Chapter Text
The tide was low when Yata arrived at the beach.
It was 9 am and it was already quite warm, a telltale sign that the day was bound to get hotter as hours passed by. The majestic deep, blue ocean greeted him, its waves crashing against the shore, leaving white foam bubbling against colored seashells dotting up the coast. Above his head, seagulls screeched as they flew in the clear, summer sky, aided by an early, light breeze. The soft sand yielded under his feet as he made his way to the beach pole where Dewa and Chitose were hoisting the green flag.
“Morning, guys!”
“Hey, Yata!” Dewa saluted him.
“Sup, Yata? Ready for the start of the best season?” Chitose smirked, as Dewa rolled his eyes at the brunet.
“Don’t even think of leaving me and Yata by ourselves while you go chase girls. Kusanagi-san found out about the stunt you pulled last year, and he won’t be so merciful this time around.” Dewa warned, tying the string around the pole with a knot.
Chitose dramatically put one hand against his chest, sounding fictitiously hurt. “Ouch, cold. You’d snitch on me to Kusanagi-san?”
“I’d sell you to Satan for one corn chip.”
Yata smiled a bit at his friends’ friendly batter. It was his third year as a lifeguard overseeing this area. The pay was nothing of spectacular - still, it was a job and Kusanagi knew the beach bar owner, who HOMRA traded information and made negotiations with. A few years ago, he had come to the HOMRA bar and asked if anyone would be interested in a lifeguard position since one of his boys had moved to a different area. Totsuka-san had thought it was a great idea, eager to have another hobby to undertake, commenting on how they could all spend summer together at the beach while keeping an eye on the owner’s territory. Frankly, Kusanagi-san agreed to the whole situation because he didn’t want the guys mopping around the bar, stating repeatedly how bored they were when the rush hour hadn’t begun yet. So, there they were, 3 years later, certified lifeguards doing daily shifts at the local beach.
“Do you guys mind if I go for a quick swim before we start the patrol?” Yata asked, a thin layer of sweat drenching his forehead.
“Sure. There are not many people around yet.” Chitose said.
“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”
He pulled his yellow shirt above his head and discarded it on one chair. As he made his way to the sea, he glanced around. Chitose was right. There weren’t a lot of people at the beach – a few runners jogging next to the shoreline, a few families applying sunscreen under their parasols, some kids playing in the sand and a couple of guys having a volleyball match.
Upon reaching the water, Yata started soaking his arms and torso, wincing a bit at the cool sensation against his warm skin, his hairs bristling in response. He continued walking further into the sea, the coast behind his back, towards the horizon line where the sky and sea seemed to become one until the water reached his waist. He looked at the crystal-clear image of the bottom of the ocean and dived.
As Yata expected the water was cold yet not enough to be considered freezing. Holding his breath, he opened his amber eyes and swam for a bit, observing the sunlight filtering through the surface, illuminating the life under the sea. He emerged with a gasp for air, completely relaxed. HOMRA was deeply connected with flames, their boss, Mikoto Suoh, an adept for burning everything to the ground the mere chance he got, however, if fire gave Yata an intense adrenaline rush and the need to be impulsive as ever, its counterpart helped him calm down and actually think through his actions for once.
By the time he got out of the water, Chitose and Dewa were sitting underneath their sunshade, discussing what Yata could guess was Chitose’s favorite topic. Honestly, Yata loved his HOMRA comrades like brothers, although sometimes it felt all they ever talked about was women or sex. Well, okay, they were guys and he guessed it was normal, however, Yata always felt awkward when it came to both subjects at hand – he didn’t know how to fucking talk to girls and sex? Pfft. Right.
“Man, Bando met this chick, they had a little fun and he’s still crying over her. That was what? Last year? Okay, she was totally hot, I’ll give him that. But he’s gotta move on. There’s plenty of fish in the sea!”
Dewa nodded. “He’s determined to forget her this summer. He said he’s ready for some ‘new action’.”
“Atta, boy.” Chitose praised. He gestured at Yata and grinned. “Maybe even Yata will get some action this year.”
Yata stopped drying his hair and turned to Chitose, furrowing his brows. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means you’ll finally get laid,” Dewa answered, as a matter of fact.
“Yeah. Perhaps you’ll stop being a virgin and join the grown-ups club, this summer.” Chitose added.
Yata’s eyes widened and blood rushed to his face. “W-wh-what the f-fuck? W-why would you- Don’t say that shit out loud!” He stuttered out of a mix of anger and embarrassment.
“Come on, Yata. You know there’s no pressure on you but you’re the last man standing.”
“How come I’m the only one who still hasn’t had s-se-… You know what I mean! What about Kamamoto? Huh?!”
“You know Kamamoto has plenty of girls chasing after him this time of the year,” Chitose said, raising one eyebrow.
“Oh, right. Okay, then. What about,” Yata thought, determined to get his point across “What about Shohei, Fujishima, Eric?”
“Fujishima and Eric all had hookups in the past. Shohei has a girlfriend, remember?”
“Ugh…” Yata lowered his head in defeat. Being a virgin never bothered him much – he just figured when the time was right, it’d happen. However, hearing that all his friends had done it, made him start to feel, deep down, a little bit like a hopeless case.
Chitose rose from his seat and put a hand on Yata’s shoulder. Yata looked up at him, the height difference somewhat annoying. “Hey, don’t take it personally. The right person will come – be it a guy or a girl, whichever you’re into – and you’ll have a great time with them, show them off and shut everyone’s mouths for good. Besides, you’re Yatagarasu, right? You have nothing to be ashamed of. You can kick anyone’s ass if you want to, mine included, although I’d rather you don’t.”
Dewa, who had gotten up to stand next to Chitose, nodded in agreement. “Besides we don’t want you to whore yourself out like Chitose does.”
“Now it’s not that bad.”
“You have a reputation,” Dewa stated.
“Well, at least he lives up to it,” Yata added, grinning at his friend, his spirits rejuvenated.
Chitose snorted. “What? Shut up!” Failing to keep a serious expression, all three of them started laughing at each other.
Despite being a 21-year-old male who hadn’t been on a single relationship yet, Yata felt that fate had something in store for him, sooner or later. He’d be okay, he told himself as they all grabbed each of their flotation devices and headed to the shoreline for their morning patrol.
It was late morning and the beach was way more crowded than a few hours ago. They had done several scans at the area, making sure there was no occurrence they missed, switching between them so they could all refresh for a while underneath their sunshade.
After Dewa returned from the latest patrol, they sat in silence, staring at the ocean, until a brunet guy came to them carrying a redhead at his side, the latter one clearly limping from his right foot.
“Are you guys the lifeguards? Can you help him?” the brunet man asked, holding the other guy by his waist, his shoulders supporting the other guy’s right arm.
Yata got up and gestured for him to take his seat. “What happened?”
He helped the copper-haired man lower himself in the chair, the guy in total discomfort. “We were playing volleyball, but it got too hot and we all decided to go for a swim. Domyoji here ran to the water, and next thing we know, he’s crying out in pain.”
“I think I cut myself in a seashell or something. It must have been a sharp one too!”
Yata got on his knees and gently lifted Domyoji’s foot for a better inspection at it. The redhead winced in pain as Yata carefully examined the sole in search of a laceration. It certainty was swollen and warmer to the touch.
“You felt a prick when you stepped on something?” Yata asked as he raised his head to peer at the other russet.
“Y-Yeah,” Domyoji said, his eyes watery like a child who had just scraped his knee.
“Hm,” Yata murmured. He studied the injured member, double scanning it again. Ah, there it was. Just like he suspected. “Look.” Dewa and Chitose crouched next to Yata, who seemed quite proud of himself for his small discovery.
“Wow. Nice spotted, Yata!” Dewa praised as the chestnut lifeguard grinned in return.
“Hm… Is it bad?” The tanned chocolate haired guy queried.
“No, not all. Your friend just needs to piss on his foot or let someone else do it.” Chitose explained, Dewa trying his best not to laugh at his side at the response.
“HUH? Nobody’s pissing on my foot! What the hell?!” Domyoji exclaimed offended, twisting his leg so he could grab the member with his hands in attempts to shield it away from Yata and everyone else, momentarily forgotten about the soreness.
Yata shook his head. “He’s joking but you gotta come with me to the infirmary, so I can treat and disinfect your wound.” Yata declared as he offered a hand to the opposite redhead in attempts to help him get up and carry him to the back, where they had stationed their health post.
Domyoji seemed a bit uncertain as he eyed Yata’s offering hand, however, in the end, he decided to take it, most likely because the sharp ache in his foot was stronger than any suspicions he had in mind.
With the cooperation of the tall brunet Yata still didn’t know the name of, they carried Domyoji alongside them, towards the low, white dunes filled with small branches and green and yellow vegetation undulating to the wind. Close to the pedestrian bridge that gave them access to the beach, stood a small wooden shed with a red cross painted next to the door, the crimson color fading away into oblivion as the sun and sand polished it through time. Yata made a mental note to repaint it sometime that week as he reached for the keys in his red short’s pockets, unlocking the door and leading them inside. Just like it looked from the outside, the room wasn't that spacious, still, it was big enough to fit 5 people without feeling totally cramped.
On his right side, stood a narrow, worn-out brown couch the previous lifeguards had rescued from the garbage, its springs broken from the abused weight with some of the cotton coming out of one of its armrests. Beside it, a black stretcher bed accommodated the rest of the wall, a whitewashed pillow placed on to it along with a neatly folded, beige blanket Totsuka-san decided to bring out of convenience and because he had to leave a personal item there, just like he did in bar HOMRA, almost as if to proposedly mark to everyone that, at one point in his life, he had been there.
On the opposite wall, stood an improvised counter that smelled of dust and age yet clean nonetheless; confined underneath it, a tiny, white fridge used to store some water, ice packages, adrenaline shots, and chemical sprays ran silently. A shower adorned the left end of the room, embedded a little further into the wall, leaving a ridiculously small distance between its curtain and the counter.
After sitting Domyoji down in a plastic white chair, Yata grabbed a pair of disposable rubber gloves and a stainless steel tray where he proceeded to stack a pair of tweezers, a bottle of saline solution and some compresses. He took two seats underneath the bed, placing the tray on one and sitting on the other. Just as he was about to begin, the door suddenly wallowed open, hitting the hall with a loud bam, a tall figured stepping inside. The brunet tensed up and Domyoji shrieked like he had just seen a ghost.
“Fu-Fushimi-san,” Both boys quavered in unison, the redhead grabbing the bicep of the other boy in a way that it had to hurt. Yata tilted his head at them, raising one eyebrow at the odd behavior. He raised his head to glance at the presence that had just barged into the room.
It was not was Yata expected to see for the reaction it had caused.
The figure was nothing more than a pale young male close to Yata’s age, who stood there staring at the others with a murder gaze like their mere existence had personally offended him in the most notorious way.
“Domyoji, you idiot! If you think you’re excused from your duties because of a simple cut, you’re dead wrong!” The man almost roared similarly like a military chief reprimanding his subordinate for trying to get away from his responsibilities.
“Excuse me, who are you?” Yata asked, stretching up as high as he could. He was trying to keep his voice as even as possible since he was a civilian and Yata had a job to maintain although something about this guy’s tone made his skin itch.
The guy in question, Fushimi from what he got, seemed to finally notice they weren’t alone and turned his head slightly, his eyes widening for a fraction at the interruption before he replaced it with a condescending look. Despite the expression, Yata’s breath caught in his throat.
Fushimi had black hair with long bangs framing his delicate face, blue eyes like tundra ice in the Arctic sea set behind rimmed glasses the same color as his hair. He was taller than Yata but also leaner than him, his muscle mass not quite as developed as the chestnut boy. Weirdly enough, he wore a grey jacket on top of a white shirt, blue shorts and white sneakers composing the rest of his outfit. Yata would have thought they were in the middle of fricking fall if he hadn’t been outside 5 minutes ago.
Still…
Damn.
“I’m the one who should be asking that question.” Fushimi retorted back.
Yata crossed his arms. “Well, I’m the one who asked first.”
“It’s not about who asks whom first,” Fushimi said, turning to fully face Yata. “I don’t have to hand that information however, you need to be properly identified.”
The nerve of this guy. Keep calm, Yata. Remember what Kusanagi-san told you. Count to 10.
“Fine. I’m Yata. I’m one of the lifeguards.”
“Which part of ‘properly identified’ didn’t you understand?”
Ten.
Yata narrowed his lips. “Yata… Misaki.”
Fushimi’s face split into a mischievous grin. He didn’t know if the guy was amused at Yata’s girly name or his anger. Maybe both. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it, Misaki?”
Nine.
“So, Mi~sa~ki…” Fushimi said, drawling his name on purpose “What are you doing at the beach? Shouldn’t you be guarding the kid’s pool instead?”
Eight.
“Then again, you probably can’t be trusted with that either,” Fushimi said as a matter of fact.
Seven.
He balled his hand into fists, knuckles turning white. “I wonder how you passed your tests, Misaki. Did you cheat your way into the course with basic CPR?”
Six.
“I wonder if you’re even strong enough to not let the current drag you away?”
That’s it! Time’s up!
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll let you taste my fists, so you can make up your mind about it.” Yata furrowed his brows and rested his closed hands at his side, a venomous grin drawn on his lips. He had to admit Fushimi had a pretty face but also a very punchable one.
Fushimi leaned in closer, eyes shining with a crazy light. He spoke in an octave lower than he previously had been, making Yata slightly shiver at it. “Bring it on, Mi~sa~ki.”
Before Yata fists made contact with Fushimi’s face, someone cleared their throat loudly. They both turned their heads at the source of the sound. The brunet’s face was flushed, determination in his eyes.
“Hm… Sorry to interrupt but Domyoji’s in serious pain.” The wounded redhead had his eyes firmly shut and sucked in short, sharp breaths to try to ease the ache. Yata signed. He needed to act now, Fushimi be damned.
He sat on the bench in front of Domyoji, put on his rubber gloves and processed to clean the wound with saline solution and some gauze. Satisfied with the washing, he sat the bottle and gauze down. Feeling 3 pairs of eyes on him, he went to grab the tweezers he had selected beforehand.
“What are you doing?” Fushimi asked, interrupting him. There was no malice in his voice this time around, only a subtle hint of curiosity underneath his flat tone.
Yata signed and fixed his gaze on cerulean eyes. “It’s not a simple cut. If it were, it wouldn’t be this swollen and hot. He was –“
“Stringed,” Fushimi finished his sentence for him, eyes darting to the side in a thoughtful expression before they focused on Yata again “A spider fish?”
Involuntarily, Yata drew a small grin at Fushimi’s response and nodded. “Yeah. I need to remove it before I can do anything else.”
Fushimi remained silent and Yata took that as a cue to continue his work. His hands were steady as he plucked away the small sting in Domyoji’s foot, a few drops of blood coming out to replace the intrusion and Yata pressed a gauze to it.
When the bleeding stopped, he got up and placed the tray on the counter, reaching for a bowl stored under it. He walked to the shower and turned the tap on, waiting for warm water to come out. After he filled half of the bowl with boiling water, he turned off the tap and carefully carried it in both hands, placing it in front of Domyoji who squinted at him dubiously.
“You have to submerge your foot in the water for as long as you can. The longer you leave it there, the better.” Yata informed.
Domyoji rose his brows as high as they could go. “Wait, wait, wait. Man, you want me to put my foot in blazing hot water? I don’t think you’re allowed to amputate anything!”
Fushimi clicked his tongue and shot an irritated look at the nervous raven-haired boy “Since when do you amputate something with water, you moron? The toxin in the sting is destroyed with heat. That’s what it’s for.”
Domyoji gulped hard, his options thinning out. “Don’t… Don’t you have a miracle spray you can apply instead? Y’know…” He seemed to brighten at his own idea “Like the ones they use in soccer players when they fall and injure themselves?”
“I do have that, yes. Although it won’t make much difference in the long run,” He could feel Fushimi’s constant stare, evaluating him, however, not exactly waiting for a slip up as he’d expected from supposed bastards like him, simply as if he was actually interested in what Yata had to say. He tried not to blush. “The pain might go away for a little while, though it will come back full force. The only way to get rid of it for good is to immerse your foot and endure it. Sorry.” Yata apologized in all honesty.
Domyoji hung his head low, defeat plastered on his face. Yata felt guilty as he saw tears forming in his green eyes and his face redden, like a child who’s just been punished and tried not to cry as his parents took his favorite toy away.
Unable to contain himself, Yata rested a hand on the shoulder across from him, applying a bit of pressure to capture Domyoji’s attention. He smiled a bit once he regarded him. “Hey. It’s gonna be okay,” Yata reassured him “You’ll feel much better in the end. I promise.”
Domyoji exhaled deeply and accepted his fate.
“Thanks for the help!” Hidaka, the brunet’s name he learned from between Domyoji’s pained groans, smiled at him and shook Yata’s hand.
“Yeah! Thank you, Yata! I feel much better already!” Domyoji exclaimed, beaming with happiness. In his mind, he withstood torture for 15 minutes and he came out victorious, despite shedding a few tears. Nevertheless, he could walk on his own at the moment, so Yata counted that as a win.
Yata rubbed his neck, sheepishly. “Eh, don’t mention it.”
“Bye!” They both waved at him and the other lifeguards who waved back.
Fushimi stayed behind and watched them go meet the rest of the group. Ever since Yata managed to convince Domyoji to carry out the treatment, Fushimi hadn’t muttered a single word. He had taken his phone out of his pocket and sat in the old couch, scrolling through some website and casually playing a game, its graphics reflected on his lenses as he made his way through the levels. He seemed bored as if the challenges weren’t hard enough, and Yata had wanted to sit next to him - not because it would be a good chance to be close to him and, who knows, strike a conversation. No. He just wanted to watch the gameplay. That’s all.
He wondered what Fushimi’s connection to the other boys was. Domyoji and he didn’t bear any resemblances, thus Yata discarded the sibling possibility. He certainly didn’t stay for moral support either. Perhaps he was their superior? They had addressed him with some formality although the volleyball group he saw seemed like it was on vacations rather than work. He guessed he had to ask Fushimi sometime.
“Y’know,” He broke the silence, still staring at the way Hidaka and Domyoji had gone off to “For someone who cheated their way into certification, I think I did pretty good.”
Fushimi snorted, fighting back a small smile. “Don’t flatter yourself, Misaki. Anyone could handle a pair of tweezers and fill a bucket of water.”
He had thought he earned a little bit of respect from Fushimi though he guessed he was wrong. He huffed. “Hmph! If you ever need help, you can bet your ass I’m not gonna save you.”
“I wouldn’t trust my life on someone who’d rather drown than drink a glass of milk.”
How the hell did he- “Have you ever thought I might be allergic to it, asshole?”
Fushimi tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at him. “Are you?”
“N-no but-“
He smirked. “My point’s exactly.”
Without giving a chance for a comeback, Fushimi turned his back to him and walked away. Yata stood there as if frozen, his mind trying to catch up with his eyes.
“Okay. What was that?” Chitose asked, snapping the vanguard out of his thoughts.
“What?” Yata retorted, irritated for letting Fushimi have the last word “The guy is a total asshole.”
Chitose and Dewa eyed each other. “Is that sexual frustration I’m hearing?” Chitose pressed.
Yata whirled back at him, face red. “What the fuck? We almost went for each other’s throats at the post and you’re telling me that?”
Dewa’s mouth dropped. “You two had a fight?”
Chitose scoffed and shook his head. “Sparks sure are flying.” He sat down and crossed his arms behind his head, staring straight at the ocean.
Yata signed and when he thought Chitose had let go of the conversation, he dropped a bomb.
“Maybe he can blow your whistle sometime.”
Yata punched him so hard he was sure his whole family felt it.