#and i couldn't just Do It to the rest so ykno what *consistency baby*

[ranmanjuu]

Could you write some hc’s for a zombie apocalypse au? Can you write it for Sasuke, Mitsunari and Ranmaru? Thank you!!! ☆*:. o(≧▽≦)o .:*☆

hey op are you a mind reader because this’s actually been an idea of mine for a while now (but again, lack of motivation hsaglhsa) and i’m ???? (also my three most favorite characters i’m !!!!) thank you for enabling me. it’s a bit different than what i had in mind for the original fic and it has just a liiil bit of world building details but enjoy!

—sasuke:

sasuke works in what they call the “safe zone”, ran by the government. you yourself never did go there—a decision well-made, in your opinion. rumor’s spread through the city that every day a good number of people were kicked out due to lack of resources, and their workers being put through hell to also not get fired and thrown out. but you never really did regard it as either true or otherwise.

it didn’t matter to you—until you met sasuke.

he’d been faring rather well, with footsteps silent as ever. it was the matter of food, water, shelter. the needs of his body would kill him before the zombies did—the simple matter of even eating a contaminated piece of candy could mean the end for him.

and there you found him, in a dark alleyway, fading in and out of consciousness; hungry, weak, cold, dirty—you didn’t think it through when you dragged his body to where you stayed.

it’s too late, you thought, watching his body wrapped in layers of blankets writhe awake, might as well let him stay for a bit.

as soon as sasuke could sit up, you immediately gave him food and water. snacks were better than nothing. as his body desperately gobbled the food up (he tried to cover it, but to no avail), you explained what happened.

“. . . as soon as you’re done, grab the set of clothes there and leave.” even words as cold as yours were said, the slight hesitance pooling in your eyes said otherwise. if he noticed, he never commented.

instead, he asked you while you were heading to the door, “and where are you going, if i may ask?”

“. . . fix the power outlet.” you answered warily; you never knew what people could do with information. you hated the distrust, but it was a given at times. “autumn’s coming, it’s gonna be cold.”

and you thought it was the end, worst case scenario is he’d sabotage you. but you tried to stave off the suspicion—

“i can go along, if you want. i know how they operate.” you stopped your tracks, silently looking back to sasuke and making your judgement for the decision. “i’m fairly knowledgeable with electronics.” he explained further.

your heart and mind weighed the offer. on one hand, so far you’ve been fooling around and picking up things with trial and error. on the other hand, it’d be easy for him to make it shit for you. a sigh, you grabbed a crowbar and half-assedly pointed it at him, “okay, i’ll stave off the zombies. i see you doing fuck-all, it’s over.”

even at your threat (one you hated to make, at that), sasuke’s expression remained stoic with a nod, “i understand.”

you watched his movements with hawk’s eyes, while decapitating any approaching undeads. but the swarm grew bigger and bigger—you thought security was better than this, but oh well. it’s not something you can’t deal with.

even so—you hurt your leg. prosthetic one, lost in a reckless accident and replaced with a stiff and quite low-quality metallic one. “fuck—” you scowled, looking behind at sasuke for a moment, “are you done?”

“——yes.” a brief answer, “let’s get out now—” with surprising agility, he grabbed your hand and fled the scene.

you were mildly pissed at those walking corpses for crushing your prosthetic leg, it’d take a while to trade with someone out there to repair it, if you couldn’t do a shitty job of it yourself.

but to your mild surprise, sasuke knew how to do it. just a few scraps of whatever piece there was lying about, some tools, and it’d be fine, he said. the usual wave of distrust fell over you—but it somehow felt easier to agree and leave it up to him. a repayment of sort.

and over time, it seems like the universe made an effort to put excuses for sasuke to stay, whether it’d be ventilation problems, electrical, mechanical  —it was impressive, no doubt. you’d soon take him in permanently under the guise of him being useful (but it’s more of sympathy really, you’re aware of that fact.)

and even on the off-time, you spent most of it talking to him. silence ringing around the rooms with occasional guttural growls of the zombies weren’t the best atmosphere, so to say. but he’d often crack jokes (which earned a nose exhale, or chuckles on a good day).

he’d tell you about his experience working in the equally suffocating safe zone—everyone’s working for themselves and friends don’t exist much, as you understood it. a dog eat dog world, where everyone scrambles to be the most useful and cram their brains to the brim while distrusting everyone.

and you felt a semblance of relatability in his detachment to people—but why does it secretly hurt for you? the thought of him dismissing your bond. . .

it hurts; you don’t know why.

and of course, he has more knowledge about zombies than the ones you just pick up from experience. in fact, it’s been a speculation that the virus withheld the body from decomposing—but not limiting it. in a about a year, he guessed, they’d rot away.

“does. . .does that mean this can end if they drop and infections decrease?” you asked, letting the curtain crack open to hope.

“. . .best case scenario, yes.” even as his face remain mostly stoic, you see the crinkles of hope, melancholy, happiness.

you don’t recall how you got to the decision—not a logical stream of thought at least. it jumped like an instinct for you to just propose it, nothing else— “sasuke, you wanna stay with me until then?”

a look of surprise overcame your hushed question, so filled with long-lost warmth. but similarly, the answer came immediately, “of course.” his hand reached to yours, tender and soft, the most you’ve felt in forever, “i’ll stay. face the past, present, and future with you.”

—mitsunari:

a strategist wasn’t a job common in modern times, but it’s one mitsunari’s taken during the apocalypse. securing paths, ways to efficiently scout out, etc. that’s why to say he was utterly baffled when a major breach reached his group—the oda—flooded the zombies inside.

the last thing clearly in his mind was hideyoshi’s firm order. the blur of rotten flashed around, the words echoed around, “everyone, flee immediately!”

and so he did. perhaps farther than he planned at first with the enormous swarm behind him. no matter where, it wasn’t safe—until he didn’t even know clearly where he was. and he’d remember the city layout, along with some areas outside of it.

he’s lost.

analyzing every path that he could take, his mind was too overtaken to realize a zombie spying overhead. only once the slight sounds of rasped growls did he notice—

and even so, a loud crack got it away from him. it’s dead now, he realized, and right beside the bloodied corpse was you.

“what are you doing, just standin’ here?” you asked, a small sign of irritation by the scowl on your face visible. but it remained flying over mitsunari’s head, even after you sigh, “it doesn’t matter—not now. come on, follow me.”

his surprise quickly dissipated as soon as you made your way into the twists and curves of an alleyway. you’re well-versed of here, he noted.

he took notice of many things on the way, how you’re always well armed with knowledge of the zombies weak spots, how they’re sensitive to noise, how you seemed to know which path would crumble if stepped on.

only when he entered where you stayed, a safe place, was he painfully aware how worn and tired his body felt—and you did too, quickly sitting him down and handing some snacks while also asking things about him. who he was, why he was there, so on.

he explained the breach, the split of his group, how he ended up here and you listened to every detail with your own cogs working along with his. “and where was your base?”

“nearby lake biwa.” mitsunari didn’t know where he was, but the way your face scrunched up didn’t seem too good.

“how did you even get here? lake biwa’s a good three cities—ah, fuck.” the constant tapping of your fingers did few to stave off either worry or just mild irritation, you didn’t know yourself. “and if you really did flee, there’s a chance they went in separate directions, too.”

he listened in you assessment, already making plans on how to search around in his head. but your proposition slightly baffled him—

“i’ll help you find whoever this group is.” with words that sounded kind, the slight discontent in your face went unnoticed by the other.

you yourself didn’t understand—years of wariness and distrust has led you to distance yourself from everyone—but why was it different with him?

“there is no need—”  /  “come on, it’s easier with two people right? you’ll go quicker.”

though words often harsh, mitsunari was a master in dismissing that with cluelessness. each time you declined that you wanted to help him because you wanted to, you kept saying it’s to be faster. but it didn’t matter to him, you were helping, and he cherished that.

days went on, with some city maps sprawled across the floor written on it some routes to search for. and maybe filling the air with conversation from time to time lifted your heart just a bit.

you’ve caught on his horrible self-care habits a long time ago. even as he’s very well-versed in most subjects (amazingly so,) he still read whatever book you had. and you’ve experienced his reading-trance.

you’d often scold him each time—especially in the instance of an expedition where he gets caught up in planning. even forgetting to eat would result in a disappointed gaze from you (rightfully so in your opinion, these were times of desperation from starvation). but he was improving.

you find yourself opening up to him, for the first time in a long one. the thought of sleeping in the presence of another made you revolt originally; but you felt safe with him.

soon, both of you’s efforts weren’t for nothing. traces of his group—”nobunaga” and “hideyoshi”, he told you—was temporarily taking base on the outskirts of the next city.

and suddenly, the concept of him leaving you created a pit of darkness inside. you’ll be alone, the walls will no longer echo your laughs and his soft voice; but instead silence.

from then on, you find each day a small struggle for it to stretch as long as possible. staying up just so you could feel being near mitsunari while awake, clinging onto whatever you could for now. it hurts, more than anything you’ve felt—but it’d be selfish for you to take him from the thing he’s spent this much time searching.

but the world wasn’t known for mercy, it never was since forever. time flowed as normal, and the day came. “. . .pack up a bit. it’s gonna be a long journey, and we’ll need to stay in some shitty abandoned house.” your voice came as a silent croak. mitsunari wasn’t often aware of picking up hints—but he was painfully aware now.

“. . .and why do you look so sad?” his words were spoken with gentle sadness, a tad bit of melancholy. as much as you wanted to avoid it for less damage to your heart, he already took your chin to tilt it to his face. you never wanted to say goodbye to his twinkling lilac eyes, it was the closest to warmth you’ve felt.

slowly. . .you were crying, sobbing. each shake from your shoulders sent painful stabs to mitsunari’s heart. and even as you were hurting—both of you were—you wrapped your arms around his, diving your nose to his chest.

“. . .i-i’m happy. . for you. i really am—.”

you didn’t remember anything else of that night, only the tender voice he spoke to you akin to bells from heaven jingling.

the next day, and the day after, the rest of the oda were found. overwhelmed by the many faces you didn’t know, you simply sat back and watched what would be your eventual farewell. you didn’t listen into what they were talking about; it didn’t matter much. at least you’d see him smile like that one last time.

only when he turned to you were you brought back to reality, staring with those earnest purple eyes. you know the others were observing in silence, you didn’t pay attention to it. only mitsunari. . .the one you. . .l-loved?

. . .yeah. you loved him.

he made his way to you. once you faced each other, he gently lifted your hands in his, and brought it to his chest. you felt the beats, ba-dump ba-dump, fast against his clothes.

“this may not be an easy request to ask of you. . .” he started. the fondness were now pooling in his eyes, and you were sure it was the same for you, “but. . . would you please stay with us. . .? my heart feels heavy of leaving you.”

—ranmaru:

it pained him, more than anything in his life. he wasn’t sure which would feel better, if the oda died and otherwise. from a breach that he caused. ranmaru wants to just disappear—but that wouldn’t be fair for a traitor like him, he didn’t deserve such mercy. he’s supposed to return to kennyo one way or another, but he just couldn’t. his legs kept on running and running—perhaps not from the zombies, but from his own swallowing fears and hatred for himself. it felt absolutely revolting to be in his own skin right now.

and for a moment, ranmaru considered if it was better. to just succumb to the pack of zombies in front of him. he knows how to fight them, maybe improv his way out—but he doesn’t want to. and just as his muscles fell limp in an act of surrender—

BANG—!

and that was the first time he saw of you; on the other side of the conglomeration of rotten flesh, gun pointed up to the air with no trace of fear or regret. and quickly, the attention of the zombies were quickly taken from him, and onto you.

and he felt the fear for you, you shouldn’t’ve done that for him. . .!

even so, there was nothing he could do. the last of he saw you then was you mouthing a clear word to him: “run.”

he did, and so did you. ranmaru’s mind screamed, scraping at the walls of his insides to not, but instinct and adrenaline took control more than anything.

he didn’t know where he was running—but wherever it was, you miraculously found him. and you managed to drag him to your base, no matter how many times he rejected.

as soon as you two arrive, he’s much more reserved than usual. not that you’d know, you just consider it normal to be that much quiet from a near death experience. you gave him food, a set of clothes, and water. but as time went on, you noticed he didn’t so much as touch it.

eventually, you had to push him to do it, even if his body felt sickening to its core. slowly, ranmaru told you little bits of his story, leaving out many parts (like the fact he was the orchestrating traitor). and just like mitsunari, you find an unknown source inside you just. . . allowing yourself to help him.

and because ranmaru wasn’t as much a strategist as mitsunari was, your execution was a lot more of wandering than anything.

and during those outings, you start to notice how weirdly capable he is. he’s switched back to his cheery, bubbly self, yes. but you catch how he’s so skilled with swords, sneaking around in inhumane silence. you waved your first encounter as a product of turmoil, and that he was as fragile that he framed himself, but. . .

the thought of him being a traitor to you, putting up a mask like that, it settled a churning feeling in your stomach. you’ve gotten so used to, enjoying even, his hugs and rambles—nights that were previously spent sleeplessly, just staring out the window and to the shit world splayed across it, were now filled with talks about silly and pointless things.

it reminded you of how it was before all this.

just like young school friends having a sleepover, you found a happiness and light feeling in you that was buried since quite a while.

along with that were times where you got serious. it wasn’t often, ranmaru would try to change the subject. but you were your own stubbornness; running away from something wasn’t a good way to go, you knew this.

and you’d always be aware of how his eyes seemed like a dark pit of untouched emotions. like the mere existence of the conversation was weighing him down a thousand pounds.

to add, you pick up on some inconsistencies to his stories. . .first he said  that the loud speakers in the building overrode the zombies’ sensitivity to sound and caused them to break everything like the windows and doors (even the locked ones, he added), then he said that it was because they were open in the first place. how he says only one person withheld the keys to certain places, then he said how said places were miraculously open later on. . .

you came to just a small conclusion.

“then, there’s a traitor, right?”

your words were toned in a way that was like just a throwaway line—unimportant, irrelevant—but ranmaru still tensed up, like a deer in headlights. fear, anxiety, regret; it all chipped away at him slowly.

and you’ve been friends for a good time now—you caught this. and it wasn’t just surprise either, it’s like he secretly knew.

in the end, an answer was never said. he just called it a night, and you let him.

it’ll be resolved in the morning, you thought, going back to your worn out mattress. and, just like many nights, you simply stared out at the sky with a mostly blank mind.

but then, you heard footsteps.

unstable, but not the way a zombie’s would. it’s not disarrayed, and they couldn’t get up anyway, not with all the security you set up. it can only be a human’s then. . .

you grabbed your crowbar, and silently left your room. a dark figure stood in the hallway, silently making their way to the stairs next floor. before you pursued, you tilted your head to ranmaru’s room.

it’s open, and empty.

your steps became quicker and quicker, hoping nothing bad happens as each staircase brought a chain of doubt and anxiety over you.

the rooftop. the figure—who you assume is ranmaru—stood in silence over the edge. the moon and stars’ light shone on them, and it was your dear friend. the soft purple-pinkish hair dusted over his head so perfectly, played by the breeze.

“ranmaru.” you called out. his body flinched. “what are you doing here. .?”

for a moment, he didn’t respond. you saw how his shoulders shook while his overall self was trying to make him as small as possible, but no words were said.

“answer me,” you took a step, hesitant, “please.”

“. . .i’m sorry.”

his voice was quiet, cracked, as if it could shatter at any moment. what were you supposed to do, seeing your dearest friend on the edge like that. . .?! all you could was reach your hand out—and take his.

“wh—” before he could say anything, you pull him into your arms, wrapping them securely around him. his shuddered breaths, then turned into sobs and cries. slowly and weakly, the hug was returned.

“. . .what am i supposed to do?” he sound so horribly lost, afraid, your own heart was ripping. “everything i do—the food tastes like sand in my mouth, every step feels wrong to take, i—i don’t know what to do!”

ranmaru broke down in front of you, and you let him. words were slurring into thoughtless ramblings and rants. there wasn’t a thing you understood completely, but—

“please, ranmaru, i. . .” your arms tightened around him. he’s alive, he’s safe. “please stay with me. we’ll get through this, just—i beg you, stay.”