicholas lets it slip out of his hands and into Harua's bunny bag. 

"I've taken quite a few," he says instead. "I don't have much film so I have to choose them carefully. That's why you should keep that one safe."

Harua nods seriously. "This is safe," he says, patting his bag. His other hand tangles in the strap unconsciously, twisting it around his fingers. "My mommy gave it to me. She says I look like a rabbit, so that's why it's a bunny. And she said I have to be careful with it because it was ex- expensive."

"I see," Nicholas says. Part of him wants to veer as far away from talk of 'families' as possible. He isn't sure how much Harua knows, but Nicholas definitely doesn't want it to be his job to explain the situation when he inevitably missteps. "Hey, I keep my photos in my bag as well. Some of them, anyway."

Not all of them, and he's definitely not taking the most precious out so near to the water. But there's a couple he searches for and finds with relative ease. 

Harua looks at them. The initial excitement has faded, but he takes the polaroids from Nicholas like they're something invaluable. His little fingers hold the edges gingerly. He pores over the images with a strange seriousness that Nicholas is coming to associate with him.

Eventually he nods and hands them back. It's such a grown-up gesture that Nicholas laughs, only for the sound to die in his throat when Harua doesn't laugh back.

"Mr. Euijoo is in a lot of these," he says, completely serious and sincere. "Do you like him?"

It's a good thing that Nicholas had already put the polaroids away safely. When those words leave Harua's mouth his entire body freezes like he has no control over it. Something in his chest twists like it's been cut open and put on display. Harua looks at him like he's seeing right into that bloody carcass. 

He's struggling to breathe. He's winded, from a question - from a six year old. 

"Where did you learn that?"

Harua shrugs. "I used to watch a lot of TV with my Mommy. They're always liking people."

The rest goes unsaid. The way Nicholas feels is painted clear enough on his face that Harua can see straight into it. The stuttering of his heart is loud enough that the ground beneath their feet thumps in the same rhythm. 

"It's just one, really," Harua says. There's a combination of smugness to his words - not cruel, but the glee that comes with discussing a grown-up topic and knowing that he's right, that Nicholas can't even attempt to put up a defence. "I thought it looked like you were smiling at him."

Nicholas' mouth is dry. "I smile at a lot of people."

"Not like that ." Harua rolls his eyes, "It's what my Mommy said was love-stuck . She also said that people in love are 'stupid' and that I don't ever need to fall in love. But I don't think it's that bad."

Your mom was right , Nicholas wants to say. He's stupid. He's love-struck. His smile in a photo is enough to make it obvious to a kid, and now Nicholas is bleeding out on the road. 

And Euijoo-

Is everything. Nicholas can't pretend to get in his brain and see what he's thinking, but he wants to. Euijoo shines because Nicholas pokes him and he prods right back. There's a side that Nicholas craves to see. He wants to push Euijoo to see what he does, and he doesn't know why. He likes the way that Euijoo smiles and how he thinks over everything . 

"It's a little more complicated than that," is what he ends up saying. "Love is... a strong word."

"But you like him?"

Nicholas huffs out a laugh. It sounds only a little strained. If Harua is astute enough to pick up on his feelings, he'll know what that means as an answer. "I said it's complicated. You're a smart kid. In your Mommy's TV shows, does it always work out?"

Harua hesitates. Then, he slowly shakes his head.

"That's what... I don't want to happen. It's best not to tread too close. If he doesn't feel the same way, or if it doesn't work out - it wouldn't be the same. We'd stay friends," there isn't a universe where they aren't friends, Nicholas is painfully sure of that even if nothing else, "But it wouldn't be the same."

When did he start talking seriously about his love-life to a six-year old? He wishes he still had access to his phone, to the chats connecting him to his family back in Taiwan. He so desperately wants to tell them everything (that he's fine, that he's alive and he's okay and he's doing everything he can to get back to them) , but that simply isn't possible.

The grief comes in waves. He's numb to the loss at moments like this, even if it'll just hit him in full force at some point later. For now, Harua will have to do.

He's already seen the bloody mess of his chest when it comes to Euijoo. As much as it stings to say out loud, Nicholas isn't sure if he can even lie when it comes to this. It hurts more to pretend he's okay risking it all. 

"He's too important to me. I think I'll be happy to have him as a friend forever, rather than risk ever losing him."

Harua sniffs. He tangles his fingers in his bunny bag again. He is a smart kid. The conversation is over. 

"I think he likes you back anyway," he says. Nicholas doesn't respond, and they both stare out into the brown water slowly drowning the city. 

Chapter Text

Jo thinks it's the 21st of October by the time they leave the city. He's no longer sure whether his count is completely accurate. Even if he's been very careful to make sure he's only making a note once a day, there are a few times he's aware he might have forgotten.

When Fuma had been separated from them. There had been an odd transition period where Jo had found himself in charge, hadn't there? What if he'd gotten so distracted chasing after Harua and Maki that he'd forgotten. He can't be sure that he hadn't accidentally made one too many marks, either. 

And then there's the day they left the hotel, for one. His hands hadn't been able to stop shaking for a few hours even once they'd run through those doors. He can still see the silhouette of the woman falling every time he closes his eyes - but that is nothing compared to the way his mind keeps spiralling.

What if he hadn't been fast enough? What would have happened to them - to Maki, if Jo had just run? Or if he'd been unsuccessful in his stupid attempt to rush forwards? He hadn't even worried about it at the time. He'd been so overwhelmed with the fact that they had escaped, that the relief had drowned out any thoughts of 'what if?' . 

Slowing down and staying in the same place for a week makes the thoughts worse. They linger in every dark corner of the house, even when he can clearly see Maki trying to clean up or Harua lingering close to his legs. 

He doesn't say anything out loud, but when they start moving again, it comes as a relief.

Travelling gives him something else to focus on. It's hard to linger on the past when you're facing forwards in order to survive. And the bright sky of the outside world is nothing like the hotel ceilings. He doesn't find himself imagining wandering the corridors nearly so much.

Jo wonders if this is how Harua felt, in the few weeks after they rescued him from his collapsed apartment building. He knows that he still doesn't like to stay in enclosed spaces. He's afraid of the dark more than a child should be at his age. It's hard to know how much of that was Harua before the earthquake, and how much is a result of everything he's been through.

But they're moving again, it's easier to file those thoughts into a place where he doesn't come across them so often, and they leave the city behind them.

Taki has finally lost the bandages around his face. Despite them not trading anything, the doctor had provided him with a set of medical eyepatches anyway. They hadn't even been allowed to thank her from them. She'd tucked them into the set of medication she'd handed over at the end of the check-up, and then refused to talk to them when they'd come around the next day.

It's surprising how much of a difference it's made.

Taki is finally up and with more energy than before. He chases Maki around when he wants to play. He gets along surprisingly well with Harua, and the two of them can be found hand-in-hand more often than not. He stops pretending that he hasn't been learning sign language with Jo. Yuma's lessons get one person larger.

His bag still isn't as heavy as everyone else's though. They split their supplies across the six of them doing most of the carrying. Even with the sudden increase in numbers, there's not much they can actually discard. The water and food supplies drain faster than normal, but there are also more people to check the surrounding areas. Someone brings out a portable stove, and Jo has warm food for the first time in a while. 

There's a moment after they're all packed where Jo spots Yuma and Euijoo almost run into each other. They're standing over Fuma's bag and blinking at each other - which doesn't make any sense, until Jo puts the pieces together.

He watches as Euijoo takes some of the heavier items out and into his own bag, until Yuma eventually pesters him into letting him take half. They repack Fuma's bag until it looks like it had never been touched in the first place.

Jo pretends he never saw a thing. He keeps talking, watching over Fuma's shoulder and hoping his ears don't go too red as he tries to keep him distracted. 

If Fuma notices, he doesn't mention it.

It doesn't take too long to pack up, and soon they're all gathering back in the main room together.

"What do we think?" K asks. He gestures to where two bikes have been stacked up against the wall. They're the ones that Jo, Harua and Maki had ridden into town. 

It had worked out in their favour - the road they'd taken had been in decent enough condition that the journey had been fairly easy. Harua and Maki hadn't argued that much about who got to ride on the kids bike. They'd gotten tired out quickly enough that they didn't protest when it was time to swap over. In fact, Jo was the one that pulled the shortest straw - having to cycle the furthest out of the three of them.

They look comical now. The only normal-sized bike, practically dwarfed by the size of the child's seat on the back. And the kids bike next to it, bright pink with glittering ribbons and everything. Harua still stands nearby and runs his finger through the tassels every so often. 

Nicholas shakes his head. "We're not gonna find seven more bikes," he says. 

"Hey," Yuma says, faking an elbow to his side, "We might! The city's in pretty good shape when it isn't underwater."

"I'll help find more bikes," Maki says by his side. He's as much of a part of this conversation as the others, despite being almost ten-years younger than Taki. He nods very seriously, and they all look at him to take his suggestion into consideration. "I found the first two! I'm good at finding things,  an' I want to be helpful!"

He has been helpful. He's been tidying up their temporary house more than some of the much-older people, even finding a broom from who-knows-where to attempt to sweep the floors at some point. 

"You're doing a good job," Fuma tells him. He ruffles his hair, and Maki beams up at him. The set up before the fall, because the second half of Fuma's sentence comes; "We don't have time for that. And it's not worth carrying two bikes with us if we're not going to use them."

"So we're going to go for the car plan instead?" Yuma asks.

It sounds like it. K starts talking about what the car-plan means, but it's more important that no one else protests. There's a unanimous agreement. Jo certainly isn't going to protest any plans, especially when he still feels a little like an outsider in the group. Taki breathes a sigh of relief from beside him. He fiddles with the elastic of his eyepatch anxiously, and Jo wonders whether he'd still be able to ride a bike with only half of his vision left.

Has K realised that? He hadn't mentioned it. The only other person he'd seen looking at Taki had been Euijoo. He also hadn't said anything, but Jo wonders whether that would have changed if it seemed like that was the plan they were leaning towards.

Even now, in the corner of the room, Euijoo cuts the glittering ribbons from the handlebars of the bike. He tries to tie them onto Harua's bag for him but ends up making a knot by accident.

In the end, Nicholas comes to save them. He mocks Euijoo's attempt and then braids them into a neat plait, which Harua loops around the strap of his bag with sparkling eyes. Nicholas tells him to strike a pose with it afterwards. Harua happily obliges and Nicholas pretends to snap photos of him - only to jokingly ask Harua for payment when he's done. 

Jo tries not to laugh at the way that Harua's mouth opens and closes at that. First in shock, and then completely serious outrage. He starts telling Nicholas off with absolute sincerity, hands on his hips and everything. 

Around them, everyone else gathers the last of their belongings. They sling their bags back over their shoulders and wish goodbye to the house they've sheltered in for the last week. The door doesn't close properly behind them, but Jo thinks the way it swings on the loose hinges is just as symbolic.

He watches the clouds in the sky as they make their way through the city streets. The empty buildings on either side of the road have lost their eerie quality by now. The lack of care left towards what was once people's homes is now just something they've become used to.

There's nothing interesting about the way that ivy begins to tug at the brickwork of a shop at the end of a road. There are weeds pushing up through the cracks in the concrete. Jo makes sure to avoid treading on them. The cold season is coming - he thinks it's impressive for them to attempt to blossom before Winter, and he secretly hopes for them to survive. 

Maybe it's stupid, but he likes the parallel between the weeds and the group he's found himself amongst. A collection of people with no connection from before the earthquake. They're surviving in the cracks of the world left behind, against all odds. 

The city spawls on this side, further than he thought. Conversation keeps the mood of the group high, but it's over an hour before they finally come towards the edge of the suburbs. Even this probably was inhabited at one point - they can see buildings still stretch out to one side, even though they've reached the point where the road begins to widen into something high-speed.

And that's where they come to a halt. 

Jo stands completely still.

He's never been someone to show much emotion on his face, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel it. The drop in his stomach is the same that Fuma feels beside him, that Nicholas and Euijoo on the other side of the group exchange within their glances. Even if Harua and Maki don't realise why the atmosphere has suddenly dropped, they can still feel the sudden stiffness. 

The road in front of them is barely a road.

At least, not compared to the side of the city they've just come from. The increasing destruction of the houses they'd passed should have been a sign. Looking back in hindsight, the fact that the entire trading village had been set up on only one side should have been enough of a clue - the fact that the hospital was flooded and yet they'd cornered themselves into a smaller area than what was available.

The presence of other people and the quality of the house they'd been sheltering in had made Jo almost forget what the world looked like in some places.

The destruction in front him was just that - destruction. The earthquake had knocked over almost every standing structure. The road must have been elevated above the ground at some point, only for the supports to have toppled in a combination of shaking and consequential disrepair.

Instead of setting out in a flat line, the ground crumbles into pieces of concrete and tarmac and churned up grass. The water laps at the ruins on the other side, with the same relentlessness that had taken over half of the city.

There are no cars in a decent state to drive. Either they've been crushed in the drop from when the road collapsed, or are overturned in nearby ditches. A few peeling paint carcasses are still upright, but too burnt out for Jo to want to approach. K hisses an intake of breath next to him, clicking his tongue at the view.

Even if there was a car to drive, it wouldn't be enough - surely. There are nine of them now. That's too many to fit in one vehicle, and Jo winces at the thought of how unsafe a solution to that could be, even if there's no one left to enforce any road rules. And there isn't a path for a car to drive down. With the road in this state, they'd be driving over grass and pieces of concrete flung somehow into the dirt.

"It doesn't look great," Fuma says, leaning back and folding his arms. It's painfully mundane of an action. He looks like a dad surveying... a rack of power tools, or something like that. But the shell of the city looms in the distance behind him, and the illusion is never given more room to grow. 

"Too late to go and grab the bikes?" K jokes, and Jo can't tell if he's being serious or not.

The few seconds of taking in the scene turns into a minute. Jo certainly isn't going to be the first one to make a move. In the end, it's Euijoo that steps forward. It isn't with the confidence that Jo hoped either K or Fuma would eventually make, but there's something expectant in the way that he moves.

He glances over his shoulder like he's expecting them to follow. Yuma is already there, dashing forward to overtake and be the first to scramble down to reach the ground. Maki isn't too far behind him, pulling Harua along - but they're not running with excitement, more like they're being brave for the sake of the others.

"What about the bikes?" Nicholas says, finding himself at the other end of the group even as he starts moving as well. He raises an eyebrow. Jo can't quite place his tone, or the way that Euijoo pouts slightly as he glances back again. It doesn't quite fit with how he's seen them over the past few days. It's like a moment where the dust has been wiped away to reveal the true reflection of a mirror - the fact that they're all slowly becoming more comfortable around each other.

He can't quite relate. At least, not just yet. He'll happily keep up the persona of being a little more withdrawn and shy. It's what he's used to, even when helping out his parents at the shrine. 

Maybe it's because the world has grown quieter, but it feels like his voice is heard without him trying. There are pauses in the conversation - starting from Fuma dictating, asking Jo's opinion when he hadn't spoken up for a little while - but it's quickly spread to the entire group.

It's odd. Unfamiliar, probably as a better way to put it. And-

"Jo?"

He looks up, snapped out of his thoughts. 

K is looking at him expectantly. The situation has changed since he stopped paying attention, and he feels his cheeks heat up at the realisation. Whatever Nicholas was trying to protest (with a question mark - Jo isn't sure that was his actual goal) has been forgotten. They're now a decent distance away from the road, all on the soft ground nearby and making their way parallel to the waterfront.

"Sorry," he starts to say, but K is already laughing with a mock-offended face. It makes his face heat up even more, but there isn't any cruelty in the way that K laughs, and Jo doesn't actually feel embarrassed.

"Tell Taki he's wrong," K says, pouting like he isn't the one significantly older than both Taki and Jo, "We're debating whether it would be better to have no sense of smell or no sense of taste."

Taki pretends to shove K in response. His fingers never connect, but he runs away from the scene of the crime like they had, and K chases after him with the same dedication to the make-believe scenario. 

Jo watches, mildly confused that they'd asked his opinion only to leave before getting a response. The fact they'd thought creates a warm feeling in his chest though. He finds that he's even put his hand up against his coat, pressing down like it's something physical to feel.

"You'll get used to it," Fuma says. Jo spins, not aware that Fuma had been watching him. "It's a bit much compared to just Harua and Maki."

In front of them, K swipes at Taki. Taki tries to dodge, but the strain from running when he's still trying to heal has taken an effect, and K's hand collides with his side. Jo's heart leaps to his mouth. Are they going to fight? K's the oldest person here - why is he playing along like that? Jo would never be able to act like that, isn't he afraid of hurting Taki?

Fuma laughs. "You think too much," he tells Jo. "They'll work it out."

"I feel like I'm trying to catch-up," Jo admits, slowly. There's more to it - but he can't put it into words. 

Fuma looks at him. "You'll get there."

That's it. He's not the type to sugar-coat what he's saying, not when three words can do exactly the same thing. And he doesn't say what he doesn't mean. There's something so matter-of-fact about the way that he speaks that Jo can't even question it. 

It says I'm proud of you . 

Maybe.

Jo isn't sure that’s what Fuma is actually saying, or whether that's just what he wants to believe - and whether it even makes a difference at this point. He has to look away, mumbling out some form of thanks that just sounds hesitant. He hopes he isn't blushing again.

Yuma's appearance in the next few moments comes as a relief from the conversation.

"Hey. What do you think happened to all the people here?" Yuma tilts his head as he asks. He slows down just enough that he falls into line, slipping right into the space they'd kept between them. 

Jo bites his lip. Usually he'd wait for Fuma to reply, but Fuma is waiting for Jo, and they'll be here a while if no one ever makes a move.  "The people? Like, the evacuations?"

"Is that what happened?" Yuma asks. "I didn't live anywhere near the sea, so I never even thought about it. I just travelled with whoever was left from my village until we heard there was a camp. That's where I met Euijoo and Nicholas - I've told you this before."

He has. And all three of them had skirted around the ensuing fire that apparently happened afterwards.

Jo can't blame them. He gets a lump in his throat thinking about what it must have been like. He'd barely been able to talk about the hotel when telling his story in response.

"Not an official evacuation," he says slowly, "I heard that most people headed towards the sea. The city... got split in half by the earthquake, so everyone arriving at the shrine wasn't able to get close. And even from the mountain - it wasn't close enough to see the ocean, so there could have been ships arriving with aid and I wouldn't know."

Fuma hums in agreement. He's never elaborated on why he hadn't headed that same way. Or even where he'd been where the earthquake hit. "Every group we came across in the first few days was heading towards the sea."

All three of them turned to look at the water by the side of the road. They're far out from where the ocean should reach by miles. Jo could try and convince himself that the water is just from flooding, but it pulls and ebbs with a weak tide, and he knows that's not the case. 

"I hope they evacuated," he says. "Rescued, I mean."

Surely that's what happened. There had been no helicopters flying overhead, but there must have been some sort of relief effort by sea. Even civilian boats doing their best in an attempt to help. It was some distance to try and sail, but it was surely possible. And if everyone had gotten picked up by ships there, it would answer why the country seemed so quiet now.

The alternative is worse.

There had been at least eight earthquakes that Jo had felt. The first one - so strong that it changed his entire life, killed probably hundreds of thousands of people, sent them all on this path that led to standing right here, right now. If Yuma's timeline matched up with his, the second strongest was the one that had caused the refugee camp to burn down.

The other six had been large enough to feel, but nothing on the scale of those two. Buildings had probably shaken, structures that were already leaning had collapsed, but it hadn't been enough to impact what had already been effected. If he was being honest, there were likely more that he hadn't even noticed. Without being inside, he could have written off the swaying of tree branches as a strong gust of wind.

And those were just the earthquakes localised to their area of the country. There could have been more - of the same scale, or even worse - in different places. If one of the larger earthquakes had been off the coast...

A tsunami wouldn't explain why the water had reached quite so far into land. It wouldn't explain how it was still here, and how it still appeared to be creeping forwards by a few inches every day. But it wouldn't be out of the question either.

Fuma stays silent. Yuma doesn't say anything either. They've all grown up with the constant knowledge of earthquakes and tsunamis - seeing them on the news, even if they've never experienced anything at this level before. It's surely the thought in the forefront of their minds.

They stay silent for a few moments longer, before Yuma eventually shrugs. "There's no way to tell. We still don't know what even caused the earthquake! I mean, it could have been natural - but then what about the rain?"

Jo frowns. "The rain?"

"The acidic rain," Yuma clarifies, and when that doesn't clear up the confusion on Jo's face, he continues, "Did you guys not get that? There was acidic rain for a little bit. It wasn't really where I was, but apparently K and Taki saw it pretty bad. It stopped a while ago, but even the stone where they're from was dissolving."

Acidic rain? Jo casts his mind back and glances at Fuma, but he can't think of anything and only gets a small shake of the head in response. "Wow."

Does it make sense? Could an earthquake be connected to acidic rain? Jo isn't sure - he'd never paid that much attention to Earth Science, and he's pretty sure they never covered this in his classes. A tsunami still has an obvious link. Something twists in his gut when he tentatively thinks of Fukushima. 

What can they even do, if that is the case? Nothing that can change where they've already been or the choices they've made. They have more short-term problems: like shelter from the weather and finding enough food and clean water for nine people. 

"There's nothing that can be done about it now," he says slowly. Yuma nods with a hesitance that says he'd been thinking down exactly the same path as Jo.

"I guess it's still safest to stick by the water," he says, in an attempt to lead them away from topics that they cannot change. "If there were rescues. They might come back at some point - I mean, if there's ever going to be aid, we have the most chance of spotting it here."

The ocean doesn't make a motion as to whether it agrees or not. There are no ships on the horizon. The remnants of buildings jut out from the water, their ground floors completely swallowed. Belongings carried out through windows and doors swirl within them. The tide might not be powerful enough to take them far, but Jo's sure that people's entire lives are lurking just beneath the surface.

It's shallow. Where they are now, there's no way for a large boat to be able to reach the shore without running around. That's something to keep in mind for whenever they decide to settle for the winter.

Chapter Text

With the closing of October, a chill approaches. 

The air is no longer heavy with the moisture of the early autumn, but thankfully doesn't swing back into the dryness of summer either. The grass is damp with dew when they wake up, but the clothes they wash in nearby streams dry within a day. There's a few days where mist clings to the hills in the distance and the countryside is bathed with an eerie stillness, but that weather passes as well. 

They enter into the space right before November with the beginnings of a cold wind tugging at their jackets. It had seemed like a good idea to leave the city at first, but there's now an unspoken understanding that weaves its way between the members of the group; they can't go on like this forever.

It comes with the fact that Taki is now cold even when he's walking.

Before, the constant movement has meant his body's kept warm enough to help him ignore the chill. The temperature drops in the night, sure, but they've so far managed to find shelters to pass the chill. With so many people, they pull close together and let their body heat do most of the work for them.

He's also picked up a relatively thick jacket along the way, and the zip pulled up to his chin helps block out the wind. He shoves his hands into his pockets and plays with a loose thread. Beside him, K tries to look like he's not watching Taki's every movement.

Honestly. Taki isn't sure who he's fooling. If even Taki's picked up on it (definitely nothing to do with Yuma commenting on it - he's sure he would have noticed on his own without that hint) then the whole group must be aware at this point. Even Harua and Maki, because they're strangely observant when it comes to things like this.

And K stands on Taki's good side. Taki wonders whether he does it on purpose - whether he realises that Taki would simply have no way of noticing he was being watched if K stood on the side with his now-blind eye - or whether he just doesn't like seeing the eyepatch.

The elastic rubs a little against his skin. He doesn't mind it, though. Having the eyepatch makes it easier to forget about the truth if he's feeling really bad about it. He can trick himself into thinking he can't see because of the fabric cover, and not because of the knife that had cut through his skin. 

So he tries not to like he's watching K (who probably only hasn't realised because it's K), who's trying not to look like he's watching Taki. 

"Wow," Euijoo says amiably between them, "It's getting cold. Will it snow, do you think?"

Just like that, the tension snaps. Taki breathes a sigh of relief with K distracted. Fuma is suddenly also beside him, nodding along, with Yuma at his other side. Nicholas and Maki are a couple of paces ahead. Nicholas glances back at the sound of the conversation change, and Harua and Jo behind them quieten down to join in as well.

Hang on. Had everyone been sensing the weird feeling in the air? Was Euijoo trying to change the subject?

Suddenly, Taki feels like he's a couple of paces behind everyone else. He frowns, feels a twinge from pulling areas of skin that are healing, frowns even more because of the pain, and then has to sculpt his features back into a flat expression. By the time he's finished, he's forgotten all about coming across the let's-change-the-conversation conspiracy. 

"Will it snow?" K echoes. Now making fun, not simply repeating, but something in between. "It's Japan. We'll get at least one snowfall."

"Eh?" Yuma says. "With this weather? It wouldn't be weird if we didn't get any. Maybe the acid melted it all away."

K shoots him a look. "It's been months since the acid."

But Yuma has a point. The summer was warm but dry, the autumn was wet and sticky. They've consistent stretches of weather uninterrupted by anything else. Taki remembers the first time he met K - and the fact they sheltered in the ruins of someone else's home, watching the rain hit the ground and eat away at the plastic littered between the rubble. 

He hasn't thought about that for a while. Not the sheltering, but the fact that he'd been terrified of the rain. There'd been a period where they'd only been able to drink from bottles of water, and Taki had become so dehydrated at one point that he'd wastefully opened tins of food just to drain the liquid from inside.

He shudders. There's no sign of the acidity in the rain coming back, but he knows they'd struggle a lot more this time around if it did. They don't have nearly as much lying around now. The elements are beginning to take a toll on the structures left half-standing from the earthquake. 

"It wouldn't be weird if we had loads of snow as well," Yuma is saying. He grins when he sees Maki's face light up at the prospect of a snow day. "So much snow that we'd have to swim through it."

"Swimming," Maki echoes wistfully. "I wanna go swimming. I miss the pool."

He glares at the water by their side. The fact that they're walking around a hundred metres from the shore doesn't mean they can't see it. It stretches out and drowns the distance. Taki can see the tips of buildings peeking out from the floodwaters. He was going to risk going for a paddle a few days ago, just to test how far he could walk out before it started becoming too deep - but he'd been very promptly stopped.

Apparently the water isn't clean enough even for paddling. And, okay, Taki can see that it's a murky brown - and that there's enough sediment to make seeing more than a couple of centimetres deep impossible. Except then he'd been told about the bodies probably in the water and the debris that would be invisible until he trod right onto a nail. And then Fuma had said something about brain-eating bacteria, and that had really sealed the deal. 

Maki must have had the same lecture. Taki also glares at the water just to back him up, and imagines some of the brain-eating bacteria getting intimidated by their combined power.

(He's tired. He can't see out of one eye. He knows he's acting like a kid - the same way that a five year old is - but he can't bring himself to care. He wants to go home, but the weather only seems to be getting colder)

"It doesn't matter," K eventually announces, "Whether it's going to snow or not. The weather is getting colder. We're going to need to find somewhere to stop soon."

"Stop?" Nicholas raises an eyebrow. "Like, stop stop? For the winter?"

K nods, and Nicholas hums. "I thought the plan was to head to... one of the big cities. We're abandoning that?"

That had been the plan. Even if Taki hadn't been paying too much attention in his lessons before the earthquake, he hadn't been doing badly in them either. And it was impossible to grow up in Japan without learning about their earthquake adaptation methods. He knows as well as everyone else that the big cities are full of skyscrapers, but also strict building codes and lots of investments into making sure they'd survive.

The earthquake they'd had was bigger than anyone had expected. Maybe some of the tallest buildings still hadn't survived the shaking, but the point remained that it couldn't have been all of them. They should have been mostly earthquake proof despite everything. And that's where the most people would be - and therefore the highest rescue effort! 

"It won't matter whether we're heading to a big city if we never actually make it."

Jo looks away at that, hands curled into fists. Fuma stays silent at the back. Euijoo has moved into Taki's blind spot. Harua and Maki are quietly trying to keep up with what's being discussed, and Taki feels just as small as them.

"We'll freeze along the way," he says, just to hear the sound of his own voice. He wants to contribute something, even as useless as backing up a point no one had been trying to protest. 

There's a beat of silence and he wonders whether it's his fault for interrupting, but Fuma eventually speaks up.

"We'll need to start gathering supplies," he says, and everyone turns to look at him. "We'll need thicker jackets than what we have now."

"Changes of clothes," Jo says. Everyone looks to him as well, and when he next speaks it starts off quiet before gaining in volume and confidence. "If it does snow, it's going to soak through whatever we're wearing. Nothing will dry quickly in the cold, and wearing wet clothes brings your body temperature down."

Taki glances to Euijoo - the closest thing to a medic they have. There's a beat that passes whilst he translates in his head, and then he's nodding along to Jo's point. 

"Changes of clothes," Fuma continues, "If we're going to stay in the same place, we'll need to make sure it's insulated and that the roof isn't going to collapse. We should start chopping and drying wood. If we wait until it starts snowing, it'll be too late. We'll need to be prepared for the weather to dip without knowing how long it'll last, or how bad it'll get."

"And food!" Harua pipes up from beside him. He pats his bunny bag to make his point. He's wearing a pair of purple fuzzy gloves to keep his hands warm, but they're a few sizes too big and the fingers flop around whenever he moves.

"Food," Fuma says, "Thank you Rua, you're right. If we stop moving, we're also stopping scavenging. Our supplies will run out quickly if we're not careful. Although, if it does snow, at least we won't have to worry about water so much."

No one else interrupts, and their list comes to an end. Taki's head is spinning slightly. He knows it's not his fault - that he's had other things on his mind lately other than their future - but he hadn't considered anything that's just been said. He wonders whether he would have made it this far if he hadn't run into K all those months ago. He'd been surviving by the skin of his teeth even back then. 

Though the resounding silence says that he wasn't the only one. Maybe with so many people it's easy to assume that someone else is making a plan. Nicholas is frowning like there's something playing on his mind for sure. Maki is nodding along completely seriously, but his little cheeks are pale. Yuma has skipped forward. He slings his arm over Nicholas' shoulders despite the lingering air of the conversation, and Nicholas doesn't even attempt to push him away.

Taki slows down his pace. For the first time in a while, he digs into his bag and pulls out his camera. From the back of the pack and with no one watching, he presses the 'record' button. There's nothing special about the moment, and yet he's overcome with the need to make sure it's kept precious and safe. 

"Wow," K says, "I didn't know you knew so much about survival."

Fuma smiles. "I used to go camping with my family," he says. It feels like there should be an elaboration afterwards, but it becomes clear that he's finished speaking when he doesn't move to say anything else.

The subject is dropped. They move on.

Finding somewhere suitable to stay is easier said than done.

Trying to stay near the water is relatively low down on their priorities,  but they don't end up travelling more than half a mile away from the shore at any point anyway. It doesn't make much of a difference. With the distance they've managed to put between them and the flooded city, they're deep in the countryside. With no in-depth knowledge of the local surroundings, they could pass right by a village without ever knowing it existed. 

And the ones that they do manage to find are... in ruins.

Half-underwater. There are houses that have been drowned in the same way as the city, the concrete cracked and the dirt turned into a swamp beneath their feet. In places like this, anything built out of brick would have crumbled in the initial earthquake. But when they look closer at the wooden houses that survived, mould and rot has begun to bend the timbers. 

It'll only get worse once the cold properly settles. Even if they were able to fix the bowing roofs of the standing buildings, Euijoo talks about the effect of breathing in rot with a frown on his face. 

The town is so wrecked that there's nothing even to scavenge. It's too dangerous to wade out into the buildings in the water. Nicholas creeps as close to the ones at the furthest edges of the village as he's willing to risk, but his shoes begin to sink into the mud and he's forced to retreat.

They leave with nothing except the loss of another day. 

The next day is similar. They actually find another town in the morning, and this one has some distance between the closest houses and the water. It seems like it could be perfect - but that only lasts a few minutes before even Taki starts to get a bad feeling.

There's nothing obviously wrong. But there's a cold weight at the base of his neck and that's enough to make him shiver. He hesitates in the doorway of the first house they check out. For some reason, he doesn't want to put his foot across the boundary - to the point where he almost grabs onto Fuma's sleeve to stop him from entering as well.

He doesn't, in the end. It's just a feeling with nothing to explain rationally.

But Fuma returns out less than a minute later, expression slightly tight. He shakes his head at K and Euijoo almost imperceptibly, and then immediately moves onto distracting the kids with some talk about Pokemon. 

Taki wonders what he saw in there. He doesn't have to think for too long, though - the next house they come across has broken windows and graffiti across the only wall left standing. It's been thoroughly looted. There's nothing left inside worth taking. Even the bed sheets have been ripped to pieces and the cabinet doors pulled off their hinges.

It's old devastation. This happened a long time ago, probably in the first few weeks after the earthquake. The culprits have long since moved on.

But the entire village follows in the same pattern as the first few houses. Cruel and needless destruction. The wind whistles in the spaces where the insides of the houses have been pulled into the open air. There's a huge dark scar in the centre of town.

The remnants of a fire so big that the ash has been burnt into the paving slabs, scorching the stone until it's been left black. There's nothing wrong with the town other than the leftover destruction, but Taki doesn't protest when they're already moving again by midday. They haven't even taken as long to rest as they would normally. His skin stops crawling when they leave the silhouettes of the houses behind them. 

After that, there's a town only visible from the beams poking out from the water. One that's been completely ravaged by fire to the point that only piles of brick show that buildings were there in the first place. They stop at a town that seems perfectly fine - other than the fact it's on a slight decline, the ridge of a small hill being the only thing keeping the water away

"We're never going to find something at this rate," Nicholas grumbles. 

But he looks at the slope and the way that the water could rise. There's no telling whether it ever will, or whether this is simply where the new shoreline will be forever - but the hill isn't large enough to act as a dam. K calls them 'sitting ducks' for even considering setting up camp in what's clearly a flood plain, but his eyes linger on the houses as well. 

One day, there's a small earthquake.

It's around a week since they started searching. It isn't anything impressive. It's not large enough to do more than shake the leaves in the trees. A few birds caw loudly at the disturbance. There's not a building in sight to sway. They could have slept through it - that's how small it is - but that isn't what happens.

It should be what they've grown up used to, but Taki finds his heart thundering above the shaking. They throw themselves to the ground the moment that it starts, and don't get up for a few minutes until they're sure it's stopped.

His head goes straight back to being in that field in the summer. Even though his body knows this one is much smaller, and isn't anywhere near the being the first they've had since then, his mind hasn't quite got the message. His eye aches. His face stings where his skin is still desperately trying to heal.

He swears the ground is warm. He can feel the sun beating down on his back, and he has to clutch his chest where the photograph of his mother has been kept safe. 

His breathing doesn't even out for a while afterwards. It isn't just him, either. Harua's cheeks stain pink with tears and Maki's lower lip trembles. Jo goes quiet and all nine of them pull closer. 

No one talks about it when they start moving again. It's just an earthquake, but there's a sour taste in Taki's mouth when he thinks about how much his life has changed since the summer. It's been a long time since then. He misses the world back when he didn't have to care about surviving into the next day. He misses his sleepy town and worrying about what he'd film for his assignment. He misses his parents. 

Yuma points out that the shore has crept a few inches closer. 

Taki says there's no way he should be able to tell, but then they traipse over to a tree trunk beginning to rot from proximity to the water. Yuma tells him that the tree had been completely dry before the earthquake. Now, it's a couple of centimetres disappearing into the water. There's no way to prove his theory - and Taki's pretty sure that an earthquake causing something that huge would have been stronger - but he also can't completely write it off.

If anyone else notices, it doesn't get mentioned. They keep walking hand-in-hand.

When they eventually find the perfect place to stay, Jo tells Taki he thinks it's the 7th of November.

He films their arrival, so Taki doesn't bother. They have limited tape, and even though it's something that feels important - this is where they'll be spending the next two months - there's no point in them both capturing it. 

It's a set of farmhouses.

They're built out of wood, and therefore have survived the earthquakes without too much damage. The crops in the fields have long since wilted and the metal contained buckled in rust, but the houses themselves are... fine. 

The insides are sparse in the nature of someone packing up everything that they wanted to take, but there are still mats on the floor and slightly moth-eaten clothes in the wardrobes. The lack of an actual town nearby has probably contributed to the fact that they barely even seem looted. 

At least - not in the same way to some of the towns they've passed through. The cupboards are empty of food and a few cupboard doors have been swung open so hard that they've left marks against the walls.But over half of the windows are unbroken. The front doors still close with a click.

The set of buildings are also, importantly, on a slight hill. It's closer to the water than Fuma would have liked, judging on how he walks from the shore to the houses a couple of times. There are a couple of flooded fields that stretch out in front of them. The reflection of the sky in the water seems completely still. But there's enough distance and enough of a hill that they decide it'll be fine. 

Out of the three houses, one is in better condition than the others, and it doesn't take a discussion to decide this is the one they'll take.

Harua and Maki - and Yuma and Taki - run through the rooms calling dibs on which ones they want to take. There are three bedrooms upstairs and the cushions of the couches on the lower floors. Even with everyone claiming their own place to sleep, they end up pushing all the soft bedding onto the floor of the largest bedroom anyway. 

They set their bags down in the same room now. Even though the sun starts to set, Euijoo is still doing laps of the house trying to find anything that could be of use into the main living area. Harua, Maki, Jo and Nicholas are all helping - gathering what they can take from the other houses to collect into one space. 

K and Fuma trek around the outside. As well as the three houses, there are a couple of sheds - but each has been locked. Taki stands at the window of the bedroom and watches them in the last moments of the daylight. He can't hear what they're saying. He keeps leaning too close to the glass and having to wipe away the fog from his breath. 

They must decide it isn't worth attempting to open tonight. They'll have plenty of time to sort through everything that's been left behind. K turns and starts making note of the broken windows - another job for the next day. Fuma tugs at the lock just to make sure, and then joins him. 

Next to him, Yuma flattens the pillows and sorts them into piles: what's still able to be used, and what's become so stained from exposure that it isn't worth risking. He's thrown a couple of the back of Taki's head. Apparently the fact that Taki keeps throwing them right back isn't doing anything to put him off.

It's a little strange.

They've stayed in houses since the earthquake, but it's never been quite like this. When he'd been travelling with K alone, they'd been moving forwards every single day, never spending more than two nights in the same place at most. Every other time he's stopped has been out of necessity: to heal from injury, to recuperate supplies, to wait out the weather outside. 

This is different. This is settling down for two months at the very least, possibly even three depending on the weather. It'll be a while before he has to travel with the remnants of his belongings on his back. Even something as small as... having his own bed - it feels weird.

But not bad.

Despite the threat of the oncoming winter, Taki smiles. He pulls his jacket a little tighter around himself, tries to dodge the next pillow Yuma throws at him (failing miserably, unfortunately), and feels warmer than he has for a while. 

Chapter Text

Fuma breaks open the door to the shed the next morning, and the visual of the chain falling to the ground is greeted with cheers. They'd given up on trying to get it open whilst keeping the door intact by the end. The handles which it had been looped around are also on the ground, kicked out of the way so that the door can be opened.

Yuma watches as the contents are revealed and it starts to seem like there might be hope for this place after all.

He leaves while they're sorting everything out, getting bored of standing around, and by the time he returns everything useful has been brought out and now sits displayed on the grass.

There seem to be more rusty tools than anything else. He distantly thinks that maybe it's from disuse or exposure to the weather.  But when he looks closer, it doesn't seem like the roof is in bad condition - there's no sign of any leaks. It is a farm after all. Or it was one at some point. There's probably another shed - or storage unit - somewhere out where they haven't explored yet, and the shed next to the property is just where things were kept before they were thrown out.

The shed is fairly large, and there are dusty shelves still visible in the background. Not everything has been brought into the daylight. K crouches over a pair of bolt-cutters, narrowing his eyes at the sharpness of the blade. There's a set of large hammers next to him that Yuma peers at.

K glances up. "There's more inside," he says, "We stopped about a fifth of the way through. It looks like there's pretty much a whole woodworking table at the back."

"You gave up?" Yuma teases, and K prods him right back.

"If you'd like to drag that thing out, you can be my guest."

That settles it. Of course Yuma doesn't move to even look at the table. He's not going inside that shed until it's significantly less dusty. And there's no chance of him seeing a spider. He may have slept outside in the wilderness for at least most of the past month, but this? It's where he draws the line.

Having a permanent house is starting to give him a taste for luxury, apparently.

A slightly deflated basketball rolls past, pushed gently by the wind. There's an ancient looking lawn mower leaning against a wall. A set of gardening tools lie a few inches in front of it. Fuma appears from the doorway whilst Yuma is watching. He grins when he sees him, and holds out... a plastic bucket?

It's a beach bucket. There's absolutely nothing exciting about it, except for the fact that Fuma is holding it so close to his chest. He only turns it to give Yuma a better view when he still doesn't get an obvious reaction.

"Eh? It's a bucket," Yuma says. 

"It's ---", Fuma tells him.

Yuma blinks at him. Whatever he'd just said is a mess of syllables, "Repeat that?"

"A pokemon bucket," Fuma says, this time tapping the picture of a yellow... mouse printed onto the front. It's faded to the point where it's slightly green by this point, but Yuma can recognise it as pikachu if he squints. He's still not sure what's so cool about the bucket, but Fuma lays it carefully on the grass and Yuma can't be bothered to ask. 

Everything they're bringing out is for pretty immediate use. There's a box of nails and a folded tarpaulin that he imagines is going to be pressed up against the broken windows on one side. The gardening tools can be used to try and pull some of the weeds from the houses. Some tools like bolt cutters and screwdrivers will be useful to keep inside - just in case. 

The lawnmower is... 

Yuma can't think of a reason they'd use a lawnmower. The grass will all be covered by snow in a few weeks anyway. It was probably just in the way.

Then something else catches his eye. Laid on top of a section of taupaulin, like a dark stain against the white plastic, is a rifle .

A whole, actual gun. 

"Holy shit," Yuma says. "Does that have bullets?"

He's looking away from K and Fuma, and towards the gun, but he catches the smallest glimpse of Fuma's expression as they exchange a glance. Before Yuma can get too close and take a proper look, K is overtaking him from the outside. He comes to stand at the edge of the plastic. There's a tightness to his lips as he looks down on it.

Yuma looks at him, so he responds; "There are bullets. They're in the shed. Do not go looking for them."

"Why?"

It's only when Yuma looks up that he realises it probably wasn't worth asking. He hadn't picked up on the tense note to K's voice, judging by the tightness of his face.

"Never mind," he's very quick to correct. He can work it out himself. There are multiple kids around (including him, to them) and a gun that they're not entirely sure works. They'll probably be given a whole weapon-safety lecture before being allowed to even look at it. 

K is still looking at him. Fuma is standing by the pokemon bucket with a similar watchfulness. If Yuma thought he was going to find something exciting over here, he's sorely disappointed. It's only a few seconds later that he decides to cut his losses and find someone else to talk to (read: bother), so he waves them goodbye and leaves. 

A few days later, and the strategy is in full swing. 

Yuma's arms are full of wood. They've explored about a mile in every direction from the farmhouses by this point, and the forest woodland directly opposite the shoreline has practically become Yuma's second home. The weather is still dry - for now. Dark clouds have threatened the sky more than once, and they'd woken up the other day to find the grass coated in dew.

Collecting wood has become one of their top priorities. Before the November rain starts and between the space when the December snow starts to settle, they need to have collected enough firewood to maintain through the winter. 

Hence why Yuma is carrying as much as he can, for probably the tenth time already. Jo, walking beside him, is in exactly the same position. Taki is the only one with a small fashioned cart that he's filled with fallen logs, wheels taken from something from the shed. Harua and Maki are also helping, though they're pretty much only carrying twigs. 

Yuma kicks at a rock on the ground. They're about half an hour out from the houses here.

At some point, they'll have to let them start using the axe. There are only so many pieces of wood on the ground - it's taking longer and longer for them to return with their arms full - and if they want anything more substantial than a couple of centimetres wide, they're going to have to make some changes.

"I thought there'd be less walking," he complains. 

Taki pulls the cart forward and changes hands. His palm has gone red from the friction. He'll start forming blisters soon if he isn't careful. There are enough clothes that have been worn to scraps that he should be able to find a wrap when they next get back.

"There's only walking," Harua says. He's holding onto his sticks carefully, keeping them close to his chest. Except every so often he'll see something pretty.  He'll pull at Jo and end up getting all five at them to peer at the flower he's spotted. And when he's leaning over, a couple of twigs fall free from his grasp unnoticed onto the ground. 

Maki, on the other hand, is carrying one big stick. He keeps hitting it against the ground like a sort of walking cane. The other twigs he's holding are kept neatly underneath his arm. 

They keep going in silence for a few minutes more.

The others are back at the houses, so it sort of feels like they've been banished out into the wilderness just to get them out of the way. It's because the older ones are 'sorting out a list of what they need to do' apparently.

As if that's not what they've been doing for the past few days! And as if Yuma isn't able to contribute anything worthwhile. Euijoo and Nicholas are allowed to stay back - and they're barely even older than him!

He huffs again, and Jo looks over to the expression on his face.

Maybe he's also thinking the same thing. And Jo literally survived for weeks with Harua and Maki and no adult help - he's probably more qualified for the stupid planning meeting than even Yuma is. Some part of him knows that it's because the work they'll be doing is dangerous. Euijoo and Nicholas are only allowed to help out because there's no way it would all be finished on time with only the two of them.

"It's okay," Jo says kindly. "I think they just want Harua and Maki out of the way for a bit."

Maki spins around at that. "I heard my name," he accuses, frowning, only to get bored and turn back away when he doesn't receive an immediate response. 

Yuma purses his lips. He hadn't considered that. His shoulders slump a little in resignation - Jo is seriously too nice for this world. Would it kill him to be a little selfish for once? He's still mulling these thoughts over in his head when Jo shifts the weight of the wood he's carrying over to one arm, and pats his free hand briefly on Yuma's shoulder.

The sudden touch makes several pistons in Yuma's brain explode. He's pretty sure there's smoke leaking out of his ears. 

"Nicholas and Euijoo act older as well," Taki comments, as if he can't see Yuma struggling to play off the sudden skin-contact normally. "They're all..."

Despite his brain still rebooting itself, Yuma is never one to miss an opportunity to make fun of Euijoo and Nicholas. "They're all-" he repeats, and then makes a kissy face. Taki almost screeches with laughter. 

Jo also sounds like he's choking on a laugh and his face goes red. "Don't -" he says, arms now holding the wood again, so he has to gesture to Harua and Maki with his shoulder.

"I'm pretty sure they already know." Yuma says. "Those two aren't exactly subtle. The only people they're fooling are themselves." He pauses, and corrects himself, "And each other. Trust me. I had to third wheel that... whatever-they-call-themselves for months."

He'll be cheering when they do eventually get together, though - but he's not going to admit that out loud. Especially when he's too scared that trying to set them up will only cause them to take even more steps back. Maybe staying in the same place for a while will prompt them into something else - but Yuma...

He gets it. He gets that they mean a lot to each other. And that whilst he needs them to finally get over their pining, he knows that it's a difficult place to try and confess any feelings. They've all been through too much together. Maybe waiting until they're safe and life has gone a little more back to normal - because that will happen, he's sure of it - really is the most sensible course of action.

Then again. Being able to tell them to get a room would be pretty powerful. Not that the fact they're not together has ever stopped him so far. 

He's still thinking it over when they spot the farmhouses in the distance. Their pace speeds up with a renewed energy as they leave the treeline and start making their way towards the nearest cottage. That's the one they've been storing all the wood in so far. 

"How's it going?" Yuma calls as they walk towards the door. The 'planning meeting' must be over. It looks like they've moved onto something else now - Nicholas' arms are streaked black with soot, and his expression says he'd rather be anywhere else. 

Maki gasps. "What happened? You're all dirty."

"I know."

"You need a bath," Maki tells him, looking at how dirty his arms are with utter distaste. "You're not allowed inside until you're clean."

Yuma has to hide his snort. His arms are still too full of wood to cover his mouth with his hands, so instead he has to fight to keep his face straight. Beside him, Jo's ears are red again, and Taki has twisted until he's looking away. 

"We're trying to fix the chimney, for your information," Nicholas tells them. "If you're going to complain, I won't let you sit around the fire."

But he looks down at his arms with resignation, and starts walking towards the shore instead of heading straight back in. The rest of them enter the storage house and head to the lounge at the back. They drop their wood into the pile that's yet to be sorted. It's getting pretty large now. They only have one more trip to make today before they can move onto something else - it's not worth going out further than half an hour into the forest after that.

Maki drops his twigs and is halfway out the door before Yuma looks up. He's running after Nicholas in the distance. 

"English karaoke time," Taki comments, watching after him. If they are singing, it doesn't carry well enough that Yuma can hear it. He presses one of his hearing aids to see if that helps, but all that gives him is a burst of static and the heavy knowledge that the batteries are going to begin to run out soon.

"I guess that's Maki gone," he says instead, because changing the subject out loud is basically the same as changing it in his mind. "Rua, are you going to come with us for the last run?"

Harua is frowning at the floor. There's a very small pile of sticks in front of him. Yuma isn't sure how he managed to lose quite so many on the way back - and more impressively, how he seems to be unaware of that.

He mumbles something - both too quiet and facing the floor for Yuma to catch, but Jo says, "It's okay, you can bring more back this time," and he can pretty much work it out from context. 

After crashing for five minutes, it's time to stand up again and get moving. Maki doesn't come running back when they leave the house. He's sitting quite happily next to Nicholas, and both of them seem to be smiling - so they don't bother calling him over.

Instead, it's right back to the woodland. The houses begin to disappear over their shoulders and Jo takes the cart from Taki this time, giving his hands some rest before he'll need to pull it back. Yuma feels his stomach rumble.

It must almost be midday. The sun is bright above their heads, and he internally sighs at the thought of having to wait at least an hour and a half before even getting back. Hopefully there'll be a tin of something already opened and warm. Most of what they'd found in the houses had expired - stuff like bread and fruit that had long since moulded. But there's also tins of fish and soup and packets of ramen. 

"I'm hungry," Taki complains. "We haven't eaten enough lately."

With supplies having to last them through the winter, they're on even smaller rations than before. 

"We'll have to set up traps," Yuma says thoughtfully. He's seen a couple of rabbits between the rows of the fields, but they've always disappeared into the undergrowth before he can get anywhere near. How do you even make a trap that actually works? The only image he can come up with looks like something out of a cartoon.

Jo nods beside him. "And fishing," he says. 

"Those fish are tiny . You can't eat them, they'll be all bones!"

Taki's talking about the little minnow-y things that they've all seen in the river that leads into the shore, winding its way through the fields and into the woodland. It's large enough to stretch a few metres wide, but doesn't come up any deeper than their thighs. 

But Jo shakes his head. "I heard them talking," he says, "They're thinking about day trips up the river to see if there's a lake nearby. They shouldn't spoil in the time it takes to get them back here, and then we can cure them to last longer."

"Cure them?" Harua asks, wrinkling his nose.

That gets Jo to hesitate. "Not quite," he says. "It means... to get something to last longer. Like... with salt or smoke. I think. It's-"

His voice comes to a stop. Yuma thinks that his hearing aids have cut out again for a moment, and gets all the way to lifting his hand to his ear before realising that Jo's mouth has also stopped moving. He's looking at something in the distance.

Yuma whips around to look in the same direction. He sees it.

Between the trees in front of them, is a deer.

It stands perfectly between two tree trunks, almost captured like a photograph in the way the sunlight streams through the leaves. It tugs at a patch of.. moss or whatever on the ground, head dipped serenely. It hasn't noticed them.

He can't imagine it would normally dare to come so close to the houses. But with the absence of humans, nature has given it more confidence. 

There are deer around here. Yuma's mind goes to the gun and the bullets, and the fact that there must be so much meat on an animal that size. Part of his mind aches at the thought of having to kill such an elegant creature, but he can also recognise that they don't have much choice.

They'll starve out here if they don't do something about the food situation soon. There's no point waiting until it gets too cold before they realise that.

"It's beautiful," Jo says. He's fumbling in his bag, pulling out his camera with the smoothest movements he can manage. The rest of them are stood completely still. It feels like a single breath out of place will cause the animal to bolt. Jo lifts his camera up and Yuma watches the lens zoom in to focus. The deer takes a few steps forwards, still completely unaware of their presence.

"Have you seen-" Taki says. He stops halfway through, waiting until Jo's finished filming his ten-second clip before. The camera gets packed back away. "In the shed, K and Fuma found some weapons. Do you think they're gonna go hunting?"

They're all backing up, even without saying anything. Jo's hand is on Harua's shoulder to prompt him to shuffle as well. They don't want to scare away the deer, so they move slowly right until they've broken back through the treeline and it's out of sight. 

"We can take a look," Yuma says. This is a much more interesting development than gathering another lot of sticks. Jo folds the handle of the cart back into itself neatly, and while the rest of them start walking, Harua sticks around Taki's side and carries a conversation. Yuma misses what they're saying as they move towards the shed.

It looks like they're play-arguing. He's not entirely sure how that's possible - since they seem to be on equal footing and considering the almost ten-year age gap between them. Harua appears to have the upper hand. 

Yuma hurries until he's in the lead of the group. He's the first one to get to the shed, and he grins when the door swings open in front of him. There's nothing to be scared of - the others aren't here to tell them off for skipping work, and he's been here a few times already. He opens the door and bee-lines to exactly what he's been thinking about.

Someone here used to practice archery. 

He'd spotted it earlier but hadn't been in the mood to get scolded by someone, so hadn't gone to investigate. But boldened by Taki and Jo behind him, he crosses the room and picks it up.

The wooden frame is strong beneath his hands. There are a matching set of arrows that have been knocked over from their holder onto the shelf beside it. 

He grabs the bow. He's not stupid enough to pretend to fire it - especially not in such a small space. He leaves the arrows in a pile where he found them and just spins around holding the bow like he could fire it. One set of fingers curls around the string, pulling it tight, the other hand keeping grip on the body.

Except-

Harua is right behind him.

He looks like he'd been saying something. Had Yuma not noticed? There's no buzzing in his ears that usually comes when his hearing aids cut out without warning. But there's also nothing else - no noise of the wire when he lets go and it hits his wrist, no conversation from Taki and Jo even though they must still be nearby.

Suddenly faced with a weapon, Harua jumps back. If he screams, the noise still doesn't hit more than a far-away echo to Yuma. His mouth opens definitely, even as Yuma drops the bow to the ground and also flinches back from shock, and Harua stumbles until he hits the shelf behind him. 

"I-" Yuma tries to day, "Sorry - I didn't know-"

His voice doesn't carry through his own ears. He hadn't had many questions about his hearing aids working left, but this is confirmation they've cut out. He cringes at the thought of his own accent when he can't hear what he's saying. Part of him knows there's no need to be ashamed, but the rest wants to lash out and cry that it isn't his fault. 

Is he slurring? He hates that he can't tell.

Part of him recognises that he's panicking. He's looking at Harua and he's barely doing anything to reassure him. He's just pointed a weapon at him by accident and now he's not even doing anything to stop him from bursting into tears - just standing there uselessly.

He isn't alone. That's the only thing that saves the situation.

Taki hesitates where he's standing, caught between helping the situation and not knowing what to do at all. Jo is a little further away but he darts forward when he realises that everyone else has been caught in a loop of standing still. He pushes until he's standing in between the two of them.

Maybe he says something to Harua. He's blocking Yuma's view - and despite Yuma trying to frantically get his hearing aids to start working again, they aren't cooperating. He can only catch a glimpse of Harua's expression (the way his lips purse and he frowns, and his chest shakes like he's trying to convince himself he wasn't scared). 

They eventually burst back into life as Harua leaves the shed. His little feet jump over the door frame and he disappears outside, presumably sent away to go and find someone else.

Yuma is still shaking. Taki doesn't look like he's in much better of a state. Even Jo is barely keeping it together - or maybe Yuma's just projecting, and Jo's simply fighting the realisation that he's the only person currently not freaking out. 

He lifts his hands. Good?

Sign language. Of course, because Jo is so sweet and he doesn't know that Yuma can hear again. Taki repeats the motion in the corner of his vision, and Yuma finds his own fingers moving into the correct positions for a response.

I'm okay.

The bow is still on the floor. It'll get broken if it stays there - someone will inevitably tread on it - so Yuma bends over and picks it up. He sets it next to the arrows. "I can hear now," he says, in case Jo starts fumbling with more sign language when he doesn't need to. "They just.. cut out for a moment there."

They've been doing it more and more lately. It's not as bad as it was when he first arrived at the camp, but this time it's been happening without warning and he's worried about the lack of supplies they're now faced with. There aren't as many batteries lying around anymore. He'll have to swallow his pride and ask Nicholas for help. He shouldn't have put it off for as long as he has already.

Jo flushes. "Ah."

But Yuma shakes his head. "It's helpful even when I can hear," he admits, hesitantly. It feels like he's asking too many of them to say this. "And even when I can't hear, you can still talk. It helps with lipreading. And it means everyone else can follow along."

He looks at Taki when he says that, baiting him into a response.

Taki falls hook, line and sinker.

"Actually," he says, in an odd mixture of pride and embarrassment, "I've also been trying to learn. I watched even when you said I wasn't allowed to." His cheeks are a little pink, but his eyes are sparkling with satisfaction. 

Yuma lets him have his moment for a few seconds.

Then- "I think everyone already knew that," he says, grinning so that Taki knows he isn't being cruel. He crosses the room to swing his arm around Taki's neck and press his cheek to his hair. If the feeling of skin contact also calms his own racing heart, then no one needs to know that part. "You're not exactly great at being subtle."

"I-"

Fate decides not to let them have it easy. Even though Yuma made it across the shed with ease. it isn't so kind to Jo. For a moment, Yuma even worries that the huge crash is coming from his hearing aids again - a burst of static so loud that it makes both him and Taki jump out of their skin.

It isn't. Instead, when Jo had tried to approach them, part of the floor had given way underneath his feet. The wood has broken away with clear signs of damp. There's a drop about half a metre deep beneath it. And metal hinges now that his attention has been brought to the location.

A trap door?

Taki screams at the sound in Yuma's ear, and Yuma also flinches back so hard that they're both sent into the shelf behind them. It doesn't help that a dark spider - now freed from the space underneath the floorboards - crawls towards the light and both Yuma and Taki attempt to climb onto the shelf in their horror.

Even Jo flinches away. He's on the ground now, having fallen over with the sudden loss of balance. But he doesn't pull back immediately. Instead, he covers his hands with his sleeves to protect from splinters, and lifts back even more of the wood. 

It's slowly revealing that Yuma was right. There was a trapdoor in the shed. And it looks like there's something inside. 

The spider is gone. Taki is clinging to him so hard that it'll probably leave bruises, but Yuma's curiosity wins over. He pries Taki's hands from his arm and leans forward to see what Jo has uncovered. 

He isn't expecting what he sees.

A canoe.

It's long. The trapdoor stops at some point - Jo has found the edge, and the floor is solid enough everywhere else - but the shape of the boat suggests it's pushed back further to where they can't see. There's at least one seat. Maybe a second hidden in the darkness, and a glossy coat of paint on the outside.

"What is that ?" Taki asks as Yuma and Jo marvel in silence, and eventually he also comes over to stare at it. There are two oars tucked into the space between the seats. It looks like Jo's foot must have just missed hitting them, since they're undamaged and the wood appears pristine. 

The deer is probably long gone by now. This is far more interesting. 

Jo winces and pulls himself up until he's sitting on the ground and free from the trapdoor. He gingerly gets to his feet. One hand rests on the shelf behind him, stopping him from putting too much weight on one of his ankles. It still looks like it's facing the right way, which is a good sign, but the expression on Jo's face says that he's in pain. 

Not badly enough that he's speaking out.

Yuma leans forwards. The canoe is in good shape. It's wooden, which makes him think of rot - especially being kept practically underground here, but the surface appears to be spotless. The painted coat on the outside reflects the light. He reaches down and raps a knuckle against one of the seats.

"It's sturdy," he says. The wood doesn't feel hollow. It feels strong. It doesn't bounce even when he presses his fingers up against it - there's no sight of damp at all. "Holy shit. This thing might actually float."

Chapter Text

Against all odds, against every deity that's put them in this situation to begin with, the canoe still floats.

Taki films the day that they push it out into the river - a steeper drop to the water than wading to a suitable depth at the shoreline - and the camera captures the whoops of delight as the boat bobs up and down.

There are no holes in the base. The paint and varnish coat on the outside remains shiny. K waves an oar in the air like he's calling them forwards for war, and then pretends to fight Yuma like they're holding swords. The paddles don't crack even when they hit against each other. The wood stays dry and Taki lets himself be pushed out as a test-subject, even though his mouth tastes like metal when it rocks and his knuckles are pale where he has to cling to the sides. 

He trusts them. K and Fuma don't let go the whole time, even when Taki starts to smile a little more and gets brave enough to wave back at the shore. He only squeals a little when Euijoo helps him out and it rocks dangerously beneath his feet. 

Then they're done testing, and the canoe is safely put away until it can properly be used. Nicholas says he wants to try putting an engine on the back. Everyone else just looks at him in a way that says 'no way that can be possible', but Taki doesn't know anything about mechanics and can't really give a proper opinion further than that.

He sits around in the grass - the tarpaulin that covers the grass actually, with the weather cold enough now that it doesn't dry even in the sun - and watches Jo paint the side. He's a good artist. They have no way of sealing it, so it might just flake off as soon as the boat gets put back in the water, but Harua and Maki both watch in awe.

And it feels nice. Just to sit back and stare at the sky for a bit. The grass isn't exactly comfortable, but he leans back and pulls his jacket a little tighter around him, sticking his fingers in his pockets to avoid the wind. 

There's a semblance of normality. It's only been a few days over a week since they stopped moving, but they've fallen into routine like it's what they've all been craving.

Jo paints the boat. There's no use for it yet, so it gets stored back in the shed. Nicholas grins wide and starts actually using some of the tools, picking apart his camera again like it's been long overdue. 

Yuma hands over his hearing aids for him to take a look. While he can't hear anything they run another sign-language session. It doesn't go nearly as well as Taki had hoped (it's difficult to remember which finger goes where, and seeing Yuma's own hands move never seem to quite look the same on his own), but he doesn't give up. He keeps practicing. They hold a simple conversation over the four of them actively learning, and Yuma can't stop beaming for a few hours afterwards. 

Jo says the boat is a metaphor. They've been wading through water for so long, just trying to even catch a glimpse of dry land. The house might be only a temporary shelter - a place to stay for the winter, to keep hands warm and spirits high - but it acts as a boat in the middle of an endless sea.

Taki listens to what is explained to him, and nods along. He doesn't quite get the entire metaphor, but Jo's good enough at talking that he feels like he understands anyway. 

The days pass.

November bleeds away. There's a frost to the ground when they wake up more often than not. The sky darkens with rain and the shortening of the days, and the temperature dips. They have to start being careful with how they keep their clothes dry - there are only so many times they can risk getting soaked through from an expedition that didn't quite make it home in time.

The rain was a problem when it burnt. It wasn't so much of a problem when the autumn was still warm enough to keep them from shivering.

Now, they've gone full circle. Taki watches the ground turn sodden from inside of the house and remembers how he'd been in those first few weeks after the initial earthquake, hiding in the remnants of buildings and pretending not to see plastic melt on the sidewalk. 

Only three days into their newfound shelter, Yuma had found a cupboard full of board games.

They sensibly hadn't played them whilst the weather was still bright. With the oncoming winter and the long nights approaching, it had been pointed out that they'd have plenty of time coming to get bored of every single puzzle that had been tucked into the back.

Already, Taki's not sure how many more games of Ludo he can take. Endless solitaire isn't much better, and it's still a work in progress to try and get K to teach them how to play poker. He keeps drifting off when it gets to the explanations of chess. The Monopoly board is still missing after the great Fuma-Banker incident of four nights ago, and no one's made much of an effort to try and find it yet.

Taki's not sure what day they see the boar, but the sky is clear.

It has to be clear. He's out with K, checking the traps set across the forest to see if they've caught anything, and they wouldn't have risked going that far out if it looked like it was going to rain.

It's just the two of them. K had asked if Taki wanted to come along and Taki had barely hesitated before saying yes. It's been a while since it was just them. A house is nice, but Taki's beginning to remember how it feels to be unable to escape four walls. They've been living in close proximity for a while, but... it can get stifling. There's no change of scenery to distract him any more, and he's still blaming his teenage hormones for some of the stupid things he's said.

They're about half an hour from the farmhouses. Taki's pulling the cart. K has the rifle slung over his back, but it's still a new enough addition to their set-up that he has to check it's there every five minutes or so. It's not been a particularly successful haul, but there's a rabbit - which is better than nothing.

K keeps talking about the animals that must have been around here originally. The fields they're close to were obviously for growing crops, but he's determined to find... a cow or something. Taki can understand why. He imagines the meat, the amount of meals they'd be able to get from an animal that size, and his stomach starts rumbling.

They don't find a cow. They find a boar, instead.

All this talk of animals in the forest, and Taki's only thought about farm animals and little herbivores so far. He's never stopped to consider that anything dangerous could also be out there.

The boar spots them. It has ribs showing when it turns, and its eyes are glassy. There's barely a second between when they see it and when it starts charging.

K's first shot misses. The second doesn't. 

It takes a third to bring the boar down, and a couple more minutes after that for them to get their breathing under control again. . Taki loads it into the cart again and pales when he realises the undergrowth is sticky with blood. For the rest of the journey,  he finds himself spinning around every time he hears something in the distance. 

No one is allowed outside alone after that. Euijoo swears he hears a wolf in the distance one night. 

And after the boar-

It's mid-December when they see the boat.

The ground is frosty. The air is dry and the sky blue above their heads, but Taki carries the memory of the rain storm from only a couple of days ago. The heavens had opened for almost a full 24 hours. The kind of rain that soaks you to the bone the moment that you step outside. Fuma had run across to the second house to grab more wood for the fire, and despite the fact they'd covered him with the most waterproofing they had, his coat had still stuck to his skin when he'd peeled it off.

There's a slight breeze. Taki presses his hands to his cheeks and feels that they're warm, and tries to pull his hood further over his ears. Harua, similarly bundled up, is by his side. They're trying to sort collected nuts into piles based on what's the most likely to be edible.

The cloth they'd draped across the ground to protect their knees has already soaked through. It's not worth the mistake of bringing into the house, which is why they're having to do all the sorting-and-washing outside. And besides. It could be colder. 

The air fills his lungs like it's crisp and clean. It's a nice break from the smoke that tinges the houses when the fire is on, even though it brings such a nice warmth he can't complain about that either. His hands are a little pink, but they don't shake from the temperature as he puts another nut into the 'probably edible' pile.

He's looking down. 

He's a little dizzy, really. No one has mentioned it just yet, but with winter comes cold and flu season, and there's been a certain lethargy around the group for the past week. Taki has tried to stifle his coughs as best he can, but there's not really much point when he can hear everyone else doing the same thing. 

Maybe that's why he's having to concentrate on his task more than usual, grimacing slightly when Harua sniffles beside him.

Maybe that's why it isn't Taki who ends up spotting it first - even though he's the closest - but instead Nicholas, perched up on the roof of one of the houses and watching out across the distance. His voice carries loudly in the cold air. 

"Boat! There's a boat!"

Taki freezes. They've made plans for situations similar to this. Of course they have - even if it weren't a real threat to have their hideout approached, there's not much else to discuss when curled around the hearth in the dark evenings. Only so many games of Uno can be played in one day before the cards inevitably get confiscated. 

Most of their plans also involved someone approaching by road, or on foot. He knows what to do if a plane flies ahead. Spotting a boat may have been discussed, but Taki is realising that discussing and doing are two very different things.

He leaves the piles of nuts. If some sort of... squirrel or whatever tries to take them, it'll just have to be its lucky day. He scrambles to his feet. Harua is already standing up, startled by the noise perhaps, so Taki grabs his wrist and pulls him.

The boat is in the distance, only just visible. Taki has to squint his good eye to make out the shape properly, but Nicholas' curse is also carried by the breeze so maybe he has a better view. Taki pulls Harua until they're both hiding behind one of the buildings. 

Nicholas is climbing down the back of the house next to them. He's lost his vantage point and his foot almost slips on the sill of the window he's using for balance, but it's better than being spotted.

"What happened?" Taki asks. "What is it? Is it actually a ship?"

It still seems far enough away. Nicholas crouches and peers around the side of the building, trying to keep his head as still as possible. Taki tries to angle himself so he can see as well, but it's hard. Harua also stays close, and the three of them press up against each other to try and catch a glimpse of what's going on.

They need to hide. He knows that much for definite. Any glimpse of movement in the distance that clearly doesn't belong to an animal should have alarm bells ringing in all of their heads. Maybe they'd be friendly. But maybe they wouldn't.

Compromising their shelter this far into the winter would be a death sentence. If they were forced to give up the houses just when the weather turned to snow, they'd be frozen outside within a couple of days. It doesn't matter whether the shape in the distance is a boat, and whether it's an enemy or a friend. They simply can't take that risk right now.

"It's a ship, definitely," Nicholas says. "Stay still. Moving might catch their attention. Shit - the fire."

There's a thin trail of smoke bleeding out from the main house. There's a catch of movement in one of the windows, only just visible due to how the buildings are lined up, but whoever's inside has ducked sensibly out of view. 

"Do we need to put it out?" Taki asks, worried. "I can run-"

Nicholas shakes his head. It's not worth it, then. Taki looks to the smoke, and squints again. It's pale. Not a dark grey, which against the brilliant blue of the sky would stand out like a flare. It could pass as a wispy cloud - and hopefully it does, if they're lucky. 

"The blanket is still out," Harua whispers. It takes Taki a moment to realise what he's talking about. The cloth with the nuts and the baskets they'd been sorting. It's so painfully evidence of human life, and right in view of the boat.

He's about to dart forwards. The baskets are small. They'll blend into the ground even if they're accidentally turned over. But the cloth is pale and stands out like a signal against the grass. He can't even take one step forwards before Nicholas is grabbing his wrist.

Hard.

It hurts. There are going to be bruises later because Nicholas' grip isn't gentle, and the way he tugs him back behind the building makes Taki's shoulder protest. 

"No movement," Nicholas says, low. Each word is punctuated with emphasis. Taki's still worried about the cloth, but he nods to himself and tries to trust whatever Nicholas is hoping. He must have a plan. There must be something that he's missed, and that's what Taki concentrates on as he gingerly inspects the damage to his wrist.

They stay silent from then on.

Harua sniffs and Taki eventually pulls back out to peer around the corner of the building again. The ship doesn't appear to have come closer, but he's not the best judge on distance. There's an eerie emptiness from behind them as well. Usually, someone would have passed by by now - instead there's only an odd stillness, nine held breaths.

"It looks technical," Nicholas says. He doesn't point, but Taki imagines his eyes moving to trace the shape of the boat. "That's a research ship, I think."

What's that supposed to mean? Taki obviously knows that's supposed to mean it's a ship for science not... other ship purposes, but how can Nicholas tell that? 

It looks the same as any other boat to him. Big. Pale white in the horizon, against the murky brown of the water. He barely even knows the terminology to describe it; there's a second level poking out of the front part, something sticking out of the back (like a crane, almost?), and blurred characters proclaiming the name across the side. They're too far to read, just like any figure on the deck would be practically impossible to make out.

"What's it doing?" Harua asks. "What's it researching?"

Nicholas pauses. Taki's pretty sure there's no way of knowing, but Nicholas does a pretty good job of explaining that to a six-year-old: "I don't know. It might not be researching anything, Rua. Maybe it used to be used for research, and now someone is just living there. But it does seem to be in good condition..."

He trails off. It's infinitely more likely that someone's come across the ship and is now using it to make an escape to a different country, Taki thinks. There's not much to research here, surely. Apart from the earthquakes, there's nothing else going on. The water is filled with debris, and-

"It can't get closer," he says in realisation. "It'll get stuck. The water is too shallow across the fields."

Nicholas glances back at him, eyes narrowing as he follows Taki's train of thought. "The buildings as well," he says, "It's impressive that it's come this close, then. You're right. I'd assume the water would be shallow that far out as well, but maybe there's a valley we can't see."

There's no way to tell. Maybe there's a valley. There's a river nearby - maybe that used to lead to a lake, and that's just become part of the ocean now that the water's approached. Or maybe the entire country has tilted slightly, and it's actually a lot deeper out there than they think.

"It's stuck?" Harua asks.

"It will be, if it tries to sail across the fields."

Taki's heart is thundering, but the realisation that it's not actually coming towards them still washes over him like a tidal wave of relief. 

His breathing is beginning to calm down when Nicholas says the ship is turning around. By the time it's completely disappeared into the distance, Harua's gotten bored of watching and joined Taki slumped across the back wall, crouching a few inches above the damp ground and letting the burn in their legs act as a distraction.

Nicholas isn't even the one to call out that it's safe again. K's voice rings across the field and then Taki's straightening up. Back to work. The nuts are still there, even if the cloth on the ground has been crumpled by the wind. 

He follows Harua back to where they'd been sitting twenty minutes ago, like they're both pretending nothing has changed. His breathing might have evened out, but Taki looks at his fingers when he tries to straighten the fabric, and his hands are shaking. 

"I didn't like that," Harua says. "I hope the boat doesn't come again. Even if it was for science."

Taki can't help but agree. It's too close of a call. The camp is on high alert still, even if the warning has been recalled and the ship is long gone, so there's an odd thickness to the air. He has to keep glancing up to remind himself there's nothing there - just the water and the horizon. 

Euijoo comes around to check on them. He announces his presence softly and stands in front of the fabric silently for a few moments, watching them sort the nuts systematically before he tries to say anything. 

He asks if they're okay. Harua nods and Taki follows suit. His hands have stopped shaking now. It's a little harder not to watch the ocean with more care than before, and maybe that's why Euijoo carefully drops to his knees with a frown.

Harua is still sniffling. If he's trying to act like he hasn't caught a cold, he's not doing a very good job of it. Then again, he is six years old. He lets Euijoo rest a hand on his forehead without protesting. 

Taki gets the same treatment. Euijoo frowns when Taki tries to stifle a cough, but lifts his palm to take a guess at his temperature anyway. He tells him that he feels a little warm. He'll ask to see the progress on his eye later - even if he doesn't now, not in front of Harua - just to... make sure.

Taki has seen his reflection in the mirror. There's a reason why he still wears a now-homemade eyepatch as a cover. The healing process is slow. He knows that, and he knows that it looks much better than when he first got the wound, and that Euijoo's just scared as well - checking to make sure there is no infection, because if he doesn't then it might be too late.

His palm is cold. It's a little uncomfortable. He's had to pull his hood back for Euijoo to reach properly, and his ears are already getting cold.

"You should be fine," Euijoo says. "Tell me if it gets any worse." 

Taki's body feels warm as well, warmer than it should be in the cold. He's pretty sure it's not frostbite, but he also doesn't want to develop a fever or anything. He nods silently as a response, and hopes Euijoo understands.

There's a flush to Euijoo's own cheeks as well.

Chapter Text

A week after the boat, and winter has hit with full force.

There are no light days any more. The sky is perpetually dark with clouds that threaten to spill at any moment. The weather has gotten colder again, and this time it seems to be for good - there's no break from the chill that whistles in the freezing wind and hardens the ground beneath their feet.

A thin layer of ice forms over the fields. There's too much salt in the 'ocean' to freeze properly, but it shifts and settles on top of the water where the river meets the drowned buildings. Long icicles hang down from the windowsills and the roofs. It's cold outside, and despite the fire burning in the hearth, it gets cold inside as well.

They have to move the blanket-pile to the front room. It had been nice to stay in a bedroom whilst they could, but it becomes obvious that they aren't going to survive the freezing nights if they're not pretty much directly against the flames. The house is fairly well insulated but Jo finds he can't take off his jacket inside anymore, even when he's pressed between Fuma and Nicholas. 

When the snow comes, it feels like it's inevitable.

With the drop in the temperature, they'd all been preparing for the freeze to start in full force. Jo wakes up one morning to see that the sky is thick with large snowflakes. They've settled across the ground in the night, and the white carpet already looks to be a couple of inches deep - with the snowfall not showing signs of letting up any time soon. 

K leaves to try and shovel the paths. If the snow keeps falling, it'll get harder and harder to travel between the houses. They've already moved a sizable portion of their wood supply over, and a room has been transformed into a storage for food, but that doesn't change the fact that all three houses are in use. 

When he returns, his face is pink with the cold. His hands are numb and his fingers stiff, and Euijoo forces him in front of the fire for a few hours.

The heaviest of the snowfall does eventually come to a close. The outside world is completely silent where it's been blanketed in a stifling layer. It's untouched by animals and humans alike. The windows fog up with the temperature difference, and Jo watches right up until they start blocking them in an attempt to reduce heat loss.

It might not snow as heavily for a couple more days, but there's not even a weak sun to melt the drifts that have buried the fields. For at least a week, they're stuck inside. 

"Jojo," Nicholas says, "Help me with this?"

At least with the snow outside they don't have to worry about water. It might not be incredibly clean, but Jo comes over to the corner of the kitchen and takes a look at the set-up displayed on the table. The snow that had been brought in earlier that day has already melted. It's currently in a bucket they'd found in the shed, and Jo peers into the plastic.

It looks clear. Clear enough, anyway - it's not like there's any pollution to act as a contaminant, and it's piled high enough outside that they haven't needed to collect from anywhere close to the ground. 

"It looks good," he says softly, and then glances at Nicholas, "What did you need me to do?"

Nicholas is perched on a seat, pushed slightly back from the table itself. "Hold the cloth while I transfer it over."

They're trying to be as careful as they can. No one has much survival knowledge - at least, not enough to be able to give definitive instructions - but Fuma's been making educated guesses, and the rest of them have been following in his stead.

They don't drink the snow water immediately, even though it doesn't look like there's anything wrong with it. Once it's fully melted, it gets passed from one bucket to the next through a thin cloth, in an attempt to filter out any bugs or grit that might have been caught up in the collection. That second bucket then goes on to be separated into a saucepan and boiled, before sealed away into one of their many water bottles.

They're long since out of iodine tablets. And Jo gets the feeling that they wouldn't be wasting resources like that on snow either. 

Nicholas sniffs whilst Jo picks up the cloth and tries to position it across the bucket. It's a quiet sound, but it's enough to get his attention, and his hands falter before he can properly hold it down. "You're ill."

"I'm not."

Does he look flushed? Part of Jo wants to reach out and instinctively check the temperature of his forehead, but he's not sure what he's looking for and he doesn't know whether Nicholas would appreciate the sudden skin contact. His throat bobs as he swallows and Nicholas isn't making eye contact with him. 

"Not that ill," Nicholas amends. 

Jo watches him silently.

He knows what Nicholas is talking about. Despite being almost completely isolated when compared to every other winter he's lived through, the onset of the cold weather has brought illness with it. Both Maki and Harua had come down with colds first. Yuma's been complaining about a stuffy nose for the past couple of days, and Taki's not as good at hiding his coughs as he thinks he is.

They're at an odd impasse. The people who are ill recognise that they don't want to spread the illness. Even if it's just a mild cold and a sore throat for a couple of days, it isn't exactly kind to hang around everyone like normal. But at the same time, there are jobs to be done. 

Nicholas has been tasked with collecting the water for tomorrow. Jo can guess that he's washed his hands and that he hasn't been... sipping from the bucket and contaminating it. It would be easy for him to take a step back and give the task to someone else - but who?

They all have jobs to do. Despite the snow outside limiting what they can actually get done, there are still tasks within the walls of the house. The daylight hours are short. It's a race to get everything done before the sun sets anyway. If everyone feeling a little under-the-weather decided they couldn't help out, it would be a waste of manpower.

There's no harm in admitting it, though. 

"My immune system is good," he says. Maybe it's a side-effect from being in contact with so many people at the shrine all the time, or the fact that his parents had been constantly dosing him with shots of ginger and cups of orange juice. But he doesn't tend to get as ill in the winter as others, and he'd really like it to stay that way.

Nicholas sends him a disbelieving look.

"It's true," Jo tells him, "I'll get ill in the spring, probably. But unless it's something very infectious, I usually don't come down at all."

He'd often been the last one standing when a particularly nasty cough had swept through his family. When the snow does eventually melt, there's a chance that his body will compensate for surviving the winter by taking him out then, but he's also convinced that's just a side-effect from climbing the mountain when his father didn't have the energy to do it.

God. The mountain.

He hasn't thought of his home for ages. The shrine, sure, but the mountain is different. He'd lived there his entire life. The atmosphere and the shadow of the rock cast - someone else might notice it's absence immediately, but Jo had grown up against the gradient and he's never thought to look for where it's now missing. 

Nicholas watches him for a few more seconds before his shoulders sag in defeat. He coughs over his shoulder miserably. "Lucky," he says, "I'm usually good at staying healthy too. I don't know why I've caught this."

Jo can make a pretty good guess. Despite being close with Harua and Maki (they hang off him much like they hang off everyone else, and but it still makes his heart flood with affection when they come to him for comfort), he's also spent the most time with them before this. They were the first two to get ill, but Jo privately thinks he's built up some immunity to their germs after spending so long so close to them.

Nicholas hasn't been so lucky. The same can apply to Taki and Yuma as well, both also currently ill. K has been doing so much of the outside work that he comparatively hasn't spent as much time nearby - and Jo wonders whether he's got a good immune system as well. He's certainly in the best shape out of all of them, after all.

And Fuma...

As soon as they realised the kids were getting ill, Fuma pulled himself back a little. Not with enough distance to affect them in a way that’ll upset them, but just enough to not risk infection. The wound on his shoulder is still healing. Jo thinks it should be much further mended than it is, but he won't say that out loud. 

He knows Fuma. It would be further mended if he hadn't been constantly using it after he'd been shot. He's heard the stories - helping break down a door, getting in a fight against more people with guns. It's a miracle it hadn't got an infection in the first place. And it'll heal even slower if his body is trying to fight a cold at the same time. 

Then Jo narrows his eyes when he thinks of Euijoo. Not in a malicious way, just... in thought. He has his suspicions about whether Euijoo is ill or not. Maybe it's because he spent so long being in charge of a group, but it's almost hard to switch off the part of his brain that keeps watching the outside of the circles, waiting for something bad to happen.

Euijoo's been hanging back lately. Jo is sure it's nothing. He seems perfectly fine, though, and he's sure he's the type of person to say something if he was feeling ill. 

Nicholas coughs again, frowning as he presses his fingers to his chest. "As long as it doesn't get worse than this," he says - more to himself than to Jo, before picking up the bucket again. This time, Jo gets the cloth into place successfully. They transfer the water from one container to the next in silence. 

The day bleeds into the next.

The house has an air of sickness to it. It doesn't help that opening the doors and windows lets in the cold. Everything is sealed shut in an attempt to save warmth, but the illness that has crept up on them leeches into the fabric of the couches and the soft material of the bedding. 

They only have so many cough sweets - a random selection of supplies that had been collected from the pharmacy and survived the trade for medical care. Most of what they'd kept had been low-grade painkillers or antibiotics way too strong for a simple cold. But Jo hears Harua coughing in his sleep upstairs, and wishes he could give something to alleviate the symptoms. 

Over half the household is upstairs. It must have gone 9 pm, so the kids are definitely asleep, and Jo's spent long enough around them to know that proximity to sleeping children doesn't exactly give you energy. Especially if you're already ill.

Nicholas had disappeared upstairs about an hour ago. He'd declared he was only going up to check on them, but he hasn't come back yet. In the quiet of the house, the sound of his footsteps should reach where Jo's sitting. There's no sign of any movement from upstairs, though. Jo suspects that their temporary sick-room bedroom has gained another member. 

Yuma and Taki are upstairs as well. They've realised that the room directly above the living room fire still retains most of the heat, so it should hopefully be warm enough. Jo turns to stare out of the windows into the dark of the night, and distantly wonders whether it's snowing again.

It's hard to tell. Without any streetlights, the world disappears three inches from the house. There could be anything out there, and they'd have no idea. There's supposed to be something covering the glass. The blind does a decent job, but it's not quite perfect - and Jo imagines that some of the light must still seep through the cracks and onto the snow. 

"Jojo."

He looks up at the call of his name. It's Fuma. He's probably being quiet because of the people sleeping in the room above, but there's an uncharacteristic complete seriousness to his expression that has Jo standing at once. 

Fuma's hands curl into a beckon, so Jo follows him out. It isn't far - they're all stuck in the house after all, now that the night has fallen and the world outside is completely dark - but there's enough of an atmosphere change that Jo feels like he could be somewhere foreign. 

They're in the kitchen. It tucks into one of the corners of the house. There are a large set of windows on one side where the morning light will spill through, and cupboards that have been thoroughly emptied during their food stockpiling. There are a few bottles of clean water left out.

Euijoo stands in one corner, leaning against the counters. The light from the fire only just reaches this far, and by the time it's crossed the room to reach him, all that's left is the softest illumination of his features. K is sitting on a chair, tapping his knees with his fingers. He shifts over to allow Fuma space to sit down as well, and offers Jo a chair. 

Jo doesn't take it. They haven't had much room to stretch their legs lately. He'll take standing up for a little while - and it serves to make the tension in the room a little less visible.

It works right up until K opens his mouth.

"The weather isn't getting better."

Jo glances to the windows, even though he'd been looking over at them only a few seconds ago. The scene through the gap in the curtains is exactly the same. Darkness.

"The snow might melt soon if we get a warm break," Fuma says, leaning back in his seat, but he doesn't sound confident. "But at these temperatures... it'll stick around for a while, at least. We'll be lucky if it doesn't start snowing again."

Something cold rolls down Jo's spine, as he realises what this is. It's a gathering of everyone who isn't currently ill. It's a meeting to discuss their next steps; because it doesn't look like they can keep going like this. 

They haven't let him take too much attention to the supplies before. If they're finally letting him take part in this discussion, the situation must be worse than he'd suspected.

"How bad is it?" Jo finds himself asking, because there's a break in the conversation and he simply has to know. His voice comes out quiet. That's not a surprise.

Fuma looks over to him. "It's not bad," he says, and Jo doesn't think Fuma would lie about something like this, even if he still hasn't gotten a straight answer about when his birthday is from the man. "We're not low on any supplies. We still have enough for a few weeks."

A few weeks. That's fine, that's not bad - but the tension in the room means there must be something else.

"A few weeks," K finishes, "And then we'll be completely out. That brings us to the beginning of January at the earliest, but not much beyond that. It's still going to be cold. The problem - is that we need to figure out how to get supplies when it's still freezing outside."

It clicks into place. That's what this is about.

The weather isn't likely to change. There's nothing but cold wind and cold air and cold snow outside, and there's no sign that it's going to get warmer any time soon. Winter doesn't just last for a month - it'll likely still be freezing throughout January, with the chance of a warm February if they're lucky.

The current supplies won't last that long. There's a chance that the snow will melt early, but that's just that; a chance. It's a risk. And if it doesn't, then there's the threat that they'll run up to the end of December without a plan. It's better to try and sort something out whilst they still have time.

He nods like he understands, because he's not sure he can come up with the words to say how he agrees.

"Yuma's struggling to hear," Euijoo cuts in. He's been so quiet in the corner that K almost startles at the sound of his voice. "He's pretending like he isn't, but the last time Nicholas tried to fix his hearing aids... it didn't do as much as they hoped."

K's lip curls. He doesn't curse, but he looks like he'd like to.

Fuma doesn't have such reservations. "Shit," he says, plainly. "How bad?"

Euijoo hesitates. He makes an odd aborted motion that Jo barely catches - where he almost goes to reach up to his head, but stops himself before his arm can move more than a few inches. His grip on the counters behind him gets tighter. Jo can only just see the pallor of his knuckles in the low lighting.

"Bad. I don't know how much he can hear without them, but... You'll have to ask him."

It's only half of an answer, but Yuma's cagey about his hearing. It's hard to pick up what hasn't been explicitly said out loud. He'll fold if someone actually does ask him, but if that doesn't happen, he'll keep pretending for days that everything's okay.

Fuma sighs. "The kids should be getting better soon, at least. If one of us doesn't catch the illness as well, we should be fine. K-"

K nods. "Snow shoes," he says. "And ice fishing. We can search the houses again for any thermals we might have missed the first time. People have survived winters like this in colder places. There are ways to survive, we just haven't figured them out yet."

They've been incredibly lucky with who's fallen ill so far, Jo thinks. Out of everyone, Nicholas is probably the hardest loss - and the engine he'd been working on adapting can wait to be finished for another few weeks. He's not sure that he’d be much of a loss himself, but K and Fuma falling ill would be disastrous. Even Euijoo - who does a much better job of supporting them all from the sidelines that he'd claim. 

"We'll be fine," Fuma tells Jo.

Jo tries to smile back at him. 

"Medicine," Euijoo says, not having moved from his place in the corner of the kitchen. "We're running low on supplies already. I don't-"

"There's nothing we can do about that."

It almost sounds like K's voice interrupts Euijoo, but Jo frowns. That isn't the case. Euijoo had stopped speaking a few seconds before K had spoken up in place. His voice had died down to a whisper as well. And maybe it's the low light and the way Jo had been looking at him before, but now he can't look away.

There's a bad feeling here, somewhere . The cold feeling from the back of his neck before is back. There's the chance that he's getting ill, because the rest of his body is warmer than it should be - and his stomach twists into an unfamiliar, queasy shape. 

At the table, Fuma and K are still discussing their supply situation. It doesn't look like it's the first time they've had this conversation, and it's not even much of a debate considering they're both on the same side. 

They're talking about whether it's worth heading back to the city. 

It's not.

Jo knows that as much as everyone in this room, but he also knows that it's an option they can't rule out too quickly. The city would have medical supplies. It's been months since the disaster, but there's likely still prepackaged food hidden away in the backs of apartments or in the rubble. There are people that they'd be able to trade with. If the weather doesn't get better and their illness doesn't start to look up, they'd be able to see a medical professional. 

But it's too far away.

It's cold. It had taken them so long to reach the farmhouses in the first place, and it would take even longer trying to get through the snow. They'd freeze before they even got halfway. The kids wouldn't make it for sure, and even if they only sent the people that weren't ill - then it would just be twice as long before any supplies could be received.

Jo bites his lip. There's nothing to say that everyone doesn't already know. He doesn't have anything to add to the conversation.

Euijoo might. It's only because Jo is still looking - at him and the shiny black reflection out of the windows - but he sees it when Euijoo opens his mouth. One hand comes up and this time it does reach his head, brushing against his forehead gingerly. It's almost immediately back down though. His grip on the counters gets tighter.

The bad feeling Jo's had gets stronger. He wishes it weren't so dark here. Why aren't they having the conversation by the light of the fire? It's impossible to tell the colour of Euijoo's skin; the tint of his cheeks and the way his mouth has tightened, the bags beneath his eyes and the flush of fever that clings to his movements.

"Euijoo-" Jo says, because he swears he can see it happen a moment before it actually does.

He steps forward. It isn't fast enough.

The strain of Euijoo's fingers - keeping him up, stopping him from toppling over - finally release. The collapse comes like the strings holding his body have been cut in one smooth motion. He hits the ground without an attempt to catch himself, and doesn't get back up.

Chapter Text

Euijoo is protesting a few moments later.

He'd only passed out for a few seconds. It had been long enough to crumple to the ground like his legs had given out. Jo had barely been able to make out the expression on his face in the low light, but he's seen the way that his eyes had rolled in his head and the way his face had slackened. He hadn't moved in time to catch him. Euijoo hadn't even attempted to catch himself . 

His arms hadn't moved from his sides. He'd hit the floor without a single bone in his body protesting, not until a few seconds had passed and he'd come back into consciousness.

K and Fuma are both up immediately. K's chair is on the floor, knocked over with the speed in which he'd gotten to his feet. He doesn't make any move to right it. Jo doubts he's even noticed - it's the last thing on all of their minds right now.

Euijoo gets to his knees. He groans. He tries to push himself up using his arms, but it isn't until Jo's crouching by his side that they have enough force to get him into even a sitting position. His eyelids flutter. It doesn't look like he's at any risk of passing out again - there's clear lucidity that Jo can see in his eyes from this close - but that doesn't mean he's in full control of his body.

"Are you hurt?" Fuma asks.

Euijoo's mouth opens. He doesn't say anything but shakes his head mutely. Jo believes him. He's passed out before - courtesy of being so tall. With the way he'd fallen, so limp and without a single attempt to save himself, he'd been so disconnected that he probably hadn't felt a thing.

That doesn't mean he's okay, though.

It's incredible to think that Jo hadn't realised he was ill before. Now, with his arm wrapped underneath's Euijoo's shoulder to keep him propped up, he can feel an uncomfortable heat radiating through the thick fabric of both of their clothes. Where his bare hand curls against Euijoo's side, it's like he's burning. 

His arms are shaking. It could just be from the shock of collapsing, but Euijoo's hands are visibly trembling in his lap, his whole body shuddering uncontrollably. The back of his neck is shiny with sweat. If they brought him into a room with better lighting, Jo is sure he'd see that Euijoo's gone flush with fever.

"You're ill," K says. Fuma's eyes snap to look at him. There's barely concealed tension thick in his tone. It's dangerous "Why didn't you tell us? You should have been resting, not-"

Not what? He cuts himself off, because it doesn't really need to be said. Not helping out. 

Maki and Taki had both had low grade fevers a couple of days ago respectively, and the whole house had helped out monitoring them and changing the cold, damp rags places on their foreheads. No one had blamed them for taking as much rest as they needed. There were other people in the house to help out in their place. Euijoo surely knew that. 

"I'm not that ill," Euijoo says, but the fact his voice is so weak makes his explanation seem instantly feeble. "Just dizzy."

"You're burning up," Jo tells him.

Euijoo shoots him a look. Maybe if his eyes weren't so hazy Jo would be able to tell what he's thinking. As it is, it comes across as just staring in silence. The fact they're looking directly at each other makes the flush across his cheeks even more visible.

"I'll be fine," Euijoo says. It's clear that he's no longer talking about tonight, however. Euijoo is realistic. He's resigned himself by the time that Jo pulls away, letting Fuma and K hook their arms underneath Euijoo's shoulder in his place. They get him to his feet.

To his credit, Euijoo does seem to be steady when he's standing. Jo had been half-afraid that his legs would crumple again when he tried to put weight on them. That would have been a bad sign. The fact that he's so easily able to support himself says that the fainting is a one-off situation.

"I was stood up for too long," Euijoo says. "I should have sat down. Thank you for carrying me, I'll be fine by tomorrow morning."

He's not usually this apologetic, Jo frowns. He's halfway to convincing himself that he just doesn't know Euijoo that well, but the same realisation crosses in concern across Fuma's expression. 

He's not trying to hide the fact that he's ill. He isn't defensive like some others would be, he hasn't doubled down even when he's long-since realised the game is over. Something in Jo's stomach feels a little twisted. He'd bet that Euijoo would have admitted his illness if someone had asked him about it. He'd been hoping on plausible deniability - as long as it wasn't brought up, he could act like he was perfectly healthy.

There's no need for him to follow the others up the stairs. He isn't helping support Euijoo's weight. But the thought of staying downstairs newly alone doesn't sit well, so Jo trails a couple of metres behind them as they make their way up the stairs.

He grabs a bottle of water as he passes their supply. Might as well make himself useful.

"You should have said something," K is telling Euijoo, when Jo catches up. His voice is quiet. The upstairs of the house is thick with sleep, the sound of soft breathing carrying through the door slightly ajar. They make their way past the 'sick room' bedroom without pausing. "I don't understand why you didn't just tell us."

As if he wouldn't do almost exactly the same thing.

"It's nothing," Euijoo tries to say back. "I just got dizzy. I don't need special treatment, I can rest with the others for a few days."

Fuma says, "Jo wasn't lying. You're burning up. You're not getting special treatment , you've got - or you're going to get - a fever. If you've come down to a normal temperature in the morning you can join them."

There's a second room off to the side of the corridor. 

It must have belonged to a child at one point, since it isn't much bigger than a shoebox and looks more suited to a small office than anything else. But there's a decent sized bed and the fact that the walls are close together means it retains some amount of heat. 

It's where they'd kept Taki and Maki when their fevers had peaked, not wanting to risk spreading their strain of infection to the others, even if they were already ill. Euijoo had been the one to attend to them the most, because of course he had. 

There's still half a pile of bedding in one of the corners. Jo had only just finished replacing the sheets this morning, using one of the spare sets they'd found in a cupboard. With the snow outside, it's hard to get any washing done, and anything that can't wait until a warm break takes days before it's no longer damp. 

This is where Euijoo is going to spend the night, then. It makes sense.

Jo still remembers the heat he'd felt through his clothes, and despite it being almost completely dark inside the room, he swears he can see how Euijoo's hair has become slightly damp with sweat. It's safest to isolate him. Even if it is nothing and he'd just overstressed his body, there's no harm in keeping him away from the others.

Just in case. The twist in Jo's stomach is back, and he tries to remember whether either Taki or Maki had been that warm. He's not sure.

He doesn't even know how to test a temperature in the same way that Euijoo had - what he's looking for, what he's trying to compare to. All he knows is that he was far too warm to be healthy.

Euijoo sits without protest. He tries to hold himself up straight, but his arms are still shaking slightly. Or he's shivering. Neither of them are good alternatives. The bags underneath his eyes are so purple they could be mistaken as bruises in the darkness. Fuma gently lowers him down into the sheets and Euijoo lets himself fall.

They don't get him out of his clothes. Jo pushes the water bottle into his hand and hovers until he's seen Euijoo take a sip. That's sign enough for him to take a step back, his one self-assigned task completed. The room is small enough without all three of them crowding around the bed, so he heads into the corridor.

"Get some rest," Fuma says before he follows Jo. K stands in silence for a few seconds and then heads out as well. He doesn't need to say anything. Jo already knows he'll be up every other hour to check that Euijoo hasn't burnt up even more than his already-high temperature. 

Jo's not sure K actually knows how to test that either. It won't stop him from trying though, even just hovering in the room like he's pretending the lack of Euijoo's leadership from the back isn't going to start to grate on him the moment the sun rises. 

K and Fuma stay in the corridor. Euijoo's door closes with a soft click and Jo suddenly feels like he's imposing. He descends the stairs on his own. 

It's been long enough that the wood in the fireplace has burnt down to embers. He can still feel the warmth radiating through the room, and he distantantly notices that his hands are also shaking when he adds more fuel and pokes the ash for stray sparks. 

The cold twist of his stomach hasn't had any relief, even though his mind now knows Euijoo is safe upstairs. The house is too quiet. He misses the noise of breathing beside him. The shadows seem so much longer when he's all alone, the darkest parts of the room so much darker. He can trick himself into thinking it's the hotel if his eyes stay closed for a millisecond too long, and he has to sit down on the couch to break the illusion.

There was no couch in any of the rooms they'd stayed in. The fabric is rough compared to the pile of bedding that was supposed to be their group bed. There's no one else there, though, and the fact that the material scratches his skin is calming. It brings him back to the farmhouse every time he shifts. 

Fuma and K still haven't reappeared, but Jo is suddenly exhausted. He picks a blanket up from the floor and folds his legs into himself. The fire glows in front of him, newly stoked, covering the walls in flickering lights and dancing shadows. Jo tucks himself into the couch, and is only distantly surprised when sleep comes easily.

-------

The morning comes.

Euijoo remains upstairs.

He doesn't get better.

The scientific boat passes by again by midday, and it's the last thing on anyone's mind. They close the windows but Jo's heart doesn't quicken like it had before, and the house is tense for a completely different reason.

It almost feels ironic that they'd been discussing the potential issues only a few minutes before Euijoo had collapsed. They'd only just been declaring that they'd be fine as long as they didn't take any risks and made sure to prepare for anything unexpected. 

Except they'd been talking about the expectation of a longer winter. An animal getting into the shed. Even an issue like half of their food expiring wouldn't be impossible to deal with - they'd struggle, but they'd get through in one piece. It would have been tough, but survivable.

It feels ironic because half of them had already been ill, and they should have called the last four of them catching the cold as well.

Yet when Euijoo's potential-fever spikes into something dangerous, Jo still feels like no one was expecting it. They should have asked him what to do - even if they didn't know he was ill, they shouldn't have let him be the sole person to provide medical aid. The excuse that they'd all been busy with other tasks seems feeble when faced with their current situation.

When Taki and Maki had been ill, the most ill out of everyone in the 'sick' room, they'd presented with fevers. It had only ever been low-grade at worst, but Euijoo had attended their sides and made sure the cold rags against their foreheads were continuously changed.

He's pressed his hand to their skin and frowned, like he knew what he was looking for. He'd divided up the remnants of their pharmacy supplies based on knowledge that only he knew, and made sure that every pill was swallowed. He'd watched their symptoms for... 

For what? That's the problem. Jo loiters by the edge of Euijoo's room - still the small room, still the bedroom with a pile of sheets in the corner and a window covered by thick curtains - and can't see what Euijoo would have been able to. 

It comes down to this: allowing Euijoo to be their medic has backfired spectacularly. His fever is worse than Taki or Maki's had even dreamed of becoming, and no one has any idea how to bring it down. 

Nicholas's presence by Jo's shoulder comes as a surprise. Not because he isn't expecting it, but because he'd been so deep in thought that he hadn't noticed any one approaching - and when Nicholas puts a hand on his shoulder, Jo flinches unintentionally. 

He stifles the movement. It's barely a twitch of his torso. Nicholas doesn't react, and Jo thinks he's hidden his surprise well until he sees Nicholas' face and realises that he's simply a thousand miles away. 

"Has he said anything?"

Jo hesitates. Then silently shakes his head.

Nicholas is too optimistic. Jo feels a little bad - from his perspective, it's destroying. He'd only suffered with a cold for a couple of days, only needed to sleep in the sick room for one night, but when he'd returned from his self-imposed isolation he'd still been expecting Euijoo to greet him downstairs.

Instead, he'd found the room that was so heavy with fever it practically permeated the air. With only one night, Euijoo's condition from his point of view had gone from fine to... whatever this was.

He'd been lucid for about five minutes an hour yesterday, but that doesn't seem to apply to his condition this morning. When Jo had taken over sick-watch from Yuma (also now mostly recovered), he'd had the same shake of the head when asking whether Euijoo had even woken up.

Nicholas' optimism is gone in less than a second.

He curses. Jo knows enough English for the word to have the tips of his ears turning red. He shifts his weight just enough - hoping that the movement is a reminder to Nicholas that he's still there, standing in the doorway.

There's no telling whether it works. Nicholas reaches up and pinches the bridge of his nose, other hand balled into a fist. He curses again.

Jo takes a step backwards. It feels like he's intruding, even though the door stays wide open at all times and he'd been there first. He's still on duty to make sure Euijoo's condition doesn't get worse. They might not have much of an idea how to treat such a high fever, but they're not completely oblivious - in this condition, Euijoo could throw up and choke without making a single noise.

He searches the corridor for help. He doesn't want to have to call - it's just Nicholas after all, and he has as much right to the one as anyone else - but Jo doesn't want to be here alone. No one conveniently appears to save him.

There's some movement in the corner of his eye, though. Yuma is in the sick room folding sheets (they really do need to be washed now that no one's using them, and there's no point waiting a month for the weather to break). 

Jo crosses the hallway silently. Yuma doesn't look up as he approaches. It's not a good sign for whether his hearing aids are working or not, so Jo makes sure that he steps forward at an angle - when he appears in the corner of Yuma's view, he looks up.

And immediately frowns. The expression on Jo's face must show more than he'd like it to, but with no time to explain and not wanting to leave his position, all Jo does is gently pull Yuma's sleeve until they're both standing in the doorway again.

"Why did it have to be him?" Nicholas is saying. He keeps flexing his fingers in his bunched hand. There's something raw and pained in his tone, too vulnerable for Jo to want to brave stepping a single centimetre forward.

Yuma doesn't have such reservations. He's known both Euijoo and Nicholas for much longer. There were probably situations where he didn't have the option of staying back. And despite the tension between Euijoo and Nicholas, Jo knows for a fact that neither of them have ever acted on it - never even spoken on it.

From a standpoint, Yuma has the same right to be here as Nicholas does.

Or maybe he just can't hear the exact tone of Nicholas' voice. Yuma fiddles with the mechanics behind his ear silently, pretty much confirmation that they're not working as intended. 

"I don't understand, why -" Nicholas continues, and the cold feeling in Jo's stomach twists again. He's frozen almost to the core now. The situation seems to get worse and worse and all he can do is stand watching, unable to help.

Usually Nicholas would offer to look at Yuma's hearing aids again. He's been trying to make small improvements now that the pet-project motor he'd been working on is complete, and even if they haven't fixed the problem completely, it usually solves the issues for at least a day.

There's no way he hasn't caught onto the fact they're not working now. But he hasn't said a single thing about them, too caught up in Euijoo lying on the bed in front of him. Jo has never seen him like this before. He doesn't like it. 

"It's my fault," Nicholas says. "I should have noticed."

Yuma flinches almost imperceptibly. For the first time since he'd entered the room, he speaks up. "How is it your fault more than anyone else's?"

When Nicholas looks up, there's a mixture of fire and pain and hurt in his eyes. "Are you kidding? Are you- of course it's my fault, I should have noticed, I've known him the longest-"

"I've known him almost as long! We were both ill ! It shouldn't have been on anyone to notice and stop him from wearing himself out, he should have rested like everyone else!"

Jo's breath hitches. There's a slight slur to Yuma's voice but his words come across as clear as ever, painful. They're sharp like the broken edges of a mirror, with the shards reflecting something warped and cruel right back. It hadn't been Euijoo's fault, Jo thinks, he hadn't planned for this, he'd just been trying to help out as much as he could without anyone needing to worry.

"What the fuck are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying-"

"Are you calling him selfish?" Nicholas' voice is caught between rising to a shout and the pure anger that morphs dangerously into a monotone.

"I'm calling you selfish. Why should you get to keep all the blame, Nicholas? What makes you so much better than the rest of us that it's all your fault?" Yuma hisses, drawing back right before the sting. "He's-"

"You don't get it-"

" He's my friend too!"

Jo can't back up any more. He's already as far from the doorway that he can get without disappearing out of sight. The soft sound of movement from downstairs has gone completely silent. The noise of the argument has filled the house and left them all waiting for the inevitable fallout - only for everything to come crashing to a close with Yuma's shout. 

Not with a bang, nor a whimper. The whip-sharp crack of blinding pain, an explosion for no longer than a single second, leaving nothing but the slow trickle of blood dripping onto the floorboards.

In the silence, Euijoo's breathing sounds laboured. 

The argument hasn't disturbed him. Perhaps that should be the first sign that something is truly wrong, worse than any of them had been worrying. His forehead is wrinkled with the tension of pain. The flush to his cheeks is warmer than before - Jo doesn't need to be close to tell that the red is dangerously bright. His skin is damp with sweat.

Every breath that leaves his lungs sounds like an effort. It rattles in his chest. The last of Yuma's words dissipate into the air - and even if Jo wonders whether he can hear the exact sound of Euijoo's chest, it doesn't matter. They're both staring at the boy in the bed, argument forgotten.

"He's going to die if we don't do something," Nicholas says. "We're running out of time."

Then he turns on his heel and leaves. Yuma stays silent and frozen in the room and Jo finds himself running after Nicholas instead, desperate to pull away from the bedroom so heavy with illness and pain that it feels like he's still choking on it.

He almost stumbles down the stairs. He's sure he's grown in the past few months, he's tripping over his own feet and barely able to stand upright - and by the time he's made it down, Nicholas has already pulled on a pair of shoes.

He doesn't bother with a jacket. There's no coat around his shoulders, just the thin t-shirt and hoodie he'd been wearing beforehand as he steps forward through the front door. 

Jo watches mutely. There's nothing he can do to stop him.

Nicholas disappears outside into the snow. The door is left open behind him. The cold air seeps into the house in his absence, the snow on the ground is blinding. Nicholas doesn't turn around even when Jo finally finds his feet to move again, calling out his name. 

He keeps walking.

Chapter Text

Harua follows Fuma to the doorway.

The sound of shouting hadn't exactly been... quiet. It was just like when he'd lived in the apartment with his Mom. Their neighbours had always been arguing, and although Harua could never listen along well enough to work out what it was about - or why they didn't just stop talking to each other instead of yelling all the time - his Mom had sometimes paused the television to follow along.

She'd smiled at him. "When people are shouting like this," she'd said, voice hushed and gesturing to the thin walls, "it's when they forget that everyone else is listening. You can learn a lot about people when they don't think you can hear." 

So when the shouting had started, Harua had stopped playing the recently-found UNO cards with Maki and listened.

Maki told him to get on with his turn. Harua ignored him.

Yuma's voice carried through the floorboards. Nicholas was just as loud. They kept speaking over each other and they were getting louder. The exact words were too muffled to make out, but Harua caught some of it; friends, and knowing someone. 

It's weird. Harua wrinkles his nose and looks back down to the cards in his hands. Maki's long since abandoned the game now that Harua's taken too long to play. His neighbours would always sound angry more than anything else. Even when they were just talking, it would always be angry underneath the nice words.

But Nicholas and Yuma sound sad.

K gets to his feet. Taki's pulled his knees up to his chest, leaning back into the sofa. Fuma shoots a look at K - and Harua's not sure what it means, but K doesn't take another step forward. He doesn't sit down again either.

The argument continues and the five of them stay completely still. 

It isn't like the neighbours at all, if Harua thinks about it. His mom isn't there to place a finger over her lips in a small smile, so they can listen along like a real-life television show she'd watch. His heart hurts much louder than it ever did then. He wants to put his hands over his ears so he doesn't have to listen any more. He wants it to stop. 

Nicholas comes down the stairs.

He gets to the door like he doesn't even realise everyone is watching him. Jo is coming down after him, but he's too slow and it doesn't look like Nicholas wants to wait. K starts again, making a jerking movement like he can't make up his mind, and then the front door is open.

Nicholas steps outside. Jo calls his name but doesn't follow. The snow is so bright that Harua has to look away, suddenly cold as the wind whistles through the building and the warmth of the fire is tugged away.

It acts to start them all up again, though. Fuma is on his feet as well. He's over by the door at the same time K is, putting his hand on Jo's shoulder. Harua doesn't realise he's following until he realises he's shivering. 

"We could all hear," K says, voice low, before Jo can try to say anything. There's the sound of more footsteps and Harua turns to see Yuma standing at the top of the stairs. His hands are in fists and there's a trickle of blood on his lip, welling up where he must have bitten it. It looks like it stings. 

But the worst thing is his face. He's gone as pink as the strap to Harua's bag. His eyes are all shiny and wrong, and when he notices Harua staring at him, he makes this odd choking noise and turns to disappear into one of the unused rooms.

"You didn't do anything," Fuma says, and it takes Harua a moment to realise he's talking to him . "I think he just needs a bit of space."

Harua knows that. He doesn't think Yuma got all upset because Harua looked at him. He doesn't like the fact that Fuma thinks Harua can't figure that out for himself - but then the second half of the sentence catches in his brain. He just needs a bit of space. Maybe that's why Nicholas has gone outside. 

He nods. His mouth is dry. His heart still hurts from the shouting, which is kind of stupid considering it's quiet now. 

He's still holding UNO cards in his hands. He really doesn't want to play anymore though, but he remembers to drop them back onto the pile so they don't get lost. Then he climbs onto the sofa and holds Taki's hand. He's sure it's helping - but he can't tell whether it's for Taki or him. 

K doesn't move from the front door. He looks like he wants to go outside and follow, but Fuma grabs him by the sleeve whenever he tries to take a single step out of the door. Maki has taken to playing UNO with Jo now, but Jo also keeps looking at the door and isn't really playing the game properly.

Maybe it's because of all the shouting, but the house seems way more quiet now. They all sit around until Nicholas comes back in. Even when Yuma eventually comes downstairs to join them, he just sits in silence as well.

The sound of crunching snow is the only sign that it's about to change. 

Taki and Yuma don't move. Harua's not sure why - he's sure they're worried as well, surely they want to see Nicholas returning as well - but it's only him and Maki who immediately move to see what's happening. 

Nicholas steps inside. His skin is pink. There's a flush to his cheeks and his hands have gone bright red. Probably stiff and hard to move. He's wearing a jacket but not a coat, so he must be cold. It's not snowing at least, so his hair is blown around by the wind but dry. 

He closes the door behind him, and Fuma and K relax so visibly that Harua can see it from this distance. 

His eyes scan the room. The attention is all on him, even if some sets of eyes are looking away. The game between Jo and Maki has reached the same conclusion as the one from before - abandoned for more interesting things, this time with Maki following along as well.

In the end, he's the one to grab a blanket from the pile in the corner. He stands on his tiptoes in an attempt to drape it over Nicholas' shoulder. Whilst that might not work, Nicholas bends down to let him, and some of the tension in the room fades away. The layout of the rooms means that all eight of them can see each other. There are no walls to block the view. Harua holds onto Taki's hand a little bit tighter.

He's not sure why everyone's being so quiet, but he knows enough to stay silent as well. The seconds seem to stretch on for minutes before Nicholas finally stops shaking and opens his mouth. 

"It's impossible."

He takes a step forward, bringing them all slightly closer together. K moves so that he's no longer behind him, and now they're all facing each other in the oddest classroom circle that Harua's ever seen.

"If we don't do anything, he's going to die," Nicholas says. "He's not getting better. No one knows enough to even try and do anything to help. If we keep going like this - he's going to die in that bed, and we won't have done anything to stop it."

His words ring out. Yuma flinches minutely, Taki stiffens up where he's sitting pressed close to Harua, tightening their grip himself. It's a little painful and Harua makes a noise of discomfort.

 Taki lets go a little. He doesn't look over to make sure Harua's okay, which is a bit mean, but his heart is beating so quickly that Harua can feel it through his skin - and that seems like a good excuse. 

"We are trying," K says. There's something strained in his tone. 

"You know just as well as I do that's not enough. If we don't do something stupid, we won't have done anything at all."

Nicholas chest rises and falls with too much force, visible from even where Harua's curled up on the couch. When he speaks, he's deflating like a beach ball with a hole, losing all his anger and morphing into something sad. 

It makes Harua's ears ring. He knows that Euijoo is ill. He hasn't really been allowed to see him - but Taki and Maki are also banned which makes him feel a bit better - but he misses him. He wants him to get better. Even when he hears Nicholas talking like this, like Euijoo is going to... die, well, it can't be real.

Can it? 

Harua can think back to an apartment and being alone and trapped in the dark. He'd thought his Mom was out there somewhere. He still doesn't think that she'd have left him on purpose. It wasn't like when she sometimes worked late and he had to put himself to bed - because she'd always been there in the morning. 

The two realities exist in his mind at the same time. His Mom is out there somewhere, and she's completely fine. His Mom didn't mean to leave him alone for so long. 

This... is just like that. Harua knows that people have died in the aftermath of the earthquake. He also knows that Euijoo can't become one of them - because he knows Euijoo, and someone he knows can't just die . 

He's going to get better. Isn't he? 

"When is the ship coming back?" Nicholas interrupts the spiral of his thoughts. 

He's talking about the science boat. It comes twice a week, which apparently confirms that it's a science boat (taking repeats of data, monitoring changes along the coastline, probably from some country that isn't their own - the only way that it's still being funded). Always at the same time to the hour, always on the same days. 

Fuma frowns. Not in a disapproving way, but with a downturn to his lips. "Are you suggesting what I think you are?"

K is bursting forward before Harua can even begin to consider what Nicholas might be thinking. It's all just disconnected sentences to him. Grown-ups are like that - thinking that everyone can follow along when there's no sense to their instructions at all . 

"We're not putting everyone else at risk," K says, and his voice is flat and angry but not-angry and just a bit scary. "The ship might be foreign, but that doesn't mean the people upon it are. They might have- stolen it, I don't know."

"K-"

"You could survive that way. How many people ran straight towards the military thinking they were there to save them? How many people ended up with a bullet in the back of their head because they weren't useful enough. "

Taki stiffens again. Harua tries to crawl closer but they're already pressed up side-to-side. The hand that Harua isn't holding has gone up to play with the elastic on his eyepatch. He twists and twists the bit where it loops around his ear, snapping it back until Harua reaches around with a frown and tries to hold his arm still. 

But Fuma is already shaking his head. "I don't think that's what he's suggesting."

He glances to Nicholas for confirmation. Nicholas doesn't nod or anything like that, but he does make eye-contact with K. "I'm not saying we send everyone to the ship. We don't get its attention. We just send Euijoo."

He steps out of the hallway and into the living room for the first time since his return. It's filled with all sorts of things they've collected into the small space, and it doesn't help that the blanket wrapped around his shoulders billows out like a cape as he moves.

He comes to a stop next to the motor. It just looks like a shiny piece of metal to Harua, but he'd been listening when Nicholas had explained before. He can't remember anything about the actual explanation other than that, but he gets the feeling that's the most important part. 

Nicholas looks at the motor. He looks back up at K. 

Jo is close enough that Harua can hear him make a little noise. Fuma's expression hasn't changed but K's mouth keeps moving like he wants to say something - but no sound actually comes out. No one says what's going on.

Harua wants to shout. He wants to complain, say that he doesn't like being left out and that Maki doesn't understand either! He wants to hold onto Taki's hand even tighter so he doesn't have to think about the fact that he's being left behind. It's stupid, because it's been ages and he's in a house now - but sometimes he thinks about the darkness of the apartment, and he can't breathe again until he sees that he's not alone.

"No-" Yuma says. 

"It's doing something," Nicholas tells him right back. Are they going to start arguing again? They don't sound happy.

Maybe Jo thinks that as well, because he makes an odd coughing sound. "The ship isn't coming until tomorrow. And- they'll still see the houses. They could know where we are anyway, even without us trying to get their attention."

"It's stupid!" Yuma says. He's standing now. Taki drops Harua's hand as he gets to his feet himself. Jo is also standing up, leaving only Harua still sitting. He slides off the sofa to join everyone else, but suddenly he feels very small and even Maki is miles away across the room. 

"You just don't want to see him die in front of you!"

Nicholas swears, and Harua puts his hands in front of his mouth in a gasp. It looks stupid. No one is watching him to see. "What did you say-"

"You're going to send him away to his death! Is this what this is - you can't bear to some to terms with it, you're a coward-"

Yuma's cheeks are so pink that Harua thinks he must be crying. There's too much going on in the room to tell. He doesn't even get to finish his sentence before the room is exploding into noise and movement. 

Fuma is there to try and pull Nicholas back but Yuma is still shouting, and Nicholas' voice just gets louder. K is trying to insert himself between them but his voice is drowned out by everything else. Taki is pulling at Yuma's sleeve. Jo hovers by the side and somehow seems like he's taking up the most space out of everyone.

"I'd rather regret that for the rest of my fucking life!" Nicholas yells as Fuma tries to stop him stepping closer, "I'd rather he only have a chance at dying than sitting here and just watching it happen! He isn't getting better!"

"You don't get to make that decision!"

They're not listening to each other. Harua tries to take a step back - it's all too loud and too close and he needs to get away - but his back is pressed up against the couch before he can even move a couple of inches. He has to sneak past Jo to get closer to the kitchen, and the proximity to the argument leaves his hands shaking and heart racing.

He feels sick. He doesn't like this. He wants them to stop because it's making him want to throw up, and- he's a big boy, he can't cry, but it feels like the room is so small . 

He wishes Euijoo was still here. 

Why isn't this noise waking him up? They wouldn't be arguing like this if he was here, so why isn't he coming downstairs to tell them to be quiet? Can he not hear the noise? Does- does he not care anymore?

"Stop it," Maki says, and Harua's eyes fly across the room to find him. They look at each other but no one else seems to take notice at the sound of his voice. He looks as happy as Harua feels, shaking slightly. "Stop it!"

It's drowned out. Everyone else is too busy shouting and trying to stop other people shouting and trying to make themselves louder. Maki's mouth is practically moving without making any noise at all. 

Harua keeps backing up. He gets all the way to the wall and then he can't get any further. But he has to do something to make it stop. And if he doesn't do it soon he's going to end up in tears, or curled into a ball because all he can do is put his hands over his ears.

And- that's stupid, because he'll still know they're arguing. It won't make it stop . He needs to do something.

There's a side table against this wall. There's a chair left in the corner from when they'd cleared space in the kitchen. He barely has to move it more than a few inches before it's close enough to the table. He climbs up like the height is going to give him more power, takes the camera that had been sitting safely nearby and holds it up.

"Stop it!" He shouts, even though that hadn't worked when Maki had yelled it, "Or- Or I drop this!"

It's Nicholas' camera, he realises belatedly. All he'd seen is that it was one of the three. But now it's in his hand and hanging dangerously a good distance above the hard floor, he can tell that it's the one Nicholas had shown him back in the city.

"I'll do it!" He shouts, as loud as he can. It makes his throat hurt. He's blinking back tears without even really realising it, because he's still looking out across the room right up until-

Nicholas makes eye contact with him. The words coming from his mouth had been indistinguishable from the noise of everything else, but Harua still manages to tell when he stops. The expression on his face changes slightly. He freezes where he is (not quite freezing, softer than that, but Harua struggles to see through his suddenly-blurry eyes) and the rest of the room catches on.

The noise dies down. They all turn to look at Harua. 

The camera shakes in his hand. He's holding it out and it suddenly seems a lot heavier than it had a few moments ago. His arm is shaking and he can't get down - when Fuma  is suddenly there in front of him to take the device from his hands and pick him up, Harua doesn't let him put him back down.

He clings to his chest instead. 

"I'll put every photo I have in that boat," Nicholas says. There's nothing left of the argument from before. 

His tone is hard but it's also so sad and desperate and Harua doesn't want to hear this either. Why can't everything go back to normal? Why do they have to argue - why won't anyone tell him exactly what's going on, even if he's not sure he wants to know anymore?

"If we put Euijoo on that boat," Nicholas says, "I'll put every photo I've ever taken in there with him. I'll stake everything on this. It's- I'm willing to lose it all for this, if this is what gives him a second chance."

It doesn't fall into place, as such. There's no connecting of two dots in Harua's mind, and it isn't like a puzzle piece being slotted into all the words that came before it. 

Instead, it feels like he's falling. Fuma's arms are still wrapped around him, but Harua's stomach drops from the sky to the ground and he's suddenly so dizzy that his tongue feels like lead in his mouth. 

They're putting Euijoo on the canoe. They're going to send him to the science ship.

He isn't getting better. 

Chapter Text

They stand in a line by the shore. 

It's cold enough that Harua is shivering. It doesn't matter that he's wearing a thick jacket beneath a thicker coat. That his hands are cushioned in gloves and that his shoes have been patched so they don't even have holes in any more. 

There's a wind blowing and it stings his ears. The cold air creeps in through every seam of his clothes, no matter how tight he tries to pull them, and settles up against his bare skin. He can't stop his legs shaking, and when he tries to close his mouth, the sound of his teeth clicking together fills his head. 

That doesn't matter.

That's not what he's here for. 

The sky is so blue above their heads. It could be summer if it weren't so cold. It reflects across the water for a few moments right before the wind picks up again, and then the illusion is shattered. The lake - the sea - whatever it can be called - is more of a mud-brown than anything else. None of the shimmering surface reflects the blue of the sky for more than a couple of seconds. 

There's a thin line of ice nearby. It's warmer this morning than it has been. Harua is still cold, but there's that - the snowdrifts are now only half his height, the icicles across the awning of the house drip in a steady beat, the ice on the water has broken into shards. 

It cannot be warm and cold at the same time. It must be cold, Harua decides, because for what other reason would he be shaking?

When Jo takes a step back, Harua follows him. Maki is a step behind. They're all out of the way when K and Fuma come close enough to stand next to the canoe. They set Euijoo inside gently.

Harua watches. They've put blankets inside. It makes it more cushioned, like a soft nest of bedding instead of hard plastic and wood. It almost looks like Euijoo could curl up asleep.

Harua hopes it's comfortable. He's not sure whether Euijoo can feel it. He hopes he can - but that might mean he'd be closer to waking up than everyone else seems to think, and Harua has to tell himself to stop thinking about it. He knows he doesn't understand. He's not sure he wants to understand, because that brings him back to the apartment and how it had been so quiet. 

"He looks even worse," Taki says, because Taki has no filter.

They're stood to the side. Nicholas not lifting Euijoo in any way that helps, but tucking his hair behind his ears. Maki's lips pressed thin and silent, Jo shivering just as much as Harua is trying not to. 

"He's dehydrated," Jo says distantly. "Sometimes... people climbed the mountain in the summer without preparing for the heat. Except we don't have any way to get him to drink."

Harua frowns. He wants to shout, sure we do . They can just shake Euijoo by the shoulders until he opens his eyes. He's slept for way too long, there's no way he's still tired even if his eyes are closed and he's ill. They can press a water bottle into his hands and help him lift it to his mouth.

He doesn't say any of that. 

He doesn't think it would actually work. That isn't the type of ill that Euijoo is. He isn't waking up, no matter how much they've tried to shake his shoulders and put cold snow on his forehead. That's the problem.

Harua also remembers being thirsty. He thinks of the apartment, because he thinks of being able to see the mountain through the small window in the kitchen, and climbing onto the counters so he could press his hands against the glass whilst the ramen hummed in the microwave.

When it had all come down, he hadn't been able to see out of a window. He'd stayed curled up for days because he didn't know if he could move, because his Mom had told him to stay there and Harua wasn't sure if there still counted any more. And Maki had passed food through the hole in the walls, but there hadn't been water.

He can still remember it. How tacky the inside of his mouth had been. The way his tongue stuck to his gums, how the small amount of water he had been able to find was far too sweet. He hopes that Euijoo doesn't have to feel that, since he's asleep. 

The motor is attached to the boat. They've pushed it into the water. K has a steady hand on the back - it's cold, Fuma says as he takes a step back to join the line at the shore, they're not going to step into the ocean until the very last moment. 

It means K is leaning over. The boat bobs in the water. The ice has cracked and pushed away. Maki has a stick in his hands, trying to break them even further - and Harua knows it can't be helpful, but no one's stopping him so it can't be that bad. 

Nicholas finishes the motor attached.

He doesn't step back. He just looks at the boat and at Euijoo. He's going to be the one to push out the boat with K. No one had argued with him about that.

In the light of the winter sun, Harua looks at the canoe for the last time.

The motor is large and ugly attached to the back, but it hums when Nicholas presses something and that seems like a good sign, sending even more ripples across the water. The paintings on the side have started to bleed off. There are odd patches where the material had seemed possibly weak.

There's a sail, upright from the centre of the boat. It's why Euijoo is curled around in the way that he is, so that the wind can push it away from the shore and towards the open ocean. It's lucky that the wind is going the right way , is what Jo says quietly to Taki and Yuma.

They aren't really talking. Anything at all seems too loud. Even the drip-drip of the icicles on the awning breaks the quiet of winter, of the snow beneath their feet and the endless blue of the sky above their heads. 

The ship is in the distance.

Pale against the blue of the sky and the brown of the water. This is their chance. Jo is holding Harua's hand - and his grip tightens until it's painful, but Harua keeps his lips pressed together and doesn't say a word. Yuma is so close to the water that the toes of his shoes are damp. It doesn't look like he can feel the cold. Maybe he simply hasn't realised, but Harua doesn't say anything about that either.

 "One last bit of good luck," Fuma says. Harua turns to look at him. He's the only one that moves his head, the only one able to tear their eyes away from the canoe and Euijoo curled up in the middle. 

There's a plastic bag in his arms. Every single photograph from Nicholas' camera, and two little chips that Taki and Jo had told him were very important. They're what's been carrying the videos they've been taking all this time - something so important in something so small . 

Harua wishes it weren't so cold. He gets all the way to lifting his free hand to his mouth so he can chew on his fingers, only for the layers of fabric to get in the way. "What's good luck?"

Fuma looks down. He smiles, but it doesn't seem real. It's the kind of smile that grown-ups give children when they think that children can't tell. It doesn't quite reach his eyes. Maybe that's the problem - so when tries to smile back, he makes sure that his eyes crease as well.

"The wind," Fuma says.

In front of them, the sail billows.

K is in the water. Nicholas is in the water as well. It's cold, probably only a few degrees above freezing. The silt settled at the bottom of the ocean comes up around them and paints the colour an even muddier brown than before. Their hands are on the canoe and they push it forward, but Nicholas isn't wearing gloves and his skin is bright red with the weather. 

There are goosebumps where their skin is visible. Their trousers are carefully pinned up around their thighs. 

They're pushing out the boat and Euijoo with it, so Taki lifts up his camera.

 Yuma glances to look at him. "Is everyone ever going to see them?" 

It's not clear whether he's talking about the tape that Taki's currently filming, or the little bug-like cards that have been put in the plastic bag. Harua thinks that might be the point.

Taki's hands are steady. He steps forward until his toes are in the water as well, and his knees are shaking, but his hands holding out the camera don't move at all. It's only when he shrugs that the lens might move at all.

"I don't know," he says. "But there was one card left. And... this feels important."

"It feels like an ending," Jo says from behind him, who doesn't have a camera to film with because every other SD card is on the boat. His voice is even more quiet than usual. Harua frowns and has to stand on tiptoes in order to hear it carry over the wind. It almost sounds like he's quoting something, but it's not anything Harua's ever heard before.

" If this is a goodbye, " he says, " by the water, let my memory cling to everything we've ever been. It will have been enough. "

In the water, Nicholas leans over. The boat tilts slightly with his weight. The fabric of the sail strains in the wind, but Nicholas isn't letting go just yet. He bends over and his mouth moves. 

Nothing of what he says catches. Harua might not be tall, but he can see how close Nicholas' mouth is to Euijoo's ear. He's saying something quiet and private. His cheeks are pink when he straightens back up, and not just from the cold.

K says something. Nicholas' chest stutters in a way that's painfully visible, even from the shore. His lips don't move again, but he nods. His fingers tighten on the side of the boat for a second, he reaches down to touch something impossible to see from here, and then... he lets go. 

He lets Euijoo's hand go. His fingers catch on the side Nicholas pulls back. They look pale against the dark colour of the wood. They hang there, pale against dark - the blue sky and the brown water and the shape of the ship they're praying that Euijoo reaches. Nicholas doesn't notice. 

They push the boat. 

It will have been enough , Harua thinks. He doesn't know what it means, but he likes the sound of the words in his mouth.

Chapter Text

It has been a week and a half since the boat.

If Euijoo hadn't been picked up, he is now most certainly dead.

There's a good chance that he is anyway.

Nicholas thinks about this late at night, when he's sure the rest of the house is asleep. It's not on purpose - or, it's about on purpose as all of his thoughts are when it comes to Euijoo. He doesn't mean for his mind to circle around that day. It just happens anyway. He is like a hum in the back of his mind. It's always there, once Nicholas digs a little deeper than anything surface-level, and it makes itself most apparent when the rest of the world is quiet.

He stares up at the dark ceiling and he thinks of the muddy water. He catches the gleam of the melting snow outside, and he thinks of how Euijoo's skin looked drained of colour. There is the slightest breeze in the air and Nicholas thinks of pulling the world around him apart at the seams.

Euijoo is dead, or he is better.

There's no between - at least, not one that makes sense to his mind. If he had been picked up by the boat, he'd surely have recovered from the fever by now. It feels like a fist around Nicholas' heart. He clings to the certainty of it. It's easier to cast the colour of his skin and the sallow hollows of his cheeks from his mind that way. 

In some ways, he wishes he'd kept at least one photograph. There's no inspiration to pick up the camera again, when every photo he's taken has now sailed away into the distance, but he finds himself reaching to rifle through the piles when his thoughts get too loud anyway. There's nothing there. Euijoo's memory is now all that's left of the boy that Nicholas had travelled through this whole fucking mess with, and that's the thought that draws him right back to thinking about him all over again. 

What had happened is this:

Euijoo is either dead or he is better, and the moment that the wind had caught the sail of the boat, they'd walked back inside.

That was part of the agreement. K had a steady hand on Nicholas' arm as he walked him back through the doors of the house, barely noticing that both of them were shivering. Taki stoked the fire in silence. Yuma lingered in the corners of the house, where the light from the flames didn't quite reach.

The houses had to look abandoned. If the ship wasn't there for research, wasn't there with good intentions, then Nicholas' attempt to save Euijoo couldn't damn the rest of them. There could be no sign of life - no figures in the distance watching, just in case. 

No risks. Euijoo was all they were willing to offer up to the hands of fate. They could wonder how he'd made his way into that boat all they wanted. They could watch the tapes and stare at the smiling faces in the photographs until they'd committed their likenesses to memory.

They wouldn't get any answers until Euijoo woke up. Maybe that would be a reason for them to keep him alive, as stupid as it sounds. Nicholas doesn't think that Euijoo would remember why he was on the boat either. He hadn't exactly been conscious. 

Harua and Maki had handed him towels to dry off his legs. They'd brought him a new pair of trousers, because despite his attempts to pin the legs of his pants up to avoid the water, once he'd been letting go of the boat he hadn't been paying much attention anymore. He'd moved robotically. 

Following tasks. Warming up. Inching towards the windows, peeling back the fabric and staring out of the glass like he'd get any answers that way.

In the five minutes since they'd returned inside, a fog had rolled in. Instead of the blue sky and the muddy water and the stretched-out drowned field, Nicholas had seen a thin white mist heavy in the air. It melted into the colour of the snow, painting the world pale and sickly. 

The research vessel had disappeared. So had Euijoo and the boat.

Still. Nicholas had watched until the sun set and the darkness of night set even heavier than the fog. He hadn't protested when a warm bowl of... whatever they were calling 'food' was placed in his hands, the taste barely registering. He held onto it long after he'd finished. 

The morning after, the sky had been just as blue again, as if nothing had happened. The smoke screen had disappeared. 

And so had the boat. Nicholas hadn't been clinging to the thought that the canoe might have been visible just in the distance - sail pale against the water, bobbing in the waves like a scene from an idyllic summer's day - because that would have meant Euijoo had been left behind. He wouldn't have survived a night out in the cold.

Not in the condition they'd left him in. 

Nicholas is finding that it's hard to think about anything else. A week and a half has passed since the boat, but he still feels like he's struggling to feel like he's woken up in the morning. It should come as a relief to find that this affliction isn't just affecting him - that everyone is wandering around like their head is still stuck in a dream - but it just scrapes out another few centimetres from the hole inside of him.

It's warming, at least. The snow has soaked into the ground and turned it thick and muddy, but it feels slightly like the sun is beginning to come up, chasing away the last dregs of winter with it. It's January, there's still a while to go before spring, but it's something to cling to. 

It's quiet inside the house. It has been for a while. Maybe when the sun comes out properly they'll come back to life, but Nicholas can only consider that from a distance.

He's mourning, he thinks.

Mourning for something who might not be dead. Aren't they all?

It doesn't matter. What's important is that it's quiet in the house, and that the grief is eating Nicholas up but he can't stomach the guilt that lies right beneath it any longer. He laps the bottom floor like he's stumbling through a dream, but he has enough intent in his mind not to get distracted. 

It's so quiet that he thinks everyone must be either upstairs or outside, but then he turns the corner and finds what he's looking for anyway.

Yuma.

Sat on the stairs, three steps up from the floor and curled in on himself. He's almost perfectly sat between the wall and the bannister, the same amount of space left on each side, and he only looks up once Nicholas is standing in the hallway right in front of him. They stare at each other. 

Yuma's gaze doesn't falter even though Nicholas can very clearly see the way his shoulders straighten up, the way he looks like he's waiting for the strike. There's something stifling in the room.

When had it come to this? At points, it still feels like Nicholas is waking up from a dream, when he didn't even realise he was sleeping in the first place. He's surfacing from a place beneath the water, feeling the wind on his skin when he hadn't even noticed it was missing. It's like entering a room with a crawling sensation down his spine - the slow realisation that the world had kept spinning without him.

He's known Euijoo pretty much since the beginning of the disaster. He's known Yuma for almost as long.

"Hey," Nicholas says. 

Yuma's eyes are staring at him, boring holes into his skin. It takes everything Nicholas has not to flinch back. He's still volatile from a combination of illness, losing Euijoo, and a whole host of emotions that seem intent on ripping their way out of his chest, not caring about what happens to the rest of his organs in their haste.

He doesn't have the words for it. He longs for the language of Taiwan as much as he misses his family - because he likes Japan, but he'd never planned on staying this long. 

Nicholas feels something bob at the back of his throat. He swallows it back down and forces his feet to remain still on the ground.

Yuma is watching his lips. That's another stone added to the sinking feeling in Nicholas' chest. His hearing aids must have stopped working again. A few weeks ago, he would have come to Nicholas the moment that they started playing up, falling back into their routine since the summer and watching as Nicholas tried all his tricks to fix them.

Even if he didn't immediately want them fixed, he'd usually at least tell Nicholas when it happened. They'd be on the look-out for batteries and wires and screwdrivers and... a fucking soldering iron or something together.

Nicholas wants to ask now, but it isn't the time. He lifts his hands because that's probably easier for Yuma right now, only to stall when he realises that his knowledge of Japanese sign language has never left the basics. It's all he can do to try and find the words in his head, let alone translate them into actions.

His mind is sticky. He's tired of having to sort through every pronunciation before he opens his mouth, wading through grammer and particles and tenses to sort everything into place. 

"I'm sorry," is what he ends up saying in the end. It's simple enough for Yuma to be able to lip-read. It has to be.

Yuma blinks at him. "Say it again," he says, squinting at Nicholas' lips like he's not quite sure what he's seeing. One hand has come up absentmindedly to tap against the plastic behind his left ear.

"I'm sorry."

"Again.

"I'm-"

Nicholas cuts himself off. "You know what I'm saying. You can read lips well enough that I don't need to say it three times."

Yuma looks at him. The corner of his mouth quirks up, the smallest hint of his tooth out over his lower lip. It makes him look young, even if the rest of his expression says that he isn't anywhere near forgiving Nicholas properly. It'll be his birthday soon. February had seemed so far away when they'd met back in the Summer. 

He doesn't say anything, though, which is obviously encouragement for Nicholas to keep talking.

And... Nicholas isn't going to grovel. He's apologising because he's the bigger person, but also because it's eating him up inside that the distance between them won't stop growing. The guilt of yelling weighs heavy on his shoulders, even if he doesn't regret the position he'd taken in their argument. He doesn't think he's wrong. That's an important distinction. But he doesn't want to be upset with Yuma any more.

"We shouldn't fight," is what he says instead. "He was your friend as well. You were... also hurting."

Euijoo's name haunts the conversation without ever being spoken. Just like how his impression is left on the bedsheets in the room upstairs, and how they keep portioning out their supplies for nine when there are only eight mouths to feed. 

Yuma's eyes don't move from his lips. There's a pause where the silence settles, and then Yuma's face crumples in such frustration that Nicholas flinches. Yuma smacks the side of his head - the space behind his ear - hard enough that it's got to hurt.

"They're not working anymore," he tells Nicholas a few seconds later. He lifts his palm. There's a piece of plastic in his hand, curled safely behind his fingers despite what he's saying, and his other hand is already working to pull the matching half of the pair to join it. "I'm not sure they will again."

"How long has it been?"

"How..."

"How long has it been?"

"Oh. On and off for a few weeks. Stopped working properly yesterday. Nothing I usually try is helping. I-" his voice hitches, caught between something flat and an emotion so hidden by the translation that Nicholas can't quite catch it, "I don't care. I'm proud. But... I don't want to be a burden."

They're in a tent again, aren't they. The sun warms the air and the plastic wrap acting as their floor burns hot in the midday heat. Nicholas has pushed the blankets to the side. It makes space for an assortment of screwdrivers on the ground. Yuma watches his every movement like he's going to grab the hearing aids back the moment that he thinks Nicholas has messed up.

Back then, they communicated through an odd mix of easy words - what Nicholas could translate without too much issue, his Japanese still a work-in-progress - and whatever Yuma could read from his lips. More often than not, Nicholas would have to attempt to say the same thing five times before Yuma caught his meaning. 

Yet they'd made it. They weren't in the tent any more. The sky might have been blue outside, but there's the clear absence of oppressive heat. It's odd to miss a place Nicholas had hated, but things had been... simpler, back then.

He'd thought he'd be home by now. He'd like to say he still has the same expectations for the future, but that would be a lie. He's not sure he's ever going to leave Japan. He's not sure he'll still be around by next summer. The earthquake has stolen a lot from him, and the ability to believe in the future is simply one of many lost. 

Not just from him. From everyone in this house.

Nicholas sits down and imagines wincing from the heat of plastic beneath him. He holds his hands out and Yuma passes the hearing aids over. 

"You liked him."

Despite the catch to Yuma's words when he can't hear himself, every syllable comes crystal clear. His stomach drops out from beneath him, his skin suddenly colder than before. His head snaps up to make eye-contact before he can stop himself. There's no way to deny it. He can't see his expression, but he can imagine. 

He opens his mouth with all the intention to say something, but instead finds... nothing. His mind comes up empty. With Euijoo, it seems, his will to deny his feelings has disappeared. 

This is different from the conversation he'd had with Harua. A six year old isn't the same as Yuma - a close friend, someone who's old enough to properly understand why Nicholas can't breathe when Euijoo comes too close, to know what he'd have been risking. It's real in a way that the conversation with Harua hadn't been. 

If he wasn't already sitting, he'd be sinking to the ground. 

The silence speaks for itself. Maybe it's the shake to his hands that Yuma catches, or the way that Nicholas very clearly fumbles his words before he can say a single thing. There's not much point denying it. It's... never even really been a secret. 

"Yeah," Nicholas says. It's too loud and too quiet at the same time. His tongue feels thick and useless in his mouth. He's having to work overtime to focus on each individual syllable, trying to talk suddenly much more difficult than it had been before. "I liked him."

"I think I've known ever since I got to the camp," Yuma tells him, "You look at him differently."

"Yeah."

"And you never said anything."

Obviously. It's not meant to cut as deep as it does, but Nicholas flinches anyway. It should be clear why he could have never said anything. He wouldn't have strung his heart out for so long if it wasn't the only option. "It could have..." he searches for the word, "fallen apart. I couldn't do that to the group. It was safer that way."

It burns like fire trapped beneath his skin. It sears like white-hot metal pressed as a brand against his chest. And in the end it's Euijoo, so he clings to the pain like it tastes of oranges. 

His lips aren't bleeding, but he can feel imaginary cracks in the skin filling his mouth with blood. There's water around his calves in his mind, the cold plastic and wood of a boat beneath his hands, the stuttering gasp of the wind pulling at a sail above his head. 

It's easier to share with Yuma because it isn't a secret anymore. His lips burn. He'd spoken so quietly that even K hadn't overheard what Nicholas had whispered into Euijoo's ear, but he suspects that they all know anyway. 

Yuma doesn't say anything for a couple of minutes. They sit on the floor and let the silence stretch between them. Nicholas holds his hearing aids heavy in his hands, Yuma finally has confirmation of what he's known all along.

"I'm sorry too," he says when enough time has eventually passed. "I'm not sure I even disagreed with you. I just wanted to fight. Like that would somehow make another option appear."

Nicholas looks up. They make fleeting eye contact. There are voices nearby - from outside the windows, the sound of people drawing closer and probably about to enter the house soon - but Yuma doesn't know that because he can't hear them.

He'd like to talk more. He hadn't realised how much he'd... missed talking. Nicholas doesn't tend to do it unless he's forced into a corner on at least two sides, but with Euijoo missing he's tired. He doesn't want to bear this on his shoulders alone anymore.

"They found him," he says, before the door can open and draw a close to their conversation. He doesn't say who they and him refer to. It's incredibly obvious. It always has been. "It didn't end in the boat. I won't believe anything else."

There are shadows cast through the glass. Yuma might not have realised the conversation was ending before, but he certainly does now. He glances up and then back down to Nicholas, and his expression of resolute understanding is reflected back at him. Bitten-lips and barely concealed frown lines, complete determination.

He doesn't say anything. He just nods, but that's all Nicholas really needs.

He's up on his feet again by the time that the door does eventually swing open, already on his way to try and find his supplies to fix Yuma's hearing aids. 

He doesn't care that Yuma thinks they're broken beyond repair. If being here has taught him anything, it's that he refuses to give up on hope - that maybe everything will work out in the end, despite it all. 

---

In a hospital bed in South Korea, Euijoo wakes up.

Chapter Text

It's cold.

There is a bone-deep cold that won't go away, no matter how tightly he tries to pull the blankets around him. Except he can barely twitch his fingers, sore and swollen and useless, let alone attempt to move his arms. 

He's distantly aware that he's sweating. He's sure that his eyes are open, but the world is grey and spinning and his mouth tastes like static - all metal and how the word buzzing would taste. He's shivering and there's nothing that warms him up.

The world swims. His eyes aren't open after all, they're closed and he can't even summon the energy to peel them open. His teeth are chattering in his skull. Maybe that's where the noise is coming from  - the fuzz in the background, the throbbing of the air.

He's being rocked. There's a jolt - it's sickeningly familiar, maybe that's what had woken him up in the first place. He barely feels like he's awake. His head is stuffed with cotton wool and the buzzing and the static and - his face is pressed into the blanket, chest down wherever he's lying, but his body refuses to listen to him when he tries to move.

There's noise distantly above the fuzz. It swims like a broken speaker. It gets louder and he tries to open his mouth to tell it to be quiet, but his lips are cracked and bloody and his throat feels like sandpaper and his tongue sticks to his gums. He tries to make some sort of sound - any sort of sound - but the buzzing drowns it all out. 

It's bright and it hurts and he's so, so cold underneath it all.

The blankets stick to his skin where they've been drenched in sweat. His hair itches, coated in grease, and he still can't stop shivering.

Something moves him. The ground rocks alarmingly. There's a noise closer than anything before and it sounds like someone is speaking, but there's something wrong . It's all syllables and words and he's sure that he understands but something in his brain is screaming . 

It's so cold. 

He wants to ask the person - the owner of the voice, whoever is trying to speak to him - to make it stop. He just wants to be warm again. He wants the grey and the swimming and the buzzing and the sticky-sweet tacky sickness of his throat to go away. 

He doesn't get that far. The ground tips again and the roar of the static gets louder. His head is filled with a thousand winged insects and it tastes like there's blood in his mouth, sharp and metallic and salty from sweat. 

The buzzing drowns the sound of everything else, and Euijoo passes out again.

------

He's sure he wakes up a few more times, but it never feels quite like being awake. 

His eyes may be half open and his chest moving, but the grey has been replaced with a white haze that settles over his mind. It's hard to think. It's hard to do anything . He doesn't attempt to move - the thought doesn't even occur to him - and everything has been filtered through a thousand layers of dream-like cotton wool. 

He's sure seconds are passing, but they slip away whenever he tries to hold onto more than one thought. There's not a before. There isn't an after. There is simply a moment and then there's the next - and trying to keep track of anything that's happening other than now is impossible. 

Something hurts. Something is aching inside of him. 

He's only awake for glimpses, but nothing seems solid. He's sure he's opened his eyes before this, but he can't remember it. That's a thought that should scare him. Instead, it's gone between the next passing of the seconds, drowned in the hazy flood of his mind and suffocated in the fact that he's too exhausted to feel. 

There's a glass of water pressed to his lips. It's cold and he chokes. He's pretty sure he throws up at one point. His stomach aches and the blur gets worse, the buzzing presses in on his temples. 

He slips from one moment to the next. He drifts in and out of consciousness, never truly grasping onto what's actually happening around him. 

It's still cold. Most of the time he's shivering and the blankets wrapped around him are sticky against his skin, and the chattering of his teeth is back and louder than ever. Sometimes it's warm but he can't untangle the sheets from his limbs, and his arms and legs only ache when he tries to move them. It feels like he's being cooked alive. It feels like he's lying in the snow. 

It's white and grey and black and it's every colour that makes up the static that still tastes like metal. 

He's swimming. He's falling. He's choking on water again and there's a prick in the crook of his elbow. His stomach twists and his throat burns with acid. He's awake, but not really.

He's awake. He's gone again, and there's not much of a difference. 

---- 

The first time he actually wakes up and remembers it, it doesn't last for more than a minute. The world is still swimming and his chest still feels tight - and he's been ill enough times before to recognise that this is still the remnants of something bad clinging to him. 

His skin is chalky out of the corner of his eye. His eyelashes stick to his cheeks when they flutter open, and his mouth still tastes distantly like metal. It's all foggy in the corners, like trying to think is wading through deep and sticky mud, but he's thinking.

He's perceiving things. For the first time in however long, Euijoo's brain is taking in his surroundings and not just letting every thought slip away. 

He sees his pale skin and feels the crust at the corners of his eyes. He tries to open his mouth and is surprised when his body obeys him. It aches, bone-deep, like he's been hit by a truck. His thoughts start off slow, but within a couple of seconds he can finally align the parts of his brain that are working again - and ask where is he?

It aches just staring up at the ceiling. He has to grit his teeth and stifle a gasp when he tries to move his neck a couple of centimetres to the side. But he's not going to get any more answers just lying and waiting for whatever happens next. Now that his mind has started processing everything, it won't stop. 

He needs to know where he is. He needs to know what happened. His heart starts to beat faster, and even though it had hurt before, he knows that he needs to try and do something . His breath sounds more like a hiss when he prepares himself to move and get a better view. 

Every muscle has been protesting when he's been doing nothing but lying there, and he thought he'd be prepared for when he does try to move. But it's so painful when he tries to turn over and sit up that-

The world suddenly spins. There's a high-pitched noise that drowns out everything else and his vision gets very pale. It comes back after a few seconds, but his heart hammers in his chest and he still has no idea what's going on.

It doesn't matter. It's too much and the ache has turned into exhaustion. His new position isn't comfortable, but he can barely feel it. He can't fight the way that his eyes close. 

He must have fallen asleep, because the next time he's blinking awake he's even more conscious than before. 

This time, his head is propped up. He's still on his back and he's still looking at the ceiling, but he finds that he can tilt himself without thinking about it this time - something that had pretty much caused him to pass out the last time he'd been conscious. The ache is still there but it's significantly less painful than before. The world isn't spinning. He lifts his head fully off the pillow to test, and it doesn't come crashing down around him.

He's awake . 

The room he's in looks like a hospital. The walls are the pale white of sterility, completely impersonal. It smells clean. There's a window set into the wall to his left but the blinds have been drawn closed, and Euijoo has to just take in the rest of his surroundings instead, with no close as to what's outside.

Somewhere like this... is he still in Japan?

He'd have thought everywhere was destroyed. Maybe hospitals had survived in Hokkaido or somewhere similarly far from where Euijoo knew had been hit hard by the earthquake. But even though the room is small, with most of the space taken up by the bed he's lying in, it looks untouched by... anything.

There are softly beeping machines next to his head. The sheets laid across his body are as white as the snow outside, and probably the cleanest thing that's touched him for months. His fingers distantly trail over them as he realises that he smells clinical, like soap and laundry detergent. There's an IV in the crook of his elbow. He follows the tubing up to a stand with a pale bag hanging from it. 

On the bag - his heart-

Well. He's not sure how to describe the situation. It's like it drops fifty stories, a sudden realisation hitting him with such force that it feels like his body is physically falling. But at the same time there's a rush of elation - something bone-deep ingrained into him, the fact that he can read the lettering without having to hesitate and translate in his head.

It's in Korean . 

He's in South Korea .

Somehow - somehow - he's home . 

And maybe everything's still been slightly hazy since he woke up, coating the surfaces of his thoughts with sticky placidity and mellowing his feelings out to numbness. But when his stomach drops it's like everything suddenly becomes sharper.

He can't stay in awe about seeing Korean for longer than half a second. No sooner has he processed that realisation, his mind is flooded with the questions that should have been on the tip of his tongue since the moment he could process the world around him again.

Not just where is he , but what happened? He doesn't remember anything past the house, being so sure that the illness would pass in a couple of days and that he couldn't put any more pressure on the shoulders of everyone already struggling. He can distantly recall collapsing, but everything past that is a blur of half-awake snapshots. 

Where are they? He's here alone - is he? He doesn't remember how he got here. Are they just in the room next to him - no, that can't be true, he might have been delirious with fever for the past few days but he knows they wouldn't leave his bedside, no matter how they might have managed to get him to a hospital. 

Then how is he here? If they're not at the hospital with him, where are they? How - how did he get to a hospital in the first place, South Korean or not? 

There's a beeping in his ear. Just as he wonders what it means and where it's coming from, the door to his room opens. A young-looking nurse holding a clipboard steps inside for barely a second. Then her eyes meet Euijoo's and her notepad drops to the ground.

She looks panicked. Euijoo tries to open his mouth and say something, but his throat is rough with disuse and his lips are dry when he attempts to choke out the shape of a syllable. It hurts. More than it should.

He's not sure how long he's been asleep, but he's starting to get a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. There's blood in his mouth - his lips are so dry that they've cracked - and it's achingly familiar. One of his hands flies up to the sting and comes away damp. He tries to speak again but it feels like it's burning.

In a few seconds, the room is filled with people. 

There are doctors and nurses. They're all talking to themselves and no one is talking to Euijoo especially. His head is still spinning from the shock. If he'd been dizzy from just waking up, having so many people suddenly around him is like the world itself is spinning. 

He's only vaguely aware of what they're even doing. Someone is helping him sit up properly, warm hands on his back and Euijoo isn't even doing anything to protest being touched. Someone with gloves on brushes the IV port in his elbow. Another person at the side presses buttons on the machines. The beeping comes to a stop, but the sound of voices has replaced it.

They're talking in Korean.

The part of his brain that isn't completely focused on where is he, where is everyone latches onto that like it's in shining, saviour white. 

The original nurse disappears and comes back hurried, a glass of water in her hands. She holds it up to Euijoo's lips. He wants to tell her that he can hold it herself, thank her for being kind, but as soon as the cool water touches his lips he can't do anything but drink. 

By the time it's empty, the room has calmed down again.

Some of the people who'd rushed in have disappeared, leaving only the nurse holding the glass of water and two doctors. They exchange looks as he tries not to cough with how quickly he'd drank, but he's too focused on not spluttering that he can't attempt to decipher what it means.

"Hello," one of them says after a couple of seconds and when Euijoo isn't near choke-risk any more. It's oddly polite and formal. She looks kind - soft lines beneath her eyes, full cheeks - but there's something detached and clinical in her gaze. Like he's trapped on the other end of a microscope rather than in a hospital bed. "Can you confirm whether you speak Korean? If you can't verbally answer, nodding or shaking your head is fine."

He still doesn't know what's going on. Part of him is panicking. It's the part that wants to claw out his IV and sit up without being helped, climb out of bed and stare out of the window. It's the part that wants to demand answers. Euijoo isn't often scary, but he knows he can be when he wants to. It's only the kindness of the nurses so far that keeps him from adding that icy edge to his words.

He needs to know where everyone else is. 

He needs to know if they're okay.

Harua and Maki are just babies. If he's in hospital from the fever, then what's happened to them? Yuma's hearing aids have been playing up lately - if they've found civilization, has he gotten them fixed? Are K and Fuma still trying to pull them all back together? Euijoo doesn't understand how he's become somewhat the leader of the group and he certainly doesn't think they won't survive without him - but there's still the pressure . 

Is Taki's eye still healing? He should be in hospital from that, right? Maybe there's still a chance they can save his sight- and Jojo, has someone else noticed that he keeps shaking when he thinks no one else is looking?

Where are they? Are they okay? Are they dead- why aren't they beside him, what happened?

What if he's the only one here?

And Nicholas - 

The wave of nausea comes over him like a tidal wave. He knows the doctor is expecting an answer, but it's all Euijoo can do to lean forward, close his eyes and try not to throw up. The aching in his bones isn't just from being unconscious for so long. It's the bone-deep agony of worry and loneliness. His family - that's what they are, after all - has been ripped away from him, and he's-

"You're okay," someone says. It hurts so much that the corners of Euijoo's eyes are damp, but he can open them just enough to see the nurse who'd brought him water. One of the doctors is watching her carefully, but she continues regardless; "You're okay here. You're safe. You must be confused, but we need to check that you're functioning cognitively before anything else. Your fever was pretty high."

One of the doctors stifles a noise at that. Euijoo ignores them. 

"I-" he tries. It comes out rough, but the water has helped and when he tries again it's much better. "I speak Korean."

"Can you confirm your name?"

"Byun Euijoo."

The woman writes something down. "Okay, we've established that you can understand us then. How is your vision? Is there any unexplained pain that you can describe?"

Euijoo blinks. With every passing second, the whirlpool in his stomach grows a little stronger, demanding to know what happened. He swallows it down and leans into placidity instead. "It's... bright. But I can still see everything perfectly, it's more like when you've just woken up. I guess my body aches."

"That's normal," the woman tells him. "And your birthday?"

They've already got his name. Sure, his birthday is probably important for charts and medications and prescriptions - but all of it is so sickeningly normal . It's like the world hasn't been ravaged outside. Euijoo hasn't thought of his birthday for months. The small stuff like that hasn't exactly been a priority, not compared to getting to the end of the week. 

No. His concerns were not freezing to death in a long-abandoned house, trying to ration supplies so they didn't all starve . 

He's shaking his head before his tongue catches up with his mind. "No," he says, and the desperation for answers leaks into his tone, making it cold. Good. They need to know that he means business - that he is desperate to know what happened. "Tell me what happened. Where am I? Where is-"

At least his voice catches on that last part. He doesn't want to be alone in the hospital, he doesn't want to consider that as a possibility, so far away from everyone else and with no idea what's happened to them - because if he's here, does that mean they're-

No. He won't believe it. But he also won't play all his cards just yet. The Korean lettering on the medical equipment is doing a good job of luring him into a sense of security, but that doesn't mean he's actually safe. It could be a front. He won't give up any names.

The doctor holding the clipboard pauses where she'd been writing. The three of them glance between each other again, and a few moments later the male doctor steps forward. 

"We're still trying to establish the series of events," he says. Then, with something almost soft beneath the rest of his words, he sighs. "You were picked up by the crew of the scientific vessel ------. They were investigating tidal levels and taking soil samples from the North West coast of Japan when they ran against a canoe 100 metres from shore."

"A canoe," Euijoo echoes. His head aches. He... remembers the ship. But he remembers seeing it in the distance for the first time and how they'd all hidden, terrified to be seen. It had passed a couple more times since then. They were on their way to attempting to figure out its schedule, last thing he knew.

"When they drew the canoe into the vessel, they found you inside. Precautions had been taken to wrap you in several blankets, so despite the cold weather you were not frostbitten or more than mildly hypothermic. You had a high fever and were severely dehydrated. They provided urgent medical intervention, but... it's still a miracle they managed to save you."

He pauses, letting Euijoo take in the information. It might be a couple of seconds before he starts speaking again or it might be a few minutes. It still seems too soon.

"It's unknown how long you were adrift on the canoe, but later estimates predict it couldn't have been more than thirty minutes at most. From the condition of the fever, we've guessed that it's likely you've spent the last two weeks in and out of consciousness. "

Euijoo can't breathe.

A canoe. The boat they'd found in the shed, that Jo had painted in bright colours and they'd planned to use for fishing when the ice melted. He'd been wrapped up in blankets and afloat. 

His mind is still fuzzy, but lines are being connected. He slowly pieces together what must have happened, keeping his emotions as numb as possible; he'd been more ill than he'd realised, he'd collapsed at some point and he hadn't woken up. That's where his memories end. But the others must have realised he wasn't getting better. They'd risked themselves and pushed him out into the ocean, tucked up in a canoe for a better chance of survival.

He can see it now. He's not sure if he can hear an argument in the distance or whether part of his brain remembers it after all, hearing the noise filtering through the floorboards and sweat-damp sheets.

"I-" he says, but it comes out like a choked whine, bitten off by his emotion.

He wants to ask what happened next. Surely it can't end there. The canoe and being lifted into a boat. But he can already tell what the next part of the story is going to sound like - the ship was Korean, it took him back to South Korea for medical attention, and they've been waiting for him to wake up this whole time.

They think he has the answers he's been hoping they could give him.

"Do you remember how you got into the canoe?" The female doctor asks softly. Like she knows it's the confirmation he needs. She wouldn't ask that if he weren't here by himself. Someone would have already told her.

Euijoo wouldn't have woken up alone. 

He shakes his head mutely. There are still so many questions that threaten to burn a hole in his tongue, but the whirlpool in his stomach makes him squeeze his eyes shut and the ache in his heart overwhelms everything else. He's in shock. He's mourning. 

"That's okay," the nurse who'd given him the water says. "It's okay. You've just woken up, it's okay if your thoughts take a while to put into order. You've been through a lot - you almost died."

 She sends a look to the doctors that Euijoo almost misses. His mouth tastes like grief. It must prompt something, though, since the male doctor stands up a little taller and with his shoulders further back.

"That's not all," he says. "Inside the canoe with you, they found a sealed plastic bag. Inside were... SD cards and photographs."

He continues, speaking about media coverage and press and leaks , but the buzzing in Euijoo's head rises to a cacophony. It's not like when he'd been about to pass out from the fever. It's full and it’s raw emotion. 

Euijoo thinks about the photographs.

The polaroids. Neat black pen dating and labelling beneath every one, treasured and kept in perfect order. Still warm from where the pocket of the bag presses up against his back. The hum of the camera as the photo printed. The way their fingers brushed as Euijoo was allowed to shake the paper until the image appeared.

Letting them go. Packed up in a plastic bag when he'd surely known he wouldn't see them again. Had he asked Euijoo to keep them safe while he was unconscious? Or had it been enough for them to be beside him? Had it been worth it?

For the first time since he woke up, Euijoo allows himself to think about Nicholas.

It takes a moment to identify why the feeling is so strange. It's the same grief as when he'd realised he really was alone in the hospital, but something makes it stronger. Its claws through his heart and a wind to his chest, leaving him struggling to breathe and empty inside. 

It's putting a name to what he's known this whole time, really. What he hasn't allowed himself to consider whilst in an apocalypse landscape - except now he's safe in a hospital and every pushed-back emotion comes rushing back at the same time. 

It's what, exactly, Nicholas means to him. 

Chapter Text

The room gets busy again, after that.

There are more questions to be asked - both from Euijoo, who is now trying to put one word in front of the other to come up with a coherent sentence, and from the doctors who want to know everything that happened to him in Japan.

That's what the look in their eyes is.

He feels like a fool for not identifying it earlier. The tense to their voices when they'd told him about the photographs and the video tapes - that's more damning than anything they've actually told him straight to his face. He'd caught mentions of the press even though he'd barely been listening, and that makes the pit in his stomach coil tighter than ever before. 

The break in the questioning just ends up being more tests. His IV gets switched out and someone shines a light in his eyes, holding up a tablet with a series of images and asking him to - he doesn't know, he's not sure what the point of any of this is. 

He's fully aware that he's meeting the bare minimum requirements for a response. It's hard to keep his brain thinking about everything that's happened and concentrate on all the questions that keep getting asked. Some part of him has to be thinking about Nicholas and the others at any moment. Otherwise it's like they really aren't here after all.

If he can keep them safe in his mind - as stupid as it sounds, and Euijoo is well aware that it sounds stupid - then it's like he's not quite so actually alone. 

Someone says something about media fallout . He's not zoned-out enough to miss all the snatches of conversation happening around him. His stomach cramps and he ends up bent double with dizziness. He doesn't want to think about what might mean - media fallout - and he's too tired to do anything but try and keep himself from throwing up.

The world is a little blurry. He shouldn't have downed his drink so quickly. Someone's hand brushes against his back and Euijoo lurches forwards in an attempt to flinch away from the unexpected contact. The voices around him keep talking. He only distantly pays attention now, since they aren't talking to him, clenching and unclenching his fists as a way of keeping himself both grounded and distracted.

His breathing stays steady. In for five, out for five. 

Okay.

Euijoo isn't one to panic. Not like this, in any sense - he'll let himself seem ruffled, he'll be caught off guard - but it's everything he's been able to take in stride. The day after the earthquake hit, he woke up and started making plans to find a refugee camp the moment that he'd gathered enough supplies to make the trip. 

One foot in front of the other. In for five, out for five. Euijoo nods and he follows, but ultimately it all comes down to the beat of the metronome inside of him - making his own decisions even if it might not always seem like it.

He refuses to panic now. It won't help anyone and it won't do anything to change the situation. He- if he wants to keep control, he has to let it fold out in front of him. He can keep himself calm until then. It's not like they can see the way his stomach is churning. 

He keeps repeating that to himself. There are still too many people around, though, and when the breathing and the clenching stops becoming as completely effective - his mind beginning to clear, making it harder to focus on the small things - he doesn't panic.

He makes a list. 

Here's what he does know: He's in a hospital in South Korea. He's alone. The photographs and tapes have been leaked in some way - which explains the number of nurses and doctors - and the shadow of security that he'd glimpsed when they'd all filed into the room. He's not dying any more. 

Here's what he can guess: He'd been ill enough that he should have died, so they put him in the canoe to try and save his life. They're not here with him, but they're safe somewhere. Back at the farmhouses. With one less mouth to feed, their supplies will last a little longer - and if he's the one they chose to save, he can estimate that everyone else is fine. 

That the media has the photographs and the tapes, but not all the details. The doctors... they hadn't seemed surprised when they'd heard his name, and they'd known he could speak Korean before he'd opened his mouth.

But his parents aren't here. That's something that immediately gets shelved, the thought filed right back where every thought of home has been for the past six months. There will be a time to think about it some time - when he'll let every repressed emotion hit him at once - but that time isn't right now. He might not be in Japan any more, but he knows his body hasn't let go of the survival response just yet. 

Here's what he doesn't know: Pretty much everything else.

Okay. Someone is arguing with a nurse in the corner of the room. A monitor is beeping again where a doctor is pressing buttons. Someone takes his wrist without asking and slides something over two of his fingers. 

What doesn't he know that he wants to know? Scratch that - what he needs to know? 

Several things jump out at once. How to get the others back, safe, here with him, is the first one. It really leads onto everything else - how can he persuade the boat to go back? He assumes it hasn't already - they would have mentioned that along with the photographs if it had - but why not? What's stopping them?

It all just leads back to one question over everything else. What happened?  

Euijoo swallows and makes up his mind. With something else to focus on, he stops needing to clench his fists quite so rhythmically. As soon as the room gets a little quieter again, he lifts his head. The female doctor from earlier is still around, making notes with her clipboard. There's a man he doesn't recognise at her side and nodding at whatever she's writing.

They'll do.

"What-" Euijoo says, and his throat protests. Some of the adrenaline from waking up has worn off, and he's realising the effects of not speaking for... however long. It feels like he's swallowed rocks, but he presses on. "What happened?"

The woman looks up at him, her pen hesitating over the paper. "Are you experiencing memory relapse?" She asks, and it really says something in the fact that Euijoo can't tell whether she's concerned or excited over the presentation of a new symptom. "Do you know where you are? It's okay, you're safe-"

It's a poor attempt at soothing in the same way as the nurse from before, and Euijoo shakes his head before it can begin to drag. 

"No," he says, swallowing around the pain, "In Japan."

There's a pause. The doctors exchange a glance. More than a couple of seconds pass in silence, and Euijoo makes sure to harden his tone when he speaks again. "The earthquake. What happened?"

Because he's getting the feeling that something else had happened. That's what they'd theorised back in the tents, all the way back in the summer. There had to be a reason why there'd never been any supply drops. He'd never been in a situation where he'd been the one receiving them before, but he knew that's what the world did in times of aid. 

Except there had been nothing landing for them. Either they'd been incredibly unlucky, or there hadn't been anything.

"I need to know," he says. It tapers out into a cough, but the man straightens his shoulder and it looks like Euijoo's job was successful anyway.

"This won't be scientific, but," he starts, slightly falteringly, "I can give you the basics. As you know, there was a chain of earthquakes down the east coast of Japan, set off by the Philippine Plate and the Pacific Plate. They were unpredicted, with no forewarnings, and set off several tsunamis afterwards. No chance for anyone to prepare. They were large enough that even the aftershocks probably killed millions."

He trails off, like that's enough. It's not what Euijoo had been asking, and he knows it.

Euijoo just watches him instead of trying to speak again. Eventually the man seems to compose himself, realising that Euijoo isn't going to back down, and continues.

"The earthquake... set off suspected chemical or biological weapons. To the point where they still don't know what happened even now - only that the political situation meant that no one was allowed anywhere near Japan. Not until it was clear that whatever had happened wouldn't be allowed to escape to the rest of the world. Any boats arriving were quarantined for at least two months whilst the situation was monitored, and- there was a global halt on the distribution of aid."

Euijoo blinks. It feels like his brain is moving sluggishly, trying to process everything he's heard whilst also keeping his breathing focused and even. He'd expected the earthquakes. Not that there had been several to stretch across the entire coast of Japan, but... that makes sense in an awful way. It would explain the lack of internal aid.

But for the whole world to just sit back? And not do anything?

His breath catches in his throat. It's like his heartbeat stutters, caught up on the thread - that they'd been starving, that they'd almost died so many times, and the entire world outside had been continuing on as normal.

Like Harua and Maki could have had a childhood that didn't involve fighting for their lives. Like the distribution of supplies could have prevented the riots and the gangs and saved Jo's parents. Like him and Nicholas could have been home months ago. 

It makes him feel sick. Sick and angry .

How many bodies has he seen in the past six months? How many of them could have still been alive, if everyone else had stopped watching and actually done something?

But Euijoo refuses to let himself feel that anger. He bites down onto his tongue until he can taste metal in his mouth again, and takes it in his stride. Euijoo keeps going, because that's what he does.

"The acid rain," he croaks out, before it's the only other thing he can latch onto - and really the only thing that had never made sense in all of their theories. 

The man nods. Detached and clinical. Euijoo distantly wonders whether the media connection to this case has infiltrated the hospital and that's why the doctors in his room have all been so odd. They can't risk anything else getting leaked to the public before-

Before what?

"Amongst other things," the doctor says. "The region you were located in didn't appear to experience too many of the suspected chemical effects. It was one of the first highlighted locations for scientific monitoring, in order to assess the threat level."

" Threat level?" Euijoo coughs. It's still hard to speak, but he forces himself to keep going. "There's- the rain stopped. Months ago. There's been nothing since then. And why?" He gestures to himself, taking the time to try and soothe his voice momentarily, "I'm not quarantined?"

"You have to understand the precautions that are being taken," the man tells him. "It's incredibly sensitive. Both scientifically and politically - no country was in a position to do anything more than they already were. Once the assessment of the safest locations goes well, those with higher potential contamination can start being monitored and aid can be finally distributed. 

"You were sufficiently isolated and tested on the boat," the woman cuts in. Sure, but not for the two months they'd suggested it had taken others.

He can guess the answer without it being really spoken, though. The tapes would have given them his name. And from his name they could have worked out his nationality. 

He's willing to bet that the other refugees on the boats hadn't been foreigners. He's here - treated with less suspicion and less like a potential bio-weapon - because he's Korean. 

That's shelved along with everything else. He needs to keep pushing forwards if he's going to get answers. He can work through the information he's been given later - but for now he can't let any of it faze him. One foot in front of the other. One breath held for five seconds, then exhaled.

"And the water?"

This makes the doctors exchange another look. "The water?"

Euijoo tries to work through the best way to describe it. "The sea kept getting closer. We... thought that it would stop, but." It's painful, and thinking this much is starting to give him a headache. There's still a lot to process even if he's determined to not think about any of it for more than a few seconds. He doesn't want to reveal too much. He doesn't want to play too many of his cards. "The coastline shouldn't have been that close ."

The male doctor's mouth purses, lips forming a tight circle. He nods sharply. They do know what he's talking about, then. They don't want to give up too much information either - maybe it's unconfirmed, maybe they're worried about his reaction.

He waits for the silent conversation to conclude. 

"It's-" the male doctor does say eventually, after enough time has passed. It's a stuttering start. Contrasting to the way he'd spoken earlier, and Euijoo doesn't know what to make of that. "We still don't fully understand what happened. From what they've released to the public... the earthquakes have caused Japan to... sink. Slightly."

Okay. Implications that there is more to the story but even the doctors don't know anything more. Even if Euijoo's just escaped the country they're talking about, he doesn't get to know about the intricacies of the situation either.

It's another thought to shelve, and another weight pulling down his chest and pushing him back into the hospital bed. 

And that's without even considering the actual information they'd given him; Japan, sinking . There's nothing he can do useless in a South Korean hospital. He's not even sure that knowing more is making him feel better - but maybe that's because he's desperately clawing for more and not letting himself come to terms with the reality of what they're telling him.

"Okay," he ends up saying. The room is spinning slightly. He's tired - not bone-deep like before, but exhaustion flickers at the edges of his vision. "Okay."

His limbs feel heavy in the bed. He has to tip his head back into the pillow because sitting up is getting to be too much. His mouth is dry again - but the cup beside him is empty and asking for water feels like giving up the smallest piece of power he's managed to cling onto. 

"You've watched the tapes," is what he says in the end. If he's going to fall asleep again, he can't do it without asking what happened to the others. He can't face waking up and not knowing that. "The others."

He's tired enough that it doesn't even sound like a question. 

The doctors exchange another look. They've seen the tapes, then. This isn't the reaction they'd have if they didn't know there were others. Leaving holes in the story he'd been told (how he'd gotten to the boat, the names surely still painted onto the side of the canoe) points arrows to where Euijoo can ask. 

"Since you were found the political situation has intensified," the female doctor says when the man doesn't respond. "There are tensions. Taking samples from the distance of a research vessel is different to the explicit intent of a rescue mission. The process to acquire a permit has been started, though - I assure you they're doing everything they can."

It's not enough.

It's winter, probably still snowing outside, and they're worrying about permits . 

It doesn't matter how tired he is. Suddenly, the blurriness is gone, and the spike of adrenaline has him leaning forwards again. It tugs slightly on the IV - a monitor screen to the side of the bed makes a painful noise as his heart rate gets faster - but it doesn't hurt so Euijoo doesn't cast it more than a few milliseconds of consideration.

His mind is entirely consumed by his family. Not the one here in the country he's been returned to, because he won't think about them as long as he's still worried for the others, and it's been six long months where he hasn't let himself think about them - and that isn't going to stop any time soon. 

He can only think for the people still in the fields of snow, abandoned farmhouses, cold and hungry and sick, and young and thinking that the whole world is in ruins - whilst Euijoo sits in a warm hospital bed only an hour's flight away.

It isn't an option to sit and do nothing. He doesn't care about the 'regulations' or 'media fallout' or 'politics' other than whether they can get him the results he wants. He has some leverage here, even if the doctors are determined not to let him know it.

If the world really has seen the tapes and the photographs - and the fact he's working off something he hasn't even confirmed outside of implications is so stupid - then the whole world is watching him. They'll be watching for what happened to the others.

It's basic human empathy. It's the way that Euijoo can work outcry even from the hospital if he sets his mind to it. 

It's not that he wants to fight back like this. It's not really in his nature. Euijoo is the stable one, the one that doesn't really let himself be affected. He's there as support and he knows the others have thought of him as 'in charge' - but this is...

It's what he'll do out of desperation. 

"I don't care," he says. "Get me to the media. I don't care if the whole world watched us struggling to survive - knowing that they didn't step in to help. They will now."

He tightens his fists. The exhaustion makes his words trip over themselves and he's not entirely sure he's saying what he thinks he is. But as long as it's close enough, he couldn't really care less. "I don't care," Euijoo repeats, "I'm not leaving them there. I will swim back if I have to."

Chapter Text

The footage has no sound and only a muted set of colours. It's a compilation of four different angles. Two of them stare down at the ground, facing different directions and only the barest hint of metal body caught within the camera view.

One overlooks the pilot's cabin. The people inside obviously know what they're doing, starting up without a moment of hesitation and scarily efficient in the way they get the machine off of the ground. The dashboard may be an almost nonsensical display of buttons and levers, but there's a professionalism to the way they're being moved. It's clear from their condition that this isn't an amateur mission, and that they've been well taken care of. 

The outside cameras film the way that the building gets further and further away. Camera flashes are little more than pin-pricks of light, the crowd of people in jackets with microphones all turning their heads to watch. 

There's a thin coating of snow on the ground. The date on the bottom of the footage says that it's the 26th of January, and that winter still has control over the temperature, a frozen river passing by as the world gets ever smaller. 

It's mid-morning. The sky is blue and the sun high enough that it isn't caught in either of the views. The rotor blades spin into a blur where they're only just visible in the back camera footage. 

The final camera looks inside the body of the helicopter.

For the size of the vehicle, it's rather empty. In addition to the two in the pilot seats, there are only two additional people wearing uniforms inside the seating area. One of them rests a hand on a weapon against their side. The other taps their fingers gently against a box on their lap, marked with the bright red cross - the tension in their shoulders suggesting that they're preparing to give medical attention some time soon.

There's much more space. At least eight more seats are empty, and it makes the body of the helicopter look empty and uncomfortable. 

It also makes it obvious that both people in uniform are pretending not to watch the third person. 

His head is dipped, but even without the context of the footage it's easy to know who it is. His face has been plastered all over the media for the past week - ever since a set of tapes and photographs got leaked. The fervour had only increased when he'd made an official statement only six hours after coming to full consciousness.

Enough to cause outcry, certainly. Enough to bargain his story for a location and a two-way trip in a helicopter. Semi-illegal, but no one person would do anything but look the other way. An exchange - and the guilt of not doing anything else sooner (regulations and procedures that they'd known had been too slow) fed back into the cries of the public.

His lips are pulled into a thin line. He looks healthier than he'd been on the front page of the newspaper, but there's still worry in the way that he holds himself.

Even without seeing his eyes, his resolution is clear. This has to work. This is the only chance he has. There is no option other than to succeed. 

—-

It's the last week of January and the snow hasn't melted.

Yuma keeps his hands steady whilst filtering the water from one bucket over to the next, but it doesn't matter that much. Water is the one thing they have too much of. The snow starting to melt at the beginning of the month had made it seem like warmer days were on the horizon - new chances to fish or hunt or set traps, try to identify which roots were edible and which were going to make them throw up.

For a few weeks, it had seemed like they were in for an early spring. Even with Euijoo's disappearance aching like a hole in his heart, Yuma still hadn't questioned whether they'd make it through the winter alive.

Then it had started snowing again.

The temperature had dipped - only for a few nights - but still long enough for the ground to freeze and for their stock of firewood to dip worryingly low. They'd woken up to a fresh blanket of white covering the ground. 

The 'sea', the 'lake' or whatever it can be called hasn't frozen over more than a thin layer of ice near the shoreline, but the scientific boat still hasn't been seen since they pushed Euijoo's canoe out to meet it. Yuma can't tell whether that's a good sign of not. Nicholas won't discuss it with him, the kids are constantly clinging to Jo leaving no good time to ask, and he won't put it on Taki. 

Fuma and K have probably discussed it amongst themselves. They seem older with Euijoo gone, hiding pieces of conversation in turned heads and snatched moments of discussion. Even if Yuma can't hear what they're saying, in some ways it's nice to be treated with the same level of hesitance - even if that fact stings.

It's not like he doesn't know what they're talking about. 

Their stores of wood are being depleted faster than they'd like. At this rate, and if the temperature doesn't start to increase soon, they'll have to either start getting colder or start burning other things. 

The wind creeps through the walls of the house, the cracks of the windows and underneath the doors, no matter what they try to do. 

And then there's the problem of food. Yuma can filter water all he likes, but there's an endless expanse of snow to melt outside. There isn't an endless amount of food. 

He knows that's what Fuma and K are saying. That, at this rate, they don't have enough to make it to spring. That even if no one's said it out loud, the portions they've been given for each meal are steadily shrinking. That they're going to have to start making risky trips out into the cold soon, because otherwise they're going to lose too much energy from starvation and there won't be any way to save themselves.

And on top of that...

It's stupid, compared to everything else, but Yuma's hearing aids are confirmed broken by now. Nicholas has tried his best, but even keeping them working for five months longer had been a miracle in itself. They'd been through too much, by the end. The lack of properly working batteries, the exposure to the weather, the constant use - it must have all added up.

In the end, there was nothing that could be done. It's selfish. Yuma knows it's selfish, and that he's probably a horrible person for thinking it in the first place. 

But the lack of hearing aids is the heaviest weight bearing upon him, in his opinion.

Even compared to the exhaustion, the constant cold and the hunger gnawing at his stomach, even compared to Euijoo's fever and the ache of his loss - it's the lack of being able to hear that finally gets Yuma. 

Maybe Taki would understand if they ever talked about it. He's only slowly coming to terms with the fact his eye is never going to heal properly, and everything that involves. But he still has half his vision, and he's fourteen years old at the end of it all. The three years between them seems like an eternity, sometimes. 

Yuma has been left with far less than half his hearing. He can lip-read, sure, but it's harder when the letters of the words he's trying to make out all bleed into each other. The fact that he's tired and hungry doesn't help. He'd left relying on signs, and the kindness of everyone else to try and communicate patiently in a language they still don't properly understand. 

The fact that he can hear something in the distance when it happens is a miracle in itself.

It's low, like a buzzing or humming. It must be loud, and without context Yuma has no idea what it is - but he puts the water he's filtering down anyway. Anything out of the ordinary is cause to stand on edge. 

He's just about to pull back and try to find someone else - hoping they'll be able to give an explanation even if it does end up being nothing - or to head to the windows to look outside. A noise like that isn't coming from inside the house. That's for certain.

Except he never gets that far. Almost as soon as he's set the bucket down onto the table, K crashes through into the kitchen. Yuma barely has time to react. K's hand darts out to grab his arm and he's suddenly being pulled through the living room. 

Is K's mouth moving? Yes, Yuma realises, K is trying to say something to him - but he's dragging Yuma so his lips are angled away and the chaos of everything else drowns out the soft noise of what Yuma would have been able to pick up.

The whole house is moving. Maki is being pushed to the bottom of the stairs by Fuma, almost tripping over with the speed at which he's being encouraged to climb them. Harua, standing at the top of the staircase, is stumbling back with wide eyes. Jo is there as well, pulling Harua back into one of the rooms. 

K's hands on Yuma's back when he finally lets go of his arm is enough of communication to know what he's supposed to do next. Yuma tries to glance back, heart thundering in his chest, but the humming noise is getting louder and it almost... pumps . Gets louder and quieter in spaced out intervals, Yuma's feet against the steps falling accidentally in time with the pulsing.

K and Fuma don't follow. Nicholas has appeared from nowhere, and also doesn't appear to be being pushed to head upstairs as well.

But Yuma can work out that something must be dangerous, and that's really what's happening. They're sending the kids - because he must count as a kid, as well as Jo and Taki standing in the doorway to the bathroom they're being ushered towards - to hide. The bathroom has a lock. 

It wouldn't hold up against someone who really wanted to get in, but it's still the safest place in the house. 

"What-" Yuma tries to say, but he's not sure anyone can hear him. He just lets his legs guide him, eventually catching up with Maki and pushing the five-year-old into the bathroom a few moments before he gets there himself. 

Taki immediately swings round as Yuma slides inside, closing the door behind him. It should feel like letting out a breath he's been holding, perhaps, but there's none of that relief. The whirring and buzzing gets louder, the pulsing gets more pronounced. 

It's only when Yuma finally works out it's definitely coming from outside and pries a plank of wood from the window that he realises what's actually happening.

There's a helicopter. 

More importantly, there's a helicopter landing . 

It's descending and getting lower and lower. It'll touch down only about four hundred metres from the farmhouses at this rate, taking advantage of the flat and snow-covered field nearby. 

There's nothing on the side that could give any more information about what it wants. A few words in... Korean? And that's it. It doesn't look like it's here to drop supplies. There's intent to the way it's descending so carefully, the distance between the houses and the expanse of the field. Something cold settles in Yuma's stomach with the realisation.

Whoever is aboard, somehow, knows that they're here.

Shit. 

No wonder he'd been pushed up the stairs so frantically. He hates having to rely on the others, being forced to relegate some of his own autonomy simply because he can't pick up on the facts as quickly as the others, but this is why he does it. Any buried resentment he'd held towards K is immediately forgotten. 

"Where's it from?" He asks. Harua and Maki have huddled on the floor together, either side of Jo's legs where he's perching on the side of the bathtub. They look scared, but resolute. That's somehow more painful. 

Jo's gaze slides to the window. He shrugs in such a tiny movement, lifts his hands to sign, but then hesitates before he actually gets to moving his fingers. 

Taki must say something, judging by the way Jo turns to look at him instead. At least when Taki notices Yuma also looking he repeats himself: "Do you think they know we're here?"

"Yeah," Yuma says. His fingers curl in the fabric of the blind he's pulling back, other hand still gripping the wood he'd tugged away. There must be a splinter in one of his fingers - there's a dull ache where he's holding it up. Jo nods in the corner of his vision, and Taki stiffens. 

He says something else but Yuma has already gone back to looking outside. He's not much use calming the kids down if he can barely tell what they're saying, and he isn't much of a conversation partner over the noise of the helicopter blades. He'll play sentry instead, crouching down into a more comfortable position and watching.

The helicopter lands. Maki says something - voice loud enough to be distinct, even if Yuma doesn't catch the words themselves. He can hear the hum of conversation behind him, but they'll tap him on the shoulder for anything actually important.

In front of him and through the glass, the helicopter lands. He can't see Fuma, K or Nicholas anywhere, but he'd guess they're also watching, just from the safety of downstairs in the house. The helicopter ends up exactly where he'd predicted it would be - far enough away to be safe, but close enough that it's painfully obvious that the houses are exactly what they were looking for.

But why? For what?

Yuma can't let his thoughts run that far ahead. He presses his thumb with the splinter into the wood and uses the pain to dull himself, narrowing his eyes as the blades slowly stop spinning and the pulsing noise fades away. 

There are shadows inside. They're not moving with urgency. It's hard to see from this distance, through the window of the house and the curved glass of the helicopter and across the field separating them, but he can see the figures in the front turn over to look behind them.

Maybe some urgency, then. He watches, desperate not to miss a single moment of what's happening. It doesn't stop his heart from sinking in a horrible drop when the helicopter's side door slides open. 

Someone practically falls out. They sink into the soft snow, about halfway up their calf - someone tries to pull them back from inside the helicopter, but the person on the ground is too fast and already heading straight towards the houses. They don't appear to be military. The shadows in the helicopter are still suspiciously dark, kitted out in uniform, but the person on the ground is wearing a bright coat and -

And-

It's-

It's Euijoo. It's Euijoo falling out of the helicopter he's moving so fast, crashing to his knees in the snow but picking himself up and stumbling forwards.

He's wrapped up in a thick winter coat that Yuma's never seen before, and his cheeks are full but rosy from the temperature, and his eyes are clearly shining even from this distance. He's tripping over his own feet and wading through the snow. 

There are shadows behind him, more people in the helicopter. Someone tries to reach out. It's not clear whether it's to help him up or try and get him to slow down, wait for the blades to stop spinning, but Euijoo is too fast and their hand only grasps the air.

It's Euijoo. It's so painfully Euijoo. Crashing towards them, running as fast as he can when the snow is doing everything it can to drag his feet to the ground. It's Euijoo and he's okay and he's alive, and Yuma is also moving.

He drops the wood. There's no point putting it back in the exact place it had come from. They're not hiding anymore. The strangers in the helicopter don't matter just as long as it is Euijoo out there - because that's far more important than anything else could ever be. 

In the corner of his vision, he can see Jo's lips moving. Taki is holding tight to Harua whilst Maki tries to press forward. They're running towards the window even as Yuma is sprinting out through the door, desperate to see what he'd seen that made him react like that, and then they'll probably only be a couple of paces behind him.

Yuma flies down the stairs. He's pretty sure his feet don't touch half the steps, and it's a miracle he doesn't end up slipping with how fast his body tries to catch up with his desperation. 

The thump-thump-thump of his legs hitting the ground has got to be loud even if Yuma can't hear it, but it's the last thing left on his mind. He twists one hand around the very end of the bannister and uses the momentum to throw himself forwards. The stairs finish close to the front door of the house. He's so close already, and yet every second seems like it stretches for far too long.

The door is already open. Snow already coats the floorboards a few centimetres into the hallway, fat flakes blown into the warmth of the house and puddling when they settle too far in. The air is completely still without a breeze, but the cold seeps through the entrance anyway. The coat Yuma has claimed as his own is hung up only a couple of metres away. 

He doesn't stop to grab it. A coat isn't important, he can do without - he's not stupid enough to risk foregoing shoes as well, but every second he wastes trying to shove the thick socks covering his feet into boots feels like a waste.

He feels the footsteps approach before he's able to discern them from the rest of the muffled noise. K flies out of the door through the hallway without sparing a glance to Yuma on the ground, bee-lining to the footsteps Yuma can already see tracked into the snow.

Fuma is only a few paces behind. He does slow when he sees Yuma, and they make frantic eye contact. There's no stopping at any point. Fuma remains in motion just as Yuma's hands stay pulling at the laces on his boots. He doesn't move to head outside but instead takes the stairs two at a time.

His mouth moves. The world is somewhat quiet, maybe if Yuma were really trying he'd be able to tell which names are the ones that fall out of his mouth. As it is, the roar of blood to Yuma's head drowns out anything that Fuma could attempt to say. Even the shape of his lips are lost to the desperation.

Part of Yuma already knows what he's doing. Taki's shadow has appeared at the top of the staircase, Jo like a ghost behind him. They're heading straight for the boots like Yuma had - maybe they'll pause for their coats - but there's no time to help Harua and Maki with buttons and laces and zips. Maki is being passed into Fuma's arms as Yuma gives up on tying neat bows and stumbles to his feet. 

He doesn't care if he trips. He's not even sure if the possibility crosses his mind. Moving again feels like stepping out of heavy mud, his limbs finally freed from the weights dragging them down, and then he's out of the door and stepping into the cold. It's so slow and yet it's so fast at the same time - happening like freeze-frames or snapshots, single unconnected moments.

He's stepping outside. 

Then he's running.

Then he's colliding. 

Nicholas is already on the ground. He's on his knees in the snow. 

He isn't wearing boots or a coat or anything other than the thin-ish layers he'd had on inside the house. He's shaking. The snow soaking into everything he's wearing isn't helping - and at first, it would be easy to connect that to the red of his cheeks. But his eyes are red as well, his chest heaves up and down in sobs that seem painful in their silence to Yuma's buzzing ears. 

And in his arms - or he's in the arms of  - or they're both holding onto each other, a tangle of limbs and emotion - 

Is Euijoo.  

He's just as Yuma had seen through the window. A red coat and even redder cheeks, thick jeans that are pressed knee-down into the snow. His skin is pale where it isn't flushed with colour, but the bags beneath his eyes are gone . Yuma hadn't realised how awful he'd looked by the time they'd pushed him out to the boat - but seeing him here, now, it's like nothing has changed and he'd never fallen ill in the first place.

The helicopter is reduced to a shadow in the distance. Yuma couldn't care less about that. Euijoo wouldn't have brought it here if he thought he'd be putting them at risk. Euijoo would-

Euijoo is here . 

It feels just as overwhelming as the first time. The realisation sinks in over and over again, like Yuma is being pushed off his feet before he can ever get his balance back. Nicholas and Euijoo hold each other in their arms, embraced close, and maybe if Yuma wasn't completely caught off-guard he'd leave them to it.

But he isn't. And- maybe he just wouldn't care anyway. Because Euijoo is his friend as well, just like Nicholas is - and when he collides with them, tackling them against the snow on the ground and trying to fit his arms around both of them at once - neither of them move to push him away.

Euijoo pulls him impossibly closer. He's smiling and failing to smile at the same time, lips jerking between unable to fake the expression and the way his eyes curve with happiness. Nicholas frees one arm and wraps it around Yuma until all three of them are lying in a tangled mix of limbs and tears and snowflakes. 

It's nothing like the tent. The summer is long gone. He can't smell smoke on the wind, the way he still sometimes thinks that he can, even when he realistically knows there's nothing to burn. 

He can already feel his elbows getting damp. Nicholas is shivering where he's wrapped under one of Yuma's arms, and none of them had cried in the tent but they're all sure as hell crying now. He can't hear anything without his stupid broken hearing aids, the weight of plastic missing from his ears, but he gets both of them with far more understanding than he'd ever thought he would in that summer.

The refugee camp had seemed like a home, even if it had just been temporary in the end. They'd lived their days with the hope of society and structure just across the horizon - because if supplies would be dropped, it would be far better to stay near organised relief than anywhere else.

And yet here he is, barely with the hope of getting through the winter, and there's a helicopter in front of him. Someone who he'd thought was dead in his arms. 

Yuma's fingers tangle in Euijoo's hair. He buries his face into the side of Nicholas' neck. He's sure his sobs are loud and ugly - and from the way that Nicholas' throat vibrates he can tell that something is being said - but he isn't paying attention. 

He's dizzy by the time he eventually pulls back. His sleeves are completely soaked through, his mouth dry and his cheeks tacky with tears. He doesn't care about the fact he sits back on his heels and topples into the snow. 

Nicholas has a hand on Euijoo's face like he can't believe he's real. From the distance, Taki comes and collapses beside them. K and Fuma are only a couple of paces behind. Maki is tucked into Fuma's arms, only to wriggle out as soon as Fuma stops moving, and Harua emerges from nowhere, trouser legs so long that he almost trips onto his face in his rush to make it from the door to the group rapidly-forming. 

It's too much.

It's all happening at once. Jo hovers at the back for three seconds, and that's all it takes before someone grabs him by the sleeve and drags him in to be held as well. There's a hand in Yuma's hair and he's crying on someone else's shoulder. 

Euijoo is alive. Oh, Euijoo is alive. And he's made it back to them with full cheeks and a smile and he isn't dead . 

It's not just the relief of having him back. It's the sun finally coming out from behind thick grey clouds. Yuma's knees are soaked in melting snow but he swears the temperature has risen with the approach of spring - even if it's realistically still over a month away.

It's Euijoo coming back, so Yuma is allowed to hope again. Euijoo is alive, and there's a chance they might get through the winter after all. The year tentatively unfolds in his head. Reaching his 18th birthday after all, seeing the warmth of summer settle down without the scent of smoke in the air, the weight of worry beginning to ease itself from his stomach.

The shadows are out of the helicopter now. They're not military in the way that the people who'd left Taki half-blind were, even if they're wearing uniforms. One of them has gone very pink-cheeked at the display of emotion. 

Another has a red cross on the sleeve of her shirt. There's a box sitting beside her, labelled with the same symbol - eyes searching to see whether they're injured, maybe. 

Time moves so slowly. Yuma finally pulls back from where Fuma had been holding him and sits in the snow, no longer able to keep his body up whilst kneeling. He suddenly feels very light-headed. It doesn't help that he can't tear his eyes away from the reunion, like Euijoo is going to disappear if he looks away for more than a couple of seconds.

There's so much going on. The crying and the embracing eventually slows down, the initial rush of emotion finally giving way to apprehension of the helicopter they'd been cautious about. Euijoo speaks to the people in uniform. His mouth moves faster and his body language is more sure of himself than when he speaks Japanese, so Yuma can't keep up even if he wants to.

There are too many people talking. K is speaking Japanese, judging by the words Yuma can catch if he really tries to listen, but then Taki starts saying something as well and it all gets drowned out. Harua and Maki talk over each other. Nicholas's mouth is moving, but Yuma's not sure there's even any sound coming out of it.

He can't concentrate on any one person. Fuma stands up and Harua and Maki follow him, but Yuma hasn't been able to catch where they're going. He's so lost - shaken by the reunion and the emotions - and his head hurts from the buzzing of incomprehensible sounds, never catching more than one isolated word at a time.

Jo's hand is cold on the back of his neck.

It makes Yuma jump initially, coming as a shock despite the fact that he's freezing from sitting in the snow anyway. It's barely more than a touch before he's drawing his fingers away. Yuma gets halfway into a glare before realising what Jo had been trying to do - just get his attention.

Then, very slowly, Jo looks directly at Yuma and his hands stumble over signs.

His hands are shaking. His fingers won't stay still where they are and even his arms keep wobbling, just as affected and overwhelmed by the situation as Yuma is himself. Half of what he's trying to form isn't quite right - but his mouth follows along and he moves slowly, and it's enough.

Safe, Jo signs. He points to the helicopter, then signs it again. There's a pause as his hands falter in the end, right before we're going to Euijoo's home. Rescue.

Euijoo's home. South Korea, even if Jo doesn't know the sign for it. It's enough for Yuma to work out what's happening. And part of him wants to break down from that fact alone (going somewhere away from here, safe and warm and the promise of days where he can hear again) - but the rest hangs onto Jo's every word.

The fact that there's so much going on, and yet Jo looks to Yuma and makes sure that he also knows what's happening. He must have slipped out of the group hug himself to do so - and so Yuma pulls him right into another one. His arms are tight around his back. He hopes that the gratitude he feels - desperate, pure - can be felt through the force of their arms, and he ignores the feeling of Jo's tears dripping onto the exposed skin of his neck. 

It's not home.

They're not going home, when K eventually helps them separate and walks them to the helicopter. The uniformed officers have slipped on masks, but that all seems too distant. It isn't to go home.

Yuma swears he blinks and then he's suddenly seated, head resting on the side of the helicopter. He doesn't remember sitting down. Jo is in the seat next to him and Taki is helping Fuma pull a haphazardly-packed box across the floor. It's full of their precious items from the house, worn down over months of travelling into what can be packed into two boxes.

He swears it can't have been long enough for them to gather it all. They must have been thorough in sweeping the houses, except Yuma can only remember a couple of seconds passing that whole time. 

But his mouth is drier than he remembers it being, and it's easy to come to the conclusion that he's losing time. He's pretty out of it. He's shaken up by everything, and his arms have moved to pull Harua into his lap, patting soothingly at his hair, without him even realising. 

They're leaving.

They're not going to be going home. He can make a guess to say they won't be taken back to Japan - this helicopter is Korean, Euijoo is Korean and that's probably the safest place for them to be taken. 

But he's not sure that this place is a home anymore, either.

The thoughts of losing them all to the cold and hunger and illness - it clings to the walls of the farmhouses, and Yuma knows that the others feel it too. Even from the safety of the helicopter, as the snow-covered ground and dark roofs get further and further away - it clings to their skin as well. 

His home is long gone. It's a place that only exists in his mind now. The real location has been buried in rubble for half a year, with rotting bodies under the debris and every moment of Yuma's life up-until-the-summer left raw and exposed to the elements. 

Harua has been pulled out of his lap and into his own seat. He isn't saying anything, but his fingers tangle rhymically into the strap of his rabbit bag, and his head lolls where it's now resting against Fuma's shoulder. Fuma is pressed up against K. At first glance it could look like that the two of them are uncomfortable and stiff - but something in Yuma shatters a little when he thinks that is the most relaxed he's seen the two of them for a long time.

It's not just sitting stiff. It's the way they're both still on guard to try and protect everyone else. But K's eyes are dancing, sparkling and glittering and so full of life. There's a slump to Fuma's shoulders that isn't just so Harua can rest against them easily. 

Yuma leans forwards. He can catch a glimpse of Taki past K, only to smile when he realises that he's actually fallen asleep. His forehead is smooth and devoid of stress lines. One hand is sticking out to curl around his body. The other is tangled with K's fingers. 

Nicholas and Euijoo must be on the same bench as him and Jo. He can't see them. Some part of Yuma wants to lean forwards and not let Euijoo leave his gaze again, but it's easier than he thought it would be to force himself back. He turns to look in front of him instead. 

Maki is on Harua's other side, having squirmed until he's facing the window, both palms pressed against the glass. The reflection shows the look of awe on his face. 

He'll be six soon. He'll reach his birthday - in just under a month's time, if Jo's count of the days has been correct.

Yuma wonders whether Maki realises that. He must know that his birthday is in the winter, right before when the world starts to warm in the approach of spring, but he's also just a kid. He hasn't had a chance to think about his birthday. He's probably barely been able to think past the next day in front of him-

Did Maki know they didn't think they'd make it through the winter? Both him and Harua are too smart for their own good. They've been forced to grow up too soon, they've been forced to coat themselves in maturity in order to cope with the devastation of the world around them.

They're out, now. But will that coping mechanism disappear? 

Does it matter what Maki thinks about his birthday? In a month's time, where will they even be?

Jo doesn't put his hand on Yuma's neck again, but he does shake him slightly. There are deep shadows beneath his eyes when Yuma turns to look at him. He doesn't sign, but he does look somewhat-pointedly (as pointedly as Jo can, considering everything he does comes off as soft and sweet in a sense) at Yuma's head.

You're thinking too much. 

As if he isn't as well. As if they aren't all sitting here in silence because their bodies are exhausted and their minds are struggling to catch up with the events of the past hour. They can leave the farmhouses and the ruined country behind them, but the worries cling to them with fingernails deep into their skin. That's what kept them alive this long. 

There's no proper relief at being rescued just yet. There might not be for a long time. 

"You are too," Yuma points out. Jo's eyes flicker to his mouth and Yuma frowns in confusion for a second, before realising what's happening. The helicopter is drowning out every word he's trying to say. It's loud enough that Jo can't hear him, and he's being forced to read his lips instead.

It's not funny. Except it kind of is, and Yuma can't help the laugh that splutters out of him. Jo smiles back, lopsided and confused, and Yuma laughs even harder. 

It's so stupid.

But he laughs and, for some reason, his chest feels lighter than it has for a very long time. 

Chapter Text

if it ends here

by the side of the lake, there will be water in your shoes forever.

it will have been enough.

if this is a goodbye

by the water, let my memory cling to everything we've ever been.

it will have been enough.

Here is the answer: it was enough all along. 

-----

Nicholas' hands press up against the glass separating them.

He's in an isolation ward. Euijoo had apparently been put through a bastardised version of the same treatment on the research ship and when he'd first been transferred to the hospital, but he hadn't been conscious to remember it. His memories from that time are still tinged with the pallor of illness. Brief snatches of moments that he's half-sure he's imagined.

They're still worried about biological contamination. As soon as they'd left from the helicopter, all eight of them - with the exception of Harua and Maki, who'd been placed with Fuma and Jo respectively - had been transferred to single-person isolation wards exactly like the one Nicholas is standing inside of right now. 

Small, but not enough to be claustrophobic. There are solid walls on three sides, a door set to the left leading to a wash-station with a toilet, shower and sink. The bed in the corner isn't luxurious, but it's not basic either. There's a monitor against a wall displaying Nicholas' vitals, a wire trailing from the bottom to attach to his body. The final wall is cut half into a completely transparent glass screen.

It's a shock to return to society after six months in a post-apocalyptic landscape, apparently.

Euijoo and the other staff on the helicopter had been quickly rushed to decontamination, discarding their clothes and sitting through three hours of preliminary tests. Nicholas and the others aren't so lucky. The isolation period has been brought down to 72 hours, but that's the lowest they're willing to risk before any biological contaminants could be properly ruled out. 

They're 55 hours into that period. Outside, the afternoon is beginning to bleed into the evening. 

Outside, the media are waiting for the 72 hours to come to a close.

But for now, it's just Nicholas and Euijoo, and the glass.

On the first day, Euijoo had relayed everything that had happened to him. Nicholas had pressed his forehead to the glass and Euijoo hadn't hesitated before leaning in as well. They'd pretended that the temperature of their own skin heating up the cold barrier was the warmth of the other person. But Euijoo hadn't been able to stay long - torn between Nicholas and visiting everyone else - and Nicholas had urged him to leave even as the words burnt his tongue.

It feels like saying goodbye every time. He closes his eyes in a blink, and every second that passes when he can't see Euijoo is like a hook in his heart, pulling his lungs into his throat and catching his breath on razor blades.

On the second day, Euijoo had spent the morning with the press. Nicholas knows what he's heard (vultures, piranhas, sharks with the scent of blood - a good story, a sensationalised rescue - in the water), and he quietly prepares himself for when it eventually becomes his turn. He's been given a tablet, at least. He can monitor the unfolding story from behind the glass-screen cage, and he knows exactly what Euijoo had to do to get a semi-illegal helicopter rescue trip to Japan.

None of that matters now.

It's Nicholas and Euijoo, and the glass.

His hands are warm. The glass doesn't stay cold for long, but that's the last thing on his mind. He blinks and it hurts that he isn't still looking at Euijoo, even with his after-image imprinted on the back of his eyelids. He's not dead. He's right here, breathing and warm and alive, standing in front of Nicholas. 

"I don't remember it," Euijoo says. Not quietly or soft in the barest definition of the word, but calm in the way that Euijoo always is. Right up until Nicholas needles him into a reaction, at least.

"Don't remember what?"

Euijoo looks at him. "The canoe. I thought I might, but... I've seen the tape now. It didn't happen anything like I imagined."

Every day that passes, Nicholas is finally coming to terms with the fact that Euijoo is still here. It does actually get easier to see him leave. He lets himself blink for longer, and he starts to believe that Euijoo will still be there when he opens his eyes again.

"Oh," Nicholas says. He swallows. There's a lump in his throat, suddenly. It tastes like oranges.

It sounds exactly like Yuma's voice when they'd sat on the staircase together. Every fear that Nicholas had when they'd been trying to survive, and the conversation he'd had with Harua at the side of the water - trying to explain exactly what he was so afraid of. 

Maybe the isolation ward is messing with his head. It's spinning, and that's the only explanation he has for why his next words tumble out without him really meaning to speak at all.

"I told you I loved you."

There. That's it. That's what he's been trying to say this whole time, that's what he's been so afraid of saying this whole time. 

It's something so simple. He almost doesn't realise he's said it until his mouth starts to taste like burning and - not regret, but something a little more muted. He'd barely felt the weight of the words until it was too late. And even as his stomach twists and his breathing speeds up slightly, the pressure that's been pushing down on his shoulders for months eases up.

Euijoo blinks. His face stays completely frozen for a second and then twists into something else - flickering between emotions that Nicholas can't place. His eyes widen and his mouth opens. It sounds a little like he's choking over a hitched breath. But it's all gone in an instant under the slightest tilt of his head, the curl of his lips and the flush of his cheeks.

"Oh," Euijoo says. It's a bad mockery of Nicholas, only a few moments earlier.

Nicholas thinks that he should say something. He should apologise - and if he was as scared as he's been giving the impression he is, he would have moved to back-up and deny it as soon as the words had left his mouth. Except... deep down, Nicholas likes to think that he knows Euijoo as well as he knows his own soul.

He can't apologise. He isn't sorry. He's hanging on a line, stretching out fingers like he's reaching for the bar of a trapeze set, but he doesn't mind the sensation of falling. If it's Euijoo, it's-

"I wish I'd heard," Euijoo says. It comes out as a whisper. Something strained or strangled, muffled through the glass but Nicholas can hear every syllable as if they're really, actually touching. "I wish you'd never had to push me out in the first place. I think-"

He catches himself. Nicholas is still falling, his fingertips brushing the bar but still a millimetre away from a solid grip. But Euijoo nods, his eyes harden and in the same rush as Nicholas' confession, Euijoo draws a breath and leans close to the glass.

There are probably cameras watching them. Nicholas' heart rate is displayed on a monitor for all to see. Someone could come down this corridor at any moment. Yet, just for a second, it feels like they're the only two people on the entire planet.

"Say-" Euijoo says. "Say it again. Tell me what you said."

Nicholas leans in as well. He doesn't think about it, his body moves on his own. They're forehead-to-forehead again, Euijoo's palms placed up against where Nicholas' fall, and it's almost like there's nothing separating them. 

"I love you," he says. He can't tell whether he's going to throw up or whether he's allowing himself to believe that this might actually happen. It's a million times worse than the canoe. It's a million times better.

Euijoo looks back at him. "I think I love you too."

------

It should be easy to say when the beginning was.

Looking back, it was when the shaking first started. That's when everything changed - and really, it all just comes back to that. Head in hands and hiding underneath the table. Or in a field skipping school, or walking to the markets for fruit. It's watching the cartoon-animal lunch boxes hit the floor. 

A convenience store. Two foreign exchange students arriving at the same tent. A mountain or a school or a single bad decision that sets everything else into motion.

Looking back, that's the start of it all - when the ground starts shaking and it's worse than anyone could have prepared for. 

Looking back, there isn't an end.

It comes to one type of close when they push the boat out into frozen waters. That had certainly felt like an end. The end of the life they'd been living up until that point - when they'd gone from surviving in one sense of the word to the next, hit in the face with the painful sting of reality. Watching the canoe drift into the distance had been the end of naivety. 

It could be said that it ends beating in time with the rotor blades of a helicopter. The snow-soaked land getting further and further away, cold air stinging tear-streaked cheeks.  

It starts long before whispered words knee-deep in the water, but it could end separated by thick glass in an isolation ward.

But the thing about life, really, is that it doesn't end. Trying to pinpoint a moment where everything twists again, trying to put a final word to the end of a story just falls flat, because that's not what life does . It doesn't come neatly wrapped up with the final few seconds of recorded tape. 

It keeps going. 

There is no moment where Fuma wakes up and the world is okay. There is a beginning in a convenience store because that's where it all changed, but he can't say that it ended in the helicopter. A rescue from the country doesn't fix everything. He can't put his finger on a moment where everything changes again - goes back to the way it once was - and he doesn't think there ever will be.

Three months from the helicopter, and he still isn't the same as before.

The early afternoon sun is warm. The air is still and calm, not even a gentle breeze tugging through the air. Fuma has shed his jacket, standing in a t-shirt and letting his skin warm against the glowing cast.

The sun streams through the window and lights up the kitchen, a perfect blue sky devoid of clouds smiling back at him through the glass. It's only open an inch, but even that is enough to catch the edge of the dish towel Fuma is holding, leaning up against one of the counters as he dries a glass.

K hums quietly beside him. He's wearing stupidly pink rubber gloves, elbows deep in soapy water, rinsing the plates left-over from lunch. He's tapping his foot to the distant sound of music from phone speakers. Three months ago, Fuma had known that K used to be a runner. He didn't know that he'd always loved dancing as well - and so how could the helicopter have been an end? When, back then, he hadn't known something as important as that?

The noise of the phone repeats itself in the way that short-form videos do. The distant filter of a melody as K switches up his humming to match the new sound. Fuma can't see who's near enough to be playing TikToks out loud, but they're far enough that the noise blends into the distance, quiet enough to melt into white noise. 

In the time since he stopped paying attention, the glass has dried. There's a place in the cupboard where it should be stored, but Fuma puts it on the kitchen table instead, joining the others. 

He's finished with the glasses now. He should put them away, instead of leaving them out. But the cupboard that stores the glasses is one that attaches to the ceiling, and with the dish towel in his other hand-

Well.

Fuma can't lift his arm higher than his chest. Without surgery, his shoulder has healed incorrectly. It's a consequence of pushing his body past the limit far too many times. And it'll forever ache when the weather changes. Sometimes a heat pack doesn't even cover the pain completely, and he sits alone in the dark of the night, eyes squeezed shut. 

Three months, and they've officially started rescue efforts in Japan.

Only a week after they'd first landed in South Korea, regulations had already begun to change. Euijoo had tried to give some of the story as they'd flown across the ocean and Fuma swears that he'd been listening - but when he thinks back now, he can barely recall a word that was said. The sound of the blades had been too loud. The sound of his own heartbeat had been even louder. 

It wasn't like they'd even been the first refugees to have come across. But they'd certainly been the first with the amount of media outcry behind them - and then that leads to a headache behind Fuma's temples when he remembers the interviews and the cameras.

All he'd wanted to do was... mourn. For a home he was beginning to realise was gone. For a life he once thought he'd had, even if-

If.

The rescue efforts have officially begun, as of two months ago. That's something. People are beginning to be identified, camps are being set up and supplies finally dropped over. There are thousands of volunteers from across the world helping to set up the beginning of towns, rebuilding what had once been there. Fuma hadn't even realised it at the time, but a couple of places in Hokkaido had been almost untouched. 

It'll take a while, but the world will keep turning. Everything that got knocked over will eventually be picked back up.

Fuma is now living in a small-ish house in the suburbs of Seoul and he's not sure if that's still something that can be applied to him.

"You've been drying that plate for too long," K tells him. 

Domesticity. Is this where he'd thought he'd be, three months ago? Six months ago, when he'd been able to think of nothing except surviving to the next day? Nine months ago, when that had seemed like the hardest thing?

The house is nice. There are enough bedrooms. A small garden at the back, neatly trimmed grass and a large tree that drapes branches over the fence. They have neighbours on both sides, but they're both old couples. They smile nicely whenever they see Fuma and do well at concealing the pity in their expressions when they meet eyes. 

The house is officially his and K's. The address isn't officially known to the public, but they still wake up to reporters outside the front door some days.

Maki doesn't live with them anymore. Fuma can still remember the way that he'd phrased his parents working in the city when they'd first met, being able to turn his head and see the sinkhole that had opened in the centre of town. Identifying the bodies was taking a long time, but the city where Fuma had lived ended up being one of the first locations to be searched and categorised properly.

There had been no news of his parents. But during the search and attempt to relocate the displaced population of Japan - they'd come into contact with an Aunt and Uncle who'd made their way to a camp and managed to survive there, and then heard about the tapes once the rescue efforts finally took off.

They'd been able to move nearby. Fuma had the feeling that part of them wanted to stay in Japan, but they'd never have admitted that out loud. Maki had spent six months in the care of strangers. He'd only had his sixth birthday a couple of months ago. 

The neighbourhood was nice. He'd had the impression that child psychologist advice had played a part in keeping him so near to the others. He wasn't going to complain.

Especially when Harua has been kept so close as well. It hadn't come as a surprise when Harua's mother's body had been identified, but Fuma still felt ill when he thought about the fact she'd been died at a different refugee camp so far from the city where she'd left behind her son. 

Maybe there was a story there. Maybe she'd known what she was doing - or maybe she'd assumed her child was already gone. It wasn't like they'd ever get to know the truth.

And in some ways, Fuma doesn't care. With no relatives alive and the sharp dual-sided sword of media attention, Harua's adoption by Fuma had been expedited to a concerning speed. That made a good story as well - made his stomach twist almost as much - almost like the house and the adoption could make up for the fact they'd been left to die by the rest of the world. 

"That wasn't an invitation to keep drying it," K comments dryly. The tap has stopped running. In fact, he's shed the rubber gloves completely now, leaving them to dry on the draining rack and looking pointedly at the plate that Fuma's still holding in his hands. He's right. In the time that Fuma's been zoning out, he's finished with the rest of the washing up - leaving a still-dripping stack of plates beside the sink, waiting to be towelled dry. 

Fuma puts the plate down. Or rather, he ignores K holding out his hand to take it and places it on the counter instead. There's no point putting each plate away individually . He'll wait until they're all dried and then place them back in the cupboard.

It's become a reoccuring point of argument in the household, along with the correct temperature to wash clothes and how long showers should take. 

There's never any annoyance when they fight over stupid topics like that. The domesticity of it all ends up winning out - the fact that they hadn't used to fight over points like this because they hadn't had the chance. It's painfully mundane in a way that clenches Fuma's heart and takes any sting out of his words.

K had mentioned once that any argument they had now would never be as bad as the discussions they'd had before. Stuff like stacking the dishwasher incorrectly doesn't exactly stand up to arguments about how small they were willing to make ration sizes in order to survive the winter. 

"I'll get there," is all Fuma says in the end. He doesn't fancy explaining why he's thinking about the earthquake again, even if K probably would understand. 

K squints at him. He raises his eyebrows, halfway between a sincere expression of concern and something that's a lot more K in its lightheartedness. He doesn't push it though, pulling back and shrugging when Fuma makes a show of drying the next plate.

"If you say so," he shrugs. He casts one last glance at the repetitive motion of the cloth in Fuma's hand, and then goes to take a step out of the kitchen.

Then he stops.

From the kitchen, the door leads directly into a small dining room - not large enough to fit more than their table, assortment of chairs, and a couple of drawers pushed right into one of the corners. There isn't technically an actual door that separates this space from the kitchen, letting both sides maintain a pretty full view of the other room at all times. 

Personally, Fuma suspects there's supposed to be a door. There are strange marks in the wood where hinges should be. But no one complains, not when they're still getting used to being out of each other's space. Months of living practically on top of each other have had a lasting effect. 

"Do you think they're still doing homework?"

When K speaks again, his voice is lowered for comedic effect. It's not like there's much difference between the stage whisper and his normal tone of speaking. He turns to look at Fuma as he says it, and something in Fuma's stomach settles.

He hadn't even realised it was upset. Thoughts of the earthquake tend to do that to all of them. Drawing them into a spiral that's far too easy to get lost in. They'd probably spent hours sitting around and just thinking about the world when the endless card games got tiring. The next plate has dried, and gets stacked with the others.

"I don't know. Why don't you go and risk it?"

"Don't." 

A third voice comes from nowhere. Both Fuma and K spin to the back of the kitchen - where one of the walls backs onto the staircase leading upstairs. It's painted white, the space underneath still well lit and full of perfectly-fitted cabinets, with spaced wooden balusters. 

Taki's face is visible between them. He's perched on one of the stairs, low down enough on the staircase for the top half of his body to be visible into the kitchen. That's where the TikTok noises must have been coming from - they've disappeared now Taki's tucked his phone into his trousers. He's gotten closer to speak to them and the balusters frame his face, leaning forwards to squish his cheeks between them.

Fuma distantly thinks he might get his head stuck like that. He doesn't comment on it, though - it would be pretty funny to see. 

K takes a step towards Taki, and Fuma just knows what the expression on his face looks like. "Mm?"

Taki nods. "They've moved onto maths," he says, doing an exaggerated full body shudder as he speaks. It almost sends his head connecting with the ceiling, but in true Taki fashion he misses the collision by a couple of millimetres at best. 

They're currently filing to get Taki adopted as well - under K's name formally, of course. It's proving to take a little longer than Harua's paperwork. There's no evidence that his parents are dead other than Taki's word for it. And whilst Fuma doesn't think that Taki's lying about that - he's seen glimpses of the crumpled photograph that Taki keeps so close to his chest at all times - the courts still have to follow the appropriate time frames for situations like this. 

It'll get through eventually. And it's more of a formality at this point - since he already lives with them, they're already in charge of his education and the healthcare for his remaining vision. But it's also another reminder that they're not truly free of the effects of the earthquake. 

"Never mind," K says, mimicking Taki's over-the-top shudder and taking a couple of steps back. "I suddenly remembered that there are more plates to wash."

There aren't. The soapy water had drained from the sink minutes ago. But Taki laughs and K's expression glints with mirth, and Fuma finds himself smiling along.

There also isn't actually a door between the kitchen and the dining room.

Jo stares back at them. He looks about as unimpressed as Jo ever does - which is to say not very much, but the weight of his doleful gaze makes even Fuma feel a little guilty. Only a little. He snorts quietly; this is K's problem that he's gotten himself into, and Fuma will take pleasure in watching him flounder. 

Beside Jo, Harua is working onto a piece of paper. It must be the aforementioned maths homework - his expression is screwed up in concentration and his tongue pokes out between his lips, hand grasped over the pencil in a clumsy fist. 

A seven-year old's maths homework isn't very hard. That's not what makes helping Harua with his homework painful. Instead, it's the fact that Harua is very insistent that he can do it himself. Ninety percent of the time he's correct, and the person dragged into helping him doesn't actually have to contribute anything. The other ten percent of the time... 

Well. Trying to explain something to a stubborn seven year old isn't exactly the easiest thing out there. 

Taki takes his phone out again, and music distantly fills the air. Harua tugs on Jo's sleeve and points to the answer he's just filled into the worksheet. K heads over to Taki, hands on the balusters between them and starting to poke fun at him for sitting on the stairs instead of somewhere more comfortable. Fuma puts the next now-dry plate down into the pile, and tries not to wince when the action tugs on his shoulder.

The house seems quiet.

Settled.

Perhaps it's the lack of constant fear at the back of his brain. Except that can't be true, because the anxiety of having their lives on the line still lingers in every single day that passes. They'll wake up, unable to sleep through racing heartbeats. The cupboards are full of non-perishables. There's a fully stocked first aid kid near the front door, and more water filtration supplies than one normal household could ever possibly need. 

It had taken an entire month before they could start sleeping in different rooms. It gets labelled as separation anxiety - especially for the kids - but Fuma doesn't think that's quite the case.

It's just... trying to pretend like everything is normal hasn't worked. Everything isn't normal. It'll never be normal again. 

There's no going back to before . 

But they're getting there. Despite the nightmares and the anxiety and the pain, they're getting there. Winter has passed and the cherry blossoms have bloomed pink on the tree outside the kitchen window, and there isn't a single snowflake to be seen. Fuma's hands aren't covered in blood - there is no longer a bullet in his shoulder, a child trapped under a building, the warmth of fever lingering in the air. 

There's no mention of what had happened between Fuma and K, in those last few weeks. The way that dependency has seeped into their life now, and how achingly domestic it is to look around their house. 

One day, maybe. When it doesn't hurt so much. When the pain is even quieter than it is now, and the passing months have turned the fight for survival into nothing more than a soft hum. 

Euijoo is at home, halfway across the city. Nicholas is in Taiwan, another country all together. The distance still stings, even with the phone calls and group chats, and Fuma knows for a fact that at least one therapist has called them slightly codependent. 

The dust is still settling, he thinks. Even through a screen, he can see the way that they look at each other has shifted slightly. Privately, he doesn't think Nicholas will stay in Taiwan forever, even if two months with his family barely makes up for the time they spent thinking he was dead.

He won't stay. Not when Euijoo is here. 

Not when all of them are here, probably. 

Taki is saying something over the noise of - whatever is playing on his phone, Fuma can't make out a single word or even begin to think how someone could find the sound funny - and Harua's back to his worksheet. Jo sketches quietly beside him. K still needles Taki, and Fuma picks up the last plate in the stack.

The sound of the front door opening is muffled from the noise of the house, but just about audible. It closes with some force. Then Yuma barrels into the dining room, peeling a mask from his face and kicking his untied shoes back into the hallway behind him. He dumps his backpack onto a chair and then slumps down to the floor in the doorway, legs splayed out in front of him.

Harua doesn't blink. Taki's phone is still making noise, but forgotten in favour of peering through the gaps to get a better view of what's happening. Fuma thinks about flicking some remaining soap suds in Yuma's direction, but decides to take note of his mood before he risks it.

It's a good decision.

When Yuma looks back up, there's frustration clear on his face. It's only skin-deep and Fuma can tell by the slump of his shoulders that it isn't bothering him too much, but there's still something playing up. The fact he'd come storming through suddenly makes a little more sense. 

"Ugh," Yuma says. He's still wearing his jacket. It's warm enough in the sun to forgo a coat, but the slight breeze is too cold for just a shirt. The mask is still hanging from one of his ears - he usually wears one that ties around the back of his head, but the ribbon has gotten caught on his hearing aids anyway. He untangles it before speaking again. "I can't believe it's still viral."

He's talking about the tapes.

The reason why they've taken to wearing masks outside most of the time. Fuma doesn't blame Euijoo for the deal he'd made - the promise of interviews and photographs and media attention in exchange for getting them out - he just wishes that everyone else wouldn't take that as an invitation to keep bothering them.

Yuma's still just a kid, really. He doesn't deserve to be followed when he's just trying to get outside for a walk. Harua doesn't deserve to hear whispers in the street as Fuma walks him to school. Jo and Taki should be able to go to class without their classmates staring at them like they're animals on display, not people. 

The virality of the tapes - the Ōkami Tapes , as they've now been nicknamed by the public - had caused the aid to Japan to be moved forward much sooner. It had been confirmation that the fears of the outside world had been unfounded, and there hadn't actually been some sort of biowarfare disaster. Just... people who were struggling to survive, and wondering why the rest of the world wasn't coming to help. 

Rest , Fuma signs to Yuma. He still flicks a few leftover soap suds in his direction, but they land on the floor before they get anywhere near him, and it brings a smile to his face.

Learning Korean has made learning Japanese Sign Language at the same time a little more difficult. Yet not a single person has given up. 

Taki closes his phone again in the distance. The music comes to an abrupt halt, but it isn't long before he's sliding off the stairs and coming around through the dining room into the kitchen. There's not much difference between his position from before and where he's standing now - probably only a metre and the fact he's on the other side of the balusters - but it feels different.

The six of them in the house. Maki, coming around in two hours time. Nicholas and Euijoo - so distant and yet their presence still lingers in every corner of a space they've never properly visited. 

There's a chance that some of Fuma's family might have survived the disaster. Jo's family had largely lived at the shrine their entire lives, but Fuma knows he privately hopes there are some relations still out there. Yuma's had contact from distant cousins in America, offering him a place to stay if the house in South Korea didn't work out. 

K has told Fuma what happened after the compound, that first time.

His entire family had been in that building, really. 

He said that without Taki, he wasn't sure he'd have made it to the winter. Fuma had told him that this time last year, he wasn't sure he'd make it this far either.

And yet here they are. It's spring. The sky is clear and blue, the sun is warm where it streams through the kitchen window, and it's a perfect April afternoon. There are blossoms on the tree in their garden. The plant boxes had been empty when they'd first moved in, but now shoots have pressed up through the soil and are starting to bloom into bright colours. 

Tulips and baby blue eyes and azalea bushes. It'll be time for the wisteria soon, heralding the arrival of May and the fact that spring shows no signs of slowing down before eventually bleeding into the warmth of summer. Maybe this year they'll take over what's left of Japan, with no human intervention to beat the flowers back.

In South Korea, the cherry blossom outside isn't Japanese, but it's a reminder that there's still familiarity here. Great fields of canola flowers highlight sides of the roads in bright yellow. 

They'll be here to see that, as well. 

They're still learning to live rather than survive. But when it comes down to it, they're still alive to learn that. And in the end, that's all that really matters. 

It ends in spring, which seems fitting. It doesn’t end at all, because that’s not how healing works. 

It ends with a collection of photographs and the tapes of two film cameras, and that’ll have to be enough.