Volume 2 – Chapter 27: The Storm Beneath the Surface

The rain had started again. Not hard, not yet — but a steady drizzle that beaded on the windows, swelling the outside world into vague shapes and feeble lights. Beyond the glass, the city was a murmur of flat neon and sliding shadows, the usual hum of life muted to faint applause by rain pattering on the glass. Kaito watched them slip down in uneven trails, merge and split and twist — their trajectories unreliable like the thoughts in his head.

The wedding was set. Or at least the building blocks of it were. In the course of days, conversations had morphed into one another, one following the other — plans made on the fly, revised more quickly. There has been little time to reflect, to process, to query. And yet, for all its speed, there was a strange comfort to it. In the madness of a world on fire, it was something solid. Something real. Promises made to the future, no matter how tenuous that future might be.

He pivoted slightly, looking to Rika. She sat next to him on the couch, legs tucked under her, lit only by the soft glow from her phone screen. Knots shadowed her features, her brows knitted in deep thought. Even like this — lost in her own thoughts, half absorbed in whatever she was reading — she was beautiful.

“What are you looking at?” Is the only thing he delared, his voice seemingly in a shallow desert isle while the allocation of people in the room all keep wanting to hear Kaito.

She didn’t glance up. “Venues.”

“Venues?” He released a wry, incredulous laugh. “For a wedding that may not even get a chance to take place?

Her lips twisted, though the smile didn’t fully touch her eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” she said softly. “I still want to choose.”

It seemed almost defiant how she said it — as if she were reaching for some control, for something normal, something hers. Kaito hesitated for a moment before leaning forward and carefully grabbing hold of her phone, holding down the power button a little too long until the screen blacked out. Rika stared at him, mildly surprised.

“What was that for?”

“Because you seem exhausted,” he said simply. And if we’re actually going be doing this, I want you to enjoy it.

She shook her head, fingers drifting to her temple and attempting to rub away the invisible weight. “I don’t even know what it means to enjoy something anymore.”

Kaito exhaled. He understood. They had been in survival mode so long the idea of joy — real joy — was almost alien. Days blended together in an extended haze of decisions, anxiety and a steady stream of dread. But isn’t that what the whole point of this was? To find something human before it was too late?

He took his hand and put it on top of hers, interlacing their fingers. “Then let’s work it out together.”

Then finally she really looked at him, actually looked at him. There was something naked in her look, something unuttered but hard as stone. She didn’t pull away.

A distant roll of thunder rumbled outside, low and away, as if a warning.

[July 9 – 2:15 PM]

The living room had turned into an impromptu headquarters. The table was covered in maps and documents, plus scrawled notes that combined wedding plans and survival plans, all jumbled together in a surreal juxtaposition. Sat across from each other were their parents, deep in conversation — logistics, supplies, safety. The words faded into background sound, voices low and insistent.

But Kaito and Rika sat not even close together, immersed in their own conversation, their own idea of a world.

“I was thinking,” Rika said, lightly tapping her fingers on the armrest of the couch. “About the ceremony.”

Kaito tilted his head. “Yeah?”

“I don’t want it to be big.” She paused, thought, then added, “Not that it could be, even if I wanted it to be.”

He smiled a little crookedly. Just us and our families, then?”

“And a few others, maybe,” she confessed. “But… mostly just us.”

Now her voice was softer, almost hesitant. The way she said it felt vulnerable. A hushed appeal for something familiar, something secure.

Kaito held her hand, his thumb brushing slow, soft circles on her skin. “That sounds perfect.”

She exhaled slowly, a little of the tension leaving her shoulders. “Good.”

Her father, across the room, was speaking in low tones to Kaito’s mother. Now and then, their eyes flicked to them — weighing, concerned.

“They’re afraid for us,” Rika said.

Kaito followed her gaze. “Can you blame them?”

“No.” She swallowed. “But I wish that they wouldn’t be.”

“They just want us to be OK.”

Turning towards him, her face an unreadable mask. “Are we?”

Kaito did not respond immediately. He raised up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering a moment too long. “We will be.”

The response was not completely truthful. But for now, it was enough.

[July 10 – 6:30 PM]

By the evening, the storm had intensified. The wind shrieked about the house, like a woman, and the rain fell in driving sheets upon the roof. The power had blinked twice already, the lamps’ dim radiance wobbling as though the world itself were stammering.

Kaito was leaning against the window, arms crossed, watching the secular light of the streetlights fight against the darkness. It did blow heavy in the air — more than the storm.

“Do you think we’ll make it?” Rika’s voice was soft behind him.

He turned his head a little, locked eyes with her. “Make it?”

“To the wedding. To… anything beyond that.”

Her words lingered between them, weighted with all things unuttered.

Kaito exhaled slowly. He could have reassured her, given her false promises. But he had never been much of a liar. So instead, he moved forward, closing the space between them, wrapping his arms around her.

“We’ve gotta make it,” he replied, sounding relieved. “No matter what happens.”

For a moment, she remained still. Suddenly, she leaned into him, gripping the fabric of his shirt.

Outside, the storm raged on.

But inside, at least for now, there was warmth.