A/N: So I always wonder what would happen if Korosensei, our favorite sensei couple and Class E were placed in a zombie apocalypse. When the idea struck me, I immediately started writing and this is the result of it. I have a lot of ideas in mind as we progress further, so I hope you enjoy what I have to offer.
Prologue...
Written By: Sw1tcheroo
"Death is lighter than a feather, but Duty is heavier than a mountain."
― Robert Jordan, To the Blight
What's that old saying? Same stuff, different day?
It's a phrase used to describe the daily grind of our lives. You get up, eat breakfast, shower, get dressed, go to work, go home, eat dinner, watch television, hit the sack. If anyone ever asks you how things are going, you answer "same stuff, different day."
It's amazing how that phrase could apply so well to a world where all the old routines are gone. Not just gone, but tied up, dragged into the woods, shot in the back of the head, the remains burned and the ashes scattered to the four winds.
Yet as Nagisa Shiota looked upon the hordes of the undead, he was both amazed and terrified that this sight was one he was getting all too used to.
The animated corpses reached for him, though he was a good 50 feet above ground, on the roof of the Deiri Toribyun, a newspaper company which covered the comings and goings of Tokyo. Despite the futility of their attempts, they moaned, hunger ravaging their very souls, if the undead could be said to possess such things. Their hideous, pathetic wails echoed off the tall coniferous trees which surrounded the office, trees which Nagisa often looked at outside the windows. Whenever he was feeling stressed out, all he had to do was gaze upon those trees and he always felt at peace.
Two months ago, when he and his fellow classmates decided to stay put and wait for the Army or the police to rescue them, those wails made it impossible to sleep. No matter how they tried to shut them out, that constant, monotonous sound crept into the core of their being, strangling any hope or joy.
But after only 60 days, these wails, like the presence of the undead, were just another part of the daily routine.
His eyes roamed the zombies, flesh-eating ghouls without intelligence, yet driven by an insatiable desire to consume the flesh of the living. Rotted skin and flesh hung off weathered bone, evidence of advanced decay. Others merely sported the wounds which had infected them, most of which were on the neck area. No one was sure why the undead went for that spot on the human body more than any other. Maybe the flesh there just tasted sweeter.
The creatures numbered in the hundreds, filling the parking lot, the street on which the office was located, and the parking lot beside it. They all wore the clothes which labeled their place in society. Mailmen, cops, school students, convenience store workers, landscapers, plumbers, nurses. The plague wasn't picky about whom it claimed, that much was certain. As Nagisa scanned the crowd, he saw the misshapen form the former editor-in-chief. When the creatures first started showing up, she, in a panic, had tried to make a run for her car.
It had taken her three hours and twenty seven minutes to die. Nagisa remembered. He had kept track.
Now, he barely recognized her. The light in her eyes was gone, as were the pupils. Blood matted the red argyle sweater she had worn to work that day, and most of the inside of her throat, abdomen and left arm could be seen. Her intestines spilled out like spaghetti, dragging on the asphalt lot as she slowly shuffled around, no direction, no purpose behind that shambling gait.
The only way to kill a zombie is to smash in the head, destroying the brain. It's not as hard as it sounds, but by the same token, it's not as easy either. Just depends on how well you keep your wits about you. A gun works best, but if you find yourself suffering from a severe lack of firearms, a bat, crowbar, or even a handy old rock will do the trick. After the editor-in-chief had died, after she came back as one of those things, it took all his classmates and teachers to stop Nagisa from running out into the parking lot and killing her himself. Better she die than achieve that twisted version of immortality, he thought. Not a bad quote. Would have made for a dynamite story.
She looked up at Nagisa and snarled, a deep predatory growl, then began to moan. It was like the undead indicator they had found fresh meat. Once one found prey they would moan or growl. Soon the call would be heard by others and repeated, over and over again. For such mindless creatures, it was an effective way of communicating.
So routine had this scene become that Nagisa didn't even look up as he heard the sound of a door opening. The undead possessed few skills, opening locked doors being on the list of can't do. He turned to see his friend Kaeda Kayano walk onto the roof.
"Any luck?" he asked, although by the dejected look on her face he already knew the answer.
She shook her head. "All we get is that automated message telling us to lock the doors and wait for help. I doubt the police are still around. Korosensei checked to confirm it just now."
"Sure they are. I see two of them right there," a nonchalant voice said as Karma Akabane sauntered over to the edge and pointed down.
They followed his finger and sure enough, spied two officers, one with half his face missing and the other with one arm torn off at the elbow. Their skin had taken on a gray, pallid tone since they changed, a common enough occurrence in any corpse once the blood stopped circulating. They snarled and tried to reach for the two humans on the roof, but they had no chance of ever getting them.
Zombies are mindless creatures, only capable of climbing stairs or opening a door so long as it isn't shut or locked. Anything beyond that is beyond them.
Kayano gave Nagisa a nudge. "Come inside," she said, getting to her feet. "You're going to drive yourself nuts if you stay up here all day."
"At this point that'd be the shortest trip on record." Karma remarked. "You head inside and take a break, Nagisa. I'll play lookout for now."
"Are you sure, Karma-kun?" he asked wearily.
He didn't bother giving a verbal response and nodded. Karma dropped the guitar case he was carrying and pulled out a sniper rifle. He dismantled it and stripped it down and was now cleaning each piece lovingly with a well-used rag. As Nagisa and Kayano went back inside, they could hear the redhead whistling an unfamiliar tune that blended with the zombies moaning.
From attempts to assassinating their supernatural teacher who threatened to destroy the earth to surviving in a zombie apocalypse…what more could Class E possibly take?