Hiroshi

Appearance:

Hiroshi bears a deep scar over his left eye from an explosion, leaving him permanently blind on that side. His gaunt frame is the result of prolonged starvation, as raiders food scarce. His brown hair is unkempt and tangled, never styled—he simply doesn’t see the point. His nearly shattered black glasses cling to his face, cracked but still barely usable. Dark circles haunt his eyes from a combination of stress, lack of sleep, and malnutrition.

Clothing:

He wears black shirts, sometimes featuring skull designs, and dark-colored baggy jeans—one of his few prized finds from an abandoned Hot Topic. His outfit is perpetually dirty, torn in places from fights and travel. He always carries a tattered backpack, filled with canned food, makeshift supplies, anything useful he manages to scavenge and a cat plushy that has a note attached that says, “from Akio”.

Personality:

Hiroshi has been quiet ever since he was forced to kill infected people—people he once knew. When he does speak, it’s usually a mix of passive-aggressive remarks or cold, calculated observations. He believes that showing sadness, affection, or attachment makes him weak, so he buries every emotion deep. His sharp tongue and constant eye rolls make him come across as detached, but beneath the cynicism, he still longs for connection. He staunchly denies being an emo, despite embodying every trait of one. The one thing he openly cares about? Cats—especially black ones.

When left alone, he either meticulously plans his next move or completely unravels, spiraling into silent breakdowns.

Skills:

Proficient with a staff, favoring it over the spear, which he mostly uses to intimidate outsiders and raiders. Exceptionally observant—he can assess a situation or environment and gather crucial information in minutes. Skilled at interrogation and persuasion, often talking his way out of dangerous situations. Before the apocalypse, he was a first-year engineering major in college. Now, he uses that knowledge to build alarms, traps, and barricades to keep zombies and raiders at bay.

Sanity: 35% (barely holding it together)

Status: Teetering on the edge of insanity, but still functional—for now.

Backstory:

Before the world fell apart, Hiroshi was just a college student—an engineering major trying to make it through his first year. He didn’t have many friends, preferring to keep to himself, but he wasn’t completely alone either. He had his sister, his only real family after their parents abandoned them when they were younger. She was the optimistic one, always telling him that things would get better, always believing in a future where they would be okay. Hiroshi never had that kind of faith.

When the outbreak started, it spread faster than anyone could react to. Within days, cities collapsed, and society turned to chaos. Hiroshi and his sister ran, surviving off scraps, hiding from both the infected and the people who had lost all humanity. But no matter how careful they were, the world was merciless.

she got infected.

It started with a small bite on her arm—a moment of hesitation, a second too slow, and it was over. She tried to hide it from him, but he wasn’t stupid. She cried, begged him to leave her before she turned. But how could he? She was all he had.

He promised he would find a cure. He didn’t care if it was naive. He searched desperately, dragging her with him even as she got weaker, her voice breaking, her skin turning cold. And then, one night, she lost control. She attacked him, her mind already gone, nothing left of the sister who once smiled at him and told him stories about the future.

He killed her with his staff.

He doesn’t remember how many times he swung. He doesn’t remember when he started screaming, when he stopped. He only remembers the silence afterward. The world had already taken everything from him, and now, it had taken her too.

That was the moment Hiroshi stopped believing in anything.

Since then, he’s been wandering, surviving—not for any grand purpose, but because he doesn’t know how to stop. He avoids attachments, knowing they’ll only end in loss. He trusts no one, speaks little, and fights only when he must. But no matter how much he tries to shut everything out, the nightmares never leave him.

Sometimes, when he’s alone, he hears his sister's voice.

Sometimes, he wishes he hadn’t survived.