EP 27: East Shinjuku Split

East Shinjuku smelled wrong.

Burnt plastic, old rain, and something sweet rotting underneath it all. The buildings here stood closer together, taller, like they were leaning in to listen. Cars clogged the streets in tangled piles. Some still had doors open. Some didn’t.

Kanata raised his fist. The group stopped.

“No shouting. No running,” he said quietly. “This place echoes.”

Kanami nodded immediately, already unfolding her mental map. “East side park has open ground but no cover. Shrine district is quieter, but narrow.”

Serizawa crossed her arms. “Quiet doesn’t mean safe.”

Godou-sensei forced a laugh, wiping sweat from her forehead. “I vote for whatever place doesn’t kill us. Preferably with a roof.”

Koko clutched her backpack straps, eyes darting between alleyways. “I don’t like this place…”

Kanata looked ahead. Two routes. Two risks.

“We split,” he said.

The word hung heavier than expected.

Kanami looked at him sharply. “Kanata—”

“Listen,” he continued. “Supplies are scattered. If we move as one group, we get boxed in. Smaller units move faster.”

Takiya stepped beside him, calm as ever. “I’ll go with Kanata.”

No hesitation. No discussion.

Kanata didn’t look at her, but he felt it. That strange certainty she carried, like this was exactly where she wanted to be.

Kanami exhaled through her nose. “Fine. I’ll take Serizawa, Sensei, and Koko. We’ll sweep the residential blocks and loop back.”

Serizawa shot Kanata a hard look. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

He gave a half smile. “I’ll try.”

Koko took a step toward him, then stopped. Her small hand waved weakly. “Come back, okay?”

Kanata nodded once.

The groups separated without another word.

Footsteps faded.

East Shinjuku swallowed the sound.

For a moment, it was just Kanata and Takiya standing in the middle of a dead street.

“You’re quiet,” Kanata said, adjusting his grip on the rifle.

“I like it,” Takiya replied.

They moved.

The park came into view through broken fences and toppled vending machines. Swings creaked in the wind, chains rattling softly. Trees stood dark and tangled, leaves thick enough to block moonlight.

Kanata slowed. “We cut through fast.”

Takiya smiled faintly. “If you say so.”

They didn’t get ten steps in before the first infected stumbled out from behind a slide.

Then another.

Then more.

From bushes. From restrooms. From beneath fallen branches.

Kanata fired, clean shots, controlled breathing.

Takiya rushed forward.

Too fast.

Her wooden sword cracked against skulls with sharp, wet sounds. She didn’t retreat. She pressed in. Twisted. Finished.

One infected grabbed her sleeve.

She laughed.

Just once.

Kanata saw it.

The way her eyes shone. The way her movements sharpened instead of breaking down.

When the last body fell, the park was silent again.

Takiya stood among the dead, chest rising and falling, blood splattered across her arms.

She looked… satisfied.

Kanata lowered his weapon slowly.

“You okay?” he asked.

Takiya turned to him, smile already gone, replaced with her usual calm expression. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kanata didn’t answer.

Above them, the trees whispered as if the park itself was amused.

And somewhere deep inside him, a warning began to take shape.