The night still held its breath. The boy clung to Kairo's leg, refusing to let go. Crimson eyes lowered, unreadable, but then Kairo's voice slipped into the silence, steady and cold.
"Tell me, isn't this what survival looks like?"
The man looked up from his trembling hands, eyes wet, heart torn between fear and hope. Kairo's tone carried no apology, only truth.
"We did what we had to. Illusions, blood, blades… we weren't tricking you. We weren't tricking anyone. We survived."
Kairo bent slightly, his hand resting on the boy's shoulder. The child's grip only tightened. With ease, Kairo lifted him, setting the frail body on his shoulders. The boy's small hands held onto him, his face pressing into Kairo's dark hair.
Kairo's crimson gaze swept across the man and the other children.
"But even in survival… we're family. Isn't that what we've become?"
The words hit like a strange mercy. The man's lips trembled, his chest heaving. Slowly, the weight pressing on him loosened, if only for a moment. His shoulders slumped as he exhaled, relief bleeding into his weary expression.
"…Yeah," he said, voice rough, but a small, tired smile forming. "We're family. And this… this is survival."
For the first time in what felt like forever, the children nodded — hesitant, but clinging to that fragile truth. The fear hadn't gone. But neither had the bond.