For Meenda, the past week passed in a whirlwind of sweat, color, and exhaustion.
She, Gantsuke, and the other girls spent their days reinforcing the house—fortifying windows, repositioning furniture, stacking supply crates.Each sunset brought shooting practice.Each night brought sore muscles, bruised egos, and a creeping sense of purpose.
Still, despite Gantsuke's efforts, their marksmanship barely improved.And that worried him.
Meenda, though, had begun to accept that life—real life—was full of disappointments.
Dandelai had tricked her.He lured her to a party on his private island under the promise of stardom, of walking world stages, becoming a legend from Ether made real.She had believed him. She had gone.And everything shattered overnight.
That dream of Meenda the global superstar… was gone.
That night, after a dinner of rice balls and sea fish soup made lovingly by Mari, they all pitched in to clear out the downstairs living room.The space was being transformed into a makeshift training area for hand-to-hand combat.
Meenda and Mari volunteered to scrub bloodstains off the rubber floor pads Gantsuke had salvaged from an abandoned gym in the city.The mats looked like they'd come straight from a murder scene.
"I think she's adapting," Limo said, arms crossed as he watched the girls fit together colorful foam pads like giant jigsaw pieces.
He stood beside Gantsuke, just outside the living room.
"I agree," Gantsuke replied."But their shooting still sucks. If those sunlight-resistant zombies attack, I'm not sure we'll hold out."
He paused, then added, "You think it's connected to that purple monster?"
"Could be. We need answers.But right now, what matters is making sure they get stronger."
"You're right. I've been thinking…Maybe we take them to an open-air range."
"The one behind Jon Victor's cabin?"
"Yeah."
"I'll send a drone to check it out," Limo said, placing a firm hand on Gantsuke's shoulder.
Then he turned and headed upstairs.
Gantsuke didn't say thanks. He didn't need to.Everything in this house—the effort, the help, the unspoken care—was thanks.
The sun dipped low, painting the clouds with golden reds and soft whites.It looked like heaven itself had cracked open behind the horizon.
"I sent the drone. Place looks good—isolated enough no one cares about it," Limo said, cracking open a cold beer and sinking into a padded hammock.
"I'll take them once they're ready. You coming?" Gantsuke asked from the hammock beside him, eyes fixed on the sky.
"I'll think about it."
"I'll take that as a yes," Gantsuke grinned.
Limo just chuckled and took a sip.
Down on the street, zombies had started to stir.They were like bats—resting by day, hunting by night.
"Mr. Gantsuke, Mr. Limo—dinner's ready!" Mari called from the door.
She wore a short witch dress with a frilly white apron.She beamed at them like a server at a quirky cafe.
"Thanks, Mari. We'll be right down!" Limo shouted back, raising his beer in salute.
"Don't take too long!" she chirped, spinning back inside.
"Where'd she get that outfit?" Gantsuke muttered.
"Minnie's old stuff. Neighbor's kid. Loved cosplay," Limo said, standing and patting his stomach."Come on. I'm starving."
That night's menu was pure comfort food:Fluffy omelets topped with fish roe cream sauce and chopped scallions, pork stew with potatoes and carrots, crispy sun-dried squid, and white rice.
Meenda ate two full bowls.Mari nearly wept with joy.
Gantsuke demolished four—a buffet-buster in his own league—while everyone else cleared their plates.Even the leftovers vanished.
Mari felt… useful.That mattered more than anyone realized.
After the dishes were clean, the girls were each given a sidearm.Limo and Gantsuke taught them how to disassemble and reassemble the pistols—how to clean them, check chambers, load mags.
They were told to keep them close.Even in the shower. Even while sleeping.
"Treat your weapon like a friend," Limo said.The girls nodded solemnly.
Later that night, Mari, Molly, and Izzy fell asleep together in one room, comforted by shared presence.
Meenda didn't join them.
She liked them now—trusted them—but something inside still kept her up.A feeling she couldn't name.
In a tank top and shorts, she pulled a light blue men's button-up from the wardrobe.It smelled like fresh cotton and just a trace of soap.
She slipped it on, leaving the buttons half-done.Loose. Comfortable.
She wanted air.Maybe something cold to drink too.