"BREAKFAST AND SIRENS'

BREAKFAST AND SIRENS

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The northern district smelled like fried meat and exhaust.
Vendors called out from their stalls. A bus groaned past, packed tight with morning commuters. People moved through the street like they always did—heads down, minds elsewhere, unbothered by the world around them.
Just another morning.
A woman haggled with a customer over tomatoes. A man in a faded shirt leaned against a wall, smoking. A child tugged at his mother’s sleeve, pointing at something across the street.
Normal. Ordinary. Alive.
Then the air changed.
It wasn’t loud. Just a vibration—like something massive had shifted a thousand meters away.
The woman mid-haggle felt it first, a tremor in her bones that had nothing to do with the bus that had just passed. She looked up.
The sky was wrong.
Not clouds. Not weather. A darkness spreading across the blue like ink in water—slow and deliberate.
And it—
A shape. Faint. Geometric. Like someone had drawn something on the world itself and the world was still processing the wound.
The man smoking dropped his cigarette.
“…what the fuck is that?”
The woman’s grip tightened on her tomatoes.
“Please… tell me that’s just rain.”
A low hum pressed into their chests. Not heard—felt. Deep enough to vibrate teeth.
Someone laughed nervously.
“It’s probably just—”
“No.”
The sky was getting darker.
“No, no, no—not here, not now—please—”
Screaming started small. One person. Then another. Then the street dissolved into chaos—people running, huddling, reaching for each other. A fruit stand toppled. Glass shattered.
The hum grew louder.
The sky grew darker.
And then—
Silence.
Everything stopped. Movement. Sound. Breath.
For a moment, the entire northern district held still, staring up at the thing that had arrived in their sky.
Then the screaming came back worse.

---
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
Darkness.
A hand came down hard.
Missed.
The alarm kept screaming.
“Nngh—”
Another swing. This one connected.
Silence.

---
Riku Alison’s face was buried in his pillow. His blonde hair looked like it had been through a war. His room looked like the war had won.
From downstairs, muffled:
“RIKU!”
He didn’t move.
“RIKU ALISON!”
“…I’m up—”
He wasn’t. He was already half-asleep again, arm dangling off the bed, one eye cracked open just enough to register the ceiling fan spinning lazily above him.
A smell drifted upstairs.
Food.
That alone did it.
He rolled out of bed like a man being dragged to his execution, nearly tripped on a pile of clothes, and shuffled downstairs still looking like he’d been hit by something.
His mom, Lily, glanced up from the stove without slowing down.
“You’re late.”
“I’m alive. That’s better than yesterday.”
“Yesterday you left on time.”
“Yesterday I had motivation. Today I have regrets.”
She didn’t even crack a smile, just slid a plate in front of him. Eggs. Toast. Something that might have been fruit.
He sat down and stared at his plate like it had personally wronged him.
“You know, I was having a pretty good day before you ruined it by reminding me it’s a school day.”
Lily glanced at him, already moving back to the stove.
“Here we go again.”
“I’m serious, Madam. I had peace. No stress. No responsibilities. Then boom—education.”
She sat across from him with her tea, shaking her head slightly.
“I don’t know why you complain so much about school. Back in my days, school was actually fun.”
Riku paused mid-bite.
“Wait—your days? Firstly, your days were long ago. Dinosaurs probably roamed back then. Why wouldn’t school be fun with a T-Rex as a mascot, Mom?”
“I’m in my early thirties, Riku!”
“Exactly. Like I said—ancient times.” He grinned at her expression. “Plus, I’m not a loser, okay? I’m pretty popular. So popular I don’t even need friends.”
Lily rolled her eyes, but there was a small smirk there.
“Mmhmm. I don’t think that’s how that works, Genius.”
“Big words from someone who remembers when dirt was invented, Lady.”
She flicked his forehead with her spoon—gentle, no real bite.
“Eat.”
The television in the background hummed along with the morning news. Traffic updates. Weather. Nobody was really listening.
Then the screen cut to black.
“We interrupt this broadcast with urgent news.”
Riku paused mid-bite.
“…a Zone?”
“Yep. Breakfast and casualty reports. What better way to start your day,” he said flatly.
Lily’s expression shifted immediately.
“Well, that’s pretty insensitive of you, Riku.”
“I’m not wrong though.” He gestured at the screen with his fork. “It’s really sad. Some random people are in a zone. Very tragic. I acknowledge it.”
Lily set her tea down carefully.
“Well, no need bothering over what you can’t control, but show a little empathy, Riku. Stop being so inconsiderate.”
He leaned back in his chair.
“…big words, Madam. I don’t understand half of what you’re saying.”
“This is exactly the reason you need school.”
“It’s not my fault you know too many words.”
“And it’s not my fault you’re going to school today.”
He didn’t have a comeback for that one. He just took another bite and listened.
“…Area size estimated at eight to ten square kilometers. The entire northern district and parts of the western sector. Authorities have confirmed casualties—estimates between three hundred and five hundred in the initial surge alone…”
Riku chewed quietly.
Lily’s hand had gone still around her tea cup.
“Neutralization units are en route. Thirty-minute response time. Civilians are advised to evacuate if possible. Do not approach the Zone boundary.”
The broadcast moved on. The screen flickered back to normal programming.
But neither of them was really watching anymore.
Riku noticed his mom staring toward the window—the one that faced north.
“…you okay?” he asked.
Not his usual sarcasm. Just asking.
She didn’t answer right away.
“The northern district,” she said finally, her voice tight. “That’s where Sector 4 Lab is. I’m supposed to be there for my second shift by noon.”
Riku looked at her, understanding settling in. Between the mutant research facility and the overnight clerical work, she was barely sleeping just to keep the lights on.
“The lab? Mom, that place is practically on the border of the surge area.”
“It’s a job, Riku. A low-paying, exhausting job that we need.”
She stood up suddenly, clearing the dishes with restless energy.
“Don’t—don’t go in early, okay?” he said quietly. “Just wait for the neutralization units to give the all-clear first.”
Lily didn’t look up from the sink, but her shoulders tensed slightly.
“Just get to class. Try to actually learn something today.”
“No promises,” Riku said.
He grabbed his bag and moved toward the door, pausing there for a moment like he wanted to say something else. But he didn’t.
He just opened the door and stepped out into the morning air, joining the flow of students heading toward school.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Lily stopped scrubbing. She walked to the window, watching her son’s retreating figure fade into the crowd.
Outside, the distant sirens continued to wail through the morning.
A cold shiver traced down her spine—the kind that had nothing to do with the breeze. She pressed her hand against the glass.
“Troublemaker,” she whispered to the empty kitchen. “Just stay out of trouble today. Please… just be safe.”
She stood there a moment longer, watching the street.
Then she turned away and didn’t turn the TV back on.

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