The Ryuzaki Household

[Nai]

Log date: 11/17/2019 
 
Autumn nights grow uncharacteristically frigid in Natori. A reminder that the weakening end of our reigning sun, is only a placeholder before the night brings its living infernal. Our home has become a ubiquity amongst the plague that continues to reign the remaining humans like live cattle, crowding them in homes and keeping them captive throughout days on end. Praying behind closed doors that the things outside aren’t real, but nightmares that they somehow conjured up. 
 
But it was too late to pray —The Ryuzaki residence, a home not too far aways from the outbreak that overtook Sendai vocational academy, managed to withstand the faithful day’s reaping. It became a safe haven for five of the high school students that managed to willfully escape death; Carter Ryuzaki, Anthony Cadwell, Chrysanthemum Esso, Taro Miyashita and Osamu Dazai, all abandoned the lives they once knew in search of refuge. 
 
The screaming voices of helpless solicitors deafen the night with their pleads of help. No one daring to open the door, in fear of the worst. With the exceptions of the collections, which only took place during day, but still proposed the dangers of other scavengers, and runners: the only byproduct of Cordyceps still immune to the sun’s ultraviolet rays. 
 
The last collection, conducted by Chrysanthemum, had left rather permanent damage to the group’s signature female, but, exposed a nest of both medical supplies and stalkers. Now, with the course of the ever-shuddering silence rings at their ears like clattering wind chimes, they sit huddled together, feet beneath a kotatsu that won’t burn and stomachs that yearn for other than canned goods. 


They’re silent amongst one another, —strangers, regardless if they have managed to escape together and save one another. 

 

[Deviced]

 


Although there had been no helping the situation, Carter couldn't really get used to the fact that he was sitting in his own home once again, planted in the living room under the old kotatsu his father bought seemingly 100 years ago now, trying to keep warm against the unforgiving Autumn chill. It was far too surreal to be true, right? 
 
Three months had passed at this point, Carter thought; Three months since the world plummeted into madness. Whatever was engulfing the entirety of Japan still hadn't really comprehended in Carter's mind, almost as if the terror alone was too much to bare for his poor brain. He tried to convince himself it was better this way, that it was better for him to not get what was going on... but it didn't make it any easier to survive. 
 
Carter gently closed his eyes against the disappearing rays of golden sunlight, his feathery lashes resting against the smooth curve of his cheek. He was tired, and rightfully so, after what the previous days had brought him and his group-mates. Although everyone could admit that this wasn't easy, they sure as hell were doing a lot better than most other people. 
 
As the last bits of light faded below the horizon, Carter quickly began to doze, his head tilting slightly to his left, before a haunting crescendo of creaky floor planks and moaning walls set his nerves on fire, causing the teens' eyes to shoot open and his head to turn upright. It's just the house settling, Carter could practically hear his mother saying, as she often did after Carter got spooked by similar noises in his childhood. The reminiscing was both comforting and heartbreaking at once, and Carter could not explain as to why. His mother was probably long dead anyways, possibly transformed into one of those clicking, deformed monsters. 
 
Carter lazily shifted his eyes among the room, noting all that were stationed around him. For one, Chrysanthemum, or 'Chrys' sat close by, her leg propped on a pillow Carter's mother stitched when she was pregnant with him. It was white with lace detailing along its perimeter, with an inviting embroidery piece in the center that depicted a small rabbit nibbling on a pink flower. Around the kotatsu sat more peers, each looking equally as tired as Carter himself. 
 
There was Anthony, who was basically a mystery to him. It's not as if he was unnoticeable or anything; Certainly not. It was more the fact that Anthony was not someone Carter would gravitate towards in a platonic sense. Not that there was anything wrong with him... he just seemed ridiculously cool. Like the kind of guy everyone is dying to be friends with. As admirable as that was to Carter, he couldn't bring himself to say a single word to the guy. 
 
Of course there was also Taro, an uncannily genius underclassman that somehow managed to keep up with the group on their escapade. Even though he was younger than Carter, he did a good job of intimidating him, too. There was an iciness in his stare, and Carter could swear that the blonde boys' stoic glances enabled him to see right through people, making them vulnerable, even just for a second... But perhaps it's just his imagination. 
 
Chrys, as mentioned earlier, lay with her leg still propped on the lacy pillow. Carter didn't know much about her, except that she was more positive that a proton. He didn't know whether or not it was a good or bad thing, but it was refreshing nonetheless. Chrys seemed good-- genuinely good-- but that didn't mean there was nothing to be careful about. 
 
Lastly, Carter laid eyes on his best friend, Dazai. Now, Dazai would never be someone Carter from five years ago would picture himself being able to converse with, let alone being best friends with. It was strange, the two of them, how they just fit. It was weird how they were similar, but for different reasons. For example, Carter was always quiet because he felt uncomfortable around other people, a presence he found was almost suffocating. Dazai, however, was quiet, purely, because of his lust for observation. It perplexed Carter that someone could be fascinated with others, but he supposed that was normal. 
 
The dark-haired teen peered around his old living room once more, noting how much life it lacked. Sure, there were living people in it, but it was dark now, with scattered leaves and dirt streaks across the floor, marks from looters and curious animals. It hurt Carter's heart that his home was an empty shell now, but that was that. There was no changing it. Carter closed his eyes once more, trying to find a little piece of serenity. 
 


He hated this world.

 

[Whisker]

 The world ended three months ago. To the average person, that sentence would've been criticized as way over dramatic. For Anthony, though? It was spot on the money. Everything he'd ever known, everything he'd ever worked for, every person he'd ever gotten close to was pretty much gone. Not the poof kinda gone like one would see on those late night cartoon magic shows, but the kinda gone that was as final as death. 
 
Actually, scratch that. Those people - if one could call them that anymore - were worse than dead. If they weren't one of those red-eyed sons of bitches moaning in the back alleyways, then they were on of those plant-headed fucks that went on for one purpose and one purpose alone: to multiply and make more infected. Sounded like the plot to a B rated zombie flick, right? Well, if someone'd told Tony about it a few months ago, he'd certainly would've thought so. 
 
Hell, when the alert had first been put out during class, he'd actually laughed at the absurdity of it. But now that he'd actually seen one of those grotesque ... things ... with his own eyes? He sure as hell wasn't laughing anymore. And neither were any of his comrades. That's right. This hell wasn't reserved for Anthony alone. Somehow among all the chaos, a few others he'd recognized from school had made it through too. And while he grateful as hell for their acceptance of him, he was a tad bit disappointed as well. None of these guys (and gals in Chrys's case) were his friends. There wasn't a single time he could recall talking to them in school outside of the occasional 'Could you pass me a pen?' in his crude Japanese. Furthermore, he had no common interests with them as well. He was unique right down to his wavy blonde hair, goofy grin, and violet blue eyes ... and that wasn't just because he was an American either. But even though none of them had likely ever picked up a bat in their life, they were supposed to be friends now ... and he supposed he could live with that. 
 
Anything, absolutely anything you could think of, was better than fighting this disaster out alone. At least here, one would probably give two shits if you kicked the bucket ... and you wouldn't be alone at the end. Glancing around at the other four in turn, he drummed his fingers on the side of the kotatsu and tried hard for a few more minutes not to face the facts. Which facts? Well, the fact that Chrys was injured from a run for one thing. And the fact that night was coming on for another. Just on the other side of the kotatsu, he could just make out the purplish-pink edges that signified that the sun was very much down. 
 
In the old days, it would've meant the end of practice and the beginning of a long walk home in an attempt to catch a re-run game on his laptop. Now, it was little more like hell being served up on a silver platter. Pretty and scary as fuck all at the same time, for night fall was where the action truly began. Pulling his baseball cap just a tad bit lower through the hoodie he wore over it, Anthony turned to the others. 
 


"There it is. Sundown. We merely holding down the fort tonight, or are we gonna try to make another stab at going out for supplies?" He felt awkward breaking the silence, but figured that if someone had to do it, it ought to be him. After all, sitting in silence wasn't exactly one of his strong suits to be sure. He had to be up moving, shifting, and just doing things in general. It reminded him that although things were pretty much shit, he was at least still alive.

 

[Genieva Von Bubbles]

If breathing was an olympic sport, Chrys would get a gold medal. She'd been sitting in the same position for an hour, just breathing and taking in the noises around her. She let her chapped lips settle into a comfortable smile while thoughts raged wars in her head. 
 
They nitpicked everything she had done during that collection, how she could avoided injury entirely, what an idiot she was for staying so long to catch a glimpse of the infected. But it was done and she had the fucked up leg to prove it. She couldn't pinpoint what was wrong exactly but she felt that something had twisted the wrong way or maybe a ligament was torn. All she really knew was that it was very painful to put any pressure on her leg. 
 
To focus on something else, she cracked one eye open to watch her toes flex against the adorable little pillow Carter had supplied for her. It was a sweet little thing, all lacy and it even had a little rabbit on it. Her eyes rose and settled on her classmates, who sat around the kotatsu with her. She recognized all of them, even if she wasn't familiar with any of them specifically. Anthony was most notable because he was so "all-American" but the others stood out in their own ways too. 
 
She was pulled from her musings by Carter's flinch and before she could ask him if he was all right, Anthony spoke up. He mentioned the sunset and with a start, Chrys realized he was telling the truth. She had lost track of time, sitting and bemoaning her leg. 
 
"I'd love to go for another run!" She joked, beaming widely at her companions with a ridiculously bright smile. She took it upon herself to be the optimist of the group as the rest of them were all so grim and somber. While she knew that there was an apocalypse happening, she still found that making sure the others stayed smiling was her top priority. 


For so long she had been bitter and so engrossed in her own rage that she couldn't muster the energy to feel bad for the people she was hurting. Day in and day out she sneered and belittled, going as to far as beating up a classmate for just looking at her funny. She didn't want to be like that anymore. For these people, most of whom she barely knew, she promised to play the funny man. Although the fact that she was promising was something she'd keep her little secret. 

 

[Nai]

Dazai watched as the dwindling lustre of the weakening day’s end filtered past the boarded up windows: the recognition of nightfall. It’s grown to be a cycle: crowd the day, maintain hidden in spite of the rumors, or at least what little rumors they do hear, considering they refrained from crossing others like them, the day was a hindrance much like the night. No matter what time of day it was, there was always some thing going on: raiders, looters, retributioners, hunters, walkers, etc. There was always something bad.
 
“There it is. Sundown. We merely holding down the fort tonight, or are we gonna try to make another stab at going out for supplies?” Anthony startled the silence, and watched as it slicing through the tension that Dazai didn’t realize was even there. —It became apparent sometime after they’d met Anthony that he was undoubtedly strong, and someone worth keeping. He had a seething red to him, like the kind a blazing fire would hinder, and it never seemed to sizzle out even after their few encounters with the dead. He didn’t seem like the kind that would murder, but then again everyone had a side to them Dazai wasn’t particularly sure he wanted to know of. —The silence was undeniable proof that they were growing tired or pensive, and maybe not all of them properly heard Anthony. Undoubtedly off in their own little worlds, contemplating the many reasons for actually living up to this point. 
 
Dazai was certainly one of them, all these new smells and colors, felt like a sensory overload to him. —But one thing was for sure, the dead had a particular color to them: violet, with the peculiar smell of almonds hinting the air. It proved to save him a couple of nights ago, when he noticed the sudden shift. Undoubtedly, the world around them was rotting, corpses scattered the streets like trash and at some point, Dazai couldn’t distinguish anything, except for his best friend, Carter who managed to have found him in the crossfire the first day they announced the rise of the dead. —Carter was an interesting color, a lilac purple, soft and dainty. No particular smell, he’d point out notably but he was something different to say the least. 
 
“I'd love to go for another run!” Chrysanthemum, a girl of small stature and whose personality struck out like a sun, she was bright and fluttery, like a plume of fluorescent feathers. Her voice managed to do the opposite though, where as her presence was tints of yellow, her words were filters of orange like the cascading dwindles of evening daylight. She was peculiar, and it meant more to her character than Dazai liked to find out. 
 
“Considering how things turned out last time,” He commented lowly, his words coming out rasped from his lack in speech, and taking a moment to cough, before addressing mildly to Chrysanthemum's wounded leg, “I think it’d be best to travel in pairs, three of us can stay behind, while two others can go on ahead.” He finished before his eyes falling on Carter briefly, and following up in looking around the room to the rest of the group. He paused on Taro Miyashita, the youngest of the group, but questionable the smartest, considering how his background and reputation preceded him. “I don’t mind going to search, Anthony?” He added as an afterthought, “Care to join? You seem more ready for this than I am.” He trailed off weakly, his hand finding itself playing with the stitching of his dirty jeans. 


This is what he wanted: Change.

 

[Vaan]

The conventional image of iridescent eyes achingly-fixated on the Kotatsu, was the telltale sign that another collection needed to be conducted. And seemingly enough, it was evident that the other’s were reluctant to nominate Taro for such a task, as it’d been a fortnight since his last departure from the Ryuzaki household. And in the pit of his stomach, he couldn’t help but feel disgusted with himself for the relief he found in this avoidance.
 
Perhaps it wasn’t because of his age, and instead it was just implausible that someone of his physical attributes wouldn’t simply be killed. And this preference, of selection, did not deviate from night to day: for the humans who dwelled among the sun’s ultraviolet rays, were no less dangerous than the infected who crawled in it’s shadows. 
 
The boy was simply to remain bound to the confining walls of this shack of a home, and left to wonder about the magnificent strain of Cordyceps, that had managed to single-handedly develop an adaptational resistance to antibiotics, and create an an unerring methodized technique of reproduction. That was the goal of every organism after all, to reproduce, and it was irrefutable that this fungus was the quintessential of it’s genus type. For even in destruction, there was some sort of beauty, and this was just that kind of beauty that left all your friends dead. And surely, there was nothing more beautiful than death.
 
Clutched tightly against the boy’s dirt-caked shirt, was his raggedy assemblation of a log-journal, where he documented all current information known about the infected. In addition to this, he also indexed the speech of his surrounding peers. And while he did this in secret, because he knew it’d come off as strange, it was simply result of his learning disorder: a struggle with verbal communication, where he couldn’t make sense of words unless he could read them in writing. 
 
And he was sure to document the next break of silence, by Anthony, who combated the stillness with his abrupt words of, “There it is. Sundown. We merely holding down the fort tonight, or are we gonna try to make another stab at going out for supplies?” And maybe it was of the foreigner’s nature to phrase it as a question, despite the necessity of the task that’d been conjured by the grumbling of the group’s stomachs. While it took him a moment to process the question, he strained to keep that false level-headed nature evident on his face. He was terrified, terrified that they’d ask him to go and the beauty he’d find in death would be so much more timely than he’d hoped, and Dazai’s exchanged glances with him only escalated this fear that he gulped down his collection of saliva. 



“I think it’d be best to travel in pairs, three of us can stay behind, while two others can go on ahead.” Before he had the chance to speak up, and lie of how he wanted to stay and take care of Chrys, who would easily see through his smile of feigned friendship, the dark haired latter added his request to take Anthony.

 

[Deviced]

 


As Carter lucidly dozed in and out of sleep to distract himself from hunger, he half-listened to the groups' chatting and planning, not really finding significance in their words yet. The young man lazily opened his eyes and let out a prolonged yawn, still processing in his mind the conversation his peers were having. Traveling in pairs, meaning Dazai and Anthony? To find supplies? At this hour? Surely not! The dark haired teen gazed with wide, doe eyes at the bunch around him. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't. 
 
Don't let Dazai leave, his mind commanded.
 
Make him stay. Carter opened his mouth to quickly shoot down the idea, but no words would come. What could he say? That it was dangerous? It was always dangerous now, even in the daytime. Saying something like that would only sound selfish, since they needed supplies pretty badly. 
 
"Ah, why don't I go in someone's place...?" Carter said instinctively, his face deepening into a rosy color almost instantly. What? Are you crazy? The voice in his mind scolded. 
 
"The sun only just set, s-so humans will be taking cover and the... the infected are probably only just coming out of their hiding spots now..." Carter's glance wandered up to Dazai, his face being the most familiar in the room. 
 
"Since I speak English pretty well, Mr. Cadwell and I... we could go looking for stuff. P-plus I'm familiar with the houses here, so I know good cover spots and... yeah..." Carter managed, feeling more exhausted than necessary, having just said probably the most words he'd ever spoken in one sitting. What he had just said made a whole lot of sense, now that he actually thought about it. Sure, it may have initially been a way to keep Dazai in the house, but it was a good argument. Carter smiled to himself, feeling rather confident in his speech. The boy stood quickly, exposing the filthy school uniform he still happened to be wearing from three months ago. 
 
"I can go look through the rooms again, just to see if there's anything we could use while we're out." Carter thought back to when they all first stumbled in to the house, exhausted and ready to collapse, still trying to keep a limping Chrys on her feet. 
 


Carter had done an initial sweep of the rooms to see if there were any runners or looters, but he couldn't bring himself to set foot in his old bedroom. Whether or not any of the others did wasn't really Carter's concern-- he just didn't want to see the little space he had spent his whole life in completely empty and decrepit, the plethora of potted plants he kept in there now wilted and knocked over. However, he decided now would be the time to do it. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. Carter whirled around to the direction of the stairs, each step forcing an eerie noise to spring out of the floorboards. He didn't want to see the faces the others were probably making at him. 

 

[Whisker]

"I'd love to go for another run" 
 
Despite the gravity of the situation, Anthony found himself stifling a laugh. As unique as he was among the group, he sure didn't outclass their only resident female in spunk and tenacity. Of course, he didn't blame her at all for the joke. If it had been him laid up in that kotatsu with a busted knee or what the hell ever was wrong with her, he'd have probably gone stir crazy before long. 
 
"I dunno. I haven't brushed up my three-legged racing skills since like junior high school. I'd probably fall and bust my face open or something before we ever got down the stairs. Bet the damned red-eyes would just love that." Yeah, he knew all the infected had their little special code names. But to him, they were pretty much no different than red-eyed zombies that had clawed their way out of the big screen right to the comfort of his now fucked up life. 
 
Folding his arms across his chest as a means of becoming serious, he glanced over as the one known as Dazai slowly spoke up in his rasping voice. "Considering how things turned out last time, I think it'd be best to travel in pairs. Three of us could stay behind, while two others could go on ahead." Anthony paused thoughtfully and considered the other boy before him. His initial impression of the group around him was that they had fair few individuals that could be counted on to stand up in a crisis. But perhaps he'd misjudged this one a little ... He seemed willing to assert himself even if the others lagged a little. "I don’t mind going to search, Anthony. Care to join? You seem more ready for this than I am." Tony sighed, then pushed himself up from the kotatsu. 
 
He reached over to grab his iconic baseball bat from where it leaned against the wall nearby. Grasping it in both hands as though he were prepared to square off in the cage, he instead leveled it up onto his shoulder before glancing sheepishly at Dazai. 
 
"Ready isn't exactly the word I was thinking of. I doubt any of us are really ready for what's going on out there." But it was now or never. If they waited, some other group could skeeve off with their desperately needed goods. They had to stock up now, or it could mean game over later on if these things continued to multiply and breed at the rate they were going. "But yeah, I'll watch your --- " He stopped as suddenly the one he knew only as Ryuzaki quickly butted in. 
 
"Ah, why don't I go in someone's place...?" Tony lifted an eyebrow and fell silent. This was a turn of events he hadn't been expecting. "The sun only just set, s-so humans will be taking cover and the... the infected are probably only just coming out of their hiding spots now...Since I speak English pretty well, Mr. Cadwell and I... we could go looking for stuff. P-plus I'm familiar with the houses here, so I know good cover spots and... yeah..." Tony took a moment to glance back and forth between Dazai and Ryuzaki. 
 
To be fair, the latter had a point, but it'd been Dazai who'd spoken first. "Come on, we can't all go. Someone's gonna need to stay here and keep the house guarded. We'll need a sentry to keep an eye out for our return ... and someone's gotta keep an eye on Chrys case those things somehow find a way in." Hell, maybe we oughta keep an eye out for some of those shortwave radio things. Be nice if we could keep in touch on the runs so this ain't such a damn issue.


"I can go look through the rooms again, just to see if there's anything we could use while we're out." Anthony nodded and gave his body a few stretches. If he was going to be included on this thing, he'd best start preparing his body now lest he get a cramp at an inopportune moment. He could also probably use some warm clothes, for if this night was gonna be like the other ones they had suffered through, it was likely to get a bit nippy before long. 

 

[Nai]

Dazai’s thought process must have short circuited, because his mind went blank the moment he heard Carter’s sudden intervene, “... Mr. Cadwell and I…” 
 
“What?” He heard himself say between the unsettling realization that Carter was volunteering in Dazai’s place, yet found himself rendered speechless in Anthony’s failed attempt at settling the feud, "Come on, we can't all go. Someone's gonna need to stay here and keep the house guarded. We'll need a sentry to keep an eye out for our return ... and someone's gotta keep an eye on Chrys case those things somehow find a way in." 
 
“Carter …” He tried in a firmer voice, attempting to gain the boy’s attention but proved to be fruitless before Carter muttered the last of his replies and disappeared into the corridors of his house, “Excuse us,” Dazai muttered to the group, before disappearing after him. 
 
The storm inside Dazai’s chest did little to settle, before he was caging Carter inside his bedroom, and clasping firmly at his forearm, “What do you think you’re doing? Carter,” He whispered in a way that felt far too aggressive for his tone of voice, and found himself muttering a feeble apology after losing his grip, “You know about my synesthesia, you know that it gives me a better advantage at detecting them faster than if you were to go. You know how dangerous it is out there!” He argued, yet found himself falling silent. It wasn’t suppose to turn out this way, Carter wasn’t  suppose to go out. He had an extensive knowledge on horticulture, who knows what kind of help that would assist them in their fight against the cure. If there even was one to begin with. —Or maybe he was just trying to find an excuse not to let Carter go… “Don’t put yourself at risk, just because I volunteered myself,” He heard himself whisper, but couldn’t find it in himself to face Carter. 
 
His fingers trembled with the trepidation for the future, but he found it in himself to clench his fists into stones. This wasn’t just about them, this was about saving the others and surviving this hellhole of a world they live in. It wasn’t so long ago that Carter and him would spend hours together in this very room, talking about their days, lounging about, and discussing their futures after high school. Carter was a whole year old than him, practically a man, and yet, he’s never going to get to grow up like a normal adult, live a normal life, —But, that could be said for anyone of them, Taro, was the youngest and undoubtedly not fitted for combat, hell none of them were. Who were they kidding? This talk about change and saving civilization, that was all bullshit from the TV news reporters, who tried to so desperately keep the peace before the outbreak completely left the world in shambles. In a way, this was the food chain starting from the bottom up.
 
Pathetic.


He scoffed, and found himself staring at Carter’s weary complexion. They’re all tired, he probably doesn’t look any better, considering they haven’t changed or showered in a good while. He felt gross, weeks old sweat dried on top of once ivory complexion— Disgusting, he felt disgusting, this whole world felt, was disgusting. And they’re all just apart of the trash.

 

[Genieva Von Bubbles]

Chrys stayed silent through the exchange. Although she joked she knew that realistically she probably wouldn't be able to go for a run for a while. For the briefest of moments, her lips curled and she clicked her tongue in disgust. Blinked and you would have missed it. She winked at Taro and wiggled her eyebrows ridiculously when Dazai chased after Carter. 
 
It was a reasonable assumption that the youngest of their rag tag little group would be staying with her, along with whichever of the quarreling boys was forced to stay behind. Although Taro was the youngest, he seemed like the one she should be most wary of. At least, that's what the responsible her thought. Because she never listened to that side though, she thought Taro was an adorable little fluff mellow she wouldn't hesitate to crush in a hug. Of course just going up and hugging people, especially those who are barely familiar with her, is a line that she wouldn't actually cross. 
 
The room had grown too quiet when Dazai and Carter left and she was beginning to feel antsy. She drummed her fingers against the kotatsu, rapidly cycling through random rhythms as her eyes scanned the room for something-anything-to talk about. She zeroed in on the grubby little object the Taro clutched close to him, realizing it to be a journal. 



She blew a soft whistle out as she pressed the tips of her index fingers into the corners of her mouth and pulled it into a comical frown. "Wha's tha?" She asked Taro, words stifled by her forced expression. "A notebook? That's so neat! Do you doodle in there, like is it from school. O ho ho, did you perchance scribble yours and your lady of choice's names together in a little heart?!" She had long since dropped her fingers from her mouth but that didn't stop her from making absurd expressions at the younger boy. You're being irritating.... Her mind supplied for her, quite graciously. She shushed it mentally while she attempted, outwardly, to at least get Taro to smile if not speak.

 

[Vaan]

On the morning of August the Seventeenth, 2019, the parasitic fungus coined as Cordyceps underwent its second evolution, and expeditiously spread across Japan in the baffling time-frame of five hours. The city of Natori, in the Miyagi prefecture, was one of the first to endure it’s wrath and would ultimately suffer the consequences of ill-preparation. 
 


The bustling students of the year-round college preparatory school, Sendai Vocational Academy, were just about to commence their second period; and among them was Taro Miyashita, the first year prodigy. And while the blonde-haired latter would normally be found perched over his desk, eagerly awaiting the instructor's address, it was unmistakable that something today had changed. —An indescribable guilt, plastered onto his face, as he eccentrically paced back and forth, outside of Room 102. 
 


As per usual, the Westminster Quarters chimed and signaled the initiation of class, and Taro found himself next to his soon-to-be partner, Osamu Dazai. And while most often partners were randomly assigned, or chosen yourself, it was clear that the adolescent had been hand-picked for the boy. The neurological phenomenon of color synesthesia meant that Dazai could effectively understand Taro, whether or not the boy could correctly convey his feelings, or information through words. And for some reason, today, this prying ideology left the boy quite shaken and attentive to avoid shared glances with him. 
 


Fortunately, the abrasion of the stalker at the classroom door, and the breakneck escape from the second floor, with the other four survivors, left his ‘colors’ monochromatic, and a dimmed spectrum built by fear. And for the most part, this monochromacy maintained itself through the first couple of months they spent together, and the two, in addition to everyone-else, would inevitably learn the little quirks, and habits that made them unique. The first quirk, that became quickly apparent and showcased itself even now, was Carter’s attempt at closing discussions by forcefully leaving the room and preventing any further reasoning. 
 


It was irrelevant to Taro which two people conducted the collection, but, he was rather attentive of the fact that: Carter was allowing his emotions to blind his reason. And as Dazai quickly stormed up the stairs, with Anthony rambling on, he couldn’t help but hope that he would successfully convince Carter to stay. After all, the two were more connected than Dazai & him. Tuning back to Anthony, he caught the foreigner's afterthought of “... and someone's gotta keep an eye on Chrys case those things somehow find a way in." And while this was a realistic, and frightening possibility; if it came down to it, his adrenaline would convince him to leave her to die and escape.

 

[Deviced]

It was almost comical how frustrated Carter was with himself. On one hand, he wanted to do what he could to help the others and protect them, as they had all so kindly done to Carter himself. However, on the other hand, Carter knew that he could only help to a certain degree without getting in the way of things and risking everyone's safety. Why couldn't he just be built and muscular, like Anthony? Or how come he couldn't will himself to be preppy and charismatic, like Chrys? Why wasn't he as calculating and intelligent as Taro? Why wasn't he better at being a person? 


“Don’t put yourself at risk, just because I volunteered myself,” Dazai said, his voice low and soft-- frustrated almost. 
 


“I'm not doing it because you volunteered yourself," Carter whispered after a moment. I'm doing it because I love you, idiot. “I'm doing it because... well… fuck  Dazai! Why are you making this so frustrating for me? Why can't I help? Why can't I be someone you can trust? I'd have your back if you just let me!" Carter pleaded, his large, brown eyes boring into Dazai. He could feel his heart thumping hard in his chest. You just swore. You swore at Dazai. He's gonna hate you, you know.
 


Carter searched Dazai's eyes for a moment, certain that he had made this situation irreversibly and ridiculously worse. It wasn't so much that Carter was upset with his friend, nor was he really frustrated with him either. What bothered Carter the most is that Dazai was risking his own safety for someone lesser, the lesser person being Carter himself. 
 


The young teen heaved a sigh in an effort to not explode again. Having feelings towards other human beings was so frustrating. In an effort to calm down, Carter turned his back to Dazai and finally got a good look at his disheveled room. The sheets were stripped clean off of his bed, and ugly smudges of dirt and broken debris streaked across the floor, ruining the sanctuary Carter used to call home. But the most heartbreaking of all was probably the dry and withered plants, completely knocked over and strew throughout his room. 
 


"Oh no," Carter whispered, his hands clenching and unclenching repeatedly. "No, no, no," He scurried over to his wilted garden, kneeling down in the dust and dirt, frantically trying to put everything back together. 
 


"My Oxalis... my Jasmine..." he choked out. "All my Flowering Maples..." They were all ruined. Was crying over plants silly? One may think so. But for Carter, flowers and plants were his everything. They can grow and be beautiful and they're safe; they can't touch you. But now they're all gone. 
 


Carter knelt low to the scattered leaves and loose flower petals, gathering them up into his little quivering hands. His echoing thoughts were deafening, and tears pricked the corners of his eyes, eventually beginning to fall one by one onto the backs of his hands; the hands that were still desperately trying to gather up whatever they could. 
 


When did you get this weak?
 


It was then when all of a sudden, he stopped. He stopped crying, and he was no longer gathering the fallen leaves and petals. He would have stopped breathing, if his body would let him. All Carter could do was slouch, burying his face into his hands, wishing it was all just a stupid dream. 
 


Perhaps at any moment he could wake up in the exact room he was in, under the covers in his warm, clean clothes, breathing in the scent of his blooming jasmine. Maybe he would wake up, finding he was sleeping on the roof of his old school, Dazai by his side, staring at the clouds. 
 


"Hey, Dazai?" Carter croaked, wiping his eyes with the back of his arm. "I miss looking at the clouds with you.”

 

[Whisker]

"Excuse us." Anthony turned his attention from the doorway Ryuzaki disappeared from and back onto Dazai. "No problem." Trying to avoid the obvious 10-gallon amount of awkward hanging in the air, he went right back to stretching in order to prepare for the long night ahead. The last thing he needed was to get struck down by the almighty 'runner's cramp' while being chased down by some red-eyes in a deserted alleyway.
 


And speaking of red-eyes … He glanced up mid-stretched towards the window he had been staring at earlier. The moon was now peeking out from the trees and the sun was nothing more than a faint stripe on the horizon facing west towards the sea. There was a faint wind stirring the trees outside, the branches rapping faintly against the side of the house, but nothing else save a few night creatures chirruping in the distance. It was dead out there. No voices, no cars, no barking dogs ... absolutely fuck all save the faint murmurs of Carter and Dazai elsewhere in the house.
 


Are we the only ones left?
 


Immediately, Anthony glanced away from the window and scolded himself for thinking like that. He'd seen traces of others before he had been inducted in their little group - nothing special, just empty food cans, fresh cigarettes, the occasional graffiti. It was true that those individuals could possibly be one of the shambling husks befouling the streets of their town by now ... but Anthony had hope nevertheless. 
 


“Wha's tha? A notebook? That's so neat! Do you doodle in there, like is it from school. O ho ho, did you perchance scribble yours and your lady of choice's names together in a little heart?!” All the cinematic Hollywood-esque ideals dropped from his mind as though it were a balloon that had just been popped. Dropping his arms down from over his shoulders where he'd been stretching it out, he turned to glance over where Chrys was crowding their resident hermit, Taro. Now, he'd seen the underclassman around school enough to know that Taro was supposed to be some genius whiz kid despite being only 15 - the kind that aced all the exams without studying and had an absurdly high IQ. But despite that, he hadn't hardly heard the kid utter a word since he'd been there. He'd spent all his time thinking or scribbling in that little notebook of his. It sure was enough to make a guy curious …
 
But before he could make a little jab of his own, the boy finally spoke up. "Oh ... I ... suppose I have your name in here." Anthony nearly choked on his own tongue. He managed to hold in the snickers that formed in his throat and instead turn away, a sly grin forming on his face. "Well, that's enough for me. There's too much atmosphere in the house tonight. Think I'll go and ... er ... chomp down a granola or something till Dazai gets back."

 

[Genieva Von Bubbles]

“—I.. suppose I have your name scribbled in here.” An undignified snort forced itself out when Chrys registered Taro's words. Of course she could tell by the way he seemed disturbed after speaking, that he hadn't meant to phrase it quite like that. But the fact that she knew this was a little secret she'd keep to herself in favor of teasing the younger boy. Before she could even begin however, she heard Anthony make a choked off sort of noise and she turned her attention to him.
 


“Well, that's enough for me. There's too much atmosphere in the house tonight. Think I'll go and ... er ... chomp down a granola or something till Dazai gets back.” Fucking punch him, I dare you. Chrys laughed and waved at his retreating back, turning her eyes back onto Taro. For someone so young, he looked aged beyond his years. She supposed that it came with being of a higher intellect but she still felt a little bad. It was kind of like he didn't get to be a kid. The temptation to curse at fate was ever growing but she shoved the urge aside for now, choosing instead to wink in an exaggerated fashion at Taro. She hefted herself onto her palms and dragged herself over to his side, leaning far into his personal space to squint at the notebook.
 


“Oh?~ My name is in there? How adorable!” She sing songed, and rocked back and forth in an excited way, much like a child would when receiving a gift. She giggled a bit for added effect then leaned closer until she was about two inches away from Taro's ear. "Ne, what you say we play a joke on Anthony?" A wicked grin pulled at her lips and her eyes narrowed to a mischievous glint. Of course she didn't know what kind of joke she'd play-most likely just trip him when he came back into the room-but she wanted to try something. It was her goal now, to make Taro laugh. She'd gotten him to speak, bypassing smiling completely and she was dead set on getting the kid to express some sort of happiness. He was too frowny, in her opinion. Obviously nobody was going to be jumping for joy because-hello apocalypse-but it didn't mean that morale had to be at an all time low. 
 


A sudden sharp pinch detracted from her grin for only a moment but it was enough for her to begin thinking about her injury rather than the most efficient way to trip up the six foot behemoth. From what she could tell, she done something to her knee. It was popped out to the side, like it had dislodged itself and every time she bent her knee, a searing pain would race through her. If she had any medical experience, she would know that she had nearly destroyed her ACL, an important ligament that worked as one of the main motor functions in the knee. If left untreated, her mobility would be permanently damaged. Clearly she didn't know this. What seventeen year old knows what exactly is at play in their anatomy and how to fix it? Well Taro might but geniuses don't really count. They're a different breed. She briefly wondered if she would be the first of their little group to go. It was most probable that out all five of them, she would die first, at least logically speaking. She frowned, letting it settle this time, and sat back out of Taro's personal bubble. When she realized she wasn't grinning like an idiot, she tried to replicate her previous expression but she didn't get any closer.

 

[Vaan]

"Well, that's enough for me. There's too much atmosphere in the house tonight. Think I'll go and ... er ... chomp down a granola or something till Dazai gets back." And with that: the indescribable, wafting tension that Anthony coined as atmosphere left and trailed behind him for a midnight-snack. In its absence was Taro and Chrys, who embraced the aching silence with light-hearted words, and for the first time, two smiles. Taro held back a substituting chuckle at the mention of pranking the foreigner, and tried not to dwell on the unspecified details. Yet, as quickly as the strings of friendship were woven, they were torn at the seams as Chrys’ signature cheeky-grin faded from her face. 
 


Perhaps the ideology of friendship wasn’t entirely impractical, or maybe Taro simply wanted to savor the experience as he purposefully dropped his notebook on the floor, allowing it to unsystematically fall at a random page. 
 


Page 34, The Little Star.
 


Look up there, at the sky, do you see it? That shape in the stars. It looks like something i’ve seen before. I can’t quite place it, and I’m not sure if I recognize it, but I know I’ve seen it before. Perhaps in another life? —It looks lonely up there, I wonder if it knows it’s being watched. I wonder if it is watching me.. Can the moon see it? Is it alone?
 


Don’t worry little star. I’ll be your friend. I’ll come outside every night to see you. Don’t worry about me being cold, I’ll be fine. I can remember where you are. Right there, next to the moon. I’ll be with you.
 


You don’t have to be lonely anymore. And I won’t be either.”
 


The boy laughed almost mechanically at his accidental clumsiness, allowing his brown eyes to waver from Chrys, and gaze down at the page in anticipation. He wondered what she was going to say, perhaps she’d simply pick it up for him, or maybe she’d want to discuss what he’d written. Instantaneously, the ear-to-ear smile plastered on his face was put to rest, and he sought to hide himself. 
 
“Oh..” he tried to muster underneath the gulp of saliva weighing down at his throat, but was ultimately at a loss for words.

 

[Nai]

Perhaps Carter was right, underneath this swirling vortex of horror, they weren’t alone. “fuck Dazai! Why are you making this so frustrating for me?” Was he? Dazai didn’t see it that way, if anything he was trying to keep Carter safe, out of harm’s way, but was he really just making it harder on the both of them? 
 


“Why can't I help?” I didn’t— “Why can't I be someone you can trust?” That isn’t what this is about. Dazai wants to say, but the little voice inside his head says otherwise. It’s the silence that leaves them disoriented and upset, all but allowing the neutral silence they've grown susceptible fall into accordance. Carter’s voice has dwindled down to nothing, but hot breaths that match the earlier's build in tension. 
 


Whilst Dazai, on the other hand, has fallen stiff. His fingers twitching distinctly as he stands in front of Carter, watching mutely as Carter's face contorts from fluttering cocktail of frustration to one of pure genuine distraught. 
 


Dazai could laugh at the emotional discomfort he's manage to put them both in, he cornered Carter like a dog, all because he wanted to protect, when in reality, he was doing the exact opposite. 
 


Have they’ve always been this emotional? He wants to ask with a chuckle, but he's sure his voice would betray him, far faster than the storm in his chest he's currently fighting off. He’s fruitful in his attempt of reaching out towards Carter, but finds himself standing awkwardly after going unnoticed by Carter's attempt at straying away from their predicament. 
 


It's then that Carter's frame has gone still, and Dazai is then following his gaze in slow realization: the pathetic sight of torn-wilted flowers. —That’s right, Carter’s joys has always been with his garden. 
 


“Carter …” He hears himself say faintly like a whisper, and catches the distant sharp cut it does to the room. His name has always been uncharacteristically a dulled blue hue, similarly like blue wilted hydrangeas they planted not two summers ago. ‘Carter’ It was the start of their friendship, Carter’s pleasantries were like a lilac sky, across a sea of white-starlight plumes, and his garden was a product of his lustrous existence, merely decorating the ocean top with its beautiful array of blossoming baby-new buds. 

 

[Nai]

The moon crowded the sky with its looming impudence, the abandoned neighborhood staggering like a definite warzone, and the late-night fog drowning the streets in it’s reign, it was undoubtedly apparent of the change in throne. —Perhaps it was the ambience that stretched across the waking twilight, or the seething cries of the dead who mourned their preamble, but no matter who stood before this merciless place of a world: there was no place to hide. 
 


With an ear-deafening screech, the front door of the Ryuzaki household snapped and was hurled into wreckage from it’s hinges, and in it’s wake stood a stalker, the very same stalker that crippled Chrysanthemum Esso. The stalker, hideously, and inhumanly disfigured by her cordyceps, clicked faintly once before stifling a breath that wretched a gurgling scream. She managed to step through the broken splinters of the matchwood door with a shattering-crack, and underneath her staggering, exasperated breaths a crowd of runners flooded closer. —Whilst they mindlessly pursued their next meal, her fixation was elsewhere

 

[Vaan]

"Move it shrimp, go upstairs to the lover boys and tell them we're fucked if we don't blow this shit stand now."
 


This world was no place for cowards, yet, here Taro stood: never once tasting death, and watching as the valiant partake in a banquet of its delicacies. And perhaps the name shrimp was befitting of him, for he too stayed in school(s) and beared a natural prey status. Yet, even a scatterbrained organism such as a shrimp would know better than to stand face to face with it’s predator. 
 


Frozen.
 


How could he have theorized such an abundance of information, and meticulously detailed so many observations, but still be stirred by the presence of these damned things? And what was this singularity that busted down the door, and why was it so fixated on Chrys? Why didn’t she mention it before? —And why was he still not moving? He was terrified, and his notebook alone was not enough to still the shuttering of his shaken hands. He could die here. And if he did, would anyone even care? 
 


Anthony would do whatever it took to ensure his survival, and the ‘lover boys’ had each-other.. But what did that say of Chrys, the motherly girl who’d been continuously putting herself before him, yet he’d sought to treat with such bitterness.
 


It didn’t matter if he was old, or he was young. If he was a girl or he was a boy, or even if he’d been a simpleton rather than a prodigy. Dead was dead, and a corpse would always just be a corpse.
 


If he wanted to be remembered, even if only for a second: Chrysanthemum Esso, the below ideal-height mother type, would have to live to long enough to look upon him with fondness. And right now, she needed him to be strong—and to go up the stairs. He’d entirely forgotten about that. With graceless resolve, he bolted up the stairs and breathlessly landed himself before Carter and Dazai, who seemed to be having a moment of their own. 
 


What was he supposed to say again?
 


In a dry tone, whilst struggling to catch his breath, he delivered his attempt at Chrys’ words: “... Lover boys.. Blow,” That probably wasn’t it.

 

[Whisker]

After deserting Chrys and Taro, Anthony proceeded down the empty corridor and into the kitchen on the far backside of the house. Though the area had clearly not been touched in a long time, there was a trace of motherly domesticity about the area that gave him pause. 
 


How long has it been since I've seen my own mother? The thought hit him hard for a second, but he determinedly shook it off and instead studied his surroundings. In terms of design, the kitchen wasn't really that far off from the one in his father's apartment. There was the dual fridge and freezer, the top of the line appliances, a small dishwasher, and a table that looked like it could hold two or three at the most. They were almost exactly the same, but they were a world apart in terms of the feel they gave off. 
 


Let's face it, two guys living alone in an apartment who were barely ever there left behind a world of mess without ever cleaning it up. Even in the face of the apocalypse, Anthony knew that if he ever went back, he'd find his cleats still toppled haphazardly in the doorway next to his father's smelly work boots, a load of dishes in the sink with perhaps some leftover old breakfast on the table, and that wouldn't even be getting into the state of his bedroom yet ... But in comparison, Ryuzaki's place was neat and orderly. There were no dishes out and the only thing out of place was the old cardboard box on the counter that held some of their supplies. For a moment, he felt guilty about the mess ... but then brought himself back together again as he stepped across the room to pull out a granola from the box. 
 


God damn, I really am going soft. I'm not a little kid anymore. I shouldn't be thinking about her at a time like this, when I can barely take care of myself. Sliding back against the pantry, he tore the wrapper of the granola and munched in silence, his bat folded across his knees. His eyes were just beginning to glaze over a little when suddenly an unearthly shriek had him leaping to his feet as though his butt had just sat down upon some burning hot coals. In a flash, however, he was down again as his head smacked right into the edge of the cabinet, and had him doubled over in a heartbeat, the room spinning around and around as he literally saw stars. 
 


Fuck ... Trying his damnedest not to choke on the granola still in his mouth, he staggered over to the sink and spat out the remaining pieces as he fast as he could, his hand scrabbling to locate some cloth in order to clean up the mess he had made. His hand eventually closed in a neatly pressed kitchen cloth which he used to wipe his mouth and face before finally turning around to snatch up his bat. 
 


He had made it about halfway down the hall at a run when suddenly an explosion of splinters from the living room made him slow, his knees locking up in terror. The goddamned red-eyes were forcing their way inside! Swearing under his breath, his head glanced back down the hall in search of an escape route but found none available. The only place to go was up ... He was about ready to start bolting in that direction when suddenly a shaken Taro crossed his path from out of the room, his white-face petrified. Anthony opened his mouth to hail him but the boy just bolted up the stairs as though his ass were on fire, and from the sounds in the next room ... he really couldn't blame him one iota. 
 


But ... Anthony looked back towards the living room. As far as he knew, Chrys wasn't able to move on her own. Something had busted her leg real good and hard on a run she'd gone through. And from what he had observed, Taro had come out of that room alone. That meant Chrys was still in there somewhere! Forget it, man, she's toast. That's what his brain kept grilling into him ... but his legs refused to obey. He merely stood for half a second on the spot before finally swearing under his breath and crossing the distance to the living room ahead. The next few seconds passed in a blur as he passed right on through the door and came up behind Chrys. 
 


There was a vague moment in time when he might have just grabbed her and gone, but as his eyes slid past her and widened upon the looming figure standing in the wreckage of Ryuzaki's doorway, his body reacted to the shock with the movement it knew the best. In seconds, the bat was in his hands and he was swinging away as the thing frantically as though he were back in a game and going for the home run attempt ... Oh fuck ... Oh fuck ... Oh fuck ... What had been intended to be a grab and run had just now been escalated + 100. 

 

[Deviced]

As much as Carter had always felt like a flower himself, this instance in particular had made him feel far more than just one tiny bud; right now, Carter felt like an entire meadow, his soul being completely engulfed in what he could only describe as a creeping and fragrant wisteria. How does one properly convey the feeling of a trillion flowers blooming all at once in the hollows of one's rib cage? A coherent way of doing so completely eluded this individual.
 


Dazai's touch had been felt before by Carter's skin, much like Dazai's words had been heard before by Carter's ears-- but this time it was different. Dazai's hand hadn't ever felt so adoring, nor his words so melancholy. It reminded Carter of how much he really did pine for affection, no matter how much he told himself he didn't. “]... We can still look at the clouds together." Dazai's words fluttered after a moment, reminding Carter of a new butterfly setting off on it's first adventure; warily, but with purpose. It was a somber sort of smile that followed on to Carter's lips afterward, his eyes falling to the elegant collarbones peaking from beneath Dazai's shirt, traversing down to the curve of his shoulder and along the length of his fair arm, ending at Dazai's chilly fingertips that pressed against Carter's own hand. He wanted them to stay like that. A notable atmosphere change centered on the two, causing Carter's breath to suddenly hitch as the feeling of soft fingers made a presence on his cheek-- a feeling akin to what he imagined angel kisses to feel like. 
 


“We can still do so much together, but right now… we …" Dazai trailed off, his breathless tone sounding much like a mourning dove during an early sunrise, an intense woefulness hiding behind each gentle syllable. “We need to look out for each other, so please. Let me be the one to take care of you, you don’t have to act strong, neither of us do—” It was then when Carter realized his foolishness. Your temper tantrum may have just costed a life, his mind echoed, the grating sound of splintering wood and the muffled screams of the dead ringing like a gong in his brain. 
 


It wasn't a moment later when a sudden thud graciously filled up the room, and Carter's head whizzed around to get a glimpse of what had made the noise. “Lover boys... blow,” A severely out of breath Taro managed, causing Carter's mind to whir with possible definitions of that particular statement. Blow...? The poor boy never did have much practice in casual vernacular, so it was no surprise that he didn't exactly understand what Taro meant-- well, more so what Taro's sentence implied, since it wasn't very probable that the boy actually intended to say what he did-- but I digress. "Miyashita--" Carter began, before loud crashes of what he could only imagine were Anthony's footsteps reverberated through the house, signalling something that definitely wasn't good. They're inside.
 


Ordinarily in situations like these, it is common for someone to feel an overwhelming urge to be the hero and save those who need to be saved. Carter admired those people, for he definitely wasn't one of them. In fact, the young man froze in his position, eyes wide with fright and heart drumming loudly in his ears. Why aren't you moving? Do something you idiot! His mind barked angrily orders to fetch this and save that, but each attempt lead to a fruitless conclusion. 
 


Carter could only curl up unto himself, relieving a small chirrupy whimper from the back of his throat while doing so. It seemed as though he had gone catatonic. They'll leave you, Carter. Stop being a moron. Get up and get out, now. But no matter how hard he tried to pull himself together, Carter just couldn't move. 

 

[Nai]

Three months ago, the taste of spoiled milk and the inexplicable smell of ol’ spiced cinnamon, bubbled the streets like a open canister of perfume. It was a succumbing stench that drew to the air, like birds were to the sky. And it only spread it’s effluvium, like a plague of foul wings that tainted the air like an open canvas —The result: a fungus.
 


“—What?” Dazai said startled, staggering to his feet and managing to step in front of Carter, “Taro, where’s Chrys and Anthony?!” He managed to say in a rush before tugging the Miyashita into the room and inclining him towards Carter. “Stay with Carter, and get that window open, ” Dazai urged, his own voice not doing any favors, as it cracked. 
 


As if that last thing Carter needed was to see his own friend break under the pressure. He was trying to be strong in this situation. But the sound of howling screams deafened his eardrums and the thought of Chrysanthemum and Anthony being crowded by a horde of walkers, put him in a situation he wasn’t comfortable in. If he treaded down the steps, what would he find? His classmates battered and eaten? Or worse, just mere seconds away before the life left their eyes. He managed to take one last look at Carter before swallowing his pride, and saving face. 
 


“Figure out how to get across to the next building, I’ll go get Anthony and Chrys!” Dazai managed to yell over the sudden sound of runners suddenly all too close. —The smell of spoiled milk and cinnamon. 
 


He was careful as he managed to slip out the door letting it click shut behind him. The sound of his pounding heart drumming all too loudly in his ears as he inched towards the staircase, but froze the moment he saw a runner at the bottom end of the staircase. How did they manage to get in? His breath hitched at his throat and the sound of, no other than Anthony's heavy footsteps, pounded mercily against the old wooden floorboards. He didn’t have time to assume what happened next considering the runner had already managed to catch sight of him and was already crawling up the steps with speed. 
 


Dazai had no intention of ever ending a life, it was never in his nature, but the runner was already halfway up the steps and his blade —the very same one he found not two months ago, lodged deep amongst a corpse’s temple,— had him positioning himself as if he’d done this countless of times. But the kill was messy, Dazai had lost his footing somewhere between embedding the blade deep into the runner’s head and staggering forward onto the steps, he had pummeled into a roll down the stairs practically catapulting himself down to the lower level, where he faced not one but a swarm of runners on the verge of crowding Anthony and Chrysanthemum. 


“Shit.” 

 

[Genieva Von Bubbles]

He's a moron. A complete an utter moron! Chrys stood shell shocked for a solid thirty seconds before her brain started supplying some pretty gruesome insults in response to Anthony's appearance. 


The guy was swinging a bat at some slobbering glob of a human for fuck's sake. It was almost laughable. She did laugh. Chrys snorted and then started cackling like some wicked witch, doubling over in laughter, disregarding the seriousness of the situation. Anthony had charged in like some crazed bull, or a twisted version of a knight in shining armor. Her hysterics were interrupted by Dazai tumbling down the stairs. 
 


He's beauty, he's grace, he's got shit on his face!
 


With his arrival, she figured it was finally time to get a move on, the dead were increasing in number and she was certain that Carter would be upset if she let his boyfriend get chewed on. Not to mention Carter and Taro would be a terrible pair to make an escape. If the wall was close enough, she would slam her head into it. Dazai was just standing there, mouth hanging open, catching flies and Anthony was still swinging. 
 


Chrys threw her head back and let out a dragon worthy growl of exasperation. Men. She reached up-why was he so fucking tall?- grabbed the collar of Anthony's shirt and started pulling. ["Come on slugger we need ta jet! Unless you wanna let your fine ass get chewed to hell and back? Because I have no problem leavin' you behind. I like my ass unchewed, thanks."She did have a problem with it. 
 


Chrys was more likely to make sure these two bozos got up and out of the house before she did. Not that she'd say that aloud. She'd never actually admit to that. 
 
As she yanked at the giant in front of her, her violent gaze settled on Dazai and something akin to a snarl twisted her lips. "If yer just gonna sit there like yer brain damaged, then go back upstairs! But if ya wanna help then grab an arm and help me drag him up stairs before we die. 
 


If they make it out of this, she was going to sit them all down and give them a long talking to about decision making.

 

[Whisker]

The sound of his bat making contact with the jaw of the clicker sounded no different than splattering a watermelon. If it wasn’t for the writhing and slashing of the creature as it jerked backwards, Anthony might have pretended it to be the same. But as the creature reeled back from the doorway and several new bodies attempted to wriggle their way into the room, the tall slugger was more than just a little aware of how much of an ‘oopsie’ he might have made. 
 


Shit … Shit … Shit! The tall figure might've put on the back pedal right then and there, but Chrys saved him the trouble as she stopped yucking it up like a mad hyena and instead latched onto his shirt. Instinctively, he nearly jumped out of his skin, lofting his bat a few inches or two but dropping it again. 
 


"Come on slugger we need ta jet! Unless you wanna let your fine ass get chewed to hell and back? Because I have no problem leavin' you behind. I like my ass unchewed, thanks." Anthony opened his mouth to retort, but closed it again as a runner came barreling at him through the shattered door. 
 


Jerking away from Chrys temporarily, he brought up the bat in front of him as though it were a quarterstaff and tried to use it defend himself. Once the runner crashed into it, he would jam his weight into it in an attempt to push the moaning creature back into the horde. But there was another one just behind it and it brought it's hands up in a windmilling motion that was heavy enough to almost knock him cold where he stood. 
 


As it was, when it connected to the side of his head, he staggered backwards, blinking blood from his vision, and then was yanked out of the room by Chrys as though he were little more than a disobedient five year old who'd been separated from his mother. Ought to fucking be more grateful. I could've left her ass there ... Spitting out the bad taste from his mouth, he brought his bat upwards again in the expectation that more would have made it in. Behind him, he could hear footsteps, but Chrys didn't seem distraught. Instead, she twisted her arm and he was pushed towards the staircase in front of her. 
 


"If yer just gonna sit there like yer brain damaged, then go back upstairs! But if ya wanna help then grab an arm and help me drag him up stairs before we die." Irately, he jerked himself free. "I'm fine! I don't need help, dammit. Let's just get the hell ... " There was an ominous creaking sound as the damned red-eyes reached the porch outside. Color draining from his face, Anthony jumped onto the staircase and motioned to the others quickly. He still wasn't sure why they were going upstairs as they would certainly risk being cornered like rats ... but at that moment, anywhere seemed better than being right there!

 

[Vaan]

“Stay with Carter, and get that window open,” The ideology that love, and compatibility were intended to be purely objective was something viewed as foreign. A relationship without passion was frowned upon, and it was truly imperative that the two, or more participating parties of a blossoming romance should hold a certain fondness of each-other. 
 


In spite of these widely pronounced ideals, Taro believed that a potential relationship should be evaluated on a basis of advantages and disadvantages. For example, the advantage of courtship with someone akin to Chrysanthemum was the assurance that you’d always be put first. The disadvantage, ironically enough, was the deafness to your feelings if it guaranteed your safety. And while a relationship should’ve been the last thing on Taro’s mind, especially right now, it was undeniable that these type of evaluations rendered Carter to be a disadvantage entirely. In this heated situation, he’d showcased that his incompetence and self-concern was not only unique to daily-life. 
 


The lighthearted exchanges the two shared weren’t enough to justify his strain on their survivability, and his overall uselessness in times like this. And frankly, if it wasn’t for Carter’s flared-up emotions clouding Dazai’s synesthesia, the stalker’s presence would’ve been distinguished much earlier and this outcome could’ve been avoided entirely.
 


For some reason, it always came back to him.
 


After an unsuccessful attempt at unlocking the window, it was decided that it was instead in Taro’s best interest to attempt and recollect Carter. With simple directness, the boy broke in with, “-.. You.. are being.. a burden.”
 


Try again.
 


“.. Stop it.” he added just as bluntly, and abruptly pushed past Carter with a rough bump of his shoulder to the male’s side. He could hear the others bolting up the stairs, and his heart raced as quickly as their footsteps, whilst he rummaged through the boxes and debris scattered throughout Carter’s former room.
 


Find something, -anything that guarantees your escape out of this forsaken-place.

 

[Deviced]

"-.. You.. are being.. a burden.”


What?
 


"..Stop it."
 


Seriously?
 


Carter held his breath for a moment, waiting for another possible remark from Taro; but all that followed was a slight bump to his side from the boy, causing a ripple of tension to spread throughout his body. The hairs at the nape of Carter's neck prickled up in displeasure with an almost audible recoil, forcing his hunched spine to snap upright in attention. "Don't--" He began with a growl, quickly swallowing the rest of his words in realization of what he was about to say.
 


Don't fucking touch me. It's disgusting.
 


Perhaps in the moments following this, Carter's self-awareness piqued, and he realized what situation he was in. He never snapped, nor did he get angry with people easily, if at all. The incident with Dazai two minutes prior had been the first time Carter had raised his voice since his days of being cooped up in the hospital a million years ago. Maybe he was beginning to comprehend the real danger of the situation he was in, the fact that he could be seconds away from getting torn to pieces by those entities that were lurking on the floor below. Whatever the case, Carter's clouded brain suddenly recalled the bitter memories of quiet nights in the very room he stood, sitting in the closet with those dangerous, lingering thoughts. It seemed too far away to worry about now, but there was something Carter was forgetting...something important.
 


Something that could potentially save the lives of him and his peers. Carter's feet began moving before his brain could even process a plan, racing across the room to the wooden door of his closet. As he felt the bruised flowers squish under his step, Carter flung open the entrance to the dim space, stepping into the dark enclosure with an uncharacteristic amount of purpose. The area his closet provided was spacious and decorated enough to be another bedroom, but also frigid and eerie enough to act as a meat locker. Carter timidly felt along the left wall of the room until he reached a low, white wicker set of drawers, hurriedly pushing the light piece of furniture to his right, exposing a particularly loose floorboard. With shaky hands and a sharp breath, Carter removed the piece of flooring, exposing a box about the size of his lap sitting beneath a blanket of cobwebs. Without a moment to waste, he unlatched the box and blindly reached in, only to be met with the familiar smooth fibers of polyester rope against his shaky fingers, among other things.
 


After a thoughtless moment, Carter removed the box from its space and emptied it out on to the ground in front of him, revealing the stark, course rope his fingers had cradled before in moments of clouded thinking. Countless prescription bottles filled with cocktails of different drugs rolled around Carter in rhythmic circles, all of which he had kept hidden for months and months before the outbreak, having added the odd pill or two to his stash whenever he was alone. Tiny blades from pencil sharpeners and X-Acto knives littered the ground next to the young man, each a metallic reminder of the puckered kisses they had left along his inner thighs at times of remembrance. The sight was not sad or triggering for Carter; the only thing on his mind was that he planned to use these items for different purposes now, all of which included escaping the building with his life. The irony was too much to bare. Understandably, the thought of romanticizing something such as self-harm or suicide seemed absolutely ridiculous to Carter now, considering how much he wanted to live in that moment. But time was racing onward, and knowing that they had a possible way of escaping put the young man in a hopeful place with only one thing on his mind; Dazai. In a swift movement, Carter collected the fallen bottles of pain killers and sleep medication, as well as a few blades that were nearest to him, pocketing them for possible use in the future. He slung the rope into the crook of his left elbow, whilst spinning back around in the direction of his bedroom.
 


As he took those quick steps back to Taro, Carter heard the clambering of the group coming up the stairs, (or what he hoped was the group, and not a pack of stalkers) inevitably trying to escape whatever was on the floor below. Emerging from the closet, Carter made his way to the window, which was the only escape route available in that moment; but as luck would have it, the goddamn thing was jammed. Oh well. Anthony could fix that. Rope in hand, Carter quickly opened the door leading to the corridor, standing on his tip-toes to catch a glimpse of his peers who were cornered by the infected 'humans'. Lifting the rope to his shoulder, the young male waved down the stranded teens, motioning for them to haul ass to his room. Look! we have a way out!