I'd always imagined meeting Saeko Busujima would feel like stepping into a samurai movie—serious, intense, full of stoic energy and swordplay-heavy metaphors. Instead, it felt like nearly getting my head taken off.
The moment I turned the corner behind a collapsed vending machine near the school courtyard, a blur of violet hair and sharp steel came crashing into my periphery. I ducked, barely fast enough. The blade cut the air where my neck had just been.
"Hold!" I snapped, dropping into a stance without thinking.
She froze mid-swing.
Violet eyes met mine. No fear. No apology. Just recognition.
"You're not one of them."
Her voice was calm, steady, like the screaming around us wasn't even happening. She held her bokken in one hand—stained with something dark—and stepped back with practiced control.
"Barely," I muttered, straightening. "You're a little quick to swing at strangers, don't you think?"
"There are no strangers anymore," she said. "Only survivors… and the dead."
She studied me. Her gaze dropped to the katana at my hip. "That's not school-issued."
"Neither am I."
Her mouth twitched—just a little. Not quite a smile. More like an acknowledgment. A real one.
We didn't have time to talk. Screams echoed from the hallway behind us. Saeko turned toward the sound without hesitation, like she'd been born to move toward danger.
I followed.
The gym building was overrun. Half a dozen students—bleeding, cornered—had barricaded themselves behind some gym mats and a toppled cart. Three zombies were clawing at the barrier. Two more had already broken through.
Saeko was already moving.
I watched her fight from behind, and it hit different than anything else I'd seen. It wasn't just skill. It was grace and calculation and something darker, just beneath the surface. She wasn't scared. Not even close. She was alive in a way most people weren't.
She pivoted, dropped one infected with a brutal strike to the skull, and swept another's legs before crushing its temple with a fluid overhead swing.
The last two turned toward her.
Then I moved.
My blade sang again. Faster this time. Cleaner.
One slash. A twist. The head hit the floor before the body followed.
The students behind the barrier gawked. Saeko didn't. She turned to me, bokken resting against her shoulder.
"You know how to use that blade."
"Only recently," I said. "Still figuring some of it out."
She studied me again. This time with more interest.
"I've never seen you before. Not among the regular students."
"I'm new."
"That much is obvious."
We helped the survivors into the supply room two halls down, blocked the entrances, and left them behind with strict instructions: don't open the doors, don't call out, and if someone gets bit—handle it, fast.
As we stepped back into the hallway, Saeko finally asked what she'd been thinking since the first swing.
"Where did you learn swordsmanship?"
I didn't lie. Not exactly.
"Let's just say I had... help."
She didn't press. Either she didn't care, or she'd decided that whatever answers I had weren't necessary right now.
But she was watching me differently now. Like someone reevaluating a dangerous animal that had just proven it could be useful.
We made it outside the main building before she spoke again.
"You move like someone who understands violence."
"And you don't flinch from it," I said. "Even when most people would."
Saeko turned, her gaze catching mine under the overhang of the walkway.
"There's a part of me that feels more whole in this chaos than I ever did in peace," she said, voice low. "It frightens me. But it's also... clarifying."
She expected judgment. That much was clear.
I just nodded.
"Maybe we need people like that now."
She blinked once. Slowly. Then offered a nod of her own.
[Contract Opportunity Detected – "Acceptance of the Self."]
[Status: Dormant. Requirement: Demonstrated Trust in Combat.]
[System Note: Oh, now this one's going to be fun. Try not to get sliced.]
I stepped forward, wiping my blade clean on a torn jacket before sheathing it.
"We're setting up a base nearby," I said. "Just outside the main grid. Secure for now. Could use someone who knows how to handle a blade."
She didn't answer right away.
Then: "I'll come with you. But I don't follow orders."
"Neither do I," I said. "We'll get along fine."
As we crossed the blood-slick pavement, side by side, I knew one thing for sure:
This world wasn't about to kill me.
Not with a sword in my hand.
And not with her at my side.