Tanya crossed the street, lugging a heavy box of scrap metal Olena had asked for. The mismatched pieces clinked and shifted with every step, threatening to spill from her arms. Halfway across, she paused, lowering the box to rest and stretching her back.

The air was still. Quiet. That was still strange.

Just a couple of weeks ago, she would've never dawdled in the open like this. But things were different now. Mrs Eceer had even dragged her out to the wards for a whole day, just to prove how rarely monsters got close anymore. Apparently, the creatures could sense the new protections and avoided the area entirely. It was an accident, but one they weren't complaining about.

She squinted back toward the shopfront. The painted sign above the parlour was barely visible behind the vines that had crawled up in recent days. The plants had grown aggressively, curling around the frame like they owned the place.

Up on the ladder, Boris muttered under his breath, tugging at the greenery. Tanya wandered closer.

"You doing okay up there, Boris?" she called.

The ladder shifted dangerously. Tanya darted forward, catching the side just in time as the old man reached up with clippers.

"Darn weeds," he grunted. "They grow back faster every morning."

She glanced at the trimmings on the ground. The pointed leaves had a sickly grey tint, and the buds were still tightly closed—mercifully. The few flowers they'd seen bloom were deep black, almost oily-looking, and the smell made them feel dizzy.

"We still don't know what they are?" Boris asked.

Tanya shook her head. "Mrs Eceer's been poking around between ward shifts, but no luck yet."

"At least the native stuff is also growing better," he said, flicking a vine down. "Otherwise, these little irritants would choke out my beloved vegetable garden."

He gave her a look.

"We still don't know why that is either, huh?"

She grinned. "Still no updates since yesterday."

A low howl echoed from the Vietnamese bakery's back room. Tanya turned toward the open door, just in time to see Fifi's newly grown antennae twitching in frustration.

"Stay, Fifi," Boris called out sharply. "You're doing great. Just hold it."

The creature growled, shifting restlessly. Her many eyes blinked in slow sequence—left to right—while her claws scraped against the bare floor. Mrs Eceer's recent renovations had stripped the place down to four concrete walls and raw underflooring, making it a perfect place to try to get Fifi used to less stimulation. Tanya had started to recognise Fifi's quirks. This looked exactly the way Fifi bounced just before she lost patience.

"She's getting antsy," she said.

"Stay," he called to her. He paused. "Good girl." Boris clicked a dog training clicker in one hand and clipped another vine with the other. "Would you mind tossing her one from the crate?"

Tanya grabbed a chunk of gristly monster meat, lobbed it through the doorway, and wiped her hand on the rag beside the pile. Fifi caught it mid-air and hunkered down over it with a pleased snarl.

"She's changin' again," Tanya said, nodding toward the stumpy nubs forming between Fifi's front legs. "Those are startin' to look like extra paws."

Boris frowned. "Yeah. We still think she's shifting along monster growth patterns, not the usual levelling system."

"Honestly? She looks a lot like that mini-boss we fought before we met you."

The words hung in the air a second too long.

Boris froze, then slowly turned to her. "Heaven help us."

Tanya winced. "I mean... she's still just a pup."

Boris didn't answer. He clipped another vine with more force than necessary.

Tanya grabbed the box again and headed for the parlour door. Behind her, she heard another sharp "Fifi, stay!" and the wet thud of meat hitting the floor.

She couldn't help but smile at the view of her shop.

The smell of sawdust and flood of warmth hit her first.

Tanya stepped into the parlour, boots thudding softly on the new floorboards. The bin bag tarps were gone, and for the first time, it looked finished. Not just patched-up or makeshift—done.

Olena was crouched by the base of the new archway she'd built into the hole between the parlour and the staircase to the flat. She was adding a wooden kickboard around the edge to blend in with the rest of the room. The arch still made Tanya smile. Olena had turned a cannon-blasted wall into something elegant.

She'd liked it so much that Olena had created a second wider one on the back left of the shop into the kitchen, though there was nothing of a kitchen left anymore.

Tanya grinned to herself. Past her would've been thrilled to see those terrible red cabinets and chipped tiles finally gone—if not for why they were gone.

The sink and oven were stripped out, the wiring sealed. Her tattoo chair now sat dead-centre in the newly opened space, surrounded by her old filing cabinets. Those sentimental keepsakes were going to be really useful for inspiration now that they didn't have internet. The stained-glass mural from the broken back door had grown on her a lot since the apocalypse started, so when they'd had to replace the door with something sturdier, she'd mounted it inside the room now instead.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"It's crazy how well this came together," Tanya muttered.

Olena finished the piece of kickboard with her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth. She looked up. "See, what I say? Best mechanic according to everyone but Boris, eh?"

Tanya grinned, turning toward the front. The smashed windows were long gone. In their place: two layers of solid metal. The inner one had narrow slots at different heights—good for sightlines, or stabbing if things got bad again. One even had a wide hatch for Olga, Olena's beloved cannon. The outer layer was for full lockdown. Both could be levered open or shut, depending on the day. Between them were the original wooden window frames. Tanya had added curtains to the entire wall between the layers of metal now that the glass was gone, to make it a bit cosier for when they opened it as it got warmer.

Nestled in that old bay window before the barricades was her new counter. It was metal, and a little brutalist—but Tanya loved it. Behind it sat a comfy little nook where she could sip tea, sketch designs, or keep watch.

Maybe when it's warm, I could sit there with the shutters up and wave at all the passersby…

There hadn't been any yet, but she was hopeful once people realised this area was safe.

The heart of the room was the conversation pit. Low couches, a massive mismatched coffee table, and coasters from everywhere. Some she remembered—gifts from Ishita or Mrs Eceer. Others had just... appeared.

She swore they were multiplying.

The aga roared gently in the background, throwing out heat from the corner. It still amazed her that Olena had gotten it here, driven over in a rusted-out wreck of a car. The chimney had taken forever to dig out, but it worked.

Olena's idea really had come to life. It wasn't just a tattoo parlour, it felt like the start of a communal area that could bring people closer together.

Olena snorted. "You look so misty eye over there."

Tanya's reflective smile turned into a smirk. She half heartedly shoved her. "Oi, I was havin' a moment here."

Olena looked around, and her face grew more serious. "It really is great, isn't it?"

"Wanna put the rugs back out?" Tanya asked.

"Finishing touches!" Olena squealed. She jogged over to the cupboard and swung it open with gusto, pulling out the options.

"How's the barricade been goin'?" Tanya asked. She selected the largest orange one to start and pointed to the sofa area.

"Perfect," Olena said, doing a jig side to side. "Oh yes, barricade. You see area for Olga peek through? And lever? Lever sooo smooth."

"I did," Tanya replied, like she hadn't watched Olena decide it, plan it, build it, and show it off.

They each grabbed two corners and shoved it down between the largest sofa and table, before lifting up the corners of the furniture to shuffle it under.

"What about tattoos?" Olena asked. "Did you finally work out all your—how you say—'sneaky bullshit'?"

Tanya snorted. "Oh yeah, I forgot about that vent." She picked up the corner of the sofa before realising she could do it one-handed and marvelling at it. "So, yeah, I was working on the side cannon and tryin' to work out how to balance power an' precision like I probably said. Turns out that people's stats determine what they find easiest to fill in."

Olena stopped moving furniture for a second, looking up with curiosity. "Wait, so you mean our stat determine how we handle tattoo choice?"

Tanya clicked her fingers. "Exactly. Basically, if they want it to be balanced as soon as, they should focus on the thing they're naturally worse at for the tattoo itself, 'cause like, with the cannon for example, power seems to be Vitality an' precision is more Dexterity for a little guy this small. Bigger I'm guessin' might be more Strength-based."

"So you being power-based for that little guy is good?" Olena asked. She tucked under the final corner and walked back to the cupboard. "Red for your counter area or flower one?"

"Red one for sure," Tanya said. She lugged the counter fully up this time for Olena to put down under it, and it winded her, but it was manageable. "Yeah, it's been catching up pretty well. The risk is the roughest part, but I've been doin' it with Mrs Eceer an' that stops anything throwin' me quite like it did the first time."

Tanya paused for a second to make sure she didn't clunk the counter down too hard and mark the planks.

"Actually, funny thing 'bout that," Tanya said. "Mrs Eceer asked if she could test trap stuff on me whilst she was there, an' I suggested your 'what if they are harming themself idea' and she found out that tryin' to protect people from violence when the violence is their own tattoos really messes up that ward pattern."

"I knew it!" Olena laughed manically. "If was mechanical it would have done same from her explanation."

Tanya looked down at the tattoos peaking out from under her clothes. "It keeps surprising me how much logic this magic follows."

"Not me," Olena joked. "Any system that know I need mech suit is very logical system."

What time is it? I should get on food pick up. Mrs Eceer mentioned me going today—

Olena went quiet, gaze still on the carpet. She didn't move, but something behind her eyes shifted. "So, you still seeing if little cannon could be given to child to get them better defence?" Olena said.

It snapped Tanya out of the thought. "Huh, yeah. It makes sense to simplify for testin' rather than makin' it more dangerous so that's two wins in one. Why?" Tanya asked.

"That mean it would be useful whether or not I take big one," Olena pressed. She tensed her face up.

Tanya thought about it for a second, then she laughed. "You have a new idea, don't you?"

"No—well—maybe…Yes." Olena fiddled with her fingers. "It annoying? If it annoying I can…"

"Nah," Tanya insisted, laying a hand on Olena's shoulder. "All these tests have helped me so much. If it wasn't for your cannon and doppelganger ideas, I wouldn't have perfected my initial tattoo toolkit."

Olena gasped. "YOU FINALLY FINISHED TOOLKIT?! WHY YOU NO LEAD WITH THAT?!"

Tanya laughed so hard she curled over. "Stop, stop. My stomach."

"Tanya, this is travesty! How I not know this yet?!"

"'Cause someone said they didn't want spoilers," Tanya said. She relented. "This way you get the presentation at dinner like everyone else."

Olena's smile grew. She shooed Tanya towards the door. "All is forgiven. Go get food, quickly."

Tanya stepped out, pulling her coat tight as the breeze picked up. The sun caught on the metal bay window, bouncing in little flares like the place itself was beaming.

She couldn't help the nerves creeping in. Ishita's home-cooked meals had only started when they got the aga in, and this was the first time Mrs Eceer hadn't been there to pick it up herself.

A knot clenched at her stomach from the memory. Every night, she had looked up at the door to see if Ishita was joining that day. She knew she wanted it, but the thought of talking to her properly again made her feel so many conflicting emotions at once that it was overwhelming.

Her mind drifted back to the last time they'd met when the wall had come down.

"It's the sari I wear to funerals. Felt fitting after… everything."

The only other time she'd heard from her was indirectly, when Mrs Eceer had passed on a request from Ishita to get specific access to all of the Pact information she'd gained and said that she was happy to look at it instead of Tanya. Tanya had obviously agreed without a second thought. The next time, Mrs Eceer had just passed on a simple thanks from her.

At least she'd heard from Mrs Eceer that Ishita wasn't alone. She'd found another mother and son further down the street. He was a few years older, and she had a Class called Gravity Brawler. That was all she really knew about Ishita's life right now. That didn't stop her being a recurring theme in Tanya's new diary though.

Where's a therapist in the apocalypse when ya need one?

The closer Tanya got to the flat, the harder it was to keep her shoulders loose.

Does she even know I'm coming?

Would it be better if I asked Olena instead?

Is this breaking her wanting space—it's not if it's for practical reasons, right?

It's goin' to be okay.

Tanya took a breath, rolled it through her chest, and knocked.

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.