The man coughed. It was the smell. Of dust and ashes. Then his ears could hear the lapping waves and the feeling that the island is tilted in one side.
It is a weird feeling. It was like he is standing calmly in the face of a sinking ship.
The rushing sweater keeps flooding the already destroyed island but the man did not run or panic.
Wearing a purple robe and a defeated expression, the man is Hirate. Sometimes he swished his sleeve dusting off the dirt on his clothes.
Sitting across him looking at him with a scowling expression or at least that is what Hirate thought since he couldn't see the face behind the hood.
The sound of structures falling off could be heard in the distance like the wailing of the island.
The waves churning and rolled and crash down the shore of this spliced island like they were angry.
The screaming of minds inside his head has not abated. Life forms after life forms are screaming in their mind running away from the oncoming tsunami.
