02

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First Meeting

Several sharp gunshots roused Hinata from his slumber and he bolted upright, fingers fumbling for his gun as his eyes flew around wildly, seeking the threat. He slid over to the window and peered down at the street far below, eyes piercing through the rain. His eyes widened and he gripped his gun tightly, staring down out the window in disbelief. The street was completely covered by a wave of zombies, packed so tightly together, barely an inch of asphalt was visible between them. How had a horde of this size formed so quickly?

Packing up his stuff and shoving it all in his bag, Hinata readied his gun and made his way back to the stairwell, crawling his way to the very top and breaking free into the rain on the roof. He slid onto his stomach at the edge and used his scope to peer down at the horde. He was too far up for them to notice him, and they appeared to be drawn to something a few meters down the block. Hinata trailed his scope far to the left and focused on what seemed to be the object of their attention: a large estate surrounded by a sparking electric fence.

"That must be what's attracting them," he muttered to himself. As more gunshots were fired from the mansion into the crowd of undead, Hinata located the shooter: a black-clad figure hunched low over a protruding window, sniping all the zombies he could get his hands on. As he kept shooting, four more individuals exited the house and approached the gate, firing their own guns out into the horde.

Hinata pushed himself to a sitting position and slung one leg over the edge of the roof with a morose shake of the head. No way they'd make it with that many corpses headed their way. He felt sorry for them. Then again, they really should've known better than to have an electric fence. Zombies were attracted to high pitch frequencies, and the electric storm would've amplified the hum of the fence by at least ten percent.

They were probably most definitely doomed, but... he couldn't just let them die. Even though Hinata knew helping others was stupid and would only get him killed, every time he thought about leaving a helpless survivor alone, he pictured his sister's face and couldn't bring himself to abandon them. Sympathy was idiotic, but... he would want someone to help him if he were in the same situation, wouldn't he?

Even though he was afraid, Hinata went back downstairs and packed up his things, heading down the back stairwell to avoid the horde. As he headed through the rain-soaked streets, he kept his eyes sharp, sweeping the surrounding area for danger. It was hard to keep focused in the rain, not to mention there was a zombie mob only a block away. He still wasn't used to them, even after three years.

Hinata couldn't even remember the last time he'd come across another survivor... He'd migrated south straight from Kasugai to Nagoya two months earlier and hadn't encountered a single soul. It made him wonder if there were any other people out there at all... Though apparently, there was—although he wasn't sure they were the brightest, considering the electric fence. The sniper on the roof seemed good enough: every shot he made went straight through the skull, sometimes two or three at once.

Shaking condensation from his hair, Hinata wrapped a long blue scarf around his head, concealing his hair, nose, and mouth for extra camouflage. Pausing by the shattered glass front of a construction shop, he snagged a sledgehammer, figuring it couldn't hurt to have another close-range weapon in case he lost his machete. With the extra protection, he felt a bit safer moving through the dark streets towards the mansion. The only problem that remained was how he would get past that electric fence...

As if the earth heard him, a loud boom of thunder sounded from above, and when Hinata tilted his head skyward, a large, stark bolt of lightning cut the heavens in half, striking the fence in a brilliant arc of flying sparks and hissing snakes of electricity battling for dominance. The fence lost out in a dazzling explosion of flare-like pinpricks of light, bathing the wet concrete in fizzling silver specks.

Hinata ran faster, knowing the horde—and him—would have nothing stopping them now. The sniper continued firing round after round from the roof, but the dozens he shot were quickly replaced, like sand filling back into a hole. As he approached, Hinata raised the heavy sledgehammer, jerked to a hard stop, and swung it as hard as he could at the nearest corpse in his way. Its head exploded, splattering blood amidst the sparks, and Hinata prayed he wouldn't get shot as he took a running leap, throwing the hammer over the edge as he scrambled over the fence and dropped safely onto the other side.

Just as he cleared it, the first wave of zombies clashed against the metal. Hinata scrambled backward as the fence creaked and warped in protest of the hundreds of hands pressing against it, clenching both hands around the hammer in anticipation. He could hear the sniper yelling something at him from the roof, but he blocked it out, shifting from foot to foot and evening his breathing, muscles aching impatiently for something to swing at.

He didn't have long to wait. In mere seconds, the clawing hands pried apart the metal bars and bodies came stumbling through. Shots from the sniper pinged around him as Hinata ran into the fray headlong, swinging the hammer into skull after skull, shucking the falling bodies to the side before moving on to the next. He weaved in and out of the crowd like a needle through fabric, knowing that if he stopped moving, he'd be overwhelmed within seconds.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins, and Hinata breathed deeper, moisture filling his lungs and a smile tugging at his lips.

Kageyama continued firing into the horde, cursing under his breath. That idiotic kid—what the hell was he doing?! What kind of stupid, reckless, ignorant dumbass ran headfirst into a swarm of zombies? Did he have a death wish? Wasn't he afraid of Kageyama accidentally shooting him, or, you know, being eaten alive? Any normal person would be.

Whatever the case, he didn't have time to worry about it: he had much bigger problems on his hands.

Raising his gun, Kageyama abandoned his nook and crawled back across the roof to the ladder, shooting off a few more rounds before heading down. With a mob of this size, he would have no choice but to fight up close. Strapping his gun across his back, he slid down the ladder and splashed onto solid ground, pulling an ax from his belt and sprinting towards the nearest zombie. He couldn't let them reach the front of the house.

Piking the corpse in the skull, he yanked out the ax blade and charged toward the next, delving into a dance of sharp turns and heavy swings. He lost sight of the stranger in the mess of bodies and migrated towards the back of the house, taking stock of the numbers in his head. There were six of them—including the stranger—versus about a hundred zombies. Definitely not great odds.

Ugh. This just had to happen today, of all days. It was so much harder to fight in the rain, with the risk of slipping and the sight disadvantage. Kageyama had to dig his heel in with every step he made to keep from succumbing to the slick mud. He just kept telling himself that with every zombie he killed, there was one less to handle, which made it easier to ignore his aching shoulders and shaking arms. Snipers weren't made to have extreme stamina, and he was regretting that now.

"Kageyama!" One of his comrades cut through the mob—literally—toward him, pausing to recover his breath, flicking blood from his tactical knife. "There are about forty left now. You should head back to the roof and do recon."

"Got it." He axed another zombie and headed back around the side of the house. He returned the ax to his waist and climbed back up the slick ladder two rungs at a time, sliding back down to the window and unslinging his rifle. Kageyama let out a loose breath, allowing his shoulders and arms to relax as he squinted through the scope and took aim. He fell into the familiar rhythm of swivel, fire, reload; everything else filtering away as his body went into autopilot, sore muscles basking in the familiar, repetitive motion.

By the time his consciousness seeped back in, there were only about a dozen zombies left wandering through the grounds. The other guards were nowhere to be seen: Kageyama guessed they were inside the house with the Madokas. He fired off one last round, taking out the remaining corpses before finally lowering his gun and returning to the ground. His eyes combed the ground, double-checking for stragglers, which is how he caught sight of the stranger.

He was a few feet away, and as he whipped his arm around like a slingshot, the blood-encrusted edge of his sledgehammer smashed into the last zombie's skull with the force of a 2-ton truck, sending decomposed yellow brains splattering across the drenched pavement. Exhaling, the kid straightened up, dropping the weapon to the ground unceremoniously and shaking out his arms. As he glanced over at Kageyama, his slanted eyes shone like polished amber, creating an eerie look through the gray haze of the rain.

As Kageyama trudged towards him, the boy unwound a blue scarf from his head, revealing a head of uncontrollable, fiery red hair and an angular, heart-shaped face. He tied the scarf back around his neck as Kageyama reached him, resting a hand on his hip. "You know, you really shouldn't have kept an electric fence going in this storm." He edged the dead zombie's torso with a booted foot. "The hum draws them in."

"What?" Kageyama studied him in irritation and slight disbelief. "First of all, I played no part whatsoever in setting up the fence—I just work here—and secondly, who the hell do you think you are, kid?" He slung his rifle over his shoulder and nailed the redhead with a glare. "You basically just broke in here."

The boy scoffed. "What? As if. There's no such thing as 'breaking in' in the apocalypse." His thin lips pulled into a childish scowl. "No need to thank me for helping you or anything. And don't call me 'kid.' The name's Hinata Shōyō."

"Well, Hinata Shōyō, we would've been just fine without you," Kageyama intoned dryly. This kid was surprisingly good at getting on his nerves, despite having only just met him; impressive, if it weren't so irritating. "What are you doing way out here by yourself, anyway? And what the hell were you thinking running straight into a horde like that, huh? How stupid are you?"

A noise of indignation came from the back of Hinata's throat and his fists clenched like he was about ready to punch him. "You're the stupid one! There's no way you could've taken care of that many zombies by yourself!" He kicked the zombie corpse angrily and muttered a string of curses, Kageyama watching on with an eyebrow raised. He really was a kid; at least, based on the way he was acting. He was short, too.

"How old are you, anyway? Twelve?"

"Wah—!" The boy shot him a petulant look. "You jerk! I'm sixteen!"

Older than me?! Kageyama thought in bewilderment. "No way. Don't lie."

"I'm not lying!" Hinata stamped his foot—not exactly supporting his outrageous statement. "Why are you such a jerk?!"

"I don't explain myself to liars," Kageyama said acridly, turning his back on him to stalk back towards the front of the house. He hoped the kid would just leave, but he followed after him stubbornly, like a persistent, redheaded cold. Usually, he had more patience than this, but the shrimp had somehow managed to dissolve every ounce of it within seconds. He really might shoot him if he didn't leave. "Just go away now. You've done enough."

"So you admit I helped?" Hinata followed him into the house, his tenacity driving Kageyama to click his tongue in annoyance.

He dug his fingernails into his palms and tried to focus on searching for his employers and the other guards, taking withdrawn breaths. Don't shoot him, don't shoot him, don't shoot him, don't shoot him. He repeated the mantra as he entered the drawing room, praying Hinata would sense his murderous vibes and retreat, but unfortunately, he seemed as dense as a pile of bricks and trailed behind Kageyama like a puppy at its master's heels as he headed into the adjoining room.

Maybe I can just shoot him in the foot.