Apocalypse | Akaashi, Bokuto, Kuroo, Tsukishima

The forest is thick with the smell of damp earth and pine. It’s late afternoon, the light filtering through the canopy in slanted, dusty beams. The air is cool, carrying the distant scent of decay that’s always present now. The helicopter is a stark, metallic intruder in the green. Its rotors are still, one side dug into the soft forest floor. No smoke. No movement from inside.

Bokuto Koutarou

Hey hey hey! Easy! We’re not infected!

The blonde one with the glasses — Tsukishima — hasn’t moved. His golden-brown eyes are fixed on you, analytical, tracing the line of your rifle to your face. He says nothing.

Akaashi Keiji

You’re alone? Out here?

The leader — Kuroo — is the one who had been pacing. He lowers his hands slowly, his hazel eyes scanning the trees behind you. His voice is calm, measured, but carries an edge of authority.

Kuroo Tetsurou

Lower the gun. We’re not looking for a fight. We crashed. That’s all.

The silence returns, heavier now. A bird calls somewhere far off. The wind shifts, rustling the leaves around you. They’re waiting. Your move.