Chapter 6: The End Begins (2)

Midori had spent some time watching Hanashiro Ren from across hallways and classrooms, noting how teachers’ voices changed when they called on him, how other students shifted their desks a few centimeters away.

The bleached tips and bruise‑like shadows under his eyes made his father’s warnings echo: “Stay focused. No distractions.” So Midori kept his distance, even when they passed in the hallways. Until that one afternoon changed everything.

It happened on a late autumn twilight as Midori biked home along the quiet road into the city. That ride was the high point of his day, a chance to leave everything behind. His father loathed the idea, claiming it was beneath the family, which only made Midori enjoy it more.

He’d almost missed it—thinking back—a flash of white hair by the canal. There was Ren, the man they whispered about behind his back standing waist-deep in the freezing, dirty water, one good arm tucked under the rib cage of a battered cat that must have tumbled in.

Midori watched him haul the animal from the water with tender urgency. Ren knelt, pressed his palm to its chest, murmuring as he rubbed warmth back into its limp body—and somehow, the cat began to breathe again.

That day, Midori found space in his heart for someone new.

“Could you be any dumber?”

Now that same man stood before him, face speckled with blood. Ren had gripped Midori’s collar so hard he almost lifted him off the ground, those oddly colored eyes aflame with something he couldn’t quite place.

Anger? Worry?

He released him at once, a flicker of regret in his expression.

“Sorry. That was...”

Midori’s gaze drifted to the ruined form of Miyazaki Takashi—his old wrestling teammate—smeared against the wall like rotting fruit. “What… what happened?”

The last few moments flickered through his mind. Trying to hold Takashi down, thinking he could knock him out, the searing pain as those rigid, pale fingers crushed his wrist and dragged him in.

“You nearly died.”

His blazer was gone, his clothes slick with blood. Midori felt laughter bubble up at the relief. “You’re alive.”

Ren’s head snapped down the corridor. “Quiet. They react to sound.”

“They?”

“These things. Whatever they are. Where’s Haruka?”

Midori blinked, thrown by the desperation in his voice. Ren never talked about Haruka much. Every time Midori mentioned her, he’d clam up or change the subject. He felt a twinge of something—not quite jealousy, not quite suspicion—a complicated knot in his chest that only tightened when he tried to untangle it.

“She’s on the roof with Kuro. They’re safe.”

“Good.”

Before he could say more, a body stirred against the wall. Ren pivoted and strode off, leaving Midori to notice Fujimori Yuka—one of the more well-liked counselors—propped against the lockers, clutching Ren’s blazer. “Ms. Fujimori!” He hurried to her, looping an arm under her shoulder.

“Thank you.” She managed a small, grateful smile. Her focus shifted to Ren. “And… thank you.”

“Is the rest of the place empty?” Ren asked him.

Midori nodded. “The helicopters must have triggered something. I saw everything from the supply closet before they sniffed me out. People jumping…” His voice faltered. “The top floors should be a little safer now.”

“The ground floor’s overrun.”

“We should head back,” Midori said, adjusting his hold on Yuka. “The others... I only left to find you. Haru’s probably panicking.”

Ren stared at him. “You risked your life to find me? You really are hopeless. Next time, prioritize your own survival. Come on. And remember—quiet.”

Midori wanted to say something, but he knew better. Ren wouldn’t listen. He tightened his hold on Yuka’s arm, his attention drifting to the crimson starburst painting the wall. Questions burned in his throat, but he swallowed them down. If they lived through this, there would be time for answers.

* * *

Smoke rolled across the rooftop, stinging Ren’s nostrils with each pull of air. Past the chain-link fence, the city lay under a choking blanket of soot and flickering flames. The sun was a blood-red disc, struggling to pierce the heavy smog. The schoolyard throbbed with motion, but not the kind of life that belonged here.

His fingers clenched the cold metal, its surface numbing his palm. Protect her? You should know better than anyone, old man. I can’t protect anything.

“Are you okay?”

Yuka stood a hair’s breadth beside him, waving a hand. Her spectacles spider-webbed with cracks, a thin rivulet of blood traced a line from her hairline to her jaw, yet her lips curved into that familiar smile.

“There he is. You had that look you always get in my office.”

Ren exhaled, watching embers drift overhead.

“Sorry…”

She extended his blazer, neatly folded. “Figured you’d want this back.”

He took his blazer, glancing past her to where Midori, Haruka, and Kurobane huddled at the roof’s far edge in a ragged half-circle. Beyond, the ocean was a vast sheet of polished steel, rolling under leaden clouds. He lingered on Haruka’s face. “We’re even,” he murmured, working his arm into one sleeve.

“What do you—?”

Midori waved them over.

“Come on, Doc.”

Ren felt her eyes on him, but now wasn’t the time for therapy.

“Listen to this,” Midori said.

They were all staring at their phone screens. A newscaster’s trembling voice pierced the air: “Citizens are urged to remain indoors. The Prime Minister has declared a state of emergency. The number of confirmed deaths… Oh… Oh my God—I have to see my family! I have to go! Forgive—” The feed flickered and repeated.

“What is happening…?”

“I wish I knew,” Midori said, voice tight. “It’s the same wherever we look.”

“We should listen,” Kurobane said. “Stay here, lie low, wait for help.”

“That would be stupid.” Ren added.

“And running down into that hell is somehow smarter? I swung a fucking metal bat at one of those monsters and it still kept coming.”

“Guys. Calm down,” Midori interjected. “Fighting won’t help. We need a plan.”

“I have a plan. Just trust me.”

Kurobane’s brow furrowed, suspicion sharpening his face. “Trust you? You’re the most suspicious person I know.”

“I’m trying to help you.”

“That’s enough! You’re behaving like children!” Yuka removed her glasses and kneaded the spot between her brows. “The facts are the facts. If we stay, we’re trapped. It’s not safe.”

“Safer than what’s down there. We—”

“My family’s out there!” Haruka yelled. Her eyes wide, the words ripping out raw. The sudden proclamation cut their argument short. She stepped closer to the railing, fists clenched so tightly her knuckles went white. “I won’t hide.”

Ren felt something pull at his heart. He was worried, too. More than just worried. Aki’s smiling face. Tetsuya’s boisterous laugh. Hayate’s fond gaze. They filled his mind. Her eyes met his for a moment before sliding to Kurobane, who crumbled completely within seconds.

“Fine! Fine! But how are we going to get past all that?”

“An excellent question. Even if we could make it to my car, there’s too many of us to fit inside. And I doubt I’ll be able to smash through the gate in it,” Yuka said.

“What about the monorail?”

“Maybe… But it might be too dangerous. I’m sure a lot of people thought the same thing. Getting there will be harder than reaching the bridge. Not to mention, our line leads directly to the heart of the city.” Yuka shook her head, wincing at the act. “No. We’ll die for certain if we do that.” Her brow furrowed, a faraway look in her eyes. “There are a few tour buses parked on the school grounds. Students from Seika High were visiting the campus today. The keys are on the first floor, opposite the lounge. I think that’s our best shot.”

Ren thought it over. “It could work.”

“Do you know how to drive one of those things, Ms. Fujimori?”

“I suppose there’s a first time for everything,” Yuka said, her bloody cheek curling up, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“It’s going to rain soon,” Kurobane said, glancing up at the sky.

Yuka looked up at the churning clouds. “That’s good. These things react to sound. The rain could mask our movements, or—”

“Drive them into a frenzy,” Ren finished.

A heavy drop splashed onto his cheek, cold as ice.

“We have to try,” Haruka said.

Those words echoed in his head.

When they slipped through the exit door one by one, their forms melting into the shadows below, the last of them vanishing down the stairs, Ren lingered until Midori’s voice pulled him back.

“Ren?”

He turned to find his friend framed in the doorway, concern etched into every line.

“I can’t go with you.”

“What? Why?”

“There’s… someone I need to find. I’ll catch up. Watch over Haruka. No heroics. I mean it.” Ren stepped forward, pressing a hand to Midori’s shoulder.

“Why are you—Are you serious? We need to stay together, Ren!”

“Don’t make me beg.”

Midori’s shoulders fell. He swallowed the protest forming on his tongue. A muscle in his jaw twitched before he dipped his chin—just barely—in surrender. “You’ll come back?”

The rainfall intensified, each drop a hammered nail against the rooftop. Lightning split the sky, and for a moment, it wasn’t Midori he saw.

“I will.”

Midori’s smile flickered, the orange glow of burning buildings dancing in his irises. He vanished down the stairwell.

Ren’s blazer grew heavy, fabric clinging to his shoulders. At his side, his fist curled so tight his nails bit deep, his pulse throbbing against his thumb.

Not again. Not ever.

* * *

The phone slipped from Hayate’s fingers, landing with a crack against the floor. His shop lay in ruins. Blood streaks stained the floor, stools lay toppled, shards of glass caught the last scraps of light. But the chaos had passed.

Ven limped across the counter, his fur stiff with dark patches. He pressed himself against Hayate’s side. A familiar weight, and a faint smile crossed the old man’s weathered face as his hand found its way to Ven’s coat. “Still stubborn, even now,” he whispered.

A thin purr vibrated against him. He rested his head against the wall and released a long breath. The wound in his side throbbed distantly, somehow unimportant now.

Ren would do as he asked. That was enough.

Hayate inhaled. This was his life’s work, and he loved it dearly. He thought of his family one last time. Tetsuya’s graduation—the boy’s crooked grin beneath that too-big cap. Aki’s small hands pressing rice into shapes beside him at the counter. The weight of Haruka against his chest that summer festival, her laughter ringing in his ears as fireworks bloomed overhead. And somewhere in the tangle of memory, her face too—the woman he no longer spoke to, but who had given him all of this.

His lips curved upward as rain drummed against the roof tiles.

“There are worse places to say goodbye, hm?”

His hand grew still, his breathing slowing to a stop.