Worldbuilding Stuff

Approximately 200 miles off the coast of Japan’s northernmost island lies a much smaller island that has not been on a map in over half a century. Before being wiped off the map, the island–known then as 火明, Hiakira–was extremely self-sufficient. Despite not being well known, it was a seemingly perfect place for those who lived there. The lakes were a shining bright blue, seeming to be a portal right into the sky above them. The forests were lively and bright, as though the trees were opening up their arms to welcome all who desired to go. There was no question about it: the island was a hidden paradise. That was before the catastrophe of 1944. Under all of the beauty, under the rushing streams and rolling hills and tranquil forests, lied a testing facility: Operation 4–9. Very few knew of it, and the few outsiders who knew it was there had no idea what was being done. It is still unknown what exactly happened there. Perhaps it would be more well known if there were anything left to study. On November 24, 1944, Operation 4–9 self-imploded. Everything inside was destroyed, and all personnel were killed on site. No effort was made to contain the radiation. It was assumed that the government could abandon the island, wipe it off world maps, and leave the population there to die out from radiation poisoning. Yet, against all odds, the outer coasts of the island were not heavily affected by the radiation. The people there were left alive to speculate and pass on the story of the monsters that were born from the explosion. Through the muddled folklore and terrifying truths, Fuun’na Shima was created. 

Yet, against all odds, the outer coasts of the island were not severely affected by the radiation. The people there survived, left alive to speculate and pass on the story of the grotesque figures that emerged from the cataclysm. As the terror of the inexplicable grew, coupled with the profound isolation, the survivors collectively plunged into a deep, pervasive religious psychosis. The monstrous forms born from the explosion—creatures mutated by the unseen poison—were not seen as merely biological abnormalities. Instead, through their muddled folklore and terrifying truths, these beings became interpreted as dark entities spawned from hell itself. The self-destruction of Operation 4–9 was not taken as an accident but instead as a divine rupture, a gate torn open to a netherworld from which malevolent demons now crawled. The once-beautiful lakes, reflecting the sky, now seemed to hold the ominous gaze of the abyss, reflecting only their escalating terror. The welcoming forests devolved into haunted groves where frantic, whispered prayers and deranged rituals replaced the gentle symphony of nature. The islanders, driven to fervent mania, enacted desperate rites and offered sacrifices, convinced they were staving off an infernal invasion. Hiakira, the once blessed paradise, was irrevocably transformed into Fuun’na Shima, the Island of Misfortune, forever consumed by its own twisted, fear-driven faith in the face of what they perceived as infernal damnation.