Kohta dashed around the room. Everything had been going exactly how things should not go, even before all this. He'd been roughed and tossed around by those punks from Class T-2, and his favorite class, English, had started with him receiving a score of sixty percent on the recent test. As he had contemplated cutting off his late-night video game hours on the spot, the teacher had tossed an eraser at him to bring his attention back to class.
All classic specimens of the cruel and tyrannical high school years. But he could not, barring the occasional visit to the theatre or the odd corner of the internet, could have imagined something like this. He swerved out of the way of another zombie, embarrassing himself with another high-pitched yelp of fear. He was in the hallway now, squinting ahead as he forced himself forward. This would have been so much more bearable if he had not lost his glasses a few minutes ago while running from some of the zombies. They had fallen off his face as he had run away from the horde, and he just registered the sound of the frames being crushed underfoot.
He was short-sighted, and he prayed with all his might that he would not miss a zombie lurking in wait. He was only too thankful that his running and ill vision kept him from getting too clear an image of the corpses that he just knew were cluttered on the sides.
He finally stopped at the intersection of the hallways, not making out any more unwelcome shapes, and leaned forward as he clasped his knees with his sweaty hands. His shoulder-length hair fell across his face, and his mouth hung open to let his lungs draw in air. The reprieve would only last a few more seconds. Someone or something came out from behind the other side of the corner. He yelped again, certain that he was doomed. But a voice, a clear one, a human one, cut though the air and pierced his myopia.
"Get down!"
He obeyed, collapsing face-down as the figure came out from behind the wall and let loose a powerful strike with a wooden sword, or bokken. The zombie that had been creeping up behind Kohta was felled, dead on it's feet before it collapsed beside Kohta.
Saeko Busujima jumped over Kohta. She swept her long hair back as she tightened her grip on her weapon. Having heard the boy's scream and her shout, zombies began to emerge from the doors that lined both sides of the hallway. But Saeko looked towards them confidently, smiled, and whispered towards the cringing Kohta.
"Follow me."
Saeko did her best to keep her poker face. She moved quickly, dancing from left to right as the end of her bokken crushed one undead skull after another. Both the wooden sword and she herself were perfect for these tasks. The oak was strong, and her musculature was perfect. She did not want to press her luck too much, but her heart had no doubt she would survive the day.
And she was not feeling the emotions she knew anyone else would feel. Most would be scared out of their wits, or overwhelmed by panic, or despair. But not her. Not Saeko Busujima. She felt alive in a way she had not in years. She was fast and strong. And she was powerful. None of the zombies could so much as scratch her before she put them down effortlessly. It was a rush she had not felt sinceā¦.she pushed the memory out of her mind, and focused instead on the next zombie in the hallway. She did not have to look behind her to know that Kohta was running behind her.
Saeko took out another zombie, and another, before passing another door. Had her intuition failed her for one second, she would taken a heavy blow to the skull. But as it was, she made a half-turn just in time, raising the bokken horizontally over her face. The metal crutch bounced off of it, and she found herself staring face-to-face with a girl a little younger than her, disheveled and worn-looking, a few undone ribbons hanging from her long pink hair. She squinted, scowled, then muttered, "Sorry." Then she stepped aside, allowing Saeko to come in, and Kohta came barreling behind her, collapsing to his knees and then upon his back. The girl shook her head disgustedly.
"Way to be a klutz, Hirano..."
"Sorry," he panted. "Takagi..."
Saeko looked around. The nurse's office was relatively untouched, and had the same plush chairs, lamp, and desk. Behind the desk, the nurse Shizuka half-stood from her seat, looking at worriedly at the newcomers.
"Thank heavens you guys are here," She spoke softly. "Have you any injuries?"
"I'm fine, thank you." Saeko gave a short bow before pointing at Kohta with the end of her bokken. "He's just a bit tired."
Kohta waved a hand. "I'm alright...don't mean to disturb..."
"This is no time for pleasantries! The school's overrun, and...ah!" Saya Takagi suddenly thrust a finger forward. "There's a monster just..." She paused, before swallowing down her next intended words.
Takashi Komuro stood in the doorway.
Chris Redfield had expected the usual crowds in Japan when he visited it a second time. He had expected the same train ride to the motel, squeezing his way through passengers, and he had expected the same tea and crackers ready for him when he arrived in his room. He had not even discounted the possibility of being tracked down, be it by a paparazzi or an enemy.
What he was not prepared for was to see a young woman crying when he opened the door, her hair out of place and her hands clenching into fists so hard there was a bit of blood from her fingernails dropping from each.
He had met her somewhere...
"They took...They took our boy...our boy..."
Next up; light is shed on Takashi's childhood...
