Ren

The boy was fast, weaving through the ruins like a shadow. Asahi chased him through the street, jumping over piles of debris.

He cursed under his breath. How could someone so small be this damn fast?

He heard a distant yell. Haruto? No – his mind was playing tricks on him. Haruto wasn’t here.

The chase continued. The boy slipped through a narrow alley, kicking up dust as he darted past an overturned car. Asahi pushed himself harder, ignoring the stabbing pain in his ribs. He was losing him.

Then, the boy tripped.

Asahi saw it happen – the kid’s foot catching on the jagged edge of a broken sidewalk and his body lurching forward before he crashed onto the ground with a sharp gasp.

Asahi didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward and grabbed the boy’s arm before he could scramble away again. The child thrashed wildly, fists pounding against Asahi’s chest in weak, desperate strikes.

The boy’s voice was hoarse but Asahi could roughly make out his words: “Let me go!”

Asahi held him firmly, his own breath heavy. “Stop running.”

The boy struggled for a moment longer, then suddenly went limp. His tiny body trembled against Asahi’s grip.

Asahi loosened his hold slightly.

“…I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The boy didn’t respond. He was still shaking his tear-streaked face in his arms.

Asahi swallowed the lump in his throat. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

No response.

“…It wasn’t your fault. None of this is.” He inhaled sharply, closing his eyes. “I think – I think my emotions just caught up to me all at once. Haruto is gone, and I don’t know what to do. I feel helpless, and I hate it. But that’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.

The boy still didn’t speak, but his trembling slowly eased.

Asahi let out a tired chuckle, shaking his head. “You probably don’t even understand what I’m saying.”

A long pause.

Then quietly – so quietly that even Asahi missed it –

“…Aoi.”

His eyes widened slightly.

A sharp pain twisted in Asahi’s chest.

For a moment, there was complete silence. The city around them had died down and the distant sounds of destruction served nothing more than background noise.

Finally, Asahi stood up, dusting off his clothes. He held out his hand.

“…Come on,” he said. “Let’s go back.”

The boy slowly reached out and took Asahi’s outstretched hand.

Together, they walked back towards the safe house. For now, at least, they still had each other.

Back at the safe spot, Asahi let out a long breath, sinking onto the cold floor. His muscles still ached from the chase. The boy sat a short distance away, his small frame curled up against the wall. He hadn’t said much. In fact, he had barely spoken at all.

Asahi turned toward him. “You… can’t speak?”

The boy hesitated before slowly shaking his head.

Asahi frowned. “You’re not completely mute, though. I mean… you did talk earlier.”

Ren gave another small nod.

“So, is it difficult for you to talk?”

A pause. Another nod.

Asahi sighed. “I see.”

The conversation was slow and fragmented, but still better than nothing. He was listening and responding in whatever way he could.

“…Your name,” Asahi asked after a moment. “Can you tell me?”

The boy lowered his gaze slightly. He hesitated, as if struggling to force the words out. Then barely above a whisper, he spoke.

“…Ren.”

His voice was fragile and barely audible.

Asahi gave a small nod. “Ren, huh? That’s a good name.”

Ren said nothing, but his fingers curled slightly into the fabric of his torn sleeves.

As the night stretched on, a heavy silence settled between them. They weren’t tired enough to sleep, but they also had nothing more to say – until Ren suddenly pointed at something.

Asahi blinked, following the boy’s gaze.

“…My bag?”

Ren shook his head. His tiny finger was pointing at something specific.

His canvas.

Asahi was stunned for a moment. He hesitated before carefully pulling the canvas out.

Ren’s dark eyes lingered on it before he slowly reached out.

“You…” Asahi trailed off. “You want to paint?”

A small nod.

Asahi hesitated but eventually handed over the canvas, along with the few brushes and paints he had packed. Ren held them carefully, as if they were something delicate and precious.

Then, without a word, he started painting.

Asahi watched in quiet amazement.

Ren’s hands, though small and unsteady, made delicate and bold strokes.

At first, Asahi couldn’t tell what he was painting. But soon, the shapes began to take form – a soft, warm scenery. Two figures stood in the center, painting with gentle strokes. A child – Ren himself, Asahi realized – was standing beside a woman, her face glowing with warmth. The colors Ren used were soft, nothing like the bleak and ruined world they lived in now. There was peace in this image, a warmth that seemed almost surreal.

“…That woman,” Asahi said softly. “Who is she? Is she the one you mentioned before?”

Ren’s brush hovered in the air for a second before he finally whispered,

“…Aoi.”

His voice was barely more than a breath.

Asahi hesitated before asking, “What happened to her?”

The moment the question left his lips, Ren stiffened. His fingers trembled against the paintbrush. His breaths grew shaky.

And then – he broke down.

Tears welled up in his wide eyes before spilling down his cheeks. His small shook, silent sobs racking through him as he clutched onto the painting. His hands gripped the canvas so tightly that Asahi feared he might tear it apart.

Asahi could vaguely make out his past self in Ren. The past...

Asahi’s stomach twisted.

“Hey, hey…” He scooted closer, placing his hand on Ren’s shoulder. The boy flinched at first but didn’t pull away. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay.”

Ren sniffled.

“I won’t force you to remember,” Asahi said gently. “It’s your choice. To confront it… or to let it haunt you.”

Asahi sighed. “For now, just breathe. That’s enough.”

Slowly, Ren’s sobs softened. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his ragged sleeve.

Asahi let the silence linger, giving him time.

Eventually, to lighten the mood, Asahi rummaged through their supplies and pulled out a couple of protein bars.

“Here,” he said, handing one to Ren. “Not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

Ren sniffled again, hesitating before taking the bar. He unwrapped it carefully.

Asahi have a half-hearted chuckle. “We weren’t able to find much else, but hey, protein’s good for you as well!”

Ren took a bit, chewing slowly. Then, to Asahi’s surprise, he gave the smallest, faintest nod.

Satisfied.

Asahi smirked. “Glad you approve.”

They ate in relative silence. Once they finished, Asahi reached into his bag and pulled out the extra sleeping bag – Haruto’s. He unrolled it and set it down beside Ren.

“Here,” he said, patting the spot. “You take this one. I’ll use mine.”

Ren blinked at him but didn’t refuse.

Asahi laid down in his own sleeping bag, staring at the ceiling.

Another day had passed. A long, exhausting day.

Haruto was gone. And now, Ren was here.

He exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of everything press against his chest. Where is Haruto? And is he fine? He didn’t know.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new uncertainties. But for now, at least, they weren’t alone.