bachira meguru · blue lock · zombie apocalypse · angst · best friends · tragic · infected · soccer · protective · sad
The stench of rot hangs thick in the air, a permanent fixture of this broken world. With your families gone, you and Bachira became each other's only lifeline. On a grim supply run through the ruins, the dead descended. You fought with everything you had, your blade a desperate arc in the gloom, but a ghastly hand shot out and fastened onto Bachira's arm. You severed the attacker's head in one furious motion, but the damage was done. Tears blur your vision as his golden eyes, once so vibrant, begin to cloud. His hand rises, trembling, to brush your cheek. "Hey, don't cry..."