SS8 "Passing Time"

On a certain day, at a boutique near Yurakucho Station.

Standing among the mannequins in the shop window, an exquisite silver armor gleams.

No other people are visible, but faint whispers of a man and a woman can be heard from inside the store.

"Th-th-the, Tsuboi Yasutaka, 'k' is..."

"Who's that?"

"He's a science fiction writer. 'Paprika' and 'The Girl Who Leapt Through Time,' for example."

"Hmm. Then, 'ka.'... Maybe Caspar Hauser?"

"Who the hell is that?"

"A German orphan. Supposedly murdered by someone mysterious, leaving behind all sorts of unsolved mysteries."

"Wow. Then I'll go with 'a.'... Maybe Fujio F. Akatsuka?"

"Akatsuka... Again with the obscure reference?"

"Come on, that's common knowledge. The guy who drew 'Bakabon' and 'Osomatsu-kun.'"

"Really?... Well then, maybe I'll go with Oscar Wilde."

"Hey, Hikaru."

"What is it, Dog Bite?"

"Shouldn't we call it quits soon... this 'famous person chain game'? Our knowledge levels are so different, we're just swapping names back and forth."

"Isn't that fine? It broadens our horizons."

"Is that so?"

"Besides,... we can't move anyway, can we?"

"Well, yeah. If we move, the 'zombies' will notice us."

"Then, really, there's nothing else we can do, is there?"

"Fair enough."

"But... you know, I get it. If we're bored with word chains, let's think of another way to pass the time."

"What kind of thing?"

"Hmm... how about a game where we score the zombies we see passing by the store?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"No, guys always do that kind of thing—rating girls' points."

"I'm not doing that. That's a terrible taste in humor."

"Yeah? My classmate did it, though."

Even if you did that, you wouldn't know the standard. Are we talking about whether it's cute or not? The other party's a rotten corpse, after all.

You're right... Well, whether we could become friends or not...

"Zombie" and friend... hmm...

At that moment, a zombie with dark eyes passed by the front of the shop.

He looked to be in his late twenties. His appearance was fairly well-kept.

He was a salaryman type, his shirt torn to shreds, his shoulders exposed, and a clear bite mark remained on his skin.

Perhaps he had tried to commit suicide before becoming a zombie. Deep cuts covered both wrists.

"I'm no good. 33 points."

"Harsh. I got 78 points."

"Wait, why?"

"You tried to minimize the damage even at the cost of your life. You must've been a truly strong person with a strong sense of justice."

"But in the end, becoming a 'zombie' makes it pointless, doesn't it?"

"It's the intention that matters."

"...Huh."

Another one appeared. This time, a female 'zombie.'

It's hard to tell her age, but she's likely in her twenties.

Wearing a sky-blue raincoat soaked in blood, one could still discern traces of desperate attempts to survive. Though the circumstances that led to this were a mystery, a steel coffee can was embedded in her forehead.

‘Hmm. 74 points.’

‘...88 points.’

‘Oh? So you're fond of girls like that?’

‘No, not really. I’m generally pretty open-minded—any hole will do.’

"Ugh, worst. You probably shouldn't say stuff like that in front of other girls."

"Is that so?"

Next to pass by was a "zombie" with hair dyed golden, hard to tell if male or female at a glance—its entire face was charred black.

Upon closer inspection of its ruined features, dark blood still gushed from where its eyes had once been vaporized.

Its entire body was covered in black clothing. It seemed to have worn the same outfit for quite some time, the collar area noticeably lighter in color.

"Six points."

"Ten points."

"Still, wearing something like a mourning outfit is a bit much... at least if it were clean, it might be bearable."

"Don't expect cleanliness from a zombie."

Next.

An elderly man, his skin gray to the point of being pitiful to look at.

Apart from a large hole in the cheek, there were no noticeable injuries, but recently, the fact that the person's pre-death appearance remained seemed far more grotesque.

What was most unsettling was the way, through some mysterious muscular action, their lips appeared to be smiling like a clown's.

"……Uh. Sorry. Zero points."

"Same here. Can't really see you as a bad person."

"Smiling 'zombies'—just the idea alone is already painful."

"Zombies" are best kept as expressionless as possible. Otherwise, it's hard not to feel bad when killing them."

And then another figure swayed into view.

Dressed in a gray raincoat, its face obscured by the hood.

The coat was splattered with an overwhelming amount of blood and organs, emitting a powerful stench of decay.

What stood out most, though, was its gait.

This one was clearly approaching with deliberate intent—

'Ah... that one is...'

'You finally made it.'

'Good. You came just as I instructed, Kyoichi-kun.'

'Yeah. I brought the spare raincoat too. This should just barely fool the zombies’ noses.'

'Hey, by the way, Dog Bite-kun.'

'What?'

'What's his score?'

'What do you mean? It's obvious—100 out of 100.'

"Yeah, I guess when it comes to making friends, it really does have to be someone who's alive!"

Yeah