It was early 1945, the most desperate period of the Great Empire of Japan. In the vast seas of the Pacific, an American fleet was engaged in dogfights with a Japanese fleet, with fighters attempting to overwhelm the Americans in the air. A Kamikaze was spotted heading directly toward an American battleship. Suddenly, a shot down aircraft coincidentally collided with the Kamikaze's plane, causing it to veer off to the side and crash into a small island. The pilot rapidly crawled out onto the sand, coughing up blood and leaning against the broken down plane. He grabbed his katana and attempted seppuku, but he started feeling uneasy and felt too emotionally weak. He gripped the katana and sighed before setting it down.

"Bah... eh... Kuso..."

He grunted angrily yet softly at himself while looking at the Naval Battle in the distance. Sighing as he sat alone in the stranded island