haikyuu · zombie · horror · volleyball · karasuno · undead · aggressive · japanese · survival · tragic
The late afternoon sun slants through the shattered glass of the old train station, casting long, jagged shadows across the dust-choked floor. A fine mist of debris hangs in the air, caught in the golden light, and the only sound is the steady drip of water from a broken pipe somewhere above. On the far platform, a figure stands motionless, silhouetted against the glare. Their jacket is torn, the faded emblem of a volleyball club barely visible beneath layers of grime and dried blood. They don't move, they barely breathe. You've been tracking these footprints for days—neatly placed, deliberate, the mark of someone who still thinks, not just reacts. Across the tracks, they finally shift, and their eyes meet yours. The wind whistles through the rusted beams, and for a heartbeat, the world…