It was three o'clock in the afternoon. Usually, he'd be enjoying a coffee with Udai while the latter pored over his latest manga drafts. Akaashi Keiji sat in silence as the nurse wrapped a gauze around the deep cut in his bicep. She looked like death, face gaunt and eyes devoid of any light. She moved like a reanimated corpse, doing only what she needed to do and not putting forth the effort to make the situation any better for her patient.

Akaashi appreciated it.

There was nothing she could say that could make anything better for him anyway.

Approximately two unconscious bodies away, a man was screaming as a doctor stitched his flesh back together without any anesthetic.

They were outside. The government had set up multiple camps—some of which served as temporary hospitals—as a part of their response. As of now, they were probably negotiating with the United States about what to do with the elephant in the room.

Shin Godzilla looked like a toy from afar. Just a plastic dinosaur—the kind a child would play with and then abandon underneath their bed.

"Done," deadpanned the nurse. "Please move, sir, there are others waiting."

"Thank you," Akaashi murmured, getting up and limping aside. He'd twisted his ankle running from the beast, but the nurse hadn't deemed the injury serious enough to waste any of the limited resources on. The worse thing that would happen to him was that he would have to hobble for the rest of his life.

At least he was still in one piece.

Japan had been tragically unprepared for a disaster of this scale. He still remembered when it reemerged from the ocean. With each slosh of water, it had gotten closer, but to Akaashi, it had looked to be little more than a still picture. Like a hurricane or a tsunami—it had approached slow and unchallenged.

With shaking fingers, he called the first person he could think of: Bokuto Koutarou. There was a hairline crack on his phone screen, but it was otherwise alright.

The call didn't go through.

Right. No signal.

All of a sudden, he was more helpless and alone than he recalled himself being.

Being fresh out of college and still feeling out the manga industry.

What was I even worried about? That—that was nothing.

It was like a war movie, only everything was real. Akaashi dragged himself through the camp, his surroundings already beginning to reek of death. It was a peculiar scent—the one of rotting flesh and blood and other bodily fluids. He hunched over and hurled—water and stomach acid splashed onto the ground. He had not eaten since breakfast yesterday; all the food had already passed through him before the attack.

He stumbled, darkness dotting his vision. He fell—

"Akaashi!"

—and landed against someone's chest.

"Mrrgh..." Akaashi blearily opened his eyes, trying to fight the shadows closing in around him. "Bokuto...?"

Every muscle in the other person's body tightened. "No. It's... It's me, Kuroo."

Kuroo! Akaashi nearly wept then and there. But then his eyes watered for an entirely different reason. "What is that smell...?" He leaned back, finding his footing again. "A baby?"

"An orphan," said Kuroo, as if it made a tremendous difference. The baby was curled up against his chest, having cried itself to sleep. "He needs a diaper change. I was hoping I'd find at least a cloth here, but..."

"Were you escorted here?" Akaashi had been—from wherever he'd been holed up during the attack. He couldn't quite remember. Maybe I need to get my head checked, too. It could be a concussion.

Kuroo's lip curled. "No. I waited for an hour for rescue services before I ditched."

"You should probably take the nappy off regardless," advised Akaashi. "It can't be good for him."

"You're right." They found a place to put the baby down and take off the shit-filled diaper. Kuroo tossed it somewhere behind him, not caring what or who it hit. The baby's bottom was covered in feces, and Akaashi had to push down the urge to vomit again. "Could you find me a cloth?"

"I..." Haplessly, Akaashi glanced around. There was not a single person free of burden. Doctors and nurses were tending to patients and mothers and fathers were overwhelmed by the scared and injured children.

"Never mind." Kuroo shrugged off his jacket. Without any hesitation, he wiped down the baby with his garment.

Akaashi shifted. "That was a birthday present from Kenma."

"Kenma's dead," Kuroo said, blandly, never looking at him.

"Oh."

"We're next," he went on without so much of a single inflection in his voice, "That thing was a walking nuclear power plant. The clearance area is at least going to be as big as Chernobyl's. We're being poisoned as we speak."

Akaashi shuddered. "Don't say that."

"It's the truth." Kuroo lifted the baby so that it was comfortable in his arms, turning his head to look at where Shin Godzilla still towered in the distance.

"Then why are you going through so much trouble?"

"Why? I guess..." Kuroo paused, considering the question. "Because I'm only human."