Tale of Hisashi | [ON HIATUS]

2 || Stepping Stones

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"I ordered a fish. Not a girl," Hisashi deadpanned, taking the pipe out of his mouth. It was a cloudless morning, the moon tucked away behind the horizon. The waters were rougher, the wooden boat eerily creaking as it struggled to keep its head afloat. Ocean mist dusted the air, and the man could feel it lazily latch onto his face. He snuffed the flame with his hand and shook out its contents, placing the wooden instrument in the pocket of his blue sweater as his friend cleared her throat, trying to reason with him.

"Okay, look, I know it all sounds crazy. Actually, it is now that I've said the entire story out loud... but– wait, when did you start smoking?" she began to ramble, stopping though upon seeing the foreign object in his mouth.

"Since yesterday, when a Yoruiko almost burned down the kitchen."

"And so you're coping by burning another thing?"

Hisashi stared at her for a few moments, before blinking and looking down at his chest. Sighing, he fished the pipe back out and tossed it into the waters beside them. Its landing would sound a small 'bloop!' as its ripples faded into the water. The girl nearby would let out a small yelp as she shifted away from the edge of the dock, avoiding a few of the larger droplets as they flew in the air beside her. The graying man raised an eyebrow, as Miho gave a sympathetic look. "I'm starting to think that maybe you're the one who traumatized her," Hisashi commented.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny." Miho rolled her eyes, before crossing her arms and leaning against a mooring pole. "Still, what do you think she's doing here?

"You're asking me? You're the one who found her," the man pointed out.

"Right, but I thought you might know something! Considering you see so many souls on a weekly basis," she retorted.

"Key point being souls. That doesn't include mortals as part of my job." 

Miho let out a small sigh, rubbing the back of her neck. She turned to look back at the girl. Wrapped in a blanket, the girl stood out of earshot, but the look of fear and curiosity was ever present on her face. "Would it be too much to ask for a favor, then?"

Hisashi crossed his arms, mimicking the woman as he coughed. "That'll be your 49th one."

"You've been keeping track?" 

"No, but you've been asking for so many, I ought to be." His stern look would soften, a cheeky smile on his face as he tipped his invisible hat in the direction of his friend. It was fun to mess with the greenhead, even though it probably meant he'd be finding fish guts in his bed tonight. He stretched his arms and let out a small yawn, his serious demeanor returning as he looked over to his rickety wooden cart. "Does this mean I'm making two trips, then?"

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Two towels had been placed on the bottom of the cart, but it didn't help to cover the fishy smell that pierced the girl's nose. She placed a hand over her mouth, trying to keep the contents down as the ground underneath her rumbled. Miho was beside her, keeping pace with the cart, whistling an unfamiliar seafaring tune. The man, who she now knew as Hisashi, was in front pulling the wagon. He made no sound apart from the occasional grunts, occurring when he had to put extra effort into navigating over a wandered rock or fallen log. The worst parts of the ride were when the trio had to go downhill; the awkward angle and even bumpier transition left her feeling sicker than when Miho offered her a drink. Around them, the birds singing their songs filled the air– the only signifier that morning was upon them.