The smell of burnt corpses still hung in the air by morning. Even after the fire had burned down to ash, the stink clung to the walls of the school, carried in the breeze through the broken windows.

Riku was the first awake. He always was. Rifle on his shoulder, he walked the perimeter again, stepping around the blackened spots where shamblers had been stacked and torched. Survivors moved sluggishly inside, cleaning weapons, patching barricades. Their faces were tired but alive.

He didn't trust them yet. He doubted he ever would. But the way they'd fought the night before—organized, not panicked—earned them a sliver of respect.

By the time the others woke, the school had returned to its uneasy routine.

Hana yawned as she rubbed her eyes, her blanket sliding off her shoulders. Yui stirred next to her, weak but smiling faintly, the fever broken enough that her breaths no longer rattled. Kenji hovered close, whispering thanks to anyone who passed him water or scraps of food.

Suzune walked to Riku's side near the yard gate, rifle hanging casually but eyes sharp as ever. "They held the line. Better than most groups would've."

Riku grunted.

"You're still thinking about leaving."

"Always."

Her lips twitched, almost a smile. "Of course you are."

Sato gathered them all in the cafeteria—what was left of it. The windows were gone, the tiles cracked, but tables had been dragged together for a meeting. Riku sat with Suzune, Miko, Ichika, Hana, Kenji, and Yui on one side. Sato and his core group—four men, three women—sat opposite.

"You saw what last night was," Sato began, voice level. "That wasn't the first swarm, and it won't be the last. But we held. We'll keep holding. That's what we do here. We build a place that can last."

Ichika muttered under her breath, "Nothing lasts."

Sato didn't rise to it. His eyes stayed on Riku. "You've got people. You've got a truck. You've got discipline. Stay here, and we all stand a better chance."

Miko leaned forward, hopeful. "They have food. Medicine. Yui needs both."

Kenji clasped his hands. "Please. I'll work. Anything. Just don't make us run again."

Riku sat silent, weighing every face. Hana's wide, pleading eyes. Yui's pale cheeks. Suzune's calm acceptance. Even Ichika, arms crossed, couldn't hide the way her gaze lingered on the stew pot in the corner.

Finally, he spoke. "We stay. For now. We pull weight. But if this place falls apart, we walk. No hesitation."

Sato gave a small, firm nod. "That's fair."

Integration wasn't clean.

By noon, Riku's group had been split among chores. Suzune took watch on the rooftop with one of Sato's lieutenants, trading sharp words and sharper glances as they compared scopes and sightlines. Ichika was sent to help reinforce the barricades, though she cursed under her breath every time she lifted a plank of wood.

Miko worked with the medics—if they could be called that—boiling water, cleaning rags, checking on the sick. She hovered by Yui more than anyone else, smiling whenever the girl managed a word.

Kenji was put on hauling duty, carrying crates from the supply room to the kitchen. He stumbled under the weight but never complained, jaw clenched with determination.

Riku kept moving. One moment with the rooftop watch, the next by the barricades, then in the hallways, memorizing the layout of the school. Every choke point. Every exit. Every blind corner. Trust wasn't in his nature, but preparation was.

Hana, for once, played.

A pair of other children—two boys, brothers maybe eight and ten—had survived with the group. They had a tattered deck of cards, and soon Hana was giggling with them in a corner of the yard. For the first time in weeks, she wasn't clinging to Miko's arm or Riku's sleeve.

Riku watched from across the yard, expression unreadable. Suzune stood beside him, following his gaze.

"She needed that," Suzune said softly.

Riku said nothing.

That evening, they ate again in the cafeteria. More stew, more rationed bread. But it was hot. It was enough.

Sato spoke between mouthfuls. "We send teams every few days to scavenge. Careful runs, never too far. You've got a truck that can go places our feet can't. You want to earn your keep? That's how."

Riku didn't hesitate. "Where?"

"The depot north still has supplies. But raiders prowl it. Too risky on foot. With your Rezvani, maybe not."

Suzune's eyes flicked to Riku. She didn't need to say it. Risk was their language.

Riku's voice stayed flat. "We'll scout it. Tomorrow."

Miko frowned. "Already? Can't we rest longer?"

"Rest gets you dead," Riku said.

Ichika smirked bitterly. "That should be carved on your grave."

Night passed quiet, though every creak of the building kept Riku awake. He sat near the door, rifle across his lap, eyes on the dark hall. Suzune relieved him halfway, silent as always.

Kenji dozed curled around Yui. Miko slept close to Hana. Ichika muttered in her sleep, twitching like she was still holding the walkie.

For a brief moment, in that ruined school, it almost felt like family.

Riku hated himself for almost believing it.

Morning came harsh and gray. Clouds pressed low, and the smell of rain lingered.

Riku prepped the Rezvani, checking fuel, strapping crates tight. Suzune stood ready with her rifle. Ichika slouched into the back seat, grumbling. Miko kissed Hana's forehead before climbing in. Kenji begged to come, but Riku shook his head.

"You stay. Watch her. If we don't come back, you run west."

Kenji swallowed hard and nodded.

Hana hugged Riku tight. "Don't be long, Onii-chan."

"I won't," he said.

Sato's people opened the gate, and the Rezvani rolled into the broken streets.

The city beyond was quieter than before. Ash drifted in the air. The roads were blocked with rusted cars, but the Rezvani's armored bumper shoved them aside.

They reached the depot by midday. The building was half-collapsed, roof sagging, windows shattered. Old delivery trucks sat rusting in the lot.

Suzune scanned with her scope. "Movement inside. Raiders, not shamblers."

Riku nodded once. "We go quiet."

They slipped from the Rezvani, rifles low, boots crunching glass. Inside the depot, the air reeked of smoke and oil. Voices echoed—raiders laughing, arguing.

Riku motioned, and they crept through the aisles. Stacks of canned goods, crates of bottled water—still untouched, miraculously. But the raiders had camped in the office, their weapons piled in the corner.

Ichika's eyes widened. "We hit them now, we could clear it."

Riku's voice was ice. "No. Too loud. We take what we can and leave."

Suzune covered while Riku and Miko loaded crates into a cart. They moved fast, hearts pounding.

But then a raider stumbled from the office, yawning, eyes red from smoke. His gaze snapped to them, and his mouth opened.

Riku's rifle barked once. The man dropped before he could shout.

The depot erupted.

Shouts. Boots. Gunfire. Raiders spilling from the office like hornets.

"Go!" Riku roared.

They sprinted, crates clattering, bullets sparking off steel shelves. Suzune fired precise shots, dropping two. Ichika shoved a crate into the Rezvani's rear, swearing the whole time.

Riku covered the retreat, firing short bursts until the others were inside. He vaulted in last, slamming the door shut as rounds cracked against the armor.

"Drive!" Suzune snapped.

The Rezvani roared to life, tires shrieking as it plowed through the lot. Raiders gave chase on foot, but none could match the armored monster's speed.

Only when the depot was blocks behind did Riku ease the wheel.

Miko gasped for breath, clutching Hana's blanket tight in her lap. "We got food. We actually got food."

Suzune checked her rifle. "And enemies. They'll follow if they can."

Riku's jaw tightened. "Then we don't go back to the depot again."

When they returned to the school, Sato's people cheered at the sight of the crates. Food. Water. Supplies. For once, hope lit tired eyes.

Sato clasped Riku's arm. "You did good. This will keep us going."

Riku didn't smile. He only nodded, already thinking of the raiders they'd left alive.

But that night, as Hana laughed with the other children over a shared piece of candy, as Yui slept without fever, as Miko leaned against the wall with a rare smile, even Riku had to admit—

For now, this place was more than just walls.

It was a chance. Fragile, dangerous, but real.

And maybe, just maybe, worth the risk.

Riku cleaned his rifle long after the others had settled, the sound of the rag against steel steady in the dark. Beyond the walls, the city groaned and whispered, never still. He glanced once toward Hana curled beside Yui, and for the first time in weeks, allowed himself a thought he usually buried deep.

Maybe tomorrow doesn't have to be just survival.

The words lingered, foreign but stubborn. He forced himself to look away, back to the black night outside. Hope was dangerous. But he couldn't deny—dangerous or not, it was already here, inside these walls.

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