Sakuma is here! He's truly a great friend and anyone can tell that he cares a lot for Kidou, and perhaps even for Fudou.

He strikes me as an emotionally volatile person as well. He's never afraid of raising his voice (or his fists) to protect the people that matter to him.

Anyways, thank you for reading and please enjoy!

Chapter 4

For the majority of five hours, they were caught in a tangle of limbs, blood stains and dried tears.

Five hours, and Kidou's infected bite still hadn't spread to the rest of his body, or more specifically, to his brain.

It was an indisputable miracle; Fudou looked at him as if he were the second coming of Christ. He had actually counted down the hours on his rusted watch, becoming increasingly bewildered every minute that passed. There was no discoloration of his skin (besides the clamminess from pain and blood loss), no signs of aggression and his eyes were still as clear as glass.

It simply wasn't possible. The longest period of time that someone had remained sane after being bitten was a little above an hour. Fudou wondered if it was just a delayed reaction in Kidou's body, if it was nothing more than an unexpected anomaly of the virus. Despite the many decades since the disease outbreak, little information had been uncovered about the origin and details of the virus itself. It wasn't surprising really, since government scientists weren't excluded from the unforgiving, cruel and long arm of the prevalent infection.

Fudou anxiously tapped the barrel of the gun against his wrist, waiting for his companion to awaken. He had to forcibly wring the weapon out of Kidou's grasp and knock him out by the back of his neck.

Kidou had almost shot himself.

"Please, I don't want to hurt you."

Fudou squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. His entire torso was trembling in trepidation that Kidou would ultimately, imminently turn into one of those things. He had basically no idea what course of action to take either. Should he take the risk and bring him back into the quarantine zone? But, doing so would lead to a potential outbreak inside one of the last few safe zones of Tokyo. It wouldn't be a responsible decision to endanger the other civilians, however they couldn't stay in the tunnel forever, not when Kidou's wound was starting to spew out yellow pus. If the virus wouldn't kill him, normal bacterial infection would.

Moreover, Kidou might, and here Fudou held his breath.

Kidou might just be immune.

The abrupt static from his radio transceiver jolted him out of his thoughts, and quickly he yanked it from his waistband. It was a small, black device, and incredibly useful. He had stolen a couple of them from the guard's office a few years back, and it had allowed him to communicate with the other members of the group effectively, proving to be highly efficient in many occasions. There was only one person capable of calling him now, since Fudou had trusted him with the other set. He was the one person Fudou did not want to talk to in his current situation.

The device in his hand turned into a frightening black machine, one that he wanted to smash onto the wall and watch shatter into a million pieces. He knew he had to face the consequences of his actions eventually, but he definitely wasn't prepared for it. How could he ever explain what he had done?

The repetitive buzzing subsided when he finally pressed the button, his jittering fingers bringing it up to his ear.

"Fudou! Where the hell are you? It's almost midday! Is Kidou with you?"

Sakuma's loud voice sounded strangely dislocated through the speaker, yet it was still as sharp and shrill as per usual. Fudou drew in a shaky breath, regretting ever giving the transmitter to one of the most temperamental people he'd ever met.

"He— he got bitten," Fudou admitted, shutting his eyes. "A couple hours back, but somehow he's... still... still human."

The silence that ensued was undeniably petrifying. He could almost imagine Sakuma's face hardening into a mask of disbelief, and the realizing thought of how much Kidou meant to Sakuma struck his chest like a bullet wound. Sakuma treasured Kidou as a close friend, as a confidant and the person he would go to for advice. Their friendship was unbreakable, tight and well-bonded over years of knowing each other. Fudou ground his teeth together, his nails digging into the palms of his sweaty hands.

"It was my fault," Fudou continued, the confident voice that he wore so often draining into nothing but a guilty husk.

"I went outside through the tunnel, and he went after me. We wanted to come back, but he— he got bit. It's all my fault."

"...You...you what...?" Anger— No, raw wrath and fury dripped from his every word, the syllables painfully dragging out as if he were having trouble choking them out of his throat. Out of all his ferocious outbursts of rage, Fudou had never heard Sakuma's voice in such a toxic and belligerent tone.

"Kidou got bitten? I can't fucking believe you, Fudou!" Sakuma was so close to screaming that Fudou had to pull the device away from his ear. "Please tell me you're joking. Are you serious? You let Kidou get infected? Are you fucking serious?"

"He hasn't turned," Fudou interrupted hastily, clearing his throat as his voice faltered. "It's been at least five hours."

Sakuma was temporarily dumbfounded, but the rage promptly rushed back as vexation.

"Where is he? Where are you both? Wait, you know what, that doesn't matter. Bring him back to your place, now. You hear me?! Now."

With that, white static blasted back into Fudou's ear. Sakuma had slammed off the transceiver in the midst of his infuriation, and judging from his colorful words, he probably wouldn't mind seeing Fudou's head on a skewer at the moment.

Not that Fudou expected to be doused in forgiveness and understanding in the first place.

The front door burst open violently, the wooden frame slamming against the drywall and rattling the entire living room's scarce furniture.

Fudou unsteadily staggered into the room, arduously limping with Kidou's arm draped heavily over his shoulders.

"Ma," he called out, or rather, shouted. "Ma!"

Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to call for his mother when he looked like he'd just been through hell. His entire body was splotched in sweat, mud and partially-dried blood. His exhausted eyes were droopy and red-rimmed, his hair chaotically sticking out at different angles with the front locks clinging desperately onto his pallid face.

Kidou didn't look much better either.

"Fudou... Where are we?"

A feeble voice, but a voice nonetheless. Fudou couldn't even find the words to describe his relief and happiness of hearing Kidou speak for another day.

"We're back at my place. You gotta rest, okay? I'll get you some bandages and water."

Kidou managed a small nod and a grunt as a response, heavily collapsing onto the hard sofa as soon as Fudou guided him there.

The soft shuffling from the kitchenette made Fudou flick a glance up to see his mother.

"Akio. You're home at last," She wiped her hands on her skirt as she appeared in the kitchen doorway. The sight of her petite frame had always managed to give Fudou a sense of reassurance in the past, but now all he could feel was pure, unadulterated dread pulling at his stomach like an invisible vice.

Fudou unconsciously scrutinized her appearance, penitence washing over him when he observed that she looked fatigued and downright lonely, an expression that he realized was more often there than not. She had subtle eye bags framing her glazed jade eyes and her chestnut hair seemed to flutter in the glare of the sunlight through the open window, appearing about as thin and translucent as spider webs. It was a baffling process, Fudou thought. She seemed to have aged decades since the last time he'd seen her. Then again, Fudou couldn't even remember when he had last been home.

Fudou had always been conflicted of his feelings towards her. A part of him yearned for her love and approval, yet another darker side of his heart loathed her for forcing him to mature far too quickly. He was always pressured to be stronger, tougher, bolder, all for her not to gaze upon him with crestfallen eyes. He had promised himself, when he was young, to never become like her. She was the definition of weak, akin to that of a porcelain vase, a delicate flower, and Fudou had always seen her as such. She was a soft-spoken, fragile woman in constant need of protection, in need of a son strong enough to provide her with safety and stability. Yet even though she was his mother, she was never able to protect him.

She gasped at the sight of him, her pale face twisting into one of shock. "Akio! What happened to you?! What's going on? Why are you covered in blood?!"

A thousand excuses flitted through his head, trying desperately to think of a good enough reason for his disheveled appearance. Her questioning gaze dipped down to Kidou, who was still clasping onto his injured arm.

"We got jumped on our way back," was what he eventually settled for, smoothly lying through his teeth. Fresh sweat droplets sprouted and poured down his face as he caught her stony stare, and instinctively he moved to block the sight of Kidou.

Realization blossomed on her face, her brows furrowing into a pretty little 'v' as she balled her fists, knuckles sizzling ice-white with anger. "Just who do you think I am? I am your mother, Akio. You couldn't lie to me even if your life depended on it. Tell me the truth," she spat irritably, stomping forward without waiting for a response.

Without missing a beat, she shoved him out of the way and snatched Kidou's arm up, immediately dropping it like a hot iron when she caught sight of the tell-tale teethmarks dotted on his skin.

"You brought an infected person into the quarantine zone?!" She cried, her voice wavering on a thin line between panic and fear. "Have you gone insane?! Why did you bring him here? Do you have any idea of the amount of danger you put us in?!"

"He's different!" Fudou rebutted, clamping his large hands onto her shoulders in a futile attempt to keep her from hyperventilating. "He hasn't turned in nearly five hours now. I think he might be immune!"

His words were paper pellets to a bullet-proof vest. She pushed him away and shuffled back like she was facing a serial killer instead of her own son, pearl droplets forming on her waterline and diving down her bloodless cheeks. She placed her hands over her mouth and cast him the one look she knew would tear his heart apart. The look of utter disappointment.

"This isn't just about you, Akio. What have you done..." She spoke in a soft, detached voice before she turned and ran, but her words still reverberated within his skull, getting louder and louder, sending the sharpest pain straight through his body until he doesn't even notice that the front door has closed and he's left completely alone in the world.

How many times had he played this scene in his head? How many times had he mentally prepared himself for this exact scenario? The tightening curl of her lips, her hooded eyes withering into dry frost, the last traces of whatever little love she had for him dissipating from her face. It was his literal worst nightmare to be seen as nothing, to be worth nothing, to be abandoned like he was nothing. It was the reason why he had kept a distance from his own mother in the first place. What did she even expect from a six-year-old boy with shivering hands? The gripping fear of not living up to her high expectations was enough for him to build a thick wall around his heart, leaving it isolated and barren. He had taught himself to carve strength into the void, convincing himself that it was all he needed to survive.

Even after all his efforts to shut her out, she still was everything he had.

"Fudou, are you alright?" Kidou's softhearted voice drifted into his raging thoughts.

Right. How could he forget? He still had Kidou by his side.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's get you patched up." He wiped his wet face with the back of his hand, snuffing out his emotions and pretending that he hadn't just been on the edge of having a complete mental breakdown. Kidou had been asleep during the entire ordeal, and thankfully he had enough emotional sensitivity to keep himself from prying.

Fudou brought the medical box to his injured friend. It was a reasonably easy process with nothing complicated in the least. Fudou had treated countless injuries, cuts and bruises before this. All he really needed was some water, antiseptic ointment, gauze and bandages. He wiped off the excess pus, added pressure to stop the bleeding and tenderly dressed the various breakages in the skin before wrapping Kidou's entire forearm with bandages. He was finally at ease that the bacterial infection was contained at the moment. Alleviated inflammatory pain was one of the worst things that could happen to an open wound, and he could only imagine the amount of pain Kidou had to endure up until now.

The front door slammed open for the second time in the day, the force used this time around so brutal that the metal hinges flung off the wall and the entire main entrance came crashing down in a chaotic mess.

Sakuma doesn't even glance back at the destruction he caused, his single amber eye blown wide and overflowing with unmitigated ire, solely focused on Fudou's frame. The guilty convict stood up at his arrival, which only served to inflate Sakuma's already immeasurable ferocity.

"You son of a bitch!" Sakuma's hard fist connected squarely with Fudou's cheek, forcing him to stumble back, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Sakuma's conniption through the transceiver was apparently just the tip of the iceberg, the entirety of his vehemence now brazenly displayed for all to see. Fudou doesn't glare at him, doesn't snarl, doesn't do anything. He had absolutely no right to defend himself, hopelessly savoring the thought that Sakuma would deliver a punch hard enough to break his jaw. He deserved all the pain and agony in the world for what he had put Kidou through.

"You're the boss, Fudou! You're supposed to protect your members! I'd understand if this was a non-serious injury, but he almost died because of you! You placed him in danger when you promised to protect him! What were you even thinking?!" Sakuma grabbed the collar of his shirt, yanking him up and baring his teeth. Fudou was as limp as a ragdoll in his grasp.

"S—Stop! Stop hitting him!" Kidou shouted, or at least he did an airy, exhausted version of one. He strained his tired muscles to push his body up and seize Sakuma's raised fist. "He saved me, Sakuma. We got chased by tons of walkers in the tunnel— hundreds of them. He carried me and ran all the way back although I had already been bitten. He... he even stopped me from killing myself. Please don't hit him."

His pleading words thankfully seemed to cut through Sakuma's fury, acting like a tranquilizer in a way. The anger visibly diminished from his rigid stance, warmth gradually flowing back into his face. Almost begrudgingly, he released his hold on Fudou and shot him a dirty glare. "Fine."

"So, boss, what are you going to do," Sakuma said flatly when Fudou gave no response, his tone leaning more towards a statement than a question. "What's the big plan? If Kidou is immune, doesn't that mean that he's the cure? What now?"

Sakuma made no effort to hide his cynicism.

"First off, we need to find the people who are still working on a cure. Scientists—independent scientists might know what to do," Fudou replied, locking his dauntless gaze with Sakuma's. Hadn't he been overwhelmed with remorse just moments before?

Uneasiness rolled into the stagnant air. For once, Sakuma wished that Fudou, who was as irritatingly commanding as usual, didn't always have an answer in the blink of an eye. Finding independent scientists? That would mean leaving the quarantine zone and also drawing target boards on their foreheads. Was Fudou suggesting to place themselves in death's jaws again?

"I overheard some patrolling soldiers talking about scientists about a month ago. They said a group of private researchers are gathered in Shibuya. That's where their base is, apparently," Kidou said.

Sakuma couldn't believe his ears. Was Kidou actually going along with Fudou's suicide plan? He opened his mouth, but promptly shut it when he remembered that Kidou could be the world's salvation.

"I'd say that's about fifteen to twenty miles away from the underground tunnel. That's less than a day's worth of travel," Fudou said, finally easing his tensed muscles. He definitely had experience with traveling outside the walls, having taken illegal jobs of smuggling and trading goods, although he had never been further than Shinjuku. Still, it was feasible to get there.

Kidou dug his fingers into the hem of his shirt, feeling cold butterflies wriggle in the pits of his stomach. It was a huge responsibility to be the possible savior of humanity, and that realization was starting to dawn onto him.

"Well, the important thing now is to keep Kidou's condition an absolute secret," Sakuma sighed. Although he disapproved of the plan, there was nothing he could argue about when the fate of the world depended on this. Depended on Kidou. "He's not fit to travel until he's completely healed."

Fudou's hazy memory abruptly cleared at the sentence, remembering that his mother had figured out what happened to Kidou, and remembering that she was an indubitably hysterical and emotionally-unstable woman.

"Wait, where's my mom?"

His heart leaped to his throat as he rushed to the window and leaned out until his stomach was dangerously bent over the metal pane, hoping to catch a glimpse of her vintage flower skirt and tousled hair on the barren streets. There! Fudou spotted her fairly easily, about three to four blocks away from their apartment complex. A group of patrolling soldiers had formed a ring akin to that of a cult circle around her as she made wild gestures in their direction, her mouth forming incomprehensible words. Fudou didn't need to hear what she was saying to know what she had done.

No freaking way.

Time seemed to have stagnated, tossing Fudou into a vacuum as he watched her arm rise with a deathly slowness, a bony witch finger uncurling, unraveling, pointing rod-straight at their window.

Fudou instantly pulled back from the window ledge, apprehension thumping in his chest like a sledgehammer as his blank head fuzzed over. Oh god, when will it end? He was trapped in a never-ending nightmare, with life-threatening events greeting him at every corner.

Sakuma's brows knitted together at his uncomfortably stiff stature, skeptically staring at him like he had gone mad.

"My mother's informing the soldiers. We have to go," Fudou muttered grimly to no one in particular, his feet stumbling about in confusion for a brief moment.

"Why? What did she tell them?" Sakuma asked worriedly as Fudou bolted around, grabbing a pair of backpacks and tossing one to Kidou, who was getting progressively stressed from all of the commotion.

"She knows! She saw Kidou's bite! We have to go!"

Kidou forced himself up from the couch, visibly shaken by Fudou's warning. Sakuma could tell that he wanted nothing more than a few extra minutes of rest, which he rightfully deserved, but he could do no such thing if he wanted to live for another day. With unsteady steps he followed a frantic Fudou into the kitchen to grab bottles of water and medical supplies.

Sakuma scoffed at the sight, scrunching up his nose and folding his arms in disbelief as his two friends ridiculously scrambled around the apartment. This was Fudou's mother they were talking about. What kind of mother would purposefully betray her own son? The very idea of it was preposterous.

"Could you calm down? Jesus, Fudou, you're such a drama queen. There's no way your mother told the guards about Kidou."

The gunshot came right as Sakuma finished his sentence.