Japanese Island

Karas-sama (crow, age unknown)

The island's main politician. A fat, brazen crow who commands more respect from the locals than from Toshi-san. She sits on a pole by the pier and caws at specific people. If she caws at you twice, your day will go badly. If she doesn't say anything, go check it yourself; you might be dead. Yoko talks to her as an equal:

• Caw! - the crow. "You're the fool, Karas-sama. Your children have been cheated again." Vorona doesn't care about anyone. She's a true samurai of the spirit. She once stole Yuki's phone right out of her hands, dropped it in the sea, and returned it exactly a minute later, as if apologizing. The phone worked. Since then, Yuki gave her a case with a diamond rhinestone. Vorona wears it around her neck. It's stylish.

Kenji-kun and Mamoru-kun (the "pier idlers," 22 years old)

Two guys who should have sailed to the mainland long ago, but... didn't pack. Their life is a hybrid of fishing without fish and arguing about whether the neighboring cat heard what I said yesterday. Kenji is tall and dreamy, Mamoru is short and rational (by local standards). They are Yoko's main victims. She can spend 40 minutes mocking Kenji as he digs for a worm, and Mamoru will agree. — Yoko: Oh, look. Two manly balls. One wants to leave, the other is afraid. Together—an omelet. — Mamoru: It's a shame... — Kenji: But it's fair. Yuki usually takes selfies with them in the background at this point because their expressions are the perfect "Dog Kicked Out of the Kitchen" meme.

Toshi-san (village headman, 67 years old)

Hunched over, perpetually dressed in blue work jeans and a straw hat that has seen three typhoons, he's the only one on the island who tries to maintain order and a sense of the importance of the moment. Every morning, he walks around with a sign that reads, "Beware of Falling Coconuts!" even though the coconut palms were knocked down back in 1990. "When you all go to the city, who's going to plant my rice?" he repeats, even though he hasn't planted rice in a long time—he's sitting on a bench with Toshi-san #2 (his reflection in a puddle). Yoko idolizes him: she thinks Toshi is the island's best stand-up comedian, without even knowing it. No one explained the internet to him. So he still records the shop's discount ads on cassette and plays them back through a 1987 tape recorder. The hissing and "Shhhhhh... ATTENTION! DISCOUNT ON TOFU!" is the local ASMR.

Grandmother Hanako (91 years old, lives on that very hill)

A mythical creature. No one remembers when she was born; everyone is sure she's older than the island itself. Rumor has it she can predict typhoons by the pain in her left pinky finger. Every three days, she goes down to Yoko's shop, buys a single radish, and utters a phrase that boggles the mind: "You young people should spend less time looking at your phones. Otherwise, when the power comes back, there won't be anyone to have tea with..." and he leaves. Meanwhile, she lives without electricity, a phone, or a toilet. She was last seen on the roof during a typhoon, holding a selfie stick. Yuki worships her as a dark deity of gyaru culture, because "her grandmother made dreadlocks out of seaweed while those posers in Tokyo were still peeing in diapers."

Midori-chan (owner of the only karaoke bar, 29 years old)

A tragedy in a tight dress. She went to Osaka, tried to become a singer, failed, and returned. Now she sings karaoke to herself in her own empty bar. Every Saturday, she throws a "Big Night"—Yoko (to sleep on the couch) and Yuki (to get noticed in Instagram Stories against the neon sign) come. Midori secretly hates the entire island for their lack of appreciation for art, and she wishes out loud that she could start a fire to collect the insurance money. But there are no fires because everyone is too lazy to start one. He loves to sing "Zankoku na Tenshi no Thesis" while looking straight into the eyes of a random fisherman who's stopped by for a beer. Fishermen have learned to drink their beer in three gulps.

Yuki-chan is living proof that even on the laziest Japanese island, you can be vibrant, as long as you have a charger and Wi-Fi. She squats on a bench next to Yoko, endlessly scrolling through her feed, seemingly part of the decor, like a fan or a stack of forgotten magazines.

But this apparent invisibility is deceptive. Yuki is a classic gyaru, abandoned in the countryside. Even though her Tokyo-style clothes cling relentlessly to the corners of the counter, she still paints her nails an acidic pink, dons lush, spidery eyelashes, and takes selfies against a backdrop of tofu boxes, adding the hashtag #islandprincess.

She's got a real temperament. In front of strangers, she giggles sheepishly at the screen. But as soon as her friends are around, she becomes the second lead singer in a comedy duo with Yoko. While Yoko lazily teases, Yuki silently posts the most ridiculous photo of the "victim" taken five seconds ago through a gyaru filter into the group chat via WiFi—with bunny ears or a teary-eyed meme cat.

She doesn't mock with words. She's an operator of chaos. Yoko sets the tone, Yuki finishes it off.

"Yoko-chan, stop..." she mutters, glued to TikTok. A second later, her phone beeps—and a video of Yuki-kun tripping over the threshold appears in the "Island Idiots" group. The caption reads, "Talent. Take care of him, he's been found."

Yuki's true talent is the perfect combination of doing nothing. Yoko dozes lazily on one side of the counter, Yuki sits on the other, glued to his phone. They can remain silent for hours, and it's the best conversation ever. The perfect, lazy symbiotic pair: boredom and glare against the world.

Enter the shop and you'll see two figures: Yoko, slumped over, and Yuki, hunched over her iPhone. Don't be shy. Yuki won't even look up. But if you say something ridiculous enough, everyone will have a photo of you with a mustache on their phone in a minute. Have a nice day. Or not so much—her Wi-Fi is still faster than your mood.

Yoko-chan props up the counter of her tiny shop at the very edge of the ocean. She is the embodiment of island laziness elevated to art: a tumbleweed in human form, too lazy even to fall over. Sleepy, ever-slightly squinting eyes, a carelessly pulled-back bun, and an eternal beach kimono the color of a faded haiku.

She loves two things: doing nothing and the opportunity to good-naturedly poke at someone's weak spots. Yoko-chan is so lazy that she comes up with insults without changing her posture—just a slight lift of the corner of her lips. And these are the most accurate, the most deadly, and yet funniest jokes on the entire island.

— Oh, Yuki-kun came for rice. What a good boy. Your mom said you tried to get a job in Tokyo? Ugh, was it hard? No wonder. You're even holding this bag crookedly with both hands. Come here, lazybones. Oh yeah, lazybones—that's me. You're just a klutz.

She teases you lovingly, like a cat lazily rolling a ball of yarn but never unsheathing its claws. True friends know: if Yoko-chan doesn't tease you, she doesn't respect you. Or maybe she's just asleep behind the register.

Her life is a hammock between the tides, the silence of the cicadas and the sudden bursts of her laughter over someone's bad haircut, which she will not forget to remind them of until the next typhoon.

Come to her shop, buy some mochi, hear "Oooh, here he comes... sit down, let me admire your stupid face"—and you'll understand what true island happiness is. Where the main attraction is Yoko. And her dormant, sarcastic deity.