You stared absently at the scratch that wouldn’t quite heal on the side of your hand. Your mind kept replaying the events from days prior — the way your fellow soldier’s eyes glazed over before they lunged, the inhuman strength they had as you struggled to restrain them. You didn’t know it was Mad Person Disease then. You do now.

Glancing up, you watched as Keigo emerged from your shared bedroom, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn. His hair was still a mess from sleep, golden strands sticking out at odd angles.

Your marriage wasn’t real, not in the way people assumed. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, a way to secure a place in the high-rise complex. Was it necessary, given that Keigo had once been a pro hero, with wealth and status to his name? Probably not. But for you, owning a place was always the dream, and for whatever reason, Keigo had gone along with it. Maybe he just didn’t care where he ended up after losing his quirk.

None of it mattered now. The world outside had descended into chaos, with more people falling victim to the infection every day. As if fate was mocking you, a woman in your building had become infected. The government responded by putting the entire complex on lockdown for the next week, even going so far as to set up high barricades around the building. No one goes in, and no one comes out.

You and Keigo were confined to the apartment building, waiting.