Sosuke Kitahara's method was simple yet effective: an old-fashioned tripwire. From his pack, he pulled out a coil of rope, fastening it securely to a streetlamp at the edge of the road. Then, with deliberate confidence, he stepped into the open street and whistled loudly.
The zombies shambling about instantly locked onto him. Like wild horses loosed from reins, they surged forward in a chaotic wave only to topple en masse over the taut rope.
"Now! Cut them down!"
Kitahara drew his blade and charged. Every strike was precise, severing rotting necks and crushing skulls. Haruno, Utaha, and Yukino fell in step with him, breathing steady and controlled, their blades flashing as they felled the creatures one after another. Blood spattered the pavement. For a moment, the four of them were a storm of steel and fury.
As expected, the noise drew out even more. Dozens of zombies poured from nearby yards and alleys, rushing like a tide only to pile onto the fallen bodies at the tripwire. The street soon became a writhing wall of decaying flesh.
Though Kitahara feared nothing for himself, the threat of a single scratch on the women beside him was too great. He gritted his teeth, cutting as he retreated.
"Don't waste energy! This way!"
Utaha's cheeks were flushed as she waved them back. Crossing the stone bridge, she glanced over her shoulder. "Kitahara, hold them here for a moment!"
"Huh?"
Before he could reply, Utaha had already dragged Yukino and Haruno behind the husk of an abandoned bus. Confused, Kitahara kept slashing until seconds later, Utaha reappeared at the riverbank, waving a red-and-white object furiously.
In an instant, the horde's focus shifted. Not a single zombie continued across the bridge. One after another, they wheeled around and charged toward the river.
Splash!
Splash!
Without a shrieker to direct them, the ordinary undead dove headlong into the water like ants into a flood. The river boiled as mutant blackfish swarmed, their massive jaws snapping. In seconds, the zombies were torn apart, their limbs vanishing beneath the waves. Not a single one made it across alive.
The object now stained with blood was soon tossed into the current and devoured as well. Utaha strolled back with her arms crossed, chin raised in triumph, smirking at Kitahara's stunned expression.
"See? Brute force isn't always the answer. Sometimes, you need brains."
"…Wait. Was that… a sanitary pad?"
For once, Kitahara was left speechless. In two lifetimes, he had never imagined witnessing something like this. His brow furrowed. "Don't tell me your cycle came early? Shouldn't it still be a few days?"
Though he spoke casually, a flicker of relief crossed his heart. Even with "safe days," accidents were possible. If Utaha had conceived from that reckless night, it would complicate everything.
Utaha scoffed, jabbing a thumb behind her. "Relax. Between three women, you think we couldn't spare one pad? That one was Yukino's she just started."
Yukino's face burned crimson. The thought of her private matter being so openly exposed made her bury her head, unable to meet anyone's gaze.
She just started?
Kitahara's mind, against his will, recalled the timing of ovulation cycles. By his calculations…
Damn it, why am I thinking about this now?
He cursed himself silently and let it drop, sparing Yukino further embarrassment. Instead, he barked, "We need to move. Blood scent is a double-edged sword it draws zombies from miles away."
Yukino quickly nodded, her shame replaced by focus. They regrouped and cleared the few stragglers that remained before Kitahara split the tasks.
"Utaha, Yukino keep watch outside. Haruno and I will check inside."
With a flick, Kitahara wiped black gore from his blade and strode toward the entrance of the Chiba Shooting Club.
Inside, silence. The reception hall was thick with dust, its coral fountain long dry. Two pristine office wings flanked the courtyard, every door locked, everything orderly as though its owners had left with time to spare.
"Looks abandoned," Kitahara muttered, frowning. "If they left so cleanly, the armory may already be stripped."
Haruno disagreed. "Even if they took most of it, a place like this always hides something worthwhile. Come on."
Leading him behind one office building, she revealed a spiked steel gate with a warning sign painted in red:
[Dangerous Goods Storage. Keep Out.]
Beyond lay a row of fortified sheds and three heavily modified off-road vehicles.
Kitahara's eyes gleamed. "Well, well. Cars too."
"Rich hobbyists," Haruno said knowingly. "They like toys like this, even if they can't legally drive them here."
With a wrench she found nearby, she smashed the padlock loose. Together, they pushed the gate open.
and a black shadow exploded outward.
BANG!
The iron gate slammed against Haruno, hurling her backward. She hit the ground hard, barely able to raise her blade before a reeking gust engulfed her. A massive dog's head lunged straight for her face, its fangs snapping inches from her nose.
When did it get inside? Why didn't I sense it?
Kitahara's eyes narrowed. As a near second-tier awakened, he should have felt its killing intent. But nothing.
There was no time to dwell. With a shout, he drove a vicious kick into the beast's ribs. The mutated hound yelped, slamming into the wall.
Haruno scrambled up, pale and shaken, her blade forgotten. In panic, she reached for her submachine gun and screamed:
"Kitahara! Shoot it! Shoot!"
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