Screeech
Four vehicles rolled through the massive steel gates and stopped in the open yard at the front of the base. Doors slammed shut one after another, and from the lead car jumped down four people each armed with steel pipes, machetes, or similar weapons.
Their clothes were completely soaked in dried black blood, stained and reeking of a pungent stench. Without a word, the four of them marched straight toward Sosuke Kitahara. The man in front looked to be in his forties burly, stern-eyed, and glaring directly at Sosuke and his group. The other three followed behind him, faces laced with anger, clearly unafraid.
Click!
Haruno Yukinoshita immediately flicked the safety off her submachine gun, though she kept the muzzle angled toward the ground. Utaha Kasumigaoka was as calm as ever. Yukino Yukinoshita, too, drew her handgun and swiftly chambered a round.
Three guns Sosuke had distributed all of them to the girls. As for him, he was still most comfortable with close-quarters combat.
"Who are you people? Why did you fire a gun?"
The man in front spoke, his voice deep and composed, but laced with unmistakable fury. As he talked, he deliberately lifted the hem of his jacket to reveal the black pistol holstered at his waist.
Sosuke's eyes flickered.
Serial number 0623?
So… Fujishima is your real name.
Sosuke's gaze swept over him, a trace of surprise flashing in his eyes. He hadn't expected to run into an old acquaintance here.
In their previous life, the two of them had been cannon fodder in the same survivor shelter. Eventually, they both awakened. But awakening wasn't equal different types, different potentials. Younger and having awakened earlier, Sosuke had advanced quickly, climbing higher and farther than Fujishima, who remained a first-stage awakener, forever limited by age and talent.
"Yukino? Haruno?"
Before anyone could respond to Fujishima's questioning, a familiar voice called out from behind him. A woman in light travel gear came running over with tears brimming in her eyes.
Shizuka Hiratsuka.
The emotion on her face was unmistakable. When she'd heard the helicopter had been commandeered, she assumed the worst that none of them had survived. But here they were, alive, standing in front of her.
"Shizuka Hiratsuka… you know them?"
Fujishima looked genuinely surprised.
Shizuka nodded quickly, unable to contain her excitement. Hiromi Takahashi rushed to Fujishima's side and whispered what had happened while he was gone. Fujishima's expression darkened with every word, his brow furrowing deeper, lips twitching.
"Fujishima-san! Thank God you're back!"
From the crowd, Oikawa pushed his way through, face pale, eyes pleading. He pointed at Sosuke and his group, practically shouting, "These four refused to follow the rules! They even fired a gun at us! Yohei nearly got killed!"
It was clear he saw Fujishima as his savior his personal shield. He even straightened up, posture puffed with the confidence of a snitch reporting to the boss.
Smack!
A crisp, brutal slap landed squarely across Oikawa's face.
Everyone froze.
Whether they were newly returned, part of the base, or people who despised Oikawa like Hiromi, all stood in stunned silence.
No one could have predicted it. The man who usually turned a blind eye to Oikawa's behavior had just slapped him in front of everyone.
Oikawa was dumbstruck.
That slap had real force behind it Fujishima used to work in the fire department, and his blow sent Oikawa spinning and collapsing onto the ground. Clutching his burning cheek, Oikawa looked up, eyes filled with disbelief.
Why?
Did you forget how much my parents helped you? You were an orphan! My parents took you in, helped you join the fire department…
Without them, you'd still be some nobody on the street!
And now you dare hit me?
Fujishima ignored him completely.
Instead, he turned to Sosuke, bowed slightly, and extended a hand. "I'm sorry, little brother. I didn't discipline my people properly. My name's Fujishima. I'm the acting leader here. May I ask your name?"
"Sosuke Kitahara."
Sosuke looked mildly surprised but nodded as he shook Fujishima's hand, his voice calm. "We weren't injured."
Strange, he thought. Wasn't Fujishima always hot-headed? Why's he acting so reasonable now?
"You came from Tokyo, right?" Fujishima asked.
He glanced toward Shizuka, who was already deep in conversation with the girls. From his pocket, Fujishima pulled out a cigarette and offered one to Sosuke.
"Tell me, what's the situation in Tokyo right now? Are there any rescue efforts?"
Sosuke took the cigarette but didn't light it. He didn't smoke, but accepting it was a gesture of goodwill.
"It's bad," Sosuke replied. "We came from Setagaya. Reached the Tokyo Bay docks, then crossed by boat. There were military ships out at sea, quite a few, but… no sign of any rescue operations."
"So, just like Chiba…" Fujishima muttered. He sighed, then smiled again. "Alright. You guys take a break. I've got things to handle on my end. I'm sure Shizuka has plenty she wants to say to her students."
Sosuke nodded, glancing at the others who were still chatting animatedly. Though he and Fujishima hadn't been close, the man had looked after him once. If fate brought them back together in this life, Sosuke didn't mind offering a helping hand.
Fujishima turned back toward the crowd and raised his voice.
"Listen up, everyone! We've cleared a path to the shopping mall. Inside, there's food, clothing, and supplies enough to last months. Get some rest now. Lunch and nap, then we head out at 1 PM sharp!"
"Damn it, I just got off rotation…"
"Is it dangerous?"
"No shit it's dangerous…"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"That's an order! Not a request!" Fujishima barked. "Every able-bodied person gear up! You're going!"
His sharp gaze swept across the group, silencing any grumbling. With that, the camp burst into activity.
As Sosuke and his group left, Fujishima turned and glared at Oikawa, who still stood off to the side, clutching his cheek like a scolded child.
"You're done with the warehouse. Get some students to handle it. You're grounded. Don't come out until I say so."
"What?"
Oikawa looked horrified. He was forty years old and being grounded like a kid? But when he saw the expression on Fujishima's face, he dared not object.
"Fujishima-san, wasn't that a little much?" a younger man asked, stepping forward. It was Tsumura the same guy who'd stolen the car the night before. "They're just high school kids. Why treat them like VIPs? Sure, they've got guns, but we've got a few crossbows too. We could take them."
Fujishima stuck the unlit cigarette into his mouth. Tsumura quickly flicked his lighter, lighting it for him.
After a drag, Fujishima exhaled slowly.
"You really think they're just normal high schoolers?"
He gave Tsumura a side glance.
"Have you seen what our high schoolers are like? How many of them are actually useful?"
"Those four came all the way from Tokyo. You think that's something just anyone could do?"
"We've got nearly 400 people and just one pistol. They've got three guns including a submachine gun used by the Self-Defense Force. You think they just found that lying around?"
He took another drag.
"I'd bet money they've killed people. Not just zombies. Humans. Probably more than one."
That last sentence deflated the tension instantly.
They'd received plenty of survivors here, but most of them looked ragged hair a mess, clothes filthy, haunted expressions. But Sosuke's group?
Clean. Organized. Packs full of supplies.
Compared to them, the base residents looked more like the ones who'd been living on the streets.
Tsumura broke into a cold sweat. Thankfully, Fujishima had stepped in. If anyone else had tried to mess with that group, they might've ended up as corpses.
"Listen up, everyone!"
Fujishima's voice boomed once more.
"This is a survivor base not a bandit camp. If anything like this happens again, don't blame me for being ruthless!"
A chorus of voices answered in unison.
Fujishima sighed and muttered under his breath.
"Oikawa… don't disappoint me again…"
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