The sun was high in the sky, its afternoon rays already scorching, and Kyoko's head felt heavy from both the heat and the stench drifting in the air.
She pressed a handkerchief to her nose as she neared the main gate, where a lone man was banging and clanging against it. His staggering movements and vacant eyes made him look like a drunkard who had lost his way.
The guard beside her grimaced, though his eyes still flickered down her figure in a way that didn't escape her notice. She didn't call him out—she never did anymore.
Years of dealing with wandering gazes had hardened her, though the irritation never fully left her. Being "blessed in all the right places" was something she had grown used to, but never enjoyed.
Right now, however, the smell of rot carried by the wind was a far worse nuisance, clawing into her nostrils no matter how firmly she held the cloth.
"Who is this person?" Kyoko asked, stepping back a pace to keep the stench at bay.
The guard covered his own nose with a sleeve and shook his head. "Don't know, ma'am. I asked him to leave, told him not to make a scene, but he won't listen. Keeps banging on the gate like that. That's why I called you over."
Kyoko gave a short nod. She understood well enough—if he was drunk, nothing the guard said would get through.
'Still, the smell wasn't that of alcohol alone. Where did he even roll around to reek like this?' she thought, her brow tightening.
It wasn't unusual for her to be called here. This week, the gate duty rotation had fallen to her.
In Japanese schools, teachers often shared responsibilities outside the classroom—supervising club activities, checking uniforms, or, in her case, handling parents or strangers who arrived at the school gate.
The system rotated weekly, meaning that each teacher, regardless of subject, would eventually spend their turn managing visitors. Mornings were handled by the student council, who checked IDs and uniforms, but during the day, only a teacher could permit or deny entry to adults.
It was tedious, but necessary; anyone who wanted access to the school grounds had to be confirmed first.
"Call the police," Kyoko said, her voice muffled against the cloth.
The guard pulled out his phone but blinked in confusion. "Strange… there's no signal."
Kyoko exhaled a quiet sigh, though her face remained composed. Her own phone was locked away in the staff room—school policy required teachers to leave them during class hours—so she couldn't call either.
Plus walking all the way back would take time, and she already felt her patience wearing thin in the heat.
"Fine. Then just handle it yourself. You have my permission to remove him from the gate," she said, stepping further back.
The guard nodded firmly. Most school guards were retired police officers or security professionals, trained to deal with drunkards and troublemakers. Kyoko wasn't worried—this was routine.
The guard reached into his pocket, pulling out the key to the small iron door beside the main gate. With a metallic click, he slipped through, stepping out to face the staggering man.
"Hey! Get out of here!" the guard barked, his stance sharp and professional.
But the man only turned his head slowly, dull lifeless eyes staring back, a gurgling rasp slipping out from his throat. He shuffled forward, step by step, his movements too deliberate, too strange.
The guard stiffened, instincts kicking in. First rule of self-defense: never let the aggressor close. Strike before they do.
He kept his back toward the small gate so he could retreat if necessary. When the man entered his "strike zone," just an arm's length away, the guard launched forward, snapping a sharp jab toward the chest.
Kyoko's eyes widened in surprise. "What are you—"
Her words cut short when the impossible happened.
The "drunkard" moved with sudden speed, seizing the guard's arm in a crushing grip. Before the guard could pull back, the man lunged forward and sank his teeth deep into the guard's shoulder.
The guard screamed—a raw, blood-curdling wail that echoed across the grounds—thrashing as his adrenaline surged. With a desperate heave, he threw the man off and stumbled back through the gate, slamming it shut and fumbling with the lock.
Blood oozed from the ragged bite wound, staining his uniform dark.
Kyoko rushed forward, alarmed. "What happened?! How—how did—?" She hadn't even seen the bite clearly, the gate having blocked her view.
Face pale, tears welling at the corners of his eyes, the guard stammered, voice trembling, "He's… he's a monster…! He bit me!"
Kyoko's stomach lurched. 'Bitten?' A shiver of dread ran down her spine. If she had gone herself…
"Give me your phone, I'll call an ambulance," she snapped, forcing her voice steady.
He nodded shakily and pulled it from his pocket, tossing it to her with fumbling hands. She caught it, dialed the emergency number—and froze. A single dead line. She tried again. Same result.
"What…?" she muttered. Even emergency numbers—those were supposed to run on separate government lines, impossible to cut. Yet, the call refused to go through.
She swallowed her frustration. "I'll take you to the nurse's office," she said, moving to steady him.
But when she lifted her eyes toward the gate, her breath caught.
More people were emerging from both sides of the street, men and women of all ages, dressed in everyday clothes—office workers, housewives, students.
They stumbled forward in uneven steps, eyes blank, throats rattling with the same awful gurgle. The fallen man from earlier had risen again, slamming his forehead against the gate with dull, repeated clangs.
The smell hit harder now—putrid rot thickening in the air until her stomach twisted. She gagged behind her handkerchief, eyes watering.
"Shimada-san?" Kyoko called out to the guard. When he didn't reply, she turned back—only to see him slumped over, silent.
Her pulse spiked. "Hey—what happened?" She hurried toward him, but froze just two steps away, a chill crawling up her spine.
His body suddenly trembled violently, then stilled. Slowly, his head lifted, his eyes now milky white, a guttural growl slipping from his throat—the same sound as those outside the gate.
Kyoko's heart skipped a beat. 'No… this isn't right,' she thought, a creeping unease tightening in her chest.
He pushed himself up, staggering toward her, that same stench of rot rolling off him. Kyoko's breath came fast and shallow, sweat dripping down her back. She stumbled backward, hand raised instinctively.
"Stay back!"
She instinctively backed away as he lurched forward, arms outstretched, that awful gurgling rising from his throat. But her heel struck something solid. A stone—carelessly left behind during a student's kick-baseball game. She hadn't seen it until it was too late.
With a yelp, she fell back hard onto the ground, pain shooting through her hips as her breath escaped her lungs in a rush. The guard—no, not the guard anymore—lurched forward, each step dragging him closer her.
And behind him, the growing mob pressed at the gate, rattling the iron bars.
Kyoko's breath hitched as dread washed over her.
She tried to scramble up, but pain shot through her ankle—the heel of her shoe had snapped. She couldn't stand. The guard—no, the thing that used to be the guard—was already too close, his dead eyes fixed on her.
Tears blurred her vision. "D-Don't come near me… don't come near me!" she pleaded, voice trembling.
But he didn't stop.
Behind him, the small gate he had hastily shut rattled once—swung open with a screech. Another one slipped inside, shuffling forward.
Kyoko's world shrank. Her pulse thundered in her ears.
She had moved too close earlier. Now, she was in his striking range. The monster lunged, teeth bared, and a scream tore out of her throat—
"NO!"
But just then, a flash split the air—
An arrow, whistling faster than a bullet, pierced through the guard's skull with a sickening crunch. The momentum hurled his body back, slamming him onto the ground where he lay still—feathers quivering from the shaft jutting out.
Kyoko had squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the end. Instead, she felt a hand press firmly against her shoulder. Her eyes snapped open.
Ryoushi knelt beside her, a bow in his other hand, his expression sharp but calm.
"Sensei, are you okay?"
Her lips parted, but no words came. She only raised a shaking finger toward her front. But when she turned to look—nothing was there. She became confused. 'Where... the guard gone?'
Unfortunately, Ryoushi didn't have the luxury of soothing her inner turmoil. He rose to his feet and said firmly, "Stay here."
Kyoko wanted to stop him, to make him stay with her, but before she could even open her mouth, he summoned an arrow from thin air.
Ryoushi saw the zombies starting to push through the small gate. He couldn't let that happen—not before everyone was ready to understand their situation. He set an arrow on the string, drew it back, and released it at the first zombie moving toward him.
The shaft flew true, piercing the zombie clean through the temple. A faint chime echoed in his mind—[35 XP gained]—as more zombies pressed toward the gate.
Ryoushi didn't hesitate; he loosed another arrow, then another, cutting them down before finally slamming the gate shut and bolting it tight.
He turned back to Kyoko. She was still frozen on the ground, breath ragged, eyes wide with disbelief. And when he approached, she instinctively shrank back.
"You…" Her voice cracked. "You just—just killed—"
"They're already dead," Ryoushi interrupted quietly, slinging his bow back into his inventory. "They're zombie now."
Kyoko couldn't answer. Her mind spun between relief, horror, and denial.
Ryoushi exhaled softly, then, without hesitation, scooped her up into his arms.
"W-What are you—?! Put me down! I'm your teacher!" she stammered, thrashing weakly.
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, tightening his hold. His legs coiled, then he sprinted, carrying her in a firm princess carry.
Behind them, the iron gate groaned. The constant clanging grew louder, more zombies piling against it. Metal strained under the pressure, the hinges creaking as if ready to give way.
But no one else was there to see it.
***
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