Even If Time's Run Out

Day 28

The mountains fell behind her like a memory she didn’t want to let go of—but did anyway. She shouldn’t stay too long in one place. There was still so much more to see in this world.

Sayo walked.

Down winding paths where snow turned to gravel. Past trees with blackened bark and grass that looked like it had forgotten how to grow. She wasn’t sure where she was going anymore. There was no map for the places left behind—only instinct. Only forward. But the air was warm and reached out to her with open arms.

Eventually, the path ended—not in a line, but in a slow disintegration. The earth cracked beneath her feet. Concrete mixed with roots. A broken overpass jutted out like the spine of a dead animal. The buildings nearby were skeletons: bent rebar, shattered windows, hollow towers split in half. Somewhere in the distance, the forest clawed toward the ruins, reclaiming what it could.

There was still so much more to see. And she planned to see all of it.

She paused at the edge, half-expecting the city to groan or breathe.

It didn’t.

Then, she saw him.

A small figure, scrawny and hunched between the remains of a bus stop and a vending machine split open like a wound. He didn’t flinch when she approached. His clothes were stained with ash and dust. His hair was tangled. His eyes—empty. Not wide with fear. Not narrowed in anger. Just... gone.

He looked too young to be alone. Too quiet to be waiting for someone.

Sayo crouched slowly, keeping her hands visible, her voice quiet.
“Hey. Are you hurt?”

The boy didn’t respond. He stared through her.

“It’s okay. I’m not here to take anything,” she added. “I don’t have much, anyway.”

Still no answer.

But when she offered him a bottle of water, his fingers twitched.

That was enough.

She didn’t ask his name. Not yet. Names felt too heavy for introductions out here. Instead, she waited. Sat with him—a distance away, but close enough—leaning against the vending machine. Gave him space. Gave him shade. Gave him silence.

When he drank, she smiled.
When he leaned against her arm that night, trying not to shake from the cold, she wrapped her jacket around him and whispered,
“I’ve got you, okay?”

And from that moment, she did.

She didn’t know why.
Maybe she needed someone to hold on to.
Maybe he did too.
Maybe it didn’t matter.

She cleaned him up the best she could with river water and a cloth. Shared her rations. Combed out the worst of the tangles in his hair. Told him about the stars, even though they were hidden most nights. She started calling him Noa without asking if that was really his name.

He didn’t correct her.

By the end of the week, they had a rhythm. A quiet understanding.
She spoke to fill the silence. He listened without interrupting.
Sometimes, she thought he might never talk again.

But he always walked beside her now.

And that was enough.

That night, while Noa slept curled beside a pile of blankets she’d scavenged, Sayo sat alone by the remains of a porch. It had been a week here, in these ruins. And she truly was seeing all parts of the world—even the broken ones. The air smelled like moss and rust. Somewhere in the distance, waves crashed against a half-sunken pier.

She looked at her phone for a long time before dialing Rika’s number. It had almost been a month since she left.
Would Rika want her to reach out?

She didn’t think too hard before hitting record.

Her voice was tired, but gentle.

“Hey… how are you? I hope you’re doing okay. I am, if you’re wondering. I’ve visited three places this month. The beach, the mountains… and right now, I have no idea where I am.”

She laughed softly.

“The waves sound like old lullabies. I think this is what I needed. To find beauty again. And this place really is—soft, still, and kind. The kind of beautiful that makes you ache. It reminded me of you, the coast.”

A pause.

“I wish I could explain everything better. I just... needed to breathe, Rika. And I really am sorry for leaving like that. Maybe you won’t forgive me—I know you won’t, because that’s just how you are—but I’ll wait for you anyway. Even if time’s already run out.”

The wind shifted. She closed her eyes.

“I found a place to stay. It’s not much, but… there’s something comforting about it. Maybe it’s a little less than a home, honestly. The place is in shambles. I’ve also found a kid. Well, not exactly a kid—probably about five years younger than us. More of a teen. He’s… really like you when you were younger.”

Her thumb hovered over the send button.

“I miss you. But I wasn’t ready. I don’t know if I’m ready now, either. I just know I’m still here. And I think… I want to keep being here. I hope that’s enough. And I hope you know I see it—that you’re still trying.”

A breath.

“You’re Rika, after all. Rika Endou never stops until she gets what she wants, right? You said that so proudly at the start of university that I still remember it. Always will.”

A faint smile.

“But either way… I hope you’re eating. Sleeping. Resting. Though you’re probably not.”

A final pause.

“That’s it from me for now. I’ll check back again soon.”

She sent the message and put down her phone. She looked up at the stars, thinking of nothing in particular.

And beside her, the boy turned in his sleep.