Days passed—though time was strange in this new world, measured not by clocks but by the soft rhythm of breathing and the slow growth of words into reality. Hinata and Alya built their home together, room by room, page by page. They planted gardens of blossoms that never wilted, painted skies that blushed pink at sunrise and glowed violet at dusk.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Hinata let herself breathe. Alya grew stronger each day, her form solid, her laughter bright and real. They spent long afternoons talking about everything—about the past they barely survived, about the uncertain future, about the strange gift of having endless blank pages ahead.
But beneath the peace, something stirred.
Hinata noticed it first. A crack in the wall of their house, leaking faint wisps of black smoke. She touched it once and recoiled, her fingertips stung by cold, clinging ink.
She hid it from Alya at first, patching the crack with fresh words, scrawling them with shaky hands. But every morning, the crack returned, wider than before.
One night, while Alya slept, Hinata walked outside. The air tasted bitter. In the distance, faint black shapes curled across the horizon like storm clouds made of ink.
"They're coming back," she whispered to herself. "I thought we ended this…"
She tightened her grip on the pen, the one tool they had to hold the world together. But the pen felt heavier than before, its tip dripping faint black droplets that hissed when they hit the ground.
Alya appeared behind her, wrapping her arms around Hinata's waist. "You're worried," she murmured.
Hinata nodded. "The cracks… they're growing. I think… the shadows are coming back."
Alya swallowed hard, resting her head against Hinata's back. "Maybe we can rewrite them away… or seal them up again…"
Hinata shook her head. "I tried. It keeps coming back. Like something older than the Writer… something that doesn't want to be erased…"
A shiver ran through Alya. "What do we do…?"
Hinata turned, pulling her close. "We fight again. We keep writing. No matter what comes through those cracks, we don't stop. Because as long as we believe this world is ours… we have a chance."
But already, the first tendrils of ink had begun to slither from the horizon, coiling like serpents toward the house. And in the faint rustling whisper that came on the wind, Hinata thought she heard the echo of a voice she once knew:
*You can't outrun your ending…*
Hinata held Alya tighter. "I'm not letting it end this time," she whispered fiercely.
Alya nodded, eyes bright with unshed tears. "Then let's hold this world together… one word at a time."
And together, they turned to face the growing darkness.