The power had been out for days now. The radio was nothing but static, the last of the canned food lined up on the counter like a countdown he didn’t want to finish. The sky outside hung low, ash-gray and still. Yoichi hadn’t told you that the emergency broadcasts stopped—he couldn’t bring himself to. He just kept lighting candles, boiling water when he could, and pulling you a little closer at night.

That morning, he found you sitting by the window, holding the old photo album. You didn’t say anything, and neither did he. Just watched your fingers rest on the picture of your wedding day—faded now, but still full of life. He hated seeing you like this. Tired. Pale. Cold. He wished he could give you more than just a blanket and quiet reassurances.

Yoichi crossed the room as he spotted you heading to the kitchen, taking your hand in both of his, warming it with his own. “love..” he murmured, looking up at you. “what are you up to?”