Volume 4 – Chapter 5: A Day Without Plans

Date: September 11

Last 20 Days. 

Kaito woke first, and for once, there was no urgency to it.

The sky outside was gray, not stormy—just quiet. For the first time in weeks, no one rushed to reinforce barriers, check water, or ration supplies. There were no alarms, no radio calls, no meetings. Just breath. Just silence.

He lay still, staring at the ceiling of their makeshift shelter—a canopy of bent metal and mismatched wood panels. Rika was beside him, curled slightly toward him, her hand near his, not quite touching.

When she stirred, she whispered, “Is it morning?”

He smiled a little. “Technically.”

They got up slowly. No one had assigned tasks. No one had to do anything. The oddest thing, Kaito thought, was how heavy that freedom felt.

Kanna had already gone outside. She sat on the dusty ground, barefoot, fingers idly drawing lines in the dirt. When Rika joined her, she looked up, a little surprised.

“We could do nothing today,” Kanna said.

Rika blinked. “I… think we should.”

So they did.

No rebuilding. No measuring food. No updates from the failing radio tower. They walked. Talked. Kanna found an old harmonica in the debris and managed to pull a half-decent note from it. Kaito laughed for the first time in what felt like years.

They watched clouds.

They tried to remember old songs.

Kanna asked about their childhoods—what they used to believe in. Rika told her about her mother’s perfume, the smell of lemons in summer. Kaito remembered the first time he’d ridden a bike downhill, no brakes, terrified and free.

As the sun set, they sat under what used to be a bus stop, now stripped to its metal bones.

“You ever wonder,” Kanna said suddenly, “what we’d be like if this never happened?”

Kaito nodded slowly. “Maybe we’d be strangers.”

“Maybe,” Rika whispered. “But I think… I’d still find you.”

The sky turned orange, then red, then dark. There was no meaning to the day—no progress, no purpose.

And yet, they all felt… lighter.

Sometimes, surviving meant letting yourself stop pretending you could fix anything. Sometimes, it meant just living for a single, useless, perfect day.