The lab was a miracle.
Hidden beneath the ruins of a prestigious university, the underground botanical facility was still functional — powered by solar backup, filtered through cracked but working glass panels far above. Rows of green vegetables, tomatoes, and medicinal herbs bloomed beneath UV lights. The walls hummed with warmth.
It was the first time in days any of them had tasted fresh air that didn't reek of blood.
Kanata sat cross-legged near a hydroponic patch, his back against a support beam, watching Koko happily water a tomato plant with a metal ladle. Kanami had found her a tiny apron from the storage closet and adjusted the straps with a proud little smile.
"Doesn't feel real," Serizawa whispered, crouching beside Kanata.
"No," he agreed, "it really doesn't."
Godou-sensei sat with her feet soaking in a thermal basin, silently reading an old medical journal while sipping real coffee. Takiya was sharpening her wooden bokken, arms taut with quiet energy, gaze flitting toward the corners of the lab where shadows still lingered.
It was peace. But peace never lasted.
Tension crackled like static between Serizawa and Takiya. It started small — glances, half-bitten words, subtle jabs during group discussions.
Until finally, it broke.
Takiya approached Serizawa near the greenhouse control panel. Her voice was flat, but her eyes were fierce.
"You say you love him," Takiya began, "but you left him once. If you hurt him again… I won't forgive you."
Serizawa straightened, jaw tightening. "You don't get to say that."
"I've seen what he's become. Who he's become. He carries everyone, and still walks forward. And you think you can just walk back into his heart without consequences?"
"I didn't choose any of this!" Serizawa snapped. "I didn't want the world to fall apart. I didn't want to lose everything! I broke up with him because I was scared I'd lose him forever."
"We all lost someone," Takiya said sharply. "My brother died in front of me. I wasn't brave enough to save him. But I never left Kanata."
The silence that followed was heavier than any scream.
Serizawa's hands trembled, but she turned away, whispering, "Then maybe you're braver than me. Maybe he deserves someone like you instead."
Takiya didn't reply.
Later that night, the lab's storage lockers offered something unexpected — clean white undershirts, soft and clinging, likely meant for lab staff under environmental suits.
The girls changed in shifts, laughing lightly at the rare comfort of non-bloody clothes.
Kanami helped Takiya adjust her tight shirt, tugging awkwardly at the hem.
"Geez, senpai, you've got serious abs."
"And you've got surprisingly cold hands," Takiya grunted.
They twisted at the same time — just as Kanata walked in, towel over his shoulder.
He froze.
Kanami was pressed chest-to-chest with Takiya, both in tight white tops, faces flushed.
Time stopped.
Nosebleed. Immediate.
He staggered back. "I-I saw nothing!"
Kanami squealed, diving for her hoodie. "Pervert!!"
Takiya just smirked. "It's your fault for walking in without knocking, Yukimura."
Later, around the solar lantern, they shared slices of tomato and boiled roots.
Koko sat between Kanata and Godou, happily nibbling a cracker.
She suddenly reached up, poking Kanata's chest. "Boing?"
Everyone stared.
Kanami nearly choked on her tea. Takiya burst out laughing. Godou covered her mouth in horror. Serizawa dropped her fork.
Kanata turned beet red.
Koko just tilted her head. "Boing?" she asked again.
Serizawa pulled her into a hug, giggling for the first time in days.
"You're killing him, Koko. Keep going."
Kanata groaned. "This apocalypse is getting weirder by the day."
But that night, surrounded by fragile warmth, none of them said the things they really wanted to say.
Not yet.
But soon.
Very soon.