Isamu stretched, groaning and yawning as he got up from the table where he'd been sitting.
'Jeez, that felt like days.' His new haircut—spiky and "cool"—caught everyone's eyes immediately.
Takumi and Yuto couldn't help but burst into laughter, their voices echoing throughout the cafeteria. "Hey, Isamu, I hope you're not gonna put us under a genjutsu or something!" Yuto teased, grinning.
Denji, lying comfortable on the floor nearby, rolled his eyes at them. "Don't reduce such a great character to something as basic as a haircut," he scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm yet a bit mad.
"Aw, don't be such a buzzkill, Denji," Takumi retorted, hopping off the counter and heading toward the restroom. His laughter faded as he walked away, leaving a lingering air of lightheartedness that felt out of place in their grim reality.
Isamu glanced at Astrid, who seemed reluctant to meet his gaze, her cheeks slightly flushed. "It's not that bad, right?" Astrid smiled, covering a small giggle with her hand. "No, no, it's good. But… you do look a little like you're about to put us in some sort of genjutsu," she said, laughing softly.
Isamu chuckled in return, feeling a rare warmth in her laughter. 'Can't even help but chuckle at her smile still...feels pathetic'. Slipping back into his shirt, Isamu headed toward the kitchen, where he began gathering food supplies and packing them into his bag.
The atmosphere was silent but tense, a quiet sense of anticipation hanging in the air. Takumi returned from the restroom, his hands still slightly damp as he shook them dry.
He raised an eyebrow at Isamu. "What are you doing?"
"Packing some food. The main hall, we're going there, did you forget?"
Takumi's tilted his head, skeptical. "We?" he asked.
Isamu stood straight, draping the bag over his shoulder with a loud sigh. "Yeah, we. Me, you, and Mr. Kazuki."
Takumi's face hardened. "I never agreed to go there, dumbass," he said, his tone cold and eyes dead. The two locked eyes, the tension between them could be cut with a knife. "Are you scared?" Isamu asked quietly, his gaze unyielding.
Takumi's wore a mocking smirk as he stood closer to Isamu. "Scared? That's neat coming from the guy who couldn't even talk to his f**king girlfriend for weeks? Wasn't a rumor going around about her last year… something about her getting cozy with the entire volleyball team. '
She got passed around like a good rally.' Isn't that what they were saying? Did you just use the accident as an excuse to break up with her for the real reason?"
Isamu softly laughed for a brief moment, a rare event. "Really, Takumi? That was pathetic honestly. I get it—we only get along on the volleyball court. I didn't realize you were dying to talk sh*t to me. How long have you been holding that back? I'm really curious."
Takumi crossed his arms, his face set in a rebellious scowl. "I'm not leaving this place unless the damn military comes through those doors and takes me with them."
Isamu took a slow breath, loosening his shoulders as he spoke. "You might be waiting for a while. Look, I don't care how much crap you throw at me. But you're the most agile and nimble one here, being a receiver and all. Like it or not, you're the best person for this plan."
He paused with a sigh, rolling his eyes. "No matter how much I'd rather it be someone else." As Takumi's eyes flashed with anger, he glanced around the cafeteria in tense silence. He spoke with a slightly cracking voice. "So you want to get another one of us killed? Sato's dead, Isamu. He was torn apart to pieces while you ran away!"
The words hung heavy in the air, echoing in the silent cafeteria. Every face there turned, their expressions a mixture of shock and unease. Isamu's face remained impassive, as if Takumi's words hadn't affected him, he walked away and sat down on one of the tables.
Denji walked over, sitting beside him and slinging an arm around his shoulders. "What was that about?" Isamu scoffed, nodding toward Takumi, who still fumed across the room. "He blames me for Sato's death. I asked him to come with Mr. Kazuki and me to the main hall, but he's refusing to listen."
Denji nudged him playfully. "You asked Takumi before me? I have to say, Isamu, that kinda hurts," he joked, feigning offense.
Nearby, Yuto had joined Astrid, who was crouched by the janitor's corpse, trying to grab the keys using a metal pipe with a looped end. He stuttered before speaking.
"Hey, Astrid… I saw you were crying earlier. Are you okay?" It was a pink blush on Astrid's cheeks as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. Her hair was ruffled by the wind from the windows, adding a wildness to her expression.
"Um… yeah, kind of. I was just apologizing to Isamu. For something bad I did," she muttered, nudging the lifeless body. Yuto nodded, scratching the back of his head. "Oh… but you and Isamu aren't, you know, still dating or anything?"
She laughed quietly, her eyes flickering with sadness and regret. "I don't think so. After what I did, he… he changed. It's like he barely smiles anymore. And I can't remember the last time I heard him laugh. I… I think I changed him, and not in a good way."
Yuto offered her a gentle smile. "Don't be too hard on yourself. Maybe the best thing you can do for both you and Isamu is to move on." She paused, staring at the keys she was trying to reach. "Yeah… maybe."
Across the room, Mr. Kazuki approached Takumi, who was sitting alone on the kitchen floor, his head bowed. "You blame Isamu for Sato's death?" he asked, his voice calm yet probing.
Leaning his head back against the counter, Takumi scoffed. "Did I make it too obvious? Isamu was the one who made us leave the club room to come here… and for what? To sit around, eat, and fatten ourselves up for those things outside? Maybe we should take a sh*t once in a while, you think abou that?"
Mr. Kazuki chuckled, his laugh low and understanding. "Maybe we are all just prolonging the inevitable. But I don't think that's the real reason you're mad at Isamu." He took a brief pause, cleaning his glasses. "What were you two talking about before the argument?"
Takumi sighed heavily, staring up at the flickering lights on the ceiling. "He wanted me to go with him and you to the main hall." His voice dropped to a near-whisper. "Fuck, I was… I was scared. Running from those things was… terrifying. My body was shaking, my lungs gasping for air. I felt like I was already one of them, like… like I'd lost myself."
The sun was beginning to set outside, casting long shadows that crept into the cafeteria as the remaining light faded. The dark crept in around them, intensifying the sense of entrapment that filled the room. Isamu lay down on the floor, his arms folded behind his head as he stared at the ceiling, deep in thought.
Today was a waste, he mused silently. 'Nothing accomplished except more food disappearing into the stomachs of people who've given up hope. I didn't hear any helicopters or see any sign of rescue. Not sure if that's a good or bad thing.' His mind drifted, contemplating the desperate need for connection.
'Maybe my efforts are in vain. I've been holding onto the idea that there are other survivors out there—that's why we need those phones. We don't know what's happening in the rest of the world. Did this start here in Japan? In the US? Russia? Honestly, if I were somewhere else, I'd be praying for a nuke to wipe this place out. But since I'm here… I'm hoping it doesn't come to that.'