Chapter 31 A Plan in the Dark

 The road stretched ahead, cracked and uneven, but quiet—too quiet. No gunfire, no explosions, no crystal vines or creatures just the occasional flicker of neon signs from abandoned gas stations and convenience stores. The adrenaline of the chase had worn off, leaving only silence—until Akarui broke it.

“So…” he muttered, tapping his fingers against the window. 

“Anyone wanna talk about how we almost got turned into modern art back there?”

Shujinko let out a long sigh. 

“I still can’t believe they actually fired a rocket at us. We are just civilians, how could they do that, it is not right! Well... at least we got away.”

Makiko leaned her head against the car window, exhaling slowly. 

“Alright, so… we got away. What now?”

“We stick to the plan. We need to reach the ocean and release the cure. If we don’t, this planet is finished.” Ichiban said in calm voice.

Makiko sighed.

 “Right. The ocean. Not exactly a short walk.”

“No, it is not.” Shachiku agreed.

 “Which is why I'm saying we need a plane. So, we are going to the airport. I just hope there are something left we can use.”

Makiko leaned back with a groan. 

“Ugh. You make it sound so simple. Just ‘go to the airport, steal a plane, save the world.’ I’m sure that’ll go smoothly.”

“We don’t have another option,” Shujinko pointed out.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Save the world, no pressure.”

The car fell into silence again. Outside, the sky was turning shades of deep orange, the sun starting its descent toward the horizon.

Shachiku frowned, glancing at the dashboard. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

Shujinko noticed.

 “What’s wrong?”

Shachiku exhaled sharply. 

“We have a problem.”

“Another one?” Akarui groaned.

“The fuel gauge.”

Everyone leaned forward to look. The needle was hovering just above empty.

Shachiku’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. 

“We took some hits in that chase. I think a bullet might’ve punctured the tank. This car doesn't have long till we stop. We’re running on fumes.”

Akarui ran a hand down his face.

 “Of course. Of course this happens.”

Makiko folded her arms. 

“So what, we run out of gas and push the car the rest of the way?”

“No,” Shachiku said, scanning the horizon.

 “We need to find another car. And we need shelter for the night. It’s getting dark.”

The highway stretched behind them like the spine of a dead beast, littered with empty cars, their drivers frozen in time—transformed into crystalline statues. It was a graveyard of motion, a reminder that they were racing against a fate that had already claimed so many.

Finding a new car was easy. Finding the will to keep moving was harder.

No one spoke as they drove, the weight of the day settling in. The escape, the chase, the near-death experiences—it had drained them all. So, when the first house appeared, tucked just off the road, they agreed without a second thought.

It wasn’t much. A single-story home, old but sturdy. The windows were mostly intact, the front door slightly ajar, like it had been left in a hurry. No signs of life—human or otherwise.

They stepped inside cautiously. The air was stale, thick with dust and abandonment. Furniture sat untouched, a snapshot of a life interrupted. Plates on the table. Shoes by the door. A family’s home, now nothing more than a shelter for strangers.

Makiko sighed as she dropped onto the couch.

 “I don’t care if this place is haunted, I’m sleeping.”

Akarui yawned. 

“Agreed.” He glanced around.

 “Wonder if there’s any food left? I hope it's not expired. Eh, beggars can’t be choosers.”

 Akarui started digging through the kitchen, determined to scavenge something.

Shujinko sat down beside Makiko, stretching his sore legs. 

“I still can’t believe we made it this far.”

She smirked. 

“Yeah? Well, don’t jinx it. We still have an airport to hijack tomorrow.”

Shachiku remained standing, arms crossed. 

“I’ll keep watch.”

Makiko groaned. 

“Oh, come on, someone has to sleep. You look like you haven’t closed your eyes since birth.”

Shachiku scoffed.

 “I’m used to this. Late-night shifts, overtime, deadlines—I’ll be fine.”

But Ichiban shook her head.

 “I’ll take the watch.”

Shachiku frowned.

 “No offense, but you’re not exactly built for this.”

“I’m not tired,” she said simply. 

“And I know what to look for. If those creatures come, I’ll hear them. If mercenaries show up, I’ll see them. Trust me, it's better this way. Don't complicate things, Shachiku.”

He hesitated, then sighed.

 “Fine. But wake me if anything happens.”

Ichiban nodded, already turning toward the window, staring out into the darkened landscape.

Akarui returned with a box of crackers, munching on one. 

“Well, the good news is, I found food. The bad news? It expired six months ago. Whoever lived here, left with the good stuff leaving crap behind.”

Shujinko made a face.

 “And you’re eating it?”

Akarui shrugged. 

“Still crunchy. Good enough for me.”

Makiko groaned, already half-asleep.

 “If you die from food poisoning, I’m not carrying you.”

Akarui just grinned.

 “Okay, that’s fair.”

The house fell into a lull. One by one, they let exhaustion take over, sinking into whatever space they could find—couches, chairs, even the floor.

Only Ichiban remained awake, standing by the window, eyes locked on the night outside.

Somewhere in the distance, a faint, eerie glow pulsed across the land. The slow spread of the crystalline plague. The room was steeped in darkness, broken only by the dim red glow pulsing in the distance, seeping through the cracks of the boarded-up windows. The weak, muffled sounds of destruction carried through the night—somewhere, far beyond the town, the world was still ending.

Shujinko awoke with a shudder. He sat up slowly, glancing around. Everyone else was asleep, their exhaustion deeper than fear. Makiko was curled up on a dusty couch, arms crossed tightly, her breathing slow and steady. Akarui was sprawled out on the floor, an empty snack wrapper beside him. Even Shachiku, who had prided himself on his stamina, was out cold, head propped against the wall.

But Ichiban…

She was still standing by the window.

Exactly where she had been hours ago. She hadn’t moved.

A strange unease crawled up Shujinko’s spine as he rose to his feet. He swallowed hard, pushing the feeling away, and carefully stepped toward her.

"Professor Ichiban," he whispered. No response.

Closer now, he could see the soft reflection of the red glow in her eyes. She was staring outside, completely still, her face emotionless.

He hesitated, then whispered again.

 "Professor, I can take over. Please, go get some rest. You’ve been standing here for God knows how long… you must be tired. Let me take it from here."

For a moment, there was nothing. No acknowledgment, no reaction. Just that unwavering stare.

Then, slowly, Ichiban shook her head side to side.

Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet. Too quiet. 

“No… I’m fine, Shujinko. Go back to sleep. It will be a long day tomorrow. You need rest.”

Something about the way she said it sent a cold shiver through him.

He stepped closer, voice firm but still hushed. 

“But I want to help you. Even if it’s just a little thing. Remember? You invited me to your lab before all this happened. You were going to rely on me. I can still help you.” 

He hesitated, searching for something in her blank expression.

 “Isn’t there anything I can do for you?”

Finally, Ichiban blinked. Her gaze shifted, and ever so slowly, she turned to face him.

For the first time since this nightmare began, she smiled.

It was small. Faint. Almost… forced. But there was something else in her eyes—something hollow, something fragile, something that made Shujinko’s breath hitch.

“Yes,” she whispered. 

“There is still something you can do for me.”

She reached into her coat and pulled out a small glass vial, the liquid inside swirling softly. She extended it to him, her fingers lingering on the surface.

“The bad people are after me,” she continued, voice distant.

 “If they capture me… if they kill me… they’ll destroy this. But they might overlook you. They don't know you. They think you are just some random survivors.”

Her empty eyes locked onto his, her lips curling into a smile.

 “I entrust this to you. Keep it safe. Get it to the ocean, no matter the cost.”

She took a step closer, lowering her voice.

“Be my hero, Shujinko. Save the world. Rid this world of the filth that rots it. Can I count on you?”

His heart pounded.

He had waited his whole life for recognition from her. For this moment.

He clenched his fist around the vial.

 “You can trust me. I promise—I’ll get it done. I’ll save the world. I’ll protect everyone. I’ll cure this world. I promise.”

Ichiban watched him for a moment, then turned her gaze back to the window.

“Good. I knew I can count on you,” she said softly.

A long silence stretched between them before she spoke again.

“Remember. If anything happens to me… get that vial to the ocean and throw it in. The rest will follow. And thank you, Shujinko, for doing this. Now,” she whispered, “go get some rest.”