Rain of the Dead

The analysis lab at Yokota Air Base was submerged in silence, broken only by the hum of centrifuges and the nervous clacking of a keyboard.

Kaori Watanabe stood beside the steel table, arms crossed, her face tense. Before her, the head of the science department, an older man with thick glasses, looked away from the electron microscope. He was pale, a bead of cold sweat tracing his temple.

“Well?” Kaori asked, impatient. “Is it a chemical agent? Biological poison?”

The scientist swallowed hard, unable to meet her eyes. He removed his glasses and wiped them on his lab coat, buying time. “No, ma’am. It’s not poison. And it’s not volcanic ash or residue from normal forest fires. The molecular structure… is unmistakable.”

“I don’t have time for riddles, Doctor. Speak.”

The man sighed, his voice trembling. “It’s calcified organic material. Calcium, carbon… remains of bone and muscle tissue subjected to extreme temperatures.”

Kaori frowned, not yet grasping the full gravity. “What are you saying?”

“It means, Ms. Watanabe… that this is human ash.”

The air seemed to leave Kaori’s lungs. She took a step back, staring in horror at the small sample of gray dust under the glass. It wasn’t snowing. It was raining people. The remains of the other fortresses, or perhaps of Hachioji itself, were falling on them like a macabre warning.

Meanwhile, in the outdoor training yard, blissfully unaware of the horror being uncovered in the lab, the atmosphere was strangely light.

Kyosuke was sitting on an ammunition crate, fiddling with a lighter, while Ken practiced thrusts with his knife in front of him. “Not bad, kid,” Kyosuke said lazily. “But Natasha taught you to fight like a beast. I need to teach you to fight like a soldier. You’ve got instinct, but your technique with different weapons is lacking. While Naty-chan and I are both S-Class, our styles are opposites. If you learn mine, you’ll be unstoppable.”

Ken’s eyes lit up. The idea of learning from the strongest man in the base excited him. “Yes! Please, teach me to…!”

“Hold it!”

Two figures emerged from behind a wall of sandbags. It was Yamato and Shinji. Yamato adjusted his glasses indignantly, and Shinji stood with his hands on his hips. “That’s favoritism!” Shinji protested. “Why does only ‘Hero Ken’ get private lessons? We survived hell too, you know!”

“Exactly!” Yamato added. “If we’re going to fight in this war, we need more than just luck. We want to be trained by you too.”

Kyosuke looked at them, then at Ken, and let out a dramatic sigh, throwing his head back. “Kids… you’re a nuisance. My contract doesn’t include babysitting three of you.”

“Please, Commander,” Ken insisted, smiling at his friends. “They’re good. They won’t let you down.”

Kyosuke observed them for a second. He saw the determination in all three pairs of eyes. They were no longer the frightened novices from months ago. “Fine, fine… I give up,” Kyosuke said, standing up. “I’ll train the Trouble Trio. But don’t come crying when I make you puke.”

The three boys bumped fists, elated. However, the celebration lasted barely a second.

A rending sound tore through the air. It wasn’t a siren. It was a sharp, vibrating shriek that came from the gray clouds. It was followed by guttural roars that seemed to come from everywhere: the nearby forests, the city ruins, and the very ground beneath them.

Kyosuke’s smile vanished instantly. “Did you hear that?” Ken murmured, feeling the hairs on his neck stand up.

In the lab, the creatures’ shriek made Kaori snap into action. Her sharp mind began connecting the dots at a dizzying speed. She recalled the fragmented reports from Saitama and Chiba. First the ash falls… then communications are cut… and finally, they arrive.

The ash wasn’t weather. It was the hourglass. “They’re already here!” Kaori whispered.

Without another word to the scientist, she ran out of the lab. Her boots echoed on the metal corridors. She kept her face stoic; if the leader ran through the halls screaming, panic would seize the base before a single shot was fired. But inside, her heart was racing.

She burst into the Central Command Room, throwing the doors wide open. “Situation report!” she ordered.

The room was a quiet chaos. Operators typed frantically, but the giant screens covering the front wall showed only static and “CONNECTION ERROR” messages.

“Ma’am!” one operator shouted. “We lost contact with perimeter drones 4, 5, and 6 simultaneously! The seismic sensors are going crazy, but the radar isn’t detecting anything!”

“Get me eyes out there, now!” Kaori yelled, striding toward the monitors. “I need visuals!”

“Trying to reconnect with Drone Alpha-9… got it! It’s unstable, but we have an image!”

One of the screens flickered, fighting through interference. The image was grainy and grayish. It showed the outskirts of Fussa city, a few kilometers from the base. A dense, unnatural black fog was creeping through the streets, devouring buildings. But what froze Kaori’s blood wasn’t the fog.

Within the dark haze were silhouettes. Hundreds. Thousands. And they weren’t running like wild beasts. They were marching. A heavy, rhythmic, unison step. Thump. Thump. Thump. And above them, winged shadows cut through the hidden sky.

“What is that…?” the operator whispered.

Suddenly, the drone’s camera caught something looking up. A red flash in the darkness. The screen went black with a sharp buzz. SIGNAL LOST.

Kaori stared at the black screen, the reflection of her own terror staring back from the glass. The siege had begun.