THE CRADLE

Footsteps thundered on the cracked pavement.

“Hey! Get back here! You stole my food!”

The voice was filled with anger, sharp and desperate.

She didn’t pause for a moment. With her legs pumping and lungs burning, she weaved through the collapsed walls and broken doors, her boots splashing in puddles of murky water.

Ash fell like rain, clinging to her hair and clothes, weighing her down but she refused to slow down.

The shouts grew louder. The echo of her pursuer chased her through the ruins, bouncing off the charred walls and shattered windows.

A stray piece of metal clanged beneath her feet. She stumbled just for a heartbeat then pushed on. One more alley, one more turn, and the figure behind her disappeared from view.

At last, she skidded to a halt in an empty street, chest heaving, arms trembling. Silence enveloped the city once more.

She didn’t dare look back. Not yet.

The world felt empty, but it was still perilous. And she had nowhere to find refuge.

She noticed a small shack nestled between the ruins, its wooden walls warped and blackened by time.

Casting a cautious glance over her shoulder, she pushed the door open. The hinges creaked, sending a chill through the still air.

“ただいま… Tadaima…” she whispered softly, the Japanese words flowing from her lips almost instinctively. “I’m home…”

No response came. Silence hung heavily in the room, broken only by the faint creak of the floorboards beneath her boots.

She sighed and tilted her head, a small, bitter smile creeping onto her face. “Aww… must be sleeping,” she muttered, as if addressing someone who would never answer.

The shack was dark but offered enough safety. A thin beam of light from a broken window illuminated a corner piled with scraps: a tattered blanket, a cracked kettle, a few empty cans. She knelt down, brushing off the ash and dust from the blanket, creating a small patch of comfort in the otherwise desolate room.

For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to believe that the world outside could wait.

But the wind howled through the cracks, and somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of pursuit lingered.

She ripped into the loaf of bread she had snatched, biting and chewing as quickly as her trembling hands would allow.

Crumbs scattered across the dusty floor, but she didn’t mind. Hunger gnawed at her stomach like a wild beast, and for a few fleeting moments, nothing else mattered.

Once the bread was gone, she reached for a battered tin of water from the shelf. The liquid was cold, thin, and had a metallic taste, but she drank it down eagerly, tilting the tin until it was empty.

Finally, she sank back against the wall, pulling her knees to her chest. The shack was quiet again, though the wind rattled the loose boards outside.

She allowed herself a brief moment of rest, her eyes half-closed, muscles trembling but finally at ease.

Her chest heaved with ragged breaths. For a heartbeat, she imagined she could rest forever, as if the world outside had paused its relentless, cruel pursuit.

But that moment was delicate, like everything else in this shattered land.

The silence didn’t last long.

A sharp bang! echoed from outside, followed by another. Then a distant explosion shook the shack, sending a cloud of dust and ash swirling through the broken window.

Her eyes flew open. Heart racing, she scrambled to her feet, the small tin of water clattering to the floor.

In the corner, the cradle sat, wrapped tightly in its tattered cloth. Her hands shot out, gripping it with desperate urgency. “No… not here…” she whispered, her voice tight with fear.

Footsteps thundered from outside, heavier now, mixed with shouts. The smell of smoke and gunpowder seeped through the cracks in the walls.

She pressed the cradle to her chest, her knuckles turning white. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to protect it at all costs. The world could burn around her, but that cradle had to survive.

Another explosion rattled the shack. She took a shaky breath, shoulders tense, and backed toward the door, ready to flee into the chaos outside—but not without it.

The wasteland had teeth, and tonight, it had found her.

The sky was ablaze with fire and smoke, as dark pillars of ash shot up into the air, blocking out the sun.

The air was filled with the cries of men and women, orders barked in harsh tones, and the thunderous roar of artillery echoing across the desolate landscape.

Bullets zipped through the air, tearing into walls, trees, and anything else unfortunate enough to be in their way. Explosions erupted unpredictably, sending debris flying, splintering wood, and scattering the wounded like rag dolls across the rubble-strewn streets.

Tanks rumbled forward over cracked asphalt, their treads crunching metal and stone beneath them. Flames danced along the sides of ruined buildings, reflecting off shattered glass and twisted steel. Smoke billowed in heavy clouds, carrying the acrid stench of gunpowder, blood, and charred flesh.

Screams pierced the chaos—a mother clutching her child, a soldier collapsing under a hail of fire, a boy crying out for a sister who would never respond.

The ground trembled as mortars slammed into the earth, sending dirt and bodies flying into the air.

Above, aircraft streaked across the gray sky, leaving trails of black smoke and death in their wake. The sharp cracks of machine guns echoed in the distance, followed by the deep, rumbling booms of heavy artillery.

Horses used by desperate factions too poor to afford vehicles—panicked and galloped wildly, trampling anyone in their path.

Amid the devastation, soldiers dashed, ducked, and fired. Their faces were pale, smeared with ash and grime. Eyes wide with fear, hands shaking on their rifles, mouths shouted orders that no one could hear.

Bodies lay strewn across the streets, some burned, some broken, some barely recognizable. The air was thick with dust, clinging to the living like a second skin.

The overwhelming stench of smoke, sweat, and blood hung heavy in the atmosphere.

Buildings crumbled under relentless bombardment, sending clouds of debris cascading down. Vehicles caught fire, metal twisting and melting in the heat.

Each explosion seemed to roar louder than the last, shaking the ground and rattling the bones of anyone still clinging to life.

Time lost all meaning. Minutes dragged on like hours as the battle raged, the sky and earth engulfed in fire, smoke, and unrelenting violence. Each heartbeat felt like a drumbeat counting down to an unavoidable end.

And through it all, the world kept turning. The war didn’t pause for the weak, the weary, or the broken. It surged forward, consuming everything in its path, leaving nothing but ashes and cries behind.

Her voice sliced through the haze of memory, soft and fractured:

“Where… where did it all go wrong?”

The cradle pressed against her chest, silent and delicate. Outside, chaos roared with fire and death. Inside, she murmured to the ghost of a life that had long since faded away.

For a moment, the clamor of war fell silent. The world held its breath.

Bullets hung suspended in the air. Smoke curled in lazy spirals, frozen in time. Even the wind seemed to pause.

She didn’t hesitate.

With the cradle clutched tightly to her chest, she pushed off the wall of the crumbling shack and ran. Each step was frantic, urgent, driven by pure instinct. Ash and debris swirled around her, but she didn’t slow down.

“I… I will protect you,” she whispered, her voice shaking, “my little one… I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

The silence pressed in on her, heavy and unnatural, but she didn’t waver. Every muscle in her body screamed, every nerve screamed, but she kept running.

The shattered streets stretched out before her, dark and broken, scattered with the remnants of lives lost. But she didn’t look back. She only focused ahead. The cradle was all that mattered.

The world could crumble, bullets could rain down, and explosions could rip the ground apart beneath her feet. None of it mattered.

She ran as if the very world depended on it—because for her, it truly did.

“I’ll protect you,” she whispered again, tears carving paths through the ash on her cheeks. “No matter what… no matter what happens…”

The silence hung in the air, broken only by the rapid thud of her boots and the cradle held so tightly against her chest.