Morning came slowly, as if the house itself was unsure whether it should allow the light in. The storm had passed sometime before dawn, leaving behind a heavy stillness that pressed against the windows and settled into the corners of every room. The air felt different now — cooler, quieter — but not safer. Nothing felt safe anymore.

Rika stood near the window where the knocking had come from the night before. The glass was streaked with dried condensation, faint outlines still visible where something — someone — had pressed against it. She hadn't slept. None of them had.

Rei sat on the edge of a low chair with her tennis racket resting across her knees, her grip loose but ready. Her eyes drifted toward the window again and again, as if expecting the knocking to begin a second time. Nearby, Shizu moved quietly near the kitchen entrance, wiping the same spot on the counter for longer than necessary. Her motions were steady and controlled — something to focus on, something normal — but nothing about this was normal.

"Do we open it?" Rei asked finally, her voice low. No one answered immediately. Rika kept her eyes on the window. "He knocked," Rei added. "That means he's… not like them." Rika exhaled slowly. "Or he's pretending." The idea settled heavily into the room. It wasn't unreasonable anymore. Nothing was. Shizu finally set the cloth down. "If he wanted to break in," she said softly, "he would have tried." Rei glanced toward her. "You don't know that." "No," Shizu replied calmly. "But he waited."

That mattered. In a world that had suddenly lost all rules, waiting — asking — felt like something worth noticing.

Rika finally turned from the window. "We don't open the window," she said. "Too exposed." "Back door?" Rei suggested. "Too far from here. If something goes wrong, we can't see it." Shizu looked toward the side hallway. "There's the service entrance near the kitchen," she said. "It's smaller. Easier to control." Rika considered it for a moment before nodding. "Okay. We check first."

They moved together slowly and deliberately through the quiet house. Every step felt louder than it should have. The estate, once expansive and elegant, now felt like a maze of blind corners and long sightlines, every doorway carrying the possibility of something waiting just beyond it. Rei walked slightly ahead, tightening her grip on the racket. Rika followed close behind, scanning ahead and then behind them in quick, practiced glances. Shizu stayed a half-step back, alert but composed.

When they reached the service entrance, the door stood closed and silent. Rika raised a hand. They listened carefully. Nothing. Then came a soft sound from the other side — not knocking this time, more like shifting, someone moving carefully. Alive.

Rika stepped closer. "Who's there?" she called. There was a pause before a voice finally answered. "…Tanaka," the man said. "Hiroshi Tanaka." His voice sounded rough and unused, careful rather than desperate. "I work the grounds," he added after a moment. "The greenhouse."

The girls exchanged quick glances. Shizu's expression changed slightly — recognition. Rika noticed immediately. "You know him?" Shizu nodded once. "I've seen him before. He doesn't come to the main house often." That matched. Rika turned back toward the door. "Why are you here?" Another pause followed. "I saw movement," Hiroshi said. "In the house." He hesitated before continuing. "I thought… maybe someone was still alive." The way he said it — not hopeful, not relieved, simply stating a possibility — sent a strange heaviness through the hallway.

Rika placed her hand on the handle. "Stand back." A brief shuffle came from the other side. Rei adjusted her footing. Shizu straightened. Rika opened the door.

Hiroshi Tanaka stood just beyond the threshold. He looked older than she expected — not elderly, but worn down by hard labor and harder nights. Dirt and dried mud stained his clothes, and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows, revealing forearms covered in scratches and shallow cuts. In one hand he carried a short-handled pruning saw. Not raised. Not threatening. Simply held. His posture was rigid, though not defensive — restrained. As soon as the door opened fully, he stepped inside and immediately stopped, lowering his gaze toward the floor. Not cautious, not fearful. Respectful.

"I apologize," he said quietly, "for coming unannounced." The tone was formal and measured enough to catch Rei off guard. Shizu stepped forward slightly. "I am Shizu Sakamoto," she said. Hiroshi reacted immediately, straightening slightly though his eyes remained lowered. "Sakamoto-san," he replied automatically. The honorific came naturally, instinctively. The hierarchy still existed for him, even now. "I didn't expect…" He stopped himself. "I didn't know anyone from the house had survived."

For just a moment, Shizu almost accepted the distance implied in his words. Then she shook her head gently. "I'm also just a worker," she said. The words changed something. Hiroshi paused, processing them slowly. Carefully, he lifted his head enough to look at her — then fully. Their eyes met, and the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. "Then…" he said quietly, "…we are the same." Shizu gave a small nod. "Yes." That was enough. The air shifted. Not safe — but human.

Rika stepped forward. "I'm Rika. And that's Rei." Rei gave him a short nod. Hiroshi inclined his head politely to both of them, no longer staring at the floor but still careful in every movement. "You came from the greenhouse?" Rika asked. "Yes." "How did you survive?" Hiroshi glanced briefly toward the distant window at the end of the hallway. "The glass structure," he explained. "Strong. Reinforced." He adjusted his grip slightly on the pruning saw. "I stayed inside. Closed everything. Watched." "Watched what?" Rei asked. Hiroshi's expression tightened. "Them," he answered quietly. No clarification was needed.

"They move differently," he continued. "Not like people." "They're not," Rei muttered. Hiroshi nodded faintly. "I saw some of the staff at first. They didn't recognize me." Silence settled over the hallway. Shizu lowered her eyes. Rika's jaw tightened. Rei gripped the racket harder. "They came to the greenhouse," Hiroshi continued. "Not many. I locked the doors." He glanced down at his hands. "I had tools." That said enough.

Rika studied him carefully. "You waited until now to come here?" Hiroshi nodded once. "I don't come to the main house," he said quietly. "It is… not my place." Even now. Even after everything, that line still existed for him. Shizu looked at him carefully. "You came anyway." "Yes." "Why?" Hiroshi met her eyes again. "Because I saw movement," he said. "And because…" He hesitated. "…being alone is worse."

That landed harder than anything else he had said.

"So what now?" Rei asked, shifting uneasily. "We just… add another person?" Rika didn't answer immediately. She watched Hiroshi carefully. He didn't move, didn't push, didn't plead. He simply waited — again. Finally, Rika exhaled. "You can stay." Rei looked at her in disbelief. "Just like that?" Rika never looked away from Hiroshi. "He knocked." That was explanation enough. Hiroshi lowered his head slightly. "Thank you." Simple. Direct. Nothing more.

Shizu moved toward the kitchen. "We still have water," she said. "And some food left." Hiroshi followed carefully, slower than the others, as if still unsure how close he was allowed to be. Rei watched him the entire time, unconvinced and still tense. Rika lingered near the doorway for another moment and glanced outside. The morning light stretched weakly across the estate grounds, pale and silent — too silent. No wind moved through the hedges. No birds called from the trees. Nothing moved along the gravel drive. She stepped back inside and locked the door.

The house felt different now. Not safer, but steadier. Four instead of three. A small difference, but not a meaningless one.

At the kitchen table, Hiroshi sat rigidly at the edge of his chair, his hands resting carefully on his knees. He hadn't touched the water or the food placed in front of him. He was waiting again. Shizu noticed first. "You can eat," she said gently. Hiroshi nodded once, and only then did he finally reach forward.

Rei leaned closer to Rika and lowered her voice. "You trust him?" Rika watched Hiroshi quietly for a moment. "No." Rei blinked. "Then why—" "But I trust what he did," Rika interrupted softly. Rei frowned. Rika nodded toward him. "He waited." Rei followed her gaze. Hiroshi ate slowly and carefully, taking only small portions. He didn't rush. Didn't stare around the room. Didn't take more than he needed. After a moment, Rei exhaled quietly. "…Yeah," she admitted.

Outside, the estate remained silent. No movement crossed the pathways, and the hedges stood perfectly still beneath the pale morning light. But the silence no longer felt peaceful — it felt fragile, like something that could shatter without warning. Far out near the edge of the grounds, a figure drifted slowly into view, wandering aimlessly near the tree line. Then another. Not gathering. Not watching. Just wandering.

Inside, the house held together for now. Four people. Doors closed. Windows locked. For the first time since it began, they weren't alone. And for now, that was enough.

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