Moving quickly through the dimly lit corridors of the tech department, Sakura and Ms. Akasuki made haste. The air smelled faintly of oil and metal, the scent mingling with the ever-present staleness of fear and sweat that lingered in the corridor. They passed locked workshop classrooms, each one filled with tools and gear, racks of welding helmets, shelves lined with various mechanical parts.
The empty classrooms felt hauntingly still, as Sakura called out, her voice shaking. “Reo? Reo, where are you?”
Ms. Akasuki's called out “Reo, Anyone”, her voice echoing off the concrete walls. As her calm facade was slipping. “He has to be here somewhere.” but only the hollow sound of their footsteps followed.
“Hello?” as Sakura peeked into another room, her face pinched with concern.
Moving deeper into the workshops, their eyes scanning the dim shadows for any sign of life. Only for a faint mechanical gear turn as rows of workbenches and unfinished projects stared back, as if they're following them.
“Reo!” Sakura called again, her voice cracking. She leaned against a workbench, her pulse racing. She could feel the weight of despair creeping up on her. “Where is he? He has to be here somewhere.”
Ms. Akasuki’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ll keep looking,” she assured, her tone unwavering. “He must be close by.”
Sakura leaned against a workbench, the weight of everything crashing down. “Can we go back to your computer? Maybe we can track him again.”
Ms. Akasuki shook her head gently. “I’m sorry, Sakura. I have other students to help.” She paused, glancing down at Sakura, her voice softening. “If I see him, I’ll send him to the nurse’s office. I promise.”
A sudden voice startled them both. “Hello?”
Sakura’s heart leapt, her head snapping toward the voice. “Reo!” she exclaimed, stepping forward. But when she rounded the corner, her excitement deflated. A first-year student stood there, his wide eyes filled with fear and exhaustion.
Ms. Akasuki offered him a comforting smile. “Do you need help?”
The boy shook his head. “No, Mr. Hanson sent us to help others. We’re supposed to bring the other first year students to his English department.”
Disappointment settled in Sakura’s chest like a stone.
Ms. Akasuki’s expression hardened slightly, her mind racing between her duties. “Alright, head there, and if you see another boy named Reo, tell him to go to the nurse’s office, you should wait there with your friends. I’ll keep looking for him.” She turned to Sakura, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Stay strong. We’ll find him.” as they parted ways, the pair were unable to shake off the eyes that seemingly followed them from the shadows.
The English department felt cold, quiet and tense, the air thick with the same uncertainty that clung to the rest of the school. Mr. Hanson stood in one of the classrooms, his eyes scanning the desks and overturned chairs. Around him, first-year students huddled together, their faces pale, shadows of their former selves.
"Alright, listen up!" His voice cut through the heavy silence, causing the students to flinch. "We need to secure this area, make sure it's safe for everyone. Start moving those desks and chairs to block the corridor." He pointed toward the open door, where the hall outside felt too exposed, too vulnerable.
The students hesitated, their eyes darting toward one another as if hoping someone else would step up first. Hanson clenched his jaw, forcing his frustration down. "Move it!" he barked, his tone sharp.
Slowly, they began to rise, their movements sluggish and unsteady. One boy, his arms trembling, dragged a desk across the floor with a loud screech, the sound grating against Hanson’s nerves. Another girl, barely holding herself together, began stacking chairs in a corner, her hands shaking.
Hanson marched over to the door, pulling a few desks together himself, showing them how to create a more secure barricade. “We’re going to make this into a safe zone, a barracks of sorts,” he said, his voice calmer now but still firm. “If we don’t get this place secured, we’re sitting ducks.” He eyed the nervous faces of the students, trying to appeal to their sense of survival. “We’ll get food, supplies, and take shelter here. But we need to work together, or we won’t last.”
One student, a girl with tear-streaked cheeks, looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes. “Do you really think we’re going to be safe here?”
Hanson’s gaze softened, just for a moment. “We’ll be safer than out there.” He nodded toward the door, where distant echoes of screams and crashes filled the school.
Another student, bolder than the rest, stepped forward. “What if the Principal, the drones or the seniors come for us?”
Hanson straightened, his hand resting instinctively on the revolver tucked beneath his belt. “That’s why we’re building this barricade. If anyone comes, we’ll be ready. understand? This is the best chance we’ve got to await rescue.”
Ms. Akasuki stepped into the room, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene. “What are you planning, Hanson?” she asked, her voice sharp.
Hanson didn’t turn to face her, his focus moved on the pile of desks as he tried to move another one. “Same as you, securing this area and waiting for rescue,” he replied, his revolver revealing itself as he heaved another desk into position.
Ms. Akasuki’s gaze shifted to the gun. “Where did you get that?”
Hanson paused, his jaw clenched. “Found it on my desk.” He didn’t offer more explanation, and there was a heavy silence between them. “Get back upstairs, Akasuki.”
But Ms. Akasuki wasn’t deterred. She inspected the makeshift desk fort in the corridor, shaking her head. “And you think a gun is necessary for that?” Akasuki’s voice trembled with anger. “We’re supposed to be helping the students, not arming ourselves!”
Hanson finally met her gaze, his expression hard and unreadable. “We’re targets, Ms Akasuki, that nutter told everyone we’re worth more death. You’ve seen what’s happening out there. Dozen kids have already gone feral,”
“That’s madness!” Akasuki snapped, glancing at the makeshift barricades. “We can’t leave them out there! We have a responsibility—”
“Responsibility?” Hanson’s voice lowered, but it was no less dangerous. “Our responsibility? Leaving them is what is best for them, if one of the other nutters come for us, they will just be a burden.”
Hanson glanced down at his holstered revolver, his expression grim. “You do what you want, Akasuki. I don’t care anymore. But I’ll stay here and protect the students who need it.”
The weight of his words pressed down on freshmen students. They felt like they're drowning in the rising tension between the two teachers. huddled in the corners, their eyes wide with fear. Was this what survival looked like now, barriers, guns, and mistrust?
Akatsuki stepped forward, her voice firm. “You might be right, it might make me safer if we don't stay with them, but I can’t leave them alone.”
Hanson sighted “We’ll only a floor away,” He flashes his ID, as it pinged with a bright glow. “We teachers also get a 1000 Points, but I’ve already used these vending machine”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Rank/Name: Teacher Hanson
Kill(s): 0
Points:400
Special Item: Clubs Key
Hanson’s face darkened as he stepped forward, scanning Ms. Akatsuki ID. The card flashed,
“This makes us more of a target, the kids only get 250” he muttered, shaking his head as he turned away from her.
Rank/Name: Teacher Akatsuki
Kill(s): 0
Points:1000
Special Item: None
Ms. Akasuki crossed her arms, her voice rising. “You can go, but I am staying, they need an adult!”
Hanson glanced down at his holstered revolver, his expression softened. “You do what you want, Ms. Akasuki. I don’t care anymore. But the first instance of trouble, you call for me, I will protect the students who need it.”
“I’m not going to hide, and I’m not going to raise my hand to a student.” Akasuki's defiance was clear, her conviction strong.
Hanson’s gaze flicked to the pile of supplies, he got in a corner, blankets, nutritional packs, and other essentials. Hanson handed the students the pile of supplies. “This should last a few days, ration it, rescue should be here soon. But listen kids, teamwork is key.” he stated, turning away, seeing himself out. “Don’t let anyone aggressive into this fort and watch over Ms. Akasuki for me.”
Yet the students and teachers couldn't shake off the feeling someone was watching, the odd twitch of a lens focusing on the occasional drone in their line of sight.
Meanwhile on another floor, the nurse’s office was still a grim sight, ever after most of the students moved on. Beds were already crammed with injured students doubling up. being, their moans and whispers filling the air.
Blood-soaked sheets covered four bodies in the corner, their forms still, too still. In the centre of the room, the nurse worked tirelessly, her hands stained with blood, her pink uniform stained red, as she stitched up a deep wound on a girl who screamed in pain.
Sakura entered quietly, her eyes scanning the room. Yuma stood near a bed, holding a lamp while the nurse wrapped bandages around a student with shards of glass embedded in her face.
“Sakura!” Ichika called from across the room, helping another injured student to eat. Her face lit up with relief as she spotted her friend. “You’re back! Did you find Reo?”
Sakura’s heart sank as she shook her head. “Ms. Akasuki is still looking for him. She asked me to help out here.”
“Only injured or helpers can stay here,” the nurse muttered, not looking up from her work. Her hands moved quickly as she stitched up the girl’s wound. “If you’re not either, get out.”
Sakura nodded, stepping forward. “I’ve had first aid training,” she offered quietly.
The nurse finally glanced at her, exhaustion lining her face. “Can you stitch?”
Sakura nodded, though her hands trembled slightly. “I have done it once, I’ll try.”
Low hum of a mechanical whir filled the air. A wheel drone glided across the floor, its sleek frame moving silently as it passed the rows of injured students. The machine’s polished arms extended with precision, carefully lifting one of the covered bodies from the corner.
The other students barely seemed to notice the drone’s presence, the dead body was limp, almost weightless in the drone’s grip as it quietly carried the sheet-covered figure toward the exit.
Yuma caught Sakura’s eye, her expression a mirror of the discomfort Sakura felt. “They’ve been coming in and out all day,” Yuma whispered, her voice hushed. “Every time someone dies, the drones show up to clean it up. It’s... creepy.”
Sakura nodded in agreement, her mouth dry as she watched the drone disappear into the hallway, leaving behind the faintest scent of disinfectant in its wake.
The nurse wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, her movements mechanical from exhaustion. “I asked if you can stitch,” she repeated, her tone sharp but not unkind. “I don’t have time to teach you, so if you can’t, find something else to do.”
Sakura blinked, forcing her attention back to the task at hand. “Yes,” she said, her voice more confident now. “I can stitch.”
Sakura worked alongside Yuma and Ichika in the nurse’s office, helping wherever they could as she explained what she knew. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and blood. “I can’t believe the teachers have isolated themselves,” Ichika murmured as she helped wrap bandages around an injured student’s leg. “But maybe it’s for the best.”
The nurse shrugged. “We’ve got enough medical supplies for now. It’s the start of the term, so we’re fully stocked.”
Yuma nodded. “And we’ve got vending machines for food. Although these pastes are bare a meal and tasteless, costing 50 points, we can only get 5 each before we starve”
Ichika smiled slightly. “My club, Horticulturist, planted vegetables and fruit on the roof last term. They should be ready for harvest soon.”
The nurse’s eyes shifted to a gift-wrapped package sitting on her desk. A strange contrast to the chaos around them, it hadn’t been touched since it appeared.
“Ichika, if you can get us some fresh food from the garden, that would help,” the nurse said. “We need to set up barriers in the corridor too.”
Yuma stepped forward. “I’ll go with Ichika.”
Even the dead, the system is watching, the unease left by the wheel drones, these Janitors, unsettled the girls and Nurse, but they had work to do, splitting up a group headed to the roof.
Yuma and Ichika climbed the stairs to the rooftop garden, the echo of their footsteps the only sound as they approached. The metal door to the roof clanged as they tried to open it, but the muffled voice from the other side stopped them.
“Club members only,” came a harsh voice from behind the door.
Ichika leaned forward, her voice firm. “Michi, it’s me, Ichika.”
After a long pause, the door creaked open, revealing Michi standing with a few of his rooftop crew. “Let them in,” he muttered. “Everyone else, get lost.”
The rooftop garden stretched out before them, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, a patchwork of green amidst the destruction of the world below. Solar panels lined the edges, water collection barrels placed carefully around the perimeter.
Michi looked them over, his expression standoffish. “If you two are here to jump, just get it over with.”
Yuma’s eyes widened, as she gasped. “What? No!”
Ichika stepped forward. “We came for food. The nurse’s office is caring for the injured, and we need supplies.”
Michi’s gaze lingered on Ichika, his frown deepening. He took a list from a nearby student and scanned it before turning his attention back to the garden. “That’s just great. Some students have already stolen a few of our tools and some of the veg,” he grumbled, his fingers tightening around the paper.
Ichika stepped forward, her voice soft but firm. “How about only the portion I’ve planted?”
The rooftop garden stretched out in front of them as Michi led them to the rows of crops, “I’m not giving everything away for free.” his arms crossed defensively.
“We can only spare enough for our club until rescue comes,” he said, his tone clipped, as if the decision had already been made.
Ichika didn’t falter. “Come on, Michi. The nurse is caring for injured students. We’re not taking the food for ourselves, we’re trying to save lives.”
Michi sighed, glancing away. “We can’t…” he started, his words trailing off before he sighed again, seeming to reconsider. “Maybe we can do a deal.”
Ichika stepped closer, grabbing Michi’s arm, bringing colour to his face, emphasising her point. “We’re all in this together. We can’t just look after ourselves.”
Michi adjusted his glasses, his expression softening slightly. “The nurse’s office? I bet she has a good supplier of first aid gear. Fine, I’ll consider it, but we’d need something in return. Maybe we could trade for what we need.”
As Michi mulled over the proposition, Ichika stood firm, refusing to back down. Yuma, meanwhile, wandered over to the plants, her fingers brushing against the leaves.
“Thank you, Michi,” Ichika finally said, her voice genuine. “We’ll let the nurse know about the deal. This could really help.”
Yuma nodded in agreement. “Great! Let’s go tell the nurse and Sakura.”
Before they could leave, however, Michi raised a hand, stopping them. “Wait!” He turned to Ichika, his expression serious. “You’ve got to stay with us….” as he stammered avoiding eye contact he finally found his reasoning “We’ll need your help to salvage what’s left here. Yuma can go, but you should stay.”
Ichika glanced at Yuma, conflicted. “I could be more useful here, honestly.”
Yuma frowned but reluctantly agreed. “Alright. I’ll go explain the deal to the others. Please come back when you’re done.”
Late into the evening, Yuma returned to the nurse’s office. Sakura was there, helping the nurse feed some of the injured students with packed lunches that had been looted from the vending machines. The room was quieter now, but the heavy weight of exhaustion hung over everyone.
The nurse sat slumped at her desk, her hands trembling slightly as she wrapped up her work for the night. On the desk sat a gift-wrapped package, an oddity amidst the blood-stained bandages and medical supplies. Next to it was a framed set of military dog tags, worn and marked with the name of someone from a different war, a different time.
“Thank you, guys,” the nurse said softly, her voice tired. “I wish I could offer you more for all your help.”
Sakura shook her head gently. “There’s no need. Tomorrow, we’ll go out looking for Reo and others.”
Yuma’s eyes drifted to the package on the desk. “Are you going to open that?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.
The nurse hesitated for a moment before reaching for the package. She tore the wrapping slowly, her fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the box beneath. As the paper fell away, Yuma leaned over, peeking over her shoulder.
Inside, nestled in velvet, was a silver revolver. The barrel gleamed under the dim lights, and engraved on the side was the Ace of Hearts. The grip was hand-carved, walnut wood, adorned with the same skull in a jester’s hat.
The nurse’s breath caught in her throat. “Is this a joke?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a fiery orange glow over the broken landscape, the school grounds fell into an uneasy silence. The calm before the storm was palpable, but everyone knew tomorrow, no help would come.
Then, the intercom crackled to life. The familiar bing-bong of the announcement tone echoed through the empty halls.
“All students,” the voice began, eerily calm. “The first of many games will begin tomorrow at 9 a.m. Please attend the soccer field to take part.”
Sakura’s heart sank as the weight of the announcement settled in. Tomorrow, everything will change.