And so I thought I'd let you know
Yeah, these things take forever, I especially am slow
But I realized that I need you
And I wondered if I could come home - First Day of My Life by Bright Eyes
Arranging flights out of Japan was the hardest part of Shota's plans. He'd already taken the time off, far more than he'd ever taken at a time before. He called the Hero Agency and was told that their private planes were not for joyrides, but for bringing in the heroes from other nations who were willing to help put Japan aright. He didn't disagree with their reasoning, so he called Endeavor instead.
Endeavor finally agreed that he owed him a favor, though the cost of fuel and so forth for his private jet was hardly in the same scope. They bartered down to a flight to Okinawa - so far left alone by the villainous deluge. From there, a 17 hour flight to Maui. After that, things were simple. Shota visited Hizashi and lay everything out as truthfully as possible.
"Here's my key card," Shota said with a half grin. "Dom likes one can in the morning and one before bed. Could you hang with him for an hour or so? I might be gone for more than a month. Change his litter once a week." He heaved another breath, "Check in on Eri. I told her what's happening, but I'm not sure she really understands that I'll be back. Let her call me on your cell, alright?"
"Sure, sure. Feed Eri and let the cat give you a call. Good luck, Shota." Hizashi gave his friend a tight hug, "She's a fine girl."
"Thanks." His voice was muffled, but he raised it slightly, "Let go now."
Hizashi's big laugh followed him out. That was all he could do. The next morning he stuffed his swim trunks, an extra pair of underwear, and his passport into a messenger bag. When he'd called Kahui yesterday to finalize times he'd asked if he should bring anything else. The other man had sniffed in disdain and told him that he had enough clothes for the two of them. His parting words had been reminders to bring a couple good credit cards for dates.
Just over 18 long hours later, he called Kahui from the airport in Kahului. "Hey, that layover on Oahu was brutal. I just got through customs but I have to sleep. I'm going to check into the Marriott Courtyard."
"Are you sure? I can have you put up at a friend's for the night if you want to be fresh for your reunion. If you think the layover was brutal, you haven't seen the room rates in Maui."
"It has a shuttle and I'm dead on my feet. Besides, I have money. Plenty. Pro for like fifteen years. Don't worry. Come grab me in the morning." Shota punctuated his statement with a yawn. "Thanks again."
He hung up and walked to the hotel counter, flashed his MasterCard, and was in bed within an hour.
The next morning he checked out, redressed in his clothes. He was angry at himself for both listening to and not listening to Kahui. The man had told him not to bring more clothes. Which Shota now wished that he had. He also said he'd have him put up with a friend. A friend with a washer and dryer no doubt. He could have been standing in clean clothes right now. Seeing the man himself pull up in a large, black, spotless, four-door pick-up truck made Shota's mouth drop open.
Kahui rolled the window down, "Jump in."
Shota obliged, and leapt into the passenger seat, well-appointed in leather. He'd expected the sleek, arrogant man to drive a car that was likewise. Though the truck was definitely top-dollar, it was more down to Earth than he'd thought the man capable of. Especially as he dropped his sunglasses down, and drove out, his silk Hawaiian shirt rippling in the aircon. He was wrong. This truck was perfect for Kahui, a man of differences that Shota was just coming to appreciate.
"Are you ready?"
Shota settled back, allowing the air to cool his skin and blow his hair into small shifting patterns around his face. "I think so. I tried to sleep as much as I could on the flights, but I was keyed up for most of it." He watched Kahui weave around traffic with his usual effortless grace. "Do you have any advice?"
"She should be mellow. I left her getting ready to drag a lounge out to the beach and tan." He flicked a look at Shota, "It's one of her pleasures. She does it even in Seattle when she can. In the Summer she's as brown as a good pint. She talked about you a little before I left, so she's thinking about you still. My advice is to be honest and open as a book. Even without using her empathic abilities she's a powerful lady."
"I've noticed. Thanks for this, by the way. You didn't have to get involved."
Kahui watched the traffic for a few moments, "I love her like the sister I never had. She's put up with a heap of shit from me, and she is always willing to put up with more. I can be single minded and mean-spirited. But she makes me better. She'll do the same to you."
Shota snorted. "That'll be good."
The truck pulled up in front of stylish townhomes. Kahui pointed at one, "I'm in number four on the end. Feel free to make yourself at home." He pointed again, this time at the ocean shimmering in the sun, "Beach is across the street. It's private, do make sure you remember you're my guest. Mr. Keahi."
"I got it. Thanks again." Shota opened the door. He smiled and gave him a wave.
Kahui saluted and drove off. Shota braced himself and pointed his toes in the direction of number four and ran through what he wanted to happen. Be honest. Be ready for rejection. Change into clean clothes.
Inside the door was a riot of tropical color. Except that it led the eye in a sweep of walls seen from the door that made Shota think of sunrise. Sunrise over the ocean with lush, flower-scented breezes washing over you as you absorbed tranquility like a sponge. His home was in an institution, no matter how well-funded and superior. That means he'd never thought about what it would be like to have an orange wall. Or teal-tinted grey floorboards that seamlessly blended into teal and lemon tiles in the kitchen.
Just being inside lifted his spirits while the air conditioning cooled the room to something that hovered around what he considered perfection. He looked for something to dislike, but even the mundane things like the refrigerator were part of the color theory of the house. He shook his head in wonderment, but decided to forgo any more exploration in favor of putting on his swim trunks.
He found a dark hallway and popped open doors until he found one that nearly shouted that Mara was living there. A pile of clothes, some folded, most sprawled, lay in and around a chest of drawers. He walked in, and her gentle scent pervaded his senses. Here it was more hibiscus and rose then than it had been back in UA, but that only made sense. He tossed his bag on the bed and began to strip.
He did as she had and tossed his laundry in a white-washed wicker basket. He put the shorts on, and hunted for an elastic for his hair. He was not disappointed, and found several hair doodads all piled on a corner of the dresser with a mirror nearly obscured by selfies of Kahui, Mara, and people he didn't know. He pulled one picture off the mirror and looked at it. He knew Mara's costume, so he studied the photo for a second. Everyone was in some version of costume, some with masks or support items in evidence. Mara's Agency must have had some kind of photos done. She looked so happy with them. He put the picture back amongst her pixel memories and left the room, pulling his hair into a looping bun.
Shota's bare feet slapped on the floorboards as he walked back to the glass doors that led to a green lawn with a white fence covered in climbing flowered vines. It was if he was in some kind of Island fairy story. Everything was made to make him feel like unwinding. Even the scents and melody of the salt-laden air had a different timbre than the same breeze in Tokyo. He pulled out a pair of flip-flops that fit well enough and a towel from a rack by the doors. He steeled himself one last time and headed to the beach.
The azure sky was pocked with white fluffy clouds and a ball of sun making everything glare and spark in his vision. He passed the security guarding the beach access who remembered Mara very well. Shota smiled, allowing his new sunnier personality to trickle through. If his students saw him now, they'd probably faint or attack him, thinking he were some sort of evil clone who smiled and laughed and wanted to hold hands with a beautiful woman.
Shota could immediately see why the security guard had remembered Mara. If she had covered herself, he would have fallen over, she wasn't the type. Therefore she'd probably lugged the beach chair and the towel she was gracing along with a rainbow bag that was spilling its contents to the side of her chair in the clothes she was wearing to tan in. The chair was nestled in a sandy verge and she was face down, her arms folded under her face.
She had just a thin string with a floppy bow across her back, promising the front, which he remembered quite well, thank you, was in something equally small, and his heart rate ratcheted into the stratosphere. His eyes ran down the bight of her back to meet the waist of thoroughly wasted cutoff jean shorts. They were more pockets interspaced with cotton threads that pinched the skin oh-so-lewdly through their spaces. He bit his tongue to stop him from giving himself away too soon. The whale-tail of a thong bikini peeked out of the top and he nearly had to stop a nosebleed.
He stepped closer, throwing a shadow over Mara's head.
She unfolded an arm, "Jerry you sweetheart, you can leave the drink there." She flipped her hand toward a small table she'd buried near the hand that had unfolded. "Thanks, doll."
"Not Jerry," he said lightly as she lifted her head and regarded him with bright blue eyes that rivaled the sky for clarity and beauty.
Shota knelt in the sand, "Mara Twist." His eyes studied hers, "You helped in the healing of my body and I gave you grief. Without either of us knowing, you healed my heart. I always considered myself unlucky. In life and in love."
"Shota?" Tears sparkled in the corner of her eyes and in her lashes as she blinked to clear her vision.
"I knew the first time you walked away from me that I never wanted to see you walk away from me again. Will you marry me? I want to fill your fort with so much happiness. I want to overflow your treasury with memories that we make. Together. For as long as you'll have me."
Mara's smile grew tremulous as she reached up to stroke over his face. Tenderly running her thumbs over his cheek bones. She withdrew her hands and Shota caught them, pulling them close, holding them tight. She turned to her side, showing that tiny bikini top and the waist of her cutoffs were unbuttoned to show the top of the bikini bottom. He licked over his lip.
"When did you come to this decision?"
Shota's lips curled up, "Three days ago, more, maybe less? Do time differences count?" She threw back her head and laughed. "Though to be honest, hearing you tell me I'm a pervert really made me hot for you."
"If this is about sex, then I hope you took a long vacation."
"Six weeks." He nodded, "Will that be enough?"
Mara laughed, "I only have three weeks, so we had better get started. Did you bring a ring?"
"Nope. All I brought is my passport, Mastercard, and a change of underwear." He laughed, "The clothes I flew here in. That's it."
"I have the clothes you gave me." She matched his devil-may-care attitude, "And how will we spend our wedded bliss?" Mara's hands shook Shota's, "I want to live with you at least part of each year."
"I can leave Japan for each school vacation over one week. You can come anytime you want. It's the best I can do. Will it work for you?"
Mara nodded, "Kids?"
"At least one. My mother will kill me otherwise."
"Mine too. Okay. I'll say yes then. Everything else can wait. Let's go back to the house." Her smile grew predatory and he knew he'd matched it. "Right now."
Shota struggled to stand, his balance precarious in the sand and aftermath of his confession and proposal. "You've made me a very happy man."
"Less talk, more knock." Mara reached forward, grabbing his hand and giving a sharp pull, making him lean forward with a drunken smile.
FIN
AN/ What started as a torrid yaoi and a complete and total joke turned into a challenge. Thank you, Stele.
Mosevic. If not for you I would not still be writing, I'm positive. I've never had a better buddy.
Third person sucks. There, I said it.
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