Morning had bled into afternoon without any of them realizing. The light through the windows shifted, stretching shadows across the floor, but the air inside the house stayed heavy and still.
They moved through the hours as best they could. Renji scrolled endlessly through his phone, half-reading posts and articles he'd already seen. His stepmother busied herself in the kitchen, rearranging shelves that didn't need rearranging. Runa sat on the couch with a blanket over her legs, flicking through television channels, her attention never lingering for long.
It was the kind of quiet that didn't feel peaceful — the kind that pressed down on you until you had to fill it with something, anything, just to feel normal.
But Runa was… different today.
At first, Renji thought it was just nerves. She kept glancing toward the hallway, then the windows, then back to the TV as if she couldn't decide where to look. But the way her eyes moved — focused, intent — didn't match her fidgeting hands.
She shifted again, this time leaning slightly forward, her gaze fixed on the far corner of the room. Her brow furrowed.
"…What is it?" Renji asked.
"I don't know." She blinked, tearing her eyes away. "It's… weird. I feel like I can tell exactly where everything is. Like—" She gestured vaguely. "Like I could close my eyes and still… see it."
Renji studied her for a moment. "Stress can mess with your head," he said carefully.
"Yeah… maybe." She looked down at her hands, twisting the blanket's edge between her fingers. But her eyes kept flicking toward the room's edges, tracing distances like invisible lines only she could see.
It wasn't something obvious — nothing that would make her stand out to anyone else. But Renji saw it. A subtle tension in the way she moved, a restlessness that didn't belong to her before today.
And when she finally met his eyes again, she said quietly, almost like a confession:
"I just… feel strange."
…
The afternoon light dimmed as the hours dragged on, the sky outside shifting toward dusk. The screams and crashes beyond the walls had thinned, replaced by an eerie stillness.
Renji sat in the armchair near the living room window, staring at the street without really seeing it. His phone lay untouched on the side table.
Then… something stirred in him.
It wasn't a thought, exactly. More like an awareness. As if invisible threads stretched out from him into the neighborhood, faint and distant. He couldn't explain how he knew, but somewhere out there… they were moving.
Zombies.
He couldn't see them, couldn't hear them — but he felt them. Like ripples in water, pressing faintly against the edges of his mind. And under it all, a quiet pull. Not a command, but an invitation. Connect…
Renji's jaw tightened. The sensation faded after a moment, but it left something behind — an itch he couldn't ignore. He needed to go outside.
But there had to be a reason. He couldn't just walk out into chaos for no purpose.
His gaze drifted toward the kitchen, where the neatly folded supply list still sat on the counter. A week's worth of food. Less, if things got worse.
And things would get worse.
He stood and went to find his stepmother. "We should go out and get supplies."
Her head snapped toward him, disbelief in her eyes. "Now? Absolutely not."
"I'm serious," Renji said. "Look — right now, people are still in shock. They're hiding, locking their doors. The streets won't be empty forever. Sooner or later, they'll start fighting over whatever's left. If we wait, there'll be nothing to find."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "It's too dangerous."
"It's already dangerous," he countered. "The longer we wait, the worse it gets."
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the muffled sounds of Runa moving upstairs. Finally, she exhaled through her nose and gave a short nod.
"…Fine. But you go tomorrow. Not today."
It wasn't the answer he wanted, but it was good enough.
By the time night settled fully over the city, the house was dark and quiet again. One by one, they retreated to their rooms, the weight of the day pressing them down into uneasy sleep.
Tomorrow, Renji thought, as he stared at the ceiling. Tomorrow, he would step outside.
…
The first light of morning crept through the blinds, pale and thin. For a moment, the house almost felt normal again.
They gathered at the table, a simple breakfast of toast and tea between them. Runa still looked half-asleep, her hair a messy halo around her face. Renji sipped quietly, his thoughts already on the day ahead.
Then his stepmother's hand froze halfway to her mouth.
She blinked, her brow furrowing. "…Renji."
He looked up just as the color drained from her face.
"It hurts," she whispered, pressing a hand to her chest. Her other hand gripped the edge of the table hard enough to whiten her knuckles.
"Where?" Runa asked quickly.
"Everywhere…" Her voice shook. "It's—" She cut herself off, inhaling sharply as her body tensed. The mug slipped from her fingers, shattering on the floor.
Renji was already moving, catching her before she slid from the chair. Her skin felt clammy, her breathing shallow.
The pain was clear in her expression, but she didn't scream. She clenched her jaw, enduring each tremor as if sheer will could force it to stop.
"Mom?" Runa's voice pitched higher, panic creeping in.
"She's okay," Renji said firmly, though his heart was pounding. "She just… needs to lie down."
He met Runa's eyes, holding her gaze until she nodded, her breathing evening out a little. Then, carefully, he lifted his stepmother in his arms and carried her toward the stairs.
By the time he reached her room, her eyelids had fluttered closed, consciousness slipping away.
Renji laid her down gently, pulling the blanket over her before stepping back. He watched her chest rise and fall — slow, but steady.
Another one awakening.
He stood there for a long moment, the quiet of the house pressing in again. Day two had barely begun.