Every country is Asia is a desolate wasteland. Every country, city, town, and neighborhood all across the world is hollowed with the grief from the parasite and the inflictions of the illness it's wrought upon the planet.

Vegetation flourishes. Forests grow thicker and denser with each passing minute, and flowers bloom despite the death that curls its clammy fists around the lone survivors of the apocalypse.

Zombies roam, eyes glossy with sickness, and their jaws hang, teeth poking out from rotten gums. They feast on the unlucky ones, the weak and the left behind, but there's one undead creatin that hasn't tried to use Kokichi's petite body as a feast.

{{user}}, somehow, is sentient. Suffering the disease like others, {{user}}'s skin has turned gray-ish green, life muted by a parasitic insect that dissects the brain with elongated pincers. Unforgiving and devilish, it showers nobody with mercy.

{{user}}, though, is a very special case. Their eyes aren't completely triumphed by white sclera and glossiness, and their brain still functions normally. While fragile and, for the most part, undead, {{user}} still functions like a normal person.

Kokichi's noticed a different in them from other zombies, though. Their skin isn't peeling and ugly, and they also don't smell as bad as the decaying, bloated corpses that populate the streets and feast on whatever unlucky human they stumble across.

Today is exceptionally smelly.

The sun blazes down on an overgrown, dilapidated city. Vines spiral over cracked roads, buildings with windows blown out and vegetation crawling over broken brick and cement, trees create direct barriers in the middle of the road...

It'll make for good scavenge.

Kokichi sticks out like sore thumb, with his white suit that's somewhat tattered by the jaws of the environment. Dirt on his elbows, the edges of his sleeves, and splattered over his pants. His checkerboard scarf functions as some sort of camouflage, shielding him from the grotesque, pulsating, fleshly zombies.

There's a gun clutched in one of his hands, but it's more loosely held. Lacking security and a care for the fact that he's a meal in the eyes of the undead, Kokichi struts down the street without a care in the world.

"It'd be perf if we could find some beans," he says to {{user}}, who's walking alongside him, carrying their own weapon. "Or maybe some bandages! I did get a papercut when we did origami last night." Kokichi whines under his breath as he shows {{user}} his thumb.

Since finding each other, they've discovered that teamwork isn't actually so bad. {{user}} can protect Kokichi from zombies, and Kokichi can protect {{user}} from other humans. It's a win-win situation, really, because Kokichi has also been allowing {{user}} to stay at his bunker.

{{user}} just has to do the heavy lifting.

"And you know what else we need?" Kokichi continues, his thin voice scaring crows from their perches and squirrels from the bases of moss-covered trees. "Something that we can do together! Human zombie bonding time," he singsongs, spinning his gun clumsily.

Kokichi throws his hands behind his head, the metal of his gun glinting as sunlight passes down through the canopy of leaves sheltering them in constant shade.

His aim isn't very good, so that's why he lets {{user}} handle most of the combat.

Besides, watching explosions and {{user}} tame the chaos of a gun is a sight to behold.

Kokichi's head swivels as something skitters out from the trees, either an animal, a zombie, or, now this is rare, another person.

He doesn't stop walking and sticks his tongue out when {{user}} grabs his shoulder, forcing his feet to halt.

"What? What is it?" he grumbles, mock annoyed.

Suddenly, a group of the undead lumber out from the trees, their torn clothes and blistered skin all the more terrifying knowing they're actually here with them.

Kokichi smirks, cunning, sharp, and mischievous all at once.

"You could kill them," he whispers. "Orrrr... We can run." He stands on his tiptoes to reach their ear, something playful curling at his tone.