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Nostalgia, these days, is rare.
Fleeting as the spring in this part of Japan, it’s not often Yuuji comes across something that reminds him of a pleasant memory.
Not anymore, at least.
Not for anyone, really.
Not unless a person is over the age of seventy and can thank their lucky stars that this didn’t have to be a majority of their life, and now they get to die semi-peacefully in the protection of a QZ. Or, unless they’re a child under twenty and don’t know anything other than the world as it is, anyone falling outside of that range is left with this.
A broken world run by broken creatures.
Runners, Stalkers, Clickers—these distorted things have taken over the planet in a way that has left nothing but chaos and death in their wake. Yuuji barely remembers what it was like to live in a normal society—a time when he would go to school and learn how to read and write, a time when he would spend weekends with his grandfather and share a room with his half-brother.
Most of what he remembers now are flashes of his loved ones being separated from him at the Quarantine Zone’s gates, growing up under the strict law of a new type of government and attending military school, and trying, so desperately, to not lose the core parts of him—the parts that made him good and strong and reliable.
But it wasn’t all bad.
He remembers sitting next to a boy in class, then later being his partner in gym. He remembers spiky hair and a cool, often quiet voice that only grew up to be deeper and richer. Memories of lunches in the cafeteria, green eyes under the sun, and shared, stolen glances across the room are some of the good memories in Yuuji’s life.
Choosing to trust that boy and run away with him is one of the better ones.
“It’s no safer in here than it is out there,” Megumi had said. “At least, out there, I know what I’m doing. I wouldn’t even have to be here if soldiers hadn’t raided our home. I would still be out there. My sister would still be out there.”
It’s a story he doesn’t tell often, and it took a lot of years of knowing him before Yuuji was trusted with it.
Megumi and his sister, Tsumiki, were living with their father in the outskirts of Tokyo, just below the Saitama prefecture. They were both taught the necessary survival skills to get by in this world—how to use a gun, how to clean a gun, how to use knives, how to make traps, how to build a fire—everything that’s ever been taught to Yuuji over the course of ten years in QZ military school, Megumi learned it in one.
Then, one day, their father disappeared. He left and never came back, and despite Yuuji giving his condolences in his father’s presumed death, Megumi only ever seemed to shrug it off, as if it had no real weight in his life at all.
What did affect him, however, was his sister.
Only a few years later did the QZ militia manage to make their way to Megumi’s part of Japan. With their loud running cars, automatic weapons, and high group numbers, it was no surprise that they alerted a nearby herd.
Ten cars were reported to have been in that group; three returned.
And Megumi lost the only real family he’d ever known.
“Until I met you,” he once confessed under the stars atop a QZ building.
It was late, the breeze in the air reminded Yuuji of fall, and the moon was full. The only good thing about the end of the world meant little to no light pollution and a mandatory blackout the moment the sun dipped past the horizon until it greeted them again in the morning, on the other side of the sky.
Under this endless blanket of twinkling stars, there they were. Two souls, alone, reaching for the only real connection they had had since passing the zone’s gates.
“You consider me family?” Yuuji asked, turning to him with a sly but fond smirk.
Megumi hummed and offered a soft, half-smile in return. “Something like that…”
And what was Yuuji supposed to do other than confess back?
Spill from his heart the ugly, raw secrets. Let the feelings pour out of his chest and surround them both, something that he could either float in or sink to the bottom of. Feel the desperation of intimacy beat and pound against his ribcage, forcing its way out of him until he was staring at the universe, packed away in the twinkle of two sea-green eyes looking right back at him.
The kiss that followed felt like the sun rising.
Slow, languid, a warm burst of light that sprouted up and grew into the whole sky.
Truly, it was no surprise that he followed him right out of a hole in the wall of the QZ.
In their travels, they continued to make their way across Japan—north. They passed through old, dilapidated villages, avoiding the cities and towns, and silently wandered about the rotting grocery stores and their lack of supplies. They hid from people, fought Infected when it was necessary, and scraped by with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and the little supplies they managed to smuggle out of the zone.
Two pistols, a handful of knives, some canned food, and layers for all seasons—it was a wonder they didn’t fall to the elements during their first winter of freedom.
Though, if Yuuji had to die at Megumi’s side, he supposed that wouldn’t have been so bad.
It was Megumi’s endless wealth of knowledge that got them by, and, in time, Yuuji learned it, too. He wasn’t clueless, and he certainly wasn’t useless—he was fit, a good fighter, and agile on his feet—but the technicalities of living, the practicality of surviving, was something lost to him. He grew up in a Quarantine Zone, whereas Megumi grew up on his own, fending for himself and his sister.
Yuuji is certain of it. If not for Megumi, he would have died out here.
How pathetic, he thinks to himself. Am I really that useless, after all?
Yuuji trudges his way back through the field towards the little cabin they call a home. It’s hidden up in the mountains of the Iwate prefecture, left behind by some couple two decades ago that either decided to trust the military QZ or end their lives on their own terms. That, or they succumbed to Cordyceps and its persistent takeover of the entire world, and their infected bodies are just one of the many that Yuuji and Megumi killed on their way to this little shack they call a home.
It’s nothing special, yet it’s everything to Yuuji.
A makeshift fence has been built around the property. It’s expanded over the last three or so years, slowly including a garden, a stray goat they had found last fall, and enough space for them to enjoy their lives—as if they’re nothing more than two people living off the grid, sustaining themselves, caring for themselves, and not having to worry about taxes or governmental regulations or where their next meal will come from.
Well, they still worry about where their next meal will come from, but it’s less of a romantic choice and more of an ugly truth in a world such as this one.
Nostalgia is rare.
The things that Yuuji is nostalgic for are also strange—different from what someone older than him might say. He’s only twenty-three, ultimately, and nothing he knows now compares to anything in the stories once told to him over an open fire in the earlier days of the QZ. Stories of flying planes, digital screens, or the entire world at a person’s fingertips in the form of “the internet.”
Still, even if what he longs for, what he misses, doesn’t contain any of that, he finds it to be just as meaningful.
He misses picnics on the roof with Megumi and trading sandwiches when they both ended up with something they didn’t like. He misses the soft, hidden smiles that he always managed to coax out of his best friend with a lighthearted joke and a wide-toothed laugh—maybe even a nudge in the shoulder or a bump on the knee. He misses the freedom of sneaking out of the dorms at night and exploring the city of Tokyo, all of its ruined, broken pieces, barely bandaged together with what little military power remained.
They even snuck into a few restricted zones once or twice, both on accident and on purpose, just to see what the world could have been like if the infected didn’t kill and time didn’t stand frozen in 2005.
Yuuji loves the life that he’s managed to build with Megumi now, just over twenty years after the day the earth fell. It’s 2026, and what they have is more special than what Yuuji can remember. Flashes of his family are just that—flashes—but with Megumi, he has something tangible.
He yearns for that freedom, though—the exploration of two teenagers and feeling like they’ve conquered the world. At twenty-three, there are a lot more risks present, more responsibilities. There’s a caution to be had in order to just stay alive, and that doesn’t even account for everything else that comes with searching for resources, checking the traps at the edge of the property, or making sure that the doors are locked and bolted—both from living and infected humans.
It doesn’t consider a supply run where a million different factors are in play at once—who else could be roaming through the town, what types of Infected could be lurking around, or even the weapon chosen for protection and reassurance that everyone returns alive.
Megumi is sharpening a knife in the kitchen when Yuuji returns home. Kon lies lazily beneath his legs, curled up around his boots with his tail thumping against the wooden floor, as he slowly approaches. Megumi barely offers a glance his way, as he’s too focused on his task, when the words, “Welcome home” float from his lips to Yuuji’s ears.
“I’m back from the supply run,” Yuuji says, dropping his bag onto the floor. He removes the rifle slung across his body, too, propping it up next to the door. “There wasn’t much.”
Megumi hums. “What did you get?”
“A couple of extra winter clothes, some paper that can be used in a fire, and a hidden stash of dented, canned food,” he lists off, walking further into the cabin.
“That doesn’t sound like ‘wasn’t much,’” Megumi counters.
Yuuji scowls. “It could have been better. I’ve done better.”
“Well, maybe if you let me come with you, we both could have had a better run.” There’s a teasing lilt in Megumi’s voice that only barely registers in Yuuji’s ears.
“You needed to rest, Megumi.”
“It was a sore throat, Yuuji. Not the flu.”
“I still wanted you to rest.”
“I wouldn’t have slowed you down.”
The teasing lilt is gone, replaced by something a bit more stubborn.
“I don’t want you risking your life when you’re already sick,” Yuuji bites, a bit harder than he meant to. He didn’t even mean to snap at him, but the harsh tone still cut through the air, nonetheless.
He and Megumi stare at one another in silence, with only the sound of Kon’s rhythmic panting echoing in the cabin. The tension can be cut with a knife. Or maybe Yuuji is just tense. His skin tingles and stings with guilt, and he swallows, turning his head to the side in order to avoid the cold, sharp stare of his lover.
“Were there any Infected on the run?” Megumi eventually asks.
Yuuji doesn’t even have to look at him to answer.
A single, defeated sigh. “You shouldn’t have gone alone, Yuuji.”
“Everything was fine,” he insists, turning back to look him in the eye. “There weren’t that many. We’re too far north and away from any major cities for it to matter.”
“It always matters when you’re doing a supply run by yourself,” Megumi argues, standing up. He sheaths the knife and places the whetstone back near the sink. “I thought we agreed that any sight of infected meant an automatic turnaround.”
“That’s why I came home now instead of three hours later at sundown when I said I’d be back,” Yuuji says, throwing his arms up. Still, there’s a heavy fog that rests in the air between them. It’s suffocating, and the disapproving look on Megumi’s face is hard to ignore. “Come on, we’ve been doing this for years now. I promise I know what I’m doing.”
Liar.
“Megumi…” Yuuji inches forward in the kitchen, slowly approaching as if he’s trying to placate a wild animal. Megumi’s eyes glare at him without regard, but his edges soften the more he talks, and Yuuji isn’t anything if not a talker. “I’m here. I’m with you now.”
He reaches his side in no time, and Kon has now decided to join them, too, circling them as Yuuji wraps his arms around his lover. Burying his face deep into the crook of Megumi’s neck, he soaks up the musky scent of pine and firewood that seems to have permanently etched themselves onto his skin. It’s familiar and homey, reminding him of cozy winter nights and the sunset over the mountains of Japan.
He tries to ignore the pounding in his chest and the ever-present nervousness that seems to hover over him like a thick, grey cloud.
“We should go on a date today,” he murmurs, nosing along the column of Megumi’s neck.
The latter sighs, tilting his head slightly enough for better access. “What do you mean by ‘date’?”
Yuuji chuckles. “I mean, with the canned goods I scavenged, we could have a picnic. The vegetables in the garden would cook nicely, and we have goat cheese from our goat. I think that means we can enjoy this nice summer day.”
Megumi hums, pulling back in order to meet Yuuji’s gaze. “What did you break?”
Yuuji scoffs, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “I didn’t break anything!”
“Was it my rifle? Do you know how hard it was to get that?”
“I didn’t break anything.”
“Then why are you being so suspicious?” Eyes narrowed, Megumi glares at him, but he keeps his arms firmly around Yuuji’s waist
“I’m not,” Yuuji insists, swallowing. “You’re just paranoid.”
They continue to stare, neither wanting to yield. But Megumi knows that Yuuji has a point, and, after a few more moments of this game of chicken, he hums.
“Touché.”
“We can go up the trail a bit, towards that old lookout,” he offers, smiling for good measure.
Megumi considers it, knowing that part of the trail is a bit further out than he likes to go, but they keep their things stashed away in case of raiders, and, while it would suck to lose their goat, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.
“Fine,” he relents. “When?”
“In just a couple of hours, if we don’t want to miss the sunset,” Yuuji says, beaming.
Megumi rolls his eyes, but he fights his own smile threatening his expression. “Whatever.”
He leaves most of the packing and the food prep for Yuuji to do. Not that either of them mind. Yuuji’s always been more interested in cooking and preparing things for taste, whereas Megumi will cook just to have something in his stomach. They chalk it up to the different ways in which they were raised—Yuuji in the sheltered confines of the Tokyo Quarantine Zone, and Megumi in the distant, rural village of his sister and father.
It doesn’t take long to get everything ready. Yuuji quickly roasts some vegetables over an open fire and uses the remaining heat to cook the canned food. It seems to be a mix of meat and pasta and is surprisingly still good. It’s been over two decades since everything fell, so it’s been getting harder and harder to find canned goods that are still, well, good, but it seems that he lucked out today.
Ironic. He scoffs to himself. ‘Lucked out.’
But he steels it away, pushes and shoves and compacts it further into the pit of his stomach, where a permanent void seems to have taken place. Yuuji thought that he could once fill that void with what he has with Megumi, but he knows now that it doesn’t work like that.
This world is not so kind nor generous.
As they walk through the trails of the mountains, Kon happily padding along beside them, Yuuji finds himself lost in thought. He’s suddenly thrown back to those days in the QZ, only fifteen and thinking everything in life was so much simpler. Him and Megumi making their way through school, avoiding the close-mindedness of their peers and instructors; running through old buildings and crawlspaces, filled with adventure and curiosity; and the quiet, thankful feeling of companionship and connection that he had been craving for so long.
He found all of that with Megumi, and how did he repay him?
They settle down on an old blanket underneath a clearing of trees, looking up at cotton candy clouds and the rich, deep blue of the sky over a setting sun. Vivid oranges and pinks burn their way into Yuuji’s vision, contrasted starkly by the white of the clouds, outlined in a gold thread of sunlight that clings to daylight as its star begins to dip past the horizon.
“We should go in before dark, you know,” Megumi points out, but he settles into Yuuji without protest.
Yuuji wraps his arm around him, letting his fingers carelessly stroke his face, his hair, his neck—any part of him, really. He wants something tangible. Real.
“Yeah, yeah,” he teases lightly. “We’ll be in before dusk.”
They lay their spread out, keeping their weapons close and their food closer. Yuuji has a pistol attached to his hip, and Megumi’s other rifle is slung across his back. They both have their own hunting knives, too, but currently, Yuuji is using his to spread goat cheese across a slice of homemade bread.
“Isn’t this nice?” he asks, taking a bite.
The tangy, creamy flavor explodes across his tongue, and he almost wants to close his eyes just to savor it more, if anything. He spreads some more cheese on another slice of bread and holds it up to Megumi’s face.
“Try it.”
Megumi rolls his eyes, hiding behind a hint of a smile, and leans forward, taking a bite. “You seem extra affectionate today.”
“I think I just love you,” Yuuji says with a lopsided grin.
“Yeah, right.” Megumi smacks his shoulder and takes the bread out of his hands. “What did you do, and why are you trying to hide it?”
“I’m not hiding anything,” he replies smugly. Taking another bite of his bread, he shrugs. “I just wanted to spend time with you.”
“All we do is spend time with each other.”
“Okay, but that’s surviving together. Not living.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Oh, Megumi,” Yuuji says, shaking his head. He turns, and soaks in the quiet, lingering gaze of two green eyes locked onto his own. “You should know now what the difference is. Even here versus the QZ has to tell you that there is one.”
Megumi huffs out a small laugh and shakes his head in fake exasperation. “With you? No, there isn’t a difference.”
It earns him a light smack on the shoulder.
“Okay, but… seriously,” Yuuji laughs, leaning into him. “Megumi.”
“Yuuji,” he mocks.
“I love you.”
It’s not something they say often.
It’s something that they know.
Something they’ve known for a long time. Putting that into words, however, it’s all so… strange. In a world where nothing is promised, is it really worth it to promise this?
The unspoken agreement is that it’s not.
Yet here he is.
Megumi blinks in reply as a crimson blush spreads throughout his face and down his neck. He dips his face into the collar of his jacket, but the unmistakable color on his cheeks is hard to deny. Yuuji revels in it, relishes this quiet, happy moment, and smiles even wider. Maybe it’s selfish of him to say something like that, but when there’s nothing in this world but the killers and the killed, maybe it’s okay for him to be selfish. At least, with this, it is.
Moving closer, they share their meal, with carefully portioned bites and sips of water. It’s nothing fancy, and it’s not like they have access to the cheap but effective alcohol smuggled in and out of the QZ, but neither of them really cared for getting drunk anyway. It’s still a nice pause between the breaths, the whisper in the wind.
This little flash of peace and serenity is theirs—under a setting sun and a rising moon, under the peeking stars on the cusp of night, and under an endless sky, so much more promising than the world they currently live in.
Yuuji curls up next to Megumi, leaning on his shoulder and soaking up the warmth when Megumi lays his head against his own. Dark streaks of hair fall over Yuuji’s vision, mixing with the short, wild strands of his own pink mop. It’s all tangled within itself, hard to keep under control in the wild unpredictable nature of this life, but he still tries to keep it somewhat tamed.
Still, the soft, light pink glow underneath the sunlight mixing with the cool, reflective black of Megumi’s hair is something mesmerizing. Their two colors blend and become one, so stark and different, yet complimentary.
“I love you, too, Yuuji,” Megumi whispers.
Yuuji closes his eyes. Don’t say that.
It was supposed to be his only.
There was never meant to be any sort of reciprocation, even if their relationship has been nothing but give and take, weakness and strength, support and reliance, all wrapped into one, unspoken thing.
Love someone else, he thinks. Love yourself.
Kon nudges his way onto Yuuji’s lap, forcing his head underneath his resting hand.
Be greedier, please.
Megumi shifts in order to look at Yuuji.
Their gazes melt into each other like wax off of a candle. Two colors meld into one, two souls, and Yuuji knows that there’s nothing more he can do but continue to fall. Even as he plummets towards nothing but the bottom and his inevitable end, he can have this, can’t he?
Maybe he doesn’t have the time to be selfish, maybe he doesn’t have the heart to truly be that, either, but Megumi should. If anyone deserves to be selfish in a world like this, it’s him. After all he’s been through, after all he’s lost…
“Promise me that you’ll prioritize yourself more,” Yuuji whispers.
The proximity almost makes him drunker than the liquor in the QZ. His lips are a breath away from Megumi’s, tempting, eyes filled with want.
“Where is this coming from?” Megumi replies, inching closer.
His breath is a ghost that brushes across Yuuji’s face, a soft caress of warm air that tickles his mouth and dances across his cheeks. The pull is intoxicating, alluring, and addicting. Megumi’s eyes flicker briefly down, an indication of something much more than what Yuuji can deliver right now.
And as much as he wants this, as selfish as he might be, no matter how fast he’s falling…
He still pulls back.
Forehead to forehead, Yuuji locks their gazes, one hand tangling in the back of Megumi’s head, and the other tracing circles along his jaw.
“I want to make sure that when I’m gone, you’ll still be here,” he says shakily, like an admission of sorts. A confession.
“‘When’?”
Fuck.
That wasn’t supposed to slip out.
Yuuji swallows, ignoring the pain in his arm, the blood that’s been slowly drying over the course of several hours. He ignores the sting of teeth marks sunken into his flesh and the promise that tomorrow will not come. It’s selfish of him to not say anything yet, entirely greedy of him to keep something like this from Megumi—someone he claims to love.
But he just wanted this one moment. This quiet, soft, sacred scene of the sun setting over the Iwate prefecture and the mountains painted with the reds, greens, and oranges of late summer. He wanted one last picnic with the person he couldn’t love any more.
The person he couldn’t help but spend his life with, no matter how short.
No, Yuuji will tell Megumi after this.
Before his body crosses the threshold of “home.”
Ideally, he’d die in the arms of his lover, like some romantic in a lost story of times long gone. But this isn’t an idyllic world, and Megumi isn’t an idyllic person. If he truly loves Yuuji, he’ll kill him before he can even ask to come inside.
A swift gunshot to the head—that shouldn’t be so painful. There have been worse ways to die, and people aren’t so fortunate as to look the one person they care about most in the eye before they go. If this is how it has to be, then so it shall.
At least, they have right now. This pocket of time that only belongs to them.
“I meant ‘if,’” he lies, trying to use a smile to cover it up. “We should swear to each other that we’ll keep going, even if the other doesn’t make it.”
Megumi’s brows twitch in curiosity. “Yuuji, why are you bringing this up right n—”
“You have to promise me, Megumi,” he begs. It’s too desperate. Too vulnerable. He reels it back in. “Please. Promise me.”
Megumi stares at him in silence.
“Nothing is guaranteed here,” Yuuji continues, reaching for Megumi’s hand. Their fingers intertwine, and he ignores the pain of the bite hidden on his forearm. “Not in this world. Not anymore. So, we have to promise each other this: We will keep going.”
“Yuuji…”
The way he’s looking at him hurts more than the pain in his arm.
“Megumi, please,” Yuuji whispers, more desperate than anything he’s ever felt before. He wants—no, he needs that closure. Here. Now. While he’s still himself. “We’ll do it. For each other.”
Megumi stares at him, wide-eyed in the golden hour of the sun’s last stand on the horizon. His face is so warm—hair shining, eyes twinkling—and his grip strong in Yuuji’s hand. He’s so full of life, of something that Yuuji can no longer have. He’s already accepted it, but Megumi will have to, too.
God, will he be able to do it?
“I promise,” Megumi whispers. His eyes flicker down. “Now, will you kiss me?”
Yuuji’s coy smile barely conceals the concern in his eyes.
“I’ll let you kiss me tonight, when we go to bed.”
A soft, enticing hum. “Is that a promise?”
A pang of guilt. “It’s a promise.”