All Otoha wanted was to share the joy of zombie movies with others, but she was too socially awkward to pull it off without sounding crazy. She was met with ridicule and disdain by the ones she had trusted the most: her very own family. They never listened or bothered to understand the real Otoha. Instead, they tried bullying her into being “normal” for her own good, blind to their own ignorance. I could see how she’d abandon them... and maybe even come back later to, y’know, put them out of their misery.
“Sorry, I’m not really used to talking about my feelings.”
“Neither am I.”
“Try setting the mood next time. You caught me off guard.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. It’s just that I’ve had some time to think about... stuff.”
By that I meant how Otoha had recognized me as her partner earlier today. It had made me realize that there were still layers to Otoha I had yet to peel back.
“Same here, actually.”
At that moment, I heard a door pop open right behind me. I turned around and saw Otoha wrapped snugly and deliciously in her bath towel.
I didn’t know if she just didn’t see me that way or if she had no sense of shame, but she just stood there, completely unfazed. I, for one, wasn’t taking it all too well.
“Hiroaki, we need to talk.” Her tone was serious.
“Ah, err, yea, of course. Bring it.”
“Remember that zombie with the rifle outside the mansion?”
“Yeah, what abo—wait, lemme guess. Shino’s dad?”
Zombies only held on to items that had strong emotional associations or that they had just happened to die with. That particular zombie had a rifle. Rifles were an incredibly rare sight in Japan and mostly in the hands of the rich. These wealthy folks typically used their rifles for hunting purposes. They also tended to keep them in a collection inside their mansions. Now, who did we know who was rich, into hunting, and who owned a mansion in this general area?
“I think so, yes.”
“Knew it.”
One point to team me.
“Hiroaki, there’s something you need to know.”
There I was, sitting on the floor and minding my own business, when I felt a soft sensation against my back. It was Otoha’s breasts—you know, just in case you didn’t get the memo.
Let’s hope she put on a bra. If not, I’ll be pushing daisies.
“Otoha, I really need you to—”
“I killed my sister.”
“You what?”
“If you consider killing a zombie to be murder, that is. I took Dad’s golf club and went to town on her in a drunken stupor. After that, I turned my attention to Mom, and the rest is history,” she said matter-of-factly. “There’s a scene like this in basically every zombie movie under the sun. I had run through every last one of them in my head so many times, bashing their skulls in just felt like going through the motions.”
“Wow.”
“Maybe it’s just because I despised those two, but I can’t say I regret anything that went down that day. Not sure what happened to Dad; he wasn’t home and I haven’t heard from him since.” She went silent for a moment before carrying on. “I’d like to think I would’ve done the same regardless of our relationship. They really didn’t like zombies. Trust me, I never heard the end of it.”
“Huh.”
“As for Dad, I’m kind of undecided. I know I’d rather die at the hands of a loved one than be trapped inside my own corpse. I’m sure he would too. This is going to make me sound incredibly petty, but I really can’t bring myself to track him down, and...” She took a deep breath. “It hurts just thinking about it.”
“Yeah.”
“He’s not the person I once knew, and that’s a fact. But something inside me refuses to budge. I don’t even know anymore.”
“The thought of loss is terrifying, it really is. Just look at how hard it is to ‘pull the plug’ on a dying family member. It’s clear what the right choice is; there’s no debating that. That doesn’t stop us from clinging to hope when there is none. We might think, what if a miracle happens and everything just magically fixes itself? It’s stupid, incredibly stupid, but maybe that’s what makes us human.”
Most people would eventually move on with their lives, but that was beside the point. We would much rather dig our heels in than let go of the people who shaped us into who we were.
“I guess so.”
“A bookshelf fell on my mom. I watched as her blood seeped out from underneath it. It was... something else.”
“I can imagine.”
“Anyway, don’t you think this all feels oddly contrived, almost like we’re playing out some sorta hackneyed script?” I couldn’t take the stuffy atmosphere for much longer, so I tried to lighten the mood. “I mean, what’s the deal with zombies? It’s almost like they were just made for drama. How convenient.”
Not only did they look the same after they became zombies, but they also acted pretty much the same, too. It didn’t make things easy in the slightest. I was afraid to think what would’ve gone down at home had I not lucked out with the bookshelf.
“Shino has it pretty bad.”
“She sure does.” I let out a deep sigh.