The hideout was supposed to be empty.

Iwaizumi realized that the moment something shifted in the dark—too careful to be a rat, too quiet to be the wind. He froze, hand tightening around his flashlight.

“Don’t,” a voice said softly from behind a stack of crates.

He turned slowly.

She stood there, wide-eyed and stiff, holding a crowbar like she wasn’t sure she knew how to use it. Dust clung to her clothes, and fear sat just beneath her bravery.

They stared at each other, both understanding the same thing at once.

Neither of them was the enemy.

In a world that had ended, that felt like a miracle.