The first glow of morning slid through the blinds. The light created golden shapes across the freshly painted walls. The house was still, the kind of silence that made every creak of wood and every breath feel amplified.

  Aiko stirred from the floor, her neck stiff from sleeping half-curled against the wall. For a moment, she panicked… strange ceiling… strange room—but then she remembered: the for-sale house, Dynamo’s quick hands on the lock, the relief of shelter.

  Her eyes drifted to Dynamo. She was still at her post by the front door, head bowed slightly, arms crossed, the multitool now resting on the floor beside her. Aiko realized with a start that Dynamo hadn’t moved all night.

  “Did you even sleep?” Aiko whispered, careful not to wake Hiroto.

  Dynamo lifted her head, blinking as though she had been pulled from a trance.

  “Not much. Didn’t feel right with the door unsecured.”

  Aiko crawled over and sat beside her. For a moment, she said nothing, just listening to the muffled hum of distant traffic outside. Dynamo looked different in the morning light… tired, yes, but softer somehow, less like the unbreakable weapon Aiko had built up in her mind, more like a girl who had been carrying the world on her back for too long.

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  “You didn’t have to stay up,” Aiko said quietly.

  “Yeah, I did,” Dynamo answered, her voice flat, but not unkind. “You needed sleep. He needed sleep. Someone had to watch.”

  Aiko hesitated, then reached out and touched Dynamo’s hand. She half expected her to flinch or brush it off, but Dynamo let it stay, fingers rough and warm under Aiko’s.

  “You’re not alone in this,” Aiko said. Her throat tightened, but the words felt right. “You don’t always have to carry it by yourself.”

  For the first time, Dynamo didn’t answer right away. She just looked at Aiko—really looked at her—with something almost vulnerable in her eyes. Then, finally, she let out a breath that sounded like it had been trapped in her chest for years.

  “Yeah,” Dynamo said softly. “Maybe I needed to hear that.”

  The two of them sat there in the half-light, hand against hand, not speaking further. It wasn’t silence born of fear anymore, but of something steadier. Trust.

  When Hiroto finally stirred, grimacing as he pushed himself upright, Aiko and Dynamo both rose in unison, ready to help. The night had taken its toll, but the morning left them with something new—something stronger.

  Not just survival. A bond.