> "The ocean is just a giant bowl of aggressive soup. It's loud, it smells like fish excrement, and it wants to kill you. People who say the beach is romantic are either lying or they have a fetish for sand in their crevices. I have neither. I just have a coat that makes me look like a walking sleeping bag and a third-wheel status that is visible from space."
> — Maria's Notes, Entry #81
>
Part 1: The Michelin Man and the bribe
Winter beaches in Japan are not for the weak. They are for the masochistic.
The wind here doesn't blow; it bites. It tears at your exposed skin like an angry ex-girlfriend. The roar of the waves is deafening—a constant, rhythmic crashing that sounds like a jet engine failing to take off.
I am standing on the sand. My cane sinks a few inches with every step, making a satisfying crunch-squelch sound.
I am warm, though. Because I am wearing " The Fortress."
"You look ridiculous," Yu-ri shouts over the wind. "You look like a marshmallow that fell into a pile of ash."
"I AM COMFORTABLE," I yell back, my voice muffled by the scarf wrapped around my face three times. "FASHION IS FOR PEOPLE WHO CAN SEE. I AM GOING FOR SURVIVAL."
I am wearing a down coat that goes to my ankles. It is puffy. It swishes when I move. Inside it, I am a small, blind kernel of hatred.
"Come on, Marshmallow," Kaito's deep voice booms from my left. "Stop complaining. Look at this view! The grey sky! The grey water! It's manly!"
"I SEE NOTHING, YOU APE."
"Right. Well, feel the view. Feel the spray."
He claps a heavy hand on my shoulder.
"Here," he says. "Payment for your presence."
He shoves something into my gloved hand. I feel the packaging. It's cold. Foil. High quality.
"What is it?" I ask.
"Imported Belgian chocolate. The dark kind with sea salt. Cost me twenty bucks. Eat it and stop plotting my murder."
I pause.
Belgian dark chocolate. With sea salt. My absolute weakness.
I hate him. I hate him so much.
He knows exactly what he's doing. He is buying my loyalty. He is treating me like a stray cat that he wants to tame. Here, kitty. Have a treat. Don't scratch the motorcycle.
I rip open the package. I break off a piece. I put it in my mouth.
It melts instantly. Rich, bitter, salty. It tastes like heaven.
"ACCEPTABLE," I type. "BUT I STILL HATE YOU."
"Yeah, yeah," Kaito laughs. It's that annoying, charismatic laugh that makes the ground vibrate. "You love me. You're eating my chocolate. That makes you my accomplice."
He walks ahead, dragging Yu-ri with him.
I listen to them.
"Your hands are freezing!" Kaito scolds her. "Put them in my pockets."
"But your pockets are full of wrenches!" Yu-ri complains.
"So? Hold the wrench. Bond with the tool."
They are disgusting. They are adorable.
I trudge after them, chewing my expensive chocolate.
I came here to ruin their date. I came here to be the chaos. But it's hard to be a villain when you have a mouthful of premium cocoa and a coat that feels like a hug.
Part 2: Ballistics and shins
We stop near the shoreline. The waves are closer here. The spray hits my face, cold and salty.
"Okay," Kaito announces. "Lesson time. Maria, come here."
"NO."
"Come here. I'm going to teach you how to skip stones."
"I AM BLIND, KAITO. SKIPPING STONES IS A VISUAL ACTIVITY."
"Nah. It's about physics. It's about the wrist action. It's about the sound. Plip-plip-plip-plop. It's music."
He grabs my arm and pulls me toward the water.
"Find a flat stone," he commands.
I sigh. I crouch down in my Michelin Man coat. I grope the freezing sand. I find a rock. It feels jagged.
"No, that's a murder weapon," Kaito critiques. "Find a smooth one. Like a coin."
I search again. I find one. Smooth. Flat.
"Good. Now stand up."
I stand. He positions himself behind me.
Too close.
He smells like the ocean now, mixed with that sandalwood cologne and leather. He adjusts my arm.
"Okay, you gotta flick the wrist. Like you're cracking a whip. Low angle. Parallel to the water."
"I DON'T KNOW WHAT PARALLEL LOOKS LIKE."
"Just... flat. Don't throw it down. Throw it out."
He steps back.
"Okay. Visualize the ocean. It's big. You can't miss it. Throw!"
I visualize the ocean. I visualize Kaito's stupid, smug face.
I pull my arm back. I channel all my frustration. The library rejection. The sidecar humiliation. The Belgian chocolate bribery.
I whip my arm forward with everything I have.
But I don't release it "flat." I release it sideways. And I don't throw it "out." I throw it sharply to the left.
THWACK.
"SON OF A BITCH!"
Kaito howls.
I hear him hopping on one foot. The sand crunches violently.
"My shin! You hit my shin! You broke the bone! I'm crippled!"
Yu-ri bursts into laughter. "Oh my god! Direct hit! Sniper Maria!"
"She did that on purpose!" Kaito yells, hopping around. "She aimed! She has radar!"
I stand there, listening to his agony.
I smile. A small, wicked smile.
"OOPS," I type. "MY HAND SLIPPED. PHYSICS IS HARD."
"You are evil," Kaito groans, rubbing his leg. "Pure evil. I gave you chocolate and you gave me a fracture."
"A FAIR TRADE."
Yu-ri runs over and hugs me. "Good job, Maria. He was being bossy. He deserved it."
"I hate both of you," Kaito mutters, but there's no real anger in it. Just a begrudging respect. "You're lucky you're cute, Yu-ri. And Maria... you're lucky you have disability immunity."
"I USE IT WISELY."
Part 3: The arrival of the Voice
"Quit whining, Kaito. You walked right into the line of fire."
The voice cuts through the wind like a razor blade.
It's not Yu-ri. It's not Kaito.
It's a new voice.
I freeze.
It's male. But it's not deep and booming like Kaito's. It's... textured. It sounds like gravel wrapped in silk. It's cool, detached, and utterly arrogant. It has a drawl to it, a lazy precision that suggests the speaker is bored with the entire universe.
"Luke!" Kaito straightens up. "You finally made it. I thought you got lost."
"I don't get lost," the Voice—Luke—says. "I was watching you act like an idiot from the parking lot. It was entertaining. In a pathetic sort of way."
I hear footsteps approaching. They are different from Kaito's heavy stomp. These are measured. Calculated. Crunch... crunch... crunch.
"Maria," Yu-ri whispers to me. "This is Luke. He's Kaito's friend from the shop. He rides the blue bike."
"HELLO."
I turn my head toward the sound of the footsteps.
"So this is the famous Maria," Luke says.
He stops in front of me. I can smell him.
He doesn't smell like grease or ocean. He smells like... mint? And old paper. And something sharp, like cold metal. It's a clean, sterile scent.
"I expected someone smaller," Luke says. "Based on how terrified Kaito is of you."
"I AM COMPACT BUT DEADLY."
"Evidently," Luke replies. "I saw the rock throw. Poor form, excellent execution. You have a natural instinct for violence."
My heart does a weird little stutter.
Usually, people say: Oh, you missed. Or Oh, be careful.
Luke just analyzed my violence. He sounded... impressed.
"Luke is a cynic," Kaito warns, limping over. "Don't listen to him. He hates fun."
"I hate inefficiency," Luke corrects. "And screaming at the ocean is inefficient."
He moves closer.
"You're freezing," Luke observes.
He's talking to me.
"I AM WEARING A SLEEPING BAG."
"It's not working. Your lips are blue. It's unbecoming."
Unbecoming? Who talks like that?
"Here."
I feel something warm draping over my head. A hat? No. Earmuffs. Big, fuzzy earmuffs.
"Kaito forgot to mention the wind chill factor," Luke says casually. "I brought spares. You look like a deranged yeti, but at least your ears won't fall off."
I reach up and touch the earmuffs. They are soft.
"THANKS."
"Don't mention it. I just don't want to carry you back to the car if you go into hypothermia. I have a bad back."
I smirk.
He's rude. He's blunt. He speaks his mind with zero filter.
And his voice...
It's hypnotic. Every syllable is crisp. It scratches an itch in my brain I didn't know I had.
Part 4: The disappearing act
"Alright," Kaito claps his hands together. "We've been here twenty minutes. I'm freezing. I need... uh... coffee."
"Yeah!" Yu-ri chimes in, a little too enthusiastically. "Coffee! From the vending machine! The one... way back by the parking lot."
"Maria, you stay here with Luke," Kaito says quickly. "You guys get to know each other. Talk about... hating things. You're both good at that."
"WAIT—"
"We'll be right back!" Yu-ri yells.
I hear them running away.
I hear giggling.
I hear Kaito whisper, "God, you look hot in that scarf."
I hear Yu-ri whisper back, "Shut up, not here."
They are not getting coffee.
They are going to the car. Or behind a dune. They are going to engage in hormonal activities that involve exchanging saliva and fogging up windows.
It's disgusting.
I stand there, abandoned on the freezing beach. The wind howls.
"They're not getting coffee, are they?" I ask out loud.
"No," Luke replies. He hasn't moved. He's standing right next to me. "They are going to attempt to reproduce. Or at least practice the mechanics of it."
I snort. A laugh escapes me.
"THEY ARE GROSS."
"They are in love," Luke says, the word dripping with disdain. "Or lust. The chemical distinction is negligible at their age. It's just dopamine and friction."
I turn toward him.
"YOU ARE A ROMANTIC."
"I'm a realist. Kaito thinks with his dipstick. Yu-ri thinks with her heart. It's a volatile combination. But..."
He pauses. I hear him shift, maybe putting his hands in his pockets.
"They look happy. Ignorance is bliss, as they say."
Part 5: The texture of a voice
We stand in silence for a moment. The waves crash. Crash. Hiss. Crash.
Usually, silence with a stranger is awkward. I feel the need to fill it, to prove I'm not just a "blind prop."
But with Luke, the silence feels... heavy. Deliberate.
"You know," he says suddenly. His voice is lower now, battling the wind. "The ocean sounds different today."
"DIFFERENT HOW?"
"Usually, it breathes. Today, it's screaming. It's angry at the land. It keeps throwing itself against the sand, trying to take it back, and the sand just swallows it. It's a futile, violent cycle."
I tilt my head.
That's... exactly what it sounds like.
Most people tell me: Look at the sun! Look at the blue!
Luke is describing the struggle. The violence.
"I LIKE THAT DESCRIPTION," I say with my rusty voice.
"You speak?" Luke asks. "I thought you were mute. Or just preferred the robot box."
"I... speak. Sometimes."
"Your voice is raspy," he notes. Not an insult. Just a fact. "Like you've been screaming underwater. It suits you."
My face heats up. And it's not from the wind.
He steps closer. He blocks the wind with his body. He is taller than me, maybe as tall as Kaito, but leaner. I can tell by the way the air moves around him.
"Kaito says you can see souls," Luke says. "Or some mystical bullshit like that."
"He... exaggerates. I just pay attention."
"Pay attention to me then," Luke challenges.
His voice drops to a whisper. It sends a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold.
"What do you see?"
I hesitate.
I reach out. I shouldn't. It's forward. But he challenged me.
My hand finds his arm. He is wearing a wool coat. High quality. Beneath it, his arm is firm. Not bulky like Kaito, but wiry. Tense.
I move my hand up. I find his shoulder. I find the collar of his coat.
He smells of winter mint and arrogance.
"You're... bored," I say slowly. "You think everyone is stupid. You think feelings are messy."
"Accurate."
"But..." I hesitate. "You came here. With Kaito. You brought earmuffs. For a stranger."
I move my hand back to my side.
"You act cold. But you like being needed. You like fixing things, just like Kaito. You just don't want anyone to thank you for it."
Luke is silent.
The wind whips my hair across my face.
"Interesting," he murmurs.
I feel a hand—a bare hand—brush a strand of hair away from my cheek. His fingers are cold, but his touch is electric. It lingers for a fraction of a second too long on my jawline.
"You're dangerous, Maria," he says softly. "You see too much."
"Is that... bad?"
"No," Luke says. "It's refreshing. Most girls just see the bike. Or the face. You see the cracks."
He steps back, giving me space again. The cold rushes back in, but the heat of his voice stays in my ear.
"Kaito was right," Luke says, his tone returning to that lazy drawl. "You are interesting. A little bit terrifying, but interesting."
"I TRY."
"We should leave them here," Luke suggests. "Take the car. Let them walk home. It would be a valuable lesson in logistics."
I laugh.
"I LIKE THE WAY YOU THINK."
"I know. Come on. I have a thermos of coffee in the car. It's actually good coffee, not that vending machine sludge Kaito drinks. And I have heat."
"LEAD THE WAY."
I grab his arm.
It feels different than holding Yu-ri's arm. Yu-ri is safety.
It feels different than Kaito. Kaito is rivalry.
Luke feels like a puzzle. A sharp, jagged puzzle that might cut me if I hold it too tight.
And god help me, I want to solve it.
As we walk away from the beach, leaving the lovebirds to their "supply run," I realize something terrifying.
I haven't thought about Yu-ri's smile in ten minutes.
I haven't thought about hating Kaito in five.
All I can think about is the texture of Luke's voice, and the way he said, It suits you.
System Alert: New Challenger Approaching.
Status: Screwed.
> End of Chapter 8