By the time the trucks were nearly full, Eiko's husband finally turned just as Sosuke Kitahara had predicted. The telltale streaks of blackened blood left no room for doubt. He wasn't an Awakened, so there was nothing to slow the change.
It was Kakuta who put him down.
Kitahara had to admit, Yukino and the other two women had read the situation far more sharply than he had. He averted his gaze as Eiko, moments earlier still sitting in a daze on the floor, flushed bright red at something Kakuta whispered to her. She bit her lip, neither nodding nor shaking her head, but her half-reluctant, half-willing posture told the whole story. The three women immediately shot Kitahara a triumphant look.
"Brother, what a haul! This was all thanks to you," Fujishima called, grinning broadly and holding out a hand before he'd even closed the distance.
Kitahara clasped it with a polite smile. For the man he'd known in his previous life, he could still show some warmth. "It was everyone's work. Without the crew here, I couldn't have moved all this alone."
That drew laughter all around. Unlike the tense mood they'd left in, the atmosphere now was relaxed and buoyant. Even the dozen-odd who'd bolted mid-battle looked giddy; they knew they'd be punished back at base, but compared to the mountain of supplies, a little punishment was nothing. With the mall's zombies cleared out, they could come back anytime to haul the rest.
Kitahara accepted the praise with a calm expression, but his eyes drifted to the distant skyline. A pillar of fire rose from one building. Beyond that, in the direction of Narita Airport, the sky was a perfect, cloudless blue deceptively serene.
He knew better. Another journey was about to begin.
"Fujishima-san, what about that guy?"
Outside the mall, Tsunemura jerked his chin toward the three male survivors they'd pulled from the elevator. Two had already turned and been put down. Only Okawa remained.
Fujishima felt Michiko's fingers press lightly into his side, the silent signal clear. He frowned. "Okawa, your temper's too hot for the settlement. You'd better find somewhere to hide and wait for rescue…"
Okawa snorted, waving the words away. "If this place won't have me, there are plenty that will. I just don't have a weapon right now. Once I get one, killing zombies is nothing."
His gaze swung to Michiko. "You coming with me? The boss is still alive. When we find him"
Kakuta strolled over, his smile all sharp edges. "Think about it, 'sister-in-law.' This guy's never even seen a zombie with both hands still on. Doesn't know the first thing about killing them. Follow him and you'll be dead by tomorrow."
Michiko tilted her head, voice syrupy as she looked to Fujishima. "Then can I at least send him off with some supplies? He's been my bodyguard for years…"
She didn't object to the "sister-in-law" remark. When Fujishima nodded, she fetched a full pack and handed it to Okawa.
"Come on, Kitahara, nothing to see here," Yukino said, nudging him. Her tone was icy; she had no patience for women who dripped honey with every word.
"You go ahead," Kitahara murmured. Something in the scene felt… wrong.
Okawa took the pack with a scowl. Kakuta smirked openly. "Ha! Big talk, but he still takes our handouts."
"Enough, Kakuta," Fujishima warned.
Kakuta only whistled and glanced at Eiko, his mood visibly lifted. In the old world, a woman like her was untouchable. Now, she was practically within reach. The thought sent a wave of smug satisfaction through him. End of the world? I could get used to this.
Michiko relaxed as Okawa accepted the pack. Her worst fear had been him blurting something from their shared past, forcing a public break and the endless gossip that would follow. This way, things stayed manageable.
She stole a glance at Kitahara. If she were choosing a protector purely for strength, he'd be the one. At the very least, keeping him interested could be its own kind of shield. But those three girls around him… maybe he wasn't into older women?
Kitahara, for his part, was unimpressed. Your loyal guard just died, and you're making eyes at me? Your head's wired wrong.
Then Okawa's expression twisted. With a sudden snarl, he drew a pistol from his waistband and pressed it to the back of Michiko's head. Fujishima and the others went for their weapons but too late.
"Traitors to the boss die."
Before the word finished, Kitahara's fist slammed into his gut. He'd pulled the punch just short of lethal, but the force folded Okawa like a shrimp. His mouth worked soundlessly as he collapsed.
Fujishima and the rest stared, stunned by the speed. Kitahara calmly removed the magazine ten rounds and tucked the pistol into his own belt. Now every member of his four-person team was armed.
Okawa's limp form was dragged back inside by Fujishima, Kakuta, and Tsunemura for execution. When they asked Kitahara's thoughts, he simply turned and walked away. In the apocalypse, a man showing that kind of intent to kill had to be dealt with.
In the settlement, Oikawa lay on a narrow cot in a bare room, a cold towel pressed to the side of his face Fujishima had slapped. He smoked and muttered curses.
"Biting the hand that feeds you… all for some outsider. My parents treated you well for nothing."
A bitter wish took root that Fujishima never return. That the high school brat, Kitahara, die out there too. But even if Fujishima fell, there was still Tsunemura and Hiratsuka Shizuka.
"If I had a gun…" he whispered. With a gun, he could seize control, build his own faction. Let others take the risks outside while he sat safe at the top.
The more he thought about it, the more it consumed him.
"Oikawa! Fujishima's back!"
The door banged open.
"Oh." His daydream shattered. He asked flatly, "Casualties?"
"None! Well, some injuries, but no deaths! And they brought back trucks full of supplies thanks to four new recruits. Tonight we're having pork and steak!"
Oikawa's face darkened. That kid's not leaving, is he? If they team up, I'm done. He lay back, eyes cold. I need a plan.
A cleared factory now served as the settlement's warehouse. Access was restricted, but right now it bustled with activity as trucks were unloaded.
"Komachi, Iroha these sacks are flour. The others are mixed salt and MSG. Sort them later," a worker called.
Komachi Yukinoshita hefted the bags to a corner while Isshiki Iroha scribbled notes. "Got it. Salt and MSG, separate tomorrow."
An older woman kept a sharp eye on the process. "Everything's inventoried. Anyone caught stealing will regret it."
Komachi emerged just in time to spot a familiar figure. "Onii-chan's back!" she cried.
Kitahara's group was assigned a single-bedroom apartment in one of the residential blocks standard factory dormitory style.
Hiratsuka Shizuka had invited Haruno and Yukino to stay with her, but after a brief discussion, they declined. Under her complex, surprised gaze, the four stayed together.
For Kitahara, that stirred mixed feelings. After the tenderness of that night on the ship, he'd planned to continue deepening things with Utaha Kasumigaoka. Now, that would have to wait.
Most of the building's shower heads were broken, so after washing up in the public bath and changing into clean clothes, he returned at dusk.
Utaha, wearing an apron, opened the door for him. She smiled softly, something unspoken passing between them. "And who's this handsome guy? Not afraid of getting mugged, coming here alone?"
"Go ahead. I won't fight back," he murmured.
She shot him a look, bent to place his slippers, every movement like a wife welcoming her husband home. Warmth settled in his chest.
"That bath's co-ed and has zero privacy. Easy to get an eyeful," she said.
"I'll get a few basins tonight. We can make do in the bathroom," he replied.
In the kitchen, Haruno was helping with dinner, ladle in hand. The apron cinched her narrow waist and emphasized her curves a different kind of beauty from Utaha's, but striking nonetheless.
"Haruno-san's cooking tonight?" Kitahara asked.
"Yukino's sorting the packs, and Utaha was busy, so I came to help," she said, then teased, "What, don't trust my cooking?"
"Of course not. I'm looking forward to it," he said easily.
"Then go sit, or help Yukino," she laughed, turning back to the sizzling pan.
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