The streets felt emptier now, yet Renji knew better than to believe they were safe. Shadows clung to corners, and the hushed silence carried the weight of things waiting, lurking. Every step back toward his house was measured, careful. The crystal he had taken from the cat pulsed faintly in his pocket, no bigger than a baseball, yet heavier than anything he had ever carried.
The air smelled of iron and smoke, remnants of the hunt. He kept close to the walls, slipping past abandoned cars and broken glass, ears tuned for the scrape of claws or the shuffle of feet. A single mistake outside could undo everything.
Finally, his home came into view — the quiet, two-story refuge standing against the spreading chaos of the city. It looked the same as when he had left: curtains drawn, no sound from within, the last fragile piece of normalcy in a world already crumbling.
Renji crossed the yard quickly, heart hammering with each second exposed. His hand tightened on the strap of his backpack as he checked the street one last time. Empty. He pushed through the front door, shut it hard, and slid the lock into place.
The sound of the latch echoed through the house like a seal against the madness outside. For a moment, Renji stood still, leaning his back against the door. The silence inside pressed close, warm compared to the cold void of the streets. Here, at least for now, they were safe.
And yet, with the crystal burning faintly against his leg, Renji knew safety was only temporary.
The sound of the lock sliding into place echoed like the exhale of a world held at bay. Renji let his forehead rest against the wood for a heartbeat, the faint tremor in his chest refusing to settle. Before he could gather his thoughts, a voice rushed to meet him.
"You're safe…"
His stepmother's hands clasped over her mouth as she hurried into the hall. The relief in her eyes was almost painful, as if she had been holding her breath since the moment he left. Renji turned, and at the sight of her—alive, steady, and still human—a sigh escaped him too, his body sagging from the weight he hadn't known he carried.
Then came a smaller weight, softer but no less fierce. Runa flung herself into his chest, arms locked around his waist. "You idiot! You scared me half to death! Don't ever do that again!" Her voice cracked, halfway between sob and scolding.
Renji gave a tired chuckle and smoothed her hair. "I'm back, aren't I?"
Together, they drifted into the living room. The atmosphere carried the fragile warmth of a home still resisting the storm outside. His stepmother guided him toward the couch, her eyes never leaving his face. Runa finally released him, though she sat close enough that her sleeve brushed his.
"Well?" his stepmother asked, voice tight. "Did you find anything? What happened out there?"
Renji inhaled slowly. If they deserved anything, it was the truth. He told them everything.
How he had wrapped himself in whatever he could find, how he kept his steps silent through streets littered with danger, how he avoided the eyes of neighbors' pets turned into hulking monstrosities. His voice deepened when he spoke of reaching the convenience store, of shelves still standing half-full, as though waiting for him.
Then came the commotion—the shouting strangers, the flood of zombies they drew in. His family listened in silence, Runa's hands curling into fists in her lap. He described hiding, the moment of revelation when zombies walked past him as though he were one of them, and the cold realization of what that meant.
He didn't spare the darker part either—the mutant cat. His recounting slowed there, and his hand instinctively brushed his chest, as if reliving the way its eyes locked on him. How the creature would not stop, how his only option was to lure it to a sea of zombies. He painted the scene of teeth and claws against endless, gnashing dead, until at last the monster fell.
His voice grew quieter as he described what followed—the crystal hidden within its skull, glowing faintly as if pulsing with breath of its own. He told them how the zombies had offered it to him, and how the moment his hand touched it, new knowledge had poured into his mind: the truth of his ability, its name, its boundaries, and its potential.
When he finished, the room held only the faint hum of the refrigerator. His stepmother pressed her hand to her chest, eyes wide but steady.
"You fought something like that… and came back alive," she whispered, pride and fear lacing her words. "I don't know if I should scold you for risking your life or thank the heavens for your strength." Her lips curved into a small, tremulous smile. "Maybe both."
Runa, however, burst forward, her voice high with frustration. "Why you? Why do you get the cool ability and not me? And why didn't you take me with you? I could've helped! You didn't have to go alone!"
Renji sighed, already expecting this. He turned to her; his expression softer than his words. "Runa… the zombies don't attack me. I don't know why, but I'm safe out there in ways you're not. If you had come with me, I couldn't protect you from everything. The cat would've—" He cut himself off, unwilling to paint the picture.
"But—"
"No." His tone sharpened. "Not yet. You'll have your time, I promise. But not until you awaken what's inside you. Until then, the only thing you'd gain out there is danger."
She bit her lip, anger warring with the tears trembling at her lashes. "It's not fair."
"I know." Renji placed a hand on her shoulder. "But fairness doesn't keep us alive. Listen to me—this isn't the world we knew anymore. If you want to stand beside me, then we'll find your strength. And I'll help you awaken it."
Her head lifted, confusion flickering through her frustration. "You… will?"
"Yes." His gaze was firm, almost solemn. "But for now, you stay here. Take care of Mom. That's how you help me."
Runa's lower lip quivered, then she gave a small, reluctant nod.
His stepmother leaned back into her chair, covering her face with one hand as though to steady herself. "So… it's begun. The world's changing, and so are we. Supplies, monsters, crystals, abilities… I don't even know what to call this."
Renji's eyes drifted toward the backpack still slung over his shoulder, heavy with food and heavier with the truth he carried. "It doesn't matter what we call it," he said quietly. "What matters is surviving it."
The family fell into silence. Outside, distant groans of the restless dead echoed faintly through the walls, a reminder that their fragile cocoon of safety was only as strong as the walls around them.
But within, for the first time since the apocalypse began, there was also something else. A plan. A promise. A spark that hinted they might do more than just endure.
And for Runa, a new question stirring in her heart: when would her own strength awaken?