"Morning, Haruka," Alice said.
The stars still lingered faintly above them. Alice sat on a dirty couch dragged onto the mall rooftop, one leg crossed over the other, slicing an apple with her dagger. The blade moved with calm, practiced precision.
Haruka stirred and pushed himself upright.
"Where… where are we?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"The mall," Alice replied. She didn't look at him. Instead, she turned slightly, gazing over the edge of the roof.
Haruka blinked, trying to ground himself.
"Where… where's everyone else?"
No answer.
Alice cut another slice of apple and slipped it into her mouth. Then another. The quiet stretched thin.
"Mika…" Haruka swallowed. "Mika—how's Mika?"
Alice's hand froze mid-motion. The slice of apple hovered halfway between the blade and her mouth.
She didn't turn.
"Alice?" His voice trembled now. "How's Mika?"
"She's down there," Alice said finally. Her voice was flat. Too flat.
"They all are. Together. As a family."
She let the apple fall from her hand. It rolled once, then stopped.
Without another word, Alice stood and walked past him, disappearing into the dark stairwell that led back into the mall.
Haruka stayed where he was, staring at the space she'd left behind.
Then he stood.
He walked to the edge of the roof and looked down.
Firelight flickered in the distance, orange against the black. At the edge of the woods behind the mall, a small campfire burned quietly—too small, too still.
Around it stood Leo, Jax, Hana, and Rhea, leaning on her crutches. Before them lay a shallow grave. A lab coat draped over a rough tombstone made of sticks.
Haruka's breath hitched.
"No…" he whispered.
"Mika…"
His head lowered. A tear slipped free before he could stop it.
"Haruka?" Shan's voice called out.
Haruka turned as Shan approached, a cane in hand.
"Shan…"
"How're you holding up, son?" Shan asked gently.
Haruka wiped his face quickly.
"I could ask you the same."
Shan stepped beside him. Together they stared at the fire below.
"You were crying," Shan said after a moment. "Was it something Raito said?"
"No," Haruka answered. Then hesitated.
"It's—"
"Mika," Shan said softly. "I know. She was my apprentice. Talented. Brave."
Silence settled between them.
"Aren't you going to join them?" Shan asked.
"No," Haruka replied, sharper than he intended.
"And yet," Shan said, turning away, "you mourn someone you didn't even know six months ago."
He stopped, glanced back once.
"My suggestion?"
"Go pay your respect."
Then Shan disappeared into the dark.
Haruka stood there long after Shan disappeared into the dark.
The fire crackled.
Someone sniffed.
Someone else looked away.
He didn't move.
Not until Hana stood, wiping her face with her sleeve, and gently placed something at the grave — a small charm Mika used to keep on her belt. Then she turned and walked back toward the mall without looking at him.
That's when Haruka's feet finally moved.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
He stopped just short of the grave.
The dirt was still loose.
Still wrong.
Mika's grave felt wrong in his system, as if a piece of him had been torn out and buried with her.
For a long moment, he said nothing. His hands trembled, clenched against his knees.
He stayed there as the sun began to rise.
Until its light struck the lab coat draped over the makeshift tombstone — and the rough wooden planks beneath it.
Here lies the best sister.
The words carved themselves into him.
"Mika…"
Haruka reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn rubber band — the one she used to tie her hair. He placed it beside her cracked glasses.
"You were the best sister I never knew I needed," he said quietly.
Then he turned away.
Haruka pushed the door open.
The mall's sleeping headquarters was dim, lit by lanterns and a few flickering emergency lights. Everyone was there—sitting, leaning, waiting. No one was talking.
For a second, no one noticed him.
Then Hana looked up.
"Haruka—!"
She was on him in an instant, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders, like she was afraid he'd vanish again.
"You're okay," she said, breath shaky. "You're actually okay."
"I'm here," Haruka murmured, returning the hug.
Rhea shifted on her crutches. Haruka stepped toward her next, kneeling slightly so he could hug her gently—careful of her wounds.
"You shouldn't be standing," he said.
"And you shouldn't be half-dead," Rhea replied weakly, managing a small smile.
Leo raised his arm. The new biotic limb hummed faintly, its joints glowing a soft blue.
"Still getting used to it," Leo said. "Feels like it belongs to someone else."
Haruka nodded. "Looks badass."
Leo chuckled—then stopped, like he remembered something he wasn't supposed to laugh at.
Haruka turned to Jax.
Jax sat in the corner, back against the wall, arms folded. He looked up just enough to meet Haruka's eyes.
Haruka stepped closer and held out a fist.
Jax stared at it for a moment… then bumped it lightly.
Nothing else was said.
The room fell quiet again.
Too quiet.
Leo cleared his throat.
"Uh… while we wait for Alice, how about a drink?"
A few nods. Habit. Routine. Something normal.
"I'll grab them," Leo said, standing.
"Make mine strong," Hana added.
"Same," Rhea said.
Leo paused, tray in hand, and turned—
"Mika, what do you—"
The words died in his throat.
No one moved.
No one corrected him.
Leo swallowed hard and turned away without another word.
When Leo reached the storage hallway, Alice stood there, leaning against the wall. He froze.
She took the tray from him.
Five cups.
Not six.
Alice stared at them.
For a long second, her face didn't change. Then she blinked once—sharp, mechanical—and straightened.
"Thanks," she said.
They entered together.
Alice stood at the front of the room, posture firm, voice steady—too steady.
"We don't stop," she said. "We fix the mall. Reinforce the gates. Set patrols."
She turned to Haruka.
"You're going to see the old man. Shan too. You'll continue your training with the mask."
Haruka nodded.
"Everyone else," Alice continued, "get to work."
Dismissed.
They moved—slowly, obediently.
Later.
The fire burned low at the edge of the woods.
Jax sat alone at Mika's grave, knees drawn up, staring at the dirt like it might answer him if he waited long enough.
Footsteps approached.
Mama's Fangs stopped a few feet behind him.
No one spoke.
Then—
"Jax."
Alice's voice cut through the silence.
Jax didn't turn.
The fire crackled.
And the night held its breath.