High School of the Dead Feet

You wanted to survive, and for this purpose, chose to search for Saeko Busujima. You knew that she was the Kendo Team Leader, and that her skills with the sword were unparalleled. While you were looking to forge a relationship with Saeko, fate was not sympathetic to your cause. She was a third-year student, while you were just a second-year. This age difference of one year strongly influenced your ability to converse with her, outside of introductions and the occasional greeting. But today was going to change all of that. Today, you were going to take fate into your own hands.

Despite this optimism however, there was a slim chance of actually finding Saeko. You knew very little about her routine school activities, outside of her classroom being on the third floor of the school. There was no guarantee for her to be in her classroom, as an exemplary student like Saeko would often be excused from daily lessons to handle the duties expected of her. She could be anywhere in the school…

Before you could figure out your plan of attack, you heard exasperated whimpering from further down the corridor. A female student hobbled up the stairs not but a few meters from you, limping from some unknown damage inflicted to her leg. She collapsed to the ground after completing her ascent, hastily crawling along the floor to huddle up underneath one of the windows that lined the wall.

You ran towards her, kneeling at her side. “Hey, what happened?!”

She responded with a simple shake of her head, as tears filled her eyes. This girl was a first-year student, likely having enrolled into high school this very semester. Upon closer examination, you found a bite wound on her left ankle. It looked like a wound she received from one of the teachers while fleeing the incident at the main gate.

A dull, clunking noise woke you from your investigation, as you found that the girl had released her grip on a hefty brick. This was likely prepared as an improvised weapon against her aggressor. Judging by its condition, this girl didn’t have the time to use it. This would change shortly, as you heard an eerie moan echo up from the stairway right next to you. Turning around to meet this threat, you found one of the older teachers who was involved in the incident shambling up the steps. He was drenched in copious amounts of blood, most of which didn’t even appear to be his own. An unceasing rasping came out from the teacher’s gaping mouth, as if he had caught sight of his next victim.

You weren’t going to let this be your final resting place. Grabbing the brick, you rose up and stood against this reanimated creature. With its first step onto the second floor, you weightily slammed your blunt object against the side of its head. The clumsy beast toppled to the ground. This was your chance to win, so you leapt onto its sluggish frame and pinned it to the floor. Instincts took over, as you repeatedly brought the brick down to bear upon the teacher’s forehead. With each successive blow, your opponent grew slower and less cognitive. Your blood was rushing through your system from the thrill of combat, while your vision hazed in a primal attempt to focus on the only threat in sight.

Before you knew it, the teacher’s struggles came to a halt. There were no more rasps or groans – only your own hurried breathing remained. The brick once again dropped to the ground, this time stained with the blood of another. You were exhausted, but you had easily won this engagement. Although a roar of victory felt appropriate for this situation, you saw something shuffle in the corner of your eye.

The girl you had attempted to save rose to her feet, as the school intercom system crackled to life above you. The sound of her shuffling was dampened by the overbearing, mechanical filters used by the intercom system. But even then, you noticed that something wasn’t right.

*Click*

“Attention, all students. A fight has broken out on-campus.
Please follow your instructors and evacuate the school. I repeat,
a fight has broken out on-campus. Please follow your instructors-”

*Thud*
*Whhhhrrrrr*

“What is… oh god, help me!”

The heroic buzz filling your soul vanished as soon as the cries of the broadcaster filled the school, waking the girl in front of you from her inactive haze. She staggered towards you, her body as cold and lifeless as the reanimated teacher you had just slaughtered. In less than a second, she violently clashed against you, tossing you to the floor. The girl dropped on you, pinning you just like you had to your previous opponent. Her jaws actively sought out your flesh, as your groans of distress went unheard due to the live skirmish that erupted in the broadcasting room. Though you kept this girl at bay, the brick was out of reach and you were still exhausted from your first engagement.

Your strength was fading, until the fight was quickly ended with a distinctive, lurid crack. While you concerned that this crack originated from yourself, this fear dissipated when you found your attacker topple off you. As her body flopped down the stairs, you discovered a tall, feminine figure standing above you.

“Are you injured?” She asked, her voice calm and collected in spite of shattering the skull of a former student. A splotch of blood stained the wooden katana that she wielded. You rubbed your eyes, revealing this person to be exactly who you were looking for – Saeko Busujima. You let out a sigh of relief, picking yourself back up. “No, no... I'm doing better now.”

As you first noticed, Saeko was quite tall. Her presence was intimidating, if not for the fact that she was a year older than you, but also because she was an astonishing beauty. Saeko had long, black hair that radiated a bluish tint, complimenting her piercing, dark blue eyes. She had a slender, feminine body with a perfect posture, reflecting that of a noblewoman from centuries long past. Further down, you caught a glimpse of the black stockings that she always wore to school. While this was not a regular part of the female uniform, she adopted this piece of clothing into her own personal style. And as you figured, it suited Saeko well. No thought pleased you more than being able to soothe her stocking-covered feet after a victory at one of her tournaments. You tried not to let these desires plague your thoughts, though.

Her excessively formal style of speech only supported the idea that Saeko was raised in an upright household. “Good, then you can come with me.”

Without being given a second to preach your gratitude, Saeko grabbed your wrist and dragged you down the stairs. Her expedited pace forced you to leap over the corpse that had fallen down the stairs. You imagined this rush had something to do with the battle over the intercom, as the broadcaster let out a chilling scream that echoed throughout the school building.