The sirens screamed like metal tearing through the sky, echoing off glass and concrete. Violet lightning split the heavens above, striking randomly, scorching the city in jagged arcs. Smoke choked the streets, thick and acrid, burning lungs with every inhale. Tokyo had become a battlefield overnight, a place where chaos didn't knock politely — it tore through walls, flipped cars, and shredded lives.
Streets were littered with overturned cars, shattered glass crunching underfoot. Mangled bodies, twisted and lifeless, lay strewn across the asphalt, some barely recognizable as human. Screeches and blood-curdling screams echoed from alleys, mixing with the acrid stench of smoke and burning metal. Blood splattered everywhere, coating walls, doors, and sidewalks.
The city had become a nightmare painted in smoke, fire, and blood. Screams pierced the air — sharp, frantic, inhuman. The streets were littered with overturned cars, shattered glass, and the mangled forms of those who hadn't made it.
Shojiro ran.
His legs pumped like pistons, heart hammering a rhythm that mirrored the screams around him. Windows shattered. Glass glittered like blood-soaked crystals across the asphalt. Smoke curled from overturned cars, flames licking metal, melting paint into dripping puddles. The smell of scorched flesh cut through the air. Bodies littered the streets — some twisted, some already lifeless, others barely clinging to life.
He turned a corner and froze.
Small, grotesque creatures swarmed through the crowd. They were humanoid but twisted — eyes black as tar, teeth jagged and dripping, claws rending flesh effortlessly. Mothers screamed as children were snatched, ripped into pieces, torn apart in seconds. People were thrown into walls, bodies mangled beyond recognition, blood pooling and steaming in the heat of the chaos.
"I should save them… I could help…
Shojiro's clenched his fist as he saw a man being dragged into an alley, limbs flailing. But every second spent helping meant moving slower. I can't stop. Not now. Father needs me".
Still, he couldn't ignore everyone.
He darted to a woman trapped under a toppled cart, her leg pinned and creatures closing in. With a heave, he lifted the cart just enough for her to crawl free. She scrambled into a safer street as he sprinted on.
A group of children froze in terror, surrounded by demons. Shojiro leaped, grabbing the nearest one, hurling them over his shoulder, and then sprinting toward an open alley. He turned back just in time to knock one creature off a collapsing fence, buying the others a chance to run.
I can't save all of them… but I can save some. That has to be enough.
Shojiro's stomach turned, but he couldn't stop. He dashed past a toppled food truck where a group of civilians had been trapped. One woman's arm had been torn off, and the creature dragging her shrieked as it twisted her spine. Another crawled over the bloodied pavement, desperately trying to grab her child, only to have it snatched midair and vanished with a gurgling scream.
Someone screamed from a toppled car ahead. A young woman was pinned beneath the door. Shojiro stopped, dug his heels in, and lifted with every fiber in his arms. Muscles screamed; veins bulged. The metal groaned — then shifted just enough for her to crawl free.
She gasped, eyes wide.
"H-how—"
"Run!" Shojiro barked.
And she did.
He didn't wait to see where she went. Every second wasted meant his father was closer to danger.
Everywhere he looked, bodies were disappearing, being shredded, consumed, or flung into the walls. The creatures were small, but their numbers were endless. Their speed was unnatural, their strength terrifying for their size.
"God… I can't save them all. I can't even save half. I—just have to get to him".
Everywhere he looked, bodies were disappearing, being shredded, consumed, or flung into the walls. The creatures were small, but their numbers were endless. Their speed was unnatural, their strength terrifying for their size.
Shojiro weaved through the carnage, using his speed to avoid grabbing hands and snapping jaws. His own bloodied knuckles scraped against a twisted car, sparks flying as he pushed off and vaulted over a body.
A man screamed behind him as he tried to fight back. Shojiro glanced — one of the creatures had sunk its teeth into his shoulder, twisting him midair. By the time Shojiro processed it, the man was gone. His scream ended in a wet, horrific silence.
"Too late. Too many… I can't help them. I have to get to Dad. I have to".
Shojiro clenched his fists. He couldn't stop, couldn't even slow down to help everyone. His father's voice echoed in his mind: "Protect. Survive. Move."
Shojiro skidded to a halt outside the Momo Dojo. The building was half-collapsed, walls cracked, smoke curling from broken windows. Dust hung thick in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood and burning debris.
For a moment, he thought he was too late. Nobody moved inside. The streets were silent except for the distant screams of chaos and the faint crackle of fire.
A flash of movement ahead — a young boy, running with his mother toward a half-collapsed alley. Shojiro lunged, pushing aside a creature mid-swing and sending it smashing into a wall. The mother stumbled, tripping over debris. Shojiro grabbed her arm, pulling her up and shielding the boy with his body as another demon tried to bite through his shoulder.
"I… I can protect at least some of them. I won't fail them like I failed everyone else".
He barreled forward, muscles screaming, adrenaline surging. The demons couldn't stop him. Not for long. Not now.
A mother screamed, gripping her son. Her shoulder was already sliced open, dark blood oozing and dripping. A creature — humanoid, grotesque, with black tarred eyes and jagged teeth — lunged. It tore into her neck in one wet, horrible motion. Her scream ended in a gurgle that shot ice down Shojiro's spine. His stomach twisted, bile rising, but he didn't pause. She was gone. He couldn't save her. He couldn't waste a second.
Ahead, a group of teenagers huddled near an overturned food truck. Ten demons circled them, snapping jaws and claws, eyes black pits of hunger. Not too late. They were alive. Shojiro inhaled sharply, counting steps, calculating momentum. One sprint — he slammed into a demon midair, hearing bones fracture under his palm. Black ichor splattered across the asphalt. Another lunged — he twisted its arm violently, snapping it like a twig, and threw it into the wall. The teenagers scrambled, stumbling over debris, and he flung each into the alleyways just clear of the creatures.
"Th-thank you!" a girl gasped, clutching a notebook against her chest, eyes wide.
"Go!" Shojiro barked, already sprinting. "Keep moving!"
He vaulted over shattered glass, scraping his palms against metal. Sparks flew as a man lunged at a demon, fists connecting with air before the creature sank teeth into his shoulder. He screamed, spinning midair, blood spraying across Shojiro's path. Too late. Another lost. He didn't stop. Only the living who could be saved mattered.
Bodies were strewn everywhere. A man's chest had been torn open, entrails spilling in steaming ribbons across the pavement. A child's arm dangled, fingers twitching like they were still reaching for life. Shojiro's stomach churned. Rage and revulsion blended with adrenaline. I can't save everyone… but I can save this one. This one counts.
A woman trapped under a toppled cart screamed as a creature approached. He shoved aside the demon with a shoulder, muscles burning, gripping the cart with every fiber of his strength. It groaned but shifted just enough for her to crawl free.
"Th-thank you…" she whispered, collapsing into a crouch.
"Go. Run!" Shojiro barked, sprinting again.
A child tripped on the blood-slicked pavement, face pressing into the jagged remains of a shattered car light. Shojiro dove, snatching the child over his shoulder as claws snapped inches from their heels. The child screamed but clung to him, eyes wide. "Y-you saved me!"
"Keep close," he muttered, pivoting midair to kick a demon off balance, sending it head-first into a dumpster.
He didn't pause. Not even a moment to breathe. Around him, the streets were rivers of blood and black ichor, mangled limbs strewn across asphalt, twisted faces frozen in horror. The smell of burning hair and melted asphalt filled his nose. Smoke stung his eyes, sweat and ash streaking across his skin.
A man tried to fight back a creature feasting on his friend. Jaws clamped down on his forearm, bones cracking. The man screamed, his body flipping in the air. Shojiro glanced briefly — too late. Another gone. Another life extinguished in an instant. God… this city… these people… I have to get them out alive.
A cluster of five demons surrounded a mother and son. The boy's small hands grasped his mother's arm, eyes wide, trembling. Not too late. He sprinted, sliding under the nearest demon's claws, catching its wrist midair. Twist. Snap. Blood spattered the wall behind them. Another demon lunged — he slammed it into a lamppost, its spine cracking audibly. He grabbed the mother and boy, tossing them over a fallen car into a safer alley.
"Thank you… thank you so much!" the mother sobbed, clutching her son.
"Keep moving. Don't stop," he shouted, already sprinting past a mangled car where a man's legs had been torn away. The stench of coppery blood was thick, sticky on his skin.
He twisted past a burning streetlight. Flames licked walls, collapsing signs showered sparks. Sparks hit his shoulder as he vaulted over debris. Another demon leapt at a child, teeth snapping — Shojiro intercepted midair, twisting its jaw until it broke, tossing it aside. He caught the child as they fell, hoisting them to safety.
I can't save everyone… but I can save these ones. These ones count.
Another woman screamed, pinned beneath a collapsed street sign. He lunged, muscles straining, pulling the heavy metal off her. She scrambled free, coughing, eyes wide.
"Th-thank you!" she gasped.
"Run!" he snapped, already leaping to dodge a creature diving from a burning rooftop. He twisted, catching it midair, snapping bones with a sickening crack before tossing it into a nearby pile of debris.
Bodies littered the streets behind him. Blood, guts, shredded clothing, and black ichor painted every surface. Children screamed. Adults shrieked. Creatures tore and mauled, flinging corpses into walls and vehicles. The city had become a canvas of death.
Shojiro's muscles screamed, veins bulging. His knuckles were raw, scrapes from metal and glass bleeding. Sweat and ash streaked across his skin. But he ran. One step, then another, fluid and precise, instinct guiding every motion. Each second mattered. Every civilian saved was a victory, a life snatched from the jaws of death.
A young boy tripped into his path. Shojiro spun, snatching him by the arm, flipping him onto his shoulder. The boy screamed but clung tightly. "I… I'm scared!"
"I know. Stay close," Shojiro muttered, pivoting to slam a demon into a burning car. Flames erupted, smoke stinging eyes, but he didn't stop.
A man's torso had been shredded, arms torn off, blood pooling under a dumpster. Another's head had been twisted backward, eyes wide in eternal shock. Shojiro's stomach churned, but he didn't falter. He didn't mourn. Only the living mattered.
A final group of demons surrounded a mother and daughter. The girl's face was streaked with tears and blood. He lunged, sending one demon flying with a kick that shattered ribs, catching another midair, snapping its jaw. He flung them both clear.
"Y-you saved us!" the daughter gasped, clinging to her mother.
"Go! Don't stop!" Shojiro barked, already moving.
The street narrowed. Fire and smoke clawed at the sky. Debris piled high. Demons scattered, more emerging from alleys. He twisted, dodged, struck, leaving a trail of shattered limbs and black blood.
Some were beyond saving. Shredded. Consumed. Screams cut off mid-air. Shojiro swallowed bile, muscles burning. He ran. He moved. He saved what he could, ignoring the impossible, leaving the already-devoured behind.
Shojiro skidded around a mangled car, scraping his palms across jagged metal. The air was thick with smoke and ash, every inhale tasting of fire and blood. The streets narrowed, debris piling higher with each step. Flames licked the edges of shattered buildings, and the screams of the dying echoed off concrete walls. His heart pounded, lungs burning, muscles screaming — and still, he ran.
The Momo Dojo loomed ahead, partially visible through the haze. Its gates were shattered, roof sagging in twisted splinters. Dust and smoke curled from broken windows. For a fraction of a second, Shojiro's stomach dropped — half-expecting the worst. But beyond the immediate chaos, he noticed movement — a coordinated rhythm, a force directing the living.
Civilians were being shepherded with brutal efficiency. His father's voice cut through the chaos, booming over the din. "This way! Move! Get underground, now!" People stumbled, coughing, panicking, yet somehow obeying, swept along like leaves in a torrent. A makeshift chain of barricades and signs funneled them toward a reinforced hatch in the ground — a nuclear bunker prepared for precisely this kind of calamity. Shojiro's chest tightened. His father had thought ahead, as always. Even in the midst of a nightmare, he was a step ahead.
Shojiro's own path, however, diverged sharply. There were no civilians left for him to save here. The remnants of chaos sprawled like a canvas of death. Corpses littered the streets — shredded, twisted, some barely human. Black blood pooled in the asphalt cracks. He vaulted over a toppled lamp post, narrowly dodging a creature that lunged from the shadows, its teeth snapping. Sparks and bone fragments scattered.
He clenched his fists, eyes scanning for anything blocking his path. The closer he got to the dojo, the more twisted the battlefield became. Walls were caved in, steel beams hung precariously, and smoke twisted around the skeletal remains of what had once been a bustling city street. The smell of fire and decay filled his nostrils, every step echoing against the carnage.
His father's presence was palpable, even from a distance. Shojiro could hear the muffled shouts of survivors, the clatter of hastily erected barricades, and the distant roar of explosions as small firestorms ignited from overturned fuel tanks. Somewhere below the dojo, the hatch to the nuclear bunker waited, the living funneled safely into a fortress beneath the city. Shojiro's fists clenched tighter. He didn't need to save the civilians anymore — his father had done that. Now there was only one goal: reach the dojo, find him, and survive whatever was waiting.
A shadow moved in the distance, larger than anything he had encountered so far. The creatures seemed endless, yet something darker stirred behind them, biding its time. Shojiro didn't slow. He could feel the tension in the air, the anticipation of confrontation coiling like a spring. Every muscle screamed. Every step brought him closer.
And somewhere beneath it all, the faint rumble of his father's orders, guiding the last of the living into the bunker, reminded him of one unshakable truth: the dojo was no longer a place of training. It was the last line of defense — and everything beyond that line would demand everything he had.