High School of the Dead + One

「Six Dead」

Yuki smirked at Hisashi, who looked impressed.

"Wow, Yuk, you're really improving," he said, using the nickname he had come up with the last time they hung out.

"Thank you," she said. "I do try."

He chuckled, straightening up from his fighting stance.

They had been training for almost five hours now, the sun nearly under the horizon. Hisashi, who was already a brown belt in Karate, had made a deal with her a few months ago when he finally confronted her about her parents.

The conversation hadn't been pleasant to say the least. Hisashi had to keep her from running away from him multiple times, even before he managed to say what he wanted to say. Afterwards, it wasn't her running away that bothered him; it was her resignation to everything that happened to her. He had asked her why she didn't try to get help, and she said there wasn't any use. When he told her that her father could end up killing her, hoping to show her the seriousness, her reply had sent chills down his spine.

"I'm not afraid of dying," she mumbled, "as long as no one has to take my place."

He knew she would never leave her mother alone with that man—even if Hisashi couldn't see the reason to protect someone who let their own child get beat in their place—so he compromised. If she promised to learn self-defense, he wouldn't tell anyone about the parental problem. She agreed, but she wanted Hisashi himself to teach her. The idea that she trusted him warmed his heart, honestly.

Yuki stretched out her back, bending as far back as she could. She was in her new junior high uniform: a short, maroon-colored skirt and a long-sleeve, white shirt with a matching maroon tie. Sadly, because of the skirt, she was forced to wear leggings when at school, but she had stripped them off, unwilling to let them hinder her movements when she was sparing with Hisashi.

Hisashi caught a sight of red along her wrist. "Hey, Yuki."

She straightened up, looking at him with a slight tilt of her head. "What's up?"

"What happened to your arms?" he asked, his question causing her body to go rigid. "Did your dad—"

"Don't worry about it," she interrupted nervously, trying to deter him. "I'm really hungry, though. We should get something to eat."

It was futile, though, and she should've known that. Even if she was able to lie at everyone in school, she couldn't lie to Hisashi. He could always see through whatever she tried, no matter how well she hid it. The benefits of growing up with her.

"Roll down your sleeves," he barked.

She flinched, stomach sinking. "W-why?"

He grabbed her arm roughly, causing her to whimper. Hisashi was always calm and collected—for him to lose his temper like that meant she was in serious trouble.

He rolled down her sleeve, ignoring her attempts to yank her arm out of his reach, and gaped at the fresh wounds.

"Yuki..." he breathed. Trailing up her forearm were thick, delicate cuts. Deep and swollen, he could barely make out scars beneath the fresh wounds. "Where... but... how... he couldn't have made them so straight..."

They both knew the 'he' he was referring to was her dad.

She snatched her arm back, humiliated and scared. "Don't worry about them," she mumbled. "They're not important."