The government had always seemed like an unshakable force to Yuzu—an invisible hand that kept the world running, even if it often felt distant and frustratingly inefficient. Now, that hand had let go entirely. By the time martial w was officially decred, it barely mattered. The streets had long since descended into wlessness, and the announcement was more of a cruel joke than an act of control. Tokyo, once an intricate machine of order and routine, had become a city of ghosts, where authority crumbled as swiftly as the markets and the economy that once held it together.

  It started with promises. The government assured citizens that order would be maintained, that emergency food supplies were on the way, that relief efforts were being organized. Those words held weight for a day, maybe two before they were drowned out by the growing roar of unrest. Parliament buildings were raided, government officials disappeared, and the police force, overwhelmed and outnumbered, began deserting in droves. The st televised broadcast from the prime minister had been a stuttering, sweat-soaked speech about perseverance and unity. A week ter, his residence was found abandoned, his whereabouts unknown.

  Yuzu sat on the steps of an old bank, its grand pilrs now covered in desperate graffiti. Words like "Liars," "Where is the aid?" and "We are forgotten" scrawled over its once-pristine walls. Her backpack, now lighter than ever, slumped against her side. The weight of hunger had dulled the sharp edge of fear, leaving only a strange numbness behind.

  She scrolled through her phone, hoping for some scrap of information. Signal was unreliable at best, and most official channels had gone silent. The st government-issued emergency message simply read: "Remain calm. Stay in your homes." That had been days ago.

  A group of people passed by, cd in mismatched armor, bike helmets, knee pads, makeshift shields crafted from metal sheets. They carried weapons: some bats, others knives, and at least one visibly holding a stolen police baton. They weren’t military, they weren’t even police. They were just people. And that was the scariest thing of all.

  Martial w had colpsed before it even had a chance to establish control. The military presence in Tokyo had been strong at first, checkpoints, patrols, even curfews enforced with severity. But soldiers were human too. When it became clear that no backup was coming, when food supplies ran just as low for them as for the civilians, many simply walked away from their posts. Some tried to help. Others joined the chaos. A few, desperate to cling to power, turned into tyrants in their own right, seizing whatever resources they could for themselves.

  Rumors spread that the st remnants of the government had barricaded themselves in underground bunkers, unreachable and unwilling to emerge. Some cimed they had already fled overseas, abandoning their own people to fend for themselves. Yuzu didn’t know what to believe anymore.

  She sighed, pushing herself up from the bank steps, stretching her stiff limbs. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. A beautiful sight against a crumbling world. She gnced at the empty ATMs, their screens cracked, their cash useless.

  Once upon a time, she had trusted in systems. In the idea that someone, somewhere, had a pn. That belief had long since eroded.

  A voice called from a nearby alleyway. "Oi, Yuzu! Get in here before you get yourself shot!"

  She turned, spotting Ryo waving her over from the mouth of a dimly lit alley. His usual id-back smirk was gone, repced with something more tired, more wary. His clothes were slightly dirtier than the st time she saw him, and the shadows under his eyes had deepened.

  "Who would shoot me? The bear hunter?" she quipped, gncing around as if expecting an actual bear to appear in the urban wastend.

  "Still waiting for a government bailout?" he joked dryly, nudging a loose brick with the toe of his shoe. "Maybe they'll toss in free ramen vouchers too."

  She snorted. "Yeah, any minute now. Maybe they'll airdrop a stimulus package straight into my hands."

  "With a handwritten apology from the prime minister, too."

  She let out a short ugh, though there was little humor left in it. With one st gnce at the empty cityscape, she followed Ryo into the shadows, leaving behind the st remnants of a world that had already ceased to exist.

  Ryo and Yuzu walked side by side through the desote streets, their footsteps echoing in the eerie silence. The once-bustling avenues of Tokyo were now filled with overturned cars, shattered gss, and the remnants of a civilization that had unraveled in real-time. Storefronts were either looted or hastily boarded up, and distant fires painted the sky with an ominous orange glow. They passed by what used to be a convenience store, its shelves stripped bare except for a few scattered receipts and an abandoned shopping cart tipped on its side.

  "This pce used to have the best onigiri," Yuzu muttered, nudging a crumpled wrapper with her shoe. "Now it's just an all-you-can-steal buffet."

  Ryo adjusted the straps of his worn-out backpack. "Yeah, but you always compined that they never had enough tuna mayo."

  "That was a legitimate grievance!" she shot back, before sighing. "Now I'd take whatever I could get. Even the weird natto one."

  They turned down a smaller alley, careful to avoid the piles of debris that had accumuted. In the distance, a loud crash echoed, a sign of yet another desperate struggle over dwindling resources. Somewhere nearby, a car arm bred weakly before dying out, its power reserves finally exhausted. Yuzu and Ryo barely reacted to the chaos around them; it had all become part of the unsettling rhythm of their new world.

  As they continued walking, Yuzu kicked a loose pebble down the cracked pavement, watching it skitter away. "So, what about the rest of the world? Anyone else handling this better than us?"

  Ryo gave a dry chuckle. "Depends on what you mean by 'handling.' Some governments are still pretending they have things under control. Some have gone full dictatorship. And some just—poof—vanished. Like, literally, their leaders just ran off."

  Yuzu raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Imagine voting for someone, and they just ghost you when things get tough."

  "Retable, right?" Ryo smirked. "The U.S. tried to keep their economy running until people realized money doesn’t mean much when stores are empty. Europe’s fractured, some pces are holding up, others are burning. I heard somewhere in Switzernd they’re still pretending it’s all fine, sipping overpriced coffee and acting like the world isn’t ending."

  Yuzu snorted. "Yeah, sounds about right. What about the UK?"

  "Last I heard, they were arguing about whether the end of the world should be taxed."

  She burst out ughing, the sound almost alien in the ruined city. "Oh, cssic. Bet someone proposed a fine for dying without proper paperwork."

  Ryo grinned, adjusting his backpack. "At this point, wouldn’t surprise me. The only constant in all of this? People being ridiculous."

  They walked on, their conversation a strange contrast to the broken world around them.

  Yuzu and Ryo sat on the remnants of a park bench, the once-green surroundings now littered with abandoned belongings and broken gss. The air carried the faint scent of smoke, a constant reminder of the world’s descent into chaos.

  "This is stupid," Yuzu muttered, shifting uncomfortably before standing up. Sitting on a park bench had never been particurly thrilling, but now, with the only entertainment being distant screams and the occasional explosion, it was downright miserable. "I need a better hobby."

  They continued walking in silence, the sound of their footsteps echoing against the hollow remains of the city. Yuzu absentmindedly kicked at loose debris, sending pebbles skittering across the cracked pavement. The distant flicker of a fire illuminated the shattered windows of a nearby storefront, casting jagged shadows against the walls. A torn advertisement for some long-forgotten election fpped weakly in the wind, its promises of a brighter future now almost comical. Ryo adjusted his backpack, gncing at Yuzu with a tired smirk but saying nothing, letting the weight of their shared exhaustion settle between them.

  "So, what now?" Ryo asked, breaking the silence. "What’s your grand pn for the end of the world?"

  Yuzu leaned back, staring at the sky, as if expecting an answer to fall from it. The afternoon sun hung zily overhead, casting long shadows across the broken pavement. Wisps of clouds drifted aimlessly, untouched by the chaos below. "Honestly? I'm thinking of shutting myself in, binge-watching whatever is left on my hard drive, and waiting for the universe to sort itself out."

  Ryo scoffed. "So your big survival strategy is... being a hermit?"

  "It's worked for me so far," she deadpanned. "Besides, do you really think running around scavenging is a better idea? I give humanity, what, three months before everything edible is gone? Then what, we start eating tree bark? No thanks."

  Ryo shook his head with a chuckle. "You’re unbelievable. Meanwhile, I’m going to be with my family. Strength in numbers, y'know?"

  Yuzu sighed, kicking a stray can down the cracked pavement. "Yeah, yeah. That’s the smart move. But let me have my delusions a little longer."

  He smirked. "Sure. Just don’t come crying to me when you run out of instant noodles."

  She gasped dramatically. "How dare you assume I’d let myself run out of noodles? That’s offensive."

  Ryo just ughed, shaking his head as they continued their slow walk through the ruins of their old world. The streets were eerily silent, save for the occasional distant crash or the fluttering of torn banners in the wind. A burnt-out taxi sat in the middle of the road, its tires melted into the asphalt. They turned a corner and spotted a broken net café, its windows shattered, chairs overturned, and a half-burnt poster advertising an "All-Night Gaming Special" still clinging to the wall. Yuzu nudged an abandoned keyboard with her foot, raising an eyebrow. "Guess no one's grinding for leaderboard rankings anymore."

  As they kept walking, Yuzu stretched her arms over her head and sighed. "You know, if the world is ending, I’d just hole up in Akihabara and spend my days reading every doujinshi I could get my hands on."

  Ryo snorted. "That’s your big dream? Burying yourself in manga while society colpses around you?"

  "Hey, I’ve always wanted unlimited reading time without any obligations. Now’s my chance! Besides, the apocalypse means no one’s around to judge my taste."

  Ryo gave her a side-eye. "Oh, I’d still judge. Just from a distance."

  They continued walking in silence until Yuzu abruptly stopped to poke at a discarded traffic cone with her foot, watching as it wobbled but refused to fall over. "Stubborn little guy."

  Ryo sighed. "You find the weirdest things entertaining."

  She grinned. "Gotta find joy somewhere. The world’s falling apart, but at least traffic cones still have their dignity."

  "Hey, Yuzu. I'm gd you didn't choose death," Ryo said, though his tone carried hesitation, like he wasn't sure if the words would nd right or just make things weirder. He scratched the back of his neck, eyes flicking away for a moment before meeting hers again. "Not that I thought you would or anything. Just, y'know, it's... good that you're here."

  Yuzu hesitated, rubbing the back of her neck as she looked away. "I... still think life is just a meaningless of pain yuzu."

  Ryo watched in silence, shifting awkwardly on his feet. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, stuffing his hands into his pockets instead. The weight of unspoken words lingered between them, thick and suffocating like the dust in the air.

  "But you know, I'm hopeful," Yuzu said, throwing her hands in the air with a dramatic fir. "Maybe this is all just some eborate prank, and any day now, a bunch of scientists will pop out and be like, 'Gotcha!' and we’ll all just go back to compining about taxes. Or maybe this is just a ploy for tax evasion."

  Ryo chuckled, "You really hate that tax professor, don’t you?"

  "Oh, with every fiber of my being. If the world does get a reset button, I hope he's the first to go."