In the beginning, there was naught but the island, and the sea.
At least, that was all that the residents of this island knew.
They traversed the paltry mountains, the softly rolling hills, the tiny rivers, the compact plains.
They weathered copious amounts of snow in the north, ample rays of sun in the south, and boundless rain throughout the entire island.
The various islander tribes existed on their humble isle more or less peacefully. There wasn't much to fight about on the expansive territories, and the islanders by default preferred to keep to themselves.
Food was plentiful. The gargantuan, endless seas were full of a variety of fish and other sea life. Wild fruits and vegetables abounded in the hilly terrain of the island center.
The islanders generally preferred to fish in peace, trade in peace, live in peace, and die in peace. This serene lifestyle, full of synergy with the environment, indifferent coexistence with other tribes, lasted for decades, perhaps even centuries, since their arrival on the island.
Naturally, though, for every rule, there is at least one exception.
And here, on this island, that exception to the islanders' rule of peace was a singular man, an ordinary member of one of hundreds of tribes dotted across the island.
Teki, of the Mizuno tribe.
Many, even his closest, dearest friends, considered him a crass man, rude and unrefined. He was tall and strong, with countless scars from a variety of sources lancing across nigh every part of his body. His hands and feet were encased with several years' worth of impenetrable calluses. His hair was matted, unkempt, unwashed, hanging down nearly to his knees. He was wild, natural, apparently unrestrained by standard human conduct.
The other members of the Mizuno tribe were, in general, not keen on humoring Teki's violent, chaotic tendencies. They would usually prefer to ignore him, leave him alone, and go on with their daily tasks.
Eventually, however, this method of ignoring Teki took a turn for the bizarre. The tribe noticed that he would be missing for increasingly long periods of time, returning to the Suino village only rarely. On his return, he would bring back, strangely, people.
Not people of the Mizuno tribe, as it was a very small, tight-knit group. People, in fact, of other tribes, surprising as that may be. Tribes from across the plain that the Suino resided in. Tribes that spanned the entire length of the grand lake that cut through this plain.
While eternal peace reigns across the united peoples of the island, it is quite important to remember that, indeed, it was violence, chaos, that formed the strongest union of these people.
A union that would last ad infinitum.
But Teki did not know this. Nor would his successors. Nor would their successors. No one would know of the illustrious perpetuity of this insular nation. Not for a very, very long time. A time of which length has yet to be determined.
What Teki did know, on the other hand, is that he had created a powerful entity, a curious entity. He had created, essentially, the very first nation to rest on these islands. The very first nation that spanned from the greater northern sea, to the grand lake that stretched across the plains, to the abyssal southern sea.
A country known as Ōmizu-koku.