What Lies Ahead

A tempest raged over Seiryo University. Thunder, like a wounded beast, shook the sky. Lightning veins split the dark. Rain swept down in relentless sheets, turning courtyards into floods and smearing the world beyond the glass into a slate-grey blur. Salt spray hissed as each towering wave smashed against the sea wall.

Ren watched water snake down the window in rivulets, each catching the sickly red glow of the city across the cove. His sleeve was stiff with someone else’s blood—faintly copper against his nose—and when he shifted, flakes drifted to the floor like brittle leaves.

They’re everywhere.

The others hadn’t realized it yet, but he knew. He’d seen enough already. In less than an hour, the school—maybe the entire city—was lost.

That man’s face returned. Eyes bulging, mouth frozen mid-scream, sweat streaking down his brow. The thing’s jaws chewing flesh. The scream shredding his ears—snuffed into silence minutes later.

He would’ve been better off behind that door.

Ren flexed his fingers, scar tissue tugging tight across pale skin.

The classroom door stood half-ajar. Desks had been piled into a ramshackle barricade—legs jutting like broken branches—a gawky fortress against the horrors prowling outside.

Haruka sat against the far wall, body folded inward, arms draped over a battered bat she must have picked up along the way. Her grip was rigid, stare unfocused. Midori crouched beside her, chest rising in uneven waves, a smile fixed across his face that didn’t reach his eyes. He murmured something she didn’t seem to hear. Across from them, Kurobane paced near the barricade, sneakers tapping tile, muttering curses under his breath.

A muffled sob drew Ren’s attention. Reina cradled Lilly in her arms. The girl curled into her sister’s chest like a doll, small fists clutching fabric, shoulders trembling. She stroked her hair, whispering promises too soft for Ren to catch. When her head lifted, her swollen eyes met his for a moment before darting away, as though ashamed.

Ren edged closer until his knee brushed her skirt, refusing to let her slip from his sight.

You found her, hero. Now what?

“We were too loud,” Yuka said. She perched on an overturned desk, coat dark where blood had soaked through. A crumpled tissue pressed to the cut at her temple. “They’ll have heard the screams. We’ll have to be twice as careful now. It’s likely we’re all that’s left.”

Midori’s smile faltered, posture slumping. Lilly whimpered and buried her face deeper into Reina’s chest.

“You’re saying everyone’s dead,” Kurobane muttered, just loud enough. “It’s only going to get worse. It only ever gets worse.”

“I’m saying survivors are rare. We’re lucky to be alive. We should act with that in mind.”

The hush thickened, pressing against the four walls. The door creaked louder because of it. Shion stood outside. She’d gone to scout alone, of her own accord. Midori and Kurobane shoved a desk aside, letting her slip back inside before closing the door all the way. She walked to the center, her expression eerily calm under the flashing light. The broom she’d fashioned into a makeshift spear dripped scarlet, fat drops pattering onto the tiles. She didn’t seem to notice.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she spoke softly, “If we wait any longer, this place will mark our grave.”

Her words drifted like smoke.

“I guess we don’t have much of a choice. We keep moving and stick to the original plan.” Midori broke the silence.

“And what plan is that?” Shion asked him.

As Midori began to lay it out—a last-ditch escape across the island—Ren felt a tug at his sleeve. He looked down. Reina’s fingers clutched the fabric, shaking. Her voice came low, meant for him alone.

“I’m so happy you’re okay.”

Her gaze locked to his—fragile, desperate, weighted with expectation. It pressed into him heavier than the storm.

Alive, sure. But for how long?

The dead man’s face flickered at the edge of his sight. Ren blinked it away and kicked himself mentally for the thought. He reached down and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. He wasn’t sure if it was for her sake, or his.

“It’s risky,” Shion said. “But that’s a given.”

Midori squared his stance. “We move in formation like we talked about. I’ll take point. Makabe-san will follow. Dr. Fujimori, Haruka, and Ren in the center. Aokawa-san, keep your sister close. Kuro, take the rear.”

One by one, they nodded.

I’m in the center. They think I need protection.

Ren slid his arm around Reina’s back. She leaned into him, her trembling eased by a fraction. Lilly clung tighter.

Across the room, Haruka’s gaze finally lifted, catching his. Another reminder. Another weight. He held her eyes a beat too long before tearing his focus away. The storm raged on, inside and out.

━━━━━━━━━━𝑾𝑪𝑨━━━━━━━━━━

The halls were empty of the dead, eerily quiet save for the steady drumming against the windows. Yuka bit her lip. For a moment she almost saw them as they had been—alive, buzzing with chatter and laughter, teachers’ voices echoing off the walls. For a second she almost believed it was still there.

But the motionless bodies slumped against walls and in doorways shattered the illusion. The ache in her chest was beyond words—the kind of pain that would scar forever if she lived long enough to carry it.

She glanced at the figure beside her. His focus wasn’t here—he was miles away. That same look he’d carried into her office almost a year ago. Ghostly white hair, eyes like smoldering embers. What happened back there at the gate? No student should have had that kind of strength. And the way he’d appeared, as if from nowhere.

Her heel slid into a trail of blood. Even through her shoe she felt it—slick, thick, pressing cold against her as if it touched bare skin. Her stomach lurched. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to look ahead. For their sake, she had to look strong.

Her thoughts kept circling him. Session after session, that faraway look never broke. Nothing reached him. She’d told herself he was a puzzle piece waiting to fit somewhere. But here, surrounded by corpses, another thought whispered: maybe this—all of this—was already his world.

They turned a corner. The stench hit like a physical blow—sour, rancid, choking. Yuka gagged before she could stop herself, tears stinging her eyes. At her side, Haruka froze, one hand clamped over her mouth. Kurobane doubled over, retching noisily against the wall. Midori’s lips pressed into a thin line, his whole body trembling as though sheer will alone kept his stomach down.

The floor—it squelched beneath her shoes, sticky and soft. The walls wept with stains, streaks of something too grotesque to name.

“Keep walking. Don’t look down.” Ren’s voice cut through.

Her pulse hammered. She snapped her gaze upward, desperate to look anywhere else. A drop struck her cheek. Not water. Her chest heaved shallow and fast. Every squelch of her shoes sent shivers crawling down her spine.

They emerged into clean tile at last, stumbling. Yuka bent against the wall, dragging in dry, heaving breaths.

Ren never cracked, his breathing never faltered. He wiped a single crimson droplet from his cheek with the back of his knuckles.

“NO!”

A desperate cry split the air. Yuka flinched, heart thundering, sure it would carry beyond the storm—and worse, to whatever else still prowled inside.

What now?!

Midori’s head snapped toward the sound. His hesitation vanished. “This way!” he barked, already sprinting, boots hammering the tile.

“Wait—!” Yuka called, but he was gone. Haruka stumbled after without thinking, bat clattering against the wall. Kurobane cursed and bolted in their wake, leaving the rest of them behind.

Yuka turned to Ren. His expression unreadable, gaze fixed on the shadows ahead. His lip curled faintly, jaw locked with something between anger and resolve.

“Come on.”

━━━━━━━━━━𝑾𝑪𝑨━━━━━━━━━━

Water splashed beneath their feet as they sprinted down the hall, lightning flaring through shattered windows in jagged bursts. Up ahead, two people fought for their lives.

The man’s glasses were fogged, one lens greased with gore. His chest heaved with ragged pulls as he swung a battery-powered hand saw, its motor shrieking in protest. The spinning teeth chewed through flesh, sparks spitting when they snagged bone.

He either didn’t know or didn’t care that the noise was drawing more his way. Blood sprayed across his shirt as he wrenched the blade free, arms quivering with exhaustion.

“Please! I can’t hold them!”

Shion surged forward. The broom in her grip was split nearly in two from the force of her blow, jagged shards jutting outward, slick with gore. The corpse shuddered and toppled sideways. Her boot crashed into its chest, skidding the body across the tiles. She pivoted smoothly, never breaking stride, and skewered another skull in the same breath. “Fall back,” she ordered.

The man shook his head. “Not without her!”

A scream ripped down the corridor.

Ren’s focus snapped toward it. A woman knelt in a widening pool of blood. Blue hair clung to her cheeks, her nails raking over her own arms as if she could strip her skin raw.

“It’s not mine! It’s not mine!”

Her frantic scrubbing only smeared the filth further—dark streaks across her uniform, her legs, her trembling fingers. She slipped, knees skidding through gore, palms smacking the tile with a wet crack. When she dragged them up to her face, crimson streaked her cheek and tangled in her hair. She gagged, shaking her head like she could fling it off.

“It’s all over me—I can’t—I can’t—” Her words broke into sobs, unraveling into a wail.

The infected twitched toward her cries, jerking closer in spasms of hunger. Kurobane barreled in, shoulder slamming a corpse back as he seized the sobbing woman by the arm. She collapsed against him, clinging like a drowning victim, her nails digging into fabric as she shook against his chest.

Midori ripped the bat from Haruka’s grasp and swung in a brutal arc. The crack of bone echoed sharp against the storm. His lips pressed into a hard line, pity flickering across his face before he swung again.

At the rear, Yuka pressed terror-stricken fingers to her mouth, breath coming shallow and quick. Her other arm swept outward on instinct, shielding Reina and Lilly behind her.

Do something.

Ren’s hand flexed at his side. Heat coiled beneath his skin, something begging to be unleashed. He could have ended it in a heartbeat—cleared the hall, silenced the panic.

But he didn’t.

Shion spun, jagged wood tearing through another skull. Her expression didn’t shift. Every motion was precise, as though she were practicing drills. Then—it was done.

Ren exhaled slowly. The world blurred at its edges, and suddenly she was there—dark hair falling across violet eyes as she reached for him, lips shaping his name without sound. Then another—sandy hair catching sunlight, that cheerful, crooked smile in place. He blinked hard, jaw clenching, and forced his focus to the gore-slick tiles directly ahead.

The man’s voice cracked the stillness. “Th-thank you… thank you.” His grip whitened on the saw’s handle, the motor whining uselessly.

No one relaxed. They all knew.

It came seconds later—faint at first. Nails scraping tile. The drag of uneven feet. The sound swelled, echoing down the hall, louder than the storm outside. From the far corridor, dozens of shadows pressed shoulder to shoulder, staggering into view. Dead gazes gleamed in the light. Mouths opened in a chorus of guttural hunger.

A horde.