Seaside: Seaside

The sunset that kissed the edges of the forest and bathed the ocean in red and gold was not lost in the reflections of black lenses. Toguro, savoring the salt-heavy winds that beat against the stone cliffs, was thoroughly enjoying his moment of repose, knowing how soon it would be cut short. A place so peaceful it made even this hellish island seem beautiful could not remain so for long.

He pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead with a rough forefinger, his deep black eyes glancing across the seemingly endless crests of white-tipped waves. The feeling of wind against his body was still in his power—despite the near universal calluses he wore, born of fists and lashing energy—and proved itself to be a private pleasure, one that many of his enemies would find incredible, even ludicrous, if discovered. Toguro smiled ruefully, aware of his own reputation, and hoped Urameshi was watching this scene from a place equally beautiful.

With no clear impetus, Toguro frowned suddenly and turned sharply back to the forest, recognizing the power and the far off hints of voices that interrupted his pleasant silence. He paused, and then faded through the trees. Far be it for him to disallow the boy an eyeful of the pretty, encroaching night.

“Kuwabara!” Yusuke yelled, sick of the walk and the clinging branches, and wishing Kurama were here to guide them out of the way. “The beach isn’t this way, goddammit! And why do you want to swim anyway? It’s almost nighttime!”

“Shut up, Urameshi! I’m sure this is the way.”

“How the hell do you know?” Yusuke groused, clutching the six-pack of beer to his chest. Despite protests, Kuwabara’d managed to bully him into donning the grey swimsuit he’d brought just in case (though even now he couldn’t be sure what that just in case was) and grabbing some Kirin for an ‘exciting night-walk,’ as Kuwabara enthusiastically dubbed it.

Naturally, they had promptly gotten lost on the way to the beach (their real destination, Yusuke discovered after a fair bit of wheedling), and were now trying to track the ocean by the harsh caws of seagulls and the smell of salt. Neither of them, however, were Kurama, making such attempts largely unsuccessful.

“It’s this way!” Kuwabara shouted, his original enthusiasm increased tenfold as he crashed through a patch of bramble.

“It can’t be! You’re just getting us more lost!”

“But the birds are getting louder, and the plants are thinning a little,” Kuwabara yelled back gleefully.

Yusuke snorted and eased his way through the broken trail of bramble Kuwabara had just vacated. “Yeah,” he grunted, “thinning. Right.”

“And here we—darn!”

Having stepped from the edge of the forest, Kuwabara looked down, crestfallen. The cliffs swung out all around them, dropping an endless distance to the frothy waves below, mocking the two boys for their attempts. “Aw, dammit!” Yusuke groaned as he finally got to a place where he could see. “What, Kuwabara, you want to go cliff diving?”

“I didn’t mean to bring us here, Urameshi,” Kuwabara muttered, feeling thoroughly sheepish. “Come on, let’s try another way.”

“What the hell’s so important you gotta drag me out here in the first place, anyway? I could’ve been getting some sleep!”

Kuwabara blushed, and looked down at his feet. “Well,” he started, but Yusuke, dragged away from a pleasant night spent doing absolutely nothing but play cards in his hotel room with the girls and his other teammates, was not feeling particularly sensitive to Kuwabara’s needs.

“Here we are, ten miles from anywhere on this damn island we should be, and probably about to get jumped by a group of demon thugs, and for what? Well,” he said loudly, “I’m not leaving. You can just go back and complain to Shizuru, because I’m going to sit here and drink up this six-pack.”

Kuwabara’s big, angular face turned down into a frown. “Fine, Urameshi, stay here. I’m gonna go back to the hotel room if you’re such a wuss.”

Yusuke, his temper already short, walked decidedly over to a little knoll that faced out into the ocean, its grasses made bleached and wiry by salt, and sat down firmly, popping open a hissing beer with an exaggerated sigh. Kuwabara, his temper frayed thin by the last thirty minutes of griping, stalked off without a word, though he had a look about his face that reminded their silent watcher of a kicked puppy.

Yusuke squinted his eyes against the last evening light, one hand behind his head and the other clutching the can in his palm while his fingers plucked idly at the stem of a sea rose. He frowned, regretting how short he had been with Kuwabara, and took another big gulp of the beer, sighing deeply. The alcoholic tang of his breath, making its way to his nose, caused him to wince slightly, and he made a note to brush his teeth when he got back to the hotel room. He turned on his side, away from the rose, and plucked instead at some of the coarse grasses that were making his uncomfortable bed.

“Out to enjoy the evening?” a deep, rich voice inquired, sending panicked explosions all along his nerves and making him scramble clumsily to his feet, his beer tipping over and rolling down the hill.

“Wh—wha…”

“It’s a beautiful one,” Toguro finished, smirking to himself as he took in the suddenly panicked boy.

“What are you doing here?” Yusuke yelped, trying to snarl, backing away and putting his fists up in a defensive pose. He was so startled he nearly backed off the ledge, but in an instant Toguro was there, pulling him by his shirt to safety. Yusuke could do nothing but stare down at the massive hand fisted in his soft green tank top, and then growled and tried to jerk away, nearly sending him back over the cliff.

“Easy now,” Toguro grunted, turning him almost gently and letting go, allowing him to fall onto the ground. Yusuke was up in an instant, practically spitting in rage.

“What are you doing here? Let me go!”

Toguro chuckled, pushing his sunglasses back down over his eyes, hiding the amusement. “I’m not holding you, boy.”

“No, you’re—I mean—” Yusuke stammered, and then gathered himself up, putting one of his favorite cocky sneers on and trying to ignore how it wavered. “Well, if you’ve claimed this spot, I guess I should go find a new one.”

He made to retreat, but was turned sharply by a hand on his shoulder. Toguro pointed calmly over to the tipped can, left lying on its side in a pool of beer at the bottom of the knoll, a steady little stream of alcohol pouring out over the cliff’s edge. “Clean up first,” Toguro grunted, and raised an eyebrow when Yusuke tried to pull away violently.

“I don’t take orders from you, muscles!” Yusuke shouted, nearly beside himself with the need to get that giant hand off of him.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you to clean up your own mess, boy?”

“That’s it!” Yusuke shouted, sick and tired of being talked down to. “Spirit Gun!” His elation lasted less than a second before he was on the ground, energy effortlessly deflected and arm pulled into a submission hold behind his back.

“Boy, I’m being nothing but kind to you, there’s no reason to attack me. Now clean up your mess, pick up the rest of your drinks, and get out of here.”

“Or what?” Yusuke growled, flailing beneath the huge body above him.

“Or you won’t like the consequences,” Toguro said, his voice sounding final, and his face impassive as he looked down at his captive.

Yusuke held still for a moment, debating his options, and then swallowed the rage. “Fine. Fine! I’ll pick up the damn cans, just let me up.” The pressure released, and Yusuke stumbled to his feet, refusing to so much as glance at the silent mountain of a man who stood behind him. He picked up the tipped can, ignoring the sticky puddle of spilled beer, and then hefted what was left of the six-pack. He looked over at Toguro almost shyly, and then suddenly took off running into the woods, absolutely positive he didn’t want to stay there another second.

“Who said you can’t teach dogs new tricks,” Toguro chuckled, his eyes following Yusuke’s humiliated back as it beat a quick retreat out of sight. Toguro’s hard lips quirked into a slight grin, his eyes hidden by glasses, and then walked over to the alcohol slick Yusuke had left behind. Using his boot, he nudged the majority of it over the cliff’s side, and then, after another hesitated look up at the now mostly-darkened sky, started the long, uninteresting walk back to his hotel room. Yusuke was going back to a roomful of people who expected him—Toguro to a suite in which no one cared whether he lived or died. Each had thoughts full of the other, Yusuke with his eyes averted in anger and Toguro with his eyes raised in speculation—and neither of them would speak of this odd encounter to anyone. After all, who could understand the soft, guilty caress of waves on a rocky shore, but them?

 

Fin.