The rain started before dawn.

It wasn't heavy—just a slow, steady drizzle that turned the ash on the courtyard into thin streaks of gray mud. It fell on the barricades, on the corpses still sprawled outside the gate, on the shattered trucks left burning in the street.

By the time the first rays of light touched the sky, the flames had died, and the smell of blood and gasoline mixed into something foul enough to make even hardened stomachs twist.

Riku stood by the gate, silent. Rifle slung, boots soaked. His eyes moved over every ruin, every crater, every still form. The raiders were gone—what remained of them. But their presence lingered in the smoke, in the holes torn through the walls, in the thin red lines trailing down the rain-soaked concrete.

Suzune walked up beside him, scarf damp, hair clinging to her cheek. She said nothing for a while, only scanned the street with her scope.

"They didn't leave scouts," she said finally. "Either they're regrouping… or they're finished."

Riku's jaw flexed. "They'll tell their friends if any made it out."

"Then we don't wait for the next wave."

He nodded once, slow.

Behind them, the school was alive again—but only barely. Survivors moved like ghosts, limping, carrying bodies wrapped in tarps toward the courtyard. Miko and two others were digging a pit near the garden. The shovel hits came dull and wet against the earth.

Sato stood by the entrance, arm in a makeshift sling. He was talking quietly to one of his lieutenants, but his face was grim—exhausted, older than he had been the day before.

Riku turned toward him. "We can't stay here."

Sato didn't argue. "I know."

"The walls are done. Half your ammunition's gone. If they regroup, this place won't hold."

Sato nodded slowly, then looked around at the survivors working to bury the dead. "We built this place to last," he murmured. "But I suppose nothing really does."

Riku didn't respond. He had said the same thing once.

Suzune broke the silence. "We can't take everyone if we move. Some are too weak to travel. Others have no gear."

Sato's gaze hardened. "Then we'll find a way. I won't leave people behind."

Riku met his eyes. "Then they'll die on the road instead of here."

It wasn't cruelty—it was honesty. Sato didn't flinch, but his jaw set.

For a long time, rain was the only sound.

Finally, Sato exhaled. "Give me a day to organize what's left. We'll plan at dusk."

Riku nodded. "I'll scout the perimeter again. If they're regrouping, I'll see it first."

Suzune fell in beside him. "I'll go too."

They spent the morning walking through the ruins of the neighborhood.

The streets were littered with burned bikes and twisted rifles, the remnants of last night's chaos. Ash still rose with every step. The city had gone quiet again—too quiet.

Riku crouched near a body slumped against a wall, hand going to its belt. The raider was young, barely twenty, tattoos half-hidden under grime. A revolver sat loose in his grip. Riku unloaded it, pocketing the rounds.

Suzune glanced around. "You ever wonder how many of them started like us?"

"No."

"Liar."

Riku didn't answer. He moved to the next corner, scanning the rooftops. "They chose what they became."

"Maybe," Suzune said, her voice low. "But I've seen that same look in our people's eyes, too."

Riku looked back toward the school, where smoke still rose faintly. "Then we keep them from turning into this."

By noon, the bodies were buried.

Miko stood over the pit, rain running down her face as she whispered something too quiet for anyone to hear. Yui sat beside her, pale but awake, clutching Hana's hand. Kenji stood a few feet away, eyes red.

Ichika leaned against a broken column, rifle across her lap. She wasn't praying, but she stayed there until the last shovel of dirt fell.

When the pit was covered, Sato ordered the survivors inside. They gathered in the cafeteria once more—only now, every wall was cracked, every window blown out.

The air smelled of smoke and wet earth.

Sato stood at the front, his arm still bound. Riku and Suzune stood to his right. Miko, Ichika, and the others filled the benches. Around them, barely twenty survivors remained. Yesterday, there had been forty.

Sato cleared his throat. "You all fought hard. You stood your ground. For that… I'm proud."

No one cheered.

He continued. "But we can't stay here. You all know that. The raiders will come again, and next time we won't have enough left to fight."

A murmur rippled through the room—fear, exhaustion, grief.

Riku's voice cut through it, calm but sharp. "We move before nightfall. West roads are clearer. If we travel light, we can reach the river by dawn."

One man raised his hand. "The bridge was destroyed. What then?"

"Then we find another way," Riku said flatly.

Suzune unfolded a soaked map on the table. "There's a service tunnel half a kilometer north of the main bridge. If it's not flooded, we can cross."

Miko frowned. "And if it is flooded?"

Suzune looked up. "Then we swim."

A few faces turned pale.

Sato spoke again, quieter now. "We'll take what food we can carry. Water, medicine, ammunition. Everything else stays."

Ichika scowled. "And go where? Another ruin? Another wall to die behind?"

Riku didn't rise to it. He simply said, "Somewhere quieter. Somewhere not on the map."

Silence hung. Then Miko nodded. "Then let's go."

The rain stopped by afternoon.

The survivors moved quickly, packing crates, loading supplies into the Rezvani and two battered trucks that still ran. The sound of engines being tested filled the yard.

Riku moved among them, checking straps, handing out ammo. Suzune oversaw the armed watch. Miko distributed what medical supplies they had left. Hana carried small things—bandages, cans, a stuffed bear she'd found under a desk.

Yui tried to help, too, but her body was still weak. Kenji wouldn't let her lift more than a single crate.

When Riku passed them, Yui smiled faintly. "You'll keep us safe, right?"

Riku didn't answer at first. Then he said, "I'll try."

That seemed enough for her.

By late afternoon, the school looked hollow—empty rooms, stripped desks, the faint echo of what had been home for a few brief days.

Sato stood in the doorway, watching as his people worked. His expression was unreadable.

"You built something good here," Riku said.

Sato gave a humorless chuckle. "And lost half of them defending it. Some legacy."

"You gave them something to fight for. That matters."

Sato looked at him. "And what about you? What are you fighting for?"

Riku's eyes flicked toward Hana, who was helping Miko secure the medkit on the truck bed. "Her."

Sato nodded once. "Then we're not so different."

Dusk fell early, clouds swallowing the horizon.

Engines rumbled softly in the courtyard. Survivors climbed into vehicles or took positions on foot. The convoy looked small against the endless gray streets—three vehicles, twenty people, and a mountain of exhaustion.

Riku took the lead in the Rezvani. Suzune rode shotgun, rifle across her knees. Behind them, Sato's truck followed, headlights dimmed to slits.

Miko, Ichika, and the others rode in the last vehicle with the wounded. Hana sat by the window, clutching her bear, watching the school grow smaller in the distance.

When the gate creaked open, rainwater ran down the grooves like tears. The convoy rolled out, engines low, tires crushing the ash.

No one spoke for a long time.

The city passed by—silent, drowned in gray. Burned-out cars. Empty stores. Posters peeling from walls. Riku's eyes stayed on the road, fingers steady on the wheel.

"Feels wrong," Suzune murmured after a while.

"What does?"

"Leaving something behind that we actually defended."

Riku exhaled. "That's how it always ends. You build. You fight. You bury. You move on."

She looked at him sideways. "You ever get tired of being right?"

"Every day."

They reached the river past midnight.

The water glimmered faintly under the moon, black and slow. The bridge had collapsed halfway—steel beams jutting like broken bones.

Suzune climbed out first, scanning the banks with her scope. "No movement. Looks clear."

Riku knelt near the edge, dipping a finger into the water. Cold. Too deep to wade. The tunnel Suzune mentioned lay to the north—a concrete arch half-hidden under debris.

They moved cautiously, headlights off. The tunnel was half-flooded but passable.

Riku guided the Rezvani through first, water splashing against the wheels. The others followed, engines echoing inside the concrete throat of the earth.

When they emerged on the other side, the city skyline had faded behind them. Ahead lay open fields, half-drowned suburbs, and distant hills cloaked in fog.

Sato climbed down from his truck, looking back once at the city. His voice was quiet when he spoke. "We'll call it done, then."

Riku nodded. "It was done the moment the first wall cracked."

The survivors began setting up a temporary camp under a line of trees. Fires were small, just enough for warmth. Miko tended to the wounded, wrapping fresh bandages. Ichika cleaned her rifle in silence. Hana slept curled beside Yui, finally at peace.

Suzune sat near Riku, handing him a can of beans. "Dinner of champions."

He smirked faintly. "Better than starving."

They ate quietly, watching the embers.

After a while, Sato joined them, lowering himself onto a rock with a tired grunt. "Tomorrow, we move west. Past the ridge. There's an old evacuation tunnel leading toward the industrial zone. Maybe we can make a camp there."

"Maybe," Riku said.

Sato looked into the fire. "You could've left before all this. You didn't have to fight for us."

Riku shrugged. "Didn't feel right to walk away."

Sato's mouth twitched in something close to a smile. "Then you're a worse liar than I thought."

Suzune hid her smirk behind a spoon.

The silence that followed was easier than before.

By midnight, most were asleep.

Riku stayed awake, sitting against the Rezvani's tire. The rain had stopped, and for the first time in weeks, the air didn't smell of death. The world was quiet. Almost too quiet.

Suzune approached, rifle slung over her shoulder. "You're still up."

"Old habit."

She sat beside him, pulling her coat tighter. "What now?"

"West," Riku said simply. "We find higher ground. Fortify. Rest. Then… whatever comes next."

She nodded, eyes on the dark horizon. "You really think we can keep doing this?"

Riku looked at Hana, asleep beside the fire. Her face was peaceful, small hand clutching the stuffed bear.

"We have to," he said.

Suzune followed his gaze and smiled faintly. "That's not the same as saying yes."

"No," Riku admitted. "But it's close enough."

When dawn came, it was pale and silver, spreading slowly across the fields. Birds stirred somewhere beyond the trees—faint, fragile sounds that didn't belong in a dead world.

Riku rose first, as always. He slung his rifle, checked the trucks, scanned the horizon. The city lay far behind them now, just a smudge of smoke and ruin on the skyline.

He watched it for a long moment.

Suzune joined him quietly. "Still thinking about it?"

"About what?"

"The school. The people we lost."

Riku's voice was steady. "Always. But we don't stop for ghosts."

She nodded once, then looked west, where the road disappeared into mist.

"Then let's keep moving."

Riku turned from the ruins for the last time. "Yeah."

The engines started. The convoy rolled forward, tires crunching over wet gravel, cutting through the morning fog.

Behind them, the river swallowed the last reflection of the school's shattered walls.

Ahead, the road waited—empty, dangerous, and alive.

They drove toward it without looking back.

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