The Turning Point (Chapter 6)

The road stretched long and quiet, painted in pale winter sunlight as their car glided over the cold asphalt. It had been about an hour—an hour of uncertain silence, half-hearted small talk, and staring out at snow-blanketed fields. Then, just as planned, they saw the other car parked in the distance, sitting still like it had been waiting forever.

The meeting place was an open field, barren and wide.

They pulled up beside the car. Everyone stepped out. The wind bit at their skin as it swept across the field, carrying the kind of stillness that didn’t feel right.

Two figures stood ahead, leaning against their car, arms crossed, almost too relaxed.

Kotae narrowed his eyes.

The shorter of the two stepped forward, cracking a wry smile. “It’s been a while, Kika.”

Kika blinked. “Ruru Kuzaki,” she said, almost with disbelief. “Sure has been.”

The taller one, with colder eyes and sharper movements, stood beside him. “We’re sorry to do this to you,” said Nanato Mezumi, “but, well… the world is ending.”

Kika’s brow furrowed. “What do you m—”

Before she could finish, Nanato raised a gun and pointed it at her.

Ruru followed suit, drawing his own weapon, his aim bouncing between Kotae and his father.

Kotae blinked slowly. “This wasn’t in the script.”

His father stepped in, voice calm, firm. “Guys, you don’t want to do this. Don’t lose your humanity so fast—for what? Supplies? Not even two days in?”

Ruru shrugged, casual and cold. “What difference does it make if we do this today, in a week, or in a month? We’d end up doing it anyway. May as well save ourselves the time.”

Kotae’s fists clenched. “So this is greed disguised as inevitability?”

Ruru’s expression hardened. “Not everyone had your kind of luck.”

“Luck?” Kotae snapped. “You think this was luck?”

“Don’t act like it wasn’t,” Ruru muttered.

Kotae’s father stepped forward, eyes steady. “No. It wasn’t. Kotae thought ahead, acted before the world lost its mind. He earned what we have. You could've done that too.”

“Funny how bold you get with a gun in your face," Nanato replied.

Silence fell. Cold, tight, fragile silence.

Then Ruru said, “Enough morality. Load the food and water into our car.”

Kotae raised his hands slowly. “Alright, alright. Dad, let’s do it.”

His father nodded, and as they turned toward the trunk, Kotae gave the smallest, quickest wink.

It was all the signal his father needed.

They each grabbed a box, walked past Ruru and Nanato—and then, with precise coordination and explosive speed, they dropped the boxes. A loud thud, a cloud of cold air—and then chaos.

Kotae dove for Nanato’s wrist, shoving the barrel of the gun toward the frozen ground. His father tackled Ruru, forcing him down with a chokehold. Both guns clattered to the ground. In seconds, both attackers were pinned, the power dynamic flipped.

Kotae wrestled the pistol from Nanato’s hand and scrambled to his feet. His father did the same.

Breathing hard, Kotae scanned their enemies’ car. Empty.

Of course.

He turned back to them, eyes sharp. “You know, maybe others would feel pity for you two. Maybe they'd try to find the humanity in you still.”

His father stepped beside him, voice low and certain. “But we don’t.”

Kotae nodded. “Not today. Maybe on a better day, we’d give you something. Pay you for your precious time.” He smirked, bitter and tired. “But not today.”

He raised the gun slightly, just holding it as a final word.

“Now get in your car,” he said. “And get the hell away from us.”

Ruru and Nanato didn’t argue. Beaten, breathless, and humiliated, they climbed back into their vehicle and sped off down the frozen road, shrinking into dots in the distance.

The silence that followed was thick. Kika stood still, eyes wide, hands trembling slightly.

“This…” she began, voice cracking.

“No need for words,” Kotae said quietly, holstering the gun. “Let’s get back. We’ll calm down, and talk then.”

Kika nodded faintly. “Okay…”

They turned to the car, loaded their untouched supplies back into the trunk, and drove off. No one spoke on the way back.

The real world had arrived. And it wasn’t going to be kind.

They made it back just as the sky began turning to gold, the sun dragging itself down behind the clouds in slow defeat. The car rolled into the driveway with quiet wheels and heavy hearts.

Inside, the warmth of home didn’t quite reach them. They stepped into the living room—Kika pale and shaken, Kotae and his father walking like men just returned from a war they hadn't expected.

Kotae’s mother stood from the couch the second she saw them. Her eyes darted between their faces, reading the tension, the anger, the exhaustion.

“What happened?” she asked, voice laced with dread.

Kotae exhaled, as if trying to empty the bad air still caught in his lungs. “So... the good news is that we now have two guns. Not that we ever intend to use them, but it gives us a sliver of protection. A psychological edge, at least.”

He paused, jaw tight.

“The bad news,” he continued, “is that I’m already a paranoid guy. And now I’m even more convinced that any future trade could mean gambling with our lives every single time.”

His mother’s face twisted with fear. “Why? What happened out there?”

Kotae sat down slowly, as if the day had finally caught up with him. “They tried to rob us. There was no generator—never was. The whole thing was a setup. They had guns. We were outmatched, outgunned, and out there in the middle of nowhere. But we managed to flip the situation. Somehow.”

There was a pause as those words sank in. His mother sat down beside him, covering her mouth, her eyes glassy. “Please,” she whispered, “don’t ever do that again… We can deal with no electricity. No warmth. We'll make it work. Just—just don’t risk your lives like that.”

Kotae looked at her, eyes softening. “I know. I really do. But at some point… we’re going to run out. Of everything. Sitting here, refusing to move out of fear, that’s a slow death too. Might take longer, but the ending is the same. I can’t pretend otherwise. It’s the truth. And it's ugly.”

A cold silence filled the room again—one of many they’d come to know since the world changed.

Kotae ran a hand through his hair, voice lower now. “We definitely learned something from this. Those two? They weren’t very capable. That’s probably why we’re still here. Me and Dad could feel it—something was off. That’s why we went for it. But next time…”

His dad nodded in agreement, arms crossed.

“Next time,” Kotae continued, “we won’t leave anything to chance. We can still meet in open fields—but we set strict terms. They step out, leave the item. Back into their car. We do the same. No exceptions.”

He looked up, eyes narrowed. “Now, whether we can even find someone with a real generator is another problem entirely. While we still have internet, we need to post about it online. That should give us some decent chances."

Kika, who had been quiet in the corner, her arms wrapped around herself, finally spoke—her voice fragile. “I’m sorry... I shouldn’t have trusted them. That’s my—”

Kotae looked at her, shaking his head. “No. This isn’t on anyone. Two days ago, we lived normal lives. We were safe. Secure. How could any of us be ready for something like this, especially so fast? But every day, that naivety dies a little more. And the less of it we have, the better chance we stand of surviving.”

Kika stepped forward suddenly and hugged him tightly. She didn’t speak, and neither did he. They just stood there for a moment, locked in a quiet that wasn’t entirely empty.

His dad leaned against the wall, arms still crossed. “I think that’s it for today,” he said, his tone firm but not cold. “Yesterday was a success. Today wasn’t. We take the wins, accept the losses. And tomorrow, we try again. Plus, we didn't exactly leave this predicament empty handed.”

Everyone nodded.

They were tired. But they were still here.

And that was something.