In the end, he hesitated for a moment, then opened the drawer, hid a folding knife in his pocket, took a deep breath, and walked out the door.
...
Yamada Hiromu walked down the silent street with an umbrella, a thick layer of ash quickly accumulating on the surface. Passersby were sparse and kept an eerie silence, only the sounds of footsteps and the faint patter of ash hitting the ground could be heard.
He instinctively looked up towards the distant Skytree—the iconic structure that once illuminated the Tokyo night sky was now pitch black, with an indescribable writhing shadow clinging to its surface. Yamada felt a wave of dizziness, quickly lowered his head, gripped the folding knife in his pocket, and quickened his pace.
The location for supplies distribution, as notified by text message, was at the post office entrance not far from the apartment.
When Yamada arrived, the line was already long, people crowding together like frightened cattle.
