The air outside was sharp and sour, thick with the rot of abandoned lives. Crumbling towers leaned like corpses frozen mid-fall, their glass eyes shattered, their steel bones jutting into a sky the color of ash. The streets were a maze of wreckage and silence, broken only by the guttural cries of mutants echoing down alleys.
Imura led the way. His eyes moved steadily, scanning shadows, calculating every step. Behind him trailed the girls, their pace uneven, their tension palpable.
Saya clung to his sleeve as though the city itself would devour her if she let go. Her small face was pale, lips pressed tight, brown eyes darting to every corner where rubble shifted. Every time a distant growl rippled the air, her grip tightened until her knuckles whitened.
Natsumi followed, auburn hair tied back tight, knife in her hand, her sharp features drawn into forced composure. But her shoulders twitched with every echo, her gaze flicking to Imura more often than the street. The memory of last night lingered in her chest, making her body restless, her pride raw.
Rin walked last, her gray eyes cold, arms folded as if she could wrap herself against the world. But her attention never strayed far from him either. Her chest burned with unspoken words, her fists clenched tight. Every step was a battle not to snap.
They turned a corner into a collapsed market street. The skeletal remains of stalls jutted upward, goods long rotted or torn apart. The smell was foul, but Imura stopped, scanning. Shelves had fallen in patterns that told a story—looters had been here, but not recently.
"This way," he said, steady as ever.
Inside one of the ruined shops, they found scraps—cans dented but sealed, water bottles crushed but intact. A small miracle in a place like this.
Saya gasped softly, clutching one of the bottles like a treasure. "We'll survive a little longer…"
Her words cracked in relief, and she pressed against Imura's arm, smiling faintly through tears.
Rin's jaw tightened. "Don't celebrate over scraps," she snapped. "It won't last."
Saya flinched, shrinking into Imura. He stroked her hair, steady, soothing her shaking. "It lasts because I make it last."
His words cut deeper than they should have. Rin's glare sharpened, but her chest tightened, her fists clenching harder.
It was then that the floor above groaned.
A shadow darted across the broken ceiling. The next instant, rubble crashed down, and the growl of a mutant tore through the air.
The creature was grotesque—a human frame stretched wrong, its limbs too long, skin sloughing like wax, its mouth split with rows of jagged teeth. It landed in the aisle with a bone-rattling thud, snarling as its milky eyes locked on them.
Saya screamed, clutching Imura's arm like a lifeline. Natsumi froze, her knife trembling in her grip. Rin's breath caught, her body stiff with shock.
But Imura didn't flinch.
"Stay behind me."
His command sliced the panic in two. He stepped forward, calm, calculated, summoning a clone that flickered into being at his side. Together, they moved in perfect sync—his blade arcing, the clone striking opposite.
The mutant shrieked as steel carved its limbs, but it lunged still, hunger driving it even as its body fell apart. Its swipe nearly clipped Saya—but Imura's hand shot out, pulling her back against him, shielding her completely.
She sobbed into his chest, trembling, whispering his name like a prayer.
Natsumi slashed too late, her knife grazing its flank but drawing no power. Her knees nearly buckled from the force of her own fear.
Rin, teeth clenched, finally moved—she grabbed a broken pole from the ground and drove it into the mutant's side. Her body shook, her grip unsteady, but it bought just enough time for Imura's blade to cleave through its throat.
The monster collapsed with a wet thud, twitching before falling still.
The shop went silent except for their ragged breaths.
Saya sobbed openly now, clutching him as though he were her only lifeline. "You saved me again… I'd be dead without you…"
Natsumi turned away, ashamed, her chest heaving. "I should've—damn it—"
And Rin stood frozen, the pole still clenched in her hand, her whole body trembling from head to toe. She hadn't wanted to move. She hadn't wanted to need him. But when the moment came, her body had obeyed instinct—and even then, it was his presence that turned the tide.
Imura looked at her, calm, unshaken. His eyes lingered on her gray ones until she faltered, until her chest heaved faster, until she tore her gaze away, cheeks burning with shame she couldn't hide.
"See?" he said, his voice low, steady. "You're already part of this. Part of me."
Her breath caught. She didn't answer. She couldn't.
But inside, her last walls trembled.