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The port was noisy at this hour.
Water splashed against the concrete edge of the pier, ropes creaked somewhere nearby, and above it all rang the sharp, slightly hoarse cries of seagulls, as if they were arguing about something important.
Haruma sat on the edge, legs dangling, lazily crumbling bread in his palm. He did it slowly, without looking, as if his fingers knew on their own how much was needed.
The crumbs fell down, and almost immediately the air came alive. White shapes slid over the water, wings flapping too close.
Gozu watched from a short distance away. He didn’t ask why Haruma was doing this. Not because he understood, but because he didn’t see the point in asking. If Haruma was feeding seagulls, then that was how it was supposed to be.
“They’re pushy,” he remarked at last, more for the sound of his own voice than seriously.
One of the seagulls immediately swooped lower than the others, snatching a crumb almost straight from the water.
Haruma smiled slightly. Just a little.
“But they’re honest.”
He tossed another handful of crumbs, and the cries grew louder, drowning out the sound of the waves. Haruma held out a piece of bread to Gozu, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Want to try?”
Gozu frowned, shifting his gaze from the bread to the seagulls and back.
“Why would I?”
One of the birds shrieked sharply and flew so close that the wind from its wings brushed his face. Gozu grimaced.
“No way. I’m not—” He paused, still taking the bread. “I’m not doing this because I want to. Or because I’m interested.”
Haruma let out a quiet hum, eyes returning to the water.
Gozu awkwardly broke the bread into a few pieces and tossed one down. The seagulls reacted instantly. A splash, a flap of wings, a sharp cry.
“See?” he grumbled. “They swarm right away.”
“You threw it too close.”
“Don’t even think about teaching me,”
Gozu shot back, but tossed the next piece farther out.
This time a seagull swooped in from the side, neatly catching the crumb midair, and there was something mesmerizing about it.
He froze for a moment. Then looked away, pretending he was just watching a ship pulling away from the dock.
“Still weird.”
Haruma didn’t answer. He only shifted a little closer and left the bread between their knees.
One of the seagulls landed right nearby. Large, with a gray spot on its wing. It tilted its head, carefully eyeing the bread between them.
Haruma tossed it a crumb separately, slightly to the side.
“Careful, Sio.”
Gozu turned to him.
“What?”
“That one,” Haruma nodded toward the seagull. “Sio.”
As if in confirmation, the seagull cried loudly and immediately tried to move closer.
Gozu was silent for a few seconds.
“You name them?”
“Some of them,” Haruma replied calmly. “The ones that come often.”
Gozu snorted.
“You’re seriously not normal.”
He still tossed the next piece of bread, almost automatically, a bit farther from Sio. Another seagull caught it midair.
“And who’s that?” he asked, as if casually.
“Don’t know,” Haruma shrugged. “She’s new.”
“Lucky her,” Gozu muttered. “No obligations.”
He fell silent again, watching the birds. A few seconds later, without looking at Haruma, he added:
“I’m still not doing this because I like it.”
Haruma snorted, his shoulder brushing against Gozu’s as the wind from the water picked up, blowing feathers toward the pier.
“If you want, you can name one of them.”
“No.”
The answer came too fast to be convincing.
A seagull landed on the railing and stared at Gozu as if it had been waiting specifically for him. He glanced sideways at it.
“It’s staring at me,” he said suspiciously.
“Because you’re holding bread.”
“That doesn’t mean it has a right,” Gozu grumbled, breaking off a piece and, after a slight pause, tossing it.
The seagull immediately lunged for it, squawking happily.
“See? Pushy.”
“Then give it a name,” Haruma suggested evenly.
“Don’t even start.”
Gozu hesitated. The seagull landed on the same spot again.
“…Fine,” he gave in. “Let it be Dummi.”
The seagull screeched, sounding offended.
“She doesn’t like it,” Haruma noted.
“Then it fits perfectly.”
Gozu tossed another crumb. Then another. Then tried to pretend it was accidental.
“You’re getting too into it.”
“I’m conducting an experiment.”
Haruma nodded, amused. The bread ran out quickly. The seagulls circled nearby for a while longer, then gradually scattered. The port noise evened out again, settling into the background.
Gozu stood up first, putting his full weight against Haruma’s head and messing up his perfectly styled hair.
“Hey!”
“Let’s go back,” he said, deliberately ignoring his friend’s protest. “Tenkyu asked us to grab ice cream.”
Haruma rose reluctantly, brushing crumbs from his knees. Gozu was already walking ahead, not looking back. Haruma lingered for a moment, glancing at the seagull with the gray spot, watching them go.
“See you soon, Sio,” he said quietly, then turned and caught up with Gozu.
Next time, it would be just as noisy here as always. Only without him.