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“Fucking hell,” Tomura mutters, frantically reloading. The mob of zombies around him doesn’t seem to have an end, the motherfuckers just keep coming. He’s about to run out of ammunition and the goddamn kid in the shopping cart behind him won’t stop screaming.. “Shit, shit, shit, where the hell is Dabi?”
This is an awful way to die. He wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, with fire and explosions and maybe a couple of motorcycles. Not like this. Not in the parking lot of a Walmart trying to protect some toddler that tried to kick him in the shins a couple of hours before from a horde of undead meatheads.
His gun clicks.
Empty.
“Goddamnit,” he curses. It’s official. He’s fucking dead.
A gunshot echoes through the parking lot. Tomura almost shits himself, instinctually jumping in front of the stupid fucking toddler. He’s gone soft. He’s gonna die a fucking softie. There’s another shot, and Tomura whirls around, trying to find the source. But the Walmart is between two hills, and sound bounces off them. He can’t pinpoint anything. There’s too many damn zombies.
“Get in the cart!” someone - the gunman, that makes sense - yells. Another round of shots go off.
“What?” is the only thing Tomura can think to say before a short, black clad figure appears in front of him. Seemingly out of thin air. Their face is covered in dirt and grime, but Tomura notices sharp, green eyes and freckles.
“Get in the fucking cart!” they yell, turning their back to Tomura to fire off a few more shoots. They’re good, accurate. Each bullet lands between the eyes of an undead bag of flesh. “I’m gonna push you out of here.”
Fucking ridiculous. He’s gonna be a joke in the afterlife. The other ghosts are so going to give him shit.
He climbs into the cart, cursing his long, awkward limbs. The toddler sits between his legs, tightly clutching the stuffed dinosaur that Tomura had pulled off a shelf for him. A few seconds later, the gunman starts to run. The ride is bumpy, the toddler giggling happily, having no idea of the danger he’s in. What the fuck is wrong with this kid. Tomura slaps at the air behind him. “Give me a gun!” he yells as the madman behind him runs over a zombie with a shopping cart. “Or some fucking bullets!”
“Are you batshit?” they respond, swerving to avoid a group of the dead. “You’ll make the kid go deaf. Cover his ears.”
They’re right. Tomura watches them pull a pistol from their pocket, and he scrambles to slap his hands over the kid’s ears. The kid remains blissfully ignorant, smiling up at Tomura while the stranger pushing them shoots another vicious zombie in the head.
After what seems like forever, the trio makes it to the treeline. The short little gunman managed to outrun the zombies. Impressive. Tomura climbs out of the cart, deciding to hold the toddler awkwardly.
The stranger punches him. “Are you fucking insane?” they ask, throwing up their hands.
Tomura stumbles back, almost tripping over a root. “Huh?” is the eloquent phrase his brain provides.
Smooth, Tomura. Smooth.
“Taking a baby out in the middle of a horde? Are you stupid?”
“Hey!” Tomura points his finger at them. “To be fair, I didn’t know there was gonna be a horde outside! And I met this little dude like an hour ago!”
The stranger stares at him, dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah! My friend and I were just trying to get some clothes because he accidentally set himself on fire and boom! Little dude.”
“How did- You know what, nevermind. So you don’t even know his name?”
Tomura shrugs. “We didn’t really get that far.”
The stranger rolls their eyes and crouches in front of the toddler. “Hi, there,” they say, their voice turning sweet. “I’m Izuku, what’s your name?”