Under the Overpass ~ SatoSugu

Chapter 8

Yaga's deep voice ceased and he turned on his heels to leave for whatever other business needed tending to.

Compared to random farm villages or the bustling neighborhoods of Tokyo, Okinawa was an absolute thrill to the two.

They were told of a girl, Riko, her caretaker, and the tasks at hand. Geto, as usual, wrote all the new names on his opposite hand, not wanting to forget or have a first impression of rudeness. He was self-aware that image-wise, he looked slightly daunting, brooding, or rudely reserved.

He took joy in neatly packing a duffle bag of necessities, each shirt meticulously rolled and snuggled into the main compartment, along with extra shoes in a plastic bag so as to not get the rest of his belongings dirty.

Conversely, Gojo pulled a random assortment of clothes, shoved them into a large backpack, and stuck one of each flip-flop in the two side compartments meant for a water bottle or umbrella.  

"Are you joking?" Geto looked in horror, yet not surprised.
"What?" His tone suggested he saw absolutely nothing wrong with his appearance. Geto blinked.

Seeing the sea, and its crystal waters, smelling the salted air, and catching sun rays that cast themselves on the sand was nothing short of a relief. It was Yaga's idea to stop for a day with the girl, and it proved to be a wonderful idea. He could tell the two needed a break from it all and went as far as to find and book all accommodations and supply money for the food they'd need.

Geto, not one for the ocean even if he could see the bottom, sat beneath a shading tree, in mainly silence with the girl's guardian.

They talked about the basics first, and he learned of the figure she'd become for Riko. Like a mother, even if not born to her. Yet she explained there were lines she could not cross or didn't dare to at least. He quickly respected her, hanging on to the wise-toned words she spoke.

Every so often a loud holler or laugh would erupt with the waves, and man-made splashes along with them from the girl only a few years below them and Gojo. He enjoyed seeing Gojo with that childish freedom. No roles to fill or shoes to fit or strict rules to follow. Additionally, though it made no sense to him to wear a sleeveless hoodie to a beach (and he opted for the correct gear of a floral printed shirt) he admired from afar the carved figure Gojo had.

Geto joined in on the fun as the afternoon drifted on, hoisting Riko behind him and Gojo who secured the back, onto his Manta Ray curse.

She seemed overjoyed, holding her hat to her head against the wind with squinted eyes and a wide-mouthed smile plastered on her sun-kissed face. He took the two out to slightly deeper water, accelerating upward and the momentum of Riko falling shoved Gojo off the back end too, plunking with a great splash. A day went so fast.

"Satoru," he called out, "It's time." The girl instantly deflated, and with her; Gojo. Geto met him halfway up the beach from where they both were.

Gojo grappled with the tilting scale in his mind.  He called out loud enough for her to hear, "You know what, let's have another day."

Geto, not one to argue as the file didn't say any restriction on time, and he wasn't one to oppose his judgment (usually) when it came to these sorts of things, slung an arm around Gojo's shoulder, as to not be suspicious around anyone else.

"If you're not going to sleep again tonight, then let me at least comfort you." He half-whispered. Gojo's eyes widened, "I didn't think I was obvious."

"Okay well flip flops down the hall at one in the morning tend to give you away, hate to break it to you."

Gojo hooked his arm around Geto's opposite shoulder, kicking the sand with his toes.