The katana felt strangely alive in Ryuji's hands.
Its weight was perfect — balanced, familiar. As if it had been waiting for this moment all along.
Outside the ruined apartment complex, the city of Tokyo boiled with chaos. Broken cars littered the roads, their alarms wailing into the heavy, ash-filled air. Fires smoldered in the distance.
And the infected were everywhere.
Ryuji tightened the strap of his messenger bag across his chest, sheathing the blade carefully but within reach. His next step was clear:
Get to the main road and find a way to Osaka. His parents were out there — alive, he prayed — and he would not abandon them.
But the city had other plans.
As he crept down the debris-strewn street, Ryuji spotted a group of infected clustered around a toppled truck. Blood stained their clothes and faces, and they moved with jerky, unnatural twitches. He could avoid them if he stayed low, stayed quiet.
"One step at a time," he thought.
But then, he heard it.
A low, guttural growl.
Not from the group ahead — but from behind him.
He spun around, just in time to see it.
It was larger than the others — taller, more muscular, veins pulsing visibly under its pale skin. Its mouth hung open in a constant, snarling grin, revealing blackened teeth.
A mutant.
Without thinking, Ryuji drew his katana. The sound of steel sliding from its sheath echoed unnaturally loud.
The mutant charged.
Ryuji barely dodged its first swipe, the beast's claws raking deep gouges into the side of a burned-out car.
He had no time to think. Instinct and training took over. He slashed out, but the mutant leapt back with inhuman speed, circling him like a predator.
"This is real. This is happening."
"If I hesitate — I'm dead."
The mutant lunged again, and this time Ryuji met it head-on.
The katana flashed, slicing through the creature's forearm. It howled in rage but didn't slow down.
Ryuji gritted his teeth.
"Focus. Breathe."
Remembering his grandfather's words, he shifted his stance — low, ready — and when the mutant charged once more, Ryuji sidestepped, pivoting cleanly, and drove the blade deep into the creature's side.
The mutant shrieked, flailing wildly, but Ryuji twisted the katana free and, with a final, powerful swing, severed its head cleanly from its shoulders.
The body staggered, then collapsed.
Blood steamed on the asphalt around him. Ryuji stood panting, gripping the katana so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Slowly, he raised his head.
The infected near the truck had heard the commotion. They were turning, one by one, sensing fresh prey.
Ryuji wiped the blade clean with a torn rag, sliding it back into its sheath.
"Bring it on," he muttered.
For the first time since the world fell apart, he felt something bloom inside him — not fear.
But purpose.