Hizashi Yamada lived alone by the sea.
This sentence sounded far more majestic than the situation was, really. He lived there because it was his home. Hizashi had grown up alongside the crashing waves and learned to respect the bodies of water all around him. As he grew older he also learned to free dive, and would often collect any debris under the water as well as on the beach itself.
The alone part was simply because he hadn't found a partner yet - and, at age 32, he had started to worry if he ever would. His love of the water had pushed quite a few women away, and others had wanted him purely for his wealth.
Almost every night he would build a small fire for light and practice his other passion, music. Being independently wealthy, this beach was <i>his</i>, and as such was private property. It was usually empty unless some kids from the local college were trying to sneak in. He taught there and was good-natured when it came to his students, so they did occasionally stop by.
Tonight, however, he sat alone by the shoreline to play guitar and sing. Ultimately, it was this combined love for the sea and music that led him to the most amazing discovery of his life. He rested comfortably on a low, wooden beach chair dressed in worn jeans, a plain white t-shirt and a hoodie with his college logo on its breast. A pair of sandals lay discarded beside him and he dug his toes in the wet sand near the shore where the waters lapped peacefully towards him. Hizashi pulled an acoustic guitar in front of him and stared out at the stars shining on the water for a moment before strumming gently.
"<i>Somewhere... beyond the sea,
Somewhere waiting for me,
My lover stands on golden sands,
And watches the ships that go sailinnnn' ...</i>"
His fingers trailed slower as he faltered to a stop. He set the instrument down and squinted at the waves, in shock that what appeared to be a head bobbing up at his singing.
"Hello?"
<i>Can't be... well, nah, it could. Just unlikely.</i>
"Nahhhh." He popped his glasses up to rub at his eyes, then shook his head. "I'm too tired," he groaned. "Fuck this, the kid's're right. I'm an old man and I need my sleep." He slung the guitar across his back, tucked the chair under one arm and jammed his feet in the sandals.
What Hizashi thought he'd seen was a woman peeking at him from the water, her eyes just level enough to shine in the light of the crackling fire. Those <i>eyes</i> - he knew he must be imagining it, because they couldn't be real. They were purple, deep and rich and mysterious and so beautiful his heart felt close to breaking. He muttered to himself as he extinguished the flames, shaking his head and carefully covering the pit with sand. "Sad, lonely ass <i>old man</i>."
But he was right, though he doubted himself. Someone was in the water.
The eyes watched him as he made his way back, trudging through the increasingly drier sand to the boarded walkway that led to his home. The head stayed for a few minutes after he could no longer be seen and then slipped as swiftly as it had come into the dark sea.
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