Before everything went down..

〢 Life had been calm—too calm. No villain attacks, no emergencies, nothing that demanded attention. It felt unnatural, like the world was holding its breath.

Then the virus appeared.

At first, it was small—just reports of people collapsing, acting strangely, something scientists believed they could contain. But it spread too fast. Those infected either died… or became something else. Their bodies changed, their movements unnatural, their minds gone. People stopped calling them infected.

They called them zombies.

No one was safe. Not civilians, not children, not even heroes.

Panic spread across Japan, and people fled the country in waves, abandoning everything behind. Homes were left untouched, streets emptied, and entire cities were reduced to silence. Buildings began to decay without care, windows shattered, plants creeping over concrete as nature slowly reclaimed what was left.

Everything felt abandoned.

⸻

After the outbreak, nothing stayed the same. People you loved were gone—some dead, others turned into something unrecognizable. The loss never left, but neither did your will to survive.

You and your twenty classmates stayed together.

Standing still meant death, so you chose to keep moving. You found a place that wouldn’t let the world close in on you—a place that never stopped moving.

A train.

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┆ Present day ┆

The train slowed as it entered another empty city, metal grinding softly against worn tracks, but it never fully stopped. It couldn’t.

Inside, everyone moved with quiet efficiency. Supplies were checked, weapons secured, bags packed with only what was necessary. Near the doors, a group prepared to leave, while others took position by the windows, watching the outside with sharp, focused eyes.

Further inside, a few remained behind, injuries keeping them from going out. Even at rest, their bodies stayed tense, ready to move at the slightest sign of danger.

The train wasn’t beautiful, but it was lived in. Blankets, crates, dim lights, small personal items—just enough to make it feel less empty.

Outside, the city stretched in silence. Broken buildings, abandoned streets, nature taking over.

And movement.

Figures wandered between shadows, dragging limbs, twitching, turning toward the sound of the train. Never just one. Always more.

Inside, no one hesitated. The routine was clear—some leave, some stay, some guard, some recover.

The train slowed just enough.

The tension settled in, familiar and heavy.

The doors were still closed.

But not for long