7 Chapter 7

So, a few weeks rolled by, and guess what? Farming! Yeah, the good old American dream, except I don't remember anyone selling me this dream. Wake up at 4 am, tend to the crops, like school doesn't even start at that ungodly hour. I'd be longing for the countryside and Riri's invitation right about now. Oh, wait, they went farming too. Well, I'd be stuck either way.

Dad disappeared into the wild blue yonder, leaving me with the wise words to "listen to Grandma." Like I had a choice.

So, I did go hunting with Grandpa. Cool experience, right? Until he introduced me to his army buddies, and suddenly, I'm in a crash course on survival skills. Making weapons out of my own hair, hunting alone in the wilderness—because nothing says "kid's vacation" like recreating war scenes in the middle of nowhere. At least now I can whip up traps like it's a culinary masterpiece and assemble a gun like a Lego set.

My grandma, bless her heart, was absolutely furious when she found out. She even hauled me out of the forest and banished Grandpa from the farm. He apologized a gazillion times, and they're still fighting. Hah, serves you right, old man.

Then there's the earnest farming. Turns out, it's a solid way to pass the time in the middle of nowhere. I do miss my zombie movies and friends, though. Maybe farming and rural drama are the missing elements for a blockbuster summer. Who knew?

But hey, life in the countryside does have its moments. The vibrant sunrise over endless fields, the quiet rhythm of farm life, and the occasional sound of chirping crickets replacing the hum of city lights. It's like I stepped into some idyllic novel, just with more dirt and less glamour.

One day, Grandma caught me attempting to fashion a scarecrow out of duct tape – because, you know, it fixes everything. She just shook her head with a bemused smile. 

I even got involved in the community. Went to a local fair where I learned that hay bales are not for jumping from and that farm animals are not as interested in striking up a conversation as I thought. In the grand scheme of things, I guess I'm the real city slicker here.

I've made some friends too. Well, they're more like farm buddies who tolerate my lack of agricultural finesse. We swap stories, and I've become quite the expert on distinguishing different types of manure. Riveting, I know.

So here I am, navigating the perplexing world of rural life, embracing farming endeavors, and secretly hoping a zombie apocalypse doesn't happen anytime soon. A city boy lost in the vastness of farmland, searching for meaning in the simplicity of crops, cows, and the occasional chicken chase. It's been a wild ride, and summer in the countryside isn't all that bad I even learned about crop circles that aliens leave on the ground.

You know what a zombie apocalypse in a farm would make a horror film set against the backdrop of endless cornfields and dilapidated barns. The undead chasing you through rows of crops, stumbling over their own feet as they try to catch a bite. It's a horror movie waiting to happen, right in the heart of rural America.

Picture this – me, armed with my newfound farming skills and makeshift weapons, leading a group of survivors through the farm, dodging zombies in the hayloft, and staging epic battles in the corn maze. Maybe throw in some suspenseful moments in the old farmhouse, and we've got ourselves a blockbuster.

And let's not forget the resourcefulness of a farm in the apocalypse. Tractors turned into makeshift barricades, pitchforks repurposed into zombie-slaying weapons, and the age-old art of scarecrow construction getting a dark, undead twist. Oh, and duct tape – because, in my version of the apocalypse, it's still the hero.

Sure, it's a bit far-fetched, but hey, stranger things have happened. In the midst of zombie mayhem, the farm becomes a battleground, and I become the unexpected hero, armed with both farming know-how and a pack of duct tape in hand. Who knew the quiet countryside could turn into a great film spot for an apocalypse movie.

I was abruptly jolted from my vivid daydreams by a pink blur, my eyes assaulted by an unexpected wave of hair. As I stumbled backward and attempted to rub my eyes clear, a familiar figure loomed over me—or at least, I assumed so, given my temporarily impaired vision.

"Good to see you where you belong, commoner," came the unmistakable tone of smugness from Saya.

"Well, it's nice to see you again, princess," I retorted, still rubbing my eyes and trying to decipher my surroundings while laying in the mud.

Saya approached, sensing that my unfortunate landing wasn't just part of a grand entrance. She gently guided me to the sink to rinse my eyes. Note to self: increased awareness, because what if it had been an alien abduction or a zombie ambush?

"Hey, Will, I'm sorry," Saya's usually assertive demeanor seemed to deflate.

As I rinsed my eyes and focused on her—hoping I was looking in the right direction—I reassured her, "Hey, no worries. I know you're excited to see me, that's all," patting her head, which felt kind of different this time, usually so smooth.

I teasingly questioned, "Saya, why does your hair seem different? Trying out a new product?"

She responded with a touch of exasperation, "Will, can't you differentiate between a dog and me?" as if imaginary tic marks appeared on her forehead.

After that mud-induced blindness and Saya's oh-so-princessy entrance, I couldn't help but laugh. "Well, you do look like you've upgraded your hairstyle, more like a wolf's mane now."

Saya shot me a narrowed-eyed look, and I knew she was mentally calculating how to retaliate. "Watch it, Will. Someday, you might need a princess to bail you out."

I chuckled, and with my vision mostly restored, I stood up. "I'll be eagerly waiting for the day when a princess swoops in to save this commoner."

Attempting to pat her head again, I got a whack instead. "Clean your hands first, commoner," she scolded, pointing at my muddy hands.

After turning on the sink, I observed her properly. This was definitely not my grandma's dog, Cinnamon. 

I laughed a bit and followed her advice. While washing, I suddenly realized the unanswered question. "Saya, what are you doing here? And how did you find me?"

She looked a bit flustered. "Your father mentioned you might be feeling lonely, so I thought I'd surprise you and spend the remaining week together."

I grinned. "Well, thanks for the royal visit, Princess. You're not so bad, after all."

She blushed and denied any emotional attachment. "Don't get the wrong idea, commoner. I still have Takashi, who's obviously better than you."

I went for some playful theatrics. "Well, you're right. Takashi has me beat. At least I still have Ruu and Riri to comfort me when I go home." I hammed up my disappointment.

She huffed a bit, whipped her hair, and dramatically exited the scene. "Stupid Will," I heard her mutter as she left me on the ground.