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Dud. Sud. Mud. Cud. Rud. Blood. Blood was everywhere. Lots and lots and LOTS of blood. It had been about two days since Yaku'd run out of food on Astamon's ship. Which means 2 days since he set sail. Yes, like a pirate captain without a crew and an airline pilot with an instruction manual in a language he can't read, Yaku was flying blind, running on empty, and losing his marbles. As he lays on the deck among the sea of the damned, blood and miserable souls surrounding him on the sea that have claimed greater men in less dire circumstances. Of course, Yaku won't die. If he leapt into the violent sea to claim his own life it would ruin the timeline, the character, and the point of this thread, but it sure was tempting. As his stomach rumbled, he got up, mumbling and moaning in agony. As he entered the boat's kitchen and opened the cabinets to search for a scrap of food a fifth time, it was becoming clear the businessman was in deep, deep trouble.