A scream rang out in the distance.
Akira Takashiro adjusted the straps on his backpack, barely sparing a glance at the commotion outside the school gates. People screamed all the time in Tokyo—either from drunken fights, accidents, or the occasional psycho attacking someone with a box cutter. It wasn’t his problem.
Instead, he kept his eyes on the book in his hands, flipping through diagrams of makeshift water filtration systems. His favorite survivalist forums had been debating the best emergency purification methods, and he wanted to test them himself.
“Oi, nerd.”
Akira sighed, shutting his book as a familiar figure plopped onto the desk beside him. Tatsuya "Tatsu" Kurogane, his best friend and the only person in school who wasn’t completely useless in a crisis.
"You hear about what happened near Shibuya?" Tatsu asked, leaning in. His usual cocky grin was missing. "Some dude went nuts on a train, bit a woman’s face off. Cops shot him, but he got up and kept moving."
Akira frowned. That wasn't normal. “Drugs?”
“That’s what they’re saying. But there’s more. People are acting weird downtown—like, feral weird.”
Akira’s fingers drummed against his book. This wasn’t the first bizarre news story he’d heard in the past week. Rumors of people collapsing in the streets, hospitals filling up with violent patients, and entire buildings being locked down overnight. The government wasn’t saying anything, but Akira had a feeling something serious was brewing beneath the surface.
The government never admits anything until it’s too late.
Before he could answer, the school’s PA system crackled to life.
"Attention students. Due to an emergency situation, all classes are suspended until further notice. Please remain inside the school and await further instructions."
Akira and Tatsu exchanged a glance. That was not normal.
Then the first explosion shook the building.
Screams erupted from the front gate as a flood of bodies crashed through. At first, Akira thought it was another riot—Tokyo had been getting more violent lately. But then he saw the blood, the way people moved in erratic, unnatural motions, their mouths dripping with chunks of flesh.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
It wasn’t a riot. It was an outbreak.
Teachers rushed to the windows, their faces pale.
"What the hell—?!"
One of them barely had time to finish his sentence before a woman slammed into the glass, her face mangled, eyes bloodshot and milky. She smashed against the window again, and again, her forehead splitting open as she tried to break through.
And then, Akira saw it.
Her jaw unhinged.
Not like a normal human jaw—it stretched, bones cracking, her tongue twitching unnaturally as she let out a guttural, primal scream. Then her fingers bent backwards, elongating unnaturally, her nails sharpening into claws.
This wasn’t a normal infection.
This was something else.
The students erupted into panic, shoving, running. Bad move. Crowds made people easier to kill.
Akira grabbed Tatsu’s arm. “We need to move. Now.”
“Where?”
Akira’s mind was already working. Schools were terrible places to be trapped—too many windows, too many people. Their best bet was to find a secure spot with weapons and supplies.
“The storage room. First floor.”
Tatsu cursed but followed, shoving through the panicked mass of students.
Just as they reached the stairs, the doors burst open.
The infected poured inside.Akira didn’t freeze. He’d been preparing for this kind of scenario his entire life.
Tatsu grabbed a chair, swinging it into the first infected student’s head. The impact sent the creature sprawling, but it was already getting back up.
They don’t die easily.
Akira scanned his surroundings. Improvised weapons. Anything sharp. Anything heavy. His eyes landed on the fire extinguisher mounted on the wall.
"Cover me!" he ordered, running toward it.
Tatsu cursed but obeyed, shoving desks over to slow the infected down.
Akira yanked the extinguisher free, aiming it at the incoming horde, and pulled the trigger.
A thick cloud of white foam erupted, blinding them.
“GO!”
They sprinted down the hall, taking a sharp turn toward the storage room. Akira kicked the door open, shoving Tatsu inside before slamming it shut.
The infected screeched outside, scratching at the door. But for now, they were safe.
Panting, Tatsu collapsed against a shelf. “What the hell is happening?!”
Akira didn’t answer immediately. He grabbed a crowbar from a nearby shelf, then ripped open a crate. Inside were tools, wires, batteries—exactly what he needed.
He turned to Tatsu. “We’re going to survive this.”
Tatsu swallowed. “Yeah? How?”
Akira’s eyes gleamed with cold calculation.
“By using everything we can.”
Within minutes, Akira had repurposed a broken flashlight and some wires into a makeshift taser. It wouldn’t kill, but it could stun.
Next, he tore fabric from a tarp, creating a basic shoulder pad with duct tape—bite protection.
Tatsu stared. “Dude, you’re a goddamn mad scientist.”
Akira barely heard him. Survival wasn’t about being the strongest. It was about being the smartest.
He looked around the storage room, his mind already calculating every possible escape route, every weapon they could improvise, every tool that could be turned into something lethal.
The school wouldn’t hold forever. If they stayed too long, they’d be trapped when the infected overwhelmed the area.
“We need to move before nightfall,” Akira said.
Tatsu raised an eyebrow. “Where the hell are we gonna go?”
Akira exhaled. The city was collapsing. He needed a place with resources, defensibility, and a way to craft better survival tools.
Then it hit him.
“The subway system.”
Tatsu blinked. “The hell?”
“It’s underground. Limited entrances. If we secure a station, we control who comes in and out.”
Tatsu stared, then let out a breathless chuckle. “You’re a lunatic.”
Akira gripped the crowbar, standing. “No. I’m a survivor.”
And then, they left the storage room, stepping into the end of the world.
