Chapter 1: Where Am I?

 

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“IT reeks…!”

My name is Mizuha Kusunoki. I just woke up, and I already feel like crying. Tears have actually formed in my eyes and are threatening to tumble over.

These aren’t tears produced by a casual yawn. The reason for them is simple: they’re a visceral response to the putrid stench hanging in the air and growing thicker by the minute. Sewage sludge is the closest thing I can compare this foul smell to, but the intensity is on a whole other level—worse than living in a sewer. It’s so bad, I fear taking a deep breath will cause the mucky air to melt my internal organs.

Where in the world am I? With the information available to me now, most people would probably conclude I am in a garbage dump or a sewage treatment plant. When I first woke up, the same thought crossed my mind, but…

Pressing my wrist against my nose to block out the smell, I survey my surroundings. The quickest way to describe the scene is as a desert island in the middle of the ocean without anything remotely tropical or pleasant on it. The thing is, not only is the island no bigger than a hundred-square-foot room and deader than a wasteland, but the ocean surrounding it is an eerie, noxious purple. I can hear bubbles rising and popping like some sort of witch’s brew roiling in a cauldron.

Where the heck is this place supposed to be?

I don’t have the faintest idea where this is. For that matter, I’ve never seen something in reality that is so obviously a poisonous swamp. It looks just like the miasma marshes in the video games I used to watch my older brother play.

Okay, I’m not getting anywhere trying to figure out where I am, so I’ll set that aside for now.

The biggest problem is why the heck I’m in a place like this all alone.

I try recalling what happened before I went to sleep. Familiar images flicker through my mind: I went to my high school in the morning, sat through my classes, and worked just two hours at the café after school. Trying to be considerate of my brother, who’s a year older than me and in his senior year of high school, I went straight home after my part-time job. It was an ordinary day from beginning to end.

The only thing different from usual was that I had dived into my bed the moment I’d entered my room. Work had been so chaotic that I was mentally and physically drained beyond exhaustion. My memories cut off there. I probably fell asleep after that. That makes the most sense to me; I’m convinced that’s what happened.

But how was I supposed to know I’d wake up surrounded by a gurgling and bubbling poisonous swamp? Am I still dreaming? That question crosses my mind for a whole second, but I can’t deny I’m awake when that foul stench is burning all my senses and I have full control of my body.

Luckily, I’m still wearing my outdoor school uniform consisting of a light-brown cardigan over my shirt and a red-and-white pleated skirt. And for whatever reason, I still have my loafers on. This is a popular high school uniform near where I live, but I don’t see a single other person around. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered even if I were dressed in my pajamas instead.

SPLAT!

The poisonous muck suddenly splatters onto my small island. A slimy, human-shaped THING crawls onto the island using that muck as a foothold.

“EEP! Wh-What the?!”

“Bwahhh.”

The THING rises onto two feet, and the sticky liquid coating its whole body begins dripping off. Something that looks markedly human is left standing there once all the gunk slides off it.

But it’s a far cry from an ordinary human. It seems to be wearing some rusty armor and has festering sores covering the exposed skin on its face and neck. Plus, its molting skin has faded to a sickly greenish-blue color. Red lines run through its horribly bloodshot eyes, and rotting, gnarly teeth peek out through its wide-open mouth.

The word zombie comes instantly to mind. I have only ever seen them in movies, anime, games, and manga, but that thing’s appearance makes it impossible to think of it as anything else.

“Bwah! Bwoah!”

Staggering, the moaning zombie slowly closes in on my position. I instinctively step back from the grotesque creature. But this is a small island. A few steps and I’ve reached the end of the line.

A piece of the ledge under my feet breaks off. When that piece hits the poisonous liquid, it disintegrates, leaving behind the sizzling sound of cooking meat.

You’ve gotta be freakin’ kidding me! I’m done for if I fall in!

“Don’t you ‘Bwah bwah’ me! Don’t come any closer! Please, just go away!”

“Urg. Aah…aaah…”

“Moan like a baby all you want, zombie, but with looks like that, you aren’t winning any cuteness contests. If anything, it only increases your grossness!”

At any rate, what I’m saying isn’t getting across to the zombie, as evidenced by the fact that it won’t stop coming closer no matter how many times I ask it to go away.

“Th-This can’t be real!”

There’s almost no space to try to run past the zombie. Even if I did make it by some miracle, this is a tiny island. I can’t get away.

As I was trying to think up a plan of action, the zombie had shambled close enough for me to touch if I reached out my hand. It advances on me with its arms lazily hanging in front of it.

“Bwah.”

“G-GO AWAAAAAY!”

SLAM!

Desperately wanting to survive, I reflexively shove the zombie’s chest with my right hand. Did I use more strength than I thought? The zombie falls onto its back and begins writhing on the ground, moaning.

Am I saved?

I just wish I didn’t have to touch a zombie. Partly because you never know what could happen when you touch something unnatural, but mostly because it stinks to high heaven. Case in point, my right hand reeks. This sucks.

“Blehk!” I’m staring at my hand, depressed, when all of a sudden, the zombie’s body starts shining brightly. “Whoa?! What in the world?! Why’s it glowing?!”

“BWAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

The light grows brighter as the zombie screams. It’s too blinding to keep my eyes open. However, the light quickly fades. I fearfully open my eyes and blink several times.

The zombie is gone. In its place is a man in his twenties. He’s a slender man around six feet tall. His other distinct features are his golden hair tied back in a samurai hairstyle and his pretty sapphire-like eyes.

He’s clad in the same type of armor as that zombie, but the luster and polish of his doesn’t bear the slightest resemblance to that rust bucket. The armor has transformed from rusty metal into very expensive-looking silver. On closer inspection, he even has a sword hanging from his waist and has the appearance of a noble knight you might find in a storybook.

I’m stunned speechless. Not because I’m captivated by his otherworldly good looks— No, I lied. In all actuality, that has 90 percent to do with it. But there is something else worthier of my attention right now.

I hold my breath.

Um, a zombie just turned into a living, breathing, not-so-dead human.

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