Chapter 9: Outcast in Solitude
Perspective: Kiyotaka Ayanokouji
The crunch of snow beneath his boots was almost hypnotic. Kiyotaka walked with his hands in his coat pockets, attentive to the surroundings but without showing tension. Ellie walked beside him, her bow slung over her back, a half-twisted scarf she clearly didn't know how to wear properly.
"Did you know the sound of your footsteps on snow changes depending on the temperature?" he said suddenly, without looking at her.
Ellie frowned, lowering her gaze to the white ground covering the small creek they followed.
"What, are you a meteorologist now?"
"No. I just know a lot of useless things," he replied calmly.
Ellie let out a small laugh.
"At least you didn't give me one of those answers of yours like: 'It's not useless if applied in a specific context.'"
"You just said it yourself."
"Ugh… I hate you."
They walked in silence for a while. Snow-laden branches formed a white tunnel around them. The wind wasn't strong, but the cold air made every breath feel clean—almost pleasant. Kiyotaka looked up toward the trees.
"I like this place."
"Wow. Kiyotaka being less robotic? Did you hit your head while sleeping?"
"No. I just accepted that there are things I can enjoy."
"Like me?"
"That would be assuming I enjoy you."
Ellie opened her mouth, feigning offense.
"You disgusting pervert!" She tried to throw a small rock at him. She didn't even come close.
"At least improve your aim."
Ellie burst into laughter by herself. Kiyotaka didn't laugh and didn't smile.
When they reached the edge of the creek, they began ascending the hill. Ellie huffed as she continued climbing with her horse.
"When we're done with this patrol, I'm making hot chocolate. And no, I won't share."
"I didn't expect you to."
"Was that sarcasm?"
"Who knows."
"… You son of—" Ellie didn't finish. Her horse slipped slightly, terror flashing through her as she thought she was about to fall.
He raised an eyebrow but didn't respond. For a moment, neither spoke. They didn't need constant talking; silence was comfortable.
When they reached the top of the hill, both paused a few seconds to catch their breath. In front of them stood a somewhat deteriorated structure, fallen antennas and traces of abandonment covered by snow. Despite its condition, it was a key point to overlook the valley and the town beyond.
"Is this the lookout?" Kiyotaka asked, though he had already considered all possibilities. He only wanted confirmation.
"Yes," Ellie confirmed. "Here's the entrance, we can put the horses inside."
The garage gate opened with a long, rusty groan. Ellie entered first, guiding her horse gently. Kiyotaka followed unhurriedly, observing the interior covered by a thin layer of frost that crunched under the animals' hooves.
The place smelled of old wood and cold metal. In one corner lay frozen tool remnants, and in the opposite corner a fallen desk rested on its side. Everything was covered in that white patina that made objects look unreal—almost like ghosts of what they once were.
Both moved efficiently. They didn't talk much, but their actions were perfectly synchronized. Ellie looked up toward a wall without stairs leading to the second floor, accessible only through a rectangular opening. A rope was tied there to climb up. Ellie went first.
"Who did you patrol here with?"
"Dina."
Ellie finished climbing, and Kiyotaka already had his hands wrapped around the rope. He pulled himself up with his arms, lifting his body. He climbed. Ellie was waiting for him.
"You know, Kiyo," Ellie said, "I like doing this more with you."
"You say that only because of my skill in killing infected?"
"Who knows."
Ellie opened the door. The place was simple. Several desks—none very old, just dusty. One held a large radio, another a window overlooking the town, and behind them, tall mountains in the distance.
Ellie approached a table where a logbook rested, a pen tied with leather so no idiot would steal it. She began to write:
— 3/2 — Ellie/Kiyo — All clear —
She closed the logbook.
Kiyotaka approached the window, looking at the town a few minutes away by horse. He pulled binoculars from his backpack to get a better view.
"What do you think of the view?" Kiyotaka asked Ellie.
"It's pretty," she said, taking the binoculars as he handed them to her so she could look at the town more clearly.
Kiyotaka said nothing else. He approached the window, standing beside her. The space between them was minimal, but not uncomfortable.
"Do you see that big tower in the city?" Ellie asked him.
"Yes."
"We need to go there. It's the observation point."
"Alright."
"We'll pass by a supermarket, clear the area, and keep going."
"Sounds good," I replied, stepping back the way I had come.
Time Skip.
The crunch of the rusty gate faded behind them. The sun was still high, but the cold felt sharper as they descended the hill. Kiyotaka and Ellie mounted again, riding silently toward the urban zone.
The town stretched in scattered blocks, covered in snow. Most buildings were half-sunken or buried in frozen vegetation. Among them, a large, old supermarket blocked the most direct route to the center.
Ellie stopped in front of the collapsed entrance.
Kiyotaka examined the place. The doors were broken. The snow barely accumulated inside, as if the place breathed with a different, heavier humidity.
"Ready?" he asked, dismounting.
Ellie did the same, already with her bow in hand.
"Always."
They tied their horses beside a fallen road sign. Then, they advanced into the supermarket. Rusted shelves, broken aisles, and walls covered in forgotten graffiti greeted them like an open tomb. The air smelled of moisture, dried blood, and something more rotten.
Kiyotaka crouched beside a dark puddle. He touched it with his fingers, checking the viscosity.
"Fresh. Very recent."
"Great," Ellie muttered. "Hopefully there's only one."
Then they heard it.
A wet, dragging growl from the back of the right aisle.
Ellie instinctively drew her pistol.
Kiyotaka was already moving.
"Wait! We don't know how many there are."
"It doesn't matter."
Kiyotaka turned the corner with the silence of a specter. Ellie followed seconds after, holding her breath.
What they found was a group of three runners and a clicker, gathered around what had once been the butcher section. The faint light through broken skylights fell on their deformed figures—cracked, fungal skin, erratic movements, disturbing sniffing.
Without hesitation, Kiyotaka vaulted over a fallen counter, landing right behind the first runner. In one fluid motion, he snapped its neck with surgical precision and turned the limp body to use it as a shield against the second.
The second shrieked and lunged, but Kiyotaka impaled it with a hidden knife straight to the throat. The third, alerted, rushed toward Ellie.
"I got it!" she shouted.
In an instant, she aimed and fired—missing by a hair. The bullet clanged against metal. The clicker screeched violently.
"Down," Kiyotaka said.
Ellie ducked instinctively.
Kiyotaka kicked a rusted metal tray across the aisle. The sound diverted the clicker just enough for him to approach silently. He moved with fluid precision, like a predator. When behind it, he grabbed a large shard of glass from a broken display and drove it into the clicker's neck, twisting it to prevent any noisy fall.
Everything silent. Everything clean.
Kiyotaka stood as if nothing had happened. Ellie, still crouched, stared at him in awe.
"As always. A hopeless killer," Ellie said with humor.
"Improve your aim," he said, glancing at a ruined 9mm bullet embedded in a metal wall.
Ellie scoffed. "Now you're an aim critic. Wonderful."
They shared a brief look. Ellie was still breathing fast, but she smiled.
Kiyotaka scanned the area.
"It's safe for now. Let's go."
They walked cautiously between collapsed shelves and dried viscera until they reached the metal door they had entered through. They barricaded it and blocked most access points. No more infected would enter.
The back street greeted them with fresh air and untouched snow. The horses waited nervously.
"Let me be clear," Ellie said as they mounted again, "if I die someday and you survive, you better say I died heroically."
"You'd die of sarcasm before any infected got to you."
"That's the most romantic thing you've ever said to me."
Kiyotaka didn't respond. He simply nudged the horse forward, and they continued toward the town center.
And, when they least expected it, the temperature dropped noticeably. It didn't affect Kiyotaka much—his body was trained for harsh climates—though it still hit him, even if only slightly.
Ellie was the most affected. Her arms shook impulsively, her breath halted and returned frantically, and her legs wouldn't stop moving from the cold.
…
The snowfall had worsened.
Neither the sound of hooves nor the crunch of snow could be heard anymore; everything had been swallowed by a white fog, like an uncontrolled storm. The world had turned into a frozen haze, without direction, without shape. The horses' breath was barely visible half a meter away, and even a voice couldn't travel farther than a couple of steps.
"Ellie?" Kiyotaka asked, barely turning his head.
"I'm here," she replied, her voice barely audible over the sound of the snowstorm.
Ellie's horse walked unsteadily, its muscles stiff from the cold. She was hunched over the animal's back, her face flushed red and her lips turning purple.
They couldn't go on like this.
Kiyotaka scanned the fog with cold eyes. To the right, he spotted the silhouette of a half-hidden building, covered in frozen branches and boarded-up windows. Something about its structure drew attention: the sign, barely hanging from a rusted chain, read "Bookstore" in curved letters, half-erased by time.
"There," Kiyotaka said, pointing with a slight tilt of his head.
He pulled the reins and guided both horses toward the place. Ellie didn't protest.
Kiyotaka noticed her putting on her hood, so he mirrored her movement.
The bookstore door gave way with a metallic creak and the cracking of frozen wood. Inside, the air wasn't much warmer, but at least the wind wasn't slicing at them like blades.
Kiyotaka helped Ellie down. She slipped as her feet touched the ground, but he caught her by the arm.
"Careful."
The horses entered with them. The place was spacious, though in ruins: toppled shelves, moldy books. Kiyotaka released the reins, drew his knife, and began securing the perimeter without wasting a second. No signs of infected. Only dust, silence, and a faint scent of old humidity.
He turned on his flashlight.
Kiyotaka walked ahead, his beam slicing through the gloom like a precise blade. It illuminated torn books, a dusty sofa, and at the back, a half-open door with rust stains on the handle.
He pushed it open without hesitation.
Beyond it lay a room, isolated from the rest by thick metal panels. Despite the abandonment, everything inside seemed… carefully preserved. There was a metal table with tools, screwdrivers, circuit boards, dismantled motors, and improvised batteries. Small flashlights, homemade generators, neatly coiled wires. A clandestine workshop, orderly and untouched, as if its owner were about to return at any moment.
Kiyotaka stepped inside and crouched beside a box of recycled parts. His cold, sharp eyes scanned with calculating intensity.
"These motors are from a reconnaissance drone. Modified to function in low temperatures."
He picked up a small cylindrical piece and rolled it between his fingers.
"Li-Ion battery. Missing cells, but someone tried to repair it with recycled copper. Fairly efficient… though clumsy soldering."
He moved to a circuit board with embedded LEDs.
"Motion sensor. Modified. The polarity is intentionally inverted on this line. To make it function passively. This isn't an amateur's work."
His voice was almost mechanical. Every word carried a cold, exact assessment, as if his mind had already assembled the entire room into a tridimensional blueprint.
Ellie watched from the doorway in silence, arms crossed, her breathing more stable now. She was clearly still cold, but her eyes were fixed on Kiyotaka.
He didn't stop.
"An old radio, reinforced with rubber resin. Whoever worked here knew what they were doing."
Kiyotaka straightened up and slowly turned on his heels, scanning the entire room. It looked like some sort of technological sanctuary hidden in the ruins.
Ellie walked toward a board where a metal necklace rested. She looked at the engraving on the circular tag. "E. Linden."
Her eyes narrowed in disbelief.
"…Eugene."
Kiyotaka looked at her. She let out a long sigh.
"I think this place was his. Eugene. One of Joel's old partners. He used to talk about stuff like this… tech, old machines, radios, drones. Said before the outbreak he worked with all that."
Kiyotaka said nothing at first. He looked again at the circuit board, as if it suddenly made more sense.
"He died two years ago. Heart attack. They found him with a smile on his face, or so Joel said…"
Ellie approached, brushing her gloved fingers briefly over the table. Then she slumped onto a chair covered in a thick layer of dust.
"He probably came here to fix things."
Kiyotaka turned off his flashlight. Only the grayish light seeping through the window gave shape to the room's shadows.
"He also had a ton of weed. Nobody knew where he got it."
"Maybe this is where he got it," Kiyotaka deduced.
"What do you mean?"
Kiyotaka didn't answer. Instead, he went for the necklace, turned it over, and noticed a peculiar symbol.
"He was a Firefly."
"Oh, yeah, he was a Firefly. Tommy told me he served with him," Ellie said as she stood up and approached.
Then, Kiyotaka went to a shelf and began pushing it to the right, revealing a staircase leading down into a basement.
Kiyotaka descended without hesitation, his figure slipping silently into the darkness. Ellie remained at the entrance for a few seconds, watching his shadow vanish beneath the hidden hatch.
"You're not even going to say what's down there?" she muttered, half annoyed, half intrigued.
But instead of waiting, she followed him.
The basement air was dense, carrying a sweet scent that lingered despite the abandonment. The ceiling lights, powered by an old solar generator, flickered faintly, revealing long rows of withered plants. Some still stood, their dry leaves hanging as if time had frozen them in place. Others had begun to collapse under the weight of dehydration.
Kiyotaka walked between the cultivation tables with a calmness that felt detached from the moment. He inspected the halted irrigation systems, the dust-covered heat lamps, and the empty trays still aligned with surgical precision.
"A well-designed operation," he murmured.
Ellie stepped off the last stair and saw him standing at the center of the room, surrounded by the decay of what once was a secret refuge.
"Oh my god. I can't believe Eugene had all this hidden right under his workshop."
"He knew how to keep his secrets." Kiyotaka crouched to check one of the containers. There were still traces of liquid fertilizer inside.
"How did you even know there was an entrance here?" Ellie asked, genuinely impressed.
Kiyotaka lifted his gaze with cold detachment.
"The shelf had drag marks on the floor. And the airflow didn't match the room's ventilation."
Ellie let out a dry laugh. "You're like some kind of ninja detective."
Kiyotaka didn't answer. He continued his inspection as if compliments had no place in his reality.
At the far end of the greenhouse, there was a table with glass jars and a mold-covered digital scale. Ellie approached and touched one of the jars carefully. Inside, packed with surprising neatness, were hand-rolled cigarettes wrapped in thin paper, perfectly preserved. The weed inside hadn't completely lost its color. The jar's seal had resisted time.
"What the hell…?" she whispered, lifting it so the trembling light hit it. "Thanks, Eugene."
Without hesitation, she walked to an old dust-covered couch—the kind that looks more comfortable the more worn out it is. She sat and rolled the jar between her hands.
"It's sealed. I can't open it," she complained, struggling with the metal lid.
Kiyotaka approached, watched her for a second with a neutral expression, then gently but firmly took the jar from her hands. He twisted the lid with precise force, producing the familiar pop of a jar finally opening.
"Seriously?" Ellie snatched it back with a crooked smile.
She pulled out one of the cigarettes with the enthusiasm of someone finding treasure amid ruins.
"I don't have a lighter," she huffed.
As if he had anticipated it, Kiyotaka pulled a lighter from inside his coat. Ellie raised her eyebrows at him.
"You smoke?"
"No."
"Then why carry one?"
"Prevention."
Ellie let out a short laugh, lit the cigarette, and took a deep drag. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, exhaling through her nose and mouth while leaning her head back against the couch.
"Oh, shit. This is strong."
She opened one eye and looked at Kiyotaka with mischief. She extended the lit cigarette toward him.
"What do you say, Kiyo? Dare to put a dent in that perfect robot image of yours?"
Kiyotaka stared at her in silence for a few seconds. Then he sat beside her naturally. He took the cigarette without visible emotion, examined it as if analyzing a new variable, and took a drag.
Ellie stared at him, stunned, while he exhaled the smoke calmly.
"Well?"
"Bitter. Though intriguing."
"Ha! I knew there was something human in there."
They remained quiet for a while, sharing the cigarette as the faint light flickered over their faces.
…
Ellie handed him the cigarette again, her fingers brushing against his. He held it between his index and middle finger, spun it slightly, then brought it to his lips. He inhaled precisely, unhurried, each movement deliberate. The smoke slipped out slowly through the corner of his mouth, rising until it disappeared among rusted cables and forgotten pipes.
"Feel anything?" Ellie asked with a half-smile, sunk into the couch, her legs now stretched over the table.
Kiyotaka looked ahead, thoughtful.
"The texture of the air is denser. I feel an internal deceleration. But I remain clear." He turned toward her.
Ellie let out a soft, airy laugh.
"Sometimes what changes isn't what you see, but how you see it."
They fell silent again. Only the faint hum of the generator echoed, occasionally interrupted by the soft crackle of the cigarette as it passed between them. An improvised choreography.
"You know," Ellie said, resting her arm on the back of the couch, turning toward him, "I was thinking about the dance."
"The event in the common room."
"Yeah. That one," she repeated, shifting closer. "I want a score."
"A score?"
"From one to ten. Be honest. I want to know how good I looked."
Kiyotaka froze, the cigarette still between his fingers, halfway to his next drag.
"Two out of ten."
"Two?!" Ellie shot upright, scandalized.
"You missed the rhythm several times. You stumbled into me. You didn't follow a consistent metric. At some points you spun with no purpose."
"That's called improvising, you idiot!"
"It was disorderly."
Ellie stared at him open-mouthed for a second, then burst out laughing again. It was a long, genuine laugh, as if the offense were so extreme she had no choice but to celebrate it.
"You're impossible," she muttered.
The cigarette burned slowly between them. Kiyotaka held it, not smoking for the moment. Ellie watched him closely, her smile softer now. More delicate.
She leaned in a little.
Kiyotaka didn't move. Not out of unwillingness, but out of analysis. His gaze stayed fixed on hers, without rejection.
Ellie leaned in a little closer. And then, without words or warning, she kissed him. Slow, direct, warm.
The kiss wasn't explosive, nor clumsy. It was precise. As if Ellie were confirming an intuition. Kiyotaka didn't react immediately. But he didn't pull away.
Ellie withdrew softly, her eyes still half-closed, as if she were still sub