The world didn't end all at once—it rotted slowly, quietly, until people learned how to live with monsters in the streets and ghosts in their memories. Aoi Haru Takahashi learned early that survival meant never looking back, never hesitating, and never saying names out loud. But that rule shattered the moment grey eyes found him in the ruins—eyes that once belonged to Ren Aoyama, now staring at him from something that was no longer human. Bleeding and afraid, with the air thick with ash and decay, Aoi understood one thing with terrifying clarity: as long as Ren was alive, the world had not completely ended.
Aoi stepped out of the building, fear pressing against his ribs, and quietly shut the door behind him. He didn't go for himself—he went for the people inside, the ones who had barely survived a world that no longer cared whether they lived or died.
He moved quietly careful not to make a sound. Every step was measured, every breath controlled. Then he heard it—a noise, too close.
Aoi's chest tightened, but he keeps walking, forcing himself not to freeze. If he stopped now, fear would win.
The creature revealed itself moments later.
Aoi lifted his weapon—a tall, thin piece of metal—and struck it once before running. He knew better than to fight. These things couldn't be killed by human hands, not without something unnatural.
He ran. His foot caught on broken concrete and he fell hard. When he looked back, the monster was already there. It's grip closed around him before he could scramble away. Aoi fought back desperately, but the creature's hold was unyielding.
He struggled, but it was no use. The monster's grip on his neck tightened, and pain flared as blood threatened to seep
Then, in an instant, the creature was thrown aside—as if struck by a force too fast to see.
Aoi fell to the ground, gasping for air. That was when Ren appeared. His presence was calm, unshakable. The monster tried to rise, but before it could, Ren walked forward, never losing his composure, and gripped the creature by its neck. With a sudden crack, it collapsed, lifeless, as Ren's eyes glowed white.
Aoi turned away instinctively. When he looked back, Ren's gaze met his. Slowly, deliberately, he approached. Seeing the red mark on Aoi's neck, Ren's eyes softened back to grey.
He knelt beside him, inspecting the wound. For Aoi, the mark was nothing, but for Ren. it was a knife to the chest. Seeing him hurt made him sick with worry. He placed a gentle hand on Aoi's neck, and the pain eased as the wound closed beneath his touch.
Their eyes met, holding each other for a long, silent moment. Then, barely above a whisper, Ren said, "go back." Without another word, he turned and left.
Aoi touched his neck, stil caught off guard. And for the first time, he noticed—Ren looked exhausted.
Aoi barely had time to catch his breath before a new sound cut through the ruins—a low, gutural growl, sharp and close. He froze, chest tightening again, realizing the monster wasn't alone. Somewhere in the shadows, something moved, faster than any human should, it's shape half-hidden but deadly. His hands shook around the weapon, and for the first time since he'd seen Ren, a flicker of panic ran through him. Ren wasn't here. And whatever was coming… Aoi was completely alone.