The rain hadn't stopped for days.

Gray clouds hung over the ruins of Nagano like a heavy blanket, drowning the sun and swallowing every sound except the endless patter of water against broken glass. The city was gone — reduced to husks of buildings, rusted cars, and the hollow silence of a country that no longer breathed.

And in the middle of it all stood an old FamilyMart, its faded green-and-white sign flickering weakly in the drizzle.

That was home now.

Three months had passed since the refinery burned, since the thing beneath the earth screamed and everything around it turned to ash. Riku hadn't dreamed properly since.

He sat near the front counter, the same spot where the cash register used to be. A small camp stove hissed softly beside him, heating a dented pot of soup that smelled faintly of dried miso and mushrooms. The cracked glass doors had been barricaded with shelves and scrap metal; the aisles beyond were filled with sleeping bags, ammo crates, and whatever supplies they had scavenged from the surrounding area.

Outside, the world was still wet and cold, but inside the convenience store, it was warm — barely.

Suzune crouched near the window, scanning the street through her binoculars. She had changed over the months — her once-short hair tied back in a rough braid, her clothes patched with duct tape and dark fabric to blend with the ruins. She still carried her rifle wherever she went, never more than an arm's reach away.

"North road's clear," she said. "No movement. No sound."

"Same report every morning," Riku muttered. He stirred the pot slowly, watching the bubbles rise.

"Still better than the alternative."

"Yeah."

Suzune lowered the binoculars, turning toward him. "You didn't sleep again."

"Didn't try."

She exhaled quietly. "It's been three months, Riku. The thing's gone."

He didn't look up. "We thought that once before."

A silence hung between them, broken only by the faint simmer of soup and the whisper of rain against the barricade.

From deeper inside the store, a voice called out:

"Breakfast smells like feet again!"

Ichika.

She emerged from behind the aisles, rubbing her messy black hair with a towel. Her jacket was unzipped, showing a patched-up undershirt and a pistol holster on her thigh. Despite everything, she still managed a smirk.

"I told you to stop cooking in that pot," she said, pointing at it. "It smells like someone boiled socks."

"It's the only one that doesn't leak," Riku replied flatly.

"Then I'm eating outside."

"You're welcome to try," Suzune said dryly. "Just remember the last time you did that — you came back with three leeches and an infected ankle."

Ichika made a face. "Fine. Inside it is."

She sat cross-legged on a flattened cardboard box, stretching her arms. "Where's the kid?"

"Still asleep," Suzune said. "She's in the back."

Ichika nodded toward Riku. "You know, she's getting better at reading. I caught her yesterday trying to sound out the label on a ramen cup."

Riku's stirring slowed. "Good."

"Yeah," Ichika said softly. "She deserves something normal."

Hana woke an hour later.

She shuffled out from the back room, hair tangled, wearing a faded hoodie several sizes too big for her. In her hands, she held the small stuffed rabbit she'd found weeks ago in a department store toy aisle — one of the few things that made her smile anymore.

"Morning," she mumbled.

Riku handed her a bowl. "Eat before it gets cold."

She nodded and sat between him and Suzune, slurping quietly.

For a while, the only sound was the rain outside and the soft clink of metal spoons.

Then Hana looked up. "Are we staying here for long?"

Suzune gave a tired smile. "Why? You don't like our five-star hotel?"

Hana giggled softly. "It's better than the last one. That place smelled like gas."

"That was a gas station," Ichika said from across the room. "Of course it smelled like gas."

Hana frowned, pretending to think hard. "Then what does this place smell like?"

"Feet," Ichika said without hesitation.

Suzune threw a paper wrapper at her. "Don't teach her that."

Riku just sighed. "We stay here until the roads clear. The bridges east are still flooded."

Hana nodded, satisfied.

Suzune glanced at him. "And after that?"

Riku didn't answer immediately. He looked out the narrow window where the rain streaked down the glass. The streets were quiet, no movement but the flutter of a torn banner hanging from a lamp post.

"North," he finally said. "Mountains are safer. Fewer infected."

"And less food," Ichika pointed out.

"Then we make do."

By afternoon, the rain had stopped, leaving the air heavy with humidity and the faint scent of mold. Suzune went to check the perimeter traps, while Ichika climbed onto the roof to adjust the solar panel they had rigged from scrap.

Riku stayed with Hana, helping her sort bullets on a blanket — a simple task that kept her hands busy and her mind calm.

"Do you remember where the safety rounds go?" he asked.

Hana pointed. "Those go in the smaller box. The ones with the black tips are dangerous, right?"

"Right. Don't touch those."

She nodded seriously, then grinned. "I won't."

She worked quietly for a few minutes before speaking again. "Riku… do you think there are other people like us out there?"

He looked at her, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"People who survived. People who still have houses and schools."

He hesitated. "Maybe. Somewhere."

Suzune's voice crackled over the radio before he could say more. "Riku, you'll want to see this. South fence — now."

He stood quickly, grabbing his rifle. "Stay here with Ichika."

Hana nodded, clutching her stuffed rabbit tight.

Suzune was kneeling near the edge of the lot when he arrived. The air was damp, the road glistening under the gray sky. She pointed toward the drainage ditch along the street.

"Look," she said.

Something was tangled in the weeds — a body.

Or what was left of one.

Riku crouched beside it. It wasn't decomposed like the infected they'd burned months ago. The flesh was pale, almost translucent, like it had been drained dry. The eyes were open but clouded, and along the spine, black veins pulsed faintly — as if still alive beneath the skin.

Suzune's expression was grim. "I found it half-buried. It wasn't here yesterday."

"Any sign of struggle?"

"None."

Riku studied the ground. No footprints. No drag marks. Just the body, lying there like it had fallen from the sky.

He exhaled slowly. "It's spreading again."

Suzune's jaw tightened. "You're sure?"

He gestured at the veins. "You remember what the ground looked like near the refinery? Same pattern. Whatever that thing was doing underground… it's still moving."

"Then it's heading north," she said quietly.

He nodded. "Right toward us."

They covered the body with a tarp and dragged it behind the convenience store, far from camp. Suzune poured fuel over it and struck a match. The flames caught fast, smoke curling upward into the gray sky.

Neither of them spoke until the last of the body turned to ash.

That night, the four of them sat together in the store, lanterns flickering dimly. The air smelled faintly of smoke and wet earth.

Ichika was the first to break the silence. "So what now? You gonna tell the kid the boogeyman's back?"

"No," Riku said. "She's had enough nightmares."

Suzune leaned back against the counter. "We can't stay. If the infection's moving again, it'll swallow this place like the last one."

"Then we move tomorrow," he said. "Before sunrise."

Ichika scowled. "We've got maybe half a tank of diesel left. You think we'll get far on that?"

"We'll make it stretch."

"You always say that."

"And we're still alive, aren't we?"

Ichika didn't reply.

Hana looked between them nervously. "Are we leaving again?"

Riku softened his voice. "Just moving somewhere safer. That's all."

She nodded slowly, then looked down at her stuffed rabbit. "Okay."

The lantern flickered as the wind pushed against the barricades. The rain had started again, heavier now, drumming on the roof like a heartbeat.

Around midnight, Riku woke suddenly.

Something had changed.

He sat up, hand going automatically to his rifle. The air felt heavy — wrong. The kind of silence that wasn't empty, but full of something waiting.

Suzune stirred beside the window. "You hear it too?" she whispered.

He nodded.

The rain had stopped again. No wind. No sound from the forest. Just the faint creak of metal and… something else.

A vibration. Subtle, rhythmic.

Riku moved to the barricade and peered through the narrow crack between shelves. The street was empty, the puddles still. But the asphalt was moving — rippling slightly, as if something beneath it was breathing.

He whispered, "Wake Ichika."

Within seconds, Ichika was up, shotgun in hand, hair sticking out wildly. "What is it?"

"Something's under us," Suzune said.

The floor vibrated — once, then harder. Dust fell from the ceiling tiles.

Riku's voice was calm but sharp. "Grab the gear. We're leaving. Now."

Hana was already awake, clutching her rabbit, eyes wide with fear. "Is it the monster again?"

He forced a steady tone. "No. Just a tremor. But we can't stay."

They moved fast — bags, weapons, fuel cans. The lanterns swung wildly as another vibration shook the shelves. Outside, the puddles began to ripple violently.

Then came the sound — low, distant, like a growl made of earth and steel.

Ichika cursed. "It's the same as before."

Riku kicked open the side door, the one leading to the alley. "Out! Go!"

Suzune grabbed Hana's hand, pulling her through the rain. Ichika followed, covering their rear. Riku was last, glancing once back at the store.

The ground split open near the front entrance — asphalt cracking, light spilling from below like veins of fire. Something enormous shifted beneath the street, unseen but unmistakable.

The convenience store collapsed inward, swallowed by dust and noise.

They didn't look back again.

They reached the overpass by dawn, soaked and exhausted. The air reeked of smoke. The road behind them had caved in completely — a long scar cutting through the town.

Hana leaned against Suzune, shivering. "Our home's gone…"

Suzune hugged her close. "We'll find another one."

Ichika sat on the railing, watching the horizon where the clouds burned faint orange from the rising sun. "How long do we keep doing this?"

Riku didn't answer. He stared at the smoke rising in the distance — the place that used to be their shelter, now a crater.

Then he said quietly, "Until we find what's causing it."

Suzune looked at him. "And when we do?"

He checked his rifle, chambered a round, and met her gaze.

"Then we end it."

[

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.