'In every soul, there is a demon caged. And like all manner of beasts, it will rile and it will howl – anything in its capability to get the attention of its host. It will bargain, it will lie, it will show you things, sweet things, just to convince you to listen. It will call out, and it will whisper. To hear is but nature, to listen is on you.'
She could still hear the words ring in her head. Worse, she could feel them. As in a physical manifestation that pressed hard against her chest. Chinatsu had to make a choice, and she had to make it quick.
Sensei Busujima was a strict teacher. No, not strict. Stern was a better word for it. Though he expected perfection from his pupils, he was always to ensure their growth. Kendo was a serious art, and those who wish to learn its secrets had to dedicate their lives to unwavering discipline. One missed step, a breath out of place, and a reprimand was sure to follow. The way his voice boomed like thunder always sapped her of strength. They might bleed through similar veins, but Chinatsu, for some unexplainable reason, could not bring herself to refer to him as her uncle. His visage resembled a gargoyle often found in Western literature, expression neutral, rarely showing glimpses of emotion. There was no way for her to reach out to him. To the master, she was a but a novice, like everyone else. Consanguinity plays no factor in training. You had to succeed on your own terms, through your own efforts.
The door burst open with tempered steel leading the way. Chinatsu sprinted to the open, faced about, stomped hard and played her stance as swipe after furious swipe sheared flesh and bone. The metallic scent of blood permeated from her, a vile miasma that spoke volumes of tragedy. Her hair and clothes were caked with gore, fresh drops marking her passage. Joints burned with fatigue, but adrenaline was more than happy to keep her going. Her position was the most strategic as it could get. With her blocking the only way out, she could control the flow of the crowd and cut them up into sizable, more manageable numbers. Her flank was exposed, but by the looks of it, she was still safe. Then again, that was not exactly a guarantee. No matter. Chinatsu only had to worry about what was in front of her. For now, at least.
A reanimated office lady and a handful of similarly clothed yuppies lurched towards her, arms hanging forward, jaws agape and snapping. Five bodies with no mind to lead them. To hell with form, these bastards are going down! Sensei Busujima would frown upon her recklessness, but after the ordeal she had just been through, Chinatsu could not care less. That's how that one boy got expelled from the dojo. What was his name again? It was funny how she suddenly thought of him. His face was worth the memory, however his name always escaped her. "Enough daydreaming." She clutched the hilt of her blade and paced towards her prey. A downward swing coming from the right tore the lady ghoul from should to waist, and as Chinatsu readjusther her angle and pushed the blade tip skyward, the second ghoul unfortunate enough to be within striking range had its skill split raw as steel rammed from beneath the chin. Wasting neither time nor momentum she focused her weight forward and launched herself like a vengeful projectile with foot leading the way, knocking her remaining foes back and giving her enough time to land the kill shots.
More of the undead spawned out the doorway and Chinatsu was feeling pumped. "Come on! You want me? Come on!" She shouted at the top of her lungs. The zeds were more than happy to oblige. Elbows bent, blade levelled with the eyes, and body weight evenly distributed, she was able to thrust her blade forward like a spear with little effort. A walker, this time an old man, dropped forward as her sword penetraded brittle bone. Forehead, dead center. A dozen hands meant to grab hold, but she swatted them away and off with the business end of her killing device. "I'm right here!" Her cry was shrill and frightening. The rest came on, moaning and groaning, plodding and shuffling, unaware that they'd just booked a return trip to the gates of the abyss.
Slash, thrust, bash!
Office workers, salarymen, employees of all scales and salaries.
Stab, crush, thresh!
Fashionistas, casuals, sharp dressers, men and women both beautiful and homely.
Pierce, cut, rip!
Children of all ages, students of all years, elderly of all decades.
Every single one had to fall, every single on had to die. Die again. Die a second death. Go back to the grave. Go back to hell. Die. Every single one, die. Die already. Die. Shred them to bits. Rip them to pieces. Reduce them to ruin. Every singe one of them must die, die, die.
Red. Everything was read. Red shapes moving in a sea of crimson. Her blade was red. Her tears were red. The world was awashed in glorious vermillion.
'It will call out, and it will whisper. To hear is but nature, to listen is on you.'
Chinatsu stopped dead in her tracks, eyes the size of eggs. She felt a coldness overtake her.
"DIE!"
Chinatsu had executed every single stroke she had learned in the past, every single desperate maneuver her body was capable of pulling off. Corpse after God-forsaken corpse, the layer of gore that had profaned her blade thickened with each frenzied stroke. A biter actually managed to clasp her by the shoulders, and if she hadn't reacted like she did, her neck would have been missing a sizeable chunk by now. Chinatsu hopped back and channelled all her might as steel whizzed downward like a pale comet. The katana ate through her target and it fell apart as a pair, ungodly remnants plopping on the floor in a sickening 'splat'.
That was it. That was all of them. With that last kill, every single invader had been laid to rest. She fell on her behind and sobbed. Chinatsu lost hold of her sword and it clattered lifelessly on the side. Then a storm erupted in her stomach. She gagged, coughed, then emptied her guts, ruining her clothes. But she didn't care. She fell on vomit and spoiled blood. The girl was spent. It was quiet. Too quiet. I haven't come across Mika yet. She continued to cry. Chinatsu wormed forward, slowly but surely. Remembering Hayate crushed her spirit. I'll give you a proper burial, guys. I promise.
Before she could get far, she heard more groans. For a moment she thought there were still more wandering inside the canteen. She struggled to get up, but after a painful mintue Chinatsu managed to sit and lean against the wall. She looked outside. Breathing was labored and painful. The kendoka could see more of the dead in the distance. "No way..." She felt the first twinge of fear after a what seemed like an eternity of eager rage. "Where are they coming from?" She could count, easily, more than a hundred of 'them'. No way she could take them on. Not in her state. Not ever. "Why are they here? What's got them all excited?" Chinatsu hobbled outside. She furrowed her brow and glanced behind. Unsure, at first, then another look just to make sure she wasn't hearing things. One of the buildings deeper in the city. Music? Blaring, distorted guitars with English lyrics. She had zero knowledge about the song but she knew well enough that the racket was what got the dead acting up. No wonder we were overrun! But she didn't have the time or convenience to toss blames right now. As solace, however, she would make sure she'd remember. Whoever thought of that plan got my group killed. They will pay.
Chinatsu offered one last glance at what would now serve as her friends' tomb. She picked up her sword and took the first step towards wherever the hell that noise was coming from.