Chapter 4 - The Fire at Block 9
Block 9 had always been a pocket of peace within the larger chaos of Tokyo. Nestled between two aging train lines and known mostly for its family-owned groceries, laundry lines, and rusted mailboxes, it was a place forgotten by time—and that was exactly how Akazuchi liked it. The building he called home was modest, with paper-thin walls and a leaky faucet that sang its own opera every night, but it was his. In the fragments of normalcy he'd clung to since joining Akio and the others, Block 9 was more than shelter.
It was safety. It was routine. It was proof that survival didn't always have to feel like war.
Until it burned.
The fire started just after 1:30 a.m.
Sirens pierced the night. Red lights reflected off snow-covered streets, casting shadows across cracked pavement. Two buildings went up in flames within minutes—starting from the second floor and consuming everything in its path. Gas lines ruptured. Walls groaned. Smoke poured upward like a dying scream.
The emergency evacuation protocols, practiced just a month earlier, were the only reason no lives were lost. But the fire left behind nothing salvageable. Akazuchi's apartment was on the fourth floor of the central building. He had just returned from a double shift and fallen asleep in his chair when the hallway alarms went off.
He didn't have time to grab anything. Not the photo of his sister. Not the prescription ledger he'd hand-drawn in sleepless hours. Not the shoebox full of memories sealed under his bed. He ran in socks and pajamas, out into the snow.
Akio had received the call from Yamataro, who had spotted the fire on a news feed while pulling another late shift sorting paperwork.
Now, hours later, Akio stood on a hill that overlooked the smoldering neighborhood, the heat of the fire still lingering in the winter air. Smoke mingled with snowfall. He clutched his phone, knuckles pale.
This wasn't a coincidence.
It wasn't random.
It was a message.
The lab had struck back.
Down in the evacuation shelter, Akazuchi sat on a thin cot, staring at his blistered palms. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Volunteers shuffled around him, offering warm soup, blankets, quiet reassurances.
He accepted none of it.
Akio entered without a word. No greeting. No condolences. Just sat down beside him.
For a long moment, they didn't speak. The silence between them said more than either voice could manage.
Then Akazuchi murmured, "I'll never forget this."
Akio nodded, barely audible. "Neither will I."
It wasn't just about the lost items. It wasn't even about the building. It was about the feeling—of being hunted again, of being reminded that safety was only temporary. That this life, rebuilt with trembling hands and stubborn hearts, was still under threat.
The next day, the others joined them.
Misaki brought hot drinks and gloves. Raka, despite a limp from a fall during delivery duty, helped pack temporary supplies. Yamataro filed for emergency assistance. Rumane had already identified two alternative housing units nearby and started vetting them. Hikata was silent but kept vigil over the parking lot, watching every car and face like a hawk.
They said nothing about the lab.
But they all felt it.
It wasn't just a fire. It was a flare shot across the sky.
The war had officially begun.
Scene: Silent Alarms
Within three days, the pharmacy became a bunker.
Security systems went live. Motion sensors. Remote locks. CCTV linked to Hikata's encrypted laptop. Raka reinforced the back doors with metal braces and reinforced the shutters with old gym weights.
But even with the new defenses, none of them felt safe.
One night, just past midnight, Yamataro returned from a supply run to find the back door slightly ajar.
Nothing was missing. No alarms had gone off.
But in the break room, lying on the floor like a sleeping ghost, was a syringe.
It wasn't ordinary. It glowed faintly blue at its center.
Raka recognized it instantly.
"It's one of theirs it looks like the one you showed us when you explained how the pharmacy was blown up to let us know what happened that and this ones new folks," she said, her voice panicking.
Akio knelt to examine it, fingers hesitating just above the plastic.
Rumane drew the blinds shut. Yasahute locked every door.
They gathered, hearts pounding, around the break room table.
"They're watching us from the shadows," Rumane whispered.
"They're waiting for us to move first," Akio added, his gaze hardening.
No one asked him how he knew. But they all looked at the syringe. At the way Akio didn't flinch. At the memory that danced just behind his eyes.
He was hiding something.
Something old. Something deep.
But none of them pressed. Because he was their anchor. Their leader.
And this was war.
[Next: Chapter 5 — Rebellion in the Waiting Room]