I heard them before I saw them.

  Two black figures, whispering in the alley below the terrace. The city was quiet, but quiet doesn't mean empty. I've learned that.

  "We need a way in," one said.

  "I have an idea," the other replied.

  Then a third voice—behind them, from shadows I couldn't see into. "Humans against humans… that will do it."

  I didn't move. Didn't breathe. Just watched them dissolve into the dark, filing their faces, their heights, the way one held his left arm slightly stiff—old injury, maybe. Data. Everything is data.

  The scene shifted inside. Adults gathered in the main living room, faces carved from the same stone as the walls.

  "Our supplies are running out," Uncle Abid said. "At this rate, we have a month. Maybe less."

  I said nothing. My vegetable garden buys us time, not survival. They know it. I know it.

  In the kids' room, Aroha suggested a game. "Witch in the dark. The witch catches everyone."

  Lights out.

  I noted Odai's breathing pattern—nervous, predictable. When the room plunged black, I moved. Silent steps, air displacement minimal. I found him, lifted him, felt his weight shift from confusion to terror.

  "Ahhhh! Let me go! Who is it? Turn the lights on!"

  "I'm turning the lights on," Aroha called.

  I set Odai down gently. Melted into my corner. Footsteps silent. When light flooded back, I was already there, innocent, still.

  "I've been here the whole time."

  Odai searched faces. I watched him search, giving nothing.

  Next round, I lay on the bed deliberately. Eshle's little brother lunged for my leg—instinct, not strategy. I stayed silent until his grip tightened, then kicked once, precise, forcing release. Two light taps followed. Not cruelty. Dominance. The difference matters.

  When I rose, wooden pieces scattered from a broken toy caught my eye. I began assembling them. Methodical. Mind occupied, hands busy.

  Aroha approached. Her hand touched my head.

  I froze.

  First touch since—since before. Since mother's hands, before the belt. The shadow in my chest hissed, coiled, calculated whether this was threat or opportunity.

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  I allowed it. Filed it: *Touch is data. Data is leverage.*

  "What's your name?" she asked.

  "Aariz."

  "What are you doing?"

  "Picking up the pieces."

  She nodded, walked away. I didn't watch her go. Watched instead how the others moved, who noticed, who didn't. The laughter continued. No one saw me watching. Learning.

  Later, the hair commentary. "So soft and silky," Aroha said. Hiba agreed. Eshle touched it without asking.

  "Which shampoo?" Aroha pressed.

  I considered lying—create a brand, a story, something to track. Chose truth instead. More valuable.

  "Water. Soap. No name."

  "Why no name?"

  "Names mean you expect to keep something."

  Silence. They didn't understand. That was fine. Understanding isn't required. Only observation.

  Odai tried remembering the color, stuttering through letters. I fed him possibilities, watching which made his pupils shift. Not helping him. Testing him.

  "Odai, you're so cute," Aroha teased.

  He blushed. Hid his face. I filed that too: *Shame response. Predictable. Useful.*

  Dinner interrupted. Adults called us down. The fathers and uncles announced their departure—survivor meeting, resource negotiation. "Government's gone. We gather more, we don't take from each other. You three boys watch the house."

  We nodded silently. Agreement without commitment.

  I slipped out afterward. Needed solitude. Needed to think without voices.

  The abandoned house two blocks east smelled of dust and cat piss. I found it in the corner—white, filthy, ribs showing. Starving. Cornered. Like the city. Like us.

  I extended my hand slowly. Let it see me, smell me, calculate me.

  It hissed. Swiped. Claws opened my palm—three lines, welling red.

  I didn't flinch. Didn't withdraw. Placed water nearby and sat against the wall, bleeding into my sleeve. Let it choose. Let it see I wasn't threat or prey. Just… present.

  Minutes. The cat circled. Drank. Circled again. Finally, it allowed my hand on its back—trembling, ready to bolt, but allowing.

  I carried it home. In the kitchen, I poured milk into a wooden bowl I'd forged last week. It drank like it had forgotten what full felt like. Then climbed my lap, still wary, still ready.

  I trimmed its nails. Each snip, resistance. Each completed, trust. Washed it with soap from my hands—filth turning to gray water. Combed it with the smallest comb I carried, pocket-sized, steel teeth.

  It curled against me as I slept.

  I woke to empty. Panic—unfamiliar, unwelcome—surged. Searched the room. Found only the bowl, licked clean. Refilled it. Waited.

  It returned. Drank. Looked at me like I was its choice, not its trap.

  I carried it to the basement. Built enclosure—lock, two bowls, cushion from torn jacket. Satisfied, I turned to my real work.

  Tied a wooden bucket midair. Swung it. Struck. Increased speed. Moved around it, feet careful, angles precise. Not fighting the bucket. Fighting the rhythm. Learning its patterns so I could break them.

  Then the sword. Long, lightweight, my forging. One clean strike—bucket halved, blade stopped by physics, not will.

  I stared at the cut. Imagined deeper. Imagined flesh. Imagined the thing in the fog that smiled with one eye.

  Dinner interrupted. I ate fast, returned to release the cat. The others noticed eventually.

  "Where did you get it?" Odai asked.

  "He's acting like a two-year-old," Hiba laughed.

  Eshle grabbed. The cat escaped, ran to my side. I sat on the bed, it in my lap, watching Aroha's eyes follow it. Curiosity. Calculation. Same as mine, different targets.

  I told them how I found it. Showed the scratch—healed now, pink line. Proof of patience. Proof of pain accepted.

  The day ended quiet. Companionship without commitment.

  Outside, shadows moved. Secrets plotted.

  Inside, I trained. Played. Observed.

  The cat's ears flattened. Hissed at the window.

  I looked. Two cyan LEDs blinked once in the dark. Grid cards. Same as Uncle Abid's. The figures from the alley, come to watch.

  I smiled.

  "Finally," I whispered. "They brought the game to me."