Yuzu sat cross-legged on the floor of an abandoned convenience store, the dim glow of her phone screen casting eerie shadows over the empty shelves. The static-filled livestream barely held together, the buffering symbol spinning endlessly as the st remnants of global leadership addressed their crumbling nations. The words from world leaders were supposed to inspire, to unify, to reassure. But to Yuzu, they felt more like eulogies.

  The U.S. president, fnked by what remained of his cabinet, stood in front of a hastily arranged podium. His suit was wrinkled, his tie slightly askew, and his face bore the weight of sleepless nights and impossible decisions. "My fellow Americans," he began, his voice hoarse but steady. "Humanity has faced great challenges before, and we have always endured. We must not give in to fear. We must hold onto hope."

  Yuzu exhaled sharply, leaning her head against the counter behind her. "Ah yes, the cssic ‘don’t panic’ speech. That always works," she muttered to no one in particur. The only response was the flickering of a half-broken neon sign above her, buzzing with exhaustion.

  Other leaders followed, each attempting their own version of reassurance. The UK Prime Minister, looking more like a ghost than a man, promised that emergency systems were still in pce. The Chancellor of Germany urged for calm and discipline. The Japanese Prime Minister, in a rare emotional moment, bowed deeply before the camera, apologizing for his inability to protect his people. "We have done all we can," he said. "I beg you, find strength within yourselves. Take care of each other."

  The livestream cut to another speaker, an older, well-respected figure from the UN. The feed crackled, the connection barely holding. "This is not the end of humanity," the woman insisted, her voice thick with conviction. "We still have time to work together. We must not lose sight of our shared humanity. We—"

  The screen froze. Then bcked out.

  Yuzu blinked, waiting for it to reload. Nothing. She tapped at the screen. "Well, I guess that’s that." A bitter chuckle escaped her lips. "Dramatic timing. Cssic."

  The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. She let her head fall back against the counter again, staring at the cracked ceiling. Somewhere outside, distant shouting echoed through the empty streets, followed by the dull thud of something heavy crashing to the ground. The world kept unraveling, speech or no speech.

  Despite herself, despite the overwhelming reality pressing down on her, she felt a tiny ember of hope flicker deep inside. Maybe there was still something left to hold onto. Maybe, just maybe some miracle would come. But then again, maybe not.

  Yuzu opened up her messages, her fingers hovering over the screen as she typed out replies to friends and family. The signal was weak, the little sending icon spinning endlessly, as if mocking her desperation to reach out. She reread her messages. Short, uncertain, almost meaningless in the grand scheme of things. "Are you safe?" "Where are you?" "I miss you." Each one felt like tossing a bottle into a vast, indifferent ocean, hoping against reason that someone, somewhere, would find it.

  She hesitated before typing another message to her mother. "Are you with Dad? Have you heard from Grandma?" Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard before she deleted it. No point in asking questions that might never be answered. Instead, she typed, "I love you," and pressed send, watching the little bubble struggle to deliver.

  With a sigh, she gnced out through the broken store window. The afternoon sky was dull and overcast, the sun struggling to pierce through the thick smog lingering over the city. In the distance, faint trails of smoke curled toward the heavens, as if the earth itself was exhaling its st breaths. Somewhere in the silence, a car arm bred for a few seconds before abruptly cutting off. It was eerie. Tokyo, once a city of ceaseless movement and sound, now felt like a half-abandoned ghost town.

  Yuzu sighed, her breath barely audible in the eerie stillness. The once-bustling streets were now nearly empty, save for a few scattered belongings left behind in the haste of evacuation. Pstic bags fluttered in the weak breeze, caught on the remains of toppled street signs. The silence was unsettling, broken only by the occasional distant shout or the sound of a car engine struggling to start. More and more people had abandoned the city, leaving behind a hollowed-out shell of what was once Tokyo.

  A car arm bsted once again, its shrill wail cutting through the eerie silence like a stubborn ghost refusing to be exorcised. Yuzu groaned, rubbing her temples before finally shouting, "SHUT UP!" as if sheer frustration alone could silence the machine. It didn’t. Instead, it beeped twice more in defiance before mercifully sputtering out, leaving behind only the unsettling quiet of a dying city.

  "Please... just shut up..." Yuzu mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. She hugged her knees tighter, resting her forehead against them. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on her shoulders, making her limbs feel like lead. Even her annoyance at the persistent car arm had dulled, reduced to a quiet, resigned frustration. The silence that followed wasn’t comforting, it was heavy, like the entire world was holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable.

  Yuzu had always been cautious. She wouldn't dare to go anywhere desote alone, especially with how much crime had surged recently. She was just a weak college girl. If something happened, no one would be there to save her. But at this point, did it even matter? The world was already crumbling, and her survival instincts felt more like a bad habit than a necessity. She let out a humorless chuckle, kicking a loose pebble across the pavement.

  "Three months of this just feels so painful..." she muttered, running a hand through her tangled, unwashed hair, strands sticking out in odd directions like a bird's nest that had been through a hurricane and given up. The weight of exhaustion clung to her like a second skin, her oversized sweater draping over her slouched frame like a defeated warrior's tattered cloak.

  A faint, stale scent clung to her clothes. A potent mix of sweat, dust, and despair, seasoned with whatever questionable surfaces she'd surrendered to in the past few days. She stared at the empty street ahead, nudging a discarded can with the enthusiasm of someone whose st shred of motivation had evaporated. The can wobbled, barely making it a few inches before pathetically rolling into the gutter, its fate mirroring her own dwindling patience with reality. "Figures," she grumbled, shoving her hands into her sleeves as if warmth could substitute for sanity.

  As Yuzu sat there, contempting whether she should bother scavenging for more supplies or just take another aimless walk, she heard the soft patter of footsteps approaching. She turned her head slightly, expecting another stray cat or maybe some desperate looter. Instead, a little girl stood a few feet away, clutching a worn-out stuffed rabbit to her chest. Her oversized jacket, likely borrowed from an older sibling or parent, swallowed her small frame, and her face was smudged with dirt. Wide, uncertain eyes stared up at Yuzu, filled with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

  Yuzu blinked, caught off guard. "Uh...hey?" she said, her voice cracking from disuse. She cleared her throat, realizing how foreign her own voice sounded after so long without speaking. The girl didn’t respond immediately, just tightened her grip on her stuffed rabbit, shifting her weight from foot to foot as if debating whether to stay or run. Yuzu gnced at the girl’s dirt-smudged face, then at the stuffed rabbit, its fur matted and worn from being held too tightly for too long. "Nice rabbit," she offered, attempting a small, awkward smile. "He got a name?"

  "Can I buy you, miss ugly sweater?" the little girl asked, tilting her head with an innocence that made the absurdity of the question even funnier. Her voice was soft but oddly confident, like she had just proposed a completely reasonable business transaction. She hugged her rabbit tighter, eyeing Yuzu as if she were an item on a store shelf, waiting for a price tag to be attached.

  Yuzu raised an eyebrow, momentarily caught off guard by the girl's strange offer. "Buy me? Kid, I think you're getting scammed if you're spending your allowance on a half-dead college student."

  The girl huffed, clearly unimpressed with Yuzu’s ck of business sense. "I don’t have money anyway. Money’s useless now. But I still wanna buy you. Maybe trade for some crackers?"

  Yuzu let out a breathy chuckle, shaking her head. "Tempting, but I think I’ll pass. What are you even doing out here alone?"

  The girl hesitated before mumbling, "Looking for my mom."

  Yuzu’s expression softened. She had expected some nonsense or a random demand, not that. She gnced at the stuffed rabbit, its fur worn down from being held too tight. "Where’d you st see her?"

  "At home… but she left. She told me to stay, but I got hungry. I thought maybe she went to get food, but she never came back. So now I’m looking."

  Yuzu exhaled through her nose, dragging a hand down her face. "Great. Just great." She gnced around the empty street, then back at the girl. "Alright, kid. Walking around here alone is a terrible idea, so how about this—I’ll help you look. Not because I’m nice or anything, but because if something happens to you, I’ll feel guilty, and I hate feeling guilty. Sound good?"

  The girl gave her a long, considering look, then nodded. "Okay. But you have to hold my rabbit."

  Yuzu blinked. "Why?"

  "So I know you won’t leave me."

  Yuzu groaned, already regretting every decision leading up to this moment. But with a sigh of defeat, she held out her hand. "Fine. Give me the hostage."

  The girl pced the rabbit into Yuzu’s hands with all the seriousness of a high-stakes negotiation. Yuzu stared at the raggedy thing, then sighed. "Alright, let’s go find your mom."

  They walked side by side, Yuzu occasionally gncing down at the girl, who was still clutching the edge of her oversized jacket like it was a lifeline. "So, you got a name?" Yuzu asked, adjusting the stuffed rabbit under her arm as if it were some priceless artifact.

  The girl hesitated, as if debating whether to answer. "Hana."

  "Hana, huh? Well, I’m Yuzu. You probably guessed that I’m not some lost kid like you, but just to be clear, I’m just a really tired college student, not a responsible adult."

  Hana gave her a long, skeptical look. "You don’t look like a college student. You look like a tired grandma."

  Yuzu snorted. "Wow, okay. I take back any concern I had for you. If I’d known you were this rude, I would’ve left you to fend for yourself."

  Hana grinned slightly, but quickly hid it by hugging herself tighter. "Are you really gonna help me find my mom?"

  Yuzu sighed, shifting the rabbit in her arms. "Yeah, kid. I said I would, didn’t I?"

  They walked in silence for a few moments, the quiet settling between them like an awkward third companion. Then, out of nowhere, Hana tilted her head and asked with complete innocence, "Are you a virgin?"

  Yuzu nearly tripped over her own feet. "What—?! Kid, what kind of question is that?!"

  Hana shrugged. "Just wondering. You look like the type."

  "The type?! What does that even mean?!" Yuzu sputtered, her face heating up. "You can't just ask people that!"

  Hana frowned, as if Yuzu was the one being weird. "Why not? My brother used to ask my cousins all the time."

  "Well, your brother sounds like a menace." Yuzu groaned, rubbing her temples. "We're changing the subject now. Immediately. Like, right now."

  Hana pouted but didn’t argue. "Fine. So… do you have a boyfriend?"

  "...maybe."

  "So that's a no, then?"

  "Ye-- wait, how?"

  Hana smirked, crossing her arms like she had just solved the mystery of the century. "Your face scrunches up like a sad cabbage when you like someone. Same as my mom when she watches romance dramas and pretends she’s not invested."

  Yuzu blinked, genuinely offended. "Excuse me, I do not look like a sad cabbage."

  "Mmmhmm," Hana hummed knowingly, squinting at a figure in the distance. She jabbed a finger toward them with the confidence of a seasoned investigator. "Total cabbage face. Like, that's peak wilted lettuce energy right there." She paused, her pyful smirk fading slightly as she tilted her head. Her grip on Yuzu’s sleeve tightened. "Wait... isn't that mom?"