Chapter 11 - The Overbearing Leader

The broadcast ended, and rock music began to play.

“Damn it!”

The hollow sound of a fist hitting a locker echoed through the empty student council room.

He was frustrated.

As the student council president, he was supposed to save as many students as possible and earn their praise.

He had also thought of using a broadcast to lure the zombies.

However, he believed there was no need to take the risk of going all the way to the broadcast room to make an announcement.

His own lack of initiative—that was what was fueling his irritation—but he couldn’t admit it.

If he did, it would mean that in terms of action, he was inferior to that guy Saejima, who had actually made the broadcast.

A first-year student, and yet here he was, supposedly the pinnacle of the student body.

But for now…

“All I can do is… obey.”

Refusing the helping hand offered by this man named Saejima would only make the upcoming siege life more difficult.

He wanted to avoid being labeled as ‘uncooperative’ or ‘a coward who can’t go outside.’

Those at the top must always be perfect.

Based on that belief, he had served as student council president until now, earning the trust of both students and faculty.

This way of thinking was absolutely not wrong.

He placed his hand on the door, hesitated for a moment, then opened it.

Only a few zombies were in the hallway.

Now was his chance.

He returned briefly to the student council room, slung on his backpack, and slowly stepped outside.

Just then, a faint twang was heard.

It reminded him of something.

He couldn’t quite recall.

Yes, it was like the sound of something being forcefully pulled tight...

Pulled tight…?

(That’s it!!)

He instinctively pulled his foot back, and the arrow missed his leg, clattering onto the floor nearby.

A clang sounded.

He picked up the arrow and examined it.

“This arrow…”

Without a doubt, it was from the archery club.

He had approved its purchase after the vice president of the archery club requested it.

However, unlike when it was bought, the carbon arrowhead had been sharpened to increase its lethality.

“So that means…”

Raising his eyes, he saw a female student standing there.

“I apologize, President Shoda.”

A woman with long hair tied back looked at him apologetically.

Her face was dignified, embodying the image of a true Yamato Nadeshiko.

“Did you mistake me for a zombie?”

“Yes. I saw a figure entering the student council room, so I intended to shoot it if it came out again. I’m sorry.”

He had almost suffered a serious injury, but getting angry here would be a mistake for a president.

“If it wasn’t intentional, don’t worry about it.”

He spoke as brightly as he could.

If even a little she thought, “This person is good,” then he considered that a win.

The woman picked up the arrow and said,

“There’s a possibility zombies will be attracted by that noise. We should evacuate quickly, don’t you think?”

“That’s true. Let’s head to the conference room.”

The two began to walk.

At the bulletin board next to the student council room, a sheet of paper, helped by a gust of wind, broke free from the thumbtacks and floated through the air.

On the paper was written:

“Student Council President: Shinji Shoda, Class 3-5. Student Council Vice President: Yuki Miyoshi, Class 2-5.”

Just after the two turned the corner in the hallway.

Two boys appeared there.

“That’s strange… I definitely heard voices…”

One of them said nervously.

His eyes looked like someone begging for forgiveness, as if he had come to a confessional.

“There’s no one there?! Don’t mess with me!”

The other shouted angrily at him.

“Eek! But if we shout, more will come…”

He replied in a weak voice.

No, it was hardly even a reply.

Not even an argument.

“Don’t give me your useless backtalk!”

Saying that, the boy punched the other boy.

“Ugh!”

He collapsed to the ground.

And when the fallen boy looked up at the one who had hit him, his expression was something the hitter absolutely couldn’t stand.

At first glance, it looked like a sneaky, sycophantic gaze, but on closer inspection, it wasn’t.

It was a defiant look, as if saying, “Are you really satisfied just by hitting me?”

His eyes seemed to be hiding something.

That irritated the man even more.

But the fact remained—the zombies were gathering.

“Let’s go, Tsubasa.”

“Got it, Seiji.”

Their strange relationship began when they were children.

Seiji thought it had always been like that.

“Seiji Honda and Tsubasa Honma—don’t they kind of look alike?”

That was how it all started.

Tsubasa was always trailing behind him, sticking around no matter how much violence Seiji threw his way.

Seiji hated Tsubasa for that.

Still, Tsubasa kept following him.

They were always together.

Always, always, always───.

Before they knew it, their relationship had become a tangled bond.

“Seiji! Seiji!”

Suddenly, he snapped back to reality.

It seemed that Tsubasa was calling him.

“Zombie…”

When he realized it, there was a zombie right nearby.

It was the teacher who always sneered at him.

“Heh, perfect…”

He could finally take out his pent-up resentment.

He pulled his right arm back.

Pulling it all the way back, he clenched his teeth and thrust his arm forward.

He lifted his left foot, planted his right foot firmly, and with his full weight, punched the teacher’s left cheek.

The zombie, which had been staggering forward, was easily sent flying to the side.

“Tch, serves you right!”

He kicked the motionless corpse.

Again and again.

“St-stop it, Seiji-kun... you have to properly bury them…”

Again.

This guy was saying something to get on his nerves.

As if he had some kind of talent for it.

And he didn’t even try to hide his anger—instead, it spilled out all over him.

“You’d better shut up!”

Seiji’s fist struck Tsubasa’s stomach.

“Gah! Cough, cough… ugh…”

Tsubasa doubled over, clutching his abdomen.

And then those eyes.

The eyes of a loser.

The eyes of the weak.

The eyes full of self-contempt.

Those eyes alone filled his entire field of vision, and before he knew it, he was punching Tsubasa once again.