Yuuta's POV
We survived the first game.
The reality settled over me like a too-heavy coat. We'd boarded this train as ordinary students—just two step-siblings trying to reach university, to build futures where our forbidden love might someday be accepted. Now we were... whatever this was. Players. Prisoners. Prey.
I pressed my palms against my closed eyelids, willing the last hour to be a nightmare. When I opened them, the train's harsh fluorescent lights still buzzed overhead.
"You shouldn't overthink. Here."
Saki's voice cut through the static in my head. She set two trays between us on the bolted-down table. The steam rising from the miso soup smelled real enough—salty and earthy—but my stomach turned.
"Where did you get the food?" I eyed the perfect arrangement of rice, pickled vegetables, and grilled fish with suspicion.
"In the hallway." She slid into the seat opposite me, already chopsticking a bite of rice. "They're serving it. You can eat anything—it's free."
The word hung between us. *Free.* As if anything on this train came without cost.
Saki sipped her soup, then spoke through the vapor. "You know, I feel like those Roman gladiators from history class. Feast like kings one night, then..." Her chopsticks hovered over the fish. "Perform for your life the next morning."
I exhaled through my nose and picked up my own utensils. The ceramic felt too smooth, too normal in my grip.
"You know, Saki..." The words came out softer than I intended. "I hope we can make it through here alive."
The corner of her mouth lifted—not quite the radiant smile I loved, but something fragile and fierce. "Of course we will. Besides..." She tapped her chopsticks against the tray. "We still have to tell our parents about us. And attend university first."
The future she painted—ordinary, complicated, *ours*—lodged in my throat alongside the too-perfect meal. Our parents were understanding people, but this? A relationship born from their remarriage? That would be...
"I hope the future is worth every pain we endure now," I murmured.
The chopsticks stilled in Saki's hand. For a heartbeat, the train's hum was the only sound between us.
Then her foot found mine beneath the table, pressing down in silent promise.
Saki's pov:
The chamber door hissed shut behind me as I stepped into the corridor. The train hummed beneath my feet, that constant, mocking reminder that we were still moving - still trapped in this nightmare. I counted doors as I walked, each identical metal slab with its glowing red number. Twenty. Thirty. How many souls had started this journey? How many were left?
My fingers automatically went to my phone, thumb swiping the screen to life. The wallpaper - a selfie with Yuuta at the station, our shoulders barely touching - glared back at me. No signal. Of course. I clenched my jaw and shoved it back into my pocket. What had I expected? A rescue call? A way to Google "how to survive murder train games"?
The old man's words about Mujina Station echoed in my head. Trickster spirits. Folktales my grandmother used to whisper about when I couldn't sleep. Ironic that now I'd kill for those childhood nightmares instead of this reality.
A sharp turn in the corridor and -
"Oof!"
I collided with something solid. The impact sent a jolt through my shoulder.
"Oh! I'm sorry, I wasn't watching where-"
The boy staggered back a step, his headphones slipping askew to reveal gaunt cheeks and shadows so deep beneath his eyes they looked painted on. His oversized hoodie swallowed his frame, the fabric worn thin at the elbows. A survivor, like me. But where I felt wired with nervous energy, he seemed... hollowed out.
"No worries," he said, adjusting his headphones. The ghost of a smile flickered across his face before vanishing.
I eyed the headphones. A stupid hope flared in my chest. "Do you... have service?"
He barked a laugh that sounded more like a cough. "Just downloaded songs." His fingers tapped an absent rhythm against his thigh. "Music helps me forget that..." His gesture encompassed the flickering lights, the too-clean walls, the metallic taste of fear that hadn't left my mouth since the first game.
Then he stiffened, shoulders hunching. "Shit. Sorry. Didn't mean to trauma-dump on a stranger."
I studied the scuffs on his sneakers - one lace fraying, the other replaced with what looked like dental floss. We were all unraveling here, just at different speeds.
"Better a listening stranger than no one at all," I said carefully. Every potential ally mattered now. Every connection could mean survival.
"Hirata Yosuke." He extended a hand. His nails were bitten raw, but his grip was firm.
"Saki." His palm was clammy against mine. "Nice to meet you. Given the..." I waved vaguely at the ceiling speaker that had announced our deaths with such cheerful indifference.
A sudden weight crashed into my legs.
"Biggy sis! You helped me and Mommy!"
Yui. The little girl from the ticket game. Her tiny hands clutched at my jeans, leaving smudges from whatever she'd been eating. Today's bow was lopsided, her bangs sticking up at odd angles. Alive. Unbroken. A miracle.
Her mother appeared like a shadow, hands fluttering. "Yui, don't bother-"
"But I'm talking to Big Sis!" Yui's pout could have melted glaciers. Without thinking, I scooped her up. She smelled like strawberry shampoo and something faintly metallic - blood? My stomach turned.
"About earlier..." The memory of snapping at her burned my tongue. "I didn't mean to yell. I was just..."
Yui blinked up at me with those enormous eyes. " Huh what are you talking about ? you mean When your boyfriend gave me chocolate?" She announced this to the entire corridor, tiny finger jabbing toward where I'd left Yuuta. "That was nice!"
Hirata coughed into his fist. My cheeks burned.
"Food's being served," Yui's mother interjected, her voice the thinnest veneer over panic. "Would you... join us?"
I hesitated until Yui added: "Mr. Kappa said it's free!" Her whisper-conspiratorial tone suggested she was revealing state secrets.
The dining car was a study in surreal normalcy. Steam rose from chafing dishes of rice and miso soup. The fish looked... fresh. That unsettled me more than if it had been rotting.
At a nearby table, the old man from the first game - Masachi's friend - pushed vegetables around his plate while his teenage grandson glared.
"Eat. You need strength."
"You first, Gramps. That's the third time you've moved those peas."
"I'm old. You're growing."
A chair scraped. Kyome - the widow - passed us clutching a water bottle, her knuckles white. The skin around her eyes was raw, rubbed pink from endless tears. She moved like her bones were made of glass.
I loaded two trays with methodical care: miso soup with extra tofu (Yuuta's favorite), grilled salmon with the skin crisp the way he liked it, a careful mound of rice. My own portions were smaller - just enough to keep functioning.
"Bye, Biggy Sis!" Yui waved both hands as they left. "Tell your boyfriend I want more chocolate next time!"
The plastic trays trembled in my grip. Free food on a death train? I knew better than anyone - nothing in this world came without a price. The real question was what ours would be.
The Next Day
The announcer's voice crackled through the overhead speakers, laced with a mockery that chilled the spine.
"Dear passengers, your second game will be... more interesting. You must cross the Blood River by balancing on floating logs. The twist? You'll need a partner. Fail to synchronize, and…"
A wet, gnashing sound followed.
"Let's just say the crocodiles haven't been fed today."
A low ripple of unease swept through the group as we were ushered into an empty train car. The floor was unnaturally clean—gleaming like a sterilized surgical table. It wouldn't stay that way for long.
"Where's this damn river? Are you kidding me?" an old man barked, his face flushing purple with rage. His grandson clung to his arm, trying to soothe him.
"Grandpa, calm down—"
"Apologies for the inconvenience," the announcer cut in, voice dripping amusement.
Then the floor vanished beneath our feet.
In its place surged a river—thick, dark red, viscous. Floating on its surface were rotting, unsteady logs. Below the murk, shadows churned—too many teeth, too many eyes.
Yuuta stood frozen beside me, exhaling sharply.
"This is serious…" he muttered.
I grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly.
"We're partners. We'll make it."
My thumb brushed over his knuckles like a quiet vow. He nodded, but his jaw was clenched tight.
Then someone spoke up—shattering the tension.
"Excuse me!"
It was Hirata—the boy from yesterday—raising his hand like he was in a classroom.
"There are thirty-nine of us. That's an odd number. Isn't that... unfair?"
A pause. Heads turned. Murmured counting.
Then the announcer's voice returned, purring with delight.
"Very well. A mini-game, then. To even the odds."
Something groaned into existence at the center of the car.
A cow.
Its fur was matted, its teeth yellowed and crooked. One bloated udder dripped a yellowish fluid.
"Milking this cow earns you safe passage," the announcer explained. "Just grab its tail—it will carry you across. Only one winner. Begin."
I recoiled instinctively. Even if I won, I'd never leave Yuuta.
The soldier—Urasaka—stepped forward, jaw tight.
He reached for the udder.
CRACK.
The cow's hoof slammed into his ribs, knocking him back. He crumpled, coughing hard, arms wrapped around his side.
"Urasaka uncle, okay?" a small voice piped up.
Yui. She trotted over, clutching something.
"You lost this!" she chirped, handing him his name tag.
He blinked, winded. "How did you—?"
She smiled as he patted her head.
Then the old man shoved his grandson forward.
"You try."
"Grandpa! Did you see what just happened—?"
"Even a slim chance is still a chance. Go."
Trembling, the boy obeyed. Another kick to the gut.
One by one they tried—twenty attempts. Twenty failures.
Then Priest Kobayashi strode forward, robes flaring.
"In God's name, I command you—"
The cow headbutted him so hard he flew backward, skidding to the river's edge. He dangled from the platform, crocodiles circling below. The cow snorted, thoroughly unimpressed.
Silence fell.
Then—
"Mr. Cow, hungry?"
Yui waddled forward again, cheeks dusted with cake crumbs. She extended a soggy, half-eaten slice.
"Here!"
The cow sniffed. Then licked. Then—
—gently lifted her by the collar and placed her beside the udder.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Yui reached out. The cow twitched—but allowed her to pull. A thin stream of milk arched into the pail.
"Congratulations, Yui!" the announcer sang. "Hold on to its tail and enjoy your ride!"
Without hesitation, the cow began wading into the blood-red river. None of the predators dared approach.
Yui waved back at her stunned mother.
"Look, Mommy! I won!"