Chapter 2 " The hopelessness "

The storm hit Sendai like a beast, roaring through the streets, swallowing the city in white. 

The wind howled, sharp as knives, flinging snow that stung my face like shards of glass. 

I clutched Ayuma against my chest, her small frame trembling under my coat.

 Her coughs, faint but persistent, cut through the storm’s growl.

 The bag of scavenged food rice, tuna, Pocky slung over my shoulder felt heavier with every step.

 The flickering streetlight we’d seen earlier was gone, drowned in the blizzard.

 We needed shelter, now, or we wouldn’t survive the night.I squinted through the snow, my boots sinking into drifts that reached my knees.

 Ayuma’s breath was warm but shallow against my neck. “Kael,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind.

 “It’s so loud… like the world’s angry.” “Hold on, kid,” I said, my throat tight.

 “We’ll find somewhere safe.”A shadow loomed ahead a shop, its sign in Japanese half-buried in snow. 

The 7-Eleven we’d scavenged was too exposed, its broken door no match for this storm. 

This new place, maybe a café or bookstore, had a shattered window but walls that looked sturdy.

 We stumbled toward it, desperate to escape the storm’s fury.

 But this wasn’t just wind and snow it felt wrong, like the world itself was growling, punishing us for daring to survive.

We pushed through the broken doorway, glass crunching under my boots. 

The air inside was stale, heavy with dust and the faint rot of forgotten things.

 I set Ayuma down on a cracked counter, her legs dangling, her face pale but her eyes wide with that stubborn spark.

 I dropped the bag and scanned the room—empty shelves, a toppled chair, a poster of a smiling idol peeling from the wall.

 The storm’s howl dulled to a low moan behind the walls, but the cold followed us, seeping into my bones.

Then I saw it movement in the shadows. I froze, my hand on the dull knife in my pocket. 

Another survivor? A threat? I stepped forward, shielding Ayuma. 

Under a splintered shelf, curled into a ball, was a puppy. It was small, its fur matted with dirt and ice, ribs sharp under its skin. 

It shivered, barely alive, its cloudy eyes blinking up at me. How was it still breathing? Thirty-eight days without the sun, in this endless winter yet it was fighting, just like us.

“Kael, look!” Ayuma slid off the counter, her voice bright despite her cough. 

She knelt beside the puppy, her hands hovering, gentle as if it might break.

 “It’s so tiny… poor thing.” “Careful,” I said, crouching beside her. “It’s weak. Might not make it.

”She shook her head, her dark hair falling over her face. “No, it’s strong. See? It’s still here.”

 She reached out, slow and soft, and stroked its head. The puppy whined, a faint sound, and leaned into her touch.

 Ayuma’s smile lit up the dim room, brighter than any streetlight. “We can’t leave it, Kael.

 We have to help.”I wanted to argue food was scarce, the storm was deadly, and she was already fading.

 But her eyes, wide and pleading, stopped me. That innocence, that stubborn hope it was why I kept going.

 “Alright,” I said, my voice rough. “But you stay warm. I’ll find something for it.

 ”She nodded, humming her tune that soft, lilting melody she’d carried since the barn.

 She sat cross-legged, cradling the puppy in her lap, her fingers brushing its fur.

 “You’re gonna be okay,” she whispered to it. “We’re together now.

 I’ll name you… Yuki. Like the snow, but warmer.” “Yuki, huh?” I said, rummaging through our bag.

 I found a cracker, crumbled it into small pieces, and set them near the puppy. It sniffed weakly but didn’t eat. 

Ayuma’s face fell, but she didn’t give up. She broke the pieces smaller, her hands steady despite the cold.

“Try this, Yuki,” she said, holding a crumb to its nose. “You need to eat to get strong.”

 Her voice was soft, like she was coaxing a friend.

 The puppy licked the crumb, and Ayuma’s laugh bright, fleeting filled the room.

 “See, Kael? He’s trying!”I forced a smile, but my chest ached.

 The puppy was too far gone, its breaths shallow, its eyes dim. But Ayuma’s hope was a fire I couldn’t douse.

 I built a small pile of broken wood from the shop’s shelves, lit a fire with my flint, and sat beside her. 

The flames cast shadows on her face, her smile soft as she talked to Yuki.

“Do you think Yuki had a family?” she asked, not looking up. “Before… all this?” “Maybe,” I said, poking the fire. 

“Probably someone loved him.” “Like you love me?” Her voice was small, but the words hit like a punch.

I swallowed, my throat tight. “Yeah, kid. Like that.”She grinned, leaning against me, the puppy nestled in her lap. 

“Then we’re his family now. Right, Yuki?” She stroked its ears, humming again, her warmth seeping into me. 

For a moment, the storm outside faded, and it was just us me, Ayuma, and her stubborn light, holding back the dark.

We stayed in the shop, the storm raging outside. Ayuma wouldn’t leave Yuki’s side. 

She shared her Pocky, breaking off tiny bits, trying to coax him to eat. “Chocolate’s the best,” she told him, her voice bright. 

“Mama said it makes everything better.” When he didn’t eat, she didn’t cry she just hummed louder, as if her song could keep him alive.

I watched her, this kid who’d lost everything but still found room to care.

 She tore a strip from her scarf her “lucky charm” from Sendai and wrapped it around Yuki, tucking it like a blanket.

 “There,” she said. “Now you’re warm, like us.” Her innocence was a knife in my chest. 

The world was cruel, the sun gone, the cold relentless. 

I’d been ready to die before I found her, but now? Losing her or even this puppy she’d claimed felt like losing the last piece of something I couldn’t name. 

I gave her my coat again, ignoring the chill in my bones. 

Her coughs were worse, her face paler, but her smile held, fierce and fragile.

“Tell me a story, Kael,” she said, her head resting on my shoulder, Yuki in her lap. “About the sun.”

I hesitated. Stories weren’t my thing, but her eyes begged for something bright. “Okay,” I said. 

“Once, the sun was so big it warmed the whole world. Kids like you ran through fields, drew pictures of it big, yellow, with rays like arms."

“Like mine,” she murmured, smiling.“Exactly like yours.” My voice cracked. 

“And one day… it’ll come back. You’ll draw it again.” She nodded, her eyes heavy. “I’ll draw it for you and Yuki.

”She fell asleep, her breathing uneven, Yuki curled against her. 

I stayed awake, watching the fire dwindle, listening to the storm’s roar.

 The puppy’s breaths were faint, barely there. 

I knew what was coming, but I prayed I was wrong. Morning came, or what passed for it in this sunless world. 

The storm hadn’t slowed, its howl shaking the walls. 

Ayuma woke, her first move to check Yuki. She touched his fur, then froze.

 “Kael,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “He’s… he’s not moving.”

I knelt beside her, my heart sinking. The puppy was still, its cloudy eyes open but empty.

 The cold had taken him, like it took everything. Ayuma’s hands shook as she clutched the scarf around him, her hum silenced.

“No,” she said, soft but fierce. “He was fighting. He was…” Her voice broke, and she buried her face in my chest, her sobs muffled. 

I held her, my own eyes burning. I wanted to fix it, to bring Yuki back, to give her the sun she dreamed of. 

But I had nothing. “It’s not fair,” she whispered. “He was so small.

 Like the sun… it’s gone, and now he’s gone, and it’s all so cold. ”Her words cut deeper than the wind. 

The sun’s absence had stolen warmth, life, hope and now this puppy, this tiny spark she’d poured her heart into.

 The world was cruel, relentless, and it didn’t care about her drawings or her songs. 

I held her tighter, my voice rough. “I know, kid. I know.”She pulled back, wiping her eyes.

 “We should bury him. So he’s not alone.”I nodded, though the ground was frozen, the storm raging.

 We wrapped Yuki in her scarf, her hands gentle, her face set with quiet resolve.

 She hummed again, softer now, a goodbye. 

The world felt heavier, the gray sky a mirror of the emptiness inside me.

 Ayuma was my sun, but even she couldn’t fight this cold forever. 

Her coughs, her pale skin, the storm outside they were all closing in.

As we stepped toward the door, the storm surged, a wall of white slamming against the shop. 

Snow poured through the broken window, the wind screaming like a living thing. 

I pulled Ayuma back, shielding her as the walls groaned. 

The world was swallowing us, and I didn’t know if we’d outrun it this time.