It had been seventeen minutes since Airi's death.
The syringe was still lying where it fell. No one had the courage to pick it up.
No one cried. No one moved. The train began moving again, but it felt like it was gliding through grief. Even the wind outside sounded like it was holding its breath.
Tatsuya sat beside Nana. She clutched Airi's stuffed bear so tightly, the seams began to split. "She gave it to me," she whispered. "And now it's quiet. Too quiet." He didn't answer. He couldn't. Tatsuya had fought monsters.
But he couldn't fight a vote.
Then came the sound. A dull thump from the overhead luggage compartment. Once. Twice. Three times. Slow. Rhythmic. Like someone was knocking… from the inside.
Passengers turned. One by one, eyes landed on a bright red suitcase near the middle rack. It vibrated again. Thump.
Then stopped. "Is that—""Wait, it's moving—" "Oh god—what now!?"
An old woman stood up, her voice trembling. "That belongs to the couple in Seat 6A… but… but they vanished after Station Zero." "No one opened that compartment since we left."
"Then what's moving in it?" someone whispered.
Tatsuya stood slowly. "I'll check it." "No! Don't—" a man shouted. But Tatsuya was already there. He placed a hand on the red suitcase. It felt warm. Too warm.
With slow, measured breaths, he clicked the latch open.Click. Snap. Open.Inside…Was a baby. Alive.
Barely a year old, by the look of it.
Pale skin. Short black hair. Eyes wide, unblinking. Wrapped in blood-soaked blankets.
Everyone was frozen.
"What the hell—"
"How's a baby even alive—"
"Who leaves a baby in a suitcase!?"
Tatsuya lifted him gently. He was ice-cold to the touch. But breathing. That's when it happened. The baby's mouth opened…And he spoke. "Hello… Nana."
The entire compartment screamed. Tatsuya nearly dropped him. "What the—WHAT!?"
The baby blinked.Then smiled.
"You know me… don't you, little dreamer?"
Nana backed up until she hit the wall.
Her hands trembled. "I… I've seen you. In my dreams. You… you died in fire."
The baby cocked his head. "Not died. Just… changed." He reached forward, placing a small hand on her sketchbook. "You only draw what the train lets you. But me?"
"I remember what came before."
Someone shouted, "It's a trick! That's not a baby!" Another: "Throw it off the train!" But Tatsuya stepped between them. "No one's throwing anyone."
The baby looked at him now. "Tatsuya Arakawa. You think the train chose you because you're strong?" Tatsuya's fists clenched. The baby smiled.
"It chose you because… you hesitate."
"And soon, it will cost more than one life."
Behind them, the screen flickered again.
The masked conductor returned. But this time, he wasn't speaking. He was watching. And smiling.
And beside him stood… a baby-shaped
silhouette, identical to the one in Tatsuya's arms.
Then the screen flashed red: "Next Stop: Shōji Station – 8 minutes remaining."
Below that: "Boarding Quota: 1."
"Multiple survivors detected at platform."
Tatsuya's eyes widened. "They'll beg to get in." Nana whispered, "And we'll have to choose again." The screech of slowing wheels echoed like a warning bell. Raijin-01 was approaching its first official stop: Shōji Station.
But the word station was misleading. There were no signs of civilization — just a shattered platform, smoke rising from half-burnt tents, and a handful of survivors waving frantically at the train.
Tatsuya held the baby close. It hadn't spoken again… but its smile hadn't faded either. Beside him, Riku cracked his knuckles."Five people down there," he muttered. "Only one allowed."
He looked up at the screen again. "Boarding Quota: 1. Any excess will be terminated."
Someone asked, "What happens if we don't let anyone in?" The conductor's voice suddenly echoed through the intercom: "Then no one proceeds. The doors stay closed. And you all… remain at Shōji."
Inside the train, chaos bubbled again.
"We can't choose!"
"We don't even know them!"
"What if one of them's infected!?"
Tatsuya stayed quiet. His eyes were on Riku. He could feel it — the guilt boiling under Riku's anger. The memory of a girl's voice screaming his name as he ran from a previous stop… before this train. "You gonna choose again, Riku?" he asked quietly.
Riku didn't respond. He walked toward the door control panel, fist tight around his modified metal bat. Outside, the five survivors began to bang on the window.
A woman held a baby.
An old man waved a white cloth.
Two teenage boys lifted a wounded girl between them.
Tatsuya swallowed hard. "Only one. Who decides who deserves it?" The door hissed open — just barely. Riku stepped outside onto the short metal platform between the train and the station.
The survivors screamed in unison. "HELP US!"
"PLEASE!"
"TAKE HER, SHE'S HURT—"
Riku pointed the bat at them.
"Shut up."
Everyone went silent. He looked at each face.
"Listen to me. Only one of you is getting in. You got sixty seconds to decide who it is."
They froze. One of the teens shouted, "We're not playing your twisted game—"WHACK. Riku hit the concrete beside him, leaving a crack.
"I've played this game before," he said, voice cold.
"I know how it ends when no one decides."
The old man stepped back. The woman with the baby stepped forward.
"Take my daughter," she said.
"Take her. She's not infected. She's only three."
Riku's eyes didn't change. "She won't survive alone. Neither will you."
"I don't care."
Back inside the train, Nana stared at the window. She began drawing.
Tatsuya leaned in. "Who are you sketching?" She didn't answer.
Until she did. "I'm not sketching someone down there, Onii-chan."
"I'm sketching who he'll sacrifice."
Outside, the two teens started arguing.
"She needs it more!"
"No, he'll save YOU! You're younger!"
Riku exhaled. Then he moved. Grabbed the wounded girl from between them. Carried her toward the door. She was crying softly. "I didn't ask… to be chosen." He didn't speak. He just nodded once. "Neither did she."
The other survivors began running toward the door. Riku threw the girl in just as it slammed shut. Gas hissed from the outside vents. A red pulse. A screech.
And then...
Four screams turned into static. The train began to move again.
Inside, the girl looked up at Riku.
"I'm not gonna say thank you." Riku smirked. "Didn't save you for thanks." Then he sat down and closed his eyes.
Tatsuya walked to Nana. She flipped her sketchbook around. The last page showed Riku… dragging a girl into a door. And below that — the woman with the baby, burning in red mist.
"Why show me this?" he asked. Nana whispered: "Because he didn't choose her."
"He chose the one he didn't have to look in the eyes."
The train swayed gently as it thundered past broken cities and charred rails.
But Car No. 8 — the one directly next to the sealed Compartment No. 9 — had gone silent. Tatsuya stood at the boundary, staring at the locked steel door that divided them.
No handle.
No keycard reader.
Just one sign, printed in faded red:
"CAR 9 – DO NOT OPEN. DO NOT LISTEN."
But tonight… the train itself was listening. Because something — or someone — inside Car 9 had started moving.
Thunk.
Drag.
Slam.
The entire compartment vibrated once, then went still again.
Passengers were now avoiding that section completely. Even Riku, who usually didn't fear anything, kept his seat near the center of Car 8.
"I'm telling you," he whispered to Tatsuya. "That thing's been locked since departure. Nobody ever went in. Nobody ever came out."
Tatsuya frowned. "Then what's inside?"
Riku replied flatly: "Dead weight.
Or worse — forgotten cargo."
From behind them, a small giggle broke the tension. Everyone turned. The baby. He was laughing… again.
Nana held him cautiously, her eyes darting between the others. He looked up at her. "Don't open the door."
Tatsuya knelt beside them. "Why not?" The baby blinked slowly, his tone eerie — too calm for a child. "Because they remember you." "Because they died... still watching."
Suddenly, a bang echoed — directly from inside Car 9. A pause.
Then a knock. Three precise knocks. Someone from the far side of the compartment whispered: "Did... did it just knock?"
Nana nodded, her voice soft. "It's not asking to be let out. It's asking if we still remember."
The intercom hissed to life. This time, no conductor appeared — just his voice. "Compartment 9 was sealed for a reason." "It houses those who failed to choose." "And they remain… watching."
Riku stood. "What the hell does that mean!?"
Then the baby spoke again: "It means they never got their ending."
He turned to Tatsuya. "Would you like to see them?"
Tatsuya tensed. "What do you mean—" Before he could finish, the train lights flickered violently. Every screen across all compartments lit up in sick green static. A new message flashed:
"A passenger has been randomly selected." "Offer accepted. Viewing begins in 3…"
Tatsuya's heartbeat quickened.
"No. No no no—"
"2…"
Nana screamed, "STOP IT!"
"1."
And then…
The screens turned black. Replaced by a live camera feed.
Inside Car 9.
The image was distorted, flickering like an old VHS tape. Inside: Rows of motionless passengers. All strapped to seats. Heads tilted. Some were missing limbs. Others had skin like melted wax.
But all of them…were smiling.
Then one of them turned. A man in a bloody suit. Half his face torn off. He looked straight into the camera…
and whispered: "You let us die."
Tatsuya stumbled back.
"N-No… that can't be…"
The screen turned off.
But the message wasn't over. The masked conductor returned. "You've seen the price of silence. Remember this before you hesitate again."Then he looked straight into the camera: "And Tatsuya… your turn will come."