The morning fog thinned by the time Riku roused them. He didn't have to shout; he never did. One word, sharp and low—"Up"—was enough.

Suzune was already awake, rolling her shoulders, adjusting the sling on her rifle. Ichika muttered curses under her breath but obeyed, rubbing her eyes and snapping the walkie on to check for static. Miko folded Hana's blanket neat, tucking it back into their pack before helping the girl sit upright.

Kenji hovered close to his daughter. Yui stirred weakly, eyes glassy but open this time, watching strangers move around her like figures in a dream.

"We move," Riku said, voice flat as concrete.

Nobody argued.

They packed quick, routine drilled into muscle. Jugs strapped down in the Rezvani's rear, weapons checked, packs cinched. Suzune swept the garage one last time while Riku gave Yui a steady look. She was small, fragile, too hot under her skin. Miko was right—leaving her would have been walking away from a child. But taking her slowed them.

He hated that he thought that way, but he couldn't stop.

Kenji carried Yui wrapped in Hana's extra blanket. He staggered once, adjusting her weight. Riku watched him without comment. If the man wanted to stay, he'd prove it under the strain.

"Engine low," Riku said as they climbed into the Rezvani. "No lights. If we cross noise, we cut east until it fades. Don't talk unless needed."

The Rezvani growled to life, heavy and sure. They rolled out of the garage, back into the skeleton of the city.

The fog made the streets strange. Shapes loomed too close, blurred at the edges—cars, lamp posts, the bent ribs of collapsed scaffolding. Every block smelled different: mildew, burnt plastic, the faint tang of sea.

Riku's knuckles stayed white on the wheel.

Ichika broke silence first. "So what, we're just a taxi now? Pick up every stray we see?"

"Shut up," Suzune said without looking at her.

"I'm serious. We barely feed Hana as it is. Now it's this guy and his kid—"

"She has a name," Miko cut in. Her voice was sharp in a way Riku rarely heard.

"Names don't matter when they're dead weight," Ichika shot back.

Kenji flinched, holding Yui closer. Hana looked between them, eyes wide.

"Enough," Riku said, not loud but iron. The cab fell silent again.

The Rezvani crawled west.

By midday, they sheltered in a collapsed overpass. The concrete slabs leaned like broken teeth, leaving just enough space for the truck to tuck under. Riku killed the engine and listened.

No pursuit. No swarm. Just the wind.

They ate cold rice and split one candy bar six ways. Hana gave half her piece to Yui, pressing it into the girl's trembling hand. Yui smiled faintly before coughing, small and wet. Miko rubbed her back while Kenji whispered thanks until his voice cracked.

Riku sat apart, rifle balanced on his knee, eyes scanning the gaps in the overpass. Suzune joined him after a while, crouching against the concrete.

"You're letting them stay," she said. Not a question.

"For now," Riku answered.

"And when 'for now' runs out?"

"Then we decide."

She studied him. "Ichika's not wrong. They make us slower."

"Everything makes us slower," he said. "Food runs, fuel runs, every stop we make. Difference is, this one breathes."

Suzune's mouth twitched—something between annoyance and respect. She didn't argue further.

The second day brought rain. Not heavy, but enough to slick the roads and turn the air into wet ash. The Rezvani's wipers squeaked once before Riku killed them, not wanting the noise.

They drove through blocks of apartment towers, windows shattered, curtains fluttering like ghosts. Once, Hana pointed to a balcony where laundry still hung, stiff with mold. Nobody spoke.

At a four-way intersection, they stopped short.

A bus had jackknifed across the road, its windows clawed out from the inside. Bodies lay strewn in the wet—half skeleton, half rot. The road beyond was blocked with toppled cars.

"Backtrack?" Suzune asked.

Riku scanned the map, then the alleys. "Left. Narrow. Might clear."

He eased the Rezvani into the side street. The lane was tighter than he liked, walls close on both sides. Graffiti scarred the bricks—raider tags, old but not dead.

"Eyes up," he murmured.

Halfway down the lane, Yui stirred in Kenji's arms. Her eyes flickered open. "Papa?"

Kenji hushed her quick, kissing her forehead. Hana reached out, brushing her hand lightly over Yui's. The girl smiled faintly, then drifted again.

Riku kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the pistol holstered at his thigh.

At the end of the lane, something shifted.

A shadow peeled off the wall. Another, then two more. Men. Scarves over their faces, pipes and bats in hand. Raiders.

"Blockade," Riku muttered.

One raised a hand, grinning with yellow teeth. "Nice ride. Step out, nice and slow."

Riku didn't stop. He shifted gears and pressed the pedal.

The Rezvani growled forward, armored bumper slamming into the first man like a hammer. Bone snapped loud. The others scattered, shouting, but Riku didn't give them time. He clipped another against the wall, ducked under a thrown bottle, then burst through the lane mouth back onto the open street.

Kenji gasped, clutching Yui tighter. Hana buried her face in Miko's shoulder.

Ichika swore. "You just made us a target!"

Riku didn't answer. He kept driving until the rain masked their tracks.

That night they hid in a pharmacy. The windows had been barred once, though half were torn open now. Still, the backroom was intact. Shelves lay overturned, bottles scattered, but it was walls and a roof.

Riku set Suzune on first watch and prowled the aisles himself. Most shelves were bare. A few bottles remained—cough syrup, aspirin, useless creams. Nothing strong. Nothing Yui needed.

Miko searched too, desperate, but came up with only a half-empty bottle of children's acetaminophen. She pressed it into Riku's hand like it was gold.

"It's something," she whispered.

He nodded. "Something."

Kenji fed Yui a small dose, cradling her like glass. The girl's breathing eased slightly, her fever-damp skin less flushed. For a moment, Kenji's eyes filled with tears he tried to hide.

Hana sat cross-legged nearby, telling Yui a story about "the time Onii-chan drove through a hundred zombies with one hand on the wheel." Yui tried to laugh but coughed instead. Still, she listened.

Ichika sat against the wall, scowling at everyone. "Medicine doesn't make food," she muttered.

"Neither does your attitude," Suzune shot back without looking.

Riku let the bickering die on its own. His mind was on the road ahead.

The third morning brought smoke.

They smelled it before they saw it—wood and plastic burning together, thick in the air. When they turned the corner of a broad avenue, the source revealed itself.

A school.

Its yard was blackened, playground twisted and half-melted. A fire smoldered in one wing, sending smoke curling into the gray sky. Bodies littered the fence line—shamblers, hacked down messy. Someone had fought here.

And someone was still here.

"Movement," Suzune whispered, pointing.

On the rooftop, a figure stood. Rifle slung, arm raised. Not aiming. Waving.

Kenji leaned forward, eyes wide. "Another survivor."

Riku's stomach turned cold. Twice in three days? Too clean. Too much risk.

The figure cupped their hands to their mouth, shouting down over the street.

"You in the truck! We see you! Don't shoot—we've got food! Shelter!"

The words echoed off the empty buildings.

Ichika barked a laugh. "Yeah, right. That's the oldest bait in the book."

Suzune squinted through her scope. "Doesn't look like raider stock. Uniform's clean. Stance too. Maybe ex-military."

Miko's voice was tight. "If they have food…"

Hana tugged at Riku's sleeve. "Onii-chan, they're waving like friends."

Riku's jaw locked. Every choice felt like a blade. Trust had teeth. But the Rezvani couldn't run forever on scraps, and Yui wouldn't survive much longer without help.

The rooftop figure waved again, louder this time. "Come in! North gate's open! You're safe here!"

The group looked to Riku.

For once, he didn't answer right away. His hands flexed on the wheel. The fog. The fire. The faces around him—Suzune's steady, Ichika's skeptical, Miko's hopeful, Hana's pleading, Kenji's desperate. Yui's faint, shallow breaths.

Finally, he exhaled.

"We check," he said. "Careful."

The schoolyard gates were ajar, chains cut. Riku eased the Rezvani inside, nose first, ready to reverse if needed. The yard was charred but clear. No bodies twitched. No ambush sprang.

At the steps, three more figures waited. One man, two women, all armed but rifles lowered. Their faces were hard, but not painted, not grinning like raiders.

The rooftop guard jogged down to meet them, hands raised. He was older, hair cut short, eyes sharp.

"Not raiders," Suzune murmured.

"Not saints either," Ichika said.

The man stopped a few meters away, palms out. "Welcome. You're safe here. Name's Sato. We hold this block. You're free to rest inside. Food, water, walls." His gaze flicked over the Rezvani, then the weary faces inside. "We don't turn away kids."

Hana's eyes lit. Miko's breath hitched.

Riku stepped out first, rifle still slung. His voice was flat. "Safe's a word. Prove it."

Sato nodded, as if expecting that. "Then see for yourself. No tricks. No traps. Just survivors."

Behind him, the burned school loomed, its windows dark but intact.

For the first time in weeks, there was a chance—fragile, dangerous—that they had found something more than another ruin.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.