The Radio Broadcast

Asahi adjusted the straps of his bag, giving one last glance at the place they had called shelter for the past few days. A cracked ceiling and the lingering scent of decay. There was nothing left for them here.

Haruto was already ready, his posture firm and disciplined as he adjusted his coat. Ren, however, stood a few steps behind, staring at the makeshift grave.

Aoi’s grave.

Haruto walked up to him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “We have to move,” he said in a voice softer than usual.

Ren didn’t look at him. Instead, he gave one last lingering gaze at the stones before stepping away. He had no words to give.

Their cycles carried them forward, their tires crunching over the cracked pavement.

Ren sat behind Haruto as his small hands gripped the sides of the bicycle’s seat. Haruto had barely tolerated him at first, but something had shifted in the past few days. Maybe it was Aoi’s dying wish, or maybe it was the way Ren clung to his presence like an anchor. Whatever the reason, he hadn’t protested when the boy climbed onto the back of his bike.

Asahi rode a little ahead. His dark coat flapped against the wind as he adjusted his grip on the handlebars. “It’s rare to see you acting brotherly, Haruto,” he mused, tilting his head back slightly.

Haruto scoffed, keeping his focus on the road. “Don’t get the wrong idea.”

Ren, resting his chin against Haruto’s back, murmured, “…Haruto…”

Haruto didn’t reply, but his grip on the handlebars tightened slightly.

The road ahead was desolate. But despite the eerie stillness, there was something strangely peaceful about the ride.

For a brief moment, they could almost pretend they were just travelers, moving though a quiet world.

But the world had long since been stripped of innocence.

And the illusion didn’t last long.

They had been riding for hours when they stopped to rest near an abandoned convenience store. The trio dismounted, cautiously stepping inside.

Most of the supplies had long been picked clean, but Ren wandered towards the back, scanning the wreckage for anything useful. Then, something caught his attention – a small, dust-covered radio which was half-buried under a pile of debris.

Carefully, he pulled it out and brushed off the dust. The knobs were rusted and the antenna was slightly bent.

He turned the dials, idly toying with it when –

A distorted voice broke through the static.

Ren flinched, eyes widening.

Haruto, who had been rummaging nearby, immediately snapped his head up.

“What was that?”

The noise continued and a distorted whisper of something came through.

At that moment, Asahi came running.

He had been searching the front of the store when he heard the sound. Now, he stood in the doorway, staring at the radio in Ren’s hands.

Ren hesitated, then turned the dial again –

And a voice emerged from the static.

“—Sanctuary 7… the cure… the last hope…—”

The words sent a chill through the air.

Ren gripped the radio tighter.

The voice was calm, clinical.

“—Veil-sickness… symptoms worsening…”

A pause. Then, more clearly.

“Sanctuary 7 is… If you are hearing this broadcast, please… come. There is…”

The message looped.

Asahi was the first to speak.

“Wait… How is this thing even running? And sickness? A cure…?”

Haruto crossed his arms, studying the radio with narrowed eyes. He took a long pause, as if he was lost in thoughts. Finally, he spoke up: “Sounds like a setup.”

Asahi furrowed his brows. “Did you recognize his voice?”

Haruto nodded his head in refusal.

The message repeated once more.

Ren’s fingers curled around the radio. His voice trembled, but his mouth moved as if wanted to say something.

“I think he wants us to go,” Asahi muttered.

Haruto exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “We don’t know if this is legit, kid.”

Ren swallowed hard. But the determination in his refused to settle down.

Haruto looked over at Asahi. “But, it wouldn’t hurt to check it out.”

Asahi hesitated. “We don’t know what’s out there. It’s pointless trying to pursue a dead end.”

“We’ve got sufficient weapons,” Haruto countered. “We can defend ourselves.”

They both turned to Ren, who, for the first time, had something other than grief in his eyes.

A purpose.

Haruto exhaled. “This might be a link… to the safe haven. To the person we’ve been looking for.”

Finally, Asahi sighed. “Alright.”

Ren’s grip on the radio tightened.

The next few days were spent following the signal.

They navigated through abandoned highways, crossing empty bridges and empty ghost towns.

At night, they camped in ruined buildings or in the open, eating meager rations while the radio played the same message on repeat, or so they thought.

The broadcast changed every-so slightly with every repetition.

“—Sanctuary 7… the cure… the last hope…—”

“…Veil-sickness… symptoms worsening… We… need… more… volunteers… willing… to…”

“If you are hearing this broadcast, please… come. There is… safety… in unity.”

Ren kept his sketchbook close, scribbling feverishly.

He kept drawing his family. His sister, Aoi, smiling softly beside him. Their home, before everything fell apart. Pages filled with fragmented memories – his mother’s gentle hands, his father’s warm eyes, the way Aoi used to ruffle his hair.

But something had changed, his strokes were no longer trembling. Instead, there was a strange sense of resolve in his eyes. It wasn’t that he had moved on from Aoi’s death. That wound would never fully heal. But piece by piece, he was letting go of the pain that had kept him shackled. He wasn’t just drawing memories anymore – he was drawing forward.

Meanwhile, Asahi had stopped painting. His usual absentminded strokes and the quiet moments where he’d lose himself in colors and canvas – all of it had faded.

Haruto, however, watched everything.

He watched Ren’s fixation.

He watched Asahi’s skepticism.

He would sit, alone in the darkness, adjusting the radio. He turned one of the knobs and the static shifted.

He exhaled and adjusted it back.

It wasn’t time yet.

Finally, after days of journeying, they reached the source of the broadcast.

A tall radio tower, standing tall against the backdrop of the ruined skyline.

It was old, rusted and covered in vines. But the blinking red light at the top still pulsed faintly.

Beside it was a small cabin, nestled among the ruins.

Haruto’s breath hitched. “This is it.”

Asahi narrowed his eyes. “This… We walked here off-course for this damn rotten cabi—"

He was cut short by Ren who brought their attention to the repeating radio broadcast. However, this time, the message felt different.

“—Sanctuary 7… the cure… the last hope…—”

“…Veil-sickness… symptoms getting better… We… need… volunteers… willing… to… become one.”

“If you are hearing this broadcast, please… come. There is… no other choice.”

However, Haruto didn’t respond.

He slowly approached the cabin.

It was silent. Too silent.

He stepped forward, his fingers tightening around the door handle. He glanced back at the other two.

“Shall we?”

And with that —

The door creaked open.