Ticket to Survive

Saki's POV

Silence. 

Absolute, suffocating silence. 

What we had just witnessed—what had just happened—wasn't possible. It couldn't be real. My fingers tightened around Yuuta's hand, my nails digging into his skin as if he were the only thing anchoring me to reality. 

Before anyone could even begin to process what they'd seen, the mic crackled back to life. 

"Dear passengers," the voice chimed, sickeningly cheerful. "Your first game is Ticket to Survive. There are fifty-seven of you remaining—which means there are fifty-seven tickets hidden across three train cars: A, B, and C. But here's the twist..."

A pause. Deliberate. Taunting. 

"Only forty of those tickets are valid. You have five minutes."

Chaos erupted. 

"What are you saying? You can't do this to us!" the old man shouted, his voice cracking with fury. His grandson grabbed his arm, holding him back as if afraid he might lunge at the speakers. 

"God is watching everything!" A man in priest's robes—Kobayashi—spat the words like a curse, his face twisted in righteous anger. "You will pay for your sins! I curse you to burn in hell!"

The mic didn't respond. 

But the timer above the screen did. 

4:35.

The numbers ticked down mercilessly. 

I didn't think. I just moved. 

Grabbing Yuuta's hand, I yanked him toward the next car before anyone else could react. 

"S-Saki, what are you doing?"

I almost wanted to laugh. Of course that was his question right now. 

"Listen, Yuuta-kun," I said, my voice shaking only slightly. "We have to find the valid tickets. You saw what happened to those thugs and their friends, right?" 

His fingers brushed against mine, hesitant. "But how will we know which tickets are valid and which aren't?"

I rolled my eyes. Now that I thought about it, there were only two options: collect as many as possible and look for a pattern, or leave it up to sheer, stupid luck. 

"Let's just grab as many as we can," I said, already scanning the seats for anything that looked like a ticket. "Otherwise, we're at the mercy of chance."

And chance, in this place, felt like a death sentence. 

---

I scoured the seats of Car B, my fingers digging into every crevice. In Car A, people were finally starting to move, though some still stood frozen in confusion. A few stragglers had wandered into our car, but I had to focus—tickets first, panic later. 

One ticket tucked between seat cushions. Another wedged near a window. But which were valid? 

"Saki, I found one in an empty bento box," Yuuta called out, holding up a crumpled slip. 

"Good. I've got three so far," I said, gathering them in my palm. "But who knows which ones will actually work?" 

I took Yuuta's ticket and rubbed all four between my fingers, searching for any difference in texture. The timer above the door ticked relentlessly—only three minutes left. People were starting to move faster now, desperation setting in. 

Then—a collision. 

The little girl, Yui, and her mother stumbled into me. "We're sorry! We're in a hurry!" the mother gasped, so frantic she nearly left her daughter behind. 

"Hi! I'm Yui," the girl chirped, smiling up at me as if this were just a school trip. "Did you find the good tickets yet?" 

"No," I snapped, too focused to humor her. There *had* to be a pattern. 

"Where are you two from? Are you a couple?" Yui asked, swinging her legs. 

Irritation flared. "Shut up—can't you go back to your mom?" I didn't mean to raise my voice, but the words came out sharp. 

Yui's eyes welled up instantly. 

Yuuta swooped in before she could cry, scooping her up. "It's okay, it's okay. Here, eat this." He fished a chocolate from his pocket, and just like that, her tears vanished. 

I exhaled, frustrated—then froze. 

My nail had scraped across the tickets when I'd yelled. And now I saw it: three of them still showed faint red stamps, but one had smudged away completely. I looked closer. The three intact tickets all bore train-related kanji—乗車, 切符—while the smudged one didn't. 

I found it.

"I'm so sorry—I forgot my daughter," Yui's mother gasped, rushing back to collect her. She nodded at Yuuta. "Thank you for watching her." 

He just shrugged. 

Then—commotion. 

A man near the front was using some kind of gambling tactic, flipping a ticket between his fingers. For a second, everyone stared, distracted—before remembering their own survival was at stake. 

"Uhh... let's see... this one's gotta be the winner," the gambler muttered, wandering off. 

"Mommy, look! Two tickets!" Yui suddenly pointed beneath a row of luggage racks. How had I missed that? 

Her mother snatched them up, then sagged. "Yes, sweetheart, but... we don't know which is valid." 

I hesitated, then held out my hand. "Let me see." 

I checked the kanji. One matched the pattern—valid. The other didn't. 

"This one's real," I said, handing it back. 

The mother blinked. "How can you tell? Not that I doubt you, but—" 

"Look at the kanji," I cut in. "The real ones have train terms. The fakes don't." 

Yuuta's eyes widened. "You figured it out, Saki?" 

"Obviously," I said, but the mother's face fell again. 

"Thank you... but there's only one. Only one of us can—" 

"Hey, don't say that," Yuuta interrupted. 

"We don't have time!" she cried. "Fifty-nine seconds left!" 

Yui tugged her sleeve. "Why are you crying, Mommy? We found the tickets!" 

"Only one works, baby," the woman whispered, voice breaking. 

I didn't think. Just acted. 

"Here." I shoved one of our valid tickets into her hand. We had three—enough for Yuuta and me to survive with one to spare. 

She stared. "W-why...?" 

Before I could answer, Yuuta did. "Because we are not horses we're all human. Now move." 

We sprinted for Car C, Yui and her mother right behind. 

A kappa an actual kappa stood at the door, collecting tickets. We thrust ours forward. It inspected them, then croaked something unintelligible and waved us through. 

The door hissed shut behind us. 

A shaky breath escaped my lips as we passed through the door. Safety—for now. But the relief vanished when I noticed the commotion near Car C's entrance. 

The old couple stood facing two teenagers—a brown-haired boy and a petite blonde girl—their voices sharp with tension. 

"You can't do this to us!" the old woman cried, her wrinkled hands trembling. "Fifty thousand yen is outrageous for two tickets!" 

Her husband nodded fiercely, his grip tight on his cane. 

The brown-haired boy smirked. "More expensive than your lives? Take it or leave it." 

The soldier—the one in military dress who'd helped earlier—stepped forward, his jaw set. "You're playing with people's lives. Hand over those tickets, or there will be consequences." 

The blonde girl's grin turned vicious. "Try it, hero. Come closer, and we'll rip them to shreds." 

The soldier hesitated, conflict flashing across his face. 

Then— 

"Fine." The old man pulled out his phone, fingers shaking as he transferred the money. "There. Fifty thousand." 

His wife gasped. "Masachi, why would you—?" 

"Kyome," he said gently, "if we live, we can earn it back. Now let's go." 

The old man's hands shook as the payment cleared. The brown-haired boy pocketed his phone with a smirk, tossing the tickets at the couple's feet. "Better hurry," he sneered. 

They scrambled. The soldier moved with them, his protective stance cutting through the crowd as they rushed toward the kappa. The old woman went first—her ticket was accepted with a grunt. She stumbled into safety, turning immediately for her husband. 

Then came the gut-punch. 

"Invalid."

The kappa's raspy verdict hung in the air. The old man looked at his ticket, then at the teenagers now retreating toward Car D's closing door. The blonde girl giggled, high-fiving her companion. 

Realization dawned. 

"You monsters—" the soldier roared, surging forward— 

The floor of Car C split open—a grotesque, worm-like creature erupting from the bloody maw beneath. Mongolian death worm, massive and glistening, its circular jaws unhinging

It swallowed the old man whole. 

"NO!" His wife's scream tore through the car.

 The old man didn't fight when the worm turned to him. He simply reached through the doorway, his wrinkled fingers brushing his wife's cheek one last time. 

"Goodbye, Kyome." 

Then he was gone.

The door to Car D began sliding shut— 

Then Yuki moved. 

A silver blur, she lunged at the brown-haired boy and kicked him square in the chest, sending him sprawling back into Car C. The worm struck again, dragging him under in a wet crunch of bones. 

The blonde girl collapsed to her knees. "Hashimiya... no..." Tears streaked down her face as she stared at Yuki. "W-why? What did we ever do to you?" 

Yuki didn't even glance back. "Nothing. Just an eye for an eye." 

Silence. 

The blonde girl collapsed, her perfect nails scraping against the floor where her friend had stood seconds before. "H-Hashimiya...?" Her voice was barely a whisper. 

Yuki stepped over her without a glance. 

The door sealed shut behind them, muffling the old woman's wails and the girl's broken sobs. The soldier stood rigid, his fists clenched—too late to save anyone. 

Then the mic crackled.

"Congratulations, surviving players," the voice chirped. "You may now eat and sleep. Tomorrow will be... more intense. Only thirty-nine remain after today's... unexpected events. Rest well in your chambers." 

The screen flickered, displaying thirty-nine illuminated photos—the rest now darkened forever.