Worlds of death

Osamu was tired. His guardian, he refused to call him his father, had left for a business trip that would take a couple months, and while he was glad to be rid of his guardian, he was also bored. He's only eighteen. He should have things to do, friends to hang out with, maybe a job, but no. He's unemployed, friendless, and bored. You'd think that having been adopted by a rich man would mean he'd have things to occupy himself with, or maybe even some friends, fake or not, but the manor his guardian owns is just plain boring, and no amount of money could get people to put up with him for very long. Osamu sighed, deciding that taking a walk in the acres big backyard might help. At least it'd stretch his legs.

Meanwhile, Chuuya was panicked. His ship was out of control, and he was out of water. He was going to dry out soon if he didn't shift, but he never mastered shifting. He made a mistake and shifted in a seisma, breaking his controls. He tried to shift into a gillo, damn it! Why couldn't he be as good at shifting as he was told he should be? Maybe he shouldn't have left Zarcon, but it's too late now. His ship had entered a planet's atmosphere, and a glance at the barely functional screen made his markings glow a bright yellow in alarm. Terra. One of the most feared death worlds. Sure, his home planet was a death world, but only barely! Zarcon was primarily a water world, so there wasn't much to classify it as a death world.