After the last station I just kept running, no plan, no reason, just empty streets and too much silence, every sound wrong somehow, my footsteps, my breath, the wind in broken glass and I didn't stop until I reached Tokyo Station.
The place was broken, my shoes made steady sounds as I walked. The wind came through the gaps in the ceiling, it smelled like rust and ash.
It was too quiet.
Obviously no people.
Just the sound of metal creaking somewhere in the distance.
Then I felt it, the kind of silence that wasn't empty. I stopped walking.
Someone was watching me.
I turned.
Near the far platform, next to the remains of a burnt-out train, four people stepped into view.
Holy fuck. This is not happening.
They moved calmly, like they had already seen everything that could happen. Like this wasn't new.
Three women and one man.
They didn't say anything.
They wore military gear, but not official. Everything looked scavenged, chest plates, belts, straps, parts of uniforms. Old, worn. Some of it was bloodstained. It didn't look like a group pretending to be soldiers. It looked like people who'd been through something and survived it.
I'm doomed
They were armed. Rifles, blades. Nothing flashy, just weapons that worked. Some had strong features, sharp eyes. Even covered in dust and sweat, they looked like people you'd notice in a crowd. That felt strange, in a place like this.
The tallest woman had a long scar down the side of her face. She just stared. Her head was tilted slightly, like she was watching for a signal.
The shortest one squinted at me. She spoke quietly, almost to herself.
"Isn't that a zombie?"
The thinner, wearing a cracked gas mask gave a short laugh.
"No. That one's breathing."
She raised her gun, slow and relaxed, not aiming it, just ready.
"A survivor."
Then the man stepped forward. He looked right at me, didn't blink. His expression didn't change. He didn't speak. Just watched me like he was trying to figure something out.
None of them lowered their weapons.
I didn't raise my hands fully, just enough to show I wasn't holding anything.
My throat felt dry. My hands twitched slightly at my sides.
I wasn't sure who I feared more, the infected still out there, or these four right in front of me.
They didn't look like help and they weren't like Mizuki.
I raised both arms slowly. Palms open. No sudden movements.
"I… I'm not a threat," I said. My voice was shaky. It didn't sound like me.
The one with straight black bangs smirked. She lowered her rifle slightly, but not enough to feel like a decision.
"That's not much of a threat, is it?" she said, eyes flicking sideways to the others.
The tall woman in the oversized military jacket kept staring.
"Looks like a kid," she muttered.
The redhead in the cracked gas mask stepped forward. Her boots made solid sounds on the concrete. The plastic lens of her mask caught the light.
"No," she said. "Just scared."
I looked at each of them.
I couldn't tell if they were deciding something or just waiting for me to mess up.
"I…" I started, but my mouth was dry. I cleared my throat, felt my arms starting to shake.
"I don't know what's going on. I don't even know what this is."
My voice cracked. I didn't try to hide it.
"I saw people attacking others. Biting. Tearing into them. I don't know if they're infected, or sick, or just gone. But I've been running. I lost my way. I lost my parents too."
That last part came out fast. I hadn't planned to say it. It felt strange in the air, like it didn't belong here.
Nobody said anything but they were listening. I could tell.
I didn't lower my arms.
They didn't lower their weapons, they hadn't fired either.
That had to mean something.
"I'm not here to hurt anyone," I said. I tried to keep my voice steady. "I didn't even know people were still out here."
No one answered right away. They just looked at each other. It wasn't panic or aggression. They were trying to figure out what I was a lie, a risk, or something too small to bother with.
The tall girl with the sniper across her back finally spoke. Her voice was flat, quiet.
"Where'd you come from?"
"Old Tokyo," I said. "South of Minami-Ward. It was empty when I got there. No signal. No power. No news. Nothing."
"I stayed hidden. That's all I did. I didn't try to figure anything out. I saw people attacking each other. Didn't matter if they were infected or just crazy. I stayed out of sight and kept moving."
The guy with the bat spoke next. "You with anyone?"
I paused.
"No," I said.
Just me.
I didn't mention Mizuki or Vale or the others. I didn't want to explain the house, or how many people were still inside, or who could fight and who couldn't. These people didn't seem like the type to ask permission.
The girl with the black bangs leaned against a broken column. Her hand stayed near her rifle.
"You're just a kid," she said.
"Seventeen," I said.
She let out a soft scoff. Looked at the others.
"Seventeen and somehow not dead. Weird."
The guy with the bat gave me a quick scan.
"He doesn't look like he's ever fired a gun."
"Probably never touched one," the gas mask girl said.
They weren't mocking me. Not really. It sounded more like they were just saying what they saw.
I stayed quiet.
Because they weren't wrong.
I hadn't fired a gun.
I hadn't killed anyone.
I hadn't saved anyone either.
I remembered our last night in the safehouse, Mizuki, Vale, Zai, and Takeshi getting ready to head into the city, the old man feeding scraps to his dog like it was just another evening.
I missed that more than I thought I would.
Then it all went to hell. I don't know where they are now. I don't know if they made it. All I know is whatever happened, it pushed me out and pulled me straight to these people.