They ran until it felt like their lungs would tear apart.
The flames behind them slowly faded, swallowed by darkness and cold mountain air. Smoke drifted through the trees in thin, choking ribbons. Somewhere in the chaos, Tsukito lost sight of nearly everyone.
Once, he thought he saw Haru disappearing between the trees with three other survivors.
Then the ground split again, and the moment was gone.
“Tenma!” Raiden shouted.
No answer.
Only monsters.
Only smoke.
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Only the sound of the world ending.
By the time night fell, they had found shelter beneath a jagged rock ledge. The valley behind them still burned, staining the distant sky red.
Raiden slammed his fist into the stone wall hard enough to split his knuckles.
“Damn it!”
Tsukito sat with his back against the rock, the emergency sword across his knees.
“He’s alive.”
Raiden turned on him instantly.
“You don’t know that.”
Tsukito looked out into the darkness beyond the ledge. His voice was quiet, but steady.
“I know Tenma.”
Raiden stared at him.
Tsukito didn’t look away.
“He’s alive.”
For the first time since the crash, Raiden had no joke ready.
He sank down against the opposite wall and stared at the blood on his hand.
The silence that followed was worse than the monsters.
At some point, Tsukito found himself remembering the orphanage forest.
The bear.
Raiden charging in without thinking.
Tenma hurling stones and yelling directions.
The three of them standing together afterward, bruised and shaking and still somehow laughing.
The promise.
No matter what happens… we survive together.
Tsukito tightened his grip on the sword.
Outside, something moved through the darkness.
A branch cracked.
Then another.
Raiden looked up immediately.
Both of them went still.
Nothing emerged.
The forest held its breath.
Neither of them slept much that night.
And by morning, the old world was gone.
