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The next days, the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, brushing the tops of the reinforced walls of Fortress One in a warm, silent glow.
Perched on the northeast watchtower, Marco Di Balla sat with his rifle cradled in his arms, his eyes scanning the landscape for movement—muscle memory more than conscious effort. He'd walked this perimeter a half-dozen times already, but every sunrise still felt like a miracle.
Today, he wasn't alone.
Beside him, seated cross-legged with a cup of instant coffee between her hands, was Kyoko Hayashi.
Her usual strict expression was softened by the morning light, and her red hair was tied up in a loose ponytail that bounced with every subtle movement. The tactical jacket she wore looked oversized on her petite but booby-generous frame, but somehow, she made it work.
They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes, the occasional radio click or wind gust filling the air.
"…You're quiet today," Marco finally said, breaking the silence.
Kyoko took a small sip from her cup before replying. "Just thinking."
He smirked. "Dangerous habit."
She rolled her eyes. "Only when the person next to me refuses to stop staring."
He leaned against the tower wall. "I wasn't staring. I was observing."
She snorted. "You 'observe' every woman you've kissed in the past month?"
There was a pause.
"…Only the interesting ones," he replied, this time softer.
Kyoko turned her gaze back toward the horizon, her expression unreadable. "I'm not like the others."
"I know."
She finally looked at him. "You flirt. You lead. You plan. But I know you watch everything. You store it all away. Every weakness, every strength. Even mine."
Marco didn't argue.
Kyoko set her cup down, stood, and paced slowly to the edge of the tower, arms folded.
"I was a teacher," she said quietly. "A good one. Before that bastard Shidō ruined everything, I was respected. I had plans. A life. And then all it took was one rumor."
Marco stood too, walking up beside her.
"You didn't deserve that," he said simply.
"No," she agreed. "But I'm still here."
They stood together in silence again.
"I don't want to be just the logistics girl," she said suddenly.
Marco tilted his head.
"I want to fight too. I want to protect people. I don't want to sit behind a screen when it all burns."
He turned toward her fully. "Then I'll teach you."
She blinked.
"To shoot," he clarified. "To defend yourself."
She gave a small smile. "Thank you."
He hesitated, then leaned closer.
"You're not like the others, Kyoko-sensei. You're not just beautiful. You're… solid. Constant. You're the only one who never looks at me like I'm some savior or fantasy."
She chuckled. "That's because I know better."
Marco smiled. "Good. Someone has to."
She touched his hand gently. "And maybe… someone has to remind you that you're still human too."
They stood like that, for a long time. No kiss. No urgency.
Just warmth.
The training range was set up along the outer north wall, with cardboard silhouettes lined in staggered rows. Targets shaped like infected. Targets shaped like humans.
Kyoko adjusted the grip on the small pistol Marco had handed her—a Taurus PT-738, small enough to conceal, strong enough to kill if you knew where to shoot.
"Alright, finger off the trigger unless you're ready to fire," Marco said, his hands guiding her stance.
She grunted. "I know that much."
He chuckled. "Just checking."
He moved behind her, adjusting her posture gently.
"Spread your feet a bit more. Elbows in. Shoulders square."
She followed the instructions, her eyes narrowing as she aimed.
"Now breathe in… hold it… and squeeze. Don't yank."
Crack!
The shot rang out, and the bullet punched through the center of the cardboard skull.
Kyoko's eyes widened. "Did I…?"
"Right through the temple," Marco confirmed, impressed.
She lowered the pistol. "Beginner's luck."
He smirked. "Then let's see if lightning strikes twice."
Over the next hour, she fired again and again. Her shots were inconsistent at first—too low, then too far left—but slowly, the spread narrowed.
Marco watched her focus, her determination. No wasted movements. No excuses.
She wanted this. Needed it.
When her last shot drilled the center mass of the final target, she exhaled and turned to him.
"I think I'm ready."
Marco walked up and gently pushed a loose strand of red hair behind her ear.
"You're getting there, Kyoko-chan. And I'll be here to make sure you do."
She flushed slightly, then reached out and took his hand.
"I'm not fragile, Marco-kun. And I don't need saving. But if you're going to walk beside me…"
"I will," he said softly.
She leaned forward, eyes closed, and he met her halfway.
The kiss was slow. Tender. Nothing urgent. Just mutual respect. Shared history. Hope.
When they parted, she rested her forehead against his.
"Now go clean my gun," she said with a smirk.
Marco laughed. "Bossy. I like it."
She turned and walked back toward the fortress, head high, confident.
And for once, Marco just watched her go, smiling like a man who'd finally found someone who understood him.
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The afternoon sun had begun to lower, casting long shadows across the outer walls of Fortress One. Inside the strategy room, Marco Di Balla stood before the digital terrain board, fingers tapping against the screen rhythmically. Around him were Saya Takagi, Izana Kuroinu, Kohta Hirano, and Kyoko Hayashi, each watching as the map of their neighborhood flickered to life with new overlays.
The plan was simple in concept but heavy in execution: expand.
Fortress One—his home—had been converted into an iron-clad citadel of survival, but Marco knew damn well that standing still in a world overrun by monsters, both dead and living, was a slow form of suicide.
"We're going to take the whole damn block," Marco said, eyes sharp. "And we're gonna do it smart."
Saya stepped forward. "Each house has different architecture. Standard Japanese suburbs, but that means they have thin walls and no real perimeter defense."
Kyoko tapped the map. "We can't just barge into every house blindly. We'll need recon on structural stability and any remaining infected."
Kohta grinned, "I'll take rooftop sweeps with a spotter. Hiroki can handle close recon with Takashi."
Marco nodded. "That's Phase One. We sweep each building. Tag it safe or not. No hero shit."
Izana cracked his knuckles. "I'll prep the breaching gear. We'll go quiet where we can, loud where we must."
Marco brought up a second layer of the map. "Once cleared, each building gets converted. Fortified. But I want more than just spread-out safehouses—I want connectivity."
Saya raised an eyebrow. "Passages?"
Marco smirked. "Exactly."
Using drone footage and the local underground schematics—thankfully ripped from old city blueprints Marco had 'acquired' during his Yakuza dealings—they began mapping possible connection points between houses.
"Each house gets a dual-access system," Marco explained. "One underground, one aerial."
Kyoko blinked. "Aerial?"
"We use prefab steel trusses and form suspended walkways from roof to roof. Enclosed. With quick-access ladders or interior access from attics. If one route's compromised, the other holds."
Kohta grinned. "Zombie-proof sky bridges? Shit, I'm in."
"For the underground," Marco continued, "we expand existing storm drains and connect basements or crawl spaces. We use steel pipe reinforcement, narrow tunnels, only one person wide. Ambush-proof."
Saya nodded, now invested. "We'll need engineering equipment. Metal cutters, welders, insulation foam, maybe scavenged piping."
Izana pointed. "I know a supply depot just two clicks northeast. Old civil works shed. Should still have what we need."
Marco clapped his hands together. "Good. Teams will move tomorrow at first light. Tonight—we plan."
Back in the garage, Marco walked with Kyoko through the tools area.
"I want each house to serve a purpose," he said. "Not just extra space."
She nodded. "Medical outpost, secondary barracks, cold storage, fallback rooms."
"Exactly," Marco agreed. "One becomes a forward observation post. Another workshop expansion. One? Even a fucking greenhouse, we'll need it."
Kyoko smirked. "And here I thought you were just good at kissing."
He gave her a sideways glance. "Multitasking, Kyoko-chan. You should try it sometime."
They both laughed quietly.
Later on the day, on a side table, the map now showed color-coded buildings:
Red: uncleared and potentially infested.Yellow: partially cleared, needs fortification.Green: ready for expansion.
The goal? Convert all eight structures in the surrounding block.
"Phase Two," Marco said, "we seal the entire block perimeter with a modular steel wall, connecting house-to-house. Reinforced front and back gates, internal patrol lines, motion detectors."
Saya nodded slowly. "We'll be a neighborhood fortress. A damn stronghold."
"Exactly. And with the suspended paths and tunnels?"
Kohta finished, "We'll move like goddamn ninjas."
Izana lit a cigar. "Ninjas with shotguns. I like it."
As the meeting wrapped, Chika Kogure poked her head in.
"Umm… is it okay if I help with the tunnels?"
Marco looked at her.
She stepped inside, her voice firmer. "I can't do much yet, but I can crawl and scout tight spots. I want to help."
Kyoko smiled gently. "We'll get you started tomorrow, Kogure-san."
Chika beamed, determined.
Later that evening, Marco stood on the roof of Fortress One, staring out across the block. Houses half-hidden by trees. Yards overgrown. But within those walls lay opportunity. Shelter. Control.
He exhaled slowly.
"We're not just surviving anymore," he murmured. "We're taking this fucking world back, one block at a time."
Behind him, the rooftop door creaked open.
Kanako's voice drifted in. "You planning to sleep up here, general?"
He chuckled. "Just thinking."
She walked beside him, silent.
Tomorrow, they'd begin the siege of the block.
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