The city was screaming.
Even from the edge of the school lot, I could hear it—horns blaring, glass shattering, the raw panic of a world beginning to break. It was distant now, but soon it would crawl down every street and alley like fire chasing dry leaves.
Miyako and I ducked behind a maintenance shed, both of us panting, her hand still clinging to my wrist like she hadn't decided if she was terrified of me or for me. Maybe both.
Her voice came out rough, like it had been scraped raw. "Where do we go?"
I peered through the chain-link fence. "We need a base. Somewhere we can secure. Keep moving, and we'll be running forever. First we survive the day. Then we figure out tomorrow."
She didn't argue. Just nodded.
Good.
We moved through the back road behind the school, cutting through overgrown grass and abandoned bikes. My old memories—my real memories—were kicking in now. The layout of the neighborhood. Which buildings had exits. Which alleys were traps.
We found it five blocks out. An old supply shop that used to sell survival gear before the owner retired and turned it into a glorified junkyard. Windows barred. Side door rusted shut, but intact. The inside smelled like dust and motor oil.
It would do.
I locked the doors behind us, shoved a shelf against the entrance, and finally—finally—let out a breath.
Miyako sank to the floor, trembling now that we were still. I handed her a bottle of water from a crate and watched her drink like her hands would stop working any second.
[System Alert: Temporary Safe Zone Established – "Kobayashi Tools."]
[Analyzing area... Shelter Rating: Moderate. Threat Level: Low.]
[Quest Complete: Establish Base of Operations]
[Reward: Katana + Professional Level Swordsmanship]
[Item Placed in Inventory. Skill Uploaded.]
My vision flickered.
It wasn't painful—just sharp, like a pressure spike behind the eyes. In a blink, I felt it: weight, balance, form. The way your feet should settle into the ground. Where to grip. Where to cut. Swordsmanship wasn't just knowledge now. It was instinct.
In the corner of the shop, leaning against the wall, was the reward.
A katana, wrapped in dark cloth and bound with a seal I hadn't noticed before. I pulled it free, let the steel breathe. It sang as it slid out of the sheath. Light, lethal, real.
The moment I gripped the hilt, I knew it.
I could kill with this.
Not flail. Not survive by chance. I could fight.
Miyako stared at it with wide eyes. "Where did you—?"
"I told you," I said quietly. "I have help."
She didn't press. Just hugged her knees to her chest and nodded again, too tired to keep doubting.
Night came fast. We kept the lights off. I laid out old blankets and scavenged food. I stood watch while Miyako dozed against the wall, her hand gripping my jacket like letting go would make her disappear.
I didn't sleep.
I couldn't.
[System Status: First Blood Threshold Approaching.]
[To grow stronger, host must engage. Kill or be killed.]
Right.
The sword was meant for more than show.
I opened the door just before dawn.
Outside, the street was quiet—but not empty.
Two infected wandered near the crosswalk, dragging their limbs with that unnatural stiffness that never stopped being wrong. One wore a school uniform. The other had a piece of someone's arm still hanging from its mouth.
I didn't hesitate.
I moved forward.
No hesitation. No fear. Just motion.
The katana cut clean through the first neck. The second turned too slow. A step, a pivot, and the blade slipped into its side, through its ribs, and out with a hiss of ruined breath.
They dropped.
Blood hissed against the pavement.
[First Kill Bonus: +1 Physical Enhancement. Reflexes Boosted.]
I stood there, heartbeat steady. The sword hummed in my hand like it approved.
When I returned to the shop, Miyako was awake, staring at the door.
"You killed them," she said, not asking.
"I had to."
Her eyes lingered on the blood drying on my sleeve. She didn't flinch. "You're not like the others."
"No," I said. "I'm not."
And I couldn't afford to be.