Chapter Text
BROADCAST TRANSCRIPT – BLUE LOCK OPS
Timestamp: 06:00 JST – Civilian Frequency A1
Speaker: Ego, J. (Executive Director – Blue Lock Operations)“You don’t wait for the fever.
You don’t wait for the dreams.Edrema doesn’t start there. It starts with the walk.
Pale. Stumbling. Bleeding in ways they can’t explain.The eyes go last. Black as ink.
By the time you see that, you’re already in range.If you’re lucky, you’ll be behind cover.
If you’re smart, you’ll have already pulled the trigger.Containment is not mercy.
Containment is survival.
Remember that when it’s your neighbour, or your brother, or the stranger asking for water at your door.Shoot. Then move.
We don’t save the infected. We save the future.”
THE DARKNESS WAS QUIET ENOUGH to hear the stars whisper to each other.
When the power plants finally went down, small battery lamps still swung along the roads, flashlight beams cutting through the gloom as people passed. For a while, the darkness could be held at bay by the outdoor fires and the guttering candles people set on windowsills.
But those things were hard to come by now. The darkness now was primitive, lit only by the flicker of the moon and stars. It was getting harder to remember that there had once been noise and light and life at every hour—that darkness had only been a suggestion and not an absolute. Anyone who wanted to feel small only had to sit outside.
With guilt wrapped around your throat, you always wanted to feel small.
You still couldn’t pick out the real constellations stitched across the sky, but you looked up often enough to recognize the ones you’d invented. The little dog peeking over its rump at you.
Your constant as everything had gone to hell.
It was probably the only one who knew what had happened to him. The only one who knew how his body had crumpled after the gunshot rang out, how his eyelashes had stirred once before his eyes closed for the last time.
It had been brave enough to look back at him when you hadn’t.
“It’s pitch-black out here. What are you even looking at?”
Bachira dropped down beside you with a grunt and leaned back on his hands to take in the sky.
“Woah, I’ve never noticed how bright the stars are now. We were missing out.”
“Too bad it’s too dark to see anything else,” you said.
Bachira pointed upward. “If you follow that star and connect the ones beside it, it looks like a dog.”
You glanced at him. “You see a dog too?”
His grin was so wide you could see it even in the gloom. “Great minds think alike. It’s a Shibu Inu, isn’t it?”
Something tugged on your heart. “If you squint.”
He chuckled, and you reminded yourself—again—that he was stronger than you gave him credit for if he could still laugh.
The two of you stared at the sky for a while longer, hearing conversations in the way the stars glittered at each other.
“He only has a few hours left,” Bachira said. In the quiet, the worry in his voice was unmistakable.
“He said to give him twenty-four hours,” you replied. “We’ll give him all twenty-four.”
Bachira sighed and leaned his shoulder against yours. “Going to sleep soon?”
“Someone has to keep watch while you snore.”
“But what if the infected snatch my ankles?”
“Then I’ll be happy to take your supplies in the morning.”
“If you say so.” He pushed to his feet. “Wake me up if he comes back.”
You nodded. You had a feeling Bachira wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways.
Every minute dragged along your skin.
“If I’m not back in twenty-four hours, leave without me,” Isagi had said. “Twenty-four hours,” he repeated firmly when Bachira protested. “This shouldn’t take long. Don’t waste time waiting for me. I’ll probably be dead—or worse—if I don’t come back.”
If you left without Isagi, Bachira would insist on looking for him. But Isagi was right. You’d spent too long in Itabashi already. You needed to head into the city proper for supplies and then get the hell out of Saitama.
Bachira shifted his pack over his shoulders for what felt like the hundredth time. He was restless at the best of times—when he was worried, it felt like he might burst out of his skin.
“The sun is coming up soon,” you said, your eyes pinned to the window.
“We can still wait,” Bachira replied. “Yoichi doesn’t even have a watch. How can he be back right on the dot?”
“If I have to leave without Isagi, I can leave without you too.”
Bachira frowned. “Don’t be cold. It’s not going to get you anywhere.”
A gunshot in the trees.
Birds scattering to the sky.
You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself. “It’s gotten me this far.”
Just as dawn broke over the horizon, Isagi stumbled between the cars parked on the street. Bachira lurched up with a cheer, but you caught his arm.
“Who’s that with him?”
A man followed, tall and broad-shouldered with spiky orange hair. He carried someone in his arms, their red hair a violent streak of colour.
“They’re not attacking him,” Bachira murmured.
“Get your crowbar,” you said. You made sure your switchblades and revolver, then cracked the front door open.
“You guys are okay,” Isagi said, relief in his voice. His face was grimy with dirt, but he looked none the worse for wear.
“Who are they?” you asked.
“She’s injured,” the orange-haired man said. “Isagi said you had medical training. Can you help us?”
“She?” Bachira was already lowering his crowbar, peering eagerly over your shoulder.
The girl in his arms was pale, her eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. She was so still you might have mistaken her for dead.
“How do I know she doesn’t have Edrema?” you asked.
“Her balance was fine when I met her,” Isagi said. “And her nose wasn't bleeding.”
Maybe not, but you didn’t like her pallor. You wanted to bar the two strangers from the door, but the man could probably have knocked both Isagi and Bachira down before your blades came out. Only now did you notice the hatchet strapped to his back. Where had he gotten that?
“Your names?” you said.
“Kunigami. And her name is Chigiri.”
You clenched your jaw. You were leaving anyway—the house had been picked clean. There was nothing for them to take unless they stole the packs off of your backs.
“Get her inside,” you said, turning. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Kunigami laid Chigiri on one of the beds, the movement careful but practiced. When you asked where the injury was, he gently rolled up one of her pant legs, revealing a makeshift brace fashioned from cardboard and medical tape. You frowned at how swollen the joint was underneath.
“There was a jagged bit of wire when we were climbing,” Kunigami said. “She caught it on her way over.”
You ran two fingers along the line of the brace, checking the compression, then tapped gently over the ligament. Chigiri stirred, blinking awake—then bolted upright when she caught sight of you.
“Easy,” Kunigami said quickly, laying a hand on her arm. “They’re with Isagi. They just want to check your leg.”
Bachira poked his head through the door like an eager puppy. “Ooh, she’s even prettier up close.” He gave Chigiri a jaunty salute. “Pleased to meet you, Princess. Bachira Meguru at your service.”
Chigiri scowled. Her voice was oddly strained when she said, “Don’t call me that.”
“Your voice is pretty deep for a girl.”
“I have a cold.”
Your fingers twitched toward your switchblades. “A cold?”
“It’s not Edrema,” Kunigami said hurriedly. “She’s had it for a while.”
“Do you mind if I look at your leg?” you asked. Chigiri hesitated, then nodded warily.
You peeled away the brace and the bandage beneath. Bachira whistled at the angry red slash running diagonally above the joint, but your focus was on the bruising and the stiffness in the joint.
“The cut’s superficial,” you said slowly. “But this—” you touched the edge of the swelling “—isn’t surface-level. You’ve been overcompensating. Ligament strain?”
“I can’t walk on it for more than a few hours,” Chigiri said. “Running is basically impossible.”
You pressed two fingers to the side of her knee and counted silently. Her pulse was quick, but steady. You pulled the antiseptic canister from your pack and sprayed the gash. With your other hand, you blotted the wound with gauze.
“Does your knee click? Lock up?”
Chigiri nodded once, still watching you—her gaze a touch too sharp to be just wary.
“This looks like an ACL tear,” you said. “It could be partial, but you’re walking on it too much. It’s going to rupture sooner or later.”
Bachira’s eyes widened. “You’ve been walking around all this time with a torn ACL? How are you still standing?”
Chigiri looked away. “It’s not like I have a choice. Either my knee gives out or the infected take me down.”
You rewrapped the bandage and slid the brace back into place. Then, reaching into your pack, you anchored a bit of tape beneath the ligament for stability.
“When was the last time you slept?” you asked.
Chigiri and Kunigami exchanged a glance.
“Not recently, I’m guessing.” You shoved Bachira from the room and motioned for Kunigami to follow you.
“I’ll let you rest. We’ll talk to Kunigami in the meantime.”
“Wait,” Chigiri said, and you paused. A flurry of emotions crossed her face too quickly to read.
“Could I have some water?”
You nodded. You, Kunigami, and Bachira rejoined Isagi in the kitchen.
“Is Chigiri alright?” Isagi asked.
“Sweet on her already?” Bachira teased. “Not that I blame you, she’s pretty cute.”
“She’ll be fine. We’re just letting her rest.” You leaned against the sink. “So talk. How did you find these two?”
“I wanted to check back on one of the restaurants we passed on a previous trip. I thought it looked too fortified to have been abandoned for long.” Isagi shrugged. “I was right. When I got in, these two were already there.”
“I nearly swung my hatchet in his face before he explained himself,” Kunigami said, and you gritted your teeth. “If you’re also leaving Tokyo, we’ll go with you. It’s been our plan for a while too.”
Bachira’s eyes widened. “You want to join our group?”
“Yes.” Kunigami looked each of you in the eye. “We won’t get in your way. We have rations, batteries, and extra clothes. Isagi told us you’re good with scavenging and medical care. If we work together, we can get out of here.”
“How long have you stayed at the restaurant?” you asked.
“Two weeks or so.”
“And where were you before that?”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
“I think we should take a chance on them,” Isagi said. “It’s been hard finding supplies on our own. And from the time I’ve spent with them, they seem trustworthy.”
“If they wanted to hurt Isagi, they would’ve done it already,” Bachira added. He nudged your arm. “Come on. You wouldn’t let a girl like Chigiri go out on her own, right?”
Kunigami was strongly built, but he didn’t radiate menace. For the most part, you agreed with Isagi’s assessment—except for something that batted at the edge of your mind.
You met Kunigami’s gaze. “We don’t wait for people. Either you keep up or you get left behind. We only stick together so long as it doesn’t put us at a disadvantage. Everything scavenged must be reported and shared equally. We need to know where everyone is at all times. If there are any injuries, tell me immediately. The second anyone starts coughing or swaying on their feet, I’m putting a bullet through their skull.”
You extended a hand. “Are we understood?”
Kunigami’s eyes flicked from you to Isagi. “So you’re the boss, then?”
“Isagi tried taking over, but they’re a way better shot,” Bachira said. Isagi glared at him.
Kunigami looked back at you, his gaze catching on your revolver and switchblades.
“We’re understood,” he said. He shook your hand firmly, and you didn’t miss the underlying strength in his grip.
“We’ll stay here another night to let you and Chigiri recuperate,” you said. “Isagi, Bachira—take inventory of their supplies and divide whatever we have equally. I’m going to give Chigiri some painkillers if she needs them.”
While Isagi and Bachira went through Kunigami’s backpack, you took your canteen to the bedroom where Chigiri lay. You waited a minute to see if anyone would follow you, and when they didn’t, you closed the door behind you and locked it.
Chigiri looked up at the sound.
“I’ve got your water,” you said.
Chigiri accepted the canteen. “Thank you.”
You watched her drink, waiting until she finished before lunging across the bed and pressing one of your switchblades to her throat.
Chigiri’s eyes flashed. She brought up her arms, but you pressed her down into the bed, keeping one foot planted on her knee. She winced when you put weight on it.
“Pretty smart of you to pass yourself off as a girl,” you hissed. “Must make it easier to murder people in their sleep.”