Fragments of Courage

(Shizuka POV)

Watching this Genji student order his fellow students gave me a good idea of his character. He was charismatic and shrewd enough to realize the importance of medicine in a pandemic. The confidence with which he carried his spear also proved his capabilities as a fighter.

Where did he find that scary spear in the first place?!

I shook off the frenzied thoughts creeping about my head and focused upon going from one locker to the other, shoving every useful item in my backpack. This pandemic is city wide, or even nationwide. Why else would they make automated recordings interrupting calls to the Fire and Police Stations? The implications of a pandemic this severe made my head spin.

"Busujima called you Genji," I mentioned, trying to lighten my own mood more than anything. "Is that your first name or your last?"

"First. Genji Takamura is my full name."

I widened my eyes. Busujima was on first-name basis with this student. Are they dating…? How envious—lewd of them to date each other when they aren't even adults!

"Takamura, you must be from Busujima's class."

"Yeah. I transferred here today."

I was wrong about them dating… unless it was love at first sight for both. They talked to each other in the first period, clicked in the second, and became a couple in the third. Honestly, I feel for him. Being stuck in an unfamiliar location when all hell let loose. He must be having a hard time.

"Takamura, lie down for a while. It'll help you relax," I suggested with genuine concern, hoping to ease at least one person's distress in all this madness. "Would you listen to your sensei?"

A silence hung heavily between us. Just as I was about to chastise him for his rudeness, he put a finger to my lips, an intimate gesture that sent my thoughts spiraling down an all-too-familiar rabbit hole of intimacy. I-Is he flirting with me? No, you can't do that to your sensei!

I bit his finger out of a grudge. "Stop treating me like a child."

Rather than showing pain, he gave a knowing smile and pointed outside. Following his gesture, my heart dropped. The hallways were swarming with those… things.

"Wow…" I pointed at the zombies and counted their number. One, two, three, four, five—hey, stay still! I can't count properly! Wait, isn't it becoming a bit crowded? "This is really bad!"

He gave me that intense, stern look, the kind my father had when I accidentally dropped his iBook. Otou-san still hasn't forgiven me for my blunder, but no—focus, Shizuka! You're the adult here! A full-grown woman with J-Cup breasts. There had to be something I could do to stop us from dying.

Thump. Thump. Thump. The undead relentlessly banged the door and the windows. The door held up fine whereas the windows shattered immediately. The undead started pouring in from both windows.

The supply bag slipped from my grasp. "Ahh… Huh…"

Panic clawed at my insides, freezing me in place. Shizuka, snap out of it! But my body wouldn't listen, terror rooting me to the spot. We were grossly outnumbered, a swarm of undead ready to tear us apart.

My frantic gaze shot to the windows behind. Our only escape was a leap of faith from this second-story refuge. The alternative of fighting these undead head-on was a swift death.

"Takamura, I'm so, so sorry… for putting you in this situation."

"Shizuka, you fucked up," he muttered, more weary than angry, as he maneuvered me gently but firmly toward the corner. With surprising strength, he hauled the care bed and barricaded me. "Don't move a muscle. I'll clean up this mess."

"Huh? Wait, what—"

He moved in a blur and swung his spear. Blood spurted from two zombie's necks before their heads fell to the ground. They collapsed, dead in an instant. He sliced through the suboccipital muscles and the bones connecting the skull and neck with a spearhead… Two beheading with one swing after surviving the undead for hours. Just how strong and resilient is this guy?! Was it the adrenaline and the sheer will to live that granted him this almost superhuman strength?

Undead pounced him from left, right, and front. This kid… he stayed calm and killed three undead with three quick stabs. The undead charged at him, only to get stabbed in their foreheads and necks. Despite killing over a dozen, he maintained his pace, only showing signs of increased breathing rate.

Untiring, unfazed, and unmoving — this man was like an impenetrable fortress against the tide of zombies. It was surreal, like a scene straight from those absurd television shows. He couldn't be just a high school student; he was... he was...

Incredible.

"You've got this!" The words tumbled out of me. I found myself cheering for him, rooting for his victory. "Takamura, you're the best spearman of the 21st century!"

He let out a cynical chuckle and proved me right by destroying the zombies coming at us. He tripped the last undead. Pressing a leg over its chest, the highschooler stabbed the undead's dead. He was bathed in blood from top to toe, reeking from that distance. His appearance only made him more heroic in my eyes… Hold that look, Shizuka, he is just a student!

If only I had a fraction of his courage... Shaking off the creeping memories, I made a clumsy attempt to clamber over the bed. My foot slipped on a vial, sending me toppling, the world a blur until — thump! — my massive breasts cushioned the fall on the mattress. The rebound sent me crashing down onto the floor.

"Ouch… my nippies and butt."

My luck is so bad… it's like I'm cursed by the heavens. Gods gave me beauty; they also made me so unfortunate!

"Seriously…" Takamura muttered, clearly fighting back a smirk at my pathetic state. He gave the care bed a nudge with his foot and offered a hand. "You owe me one for that shit."

I grasped his helping hand and vaulted over the bed. "Call me sensei!"

He raised a brow, skeptical. "Learn to be an adult before posing as a teacher."

That hurt… the pain was sharper than the one in my nipples and butt. My pride was crushed right there in the dirt with my dignity.

"Takamura, did a special organization adopt you at an early age and trained you to be a perfect assassin?"

"It wasn't a special organization. God adopted me. He taught me how to fight and fend off the demonic forces plotting against our world."

"That's pure fantasy!"

His finger found its way under my chin, tilting my head up, his gaze locking onto mine. "In this world only one's soul exists. Everything else is a figment of imagination. So, I ask, what is life if not a pure fantasy invoked by our imagination?"

His philosophical perspective went over my head, but my cheeks flushed. He stepped back, extracting a cloth from his backpack and began wiping away the gruesome evidence of the battle. Within moments, he looked pristine, as if the fight had been an illusion. What was that cloth? Some sort of high-class gadget to clean his assassination evidence?

He whipped out a water bottle from his backpack and took a long gulp. I felt my throat parched, eyes fixed on the water slowly draining from the bottle. He noticed my thirst, and I lazily blinked at him.

"Do you mind sharing some…?"

Without a word, he offered the bottle, pressing it a little too insistently against my chest. "Ow, careful. My boobs took a beating."

He tilted his head. "What?"

I giggled and drank from the same bottle. My mind suddenly raced. Were our lips sharing the same spot? The thought of sharing an indirect kiss sent a wave of heat across my face. First kiss was important for every woman and mine was stolen by a highschooler… That's so scandalous!

He snapped his fingers before my eyes. "Are you good at driving?"

"Oh, perfect! I have a lovely little car…" My spirits dimmed as reality intruded. "But the keys. They're back in the Faculty Room."

He retrieved a keychain from his backpack, the metal keys creating a jingling sound in his hand.

I went through them and unclipped my colorful keys from the keychain. "Yes, I can leave now!"

He smirked, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Without me?"

Argh, this guy! He knew I couldn't leave the school on my own.

"My car is compact… There is only space for two people."

"Why take your tiny car when we can take the minibus?"

"Oh. What are we waiting for then? We should—"

I gasped as he suddenly leaned down towards my leg. "Your skirt. It's not suitable for our current situation."

I yelped as my prized Prada skirt split open under his hands. "You—you monster. The skirt was worth half my salary!"

But he didn't pause, his expression one of focus rather than remorse. "Surviving this nightmare should be your priority. Not a piece of designer clothing."

I angrily interrupted him. "My—"

"Shizuka, listen," he said in a stern, authoritative voice and pressed a finger against my lips, taking away my chance to speak. "If you freeze in fear or throw a tantrum over a fucking skirt, nobody will want to rely on you. Is that what you want as the only adult of our group?"

I halted, the heat of my initial anger cooling rapidly in the face of his stark logic. He was right, embarrassingly so. I was the adult here, and I had momentarily forgotten the gravity of our predicament over a trivial skirt.

"No…" I firmly shook my head and clenched my fists. "Thank you, Takamura. It's the last time you'll get to demean me as an adult!"

He revealed a soft smile. "I won't demean you next time. I'll do something much, much worse. Something greater than your worst nightmares."

I felt shivers from his smile. This man was absolutely crazy!