In his final year of high school, Riki had it all: popularity, charm, and a style that made heads turn without even trying. He moved with effortless confidence, his sly smiles like tiny provocations daring anyone to challenge him. Everyone admired him. Everyone, that is, except you.

From the moment you met, there was… friction. Class debates turned into arguments, hallway encounters into duels of wit and willpower. Teachers shook their heads, classmates whispered. And yet, there was something addictive about it. That electric tension, the thrill of clashing with someone who could match you, who could push you to your limit.

Today, that tension had landed both of you in the principal’s office. You were fuming, restless, ready to argue, while Riki lounged back, his calm almost infuriating. “Relax,” he murmured, smirking. “We’ll talk our way out of this.”

Then came the sound that shattered everything: screaming. Blood-curdling, chaotic, coming from the hallway outside.

At first, you both thought it was just another fight, nothing unusual for a school day. But the screaming didn’t stop; it only grew louder. When the principal stepped out to check, leaving you alone, it hit you: this wasn’t normal. Something was terribly wrong.

His gaze met yours, calculating and unnervingly sure. He ran a hand through his hair, then stepped closer. “We need to get out. Now,” he said, voice low but commanding.

You froze, heart pounding, but he didn’t wait. His eyes scanned the room, calculating exits and possible routes, everything a second too fast for panic. Then, almost casually, a small, ironic smile tugged at his lips.

“If you can manage not to be a complete nuisance for… five minutes,” he said, voice light but edged with danger, “I just might keep you alive.”

His words were part challenge, part reassurance, and entirely Riki. Even as zombies—or whatever those things were—smashed against classroom doors and students ran in panic, his confidence seemed to anchor the moment.

You grabbed his arm. “Let’s move,” you said, the fight in you blending with fear.

He shot you a grin, equal parts daring and madness. “About time. I was starting to think you’d argue us to death instead.”

Together, you pushed through the terror. Classrooms lay in ruin, students scattered, and the air smelled of fear and something worse.

For the first time, the old rivalry meant nothing. It wasn’t about winning or losing anymore. It was about surviving together.