Shadows, Haunting

The hammers weighed too much. His hands slipped against the grips, his arms trembling. But he held them anyway.

The thing twitched. Jerking. Waiting.

Then it lunged.

Hinato swung the right hammer wild. It smashed into its shoulder with a crack that shot all the way up his arm. The thing stumbled, crashed into the dirt—

And then it was standing again.

Screaming. Always screaming.

“Why don’t you stay down!” Hinato roared, voice tearing.

It came at him again. Claws flashing. Hinato ducked, only fear driving his actions. The left hammer slammed into its ribs. The angle was wrong, sloppy, but the force still knocked it sideways.

For a second—he thought maybe.

But no. It twitched, jerked, started pulling itself upright.

Hinato gripped both hammers tighter, swinging again and again. Shoulder. Side. Knee. Anything he could reach. Every blow raw, messy. Not skill. Not control. Just survival.

And then—

The battlefield flickered.

Warm sunlight. A kitchen. Quiet. A bowl on the table. Honeydew, pale green, slices glistening. His mom’s hand reaching, smile faint but real.

“Here, Hina,” she said softly. “Don’t forget… there’s still sweetness left in the world.”

The vision cracked apart.

Hinato gasped, dragged back into the present. The thing glitching in front of him—his mom’s face, then Alex’s, then strangers. Hollow, broken.

But the honeydew stayed. Sweetness. Fragile. A promise.

“No…” His grip tightened. His voice shook. “You don’t get to take her face.”

He roared it this time.

“YOU DON’T GET TO TAKE MY MEMORIES!”

It lunged.

Hinato surged forward. Both hammers swung up in a brutal cross, smashing beneath its jaw. Black mist burst out, the body collapsing with one last screech that bled into silence.

Hinato stood there. Chest heaving. Sweat in his eyes. His knuckles white.

The world quiet, except his own breath.

And in the stillness—honeydew again. Soft. Sweet. Proof not everything was meant to rot.

He turned—froze.

Someone was watching.

A boy his age crouched behind a rusted fence post, white hair streaked with black, eyes wide with horror. Clothes torn. Dirt smeared. He looked like he’d been hiding there the whole time.

Hinato raised the hammers, stepping forward

“Are you… human?”

The boy’s lips trembled. “Y-Yeah…” His voice cracked. “Don’t—don’t come closer.”

Hinato narrowed his eyes. “If you were one of them, you’d already be trying to kill me.”

The boy flinched at the word kill. His gaze dropped to the motionless corpse on the ground, the one Hinato had just beaten into silence. His breathing quickened, shallow and uneven, like the sight alone was enough to tear him apart.

Hinato lowered his hammers slowly. “What’s your name?”

“…Kage.” The boy swallowed hard. “And I—I can’t do what you just did. I can’t… fight them.” His fists clenched at his sides. “I can’t even look at them without wanting to run.”

Hinato studied him for a moment. Kage’s shoulders shook, his body trembling like a cornered animal. His hands were empty, fingers curling against his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.

And yet—there was something steady beneath the fear. The way he stayed close, didn’t bolt, didn’t collapse. The way his gaze stayed fixed on Hinato, sharp with worry but not running from the reality in front of him.

Hinato didn’t see uselessness. He saw someone terrified and still choosing to stand there. Someone who reminded him of himself years ago—helpless, watching his mother slip away, unable to do a damn thing to stop it. Except Kage wasn’t turning away from the horror. He was facing it, even if his body shook.

He exhaled shakily, shoulders tight. “Then… don’t fight,” Hinato said, the words stumbling out like he wasn’t sure of them. “Not now. Just… just stay close to me.”

Kage blinked, surprised. “You’d… let me stay? Even if I can’t—”

Hinato’s grip slipped a little on the hammers before he adjusted, knuckles white. They still felt too heavy for him, too big, but he forced himself to hold them up. “I don’t… I don’t care. Just—” he faltered, swallowing hard, “just don’t panic. If you’re with me, I’ll… I’ll figure it out.”

Kage hesitated, then nodded quickly, almost desperate. “O-Okay.”

For a second, Hinato saw it again—the honeydew melon, glowing green against the dark. Sweetness in bitterness. His mom’s tired smile as she slid the bowl toward him. See, Hina—not everything goes bad too fast.

Maybe Kage was the same.

Hinato looked back to the ruined street, throat dry. “We should… move,” he said, and the crack in his voice made him wince. He cleared his throat and tried again, quieter. “More of those things’ll come if we stay here.”

Kage followed when he stepped forward, his steps uneven, breaths shaky. And though Hinato wouldn’t admit it—not even in the corners of his own mind—something stirred. Not strength. Not yet. But the kind of pull that made him want to keep someone safe, even when he could barely protect himself.

He didn’t know why. He didn’t know if either of them would survive the night.

But something inside whispered that this boy wasn’t just another stranger.

He was the first person Hinato couldn’t bring himself to leave behind.

The two of them walked in silence for a while, their footsteps crunching softly against the broken pavement. The ruined city was eerily quiet now, like the fight had driven everything else into hiding.

Hinato led with the hammers hung close by his side, his eyes scanning every corner. Kage trailed behind, hugging his arms close to his body like he was trying to make himself smaller.

Eventually, Hinato spotted the collapsed frame of what used to be a convenience store. Its windows were shattered, its sign hanging by a single rusted chain. But the walls still stood.

“This will do,” Hinato muttered, pushing the door aside.

Inside smelled of mold and dust, but there were shelves half-intact, and at least two walls without holes. A decent enough bunker, for now.

They cleared the place quickly—no creatures, no bodies, just silence and debris. Hinato shoved a shelf across the entrance for makeshift reinforcement. Dust swirled in the stale air, catching what little light slipped through the broken glass.

Finally, with the hammers laid across his lap, Hinato sat down against the wall. His shoulders ached. His knuckles were raw from gripping too tightly.

Kage sat across from him, knees tucked to his chest. He looked out of place here, like a boy who should’ve been in school, not in a dead world.

After a while, Hinato broke the silence. “So how did you get here?”

Kage blinked. “Huh?”

“In this world,” Hinato clarified, his voice low but steady. “How did you end up here?”

“Oh…” Kage scratched the back of his neck, avoiding Hinato’s eyes. “I just… woke up here. A month ago.”

Hinato’s head snapped toward him. “A month?! You can’t fight, and you’ve survived a month?”

“I mean—I hide,” Kage said quickly. “I run when they come close. I’ve found places they don’t go.”

Hinato narrowed his eyes. His gut twisted. Something didn’t add up.

“…Wait.” He leaned forward. “What day is it?”

Kage tilted his head. “What?”

“What. Day. Is it?” Hinato pressed, his grip tightening around the hammer handle.

Kage hesitated. “August twelfth… I think.”

Hinato froze. His throat went dry.

“That’s not possible,” he muttered. His chest tightened, like the air had turned heavier. “It was December. December 8th My—” His voice cracked, but he forced the words out. “My birthday. That’s when I was pulled in.”

Kage frowned. “But… that would mean…”

Hinato’s pulse thundered in his ears. Eight months. Eight months had passed outside his knowing, while he had only just arrived.

“Time doesn’t move the same here,” Hinato whispered, half to himself. “Or… someone’s moving it for us.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Kage pulled his knees tighter to his chest, staring at the floor. His voice was almost a whisper. “Hinato… what if we’re not supposed to go back?”

Hinato looked at him sharply. The thought twisted like a knife in his gut.

But then, unbidden, the memory of honeydew flickered in his mind again—sweetness, sunlight, a mother’s hand. Proof that some part of the real world still existed.

“We’re going back,” Hinato said firmly, his voice hard as stone. “Even if I have to drag time itself by the throat to do it.”

Kage’s eyes widened at the conviction in his voice. For the first time, Hinato saw something flicker in the boy’s expression—not fear, but… hope.