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Kayama tugged on his hem with both hands to keep it from getting covered in sand. A splitting headache had begun a mile back, finding its way from a pinch in his ears to a persistent ringing inward. His feet sunk in with every unpleasant step he took, laboring to pull them back up and out to the next. He kept his eyes down. To avoid stepping on a stone or a splinter of wood and making his day even worse, for one. But in truth, more likely- to avert his eyes from where he approached.
After his entire life spent near the coast, one would think he'd be used to it by now. Inclined to it, even. The cool breeze inland, he could take. The saltwater smell that found its way from the shore, gulls calling to each other in the morning and through the day. It was all the character of home, which Kayama was more than fond of. But he’d always recall a time as a child, venturing toward the shore for the first time. Finding the source of the breeze, the smell and the gulls.
He was tiny back then- and he still felt so when faced with it once more. He looked up and the wind whipped his eyes, the monstrous roar of the ocean rumbled in his ears, in his body. It was fear, still, that he felt. He had gone looking through the city, back then, feeling the rumble begin at his feet and wanting to know from where it came. Maybe that was the day Kayama gave up being curious forever. He'd looked up at the same shore he looked at now, and still it stretched on incredibly. Angry waves rushing forward, with dark blue beyond leading back into the sky, forever.
In between him and the waves, there was Manjiro. Going on ahead, getting smaller as he went, pleasant notes of his voice flowing up through the noise. Kayama was very grateful. Though he could not hear what Manjiro said, his voice sounded happy. Kayama would've liked to hold his hand. But he was preoccupied with his clothing; another leftover from his adventure as a child- he’d come running home and taken half the beach’s sand with him.
Manjiro often did the same. As if he were still a child. No regard for cleanliness, and apparently no fear whatsoever. Running ahead now, towards the waves that threatened them. Manjiro was like a sea creature that'd been dragged out of its habitat, plopped onto land and made to live like a human. Ill-mannered and wild, with a baffling penchant for the shore.
What a strange, beautiful thing Manjiro was. Pressed against the waves, the ocean could have been beautiful, too. He spoke often about his adventures, strangely including the downtime spent on the water. Kayama tried to picture it- but he almost couldn’t without making himself sick. Stuck rocking back and forth, with that endless, dark expanse around him forever? How do you know when you’re going to land? Kayama had asked. Manjiro shrugged and told him, You don’t.
Kayama picked up his pace, scurrying over the sand in a very ungraceful fashion. He knew approaching would only make his demise come quicker. But he kept his eyes on the ground, until Manjiro appeared next to him. Kayama reached quietly to take his hand. He could sense Manjiro’s smiling down at him. And he lifted his head.
The shore had approached. The rumble had gotten louder. Kayama watched, legs stuck for a moment, as giant waves crashed onto the slope ahead of them.
“Kayama?” Manjiro said.
Kayama sighed. His voice was closer, too. Kayama shut his eyes, and made himself feel Manjiro’s hand. Warm, and rough.
“I’m sorry, Kayama. We’ll be home soon enough.” Manjiro nudged his shoulder. “Will a kiss make you feel better?”
Actually, it was a very good remedy. Kayama could keep his eyes closed. And, Manjiro’s hand on his shoulder, Manjiro’s lips against his, it was enough to keep out the world around it, for a moment. Only a little moment.
Manjiro said, “You can stay here, if you want. ”
Kayama readjusted to speak. “I don’t understand why you would want to go in there. Anywhere near there.”
Manjiro giggled. “Well, it isn’t for everyone.” He squeezed Kayama’s hand, giving it a little shake before letting go. Kayama took his clothes as he undressed, down to almost-naked, as apparently he had no survival instincts at all. Nevermind that he’d already been shipwrecked once. “I guess it comes naturally to me.” Manjiro said, gesturing to that thought. “It’s near, so- why not stick to what I know?”
He hopped back up to his feet, and kissed Kayama’s cheek before running off down to the water.
Kayama tried not to sway with the wind. He lowered himself unsteadily to the ground, watching Manjiro go. Again he was dwarfed by the distance, and Kayama could see little more ahead than another little figure waiting to be swallowed up.
Maybe, as a child, he’d feared its rumble. The slow crescendo as he drew closer, the pinch in his ears and malaise in his head- dreading the descent until they were there, hitting the shore as gunpowder split the air. There was little so continental, so world-turning, that Kayama could feel it in his heart, twisting and churning like water in a barrel. And as he sat on the shore, he could see himself, looking from the inside out at the blue endless world, knowing that there was indeed more. More, and more, forever, beyond the waves, unfathomable to Kayama’s little mind.
And he held Manjiro’s clothing in his arms. Manjiro was a wisp of a thing, shocking, and a bit scary. Kind of an animal. Kayama could see him, dipping in and out of the blue, laughing his careless laugh, drifting on through the wind and back up to him. Kayama thought, when he comes back, he will smile, golden and wonderful. And when they kiss again, salt will sting his tongue. There will be so much sand on his floors.
Manjiro had gone, and Manjiro had survived. He made it over the crash of the waves, though- he’d come back changed. Kayama’s fear was rational. He thought of the boats, and Manjiro’s stories, and those gunshots ringing in his ears. Birds flying from their trees. How was it, that out of the water and back up the slope- came Manjiro, smiling as Kayama thought he would? Manjiro, from another world. Manjiro, with a little flutter of Kayama’s churning heart.
Maybe it made perfect sense. The sea was always there, the rumble always distant. Even with Kayama’s head turned away. And Manjiro had been, for just as long, real- only somewhere else. Far away. Shaking Kayama upon his return. Displacing him, even with his feet rooted into the deep sand of the shore.