The End Begins II

Midori had spent some time watching Ren Hanashiro from across 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 the bruise-like shadows under his eyes made Midori's 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 day 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, the only sound the wind in his ears. 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 all whispered about—standing waist-deep in the freezing canal water, one arm tucked under the rib cage of a battered cat that must have tumbled in.

Midori stopped, watching him haul the animal from the water with urgent care. 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 afternoon, watching him, Midori found space in his heart for someone new. Now that same man stood before him, face speckled with blood, those oddly colored eyes aflame with something he couldn’t quite place. Anger? Worry? Midori’s gaze drifted to the ruined form of Miyazaki—his old wrestling teammate—smeared against the wall like rotting fruit.

“Could you be any dumber?!”

Ren had gripped Midori’s collar so hard he almost lifted him off the ground. His voice was cutting, but he released him at once, a flicker of regret in his expression.

“Sorry. That was—”

“What… what happened?”

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

“You almost died.”

Ren’s jacket was gone. His clothes were slick with blood. But it was him.

Midori felt laughter bubble up at the relief. “I’m alive. You’re alive.”

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

“They?”

Ren pushed his hair back from his forehead. “These things. Whatever they are. Where’s Haruka?”

Midori blinked, thrown by the desperation in his voice.

Since when was she so important to you?

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 both okay.”

Ren’s stance eased a fraction. “Good.”

Before Midori could say more, a body stirred against the wall. Ren pivoted and strode off, leaving Midori to notice Yuka Fujimori—the counselor—propped against the lockers, clutching Ren’s jacket.

“Dr. Fujimori!” Midori hurried to her, looping an arm under her shoulder.

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

Ren eyed the hallway. “Is the rest of the place empty?”

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

Ren's expression hardened. A restless rhythm tapped against his leg. "The ground floor's lost. Overrun."

"We should head back," Midori whispered, adjusting his hold on Yuka. "The others—I only left to find you. Haru's probably panicking."

Ren stared at him. "Me? You risked your life to find me? You really are an idiot. Next time, prioritize your own survival. Come on. And remember—stay quiet."

Midori wanted to say something, but he knew better. Ren wouldn’t listen. "Got it." He tightened his hold on Yuka's arm. “Not a sound.” He met Ren's gaze one final time before his attention drifted 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.

━━━━━━━━━━𝑾𝑪𝑨━━━━━━━━━━

The acrid bite of smoke rolled across the rooftop, stinging Ren’s nostrils with each pull of air. A gust of wind swirled ash past him, coating the grimy tiles beneath his boots. 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. Below, the schoolyard throbbed with motion—but not the kind of life that belonged here.

Ren’s fingers clenched the cold metal, its surface numbing his palm. In his mind, Hayate’s voice echoed. Protect her? Old man, you should know better than anyone. I can’t protect anything. And deeper still, another voice spoke to him. It mocked him—a bitter, resentful voice sprouting from the deepest pit of his soul.

You don’t belong here.
You never did.

“You okay?” Yuka’s voice cut through the haze. She stood a hair’s breadth beside him, waving a hand, her spectacles spider-webbed with cracks, one temple bent at an awkward angle. A thin rivulet of blood traced a line from her hairline to her jaw, yet her lips curved into that familiar gentle smile. “There he is. You had that same look you always get in my office.”

Ren exhaled, watching embers drift overhead. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

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

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

“What are you—?” Yuka began.

He cut her off. “Come on, Doc.”

Midori waved them over. Ren joined him without question, Yuka in tow. He felt her attention on him. But now wasn’t the time for any one-on-one therapy.

“Listen to this…” Midori said as he approached.

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 my God. There are too many—I have to see my family! Forgive me—”

The feed flickered and went black.

“What the hell is happening?”

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

“We should follow orders,” Kurobane said, jaw clenched. “Stay here, lie low, wait for help.”

“That would be stupid.” Ren said.

“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.”

“And I’m giving you 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.”

“Trying to get us all killed is more like.”

“That’s enough! You’re behaving like children!” Yuka said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She removed her blood-speckled glasses and kneaded the spot between her brows. “The facts are the facts—if we stay, we’re trapped. This roof,” she gestured at the slick tiles and chain-link guardrail. “It’s not safe.”

“Safer than what’s down there. We—”

“—My family’s out there!” Haruka yelled. Her voice cracked, 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 like a coward.”

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

“Fine! Fine! But you’ve seen what it’s like. How are we going to get past all that?” Kurobane asked.

“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 if I remember right. I think that’s our best shot.”

Ren nodded, thinking it over. “It could work.”

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

“I suppose there’s a first time for everything,” Yuka managed a faint smile Midori’s way, 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.

“What about the rain?” Haruka asked.

Yuka looked up at the churning clouds. “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 whispered, nails digging half-moons into her palms.

Her words echoed in his head.

I have to try.

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, alone at the threshold, 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,” Ren said after a moment.

“What? Why?”

“There’s no time to explain. I’ll catch up. For now—” Ren stepped forward, pressing a hand to Midori’s shoulder. “Watch over Haruka. No heroics. I mean it.”

“No. No way! We need to stay together.”

“Midori. Don’t make me beg.”

Midori's eyes locked with Ren's. His shoulders fell, and his Adam's apple bobbed once as he swallowed whatever protest had been forming. A muscle in his jaw twitched before he dipped his chin—just barely—in surrender.

“You'll come back to us?”

The rainfall intensified, each drop a hammered nail against the rooftop. Lightning split the sky, and for a heartbeat, it wasn’t Midori’s face Ren saw—it was another’s.

“I will. Now go.”

Midori's smile flickered like firelight, the orange glow of burning buildings dancing in his irises, before he vanished down the stairwell.

Rain hammered his scalp and slid beneath his collar. His jacket 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.

━━━━━━━━━━𝑾𝑪𝑨━━━━━━━━━━

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, leaving only the rice cooker’s soft hum.

Ven limped across the counter, one leg refusing to bend, his fur stiff with dark patches. The cat pressed himself against Hayate’s side. A familiar weight.

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 his side, fragile but persistent. Hayate rested his head against the wooden wall and released a long breath. The wound in his side throbbed distantly, somehow unimportant now.

Ren would listen. That was enough.

He inhaled—the mingled scents of spices, fish, and aged cedar steeped into decades of cooking. 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.

Hayate's lips curved upward as rain drummed against the roof tiles. “Could be worse places to say goodbye, hmm?”

Ven’s eyes narrowed to slits as he nestled closer against Hayate’s chest. The old man’s hand grew still on the cat’s back, his breathing slowing to match the fading purr.