04 Story Yui's Left Arm
Hayato stepped out of his home and began walking through the city, still devoid of people.
It was expected that no humans were present. But why were there no Zombies?
Zombies had been seen in school buildings and supermarkets. Perhaps they preferred darkness. Meeting one suddenly indoors was pure horror.
"First, I should secure a bicycle?"
When summoned to the other world, Hayato had been at high school.
His own bicycle had been left at the school, but after three years of neglect, it was nowhere to be found.
Walking while pondering where to acquire one, Hayato eventually heard an unusual sound.
The moans of Zombies overlapped with the sound of something being struck.
— There were outdoor enthusiasts after all.
Zombies seemed to have individuality.
Still thinking that, Hayato turned his gaze toward the Zombie that neither rain nor wind could overcome, and saw three of them gathered at the front door of a residential house.
— What are they doing?
Hayato frowned. He realized the possibility that survivors might be inside the house the Zombies were gathering around.
The Zombies were not knocking on the door to conduct door-to-door sales. They were doing it to spread the Zombie virus.
The Zombies bit humans, infected them with the virus, killed them, and then controlled their bodies to make them bite others.
It was similar to door-to-door sales of the Zombie virus, but it was forced upon the recipient.
Like plants performing photosynthesis, Zombies derived their energy by absorbing mana, so they would not starve to death.
— They’re already dead, though.
The Zombie pounded the front door violently, like a debt collector.
Hayato, considering the possibility that survivors were inside, decided to eliminate the Zombies.
Information was the immediate priority.
From the spatial storage, Hayato drew a spear. He gripped it loosely and dashed forward.
Moving at the speed of a grizzly bear, he thrust the spear into the first Zombie. The tip pierced through the head. The Zombie fell in one strike.
— This kind of thing, isn’t it, underutilized?
Still, he did not wish for the Demon Clan to appear.
Muttering excuses to himself, Hayato swung the spear again in quick succession.
The spear traced a path through the air, piercing the second Zombie’s throat.
Hayato kicked the second body away and turned the spear toward the third.
"You’re the last one."
The last Zombie moved slightly faster than the previous two.
Zombies using human bodies moved more efficiently when newly formed.
The third one seemed to retain a faint trace of intelligence.
"Using the other two as shields? That’s cheating."
The spear struck home. The final Zombie fell without resistance.
Hayato watched it fall. He swung the spear sharply through the air to flick the dirt from the tip. He reached for the house door.
It was locked. No sign of opening.
He considered breaking it, but destroying the door would hinder his goal of gathering information from the other side.
They might retaliate by lying about the place being paradise, luring him into a Zombie paradise.
Hayato stepped back from the entrance. He looked up at the second-floor window.
A girl stood by the window.
— Not a Zombie, it seems.
Hayato understood the girl by the window had been watching him fight the Zombies.
The Zombies lay motionless. The girl did not emerge.
The reason was clear.
Even if a bear had appeared and knocked down three Zombies pounding the front door, would he invite the bear inside after thanking it?
If Hayato were an ordinary person, he would send a strong mental command: *Go back to the mountains!*
—Shouting aloud would only attract more Zombies.
After pondering the situation, Hayato decided to jump onto the roof.
Hayato’s strength and explosive power matched that of a bear.
His body structure was better suited for jumping than a bear’s.
"Alright, let's do it."
The bear had lived in this world for about three years now. It did not return to the mountains. Pretending to go out the front door, it turned around and ran backward, built up momentum, and leapt.
Hayato’s body soared high into the air.
His right foot struck the first-floor roof.
Hayato stood on the roof, moving along its surface toward the second-floor window, then lightly tapped the glass.
The girl by the window widened her eyes in surprise and stared back at Hayato.
She wore the uniform of a middle school in the city.
The room was clearly hers—there was a study desk, a bed, and a pink chair typical of a teenager.
“I’m sorry, but I might be spotted by a zombie. Can you let me in?”
“…Come in.”
The girl opened the window without protest, perhaps because Hayato had said, “If we stay like this, zombies will come.”
He considered whether he had sounded threatening. He thought it might be reported to the police, but he removed his shoes carefully and left them on the roof, then entered the girl’s room barefoot.
The girl pulled a pink chair with casters and offered it to Hayato.
She then sat on the bed.
"Excuse me."
"Huh, hello?"
Hayato gave a standard greeting. The girl responded with a hesitant nod.
"Sorry for intruding. I saw your house was attacked by zombies."
"Yeah, thanks. I was annoyed a moment ago. I was worried."
The girl expressed gratitude, but her words carried no weight.
If the front door were breached, she would be bitten and turn into a zombie.
Yet she remained calm. Hayato felt suspicion.
She seemed to sense his doubt. She rolled up the sleeve of her left arm.
The bite mark on her pale forearm was already blackened.
"Already bitten. It was just a matter of time."
Hayato remained silent. The girl continued her explanation.
"We took refuge at a nearby middle school with our family, but the supply team hid that one of them had been bitten. They turned into a zombie and bit others. That’s why we were expelled."
From the girl’s explanation, Hayato grasped the general situation.
She had not been killed on the spot because the shelter had failed to prevent infection, and because her family had been present.
"How many hours left? Probably no more than tonight. I’ll be done after I sleep. Thank you."
The girl spoke with a sluggishness that suggested fever.