The word hung in the air like a verdict. The girls didn't speak at first. They just looked at him, waiting for more. Suzune's hands pressed on the edge of the map, her eyes tracing the lines as if she could see what he saw. Miko shifted her weight, unconsciously keeping Hana tucked close. Ichika folded her arms and leaned back, eyebrows raised like she was daring him to justify it.

"Why west?" Ichika asked finally, voice flat.

"Because east is the bay. South is raider ground. North puts us on the river too soon, where every bridge is a choke point. West gives us distance before choice," Riku said. His finger traced a line away from the resort, through blocks of abandoned streets. "We put space between us and them first. Then we decide how to cross."

Suzune nodded slowly. "And fuel?"

"We've got enough to make it a district or two before we need more. The depot bought us time. Not comfort." His eyes flicked to her, steady. "We use it right."

Miko bit her lip. "What about food?"

"Same answer," Riku said. "Enough to move. Not enough to rest."

Hana's small voice piped up, muffled by the blanket she clutched around her shoulders. "Do we have to keep running?"

The room went quiet. For a second, even Ichika had no retort. Riku crouched to meet Hana's wide, tired eyes.

"Until we find somewhere no one else wants," he said. "That's when we stop running. Not before."

She nodded, though the way her fingers tightened on the blanket said she didn't understand, not fully. But she trusted him, and trust was enough to keep her moving.

They spent the afternoon in silence, each falling into routine. Suzune inventoried supplies again, writing the dwindling numbers on the back of an old receipt. Miko folded blankets tighter, making sure Hana's things were neat. Ichika sat with her back against the wall, fiddling with the walkie and muttering about static. Riku cleaned his rifle with deliberate calm, each click and slide steadying the storm that always waited just under his ribs.

When dusk touched the warehouse windows, Riku stood. "We roll tonight. Quieter. Fewer raiders on the streets."

Ichika groaned. "And more shamblers."

"Shamblers don't set traps," Riku said. "Pick your poison."

Suzune rose without complaint. Miko bundled Hana's blanket into the pack. Riku packed the jugs in the Rezvani, tied them down, then double-checked every latch. When everything was ready, he gathered them by the office door.

"Rules don't change. Quiet. Eyes open. If I stop, you stop. If I run, you run. If we lose the truck, we move on foot. West, always west. Clear?"

"Clear," Suzune said firmly.

Miko gave a small nod.

Ichika muttered something under her breath but echoed, "Clear."

Hana hugged her blanket tighter, but her voice whispered, "Clear too."

Riku gave one sharp nod. "Let's move."

The Rezvani crept through the night, its headlights dark, tires whispering over broken pavement. The city had a different voice after sundown. Shadows stretched deep, hiding corners. Every echo carried farther. The girls sat tense, pressed into their seats, listening to the quiet groan of the world.

They passed through streets littered with dead cars, their windows shattered, their doors left ajar like open mouths. Twice, Riku killed the engine and let the Rezvani drift silent while packs of shamblers shuffled across intersections. Their silhouettes twitched and staggered in the moonlight, moans low and restless. Hana buried her face in Miko's side until the sounds faded.

Further west, the city seemed emptier. Less gunfire, fewer shamblers. But the quiet felt wrong—like an abandoned stage where something still waited behind the curtain.

At one corner, Riku slowed, hand tightening on the wheel. A single streetlight flickered, weak and erratic. Beneath it, a figure stood—too still, too balanced. Not dead. Not shambler. A man, holding something long in his hands.

Riku backed the Rezvani into shadow and waited. The figure didn't move. Just stood watch, head tilted slightly, as if listening.

"Raiders?" Ichika whispered.

"Not uniformed. Could be just someone guarding their block," Riku said. His eyes never left the man. "Doesn't matter. We don't test it."

He turned down a side street instead, weaving into narrower lanes. The Rezvani's engine purred low, steady, pulling them deeper west.

Hours passed this way. Stop. Wait. Drift. Move. The girls stayed silent, each in their own head. Miko kept one hand over Hana's, fingers steady. Suzune scanned each alley as if memorizing them. Ichika muttered once about how "west looks just like east," but quieted when Riku gave her a look.

Finally, when the sky began to gray, Riku pulled the Rezvani into a dead-end alley. The walls closed tight on either side, just wide enough for the truck to fit. He cut the engine and let silence settle.

"Here," he said. "We rest a few hours. Safer to hide than drive daylight."

They filed into the warehouse-like ruin at the alley's end. Broken doors, rusted beams, but walls solid enough. Inside smelled of dust and rain.

They set up in the corner, blankets on the floor, supplies stacked against the wall. Riku stood guard at the doorway, rifle across his knees, while the girls huddled together.

Miko coaxed Hana into lying down, brushing her hair back until her eyes fluttered closed. Suzune sat against the wall, arms folded, head tilted back. Ichika fidgeted, tapping the walkie on her knee until Riku told her, "Quiet."

The night bled into morning. The city outside groaned and shifted. Once, a howl rose in the distance—thin, sharp, too high for a human throat. Hana stirred in her sleep, clutching her blanket tighter. Riku's grip on the rifle tightened, but the sound faded, leaving only the wind.

By midmorning, Riku stirred them awake. "We move again at dusk. Sleep now while you can."

Suzune gave him a sharp look. "And you?"

"I'll take first watch."

"You never sleep," she muttered, but she didn't argue. She just settled again, eyes closing.

Riku turned back to the doorway, scanning the broken city. The map still weighed in his pocket. West wasn't safe. But it was space. And space was the only currency they had left.

For now, that was enough.

The city looked gray and endless, morning haze hanging low over rooftops that had long since given up their paint. Cars sat rusting in the gutters, glass punched out, weeds growing through their frames. Riku let the silence fill his chest before pulling back into the warehouse.

Suzune was already awake, sitting on a crate with her knees drawn up, eyes tracking him without a word. She didn't need to ask if he'd seen anything—if there was danger, he would've said. Miko was still curled on the floor with Hana pressed against her, the little girl breathing soft and even. Ichika snored lightly in the corner, one hand resting on the walkie as if it would bite if she let go.

"Shift change," Riku said quietly.

Suzune stood without complaint, brushing dust from her pants. "Anything?"

"Not yet. Two scavengers with a cart, moved past an hour ago. They didn't look up."

She nodded, not surprised. "More will come."

"Always." He slung the rifle back over his chest. "Get some sleep."

For a moment, she lingered, eyes on him like she wanted to push further. But she let it drop and moved toward the blankets.

Riku stayed at the doorway, crouched low enough to keep his silhouette hidden. The hours stretched thin. He traced the route west in his head over and over: alleys, choke points, fallback spots. None of it promised safety. None of it ever did. But distance mattered, and distance could be bought if he kept them moving.

By noon the heat pressed heavy against the warehouse walls, and the air grew thick with dust. Riku finally roused the others. Miko rubbed at her eyes, careful not to wake Hana too roughly. Ichika grumbled but sat up quick when she realized he was watching.

"Dusk again?" Suzune asked.

"Yes," Riku said. "West, same as planned."

Ichika groaned. "More running."

"Better running than dying," Riku said flatly.

They ate their last handfuls of rice cold, washed down with half-cups of water. Hana tried to hum a song she half-remembered, but the sound trailed off when she saw no one else joining in. Miko kissed the top of her head and whispered, "Later."

When evening shadows stretched across the cracked pavement, they packed again. Riku checked the jugs twice, cinched straps tighter, and tapped each of them on the shoulder before leading them back into the Rezvani. The engine purred low, steady. He guided it out of the alley like a ghost.

The city swallowed them once more.

Every street west carried echoes—metal clinks, a cough that wasn't theirs, the restless moan of the dead. Twice, Riku pulled them into shadow while raiders passed in patched trucks, engines snarling like predators. The Rezvani stayed silent, crouched behind wreckage until the noise faded. Hana clung to Miko's sleeve with white knuckles, whispering, "Don't let them see."

"They won't," Miko whispered back, though her own voice trembled.

By the time the moon lifted, they had cleared three districts. The roads grew wider, the ruins more spread apart. The air smelled of dry weeds and smoke from some distant fire.

Riku finally turned into a half-collapsed parking garage, driving them up two levels before cutting the engine. "Here," he said. "We rest, then move again."

The girls filed out, stiff and tired. Suzune scanned the shadows while Ichika dropped onto a chunk of broken concrete with a groan. Miko laid a blanket for Hana, who sat cross-legged and asked the question none of them wanted to hear.

"Onii-chan… how long until we stop running?"

Riku crouched in front of her, eyes steady. "When we find somewhere no one else wants."

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