Author's Note

A lot of things are happening in my life right now and I need something to express my anger and all these negative emotions. So obviously, I wrote a zombie AU lol. Captains-centric again, with a bonus of Ushiwaka at some point, and a ton of background characters.

Note to CML readers: as noted above, I am not doing super well lately so please don't expect an update soon. I'm very very sorry :c

This work is inspired by vashiane's Under the Red Sky, on AO3, and if you are into zombies, it's a really good read. 10/10 recommend. The universe is adapted from a setting I came up with for a Hetalia roleplay forum, called Terra Sigma. The title comes from Wiz Khalifa's song, See You Again, and I picked it because this story's largely gonna be about things lost and things found and things that are reborn from the ashes of things that have perished. I haven't spoken to my friends in a long time, and one of them sent me a link to this song, and it rang a bell inside of me, and I knew I had to write about it.

Explanations about the AU itself in the bottom notes. No warnings in particular, but any zombie AU is bound to have gore in it. Please enjoy.


Bokuto knew, from the moment he woke up, that something big would be happening today. He didn't know what it was. He didn't know how he knew. But he just did. Today would be no ordinary day.

Of course, it might just have been the sight of Kuroo still in bed that threw Bokuto off, but no. He was sure that it would be something bigger, and much more unexpected than his usually-diligent friend lazing in bed.

(Not to discredit the unusual nature of the sight, regardless).

"Bro," Bokuto groaned out, barely awake himself. Climbing on the bottom bunk, which he'd claimed as his own, he hoisted himself high enough to get a better look at the top bunk, where the faint outline of Kuroo's body was visible under the thin covers. "Wake up, Kuroo. You're late."

"Go 'way," the other boy grunted, shifting slightly to curl up on himself. "Tired."

"Yeah right. At this time of the day, you're usually up and exercising down in the common room. The sun's rising, and so should you!" Bokuto chastised him, though he knew he'd do the same if he had the choice.

"Just for today..." Kuroo sighed, turning around to look at his friend. Aforementioned friend immediately locked his gaze onto the large bags under his eyes and cringed, but only patted his head sarcastically.

"No can do. We've got work to do, you know it."

"I know," Kuroo acknowledged, and sighed, looking away. "Fine. I'll be up in five minutes."

"I'll save you a slice of toast," Bokuto promised, moving off the bed and losing Kuroo from immediate sight.

"I want two," the black-haired boy grumbled, and Bokuto heard him turn back to the other side before he headed away.

Yep. That was unusual, alright. But Bokuto still felt like it wasn't all.

(Maybe Daichi would tell them today was a day off during dispatch. That'd be a weird, but welcome incidence).

Still dressed in his pyjama bottoms -patterned with cute owls with big eyes, Bokuto's favourite- and a large white sweater, Bokuto yawned, and headed for the fireman pole that would let him move quickly down to the common area.

The rising sun now moving out from behind the horizon, its warm orange light filtered through the windows lining the walls of the tall warehouse they lived in and basked all of the bunk beds on the landing in a soft glow. Below, on the ground level of the warehouse, people were already moving around to go get breakfast, or to snag a seat on one of the common room's comfortable couches before everyone else. The landings on three sides of the warehouse walls were high, about twenty feet up, and the chatter of the morning crowd was but a whisper to Bokuto's ears from there.

It was just another morning at Sendai, the warehouse that served as a headquarter for division Sigma-Six of the National Extermination Team. It was one of the ten sub-divisions in Divison Sigma, which took in the lowest age recruits, Bokuto reminded himself as he watched one of their youngest members pull a piece of toast from under his shirt, probably a third piece he'd swiped from the kitchen despite tight rationing rules. The kid must've been one of the drafted ones; the look on his face spoke volumes about how he wished to be miles and miles away from this place right now.

But there was nothing he could do. Nothing any of them could do. They were here until the monsters outside were all dead, and there was nothing that could change that. Bokuto had long since learned to forget his circumstances and just roll with it. He set himself a routine, and if he didn't think about it too much, surviving out here became a whole lot easier after the first few weeks.

He grabbed the fireman pole, the twenty-foot drop no longer impressing him after four months of having been there, and let himself slide down. As his heart leaped -it always did, the traitorous thing- initially, and the cold metal rubbed his palms raw, he figured that his gut was just overreacting, and that he could have just one piece of toast for breakfast. But just this once.

Kuroo joined him for breakfast a while later, after Bokuto had finished his slice of toast and glass of milk. Though he was late, he still managed to finish everything fifteen minutes before the dispatch began, and so he and Bokuto headed back up to the bunks to get changed for the day.

"I hate going back up," Bokuto grumbled as they both got onto the ladder that connected the bottom area and the landing. They could have taken the winding emergency staircase that also led all the way up to their laboratory, but that took twice as long, and was even more tiring than the ladder. Only the newbies still too scared of the fireman pole and ladders took that staircase. "It's such a pain. Wish we were allowed to use the elevator."

"The day we'll be allowed to use the elevator is the day we'll have to call a Code Blue. And I don't know about you, but I am not down for being sieged by zombies in my own safe house," Kuroo snickered from below him, following his ascent closely.

"We need to find a way to make electricity more accessible. That way, we won't have to worry about rationing our use of the elevator," Bokuto mused out loud, his arms shaking from the ascent. He was halfway there, according to the piece of duct tape he passed, and that he'd purposely set there to give him a cue of how far he'd gotten.

"I think that's the smartest thing you've said in a long time, you big brute," Kuroo teased him, his feet clanging on the metal rungs rhythmically. "Maybe if we get enough budget next term, we can invest in solar panels. Or man-powered energy bikes."

"That's a really good idea, Kuroo!" Bokuto exclaimed. "Brilliant! It's like a workout, too, so you get your cardio done in the morning, and then you take the elevator up to your bunk to change!"

"That's an oxymoron. Why would you do your cardio on a bike and then take an elevator when you can just take the stairs?"

"Cause stairs are a pain! And this ladder is, too!" And thus, evacuating the last of his frustration towards the metal object, Bokuto reached the top, and crawled onto the landing, falling on his back with a groan.

"You're so old, Bokuto. Your cardio's worse than an eighty year-old's," Kuroo chuckled, reaching the landing slightly heaving, but reaching down to pull Bokuto up nonetheless.

"Your face is getting old," Bokuto huffed right back, taking his friend's hand and getting up anyway.

"Try harder next time," the black-haired boy rolled his eyes, and then glanced over to another one of their members, who was heading towards them with a toothbrush in his mouth. "Oh hey, Daichi."

The other boy, with shorter-cut black hair and dark brown eyes, looked up at the sound of his name, and nodded in acknowledgement at them.

"Morning," he greeted them with a slightly muffled voice. "Don't be late to dispatch."

"We won't be," Kuroo assured him, smirking at Sendai's dispatch agent lazily.

"So what was today's topic of debate on your way up the ladder?" Daichi asked them, if only a little more amusedly than before.

"Elevator use," Bokuto immediately volunteered. "I think it's time we give our two cents about the budget around here and suggest buying power-generating bikes-"

"Alright, alright. Write an open letter to N.E.T., Bokuto," Daichi dismissed him with a slight smile, heading off. "See you in ten minutes sharp."

"Daichi's so impractical," Bokuto huffed, crossing his arms with a pout. "The mail around here comes and goes with the supply drops once a month. I need to make the higher-ups aware of this suggestion much quicker than that. Preferably by tomorrow, so that we can use the elevator by next week."

"Well, Bokuto," Kuroo grinned, ruffling his friend's white hair mockingly. "Maybe if you're lucky, you can send your letter out with the next supply drop in a couple of weeks. And if you're even luckier, the Division Sigma supervisor won't immediately use it to help start his fireplace!"

"What the hell would I do without your support, Kuroo?" Bokuto shook his head, Kuroo's hand dropping off his hair, and shrugged. He'd known it, anyway. It was just fun to fantasize, sometimes. "Alright, whatever. Let's just get dressed and go get our assignments. Do you think I should wear a field outfit or a training outfit today?"

"Knowing your luck, I'd tell you to wear a field outfit," Kuroo snickered. "From what I saw outside the windows up here this morning, it's a clear day with moderate temperatures and strong winds. And you know what that means."

"Yup," Bokuto nodded, rolling his eyes, and regrettably dropping his soft owl-print pyjama bottoms. "It's the perfect day for slaughter."

In the end, they were two minutes late to dispatch, but the look Daichi gave them as they sheepishly scooted into the conference room said that he'd expected this turnout already.

"As I was saying," he continued after their brief interruption. "There's no special mention for anyone today, so it's just another day. Your assignments and quotas are going to be hung up in the common room after the dispatch, as usual, so refer to them to plan ahead. Also, reminder that today is laundry day, so drop your laundry in the chute before you leave for the day. Lunch will be at half past noon for those who are not going out, and dinner will be at six o' clock."

"What are we having for dinner?" Bokuto asked immediately, knowing he probably wouldn't be around for lunch.

"Ask a groundskeeper if you're so eager to know, Bokuto," Daichi sighed, flipping a page on his clipboard. "Other pertinent questions?"

It seemed like it was too early for anybody but Daichi to be thinking, and so no concerns were raised.

"Alright. Today's going to be cloudy with dispersed showers, high of 20 degrees Celsius, with strong winds. It's now 0810 hours on Thursday September 18 2043, and day 162 since the beginning of the Sigma-6 initiative. Have a safe and productive day, everyone."

And with that, they were dismissed to go prepare for the day. People filed out of the small room with grumbles and hushed conversations, either to go wait for the assignments to be posted, or to go help themselves to more coffee, the only commodity not tightly rationed in their base. Bokuto decided against artificial sleep this morning, though Kuroo wordlessly followed the crowd to the kitchen. The white-haired boy didn't blame him, not after how he'd woken up that morning.

The crowd split once they were out into the main area of the warehouse-turned-base, half of them heading right towards the door that led to the kitchen, and the other half heading left where the 'common room' was set up in the corner. Bokuto rushed to vault over the back of a couch and drop onto the cushion, scaring the wits out of a newer recruit that wasn't used to his eccentricity yet.

He waited without a word, fiddling with the straps on his forearm guards idly, until Daichi strode into the common room with his clipboard in his hands and went over to the billboard in the back to switch the old assignment list with the recent one. Bokuto was one of the first ones to make himself a path to the sheet, eager to get his assignment before he got caught in the morning crowd.

And by 'crowd', he didn't mean much, but the dozen people in the warehouse at the moment were enough of a crowd for him.

(They used to be a lot more. But life was such a fragile commodity, and Bokuto had long-since learned that it was so volatile that there would be no use in making every loss a bereavement).

As they'd guessed, Bokuto was assigned to the field today, and yet he got a small pleasure from seeing Kuroo's assignment being in the field as well. They wouldn't be heading to the same sector of the city they were trying to clear currently, but they were heading there together, so that was a plus. Usually, they'd be partnered up with someone else, but the lack of staffing constrained Daichi to sending people on solo expeditions and praying they came back by curfew.

Bokuto hoped they got new recruits soon. There was something disturbing about hunting zombies without having his back being watched.

It was the first time today that the word had crossed his mind. Zombies. It was one thing to think about those soulless monsters, and a whole other thing to put a name to them. The aggressive-sounding term they'd been attributed never failed to send a shiver down Bokuto's spine, no matter how used he was to the thought of them. The skip of his heart as he headed to the armoury heralded the beginning of a brand new day in Sendai.

The uneasiness he'd been feeling in the morning had become exacerbated into apprehension. Bokuto didn't mind it, and embraced the tension in his limbs. After all, these days, fear was an important part of any balanced breakfast.

...-...-...-...-...-...-...

The gut feeling Bokuto had woken up with still hadn't left him by the time he was geared up and ready to go, and he'd long since learned to trust his gut as much as possible. Still, even after triple-checking his equipment, his ammo, his handgun, his backpack, his crowbar, his knife, his supplies and his dirt bike, even after spending a whole hour making sure everything was indeed in order (much to Kuroo's exasperation), he still couldn't shake the feeling off. Still, at some point, they were the only two field assignations still at the HQ, and Kuroo made a valid point when he mentioned that their "amazing skill" wouldn't help them fill their quota if they didn't have enough time to use their skills.

In the end, Bokuto and Kuroo got on their dirt bikes and left towards their target city without a clear conscience. But these days, nobody could be picky with the state of their peace of mind. What they got is all they'd get. With that in mind, they drove in silence, weaving through the cars abandoned on the roads leading into the wilderness of the desolate land, occasionally switching places to take the lead from one another, or making hand signals to one another to indicate a direction in which they were going. Although the roads were mostly clear at first, the more they went forward, the more the remnants of civilization began to appear. Everything was the same as the last time they'd been here.

The same cars were still stuck in an eternal traffic jam. The same zombies were still moving in them, moaning and struggling against their seatbelts in the same seats in which they'd died. The same crumbled buildings soon came within sight, with the same houses flattened by debris, with the same residential districts blackened to charcoal by uncontrollable fires.

It was familiar, morbidly, but comfortingly so. Bokuto knew this place. But the feeling he got from the empty, cracked pavements could only be described as uncanny.

And as familiar as his surroundings were, there would always be one thing more familiar above all. As if sensing that he was going through his friend's thoughts, Kuroo pulled up next to Bokuto, both of them locking their speed to drive adjacently for a little while.

There was a fork coming up in the road, and Bokuto was familiar with this part, too. Glancing over at Kuroo, he tried to imagine what his face looked like behind the helmet visor, but couldn't think of anything. He wondered if Kuroo, who was doing the same to him, could imagine the bittersweet smile on his face.

Who knows. The fork came up too quickly for him to think about it, and with a slight flick of his hand in his usual goodbye, Kuroo veered to the left to head off to another sector of the city.

Bokuto always hated the part where he'd nod to Kuroo, and keep going straight, alone. The road in front of him was still littered with the same cars, and the same landmarks greeted him like every time he came to this side of the city, but this part, right after splitting from his best friend, never felt the same.

He parked his bike on the elevated highway, on the inbound side to avoid close proximity with the cars jamming the outbound side, and began to walk. He was still on the outskirts of the city for now, mostly intent on clearing some suburban areas (that, and anybody in their right mind would refuse to go downtown on a solo assignment), so it didn't surprise him that he didn't see any zombies just yet. As he walked deeper into the neighbourhood he wanted to work on, he finally hopped over the barriers separating the two sides in order to take the ramp down to street level, and pulled his crowbar out in preparation.

Maybe it was his sensitive hearing that let him hear the moans like whispers on the wind. Maybe it was his ever-so-diligent gut feeling that warned him of their proximity. Maybe it was just his common sense dictating that he hadn't seen enough zombies yet for this expedition to be like the others. Whatever it was, it had him on his toes, so that the first zombie he came across, ambling down the streets aimlessly, had his heart racing in a second.

Twirling his crowbar in his hand to crack his wrist and give himself a boost of morale, he took a deep breath, and wordlessly began to run towards the ungodly creature.

The rotten being noted his approach a few seconds after he began to run, recognizing the click-clack of his footsteps as unusual. As soon as its melting eyes locked onto the sight of Bokuto's alluring presence, it opened its mouth and moaned, so loud that even hardened Bokuto winced. It didn't last long, however. As soon as he was close enough, Bokuto kicked the creature square in the chest with the sole of his combat boots, and as it hit the ground, he stabbed it through the eye socket with his crowbar. It stopped moving almost instantly, and Bokuto removed his weapon from its body with a gross squelch.

"One," he counted, and moved on.

Assignments like these were long and tedious, but boring. After some time, fearing for your life every second of the day lost its novelty, and Bokuto hated how mundane these situations had become. He felt like he'd let his guard down for a second, and that second would be all it took for him to lose everything.

He hated hunting solo.

"Fuck this," Bokuto sighed to himself, clipping his crowbar on a belt loop and pulling his handgun out of its holster instead. Instead of searching and destroying, the easiest and arguably safest method of extermination, he'd settle for a siege-type job this time. It'd take way less effort on his end, though it could get dangerous if he wasn't careful.

But since when wasn't he careful? Bokuto was the most careful person he knew.

He quickly spotted his safe zone, up on a balcony of an apartment building, one floor off the ground. It would be a quick scale for him, as the wall had many cracks and nooks he could use to pull himself up. Then, he'd just wait for the zombies in the neighbourhood to converge towards him, the noise attracting them like a domino effect. All Bokuto would have to do is cut them down as they desperately tried to reach him.

Now, all he had to do was find his first target. The streets were strangely devoid of life (loose sense of the term), so he peered around a couple of corners to try and catch sight of a target.

Nothing.

The dread in Bokuto's gut rose a notch. Something definitely wasn't right. And hell if he wasn't going to try and find out what that something was.

Proceeding through the streets, he tried to keep his breathing quiet, and listened for any tell-tale moans on the wind. And, just as quietly, he advanced, grip tight around his firearm. Not a single soul, damned or otherwise, roamed the streets. But the closer he listened, the more Bokuto seemed to hear something.

He let his ears guide him in a game of trial and error, and finally, when the moans became audible, he knew he'd found them.

What he did not expect, though, was the sheer size of the group he found when he stumbled around the corner where the groaning was loudest.

A quick estimation gave Bokuto about thirty zombies to take care of. That was a lot for one person at once, even for him, so he considered just turning back and leaving, and maybe trying to snipe a few of them from a nearby building.

However, he also stopped and retreated behind the wall once more to observe their bizarre behaviour, eyes flicking over the squirming mass clawing at the walls of an apartment building, as if trying to dig their way in. They'd obviously found something in that building, or had chased someone into the building, and still hadn't given up. Who knows how long they'd been there. Last time Bokuto came into this sector was a week ago, so for all he knew, these things had been scratching at the walls for days.

Still, not one to dismiss the occurrence immediately (neglect definitely wasn't how he'd become so good at his job!), he took the time to observe them a little more, paying close attention to details. From this distance, he couldn't really see the condition of their fingers, so he couldn't tell if they'd been scratching for a while. They were too close to one another for him to note any trampled bodies beneath their feet, too, but the noticeable lack of a fresh bloodstain anywhere near them was a good indicator that they hadn't ripped anybody apart right there just yet.

Still, the sounds they were making were deafening, and for so many of them to have converged towards one spot, there must have been a certain time lapse. They must have been there for at least a whole day.

Bokuto's gut suddenly wrenched with unease, and he didn't question it. He immediately turned around, his heart pounding harshly when he came face to face with a zombie that had been ambling towards the group by the apartment, and who had taken interest in him. Its arms were out, with its fingers grasping thin air in the hopes of grabbing flesh, and in a moment of panic, Bokuto clicked the safety off of his handgun and shot its brains at point-blank range.

The bang of the gun rang out, obvious even over the sound of the moans. Realizing his mistake a little too late, Bokuto swore and turned back to the crowd, which had predictably shifted its attention at the sudden noise. The young man held his breath.

Thankfully, only a few zombies left the group to investigate, probably catching a whiff of his scent on the wind. Bokuto backed up into the adjacent street again and holstered his gun, switching it for the more silent option of a crowbar to get the incoming masses.

The first zombie turned the corner and immediately spotted him, loudly groaning in anticipation. A few more followed behind it, joining in the chorus of morbid cries, and Bokuto wasted no more time, lest he attract the rest as well.

The first one went down with a well-aimed stab through the eye. Pulling out his crowbar now dripping with bodily fluids, Bokuto used the momentum to step back, and then charged at the next one, swinging his weapon at its head. The rotten bones gave in with a sickening crunch that even turned Bokuto's stomach upside down, and the zombie fell to the ground, groaning its last. Bokuto then busied himself with the next two monsters aiming for him, kicking the first one flat on the ground with a well-placed side-sweep of his leg. Whilst that one lamented its fate, he grabbed one of the outstretched arms of the zombie in front of him and immediately pulled it forward, sidestepping it as it lost its balance and stumbled. Too quick for it to retaliate, he brought the crowbar down on its head, once, twice, three times until it cracked, and Bokuto's weapon hit the soft organ beneath it. Dealing with the fourth one was a piece of cake, and for a second, Bokuto enjoyed flirting with danger and put his booted foot on its sternum, watching it grab his leg and claw at it frantically. His army-grade urban camouflage pants didn't give in, however, and Bokuto ended it all with a quick stab through its empty eye socket.

The wiggling arms released him, and Bokuto stepped off the zombie, flicking the rotten blood and spinal fluid off of his weapon irritably.

"Six," he counted to himself, and peered around the corner again. Most zombies were still there, still clawing at the building relentlessly, and yet this time, Bokuto saw what they saw.

It was brief, but Bokuto saw something move on one of the balconies on the third floor. His eyes narrowed as he tried to make the shape out, and though he could see nothing for the moment behind the barrier of the balcony, he patiently waited.

His waiting bore fruits when finally, after a while, a head peeked over the top of the barrier, glancing around. Bokuto quickly noted the person's light brown hair, dishevelled and greasy-looking, and the brown eyes darting around as if searching frantically for something. Or someone. The person must have heard the gunshot Bokuto had fired.

Probably a lost survivor unlucky enough to get stuck. And part of Bokuto's job as a part of the N.E.T. was to rescue survivors and ship them out to the safe zones, so he figured he may as well start thinking of a way to get the guy down.

However, the guy seemed to have different ideas. Especially when his brown eyes finally landed on him and recognized him as someone who wasn't dead. Bokuto expected many things to happen at the moment. Having the guy's previously dead gaze light up, though, was not one of those things.

"Hey!" the man cried out, standing up to full height all of a sudden, and waving at Bokuto with a wide grin. "Heyo, up here!"

Bokuto just looked at him incredulously, twice as incredulously when the zombies' cries twice as high at the sight of fresh prey.

"Don't say anything!" the man continued pleasantly, and if the bags under his eyes weren't obvious even from their distance, Bokuto would have guessed that the guy was either unaffected by all this, or was just crazy. "But if you can do me a favour, that'd be great. I just need to get down safely and I'll help you send these bastards to hell."

Bokuto looked at him for a second, and then made a shrugging motion to indicate that he had no clue whatsoever on how to do that. He was a front-liner; he didn't make plans, nor did he care much for them. He just rushed forward into battle when he told to, in all honestly. Plans were more Kuroo's thing.

"I heard you fire a shot earlier," the mystery man continued. "It's loud, but it'll do. So do it again, and don't worry about noise. I'll make sure I have all eyes on me," he finished with a cocky smirk, irking Bokuto with his attitude.

Still, he figured he'd follow the stranger's plan, and prepared his gun, making sure he was back against the wall to avoid surprises before aiming at a random head in the crowd.

Seeing him ready and on standby for his cue, the brown-haired stranger licked his dry lips, and climbed over the side of the barrier. Turning around, he held onto the top and carefully let his legs off the ledge, and then let go of his hold all at once. Bokuto found himself holding his breath anxiously as the stranger freefell slightly before his bare hands caught the edge of the balcony, balancing him a few feet above the lower balcony below. The strength it took him to hang on must've been great, and to do that kind of stupid stunt, someone would either have to be very well-trained, or a fucking idiot like Bokuto.

Speaking of whom, Bokuto began to believe that the man wasn't just a lost civilian, not when he swung himself down to the lower balcony, and waved cockily at the crowd of increasingly loud zombies. Now, only a single story separated the zombies from the other man.

Bokuto recognized his cue almost immediately as the zombies practically mowed one another down in their haste to get to their prey, which was conveniently getting closer to them.

He began to fire.

The shots rang out loudly, Bokuto's shoulder hitting the wall behind him painfully with each recoil. He didn't falter, however, and kept his aim steady, moving from one zombie to the other, and killing one more of the dreaded monsters before the last had a chance to crumple to the ground.

In the meantime, the man seemed to be advertising himself to the zombies, climbing over the second balcony railing, and repeating the manoeuvre from before to drop one more time to the lowest balcony. His waist was now at eye-level with the screeching of the creatures putting their arms through the railing for a shot at reeling them in, and yet the man fearlessly got closer, until he was just out of reach.

His parading gave Bokuto the chance to reload his gun twice, and by the time there were only a few zombies left, he figured he could stop shooting. Instead pulling out his crowbar, he charged the enemy just as they began to realize that there was another prey behind them. Too little too late, two of them already fell to his violent clubbing before they could act, and the three remaining ones took their sweet time turning to him.

As Bokuto engaged one of them, watching the other two carefully, he saw the other man vault off the balcony to the ground and grab what looked like a baseball bat off the grass, where it seemed to have fallen. His gaze went back to his own enemy, unconcerned with the two others, especially when the sound of a blunt object violently bashing into bones announced their gruesome fate.

The two last zombies fell with ease, and this left the two humans panting in exertion, covered in blood, dirt, and rotting bits of organs, but alive and victorious.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," the other man hummed, walking back to the mass of zombies now lying in a silent pile on the ground.

"If it wasn't that bad, how come you hadn't taken them beforehand?" Bokuto teased, cleaning his weapon on one of the zombies' ripped clothing.

"Cause I dropped my weapon while climbing to get away from them!" the man protested childishly, pushing some corpses out of the way with his foot, seemingly searching for something.

"And you've made it this far with clumsiness like that?" Bokuto laughed, approaching him slowly. "Man, lend me some of that dumb luck!"

"I wasn't expecting this, is all," the brunet huffed indignantly, pushing aside another corpse before glaring at Bokuto. "I'm extremely capable of taking care of myself, I'll have you know. In fact, I-"

He never finished. Instead, he cut himself off with a scream when a rotten hand shot out from under the pile of corpses and grabbed his ankle, pulling. The brunet tripped under the sheer force of the zombie's grip and fell back on the mound of bodies, but thankfully, the zombie's face was buried under too many corpses for it to be able to bite him before Bokuto got to it, stabbing his crowbar down where he figured its head would be until the hand released hid companion.

They stood in silence for a second to let the brunet catch his breath after the scare, and then Bokuto offered him his hand to help him stand.

"So what was that about being capable?" he grinned his favourite shit-eating grin, chuckling when the stranger slapped his hand away with a huff.

"It's your fault! You jinxed me when you tried to steal my luck!" he pouted, glancing suspiciously at the mound of corpses again before continuing his search.

"Sure, blame it on your handsome saviour, why don't you?" Bokuto rolled his eyes, extending his hand towards the brunet. "Whose equally handsome name, by the way, is Bokuto Koutarou."

"Nice to meet you, Bokuto-kun," the brunet challenged playfully, grasping his hand firmly for a handshake. "Since I'm such a charming guy, I won't disillusion you. But anyway, my name is Oikawa Tooru."

"Awesome," Bokuto grinned, not really getting the subtle shade being thrown at him. "So, Oikawa. What are you looking for? I thought you already picked up your weapon."

"This thing?" Oikawa asked, twirling the aluminium baseball bat with a flick of his wrist. "No, this thing is just something I picked up on the road. My actual weapon is buried somewhere here..." he trailed off, now digging through the corpses with his hands, and finally grabbed something. "Ah, here it is!"

And okay, maybe Bokuto's jaw did drop when the other man retrieved his weapon from under the bodies, its size and shape recognizable to anybody with even a slightly trained eye.

"Ah, I missed you, baby," Oikawa sing-sang, running a hand over the blood splattered body of the sniper rifle he held before blowing it a kiss.

"You're a sniper," Bokuto whispered, more like a statement than a question.

"Yup! And only the best," Oikawa gave him a thumbs-up with an irritating smirk plastered on his face. This Oikawa person was too cheerful for this kind of place, Bokuto thought, but then again, their current sniper, Kageyama, was the exact opposite, the doom-and-gloom kind all day long.

"Our sniper's pretty good, too," he commented offhandedly, thinking of the way the young man would dispatch large hordes before they could even reach the fence around their warehouse.

"I bet you I'm much better, though," Oikawa insisted, and swung the strap of his sniper rifle around him. "So. What division of the N.E.T. are you?"

"Division Sigma-6!" Bokuto announced proudly. "We're located about a half hour ride from here."

"Ah, fun," the brunet nodded. "And are we returning to the headquarters now?"

"I suppose I can drive you there, but then I gotta come back because I haven't filled my assignment's quota yet. Though this encounter really did help. I must have gotten at least thirty of them!"

"Probably," Oikawa shrugged. "But anyway. I'll stick with you for a little while. I'll help you fill your quota for today, even. How many did you have?"

"Sixty."

"Damn!" the brunet looked genuinely surprised. "Are you a front-liner?"

"Yup! How'd you tell?" Bokuto grinned, flexing his biceps cockily. "The sight of my guns impressive to ya?"

Strangely enough, the smile on Oikawa's face seemed to waver slightly at the comment. But Bokuto felt like perhaps he'd imagined it, seeing as Oikawa was waving him off a second later.

"Nah, I've seen better," he chuckled, his tone a bit more subdued, before he turned around. "Anyway. We should get going. You've got some good progress done, but you're only halfway there."

"I have like, four more hours to kill thirty zombies," Bokuto snorted. "I'll be fine."

Checking the amount of ammo left in his clip, he clicked it back into place and then stowed his handgun, opting to walk around with his crowbar in hand instead.

Being with someone else, no matter how strange the guy was, was comforting. And best of all, the weird feeling in Bokuto's gut had vanished. Perhaps this fated encounter was what had made him so uneasy.

Now that the apprehension had passed, Bokuto felt like he had clear skies ahead.

...-...-...-...-...-...-...

He never should have let his guard down. Doing so would get him killed, and that was the very first lesson he learned in this damned world of theirs. And here he was, repeating the same mistake.

There was a slight ringing in his ears as he recovered from the news broadcasted through the walkie-talkie he carried at his waist.

"Are you gonna answer it?" Oikawa asked him, eyes hard and cracked lips turned down into a frown. "Can we get there on time?"

"We have to!" Bokuto protested. "We can't leave him!"

"Well, maybe you should tell him that instead of me," Oikawa suggested, looking at him weird, but falling into step immediately as Bokuto turned tail and began to jog.

"This is Bokuto. I'll answer his call. I'm on my way!" Bokuto bit out into the walkie-talkie, gritting his teeth. "Don't worry, ETA 20 minutes!"

"You're 30 minutes away from me, though!" the other voice crackled, full of static. Even over the radio, Bokuto could hear the horrifying screeches of the undead giving chase, and he shivered.

"Twenty minutes!" he repeated nonetheless, accelerating into a sprint that Oikawa followed easily. "We're coming!"

"We!?"

"Long story! Save your breath and run. And find a place to hide and bandage yourself up, if you can!" Bokuto ordered, clipping the walkie-talkie back on his belt.

"What exactly did this guy do?" Oikawa asked, concerned with Bokuto's worry.

"He was ambushed and had to jump out of a building. Twisted his ankle on the landing. He needs an evac," Bokuto explained the message he'd heard over the radio, and his fists tightened. On impulse, he grabbed the radio again, and forcefully pushed the button.

It couldn't end here.

"Hang on tight, Kuroo. We're on our way!"

And when Bokuto Koutarou made promises, hell would have to drag him to its deepest circles before he broke them.

...-...-...-...-...-...-...

When they reached the dirt bike parked on the raised highway, Bokuto quickly slammed the keys into the ignition, and threw the helmet to Oikawa.

"Hurry!" he rushed him in such seriousness that the brunet had trouble believing that this was the same guy who'd saved him earlier. He caught the helmet and seemed like he wanted to object, but if he spent a second too long idling, he felt like he'd be left behind. So he shut his pretty little mouth and threw the helmet on, jumping onto the back of the dirt bike and winding his arms around Bokuto right as he took off with a jump start.

Bokuto hurried, pushing his bike to the limit. He couldn't imagine what would happen if he took a second longer than he could afford. He couldn't imagine what would happen to Kuroo if he was too late. That just wasn't an option. He revved the bike up to 160 km/h, the wind nipping at his exposed face, freezing his skin until his lips were all but blue.

"Bokuto, slow down!" Oikawa protested fearfully, his hands tight on his shirt. If they crashed at this speed, they'd both be instant goners, helmet or not. But still, Bokuto couldn't bring himself to slow down. Not now.

He did, however, slow down a bit when the fork in the road came up, and braked abruptly, drawing a high-pitched squeal from Oikawa as the bike skidded across the asphalt road before taking back off as quickly as before.

"If I die here, this will be the epitome of my bad life choices," Oikawa whined in his ear, leaning onto Bokuto. "This is the last time I let you drive me places. I want to get on with this Kuroo person on our way back!"

Because they'd bring Kuroo back. Bokuto liked the sound of that. So he smirked.

"As you wish, princess. Kuroo's not any less rough-and-tumble than me, however."

"Urgh, I can't believe I'm stuck with brutes like you!" Oikawa huffed, but said nothing else. Either way, zooming around the occasional car or ambling undead took all of Bokuto's concentration, so he was grateful that Oikawa stopped talking after a while.

Finally, Bokuto spotted Kuroo's dirt bike in the distance, and he brought his own bike into a rapid halt, almost ejecting Oikawa from his seat.

"Talk about an uncomfortable ride," the latter whined, removing the helmet and flipping his dirty hair. However, recognizing the urgency in Bokuto's movements, he quickly dropped the helmet by the bike and followed him into a jog.

"Kuroo," Bokuto called into the walkie-talkie. "We're close to you. Give me your exact location."

They waited for a few agonizing seconds where there was no reply on the other end. And for a moment, Bokuto almost believed that his best friend had kicked the bucket. Almost.

"Spot the burnt-out neon sign to the right of the highway ramp. To the right of that street are a bunch of residential houses. I'm at the fourth one," Kuroo finally reported, the screeching of zombies almost drowning out his voice.

"On our way," Bokuto assured him again, just for the hell of it, and tried to spot the neon sign Kuroo was referring to.

"There!" Oikawa immediately spotted it, taking the lead towards it. Bokuto thanked the fact that he wasn't alone in this, too. Experienced/lucky civilian or not, Oikawa had been of great help to him.

Noise began to rise in the air, familiar and bone-chillingly loud. But neither of them stopped. They reached the sign and immediately turned right, only then faltering back out of sight because holy shit-

"That's a fuckton of zombies," Bokuto paled, finally feeling stress pool into his stomach. "Shit. Shit, they're surrounding him. At least fifty of them."

"I see him," Oikawa confirmed, squinting with his freaky sniper's vision and nodding. "He's climbed up against the door of one of the houses. Zombies can't climb stairs, but at the number they are, it won't be long until they trample one another and make a ramp up to get him."

"Shit," Bokuto swore again. "We need a plan."

"Hmm..." Oikawa bit his lip, looking around quickly, his brain whirring as he tried to come up with something, anything that could save them. Bokuto looked at him anxiously, not liking the way his eyebrows furrowed.

Finally, his brown eyes lit up, and something swelled in Bokuto's heart.

"You've got something," he remarked hopefully.

"We won't fight," Oikawa confirmed. "We'll just need to grab Kuroo and get the fuck out of here, and cut off their pursuit route so that we can avoid the risk of being caught up with."

"Do you know how?" Bokuto asked, all ears. Like he'd noted before, he sucked at plans... but he was okay at jumping in head-first when he was told to do so.

"The house two from this one, on the left side of the street, has a small backyard limited off with a fence. Our goal is gonna be to escape into the backyard and close the fence up, just to told the zombies back until we get a head start. It won't hold them indefinitely, but even if they tear it down, we'll be long gone."

"How do we get there?"

"The rooftops," Oikawa pointed up at the roofs. "The houses here are pretty tight, so jumping from one roof to another will be easy. Of course, with Kuroo's ankle, it might be a problem, but do your best. You climb the houses on the right, and make your way to Kuroo. Help him up to the roofs, get down into someone's driveway or front lawn, and make a dash for the house with the fence."

"And you?" Bokuto asked.

"I'll climb the houses on the left and go secure our evac point," he finished. "Sounds good?"

"Perfect," Bokuto nodded, feeling his heart flutter. It was a pretty good plan, considering. "Let's do it."

"Go," Oikawa nodded in all seriousness, and they broke to dash to the opposite sides of the street.

Bokuto immediately bounded up the steps of the first house, ignoring the zombies that saw him and began to follow him, and climbed on a windowsill. Pulling himself up, he stepped onto the awning on top of the front door, and jumped to grab the next windowsill. With some effort, he pulled himself up, and put his feet against the brick wall to give him a boost towards the roof. He grabbed the edge, and pulled himself up, giving himself just a moment of rest before heading off again.

"Bro, nice parkour skills," Kuroo's crackling voice came over the radio, almost unheard over the screeching of the zombies wriggling at his literal doorstep.

Bokuto only smirked, not taking the time to answer him, and instead concentrated on jumping the gap between the first two houses.

On the other side, Oikawa was doing the same, though Bokuto noticed that he was pushing himself low and moving in a crouch, exactly as a stealth agent would. He had more important things to do, though, namely, clearing the three other gaps, until he landed on the roof of the house besieged by the zombies.

"Kuroo!" he called down, glancing worriedly at his friend, who looked right back up at him. There was a bleeding cut on his forehead that dripped blood in his eyes, and which would probably need stitches once they got back to the warehouse, and he was visibly putting his weight on his left leg instead of his right.

"I fucked up!" the black-haired male cackled as if this whole thing was hilarious. "But I can relax now that my white knight on his steed has come for me."

"Get your ass up here, it ain't over 'till we get the fuck out of here in one piece!" Bokuto crowed back at him, lowering himself to the first windowsill and finding purchase on some protruding bricks to help Kuroo out.

"Thanks, Prince-Fucking-Charming," Kuroo rolled his eyes, wincing slightly when he turned to the house, and grabbed a few bricks to start climbing.

He obviously tried not to put any weight on his sprained ankle, but Bokuto heard the occasional whimper escaping his gritted teeth. The zombies were now almost at the landing, the huge, wriggling mass of corpses howling their rotten lungs out as they watched them escape. The boys tried not to think of it, and when Kuroo was high enough, Bokuto extended a hand to help pull him up.

"Thanks," Kuroo breathed heavily as they both made it onto the roof, gingerly rotating his ankle. "Shit, that hurts."

"It's not broken, is it?" Bokuto asked worriedly.

"Nah. Just a particularly annoying sprain. I can't believe I made such a dumb mistake," Kuroo shook his head, and then straightened. "Let's get going. What's the plan?"

"We go two houses down, climb down to the ground, and dash across the street to the house with the fence over there," Bokuto quickly explained.

"Did you come up with that?" Kuroo teased him as they both took a running start and jumped towards the adjacent house. They reached the edge of the roof and clung onto it, pulling themselves up, with Kuroo pointedly avoiding the use of his injured leg as much as possible.

"Nah, some guy I met and who's with me right now did," Bokuto admitted, checking that Kuroo was okay before they got ready to clear the next gap.

"Who is he? Where'd you pick him up? What happened?" Kuroo asked, catching his breath before following his best friend into the next jump. They landed at waist-level with the roof a bit painfully, but pulled themselves up once again.

"It's been a long day without you, my friend," Bokuto chuckled, and began to climb down on the front door's face of the house. "I'll tell you all about it. Now come on!"

He dropped the last few feet, unclipping his crowbar from his belt, and rushing down the steps to handle the few zombies that had followed them, and that were now in their path. Behind him, he heard Kuroo drop as well with a hiss of pain, and limp down the stairs until they were side by side.

"Fight or flight?" Kuroo asked, using his own crowbar to stab a zombie that had ambled too close for comfort.

"Flight!" Bokuto immediately replied, slamming his crowbar into a zombie and sending it crashing to the ground. It kept moaning, but Bokuto was well past his quota now, and he just wanted to go home. "Now!"

Kuroo immediately abandoned the zombie he'd engaged in combat and fell in step seamlessly with Bokuto. Periodically, he glanced back at the zombies that were hot on their tail, and glanced at the mass now advancing towards them, seeing as their prey had fleed.

Shit. They were screwed.

Until they weren't anymore.

The faded sound of a gunshot rang out, and the zombie closest to Kuroo fell. Soon, another zombie chasing them fell, and Kuroo's eyes widened.

"You picked up a sniper!?" he gaped. "Damn!"

"Apparently, he says he's good. As long as he can keep us clear 'till we climb over the fence, I'll consider him good," Bokuto panted, using the last bit of his dashing momentum to throw himself at the chain-link fence that had a heavy lock keeping it closed. Climbing it was easy, except for the last bits at the top, but for Kuroo, the delicate operation was different.

"Fuck," the black-haired male swore, dropping back down after his first attempt, biting his lip in pain. "Sorry, I'll try again!"

"Hurry!" Bokuto pressed him, climbing back up on the opposite side to try and help pull him up again.

"Fuck!" Kuroo cried out, face contorted in pain as he compelled the adrenaline coursing through his veins to make him forget the pain. The zombies were now very close, almost within arm's length of Kuroo, and Bokuto's heart stopped for a second.

The zombie's fingers brushed the small of Kuroo's back, and then, it was on the ground.

The next one was on the ground. And the next one. And the next one.

The two Sigma-6 agents were frozen on the spot in wonder, almost unable to tear their eyes away from the sight in front of them. The zombies were falling under rapid firing from above, one dead before the zombie before it could even hit the ground. The reloading speed and aiming precision of the sniper above was inhumane, and for a moment, Bokuto wondered if Oikawa had made some allies up on the roof.

There was no way that just one person was tearing through the advancing wall of zombies like a hot knife through butter.

"Shit, we'll be impressed later, when we're still alive to do it!" Kuroo was the one who snapped him out of it, and Bokuto doubled in effort trying to pull him up.

Finding strength in the insurance that someone had his back, Kuroo devoted all of his energy to climbing over the fence, and when he finally succeeded, he dropped onto the other side, breathless.

"Oikawa, come down here!" Bokuto cried out loudly. "We're good to go!"

A few shots later, the zombies stopped falling, and though they tripped over the numerous dead bodies at their feet, many of them made it to the fence, and stuck their rotten fingers through the links greedily. Bokuto refused to look into their soulless eyes and instead helped Kuroo to his feet, slinging his arm around his neck to support him.

Soon enough, the brunet on the rooftop climbed down the side of the house to meet them, and in utmost seriousness, pointed them to the back.

"The back gate isn't locked and leads into an alley. The alley will take us back to the main street, and since all the zombies are here, we should have a clear course to the highway ramp," he reported.

"Hot damn, you're good," Kuroo whistled appreciatively, limping as quickly as he could once they fell into a quick walk.

"Thanks. I am the best at what I do, after all," the brunet's expression melted into something more easy-going, but cocky.

"Kuroo, this is Oikawa. Oikawa, this is Kuroo," Bokuto presented them to one another proudly.

"Well, Oikawa, if we make it through this, I think I'll owe you a cup of tea for helping Bokuto save my ass. God knows he wouldn't have been able to think things through by himself," Kuroo snickered at Bokuto's low protest.

"It's fine. I'm not that much into dirtying my nails fighting in close combat, so if it wasn't for him, I'd still be hollering at you from the other side of the street," Oikawa hummed pleasantly, leading them off.

"You weren't bitten or scratched, right, Kuroo?" Bokuto asked in sudden concern, having forgotted how close his friend had been to being a goner.

"Nah, they didn't touch me. I'm fine," Kuroo assured him with a shaky grin, shaky because though he'd lived through another day, he'd probably lose tons of sleep tonight and wake up gasping for air tomorrow morning, and they both knew it. But that was the life they lived, unfortunately.

"Alright, then. Save your breath and let's get out of here," Bokuto sighed out in relief, and grinned at his two companions. Together, they made their way safely up the ramp to the highway, and onto the inbound side where both dirt bikes were parked, and that was when Bokuto knew that the rest of today would be a good day.

As promised, Oikawa asked to get on with Kuroo, making the latter laugh at the anecdote of why he absolutely refused to ride with Bokuto from now on. But Bokuto knew that his best friend was laughing because he'd been scared, and because he was grateful. At the end of the day, fear and relief really were the only two emotions they were condemned to feel until they died.

The three of them took off towards the setting sun, dirty and bloody and really fucking exhausted, but alive. Alive, and still kickin' well enough to go at it another day.

"I hope we make it in time for dinner," Bokuto mumbled to himself, the roaring wind drowning out his own mumbles in his ears. Still, Kuroo was riding side by side with him, and since he'd given his helmet to Oikawa, Bokuto could finally see the serene expression plastered across his face, as if driving and letting the wind sweep his worries right out of his pores was some sort of great catharsis.

Bokuto liked seeing the peace on Kuroo's face. He wondered if he'd always looked this wistful behind his visor. As if reading his thoughts, Kuroo turned his gaze to him, and grinned, loud and bright, and everything Bokuto loved best about his best friend.

Bokuto grinned back, even though Kuroo couldn't see him, and then turned his attention to the road. His tummy gurgled in anticipation of arrival.

"I wonder what we're having tonight," he hummed to himself, because now that he was still alive, entertaining himself with petty concerns was the easiest way to forget that he'd almost died again today.

...-...-...-...-...-...-...

They reached the warehouse by 1730 hours, to Bokuto's absolute delight, and immediately headed to see Daichi with Oikawa in tow. The evening had rolled into the warehouse already, most people having returned from their assignments and now idling until dinner, and the boys had to wave off a few concerned glances on their way to Daichi's office.

Their dispatch agent didn't actually have an office, per se. His desk was in a corner of the report and archive room, just to give him a small workspace to organize his daily activities. Bokuto had never understood why Daichi hadn't been given his own room like their base commander and supervisor duo, two middle-aged men who spent less time in the base they were assigned to command, and more time with their families in the safe zones. Daichi showed his face to them more often than their higher-ups, so he deserved his own office, too.

But anyway. Like everything else concerning their circumstances, they just made due with what they had.

They didn't knock before entering, just because the report room was free of access, and walked into the room lined with bookcases.

Bokuto, who was not even into books, always admitted that this room was pretty cool nonetheless. There were many sections to the bookcases, and large black binders were arranged on them, each binder with an agent's name printed on its spine. The bookcase closest to the entrance was the active bookcase, and there were only a dozen binders lining it, as many agents as they had on base at the moment. Bokuto found that a bit sad. But nothing would rival the uncomfortable feeling of looking past the active bookcase to see the two full bookcases in the back, each name on each binder on those shelves crossed off in red marker.

The initiative had only been active for six months, and already, so many young people had perished. Bokuto wondered if the other divisions, with older agents, had as many casualties. Or if it was a curse of the young ones.

"Bokuto," Kuroo called to snap him out of his thoughts. "Report first, or Daichi first?"

"Let's drop Oikawa off first," Bokuto suggested, leading them towards the desk in the back.

Predictably, Daichi was there. Unpredictably, Daichi had his head down on the table, asleep.

"Ohoho?" Bokuto cackled, eyes glinting in the neon lighting of the room.

"Ohoho!" Kuroo echoed, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"What the fuck?" Oikawa looked at them as if trying to understand, but let it go without another comment when Kuroo approached Daichi and gently touched his shoulder.

It felt like an odd move for someone like Kuroo. Oikawa hadn't known him long, but he seemed like the type of person who'd dump a bucket of water on sleeping people. Still, he figured it might've been one of the guy's good deeds of the day, because Daichi tensed at the contact, and then woke up without a fuss.

"Ah, Kuroo..." he began, glancing behind him wearily. "Bokuto... you're back."

"Yup! With full quotas, too!" Bokuto proudly added.

"Did everything go alright? You seem a bit roughed up, Kuroo," their dispatch agent remarked, glancing at Kuroo's visible injuries.

"I fucked up some, but at least Bokuto was there to clean up my mess," Kuroo explained.

"And me!" Oikawa protested indignantly. "It was my plan that saved your butt!"

"And who are you?" Daichi leaned over to get a good look at him, hiding behind Bokuto, and looked him up and down.

"Oh, he's just a civvie we picked up-" Bokuto began, but Oikawa spoke over him loudly.

"The name's Oikawa Tooru!" he introduced himself. "I'm sure you've been expecting me."

"Huh?" Kuroo and Bokuto echoed in confusion, looking at one another, and then at the beaming brunet.

"Well, it's true that we were expecting you," Daichi began with a sigh. "But that was two days ago. When you didn't arrive, we figured you'd died on the way here."

"I got... caught up, let's say."

"Who's this 'we'? I didn't know we were expecting anyone new!" Bokuto raised an eyebrow.

"The higher-ups know these things and let me know so I can prepare. I have no obligation to tell you, though," Daichi frowned. "Anyway. You're late, but you're here, and I guess that's what matters. Welcome to Sendai, Oikawa."

"Thanks!"

"Wait, so you're not a very talented civilian?" Bokuto asked incredulously.

"No," Oikawa laughed. "I can't believe you'd think of me as a civvie."

"Well, you never said anything!"

"You never asked."

"Anyway," Daichi cleared his throat. "I'll let the administration know you've arrived. You can go see one of the groundskeepers for your bunk assignment, as well as to get your starter packet. I think Asahi is not on kitchen duty today, so you can find him doing repairs, most probably. Then, you can get settled until dinner at 1800 hours."

"Okie doke!"

"As for you two, write your mission report, and then maybe you should go see a medic, Kuroo," Daichi suggested.

"I'll do that," Kuroo smirked.

"Alright, good job today. Get some rest," Daichi dismissed them, probably to take his own advice. He looked tired. Everyone did.

"Hmm, I need a shower," Oikawa whined as they headed back where they came from, to the bookcase with the active agents' names on them. Kuroo and Bokuto each picked out their name from the row of binders and flipped to the most recent page to start documenting.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me you were our new sniper," Bokuto whined in response, his rapid writing like chicken scratch on the page.

"Didn't it strike you as weird that a civvie could be so good at urban survival and shooting?"

"I was sure you'd taken some classes, or learned on the run," Bokuto answered, thinking for a bit about what he wanted to write before continuing.

"No way! I spent four long years training at my outpost, and I was the best!"

"You might wanna tone down that modesty, Oikawa," Kuroo commented offhandedly. "People might think you don't appreciate yourself enough."

"It's true!" Oikawa gasped in mock-outrage. "Don't doubt me! I was captain of my strike team, and in a place as tough as Aoba Johsai, that means that I must have been really good!"

"Or just impossibly lucky," Bokuto smirked.

"Or a rich kid," Kuroo mirrored the smirk, and the two of them almost eerily in tandem turned to grin at Oikawa's exasperation.

"Can you even pretend to be impressed or do you just not feel like it? Or are you always like this?" Oikawa puffed out his cheeks rather childishly.

"We would've been impressed... but we both come from powerhouse outposts as well," Kuroo hummed, signing off his report and snapping his binder shut.

"You are?" Oikawa's eyes glinted with newfound interest. "Which ones? There aren't many outposts that can call themselves powerhouses these days."

To his utmost shock and perhaps horror, Bokuto and Kuroo simultaneously moved to strike a pose.

"Wha-"

"I'm Bokuto Koutarou, 20 years old, and I'm a front-liner with 4 years of training at Fukurodani! My talents include unarmed combat and blunt weapons!" the white-haired boy re-introduced himself dramatically, flicking his hair back.

"And I'm Kuroo Tetsurou, 20 years old, and I'm a minuteman with 3 years of training at Nekoma. My talents include urban parkour, strategic leadership, and sharp weaponry combat," Kuroo grinned.

"Well I'm Oikawa Tooru, 20, and I'm a sniper –the best- with 4 years at Aoba Johsai. My talents include long-range precision shots and mid-range rapid fire," Oikawa added in, eager to parade a little bit.

"And I'm Daichi Sawamura," Daichi's annoyed voice came from the back suddenly. "19, minuteman with 3 years at Karasuno and appointed Sendai's dispatch agent. My talents include front-line leadership and blunt weapons, and also beheading annoying show-offs who won't let me sleep when I'm exhausted!"

"Fight or flight, Bokuto?" Kuroo gave a self-satisfied grin.

"Flight!" Bokuto laughed, and both of them shelved their binders in a flash, running out without further ado.

Oikawa quickly followed their example, not because he wanted to stick with them, but because this Daichi person sounded scary when he was pissed.

He felt like it wouldn't be so bad around here.

(Of course, if you forgot that they were fighting a war that they were too young to die in).

...-...-...-...-...-...-...

Getting used to life in the warehouse didn't seem like it'd be much of a task, especially not for a social butterfly like Oikawa. At least, it didn't seem like it would be when the quiet groundskeeper –Asahi Azumane, 20, 3 years in Karasuno- explained to him how their routine worked and gave him a brief tour of the place that would be his home until he either got transferred or won the war.

(Or died. But he didn't like to consider the possibility of defeat. It left a sour taste on his tongue).

Basically, if he understood right, every morning around 0730 hours, their rationed breakfast would be served. Then, at 0800, that Daichi guy that everyone seemed to respect and fear at once gave the morning report, which they called the dispatch, and then hung up the assignment list on the common room billboard for all to see.

All he'd have to do is check if he was assigned to training, or an expedition. If he was assigned to training, he'd have the choice to train in whatever he wanted, as long as he remained within the premises of the warehouse. If he was assigned to an expedition, which he'd have until dusk to complete, he'd also find on the sheet the sector of the city where he'd have to go, and the approximate quota of zombies he'd have to kill.

Then, dinner would be served around 1800 hours, and after that, they'd pull the curtains around all the windows to prevent being spotted from the outside, they'd dim the lights, and they'd be free to vacate to their leisure until curfew, at 2300 hours.

It didn't sound so bad. At his training outpost, Aoba Johsai –Seijoh for short-, their routine had been much more strict, and much more tedious. They'd been pushed to the edge in preparation for the day that they'd be sent into service in a division. In retrospect, perhaps it was a good thing that Oikawa had gone through such rigorous training; if he hadn't been so prepared, he'd probably never have been able to outlast the two-day siege on the balcony of that apartment building. Still, it felt like he was overqualified to be in Sigma-6. The guys here didn't impress much when it came to action, so far.

But they were friendly. They laughed and shared stories and experiences over dinner, gave their unfinished meals to one another, switched chores and did favours for one another. They were energetic, as if refusing to let the circumstances bring them down, as if the entirety of Sigma-6 would crumble if even one of them lost hope.

(It probably would).

He turned around in his bed, facing a set of unoccupied bunks, and tried to make himself comfortable in this new environment. Oikawa hadn't met many agents yet, mostly because not everybody ate dinner in the common room, but he'd be able to meet more people at tomorrow's dispatch. His very first amongst these familiar strangers. The people who would have to be his coworkers, his friends, his family, his lifeline. He would have to place his trust in them and believe that they would watch his back like he watched theirs. Just like he used to do in practice missions in Seijoh with his old friends.

He briefly wondered how they were doing, and almost instinctively, Oikawa's hand closed onto a piece of paper that he'd set under his pillow. It was the first thing he'd done upon receiving his bunk assignment, because moving in without moving his best friend in with him just didn't feel right.

The lights were all shut, as well as the curtains, and so Oikawa did not see the picture he pulled out and set in front of his eyes. But he didn't need to see it to picture it exactly in his mind, from the faded look of the crumpled photograph to the strand of hair that was misplaced on the head of the young man smiling fondly at the cameraman.

Oikawa suppressed a genuine laugh, because he'd always remember how getting Iwaizumi to do one of his exasperated smiles was one of the most satisfying things on the planet.

Somewhere in the darkness, somebody snored loudly, and the brunet tensed reflexively. It was probably just Bokuto. Still, after Oikawa's heart settled, he smiled at the picture again, wistfully this time, and set it down against his chest, against his heart that was slowing back down gradually. He felt his own pulse through his fingers, and wondered if Iwaizumi would be able to feel it, too, from wherever he now was.

"It's been a long day without you, my friend," he whispered softly, and then slid the small picture back under his pillow, to protect him from nightmares like Iwaizumi had once protected him from bullies, and then the undead. "But I'll tell you all about it when I see you again."


Author's Notes

So in this AU, zombies have existed for a while, and so humanity has had time to organize against them. In their country (unspecified if real or fictional), the National Extermination Team (N.E.T.) is the cornerstone of warfare against zombies. People can be drafted if they meet certain requirements, or they can volunteer if they don't meet drafting requirements. Either way, once they are accepted, they do a year of boot camp and basic training in military bases (names of middle schools like Kitagawa Daiichi) and then are transferred to outposts, which are training facilities located in the heart of infected zones and where people can get either 3 or 4 years of practical and specialized training in zombie warfare (high school names like Karasuno). Once people graduate, they are assigned to a base (like Sendai) where they go to participate in eradication efforts. Divisions of the N.E.T. are based on age. Division Sigma is the youngest, 18 to 21 years old. There are many other divisions, up to age 50. Divisions also have sub-divisions, which are numbered, so that many small pockets of resistance can be spread across the country rather than have them all in one place.

Agents can specialize in one of seven positions: front-liner, sniper, minuteman, groundskeeper, medic, scout or researcher. Depending on what they pick, their skills and training change, and they bring a different contribution to the team. I'll clarify more on these positions in the next chapters. I also know that the layout of the warehouse is a bit unclear, so I sketched out some (pretty ugly) representations that I posted on the AO3 version of this fic, if you wanna go see.

I also haven't decided on pairings yet. I wanna think (write) outside the box this time, so I'm trying to think of uncommon pairings. Help me out by suggesting the pairing you want?

Otherwise, hope you enjoyed the beginning of this fic, and hope you'll keep following. Man, now I wanna roleplay Haikyuu!. Does anybody even roleplay anymore tho?