The creature's footsteps echoed slowly, heavily, reverberating through the ruined space. Each step sent faint tremors through the ground, dislodging dust from the crumbling ceiling, as if whispering warnings of a nightmare slowly enveloping the area.
Nozomi held Shion tightly, feeling every shudder of her friend's body pressed against her chest. The dark, cramped space was suffocating, the air thick with the mingled scents of rust, dust, and their cold sweat. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, forcing herself to stay calm, keeping her breathing steady. They couldn't afford a single mistake.
Crack…!
A faint sound broke the silence—the snap of rotted wood under the creature's weight. It stopped.
The air seemed to freeze.
Nozomi strained to listen, her heart pounding so fiercely it felt like it might burst. She didn't dare breathe deeply or move. The only sounds were her own heartbeat and Shion's, nearly merging into one, echoing in her ears.
The creature seemed to be sniffing. A soft, drawn-out sound, like a deep inhale, came from ahead, lingering and deliberate. It felt as though it was searching for the scent of blood, of humans… or of fear.
Shion shrank back again, and Nozomi immediately pressed her friend's head against her shoulder, her hand gently stroking Shion's back in a soothing rhythm. She said nothing, but every gesture spoke clearly: I'm here. I'll protect you.
Outside, the creature took another step, now dangerously close.
Through a small gap, Nozomi stole a brief glance, and her heart clenched.
Though she'd seen it before, seeing it this close revealed something horrifying: faint, terrified human faces embedded in its body, frozen in expressions of abject horror. It was clear what had happened to them, and the sight amplified Nozomi's fear.
She couldn't look any longer. She pulled back, closing her eyes and clenching her fists.
The creature stopped, standing there.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds…
Time seemed to halt. Shion bit her lip so hard it nearly bled, her grip on Nozomi tightening, her hands trembling violently.
Then—
CRASH!
Another sound erupted from the far side of the house, where another wall collapsed. The creature turned its head and began to move slowly toward the new noise.
Nozomi didn't relax immediately. She waited one minute. Two minutes. Only when the footsteps faded completely did she release a breath that felt like it held her very life.
Shion also exhaled, looking up at Nozomi with tear-streaked eyes. "…I'm sorry. I'm… too weak…" she whispered.
Nozomi shook her head gently, wiping a lingering tear from the corner of Shion's eye. "You're not weak… you're just human. It's okay to be scared."
A brief silence fell.
"…I'm scared too," Nozomi admitted softly. They looked at each other, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
Then they clasped each other's hands tightly, knowing the night wasn't over and the horrors ahead still loomed. The terrors outside prowled the darkness, waiting. A single lapse could cost them dearly.
"Now that we know those creatures are out there, going outside is too dangerous. We should stay here until morning and rest while we can," Nozomi said, her voice low and steady, cautious not to disturb the suffocating silence around them.
Shion nodded wordlessly. Her eyes still held traces of fear, but her trust in Nozomi needed no words.
Without hesitation, Nozomi began tidying their makeshift shelter. She dragged broken bricks, stacking them into a low wall to conceal their corner, creating a space so dark it was nearly invisible from outside. She left only a narrow slit for observation.
The small space was just big enough for both to lie down, nestled among the debris and shadows.
"Let's take turns sleeping," Nozomi said when she finished, her eyes still fixed on the slit. "Both of us sleeping at once is too risky."
"You sleep first," Shion said, her voice soft but firm. "You've done so much today. I haven't helped at all… so let me keep watch."
Nozomi glanced at Shion, then shook her head immediately. Her response was unwavering.
"Do you think I don't know the state you're in?" Her voice was quiet but carried a hint of sternness. "Don't worry, I can handle it. But if you get sick, that's the real problem."
"But—"
Before Shion could finish, Nozomi gently pulled her down, guiding Shion's head to rest on her lap.
"Eh—?"
Not giving her a chance to resist, Nozomi leaned down, her fingers softly brushing through Shion's loose hair. The gesture was so tender it felt almost maternal, like a mother lulling a child to sleep amid a war.
"Sleep. We don't have much time," Nozomi said.
Shion's cheeks flushed, and she muttered unconsciously, "Fine… I'm not a baby, you don't have to do this…"
But before she could finish, her eyelids grew heavy. The fears, tension, and exhaustion that had built up melted away in this rare moment of warmth and quiet.
Within minutes, Shion was fast asleep, her steady breathing filling the cramped space.
Nozomi looked down at her friend's relaxed face. A faint smile crossed her lips, but she said nothing.
Then the smile faded. Her eyes turned sharp and vigilant once more, peering through the slit, tracking every movement in the darkness swallowing the ruined house.
The night wasn't over. And she would be the one to keep their fragile light from going out.
In this fleeting moment of calm, Nozomi finally had a chance to reflect on everything that had happened. It had all come so fast, so unexpectedly. From the strange sounds she'd heard at the start to the dream she couldn't fully recall… there was something unresolved, something she felt connected to.
"Whatever it is, my priority now is to survive, protect Shion, and find our families…!"
Nozomi whispered to herself, a reminder of her current goals. No matter what mysteries lay ahead, they paled in comparison to these objectives, and she would do anything to protect them.
Time passed quietly. Hours had gone by since Shion fell asleep. Fortunately, nothing unusual happened, but Nozomi's mental state was deteriorating dangerously. At times, she dozed off, only to jolt awake. Seeing Shion's peaceful sleeping face, she couldn't bring herself to wake her.
Sleepiness was like a silent undertow, relentless and erosive, wearing down her resolve.
Each time her eyes drooped, her head nodding forward, nearly brushing the cold stone wall… the sight of Shion's sleeping face snapped her back to alertness.
She couldn't bear it.
She couldn't bear to wake her friend. She couldn't bear to interrupt this rare moment of peace. Yet, deep down, she knew continuing like this would exhaust her before any enemy could.
The light filtering through the slit gradually shifted, the pitch black giving way to a faint gray, a subtle sign that night was receding. But in this place, light wasn't trustworthy. The thick fog, rubble, and tainted air kept everything shrouded in gloom, day or night.
Nozomi adjusted her sitting position, rubbing her aching shoulder. Every muscle in her body screamed with fatigue, but she forced herself to stay silent.
Then, a faint sound reached her ears. Not from outside, but from behind her.
A soft whimper.
It was Shion…!
She was having a nightmare.
Shion's body trembled faintly, her hands clutching Nozomi's clothes, her lips moving as if calling someone's name in her sleep.
Nozomi leaned down, gently stroking Shion's sweat-dampened hair, whispering softly, "It's okay… you're safe… I'm here."
Shion calmed, her breathing steadying, though her face still bore traces of unease.
Seeing this, Nozomi's heart ached.
They were just two ordinary girls.
Not warriors. Not heroes.
Yet here they were, fighting to survive in a living nightmare with no end in sight.
"If only…" Nozomi murmured, then shook her head. She knew there was no room for wishful thinking in their situation.
She glanced back at the slit, where the faint light revealed nothing more. No footsteps, no scraping sounds, but she knew something was still out there, waiting for the right moment.
And so… she couldn't rest yet.
Though her eyes burned and her mind was foggy, Nozomi clung to her last shred of vigilance, holding Shion's hand tightly, as if letting go would cause everything to collapse.
But no matter how hard Nozomi tried, her body was brutally honest. The small, repetitive motions she made each time she dozed off began to stir Shion awake.
Though not fully conscious, Shion looked up at Nozomi's exhausted face and realized she had overslept—and that her friend had pushed through her own fatigue to let her rest longer.
Guilt surged within her.
Shion sat up, catching Nozomi as she nearly collapsed. Her eyes filled with concern, her lips parting to scold, but seeing Nozomi's state, she instead gently guided her friend to lean against her, adjusting their position for Nozomi's comfort.
"It's okay, sleep," Shion whispered.
Whether Nozomi was still lucid enough to hear was unclear, but those words carried an irresistible pull. She closed her eyes, resting against Shion's soft frame, and fell asleep almost as quickly as Shion had.
"You idiot, if you're worried about me, I'm just as worried about you. You shouldn't push yourself like this," Shion said, unsure if Nozomi could hear. But seeing her friend resting against her, a protective warmth swelled in Shion's heart, a resolve to shield her dearest companion.