The next morning came quietly.
It was the weekend, and for once, the house didn't feel rushed. Ms. Aiko was already awake, moving around the kitchen as she prepared breakfast, the soft sounds of plates and utensils filling the air.
Ren woke up with the faint ache still lingering in his head. He washed up, changed, and joined her at the table without a word. They ate in silence.
It wasn't an uncomfortable silence—just a familiar one.
After a while, Ms. Aiko spoke gently, as if choosing her words carefully. "We're running low on groceries," she said. "Would you mind going out later and getting a few things?" Ren nodded. "Yeah. I can do that."
Silence settled again.
Then, quietly, Ren spoke. "Aiko... I have a question."
She looked up.
Ren reached for the necklace around his neck, his fingers closing around the small crescent-shaped charm. His gaze stayed fixed on it as he spoke.
"Back then," he said slowly, "when you gave me this... you said it was from a friend." He lifted his eyes to hers.
"Can you tell me their name?"
Ms. Aiko froze for a brief moment.
Her expression softened—but there was a hesitation there, too.
"...Aoi," she said at last.
"He was very close to you back then."
...
Ren didn't respond right away.
The name stayed with him—too heavy, too familiar.
"Aoi..." he repeated quietly, almost testing the sound of it.
Something stirred in his chest. Not a memory—just a feeling. A dull pressure that spread upward, settling behind his eyes. Ren frowned slightly, lifting a hand to his temple.
"...That's strange," he murmured.
Ms. Aiko watched him carefully but said nothing.
Ren's fingers tightened around the necklace. The crescent pressed into his palm, grounding him somehow. His heartbeat felt louder than before.
He swallowed.
"Is he..." Ren hesitated, then looked up at her, eyes searching. "...is he a doctor?"
Ms. Aiko froze.
The room seemed to still.
"...Why do you ask that?" she said softly.
Ren shook his head slowly. "I don't know." His voice was quiet, confused. "I just—"
Images brushed against his mind. Blurred. Incomplete.
A man standing over him. A calm voice. Warm hands. Greg eyes watching him closely.
"I met someone," Ren said after a moment. "Not long ago."
Ms. Aiko's breath caught.
"He looked at me like he knew me," Ren continued. "Like he was afraid I'd disappear again."
Ren looked back down at the necklace.
"And when you said his name..." His grip tightened.
"...it felt like something inside me reacted before I could think."
He frowned, frustrated.
"I still can't remember him," he said quietly. "But it feels wrong to say he's a stranger."
Ms. Aiko said nothing. Only her silence answered him—and somehow, that told Ren everything he needed to know.
—
After breakfast, Ren headed out to get groceries.
The streets were quieter than usual—too quiet. As he walked, something caught his attention ahead. A small crowd had gathered, standing frozen in place, fear written across their faces.
Ren slowed. Then he saw it
A creature—twisted, wrong—had a woman pinned to the ground. Its grip was tight around her child, lifting the small body as the child screamed. This monster was larger than the ones Ren had seen before. Its shape was distorted, its movements unnatural.
Ren's chest tightened. He stepped closer, then stopped.
He had no weapon. No plan. One wrong move and the child could die.
Before he could think further—
Someone ran past him.
The man moved fast, without hesitation. He raised a gun and fired, the sound ripping through the street. The bullet struck the monster's face, and it collapsed with a heavy thud.
The creature's grip loosened. The child fell—
And the man caught them.
Ren's breath hitched.
The man handed the trembling child back to their mother. "Go home," he said firmly. "Lock the doors."
The crowd scattered immediately.
Ren stared. It was him. Aoi.
Aoi turned back toward the creature—then froze.
The monster twitched. It wasn't dead.
Aoi's eyes widened slightly. His grip tightened on the gun.
"...Why didn't it die?" he muttered, stepping back slowly. "Do these things just—"
The creature moved again.
Aoi took another step back—
And bumped into someone. He turned. Their eyes met.
For a split second, the world seemed to pause.
Then Ren grabbed Aoi's wrist. "Run," Ren said.
He didn't wait for an answer. Ren pulled him away, sprinting down the street as the sound of something monstrous rose behind them.
They didn't stop running until the sounds faded.
Aoi pulled Ren into the narrow space between two collapsed walls, pressing himself back as they crouched low, the air thick with dust and the distant sounds of something moving outside.
Neither of them spoke.
Ren leaned back against the concrete, one hand pressed to his side. His breathing was shallow—too fast for someone who had just stopped running.
Aoi noticed it immediately. "Ren," he whispered, careful not to rise his voice. "Are you okay?"
Ren didn't answer at first. His head was lowered, dark hair falling over his eyes. For a moment, Aoi thought he hadn't heard him.
"...I'm fine," Ren said finally, but his voice lacked strength.
Aoi fowned. "You don't look fine."
Ren shifted slightly, as if uncomfortable. His hand tightened around something beneath his shirt.
Aoi's eyes followed the movement.
The necklace.
Ren's fingers were curled around the crescent charm, gripping it without realizing. His knuckles had gone pale.
Aoi stared at it for a second longer than he meant to.
Ren noticed. "...Was it you?" he asked quietly.
Aoi looked up, startled. "What?"
"The necklace," Ren said. His grip loosened just a little. "You were looking at it like you knew it."
Aoi opened his mouth—then closed it again.
Instead of answering, he reached out and gently caught Ren's wrist.
Ren stiffened, but didn't pull away.
"You're shaking," Aoi said softly.
Ren frowned, as if only now becoming aware of it. "I guess... I'm just tired."
Aoi's fingers slid down, pushing Ren's sleeve back just enough. There it was.
A shallow scratch, already scabbed over—but the skin around it looked slightly inflamed, warmer than it should've been.
Aoi's chest tightened.
"When did this happen?" he asked, keeping his voice calm.
Ren followed his gaze. "...Earlier," he said. "It's nothing."
Aoi didn't respond right away.
He studied the wound longer than necessary, his mind racing through possibilities he didn't want to name.
It could be infection. It could be stress. It could be nothing at all.
Still...
Aoi slowly released Ren's wrist. "We should clean it again when we get somewhere safe."
Ren nodded. "Yeah."
Outside, the sound of movement faded.
But the unease didn't. Aoi leaned back against the wall, forcing himself to breathe normally.
He didn't say what he was thinking.
And Ren didn't notice the way Aoi's hands trembled—
just slightly—as he pulled away.
...
Ren stood there for a moment, watching him.
"How far do you think..." he hesitated, then asked quietly, "these creatures are going to spread?"
Aoi followed his gaze, staring ahead as if the answer lay somewhere in the ruined streets. His jaw tightened.
"I don't know," he admitted. Then he looked back at Ren, his expression serious. "But we have to be ready for the worst."
Ren studied him in silence, taking in his features as if trying to memorize them. After a moment, he looked away.
Ms. Aiko.
The thought surfaced suddenly.
"I have to go," Ren said. "I need to get home. Lock the door."
He turned to leave—
"Wait."
Aoi's hand closed around his wrist.
Ren froze, eyes dropping to where Aoi was holding him. Aoi noticed immediately and loosened his grip, letting go.
"You didn't clean your wound," Aoi said, his voice lower now.
"It's fine," Ren replied. "I'll take care of it later."
He took another step back.
Then Aoi spoke again, quieter this time.
"...Are you sure you'll be okay walking alone?"
Ren met his eyes. For a second, something unreadable passed between them.
"Don't worry," Ren said, "I can handle it."
Aoi knew that tone. It meant Ren was already leaving—no room for arguments.
He hesitated, then said, "Then... can we exchange numbers?"
Ren blinked, surprised—but nodded. "Yeah."
They exchanged numbers in silence.
Once it was done, Ren slipped his phone away, gave a small nod, and turned to leave.
Aoi watched him disappear down the street, the unease in his chest refusing to fade.
——
Days passed.
Aoi buried himself in work.
The lab lights stayed on long after the sun had set, screens filled with data he barely blinked at anymore. Blood samples. Brain scans. Notes written and rewritten until the words blurred together. The virus wasn't behaving like anything he had studied before—and that terrified him more than the monsters outside ever could.
He had just leaned back in his chair when a scream tore through the hallway.
Aoi froze. It wasn't distant. It was close.
A moment later, the door burst open.
Someone stumbled inside and slammed it shut behind him, hands shaking as he locked it. His breathing was uneven, panicked—like someone who had just escaped death.
Aoi stood up immediately. "What happened?"
The man didn't answer. He only stared at the door, as if expecting it to break open at any second.
Slowly, trembling, he pushed his sleeve back.
An injury.
Fresh. Angry. Already darkening around the edges.
"It's outside," his colleague whispered. His voice cracked as he finally looked at Aoi.
"Aoi… if I hurt anyone—" He swallowed hard. "Can you promise to kill me right away?"
Aoi's chest tightened.
Without a word, he reached for the gun he kept at his side. Ever since the virus spread, he never went anywhere without it.
He stepped closer, forcing himself to stay calm.
When he placed a hand against the man's forehead, his heart sank.
Too warm. Much warmer than it should have been.
Aoi kept his voice calm as he moved closer, checking the injury, watching his friend's breathing.
"Easy," he said quietly. "Just stay still."
But suddenly—The man jerked back. He pressed a hand to his head, fingers digging into his hair as if the pain had struck all at once.
"N–no—" he gasped. "It hurts—"
His knees buckled.
Aoi stepped forward instinctively, catching him just as his body gave out completely.
The man collapsed against him, unconscious.
For a moment, the lab fell silent.
Aoi lowered him carefully to the floor, his heart pounding as he checked for a pulse.
Still there. Still human.
But when Aoi looked at his face—pale, tense even in unconsciousness—his chest tightened.
This wasn't random. This was how it started.
...
The man lay unconscious on the floor.
Aoi was still checking his pulse when—
A heavy thud echoed from outside the lab.
Then another.
The glass door rattled slightly.
Aoi froze.
Something scraped against the metal on the other side—slow, deliberate.
It hadn't left.
His grip tightened around the gun at his side.
If the creature broke in, there would be no time.
Aoi looked down at his friend. Unconscious. Burning with fever. Completely defenseless.
"…Damn it." He stood there for a moment, chest rising sharply as the sound outside grew closer.
Leave now, and he might survive.
Stay—and he might never make it out.
Aoi slid his arm under his friend's shoulder, trying to lift him.
"Hey—stay with me," he muttered, teeth clenched. The man didn't respond.
Another crash hit the door—louder this time.
The metal frame groaned.
Aoi's breath hitched.
"Shit…"
He dragged him toward the side room, step by step, the weight heavier than he expected. His friend stirred suddenly—jerking back with a sharp gasp.
"No—don't—" he whispered, hands shaking as he clutched his head.
His body stiffened. Aoi froze. "What's happening?" he asked, panic creeping into his voice.
The man let out a strangled sound before his knees gave out completely.
He collapsed. At the same moment, the door burst inward. Glass shattered across the floor.
Aoi didn't think—he reacted.
He grabbed his gun, firing blindly as he backed away, heart hammering so hard it hurt. The creature forced its way inside, its movements erratic, violent.
There was no time. No way to reach him.
Aoi's eyes flicked to his friend one last time—unconscious, blood on his sleeve, chest barely rising.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. Then he turned and ran.
—
Aoi didn't stop running until his lungs burned.
He ducked into a narrow stairwell, slamming the door shut behind him. His hands trembled as he leaned against the cold wall, breath uneven, chest rising too fast.
His fingers were shaking. He looked down.
Blood stained the sleeve of his coat—dark, smeared, not all of it his. His stomach twisted.
He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, pressing a hand over his mouth as his thoughts caught up to him.
I left him.
The realization settled heavy in his chest.
He hadn't pulled the trigger. He hadn't stayed. He hadn't known if there was still time.
And that scared him more than the monster ever could.
What kind of person runs? What kind of person survives?
His phone buzzed suddenly. Aoi flinched.
For a second, he didn't move. Then it buzzed again. Ren.
His heart skipped painfully.
With unsteady fingers, Aoi answered.
"Ren—"
"Aoi," a familiar voice interrupted him. Ms. Aiko.
Her voice was tight. Worried.
"Ren isn't well," she said. "He collapsed earlier. His fever won't go down."
Aoi's breath caught.
"There's something wrong," she continued softly. "Can you… come?"
The stairwell felt colder. Aoi closed his eyes, guilt tightening its grip around his chest.
"…I'm on my way,"
he said....The line felt heavier than it should have.
Aoi ended the call and stared at his reflection in the dark screen for a second longer than necessary. His hands were still faintly shaking. Then he moved.
—
When Aoi entered Ren's room, it was quiet.
Too quiet.
The curtains were half drawn. Pale light spilled across the bed where Ren lay, eyes closed, breathing uneven.
Aoi stepped closer, slow and careful, as if afraid that even the sound of his footsteps might break something fragile. He sat on the edge of the bed.
For a moment, he just looked at him.
Then he reached out and pressed his palm gently to Ren's forehead. It was burning.
Ren stirred at the touch. His brows furrowed slightly before his eyes opened halfway. They met Aoi's.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Then Ren's gaze shifted—down to Aoi's sleeves. Dark stains.
"…What happened?" Ren asked quietly.
Aoi followed his eyes. He looked at the blood on his coat like he was seeing it for the first time. "It was nothing," he said, already shrugging it off. He slipped the coat from his shoulders and set it aside.
His voice was calm. Too calm. "Can I see your wound?"
Ren hesitated only a second before pulling his sleeve up.
The scratch didn't look the same.
It was darker now. Slightly swollen. The skin around it irritated—almost spreading.
Aoi's fingers hovered before lightly touching the edge of it. Hot.
He let go, masking the flicker of worry in his expression.
He checked Ren's forehead again. Then his neck. His skin radiated heat.
"I'll be right back," Aoi said.
He stepped out and returned moments later with a bowl of cold water and folded cloths. He wrung one out carefully before pressing it to Ren's forehead. Ren closed his eyes slightly at the contact.
Aoi moved slowly, dragging the cool cloth down from his temple to his neck, trying to bring the fever down.
When his hand reached Ren's collar, he paused.
"…Can I?" Ren gave a small nod.
Aoi gently loosened the fabric and wiped lower, careful, precise, clinical—But his jaw was tight.
When he finished, he reached for the bowl.
That's when Ren's fingers closed around his wrist. Not tight. Just enough to stop him.
"Aoi…" His voice was weaker than usual.
"…Am I turning?"
Silence filled the room. Aoi didn't pull his hand away. But for the first time that night—
Aoi looked away.
—
He couldn't lie. And he couldn't tell the truth.