Chapter 5: Echoes in the Silent Hallway
Nami's arrival was like a lightning bolt in a dark room; it illuminated everything with brutal clarity and left a buzz of energy in the air. The fearful passivity that had dominated the apartment was swept away by her pragmatic urgency. Survival ceased to be a passive concept—enduring until the next calamity—and became an active verb. A business to be managed.
"Alright, 'Master' Joey," Nami began, standing in the center of the living room. She had grabbed a pizza box lid and flipped it over, using a piece of charcoal from a distant fire, which had come in through the window, to create a makeshift whiteboard. "We need a map. Full layout of this floor. Apartments, stairs, elevator access, everything. Knowledge is money, and in this case, money is Survival Points."
Joey, caught off guard by the direct order, hesitated. Talking to one person was difficult; being the center of attention for three otherworldly warriors was a nightmare. But Nami's gaze wasn't cruel, just demanding. Shinobu watched with her enigmatic smile, clearly approving of the initiative. With a trembling hand, Joey took the piece of charcoal and knelt on the floor.
He began to draw. His memory, honed by years of observing the world from a crack, was surprisingly precise. He drew his apartment, 3A. The L-shaped hallway. The elevator shaft in the center. The emergency stairs at each end. He marked Mr. Henderson's apartment, 3B, and a shiver ran through him.
"Who are your neighbors?" asked Shinobu, her soft voice joining the planning. "Who might be a threat? Who might have resources?"
"The Millers, in 3C," Joey said, pointing with the charcoal. "An elderly couple. They hardly ever left." A lump formed in his throat. He didn't want to think about what the heat would have done to them. "3D... is a student. Noisy. Threw a lot of parties." Another potential threat. "And 3E. The Petersons. They left on vacation two weeks ago. I saw them leave with a lot of luggage. The apartment is empty."
Nami's and Shinobu's eyes met over the makeshift map. The same conclusion flashed in both their gazes.
"That's our target," Nami said, tapping her finger on the square marked "3E". "Empty means no resistance. Long vacation means they probably left non-perishable food in the cabinets. And most importantly," she smiled, "a full water heater and untouched toilet tanks. It's a treasure trove."
"The approach must be careful," Shinobu added. "We don't know what or who is in the other apartments. Silence can be deceptive. We'll move in formation. Nezuko in front, she has the sharpest senses. Nami and I on the flanks. Master, you stay in the center, protected. Your only job is to stay quiet and observe."
The plan was set. The first expedition of the "Final Twilight Survival Company," as Nami had dubbed it with dark humor, was about to begin. Their gear was pathetic. Shinobu kept her corkscrew and the oven cleaner. Nami held her Clima-Tact, a three-sectioned staff, with practiced familiarity, though she muttered that it "felt different" without her world's unstable weather to fuel it. Joey was given the longest bread knife from the kitchen, which he held so awkwardly he was probably a greater danger to himself.
With Nezuko leading the way, they moved the barricade and stepped out into the hallway. The air was cooler now, but it carried a sweet, sickening stench that made Joey's stomach turn. The hallway, once an anonymous space for passing through, now felt like a tomb. The closed doors were like tombstones, hiding silent horror stories.
They moved as Shinobu had instructed, hugging the walls, their steps muffled on the industrial carpet. Nezuko would stop every few feet, her head tilting, listening for sounds they couldn't perceive. Finally, they reached the door of 3E. It was locked.
Shinobu signaled for them to stand back. She pulled a hairpin from her bun and, to Joey's surprise, knelt before the lock. With the tip of the corkscrew as a tension lever and the hairpin as a pick, she began to work. Joey watched her, fascinated.
"Where did you learn to do that?" he whispered.
"When you hunt demons that hide among humans," she replied without taking her eyes off the lock, "you learn that most doors are made to keep honest people out. We are no longer honest people." With a soft click, the lock gave way.
The Petersons' apartment was strangely normal. It was clean, tidy, with smiling family photos on the walls. It was a snapshot of a world that no longer existed. The contrast with the stench of death in the hallway was jarring.
Nami went straight to the kitchen like a shark scenting blood. "Bingo!" she exclaimed in a triumphant whisper, opening a cabinet full of cans of soup, beans, and tuna. Shinobu and Joey went to the bathroom, finding the water heater in a closet. Using a wrench they found under the sink, they managed to open the drain valve, and a steady stream of clean water began to fill the bottles and pans they brought. It was the sound of success.
As the water drained, Nezuko, who was standing guard at the door, suddenly tensed. She emitted a low growl, her eyes fixed on the door across the hall—apartment 3D, the party student's place.
Shinobu and Nami were at her side in an instant. Joey huddled behind the kitchen counter, his heart pounding. They fell silent, listening. And then they heard it. A faint sound, almost imperceptible. The sound of a muffled sob.
"Someone's alive," Nami whispered.
"And crying," Shinobu added, her face unreadable. "It could be a trap. Suffering attracts both predators and prey."
"Or it could be someone who needs help," Joey's voice came out, surprising even himself. The image of the Millers, of Mr. Henderson's son, flashed through his mind. How many had already died?
Nami looked at him. "Helping costs resources, Joey. And it doesn't get us Survival Points."
"An unknown person is a potential threat," Shinobu said. "Threats must be assessed and, if necessary, neutralized."
Despite their logic, Joey felt a pang of... something. Responsibility? Humanity? "We have to at least see," he insisted.
The two women exchanged a look. Finally, Shinobu nodded. "Assessment is acceptable."
The plan was remade. Leaving the supplies in the Petersons' apartment, they crossed the hall. The door to 3D was slightly ajar. Black smoke stained the upper part of the door, and the smell of burning was stronger here. Nezuko pushed the door open gently.
The apartment was a disaster. Furniture overturned, broken bottles everywhere. In the center of the room, sitting on the floor, was a young woman with bright pink hair. She wore a torn, soot-stained red outfit. She was unsuccessfully trying to bandage an ugly cut on her forearm with a piece of cloth. She didn't seem to notice them at first, absorbed in her pain and sorrow. Sakura Haruno.
The moment Shinobu took a step inside, Sakura's head snapped up. Her green eyes, swollen from crying, widened and became hard as emeralds. In the blink of an eye, she was on her feet, in a fighting stance that radiated power.
"Stay back!" she yelled, her voice hoarse but strong. "Who are you?"
"We're just investigating," Shinobu said, raising her hands in a peaceful gesture, though her body was ready to strike. "We don't want trouble."
"I don't believe you," Sakura retorted, her eyes sweeping over each of them, assessing the threat. She was clearly a fighter. Her gaze landed on Joey, hiding behind the others. "Where is he? Where is my Master? The System said he would be here! A young man with fear in his eyes, hiding in an apartment on this floor. That was the only information it gave me!"
The revelation hit everyone like a thunderbolt. A Master. Her Master.
Sakura's stance wavered as she looked at Joey again, desperate confusion on her face. "But... you're not him. My Master's name was Kevin. He lived in 3D. He... he called me, and then the heat came. He started screaming... the window exploded... and he..."
Her shoulders fell, and the strength in her voice broke, replaced by the grief she was trying to hold back. "He's gone."
The silence in the hallway was filled with the terrible realization. There was another player on the board. Another "Master" on the same floor as Joey. And he hadn't survived.
Sakura was an Echo without a Bond. A warrior without a master. An orphan of the apocalypse, summoned moments before her summoner's death, left alone in a burning world.
Nami and Shinobu looked at each other, the same question in their eyes. What was she now? A resource? A liability? An unstable threat?
Sakura looked at their group—Shinobu, Nami, Nezuko, and Joey—and a new understanding, a new loneliness, washed over her features. "You... you have a Master," she whispered, her voice full of renewed pain. "What happens... what happens to an Echo when their Master dies?"
No one had the answer. And in the silence that followed, they all realized that the rules of this new world were far more complicated and cruel than they could have ever imagined.
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