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The next day, the sun had barely risen over the ash-tinted sky, and already the fortress was a hive of motion. The secure garage doors sealed behind our two vehicles, and inside the converted control room, the survivors sat around the central tactical display.
Marco stood at the helm, his eyes scanning radio frequencies, maps, and satellite images on a half-dozen screens.
Saya Takagi adjusted her glasses and leaned over the comm terminal. "We're receiving confirmation codes. It's them. It's my parents."
Marco nodded, activating the channel. "This is Fortress One. Come in, Takagi Estate."
Static. Then a sharp male voice cut through the noise.
"This is Takagi Estate. Identify."
Saya stepped forward. "This is Takagi Saya. I'm alive. I'm with a squad. We're secure in a reinforced location."
A brief pause. Then: "Roger that. Glad to hear your voice, Saya. We'll continue secure comms every 6 hours. Expect recon and updates."
Saya stepped back, breathing deeply, her fingers curled. "They're okay."
Kyoko-sensei coordinated food and watch schedules with Kaede, who was already prepping rations with her help. Meanwhile, Marco stood with Shizuka, Rei, and Ayumu.
"Rei-chan, you and Shizuka-sensei will move to support Bravo Team after initial contact. We need to clear fuel points. Ayumu-chan, stay here and run medical prep with Kaede-san."
Ayumu nodded obediently.
"Team Alpha – Takashi-san and Saeko-chan – is already en route to Rei-chan's house, who is closer to us," Marco said, turning to the tactical board. "Bravo – Kohta and Hiroki – are on their way to the gas station cluster southeast of here."
He tapped the board. "Live comms only when needed. I don't want any chatter giving away your position."
Team Alpha
The neighborhood around Rei's house was a fucking mess. Burned-out cars, overturned trash bins, scattered bodies. Saeko's grip on her katana tightened.
Takashi whispered. "There's movement near the intersection."
Two walkers shambled from the wreckage.
"Silent," she whispered.
He nodded.
Takashi crept forward, smashing the first one's skull with his crowbar, while Saeko darted around the second, slicing clean through its neck with a single draw.
No words.
They were in sync now.
Rei's house came into view—shutters half-broken, front gate hanging off its hinges.
Inside, they moved with care, checking rooms.
The living room smelled of blood and gunpowder. Her father's body was there. Bullet through the skull. Bite mark on his arm.
Takashi clenched his jaw.
"Her mom?"
Saeko shook her head. "No body. No signs."
They shared a look. Something had pulled her out. Dead or alive, they couldn't know yet.
Takashi activated the radio. "This is Alpha. Rei's father is confirmed deas, bite mark on his arm, suicided to not transform. No sign of her mother."
Team Bravo
Kohta adjusted the focus on his AR-15's scope, perched on a half-demolished rooftop. "Five men outside the station," he muttered. "Two on the roof. One pacing. They're armed. Probably a Biker's gang."
Through his lens, he spotted her.
A girl. Tied to a chair inside the station's store. Her uniform was torn but intact, no wounds visible. Long brown hair in twin tails, soft brown eyes scanning desperately, crying silently for help.
"Hostage inside," he whispered. "Teen girl. Looks about our age. Brown hair, twintails, busty. Kinda cute. She's alive."
"Copy," Hiroki's voice buzzed in.
He was already creeping along the alley.
Kohta aligned the sights.
Pfft.
One rooftop guard dropped.
Pfft.
Second. Clean headshot.
The pacing man turned just as Hiroki lunged, kukris gleaming.
A whisper of metal.
Blood sprayed.
Kohta kept picking off exterior targets while Hiroki sliced through the indoor guards with surgical silence.
It was over in less than five minutes.
Kohta descended as Hiroki cut the girl's binds.
She gasped, trembling. "T-thank you. I thought they'd… do worse."
Hiroki gave her a bottle of water. "What's your name?"
"Chika… Chika Kogure."
Kohta blinked. "Of course that's her name," he muttered. "She looks like a Chika."
She was pretty—voluptuous, school uniform stretched tight, long legs and a slightly flushed face, trembling but not broken.
Shizuka and Rei arrived just as they began gathering the fuel.
"Woooow~ You cleared all of this?" Shizuka marveled.
Kohta laughed. "They never saw it coming."
Rei helped secure jerrycans. "Let's load everything. Every goddamn drop."
They moved fast, clearing out medical packs, dry food, ammo, fuel—everything.
Chika leaned against the truck's door, watching them move.
"I don't know what you guys are doing," she muttered, "but I want to be in."
Rei raised an eyebrow. "We'll see."
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Back in the command room, Saya Takagi was standing by the long-range encrypted radio system, fingers flying across the controls with the ease of someone born to organize chaos.
Marco stood beside her, arms crossed, listening closely as the line crackled to life.
"This is Takagi Saya from Fortress One. Do you copy, Takagi Estate?"
The sharp, commanding voice of her father replied. "Loud and clear, Saya-chan. Is your Leader, Marco-dono present?"
Marco leaned in. "I'm here. You have two minutes. Let's sync."
Saya took a breath and continued. "We've secured our area and collected a considerable amount of supplies. Fuel, ammo, rations. We'll be sending a third of it to your grid. Specifically to the water treatment guards and those holding the electrical substations."
"Understood. Your generosity won't go unnoticed."
Marco cut in. "Also, be advised—there's a yellow school bus we encountered from a distance. Survivors from Fujimi Academy. They're followers of the pedophile Koichi Shidō."
Saya's voice sharpened. "They're unstable. We recommend you kill Shidō."
"Copy that. We'll have patrols keep an eye from afar. Anything else?"
Marco nodded to Saya.
"That's it for now. We'll report again in six hours."
"Affirmative. Takagi Estate out."
The sound of heavy tires rolling across the steel-plated garage echoed through the compound as the Hammer transport roared in.
Hiroki stepped out first, followed by Kohta—who immediately began cataloging the fuel containers they had stacked in the rear compartment.
Rei and Shizuka helped a trembling but determined girl climb out of the vehicle.
She was clearly not from their school.
Her uniform was unfamiliar—blue skirt, white blouse with a navy trim—and though it was a bit tattered, it was distinctly from a different academy. Long brown hair tied in neat twintails, wide brown eyes cautiously scanning her surroundings.
She kept close to Hiroki, uncertain.
Marco approached, his gaze analytical. "You're not from Fujimi."
The girl nodded slowly. "I'm not. I went to Ichikawa Central High… or, well… I did."
He folded his arms. "Name?"
"Chika. Chika Kogure."
He studied her for a moment, then glanced toward Hiroki.
"She was being held hostage at a gas station," Hiroki explained. "The gang had taken over the entire property."
Kohta added, "She's got no training, but she handled being rescued better than half the guys I knew before this."
Marco nodded, then activated his information system, focusing on her.
[SYSTEM]
Name: Chika Kogure
Age: 18
Survival Level: 2/10 (Tier 0)
Boobs Size: E-cup
Survival Abilities: 2 – (High Agility / Quick Learner)
Weaknesses: Inexperienced in combat / No firearm training / Physically sensitive (low pain tolerance)
Summary: Chika is a fast runner and extremely perceptive. Though emotionally shaken, she shows signs of resilience and adaptability. She has never handled weapons but exhibits potential under proper guidance.
Marco closed the panel.
"Kyoko-sensei."
Kyoko walked over, tablet in hand, already syncing to his system.
"Got it," she said. "Want a custom training regimen?"
"Yes. Based on this profile, focus on light mobility drills, self-defense, and handgun safety. Integrate her with Ayumu for non-combat logistics first, then rotate her in through support recon."
"On it," Kyoko said, fingers already tapping instructions.
Chika glanced nervously at the others. Marco gave her a reassuring look.
"You're part of the team now, Chika-chan. Just keep up and stay alert."
Marco returned to the command board and pinged the comm system.
"Takashi-san. Saeko-chan. New assignment."
Takashi's voice came in through the comms. "Go ahead."
"You're heading to the Yakuza safehouse, southwest sector. My contact should still be holding out there. Name's Izana Kuroinu. I've made arrangements. Secure all the gear and intel he can give you. And him too, if possible."
"Understood," Saeko replied calmly. "Coordinates received."
"Bravo Team will meet you there for extraction. Shizuka-sensei's already prepping."
The streets leading toward the Yakuza district were worse than before.
Abandoned patrol cars. Shattered windows. Half-eaten bodies left to rot.
Takashi grunted, driving a crowbar through a walker's skull.
Saeko moved like a ghost, her blade gliding through another's neck with effortless cruelty.
They reached the compound—a reinforced building with metal gates, red lanterns still swaying in the wind.
Gunfire cracked from inside.
They exchanged a glance.
Takashi nodded. "Go silent."
They slipped through the side, taking down a stray infected. The courtyard was a mess of blood, shell casings, and Yakuza bodies.
Inside, they found him.
A man in a red suit, a deep scar across his face, a cigar in his mouth.
"Izana Kuroinu?"
He looked up, surprised—but grinned.
"So, the kid sent you. About fucking time."
"We're here for the supplies."
He jerked his head toward the crates stacked behind him. "Ammo, silencers, modified rifles, laser mounts, even some drones. Took out ten raiders just holding this shit."
Takashi and Saeko moved fast, pulling the gear into duffels and crates.
Outside, they heard the Hammer roll up.
Kohta waved from the turret. "Your Uber's here!"
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