oh god oh god why.... I apologize in advance for the terribleness! and if the coding goes wrong, I am so new at this, I'm so sorry...
Souji Seta and the Zombie Apocalypse [1/?]
Thursday, October 13th, Lunchtime. Weather: Sunny.
Who would’ve thought that Mystery Food X would’ve caused this?
They gathered up on the roof, enjoying lunch, when Yukiko offered everyone to try her latest recipe. Everyone immediately declined.
“I’m saying you’re not giving it a chance,” Yukiko said, sniffling. In her hands was a batch of ramen she prepared the night before, toiling with ingredients and throwing them in when it sounded good (or course, she did so while getting Chie’s approval all the while). The bubbling concoction smelled of the dead fish he occasionally caught while fishing in the Samegawa. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Just . . . just try it, okay?”
Yosuke shook his head. “Nope. Nuh-uh. No way. I am not putting myself through that again.”
She looked over to Chie, who laughed hesitantly. “W-Well, I just ate lunch, so it would be a shame to feed it to someone who’s already ate, right?” Her nervous laugh didn’t convince anyone as Yukiko’s head drooped a little. “W-What about you, Kanji? Would you like some?”
“Uh.” Kanji ran a hand through his bleached hair as he wearily eyed the ramen, then tried to smile sheepishly. “Sorry, Yukiko-senpai, but it does smell terrible. Ow!” Yukiko, after putting the bowl aside, walked up and slapped him. “My jaw! I’m just saying how I see it, alright? No need to go all violent - hey, what about you?” He looked over to Rise, who was giggling in the corner. “Why don’t you try some, huh?”
Rise pouted. “I wish I could,” she said, “but, like Chie-senpai, I already ate. You, Naoto-kun?”
Naoto glanced at the bowl, then back to Yukiko with a firm shake of her head. “By simple deductions, I am sorry, Yukiko-senpai, but I think it would be best if we threw it out. Perhaps next time, when it doesn’t appear to be poisonous.”
Souji swallowed down a nervous laugh when Yukiko, running out of options, turned in his direction with a certain sparkle in her eye. Yes, he did, in fact, have a questionable diet, but when his stomach lurched just by looking at the pile of purple, gooey noodles (how did she even manage to do that?), he knew better than to sample some. “I have an idea,” he said, thankful that his brain was quick-thinking. “Why don’t we get Hanako to eat some? If she likes it, then we all owe it to you to eat whatever you cook next time. If not, then we won’t. How does that sound?”
She stared into her bowl, then nodded. “All right.”
Re: Here we go...
anonymous
May 20 2012, 13:22:28 UTC
Souji Seta and the Zombie Apocalypse [2/?]
Everyone appeared relieved as the two left, heading towards the second-year hall. Hanako stood there, swallowing down another stick of a chicken leg. She looked up as Yukiko approached, licking her lips as a skeptical expression crossed her face. “What?”
“W-well,” Yukiko managed, peering into her ramen bowl, then smiled (which appeared forced, if Souji didn’t know better) at her. “I was wondering if you’d like my lunch. There was far too much to finish, and I thought you might want some. If you don’t,” she quickly added when Hanako raised an accusing eyebrow, “then I’ll find someone else, but I wanted to ask you first. Um.” The offer hung in the air, Hanako staring at Yukiko and Yukiko’s eyes downcast into the ramen bowl.
“Sure, I’ll take some,” Hanako replied a moment later, taking the bowl out of her hands. She gripped her large chopsticks and began to feast upon the ramen, noodles slurping down her throat loud enough to make Souji want to cringe. Sauce smacked and splattered from her lips, a little landing on Yukiko’s cheek, who wiped it away discreetly with a small shudder. “Wow,” Hanako said, looking into the bowl, “this is good.” She proceeded to eat the rest of the bowl, only bits of what seemed to be cabbage floating in the excess sauce at the bottom.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Yukiko replied, glint in her eyes as she looked over to Souji. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to concede that his doubts of her “bad” cooking was finally proved wrong, but with Hanako enjoying her meal, he didn’t have much options. Nodding, he gave her a smile and the glint in her eyes brightened, taking the bowl back from Hanako. “If I have anything extra next time, I’ll make sure to give it to you, all right?”
She smiled again, only for it to fall a little. Hanako stood in a daze, eyes looking up at the ceiling as her fingers twitched oddly. Souji blinked, watching as the robust girl began gurgling, saliva oozing from her mouth and casting a trail down her neck. Veins bulged and her eyes shot open wide as she fell to her knees, gurgling growing louder, saliva production appearing to increase tenfold. What alerted him more than anything, while Yukiko began to back away and other second-year students stopped to see what was the commotion, was that her eyes began to discolor from its normal brown to a yellowish-white.
Shadow? He thought, but he batted that thought aside. Shadows only existed in the world within the TV, not in his world. If not a Shadow, then what was happening to Hanako? His mind raced through many options as the girl continued to slump. She wasn’t choking, because she wouldn’t be making hideous growls and groans. He approached her side as she continued involuntarily twitching, almost like she was having a . . .
“A seizure!” he shouted, trying to support Hanako up. “Someone get the school nurse, or a doctor!” A few second-years scattered, running towards the health association group, while several others pulled out their cellphones, calling an ambulance. Yukiko had hers out the fastest, frantically telling whoever it was on the other end that someone at their school was probably having a seizure. “Hanako-san,” he said, trying to hold her down. “Hanako-san, can you hear me?” He had no idea what to do when someone had a seizure. If she hit her head while flailing around, that would be terrible. Instead, he kept trying to keep her in control.
Re: Here we go...
anonymous
May 31 2012, 19:58:03 UTC
Souji Seta and the Zombie Apocalypse [3/?]
Someday, Lunchtime. Weather: Does it matter...?
Since his sister’s death, Naoki learned several things. One, life was short. Two, serial killers are dicks. Three, everyone gave you a free ride if something tragic happened, and often avoided the subject while secretly wanting to know everything when they talked to you. The fourth, and the most recent thing he learned as of five minutes ago, is that when someone yells something about a seizure happening, you instead should assume that everyone is throwing flesh around as if it were a food fight.
The rest of the health committee screamed and ran back down the stairs. Naoki took another step forward, however, eyes disbelieving what he was witnessing. Blood splattered over the walls as students haphazardly stumbled and gurgled, trying to latch onto any other student and biting down onto them, guzzling down their veins and blood and holy shit one just pried out a student’s eyes with its bare hands. He started to back up. Yes, he was a little depressed (someone called him suicidal once), and he might’ve thought of dying once or twice, but upon reconsideration, he realized maybe he didn’t want to die this way.
He spotted Souji amongst the students.
Souji, the one guy who talked to him, saying honestly how he wanted to know how Naoki was doing. Souji, the upperclassman who, with nothing to gain, decided to hang out with him at Aiya’s, listened to his problems, and even coached him through it without taking any of the glory. He was propped up against the wall, sweat glistening on his brow, as he clasped a hand over his arm. Blood welled up around what looked to be a bite wound. It was a miracle that none of the . . . zombies had feasted too much upon him.
A golf club, dented and split in half, rested beside Souji’s feet.
Ah. That explained it.
Naoki grabbed one of the chairs abandoned near the stairs and pressed onwards, medical kit under one arm. A zombie lunged at him, and he dropped the kit to focus on the force of the chair connecting against its head. The neck bone snapped, and the head fell off the shoulders (how?), rolling towards his feet. Naoki quickly kicked the head at another zombie, hitting one side of its face. It stumbled back, flailing aimlessly on the ground, twitching until it stopped. He picked up the medical kit again and hurried over to Souji.
“Naoki?” Souji winced.
“I don’t want to know what happened.” He opened the kit and pulled out the antibiotic ointment. “And as annoying as I find you and Hamamura, I don’t think it’s right to leave you to die. That would . . .” Be tragic, he thought, because I actually kind of like you. “. . . suck. Move your hand so I can actually treat you.”
Souji shook his head. “You have to get out of here.”
“No. I’m not letting you give me another free pass in life.”
“Naoki--”
“Damn it, Senpai! Do I look like I’m in the mood to have this discussion?” He glanced over his shoulder and stood up quickly, whacking away another zombie with the chair. The bones crunched disturbingly and the zombie collapsed to the floor, doing the same twitching dance that seemed to be a growing trend. “I’m not, if you can’t get the hint. And I don’t really have the time, either. So are you going to let me help you, or would you rather be food?”
He fell silent, eyes flickering with something indescribable, then moved his blood-covered hand away from the bite. Naoki swallowed. Whoever assailed him took a chunk of flesh, fat, and meat, and he could see the bone. Human teeth weren’t supposed to sink that deep. “Keep a look out,” he said, “and if any zombie comes close, tell me so I can beat it before it eats me, okay?”
Re: Here we go...
anonymous
May 31 2012, 20:01:08 UTC
Souji Seta and the Zombie Apocalypse [3.5/?]
Before getting an answer, he smeared the ointment, hearing his Senpai hiss. It must hurt, yet the guy wasn’t showing any sign (aside from the small sheen of sweat) of pain until the ointment touched the bite. Regardless, he applied more, though he couldn’t tell if it was helping. He gave up on the ointment and pulled out the bandages, wrapping a length of it around the bite, making it as tight as he could. Some blood seeped through the white, so he added a bit more, fastening it with a quick knot.
“Better?” he asked, rising and giving Souji a hand.
“Thanks,” he replied, grimacing. “Still, Naoki, get out of here. I’m not,” he added quickly, “giving you a pass. Staying here will only kill you. Get the rest of your family, pack your bags, leave Inaba until I’m able to figure something out.”
“You’re . . .” Staying behind, even though you could die? “. . . an idiot.” Naoki picked up one half of the golf club and impaled a zombie through its mouth, the end sticking out through the back of its head, and nodded. “. . . Fine. I’ll go. But you better make it out alive, Senpai.” And if you don’t, he thought, say “hi” to my sister.
He liked Souji because he could read people easily, and his thought must have crossed his face, because Souji was nodding slowly. He took the less-sticky half of the golf club. “I’ll see you then,” he said.
“Hah.” Naoki hefted up the kit and, armed with his chair, began traversing the gut-infested, zombie-writhing lands of Inaba. “Laters,” he muttered, imitating his sister as he headed down to the first-year hall.
But he wasn’t leaving yet. He wasn’t going to let Senpai have all the glory. Bludgeoning a zombie aside, a small quirk of a grin stretched his lips. After all, he had to, according to his parents, “live an honorable life.”
I might get there before you, though, Senpai, so never mind that thought. I’ll tell her myself.
Souji Seta and the Zombie Apocalypse [1/?]
Thursday, October 13th, Lunchtime. Weather: Sunny.
Who would’ve thought that Mystery Food X would’ve caused this?
They gathered up on the roof, enjoying lunch, when Yukiko offered everyone to try her latest recipe. Everyone immediately declined.
“I’m saying you’re not giving it a chance,” Yukiko said, sniffling. In her hands was a batch of ramen she prepared the night before, toiling with ingredients and throwing them in when it sounded good (or course, she did so while getting Chie’s approval all the while). The bubbling concoction smelled of the dead fish he occasionally caught while fishing in the Samegawa. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Just . . . just try it, okay?”
Yosuke shook his head. “Nope. Nuh-uh. No way. I am not putting myself through that again.”
She looked over to Chie, who laughed hesitantly. “W-Well, I just ate lunch, so it would be a shame to feed it to someone who’s already ate, right?” Her nervous laugh didn’t convince anyone as Yukiko’s head drooped a little. “W-What about you, Kanji? Would you like some?”
“Uh.” Kanji ran a hand through his bleached hair as he wearily eyed the ramen, then tried to smile sheepishly. “Sorry, Yukiko-senpai, but it does smell terrible. Ow!” Yukiko, after putting the bowl aside, walked up and slapped him. “My jaw! I’m just saying how I see it, alright? No need to go all violent - hey, what about you?” He looked over to Rise, who was giggling in the corner. “Why don’t you try some, huh?”
Rise pouted. “I wish I could,” she said, “but, like Chie-senpai, I already ate. You, Naoto-kun?”
Naoto glanced at the bowl, then back to Yukiko with a firm shake of her head. “By simple deductions, I am sorry, Yukiko-senpai, but I think it would be best if we threw it out. Perhaps next time, when it doesn’t appear to be poisonous.”
Souji swallowed down a nervous laugh when Yukiko, running out of options, turned in his direction with a certain sparkle in her eye. Yes, he did, in fact, have a questionable diet, but when his stomach lurched just by looking at the pile of purple, gooey noodles (how did she even manage to do that?), he knew better than to sample some. “I have an idea,” he said, thankful that his brain was quick-thinking. “Why don’t we get Hanako to eat some? If she likes it, then we all owe it to you to eat whatever you cook next time. If not, then we won’t. How does that sound?”
She stared into her bowl, then nodded. “All right.”
Reply
Everyone appeared relieved as the two left, heading towards the second-year hall. Hanako stood there, swallowing down another stick of a chicken leg. She looked up as Yukiko approached, licking her lips as a skeptical expression crossed her face. “What?”
“W-well,” Yukiko managed, peering into her ramen bowl, then smiled (which appeared forced, if Souji didn’t know better) at her. “I was wondering if you’d like my lunch. There was far too much to finish, and I thought you might want some. If you don’t,” she quickly added when Hanako raised an accusing eyebrow, “then I’ll find someone else, but I wanted to ask you first. Um.” The offer hung in the air, Hanako staring at Yukiko and Yukiko’s eyes downcast into the ramen bowl.
“Sure, I’ll take some,” Hanako replied a moment later, taking the bowl out of her hands. She gripped her large chopsticks and began to feast upon the ramen, noodles slurping down her throat loud enough to make Souji want to cringe. Sauce smacked and splattered from her lips, a little landing on Yukiko’s cheek, who wiped it away discreetly with a small shudder. “Wow,” Hanako said, looking into the bowl, “this is good.” She proceeded to eat the rest of the bowl, only bits of what seemed to be cabbage floating in the excess sauce at the bottom.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Yukiko replied, glint in her eyes as she looked over to Souji. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to concede that his doubts of her “bad” cooking was finally proved wrong, but with Hanako enjoying her meal, he didn’t have much options. Nodding, he gave her a smile and the glint in her eyes brightened, taking the bowl back from Hanako. “If I have anything extra next time, I’ll make sure to give it to you, all right?”
She smiled again, only for it to fall a little. Hanako stood in a daze, eyes looking up at the ceiling as her fingers twitched oddly. Souji blinked, watching as the robust girl began gurgling, saliva oozing from her mouth and casting a trail down her neck. Veins bulged and her eyes shot open wide as she fell to her knees, gurgling growing louder, saliva production appearing to increase tenfold. What alerted him more than anything, while Yukiko began to back away and other second-year students stopped to see what was the commotion, was that her eyes began to discolor from its normal brown to a yellowish-white.
Shadow? He thought, but he batted that thought aside. Shadows only existed in the world within the TV, not in his world. If not a Shadow, then what was happening to Hanako? His mind raced through many options as the girl continued to slump. She wasn’t choking, because she wouldn’t be making hideous growls and groans. He approached her side as she continued involuntarily twitching, almost like she was having a . . .
“A seizure!” he shouted, trying to support Hanako up. “Someone get the school nurse, or a doctor!” A few second-years scattered, running towards the health association group, while several others pulled out their cellphones, calling an ambulance. Yukiko had hers out the fastest, frantically telling whoever it was on the other end that someone at their school was probably having a seizure. “Hanako-san,” he said, trying to hold her down. “Hanako-san, can you hear me?” He had no idea what to do when someone had a seizure. If she hit her head while flailing around, that would be terrible. Instead, he kept trying to keep her in control.
Until she grabbed him by the arm and bit him.
Reply
Someday, Lunchtime. Weather: Does it matter...?
Since his sister’s death, Naoki learned several things. One, life was short. Two, serial killers are dicks. Three, everyone gave you a free ride if something tragic happened, and often avoided the subject while secretly wanting to know everything when they talked to you. The fourth, and the most recent thing he learned as of five minutes ago, is that when someone yells something about a seizure happening, you instead should assume that everyone is throwing flesh around as if it were a food fight.
The rest of the health committee screamed and ran back down the stairs. Naoki took another step forward, however, eyes disbelieving what he was witnessing. Blood splattered over the walls as students haphazardly stumbled and gurgled, trying to latch onto any other student and biting down onto them, guzzling down their veins and blood and holy shit one just pried out a student’s eyes with its bare hands. He started to back up. Yes, he was a little depressed (someone called him suicidal once), and he might’ve thought of dying once or twice, but upon reconsideration, he realized maybe he didn’t want to die this way.
He spotted Souji amongst the students.
Souji, the one guy who talked to him, saying honestly how he wanted to know how Naoki was doing. Souji, the upperclassman who, with nothing to gain, decided to hang out with him at Aiya’s, listened to his problems, and even coached him through it without taking any of the glory. He was propped up against the wall, sweat glistening on his brow, as he clasped a hand over his arm. Blood welled up around what looked to be a bite wound. It was a miracle that none of the . . . zombies had feasted too much upon him.
A golf club, dented and split in half, rested beside Souji’s feet.
Ah. That explained it.
Naoki grabbed one of the chairs abandoned near the stairs and pressed onwards, medical kit under one arm. A zombie lunged at him, and he dropped the kit to focus on the force of the chair connecting against its head. The neck bone snapped, and the head fell off the shoulders (how?), rolling towards his feet. Naoki quickly kicked the head at another zombie, hitting one side of its face. It stumbled back, flailing aimlessly on the ground, twitching until it stopped. He picked up the medical kit again and hurried over to Souji.
“Naoki?” Souji winced.
“I don’t want to know what happened.” He opened the kit and pulled out the antibiotic ointment. “And as annoying as I find you and Hamamura, I don’t think it’s right to leave you to die. That would . . .” Be tragic, he thought, because I actually kind of like you. “. . . suck. Move your hand so I can actually treat you.”
Souji shook his head. “You have to get out of here.”
“No. I’m not letting you give me another free pass in life.”
“Naoki--”
“Damn it, Senpai! Do I look like I’m in the mood to have this discussion?” He glanced over his shoulder and stood up quickly, whacking away another zombie with the chair. The bones crunched disturbingly and the zombie collapsed to the floor, doing the same twitching dance that seemed to be a growing trend. “I’m not, if you can’t get the hint. And I don’t really have the time, either. So are you going to let me help you, or would you rather be food?”
He fell silent, eyes flickering with something indescribable, then moved his blood-covered hand away from the bite. Naoki swallowed. Whoever assailed him took a chunk of flesh, fat, and meat, and he could see the bone. Human teeth weren’t supposed to sink that deep. “Keep a look out,” he said, “and if any zombie comes close, tell me so I can beat it before it eats me, okay?”
Reply
Before getting an answer, he smeared the ointment, hearing his Senpai hiss. It must hurt, yet the guy wasn’t showing any sign (aside from the small sheen of sweat) of pain until the ointment touched the bite. Regardless, he applied more, though he couldn’t tell if it was helping. He gave up on the ointment and pulled out the bandages, wrapping a length of it around the bite, making it as tight as he could. Some blood seeped through the white, so he added a bit more, fastening it with a quick knot.
“Better?” he asked, rising and giving Souji a hand.
“Thanks,” he replied, grimacing. “Still, Naoki, get out of here. I’m not,” he added quickly, “giving you a pass. Staying here will only kill you. Get the rest of your family, pack your bags, leave Inaba until I’m able to figure something out.”
“You’re . . .” Staying behind, even though you could die? “. . . an idiot.” Naoki picked up one half of the golf club and impaled a zombie through its mouth, the end sticking out through the back of its head, and nodded. “. . . Fine. I’ll go. But you better make it out alive, Senpai.” And if you don’t, he thought, say “hi” to my sister.
He liked Souji because he could read people easily, and his thought must have crossed his face, because Souji was nodding slowly. He took the less-sticky half of the golf club. “I’ll see you then,” he said.
“Hah.” Naoki hefted up the kit and, armed with his chair, began traversing the gut-infested, zombie-writhing lands of Inaba. “Laters,” he muttered, imitating his sister as he headed down to the first-year hall.
But he wasn’t leaving yet. He wasn’t going to let Senpai have all the glory. Bludgeoning a zombie aside, a small quirk of a grin stretched his lips. After all, he had to, according to his parents, “live an honorable life.”
I might get there before you, though, Senpai, so never mind that thought. I’ll tell her myself.
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