The covered walkway stretched before them like a gauntlet—fifty meters of glass-enclosed passage connecting the Athletics building to the faculty parking garage. Through the windows, Takeshi could see the courtyard below, now a sea of shambling corpses. The infected filled every available space, their moans creating a constant drone that vibrated through the structure itself.
"There's so many of them," Hana whispered, her face pressed against the glass. "How did it spread so fast?"
"Exponential growth," Yamamoto answered quietly, his analytical mind providing cold comfort. "Each person infected creates multiple new infected. Within hours, hundreds become thousands."
"That's very depressing math, Yamamoto-kun," Shizuka said cheerfully, somehow managing to sound upbeat about the apocalypse. "But look on the bright side—we're up here and they're down there! That's good positioning, right? Rika-chan always talks about high ground being important in... tactical situations? I think that's what she calls them."
Takeshi tuned out their conversation, his enhanced perception scanning the walkway ahead. The passage itself appeared clear, but he could see dark shapes pressed against the glass walls—infected on the exterior, drawn by movement or sound or simply wandering aimlessly. The glass was thick, designed to withstand weather and impact, but he didn't trust it to hold against a concentrated assault.
"We move quickly and quietly," he said, cutting through the nervous chatter. "Single file. I'll take point, Tanaka brings up the rear. If anything breaks through the glass, we don't stop to fight—we run for the parking garage and barricade ourselves inside."
"What about the noise?" Akari asked, her sharp eyes studying the infected pressing against the windows. "Won't running attract them?"
"Yes. But it's better than getting surrounded." Takeshi met her gaze steadily. "Speed is more important than stealth right now."
"Ooh, like a race!" Shizuka clapped her hands together softly. "I'm not very good at running though. I hope I don't slow everyone down!"
The honest self-assessment was both endearing and concerning. Takeshi made a mental note to position himself where he could help her if needed—her death would be inconvenient for multiple reasons, not least of which was losing access to Rika Minami's weapons cache.
And maybe because she's actually kind of likeable, in a frustrating sort of way.
He pushed the thought aside and opened the door to the walkway.
The infected's moans immediately intensified. Dozens of dead faces turned toward the opening, milky eyes somehow still tracking movement. Hands slapped against the glass, leaving smears of gore and decay. The sound was like rain on a tin roof, constant and unnerving.
"Stay close," Takeshi ordered, stepping into the walkway.
The group followed, their footsteps echoing despite attempts at stealth. Shizuka walked directly behind Takeshi, humming softly to herself—a nervous habit, he realized, her way of coping with stress. The tune was off-key and distracted, but somehow it made her seem more human in the midst of so much death.
They were halfway across when the glass to their left suddenly spiderwebbed with cracks.
An infected had thrown itself against the window with such force that the impact created a small impact point. Not enough to break through—not yet—but enough to weaken the structure. And where one zombie had struck, others followed. More bodies slammed against the damaged section, each impact spreading the cracks further.
"Shit! Move! Now!" Takeshi broke into a run, the others following immediately.
Behind them, glass shattered. The sound was like a gunshot, sharp and violent. Cold air rushed in along with the infected, their moans rising to a fever pitch as they scrambled through the opening.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Hana gasped, her legs pumping as she ran.
Takeshi glanced back to check the group. Everyone was running—even Shizuka was managing a respectable pace despite her earlier concerns, her generous proportions creating physics problems that would have been comical in any other situation.
But three zombies had made it through the broken window and were shambling after them with surprising speed. The nearest was maybe ten meters behind Hana and Miki, the two youngest students who'd fallen behind the main group.
No time to think. Just act.
Takeshi stopped, turned, and ran back toward the pursuing infected. His enhanced agility let him close the distance in seconds. The first zombie met his bokken with bone-crushing force, the wooden sword caving in the side of its skull with a wet crunch. It dropped without a sound, brain matter and black blood splattered across the floor.
[+5 EVOLUTION POINTS]
[CURRENT TOTAL: 75/250]
"Die, you dead fuck!" The second zombie lunged at him, and he sidestepped smoothly, his enhanced coordination making the movement look effortless. His counter-strike took it in the back of the head as it stumbled past, the impact sending gore spraying across the windows.
[+5 EVOLUTION POINTS]
[CURRENT TOTAL: 80/250]
The third was almost on the girls when Tanaka appeared, his baseball bat connecting with the creature's jaw in a devastating swing. "Get the hell away from them!" The zombie's head snapped sideways at an unnatural angle, teeth and rotted flesh flying, and it collapsed in a heap.
"Thanks," Tanaka panted, helping the girls up. "Thought I'd have to leave them behind for a second there."
"No one gets left behind," Takeshi said, surprised to find he meant it.
More infected were pouring through the broken window now—five, ten, a dozen. The walkway was becoming a deathtrap.
"Parking garage! Go! Go! Go!" Takeshi pushed the others ahead while he and Tanaka provided rear guard, striking at any infected that got too close.
"Keep moving, goddammit!" Tanaka yelled, his bat crushing another skull.
They burst through the door at the end of the walkway and into the parking garage. Yamamoto and Akari immediately began dragging equipment—trash bins, storage boxes, anything heavy—to barricade the entrance. Within seconds, they'd created a makeshift barrier that wouldn't stop the horde but would slow it down.
"That should hold them for a minute," Yamamoto gasped. "Maybe."
The parking garage was a concrete tomb filled with abandoned vehicles. Most were standard teacher cars—compact sedans, small SUVs. But in the far corner, Takeshi spotted something more substantial.
"There," he pointed. "That van. Room for all of us plus supplies."
It was a white cargo van, probably used by the maintenance staff. Large, sturdy, and with enough space in the back for their entire group.
Shizuka had wandered over to examine a bright pink car that was clearly hers. "Oh! I found my car! See, it's right where I parked it! I'm so good at remembering sometimes!" She pulled on the door handle. "Oh. It's locked. I really need to find my keys."
"Sensei, we're taking the van," Yamamoto called, already working on the vehicle's door with his multi-tool. "Your car's too small for everyone."
"Oh! That makes sense!" Shizuka cheerfully abandoned her vehicle and walked over to the van. "Is this going to take long? Those loud people are getting very close to the door."
She was right. The infected were hammering against their makeshift barricade, the sound of their assault echoing through the concrete structure. The barrier was holding, but it wouldn't last long.
"Almost... got it..." Yamamoto grunted, his tools working at the door lock. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool air. "These older models are easier to—yes! Got it!"
The door opened. Yamamoto dove into the driver's seat and began working on the ignition wiring. Takeshi positioned himself between the van and the barricaded door, ready to intercept any infected that broke through.
The seconds stretched like hours. Behind him, he could hear Yamamoto cursing under his breath, the sound of wires being stripped and connected. The barricade was shaking violently now, concrete blocks shifting with each impact.
"Yamamoto?" Tanaka called, tension evident in his voice.
"Working on it! These vans have more complex systems—just need to bypass the—shit! Come on, you bastard!"
The barricade collapsed with a crash of metal and concrete.
Infected poured through the opening like water from a broken dam. Dozens of them, shambling and stumbling over the fallen debris, their dead eyes fixed on the living prey just meters away.
"Oh fuck," Takeshi muttered, and stepped forward to meet them.
His bokken became a blur of motion. The first zombie fell with a crushed skull, black blood spurting. The second and third went down in rapid succession, their heads caved in. His enhanced agility let him move between them like a dancer, each strike precise and lethal.
[+5 EVOLUTION POINTS]
[+5 EVOLUTION POINTS]
[+5 EVOLUTION POINTS]
But there were too many. For every one he killed, three more pushed forward. His superior coordination let him avoid their grasping hands, but he was being pushed back toward the van step by step.
Tanaka appeared beside him, bat swinging. "We need to go! Now!"
"Get everyone in the van!"
"They're already in! We're waiting on you, dumbass!"
An infected lunged from Takeshi's blind spot. He started to turn, knowing he wouldn't be fast enough—
A fire extinguisher sailed through the air and crashed into the zombie's face, sending it sprawling with a spray of rotted teeth. Shizuka stood by the van's open door, already reaching for another improvised projectile.
"Takeshi-kun! Stop playing around and get in the van! We need to leave!" Her tone was cheerfully scolding, as if he were a student lingering after class rather than fighting for his life.
The absurdity of it almost made him laugh.
"Going!" He and Tanaka broke away from the horde, sprinting for the van. They dove through the open door just as Yamamoto got the engine started with a roar.
"Hold on to your asses!" Yamamoto slammed the van into gear.
They rocketed forward, tires squealing. Infected scrambled to get out of the way or were crushed beneath the wheels with sickening crunches. The van crashed through the garage's exit barrier, wood and metal exploding around them as they burst out onto the street.
[+25 EVOLUTION POINTS]
[CURRENT TOTAL: 115/250]
Vehicular kills really do count. Good to know.
"Holy shit!" Miki screamed from the back.
The street beyond was chaos incarnate. Abandoned cars blocked multiple lanes. Fires burned in several buildings, sending columns of black smoke into the overcast sky. And everywhere—absolutely everywhere—were the infected.
They shambled through the streets in groups ranging from dozens to hundreds, a shambling sea of undead that had once been ordinary people going about their ordinary lives. Now they were just corpses, animated by a virus that transformed humans into mindless eating machines.
Yamamoto gripped the wheel with white-knuckled intensity, navigating between obstacles with surprising skill. "Where's your apartment, Marikawa-sensei?"
"Oh! Um..." Shizuka looked around as if she'd never seen these streets before. "I think it's... that way?" She pointed vaguely to the left. "Or maybe that way?" She pointed right. "The buildings all look so similar!"
"Sensei," Akari said with strained patience, "you live there. You must know where it is."
"I do! I definitely do! I just... navigate more by feeling than by directions, you know? Like, I take the road that feels right and eventually I get home!" Shizuka's expression was genuinely confused, as if she couldn't understand why this method wasn't working now.
"Jesus Christ," Tanaka muttered from the back.
"Does anything look familiar?" Takeshi asked, his enhanced perception scanning the streets ahead for threats. "Any landmarks?"
"Oh! There's a convenience store I go to! It has the best rice balls! Is it... is that it?" She pointed to a store front, its windows smashed, infected shambling through the aisles. "No, that's not it. That store has the wrong color sign."
Yamamoto had to swerve suddenly to avoid a cluster of abandoned vehicles. The van's tires squealed, and everyone was thrown sideways. Shizuka yelped and grabbed onto Takeshi's arm for stability, her grip surprisingly strong.
"Shit! Sorry! Road's a fucking mess!" Yamamoto called back.
They continued driving, Shizuka providing increasingly unhelpful navigation assistance. "Oh, I recognize that traffic light! I think I turn there sometimes! Or is it the next one? Streets are very confusing when you're not the one driving!"
Despite the chaos and danger, Takeshi found himself impressed by Yamamoto's driving. The heavyset student was maneuvering the van with real skill, avoiding obstacles and infected with quick reactions and good judgment. Whatever videos he'd watched online, they'd taught him well.
A group of survivors suddenly appeared ahead, running across the street with a horde of infected in pursuit. One of them—a middle-aged man—made eye contact with Yamamoto, his face desperate, mouth forming the word "help."
Yamamoto slowed instinctively, his eyes meeting Takeshi's in the rearview mirror.
"Should we—?"
"No," Takeshi said firmly. "We can't save everyone. We barely saved ourselves."
"But—"
"Drive. Now."
The decision was cold but practical. Stopping would mean opening the van, which would attract the infected, which would put their entire group at risk. The math was simple and brutal.
Yamamoto's jaw clenched, but he nodded and kept driving. Behind them, screams echoed as the runners were caught by the horde. In the back of the van, Hana and Miki looked away from the windows, unable to watch.
"Fuck," Hana whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
Shizuka, however, watched with wide eyes. Her usual cheerful expression had been replaced with something sadder, more aware. "We can't help them, can we?"
"No," Takeshi said quietly. "We can't."
"That's terrible." She was silent for a moment, then added, "But I understand. If we tried to save everyone, we'd end up saving no one. Including ourselves." The insight was surprisingly profound, a glimpse of the intelligence hidden beneath her scattered exterior.
They drove for another ten minutes, Shizuka gradually narrowing down her apartment's location through process of elimination—"Not this street, the buildings are too tall... not this one, there's no park nearby... oh! That shrine! I pass that shrine every day! Turn here!"
Following her directions—which became more confident as familiar landmarks appeared—they eventually pulled up to a modest apartment building. Four stories, older but well-maintained, with a small courtyard garden in front and, as Shizuka had mentioned, an underground parking garage.
"This is it!" Shizuka announced happily. "Home sweet home! Well, Rika-chan's home technically, but she lets me stay with her so it's my home too!"
The parking garage entrance was blocked by a security gate, but Yamamoto solved that problem by ramming through it at speed. The metal gate crumpled and fell away with a screech of tortured metal, and they descended into the underground structure.
"Hell yeah!" Yamamoto grinned despite the tension. "Always wanted to do that!"
The garage was dark, lit only by emergency lights. A few vehicles were parked in assigned spaces, but most of the area was empty—residents had either fled in their cars or been caught before they could escape.
And most importantly, it was clear of infected.
"Everyone out," Tanaka ordered. "But stay alert. Just because we don't see any doesn't mean they're not here."
They disembarked cautiously, weapons ready. Takeshi's enhanced perception swept the area, searching for threats. The garage was quiet except for the hum of emergency power and the distant rumble of the city dying above them.
"This way!" Shizuka led them to a stairwell entrance, producing a key from... somewhere. Takeshi hadn't seen her carrying keys earlier, but somehow she'd found them. "Rika-chan's apartment is on the second floor! Number 203!"
The stairwell was cement and metal, utilitarian and echoing. Their footsteps rang loud as they climbed, everyone tense and ready for infected to appear around every corner. But the building seemed genuinely empty—either the residents had successfully evacuated, or they'd fled upward and were trapped in their apartments.
Second floor. They emerged into a hallway lined with apartment doors. Number 203 was halfway down, its door decorated with a small nameplate reading "Minami/Marikawa."
Shizuka produced another key—again from nowhere—and unlocked the door with a cheerful, "We're home!"
They filed into the apartment, and Takeshi immediately understood why this place was valuable beyond just shelter.
The apartment was spacious for Japan—a two-bedroom with a large living area, modern kitchen, and from what he could see, a well-appointed bathroom. But more importantly, one wall of the living room was decorated with a massive gun cabinet, its glass doors revealing a collection of firearms that would make any survivalist jealous.
Rifles. Handguns. Shotguns. Tactical equipment. Ammunition boxes stacked neatly on lower shelves. All of it organized with military precision.
"Holy shit," Yamamoto breathed, his eyes wide.
"Rika-chan collects them," Shizuka explained unnecessarily. "She works in some kind of special police unit. She's always talking about specifications and calibers and things I don't really understand. But she's very passionate about it!"
Yamamoto had gravitated immediately to the cabinet, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "This is... this is incredible. With these weapons, we'd actually have a chance."
"Is it locked?" Tanaka asked, already knowing the answer. Of course it was locked. Responsible gun owners secured their weapons.
"Oh, yes! Rika-chan is very careful about safety!" Shizuka walked over to a small decorative box on a side table and opened it, producing a key. "But she showed me where she keeps the key in case of emergencies! She said, 'Shizuka, if something crazy happens and you need to defend yourself, use these.' And I said, 'What kind of crazy thing?' And she said, 'I don't know, zombies or something.' So I guess she was right! Very good at predicting the future, my Rika-chan!"
The casual way she relayed this conversation—as if her friend had been joking rather than providing serious instructions—was so perfectly Shizuka that several group members actually smiled despite the tension.
She unlocked the cabinet, and Yamamoto immediately began examining the weapons with an enthusiasm that bordered on reverence.
"Military-grade AR-15... Remington 870 shotgun... Glock 17... Beretta M9..." He looked up, his expression awed. "Your friend is extremely well-equipped, sensei. Like, seriously badass."
"Is she? I'm glad! I told her having all these guns seemed like overkill, but she said you can never be too prepared!" Shizuka beamed. "I guess she was right about that too!"
While Yamamoto and Tanaka examined the weapons, Akari had moved to the windows. The curtains were drawn, but she peeked through carefully. "We have a good view of the street from here. Can see threats approaching from multiple directions."
"And the building seems secure," Miki added, checking the door's locks. "Multiple deadbolts, reinforced frame. Someone would have to really work to break in."
"That's Rika-chan!" Shizuka said proudly. "Very security-conscious! She even has a special alarm system, but I don't know how to work it. Too many buttons and beeping sounds."
Takeshi explored the apartment while the others talked, his enhanced perception cataloging details. The kitchen was well-stocked with non-perishable food. The bathroom had medical supplies—Shizuka's contribution, probably. One bedroom was clearly Rika's—minimalist, organized, with tactical gear and more weapons secured in a closet. The other was Shizuka's—an explosion of pink and clutter, clothes strewn everywhere, magazines scattered across every surface.
The contrast was almost comical.
But the important thing was that this place was defensible, well-supplied, and most critically, had weapons that would dramatically improve their survival odds.
This could work as a base. Not forever, but for a while.
He returned to the living room to find Yamamoto giving an impromptu weapons tutorial to the group. Despite never having held a real gun before, the boy's theoretical knowledge from online videos was proving surprisingly comprehensive.
"—and this is the safety. Never, ever remove it unless you're ready to shoot. Treat every gun like it's loaded, even when you know it's not. Never point it at anything you're not willing to destroy. Basic shit, but it'll keep you alive."
"My, Yamamoto-kun! You sound just like Rika-chan!" Shizuka interrupted happily. "She says the exact same things! You two would get along wonderfully!"
"I hope I get to meet her someday," Yamamoto said sincerely. "Anyone who maintains a collection like this has serious expertise."
"Oh, she's definitely alive," Shizuka said with absolute confidence. "Rika-chan is the most capable person I know. Nothing can stop her when she's determined!"
The blind faith was touching, if somewhat naive. But Takeshi's knowledge of the series suggested Shizuka was probably right—Rika Minami did survive, at least in the original timeline. Whether that held true in this version of events remained to be seen.
"We should set up a watch rotation," Tanaka said, ever practical. "Even though we're in a defensible position, we need to stay alert."
"And we need to eat," Akari added. "When's the last time anyone had a real meal?"
The question made everyone realize how hungry they were. The snacks from the school vending machines had barely sustained them through the fighting and running.
"I can cook!" Shizuka volunteered enthusiastically. "I'm actually quite good at it! One of the few domestic skills I've mastered!" She headed toward the kitchen, then paused. "Um... does anyone remember what I said I was good at cooking? I just remembered I'm terrible in the kitchen. I once burned water trying to make tea."
"How the hell does someone burn water?" Akari asked, genuinely baffled.
"I'm still not sure! But I managed it!" Shizuka said cheerfully, not at all embarrassed by the admission.
In the end, Akari and Miki took over cooking duties, preparing rice and canned vegetables and instant miso soup—simple food, but hot and filling. They ate together in the living room, sitting on the floor around the coffee table, and for a brief moment it almost felt normal.
Almost.
Through the windows, they could hear the moans of the infected wandering the streets. Occasional screams echoed from other buildings—people being caught, turned, or dying. Sirens wailed in the distance, their sound gradually fading as emergency services collapsed completely.
The world was ending. Right outside these walls, civilization was tearing itself apart.
But inside this apartment, seven survivors were sharing a meal and trying to process what had happened to their lives in the span of a single day.
"So what's the plan?" Tanaka asked eventually, voicing the question everyone was thinking. "We're safe here for now, but we can't stay forever. Food will run out. The power might fail. And eventually, enough of those things might gather outside to break in."
"We need to think long-term," Yamamoto agreed. "Find more survivors, establish a larger safe zone, maybe make contact with any remaining authorities—"
"There won't be any authorities," Takeshi interrupted quietly. Everyone looked at him. "Think about it. The infection spread globally in hours. No government could have prepared for that. By now, every major institution has probably collapsed. Police, military, hospitals—all overwhelmed. We're on our own."
The blunt assessment settled over the group like a shroud. Hana started crying quietly. Miki put an arm around her.
"That's a very pessimistic view," Tanaka said, though his tone suggested he suspected Takeshi was right.
"It's realistic," Akari said softly. "We've all seen how fast this spread. How aggressive the infected are. How unprepared everyone was." She looked around the group. "We're probably some of the lucky ones. We made it this far when most people didn't."
"So we just... give up?" Miki asked. "Accept that society is gone?"
"Fuck no," Takeshi said firmly. "We adapt. We survive. We build something new if we have to. But we don't waste energy hoping for rescue that isn't coming."
"Exactly," Tanaka agreed. "We focus on what we can control."
Shizuka had been uncharacteristically quiet during this exchange. Now she spoke up, her voice softer than usual. "Takeshi-kun is right. I've been in emergency medical situations before—not like this, but situations where people needed help and it wasn't coming fast enough. You learn quickly that hoping for someone else to save you is how you die. You have to save yourself first."
The wisdom coming from the ditzy blonde surprised everyone. She seemed to realize this and added with her typical cheer, "That's what Rika-chan taught me anyway! She's very good at survival thinking! I just remember her lessons!"
"Your friend sounds remarkable," Yamamoto said.
"She is!" Shizuka's smile was genuine and warm. "I really hope she's okay. She should be—she's very tough. But I worry anyway because that's what friends do."
They spent the next hour making plans. Yamamoto and Tanaka would train everyone on basic weapons handling. Akari would inventory their food supplies and calculate rationing schedules. Hana and Miki would work on reinforcing the apartment's defenses. And Shizuka...
"I'll be the medical officer!" she announced. "And I'll try very hard not to wander off or forget important things!"
"That's all we can ask, sensei," Takeshi said with something that might have been actual affection.
As night fell, they established watch rotations and sleeping arrangements. The apartment had two bedrooms and a couch. Shizuka insisted the students take the bedrooms—"I'm the adult here, so I should take the couch!"—and no amount of arguing would change her mind.
Takeshi volunteered for first watch, positioning himself by the window where he could observe the street below. The others gradually settled into sleep, exhausted by the day's events.
Only Shizuka remained awake, puttering around the apartment and organizing things in ways that probably made sense only to her. Eventually she settled onto the couch near where Takeshi sat, wrapping herself in a blanket.
"Takeshi-kun?" Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.
"Yes, sensei?"
"You're very brave. And very capable. But you're also hiding something." She said it simply, matter-of-factly, without accusation. "I'm not smart enough to figure out what. But I can tell there's something... different about you."
Takeshi's enhanced heartbeat stuttered. He kept his voice calm. "I don't know what you mean."
"That's okay. You don't have to tell me." She shifted on the couch, getting comfortable. "Just... whatever it is, I hope you know you can trust us. Trust me. I may be scattered and forgetful, but I'm very good at keeping secrets. It's one of my few reliable skills!"
She said it cheerfully, without pressure or manipulation. Just an offer, sincerely made.
Takeshi didn't respond. After a moment, Shizuka's breathing evened out into sleep, soft snores punctuating the quiet apartment.
He sat by the window throughout the night, not sleeping, not tired, his undead body keeping its endless vigil. His enhanced perception tracked every sound, every movement in the building and on the street below.
And he thought about Shizuka's words.
Trust.
It was something he'd given up on when he died and came back as a monster. Something he'd assumed was no longer possible for someone like him.
But maybe... maybe he was wrong about that.
The night deepened. The infected's moans continued their chorus outside. And somewhere in the darkness, Takeshi Yamada began to wonder if survival might mean more than just staying alive.