Departure

In the end, he left. Henry stood by the ferry's railing, watching the headache-inducing waves of the Bering Sea crash against the sizable vessel.

It was not quite as steady as walking on flat ground, but the ship's rocking was indeed far better than that toy-like crab boat. Henry could not help feeling sentimental about the previous two months aboard it.

It was not as if he had never considered leaving Old John some money. But after testing the waters, he knew the old man would never accept it. Instead, Old John had cursed him out thoroughly.

So Henry decided to help repair that rundown bar.

Naturally, he could not ask Old John what needed improving.

In that old man's eyes, the bar was perfect. Nothing needed changing, much less fixing. Anyone who complained would get a hard slap across the face.

Henry asked the town's regular customers instead, finding out what they thought needed patching up.

Suggestions to tear it down and rebuild were ignored after a round of "fuck you." Not only would Old John never agree, but most of the townspeople would not either.

So Henry bought the materials himself and did the work himself, leaving his mark on the bar.

As for whether he would return someday, that was hard to say. This place was not home, after all...

No one came to see him off when he left. After giving Henry a hug, Old John turned around and went back to his business, just as he had when he sent his two sons off to enlist during the Vietnam War.

The ferry was bound for Los Angeles, and the Cadillac he had bought from Old Tom was parked aboard. He had not booked a private cabin; if he wanted to rest, he either had to stay in his car or squeeze into the public cabin with everyone else.

The scheduled voyage took a little over a day, less than two. It was much slower than flying, but not as slow as he had imagined.

But taking this ferry had not been easy at all.

First, he had to drive to Alaska's capital, Juneau, before he could catch one of the large ferries that headed to the mainland during this season.

Driving in Alaska during a blizzard, on roads not yet cleared by snowplows, was so grueling that it truly would have been better not to drive at all...

Thus, this seemingly simple trip took several days of driving alone.

There were no motels to count on along the way. He had to bring his own food and water and make do in the car. Naturally, he also had to keep enough gasoline on hand.

Alaska at this time of year had wind, snow, and beautiful scenery, but not gas stations everywhere! Some stretches did not even have paved roads.

Sometimes he could see the road continuing across a cliff or river, but to get there, he had to make a huge detour before finding a bridge or gentler terrain he could cross.

Faced with such situations, and seeing no one around, Henry tried a Kryptonian's flight ability for the first time, lifting the car across with him.

To his surprise, flying was not as difficult to learn as he had imagined. After bouncing around a few times, Henry mastered this practical ability. As for strength, that went without saying; controlling it was actually more troublesome.

The only reason he had not practiced it before was because memories from before his transmigration had intimidated him with the TV show Smallville. It took a full ten seasons before Superman finally learned to fly and put on the red-and-blue suit.

So he had instinctively assumed the ability was difficult to acquire and had never attempted it.

But when he truly needed it, he became proficient far faster than expected. It was perhaps the most surprising thing Henry had encountered since his transmigration.

Relying on that cheat-like method of slicing through obstacles, as well as occasionally using it to cross snow-buried stretches of road, Henry finally drove to Juneau, his destination.

The port where the crab boats set out also had ferries, actually. Small planes and boats were Alaska's main means of transportation, after all; there were very few places cars could reach.

But the frozen sea meant there were no ferries running from there during this period.

And ferries capable of carrying vehicles were scarce as well. Some had suggested shipping the car by freighter while he took a ferry, then transferring at a larger port.

But no matter which method he chose, he would have had to wait until spring next year.

It could be said that Henry had deliberately chosen a departure time that caused himself trouble. No wonder so many people in the bar had looked like they were enjoying a show while holding back their laughter.

Considering both the difficulty of driving and transporting the car to Los Angeles, Henry had more than once wanted to fly back to town and punch Tom, that self-righteous old white man, to death.

The reason that guy gave sounded reasonable at first, but deep down, he probably just wanted to replace his car, find some sucker to take his old one, and make a profit in the process.

If he had not been burdened by the car, he could have gone to a nearby small airport, flown to a major airport, then transferred to a passenger flight. He would have reached Los Angeles long ago.

In any case, he had learned his lesson this time. He had thought those deceptively sly old men would look after a junior like him, but they had still dug a pit for him to jump into.

Even Old Tom was not worthy of one hundred percent trust just because George had introduced him. That old white man had his own little schemes too.

A friend of a friend was not necessarily a friend worth trusting.

This was a lesson his pre-transmigration self had already known, yet after more than twenty years, he once again experienced firsthand just how treacherous people could be.

Although this did not seem like a deadly joke involving life and death, without a Kryptonian's abilities, he would either have met with disaster out there or been forced to turn back and accept everyone's ridicule.

What Henry could not see was that the townspeople had indeed opened a betting pool, wagering on how long it would take him to return and obediently wait for spring.

When more than seven days passed without anyone seeing him come back, quite a few people believed Henry had met with disaster outside and therefore could not return.

Only Old John firmly believed that Henry was still heading toward his destination, which was why he had not come back.

Whether that kid had died out there or reached his destination, none of the old people in town had the ability to search too far away.

They could only search nearby, then ask around at the southern town where the crab boats departed. After that, the matter was set aside.

They were physically incapable of searching outside in subzero blizzards. Unless they wanted to increase the number of casualties.

So they could only pray that the kid traveling across Alaska in a blizzard had truly overcome every obstacle and pressed bravely onward.

No one could have imagined just how shamelessly overpowered Heat Vision used to clear a path, combined with flying while carrying a car, was.

In any case, surrounded by Alaska's vast, sparsely populated land and with heavy snow covering his tracks, Henry treated it as practice for his Kryptonian abilities in the wilderness. After all, he had never had a chance to practice in town.

That was how Henry carved his way through every obstacle and reached his destination in the midst of the blizzard.

When he drove into the harbor, the port staff assumed he was a local resident. No one could have imagined that he had come from a fishing town in central Alaska.