Aoi barely made it halfway down the street before his steps faltered. The adrenaline was gone.
What remained was pain.
Ren noticed immediately. "You're slowing down."
"I'm fine," Aoi muttered automatically. He wasn't.
The blood loss was catching up to him. His vision blurred at the edges, knees threatening to give out.
Ren stepped in front of him before he could fall. "Don't argue."
Aoi tried to steady himself but failed. His hand caught Ren's sleeve instead.
There was no hesitation this time. Ren crouched slightly. "I'll carry you."
Aoi looked like he wanted to protest. Instead, he gave the smallest nod.
Ren turned his back to him and pulled him up carefully. Aoi's arms slid around his shoulders, weak but trusting. Ren stood.
He adjusted his grip under Aoi's legs and began walking.
Steady. Controlled. Careful not to move too fast.
Careful not to think about how easily he could.
—
When they reached the house, Ren went straight to Aoi's room. He lowered him onto the bed gently, one hand lingering at his back for balance before pulling away. "I'll be back."
He returned with the medical kit. His hands were steady when he opened it.
They only paused when he reached for Aoi's shirt. There was blood soaking through the fabric.
Ren's fingers hovered for half a second. "…May I?" he asked quietly.
Aoi's eyes were closed. After a moment, they half-opened. A faint nod.
Ren swallowed and carefully lifted the fabric. The sight of the wound made his chest tighten.
It had reopened badly. Dark red staining his skin.
Ren cleaned it first. Slowly. Gently.
More careful than he had ever been with anything in his life.
Aoi's breathing hitched slightly at the sting.
"Does it hurt?" Ren asked, softer now.
"Obviously," Aoi murmured faintly.
Ren finished bandaging it, fingers brushing against the skin near the wound.
And then—
Without thinking—
He placed his hand over it. Just for a second.
Aoi stiffened.
Not from pain. From something else.
A strange warmth spread outward from where Ren's palm rested. Not burning.
Not sharp. Just… warmth.
The throbbing ache dulled. Then softened. Then faded.
Aoi's eyes opened fully. He looked at Ren.
Ren pulled his hand away immediately. "Did I—?" Aoi caught his wrist before he could retreat. "Wait."
He guided Ren's hand back to the bandaged wound.
The warmth returned instantly. Stronger this time.
The pain vanished completely.
Ren stared at him, confused. "What's wrong?"
Aoi's brows furrowed slightly. "…There's no pain."
Silence.
Ren frowned. "That's not possible." Aoi sat up slowly.
Too easily. He reached down and peeled away the bandage.
Ren froze. The skin beneath it was unbroken.
No blood. No scratch. Nothing.
As if it had never happened. They stared at it. Neither speaking.
Ren's hand was still hovering inches above Aoi's side.
Aoi looked up at him. "…I think," he said carefully, "this might be one of your powers."
Ren didn't answer. He was still staring at his own hand.
As if it belonged to someone else.
Ren stared at the unbroken skin.
The bandage lay discarded beside them. Neither of them spoke.
The room felt smaller somehow. The kind of silence that follows something impossible.
Ren slowly looked at his hand. Flexed his fingers once.
"…What did I just do?" he asked quietly.
Aoi didn't answer immediately. He was still staring at his side like he expected the wound to reappear. "It doesn't hurt," he said finally. "It was bleeding. A lot."
Ren swallowed. His vision swam slightly. A dull ache bloomed behind his eyes.
He pressed a hand to his temple. Aoi noticed instantly. "Hey."
"I'm fine," Ren muttered — but his voice wasn't steady.
The warmth that had left Aoi's body seemed to have transferred somewhere else.
Into him. A faint, throbbing pain settled in his chest.
Not sharp. But draining.
Like something had been pulled out of him. Aoi watched him carefully now.
"…It cost you something."
Ren didn't deny it.
He just exhaled slowly. "If it works," he said, almost to himself, "then it works."
A moment passed. Then Ren stepped back slightly.
"You should sleep," he said quietly. "You lost blood." Aoi leaned back against the pillow.
Ren turned toward the door. And Aoi grabbed his wrist.
Not tightly. Just enough.
"Don't leave again." Ren stilled. His shoulders tensed for half a second.
"…I wasn't going to." Aoi studied him. "Promise?"
Ren hesitated. Not because he wanted to leave.
But because he wasn't sure he could always control what he was becoming.
"…I'll stay," he said instead.
It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't loud. But it was deliberate.
Aoi's grip loosened slightly.
"Just... don't scare me like that again." Ren said quietly. There was weight in that.
Because it sounded protective. But it also sounded afraid.
Aoi gave the faintest smile.
"I won't." That answer is gentle. Not cocky.
Ren didn't move his wrist away immediately this time. Then finally, he sat down beside the bed instead of leaving.
And when sleep eventually came—
He was still there.
—
Morning felt calmer. Too calm.
They ate breakfast in near silence.
But this silence was different from yesterday's.
Less distance. More thinking.
Ren looked tired. Not physically weak.
But drained. Adaptation always costs something at first.
...
Aoi's phone rang. The sound cut through the quiet kitchen. He glanced at the screen.
His expression shifted — not fear.
Something complicated. "I'll take this," he said, standing.
Ren watched him walk away.
He didn't miss the way Aoi's shoulders straightened slightly before answering. "…Dad."
Ren couldn't hear the other side. But he saw the pause.
Then:
"Yeah. I can come." Another pause. "Near the house is fine."
When Aoi returned, he looked composed.
Too composed.
"Is something wrong?" Ren asked.
Aoi hesitated. Then said quietly, "My father wants to see me."
Ren didn't even think. "I'm coming."
Aoi almost argued. Almost.
Then didn't.
—
They met him at the end of the street. Aoi spotted him first.
He hadn't seen him in a long time. Aoi slowed when he saw him.His father looked older than he remembered.
Not physically. Just… worn.
Standing beside him was the man in black. Still. Hands behind his back.
Watching. Not scanning the area.
Watching Ren. Specifically.
Aoi noticed.
Ren noticed too.
They stopped a few steps away. For a moment, no one spoke. "Dad."
His father's expression softened slightly. "Aoi."
"Is something the matter?" Aoi asked, glancing briefly at the man beside him.
His father followed the look. "Oh — this is Takeda. An old friend."
Takeda gave a small nod. His eyes didn't leave Ren.
Not even for a second.
Aoi felt it.
"Where do you live now?" his father asked. "I went by your house. You weren't there."
Aoi hesitated.
"Are you okay?" his father added.
"I'm fine," Aoi said quickly. He didn't answer the first question.
Ren stayed quiet. Takeda's gaze sharpened slightly at that.
Avoidance. Interesting.
"Where's mom?" Aoi asked instead. His father blinked. "She's home, I assume. I haven't been there in a few days."
Aoi frowned. "She's alone?"
"I think so."
Something in Aoi's chest tightened. The world wasn't stable anymore.
Being alone wasn't safe.
"I should go see her," Aoi said suddenly.
His father looked surprised. "Now?"
"Yes."
Takeda finally spoke. His voice was calm.
Measured. "You shouldn't move around too much these days."
It wasn't advice. It was observation.
His eyes flicked to Ren again. "And you shouldn't travel with uncertain company."
The air shifted. Ren didn't react outwardly.
But Aoi did. "That's none of your concern," Aoi replied evenly.
Takeda's gaze lingered on Ren's eyes. Too long.
As if looking for something. As if he almost saw it.
And didn't like what he imagined.
—
Aoi didn't look back.
Ren didn't either. They walked down the street side by side, their silhouettes growing smaller against the fading light.
—
Behind them, Aoi's father remained still.
Takeda's gaze lingered. Unblinking.
Watching until they disappeared around the corner. Silence stretched between the two men.
Then—
Takeda exhaled slowly. "The one with him."
Aoi's father glanced at him. "Ren?"
"That's his name?"
"Yes."
Takeda nodded once. "His eyes weren't right."
Aoi's father frowned. "What does that even mean?"
Takeda's jaw tightened subtly. "I've seen infected before. Early stages. They don't all look feral at first."
Silence.
"You're overthinking this," the father said.
"Maybe."
Takeda's voice was steady. "But I learned a long time ago not to ignore what feels wrong."
He looked down the street again.
"If your son is around something unstable…"
He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
The implication was clear.
—
The street felt wrong before they even reached the house.
Too quiet.
The front door was open. Not wide.
Just enough.
Aoi stopped walking. Ren noticed instantly.
He stepped inside first.
The house smelled… off.
Not strong. Just wrong.
"Aoi," Ren said quietly. But Aoi was already moving.
"Mom?" No answer.
The living room was empty. A chair knocked over.
Something broken near the wall.
His pulse quickened. He turned the corner toward the kitchen—
And stopped.
Everything inside him froze.
His mother was on the floor.
Still. Not moving.
And something was crouched over her.
Its back facing them. Its movements slow.
Wrong.
It didn't notice them immediately.
Aoi's breath left his body.
Not a scream. Not a gasp.
Just absence.
The creature lifted its head slowly. Its face was barely human anymore.
Ren stepped forward instinctively.
But Aoi didn't move. He couldn't.
For half a second—
The world narrowed to a single sound. The wet shift of movement.
The creature turned fully toward them. And Aoi's mother's hand fell limp against the floor.
That's enough.
You don't need to describe more.
The image is clear without being graphic.
The creature moved first.
It shifted its weight. Turned toward them.
Aoi didn't react. His body refused.
The world felt distant — like he was watching it through glass.
Ren didn't hesitate. He stepped forward before the creature could lunge.
Fast. Too fast.
He grabbed it by the shoulder and slammed it away from her body.
It shrieked. Ren didn't give it time.
No gun this time. No warning. Just instinct and force.
He ended it quickly. Efficient.
Silent.
When it was done, the house was still again. Too still.
Ren stood there for a second, breathing hard.
Then he looked at Aoi. Aoi wasn't looking at him.
He was walking forward slowly. Like if he moved too fast, something worse would happen.
He dropped to his knees beside her. "Mom…"
His voice barely existed.
She was still breathing. Shallow.
Faint.
Her eyes were half-open.
Struggling to focus.
Aoi's hands hovered for a second before finally touching her shoulder.
Carefully.
Like she might break.
"I'm here," he whispered. "I'm here." Her gaze shifted slightly.
It found him. Recognition flickered. Her fingers twitched weakly against the floor.
"Aoi…" she breathed. Just his name.
Nothing more. It was enough.
Aoi swallowed hard. "I'm here," he repeated, his voice breaking now. "You're okay."
It wasn't true.
They both knew it. Her breathing faltered.
A small exhale. Then another.
Then—
Nothing.
Her hand slipped from his. And the room became unbearably quiet.
Aoi stayed there. Still kneeling. Still holding her hand.
As if time might rewind if he didn't move.
Ren stood a few feet away. He didn't approach.
Didn't speak.
For once—
He didn't know what to do.
....
Aoi didn't move for a long time.
Ren didn't rush him. Didn't touch him. Didn't speak.
Eventually—
Aoi inhaled shakily. "Ren…"
His voice barely held. "I want to leave."
He swallowed.
"I can't stay here anymore."
He didn't say why. He didn't have to.
The house didn't feel like a house anymore. It felt like a grave.
Ren nodded once. "Okay."
That was it. No questions.
No resistance.
—
They walked back in silence. The world looked the same.
But it wasn't.
The sky was the same color. The streets were the same.
But Aoi felt like he was walking through something distant. Like none of it belonged to him anymore.
He didn't cry. Not there. Not outside.
His face was blank. Too calm.
When they got home, Aoi stepped inside and sat on the couch without taking off his jacket.
He stared at nothing.
Ren watched him for a second. "You should lie down," Ren said quietly. "I'll get you some water."
He turned.
Aoi grabbed his wrist. Firm.
Not desperate. But not letting go. "Don't leave." His voice cracked slightly on the last word.
"Stay. Just… for a while." Ren went still. Then slowly sat down beside him instead.
Close.
Not touching.
Aoi's breathing started to change. Subtle at first.
Then heavier. His shoulders trembled. Ren noticed the tears before Aoi seemed to.
They slipped down silently. No sound. No sobbing. Just quiet breaking.
And then—
Aoi turned and pulled him in.
Sudden. Tight.
Like if he let go, something else would disappear too. Ren stiffened for half a second.
Then carefully wrapped his arms around him. Aoi buried his face against Ren's shoulder.
He didn't wail. He didn't shout.
He just shook.
And for someone who rarely cried—
It felt like watching something private collapse.
Ren held him. Not too tight.
Just enough.
As if anchoring him to something that was still real. The world outside was falling apart.
His mother was gone. The virus was spreading.
People were changing. But Ren stayed.
And Aoi held on like he was the only thing that hadn't vanished.
...
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
Aoi hadn't moved for a long time. At some point, the tears slowed. His grip never did.
Ren shifted slightly, thinking maybe Aoi had fallen asleep.
But Aoi's fingers tightened instantly.
Not panicked. Just unwilling to let go.
"I'm here," Ren said softly. Aoi didn't answer.
He just adjusted, pressing closer — like he was making sure Ren was real.
Minutes passed. Maybe more. Eventually, exhaustion won.
Aoi's breathing evened out. He didn't move away. He didn't loosen his hold.
He slept like that. Curled toward him.
Still holding on.
Ren stayed still. Careful not to wake him.
Careful not to shift too much.
For the first time, he understood something clearly:
It wasn't just about protecting Aoi anymore. Aoi was holding onto him like he was the last stable thing left in the world.
And that scared him more than the monsters ever had.
Ren looked down at him. At the tear-stained lashes. At the tension still in his jaw even in sleep.
He hesitated. Then, slowly—
He let himself lean back against the couch.
And stayed.
Outside, the world continued collapsing.
Inside—
Aoi held on.
And Ren didn't move.
Aoi's grip never loosened. Even in sleep.
Ren didn't move.
—
The house was dark.
Aoi had fallen asleep at some point. Still holding onto him.
Ren hadn't moved. He didn't dare.
Aoi's phone buzzed softly on the table.
Once. Then again.
Ren glanced at it. He wouldn't normally touch it.
But it kept lighting up.
He shifted carefully, making sure not to wake Aoi, and reached for it.
The screen lit up instantly. No lock.
A message preview filled the screen.
From: Dad.
Ren hesitated. Then read it.
'Stay away from that boy.
I'm serious, Aoi.
He isn't normal.'
Ren's jaw tightened.
Another message followed.
'I don't trust him.
Please listen to me.'
The room felt smaller. He lowered the phone slowly.
So it had started.
Takeda.
The suspicion. The doubt.
Aoi shifted in his sleep. His fingers tightened in Ren's shirt. A faint sound escaped him—soft, almost broken.
Like he was chasing something even in his dreams.
Ren looked down.
Aoi's brows were faintly drawn together. Even asleep, he looked like he was afraid of losing something.
Ren's chest ached. He could leave now. He should.
Before the government noticed more.
Before Takeda decided to act.
Before Aoi had to choose.
His eyes drifted to the door. Then back to Aoi.
Aoi moved closer unconsciously. Clinging.
Trusting.
Ren exhaled slowly. He didn't move. He didn't pull away.
For the first time—
He wasn't sure if he was staying to protect Aoi.
Or because he didn't want to be the one who walked away.
The phone screen dimmed. The message remained unseen by Aoi.
But the warning had already been delivered.
And Ren stayed.