New Dawn Chapter: 0113

What were they? Friends? More than friends but not quite lovers?

Tysone's smile was a slow, thoughtful curve of his lips, a rare expression that wasn't guarded by humor or hardened by command. He looked down at Saya, her face tilted up to his, the question hanging between them in the soft, colored light of the party.

He took a moment, considering. What they had was… undefined. There was no manual on relationships in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. No clear-cut path to follow, no social norms to abide by. It was uncharted territory, for both of them.

"We're…" He began, his voice low and slightly husky from the late hour and the warmth of the room. Saya valued intellect and competence above all else. An answer that encapsulated everything—every shared battle, every late-night strategy session, every unguarded moment of vulnerability—would be the only one that mattered to her.

"We're a unit." He said, the words firm but gentle. "Inseparable, indomitable, and stronger together than we could ever be apart. We're the brains and the brawn. We're the reason this place..." He glanced around the room. "...Is still standing."

It wasn't a declaration of love. It wasn't a romantic platitude. It was something more solid, more real. It was an acknowledgment of the unique, unbreakable bond forged between them, not in moonlight and roses, but in gunfire, in blood, and in the determination to survive. "Together, we're a force that no army, undead or otherwise, could ever hope to stop."

"Together..." Saya echoed, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Yeah, I like that. It sounds… right." Her hand tightened slightly around his. "So, I suppose that's the only answer I'm going to get?"

Tysone tilted his head. "That depends on the question, Saya."

Saya huffed a small, amused breath. She looked at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, in a movement so quick and fluid it caught him off guard, she leaned up and kissed him. It was brief, barely more than a brush of her lips against his, but it was enough to make his heartbeat quicken, to send a wave of warmth coursing through him.

As she pulled away, her eyes held a challenge. "Does that clear things up?" She asked, her voice a soft whisper. "Stupid yankee."

Tysone didn't have time to answer. Saya slipped away, weaving her way through the crowd, the sway of her cyberpunk attire a beacon amidst the revelry. He watched her go, the phantom touch of her lips still lingering.

'It does. It really does.'

A small chuckle escaped him, and he turned, intending to pursue that pink temptress, when a voice from behind made him freeze.

"That was…" The voice trailed off, hesitant, uncertain. He turned, meeting Mai's blue eyes, wide with shock. "Did she…?" Mai's voice, usually so confident, so assured, was tinged with something akin to panic. "Did Saya just…?"

Tysone opened his mouth, then closed it again. Words tangled in his throat, impossible to untangle. He grasped for the easiest excuse, the first thing that surfaced. "She was drunk." He said, the words falling flat between them like dead weight.

"Ty, you and I know Saya would not do anything drunk that she would not do sober..."

He swallowed. Hard. "Maybe you're right. Maybe you're wrong, but—" Tysone responded, and Mai was silent. Her face was pale, her eyes shimmering. "Are you... crying?" He frowned.

Mai turned sharply, refusing to let him see her face. Her voice came out thin, brittle—like the sound of glass shattering in slow motion. "No. I'm not crying. Just..." She took a breath that didn't steady her. "Just forget it. Stupid pervert."

And then she walked off, briskly. Tysone was taken aback. He didn't know how to react. 

If he didn't grab her right now, he'd likely lose sight of her for the rest of the evening. But on the other hand, Saya had just mustered so much courage to break the last barrier between them.

What to do? 

Who to run after? 

He looked left and right.

'Shit...'

And he realized, in that split second of hesitation, the situation had spun out of his control.

"Tysone!" Miku suddenly walked towards him, wearing that gothic lolita outfit. "You've been dancing a lot, haven't you?" There was no jealousy or anything in her tone, just playfulness. "Come, come, dance with me next!" She grabbed him by the arm, tugging him towards the makeshift dance floor.

He didn't resist, his mind still reeling from the encounter with Saya, the hurt in Mai's eyes, and now, Miku's sudden interruption.

"Miku..." He protested, trying to buy time. "I'm a little out of breath."

"Come on... you've been ignoring a lot lately, I need some attention too, you know?" Miku's pout was playful, but there was a hint of determination in her eyes. "We're not leaving here until you give me a few good minutes."

Tysone, however, was not about to relent easily. He leaned in, his voice low but firm, as he said. "I've got to talk to Mai and clear things up. It's urgent." There was no hint of humor or mischief in his tone this time; he was serious, and that seriousness cut through Miku's playful mood.

Miku, however, wasn't deterred. "Why don't you let her cool off a bit?"

"What...?"

Her eyes felt eerily different than usual, almost like a zombie's, but not quite. "Can't we have a moment? Just you and me? It feels like forever since we had any alone time."

Tysone's response was sharp, almost cutting. "There's nothing to cool down, Miku. I need to go."

Her grip on his arm tightened slightly, her smile still present but with an underlying edge of disappointment.

He wrestled himself free—which was extremely easy to do. "Sorry, but I have to deal with this. We'll dance some other time." With that, Tysone ran off, leaving a slightly crestfallen and pensive Miku behind. 

Even though he said so, the moment Tysone stepped outside the living room, he realized that he needed to think. He couldn't rush in and handle things in a slapdash manner. The last thing he wanted was to say something that'd exacerbate the mess. 

No, he had to calm himself down first, and smarten up. 

So, he did the only thing that came naturally to him when he needed to think—go up to the roof, away from the noise. 

The cold air brushed against his face, bringing with it the scents of the night and a much-needed clarity. 

He inhaled deeply, letting the chill air fill his lungs and clear his head.

The scene from earlier replayed in his mind. Saya's kiss. The way Mai's voice had broken when she saw, and the unexpected intensity in Miku's gaze.

'What the fuck is going on...'

It wasn't just the events of tonight that troubled him; it was the larger picture. Mai, Saya, and Miku—each represented something to him, and he had no idea what he should do about any of it. Not to mention his relationship with Shizuka.

'You're an idiot.' He berated himself, but the self-reprimand didn't make things any clearer. Getting that close to so many women was bound to cause some sort of confusion. He had been too lax. 'Too relaxed. Too complacent. You need to be better than this, Ty. You know this shit.'

He didn't know how much time passed, but at some point, when he climbed back down, the party had come to an end.

Only a couple of people were left cleaning up and chatting.

Tysone felt a rush of exhaustion hit him.

It was a rollercoaster of a day. And the worst part, he didn't know how to solve this issue right away. Should he apply anime logic to problems or just do it normally?

He walked up the stairs, shambling like a fucking zombie. He wondered what Saya was thinking right now.

Maybe he should go talk to her first.

Damn Mai's shimmering blue eyes haunting his thoughts.

As he trudged forward on autopilot, he noticed Marin's bedroom door ajar, the light spilling out into the darkened hallway.

Tysone's eyes momentarily peeked through the gap as he passed by. It should've been just that, but something made him halt.

There was the cosplayer girl herself. Sitting at her dresser, staring at the mirror with an expression that could only be described as lost, tears silently rolling down her cheeks.

Why?

Wasn't the party supposed to cheer everyone up? And why hadn't he seen that earlier? He cursed himself for not being more attentive. He was so focused on the group morale and his personal problems that he neglected to notice the signs in one of the people who needed it most.

Then again, what the fuck had it to do with him? He wasn't anyone's therapist. They could have told him if there was something wrong.

Tysone sighed and scratched his head.

'Fuck it...'

He gently pushed the door open, stepping into the room.

Marin quickly turned around, startled by his unexpected intrusion. 

Author's Note:

If you're enjoying the story and want to read ahead or support my work, you can check out my P@treon at P@treon.com/LordCampione. But don't worry—all chapters will eventually be public. Just being here and reading means the world to me. Thank you for your time and support.