Chapter Text
For the entirety of his life leading up to this summer, Ouma thought that the world was as black and white as truth and lies. He’s always thought that lies served no purpose but to protect himself and shut others out. That’s how he’s always used them, even as a waddling toddler, even as a moody teenager, even as a full-fledged adult. He’s never had the issue of being gullible because he’s always trusted his gut to separate the truth from the lies. Which is why he had chalked the Sea Monster of Hope Bay up as just another untrue story to gain attention.
He didn’t understand how wrong he could be until he truly got to know Saihara.
Ouma sits at the small table in his apartment, stirring a cup of hot chocolate that he had long replaced his usual morning coffee with. The local news channel is flipped on, and he idly watches with a small smile on his face as the anchor talks about the “sudden disappearance of the Hope Bay Monster” after last week’s fiasco. Ouma sighs into his cup. The world may never know the truth about that monster, but Ouma almost likes it better than he’s one of the only humans to know. It’s like his and Saihara’s little secret.
Once he’s finished with his coco, Ouma places the empty dish in the sink and readies himself for a long day. He has a lot to do and a lot of people to talk to in the span of the day. He wagers he has until about sunset to finish his preparations. He’s invited Saihara to spend one last evening together in Hope Bay with him, to send him off. Ouma just has to make sure it’s perfect.
Once he’s dressed for the day, donned in his favorite purple tropical shirt and bright yellow Crocs, Ouma ties his hair back, grabs his phone and keys, and walks out into the bright sun.
Now, Ouma won’t say that he walks with a bounce in his step and whistles a tune, he won’t say he greets everyone he sees and they smile and wave back, and he won’t say he feels like he’s walking on air. Because those would all be lies. Not to say he isn’t happy, he’s elated that Saihara gets to see his family, but there’s also this kind of dread hanging over him about him having to say goodbye to everyone. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to visit again.
Ridding himself of his negative thoughts for now, Ouma makes his way over to his first destination of the day: the ice cream shop.
The bell makes a quiet jingle as he walks in through the door with a grin placed high on his face. The heads of his two (and only) favorite ice cream shop employees turn his way as Ouma makes his usual boisterous entrance, announcing to the almost empty parlor, “Amami-chan! How are you still alive? The assassins I hired must have failed. Well, count this day as a lucky one, then!”
Amami gives him one look from behind the counter, tired eyes boring into him. “Good to see you’re in high spirits, Ouma-kun,” he says as he wipes down the display case. He straightens out once he’s done, tossing the rag onto the counter.
“Good to see you’re not dead yet, Amami-chan,” Ouma replies, walking up to the display case and, just because he knows it gets on Amami’s nerves, immediately leans his weight against the glass. He can hear Amami’s frustrated sigh, music to his ears.
“Well, if it isn’t the fruity grape Skittle,” Jay says, walking around the counter to also lean against the freshly-cleaned display case. They and Ouma exchange an amused look.
“I just cleaned that,” Amami mumbles behind them, swatting Ouma away from the display case with the rag while he giggles. Jay jumps away before Amami can swat them as well, sticking out their tongue childishly.
“If it isn’t the fruity emo who totally has the hots for--” Ouma starts, but he’s harshly cut off with a hand pressed over his mouth to stop him.
“Watch it. And I’m not an emo, I--” Jay cuts themself off, yanking their hand away and glowering at Ouma. “Did you lick me?”
Ouma turns away with a shrug. He can feel Jay’s annoyed stare boring into his back. “Not an emo?” he laughs. “Tell that to Ayesha Erotica.”
“Jay is definitely emo,” Amami pipes up, back to scrubbing the glass where Ouma and Jay had smudged it. Not that there are many customers at this time, or anyone who will even care. Who gets ice cream in the morning, anyway? (Well, Ouma sometimes does, but that’s beside the point.)
“Speaking of emos,” Jay quickly cuts in with a subject change, “How’s loverboy doing?”
Ouma grins widely, stepping closer to the pair. “Actually, that reminds me,” he says, pulling himself up and sitting on top of the counter, already plotting, “I need your help with something.”
☀☀☀
Humming to himself as he walks down the street after his nice chat with Jay and Amami, Ouma doesn’t expect to run face-first into someone in the middle of the road. He also doesn’t expect that someone to be Iruma.
“Watch it, fuckin’--” she starts, rubbing her head where Ouma knocked it, before opening her eyes and noticing that it’s him. She stares at him for a long moment before loudly shouting behind her, “Kiibo! Get your ass over here, I found him!”
Kiibo pops his head out from around a nearby building, eyes lighting up when he sees Ouma. “Ouma-kun!” he says, quickly walking over to the two. “We were looking for you. Where have you been? Neither Iruma-san nor I have seen you or Saihara-kun at work for the past couple of days.” Iruma nods her head, crossing her arms as the pair practically stare him down, waiting for an answer.
Ouma shrugs nonchalantly, throwing his hands behind his head as he says, “Well, you see, after I managed to anger the foreign chef visiting this town for reasons I still don’t understand by keeping the identity of my boyfriend-who’s-not-actually-my-boyfriend a secret from him, he attacked us and I had to throw myself off of a cliff to save both of our asses only to be rescued from certain death at the last second by my boyfriend-who’s-not-actually-my-boyfriend’s best friends whom I didn’t know were also secretly crazy mercreatures just like him and I’ve been recovering from the emotional damage that took on me ever since.”
Iruma and Kiibo just blink at him.
Ouma giggles. “But that’s a lie. I’ve actually been stuck in bed all week. I got suuuuper sick from Hanamura-chan’s cooking and I came down with a terrible case of ligma.”
Kiibo tilts his head to the side. “Who’s Hanamura--”
“Ligma balls!” Ouma cackles.
“I regret talking to you,” Iruma says, burying her head in her hands, though Ouma can see the smile she’s desperately trying to hold down as she snuffles her snickers. Clearing her throat, she places his hands back firmly on her waist and announces, “Right! Well, we have somewhere to be, so--”
Rolling his eyes, Ouma looks at his nails with a smile on his lips. “I’m sure your dick appointment can wait just a sec, Iruma-chan,” he says, reveling in her offended gasp. “‘Cause first, I need a solid.”
☀☀☀
“Akamatsu-chan! Momota-chan! Wait up!” Ouma calls as he runs along the beach, trying to catch up to the two as they walk away. Akamatsu swivels her head around and grins when she sees him, waving and pulling Momota to a stop beside her as they wait for Ouma to catch up.
Panting from sprinting halfway across the sand, Ouma supports himself by placing his hands on his knees. Momota and Akamatsu watch him with concern for a moment before he pops back up with a big smile.
It’s currently seven in the evening, and Ouma knows the sun will start setting soon so he needs to hurry through the rest of what he has to do. Between running to multiple stores, then back to his house, then all the way down to the edge of the beach (multiple times, might he add) and talking to nearly everyone in town, Ouma is completely exhausted. But his plans are almost set for a night Saihara won’t forget, and he can collapse later when it’s all over.
So, with an hour left until he needs to meet Saihara, he asks his friends for a favor.
☀☀☀
Once sunset rolls around, Ouma is a ball of nervous energy as he stands on the beach, waiting for Saihara. He holds a rose gently between his fingers, fidgeting with one of the leaves as he’s reminded of the time he and Saihara went on that “date.” He smiles at the memory, though inwardly cringes when he remembers just how badly he had messed that night up. Oh. Ouma realizes that this is going to be the first time he hangs out with Saihara since then. A lot has changed, huh? Just one week ago, he was holed up in his room cursing himself for a simple peck on the cheek, and now he’s standing here ready for a night full of fun just for Saihara.
“Oh, Kokichi, there you are. You wanted to see me?”
Speaking of which.
Showtime.
Spinning around on his heel, Ouma gives Saihara a wide grin. “Finally, you’re here! You know, it’s not polite to leave a man waiting, Shuuichi.”
The Saihara from the beginning of the summer would scowl at him for that line. The Saihara from the middle of the summer would look away and apologize. But the Saihara now doesn’t do either of those things. Instead, he laughs, and says, “You didn’t give me an exact time, you know. You just texted, ‘Meet me at sunset,’ and then a bunch of winky faces.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Ouma rolls the rose between his fingers. “That’s alright, Shuuichi, it usually takes years to perfect the art of using and decoding winky faces. Of course, it obviously only took me a matter of days,” Ouma says, hands on his hips. Saihara raises an eyebrow at him. “You should have known by the fourteen that I sent that I wanted you here at eight sharp, but I guess I’ll let this one slide. You should be thankful I’m so merciful!”
“I thought you losing the bet meant you would stop lying?” Saihara says with a small smile that Ouma decides he never wants to leave his face. (God, he falls deeper in love with this man every single day.)
“Is Shuuichi insinuating that I’d betray our agreement? I’m appalled, I would never. Obviously, I’m not lying about any of that. It’s all one hundred percent the certified truth,” Ouma declares with a grin.
Saihara is not impressed.
Scoffing, Ouma’s grin falls. “Aaaanyway, this is boring,” he says, glancing down at the rose in his hand once more before holding it out to Saihara. He knows how cliche this is, but he has a feeling it’s something Saihara will appreciate, and it’s a nice way to start the night. Saihara’s eyes flicker between the flower and Ouma before he accepts it, taking it from Ouma’s outstretched hand with that soft smile still in place.
“You’re going all out, huh?” Saihara laughs, watching the rose twirl in his hands.
Ouma tuts, shaking his head. “Shuuichi, we’re just getting started! It’s a special occasion, after all.” Taking Saihara by the hand, Ouma pulls him along down the beach, a swell of nerves swirling mercilessly in his stomach. He wills it away, chastising himself for being nervous when there’s hardly anything to be nervous about.
“Where are we going?” Saihara asks with a tilt of his head as they walk along the beach. Ouma stays silent. Up ahead, he can see the spot he had agreed to meet up with his friends, and they all wave as he and Saihara approach. Ouma glances back at Saihara to meet his confused eyes.
Practically dragging him the rest of the way, Ouma brings them to the designated meeting point. It looks even better than he had hoped. The small section of the beach is decorated in strings of lights that glow in the dim lighting of the sun dipped just below the horizon. They hang from the tent Ouma had hauled over with Amami earlier, and the ground underneath is littered with blankets and beanbag chairs and a table full of snacks for the evening.
Grinning widely, Ouma gages Saihara’s reaction. He feels a small flare of pride at the way Saihara stares at their surroundings and smiles.
“Shuuichi!” Momota calls, hand raised into the air as he strides over to them and slings an arm over Saihara’s shoulder, pulling him and Ouma over to the rest of the ground. “Was wondering when you’d get here. Nobody wanted you to miss this, we all busted our asses today setting this up.” Momota frowns, jabbing a thumb at Ouma as he walks ahead of them to greet the others. “You can blame that asswipe for that, he rallied everyone into throwing a big going away party.” Groaning, Momota grimaces. “If I have back pain tomorrow from setting up that damn tent then you’re getting it!” he yells at Ouma, who promptly flips him off in response.
“Momota-chan, I will steal your bones and use them to build my own personal throne,” Ouma retorts, spinning back around to Amami. “Soooo, Amami-chan, any plans for after summer? You just graduated, right?” he asks. Amami nods, taking a sip of the punch in his hand brought by Akamatsu, who claims to be the “punch-making master!” Ouma will have to see about that.
“Yep,” he says, idly tilting his cup left to right and letting the liquid slosh around. “Actually, Jay and I are going to--”
“Hey, Amami, can I borrow you real quick?” Jay quickly butts in, grabbing Amami by the wrist and leaving little room for protest. Amami glances between them and Ouma before shrugging. “Be right back,” Jay calls over their shoulder to Ouma as they take Amami over the hill. Ouma can’t deny that he’s curious as to what they’re doing, but he couldn’t really care less right now.
Deciding he doesn’t want to stand there alone like a loser, Ouma saunters back over to Saihara, folding his hands behind his back. “Shuuichi didn’t think he’d get rid of me that easily, did he?” he asks, inclining his head to look at him sideways. Saihara pauses in his mindless conversation with Momota, raising his eyebrows.
“You walked away from me,” he says before his brows lower into a softer expression. “You really put all this together?”
Grinning brightly, Ouma nods. “Yep, all for my beloved Shuuichi. You should thank your lucky stars, you know, not many people receive this kind of attention from me. Just Shuuichi.”
Saihara smiles. “Just me, huh?” he asks.
“That’s what I said,” Ouma replies.
“Uhh, I hate to break up… whatever this is, but your ass is needed elsewhere,” Iruma interrupts, pushing her hair out of her face as she suddenly appears at Ouma’s side and jabs a finger harshly into his shoulder. (He definitely isn’t startled or anything by that.) “Damn highlighter wants ya, or somethin’.” She removes her finger from Ouma’s shirt and points it at Jay, who’s already back, then walks off without a response from Ouma.
“Uh oh, I think I’m in trouble with Jay-chan,” Ouma says with a whimper, ducking behind Saihara and poking his head out. Saihara lifts his arm, glancing at him. “Hide me, Shuuichi!” Huffing, Saihara takes two long steps to the right, unveiling Ouma to the world. “Shuuichi is so meeeaaaan!” Ouma pouts, crossing his arms as he passes Saihara and heads to where Jay is seated next to Amami in the tent.
He plops down in a beanbag in front of them, pulling his knees up to his chest and watching them expectantly.
“I just want you to know,” Ouma starts, eyes flickering between the two, “if this is The Talk, then Iruma-chan already taught me about that stuff. Like the banana and the donut and--”
“I hate this motherfucker,” Jay murmurs to themself.
“Everyone does,” Amami reassures them with a chuckle.
“Nuh-uh, that’s not true!” Ouma argues. “Everyone loves me! Right, Shinguuji-chan?” Ouma turns his head and furrows his eyebrows. “Wait, Shinguuji-chan?”
“Yes, hello, Ouma-kun,” Shinguuji greets him from where he’s taken a seat on the ground beneath the tent. Ouma stares at him, trying to remember when he had invited him (he didn’t, did he?) before hesitantly turning back to face Amami and Jay.
“Uh, right, so this is about how you and Saihara-kun are--”
“Ah, pardon my interruption,” Shinguuji interjects, arising from his place on the floor. “But I believe there was something a bit more important in need of being discussed, yes?”
“The…flower shop?” Jay asks, the confusion on their face even more evident when Shinguuji nods. “How is that more important?”
Shinguuji chuckles, folding his hands together. “I cannot say, it would spoil the surprise.”
“What surprise?” Ouma asks, becoming impatient with this tedious conversation and wanting to get onto the good stuff already. “Shinguuji-chan, are you hiding things from us?”
“Not you,” Shinguuji says with a shake of his head. “I do not wish to spoil the surprise for the entities residing past the wall, hanging onto each and every word in anticipation of the ending. One mustn’t just spoil that, correct?”
Ouma has absolutely no idea what the fuck Shinguuji is saying.
“Yep, yep, totally, got it,” Ouma says dismissively, waving Shinguuji off. The man takes that as his que to leave and, without another strangely creepy world, exits the tent. “Alllright, now that creepo is gone, tell me about this flower shop.”
“This is what we’re going with?” Jay asks lowly. Amami offers them a shrug.
“I don’t know what Shinguuji-kun found so important,” he says. “After Hanamura-- Oh, did you hear what happened?”
Ouma blanches, trying to hide it with an indifferent frown as he checks his nails for dirt. “Enlighten me, Amami-chan.”
“Well,” Amami starts, leaning forward in his seat, “No one quite knows how, but he fell from that cliff near the edge of the bay. You know, the one we raced up at the start of the summer.” Ouma nods, pretending this is all news to him. “I heard he tried to stop his fall, but I don’t know how true that is. He ended up breaking his leg and I think he sprained his other ankle, too. The damage could have been a lot worse, but he managed to survive that drop somehow.”
Ouma can’t help the small snicker that escapes him. Take that, fucking bastard, he inwardly cheers. Hanamura got what was coming to him, that’s for certain.
“And what does this have to do with a flower shop?” Ouma asks skeptically.
“I guess Hanamura decided he didn’t want any part of this town anymore, ‘cause he packed up and left. He basically left us the ice cream shop, and since his family is totally loaded, they didn’t give a shit,” Jay says with a small smile, clearly excited.
“So we’re turning it into a small flower shop,” Amami finishes.
Ouma will admit, that’s not a bad idea. It will rid the town of the stink Hanamura brought to it, that’s for sure. They all deserve a bit of a break, and Jay and Amami look genuinely happy about this.
Just as he’s about to congratulate them on their new business, Ouma notices that their surroundings have gotten significantly darker. Cursing to himself, he abruptly stands. “Sounds awesome, I gotta go,” he says in a rush before darting off onto the dimly lit beach.
He spots Saihara sitting by himself a little ways away from the water, watching as the tide brings it farther and farther up the beach. Glancing at the sky, Ouma lets out a relieved sigh to see that he’s not too late. Kiibo’s already gone, so he knows he doesn’t have much time left.
Walking over to Saihara, Ouma beams down at him. He extends his hand as he’s done many times before now, watching as Saihara doesn’t hesitate to interlock their fingers and allow himself to be pulled off of the ground.
“Come with me, Shuuichi,” Ouma says softly, gently tugging on Saihara’s hand to get him to come along instead of tugging him like before. Silently, he leads them back over the sand and onto the grass, bare feet against the open dirt leaving Ouma wincing slightly every time his foot catches on a twig or a stone.
“You seem to like this place,” Saihara observes once they reach the top of the hill the climax of their summer had transpired on only a week ago. Warily eying the cliff edge a few meters in front of them, he says, “Aren’t you scared of falling again?”
“Hey, Shuuichi,” Ouma says suddenly, turning to him with a blank look upon his face. “You won our bet, right?”
Saihara gazes quizzically at him. “Yes?”
“And I was supposed to stop lying to you, right?”
Again, Saihara answers simply, “Yes.”
“Well, I can’t do that,” Ouma admits, letting go of Saihara’s hand and carefully sitting down on the rough grass. “I can’t just stop lying, it’s who I am. But,” he continues, sensing Saihara’s need to say something and silencing him before he can, “Just for one night--just for tonight--I won’t lie to you.” Ouma looks up from his lap, watching as Saihara quietly sits beside him. “Does that sound alright to Shuuichi?”
Saihara nods, taking Ouma’s hand again and setting the butterflies in Ouma’s stomach loose again. “That sounds nice,” he says.
Ouma smiles lazily, leaning back onto Saihara and letting their shoulders brush, a warm, content feeling settling pleasantly at the bottom of his stomach.
“So,” Saihara says after a moment of staring at the night sky, “you didn’t answer my question.”
Ouma hums, leaning his head fully onto Saihara's shoulder. As tempting as it is to close his eyes and let his worries slip away, he forces them to stay open. He fears if he lets himself go now, he’ll fall too deep. Or, at least, fall asleep on top of Saihara, and he doesn’t think his ego can stand a hit like that.
“If I’m scared?” he asks, trying to hide the sleepiness in his voice. He can feel Saihara nod against his head. “What does Shuuichi think?”
Saihara seems to give it a bit of thought, the only sounds filling the air being their conjoined breathing and the faint noise of their friends chattering below them, before he says slowly, “I think…you are scared. You just want to prove to yourself there’s nothing to be scared of, so you’re forcing yourself into a situation that would normally make you scared.” He pauses for another moment, then adds, “But you’re not afraid because I’m here. Right?”
Ouma laughs to himself, attempting to pick his head back up off of Saihara’s shoulder but only managing to fall further into him. “This must be why you’re a detective,” he muses, giggling when Saihara tries and fails to come up with some sort of humble dismissal. “Is Shuuichi scared of anything?” he then asks. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one being exposed, you know.”
Saihara sighs, tentatively wrapping his arm around Ouma and pulling him even closer. Ouma’s seriously starting to think he might actually fall asleep on him, now. “I’m not scared of a lot,” he says thoughtfully, looking down at him, “But I guess I’m pretty scared of--”
A loud bang resounds around them, causing Saihara to jump almost comically high (somehow, Ouma manages to stay attached) and let out a high-pitched squeal. If Ouma didn’t have him for support, he would have fallen over laughing.
Ouma holds his sides, falling into a giggle fit as the next firework lights up the beach, sending an array of blues and greens cascading across the sky and painting the black night with bright colors.
“Is it fireworks?” Ouma asks over the thunderous noise in his ears, snickering when Saihara startles again.
“I’m not afraid of fireworks,” Saihara says with a huff, making a show of hardly flinching when the next goes off, this time streaking the night sky red.
Pouting, Ouma cries, “Shuuichi doesn’t like the show I set up for hiiiim!” He buries his face into the cloth of Saihara’s shirt, pretending to blow his nose into it. Saihara’s face scrunches up a bit and he pushes Ouma back, inspecting his shirt sleeve.
“I like it!” he’s quick to reassure him afterward, wincing at another resounding bam . “It’s just…loud.”
“It’ll be over soon,” Ouma admits, watching green and orange and more blue bloom in front of him. “Shuuichi has noooo idea how expensive fireworks are. I don’t have enough to buy one of those huge, fifteen-minute displays, or whatever.”
Ouma can feel Saihara relax a bit at his words, trying to enjoy the rest of the short-lived firework show. Just as Ouma promised, the fireworks stop not a minute later, and Ouma can hear quiet applauding down on the beach. In the distance, they can both see Kiibo running back to meet the tiny crowd below them, finished lighting the fireworks.
With no more fireworks to jolt him awake, Ouma feels his eyelids becoming worryingly heavy. He tries to suppress a yawn and keep his eyes open, leaning impossibly farther into Saihara.
“Tired?” Saihara asks in a hushed voice. Ouma drowsily curses his detective skills, shaking his head into his shoulder and murmuring something along the lines of, “Supreme leaders don’t get tired.” He’s fairly certain it comes out as muffled grumbling.
Saihara chuckles lightly, and Ouma can feel the slight movement, a pleasant sensation that only further lulls him into the pull of sleep. “We should get you home, then.”
Ouma makes no move to get up in the slightest. He hangs onto Saihara, not allowing him to rise from the ground either as he murmurs, “Stay.” Saihara stops for a brief moment before seemingly giving up, allowing Ouma to curl up next to him.
When Ouma lets his eyes fall shut, between the heavy blanket of sleep weighing over him and the steady warmth Saihara provides against him, he falls asleep almost instantly, Saihara’s hand running through his hair and a smile on his face.
☀☀☀
It’s time.
Ouma takes a breath, raising his fist to the door of Saihara’s apartment at exactly seven o’clock the next morning. He wraps his knuckles against the wood harshly, yelling to the detective, “Shuuichi, come ooooon.” Saihara had requested Ouma come at this time to walk him down to the beach where he’ll be departing. Last night, Ouma had offered to take him out farther to sea in the lifeguard boat so as to not arouse suspicion, and Saihara had readily agreed.
“Uh-- One minute, Kokichi, let me just-- AH!” Ouma hears a loud bang come from inside the apartment, then the sounds of Saihara groaning, muttering something inaudible.
“Hey!” Ouma calls through the door, tempted to open it but refraining for the sake of Saihara’s privacy. “I can’t be giving you back to the family all banged up, Shuuichi! They’ll think I mistreat you!” He knocks against it harder, only further annoying Saihara.
“Okay, okay, hold on,” Saihara calls back, frustration seeping through his voice. “Let me get my pants on.”
Ouma snickers, leaning against the doorframe. “Shuuichi isn’t even dressed? Gosh, how late can you b--” Ouma cuts himself off with a yelp as the door is pulled away from him, leaving him to topple to the ground. He rubs his head and winces, glancing back up at where Saihara stands above him. “Oh, hey Shuuichi.”
“Hi,” Saihara replies dryly, lightly nudging Ouma with his foot to get him to move so Saihara can lock the door. Ouma doesn’t budge. “You’re insufferable,” Saihara sighs, kicking Ouma more harshly.
“Owwww,” Ouma cries, tears welling up in his eyes as he reels back to avoid another kick. “Shuuichi’s so mean, bullying poor, defenseless little me.” He juts out his bottom lip in a pout, one that Saihara isn’t fooled by. He sends Ouma an incredulous look and finishes locking up his apartment.
“Is this really what you want me to remember you by?” Saihara asks as Ouma stands up, taking the hand Saihara reaches to him to help.
Ouma pretends that those words don’t hold weight, shrugging his shoulders and mockingly replying, “Is this what you want me to remember you by, Shuuichi?” Saihara stares at him for a moment before letting out a breathy laugh, though there isn’t much humor behind it. Ouma frowns, shoving his free hand into his pocket.
“Touche,” Saihara says before abruptly letting go of Ouma’s hand and digging back out his keys. “Uh, hold on, I forgot something.” Ouma doesn’t have time to jab at Saihara’s forgetfulness before the door is swung open and Saihara disappears back inside the apartment.
Ouma whistles to himself as he waits, noticing the cracked door. Curiosity getting the better of him, Ouma opens the door just enough to peer in. He’s been in here before, but it’s much…emptier, only reinforcing the fact that Saihara really is leaving for good. He doesn’t need this apartment where he’s going.
When he sees Saihara returning, Ouma quickly pulls his head back, leaning against the wall next to the door nonchalantly as if he had been waiting there the whole time. Once Saihara is back outside, a bucket in his arms, he closes the door again and locks it behind him.
“You were snooping, weren’t you?”
Ouma feigns offense, dramatically putting a hand against his chest. “Is Shuuichi accusing me of peeping like that? I can’t believe you, I would never!”
Saihara rolls his eyes but offers his hand back to Ouma, which is gladly taken as the two start off towards the beach.
A thick silence falls over them after that, the only sounds being the crunching of their feet against the ground and the chirping of birds above them. Saihara…must really not be ready to say goodbye, huh? Ouma understands. He’s built a home for himself here, hasn’t he? A dull ache of sympathy resides in Ouma’s chest knowing that Saihara has to leave that all behind.
Ouma eyes the bucket in Saihara’s other hand, once again curious, and is surprised to see it holds…Nemo? Ouma glances up to see Saihara staring at the bucket as well, a disappointed frown on his face.
“Wow, Shuuichi,” Ouma tries to lighten the mood, “You didn’t eat him! I knew I could count on you.”
Saihara raises an eyebrow, warily glancing down at the little fish circling the bucket. “I never would have eaten him, you know that,” he says as the sand starts to come into view. The beach has always been a nice, tranquil place for Ouma, full of fun memories and such. He’s never felt quite this level of anxiety to see it.
They’re alone on the beach, no one but them there in the early morning light, walking down the shoreline. Ouma can see where the boat is parked at the dock up ahead. He takes a deep breath, the salty ocean breeze filling his lungs. He feels just a bit calmer.
“You aren’t bringing him along as a boat snack, are you?” Ouma asks skeptically, pointing at Nemo. This earns him a small (albeit strained) chuckle from Saihara.
“I’m freeing him,” Saihara says, treading over towards the water. Ouma steps up beside him, considering kicking water into his face, but deciding he isn’t that cruel. Instead, he sits down on the sand beside Saihara, watching as he slowly takes the bucket into his lap, careful not to spill anything onto himself.
Ouma watches, just a bit solemnly, as Saihara gently places the bucket into the water. He glances at Ouma before, slowly, tipping the bucket into the water, allowing an open passageway for Nemo to swim out of. Nemo hesitates for a moment, confusedly testing the waters, before hurrying out of the bucket and into the open sea. He pauses for a moment, and Ouma swears the fish glances their way in some sort of goodbye (though he knows that’s not feasible). Then, he dives beneath the waves and out into the bay, out of sight.
The beach is quiet for a long moment. Deciding that the heavy atmosphere is no fun, Ouma promptly stands back on his feet, dusting off his pants as he says, “Don’t expect me to have any other snacks, you just threw out your only chance.”
He hopes for at least a smile from Saihara, a chuckle, anything, but he just stands beside Ouma with a small sigh. “Not hungry,” he says, brushing his shoulder as he passes by.
Ah. This is worse than Ouma thought.
He hurries to catch up with him, falling right back into step as they reach the lifeguard boat. Saihara stops and stares at it for a moment, and Ouma shudders at the memory of the last time he was on a boat. Not a good one, that’s for sure. He takes Saihara’s hand once more, smiling up at him in hopes of reassuring him.
“There’s nothing to worry about, Shuuichi,” he tells him, gently tugging his hand to coax him into rounding the boat with him, “You’re going home.” They step onto the dock, Ouma going first to climb over the railing of the boat and onto the deck. He nearly trips in the process, but Saihara helps to keep him upright before hopping into the boat himself.
It’s surprising to Ouma that Saihara hasn’t brought much with him; just Nemo and a small satchel around his torso filled with what Ouma assumes are essentials. He supposes he doesn’t need much for life under the ocean.
“Soooo,” Ouma draws as he sits down behind the wheel of the boat, twisting the keys he had been lent and feeling the buzz beneath him as the engine revs to life. “Excited to finally see your family?”
Saihara sits down next to him in one of the seats, fiddling with his thumbs as Ouma pulls them out and away from the dock. “Of course I am,” Saihara says, lingering for a moment before adding, “It’s just…” He trails off quickly. “Er, never mind.”
Ouma spares a quick glance at him, quizzically raising his eyebrows as he tries to coax Saihara into elaborating. “Shuuichi, come ooon,” he whines over the roar of the motor. “Are you really gonna leave me hanging like this?”
Saihara is silent for a long while as the boat makes its way out of the bay, Ouma leading it past the border previously swarming with nets and fishing boats. Now that Hanamura is gone, so are all those nets. It gives Ouma a bit of inner peace, knowing Saihara is leaving this horrible place and returning to safety.
Finally, Saihara sighs, though Ouma can’t hear it, just sees the way his shoulders sag from the corner of his eye. “I just feel bad,” he admits, not trying to raise his voice over the hum of the boat in the slightest. Ouma has to strain to hear him, dividing his attention between what he’s saying and the open water before him. “I’m leaving everyone behind on such short notice. And, I know they’re all moving on with their lives too, but I feel guilty lying to all of them, I suppose.”
“Shuuichi,” Ouma says once Saihara is finished, “That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Saihara scoffs, turning away a bit. “Wow, thanks for the confidence boost.”
Ouma frowns, saying harshly, “I’m not lying. Shuuichi is a huge idiot if that’s what he thinks.” Eyes focused on the water, Ouma doesn’t see the way Saihara tips his head in confusion. “You didn’t lie to them at all. You told them you were going home to see your family again. And we both know that isn’t a lie.”
Hesitantly, Saihara tries to say, “But my identity--”
“Your identity,” Ouma repeats, gripping the steering wheel harshly, “was hidden for your own safety, Shuuichi, because your friends would have been even more hurt if something happened to you. You belong with your family, and if they were able to know your situation, none of them would be mad or upset or any other stupid thing your brain can come up with.” Grumbling, Ouma rolls his eyes. “Gosh, Shuuichi is such an idiot if he’s so convinced that--”
Warm arms wrap around Ouma, engulfing him in a tight hug from behind. Ouma jolts in Saihara’s hold, quickly stopping the boat before relaxing, giggling at the sudden affection from Saihara.
“Shuuichi really is silly,” Ouma says, returning the embrace and swiping a thumb beneath Saihara’s eye, coming back wet. “Is he really crying over that? What happened to the big, bad, hardboiled detective, huh?”
Chuckling into his shoulder, Saihara mumbles a quick apology and pulls away. “I know you were driving, I just--” Very abruptly, Saihara stops. He perks up, staying stock still for a long moment.
“Uh, Shuuichi-- mmph!” Saihara puts his hand over Ouma’s mouth to silence him, quickly putting a finger to his lips in a shushing motion. (While the urge is strong, Ouma restrains from licking his hand.)
Even more abruptly, Saihara takes his hand back and, without another word, leans over the side of the boat and dives head-first into the water. That startles Ouma into standing up, quickly gripping the edge and peering into the deep blue waters, searching for Saihara.
A moment passes before he sees movement beneath the waves and a blue-haired head pop up, complete with fanned ear fins and scales along his jawbone that glisten in the morning sun.
“Kokichi, it’s them!” he says hurriedly, excitement seeping into his voice. “My family. I can-- I can hear them, they’re close.” Small ripples form on the water where Saihara’s tail swings side to side beneath him, and he grips the side of the boat eagerly.
“That’s great, Shuuichi!” Ouma cheers with a grin. “Get back on the boat, and--”
“No, no,” Saihara says with a shake of his head. “I-- It’ll be a lot faster if I swim.”
Ouma frowns. He knows he can’t let Saihara do that. Defiantly, he sits down on the deck and grabs Saihara’s hand between the bars of the railing, the webbing between his fingers against him a strange sensation as Ouma intertwines their hands and tugs on his arm harshly. Saihara yelps, holding himself up and, giving Ouma a displeased look, helps Ouma pull him back onto the boat.
“There’s a ladder right there,” he unhelpfully points out once he’s sprawled out on the deck, tail moving unhappy beside him. Ouma shrugs and stands back up, holding up a single finger to shush Saihara.
“Hold that thought, Shuuichi,” he says, turning around and walking around the side of the boat. Saihara, weighed down by his tail, is unable to follow him as Ouma disappears from his view. Ouma purposely makes lots of noise, rustling things around and knocking over a box to make it loudly slam against the deck, only furthering Saihara’s confusion.
“Uh, what are you doing?” Saihara asks warily, tilting his head to the side, ear fins bobbing ever so slightly and fanning out in curiosity. “Kokichi, this isn’t time for games, if I don’t--”
“Now Shuuichi,” Ouma calls to the Siren, tutting to himself. “I told you to be patient, riiiight? I’ll only be a few millennia.” He giggles. “But that’s a lie. Shuuichi just needs to wait another minute.” Ouma can hear Saihara huff from his place on the wood. He’s strangely silent for a long moment before he heaves a sigh, curling in on himself when Ouma takes longer than another minute.
“Hey, Kokichi?” he finally says hesitantly, fins falling against his head. “I’m…sorry.”
Ouma stops what he’s doing, faltering for a moment. Quickly, he bounces back with a chipper, “What does Shuuichi have to be sorry about?”
Saihara is silent for another long moment, and Ouma is nearly certain he had forgotten he was supposed to answer when he hears Saihara take a long breath. “I’m sorry things couldn’t work out between us.”
A small “Oh,” slips from Ouma, nothing more. He doesn’t know what to say to make it up to Saihara. Furiously, his brain races for something as he continues what he was previously doing. “Shuuichi shouldn’t worry about things like that,” Ouma decides upon saying, unable to gouge Saihara’s reaction. “Not when he’s about to see his family! Isn’t this what you wanted, Shuuichi? Too late to have silly regrets now.”
Saihara lets out a breathy chuckle. “I guess you’re right, but I still--” Saihara cuts himself as Ouma steps out from behind the back of the boat. “...What the fuck are you wearing?”
“Language, Shuuichi!” Ouma gasps in mock offense, snickering. He spins around, glancing down at the tight wetsuit hugging his frame and the scuba gear pack hanging off of his back. He grins at a surprised Saihara. “Alright, I think I’m ready to meet the family! Do I look good? I’m nervous, Shuuichi! What if they don’t like me?” Saihara stares at him, mouth slightly agape as Ouma sits down next to him, wincing as the puddle of water left from Saihara on the deck soaks into his wetsuit uncomfortably.
“I-I…” Saihara stutters, his fins lifting up quickly from against his head. “What is this?”
Glancing back down at himself again, Ouma leans back on his hands and locks eyes with Saihara. “Shuuichi didn’t want to leave everyone behind, right?” he asks. Wordlessly, Saihara slowly nods. “Well, now he doesn’t have to! I’ve always wanted to travel the ocean! Have fun, life-changing adventures, and shit. And now, I can!”
Saihara is still starstruck, completely confused as to what Ouma is saying. “I don’t understand. How…?”
Ouma sighs, having half expected this sort of reaction. “Let me dumb it down for Shuuichi’s thick skull,” he says sternly, flicking Saihara’s forehead. “I’m going to live on the boat and use this stuff--” He gestures to the clanking scuba gear, “--so that I can swim with you. We can live together out here!”
Ouma expects Saihara to stay silent. He expects him to flabbergastingly stutter and wrap his puny brain around what Ouma is telling him. Instead, he engulfs Ouma in a sudden, tight hug. More water seeps into Ouma’s suit, but he really can’t give a shit. He laughs, once again returning Saihara’s embrace.
Not separating from him, Saihara asks, “Are you really going to live on this thing?”
Tsking, Ouma says, “Silly Shuuichi. Of course not.” He pulls back with a wide grin. “I’m getting a houseboat.”
Saihara smiles at him, then laughs, closing his eyes and holding the bridge of his nose. “Of course you are,” he murmurs, looking back at Ouma fondly. “You know this is crazy, right?”
Ouma beams at him. “Didn’t you know, Shuuichi? Crazy is my middle name!”
Saihara snorts. “I highly doubt that.”
“Shuuichi should know better than to doubt me,” Ouma says, standing up off of the ground. Saihara watches curiously as Ouma walks over to the railing, gripping it in his hands. Quickly, Ouma jumps up, precariously balancing on the thin beam with his flippered feet. Carefully, he turns back around to face Saihara.
“What are you--”
“Au revoir, detective,” Ouma says, saluting him, before tipping back and letting gravity take him over the edge of the boat. The loud crash of water resounds in his ears as he falls into the ocean, coming up to the surface with a laugh. Saihara peeks at him through the bars, a worried expression on his face quickly melting as he rolls his eyes, murmuring something inaudible to himself before hoisting himself up over the bar and into the frigid water.
“I think you have a death wish,” Saihara says as he swims up to Ouma, who lets out an embarrassing noise as Saihara grabs him by the wrist and scoops him up into his arms. (Not that Ouma is complaining.)
Huffing, Ouma defiantly says, “Are we going to see your family or not?”
Saihara smiles down at him, something that makes Ouma’s stomach do a summersault. “Hey, Kokichi,” he says instead, holding Ouma tightly against him. Ouma just hums, contently thinking about how he wouldn’t mind staying in this moment forever. “I… Would you maybe want to give… us a try?”
Ouma beams. Instead of answering, he pulls his head up and leans forward, kissing Saihara despite the taste of saltwater on his lips. Saihara holds him all the more tightly.
“Does that answer your question?” Ouma teases when he pulls away, booping Saihara’s nose.
“That was really corny,” Saihara points out with a snort. But he lets out a content sigh and nods his head regardless. “Thanks for sticking by me.”
“I’m preeetty sure you threatened me into helping you,” Ouma says, putting a finger on his chin. Saihara just laughs against him. A moment of calm silence passes, basking in each other’s presence. Then, Saihara ruins it.
“Kokichi.”
“Yes, beloved?”
“We forgot to anchor the boat.”