It was hell.

The dead came by night. The dead, with their innumerable ranks, came like a plague and wiped away everything they had worked hard for. The food stores, the weapons cache, all of it blocked out by the shambling mob. All the days spent scavenging, looting, barricading, everything was for naught. Maybe there was a fissure in the basement they failed to take notice of during their sweep, and it proved a costly mistake. Three of their companions had fallen to the horde, one was too injured to walk, and the rest scattered like geese. It's only a matter of time before they're cut off and left at the mercy of the undead.

"Go! Move it! Go! We need to keep moving!"
"But Mika...!"
She shook her head. Mika had sprained her ankle badly in a mishap during one of their scavenging runs. She could barely walk a meter without calling for help. Cold as it made her sound, taking Mika with them would just slow them down greatly, and that was not something they could afford, not now when speed was of the essence. Besides, the way to her quarters had already been cut off by the shamblers. She was as good as gone. "We'll die."
"I am not leaving her behind!" Of course you wouldn't. Mika had been Hayate's greatest crush before the apocalypse started. She could still remember how he'd ask her for advice, and how he'd fumble trying to give the apple of his eye a good impression. Just a few days back he'd finally mustered enough courage to tell her that he'd like her, and just like a cliched romance novel, she reciprocates and confesses that she had always pined for him as well. The three of them celebrated with okonomiyaki and a case of soda. The next day hell broke loose while during English class, nobody in the room the wiser.

"There's nothing we can do for her now! I'm sorry, Hayate!"

"How can you say that?" The heartbreak in his eyes crushed her own. "You were always cheering behind me when I was trying to win her over! And you're gonna abandon me now, just like that? How could you?"

"Look around you!" She roared. "Everything's gone! Ruined! Dammit, Hayate, open your eyes! We're the only ones left!"
"We're not yet sure of that!" He turned, but reflexes honed by years of kendo practice trumped his efforts, and before he knew it, she had already taken hold of his forearm with a grip that could fragment bone. "Let go!"

Her first time to experience being manhandled – by a friend, no less – was a mix of insult and hurt. She had always prided herself as physically superior to her friend, but when he tore free of her grasp and shoved her aside she felt as if she was against a titan. "If you don't wanna help, then fine!" He ran down the hall and disappeared into the flood of death.
"Hayate!" she called again, but he was long gone. "Dammit!" She unsheathed her katana and sprinted after the fool. He made a quick turn and had disappeared before the image even registered in her brain. "Hayate!" She called again. "Get back here!" Tempered steel sliced through necrotic flesh like a hot knife through butter. Left, right, low, they were all over the place. "Hayate!"

Chinatsu Busujima did not enjoy violence. Even as a kendoka, she found no pleasure in the prospect of her weapon connecting to flesh, living or otherwise. She saw the art of the sword as a means of physical fitness and sport, not as an art of killing. Contradictory to the art's principles, she knew, but Chinatsu was the kind of girl who enjoyed learning how to bake pastries and paint cute cartoon animals on porcelain cups. Kendo only became a part of her routine due to her father's insistence, how she should follow the example of her cousin, Saeko. Her body was lean, though she still retained some of its curves. Despite years of conditioning she was as dainty as the average chick one could see walking down the streets of Akibahara or other famous districts.
Her first kill was a classmate who got bit whom they unknowingly tagged along as they went looking for shelter. The wound was not grave, just a gash near the elbow. Ugly, but treatable. As they were walking the boy fell into a seizure and died, then promptly came back to life with an urge for flesh. She only had her practice shinai with her that time, but all it took was one solid bash to cave in the monster's skull. She could still recall the stink of blood fouling her gut, and how she retched thereafter.

She wanted to cry at the sight of their makeshift holdout being overrun by the undead. It was an old but then still-operational family-run eatery that had three floors: the main dining area located on the ground floor, an extension on the second, and a basement that led to the lower streets. When they first came upon the building a few days ago, the place had been abandoned in an obvious hurry. There was still food in the trays, bags and phones on the dining tables, and orders charred beyond help that were still roasting in the fryers when they got there. Though aged, the structure was outfitted with modern security features such as fresh fire shutters and surveillance cameras. The windows were wide enough to give a good view of the outside, but placed just well above ground to ensure that nobody could just climb in. Given the single-minded approach of the dead, that specific feature was a godsend. Otherwise they would have been flooded before their first sigh of relief. But perhaps the best thing they found was a good store of canned and preserved food that could last them for weeks. The storage area was packed with boxes. A fresh haul of supplies had just gotten in, she assumed. All they needed to do was blockade the entrance and they could have actually maintained the place. How they could have missed any possible means of entry still escaped her. She herself joined the security effort and found no suitable point where the enemy could possibly squeeze through. Then again, that was regarding the ares she had checked. A swell of chagrin hounded her for not confirming her companions' reassurances that everything was 'good'. Complacency kills, she learned the hard way.

"Hayate!" She called again, but still came no answer. Chinatsu knew well enough not to give in to desparation, but that was easier said than done. She doubled her haste, sword leveled and ready to slice away at the first sign of danger. Up ahead a lumbering walrus of a ghoul came rushing towards her. I better make this hit count! A hair off calculation and she could easily find her blade lodged into the pudge's unhallowed layerd of fat, which in no way was a good thing. Just shear off the top half of the skull. You can do it. Chinatsu roared and drove the sword tip home. With a dying rasp the behemoth toppled and the remnants of its brainpan spilling all over the floor. She felt her stomach tingle. Using a live blade still felt queer to her. The sensation of cleaving human meat was comparable to cutting up a ripe watermelon. It was hellish, and if it wasn't contributory to survival she would have sworn off the using of her katana to defend herself.

Her pursuit came to a grinding halt when she heard Hayate's dying screams coming from just around the corner. "Oh no...!" Gnashing her teeth like a frustrated hound the girl renewed her assault hacked away in abandon. "Damn you all back to hell!"

She knew that dozens more lurked about, but for now the hallway was granted reprieve. Her friend was a ruined heap, abdomen ripped open and entrails snaking out of the ungodly wound. His nose along with the better half of his face had been feasted on. It hasn't even been a minute... Gurgling and bloody rasps snapped her out of the trance. For an instant her hands felt like they were crafted from pure lead.

"Chinatsu..." It was a miracle she could still make out his voice despite the damage. "I'm... I-I-I-I'm s-s-s-s-sorr—" greusome red spilled from his mouth.

"Hey, hey, what are you apologizing for?" Trying to look so tough never felt so difficult.

"I sh-sh-should h-h-have l-l-l-l-listened..."

"Hayate..." What else could she say? Everything was going to be fine? That would have been a very cruel joke.

"D-do me a f-favor..."

"Anything."

"K-kill m-me..."

She just looked at him.

"P-please... d-d-d-do it..."

"Shh. Come on now, don't talk. Just rest."

"N-no..."

She bit her lip and shook her head. No, no, there has to be a better way. A lie.

"Please... it hurts."

She had known him ever since they were kids. They went to the same school, from primary onwards. He always gave her snacks, and taught her to stand up to bullies. He was among her dearest of friends. And now he was asking her to kill him. Her heart weighed like a boulder as she forced herself to swallow. If she didn't comply, not only would Chinatsu deny her friend a dying request, she would also let him become one of 'them'.

"Don't w-worry, Chi... W-we'll s-s-see e-e-ach other ag-g-gain..."

"Yeah..." she smiled, and did it hurt. "We will."
"Just... p-promise me... not to s-s-soon, though." Hayate smiled, looking like the most handsome man in the world. After making peace with whatever cosmic deity he worshipped, the tattered highschooler nodded, and closed his eyes, waiting for endless sleep to come.

No amount of training could have prepared her for what was to come. The swordswoman tightened her grip on her katana and apologized before ramming the point through his skull.

A thousand sorrows escaped her lips as the floor rose to her knees. She could no longer care whether her cries would attract more of the dead. The thought of leaving Hayate's body in such as state without even as much as a decent burial was beyond unbearable. She didn't even get the chance to tell him how much she loved him, to thank him for being the brother she never got to have. If only he knew how she appreciated him for being the moral center of her decisions, and that without his encouragement and counseling she'd never have been the person she was today. "I should just went with you to help Mika from the start. I was selfish. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Tear drops kissed the battered concrete floor, intertwining with the blood that had so rudely stained it.

More screams came from further down the hallway. I hope you and Mika will be happier in the next life. Chinatsu banged her fists against the concrete and wiped her face with the back of her hand and her sleeve. Save your tears for later. You heard him. He doesn't want to see you just yet. Getting up to her feet took longer than expected. The dead were on the move again. An evil hungered stirred in her heart. She swiped the blood off her katana and focused her gaze on the horde. Still trembling, she soldiered on through the remaining stretch of desolate concrete, felling whatever resistance came her way. The exit lay just ahead. Without food, without a gun, her chances of survival were flayed paper thin, but that was better than dying in ghoul-infested building, to be forgotten once her candle was snuffed out. If Death wanted her, He'd have to work for it.