Tokyo, Friday Night

The night sky over Tokyo was bleeding. A deep crimson hue painted the clouds, stretching across the city skyline like an open wound. Neon lights flickered against the darkness, their glow competing against the unnatural red tint. Down below, the city pulsed with its usual rhythm: the hum of car engines, the murmuring sea of people moving through the streets, the occasional laughter echoing through narrow alleyways. But beneath that, something felt... wrong. Off. Unnatural.

Takashi Kuroda leaned against the rusted fence of Shibuya High's rooftop, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. The cool night breeze ruffled his silver-dyed hair, but his mind was elsewhere. The city had always been a chaotic mess, but tonight—tonight it felt different. Something gnawed at the edge of his senses, a feeling he couldn’t quite shake.

“Taka, you know they’ll suspend you again if they catch you up here.”

The voice was sharp, cutting through the silence. Yui Nakamura stood at the doorway to the rooftop, arms crossed over her school blazer, dark eyes narrowed in disapproval. Her sleek black bob barely moved in the wind, and as always, she carried an air of superiority—like she had everything under control.

Takashi smirked, rolling the cigarette between his fingers. “Let them. School’s a waste of time anyway.”

Yui sighed, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “And getting expelled is a productive use of time?”

Before Takashi could respond, the heavy metal door behind her was shoved open. Ren Okabe stepped onto the rooftop, his signature smirk plastered across his face. The warm city lights caught the edges of his wavy brown hair, giving him an almost golden glow.

“You two lovebirds done fighting?” Ren teased as he leaned against the railing.

“Not in the mood, Okabe,” Yui muttered, shooting him a sharp glare.

Ren chuckled. “Relax, Nakamura. We’ve got bigger problems.”

Takashi raised an eyebrow. “Bigger problems than my suspension?”

Ren exhaled slowly, drumming his fingers against the metal railing. “Something’s happening downtown. Just came from Shibuya Station—there was a fight. But not the usual salaryman brawl.”

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Takashi took the bait. “Oh yeah? What happened?”

Ren’s smirk faltered slightly. “One guy bit another.”

Takashi frowned. “Bit?”

“Yeah. Not some weak-ass scuffle. I mean, he tore into the guy’s neck.” Ren’s voice dropped slightly, his usual playfulness dimming. “Blood everywhere. The guy went down screaming. Then—” he hesitated. “Then he got back up.”

Yui shifted, her arms tightening around her torso. “Got up? Like, he wasn’t dead?”

“No,” Ren said slowly. “I mean, he should have been dead, but he wasn’t.”

A chill settled over the rooftop.

Takashi flicked his cigarette over the railing. “You’re talking nonsense. People don’t just stand up after their necks get torn out.”

Ren shrugged, though his grip on the railing tightened. “I know what I saw.”

Before anyone could respond, another voice called out. Haruka "Haru" Shimizu and Daichi "Dai" Fujimoto stepped onto the rooftop, their faces uneasy.

“You guys feel weird tonight?” Haru asked, pulling her mechanic’s jacket tighter around her small frame. “I was walking here, and the crows were… off.”

Takashi frowned. “Crows?”

Daichi, the towering judo champion, nodded. “Yeah. They weren’t moving. Just… watching people. Not flying away, not making noise. Just staring.”

Yui checked her phone. Her screen was flooded with unconfirmed reports—random acts of violence, people collapsing in the streets, emergency lockdowns in certain areas. But there was no official news. Just panic bubbling beneath the surface.

Then, in the distance, a siren wailed. Long. Piercing. Unsettling.

Ren let out a slow breath. “Something’s coming.”

---

One Hour Earlier – Shibuya Station

Masaru Ito was already having a bad day.

His girlfriend had dumped him, his boss had humiliated him at work, and now he was crammed into the evening rush at Shibuya Station, suffocating in the sea of people. Hundreds of bodies pushed against him, impatient to get home.

And then he heard the scream.

At first, it barely registered over the noise of the train announcements, but it grew—ragged, wet, filled with something that clawed at the primal part of his brain.

Masaru turned just in time to see a man lunge at another commuter.

And bite into his throat.

For a split second, no one reacted. The train doors beeped. The station announcement droned on. Then the blood sprayed, painting the tiles deep red.

The victim staggered, hands clutching his torn throat, gurgling on his own blood before collapsing against the train doors.

Then he twitched. Then he moved.

Masaru took a step back. “What the hell—”

The man, the one who should have been dead, suddenly jerked upright. His neck was still gaping open, arterial blood still leaking down his suit, but his eyes were vacant. Hungry.

And then he lunged at the closest person.

The station erupted into chaos.

Screams filled the air as people shoved and trampled over one another, desperate to escape. The first victim sank his teeth into a woman’s shoulder, tearing through her uniform. Her shriek was raw, desperate, before she, too, collapsed.

And seconds later, she got back up.

Masaru turned and ran. This wasn’t a fight. This wasn’t normal. This was something else.

---

Back on the Rooftop – Shibuya High

The sirens hadn’t stopped. In fact, more had joined them. Firetrucks, ambulances, police. All heading toward downtown.

“Okay,” Takashi muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “So maybe something’s going on.”

Yui’s grip on her phone tightened. “We need to get home.”

Ren shook his head. “Not yet.”

Haru looked up. “Why not?”

Ren hesitated. Then, quietly, he said, “I don’t think this is something you can run from.”

Takashi turned back toward the city. The red glow above Tokyo was darker now, heavier, pressing down like a weight on his chest.

Somewhere, far below, another scream echoed into the night.

And for the first time in his life, Takashi felt afraid.