Chapter 6

As the bunker lights finally flickered out completely, silence swallowed Ajisaka and Binar. Only the pounding of their hearts remained, echoing like waves relentlessly crashing against a cliff. Ajisaka tried to steady himself, but his heart trembled in the all-encompassing darkness. Nearby, Binar started to panic, her voice dampened by the grip of fear.

“Brother, why did the lights go out? Are we going to stay in the dark forever?” Binar asked, her voice quivering as she edged closer to Ajisaka.

“No, Bin. We’ll be alright. This is only temporary,” Ajisaka replied, his tone calmer than he felt. He pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and switched it on, but the light that appeared was faint—the battery nearly drained.

“This is scaring me, Brother,” Binar continued, her eyes widening in the darkness. Ajisaka could feel her heartbeat quicken, mirroring the anxiety gripping them both.

“Listen, Bin. We’ve faced so many hard things before. We can handle this too,” Ajisaka reassured her, trying to infuse his voice with confidence, even as doubt simmered within him.

Leaning against the cold wall, Ajisaka closed his eyes for a moment, seeking strength. In the silence, every sound was amplified, every second dragged on. The tension seeped into his mind, adding weight to his thoughts. “Let’s remember some good memories with Dad,” he suggested, trying to distract them from the encroaching darkness.

“Like what?” Binar asked, her voice slightly steadier as thoughts of their father brought her comfort.

“Like the time we went fishing together,” Ajisaka began, digging into memories that felt warm even now. “Remember how he taught us to cast the bait? We always laughed because we kept catching fish that were too small,” he reminisced, a smile forming despite the gloom.

“And Dad always told us to let the little ones go,” Binar added, her voice sounding brighter as if the memory brought a bit of light to their surroundings. “He said even the small fish deserve to live.”

“Yes, and he was so proud when we finally caught a big one!” Ajisaka chuckled, though the laughter was tinged with sorrow.

“We’ll get out of here, Brother. We’ll go fishing again, just like before,” Binar said with growing hope, but Ajisaka knew that hope grew dimmer with each passing day.

“Binar,” Ajisaka interrupted, “we have to focus on the present. We can’t leave yet. We need to find a way to survive here, to overcome this darkness.”

The relentless darkness pressed upon them, turning sweet memories bitter. Ajisaka struggled to fix the bunker’s power source, but their tools felt inadequate, like grasping at straws. “We have to find a way,” he whispered to himself, though no solutions surfaced.

“Can you fix it?” Binar asked, unaware of the full extent of their predicament.

“Yes, I’ll try,” Ajisaka replied, though he wasn’t sure what he could achieve. He fumbled for anything that might help, but everything he touched felt weighed down with despair.

The darkness began to affect them both mentally. Ajisaka grew more irritable, more prone to frustration. When Binar accidentally dropped a can, Ajisaka couldn’t hold back. “Can’t you be more careful?” he snapped, his voice echoing sharply in the void.

Binar fell silent, fear creeping back over her. “I’m sorry, Brother…”

Ajisaka regretted his words instantly. “No, I’m sorry, Bin. I’m just… feeling the pressure. We’ll be okay. Let’s keep trying,” he said, trying to ease the tension.

The following nights grew harder. Every sound felt menacing, every breath an echo against cold walls. They shared stories of past memories with their parents, but each laugh brought tears that were harder to hold back.

“I want to go outside, Brother. I want to see the sky again,” Binar whispered one night, her voice soft yet full of longing.

“And we will, Bin. Someday,” Ajisaka replied, though he couldn’t say when that day might come. The darkness and silence made hope feel as fragile as a thread stretched too thin.

Day by day, Ajisaka tried to keep Binar’s spirits alive, but he felt his own strength fading. The bunker’s darkness seemed to amplify their sorrow, turning small, joyful memories bitter.

“Maybe we should go to bed early, Brother. So time will pass quicker,” Binar suggested, trying to find a way to divert attention from the fearful darkness.

“Alright, but before we do, let’s pray. Let’s ask for a light at the end of this tunnel,” Ajisaka replied, closing his eyes momentarily, hoping for a miracle that would pull them out of this gloom.

“A dark night won’t stay dark forever, right, Brother? We’ll find a way out,” Binar tried to stay optimistic, but Ajisaka knew it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold on.

In the midst of darkness and uncertainty, hope felt like morning dew, ready to evaporate at the first hint of sunlight. Isolation wrapped around them, severing them from the world they once knew. But Ajisaka promised himself he wouldn’t let that hope die. This darkness might be strong, but he would fight for Binar—for the life that still awaited them outside.

In desperation, Ajisaka urged Binar to keep up with physical training despite the darkness. “Come on, Bin. We can’t give up. We have to keep moving to stay strong,” he encouraged, attempting to create a positive atmosphere amid the crushing darkness. Binar nodded, though a flicker of doubt was visible in her eyes.

“Can we really train like usual?” Binar asked, her voice muffled in the haunting silence.

“Of course. We can do basic movements, like push-ups and squats. Let’s start,” Ajisaka replied with more enthusiasm than he felt, urging Binar to stand and follow his lead.

They trained in the darkness, hands brushing against cold, rough walls. Ajisaka counted each movement, striving to keep Binar focused. Yet, his mind raced with the uncertainty that loomed over them.

One night, as they rested after training, Ajisaka heard an unusual sound from outside the bunker. It was faint, like the whisper of wind carrying a distant message. He paused, ears straining to catch each strange note. “Did you hear that, Bin?” he asked, keeping his voice calm.

“What, Brother?” Binar responded, confused, unaware of the sound that unsettled him.

“There’s a noise from outside,” Ajisaka replied, trying not to reveal his worry. He didn’t want to add to Binar’s already overwhelming fear.

They fell silent, listening as the noise came again, slightly louder this time. Ajisaka felt his heart racing, the tension between them mounting.

“It’s probably just the wind,” Binar suggested, attempting to ease the moment, but Ajisaka couldn’t ignore his instincts hinting at danger.

“Maybe… but stay alert,” Ajisaka nodded, deflecting Binar’s focus from the mysterious sound. They returned to their routine, but Ajisaka’s mind remained unsettled.

That night, the tension lingered. The strange noises continued, fueling Ajisaka’s suspicion. In his mind, possibilities swirled. Was someone outside? Or could it be something far more sinister?

Curiosity and fear blended together, trapping Ajisaka in a dilemma. He wanted to protect Binar, but he couldn't let himself fall into overwhelming fear. "We need to stay focused, Bin. Remember, we’ve been through tough times before," Ajisaka tried to instill courage.

The days passed under tense silence, with sounds from outside growing louder and more frequent. Ajisaka tried to act normally around Binar, but his heart was filled with anxiety. He began training harder, not just to strengthen them but to distract his mind from the unsettling noises.

At night, they lay in the darkness, listening to the sounds that cut through the stillness. "Brother, are we truly safe here?" Binar asked, her voice more serious than before.

"We’ll be fine, Bin. Remember, we have each other. We can't give up," Ajisaka replied, trying to give his sister strength even as he himself felt vulnerable.

But the next night, tension peaked when Ajisaka heard a faint knock on the bunker door. It was soft, as if something—or someone—wanted to come in. The sound sent a chill down his spine, and he immediately looked over at Binar.

Binar appeared confused. "Brother, what’s that sound?"

Ajisaka didn’t know how to respond. He hoped it was just an illusion, but his instincts told him it was real. "Maybe it’s just a sound from outside, Bin. We need to stay quiet," he replied, his voice trembling.

The knocking grew louder, accompanied by a noise that seemed to be forcing the bunker door open. "Who’s outside, Brother?" Binar asked, her voice beginning to tremble with fear.

"Shhh… don’t panic, Bin. We need to stay calm," Ajisaka whispered, trying to comfort her. He felt his heart racing, overpowering the sound of the persistent knocking.

"Brother, are we going to die here?" Binar asked again, her eyes welling with tears.

"No, we’re not going to die. We’ll survive. Remember, we have each other," Ajisaka said, though his confidence was starting to waver. He searched for something heavy to use as a shield, focusing on the noise outside, which was growing louder and closer.

The pounding on the door became harsher, as if someone was desperately trying to enter. Ajisaka could feel a chilling cold wrapping around them, intensifying the atmosphere. Deep down, he prayed it was only his mind playing tricks, but the fear filled the space between them.

Binar grabbed Ajisaka’s hand, seeking comfort in the darkness and uncertainty. "Brother, can we leave?"

"No, Bin. We have to stay here and wait until it all quiets down," Ajisaka replied, trying to reassure both himself and Binar. "We don’t know who—or what—is outside."

The knocking finally stopped, leaving a tense silence. Ajisaka could hear his ragged breaths, and Binar clung to his arm, pressing her face against his hand. They both waited in silence, wondering what would come next.

In that stillness, Ajisaka heard a faint whisper outside. The sound sent shivers through him, filling him with dread. Were they trapped in this darkness forever? In his despair, Ajisaka could only hope for a glimmer of light, though that hope seemed further away than ever.