[Fanfic, 100% OJ] Beach Party, part 1

Genre: Slice of Life

Length: 4834 words

B/D: I've been trying to do more long-form, multi-chapter stuff recently, so here's another two parter. I haven't quite decided on how to write Sham yet, so I'm still experimenting a bit. This one is pretty goofy.

If there was one thing that had never ceased to surprise Nath, it was how much she could achieve when she had nothing better to do. When she had visited her summer home in the past, she’d made it a habit to bring along whatever half-finished collections she had lying around, so she could spend her idle hours mounting and categorising. It was a task that had grown habitual, comforting. Stagnant.

This year, there was no collection. All there was to do was drink, relax in the sun, and work on the house – and the first two had unpleasant consequences if she indulged too much. As a result, she had made fantastic progress. She had mercilessly hunted and destroyed a year’s worth of dust bunnies. She had attacked the floorboards with sandpaper and varnish. She had led a coup against her cracked stucco walling and replaced it with stucco she felt would be more loyal. The kitchen was liveable again, the wine rack stocked, the bedrooms aired and stacked with fresh linen.

As such, she though it was fine to cut herself a little slack. She had allowed her single daily glass of wine to become three, and her half-hour of sunbathing to turn into watching the sunset under a beach umbrella. She was on the cusp of falling asleep to the sound of the waves when she heard the shrill ringing of the phone from the house.

It was a testament to years of discipline that she roused herself from the beach to go and pick it up; the fact that she was more excited than grumpy about it was a testament to something else entirely. She scooped the phone from the receiver, cradled it against her ear, and said: “Hi, Sora.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“How many people do you think I give this number out to?” she asked. Who needed caller ID, anyway? “So, what did you call me for?”

“What are you wearing?”

It took Nath’s brain a moment to register the words. Then she double-checked her memory, just in case, and it came back with the same result. “Uh…What?”

“That’s what Hime always says first when she has to call Suguri.”

And, no doubt, she always got the same answer. Of the many qualities Suguri might have had, being sartorially innovative wasn’t one of them. Nath’s eyebrows furrowed, and she got the distinct impression that Sora was making an attempt at a joke.

“That might be true,” she replied cagily, “but I don’t buy that you’d just repeat it without thinking about the implications. I think you’re teasing me.”

“Hm. You caught me. Well done.”There was a bizarrely honest sense of pride in her voice.

Nath sighed. “Well, of course.”

“So what are you wearing?”

“Clothes,” Nath said, rolling her eyes. Strictly speaking, this was false; the actual answer was more along the lines of ‘sunscreen’. “What’s gotten into you today?”

“We had pizza. But listen. I found a friend.”

Found a friend. What a charming way of putting it – as if a friend had just been lying around somewhere and she had picked them up. Actually, it sounded like what you’d say if you had adopted a cat. That wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, come to think of it.

“Can I bring her with me when I come to visit?”

“Ah… I don’t know.” She shifted her weight to her other leg. Her mind was casting back to the soldier’s cemetery she had made a little way away from the house. It was… a very private place, to her. She wanted to bring Sora there, as a fellow survivor of the war. Suguri and Hime… would be a stretch, but she could manage it. But to bring a total stranger into that place? She wasn’t sure she was ready for that. “I… don’t mind you bringing Suguri and Hime, but somebody I don’t know…?”

“You might know her, actually. She was in the War with us. On our side, before I went off on my own.”

“Y… you found another survivor? That’s crazy,” she said, unable to keep the confusion out of her voice. “The chances of anybody surviving that war were low enough. The chances of someone surviving and then you finding them this long after it–”

“I found you on the street.” There was a certain snappishness to Sora’s voice, as though this was an argument she had lost patience with already. “I knew her before I even started fighting in the war. She’s definitely the same person. Her name is Sham.”

Sham… Sham? Did she know that name? She felt like she might, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Had she run across it on one of the dog tags she’d found? Was it one of the names on the cemetery’s monument? She couldn’t put a face to it. She found herself frowning, her eyebrows furrowing. In death, every soldier was equal. But in life… Well. Not all of them had made the same kind of impression on her that Sora had. Still, a soldier was a soldier. A friend was a friend.

“…Alright. You can bring her along.”

“Roger. Thank you. It’ll be nice… to be with so many friends.”

Nath smiled. “Well. I just hope we all get along. Did you get your swimsuit yet?”

“Not yet. I’m going to ask Hime to help me pick. She’s good at fashion.”

“Okay. I’ll see you soon, then.”

“Mm. See you soon.”

As usual, Sora hung up promptly; as usual, it had been a rollercoaster ride of a conversation. Nath set the phone back on its hook, walked to the bedroom, and made a slow and graceful flop onto the bed. (She had, in the past, thrown herself onto the bed, but most bedframes were ill-equipped to endure a full Nath body slam).

“A new, old friend, huh?” she muttered to herself, extending one prosthetic hand towards the ceiling. She felt… something. A little bittersweet, maybe. She wondered if this new friend was like her. As damaged, as solitary, as she had been. She wondered if Sora would begin to drift away from her, now that she had another old comrade to attend to. She wondered if, after only a short time in this old house, she had already become lonely. It used to take years for her to feel the need for other people. Was this a good change or a bad one? She couldn’t tell.

Beyond that, she felt drowsy. Sleep took her, in the end.

“Hi, hi! Everybody’s favourite, Sham, has arrived!”

It had happened so suddenly. One moment they were alone; the next, she was bearing down on their table at the coffee shop like a friend-seeking missile. Perhaps, Hime thought, she just hadn’t recognised the idol out of her work clothes. They had only recently become acquainted, after all, and today Sham had forgone the light clothes an an idol in favour of a hoodie with a giant, super-deformed cat’s face on the front, with the front pocket decorated like a muzzle. Hime felt warm just looking at her. It was too hot a day for hoodies; today was a day for thin cotton and iced tea.

“You don’t have to announce it, you know,” Hime told her as she sat down. “Or pose, for that matter.”

“Wahaha! That’s where you’re wrong. Announcing yourself with a pose boosts your star power! And if you do it often enough, you stop feeling embarrassed about it at all!” Sham declared. Her idol’s passion had been excited by Sora’s impassioned pleas for help; she didn’t feel the heat from the sun, because her blood was burning hotter. “Sora! What’s our mission for today?”

Sora was pondering whether she should change their mission to something involving ice cream. Her straw sun hat was helping a little, and so was the loose, lacy dress that Hime had helped her pick out, but she was still more than a little hot and bothered. Sham seemed like she would be a fun person to eat ice cream with. But she shook her head, and returned to her original objective.

“I’m going to visit Nath at her summer house soon. She said I could bring both of you and Suguri with me as well,” she explained. “But she has a beach, so we need swimsuits. And I need to pick a swimsuit out for Nath as well.”

“H-huuuh? I’m invited as well?” Sham gasped, before backtracking. “Wait, wait, wait. She’s letting you pick a swimsuit for her to wear?! You must be really close…”

“She’s bad at underwear and swimsuits, so she gets me to help her since I know her sizes.”

Sham reeled back in shock, her hand over her mouth. Her voice came out as a squeak. “She even lets you pick out her underwear?!”

“Only one time.”

“Ahahaha. As amusing as your reactions are, don’t let Sora give you the wrong idea. They’re just friends,” Hime giggled. Sham didn’t quite fulfil the same primal desire for entertainment as wrestling did, but she was certainly dramatic enough to be fun. “As I understand it, Nath just… well… prefers to keep her basement breezy, shall we say?”

“…Ah… Ahahaha… I feel like this is forbidden knowledge…” Sham laughed weakly. She didn’t know if she was embarrassed or just feeling the heat. Sora had a cup of raspberry iced tea that she was ignoring and it was calling out to her.

“Yes, well. If you talk to Sora for any length of time, you’ll hear more than enough about Nath, I can assure you. The short version is that she’s a ten thousand year old war veteran with no arms, and when she headbutts you, you fall down and don’t get up again,” Hime explained.

“War veteran… of the Great War? Wow, that’s… Wait, wait, wait! More importantly! Does this mean I’m not the only ten-thousand year old lady you know?!”

Sora nodded. “Mm. Hime and Suguri are ten thousand, as well. I don’t actually have any friends who aren’t. Except for Nath’s cat. He’s not ten thousand. He’s more like… two.”

“S-so you don’t think I’m an old lady?!”

Sora tilted her head. “No? You’re Sham.”

Hime watched Sham’s reaction with barely-concealed curiosity. She had, after all, never seen a grown woman well up with tears at being told her own name.

“Soraaaaaa!! You’re the best, you know that?! Okay, I’ve decided! I’m going to use all my swimsuit experience as an idol to help you pick the best one! You’re going to be super cute! No, ultra cute! The most cute!” She slammed her fists down on the table. “I’m all fired up now! Let’s go, go, go!”

“Roger,” Sora replied, and slammed her entire iced tea in three long gulps. If it gave her brain freeze, she didn’t show it. “When we team up, nobody will be able to stop us.”

“That’s right! Teamwork and bikinis are my two greatest strengths!”

“Alright. Calm down, you two,” Hime said affectionately. Sora was so quiet usually, and Sham seemed like she would be responsible enough by herself, but put them together and you got a ball of noise and energy. It was like dealing with Saki and Kae all over again – very nostalgic. “I did have a suggestion for our little outing.”

Sora narrowed her eyes, and raking Hime’s face with a scouring glance. She was looking for a sparkle of the eyes, a quirk of the mouth. She found them quickly enough. Hime was used to doing largely as she pleased, in as bold and straightforward a way as she liked; she hadn’t learned to hide the telling expression she had when she was plotting something.

“No. You’re wearing your mischief face,” Sora accused.

“I am not!” Hime said, which was the biggest lie she had told all day. “I’m just… imagining how happy Nath would be if we ended up doing what I have in mind!”

Sora paused. On one hand, it was wise not to trust Hime as far as you could throw her, because Hime was very light and throwable and might float while in transit. On the other hand, there was the prospect of a happy Nath. A happy Nath was the best variety of Nath, and, historically, one of the rarest. You didn’t just find one in the wild; they had to be cultivated, like a delicate flower in the garden. She was getting good at gardening, Suguri said. She wanted to be good at making happy Naths, too.

“I’m listening.”

“Since Nath has been so kind as to invite all of us as guests to her summer house, why don’t Sham and I pick out swimsuits for her as well?” Hime asked, with a rhetorical flourish. Sora’s expression was still unsold, and she hurriedly added a coda. “After all, she does so dislike shopping for swimsuits and undergarments and the like. This way, she doesn’t have to do it for three times as long.”

“Well, I’m for it! I’m always ready to help a girl look super cute and ultra pretty!” Sham interjected, striking a pose. “That’s an idol’s way of life!”

“See? Sham wants to,” Hime said, fluttering her eyelashes. She mouthed a silent word of thanks to Sham, but Sora still seemed unconvinced. Reluctantly – although not very – she decided she would have to play a little dirty. “If you like, we can even make a little competition out of it. Whoever gets Nath the best swimsuit can boss around the other two for a day. How about that?”

The terms, Hime knew, were a little lopsided. For her, bossing Sora around meant a day free of chores; bossing Sham around would be a private performance for Suguri and some brownie points for herself. And Sham, no doubt, was imagining some fun activity she could drag Sora and Hime around for. But Sora, she knew, didn’t really have any use for bossing around her friends. What she did have was a competitive spirit and a home field advantage. She knew Nath the best, and therefore should be able to get the best swimsuit for her. She knew that. But she was still wavering, just a tiny bit. Hime made one last push.

“And anyway,” she said, affecting a languid air, “what’s the harm? Even if, say, Sham and I make horrible choices, she still has your swimsuit to fall back on, right? Or do you not think you can pick a swimsuit she likes?”

Sora’s eyes narrowed, and Hime knew she’d done enough. The girl couldn't resist a challenge. “Fine. But when I win, I’ll make you give me all your ice cream tubs. Even the ones you hid behind the frozen pastries.”

“If you win,” Hime rejoined, and made a note to relocate her stash to her stomach when the opportunity allowed.

They were interrupted by a noise that could only be described as ‘ominous’ emanating from Sham. Desire was written all over her face; her smile was as sharp as the curve of a knife. “Hee hee… hee hee hee… You two are gonna be my backup dancers! Quick, Sora! Tell me her measurements. I’ve worn more swimsuits than either of you has had hot dinners! I’ll claim this victory in no time flat!”

Sora frowned, and motioned for the other two to gather closer. While Nath seemed to have accepted her body for what it was, it was probably still rude to broadcast her measurements in a public discussion. When Sham and Hime closed the circle, she let the secrets slip in a low whisper.

“Gu-gumumu… those are… pretty formidable…” Sham said faintly. The colour seemed to have drained out of her cheeks a little.

“Yes,” Hime agreed. “Nath, in my experience, is something like a palm tree. Tall, a little prickly… and laden with bounty,” she said, and left no question as to whereabouts the bounty was situated.

“Nath is Nath,” Sora said seriously, “just like Sham is Sham. …Don’t get her anything weird.”

Hime smiled, took a long sip of her tea, and raised her hand as if to make an oath. “I would never. Scout’s honour.”

Nobody, not even Sham, seemed to believe her.

Hime enjoyed clothes shopping in a way that was unique amongst her friends. Suguri avoided it, if at all possible; Nath gritted her teeth and did it only begrudgingly; Sora rushed through it, as though it were a mission she had to complete; and even Sham seemed to enjoy it in a very cheery and direct way. For Hime, it was a meditative process. A journey of the imagination. She would slowly browse through each article and picture how it would look if she wore it, or how Suguri would look wearing it, or how Suguri would look not wearing it. (Admittedly the answer to the last part was always the same, but it was always enjoyable as well). She didn’t hurry, and she was very rarely overcome by excitement. It was a purely intellectual form of enjoyment.

Today was no different. Although Sham and Sora had crashed into the store like a fireball and immediately set about rifling through everything that looked even vaguely waterproof, she had quietly sidled in and began looking through things that were lacy and unmentionable, not always in that order or in equal amounts. It was partly because Suguri had given her carte blanche to pick out a set of underwear for her, and then given her carte blanche to make her wear anything in her wardrobe. If she put the two together, it meant that once the lingerie was in Suguri’s wardrobe, she couldn’t avoid showing it off at least once.

But the other reason for going her own direction was simply to give Sham and Sora some space. They hadn’t, to the best of her knowledge, had much time to just sit down and talk privately with each other. When they met again for the first time in ten thousand years, it hadn’t been long before Sham’s producer burst into the room and demanded to know who they all were and why his star idol was bawling into Sora’s chest. They had been… well, not really escorted from the premises, but Sham had advised them to to go home for the day so she could assert herself. She’d pressed a contact number into Sora’s palm and that was that; their grand adventure, stymied for the day.

There must, she thought, be things the two wanted to say to each other, away from prying eyes and prying ears. The last time they saw each other before their reunion, shots had been fired, betrayals – however unavoidable, however misunderstood – had been made. There was no way they could dance around it forever, and no reason Hime thought Sora would; the girl preferred the air to be clear, for good or for ill. She was also of the opinion that Sham was hiding a lot of hurt under her cheerful attitude. It was brave to smile when you felt bad on the inside – even cute, maybe – but it wouldn’t take the ache away.

Exactly what they might say to each other was something she could only guess at, and thus far, all of her guesses had been dramatic and entertaining. A touching and heartfelt reunion? A thawing of hearts grown distant? Maybe even… a confession, a love nurtured over many millennia? She giggled just to think of it. Perhaps Suguri was right, and she was watching too much wrestling. But the larger-than-life storylines were just so titillating, and that was before anybody got hit with a chair.

It may have seemed odd that Hime wasn’t thinking about what swimsuit she should get for Nath, but to be completely honest, she had found her offering within seconds of walking into the store. It wouldn’t win the contest, of course, and that was fine. Sora had a home field advantage and was the most likely to win, which was lovely – aside from the odd spot of ice cream larceny, she would almost certainly do nothing with her day in power, and ice cream was far easier to replace than dignity. Sham also had an outside chance of winning; she had mentioned years of swimsuit experience, and Hime was sure that idols wore more swimsuits more often than the average human being. But being a backup dancer might be an adventure, and she could imagine Suguri loving nothing more than a show with her favourite idol on vocals and the two people closest to her as support.

Her own chances of winning were… practically non-existent, to be fair. In fact, she was quite sure that Nath would hate what she had picked out, at first. She might grow to love it later, depending on how well she read intentions and how bold she felt, but the initial reaction was definitely going to be bad. But in the end, it would serve the greater good. And be funny, which was just as important.

She was interrupted in her musings by the sound of somebody running full tilt at her. It was very difficult to run full tilt in a store littered with racks of underwear, but Sham was bobbing and weaving with the best of them, spelunking through a maze of lace, underwire and spandex at a dead sprint.

“Sham, whatever seems to be the matter?” she asked as the idol skidded to a halt mere feet in front of her.

She didn’t reply, at least in any language that Hime could understand. She wasn’t fluent in wild gesticulation. Patiently, she waited for Sham to find her tongue.

“When you look at Sora with her clothes on,” the idol said, at a volume that was just a touch uncomfortable, “she totally looks like she’d be a cute, squidgy cinnamon roll, right?”

A long moment passed. Hime’s eyes narrowed.

“…I’m sorry. What?”

“A cute squidgy cinnamon roll! But when she tried on the swimsuit she picked out, her tummy – it’s so toned!” Sham shouted, and put her hands on Hime’s shoulders. They landed with an audible thump. “What did you do to her?!”

Hime decided that Sham was a lunatic, which was not uncommon in her social circles, and might actually count as praise. “We… fed her and gave her exercise, mostly?”

Sham’s eyes lit up with an almost religious zeal, like a knight about to embark on a crusade. For a second Hime almost wanted to give her a broadsword and a bucket helmet, although upon further consideration, she definitely did not want to give Sham a broadsword. “Can you do that to me, too?! I want that belly! I want that belly, and I want my belly to look just like it!”

“N…Now, now, Sham. I’m sure your belly is perfectly charming–”

“Of course it is! I’ve been trying for hundreds of years to make my belly one of the best bellies around! My curves are what separate me from every other idol in the business! But Sora’s belly isn’t just good, it’s perfect. I need it.”

“Perfect? Well, I don’t know about that…” Hime replied. She had her own ideas about what the perfect belly was. Granted, she hadn’t performed a detailed inspect of Sora’s, so its perfection might exceed her estimates, but she had seen parts of Suguri’s belly and decided it was more than perfect enough for her. “I’ve seen better bellies.”

In the sophisticated and rarefied circles in which they both moved, these were the dictionary definition of ‘fightin’ words’. One moment, they were two women bonding (?) over the shared experience of bellies; the next they were reaching for their weapons, which at the moment were limited to the shoes they were wearing. Hime had heels, which gave her a natural attack bonus, but Sham’s slip-ons had a faster rate of fire. It was impossible to predict who the winner would be; reluctant to begin a war that might escalate horribly, they settled into a tense showdown, neither willing to make the first move. What they needed was some kind of independent adjudicator, a neutral outside force to mediate the conflict.

“…Sham’s right.” It was Sora, who had silently appeared from behind a rack of lingerie too daring to wear without a blush. She wasn’t exactly unbiased, but Sora with her bare hands was more powerful than Sham and Hime’s shoes put together, and all three of them knew it. Once again, a tragic conflict had been ended by her timely intervention and willingness to beat up both sides.

“…Oh? You’re done already?” Hime asked, spying a shopping bag in Sora’s hands.

“Mm.”

“What did you get?”

“A blue one.”

Hime immediately switched on her ‘patient big sister’ voice. “Sora. There are many blue ones. Which particular blue one did you get?”

Sora looked over at Sham blankly, as if asking for help with a difficult maths question. “It’s a sky blue one. Right?”

“Right! For Sora, it’s gotta be sky blue. The quickest path to cuteness is to make sure your outside reflects your super cute inside!”

“Most people’s insides,” Hime remarked dryly, “are full of bone and muscle and other very not-cute things. Also, sky blue doesn’t really reflect Sora on the inside. It reflects her name.”

“My name’s cute, though. It’s got four letters, so it’s small, and small things are cute.”

“In that case, it’s no cuter than my name, or Sham’s. By the by, I don’t think small things are necessarily cute. Certainly, the majority are, but wasps exist.”

“Wasps do exist,” Sham murmured. “You’ve got us there.”

Sora said nothing, because she kept her shield capacitor on her at all times. There was no wasp in the world powerful enough to break her barrier, and if they tried, the result was the same as if they’d launched an assault against a bug zapper. So mostly, they buzzed around her impotently, which she thought was a little cute. Anything that wanted to hurt you but was too pathetic to do so had some amount of cuteness to it, in her opinion. The strong should protect the weak, even if the weak didn’t like them.

“What about you, Sham?” Hime asked, turning to her. “Are you done?”

“Actually,” the idol said, scratching her head, “I was thinking about it, and there’s some stuff in the costume department that I could probably use.”

Sora scowled. “That’s cheating, though.”

“It’s not cheating! It’s just being resourceful. Waste not, want not!”

Hime smiled. “I see. Well, I’m not quite done yet. Give me five or ten minutes and we can go. You can wait outside, if you like.”

“Mm.” Sora nodded. Waiting outside made sense. Outside was where ice cream was. Inside was where ice cream wasn’t. This was the truth of the world. As she thought about a delicious fusion of dairy, sugar and chemistry, she realised that there was a shibboleth she had not yet applied to her new old friend. “Sham, rocky road ice cream is better than strawberry, right?”

“Ignore her,” Hime snapped. “Strawberry is far superior. Sora, it’s cheating to ask leading questions.”

“It’s not cheating. It’s just being resourceful.”

“Actually,” Sham said, a little sheepishly, “I’m a neapolitan kinda gal, you know? I don’t eat ice cream a lot because I have to keep in shape, but when I do, I like to get a whole bunch of flavours.”

Hime and Sora looked at each other, quickly trying to calculate how they could interpret Sham’s opinion in their own favour. Hime was quicker. “I see. Well, neapolitan contains strawberry but not rocky road, so I shall count that as a vote in strawberry’s favour.”

“No way. It has chocolate. Rocky road is just upgraded chocolate, so it still counts. And it’s got vanilla, too, so it’s a vote for Nath as well.”

“But chocolate isn’t rocky road. I’ll give you half a vote, but that still means that rocky road is slightly inferior to strawberry or vanilla.”

“I don’t accept it,” Sora said, shaking her head fiercely. “The only reason it’s chocolate instead of rocky road is because rocky road would make the other ice cream look bad in the bowl. All we’ve found out is that Suguri is wrong.”

Sham watched as the argument deepened. In the end, Sora stayed in the shop to better demonstrate her point; they were still arguing when Hime paid at the tills, and became so embroiled in their debate that they forgot to buy ice cream on the way home at all. As she waved them goodbye and thanked them for a day full of adventure, companionship and a very delicious-looking belly, she found herself breathing a very deep sigh of relief. Only when she was halfway home did she dare to mutter to herself following forbidden words:

“I’m really glad I didn’t tell them I prefer sorbet.”

A/N: The ice cream wars continue. I kinda like the idea that Hime knows roughly how to keep Suguri, Sora et al. in check, but Sham just sometimes completely snowballs her. Next part will have more Nath.

Also: recently, John Bain (aka Total Biscuit) passed away after his fight with bowel cancer. In honour of a man whose footprints will be felt in gaming for a long time to come, please consider donating to Cancer Research UK to help prevent more people from dying like he did.