As the men readied the season's first harpoon, Captain Akira Ibaraki breathed in a big gulp of icy ocean breeze and smiled at the prospect of yet another bountiful hunt.
He grabbed the radio and talked to his old friend manning the harpoon. No good mornings required.
- Kazuhito, should we shoot at the Greenpeace idiots today?
- They woke me up early again. Yes. I will.
- Good. When we're old, we should go around on motorcycles and run into their cow farms, so they cannot eat their McDonalds.
- We are already old.
"Our rightful duty" was his last thought as his ship violently raised from the ocean surface, sending everything and everyone on it flying sideways out of the boat.
As the men screamed, Captain Ibaraki could have sworn he heard them talk
about whales circling the ship like sharks, "impossible" he thought.
When the boat finally straightened up again, his hands and mouth went on automatic.
- Kaz? Kaz, what happened? Kaz!
- -peace! They're killing them! Swallowed whole! They're jumping on top of—
His friend's voice stopped at the same time hat a gigantic shadow of a jumping whale blocked the sun in front of Captain's Ibaraki's window, its enormous body aiming at landing on his dock.
"They're killing us."
"They're finally killing us."