Reborn into The Promised Neverland//RayxReader//

//Family/Home//

See, I wasn't going to actually write this and was going to timeskip to where the next chapter starts, but I'm sad about the fic ending and decided I wanted to write it anyway.

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I shuddered as I opened my eyes, blinking the grogginess away. I was seated in a small armchair placed in a homey cabin that was warmed by a fireplace that crackled softly behind me. I pulled the quilt draped around my shoulders a little closer– there was still a draft.

"Where'd you come from?" An old man sat across from me in his own armchair. He was a big man; tall and fit, and his angled face and sharp nose was softened with his bushy white eyebrows and fluffy beard. His face was forever creased with sorrow, and although they were mournful, his blue eyes were kind. "What were you doing out there without a respirator mask... And in such clothing?"

My belongings sat on a low coffee-table between us. I rose quickly to my feet, reaching for my bag. "That's not important," I said hastily. "But my name is Y/N, and it's nice to meet you..." I stuffed my things inside the bag, slinging it over my shoulder. "Say, this is an awkward question, but I don't suppose you could lend me some money? Whatever the currency is... Ah, how much is a plane ticket in this area?"

"Plane?" the man repeated. His brow was creased with concern. "It's the middle of the Winter," he said. "There aren't any planes... Where are you headed to, in such a rush?"

"Spai– Er... Southwestern Europe...? Do you know what that's called now?"

"Europe...?" The man repeated. "I haven't heard that in many years... I believe the Areas around Europe are somewhere in the 20s... I'm not sure, sorry."

I nodded briefly. "That's good enough, thank-you. Oh– what Area is this? Or, which one is it close to? It's been labelled uninhabitable, right? A forbidden zone?"

The man rose to his feet, bracing his hands on his knees. "Slow down now, Young One. There's no need to rush. There are no villages nearby... there's no signal, either. I'm afraid we're snowed in until Spring."

"Spring?" I clenched the straps of my bag. "How many days away is the nearest village?"

"There's a station two hour's walk from here... The train ride itself is two and a half hours to get to the nearest village."

I scratched my head. "Most passenger trains travel at what, 100, 200 kilometres an hour? If you walk 5 an hour and rest for two or three hours a night, you could get there in under 4 days."

His brow furrowed. "I certainly wouldn't recommend it. Travelling in this weather is dangerous. The temperatures could drop without warning... And that pace is unreasonable– It's practically a death sentence."

"Nah," I scoffed, "I'll be fine, if you could lend me some gear– If anything, that pace is lenient..." Well, I am still recovering.

He eyed my bag; recalling the medical supplies, the knives, and the old maps he'd seen inside. "...Very well," he relented. "However, I'll only lend you gear on a condition– that you at least stay the night. It's already late... You can warm up, and Tomorrow, make good use of the light and little warmth the sun provides. I'll walk you to the tracks at dawn– they take the easiest path through the mountains."

I looked to the door, then back to the man. "...Okay," I said. "Thank-you."

"It's nothing," he said. "Now please, take a seat, and I'll make us some tea."

I spent the night in one of the few rooms upstairs– it appeared decorated for a child, with small dressers and stuffed animals scattered about. It looked eerily undisturbed, but the bed was warm, and I soon found my eyes drifting closed.