They found a spot beneath the metro tunnel’s support beams—dry, tucked between stacks of forgotten crates and broken vending machines. For now, it was safe enough.

Yamada took a long swig from the glass bottle filled with clear alcohol, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were heavy but calm, as if the drink settled something inside him.

The others sat in a loose circle. No one spoke for a while—just breathing, recovering.

J-in broke the silence first.

“So… are the infected really that dangerous?”

Everyone glanced at him.

Yamada didn’t flinch. “Nope.”

Kaito, sitting cross-legged with his arms resting on his knees, shot him a side-eye.

“You’re the one infected.”

Yamada blinked, looked at him, then raised the bottle slightly as if to toast.

“Exactly why I’d know, right?”

Kaito frowned. “That’s not how science works.”

Masaru leaned back against a cracked wall. “It’s not science anymore. It’s survival.”

J-in leaned in, intrigued. “So you really don’t feel anything? Like… rage, or brain rot? Cravings for human sushi?”

Yamada smirked, pulling the bottle away from his lips. “Only craving I’ve got is for another sip.”

Sakura didn’t laugh. She was still watching Yamada carefully, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. Her gaze occasionally slipped to the bandage wrapped tight around his wrist.

Yamada noticed. But he didn’t say anything.

Instead, he took another drink—slow, deliberate.

J-in shifted closer, curiosity flaring again. “Okay, but seriously… what’s it like? Inside, I mean.”

Yamada raised an eyebrow. “Inside?”

“You know… your head. Your body. Are you hungry? Like hungry hungry? Is your skin itchy? Is your brain... I don’t know, vibrating or something?”

Yamada exhaled through his nose and looked at the bottle in his hand.

“It’s like having a cold you can’t feel,” he said slowly. “Your body knows something’s wrong, but your mind keeps pretending everything’s fine.”

J-in leaned forward. “You feel pain?”

“Yeah. But dulled. Like it's behind glass.”
He tapped the side of his head.
“I’m tired all the time. But I can’t sleep. I get these… flashes. Smells get sharper. Sounds feel louder sometimes. And yeah—hunger. Not for people, you weirdo.”
He shot J-in a look. “But for meat. Raw stuff. Like I can’t stomach anything cooked lately.”

Masaru’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not nothing, Yamada.”

Yamada nodded. “I didn’t say it was. I’m just saying I’m still me.”

Sakura whispered, “For how long?”

Yamada looked at her—and didn’t answer.

Kaito shifted uncomfortably. “And the alcohol helps?”

Yamada held up the bottle like it was a medical tool. “It numbs it. Slows things down. Or maybe it’s just in my head. Either way—it’s better than nothing.”

J-in rubbed his chin. “So you’re… fighting it. Like willpower versus infection?”

Yamada gave a tired smile. “Something like that.”

Kaito scoffed. “Until your ‘willpower’ decides to rip someone’s throat out.”

Masaru raised a hand. “Enough.”

Everyone fell quiet.

Yamada placed the bottle down beside him, the glass clinking lightly against the stone floor.

“I didn’t ask for this,” he muttered. “But I’m not letting it win. Not yet.”

J-in scratched the back of his neck, eyes flicking between Yamada and the half-empty bottle beside him.

“…Okay,” he said finally. “That was both terrifying and kind of badass.”

Sakura didn’t speak at first. Her gaze lingered on Yamada’s face—watchful, unsure.

“You’re trying so hard to stay normal…” she said quietly. “But you’re not. Not completely.”

Yamada didn’t argue. He didn’t even blink.

“I know.”

Kaito crossed his arms, his voice low. “Then what are we supposed to do? Just keep you around until one day you snap and tear our faces off?”

“Kaito,” Masaru warned.

“What?” Kaito snapped. “I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking. We’re sleeping next to a goddamn time bomb.”

Yamada didn’t flinch. “Then leave.”

The words hit the air like stone.

“I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m asking you to choose. If you want me gone—say it now.”

Silence.

Even Kaito looked away.

Sakura stood slowly, brushing off her knees. “He stayed when he could’ve run. That says something.”

Yamada gave her a look—something unreadable—then turned his eyes back to the floor.

Masaru finally spoke, steady as always. “None of us are the same as we were a week ago. But right now, we need every hand we can trust. And I trust what I see.”

He glanced at J-in. “Even if that includes the weird Prank guy.”

J-in held up both hands. “Hey, I never tried to be myself. Yet.”

Moments passed.

The others had started dozing off—leaned against walls, curled beside backpacks, huddled under jackets. The metro station was cold, quiet, and still.

Masaru leaned against a pillar near the edge of the tunnel platform, lighting a cigarette with his last matchstick. He didn’t smoke it—just held it between his fingers, watching the glow fade with each shallow puff.

A few feet away, Yamada sat on a pile of old supply crates, sipping slowly from the near-empty bottle he’d been nursing for the past hour.

Masaru broke the silence first.

“You’re good at pretending,” he said, eyes half-lidded.

Yamada glanced sideways. “What?”

Masaru tilted his head toward Sakura, asleep near Kaito with her arm resting loosely across her lap.

“I saw the way you looked at her,” he said.

Yamada froze for a second. Then he chuckled—dry, bitter.

“Man… seriously?”

Masaru didn’t reply. Just kept watching.

Yamada took another sip, slower this time. Then leaned back with a sigh.

“C’mon, man. I’m not that guy.”

Masaru raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not the type,” Yamada continued. “Not the kind who goes around trying to split people up. Especially not ones that already belong together.”

There was a pause. He looked down at the bottle, swirling what little was left.

“She doesn’t remember me. Never did, really. That’s fine. She’s got Kaito now. She’s with someone better. Stronger. Funnier. Cleaner jawline.”

Masaru gave a soft snort through his nose. “Debatable.”

Yamada smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“She was the only good thing I held on to during college. Her songs. Her laugh. Even from a distance. But that’s all it was—a distance. And now…”

He shook his head and trailed off.

Masaru finally took a long drag from the cigarette. The ember glowed softly in the dark.

“You sure you’re not just afraid she might remember you?”

Yamada didn’t answer.

The bottle sat heavy in his hand. His eyes stayed fixed on the dark space ahead—but he wasn’t seeing it anymore.

He was somewhere else.

Five years ago — KEIO University Campus.

It was just after sunset. The campus festival was winding down, lantern lights glowing gently above the walkways. Music faded into the background as students scattered into smaller circles—some laughing, some slow-dancing near the food stalls, others quietly retreating into the chilly evening.

I remember standing near the edge of the courtyard, clutching a plastic cup of melon soda, heart pounding harder than it should have.

She was there.

Sakura.

She was sitting on the low wall near the koi pond, sketching something in her notepad with that same focus that made the rest of the world disappear for her.

I knew I should’ve said something.

I’d written her a note last week. Left it on her desk with that dumb karaoke keychain. I never knew if she feel it.

But even then, I hesitated.

Because I wasn’t ready to be seen.

Not yet.

I wanted to be better. Smarter. Funnier. I wanted her to notice me because I earned it, not because I interrupted her peace like a random guy from the crowd.

So I told myself: Next year.

Just one more year. I’d figure it out. Make something of myself.

But life never waits for timing.
Never know what's coming up next.

Back to the Present — Kyoto Underground

The memory faded like smoke as Masaru’s cigarette burned low.

Yamada blinked, staring back down at the empty glass bottle in his lap.

He didn’t say anything more.

The silence held for another beat—then broke.

“Sensai?”

The soft voice pulled both their heads around.

Sakura, half-awake, rubbing her eyes. Her long hair fell loose over her shoulders, slightly messy from sleep. She tilted her head, confused by the scene in front of her—Masaru crouched beside Yamada.

Masaru straightened, his expression returning to its usual firm calm. “You alright?” he asked, brushing off the quiet between them like it never happened.

She nodded slowly. “Just… woke up and saw you two whispering.”

Yamada let out a small chuckle. “Plotting your doom. Very top secret.”

Sakura blinked at him, then gave a tiny smile—half still in a dream. “Well, don’t do it too loudly next time. I thought I was hearing things.”

Masaru stepped aside, letting her settle closer. She walked over without much thought and sat right beside Yamada, their shoulders brushing.

Yamada tried not to react.

But Masaru noticed.

“Go back to sleep if you want,” Yamada said gently, eyes forward.

She shook her head. “Nah. I don’t think I can. I keep hearing the wind in the tunnels. It’s creepy.”

Masaru reached for his coat, pulling it tighter around him. “Get used to it. We’re not in the city anymore. Down here… it’s different.”

Sakura leaned slightly toward him, her eyes flicking between the two men beside her.
“Sensei… how do you know this guy?” she asked, nodding toward Yamada. “I swear I’ve seen him somewhere.”

Masaru gave a faint smile, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“I think He’s your junior, maybe 2019th batch, Business department.”
Masaru paused, staring at Yamada.
"We both were so close from the start, totally felt like a brother to me."

Yamada froze for a second, halfway through setting down the empty bottle.

Sakura turned her head slowly, studying him.
“You were two years below me?”

Yamada gave a sheepish nod. “Yeah. Guess I wasn’t very noticeable.”

She squinted, trying to remember. “That’s what I’ve been thinking from the start—whether I saw him somewhere.”

Masaru turned, an eyebrow raised. “You serious?”

Yamada coughed. “Coincidence. Could’ve been anyone.”

Sakura tilted her head. “What’s your full name?”

Yamada blinked. “Yamada.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yamada what?”

He scratched his cheek lightly, eyes drifting away.
“Just Yamada. People just call me by my first name.”

Sakura narrowed her eyes a little but didn’t press further.
Masaru, meanwhile, caught that flicker in Yamada’s expression.

But he didn’t say a word.
Not yet.

Sakura looked down for a moment, then glanced up at Yamada.
“Sorry about earlier… Kaito can be a little—”

“Protective?” Yamada offered, shrugging lightly. “It’s not a crime to look out for someone you care about.”

Sakura smiled faintly, surprised. “Still… he didn’t have to act like that.”

Yamada shook his head. “It’s fine. If I were him, and someone like me showed up out of nowhere—with a bite on their wrist—I’d probably act worse.”

Masaru chuckled under his breath.

Sakura looked between the two of them, a little more relaxed now. “You’re too calm about everything.”

Yamada leaned back against the wall, arms resting on his knees.
“Someone’s gotta be.”

BANG.
BANG-BANG.

The sharp cracks of gunfire echoed through the underground tunnel.

Everyone froze.

Masaru stood up immediately, grabbing the flashlight. “That wasn’t far.”

Kaito jolted awake. “Gunshots?”

J-in looked around nervously. “Do you think it’s more survivors? Military?”

Masaru’s face darkened. “Or worse. Could be someone trying to keep this place clear.”

BANG. BANG. BANG.
Then—screaming. Not from zombies. From people.

Sakura clutched her sleeves. “Should we run?”

“No,” Masaru said firmly. “If they’re heading this way, we find another path. Yamada—map.”

Yamada nodded and pulled out the folded blueprint he took from the store’s wall cabinet. “There’s a utility tunnel splitting east… narrow, but it connects to an older maintenance shaft.”

Kaito muttered under his breath. “You memorized that?”

Yamada didn’t respond. He was already up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

Sakura whispered, “How close do you think they are?”

As if to answer—

CLANG!

A heavy metallic thud from somewhere deep in the corridor. Followed by footsteps. Heavy. Rushed.

Masaru clicked the flashlight off. “Move. Now.”

They slipped deeper into the tunnel, boots quiet against the concrete. Behind them, the gunfire stopped. Silence returned—but only for a moment.

Then came the dragging.

The growling.

The hunt.