Kamui laid wounded under his arm. He was loosing - had already lost - a lot of blood; and even if Fuuma was panicked at the situation ( memory flashes - wires, violence, bits of flesh raining over him and wishes, every wishes unfolding, weighting, pushing, demanding, insisting, crying - and no place to flee as the whole world came quacking out of order) he was trying to focus on that fact and on how to help Kamui.
But they were trapped. Towers of metals came crashing in the earthquake surrounded them. In the ruins of Tokyo's last Kekkai, buried under tons of concrete, it was a miracle alone that they were still alive. Not to mention that they had air to breath and saw faintly, from such high, unreachable point, six stars and one dual sun shining from above.
"I made it. I got you back."
Kamui, as unlikely as it was, was smiling triumphantly at him.
"Don't speak... You must keep your strength. Rescue will come soon..."
The younger boy shook his head. "No one will come. It's the end of the world."
"Don't-"
Kamui stopped him with one hand over his mouth.
"I don't care. I've got you. I've got now."
Fuuma stared in disbelief as Kamui's smile turned tender.
"There's something I wanted to tell you."
They didn't get much time, but in the end, time is what you make of it.
The long night caused by the big earthquake lasted several months of dust obscuring the light of the sun. No one among the spare survivors knew why across the heavy clouds, alone, eight stars shone on until the spring came back.
