Our Last Journey Under the Stars

The world had come to an end.

Well, the sky was still the same blue as always, with puffy white clouds that drifted overhead. The May breeze carryiied that perfect blend of warmth and coolness, and wildflowers blooming beautifully along the riverbank.

Yet this town—in this world I despised so much—was already dead.

* * *

I strolled down the road with a spring in my step, basking in the pleasant sunlight.

No cars were running. The only things left on the road were burned-out motorcycles and cars wrecked in chain-reaction accidents.

There was no one left to scold a high school girl for walking in the middle of the road, in her uniform, on a weekday.

There was no one left to give me strange looks for carrying an old-fashioned wooden staff that looked completely out of place with my school uniform.

I was probably the only living human left in this town.

There were plenty of dead humans, though. They were everywhere.

Even now, along the roadside—in the shadows of buildings—they were swarming.

They staggered and tottered as they moved.

They were undead that wandered with unsteady steps.

All of them wore tattered clothes. Their pale skin peeled away in patches, exposing dark red flesh and white bone.

Those walking corpses were revolting no matter how many times I saw them.

They didn't like sunlight, so during the day they stayed hidden in shaded areas.

But it was just a preference and not necessarily a weakness.

If they noticed prey, they'd come out into the sunlight.

They were coming towards me one by one . . .

Pyui-pyui!

At that moment, a fluffy, gray bird—a penguin chick—poked its head out of the school bag hanging from my shoulder and cried in a high-pitched voice.

Pera, quiet. I know.

Squish.

I shoved my familiar back into the bag and gave the long wooden staff in my hand a quick twirl.

I lightly tapped the red stone embedded at the top of the staff against some rubble at my feet.

I focused my concentration and whispered.

Move.

A heavy drain pulled at me as if all my body heat was being sucked away.

It flowed through the staff, and the chunk of rubble—which was maybe twenty pounds—gently lifted off the ground.

Now I could control it with the staff's movements, spinning it around and around above my head.

The whooshing sound cut through the air as I scanned my surroundings.

Undead emerged from the shadows, blocking me in from both directions.

The wind carried the smell of rotting flesh.

I grimaced at the stench and swung the staff horizontally.

Whoosh!

The rubble rocketed forward with centrifugal force, following the staff's movement.

Thwack!

The undead took a direct hit and its head exploded.

I spun around and swept the flying rubble through the other undead.

Thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack-splat!

A series of wet explosions erupted as dark red blood and yellow brain matter sprayed through the air.

The rubble carried its momentum up into the sky.

One more left.

I sent the rubble plummeting down toward the last undead.

Squish!

With its skull crushed and rubble embedded in its body, the undead swayed and collapsed to its knees on the pavement.

The other headless undead also tumbled down one after another, like marionettes with their strings cut.

When an undead's head was destroyed, they stopped moving and become just ordinary dead bodies.

I should go while I had the chance . . .

I quickly left the area, moving as quietly as possible.

Once I got through, there wouldn't be any tall buildings around. There were very few shaded areas where undead could gather in broad daylight.

Visualizing the relatively safe route in my mind, I walked through the dead town.

The only reason I'd survived in this dead world was because I had the power to drive back the undead.

Yes, I didn't even know it myself until recently, but . . . it seemed I wasn't an ordinary human after all.

Pyui?

I smiled at my penguin chick familiar, Pera, who poked their head out of my bag again.

It's all right now. Let's get this done quickly and return to the mansion.

I gently petted Pera's head.

I couldn't help but smile while seeing Pera happily narrow their eyes.

I was the last human in this town—and a witch.

Today, like always, I was living reasonably happily.

1

Tuesday April 7th.

Today marked the start of what was going to be a difficult and painful high school experience.

I was sure it was going to be even worse than middle school.

I—Yuki Minato—tried to make my own life forecast similar to the weather forecast I watched before leaving the house this morning.

It wasn't funny at all. Not in the slightest.

My mood wouldn't lift, even with the April sky so blue and the cherry blossoms in full bloom.

How much longer do I have to endure this, Dad?

I wondered this while remembering my father's stern face, which had aged beyond his years and stubbornly refused to let me attend school outside our district.

In reality, it was impossible.

I absolutely couldn't show dad my vulnerable side or reveal the situation I was in.

After all, we had been fighting for over five years.

Our discussion about high school was our first conversation in ages.

Dad, if possible, I'd like to . . . attend a boarding school . . . a private high school in Yokohama—

No. I won't allow you to leave this house.

You could call it a conversation, I suppose, but that was all there was to it.

There was no time to explain my reasons or ask for his.

Once I'd been given his conclusion, saying anything more would only make me feel miserable.

I hated to be pitied by my dad. Acting tough toward him was the only pride I had left, so I gave up on any further conversation.

I regretted it now.

I arrived at school at the last possible moment to avoid running into classmates. But, as I passed through the school gate, entered the building, and approached the classroom, I felt my legs growing heavier with each step.

Today was the opening ceremony.

After the entrance ceremony the other day, I already knew who I'd be spending my high school years with.

They were almost exactly the same faces I knew from elementary and middle school.

They were the people who had continued to laugh at me.

Nothing had changed and everything was still at its worst.

Nothing's changed at all, has it . . . ?

I murmured softly when I reached the front of the classroom. I saw a desk and chair sitting alone in the hallway.

There was no name on the desk.

But I knew without looking that if I went into the classroom, mine would be the only desk missing.

I could hear laughter coming from behind the closed classroom door.

They were probably excited to see how I'd react.

It would've been obvious if they'd at least drawn graffiti on the desk.

They'd had learned that leaving evidence caused all sorts of trouble. They were smart enough about that one thing even if they were idiots who never grew up.

There wasn't any obvious bullying here like you'd see in TV dramas or manga. That was because bullying was wrong and nobody wanted to be the villain.

Everyone acted like normal people while they mocked me.

Really, it was the worst.

Ding-dong-ding-dong.

The chime rang while I was standing frozen in front of the desk.

What's wrong? What happened?

When someone called out from behind me, I turned around to find a male teacher in a gray suit.

If I remembered correctly, this was the homeroom teacher . . .

Um, this . . . I think this might be my desk.

I worked up the courage to point at the desk and clung to faint hope.

That should have gotten the message across. He should understand the situation I was in. He was an adult—there was no way he wouldn't get it. But . . .

. . . I see. Well, hurry up and move it back inside. The bell's already rung.

He pretended not to understand with his expression looking troubled.

After all, it was just a desk and chair sitting in the hallway. There was no concrete evidence of bullying anywhere, so the teacher took their side as well. This way, nothing actually happened at all . . .

It was just as I expected. Nothing had changed in my life.

I hadn't expected much, but disappointment still stung as I turned away and started walking down the hall, leaving the classroom behind.

H-hey! Where are you going?!

I'm . . . not feeling well today, so I'm going home.

Dealing with all this suddenly felt pointless, so I made up an excuse on the spot.

The teacher didn't chase after me. He didn't say anything more.

He probably figured it would be less trouble to just accept my excuse.

That suited me too.

Today was just the opening ceremony and homeroom anyway, so it wouldn't hurt my credits. Walking into that classroom just to make myself a target would have been stupid.

I told myself that I'd made the smart choice.

But my pace kept quickening, and my face grew hot—especially around my eyes.

Why am I about to cry?

I should have felt good for standing up for myself . . . but regret kept swelling in my chest.

No matter how much I tried to rationalize it, I couldn't fool myself.

Even if I acted tough and pretended to be enlightened, I knew the truth. I ran away.

People would often say in their gentle, comforting way that running away wasn't a bad thing.

But I'd never run away before.

That was because no matter what the reason was, running away meant admitting defeat.

I didn't want to lose to the things I hated. But . . .

My vision blurred. Hot tears rolled down my cheeks.

It was frustrating.

I clenched my fists.

I walked with my head down so no one could see my red face. I walked and walked and walked. Before I knew it, I was in front of my house.

It was a Western-style mansion on a hilltop. It looked like a magnificent stone building, but the walls were covered with vines, and the cracked windows were boarded up from the inside—no matter how you looked at it, it looked like a haunted house.

My nickname since elementary school had been "the witch" because I lived in a house like this.

On top of that, my dad claimed to be a sorcerer and did shady work that included taking on occult-related requests for large sums of money.

The adults in the neighborhood called him a con artist and my classmates mocked me by calling me a witch.

Every day brought more teasing and bullying.

I begged my dad not to do anymore shady work, but he wouldn't listen.

Eventually I gave up and stopped talking to him.

For a while after that, I tried hard to show that unlike him, I was normal—that I wasn't some witch—but it was already too late.

The people who wanted to laugh at me no longer needed a reason.

What I was dealing with now was just a continuation of all that.

Through all the painful, difficult days, I still held my ground. I refused to lose.

During the second semester of my second year in middle school—for just a brief time, I had happy moments with that one girl.

See you later, Yuki!

What flashed through my mind was the image of a girl waving from across the crosswalk and . . . her saying goodbye.

Those days with her passed like a dream, and then my gray, lifeless routine swallowed me up again.

Then today, when high school began, I finally ran away. I lost to the very things I swore I'd never lose to.

In that case, maybe I didn't need to be so stubborn with my dad either.

I'd tell him everything in honesty. I'd tell him that I couldn't fight anymore, that I couldn't take it anymore—I'd let it all out.

With that resolve, I entered the house, but all I found was a note left on the living room table.

"I'll be away from home for work for a while. Don't know when I'll be back."

Really? What terrible timing.

I sighed at how we always seemed to miss each other and looked at what was sitting next to the note.

It was an envelope marked "Entrance Gift". It didn't seem to contain money—it was bulging with something else.

Today was the opening ceremony, not the entrance ceremony.

With a wry smile, I picked up the envelope and turned it upside down.

What tumbled into my palm was a strap with a small penguin chick figurine.

Oh, it's cute.

The adorable, fluffy gray penguin chick made me speak without thinking.

A penguin . . . Really?

I first had the thought of he bought me a phone strap when he won't even buy me a cell phone before a strange, bittersweet feeling welled up inside me.

I'd told him I liked penguins back when I was in kindergarten.

When my mother was still alive, we went to an aquarium as a family where I saw emperor penguins. I fell in love with them, and for a while after that, I begged for nothing but penguin-themed things.

Maybe I was still that same little kid in my dad's mind.

I'll accept it . . . so please hear me out when you come home.

I murmured that to my father, wherever he was, and since I didn't have a cell phone, I clipped the penguin strap to my school bag.

I never imagined what would happen the next day.

* * *

Wednesday, April 8th.

Here I was, heading to school again . . .

My legs felt heavier than yesterday. I'd run away once already.

But I still had a reason to fight—just barely.

I gently touched the penguin strap attached to my school bag.

This strap was my dad's entrance gift to me. I felt like unless I went to school for at least one day with this little penguin, it wouldn't really count as accepting his present.

The route to school was the same as always. The cherry blossoms blooming along the riverside path sparkled in the morning sun.

But I thought it had probably already begun by then.

I could hear sirens wailing in the distance, but I guessed there must have been an accident somewhere.

When I arrived at school, I headed toward the classroom with heavy steps.

Fortunately, I couldn't see my desk and chair outside the classroom. Though I had to laugh at the irony of calling something like that fortunate.

I opened the classroom door as quietly as possible to avoid drawing attention.

There was no laughter like yesterday—instead, a wave of murmuring enveloped me.

Most of the students had already gathered in the classroom, but they were clustered in groups, talking intensely.

Is this . . . really true?

No way that's real.

But the video—

I caught fragments of their conversations. Even students sitting alone at their desks were staring intently at their phones.

Was there some big news or something?

But having no cell phone and no friends, I had no way to find out.

The morning TV program I always watched didn't mentioned anything unusual before I left home.

One of the girls in the group by the window looked in my direction. Our eyes met.

I thought oh no, but it was too late.

That girl was someone I couldn't stand. Her name was Yonejima and she ended up in the same classes as me ever since elementary school.

She laughed at me over the smallest things and created reasons to laugh when none existed. The desk incident yesterday was probably her doing.

Oh, Yuki's in the same class too. I didn't know since you weren't here yesterday.

She said this with an obvious fake sweetness and a nasty smile playing at her lips.

. . .

I silently looked away and sat in the back corner seat by the hallway.

I knew all too well that everything I did—even my expressions and my words—just became ammunition for her mockery.

What?! You're ignoring me? That's so mean! You won't make friends in high school acting like that!

She was playing the victim, but then a nearby student looked at their phone.

Whoa, seriously?! Look at this!

She clearly heard someone call out to her.

What, what?

She turned toward them.

Apparently there really was a major incident happening.

I wished something would happen every day that would make people forget all about me.

I couldn't help but think that, even though I knew it was impossible.

After a while, the bell rang for the start of classes and the homeroom teacher arrived. He glanced at me briefly, then immediately looked away. That was his only reaction.

All right, take your seats.

The teacher called for everyone to sit down, acting like nothing had happened.

The murmuring died down and morning homeroom began. After taking attendance and making a few announcements, the teacher left the classroom without glancing at me again.

First period math came next.

Sitting in the corner of the classroom, I had a good view of what was going on.

Many students were using their phones while pretending to listen to the lesson.

Hey, no using phones—

Just as the teacher noticed and was about to scold them.

BOOM!

A thunderous roar echoed through the air, and I shrank back in surprise.

That startled me. What . . . ?

With my heart pounding, I looked toward the window where the sound had come from.

Our classroom was on the first floor, and we could see the path leading to the school gate and the sports field through the window.

At first glance, I couldn't tell what had happened, but I noticed something when I looked more carefully. There was smoke rising near the closed iron school gate. When I squinted to get a better look, I could see part of a tilted car jutting out from behind the gate.

An accident . . . ?

Someone's murmur broke the silence, and a ripple of chatter spread through the room.

Everyone, quiet! Don't get up from your seats!

The math teacher held back the students who were trying to stand up and move to the window.

If he'd been even a little later, everyone would have rushed to the window. The students in class stood on their tiptoes to peer out the window and whispered to each other.

After a while, two teachers ran toward the school gate. They were wearing tracksuits, so they might have been PE teachers.

Instead of going to the main gate, they opened the side entrance and went outside.

Ahhh!

Something that sounded like a voice reached my ears.

I couldn't identify it as a voice because it was just a string of meaningless sounds.

The classroom chatter grew louder.

The math teacher's expression changed as he watched the scene from the window.

At that moment, only one teacher in a tracksuit appeared from the side entrance.

But he was walking unsteadily—and one side of his tracksuit was stained red.

The murmuring died away until the classroom fell silent.

Nobody understood what was happening and I didn't understand either, so all of us could only sit there in silence.

Another person—this time a male teacher in a suit—ran toward the school gate.

Ah, it's a teacher . . .

One of the students cried out.

It was our homeroom teacher. We could only see his back, but he was close enough that there was no mistaking him for someone else.

He rushed up to the staggering PE teacher and tried to support him, but . . .

!

That sound again.

I realized what I'd heard earlier . . . it was a man's scream.

The homeroom teacher was screaming. The PE teacher was clinging to him, pushing him down to the ground, and he was desperately struggling.

Then red liquid sprayed up like mist from around the homeroom teacher's neck.

Thump, thump, thump . . .

My heartbeat was so loud. My hands were shaking, and I dropped the mechanical pencil I was holding.

The PE teacher, covered in red, stood up with swaying, jerky movements.

A moment later, the homeroom teacher who had been knocked down also shakily pushed himself up.

I couldn't bring myself to think "I'm glad he's safe".

Blood was streaming from his neck, and his face was so pale that it was obvious even from a distance that he didn't look safe at all . . . He didn't even look alive.

Aaaaaahhhhhhh!

This time the screaming erupted from inside the classroom. It probably also came from other classrooms too.

Everyone's screams combined with the sound of chairs scraping as they stood up, and the whole school seemed to shake.

Caught up in the sight of students from other classes running down the hallway, several people burst out of our classroom. This time even the math teacher's attempts to stop them were useless.

Most of the students, including me, had just been standing there frozen. But the moment we saw blood-soaked people that looked like corpses streaming through the school gate's side entrance, we all scrambled to escape.

I was sitting in the very back seat on the hallway side, right next to the entrance.

Yonejima rushed toward me with the most desperate expression I'd ever seen on her face, glaring at me as I stood there frozen.

Out of the way!

She shoved me aside with all her strength.

I got tangled up and fell to the floor. Pain shot through my knees and elbows, but right after that—someone stepped on my back and I couldn't breathe. Countless shoes kicked and trampled over me. No one held back.

They probably figured that it didn't matter because it was an emergency and I was in their way.

As long as people had an excuse, as long as there was some reason that seemed justified, they could do anything horrible.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts . . . please stop.

I curled up and waited for the storm to pass.

Even after the stampede was over and the area grew quiet, I couldn't move for a while because of the pain.

But when I heard more screaming from somewhere, the crisis hit me—I'd be in real trouble if I stayed here like this. That fear finally got my body moving.

Ugh . . .

Fighting through the dull ache in my arms, legs, and stomach, I grabbed onto a desk and pulled myself up.

The silence told me everything—there was no one left in the classroom. Even the math teacher had apparently run after everyone else.

Thump, thump . . .

My heart was still pounding. When I looked toward the window, those moving corpses had gotten close to the school building.

What were those things? Who were they? Was this real? This had to be a dream. But it hurt. My body hurt so much. My back hurt. My legs hurt. My arms hurt. I was scared. I was so, so scared. It hurt and I was scared, it was all so painful . . .

Oh God, someone else was being attacked. They weren't wearing a uniform, so probably . . . it was a teacher.

Why wouldn't anyone stop this? Even though he was a teacher. Even though he was an adult. Those people never helped me, not ever. They bit him—blood. Blood, blood, blood—so much red . . .

Ah . . . ah . . .

My voice wouldn't work right. I frantically shoved textbooks into my school bag with shaking hands.

What was I doing . . . why was I getting ready to go home . . . right, I needed to go home . . . I had to get out of here quickly . . .

Go home, go home, go home, go home—I have to run, I have to run, I have to run!

Unable to collect my scattered thoughts, I shouldered my now-heavy bag. The penguin chick strap swayed gently.

Go home . . . Escape? But how? Those people were at the school gate . . .

Just as I was about to leave the classroom, my feet froze.

I can't go home? I want to go home, but I can't? Then what should I do, what should I do, what should I do . . . ??

It was too dangerous outside. The first floor was also too dangerous. Those things would be coming inside soon, so I had to escape—so should I go upstairs? I needed to get out of here fast—but everyone else was probably up there too . . .

If outside wouldn't work, then I'd go upstairs for now. If that didn't work, then maybe I could go to a different school building—anyway, it was obvious that staying here was dangerous. But . . . wherever I ran to, surely everyone would be there too. Yonejima would be there and so would all the people who always laughed at me, mocked me, and trampled on me . . .

My classmates who sneered at me were just as frightening as those zombies.

That was why I couldn't move.

Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!!

I flinched at the screams that echoed from the hallway.

They were close—the zombies might have already gotten inside the school building.

No. No, no, no, no—don't come here!

Ngh . . .

I rushed to shut the door, but classroom doors couldn't be locked from the inside.

Instead, I shoved desks in front of the door and stacked them high so nothing could easily get in from outside.

A breeze gently brushing my neck made me realize the windows were still open.

I frantically closed all the windows and locked them tight.

Hah . . . hah . . . hah . . .

Why . . . why is this happening . . .

I collapsed into a seat at the very back of the classroom by the windows, breathing hard and fast.

I buried my face in my school bag and wrapped my arms around myself.

I couldn't think of anything else to do. I didn't want to think about anything anymore.

Screams and rushing footsteps echoed from somewhere far off.

I closed my eyes and covered my ears.

If this is a dream, please let me wake up right now. Wake up, wake up, wake up . . .

No matter how much I prayed, I wouldn't wake up. Exhausted from wishing, I thought in the back of my mind that I would probably just die like this.

But—even though my ears began to hurt from pressing them so hard, the end never came.

My ears hurt too much, so I loosened my grip slightly.

Aaaahhhhh!!

I was prepared for it, but when the scream suddenly slipped through the gaps between my fingers, I flinched.

It was close by—probably just outside the window.

Now that I'd heard it, I was too scared not to check.

I carefully peered over the window sill to see what was happening outside.

Ngh . . . ?!

I was about to scream, but I clamped my hands over my mouth.

A female student was being attacked right beside the school building, on the path beyond the flower beds. She was pinned down by a male student with pale skin whose uniform was stained bright red, and she was struggling desperately, her face twisted with panic.

Yonejima.

I realized it was the girl I despised the most.

I felt like I had wished for a scene like this before. It was a dream where everything I hated would be destroyed. A fantasy where all the people who laughed at me would just . . . disappear.

So was this really my dream after all? But I wouldn't wake up. My body still hurt.

And . . . I wasn't happy at all.

Even though my dream was about to come true, I felt no joy whatsoever.

I was just scared—terrified, nothing but terrified.

The male student buried his face in Yonejima's neck.

Nooooo! Stop—Aaaahhhhh!!

Her eyes darted about frantically as she screamed.

Our eyes met.

My heart pounded. Even in this situation, I realized I was still afraid of her. The fear and pain from when she shoved me earlier came flooding back.

Don't look at me. Don't look don't look don't look—don't look don't look at me please . . . !

Blood spurted forcefully from her neck and splattered against the window glass.

Through the red-stained glass, her eyes rolled back, showing only the whites—and she stopped moving.

I felt relieved. Even though I was terrified beyond words, I was comforted that she wouldn't be laughing anymore.

The male student slowly stood up. With awkward movements, he turned toward me.

His face was covered in scratches, with a large chunk of flesh gouged from his cheek. His eyes were clouded white, and his pale blue skin looked exactly like a corpse.

With red blood dripping from his mouth, he approached the school building window.

Ah—

I fell backward with a thud and crawled away, still on my back.

No. No, no, no—

Bang!!

But I froze at the loud sound from behind me.

When I looked back, the classroom door I'd blocked with desks was rattling violently. There were definitely zombies in the hallway too.

Bang—a pale hand slammed against the blood-covered window glass.

There was no escape now. My legs had given out completely, and I couldn't stand up.

Crash!!

The second blow shattered the window glass. The zombie climbed into the classroom, ignoring the glass fragments raining down on it and not caring that the remaining shards cut into its body.

I could also see Yonejima's figure behind it. Even though she had just died, her face was frozen in a twisted expression that looked almost like she was smiling. Now that I saw her walking around after death, I whispered in a hoarse voice.

You're still . . . laughing at me, aren't you?

It was frustrating that I was someone who got laughed at until the very end.

But there was nothing I could do about it.

Just as I was about to give up, something even more incomprehensible happened.

The first thing I noticed was a light.

Wondering what it was, I looked over to see the penguin strap attached to my school bag emitting a bright glow.

Huh . . . ?

The light grew brighter, and I reflexively closed my eyes.

Thump . . . a heavy sound echoed, and small fragments began falling on my head like rain.

I cautiously opened my eyelids.

Huh?

In front of me stood a giant emperor penguin.

Emperor penguins were naturally large, but this one was several times the normal size. Its head had broken through the first-floor ceiling, and amid the falling debris, it looked down at me with round black eyes.

What is this—have I finally gone completely insane?

I rubbed my eyes, wondering if it was a hallucination, but the penguin in front of me wouldn't disappear.

Puu.

The giant penguin called out in a slightly low voice.

The zombie that had climbed through the window was right nearby.

The situation was complete chaos now—I couldn't wrap my head around any of it.

What the hell is going on?! Corpses are moving, giant penguins are appearing—this has to be a dream, right?! If it's a dream, please just end already! End, end, end—

I raged internally at the whole situation and pinched the back of my hand.

But it just hurt. Even without doing that, my battered body still throbbed with a dull, aching pain.

Pain didn't change anything. This chaotic reality wouldn't end.

Puu.

The penguin called out as if speaking to me and opened its large beak. Then it leaned forward and brought its face close to me.

Huh? Huh . . . ?

What is it trying to do . . . ?

The large mouth loomed overhead, and I made confused, questioning noises.

My body, bag and all, got caught between the penguin's beak.

Huh?! Wait—

Wait wait wait wait—

I was suddenly lifted up with tremendous force.

Eep!!

A strange sound slipped from my throat.

The image of penguins swallowing fish whole suddenly flashed through my mind.

W-wait! Wait! Stop—

Still holding me in its mouth, the penguin looked straight up toward the second-floor classroom and I was flipped upside down.

Ah.

Right below my head was the giant emperor penguin's dark, gaping throat . . .

Gulp.

That was how I was swallowed whole by a big penguin.