The sun was blazing mercilessly down from the sky, robbing them of what little endurance they had left.

But still, they trudged on. They kept moving, because if they stopped, finding the strength to start again could escape them.

It was hard, because they had no goal in sight. They had no destination. They didn't have anything moving them forward, except the need to just keep going.

They had to move on, keep going on, because there was nothing worth stopping for.

Not in the ruins that used to be their homeland.

Not in the barren wasteland that used to be their country.

The epidemic hadn't left much to begin with. The virus had spread across the country like forest fire. It had claimed most of the population on the islands. Anyone who had survived the epidemic and hid in the cities had been buried in there when the bombs fell.

Satsuki had always relied greatly on information, but now she had none. Ever since the epidemic, panic had seized the country. A full informational blackout was natural when there was no longer anyone to broadcast nation-wide what was going on anymore.

She wasn't even sure if there was any nation to speak of any longer.

She and Daiki had somehow made it through that nightmare with their lives intact. They had been out of the country when the virus struck, and the basement her father had pushed them into before slamming the door shut in her face had been a good hiding place. It had endured the bombings, and the door held strong even as she clawed her fingers till they bled as she cried, begged, wailed for her father to come in with them, too.

Daiki had held her back when she attempted to barrel out of there. He pinned her down by force, kept her securely in place as she kept screaming and thrashing underneath him, praying with him to let her go so they could save her father. She kept crying and struggling until she had no more energy to do anything.

She went limp beneath him, and when she did, he let his hold up. It wasn't any easier for him than it was for her—he had already lost both his parents to the disease, too. But he couldn't let her throw her life away.

So here they were, God knows how many days—weeks?—later, making step after step through the wasteland that used to be Tokyo.

They had spent what had felt like an eternity in the bomb shelter, cooped up together, not saying a word for days on end. She had been so mad at him for so long, she refused to even look at him. She begrudged him and herself both that they had lived when everyone they cared for had died.

She was in so much pain, so anguished, that she could no longer feel anything. She was numb. All she could make sense of anymore was the swirling void in her chest, and all the anger simpering on the edges of her reason.

She tripped over her feet and fell to her knees in the rubble of what used to be a living building. The pointy shrapnel dug into her skin, piercing it under her weight. Tears prickled into the edge of her vision. She bit on her lip, refusing to cry. Not that she could—she was too sad, too hopeless, too disillusioned to shed tears any longer.

Daiki stopped pacing when she tripped, turning to look at her expectantly. He waited for her to get up, but she didn't. She didn't feel like getting up anymore.

"What's the point anyway?" she sobbed out. "Where are we even going? What's there left to live for?"

He waited for her to get up, shake it off and move on. She had often broken down in the past days and weeks, and she had always moved on from it.

But now, she refused. She was tired. She was exhausted. She couldn't take this anymore.

It was true, too. There was nothing left to live for.

"There is no future. There's only destruction and a slow, painful death awaiting," she told him morbidly, glaring at the ground. Even if they somehow lived off of things they found in the ruins of town, there was no guarantee they wouldn't get infected with the virus that had killed off most of the people.

She heard more than she actually saw him move. He took a step closer to her, until his tall frame casted its long shadow over her.

"Get up, Satsuki."

His voice was cold, distant. She'd never heard him sound like that. She refused to obey his command.

"No. I'm staying here. I don't care anymore."

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the howl of the wind through the humongous cracks in the remains of the buildings that still stood a meter or so above ground.

He crouched in front of her, eyes level with hers even as she continued to refuse to meet his gaze.

"I see. You don't want to go on anymore?" His tone was so hollow that it made goosebumps break out on her arm.

"I don't."

"Do you wish you had died along with the rest of them?"

His query caught her off-guard. She wasn't ready to answer this question aloud.

She wasn't ready, but she knew the answer. She had thought it to herself countless times already.

"I do," a voice that was unlike her own said with her mouth.

"I see," Daiki said in that same incorporeal tone. "Do you want to die now, then?"

At this, she did look at him, with eyes wide with shock and bafflement. When their gazes locked, she was floored by the haunted expression on her childhood friend's face.

"If you're so sick of it all, I can give you relief." His hands were rough and calloused, harsh on her skin even as he put little to no pressure on her as he held both his hands on her neck. "I can snap your neck right now—it won't even hurt. It will be over in a second."

Her eyes widened further. It finally sank in – what he was offering her.

His fingers on her delicate neck felt a lot heavier now that she understood.

"Just say the word. I'll do it if you want me to."

She stared at him with unblinking eyes, wondering what was going on with him. She stared into the vacant expression on his face, completely rid of any and all emotion, and she wondered how this man in front of her now was that same boy who had cried when the pet frog he had teased her with had died.

The expression on his face was cruel in its impartiality. His eyes were deadened, and she had no doubt that if she said it, he really would snap her neck for her.

So why was she feeling fear and horror instead of relief at being offered an end to her misery?

"I don't want to die," she said in a whimper, tears running down her cheeks. "I don't know why, but I really don't want to die."

The sobs shook her body, and she hunched over when he relinquished his hold on her.

"Good," he said, making her look up in surprise. She had heard it in his voice, and most certainly—there it was.

The first ghost of a smile she had seen on his face ever since everything had started coming apart. It was small and evanescent, barely there to begin with, but she had definitely seen it.

"Hold onto that feeling for as long as you can," he told her, pushing himself up until he stood upright again. "And don't forget it."

She really had nothing left to live for. Her family was gone, her dreams were gone, her goals were inexistent. The world as she knew it was no more. There was no hope, no salvation, no future.

And yet she wasn't ready to give up yet. She couldn't die. Not when she had lived through hell. Not when she had walked through hell and back. Not when she had endured this long.

As she looked up at Daiki's face, she realized that today was the first day she had even given him her full attention since God knows how long.

He had been with her the entire time, ploughing a path for her through the debris, searching for food for them, scavenging around just so they could survive the day. He had been looking after her the same way she had always looked after him—and more.

He had been there the entire time, experiencing the same things, living through the same hell.

And yet she had left him alone.

She had scorned him for his efforts to keep her alive and unhurt. She had begrudged him the feeling of wanting to keep her safe.

She had left him on his own, despite being only a few feet away from him the entire time.

In her anger, in her bitterness, she had forsaken him.

The realization filled her with self-loath.

She got up quietly, dusting herself off, and started walking after him just like they had done for the past several days. If it wasn't too late to make amends, she decided she would do her best to make it up to him.

As they kept pushing forward, Satsuki reached out and took his hand in hers, lacing her fingers through his. He didn't even look at her as she did so, but his fingers gave hers a little squeeze that reassured her greatly.

She had no idea how or why they had survived this. She had no clue if anyone else had been as 'lucky' as they had been. The only way to find out is to keep moving forward, looking for survivors.

There were two options: either they were alone, or they weren't. Both were equally horrifying.

But as long as she could still hold his hand, she wouldn't wonder if there was any point, any reason to keep struggling.

Being alive was reason enough to keep trying.

And the fact that by some stroke of luck she had him to lean on for strength even when the rest of her world had fallen apart was consolation enough.

They would find if there was anything worth for beyond the end of the world. And they would do it together, like they always had.