Chapter 2: The Ocean is a Scam
If there’s one good thing about the apocalypse, it’s that no one cares if you steal anymore.
Kenji and I looted Tokyo like we were on a shopping spree with unlimited coupons. Convenience stores, malls, even random apartments that *screamed* “We totally have supplies inside.” We kicked down doors, stuffed our bags, and moved on before any zombies noticed us. It was basically a montage of us high-fiving over canned beans.
"Jackpot!" Kenji cheered, holding up a bag of wasabi-fvored chips.
"That’s what excites you?" I asked, shoving instant ramen into my backpack.
"You have *no idea* how rare these were before the apocalypse."
"Pretty sure they weren’t."
"Well, they are now. Limited edition."
I stared at him. "You’re an idiot."
"An idiot who has snacks."
He had a point.
---
After several hours of scavenging, we sat in an abandoned café, our loot spread across the table like a pirate’s treasure hoard.
We had enough food to st a while. Mostly canned goods, dried noodles, some bottled water, and a concerning amount of energy drinks Kenji insisted we take.
“What if we need to run really fast?” he argued.
I didn’t bother fighting him on it.
“Alright,” I said, “we need a real pn.”
Kenji nodded. “Agreed. Let’s hear it.”
I took a deep breath. “We steal a boat and sail to Aska.”
Kenji cpped his hands together. “*Genius.*”
In hindsight, this was a terrible idea. But at the time, it made perfect sense. Japan was overrun, roads were clogged with abandoned cars, and flying was out of the question. The ocean? The ocean was empty. Peaceful. Free real estate.
“So we just sail across the Pacific,” Kenji said, nodding. “Simple.”
“Exactly.”
We stared at each other, fully convinced of our own brilliance.
---
Step one: get a boat.
Tokyo’s port was an obvious choice, except when we got there, it was *on fire.*
Like, *completely* on fire. The kind of inferno that made you wonder if someone had accidentally summoned a demon.
Kenji squinted at the bzing wreckage. “Think we can still find a boat?”
I turned to him. “Are you *stupid?*”
He shrugged. “Just checking.”
---
Step two: find *another* port.
We looked at a map and settled on *Tsuruga.* It was a coastal city with a ferry terminal. Best part? No giant fmes of death.
When we got there, it was *weirdly* intact. No signs of battle. No zombies wandering around. The power was even still on. It was like the universe was *encouraging* our bad decision.
The boat we found wasn’t exactly a luxury yacht. It was a small, rusted fishing vessel with peeling paint and a name written in kanji that neither of us could read. It smelled like old seawater and fish guts, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers.
“This thing looks… safe,” Kenji said, poking the side of the boat.
A piece of rust fked off.
I sighed. “It floats, doesn’t it?”
Kenji tilted his head. “We *think* it does.”
We loaded our supplies, checked for anything useful onboard (a few life vests, a fishing net, and a bucket we hoped we wouldn’t need), and prepared to set sail.
“This is perfect,” Kenji said, hands on his hips. “Smooth sailing from here.”
Narrator’s voice: *It was not smooth sailing.*
---
Step three: regret.
The moment we left the port, we were hit with the most *bullshit* storm imaginable.
Winds howled. Waves crashed over the boat. I clung to the mast like a man who had *many* regrets.
Kenji, meanwhile, was screaming at the sky. “WHOEVER’S UP THERE, I’M SORRY! I TAKE IT BACK! I TAKE IT BACK!”
I had no idea what he was taking back, but I joined him in panic-praying anyway.
The boat rocked violently. We had no control. No navigation. Just two idiots getting *absolutely wrecked* by Mother Nature.
At some point, Kenji tried to steer, but the wheel spun uselessly in his hands. “WHY IS THIS BOAT SO BAD?!”
“BECAUSE IT WAS FREE!”
Rain pelted us. Waves nearly threw us overboard. At one point, I was convinced we were about to die, and I found myself thinking about the one thing I regretted most in life.
I never got to punch my high school gym teacher.
The boat tilted hard to the side. My stomach lurched. Everything blurred, and then—
---
When I woke up, I was lying on a beach, sand in my mouth, my body aching from head to toe.
I groaned and rolled over. Kenji was a few feet away, still wearing his stupid penguin head.
I poked him. “You dead?”
He sat up with a wheeze. “I wish.”
I spat out sand. “Where are we?”
Kenji blinked at a nearby road sign. "Ulsan."
I stared at him. “…Korea?”
“Yup.”
We sat in silence for a long moment.
Then Kenji sighed. “So… do we just *not* talk about how dumb that was?”
I groaned. “Please.”
Kenji flopped back onto the sand. “Cool, cool. New pn?”
“New pn.”
Morale:
Ryo: ★☆☆☆☆ (Literally washed up.)
Kenji: ★☆☆☆☆ (Lost his wasabi chips to the sea.)
---
*Next Stop: Surviving Korea. Hopefully with Less Drowning.*
