AYA:

A sudden rush of icy water slapped against my wrist, shocking me back to reality as the flood current tugged at my bracelet. The brief memory of that morning disappeared super fast, and now we were stuck in this scary situation. I could feel my fingers turning all blue and cold, my dress stuck to my legs completely, making it harder to move. My fingers instinctively found the little moon charm on my bracelet, spinning it once for good luck, just like I had done countless times before.

Through the rain, I saw Shinta pointing. "Aya, there's a ladder there," he yelled over the loud wind. "We can climb it and get away from the flood for now."

As we made our way toward it, I couldn't stop staring at a child's teddy bear floating past, one eye missing. Who did it belong to? Was there a little girl somewhere crying for it right now? I almost reached out to grab it, my fingers stretching toward it. The poor child—what other treasures had they lost? Did they have other toys? Were they somewhere warm and safe?

"Aya, the water's rising faster! We need to hurry" Shinta's voice broke my train of thought. I hadn't even noticed the water had climbed to my waist already.

The rain kept hitting my face, and the wind made it super hard to walk straight. I could hear people crying for help somewhere, and it made me want to help them too, but I was so scared, not just for us but for everyone I could hear calling for help. What if no one was coming to save them? What if we ended up just like them, with no one answering our calls? I hated feeling this useless when others needed help.

This wasn't just a regular storm—it felt alive and mean, like it actually wanted to hurt people, to tear apart the community I loved. I grabbed Shinta's arm a little tighter, hoping he wouldn't notice how badly my hands were shaking.

A flash of lightning lit up his face, his eyes scanning everywhere for an escape. Our eyes met for a brief moment before thunder cracked overhead, making me flinch.

SHINTA:

Of course, I noticed. Her fingers quivered against my skin, the brave face she maintained betrayed by her white-knuckled grip. I covered her hand with mine, positioning myself slightly ahead to shield her from the brunt of the wind while scanning for any debris that might become projectiles in the increasing gusts.

"It's going to be okay, Aya," I said softly, squeezing her hand to convey a confidence I didn't feel, though I wasn't sure she could hear me through the downpour. "We just need to keep moving."

"All these people's things," she whispered, her eyes welling with tears that mixed with the rain on her cheeks. She swayed slightly as she spoke, steadying herself against me with a grip that felt surprisingly warm despite the freezing rain. "Their special things, their memories..."

"I know, I..." was all I managed to say, my throat tightening. I didn't know what else to tell her.

The ladder was our only chance, but the flood surged forward in deliberate pulses—faster than should be physically possible. Doubt consumed my every thought. Would we even make it to safety? Could this rusted ladder hold both our weight? And even if we survived today, what would be left of Volnaria tomorrow? The questions spiraled through my mind, each darker than the last.

A cold weight settled in my chest as Aya's foot slipped on the rain-slick metal. Her movements seemed sluggish, delayed. "Aya!"

She dangled for what felt like an eternity—knuckles white, a sharp gasp escaping her lips—before somehow finding footing again.

"I've got you." My hand pressed against her back, steadying her. The ladder groaned beneath us as we continued our ascent through howling wind. Below, water churned relentlessly, swallowing everything in its path.

"You're doing great," I managed, my voice steadier than the tremor in my hands I couldn't control. Her body braced against each gust of wind, an alarming blue hue creeping across her tightly shut lips, a stark contrast to the unusual flush spreading across her cheeks despite the cold. Yet upward she climbed—one painful rung after another—without a word of complaint, her silence speaking volumes.

The top of the building was wet and slippery, but stable. I looked over the edge, watching as doorways half-disappeared beneath the swallowing darkness below. The rooftop revealed Volnaria's transformation in horrifying detail.

The floodwaters, now hip-deep, snaked through the streets below, transforming the once-bustling avenues into murky rivers. Buildings still stood tall, but their lower levels—God, the café where I had my first date with Aya was down there somewhere.

Street lamps cast eerie, wavering light across the flowing current, illuminating patches of the chaos in stuttering pulses as circuits failed. Smaller objects—trash cans, bicycles, market stalls—floated freely.

The water carried them at its own pace, occasionally colliding with—wait. That's not right. Water doesn't move like that. It should be flowing downhill toward the river, but these currents were moving against the city's natural gradient.

The flood water barely reached mid-thigh, yet it moved with purpose, as if searching for something. It discovered weak points in infrastructure, seeping through doorways and subway entrances that should have remained watertight.

I rubbed my eyes, wondering if fever was catching or if exhaustion was making me hallucinate. The water itself seemed to glow faintly from within—too dark to be natural, too deliberate to be mere water.

Three buildings down, an elderly man—Mr. Tanaka from the corner store—refused to abandon his shop. I watched him frantically moving photo frames and keepsakes to higher shelves. Water already lapped at his waist.

The current knocked him off balance. One moment standing, the next—gone. I held my breath until he resurfaced, gasping, clinging to his shop counter. His weathered face turned skyward. A final prayer formed on his lips before the ceiling groaned, splintered, then collapsed in a shower of rubble. I wanted to call out, to do something, but what? I turned away, bile rising in my throat.