1 Dreaming and Realizing It Wasn't A Dream

Everything was blurry. The edges of the my vision dimmed and blacked as I looked around.

I was in a store. It was dark both in the store and outside - it was night and there was no power. Or at least that's what I thought until a ray of light hit my eyes and momentarily blinded me before disappearing.

I looked toward the window of the convenience store and realized the darkness there wasn't the night sky. The windows were blocked.

Blocked by people, packed so close together they were basically crushing themselves. Yet that didn't seem to deter them in the slightest as they banged against the windows--oh, I can hear now. Groans, moans, the banging of hands against the glass windows, the doors...so much sound. It made my ears ring.

I went to stand up but I slipped and fell to the ground. I was confused why but then I saw the puddle of blood below me - a quick look over myself showed I was injured. My stomach had been cut open by some sort of sharp object.

The wound spurted blood, the dark edges in my vision getting worse as the blood continuously dribbled out of me.

A crack rang through my ears, making the ringing worse, and catching my full attention.

I looked up and saw the windows cracking, the banging picking up in strength and ferocity. As the spider-web cracks spread across the window, the ringing in my ears got worse and my heart began to beat quicker and quicker. It felt like I was moments away from death. Second stretched on like an eternity, each one making the ringing worse.

Then the windows broke and the dead began rushing into the store. A wave of rotten flesh, flying right to me. As the closest one was about to reach me, everything went dark.

. . .

I awoke, gasping for breath, sweat covering my body and leaving a sheen that reflected the light slipping through in between my curtains.

Turning to the side and swinging my legs out of bed, I slapped my alarm clock, turning off the ringing sound. I sat there for a few seconds, calming my breath and heart rate before closing my eyes and dropping my head into my hands.

"...Those fucking dreams," I cursed, a sigh escaping my lips along with what I said.

I was just about fed up with those dreams. Lately, they'd been getting more and more vivid and having more of an effect on me once I woke up.

The situation was always different, always of differing severity. Sometimes I was just looking over a street completely filled with the shambling dead from the safety of an apartment balcony high above the street. Other times I was fighting a few of the undead, crushing heads with unarmed attacks, my hands and arms covered in impromptu armor.

Taking in a deep breath, I rubbed my face up and down before opening my eyes and standing up.

Looking down, I saw the sweat covered body and decided I needed a shower - before that, however, I thought to calm myself down through some light exercise.

Dropping to the ground, I began warming my muscles up with some light calisthenics and yoga. Once my body had warmed up fully and my mind was a little more at ease, I began going through some simple katas.

Martial arts were a somewhat contradictory topic for me. On one side, I loved fighting and training. The process of growth that martial arts brought me was the most addictive thing in the world for me. But on the other hand...the memories I had of martial arts were forever stained by my grandfathers hand in my training.

The worst part is that he believed he did what he did all for me. That he was just preparing me.

I was born on a rainy night, apparently, in 1992 on the 21st of June in Japan. My father, Ryuji Nakamura, named me Kenta - which makes me Kenta Nakamura.

Sadly, two years after my birth, my parents died in a car accident which left me in the care of my father's father, my grandfather. Ikki Nakamura was a decorated war veteran and after losing his son...his thin veil of sanity began withering away.

Which is why from the age of five, I was put through incredibly strict military training. Mainly focused around the usage of close combat weapons and the body due to the use of guns being strictly watched in Japan. He taught me like a soldier, raised me like a soldier, treated me like a soldier - all because he didn't want to lose me like he had his son. He'd gotten it into his head that the reason his son had died was because he hadn't raised him the right way, when in reality, my father dying was just an accident. A terrible thing...but an accident nonetheless.

Yet, at the time, I couldn't say that. Or rather, I wouldn't say that. I'd been brainwashed by him, pretty much.

All the way up until I was fourteen, I was trained by a war veteran who'd been a part of a secret Japanese kill squad. He trained me to be a weapon.

He didn't teach me any particular style. He just taught me all the ways to use your body as a weapon. All the way to defeat another human being. All the ways to prepare the body so it was more like a weapon than a living thing.

What happened when I was fourteen? My grandfather died and it came to light what he'd been doing to me. The training he'd made me undergo.

After a shit ton of therapy, I was sent off to live with distant relatives - the Komuro Household.

That's probably what saved me. If my grandfather hadn't died and I was trained by him until I was an adult...I'd have been beyond saving. Nothing but a killing machine. Though I suppose that would've given me quite the life in the army, huh?

Whatever. Living with these new family members of mine is what helped me become normal. Especially Takashi. A guy I now see as my brother...without him I'd be much different.

He brought me out of my shell, got me to act more like a normal kid. Got me involved with the neighborhood kids and got me outside to play. It helped massively that his parents - my foster parents - practically loved and raised me like one of their own. They showed me what real familial love is like. It isn't 4:30 AM training drills that leave your hands broken and bleeding. It isn't making you do suicides until you puke and then forcing you to do more.

It's sending you off to school with a smile. It's encouraging you to join the track and field team and cheering you on to your first win. It's making you feel safe in your own skin and not like you're constantly on edge, waiting for the next test to appear.

I rarely use the combat skill my grandfather instilled into me. I still practice them, occasionally. Just out of habit. Usually, I use a style of Kyokushin Karate for self-defense if the need arises.

It's a style of full-contact karate that can actually be used in a fight, so it works for me.

I got enrolled in it a few years ago and because of both my natural talent and my past experiences with combat, I quickly progressed. Even won a few tournaments, much to the pride and joy of my foster parents and Takashi.

My movements were silent as I went through kata after kata, my mind slowly calming down from the nightmare.

After my heartbeat settled and my mind felt at ease, I let out a breath of air and looked at my clock.

[6:54 AM]

Plenty of time for a shower then. And so, I went on my way out of my room and toward the shower. I could hear my mom and dad downstairs, talking away as mom cooked breakfast, and I smiled to myself as I opened the bathroom door and entered, turning on the light. I closed the door behind me and took off my underwear before slipping into the shower.

Moments later, hot water pelted my body, washing away the grime and the sweat I'd accumulated over the night and through my little workout.

It didn't take long to get clean, so I turned the shower off and got out, catching my reflection in the mirror.

I was about 186cm tall, so 6'1", and my broad shoulders were covered in lean and compact muscle. My chest was chiseled, lacking any real fat stores, and my abs were the same. My entire body had a very low fat percentage, due to both my own effects and my inherent genetics. My arms were very defined, with enough bulk to look strong but not enough to get in the way.

Seeing as it's what I do now, I had a sprinter's physique. But even despite that, I still had what was considered the perfect physique for martial arts. Not too bulky, not too lean and filled with explosive power. Perfect - or as close as you can get, anyway - in my opinion.

My hair, while still wet, was as wild as ever and pitch black in color - I'd been forced to keep it short by my grandfather, so, in an act of defiance, I let it grow out a little. Nothing too long, however.

Then there were my eyes. Golden. An unusual familial trait I share with my grandfather.

As much as that fact annoys me, it doesn't change the fact that my eyes are a metallic gold.

My skin has a sunkissed tan which barely hides the light crisscross of scars that litter my body. A product of brutal training from a young age - training that included live combat with sharpened blades. Not that the scars bothered me. I couldn't care less about them. I just wonder what went through my grandfather's mind when he inflicted those injuries on me?

...A fruitless question to wonder, I know, but my mind can't help but wander there every now and again when I catch sight of a scar or two on my hand or forearm.

Picking up a towel, I scrubbed at my body, drying it before wrapping the towel around my waist and putting my underwear in the washing basket.

As I exited the bathroom, I saw a groggy and tired Takashi leaving his room, shambling toward the bathroom. I didn't bother speaking to him, knowing how he was in the mornings - let's just say he wasn't a morning person and leave it at that.

Stepping around and passed him, I made it to my room and began to get dressed for school.

. . .

Rushing out of the house, I called after Takashi as I pulled on my blazer, a piece of toast dangling from between my teeth, "Takashi! Wait a minute!" I got out, muffled and mispronounced as I spoke around the toast in my mouth.

As if he hadn't heard me, Takashi continued onward. I instantly knew he was in a mood of sorts, and it didn't take me long to figure out why either.

Stuffing the toast into my mouth, I chewed and swallowed it as I half-jogged to catch up to Takashi. It didn't take long with my longer strides and the fact he was dragging his feet a little, so I caught up to him and put my free arm around his shoulder, pulling him close as a teasing smile broke across my face, "I get it, you're annoyed because of Rei and Hisashi getting together. But is that any reason to be a dick to everyone around you? You barely paid attention to mom when she spoke to you earlier."

His light brown eyes looked at me before he shrugged off my hand from his shoulder and picked up his speed, "I'm not annoyed about that," he lied, and he lied very badly. It was clear that was what was annoying him just by how his hands clenched into fists at the very mention of it.

"Look, I'm not here to nag you, man, but I am here to speak the truth to you even if it hurts," I took a deep breath before continuing, "You missed your chance with Rei but she's not the only girl in existence, Takashi. Stop mopping around and get a girlfriend if you really wanna stick it to her for getting with Hisashi," I offered and he faltered for a moment before turning back to look at me.

"And where is this wisdom coming from?" he spat, "You've only had a few relationships but you're sprouting that crap like you're some sort of guru," he rebuked, frowning.

I laughed lightly before pointing out, "A few more relationships than you've ever had."

Takashi rolled his eyes before the fight seemed to drain out of him, "I guess I just thought she'd never move on and pick someone else. Kinda stupid when I think about it like that but I guess that's just how I thought about it," he sighed dejectedly.

"Hey," I clapped him on the back, keeping pacing with him as we walked, "How about tonight we go out to the arcade and try to chat up some girls? Should take your mind off it and give you a chance to see your older bro in action so you can learn something," I joked, trying to lighten the mood. Luckily, Takashi cracked a weak smile, chuckling as he gave a slight nod.

"...I'll take you up on that, Kenta," he looked over at me, a grateful look to his face before he looked away, his false bravado coming back in full force as he picked up speed a little again.

. . .

I'd decided to skip lessons with Takashi for today. I don't know why but I had a bad feeling about something and I'd rather not leave my brother alone when I had such a feeling.

So, as I was leaning over the railing on the roof, I watched the surrounding places.

That's when I thought it. A quiet thought that slipped into my mind, worming it's way in there and digging deep before I even noticed it. My grandfather's training saw something in the surroundings - or rather, it heard something.

Specifically, a lack of something. It was too quiet. On a morning during a work week, the surrounding streets should be filled with housewives speaking, people getting to work, young kids out playing with their friends...and yet there was nothing. I couldn't even hear any birds or other such animals.

...Thinking of which, I hadn't seen any of the local cats on the way to school this morning either.

A pit was developing in my stomach and it only dropped further when I heard Takashi behind me, "Hey, Kenta...come over here and look at this," he said, his voice seeming entirely unsure of what he was seeing.

I spun around, acting on instinct more than anything, and paced over to him. My heart was beginning to thump uncontrollably, as if expecting something.

And it got what it wanted.

"What the hell's with that guy? Is he sick or something?" Takashi asked, pointing toward the school gate as an office worker was reaching through the bars...or at least something that was wearing an office worker's clothes.

Even at this distance, I could see that the thing's skin was a dark and lifeless grey...the eyes were blank and clouded with white - there were no pupils. It's jaw was slack and opened, drool and what looked like blood pooling out of it's mouth, it's own tongue loose and flopping out like it had a mind of it's own.

I'd seen this. I'd seen it all before. And just as I suspected, the teachers appeared.

Teshima-sensei. Hayashi-sensei. Two teachers I didn't have. All four of them approached the thing at the school gate.

I'd seen this all before; in one of my dreams.

If...if this went like my dream, they'd all get infected by whatever that thing was. They'd get into the school and--

I rushed to the railings and took a deep breath in before yelling out, "STAY AWAY FROM THAT THING!" my voice ripped and tore under the volume I forced it to work at but I didn't care. I looked down and saw the drop off of the railings - a drop I couldn't survive. I looked over the edge and saw a drainage pipe.

"Jeez, what the hell's wrong with you, Ken--Kenta?! What are you doing?!" I heard Takashi's shouting but I ignored it as I hopped the railing, using the pipe like a fireman's pole.

I heard a scream coming from the gate and jumped off a few feet too high from the pipe.

I rolled, killing my momentum and picked up into a sprint, exploding forth. It wasn't quick enough. I pushed harder, forcing my legs to pump quicker, to move quicker, harder. I ate up the ground between the school and the school gate and I arrived just in time to pull Hayashi-sensei out of the way of the changed Teshima who was sporting similarly grey skin and blank eyes as the thing outside the gate.

His arms swiped, barely missing the yelping Hayashi-sensei who I'd pulled out of the way. I, using my momentum, put my elbow out and slammed myself sideways and it into the thing's chest. I came to a skidding stop as the thing that used to be my gym teacher flew backward from the blow.

I felt it's ribs crack. Massive internal damage. And yet it was still standing, like the blow and it's pain didn't register.

It stumbled back toward me and I burst forward, my leg whipping round and slamming into the side of it's head, banging right against it's temple and slamming it to the side and off it's feet. An audible crack was heard and the thing dropped to the ground harmlessly. It was still groaning, however.

It just couldn't move.

"Stay back!" I hurriedly said to the approaching teachers. They all stopped, fearful expressions on their faces - all pointed at the thing that used to be Teshima-sensei.

I bent down and placed a hand against it's chest. I hadn't been wrong; it's ribs and sternum were either cracked or thoroughly broken. But more importantly, it wasn't breathing and it's heart was beating. And yet...

*Groan*

It's jaw moved up and down, snapping closed before slowly opening again. It's heart wasn't beating and yet it remained animated.

I heard the teachers behind me whispering, "What...what the hell is this...?!" I heard Hayashi-sensei say and I thought she was speaking about this entire situation and what just happened to her coworker. But then I realized it wasn't because of that.

Because when I looked back to look at them, they were all staring off into mid-air.

And I could see a status screen in front of my eyes, appearing just as I turned to them.

[Congratulations, you survived!]

[Checking status...Evolver status found!]

[Fighting the undead...survived...uninjured...superb results...reward decided: Rajang Bloodline gifted!]

...What?