What Lies Ahead III

Three years. It had been three years since the last time he called on that part of himself. Three years since he felt the push and pull of magic swell in his body, primal and raw, like the sea contained within him. It had been so long there were days he’d convinced himself it was all a dream. But when he closed his eyes and reached inward, he could still feel it. When he looked at his arm, he remembered the blade that skewered him all too well.

Ren felt a faint ache in his chest, like a wound he couldn’t see. His pace slowed a tad, distancing him further from the rest.

It’s… cold.

In that moment, a reality he’d long suspected but never confronted stared back at him from the dark of his own mind. The shadow he’d felt lurking at the edges had finally taken form, and despite having lived with its whispers for so long, the proof still chilled something deep inside. His mouth twisted into something not quite a smile—a brief, bitter acknowledgment.

What's next, hero?

The storm had begun to thin, though the wind still drove sheets of rain across what remained of the bridge. Asphalt flashed under the lightning, their footsteps wet, uneven slaps as their little group pulled itself along, skirting along the feeder ramp.

Not so little now.

Thirteen people had made it out of Seiryo University. If he were a superstitious man, he’d say that was an omen. He watched their hunched silhouettes trudging ahead, their voices lost to the storm.

Midori, Haruka, and Kurobane were huddled together at the front. A few paces behind, Yuka kept close to Satsuki and Haruto. The newcomers formed their own island, while Shion—oddly enough—had drifted to Reina’s side, who was half-carrying her little sister.

Their gazes met when he glanced over, blue irises steady beneath wet strands of red hair. Her stare pierced him, as if she were peeling back layers he’d rather keep hidden.

Did she see? No. That’s impossible. Too much chaos. He offered a slight nod, meant to reassure. The smile she returned before turning away left him feeling uncertain. If you knew what I am, I wonder if you’d ever look at me the same again?

The ramp sloped upward. Above, the storm clouds parted just enough to cast a feeble light on what lay ahead. By the time his feet reached level ground, he found the others already gathered at the edge, standing rigid against the red skyline. Mouths shut in silent testimony to what they witnessed.

Hanamizu lay gutted. The streets were clogged with cars abandoned mid-escape—doors still flung open, hazard lights blinking like stars. Entire blocks burned unchecked, red and orange firelight clawing up steel and glass towers. Skyscrapers loomed like candles left to melt. And moving through it all—thousands upon thousands of figures, shambling with a terrible wrongness. A sea of bodies surging aimlessly against barricades and overturned buses.

Hundreds of thousands, Ren thought. When he first arrived in this world, he had marveled at the sheer scale of it, the lights, the noise, the endless waves of people. “There must be a million living in our fair city. If ya think that’s impressive, I’ll take you to Tokyo one day,” the old man had told him back then.

“Oh my god. Lord, help us,” Kurobane whispered, barely more than air. It sounded like a prayer, though Ren doubted Kurobane believed in anything anymore.

“Are we all that’s left?” Midori’s voice was soft, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed him.

Lilly’s voice cracked. “There has to be more people… someone left. Mom and Dad… There has to be...” She hugged herself like the words might warm her, pressing into her sister.

The newest face finally spoke, his words stumbling out between ragged pulls of air. “You all, you’re heroes! Selfless beyond all measure. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. We saw you running by chance. When you made it to the tour bus, my heart felt like it was going to explode!” He stopped, biting his bottom lip. “I know I risked your lives, risked all of our lives, but you have to believe me when I say—”
He was cut short as the tall woman beside him dropped to her knees and vomited, retching hard into the gutter. “Nurse Hayami! Are you alright?”

She gave the faintest nod while wiping her chin. Stray strands of light-brown hair stuck to her face where her braid had half-undone, but her focus never stopped moving—scanning each of them as though their skin were charts waiting to be marked. “S-Sorry. Not very professional.”

“It’s quite alright, dear. And you, Amira-chan? Now I’m worried,” Shigure said to the other woman, half-hidden by his shadow.

“I’m fine. And don’t call me that.”

She stepped forward only slightly, the storm outlining the curve of her face. Two long braids came down to her chest, dark strands plastered against olive skin.

“Shigure-san.”

“Fujimori-san! I can’t tell you how happy I was to see your face on that bus...”

They were trying to hold together some scrap of normalcy, Ren realized. Clinging to names, formalities—tatters of a world that might already be gone. All the while, beyond Hanamizu’s burning sprawl, over the mountains, the sky was marred with more scars. Columns of black smoke rising from the horizon, far-off cities drowned in the same nightmare.

Silence came over them like a thief, unnoticed until it had taken every voice. Minutes stretched, marked only by the angry hiss of rain against concrete and the distant roar of a city devoured in flame.

Satsuki’s voice cut through. “Hey… Look! Over there!”

Ren followed her finger. Across the sprawl, past the rivers of fire and shifting bodies, a pocket of light shimmered through the haze.

A barricade?

Floodlights glared through the storm. Figures moved along the perimeter, too distant to make out clearly—but they were human.

“It’s people! There are people there!” Haruto breathed. His glasses slipped down his nose as he leaned forward. “I’ve never been so happy to see other people in my life!”

Ren said nothing. He fixed on it. Gates. Guards. Other survivors. But from here it might as well have been another world, cut off by oceans of flame and the infected. He pulled his gaze away first. Hope was dangerous when dangled just out of reach…

“We can make it, right?” Satsuki clasped her hands tight, words rushing out. “We can—Huh? Do you guys see that down there?”

Along the overpass beneath them, a cluster of armored figures worked methodically through the bodies strewn across the road. He recognized the uniforms at once—riot gear, black and faceless. Police. Special units. Hayate had shown him pictures once, back when the old man still carried the badge.

In their hands were reinforced batons and weighted clubs, the kind meant to split skulls in a single blow. With each strike, the sound cut through the rain. A wet, sickening thud every time steel met bone. The unit advanced in sync—strike, step, strike again. Heads caved under the blows, blood and water pooling into rivers that ran along the asphalt. For a moment, it seemed like things were going well.

Then a body lurched up mid-swing and dragged one of the men down. The partner beside him smashed its skull to paste, but panic rippled through the line. Rifles came up, muzzles flashed. Bursts of gunfire split the night, sparks ripping into pavement.

“Shit! Everyone, duck!” Midori commanded.

Gunfire echoed down alleys, and the infected stirred. Shapes came charging out of the shadows, drawn by the noise—dozens, more, a tide spilling toward the underpass. Shouts rose, muzzle flashes stabbing at the night.

“Up here! Run up here!” Haruto yelled, voice cracking. He waved frantically, as if urging them toward higher ground.

Ren’s eyes widened.

No.

One helmet jerked upward. The man pivoted, rifle snapping toward them. The shot came with no hesitation.

Concrete spat at Ren’s feet. Sparks bloomed along the railing. Another burst followed, wild, ripping the road apart around them.

“Move!” Ren’s voice lashed through the bullet storm. He stole a glance—Reina had Lilly pressed tight against her side, eyes wide, mouth set. There was fear, yes, but she was moving. Still steady. He forced himself to look away.

The group ran, scattering and reforming, feet hammering wet asphalt. More rounds screamed past, tracer streaks slicing the rain. Ricochets shrieked off the railings, biting into the road ahead. Screams—hoarse, ragged. Ren didn’t look back. None of them did.

━━━━━━━━━━𝑾𝑪𝑨━━━━━━━━━━

Ren wasn’t sure how far they ran. When they finally stopped, they lingered at the roadside longer than they should have, lungs dragging in ragged air, stares darting between the dead city behind them and the woods ahead.

“We can’t stay here.” Midori’s voice trembled, barely above a whisper, but in the hush it carried like a shout.

“And where do we go?” Kurobane spat.

Satsuki hugged herself tighter. “They shot at us. Why?” Her throat caught, the rest tumbling out. “We’re dead if we go back.”

Ren’s attention swept across the group, but it was Reina he lingered on. She had Lilly clutched against her, and yet she stood straighter than most. The same hard line to her mouth, the same weight in her gaze.

“What the fuck are we going to do?” Kuro snapped, frustration boiling over. “If this is a fucking dream, I want to wake up now! Now! Right now! I want to see my mom! I want things to go back to normal!”

Silence followed.

Shigure cleared his throat. He stood a little apart from the others, pale in the light, Amira at his side. When he spoke, his words were careful, deliberate—like each one had to be measured before leaving his mouth. “There are roads that circle Hanamizu,” he said. “Smaller ones. They pass through the woods, but if we follow them, we can loop around to where we saw those lights.” His eyes flicked upward, briefly, toward the glow. “It’s not safe, but it is safer than cutting through the city.”

Ren stayed quiet. He knew the truth. No path was safe.

When Reina spoke, her voice carried more resolve than certainty. “Then… I guess the woods it is.”

“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Shion added, rolling her shoulders.

Haruto adjusted his glasses, peering into the treeline. His voice was low, almost as if he didn’t want the forest itself to hear him. “That’s Tsubakuro Woods. I used to always hear rumors that people went in and never came back out.”

Ren drew in a breath, tasting rain, and let it out slow. The woods it was.

━━━━━━━━━━𝑾𝑪𝑨━━━━━━━━━━

They had been walking for what felt like hours. The trees pressed close, branches clawing together overhead, choking what little light managed to pierce through. The rain had dulled to a mist, but the damp clung thick to Ren’s skin, soaking through every layer. He wasn’t familiar with these woods. Every path looked the same: mud-slick ground, crooked trunks, the whisper of dripping leaves. Ahead stretched nothing but blackness.

“Stop.” Midori’s voice cut sharp, though it carried more weariness than command this time around.

They slowed into a small clearing, breath steaming in the night air. The ground here was soft, stamped by their boots, puddles reflecting the faint glow of the sky above. The horizon still burned where Hanamizu smoldered, firelight painting the storm clouds. Black and red.

Kurobane dropped onto a fallen tree with a groan. “We’re going in circles.”

Midori shook his head, stare flicking nervously to the treeline. “We can’t stop now.”

“We’re lost!” Haruka snapped. She whirled on Shigure. “You said you knew the roads. You said we could wrap around! And now look at us—wandering blind in the dark!”

The thin man stiffened, words catching in his throat. Amira shifted closer, her expression unreadable.

“Haruka—” Midori said.

“No!” Haruka pressed on. “This lying piece of shit. You can’t trust a word he says. He probably led us out here to die!”

Ren saw it building—panic, grief, rage—each voice rising louder, overlapping, spilling out into the clearing. Midori pleading. Kurobane cursing under his breath. Even Reina’s attempts to calm them carried an edge of iron.

Click.

The sound carved through the clearing.

A man stepped out from the treeline, broad-shouldered despite his age, a hunting rifle leveled steady in his hands. The mist clung to him like smoke, his coat heavy, face hidden beneath the brim of a soaked hat. “You’re a lively bunch,” he rasped, his voice gravel worn by years. His gaze swept the group, hard and unblinking. “Any of you feeling sick?”

No one answered at first.

His finger flexed against the trigger. “Any of you been bitten?”

Midori shook his head so hard droplets flung from his hair. “No! No, we’re fine.”

“Sir, please,” Shigure added quickly, his hands raised. “You can check us all one by one.”

The man’s stare lingered, cold and measuring, before the rifle finally lowered. “Good.” He jerked his head toward the trees. “Come with me.”

With nowhere else to go, they followed.