A lighthearted melody danced from the lips of a cheerful girl as she hummed and washed clothes while seated on a low stool.
Chiba, located on the outskirts of the city, was one of Japan's few industrial zones. Abandoned factories dotted the area, making it look desolate and overgrown just like any rural district. Even on regular days, few cars ever passed by. Fewer cars meant fewer people, and fewer people meant fewer zombies. The girl doing the laundry understood this well.
"Komachi, could you please stop singing? You might attract those things. And while you're at it, hand me the detergent," said a nearby voice.
"Got it, Iroha-senpai!" Komachi Hikigaya turned around, passed the detergent over with a bright smile.
"I can't believe you're still in the mood to sing. Didn't your brother go out again today? Aren't you worried?"
Isshiki Iroha poured the detergent into the basin and started scrubbing a piece of clothing. The water quickly turned murky, and her brows furrowed with concern.
"I asked Miss Hiratsuka already. Onii-chan's on a different mission this time, and Takahashi-san went with him. Besides, my brother is really strong. He'll definitely come back safe and sound."
Despite her confident tone, a faint trace of worry lingered in Komachi's eyes as she wrung out the laundry and moved on to the next item with practiced ease.
"Have Fujishima's group returned yet?"
Just then, a few people passed by. Two of them had bandages wrapped around their foreheads clearly wounded.
"Probably not. If they had, it wouldn't still be this quiet outside. I wonder what kind of loot they'll bring back this time."
One man stretched and let out a satisfied sigh, enjoying his rest day, free from the dangers of scavenging.
"Hope they bring back a few busty babes!" one of them cackled shamelessly.
"Haha! Youhei, better pray Fujishima doesn't hear that or you're toast."
"Tch! Why should we even care about those guys? Fujishima's too uptight for his own good that's why he's always so exhausted."
Youhei ran a hand through his hair in mock arrogance.
"Disgusting!" Komachi suddenly tossed the shirt in her hands to the ground and glared at the group.
The commotion drew their attention. Youhei's eyes darkened when he recognized the shirt she had thrown. "Oi, brat, did you just toss my shirt? Forgotten who risked his neck to bring you food and water? Without me, you'd be zombie chow. I was just messing around with my buddies, not even talking to you. You still dare to glare at me?"
Iroha quickly dropped her laundry, placed her hands on her hips, and stepped in front of Komachi protectively. Her eyes flicked to the patrolling guards in the distance as she raised her voice. "It's not like you're the only one out there scavenging. And it's not like we freeload either we're the ones washing your disgusting laundry!"
Youhei's face darkened, his rage boiling over. Every day he risked his life outside for supplies, and not only did he receive no gratitude, now even these two girls were daring to talk back? His fists clenched, and he looked ready to strike.
"Youhei, let it go! What's the point in fighting with a couple of kids?"
His companions hurried to restrain him and forced a smile as they tried to de-escalate the situation. One of them nudged him and nodded toward the approaching patrols. Then he turned to Iroha and Komachi and scolded, "What are you two staring at? Pick up the damn clothes and wash them again. Don't even think about slacking off. If we catch you slacking, don't expect any dinner tonight."
With that, they dragged Youhei away. The patrols in the distance, seeing that the crowd dispersed, didn't bother intervening. As long as no real fight broke out, they preferred to turn a blind eye.
"I'm sorry, Iroha-senpai…"
Komachi lowered her head in apology. Iroha patted her shoulder and shook her head. "You're too hotheaded. If this escalated, the worst they'd get is a slap on the wrist. But for us? We'd pay the price."
"I know, but what they said was disgusting…"
Komachi sighed and picked the clothes up again, scrubbing fiercely as if scrubbing Youhei's ugly face instead. The base preached equality, but everyone knew that adult men combat power were considered more valuable. If she really got slapped, the punishment that guy would face wouldn't be serious. Not in a world like this.
"Hey! A car's coming back!"
The roar of an engine echoed from the distance, and soon after, chatter burst from a patrolman's radio. He turned to shout toward the gate, "Open up! Takahashi Hiromi's back!"
"Onii-chan! It's onii-chan!"
Komachi lit up with excitement, flinging the laundry aside and grabbing Iroha's hand as she ran toward the gate.
"Hiromi! You didn't run into any trouble, did you?"
An old man with a steel pipe came running up as the van pulled to a stop, smiling broadly until he saw the four people emerging from the Nissan. His expression turned guarded.
"Old man, these are survivors we ran into outside," Takahashi Hiromi explained after hopping out of the Coaster van. "Also, they're students of Shizuka Hiratsuka."
"Students of Miss Hiratsuka?"
The old man's wary gaze didn't soften, but his eyes flicked toward their heavy backpacks with a sharp glint. That glint faded when he spotted the submachine gun slung over Haruno Yukinoshita's shoulder replaced by a trace of fear.
After a moment's pause, he addressed Sosuke Kitahara's group. "I don't have the authority to decide this. Fujishima will have to make that call. You can stay for now, but don't wander around. Wait until Fujishima returns."
"Onii-chan!"
Even from far away, Komachi's joyful cry was unmistakable. Hikigaya Hachiman's dead-fish eyes softened at the sound. Without hesitation, he ran toward her.
That warm reunion between siblings drew a few lingering gazes from Sosuke and the others. But for everyone else, it was already a familiar sight.
The old man smirked, then turned back to Sosuke's group with a grin. "Alright. But first, we'll need to disinfect you before you can go inside."
"Disinfect?"
Sosuke raised an eyebrow as the old man hauled over a milky-white barrel from the gate, dumping a puddle of liquid at the entrance with a splash. Only then did the heavy metal gate creak shut behind them.
"Those monsters have freakishly sensitive noses. If we don't scrub off the scent, they'll track us here," the old man explained.
Sosuke didn't object, but he wasn't fully convinced. Sure, zombies tracked by scent, but only within a limited range. They weren't bloodhounds sniffing from miles away. Their movements were more instinct-driven than precision-based.
And if they were dealing with evolved zombies… enhanced senses, enhanced instincts. Whether this folk remedy worked or not, Sosuke couldn't say. Maybe it was more psychological comfort than actual prevention.
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