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Raidou is a diligent man. His beachfront house is half built by his own hands and he treats it like his own child. Careful renovations, weekly cleaning — he even walks up and down the beach just to pick up trash and litter.
Every once in a while something plastic will wash up on shore and Raidou will scowl and think very violent things for a couple hours. The human race is utterly lacking in both common sense and decency. Of course, his friends don’t often bring up the subject...just to avoid his hour-long rants about it.
Yes. He’s aware that his friends think he’s a little crazy.
Raidou likes to think that he’s just particular. There’s a schedule in his head that he likes to stick to. Certain topics that bother him more than others. An atmosphere he prefers. A clean, healthy oceanfront is what he likes.
The truth is that his own particular taste is only part of the reason he’s so obsessive about keeping the beach clean. Not that he wouldn’t have his days planned exactly the same —
But, well.
His ocean-dwelling friends make quite the argument.
“You missed a spot.”
Genma has an eye open, spread out on a sunny rock without a care in the world. His finger is pointed at an empty beer can half buried in the dirt. He paints a beautiful picture against a background of waves and sand. His tail is long and hefty with muscle; the color of dark wood, caramel and earth. In the midst of browns are verdant hints, bringing out the hazel of his inhuman eyes.
Something about Raidou’s beachfront house seems to attract merpeople. The most common visitor is Genma, who looks about his age and has a whiplike sense of dry humor coupled with hidden mother-hen tendencies.
Raidou picks up the can and throws it in the trash bag clutched in the other hand. It’s already heavy with someone else’s garbage. He’d walked down to the more public beachfront earlier and left with three bags. So many visitors just left their shit in the sand or the shallows. Tidepools were turned ugly and polluted with soggy food and aluminum cans.
Not getting a reaction from the human, Genma twists his torso more in Raidou’s direction. His massive tail flicks a bit of water at the man.
Raidou splutters, salt hitting his lips and tasting absolutely foul. He wipes what he can away with a scowl.
“Was that necessary?”
“If you keep frowning like that, your face will stick.”
Very much not rolling his eyes at the merman, Raidou grumbles under his breath and ties off the trash bag. There’s nothing else in the area, just unmarred sand and the tide lapping at his toes. He tries his best not to get distracted by the sun shining down on a thousand scales, highlighting bits of green and gold over cords of thick muscle.
Genma rolls a thin bit of reed in his mouth, lips taut around the plant. He smiles around it, something toothy and stupid — because it makes something in Raidou turn hot, and the back of his neck is already burning under the sun.
“One of these days you’re going to choke on that,” he mutters in reply.
“But you’ll save me, won’t you?”
Genma’s humor turns cheeky, the smile shifting into a smirk. It’s honestly ridiculous that his casual visage does anything to Raidou’s heart. He refuses to believe that the merman is flirting with him. It’s all just jokes. After all, Raidou is a human. There’s no way that could work. Not that he’s thinking about it at all. Nope.
Against his better judgement, he lets his gaze move over to the merman, cheeks flushed with nothing more than the sun.
“No promises.”