The house had stopped trembling long ago, but the echo of the monster's footsteps still lived in the floorboards.
Dust floated in thin ribbons through the slanted evening light, and for a long time no one moved.
Kiana finally slid down the wall, clutching her knees.
"I swear my heart jumped out three times," she muttered.
Mei gave a weak laugh, brushing the dirt from her sleeve. "At least it's still beating."
Kuhaku exhaled, running a hand through his hair. The silence pressed on his ears until he turned toward Bronya.
"How did you even know that thing was coming?"
Bronya's calm voice carried strangely in the empty room. "I felt it. Its aura was heavy—like standing too close to thunder."
The thought lingered in the air, quiet and unreal. None of them wanted to imagine what kind of world could make something like that exist.
⸻
They began to explore once their legs stopped shaking. The house was old but not destroyed: cracked walls, a sagging ceiling, shelves coated in a film of dust.
Kiana rummaged through the kitchen and raised a faded snack bag like treasure. "Still sealed! Probably edible!"
Mei sighed. "We'll pretend you didn't say 'probably.'"
Kuhaku wandered farther in. A faint glint caught his eye from a half-collapsed storage room. He ducked beneath a broken beam—and froze.
A row of katanas rested on a wooden rack, their handles wrapped in faded silk. Even through the dust, they gleamed faintly, catching the dying light.
He stepped closer, awed. "No way… real swords?"
Lifting one carefully, he admired the curve of the blade. It felt heavier than he imagined—beautiful, but dangerous. He grinned to himself.
"Guess binge-watching anime didn't come with sword training."
A soft voice answered behind him. "You'll hurt yourself swinging it like that."
Mei stood at the doorway. She crossed the floor, picked up another blade, and tested the balance in one smooth motion. Her stance—steady feet, controlled wrists—looked practiced.
Kuhaku blinked. "You actually know how to use it?"
"A mascot taught me," she said with a tiny smile. "It visited my house when I was little."
From another room Kiana shouted, "What kind of mascot gives sword lessons?!"
Mei laughed quietly. "The weird kind."
Kuhaku chuckled and sheathed the sword. "Then you should take it. It suits you more than me."
Color warmed her cheeks. "Maybe I will."
⸻
By sunset they agreed to stay. The city outside was too quiet, the sky too red to trust.
Kiana sprawled across the couch, arms behind her head. "Finally, civilization—a couch!"
Bronya sat near the window, a faint blue flame dancing above her palm.
Kuhaku watched. "Getting steadier," he said.
"Focus maintains stability," she replied. "Distraction invites failure."
"Could you not sound like a robot?" Kiana groaned.
"Request denied."
The tiny argument earned a soft laugh from Mei in the kitchen.
⸻
The kitchen still worked, miraculously. Mei found rice and some sealed cans; the stove hissed back to life.
"It's not much," she said, "but at least it's warm."
Kuhaku stood beside her, rolling up his sleeves. "I can chop stuff."
She arched an eyebrow. "Without burning the house down?"
"Eighty-percent confidence," he said. She smiled anyway.
The scent of cooking filled the air—rice, soy, and something sweet that overpowered the staleness of dust.
Kiana appeared instantly. "I smell food and hope!"
Even Bronya looked up from her flame, expression softening.
They ate around a low table lit by the dim glow of Bronya's fire. Simple food, mismatched bowls, quiet voices.
For the first time since the world had broken, they felt human again.
⸻
Night came slowly. The sky outside the cracked windows glowed a dull crimson, fading into black.
Kuhaku began arranging a blanket on the couch. He had just sat down when something tugged his sleeve.
He looked up. Kiana, Mei, and Bronya stood there, hesitating. None of them met his eyes.
"It's cold," Kiana murmured, fingers fidgeting with her sleeve.
Mei's voice followed, soft but steady. "And… I'd rather we stay together tonight."
Bronya only nodded, eyes calm yet faintly uncertain.
For a moment Kuhaku said nothing. He could read it in their faces—fear, yes, but also something gentler, a fragile closeness that had begun to bloom between them.
He smiled faintly. "Alright. Let's stick together."
They pushed the couch cushions together and shared the thin blankets.
Kiana settled on his right, clutching his sleeve; Mei lay on his left, shoulder brushing his arm; Bronya curled lightly on his chest, already half-asleep.
Kuhaku lay still, staring at the fractured ceiling. Their breathing filled the silence—soft, steady, real.
Through the shattered window, a streak of red light bled across the clouds.
Dad… Mom… Rin… please be safe, he thought.
Warmth surrounded him—human warmth, fragile but alive.
His eyes grew heavy, and at last the world faded into quiet.
⸻
End of Chapter 1 – Part 11