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Apocalypse World (HOTD)
Saeko Busujima stepped out of the gate. The wind whipped her deep-purple kimono, the fabric rustling in sharp, rhythmic bursts.
"Back to where it all began…" she murmured.
"Alright then."
She picked a direction and started walking.
The purple yokai blade in her hand flashed through the air, cutting down zombies like she was slicing through tall grass. Her blue eyes shimmered with a faint crimson glow, and specks of blood dotted her elegant face.
But she didn't care.
Her lips curved into a cold, wild smile.
Killing… it really did have a way of making you feel alive.
Of course, Saeko wasn't some bloodthirsty berserker. She loved the thrill of the fight, but she never let it control her.
The sword's violet aura shimmered again, and another wave of undead fell before her.
"No good," she muttered. "There are too many of them. Wasting time here won't help."
"I need a car."
Her brows knit in focus. She had to find Shizuka-sensei—dead or alive. Even if her friend had already fallen, Saeko needed to find her body.
That woman was one of the few she still cared about in this rotting world.
...
Luck was on Saeko's side.
Before long, she spotted a modified off-road vehicle, barely scratched and still intact.
She yanked the door open, sliced the zombified driver's head clean off, and slid behind the wheel.
Did she know how to drive?
Well… technically, she didn't have a license.
But of course she knew how. In the modern world, driving was considered a basic life skill. And besides—who the hell cared about licenses in the apocalypse?
The engine roared to life, and Saeko hit the gas. The vehicle shot down the road, mowing through zombies like they were nothing. The few mutated ones that managed to block her path were cut down with a single, effortless swing of her blade.
After nearly forty minutes of relentless driving, a familiar sight appeared in the distance—an isolated villa.
"Lights?"
Her blue eyes brightened. "If there's power, then Shizuka-sensei might still be alive."
Inside the villa, a woman sat near the window, holding a beer bottle in one hand and a submachine gun in the other.
Her tall, toned body was wrapped in tactical gear, her skin a healthy bronze tone, her long purple hair tied back neatly. She was the picture of sharp, lethal grace—a black pearl gleaming in the dark.
"Zombies don't drive," she muttered.
"So that means… Someone's here."
Her grip tightened on the gun, ruby-red eyes glinting coldly.
In a world like this, she knew all too well—zombies were dangerous, but humans could be far worse.
"Shizuka said her student had purple hair and blue eyes," she whispered, finger brushing the trigger. "But if it's not her…"
Then she'd shoot without hesitation.
In the apocalypse, you don't play saint.
...
Outside, the off-road vehicle skidded to a stop, splattering blood and guts beneath its tires.
Saeko Busujima moved like a storm. One hand gripped her sword; each swing was clean, precise, and final. Zombies fell around her like broken stalks of wheat.
With limitless stamina surging through her, the hunger in her heart—the thrill of battle—was fully awakened.
Then, gunfire split the air. Bullets whizzed past her, nailing zombies through their skulls in quick succession.
Saeko's lips curved into a smile. Bullets meant guns. Guns meant survivors.
Good enough for her.
...
Finally, Saeko reached the villa.
The door swung open.
"Eh? Saeko!"
A blonde woman—half-drunk, half-ecstatic—came stumbling out of the house, shouting her name with pure relief.
"Shizuka, that's the student you mentioned, right? The purple-haired one?" said the armed woman, Rika Minami, still aiming her gun.
"Mm-hmm! Mm-hmm!"
Shizuka nodded eagerly, her big, bouncy "assets" shaking with every nod like a pair of runaway moons.
.
.
.