Chapter Text
The first thing that comes to Chiaki's senses is the smell of the sea. The potency stings his nostrils before he's conscious enough to groan and open his eyes. He blinks, groggily, once, twice, before he sputters and sneezes into his inner elbow. He hears his mother laugh from the front seat.
"Good morning, sweetie," she looks over at Chiaki from behind her seat and smiles. "How was your nap?"
"It was fine, Mom." Chiaki is pretty sure it's well past noon, but the air is too gray and moody for him to tell. "Are we almost there yet?"
"Almost." She turns her back and gets comfortable in her seat again. "In a half hour or so, right honey?"
"Mhmm," Chiaki's father hums from his position in the driver's seat. "Not much longer."
Chiaki softly hums back in acknowledgement. He tries to close his eyes again and lean back into his seat, but his neck aches dully no matter how he tries to get comfortable. He's tired, he wants to keep sleeping until they get there, he wants to fall asleep when they get there, but for now he sighs in defeat and sits up straight.
He's so tired.
The air still smells so strongly of salt, but no matter where Chiaki looks outside the window, he can't see the ocean. The cliffs racing by are steep, and heavy fog obscures everything beyond them. If he strains his ears, Chiaki thinks he can hear water hitting rock somewhere down there, beyond the gentle hum of the engine. When he thinks about it, his father had the radio on when Chiaki was last awake. He wonders if the radio stopped picking up stations somewhere along the way, how long his parents listened to static before they gave up and shut it off. Chiaki wonders just how far out they're moving.
Some undetermined time later, his eyes flutter back open as his parents go back and forth.
“Are you sure this is close enough to your new job?” His mother asks.
“Of course I’m sure,” his father replies. “My phone thing-y was able to make a route from our house to the office. The internet knows everything these days. It promises a drive of maybe thirty to forty minutes. Really, it's going to be fine.”
“I still don’t know... That’s not a short drive to make every day.”
“It’s more than worth it, I’m sure.”
When Chiaki looks out the window again, the only things in sight are pine trees. The thick trunks are less spread out than even weeds would be. The needles are covered with dustings of snow, as if to reassure visitors that if they were anything other than coniferous they would be dead and bare. Rest assured, brave traveler, as this massive forest isn’t going anywhere. He can’t imagine being able to walk between those trees.
It was a bit longer than a month ago that his father received an offer to relocate to a new branch his company is opening. It’s kind of a promotion, but it’s kind of the same job. He isn’t sure. From his understanding, he thinks his father's salary is increasing solely because it was too difficult to get anyone to agree to it otherwise. More pay to move away from Tokyo to the countryside—Where the living is cheaper ? Who ever heard of something like that? As long as his father understands it, he doesn’t really have to. The part he needs to learn to understand is why his parents agreed to move near the town he’s working in rather than in it. The two have been showing him articles dated for the early 2000’s for weeks that talk up the beautiful beaches of “Shin’yoju”—That’s the town they’re moving to. He had no say in the decision, and yet they were desperate to convince him the decision they made was a good one. He can’t remember a time in his adolescence where his parents talked up a love of the ocean. Not even when they went out to visit one did they gush more than one would be expected to, but now his father is willing to commute from a dried-up tourist destination. He flutters his eyes shut again.
“I just think this is going to be good for him,” his father practically whispers.
Chiaki sighs.
———
Like promised, it only takes half an hour before they turn down a road going down the cliffs to the seemingly only stretch of somewhat horizontal terrain surrounded by vertical drops. In another two Chiaki spots a small cluster of houses.
“Civilization!” His father proclaims. He points in the same manner he would driving past a herd of cows. “That’s great. Honestly, I was getting worried.”
“I considered at least once that the GPS for the area hadn’t been updated in a few decades,” his mother concedes. “It seems Shin’yoju is still here. Thank goodness.”
“Oh—and there’s a gate up ahead!” The gate is an ancient arch of wood with “Shin’yoju” carved into the top by hand. “I can drive through that, right? It looks like a road.”
“It’s not like there’s another road,” Chiaki groans groggily.
The car creeps closer to it by the second. “Well, I’m just going to do it and ask questions later.” At the immediate entrance, there are no buildings in sight. They finally see a (rather large) building after reaching the bottom of a steep hill. “Look at that, we’ve got a Mom and Pop grocer!” Alerted by the car’s fog lights, maybe, a couple exits the building and waves to their car. “Uh oh. I hope I’m not getting in trouble here.”
They aren’t in trouble at all. Rather, they’ve stumbled upon the self-proclaimed welcoming committee. His mother exits the car to talk to them and his father soon follows. Chiaki sits and watches from the back seat. They talk for a long time. The grocers look enchanted—it rubs off on his parents—and they point all around as they converse. The group of four looks to be about the same age. There’s no doubt the grocers are parents, too, and Chiaki does great with parents. Though he almost regrets staying in the car, it’s too late to get out. They’re offered a place to park, urged to look around on foot. They walk leisurely, far out of the sight of the store.
"I heard the shopkeepers say the ocean is somewhere around here," his mother muses. “Nice people, they were. Takamine, they said?”
Halfway across the street, Chiaki has the sixth sense to dart his eyes to his left. Past a dilapidated, gray fence—through the fog that just won't wane—he manages to see the unmistakable glimmer of water.
"Oh," Chiaki gasps. "There it is. The ocean is over there."
"Really!" His father exclaims. He diverts his path to swiftly walk towards the fence.
"Haha, I almost couldn't see it," Chiaki says. "At this point, I'm almost surprised it's blue rather than some strange green."
"Don't say that," his mother insists.
"I wasn't trying to be rude!" Chiaki replies. "It would just make sense with this… weird fog. That, and, we've just… You know, the houses nearby don’t look like they get much in the way of maintenance. I thought maybe the properties were vacant because the view wasn't worth much in the eyes of scrutinous people with money to live on the beach."
"I find it hard to believe that's you trying not to be rude," his mother scolds. "If you look around trying to see negatives, you'll never be able to see the good in it."
Chiaki shrinks. "I, I know that, Mom…"
"I think it's charming. It's not something you see every day. It’s an old-world feel. You don’t see these paper houses all that much these days."
"It’s new now, but it's quickly going to become an everyday sight considering we live here."
"A change of pace is what we moved here for, Chiaki. Your father and I—"
A sudden and violent snap cuts her off.
Chiaki and his mother whip their heads in the direction of the ocean, the source of the sudden noise. Chiaki watches as his father stumbles backwards in reaction to a chunk of the fencing tumbling forward and over the cliff. The large splash from the wood falling in the ocean barely precedes his father falling to the grass.
"Dad!"
"Honey!"
The two run to the side of Chiaki's felled father. He sheepishly rubs the back of his head. "Huh, how about that," he mutters. "I went to look over the fence and it snapped, just like that. Hmm. I didn't think I leaned on it that much."
"Are you alright?" His mother asks out of concern.
His father wills himself to his feet and dusts off his pants. "I'm fine!" He positions his fists on his hips and stands confidently. "Yep, that sure put the scare on me, so, don’t lean on any railing," he laughs.
“I guess we know why they had put on that tone when they spoke of the ocean now, don’t we?” Both his parents snicker.
Chiaki walks a little closer to look over the cliff. It's steeper than steep. If his father fell, there would be no escape from the grips of the ocean. He looks along the coast, but all he sees in his (admittedly limited) range of sight is a completely flat degree of land. He does, however, notice a shiny film of oil housing litter along the walls of the ravine.
He sighs.
A change in scenery.
"Can we…" Chiaki shakes his head. He stands up straight. "Let's keep going."
———
Twenty minutes worth of walking showed the group four houses. Only one had people outside, but they wouldn't wave. They stared—acknowledged that their group passed the house—but they couldn’t even afford a greeting. Demoralized after passing another gaggle of miserable people, Chiaki splinters from his parents to walk by himself. The two of them are still in his sights, and he in theirs, but while he wanted to look off into the water, his parents have already been scarred with the fear of a crumbling hillside. Chiaki can't be bothered to fear the ocean quite yet. It's not as if he wants to fall off the hillside or that he trusts even one single thing in this strange village not to crumble, but losing the beautiful view of the light-blue ocean crashing mere feet away from him would crush his spirit beyond repair. It's the reason they moved. It was the one thing he could soothe the anxiety away with.
"I don't even know that I like the beach enough for this to be worth it," Chiaki mumbles to himself. He glances to make sure his parents couldn't hear him complain. "It's not like I want to complain this much," he says to finish his thought. The water makes him feel only a small degree better. There's trash. It's filled with trash. The water glimmers such a beautiful, picturesque color despite it all. It doesn’t make sense. It breaks his heart to see cans and bottles float by without a care, unaware of how invasive they are to the habitat. He adjusts his glasses.
As if plastic or aluminum could carry that sentient thought.
He considers: Maybe he should just take the glasses off, look into the distance and watch the colors dance together in the ballroom of splotches.
Chiaki's head perks up as he looks forward. A fence erected between him and the cliffs a few minutes ago after maybe a mile of unrestrained ocean, and he finally sees why. The hill extends off to his left and the grass is gradually replaced with sand dunes as it descends closer to water level. The fence curves alongside a stone staircase carved into the mountainside. His steps pick up as his thirst for the smallest adventure in his town takes over.
"Chiaki!" His father yells. "Don't go too far off, now!"
"I'm just looking at something!" He shouts in reply. His feet stop right before the first steps. "There's a staircase, so I'm hoping there's something on the other side." He carefully taps the stone with his foot. One, two, three! He kicks it with his sole to check and make sure it won't self-destruct from old age if a reckless man tries to put his weight on it. "I could give it a minute, a little chance to collapse," he whispers to himself. When he looks up he finally notices the river just barely up the road that culminates in a cascading waterfall at the side of the cliff, rocks and all.
While he's not exactly assured of the safety of the staircase, there's nothing else to try than stepping down on it. He has to see what's at the bottom, so he descends the stones one after the other. He flinches at every unexpected sound. Every loose rock he kicks gives him a jolt. Through some sort of miracle, he makes it to the last twist of steps unscathed. He looks off, he rests his hand against the terrain at his shoulder, and his eyes widen at the view.
The sand dunes didn't lie. There's a stretch of sand at the end of his trail. He follows the thin strip of sand with his eyes to the right, noticing a wooden bridge at the end of it. His jaw feels like dropping just a little bit. He jumps down the rest of the staircase and onto the sand. The sand is a pearly off-white rather than a gaudy yellow. Miniscule bits of uncrushed, colorful rocks shimmer through the gaps. His feet take him to the bridge quickly, which he runs across despite his better judgment. He didn't even notice it was missing boards until his feet tried to slip in between them, but he's on sand again, safe and sound. A waterfall is babbling to his right, but in front of him is a second, shorter bridge. He only needs to take one step on it until he can see the decent circle of beach at the end.
"Woah," Chiaki breathes. "This is an actual beach." He walks onto the sand and stares at the shore. The fog only gets worse at sea level. He squints his eyes dramatically to try looking into the distance. Genuinely, it’s beautiful. The colors; the blue of the ocean and the sheen of the white sand, are dramaticized past realism despite everything. He saw every foul substance water could pray to never meet floating around when he looked over the cliff earlier, but the pollution just doesn’t show. He doesn’t understand it. He likes looking at it, but it just feels wrong. It feels like a twist of some sort of black magic—a witch’s curse—as he looks off into what he can see of the horizon.
He looks down, closer to him, where the fog is lighter. He's greeted by garbage lined with oil. Again.
"Gross! There's just more litter over here, too." He looks to the right, back to the waterfall. At least the waterfall is beautiful. The water steadily streams onto a large collection of rocks just barely covered by the water. The beginningーor maybe the endーof the river is partially protected at the sides by two larger collections of rocks. He looks up high at the top of the waterfall. He watches in awe as something shiny crests over the edge. It falls towards him fast, making a splash landing to imply it's heavy. His lips straighten flat.
It's an oversized glass bottle of beer.
"Trash, trash, trash! Why is it all trash?!" Chiaki holds both sides of his head. "What is wrong with these people?! It's a beach! A beach is intended to be kept pristine and beautiful out of admiration, but the only thing I can see is a huge collection of personal WASTE!"
"Chiaki!" His mother calls. "Is something wrong down there!"
"No!" He shouts. What can he even say to her when even the beautiful parts are wrong?
———
Chiaki wakes up, opens his eyes, and immediately lifts his torso to sit upright. His fingertips roll around his tired lids.
It's even fully furnished, he recalls his parents bragging, as if the furniture in their house had even been made in their current century. His futon slept worse than the back seat of his dad's vanーand that’s not even mentioning how he had to get up in the middle of the night to tape one of his shirts to the window to even try sleeping through the horrible draft. How many of these paper walls are torn? He feels a slight pang of shame as he comes to terms with how spoiled he had been, living in a temperature controlled environment in Tokyo, but he can't blame himself. He grew up there. Of course he's accustomed to comfort. It’s gone now, as his family moved to a beach no one has heard of—bought a house they hadn't even stood inside—all in the middle of winter. Why can't Chiaki find a bright side to the situation? He's spent his whole life enduring just for the sake of seeing the bright side in the distance. He can't even see it anymore. He hasn't seen the light in a long, long time.
He stands up and walks to his window. He yanks the side of his dangling shirt to free the rest of it and throws it to the floor. He draws the curtain, and he does see something bright. The fog is all but clear and the sun shines through the glass. He works up a smile and turns to get dressed. He walks down the stairs and into the kitchen. On the dining table, he notices a handwritten note resting against a plate of food. He picks it up. He has to hold it close to his face to read it; he hadn't thought to bring his glasses down with him.
Your father and I went out to get a head start buying necessities for the house, it reads. I left breakfast for you. Be good while we're gone ♥
"I wonder how old she thinks I am," says Chiaki to himself, seeing as he’s been an adult for a minute or two now. He makes an amused pout. "Well, I can hear her voice in my head saying that I'll "always be her baby boy" without even having to try too hard."
———
Chiaki exits the front door, fed; dressed; to enjoy the sunny weather. It feels comforting on his skin. Though he's only lived in the town for three days, the damp foggy weather was the only impression he’s been able to make of it. He was convinced it was coated in a perpetual coat of fog, potentially due to a curse on some graveyard. Yes, the witch’s curse strikes again. He has to do some more research on that. Looking up to the sky and actually seeing the sun in it boosts his mood enough to make his previous attitude seem silly to him. He might even apologize to his parents later.
He shifts the straps of his bag to fit more comfortably on his shoulders. He has a plan, a whim, a purpose for today. He's more or less on his own when it comes to finding a way to spend his days now since he doesn't know anyone in the town. His head perks up. Coincidentally, about ten minutes into his walk, he sees a fellow inhabitant of the town. He smiles—maybe too wide, a little creepy—and waves to his neighbor.
"Hello and good morning!" Chiaki shouts. The man, shorter and much older than him, barely looks in his direction. "I just moved here! It's nice to meet you! Could I have your name? Mine is Morisawa, if you'd like to know first." His neighbor looks straight ahead. He might have shaken his head, but the gesture was so miniscule that he can't tell. "Oh, no? That's okay. Do you want to talk? I'd love to get to know…" He watches his neighbor walk right past him without further acknowledgement. "...you." Chiaki blushes with a puff of his cheeks. "I don't understand what's so wrong with saying “hi”," he sighs, turning back to the road to walk in silence.
———
Chiaki lets go of a big breath when he reaches his destination. "Okay, here we go," he says just to encourage himself. "I did it before and I can do it again!" His foot gently presses down on the familiar stone step.
Today, he's decided to make a second visit to the rotting beach he saw. His parents have managed to get something out of the locals—at least compared to Chiaki—so he now knows that this beach has literally been deserted by the town. His father laid out how he couldn’t get a reason for the abandonment on pretty thick, but Chiaki doesn’t have to guess. They destroyed the beach and punished the land for it. The rickety bridges are likely just an effect of abandonment rather than the cause. It’s definitely because of the trash. Since the beach is at the end of the river—a river he has discovered stretches through the entire town—it collects most of the litter from inside Shin'yoju.
He can think all of this to himself now, but he had to try very, very hard not to blame the locals for abandoning the beach that they ruined themselves right in front of his mom. It's a bit of a blessing to have to hold back those kinds of nasty accusations. It's not like pointing fingers will help the situation. It definitely hasn’t helped his mood. Chiaki makes it to the bottom of the stairs, sets his backpack on the ground and takes out his poking stick.
Morisawa Chiaki is what's going to help the situation.
He’s been told they have other beaches that are implied to be bigger, but this is the closest beach to his house by a longshot. It's in his best interest that it turns a new, cleaner leaf, especially when he fantasizes about the favor it'll gain him in the eyes of the townspeople. He shakes his head. Valor should never be the motive, but it's always a pleasant reward. Right? He can admit it.
"Super Poking Cleaning Stick, FULL POWER!!" Chiaki shouts. He spears his poker into the first can he sees. He brings the stick up to his face, gawks at his haul and stabs another can. He holds it up high again. He shakes it to admire the way the penetrated aluminum refuses to budge. "This is going to be so efficient!" He unfurls a plastic bag, shakes it open and deposits his cans inside. "The brand new hero of Shin’yoju bravely steps up to the challenge of the transmogrified beach monstrosity made of metal! Yes, the rumors are true! The townspeople fear itーtoo much to even bear witness to its wicked appearance! The witch's curse has filled every last heart with fear..." He thrusts his trusty blade into a plastic bottle. "Don't be fooled by this young hero's fresh face! His motivation is clear, his blood boils and his heart beats! For justice, for cleanliness… ✩"
He excitedly sticks out his tongue. "At this pace, I might be able to do all this in a single day!" His eyes wander over to the waterfall, which rips his smile right off his face. "Oh, umm." Looking around the beach in broad daylight reveals significantly more trash. As in, entire ripped garbage bags kind of trash. "That might not be so likely after all," Chiaki admits. He witnesses a flying ball of plastic shoot past him and splash in the water. He looks up at the top of the cliff from whence it came and sees someone's arm withdraw back to their side as they walk off. "Okay." Chiaki looks directly in front of him in disbelief. "Okay, so it's not just the all-encompassing river's fault that there's trash everywhere. There are people literally throwing their garbage off the cliff."
He looks up, again, to see his neighbor came back to stare at him. For talking to himself. Probably.
"Hello!" Chiaki waves. "I just moved here, and I intend to clean this beach up! Could I ask you how in the world a human being could live with themselves after throwing garbage over a cliff like that?"
An aluminum can hits Chiaki square in the forehead. His assailant is gone by the time he's done flinching. Chiaki bites his lip and tries not to scream. He tries very hard not to scream. When he closes his eyes again, he stops trying not to scream. He screams. It’s a wordless screech that makes him sound like a child.
“Morisawa Chiaki!” He squeaks. “What in the world have you gotten yourself into?!”
"Um, hey.”
Chiaki jumps in place and it takes the rest of his strength to keep another scream from slipping past his lips. He hastily looks back up to the top of the cliff.
“What are you doing?” The guy who threw the can at him came back. They mutually gawk at each other. “Hey. Is there something wrong with you?"
“Yes! Yes, something is wrong! You threw a can at me! Someone I don't know drank out of that can! To COMPLETION, they drank out of that can!” Chiaki yells.
“You insulted me…”
“Because you threw a bag of GARBAGE over a cliff! Shouldn’t I be asking what’s wrong with you?!”
“You did do that.”
“And I—”
“Even though I didn’t even throw that bag. All I did was witness someone do it and react to someone yelling, which isn't a crime. So, yeah, that irritated me… Defamation of character has always irritated me...”
Chiaki gawks a bit more. “What do you mean, you didn’t throw it?” Is that what he said? This guy’s voice is very soft. “I don’t understand. Can you speak a little louder? We’re not very close to each other!”
“No…”
“Um. Can you come down here, then?”
“No, I don’t want to…”
“Okay.” Chiaki sets his tools down on the sand. “I’m coming up there.” He thinks his neighbor objects to this several times, but making out his voice is a genuine task! Chiaki hops up the steps. He looks up and stops where the staircase starts to bend. His neighbor is standing at the top of the stairs and Chiaki suddenly feels small and intimidated.
A tall young man stands at the top of the stairs, one appearing to be about Chiaki's own age. No longer looking like a blob, he finally notices his size and appearance. The mop of hair on his head is a light brown, which frames his soft boyish face. His eyebrows are scrunched gloomily over his blue eyes as he frowns at Chiaki as if he's witnessed something unpleasant.
He thinks they’ll just stand awkwardly forever if he doesn’t say something. “Hi,” Chiaki spouts stupidly.
“So what do you want to tell me...? What are you doing down there?”
"O-oh! I was just," Chiaki stammers, and then flippantly gestures towards the beach, "cleaning up around here!"
"Cleaning? You have… a lot left."
"Yeah there's kind of a lot of, um, garbage here," Chiaki awkwardly laughs. "Oh! I didn't introduce myself! I'm Moriー"
"Morisawa Chiaki-kun… I know." The other man unenthusiastically supplements.
"Y-you do?" Chiaki presses his palm to his chest. “Oh, I shouted that just now, didn’t I! Haha!”
"Yeah, but… My family owns the grocer here… and then yours came in and mentioned they have a son around my age…" he pauses to pointedly sigh. "... and forced me to go meet you. They said you'd probably be here. See, I wanted to leave ‘cos it seemed like there was just a psychopath here instead, but you had to shout your name… Ugh..."
Psychopath? He finally has the opportunity to make a friend, so he's just going to let that one slide. "Well, it's nice to meet you! I haven’t been there yet, soo, your name iiiissss…?"
He's silent for a moment, trying to get out of introducing himself. "Takamine Midori."
"Takamine!" Chiaki musters a grin. "Good! Good to meet you, Takamine!"
Takamine looks unimpressed. "Yeah… Great… I'm gonna go now."
"Wait wait wait!" Chiaki runs up to intercept Takamine before he can get away. “Hey! I’ve got a great idea!” Takamine opens his mouth to object, so Chiaki has to act fast. “So, I don’t have any friends!” Chiaki cringes. “No! What I meant to say is—I haven’t gotten acquainted with anyone in town yet, so this is a beautiful opportunity to make a new friend! What do you say?!”
“What do I say?” Takamine huffs. “I don’t have a choice... I’m already trapped in an arranged friendship with you.”
Chiaki smiles widely. "Can we talk, then? Are you busy at all?"
"Well, yeah, I'm always busy. I'm free labor for the store as far as my parents are concerned…" Takamine stuffs his hands in the pockets of his green apron. He exhales. "But, um… I don't exactly want to tell you this, but I think if I was talking to you like they asked they wouldn't care if I didn't come back for a bit."
"So I'm getting you out of work you don't want to do!"
"But I can just do what I want and lie afterward, too…"
"Oh."
"Yeah. It's tempting, 'cos I'm looking at you right now and thinking you wouldn't testify against me to my parents."
Chiaki looks to the ground. "You know me so well already, Takamine."
Takamine shrugs. He walks towards the river, letting his arms dangle limply, now. "You could follow me if you wanted to. I guess I don't really care what I do right now."
And of course he's going to accept that offer! He's not concerned about abandoning his things on the beach for the sake of connecting with someone; he'll be back for them later. He wordlessly tags behind Takamine. Wordlessly—but he hums, though. Loudly, and he grins from ear to ear.
Takamine says to him without looking back, "So, I think I'll say it again… Is something wrong with you?"
Chiaki furrows his brows. "Please clarify the question!"
"You're spending all your time on the beach. Why don't you have anything better to do than pick up trash…? You're older than me, right?"
"Oh, well, I don't know about that yet. I'm twenty, though."
"Eighteen." KOUHAI!, Chiaki's brain supplies. "Yeah… So why do you seem to have nothing but free time?"
"I just moved here, you know! My parents and I have only lived here for a few days."
"And you just moved here with your parents just like that…? You still live with them? You don't have a job?"
Takamine's back looks more and more intimidating the longer he needles him. Chiaki gulps. "No, I'm unemployed. I had a little part-time thing back in Tokyo, but I didn't get many hours, so it wasn't hard to leave behind. Not to say I didn't like the people I worked with, but—"
"I just think it's weird you weren't going to university since you're some Tokyo boy living with his parents…"
Chiaki goes to adjust his glasses before remembering he isn't wearing them. "That's a complicated topic for me right now."
Takamine nods without saying anything, but he doesn't have to. His judgemental barrage can end there. He doesn't have to say any more short, rude words. Just the one is enough; University. It makes his skin freeze and crawl.
He used to go there. Yes, Chiaki enrolled in university straight out of high school like a model student. His parents had great aspirations for him, and they saved up for years to match the education those aspirations would require. He doesn't want to think about it right now. He can't bear to dredge up the tiny details, but a nervous breakdown forced him to drop out, and he has been pathetically recovering from it in the arms of his doting parents ever since. The guilt crawls back every time he looks into their eyes.
"Can we talk about something else, Takamine?"
— — —
Chiaki ties off his second bag of litter and sits down on a stone step. He feels exhausted beyond words looking around at all the little pieces he has to pick and throw away—properly and for good—but he’s satisfied with his current progress. Today, he’s procured two bags of trash and a friend his age. Hard work is a cure-all for cold weather, and he's plenty cold. The clouds overcast the sun an hour ago. It still hasn’t come back, and the temperature is still dropping.
He's solar-powered. He'd like for the sun to come back.
He stands on his feet again and grabs his poker. He'll keep on with the easy parts, the aluminums and plastics that are on the shore itself, before he starts to worry over how he can get the trash floating in the water without freezing to death. He tries not to think about the possibility of there being ancient, buried trash that doesn't float at all. And the oil— He doesn’t even want to think of the oil. He picks a few wrappers off the second bridge before the sun comes back out. He squints and smiles at the energizing light. He kneels down past the squeaky boards to pick up a large shard of pottery from the sand with his hand, and then he notices the sun focusing its shine on one small, reflective surface nearby. He shoves the broken clay away to feel around for the shiny object. He grips it in his fingers and lifts it between his eyes. "Holy crap," he says.
It's a ring. A ring made of pure gold.
Chiaki gently rests it in one of his palms. He twists and turns it. It's a simple little thing, a gold band with not a bell nor a whistle. He does notice, however, an engraving on the inside.
"Always with you" is elegantly engraved along the band. Chiaki's heart sinks.
"I can't believe someone lost something this important." He surveys around to the left and right. “How long has this even been here?”