DISCLAIMER: Nothing owned, nothing gained...please don't sue me, low tolerance to pain...

---

"Beachside"
by Ryuen

~ ~ ~

THE SETTING: Our world, circa 2001, somewhere in the continental United States.

THE PREMISE: Seven seishi and one miko, sharing a beachside condo...why, you ask? Because, it's just more fun that way. :P

THE UNFLAMABLES: (1) Despite the fact that this takes place in the real world, all seishi will be known by their seishi names, rather than their birth names. (2) All seishi remain in the bodies they possessed during the series, which means no funky reincarnation body-switches. *firm nod* (3) The ages seem slightly off because they ARE--Miaka is eighteen, Tamahome and Tasuki are twenty, Nuriko and Hotohori are twenty-one...the rest of the math, I'm sure you can do yourself. :) (4) Despite some of my other fics, this one will most likely contain no shounen ai--so, those who find themselves afeared of such things...worry not. Ye are safe for now. :) (5) Even though the setting clearly marks this as the "continental United States," there will be the occasional smattering of Japanese here and there in the dialogue. Why? 'Cuz it makes me feel special and multi-lingual...and, it tends to fit the characters better than english, anyway. ^_^.

Read and review! Authors need the occasional head pat, too. *sniffle*

---


-PART I-

[SOUNDTRACK FOR PART I: "Otome no Ranman," Sakamoto Chika]


~ ~ ~

He awoke slowly, in careful, practiced stages.

First, his dark eyelashes fluttered, just slightly, granting him a brief, stingingly-bright view of the light-filled room. Then, his toes tensed, relaxed, tensed again. He would lie there for a long moment then, breathing deeply and trying to decide whether or not it was worth getting up yet...and then, inevitably, there would come some shuffle of movement from somewhere else in the house, and that would cinch the decision--he would turn his attentions back to waking, again, determined not to be the last one up and moving...no matter how early it might be.

The toes tensed again, relaxed. Next came the fingers, then another light, testing flutter of the eyelashes...then, those slim legs swung towards the edge of the bed, dragging the rest of the taut, muscled body with them...and finally, finally...Hotohori let his eyes come fully open, pressed his bare feet against the cool wooden tile of the floor...and, came fully awake.

He yawned, stretching his arms high over his head, and rose to his feet. The light, satin fabric of his robe hung lightly from his broad shoulders, leaving a generous expanse of tanned, muscled flesh exposed...of course, it would be easy enough to reach down, cinch the robe at the waist, but... A rare smirk touched the handsome young man's lips. But, that wouldn't be nearly as much fun, would it?

As he strode sleepily to the door, scratching absently at his shoulder as he moved, he took a brief moment to survey the new coat of paint Nuriko had so enthusiastically offered to apply to the walls a few days ago...he frowned slightly. Of course, the new color was a bit...bright for his tastes...but, it seemed to fit the room...albeit a bit oddly. The rich violet shade somehow perfectly offset the gentle mahogany of the desk, the simple white and red of the bedspread, the artful collection of porcelain figurines littering the many wooden shelves.

But, still...it WAS a little bright. He'd have to have a talk with Nuriko about it over breakfast--if he was awake, of course. Usually, the violet-haired man was out of bed even earlier than Chichiri, bustling from one end of the kitchen to the other with a greasy spatula and a cheerful smile for everyone...but, lately, he'd been stumbling out of his room around ten thirty, mumbling something about bad dreams before grabbing a piece of bread from the drawer and staggering into the living room to munch on it. Hotohori would often find him there hours later, the bread lying half eaten in his slim fingers, Nuriko himself fast asleep in whatever couch or chair he'd managed to collapse into before drifting off.

It was a little disconcerting...particularly since this new schedule seemed to force the slightly-older man to stay up half the night to compensate...and, much as he hated to admit it, Hotohori found himself missing Nuriko's company in the long stretches of the morning and afternoon. The others all had work or--in Chiriko's case--school, and thus the two of them were typically alone for most of the day. It had always been pleasant, before--they would go about their own respective activities, Nuriko typically lying sprawled out on the couch, making fun of the soap operas while Hotohori sat on the other side of the room in front of his computer, buying and selling online as the mood struck him. But, always, there was a sense of togetherness in their days...and, more than once, Hotohori would catch himself staring at the TV along with Nuriko, snickering at the violet-haired man's clever, sarcastic comments. It was distracting, of course...but, he didn't mind it.

Besides. It wasn't as if he was in danger of losing his money if he spent a few moments of every hour letting his mind wander...his father's fortune...his own string of luck these past few years, choosing just the right stocks... Financially, things couldn't have been better. He sighed again, thinking of the dark circles beneath Nuriko's eyes, that dull, weary note to his voice lately...something was obviously wrong. And, he had a feeling that if it didn't fix itself soon...Nuriko was going to fall apart at the seams.

With a start, Hotohori realized he was still standing in his room, fingers resting lightly against the doorknob. Shaking his head slightly and putting the thoughts of the other man out of his mind, he twisted the knob, took a long step out into the hallway...and started as a wide, smiling face appeared just in front of his own.

He gasped for a moment, taking a short step back. "Chi-Chichiri," he managed.

Chichiri smiled. "Na no da," he said by way of greeting. The blue-haired man studied him for a moment, then nodded approvingly. "Ohayoo, Hotohori-sama...you're up early no da."

Hotohori frowned slightly. "Chichiri...I've told you, you can drop the 'sama.'"

"Gomen, Hotohori. Old habits die hard no da."

There came a sudden scuffling from down the hall, and Hotohori glanced to the side just in time to see a blur of color and movement flood by, sending a warm wash of wind sweeping into his face. He turned, gazed after the blur in confusion...and, watched as it coalesced into two familiar forms...both of which were snarling and lashing out quite violently...

"Mattaku!" Nuriko exclaimed, swiping a hand at the fiery-haired bandit but missing. "Tasuki," he growled, looking both weary and irritated. "I was here FIRST."

Tasuki shook his head vehemently, making another desperate lunge for the bathroom door but missing as Nuriko leaped forward, pushed him out of the way. "No @#$*$# way!" the fanged red-head shouted. "Last time you were in there for two @#$*$(*@#$ hours! I gotta get to work!"

"And, I gotta get to--" He broke off, flushed an angry shade of red. "I have to get somewhere, too," the violet-haired writer finished belatedly. "So, if ya don't mind, Tasuki..."

"NO WAAAAY!" the bandit cried. He jumped forward, slamming into Nuriko--who had been inching his way towards the bathroom door as he spoke--and sent both of them crashing to the floor.

Chichiri pressed a finger to his chin, shook his head almost sadly. "Na no da," he lamented.

Something squeaked farther down the hall, made the four turn...a moment later, Miaka poked her head out her bedroom door, gazed sleepily down the hallway. Her thick brown hair was messy and disheveled, hanging in tangled ribbons about her face. She blinked a few times, seemed to bring the world into sharper focus. "Whassgoinon?" she managed, rubbing at her eyes and stepping out into the hallway.

At the sight of the furry bunny pajamas, Hotohori smiled...but, Nuriko and Tasuki barely seemed to notice the girl's presence at all.

"Damn it, Nuriko...!"

"I won't be that LONG..."

"You ALWAYS take a long time--"

Hotohori, quickly tiring of the bickering, took a long step forward, reached down a hand and grabbed onto the two. "QUIET!" he bellowed.

And, much to his surprise...the two were immediately silent.

He raised his eyebrows slightly, impressed with his own abilities at issuing commands...then, remembered just where he was and what was going on, returned his attention to Nuriko and Tasuki. "That's better," he said sternly, releasing his hold on his two friends. He took a slight step back, eyed the two for a moment. They were still scowling at each other, looking ready to dive at each other's throats again...Hotohori shifted a bit uneasily, realized he'd better figure something out very quickly or there was likely to be some sort of bloodshed...

Luckily, Chichiri came to his rescue.

"Tasuki," the young professor said slowly. "Isn't there a bathroom at the garage na no da?"

Tasuki frowned at the older man for a long moment, raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Yeah...but, it's pretty dirty."

Chichiri pondered for a second. "Come with me, then. There's a bathroom at my office no da...I'll drop you off at the garage after you're done."

Nuriko and Tasuki exchanged glances...then, reluctantly, the bandit nodded, trudged back up the hallway towards his room. "All right, all right..." He turned, just before his door, and cast Nuriko a murderous glare. "But, you damn well better remember this, Nuriko...I ain't gonna do this every damn day..."

The violet-haired man said nothing, merely turned and trudged sulkily into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. A few moments later, there came the rush of water flowing from the shower, joined seconds later by the familiar sound of the twenty-one-year-old's soft, low humming.

Hotohori tore his gaze away from the bathroom door, glanced back at the hallway...and, found it nearly empty. Miaka had retreated back into her room, no doubt to claim as much sleep as possible before she was forced to wake up for her first class, and Tasuki--if the violent thuds echoing from down the hallway were any indication--was still in his room, as well.

Chichiri sighed softly, rubbing lightly at his chin and leaning his back against the other side of the hallway. His usually-smiling face dropped slightly...and, he assumed the more serious posture they saw so rarely, his voice dropping to match the mood. "Something is seriously wrong with Nuriko no da," he said quietly after a moment. "I would talk with him..." He shook his head, glancing down at his watch. "But, I have a class in ten minutes no da. Hotohori-sama..."

Hotohori closed his eyes briefly, nodded. "I'll talk to him," he promised.

Tasuki's door slammed open, crashed into the wall. "I'm ready," he announced, slinging a half-open duffel bag over his shoulder. He was still clad in the plain white T-shirt and speckled boxer shorts he'd worn to bed...but, he'd slipped a pair of old sneakers onto his feet, and despite the bleariness of his eyes, he looked more awake. "C'mon, c'mon," he urged impatiently.

When Hotohori returned his gaze to Chichiri to see the young professor's reaction...he found that the cheerful smile was back in place, as was the usual high, light tone to his voice. It felt...strange, being a firsthand witness to that sudden change. It was almost like Chichiri were actually two different people...as if he'd somehow managed to separate the negative side of himself from the positive. Hotohori found himself wondering just what the reason might be for such a mask...but, decided against asking about it now. After all, Chichiri was on his way out the door...and, Nuriko needed his help more.

"Hai, hai no da," the blue-haired man soothed, stepping out into the adjoining living room and gathering up his papers. "If you're that impatient no da, you could go wait out in the car..."

Tasuki seemed to consider for a moment...then, shrugged, slung the bag once more over his shoulder, and tramped out the front door. It slammed shut behind him a moment later, and the fiery-haired mechanic's high-pitched whistling could be heard tracing its way down the hallway...finally, it vanished, and Chichiri let out an audible sigh of relief.

Stretching forward, he snapped his briefcase closed, took a moment to button the last few buttons of his freshly-washed white dress shirt, then turned and hurried towards the door. "Good luck na no da," he offered as he tugged on the doorknob.

Hotohori swallowed hard, wondering just what it was he'd gotten himself into... "A-Arrigato," he managed at last.

Chichiri offered one last, cheerful smile...and, then the door swung silently closed...and, he was gone.

Grimacing slightly, Hotohori turned back towards the bathroom door, drew in a long, deep breath, and waited.

---

*AUTHOR'S NOTES: (1) I apologize for the length of this first chapter...it's another of those really-fun-to-write fics. :) So, gomen ne...but, please, if you've gotten this far, be kind and leave a review...it's the only way to make me dance...and, I KNOW you wanna see me dance... *sniffle*

(2) The seishi's occupations for this fic, in case you were wondering, are as follows:

Hotohori - Independently-wealthy/daytrader
Nuriko - Writer/novelist
Miaka - College student
Tamahome - College student
Chichiri - College professor [history and mythology]
Mitsukake - Pediatrician
Chiriko - High school student
Tasuki - Mechanic

(3) Onegai! I despise this title! HELP! :) Any alternate suggestions will be GREATLY appreciated. ^_^.