Volume 4 – Chapter 8: The Old Songs

Date: September 14

Last 17 Days. 

Deliver thin, whispering waves of rain in the early hours of that day.

That very rainy kind which does not soak you but creeps below and just remains there: cold with a touch of stubbornness. That rainy kind which makes the sky color look like it has forgotten being blue entirely.

The air inside the shelter withered, replaced by blankets thrown across crates. There was Kaito, seated at one corner, drying his notebook pages one by one. At his side curled Rika who seemed to hum something softly.

Kanna was rummaging old radios yet again. She was obsessing over them-for days and counting. As if something of importance actually came through the static.

"I used to figure the world would end up with fire," Kanna suddenly announced, not glancing up. "Explosions. Screaming. Buildings collapsing. You know, like in the movies."

Kaito turned to her.

"But this? This silence? It's worse."

There was a long pause before Rika answered. "It's not silent. It's just quiet enough to hear what's really there things."

Kanna laughed, a little. "Deep. "

"No, really," Rika explained. "You don't notice the sound of breathing until everything else stops."

Kaito looked between the two, then pulled something from his bag.

Old music player. Cracked. Barely functional. But when he clicked it on, a low melody began to play-wobbly, broken, but still there.

A song, years ago. Something slow and nostalgic. Something that felt like it belonged to a different life.

Rika gasped.

Kanna froze.

Not a sound was spoken.

They just sat in it, listening to the old, new echoes of the world. The rain falling, the now broken radio static, and the whined, quiet, whispers of the music player-all made up to something strangely beautiful.

Hopeful it was not.

But memory was. And sometimes that is just enough.