Written in the short space of about an hour with only a couple of proof reads, so blame any grammatical/spelling errors on that. Also worth mentioning that this is supposed to be set in the 1700's, just in case of confusion.
From the point where the waters gently washed up to greet the soft, sandy shore, the high pitched sound of the young boy's laughter was carried across the cove.
Making a deliberate attempt to kick up as much sea foam as he could, the boy ran across the water's edge, his jubilant laughter loud for all to hear. The water sprayed up and showered his face in a way that was rather refreshing, gathering at the tips of his thick eyelashes and clinging to the length of his navy hair until he stopped dead with a cry of "Ah-HA!" and dropped to his knees to collect the object which had so badly caught his attention.
He washed the remaining grit from the empty limpet shell in the wave that slowly approached to lick at his scuffed boots.
The boy held the murky coloured shell up to the light proudly, grinning a toothy grin at his new prize. The ridges of its surface felt odd on his skin as he ran his thumb across the tiger-like stripes and he practically stroked it a number of times purely so he could experience this new sensation again and again.
Eventually moving on from his latest find, he placed the limpet shell in the crook of his arm where he cautiously carried a number of others. All sorts of vacant mollusc and crustacean homes could be found, among others, and he oh so carefully cradled them all, having taken his time to ensure that all the larger ones were placed at the bottom of the pile and therefore would be harder to drop. He took a moment to check and double check that this arrangement was still in order before quickly going through his assortment of beach material.
With a disappointed whine he stopped and stared out at the tranquil ocean that he loved so much.
"Still no treasure…"
From behind there was a deep chuckle and the boy turned round to see the man stood over his shoulder, supervising him at all times.
At least twice as tall as the boy and much older, Ikuto had to lean down to speak properly with the seven-year-old. "But still so determined."
The boy nodded fiercely with an expression so ridiculously serious, Ikuto had to force himself not to laugh for fear of damaging his pride – that the boy's mother certainly wouldn't forgive him for.
"One- One day-!" the child declared vociferously, "One day I'm going to find something! A-A dubloon or ruby or pearl!" he continued to ramble on about all the different and precious things he would find in his cache, his tone growing more and more excitable with every syllable. "-And GOLD!" He exclaimed, almost dropping his seashells without noticing. He then wiped the childish grin from his face and looked his father dead in the eye. "Pirates hide gold as well you know, father." He finished with a nod of the head.
The man would not have been able to hide a smile if he tried at the way his son spoke so knowledgably.
"What if- What if one day-!" the small, blue-haired child began again, his eyes lighting up with a sudden new thought. "Father, what if one day we came down here and actually saw pirates burying treasure!"
If he knew how to answer at all, he would not have had the chance to as the boy continued, babbling away eagerly, almost breathless. "And- And we came down and then they saw us and then they challenged us and then- and then you would come forward – just like you said you used to in your stories – and then-" he suddenly jerked his free arm forward, miming a sword fight and lashing the imaginary weapon at equally imaginary corsairs. "-And father, you would have to stop them going back into the village and then-!"
"Son,"
Though the one word sounded weak and weary, it was enough to drag the child from his fantasy and drop the make-believe weapon.
"You know the seas are safe from pirates." His father told him in that calm, persuading tone he would often use when he was trying to make his son understand something.
At these words that he had heard from his parent many times before the child scowled, stubbornly tuning them out and acting as if he refused to acknowledge the other's presence by focusing all his energy back into his shell collecting.
It was no secret that he had become positively enthralled by the prospect of coming face-to-face with a real life sea-faring buccaneer. Well, perhaps that would be a small lie. If the boy were ever to face an actual pirate in the flesh, his father predicted that he'd turn tail and run as fast as his little legs could take him, but there was no doubt that should they ever catch a glimpse of three sails and the looming shadow of a mysterious schooner gliding upon the waters the small child would be fascinated and Ikuto wondered how – if such an event did ever occur – he would peel the boy away from the spectacle.
It had all started with the discovery of an old, nautical-looking hat tucked away in the corner of his father's study, carelessly shoved into the space between the ceiling and the top an old cabinet. Intrigued, he had stacked and climbed over every piece of furniture he could lay his small hands on in an attempt to reach the hat before finally achieving his goal and running into their kitchen where his parents sat. The hat itself was fairly worn, a strikingly dark shade of blue with faint, golden trimmings and (rather unfortunately) covered half of the child's face, causing him to run straight into one of the chairs at the table and stumble backwards. He hadn't been fazed though, and instead jumped right back up with a spring in his step and questioned the two adults about the object.
His mother had not said a word, but simply paused in feeding her youngest daughter to stare in mild shock, her mouth hanging open by just a fraction and her honey coloured eyes growing as the seconds ticked by. His father however had remained expressionless as he asked his son where he had found it. The child had failed to notice their reactions though and began spouting the details of his latest discovery; from going into the study to look for his favourite book, to almost falling off of the stool at the top of his makeshift tower, and finally to how much his head had hurt when he made contact with the kitchen furniture.
Ever since then every day it had been "Father, father, tell me more about your travels!" and "Father, father! How many places did you visit when you lived at sea?" and he would have no choice but to sigh and give in, unless of course he wanted a pouting little boy to deal with for the rest of the night. And so he would beckon the boy over, who sat like a puppy on the floor at his feet, staring up with shimmering eyes as he listened to his father's stories of ships being tossed about by stormy gales, ninjas who had him locked in brutal combat and finally of the day his future wife stepped aboard his magnificent vessel to travel the seven seas by his side. And all the while, the woman herself would come and kneel on the floor nearby, listening carefully to her husband's stories as she fed the glowing fire with a rather wistful expression that the child could never really comprehend. Still, he was never distracted by her for long and would turn back to beg for more tales, uncaring of whether or not he had heard them many times before, and subconsciously ran his hands over the trimmings of the blue hat in his lap time and time again, his finger tracing the dusty, white diamond sewn into the front.
And eventually – always eventually – he would ask;
"Father, did you ever meet any pirates?"
And the man would merely shrug and then simply say, "I'm still here, am I not?" before standing up and promptly ending his reminiscing for the night.
Ikuto glanced down at the child who crouched down by his feet, hurriedly scooping up any new seashells he laid his eyes on. He worked with a sense of urgency, rapidly reaching out and snatching them up as if they would eventually disappear into thin air if he left them for too long. Arms full with the tiny items, he stuffed a few into his jacket pockets which were already heavy with the rest of his collection before straightening up and darting his head round just in case he saw any more treasures half buried beneath the sand.
The older male sighed as the child wandered out of earshot. Since his son's newfound love for pirates had begun, he had come down to the beach almost every day on the way home from the village to search for hidden treasure left by those who lived at sea. Patient as always, Ikuto would merely follow the boy down to the shore and wait as he checked every little possible space for the shimmer of gold, occasionally sulking when he was told to move away from the foot of the cliffs or when – on the rare occasion when she came down with them – his sister threatened to take one from him. (The fuss when she had almost taken some of the 'treasures' down to the market to sell he'd never forget…) Then he would check again. And again. And again every day until the father announced that the sun was starting to set and that they needed to head home. Not that he ever found any priceless artefacts hidden anywhere in the small cove, hence why until then the seashells would have to do.
Ikuto shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips as the child began digging into the soft sand.
The kid didn't yet know that pirates would not actually bury their treasure.
A shiver ran down the man's spine despite the warmth of the late summer air and the orange rays that still shone strongly across the calm sea.
That kid didn't yet know exactly what pirates actually did either.
The boy was oblivious to the whole world. The reality of a life at sea among the outcasts and rogues of society was something that he was utterly unaware of. All that filled the child's mind were tales and accounts of old adventures that his father had embarked on before his birth. All he knew of were the intriguing bits, the exciting bits, the bits that even now could get the older male's blood pumping with adrenaline…
And then there were others that Ikuto would rather not share with his first born.
That boy was completely oblivious.
"Father!"
He was innocent.
And if he really knew of those ruthless buccaneers from back in the day -
"Father!"
- would he really want to keep on collecting seashells?
"Father look!"
Snapping back to the present, he chuckled to himself, good mood restored as his son eagerly pointed at the tip of a conch that stuck out of the sand.
"Coming, Daisuke…"
Oh well.
Until his son grew up a little bit, Ikuto supposed he could put up with treasure hunting by the shore for a while longer.