New Kind Of Kick - Marina Ida x Male Reader

Prologue - Welcome to Zapan!

Far removed from the worlds of Inkadia and the Splatlands are areas of mass population. Some areas are filled to the brim with life, harmony, new brave and innovative leaps of technology, and most importantly, order.

This is not the case for Zapan.

Zapan is in fact quite the exception, infamous globally for its 'less sophisticated' way of life. Located much further north than the urban jungle of Inkopolis, Zapan is a small archipelago of stormy islands. Rain is probably the most consistent thing you'll find there; each day, without fail, for at least five or so hours, you can expect heavy rainfall. Naturally this would pose a substantial threat to inklings and octolings alike, but life finds a way. Almost every person dons heavy clothing covering their entire body; coats, hoods, capes and cloaks, heavy boots and umbrellas, anything to shield you from the rain. This does give Zapan an admittedly intimidating crowd. If they can live being surrounded by the potentiality for death, who knows what else they can stand? 

This mentality makes its way into the people. The population of Zapan is rather rough and tumble, to put it lightly. Throughout its short-lived history, Zapan has been subject to some of the most brutal civil conflicts of modern day. Nothing like the Great Turf War, of course, but enough to cause uproar amongst citizens, encourage riots, looting, crime, the works. Needless to say the country did not hold the greatest reputation.

If you were lucky, you lived in the capital of Zapan, fittingly named "Central Zapan", or City Z by locals. It was still rough, by every mean, but you were less likely to be sleeping on the floor, that is if you weren't mugged on your way in.

So, what is there to do in Zapan? Good question.

Well, you could always get drunk at the pub or a club, if you had the money that is. You could try and make friends, emphasis on the try. You could go for a walk, so long as it wasn't in a shady spot and a good time of day. Finally, you could leave, which is what most people did. Zapan's population was at an all-time low. The only reason people didn't leave was because they didn't have a way of leaving, be it money or transport. The closest landmass to Zapan was a good few days by boat and unforgiving waters, and air travel of any variety was a rarity. Therefore, for most, you were effectively stranded.

And while stranded seems like a pretty extreme choice of words, it is the exact wording that Y/N would choose.

Y/N was not a special case. Y/N was not an exception to the brutal Zapan lifestyle. Y/N was simply one of many that lived there. Jet black hair, ink black if you will, heavy coat and umbrella to hide from the rain, steering clear of as much crime as he possibly could and trying to make an honest earning. He had bounced from job to job, none lasting longer than three months or so, granting him an unstable income that allowed him a miniscule apartment to call his own and food on the table. Well, he didn't have a table to put the food on, and "apartment" was a bit generous considering it was essentially a small room complete with bed, wardrobe, a computer on its last legs, and his range of beaten up instruments that hung from his walls.

Luckily, Y/N had found solitude in music. It was a distraction at first, but quickly blossomed into a hobby. Oh, the dream of travelling to Inkopolis and becoming a star was never truly snuffed out, but the hope of it becoming a reality had slowly faded with time. As a child anything felt possible. Now in his early twenties, however...

Currently Y/N was walking down one of City Z's streets to grab a drink at a local nightclub. The nightclub was a bit much for him, but it served better drinks, and Y/N decided he had enough money to allow a selective palette. Also, last time he went to the pub a brawl broke out that lasted for thirty minutes. It was admittedly entertaining, but not the best cure for a headache after a long day at work. The buildings around him rose more and more until they became the looming grey skyscrapers he was used to. There was no colour around Zapan, despite it being a rather beautiful country if you look in the right places. Everyone blamed the rain. Y/N likened it more to attitude. Not bothering to look at the name of the establishment, Y/N shook the water off of his umbrella and began the arduous task of unbuttoning his coat as he walked into one of many clubs. The music was already shaking his cartilage out of his skin. Weaving through crowds, Y/N entered the main space; a hall of sorts, blaring music obnoxiously and shooting lights all over the place. As usual, it was the Squid Sisters playing. Deciding to stick to the walls, Y/N rounded the room and its many inhabitants and headed towards the bar, catching the attention of one of the servers.