You ever wake up, brush your teeth, eat your cereal—and then BOOM!Aliens drop out the sky, zombies start moonwalking across Shibuya Crossing, and your favorite vending machine starts shooting lasers.
Yeah. Welcome to my life.
Name's Natsu Heart. And before you ask—yes, that's my real name. No, I'm not a K-pop idol. No, I don't have a SoundCloud. And no, I didn't name myself after an anime character. I came out the womb with this name and a questionable destiny.
Now before all this nonsense, I was just a broke college dropout dodging student loans, working part-time at an arcade where I spent more time gaming than cleaning. Life was simple. Dumb, but simple. Until they showed up.
Aliens.
And not the cool kind with shiny suits and lasers that go "pew pew." Nah. These dudes looked like they were built from wet spaghetti noodles stuffed inside fish tanks. I kid you not, one of them had EYES on its elbows and smelled like expired shrimp ramen. And they had the audacity—the nerve—to call themselves the Zarnok Empire.
Zarnok Empire?Sir, you sound like a diet energy drink.
So picture this: I'm chilling on the train to Shibuya, earbuds in, listening to some classic throwback music—probably Usher or One Piece openings—when suddenly the train just stops. Power cuts. Everyone's phones go dark. Then the intercom goes, "Please remain calm."
Famous last words.
The train doors open and BAM—sky's lit up purple, lightning's shooting sideways, and a UFO the size of a Costco lands in the middle of the scramble crossing like it just bought real estate.
Now here's where it gets extra dumb. A giant projection of this crusty squid-faced alien pops up over the city and says—and I quote—
"People of Earth, tremble before the glory of Zark'Thul, Collector of Emotional Resonance!"
Bruh. Zark'Thul?You sound like the kind of dude who yells at baristas for spelling your name wrong.
And guess what they came for?Our emotions. Not oil. Not gold. Not water. EMOTIONS.
You want emotions? Go to a K-drama convention or a BTS concert! Don't beam down and wreck Tokyo like you paid for early access to the apocalypse.
But wait, it gets worse.
Right as everyone's freaking out, screaming and scrambling, another threat shows up—ZOMBIES.Yep. Straight outta nowhere. Like some kind of unholy DLC pack nobody asked for.
But these ain't the slow, dumb zombies you see in movies. Oh no. These zombies are built like they ran track. I saw one chase a man through a convenience store, slide across the floor like it was Fast & Furious: Undead Drift, and tackle him into the Cup Noodle aisle.
And I'm just standing there like:"Wow. Y'all really picked TODAY to go full Armageddon, huh?"
I start running—because I'm not a main character in a horror movie. I see danger, I dip. I don't ask questions, I don't look back, I don't trip over nothing. That's how you die. I learned that from watching every zombie movie ever made.
But even while I'm sprinting for my life, dodging screaming people, zombie bites, and alien tentacles, I can't help but notice something: this whole invasion is raggedy as hell.
Like—why are the aliens using Walmart tech? Their guns spark like bootleg fireworks. One alien's helmet was literally duct-taped. DUCT. TAPE.
Who funds y'all? Wish.com?
And don't get me started on the zombies. They move in packs, yes, but they still try to bite vending machines, light poles, and each other. Half of them look like they came straight from an anime convention and never left. I saw one dressed like Sailor Moon. I wish I was kidding.
But even through all the madness, somehow... I live.
Why?Because I got plot armor, baby!Or maybe because I'm just lucky and slightly too annoying to die.
Now let me tell you how this war truly starts. It ain't with a grand speech or a noble army. Nah. It begins with me, in a Walmart of all places, holding a broken mop, hiding behind a stack of toilet paper, and praying I don't get eaten by a zombie wearing a Pikachu hat.
You'd think the world would end somewhere dramatic—like a military base, or the top of Mount Fuji. But no.
It ends in Walmart.Aisle 7. Next to the discount rotisserie chickens.
That's where I met Haku.Beautiful. Crazy. Certified Grade A psycho.
She saved my life from a zombie with a flying roundhouse kick—and then told me I was her "fated soulmate" with the same breath. Next thing I know, she's following me everywhere, calling me "darling," and polishing a knife like it's her pet cat.
You ever have someone protect you from death and threaten to kill you in the same sentence? Yeah. That's Haku.
Then there's Marcus.Stylish, sassy, and deadlier with lip gloss than most people are with guns. I watched him stab an alien in the eye with a mascara wand and yell, "NOT ON MY WATCH, GOOGLY-EYES!" Absolute icon.
So now, it's the three of us. Me, the yandere ninja girl with a crush, and the glam warrior who moonwalks into battle. We're humanity's last hope.We're so screwed.
But I'll be real with you—there's never a dull moment.Aliens. Zombies. Love triangles. Explosions.And somewhere out there, the Zarnok Emperor is probably still trying to understand how a discount rice cooker exploded his fleet.
This is my life now.A war fought with frying pans, Bluetooth speakers, glitter bombs, and bad decisions.
So buckle up, reader.You've officially entered The War of Walmart.
And yes—I'm still mad they canceled anime night.