Chapter Text
He was being as careful as he could be. He had packed enough food, drinking water, and supplies and quadruple-checked the weather forecast to make sure he wouldn’t be hit by heavy rainfall while he was on the island. Gen did extensive research for things that could go wrong on, and prepared thoroughly like he would for any other video of his.
Nothing could compare to what hit him.
A few hours earlier
“... I still don’t know why this was such a requested video, but I work to please~” Gen smiled at the camera he set up himself, without his assistants as that would technically break the rules of his challenge. With the rise of ‘survival challenge’ videos on YouTube, Gen figured he wouldn’t be too safe. Given that most of his videos involved some kind of adventure with his signature mentalist spin (including either a thorough analysis of the activity or messing with the people involved), it was only a matter of time before his audience demanded he filmed one himself.
And, to be fair, this was hardly his most ambitious challenge. Sneaking into runways, working as a detective alongside the Japanese police, and even that one time he dived off a plane with a parachute were much more mentally taxing. The latter Gen milked down to the last drop to get as much ad revenue, sponsors and deals as he could for the idea to even make it into his plans. Apart from Youtube, Gen occasionally worked as a host for award shows and events - a true entertainer at heart. He couldn’t say he enjoyed a lot of the challenges he put himself through to entertain an audience, no. But alas, he was just a slave to capitalism and its neverending greed as anyone else.
“Would you like me to do a haul?” he smiled coyly, pushing his strand of white behind his ear and snickered to himself, “Well, as much of a haul as you are going to get in this scenario. As I already explained, this little adventure will be split into two parts. The first is all the activities you can do if you ever find yourself on an island, provided you are safe and looking for entertainment.” The sun and the soft breeze tickled his face, and the occasional whiff of the the salty ocean smell distracted him from the thoughts of how he really didn’t want to do this. Oh well, he could consider this a vacation of sorts. He already missed civilization and his boat dropped him off a mere hour ago.
“The other is more survival-based,” Gen spoke, his charming smile on, “And I will challenge myself to twenty four hours with no supplies and make it through the day with only a knife, my clothes and this plastic bag to aid me.” Gen held up each prop to show the camera, praying his face was in focus. He was kind of dreading everything. The activity part could maybe be fun, though he did not enjoy sand rubbing in his sneakers every time he took a step. And god, the lack of running water. But he figured he could spend two days earning that sweet check if it meant he could stay relevant and up-to-date with trends. Not to mention the facial, full-body massage and pedicure he had scheduled after this was all over.
“As promised, I am completely alone,” Gen twirled the camera in his hands, to support his claim and that he was, in fact, on an uninhabited island with no crew in sight. “I have my filming supplies and charged power banks. I also brought an emergency supply of flares, communicators and other goodies just in case. Naturally, these are really for emergencies only and I will stash away everything for the survival part. You’ll just have to have some faith in me that I won’t cheat~”
He giggled, already imagining his comments filled with doubts and accusations. Not that he could blame them. A true mentalist could never survive in the wild without some tricks up his sleeves. Literally. He hid some snacks and bottled water in nearby bushes in case he wouldn't manage to secure food and shelter for himself. Which would probably be the case. This was not about confidence or anything, but as much as Gen had read about animal traps, learned theory will not suddenly give him hands of an expert. Regardless - If he won't film it, it doesn’t happen.
“First thing’s first, I’m going to move to the shade. It’s going to be midday soon and I cannot stand the heat!” he grimaced, whining to his future audience. After shuffling all his supplies a few bags at a time, he plopped down on top of his mat under a tree. It was late spring, but Japan’s humid weather was catching up to him quickly. He made sure to dress for the weather - sturdy but breathable jeans down to his sneakers to avoid cuts and insect bites; a light, oversized t-shirt in lavender for the aesthetics and breathability, a cap and some shades. He had a few changes of the exact same clothes in his bags. No showers didn’t mean he was going to stay filthy. If that meant wasting his (abundantly packed) drinking water to freshen himself up… well. It was a one-off thing. He popped open a water bottle and chugged half of it, fanning himself with a paper fan and grabbed his camera once again.
“Our agenda for today is quite packed, but I’m sure you’ll find something you’ll enjoy amidst it all. First are the classic beach activities. The sand is very fine and gorgeous, so we’ll test how good the sandcastles will turn out. Since I have no one to play any sports with, we’ll leave those for another day. For island adventures, I plan to…”
Gen stopped what he was saying to sniff the air.
“What is that?” He grimaced and covered his nose, “I think an animal or something died nearby. Oh god, it’s so bad. I might throw up,” He quickly launched himself from his mat and ran to the shore with his camera in hand.
“Oh no it's getting worse, what the fuck?!” He gagged, eyes watering. He pushed the thought that he would have to censor the curse for later, genuinely confused by the sudden putrid smell. He looked between his camera and the greenery of the trees, peering deeper into the island forestry to try and locate the source, to no avail. “It smells like sewage and rotten eggs and just.. rotting.”
He pulled his shirt over his nose and mouth, devastated that it didn’t seem to help, and was searching his mind for ideas for his next step. “Okay, I am calm. Deep breaths…”
Gen coughed and regretted it instantly. “Terrible idea. WHY IS THE SMELL FOLLOWING ME HERE?!” All thoughts left his brain, focusing only to move further away from the vile smell that seemed to seep into all folds and crevices of his shirt. He went as far as powering through to jump into the sea, shoes and all, but the stench remained. Consistent, strong and absolutely revolting. “No, you don’t understand,” Gen choked, trying ignore the cramps of his churning stomach, “I have never ever EVER had something like this happen to me. How big is this rotting carcass of an animal? I have no clue what else this could be!”
To make matters worse he stumbled in his step, falling on his ass into the water, soaking himself up to his chest. He sighed. “I had a thought, I should probably move on land. If I pass out in the ocean I will drown and die.”
Begrudgingly, Gen stood up on his shaky feet, slowly moving back to the sand. His sneakers sloshed miserably and his dripping jeans weighed him down, slowing his step even further. Hands down, this may have been the absolute worst thing he has ever done for a video. Thinking back, the parachute fall didn’t come close to this. Sure he was terrified out of his mind, only able to keep a straight face thanks to all his experience masking his emotions and lying. Because Gen was a liar. It was worth noting that that time he was strapped to an attractive instructor who kept him safe and calm. The view added to the heightened emotions - green fields and lush forests dowsed in soft orange sunset hues with fluffy clouds adorning the sky - so unlike anything, owing to that fact that he was in real birds-eye view and the adrenaline made him more excited than scared. The hot makeout session with the instructor back on land was a nice bonus. The forest bleeding into the beach on this island was also nice.
NOT NICE ENOUGH to soothe him through this biological stink bomb. It was miraculous he didn’t drop his camera into the water.
Luckily, (or was it really?) the smell was not that much stronger the closer he inched to his little camp. That is to say, it was just as terrible and Gen was incredibly miserable. Plopping back onto his mat, not caring if he got it wet he leaned against a tree. Struggling between catching his breath and trying to hold it, he breathed through his mouth as much as he could.
“Oh man, what an errible-tay start,” A dry laugh escaped him, trying to find some humour in his tragic predicament. “I guess survival starts now,” he brushed his bang away from his face then slid his hand across his forehead, feeling an incoming headache. A breathy gasp escaped him in realisation.
“Guys, I think I dropped my Tom Ford sunglasses into the ocean. If I don’t find them, I’ll need everyone to send this video to their friends, family and colleagues so I can buy myself a new pair.” He joked. Gen was so tired already. The smell was turning his brain into mush but he seemed to slowly get used to it, as depressing as that sounded. He wanted to rest his eyes and sleep. Maybe until the smell dissipated or until his two days were up so he could be picked up already. Sure, that sounded good.
“Alright, here’s the plan. I will sleep and never wake-”
He stilled, words punched out of his throat. His stomach dropped before he could really place his finger on what made him feel uneasy. The bright sky turned grey sometime during his escape from the horrendous stench. Something was off. He squinted, peering into the horizon but weak human eyes, even with 20/20 vision, had their human limitations. Although, perhaps, the sea line seemed to get taller.
Did it?
Gen’s vision was definitely swimming from the prolonged exposure to whatever was in the air. It was totally possible. Gen stared as if entranced by the waves. Dread slowly settled deep in his stomach, made his neck feel tight. His breathing went shallow.
It couldn’t possibly be.
Are you serious?
Gen managed a single, measly laugh. What what this? Why did he ever step foot on this dreaded island? He would fire his manager for this idea if he wasn’t self-employed. Well, at this point there was nothing he could do but continue to gaze at the wave that gradually, swiftly, hauntingly crept up to the shore.
“I shouldn't have jinxed it,” He whispered, eyes glued on the house-sized water wall of impending doom.
He closed his eyes and held his breath when the wall crashed.
—.—.—.—.—
Back to the present.
Gen opened his eyes feeling a sharp pain in his head. And his arm. And his leg. And his chest. Actually, he was feeling pain all over. His vision blurred and he was forced to close his eyes, bile threatening to spill out.
So he did what he knew best, and just breathed.
Long inhale, long exhale. Repeat. Repeat again. No matter how many physiological tricks he knew to calm the body and mind, none seemed like they would work at this moment. Breathing was the best way to keep oxygen pumping to his heart, his brain, his limbs and nerves.
He was alive.
The realisation settled like a blanket, covering him and warming him slowly. He was alive. Everything hurt but he was still here and breathing. So tired. He didn’t know how much time had passed, or where he washed up in the huge wave. He could not bear to open his eyes and look around, much less move somewhere safe. Though he was forced to get up on his elbows with the violent urge to cough, salt water scratching his throat and lungs.
Breathe.
He rolled over on his side, half-open eyes attempting to scan his surroundings. A lot of leaves and foliage in a muddy, sandy slurry with broken branches sticking out, scattered and pasted on everything he saw. Gen himself was probably covered in that slurry. Fleeting thoughts of moving to safety, changing out of his wet clothes and doing anything evaporated as quickly as they appeared. The only remaining pull to rest overtook him, and he slipped into unconsciousness.