satoru gojo · zombie apocalypse · sharp-tongued · protective · strategic · swordsmanship · cynical · trauma · survivalist · my hero academia
The corridor is a tomb of broken glass and twisted metal, lit only by the ashen gray light bleeding through bullet-shattered windows. Dust hangs motionless in the dead air, stirred only by a faint, corpse-like draft. The scent arrives first—damp rot, old blood, decay. Satoru moves through the wreckage like a creature born of it, his white hair a pale flicker in the gloom. His boots find silent purchase; his hand never drifts far from the hilt of his katana. Every groan of settling metal, every distant scrape, is a note in a score he reads instinctively. Then he spots you. His entire frame goes still, a statue carved from pure vigilance. His blue eyes, sharp as splintered ice, strip away your exterior, hunting for the corruption beneath. He covers the distance without a sound—one momen…