Waves of Hope

As they got on the road, Kotae cracked a smile and said,
"Sooo... we're doing this. But... what are we going to do when we run out of fuel?" His tone was half-serious.

Leonor glanced at the dashboard. "What are the chances we can find a fuel station still functional?"

Kotae squinted at the sky, pretending to do math in his head.
"About 0.7%."

"That's more than I expected," Leonor replied.

Linda added, "As much as we want to do this, maybe we shouldn’t make the whole trip unless we find some fuel."

"I have to agree," said Kika. "Maybe we can find a pool instead. Although it's not the same."

Kotae paused, thinking.
"It pains me to admit it, but that’s right. It’d be pretty stupid to run out of fuel just for a swim. Somehow, I still feel like it would be worth it—but it’s definitely not smart. Let’s check out some places then."

Everyone nodded.

They continued down the empty road, passing a couple of gas stations that looked more like wreckage sites than anything operational. Windows shattered, doors hanging off hinges, and the faint, invisible residue of panic clinging to the walls. It had only been a week, but it felt like the world had aged by years.

It wasn’t just the four of them—everything was changing. The world itself was collapsing, and people, in their desperation to make things better for themselves, only seemed to make it worse. It was human nature. We destroy more than we protect—land, animals, other people, even the planet itself. All of it ticking boxes on some unwritten list, with or without the end looming.

But really, wasn't the end always looming? Whether it's the collapse of society or just the quiet end of an individual life, doom is ever-present. The only real difference is time. The speed of it. Each person faces their own apocalypse eventually. And yet, despite that, we build societies. We make things work. Perspective is everything—and when the timer runs low, it shifts. Like tectonic plates reshaping continents, that shift changes people.

Up ahead, a car pulled in behind them. It kept its distance, but it followed. A subtle unease settled in. Was it a coincidence, or was danger creeping close again? They stayed ready, eyes sharp.

As they neared the third gas station, this one seemed promising. The lot was empty, but not destroyed. They pulled in—and so did the car behind them.

Kotae kept his eyes on the rearview mirror. Two silhouettes stepped out, and their shapes became clear.

"Nina and Nakima," he muttered.

With a mischievous grin, he honked. The sisters jumped, startled like two scaredy cats, then froze.

Kotae was the first to step out. The others followed.

"Well, well, well. Who do we have here?"

"You'll pay for the scare you gave us. Mark my words," Nakima grinned.

"So, it seems like fate brought us all here. Let me guess. Gas?" said Kika.

"Well, duh," Nakima replied.

Nina added, "We thought that after a week, most people would’ve locked themselves up at home."

"Seems like that’s the case. Barely anyone around," said Linda.

"That was a nice bit of chit-chat," Kotae interrupted, "but let’s hurry up and see if there’s anything worth our time here."

They climbed back into their cars and pulled up to the pumps.

They inserted the hoses in unison.

Nothing.

They moved the cars to the other side, tried again—still nothing.

One more try each. Nina’s pump sputtered, then suddenly poured fuel. She jumped in glee, nearly hopping in place.

"Come get some! This one seems to have a lot!" she called out.

"Let us try the two we got left, then we’ll swerve around," said Kotae.

They moved again. First try: empty. Then they pulled just ahead of Nina’s car, tried the hose—and fuel flowed.

Relief lit up their faces like sunrise. Smiles radiated between them, unspoken hope shared in silence.

They filled their tanks and headed toward the station shop to look for gas cans.

The automatic doors didn’t open.

Inside, no one seemed to be there. They knocked.

Nothing.

Kotae raised his voice, calling out, "We came here in peace! If you help us, we can help you! Please, at least come see us! Then you can decide!"

He figured if the store was truly empty, the doors wouldn’t be locked. It was the logical assumption.

Minutes passed. Then finally, a silhouette moved behind the glass.

A girl in her early twenties stepped into view. Likely the cashier. She must’ve locked herself in when it all began.

She approached the glass cautiously, scanning the group.

"You’re the first group to come here and not immediately try to break the windows," she said.

"That’s… not surprising. What is it, bulletproof glass?" Kotae asked.

"We have a sharp one here. Yeah—bulletproof. Anyone who tried to break it gave up pretty quick."

"Listen. We’re not here to impose. We’re not thieves. All we need is a few gas cans. There’s still a bit of fuel out there, and we’ll desperately need it later on. Would you consider a trade?"

She paused, thinking.

"I’m Saki. Saki Uzo. And you are?"

Kotae stepped forward, this time more earnestly.
"I’m Kotae. Kotae Inuzaki. These right here are my people. Well—not mine, I’m theirs too. It’s our group. From left to right: my father, Leonor; my mother, Linda; my... good friend, Kika; and two sisters—Nina and Nakima. Can’t fully vouch for the sisters yet, this is only our second time meeting—but they give off good vibes."

"Nice to meet you all," Saki said.

The group gave soft greetings in return.

"I have no use for the gas cans. I won’t ask for a trade—but I would like to keep in touch. My boss was obsessed with walkie-talkies. There are a few in his office. Internet’s bound to go out eventually, so this’ll help."

Smiles spread again—genuine this time.

"That’s the greatest news we could’ve gotten today," Kotae said. "We’ve been needing something like that. If you’re ever in need, we’ll be there for you. Can you let us in?"

"Not just yet. Trusting that fast seems a bit silly, doesn’t it?"

"Fair enough."

"Take some distance from the doors. I’ll open them, leave the gas cans and radios outside, go back in, and lock up. Then you can take them. Sound good?"

"Sounds good. Take your time. Let us know when."

Before telling them to move, she told them the frequency they should all be on. They memorized it.

After a few minutes, she signaled.

They backed away. Saki unlocked the doors, left the supplies just outside, then returned inside and locked up again. She gestured that it was safe to approach.

Ten gas cans. Three walkie-talkies.

A silent understanding passed through the group.

One walkie for Kotae and his group. One for Nina and Nakima. One for Mando—whenever they’d find him again.

Nina stepped forward. "Look. There’s four of you and two of us. And yeah, it’s just the two of us—we’ll talk about that later. But because of that, you’ll probably need more fuel for more runs. We’re fine with an uneven split."

Kotae smiled. "Seems I was right about you two. You’re good people. So—how should we split it?"

"We’ll take three, you take seven," Nakima said. "If Mando shows up, give him two or three—only if you want. That way, we’re all happy."

"That sounds great," said Kika.

"No complaints here," added Leonor.

"Here neither," said Linda.

"You got a deal," Kotae said. "Let’s fill these bad boys up."

"It’s good we got that out of the way—but now let’s hope there’s enough fuel to actually fill them all," Leonor added.

They chuckled—nervous, but hopeful.

One by one, they filled the cans.

Two—full.
Another two—full.
Again—full.
Two more—yep, full.
The last two—fuel poured steadily.

They’d hit a goldmine.

As they finished loading everything into their cars, Kotae looked at the group, then let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Well,” he said, his voice cutting through the still air. “It’s been a rough week. A rough start, honestly. And we figured… it’s time to blow off some steam. Dangerous or not, who really cares at this point? We need to live, not just survive.”

Nina tilted her head, intrigued. “Go on.”

“We’re going to the beach.”

The words hung for a moment, so absurd they almost didn’t register.

Nakima blinked. “In winter?”

“Is that crazy?”

Nina laughed. “Totally.”

“This whole conversation feels like déjà vu,” Kotae added, grinning.

“It should,” Kika chimed in. “It’s literally what we said this morning.”

They all shared a warm laugh, the kind that only comes after tension breaks.

“It’s not thaaaat cold,” Kotae continued, then hesitated. “Okay—it’s cold. But I don’t think we’d die if we swam.”

“Probably not,” Nakima said with a smirk.

“The thing is... it’s kind of a stupid move. The beach is two hours away. That’s a four hours roadtrip. We’ll burn through a lot of fuel just for a dip in freezing water.”

Kika shrugged, smiling. “But we think it’s worth it.”

Kotae nodded slowly. “I’ve come to realize that maybe logic... doesn’t always have the final say. I usually treat it like a religion—but not everything should be solved like an equation.”

Kika looked at him with a proud, quiet admiration.

“So,” Kotae said, spreading his hands a little. “Weirdly enough, I’m the one who came up with this silly plan. A very, very silly plan. But I still think it’s a good one. So... you two want to come with us?”

Nina and Nakima exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable for a beat. Then, in perfect unison:

“We’re in.”

“Alright,” Kotae said, clapping his hands once. “No point in taking two cars. And it’s way too risky to carry all the gas cans with us. Let’s head back first, unload everything, and then we’ll come pick you up. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” Nakima agreed.

They traded directions, shared a round of hugs that felt strangely natural despite how new their bond was, and parted ways.

It hadn’t been a long drive to the station, and they made it home quickly. They left all but one of the gas cans behind—just in case—and then headed back out.

When they pulled up at the pickup point, Nina and Nakima were waiting with small backpacks and big grins. The car was only a five-seater, so squeezing in took a bit of maneuvering. The girls folded themselves into the back, shoulder to shoulder.

“You know,” Kotae said over his shoulder as they got moving again, “we could stop and rearrange if it’s too uncomfortable. Nakima, I’m pretty sure you could fit in the trunk.”

Nakima stuck her tongue out at him in response.

And so they drove.

No more thoughts of danger. No more scanning mirrors or checking corners. No more weighty silences filled with what-ifs. For once, they weren’t thinking about survival.

They were just thinking about living. And in that moment, that was enough.