Sendai City, Island Nation.
Takagi Akiko lounged on her sofa, munching snacks while Doraemon played on the TV. Her eyes were glazed from exhaustion. Weeks of high-stress work had sapped her motivation to do anything but stay home and vegetate in front of cartoons.
This—snacks, silence, and senseless fun—was her form of therapy. No deadlines. No responsibilities. Just peace.
Suddenly, a low rumble broke the calm.
The screen flickered.
Then, her phone buzzed with an emergency alert.
Earthquake Warning.
Her heart skipped a beat. The blood drained from her face. Before she could even put the phone down, the room began to shake. Items clattered from shelves. Her half-eaten snack bag toppled.
There was no time to think.
She bolted.
No shoes. No jacket. She sprinted barefoot out the door, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. The ground trembled violently beneath her.
Just moments ago, she'd been giggling at animated hijinks. Now, raw fear had taken hold. She felt like the hand of death was tightening around her neck.
All she could think was—get out of the building. Get to open ground.
When she finally reached a nearby park, she collapsed onto the grass, panting. Her face was pale. Her feet were bleeding, cut open by glass and gravel. But she didn't notice.
She was alive.
All around her, more people arrived—faces stricken, hearts pounding. Many had the same expression she wore: wide-eyed disbelief.
A terrible noise rolled through the city—the groan of collapsing concrete, the wail of twisting metal, the dull roar of destruction.
Buildings crumbled. Sirens wailed. The cries of the injured and trapped filled the air.
Less than a minute. That's all it had taken.
And the city had become unrecognizable.
Where once was life and order, now there was chaos—wreckage, tears, and dust. The smell of dust and fear hung heavy in the air.
At the Island Meteorological Agency, grim faces stared at the data on-screen.
"Monitoring confirms an earthquake—magnitude 8.9," a staffer reported quietly. "Epicenter located approximately 150 kilometers off Sendai."
Gasps filled the room.
The seismic intensity and location mirrored that of the devastating quake from years ago. The agency had hoped the Marching Ant Company's warning would prove false—but reality had just proven them right.
"Issue the tsunami warning," said Director Kato, face pale. "Immediately."
His voice was hoarse. The nightmare was repeating itself.
Within minutes, tsunami warnings blared from emergency systems. The Pacific Tsunami Warning Center, the Island Meteorological Agency, and the U.S. Geological Survey all confirmed the threat.
The world watched in stunned silence.
On the ground, panic surged.
Many still bore the scars of the last megaquake—both physical and emotional. No one wanted to live through it again.
In coastal neighborhoods, families packed into cars, rushing for higher ground. But traffic quickly collapsed into chaos.
Kishimoto, a fisherman returning from a highly successful voyage, grinned as he admired the full haul in his cargo holds. He was already picturing the fat paycheck.
Then a crew member sprinted onto the deck, waving a printed alert.
"Captain! Tsunami warning! Major earthquake—epicenter 150 kilometers east of Sendai!"
The grin vanished from Kishimoto's face.
He could already see the harbor ahead—but if he docked now, he'd be sailing straight into death.
"Turn the ship around—now! Full speed out to open sea!" he barked.
Years ago, a tsunami had nearly taken his life. Just hearing the word now filled him with dread.
Other ships that had been preparing to dock followed suit. Dozens turned, engines roaring as they raced back out to deeper waters where the waves would be less lethal.
Even massive freighters churned in reverse. The port, once bustling, had become a frantic, surging mess of fleeing vessels.
Miyagi Prefecture.
Anjing sat in his car, stuck in a traffic jam, despair creeping up his spine.
He'd just barely escaped the initial quake. Now a tsunami warning had been issued. And he was right in the danger zone.
The last time, this area had suffered horribly.
He looked ahead. The mountains weren't far—but the road was frozen with fleeing cars. Honking horns. Shouting voices. Panic.
It was too late.
He regretted not leaving sooner, when the Marching Ant Company released their early warning. Friends had tried to convince him to go on a trip. He'd laughed it off.
Now he was trapped.
Without hesitation, he jumped out of the car and began to run—barefoot if needed. If someone offered him a bicycle right now, he'd trade them everything he owned.
All around him, people fled on foot. No one wanted to be swallowed by the sea. The road had become a chaotic river of terrified humanity.
Then… people screamed.
Out on the ocean horizon, a wall of water loomed.
A wave.
It rose higher with every second, funneled by the harbor's natural shape into an unstoppable monster.
From a hilltop, Akashi stood watching.
His face was calm. Too calm.
He had seen this before.
Years ago, the same wave had come, dragging entire towns into the sea. He had survived—barely. And now, here it was again.
The tsunami.
RUMBLE!
It hit.
The sea burst inland, swallowing roads, homes, and everything in its path. A wall of water pushed fishing boats into buildings, crushed houses, and carried away vehicles like toys.
The coastline was wiped clean.
Cars flipped like leaves in the wind. Ships were lifted and hurled onto rooftops. The ocean surged through the streets, a monstrous hand sweeping away all signs of civilization.
Akashi did not move.
Around him, people screamed and cried. Parents clung to children. Elderly clung to railings.
But he just stared.
Expressionless. Numb.
He had already made peace.
Below, rooftops disappeared. Lives were lost. Families separated. Chaos reigned.
Once again, the ocean had claimed its due.
And the island's coast lay drowned beneath its fury.