The classroom was bathed in soft afternoon light filtering through tall sliding windows. Wooden desks were lined neatly in rows, each occupied by students scribbling notes or half-listening to the lecture.
At the front of the room, Mr. Tanaka, the history teacher, adjusted his glasses and pointed to a map pinned on the board.
"Now, class," he said, voice calm but firm, "the Meiji Restoration wasn't just a political shift—it fundamentally reshaped society. Samurai lost their privileges, and a modern army replaced traditional forces. Can anyone tell me why this was necessary for Japan's survival in the 19th century?"
A few hands went up timidly. The teacher nodded toward a girl in the middle row. "Yes, Saito?"
Saito straightened. "Because Japan needed to centralize power to resist foreign colonization?"
"Exactly," Mr. Tanaka replied with a small nod. "Good. And notice how these changes didn't just affect the military—they changed education, industry, and even daily life."
As he spoke, a faint metallic clang echoed from the far end of the school grounds, distant enough that it sounded almost like a stray construction sound. A few students paused mid-note, glancing out the window.
"Huh… what was that?" murmured one boy. Another laughed quietly, "Probably just a stray ball hitting the gate again."
Mr. Tanaka waved dismissively. "Focus, everyone. That's nothing to concern ourselves with. Now, let's continue—notice how the conscription system altered the samurai class…"
The classroom returned to focus as the history teacher continued his lecture on the Meiji Restoration. But two students' attention was elsewhere today.
Fourth period was winding down. Lunch was barely ten minutes away, and most students were focused on finishing their last stretch of work before freedom.
However, Riko's eyelids drooped, struggling against the pull of sleep.
Despite her love for kendo, she had no interest in samurais or ancient warriors. In her eyes, most were bullies who preyed on ordinary people—not true warriors, though she still respected those who fought on equal terms.
As for the other student, it was surprisingly Ryoushi today. That was unexpected; he was usually a model student. But today seemed different.
It wasn't that the history lecture was boring—Tanaka-sensei had a knack for making history engaging. Riko, of course, was the exception: she was only awake during P.E., while in other classes she often drifted off.
Today, however, Ryoushi couldn't focus because of a scent—a faint, rotting smell lingering in the air.
It wasn't strong enough for a normal human to detect, but he was anything but normal. He had noticed it as early as second period, and over time it grew sharper.
He couldn't pinpoint its source, other than somewhere outside the school… until now. The clanging sound at the gate carried that same scent, emanating from the person causing it.
At first, Ryoushi thought he was imagining the scent coming from that person, but as he focused and activated his appraisal function to see what was truly happening, his eyes widened in shock.
Just then, his table began to vibrate, startling him. Thankfully, it was only his cellphone in the bag. Glancing down, he nervously retrieved his flip phone and opened it, only to see the caller ID: his big sister, Aiko.
Meanwhile, five minutes earlier at home.
Haruka hummed softly under her breath, the melody from Tokyo FM drifting faintly from the TV in the living room. She worked through the morning chores with her usual calm rhythm, wiping down jars that once held dry fruits.
Upstairs, Aiko had already started her round of cleaning; once she was done, she'd come down to help, since the entire first floor was too much for Haruka to handle alone.
The routine, however, was suddenly broken.
The music cut off mid-song. A sharp, jarring alarm blared through the speakers.
"Red alert. Red alert. Citizens are instructed to remain inside their homes. A supernatural phenomenon has erupted across the Globe. The government has declared an immediate curfew."
"A zombie epidemic has broken out—globally. Do not leave your homes. Lock your doors. Close your windows. Remain silent. Zombies appear to be highly sensitive to sound."
"I repeat: stay in your houses and stay safe."
The announcement looped, the words red alert repeating again as if hammering themselves into her mind.
Haruka froze, still holding the empty jar. "...Zombie?" she murmured under her breath, the word foreign and absurd on her tongue.
Slowly, she turned toward the TV, which now showed horrifying live footage—streets filled with chaos, people screaming, bodies moving unnaturally as they tore into the living.
She rubbed her eyes hard, half-expecting the scene to vanish, to reveal itself as just another late-night horror movie she had accidentally tuned into.
But the remote wasn't even within reach. And there, in the corner of the screen, the channel logo glared back at her: FM Tokyo. Proof that this was no movie.
At that moment, Aiko descended the stairs, brushing her hands off her apron. "Mom, do you need help with—" She paused, catching the blank, stiff look on Haruka's face.
Haruka blinked, snapping out of her daze at the sound of Aiko's voice. Her eyes flicked sharply from TV to her daughter. Without a word, she set the jar down with a dull clink and hurried to the front door. "Call Ryoushi. Now."
Aiko frowned in confusion. "But… it's still his fourth period, Mom."
"Look at the TV," Haruka snapped, striding quickly down the hallway toward the front door.
Aiko turned, following her mother's words—and her eyes widened as the broadcast replayed, the words zombie epidemic stark across the screen.
For a moment she, too, thought it was a movie. But the announcer's grave tone, the official seal at the corner of the broadcast, and the sheer panic in the shaky live footage made her stomach drop.
Her throat tightened. "This… this is real?"
But Haruka wasn't answering anymore. She was busy securing the door, her voice tight: "Hurry, Aiko."
Realizing the weight of the situation, Aiko ran upstairs two steps at a time, rushed into her room, grabbed her phone, and dialed Ryoushi's number with trembling fingers. He might not even know what was happening.
***
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