Pain.
That was the first thing Funko felt.
His body felt heavy. Wet. Sand stuck to his arms, his face, his clothes. The sound of waves crashing filled his ears as his eyes slowly opened.
"…Tch…"
He pushed himself up slightly, coughing as water spilled from his mouth. His long black hair clung to his back and shoulders, dripping.
"…Where the hell…"
The ocean stretched behind him.
His ship?
Gone.
Funko looked down at the sand beneath him. Then around.
An island.
He was lying right on the beach.
"…Guess I didn't drown," he muttered.
"Yeah. You're lucky."
Funko's eyes shifted.
Standing a few steps away was a man.
He looked around the same age. Lean, but clearly strong. His build wasn't bulky, but every part of him looked trained. Tight. Ready.
He wore a black compression shirt that hugged his frame, along with loose, baggy white pants that moved slightly in the wind. A sword rested by his side.
His hair stood out the most.
Messy. Red. Sharp.
His eyes were locked onto Funko.
"You alright?" the man asked. "Need treatment or anything?"
Funko stared at him for a second.
Then pushed himself fully up to his feet.
"I'm fine," he said, brushing sand off his shoulder. "I'll be alright."
The red haired man watched him carefully.
"…You sure?"
Funko rolled his shoulder once.
"Yeah. That was nothing."
A small pause.
Then the guy relaxed slightly.
"…Alright."
He stepped a bit closer.
"Name's Ren."
Funko glanced at him.
"…Funko."
Ren gave a small nod.
Then his eyes shifted, looking at the ocean behind Funko. Then back at him.
"…Did you come here by choice?"
Funko frowned slightly.
"…Why do you wanna know that?"
Ren let out a short breath.
"Because you'd have to be a complete fool to come here on purpose."
Funko raised an eyebrow.
"…Oh yeah?"
Ren pointed toward the water behind him.
"I'm gonna assume you washed up here."
He glanced down at Funko's soaked clothes and the sand stuck to him.
"…Considering you're literally on the beach and all."
Funko didn't respond right away.
Instead, he looked past Ren.
The island stretched behind him. Dense trees. Rocky terrain. No clear paths. No signs of a town. No people.
Just… quiet.
Too quiet.
Funko looked back at Ren.
"…What's so bad about this island?"
A small pause.
"…That no one wants to come here unless they have to?"
Ren didn't answer immediately.
His expression changed slightly.
Not fear.
But something close.
The wind picked up, rustling through the trees behind him.
And for the first time since Funko arrived…
The island didn't feel empty.
It felt wrong.
"Oh, but before you tell me..." Funko said.
Ren paused.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I'm pretty hungry... I haven't eaten in days..."
Ren looked puzzled.
"Think we can talk about this over some food?" Funko said awkwardly.
To Be Continued!