The rusted old bus rattled violently as it rolled over shattered concrete, louder than the quiet cries of the survivors crammed inside. The world was dead. And now, survival was the only thing left. Once a place of laughter and life, the city outside had turned into death's playground—filling hearts with grief, rage, and despair.
Haruka sat beside Raito, his body trembling. The distant screams of women and children being torn apart still echoed in his ears. He couldn't stop the tears—not after watching their mother devoured alive. Not after watching Raito pull him away from her lifeless body.
What started as a quiet whimper turned into uncontrollable sobbing.
"Haruka," Raito whispered, panic rising in his voice. He placed a hand over his brother's mouth, trying to calm him, hide him, silence him.
"Someone shut that brat up!" a man barked from the back. The bus jolted as he stood, his eyes bloodshot, face red with frustration. "There's nothing left to cry about!"
No one said a word.
Raito tightened his grip on Haruka. "We just lost our mother—he's just a—"
"We all lost someone!" the man shouted, cutting Raito off. He stormed down the aisle. "You don't see the rest of us bawling like damn children!"
He yanked Haruka by the arm, hard.
"SHUT UP before I kick you both out!"
Haruka gasped in fear. But before the man could drag him away, Raito snapped.
"Let go of him," Raito growled, grabbing the man's wrist and yanking it free from Haruka's arm.
He didn't hesitate. Raito, smaller and thinner, fought like a cornered wolf—furious, desperate. Haruka watched, frozen, as his brother wrestled the man, fists swinging, shouts rising. He didn't see Raito protecting him—he saw Raito crying in his own way, mourning in the only language he understood: violence.
The man lifted Raito off the floor by his collar like a ragdoll. "Think you're tough?" he snarled.
He kicked open the back door.
And without another word, threw Raito off the moving bus.
Haruka screamed.
"RAITO!"
"Want to join him?!" the man shouted, lunging toward Haruka.
But other passengers stepped in, finally having enough, pulling the man away.
Haruka didn't wait. He bolted toward the driver, grabbing at the wheel. "Stop the bus! Let me off!"
The driver shoved him back—hard.
Haruka flew through the still-open door, hitting the road and rolling violently. Pain lit through his shoulder as he skidded to a stop, the world spinning.
The bus, now out of control, veered off the road—then tipped onto its side with a deafening crash.
Boom.
The explosion sent flames and debris into the air.
Haruka staggered to his feet, his arm hanging limp, dislocated. He turned back—nothing but fire and screams.
Then he turned forward.
Raito's broken body lay in the dirt ahead, barely moving. Blood trickled from his head.
Haruka crawled toward him. One reach at a time.
His trembling hand touched Raito's.
---
HISSSSSSSSS.
Haruka's eyes flew open.
The present.
His body was drenched in sweat. The mask hissed violently, the cylinders on either side clattering out of rhythm.
His chest seized. The pressure on his throat tightened.
The mask was strangling him.
He fell from the bed, gasping as he hit the floor. The cold metal of the bunker bit into his back, but he clawed at his face, eyes wide with panic.
Then—
The pressure released.
The cylinders slowed.
Back into rhythm.
Haruka coughed, blinking up at the ceiling, body trembling.
But he didn't scream.
He just sat there.
Alone in the dark.
Haruka stepped into the cold night, the torchlight casting long shadows behind him. The metallic scent of reinforced steel and oil lingered in the air, but the open breeze softened it. He nodded silently to a passing scout, who returned the gesture before continuing his patrol.
The stars above twinkled through the distant cracks in the bunker's camouflage shell. Haruka sat near a half-crushed concrete barricade just outside the watch perimeter, letting the cold wind wrap around him. For once, things felt... still.
Then —
a faint metallic clink echoed behind him.
Haruka's grip tightened on the torch.
He rose slowly, ears sharpening. Another sound — softer this time. A footstep. Gravel shifting under pressure.
He turned off the torch.
Silence.
He moved through the shadows, letting the moonlight guide him.
And then he saw it.
One of the external bunker grates — slightly ajar.
No wind could've done that. It had been locked shut for weeks. Haruka crouched low, gaze narrowing as he crept closer.
Another clink. And a flash — the glint of metal sliding across the grate.
Someone was inside the wall.
He crept forward, and there, just ahead in the dark, was a man. Dressed head to toe in black, lean and practiced in stealth. He whispered into a collar-mounted radio, unaware of the blade now slowly resting against his neck.
"I think I'm in. Prepare for the ambu—"
Haruka pressed his foot into the man's back and tilted his katana against his throat. The man froze.
"Well," the intruder said calmly, glancing up with a slight grin. "It's you, isn't it? Haruka."
Before Haruka could move, the man spun low beneath the blade, flicking a handful of ninja blades toward him.
Haruka dodged instinctively — leaping over them mid-air, landing into a tight roll, and closing the distance between them in seconds. His katana flashed out, a deadly arc aimed for the intruder's gut.
But the man, quicker than expected, met the blade with his own.
Clang!
The steel-on-steel strike rang out through the night. The man smirked — he was strong. With a twist and a grunt, he shoved Haruka back and delivered a brutal kick to the chest, slamming him against the outer wall of the bunker.
Haruka fell, exhaled sharply, then rose again.
"Obsidian," he said coldly, stepping forward.
Before the man could speak, Haruka vanished in a blur — his body cutting through the air like lightning.
Slice!
A shallow cut split the man's side. Blood soaked the dark fabric. He hissed and steadied his stance.
Haruka slowed to a walk, his blade at the ready.
"Where is he?" His voice was sharp, low, threatening.
The man laughed despite the pain. "Kill me first."
Haruka didn't hesitate. "With pleasure."
They charged.
Blades clashed like thunder, each strike a flash of rage. Haruka's precision met the man's unrelenting speed. Sparks flew. The world around them blurred — only the clang of metal remained. They traded blow after blow, slashes hissing through the cold air.
Then, a final strike. Their swords collided violently, and both staggered back.
The intruder, blood dripping from his arm and side, took a shaky breath.
"I've done my part," he said, turning slightly toward the trees.
Haruka didn't follow his gaze. His attention was focused solely on the man.
Inside the bunker, alarms began to scream.
chaos erupted.
Alice shook Hana awake, Jax already loading rounds into his shotgun. "Where is Haruka?" Alice asked urgently.
"I—I don't know," Hana stammered, still disoriented.
BOOM!
The bunker trembled. Cracks split the walls. From above, faint gunfire echoed — then screams.
Zombies. The swarm had arrived.
Alice grabbed her earpiece. "Evacuate. Emergency tunnels. Now!"
—
Back outside, Haruka stood face to face with the intruder.
"You're still looking for him," the man said quietly, voice ragged. "Even after all these years... almost your whole life."
Haruka's grip tightened. The cylinders on his mask pulsed rapidly, glowing brighter, hissing like steam from a furnace.
"I wish you could see him now," the man continued. "He's changed."
Haruka vanished.
A blink.
A gust of wind.
The man's body stood still — then split cleanly in half, falling soundlessly to the ground.
Haruka sheathed his katana in one smooth motion.
And then — an explosion ripped through the bunker entrance.
Without hesitation, Haruka ran toward the chaos, blade still warm in his grip.