Chapter 5: The End Begins (1)

Fujimori Yuka’s morning unraveled as she blinked awake. All night she tossed beneath clammy sheets, pillow damp with sweat as questions gnawed at her.

In the dim living room, her two cats tumbled over a sun-withered houseplant, dark clods of soil marking their fight. With no time to sweep it up, she yanked on shoes, grabbed a piece of stale gum from her purse, and chewed the flat sweetness for breakfast.

At Seiryo University, her inbox overflowed with the dean’s terse email: nearly half the staff out sick. By nine o’clock, the stack of unfilled reports on her desk had doubled.

“Don’t worry, Fujimori-san. I’ll take care of everything!”

Now this.

Yuka looked up at the overcast heavens. Thick clouds sagged low, smothering the sun’s warmth. A breeze carried the sharp, silvery tang of gathering rain, ruffling the petals of marigolds and pansies along the stone paths.

I can’t shake this feeling…

She slipped her hands into the pockets of the crisp white lab coat Hayami had lent her and inhaled slowly, trying not to sigh.

“Hey, don’t tell me you’re scared,” came a mocking drawl from behind her.

Yamamoto’s heavy palm crashed onto her shoulder so hard she nearly drooped forward. His smug grin, all yellowing teeth, made her skin crawl. “Relax. Probably just some drunk, or a junkie who took a wrong turn. I’ll scare him off. Things have been boring around here anyway,” he said, cracking his knuckles.

“Just don’t do anything stupid that’ll drag the school’s name through the mud.”

Yamamoto feigned hurt. “You wound me, Yuka-chan.”

She bit her lip to keep silent and shoved past him. He jogged to catch up, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Whoa! Maybe I’m coming on too strongly. Look, I’m serious. This guy’s not right in the head. Have a look for yourself.” He pointed towards the main gate.

There, a lone figure pummeled the iron bars with the persistence of a man possessed, as if he believed his body could squeeze through.

Bile rose in her throat.

And yet, she had a job to do.

“Sir?” she called out, stepping forward. Her voice sounded brittle even to her own ears. “This is private property. You need to leave.”

The man’s head snapped toward her on a thin column of neck. A low hiss rattled from his throat. His eyes darted without focus. He stretched slender, corpse-white fingers through the bars, curling them in the air.

“See? I told you it was weird. What’s the matter, friend? Bad day? What? Got nothing to say?”

“Don’t—”

“C’mon. He’s itching to bite someone’s head off.” Yamamoto chimed right over her.

Before she could stop him, Yamamoto swung a punch between the bars. The man’s nose gave way with a sickening snap. A spray of dark crimson exploded across the gate. He staggered back, one nostril flattened.

“How’s that?” He flexed bloody knuckles. “Feel like talking now, asshole?”

The answer came in an inhuman shriek. A cavernous roar that rattled her bones. He slammed into the gate with such force that strips of flesh tore free, pale skin peeling and slithering in sticky ribbons.

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t seem to feel pain.

“What the hell—?” Yamamoto backed off, eyes wide. “Hey—take it easy...”

In an instant, the stranger lashed out. He latched around the trapped forearm and yanked.

Yamamoto fought back, trying to pry free.

“Let go, you freak—let go!”

Yuka watched in horror as teeth closed over exposed knuckles, biting two fingers clean off. Yamamoto howled. The attacker pulled him in, threw him to the ground, then lunged again, this time tearing at his throat. A hot spray arced through the air. The sound of tendons popping, the wet crunch echoed in her ears. Her co-worker crashed onto the flagstones, limbs flailing, his face a mask of red and bone.

Around her, doors burst open: students stumbling out, stained with red; faculty rushing haphazardly, some limping, some collapsing. Windows shattered, bodies thudding onto concrete.

A hiss whispered in Yuka’s ear.

Her blood ran cold.

She spun.

Yamamoto’s battered form had risen—or something wearing his face. His head lolled at an ungodly angle, half-severed from his shoulders. A dark rivulet of bile dripped from shredded gums.

Am I going to die?

She shut her eyes.

Something whistled past her ear. A displaced rush of air that stung her cheek. Her eyes snapped open in time to see Yamamoto’s body airborne, limbs splayed, his tracksuit fluttering as he crashed into the flower bed.

“Are you all right?”

She blinked through tears.

“R-Ren?”

He knelt and waved his good hand gently before her face. “You’re in shock. Can you stand?”

Bodies rose, even as more fell. Dark red splattered the pristine white walls of the administration building, hand-prints smeared down its length. The manicured lawns and stone pathways that had once hosted ceremonies now served as a macabre stage for the dead.

“Am I dreaming?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Tremors shook her limbs. “Leave me. I can’t move. Save yourself.”

He cocked his head. “That’s not very optimistic, Doc.”

Without another word, he swept her up, slinging her over his shoulder. The coarse weave of his blazer dug into her cheek.

“Sorry. This will be uncomfortable.”

Her tongue felt too heavy to form words. The light around the edges drained away, colors bleeding into black. The last thing she heard was Ren’s footsteps fading as darkness claimed her.

* * *

Midori watched Haruka’s arms shake so violently the bat tumbled from her grip. The clatter cut through the ringing haze filling his ears. What was left of Shimizuka Yumi scarcely looked human. Her skull had caved inward like a broken eggshell, dark red pooling around fragments of white bone and hair matted in blood.

“Haru…” Kuro’s voice was low, cautious.

Midori glanced between them. Kuro stood a few paces off, faint scratches streaking his arms, his uniform collar and sleeves matted with blood. His or someone else’s, he couldn’t tell.

“She… She was going to kill you.”

Kuro’s eyes flicked from the body to the bat and back to Haruka. He took a slow step forward, as if approaching something dangerously fragile. When he wrapped his arms around her, she didn’t move. Locked stiff, muscles taut as strings.

Midori didn’t stop to think. He lunged at them both, pressing into a clumsy, trembling embrace. “You’re okay. You’re both okay.”

Haruka kept flexing her fingers, testing the sticky blood. She started to tremble again. He released them and stepped back, nodding at Kuro. “I don’t know what to say. If you hadn’t dragged us out—”

“It’s fine. You don’t have to say anything. On the way here, I saw something odd. I thought I was imagining it, but…”

“You weren’t,” Midori whispered.

Silence pressed in, broken only by distant screams that felt too close.

“What do we do now?” Kuro asked.

Midori’s racing heartbeat slowed suddenly, his trembling hands steadying. The screams outside faded to a distant hum as he took a long, deep breath that filled his lungs completely. He found himself staring at a crack in the tile floor, tracing its jagged path rather than looking at them.

When he finally spoke, his voice came out quiet. His spine straightened of its own accord, shoulders squaring beneath his blood-spattered clothes. “You two keep going. Get to the roof. There’s another fire door up there. You’ll be safe.”

Kuro’s eyes widened. “Wait—you’re not coming?”

“I have to do something.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Kuro bristled. “Are you insane? We barely made it here as it is. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Midori,” Haruka pleaded, tugging at his sleeve, afraid he might vanish if she let go. “Don’t go.”

“I’ll move faster alone.” He met her teary gaze. “Go. Lock the door behind you. Don’t open it for anyone but me.”

“You are so fucking selfish.”

Midori swallowed the knot in his throat. Kuro’s words stung because they were true.

“I’ll be back. I promise.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. His palm met the stairwell door’s handle, cold metal biting against his skin. He paused, glancing back at the two faces that had marked every memory since kindergarten. Three lives, braided together since before they could tie their own shoes. The hinges groaned, momentarily drowning out the screams and his pounding heart. The hallway beyond was darker than he remembered. It was here Midori wondered if he could keep that promise.

* * *

Ren was no stranger to bloodshed. The war had shown him plenty of it.

But this… this was on another level.

Blood spattered the tiles in wild arcs. Corpses lay piled. The stench of rot clung to the air. He crept through Seiryo University’s corridors, Yuka draped limply over his shoulder. What caused this?

Those things. They flailed into walls, into each other. Some collapsed in quivering heaps, gnawing at the air. These used to be human beings, with lives, families, dreams. They didn’t deserve this fate.

Wait. What’s that sound?

The floor trembled beneath him, glass fragments danced across the tiles, the windows vibrated in their frames as a deep rumble approached from above. He saw a swarm of military helicopters blotting out the bit of sunlight, their rotors slicing the air with such violence that he could barely hold a coherent thought. At once the creatures convulsed—limbs jerking—and erupted in a guttural frenzy. They surged toward the windows, ripping at the glass and hurling themselves into the void.

Behind his eyes, a face kept appearing, pushing aside any other thoughts with the force of a battering ram. He couldn’t abandon Yuka in this state, but every second he wasn’t searching for Reina might be her last.

His gaze swept the opposite building, half hoping to glimpse her, and instead he caught sight of Midori, swinging a chair leg with desperate fury, back pressed to the wall.

Ren reached out almost on instinct, wanting to help, then hesitated. He caught sight of a few terrified faces peering from a cracked door down the hall. Red camera lights blinking above.

The helicopters moved off. The frenzy waned, the things slumped back into their slow shuffle. He surveyed the bodies again. Some still had color, only bruised or bitten. Alive, or trapped inside?

A faint buzz snapped him back. His phone glowed in his pocket, the screen bearing one name: Hayate.

Ren answered.

Heavy, ragged breaths came through the other line. “Don’t talk... I’ve never asked anything from you before. I saved you that night, and never expected anything in return. Now, I’m begging you. Please. My granddaughter. Protect Haru.”

The call ended.

His grip tightened before he realized it. Plastic groaned, glass spider-webbing beneath his thumb. Hayate had kept him safe. Given him a place in this world. He glanced back to the courtyard. Midori was gone, having run into the nearby classroom.

The creatures clustered at the far end, sealing off the hallway that connected the two buildings.

Sorry, Aki.

Ren lifted the phone she’d gifted him and, with a sharp flick, sent it flying into the far wall. It burst apart with a loud crack. Every head swiveled to the noise. He slipped through the opening, Yuka clutched tight.