"I agree!"
"Let Kitahara be the leader!"
"He may be young, but ability decides rank. As long as he can keep us alive, he deserves to lead."
Voices of support rose all around. The events of the night had left them shaken to the core. They realized clearly: without real strength, no one could protect them.
Kitahara Sosuke stood silently, watching their eager faces, feeling the fragile bond forged by the pressure of survival. He let them vent their emotions without interruption.
"Have you all forgotten?" His voice was calm, almost cold. "Chiba Prefecture has a population of 6.75 million."
The words froze them.
The cheering vanished. Over three hundred survivors fell silent. The weight of reality smothered their fragile hope.
Yes. Nearly seven million people once lived here. Now, almost all of them were zombies. If just one mutant monster nearly annihilated them tonight how many horrors waited among those millions? And beyond Chiba, the vast Tokyo metropolitan area was teeming with even more.
Fujishima's face paled, though he forced a strained smile. "No need to pour cold water on us. Everyone's finally smiling again. Outside is hell, but if we live one more day, that's still hope."
"Yeah."
Tsumura quickly agreed. "We should get the cooks to prepare something good tonight. Celebrate Kitahara's victory!"
Others chimed in, trying to lighten the mood, trying desperately to cling to Kitahara, their new pillar of survival. It was instinct like finding a strong backer in the workplace to shield oneself from obstacles.
Kitahara raised his hand. The chatter fell instantly quiet.
His expression hardened. "Yes, the world is overrun with zombies. But Chiba has no proper safe zone. Without heavy weapons, if a horde comes, how long do you think we'll last behind these flimsy walls and rusted trucks?"
"Zombie… horde?"
"What's that?"
"It means hundreds of thousands of zombies moving together. Just imagine it…"
"Stop! Just thinking about it makes me sick."
The crowd murmured anxiously, their earlier hope crumbling.
"That's why I believe we should abandon this place," Kitahara said firmly. "We need to bypass Tokyo and head for Yamanashi Prefecture."
Shock rippled through the crowd.
"What? Leave here? But we've stockpiled so many supplies!"
"No way! It's too dangerous outside."
"To reach Yamanashi, we'd have to travel hundreds of kilometers! We have children and the elderly how can they survive such a journey? I'd rather die here than out there!"
Just moments ago, they hailed him as their leader. Now, panic turned their cheers into rejection.
"Kitahara, you really mean to leave?" Fujishima asked, stunned. He had thought giving up leadership would tie Kitahara to this place. He had poured heart and soul into building this refuge. With food and water secured, survival here seemed possible for months. Surely by then, the zombies outside would rot away.
But Kitahara's intent was unwavering.
"Things are more complicated than you realize," he said, patience fraying. "Don't delude yourselves. Hiding in one spot is not safety it's suicide. Reality will always be worse than your imagination. Go to an official shelter. You'll last longer there."
Then he turned to Haruno. "Pack water and rations. When we draw the zombies away from the gate, we leave immediately."
His urgency brooked no argument. He had no time to waste. Before Yamanashi, he still had to check the airport to see whether the military had truly withdrawn.
Haruno hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. I'll prepare with Utaha and Yukino now."
"What you're leaving already!?" Fujishima exclaimed, desperate to stall him. But Kitahara gave him no chance.
Vroom!
An engine roared outside. A large truck barreled away from the camp, mowing down zombies in its path.
"That's Oikawa's truck!" Takahashi Hiromi cried.
"Damn it, it is! He used to be a truck driver. He must've had the keys!" Tsumura swore furiously.
"Oi-Oikawa!" Fujishima shouted, running a few steps after the departing vehicle. But the truck didn't slow. It vanished into the distance, leaving them in dust and despair.
"That bastard… there's no food in that truck. He'll starve out there!" Tsumura muttered bitterly.
Kitahara barely spared it a glance. A small-time deserter wasn't worth his attention.
By then, Utaha had prepared their supplies at the car, while Haruno and Yukino exchanged a firm, quiet farewell with Shizuka Hiratsuka.
"Senpai please! Take me with you! I want to go with you!"
The sudden voice came from Isshiki Iroha.
Komachi Hikigaya, standing beside her, pressed her lips together but said nothing. She knew the journey through Tokyo to Yamanashi was fraught with danger. Whatever happened, she would never leave her brother's side.
Kitahara gave a short laugh, shaking his head. He met Iroha's pleading eyes. "Follow me, and you'll die faster. You saw it tonight the Licker was nothing more than an appetizer. Ahead, there will be creatures even I may not defeat."
"I don't care!" Iroha clenched her fists, face flushed with determination. "If it means staying with you, even death is worth it."
In another time, Kitahara might have accepted her. One more survivor wouldn't have mattered. But now he couldn't.
"If I take you," he said evenly, "others will demand the same. Then I'd have to feed, guard, and protect everyone. Out there, survival isn't that simple. Numbers become a burden. Where we're going is far too dangerous. Stay with the main group you'll be safer."
The words fell like ice.
Iroha froze, face drained of color. Her head bowed, her spirit crushed.
After a moment, Kitahara sighed. He removed a spare katana from his back and placed it in her hands.
"But I'm not without compassion. Take this blade. I'll clear the way ahead. If others leave later, follow them. If fate allows, we'll meet again in Yamanashi."
…
The old Nissan roared to life, driven by Haruno. Kitahara sat in the passenger seat, eyes closed, conserving strength as zombies trailed the car, lured away from the camp.
Behind them, three hundred survivors stood in silence, watching.
"They… really left."
Regret and longing filled many hearts.
They had only known Kitahara for a week, yet admiration clung to him like gravity. In the apocalypse, following the strong was instinct.
Isshiki gripped the still-warm katana he had handed her, her expression clouded and distant.
"Don't dwell on it," Hiratsuka Shizuka said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Once we settle the students, we'll leave this place too."
Iroha looked back at the road, where Kitahara's car had vanished. Her lips trembled. Her eyes burned with something she couldn't yet name.
Tightening her grip on the katana, she whispered to herself. The light in her eyes only grew brighter.
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