The Orphan Part I

The cold halls echo with footsteps, white walls blur past as men in coats drag the girl away. She doesn't fight - she just smiles, gentle as always, even as they take her through those heavy metal doors.

"It'll be okay," the girl calls back. But her voice trembles.

Shiro huddles in the corner of the empty room, knees pulled tight to her chest. The space feels bigger now, emptier.

"Hey." A soft voice breaks through. The boy from down the hall peers around the doorframe, his messy brown hair falling in his eyes. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

Shiro shakes her head, burrowing deeper into herself.

"Please?" He extends his hand.

After a long moment, she takes it. His palm is warm against hers as he leads her through winding corridors. They stop at a forgotten corner where sunlight sneaks through a ventilation shaft.

"Look." He points to a small crack in the shaft. There, impossibly, a tiny green shoot pushes up through the metal. Two delicate leaves stretch toward the light.

"I've been taking care of it," he whispers, pride in his voice. "If it can survive here, we can too."

Shiro stares at the fragile plant. Something warm stirs in her chest, pushing back against the cold emptiness. The boy kneels beside the sprout.

"Want to help me take care of it?" He smiles up at her. "It gets lonely doing it by myself."

Shiro nods, just once.

***

The black ship creeps into what remains of Pallas's dock, its hull scraping against broken pylons. Waves crash against concrete fragments that litter the water, remnants of the city's once-bustling port.

Twisted metal and concrete rubble paint a familiar picture - one Shiro has seen in countless other coastal cities claimed by hurricanes. The destruction speaks to her, whispers dark comfort in its emptiness. No prying eyes. No questions. No need to hide.

Shiro kicks a piece of debris off her ship, sending it skittering across the cracked pavement below. The sound echoes through abandoned streets. "Stupid," she mutters. The word dissolves into the wind. Ophira could be anywhere by now, spreading dangerous truths with each passing hour.

A sharp cluck breaks her thoughts. Friend paces by the cabin door, feathers puffed up in agitation.

"Worried about me leaving?"

Friend blocks the door with her tiny body, wings spread wide.

"Fine." Shiro scoops up the chicken, who settles instantly against her chest. "You can come. But stay quiet."

The gangplank creaks as they descend. Wind whips through abandoned streets, carrying the scent of rain and rust. Debris clutters their path - fallen signs, overturned vehicles, pieces of buildings scattered by the evacuation.

Friend burrows deeper into Shiro's shirt. The chicken's warmth seeps through the fabric, a steady presence against the desolation surrounding them. Shiro adjusts her grip, keeping Friend secure as they venture into Pallas's empty streets.

***

Shiro weaves through the ruins. Broken pipes jut from collapsed walls, their sophisticated filtration systems now useless. Tanks that once housed thriving fish populations lie cracked and empty, their contents long since drained into the streets. The hurricane's fury had torn through the heart of Pallas's pride - its revolutionary aquaponic systems that had fed its populace.

Friend's head emerges from Shiro's shirt, the chicken's curious eyes scanning the destruction. Her talons dig into fabric as Shiro ducks behind a toppled control panel. Through gaps in the wreckage, she studies the facility's layout. Maintenance corridors branch off like veins from the main chamber, leading to separate growing sections. Each zone shows signs of expertise - the precise arrangement of growing beds, the efficient spacing of fish tanks.

The facility's design speaks of its creator's brilliance. Even in ruins, the innovation is clear: multilevel growing systems that maximized space, integrated waste management that created perfect symbiosis between fish and plants.

Friend hops down from Shiro's arms, waddling through the debris with surprising grace. Her feathers catch the weak sunlight as she investigates an overturned hydroponic tray, pecking at dried stems that once bore leafy greens.

Shiro watches as her companion explores, talons clicking against broken pipes and scattered equipment. The chicken's curiosity seems almost mocking against the backdrop of such waste - state-of-the-art systems reduced to playground obstacles for a wayward bird.

Friend hops onto a fallen beam, balanced precariously over a pool of stagnant water. Her reflection ripples as she peers down, head tilted in curiosity.

"Careful," Shiro calls softly, though she knows Friend never listens. The bird just clucks in response, continuing her tightrope walk across the ruins of what could have been salvation for so many.

Suddenly, Friend's sharp cluck pierces the quiet. Her head snaps toward a shadow moving between the hydroponic towers.

Metal groans overhead. A figure darts behind a fallen filtration tank, their footsteps echoing off broken pipes. Shiro clutches Friend and breaks into a sprint, boots crunching over scattered nutrient crystals.

The chase weaves through Pallas's abandoned farm platforms. Shiro vaults over toppled growing trays, Friend bouncing against her with each leap. The chicken lets out excited clucks, her small body vibrating with the thrill of pursuit.

Their quarry scrambles up a tilted platform, sending loose pipes clattering down. Shiro changes course, cutting through a maze of shattered glass panels that once housed vertical gardens. Broken shards crunch under her feet as she tracks the figure's movement through gaps in the wreckage.

Friend's head bobs with each twist and turn. She flaps her wings when Shiro pauses at a junction of collapsed walkways, pointing her beak toward movement above.

The figure emerges onto a higher platform. They sprint across a fallen support beam bridging two sections of the farm complex. Shiro follows, balancing on the narrow metal span while Friend nestles deeper into her shirt.

Wind whips stronger at this height, threatening to knock them from their path. Friend pecks excitedly at Shiro's collar as they close the distance.

The figure stumbles on loose debris. Shiro lunges, her concealed talons slashing through air as her target spins away. Light catches his face - familiar hazel eyes widening in recognition.

"Marcus." The name falls from her lips like poison.