The Alley

The streets were worse than he had expected.

Smoke curled through the air, casting eerie shadows over the flickering streetlights. The roads were littered with broken glass, overturned trash cans, and the occasional lifeless bodies laid through the entire alley.

Asahi kept his head down, moving swiftly towards the alley beneath his apartment window. His footsteps echoed against the cracked pavement.

The letter was there, caught against a pile of debris.

He crouched down and was brushing the dust off when –

A boot slammed down on it.

Asahi froze.

A group of men stood around him, eyes gleaming in the distant light. Their clothes were ragged. The tallest among them, likely the leader, bent down and plucked the letter off the ground. His face was harsh with a scar on his forehead and a tattoo on his forearm – a pair of intertwined snakes coiling around a metal rod.

The man squinted at the words before laughing.

“From someone special huh?” His eyes glinted with amusement. “Must be important if you came all the way here just to fetch it.”

Asahi stiffened. He clenched his fists together, forcing himself to stay still.

Another thug leaned in, peering over the first man’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s a love letter,” he sneered. “Bet it’s from some pretty girl, right? Your sweetheart?”

The others chuckled before the leader turned the letter over. “Tell you what,” he continued, his voice dripping mock generosity. “Why don’t you introduce us to her? We could all use a little company before the world burns, don’t you think?”

Asahi’s pulse pounded in his ears. The words barely registered. His gaze locked onto the letter in the man’s grimy fingers. Then, the man’s smirk widened as he placed his fingers on the edge of the letter. With deliberate slowness, he began to tear.

A sharp rip echoed in the alleyway.

“Oops,” the leader mocked, faking an apologetic expression. “My bad. Looks like your little keepsake is history.” He crumpled the scraps between his fingers before tossing them to the ground like trash.

He sighed theatrically. “Shame, really. I was hoping to meet her. I bet she’s real pretty, huh?” He nudged the thug beside him with a chuckle. “Maybe a little lonely now? Poor thing. Maybe she just needs someone to take care of her.”

The words barely finished leaving his mouth before Asahi moved.

Without any hesitation, he lunged forward, and punched the man square in the face.

It was a solid, direct hit. The man stumbled back, cursing. For a brief moment, there was silence.

Then, the enraged leader snarled, “Get this bastard!”

Asahi got into a fighting stance to fend off the knaves. But before he could react, a fist came crashing into his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. Another struck his jaw, sending him stumbling back. Then, someone grabbed him by the collar and drove a knee into his stomach.

Agony ripped through his body as he doubled over, spitting blood onto the cold pavement.

He barely had time to gasp before another blow sent him to the ground. Boots slammed into his side, kicking and stomping him without mercy. He curled in on himself, trying to shield his head as his vision blurred with pain.

Somewhere above him, the leader laughed.

“Well, I’ll give you this,” he said, wiping the blood from his mouth. “Takes guts to fight back when you’re this outnumbered.”

He crouched down, grabbing Asahi’s face, forcing him to look up.

“But guts don’t mean shit when you’re bleeding out in the dirt.”

The leader stood, lifting his boot –

And aimed it right at Asahi’s skull.

Asahi squeezed his eyes shut when a sharp crack cut through the night.

When he opened his eyes, he noticed the leader was on the ground, clutching his head in pain. Haruto stood over him, gripping a steel pipe. His face was set in stone and his eyes were burning with fury.

The other thugs hesitated for a split second – just long enough for Haruto to grab Asahi’s arm.

“Run!”

Through the haze of pain, Asahi staggered forward, barely keeping pace as Haruto pulled him through the burning streets, dodging past crumbling walls and overturned cars. The shouts behind them grew distant. But, they didn’t stop until they reached the apartment.

Back at the apartment, Asahi laid down on the couch, pressing a cold can against his swollen cheek. His breath was still uneven and his body ached.

Haruto stood nearby, arms crossed.

“You done being stupid?” he asked.

Asahi scoffed. “Shut up.”

Haruto sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I get it. You don’t want to deal with any of this. But whether you like it or not, the world is ending. And sitting in this apartment, waiting to die, isn’t going to change that.”

Asahi didn’t respond.

Haruto exhaled. “But, again. This is a decision you have to make. I’m giving you some more time. Sort out your thoughts. But I’m not waiting forever.”

With that, he turned around and walked out.

Asahi laid on his bed in silence. The taste of blood still lingered in his mouth. He stared at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts. For him, the physical wounds were nothing compared to the emotional wounds of losing the letter. But even then, those two words remained clear as day.

His breath hitched and a suffocating weight pressed against his ribs. He didn’t want to think about this. Didn’t want to feel this.

He pressed his hands against his face, trying to block out the rush of emotions.

Was this how he was going to spend the last days of his life? Rotting away in this tiny, suffocating apartment?

His body ached, but beneath it all, something else stirred.

A question.

What was the letter trying to tell him? And… why now? Asahi exhaled sharply. He didn’t know. But one thing was clear. If he stayed here and shut himself in again, he would never find out.

The next morning, he slowly stood up and started packing. A change of clothes. A flashlight. Some canned food.

His unfinished painting and his brushed and paints, carefully wrapped in cloth. And finally, from his desk, his most precious belonging.

When he finally stepped outside his apartment, the cool morning air brushed against his bruised skin. Haruto was standing there, hands in his pockets, waiting.

Their eyes met, but neither of them said a word

Asahi took a slow breath, adjusting the strap of his bag.

“Let’s go.”

Haruto gave no reply, except for a slight smirk on his face.

And with that, they set off into the dying world.