The Beach

By Trynnity

Chapter Two: Flight of the Bradley; or, An Empty Void, Where Once Were Penguins

(In Which Weiss Is Introduced; The Beach Volleyball Tournament Is Organised; Farfarello Reminisces On His Childhood; Crawford Reaches New Heights, And A Crab Is Seriously Injured)

((AN: This chapter is dedicated to Alissa Takeda, who worked her ass off for far too long rehearsing for her SOLO dance concert. And she was freaking brilliant ^^ Her dedication puts me to shame. If you review this fic, please congratulate Alissa. She's awesome.))

Nagi froze to the spot, attempting to make himself inconspicuous by camouflaging himself in a handy clump of seaweed. Thus disguised, he scuttled along the sand like a crab, closer to their fiercest rivals.

It was certainly the tall, wavy-haired Kudou at the centre of the admiring fan club- admiring, despite the fact that he was wearing an unbuttoned, bright orange Hawaiian shirt. Ken Hidaka, Martini in hand, was tanning on a deck chair in shorts and shades, while enthralling another group of scantily clad women with the highly exaggerated tale of some top-secret mission. The huge, complex sandcastle behind him probably concealed Omi Tsukiyono, although it could also have concealed a small army, including their weapons, food supplies and means of aerial transport.

That was some sandcastle. Farfie would have burst into tears of joy.

But where was the fourth member of Weiss?

...nyyowwrm...

...nyyowwrm...

The faint sound of a high-powered engine filtered through the clumps of dripping seaweed that covered Nagi's head. He made a shuffling 180 turn- a difficult task when sitting cross-legged on the sand, covered in aquatic plant life- and squinted out to sea, absently flicking a small disgruntled crab off his ankle. The crab skittered across the sand and landed on its back, waving its legs pitifully, but Nagi's attention was by now elsewhere.

...nyyowwrm...

...nyyowwrm...

...nyyowwrm nyyowwrm nyyowwrm nyyowwrmnyyowwrmnyyowwrm...

A midnight black Kawasaki jetski bounced over the horizon on the crest of a huge wave, leaving a V-shaped wake of pale foam as it screamed towards the shore. Fast. Very fast. And it had no visible intention of slowing down. The girls who had at first been watching it with interest began to mumble vaguely and sidle behind each other.

nyyowwrmnyyowwrmnyyowwrm

Nagi attempted a hard-reverse scurry and fell flat on his back.

nyyowwrmnyyowwrmnyyowwrmVWOOSHHHHHH.

The Kawasaki's lone rider, clad in a dark, expensive-looking wetsuit, pulled to a stop at the last possible second by whipping the back end of the jetski around in a sideways motion. Consequently, everyone in the vicinity was drenched with a fan of spray. The bikini girls yelped and held up their hands reflexively to shield their faces. Yohji, left standing at the front as the girls dispersed, blinked in annoyance as his expertly styled hair was slicked against his head like a well-used mop. Omi's sandcastle looked untouched.

"Hehe."

Aya Fujimiya cut the engine with a smirk and disembarked, stretching idly. "Anyone else wanna go?"

Ignoring glares from his team mates and covert glances from their respective fan clubs- why do Weiss get all the chicks? pondered Nagi- Aya blinked down at the sopping lump of seaweed near his feet. The spray of water had done much towards melting his disguise, so Nagi shut his eyes tightly in the desperate hope that they would be equally unable to see him.

Unsurprisingly, it didn't work. Aya poked at Nagi's ribs cautiously with a toe. Ever ticklish, Nagi couldn't restrain a manic giggle.

Discovered! Damn this accursed weakness!

He snapped to his feet, wet, sandy and weed-draped, and glared up at Aya from his disadvantaged height.

Aya tilted his head. "Hey… aren't you that kid from Schwartz?"

Nagi scuffed the sand. "Er. No."

"Yeah, you are." Fujimiya's violet glare was disconcerting. He'd attracted the attention of Yohji and Ken, and a sandy head poking around the Fort Knox sandcastle suggested that Omi, too, was aware of his presence.

"Guess that means the rest of Schwartz is here too."

"No! I'm on my own! Er, well, not on my own, exactly, um, anou… My brother is back there and he's bigger than you…"

"Nagi?"

With what seemed a stunningly bad sense of timing, Schuldig's voice rang out from somewhere over Nagi's left shoulder. He was barefoot and dripping wet, which somehow didn't detract from his presence. "Hn. Fujimiya."

Aya programmed his face for Bishie Expression #32- Cool Disregard- and then realised he didn't know the German's last name.

"…Schuldig."

Yohji and Ken took an almost imperceptible step forward. For a few seconds, the atmosphere was charged like a toaster sunk into a spa pool. Nagi prepped his telekinesis for Deck Chair Throwing.

Schu grinned lazily. "What a coincidence. I was just about to drag Nagi back for a game of... beach volleyball."

The two exchanged Bishie Expression #4- Dramatic Glare (Close Up Shot).

"I don't suppose you'd like to join us?"

Or are you... scared?

Had Schu dropped that thought into everyone's head? Or was it just one of those things that didn't need to be said?

Either way, it had the desired effect.

Yohji folded his arms. "Ore-tachi wa… Weiss da. We never back down from a challenge."

Schu could look quite innocent when he tried. "A challenge? Hell, we're all off duty, Kudou, don't be so uptight. It's just a friendly match."

Ahuh, thought Nagi, friendly like a bullet to the head. I'm staying riiiiight here. Where it's safe.

Ken punched the air. "Yosh'! Iku zo!"

(~*~)

"Pah."

Crawford brushed down the sleeves of his jacket, where vast quantities of windblown sand had settled in the creases. The wind was really picking up. Overhead, the beach umbrella, blessed giver of shade, strained at its supports.

He was, undoubtedly, the only one on this stretch of beach to be wearing a long white jacket, sleeveless shirt and pants, although he felt comfortable in his prescription sunglasses. It was unpleasantly hot, but he doggedly ignored this indignity, concentrating instead on his book. How To Win Friends And Influence People. It never failed to make him laugh out loud.

Presently, there was a tap on his shoulder. Crawford looked up into the scarred, sandy, oddly wistful face of Jei Farfarello. "What do you want, Farfie? Weren't you building sandcastles?"

"I was. Look." There were indeed a lot of haphazardly shaped sandcastles, studded prolifically with shells, arranged to form the words "Kill God."

"Well…" A gust of wind made the umbrella creak ominously. "Go build some more."

"I will."

"Good." Crawford returned his attention to his book and snickered.

"But Crawford…"

He put down the book with a thump. "Are you still here?"

"Crawford, I just wanted to ask you about the penguins."

"…penguins?"

"When I was very young... my mother used to tell me a story about a little boy who went to the beach and met a tribe of beautiful orange penguins. At first he was afraid, but the penguins started to talk to him. They were nice, friendly penguins, who lived in a world beneath the sand."

"Farfie, what the hell are you-" Crawford looked up at him in exasperation, only to find him staring out into the waves, the usual manic glee absent from his face.

"The little boy had never had friends before, because the other kids would laugh at him. They'd sneak up behind him and hit him with their toys, or throw food at him. And the little boy would never see it coming, because he only had one eye. But the penguins didn't do that. The penguins never made him angry. He never hurt the penguins at all."

Crawford sweatdropped, at a loss. "Uhh…"

"So I'm looking for the penguins. I wanted to thank them for being nice to that kid."

What was Crawford to say? Did he have the heart to shatter this broken man's dreams?

To reduce his one happy childhood memory to a hollow lie?

To tell him that, in fact, there were no penguins?

Well, yeah, but that wasn't the point…

"Yo, Farfie."

"Hello Schu. I was just telling Crawford about the penguins."

"Penguins later. C'mon Farfie, Brad, Weiss is here and we need you to play beach volleyball."

Crawford glomped the umbrella. "Staying here."

"Ach, but then we'll be short a player, and Weiss will win."

"Staying-"

Whoosh.

The wind almost blew Schu off his feet, blasting sand against the bare skin of his chest. He staggered, colliding with Farfie, who lost his balance totally and knocked him to the ground, flailing. Schu covered his eyes with his forearm, hearing a splintering crack and a rapidly fading "Kyaaaaa!" from somewhere in the sandy darkness.

When he tentatively opened them again, Crawford was gone.

So was the umbrella.

Schu stared.

(~*~)

Clinging desperately to the umbrella's broken handle, Crawford barrelled along the beach like a hyperactive windsurfer, colliding with dogs, seaweed, other umbrellas and the occasional human. Or so he assumed. His eyes were shut.

Once the force of the wind had actually lifted him off the ground, he dared to open them a crack. And then hurriedly shut them.

Crawford's long jacket whipped around him, and his hair beat against his face. His hands were slick with sweat. He couldn't be certain he was over water. And even if he was, he couldn't swim. This didn't look good.

Hanging from the smooth wood by his hands, Crawford struggled wildly to focus his precognitive talent. If he was going to die, he'd rather be prepared for-

And then he smiled.

For the first time that day, he liked what he saw.

(~*~)

Schu looked from Aya to Ken and Yohji, and smiled with what he hoped was Bishie Expression #18- Unruffled Calm In The Face Of Adversity.

The volleyball net had been set up, although the recent wind had almost torn it down again, and a crowd had gathered around the edges of the roughly marked playing area. Three members of Weiss. And at the moment, it was Schu and Farfie against the world. Schu did not like these odds. He'd probably do better by himself.

"Crawford's going to be here any minute now."

He didn't need to be telepathic to read their disbelief. Aya raised an eyebrow- he'd abandoned his wetsuit for a pair of dark blue boardshorts. "That's what you said five minutes ago, Schuldig. If you really think you can't win against us, we can call the whole thing off." He waved a hand absently, a gesture which encompassed the crowds of waiting fangirls.

Schu sweatdropped and shook his head adamantly. No way were Weiss going to scoop all the chicks- again. "We're still in."

"All right, then." Yohji smirked. "If we don't see Crawford some time in the next… three seconds… then the game will continue regardless." He looked ostentatiously at his watch.

"One…

"Two…

"Th-"

"Look!" shouted a Random Fangirl. "Up in the sky!"

"Is it a bird?" asked another bikini-ed bishoujo.

"Is it a plane?"

"NO! It's… not a plane, dumbass. It's round. And it's getting closer."

"Birds aren't round either."

"Some of them are."

"Like what?"

"Well... penguins are pretty round."

"Penguin?"

"That ain't no penguin, Farfie." Schuldig grinned. "That's Crawford."

Indeed it was.

Brad Crawford fell from the heavens, an angel in white, his hair swooshing dramatically as his trenchcoat snapped out behind him in the airstream. His was a slow and measured descent, buoyed by the large, black beach umbrella over his head. Assured that his death was not imminent, he held it casually in one hand like an apocalyptic Mary Poppins. Make that Mary Poppins... in sunglasses.

He touched down without so much as stumbling, flipped the umbrella and handed it to a pair of Random Fangirls, who squeaked. He could feel the sun on his face already, but he'd be damned if he was going to show weakness now. Hooking a thumb into his pocket, he surveyed Weiss from behind his dark shades, a small smirk touching his lips.

Daaaamn, Crawford, that was hella stylish. One-liner time.

"I hope you don't mind me... dropping in..."

Yesss! Who's the man?

"...But I'd never pass up an opportunity to see you three beaten into the ground. My coat, if you please." Crawford shucked his jacket- hell, he had about twenty others. White was, like, so hard to keep clean- and held it out to the side, where the lucky fangirl who snared it was swamped by a crowd of others.

Aya slid on a pair of shades.

Crawford brushed back his hair.

Farfie grinned like a homicidal iguana.

The games were only just beginning.

Stay Tuned For Chapter Three: Extreme Volleyball; or, Sand Wars- The Nagi Strikes Back!

(In Which The Aforementioned Seriously Injured Crab Is Introduced Properly; The Beach Volleyball Tournament Is Begun; Omi Devises Diabolical Schemes Against Nagi; Nagi Devises Diabolical Schemes To Counteract Omi's Diabolical Schemes, And Farfarello Takes Matters Into His Own Hands)