Hello! This is my first attempt at a One-Shot. I thought of it on the way home from work and wanted to share it.

The sun set slowly over the horizon, casting the sky and ocean below in a gorgeous orange hue. The gulls were still crying as they glided about the darkening sky. Gentle waves lapped against the rocky shore, as tide slowly crept up to the seaside road. Yuki Judai watched as the small family frolicked on the sand, the father swinging the small, laughing child in his arms, their ankles submerged in the cool ocean water. The woman was beside them, laughing as well, her white summer dress fluttering with the evening breeze, like an angel from heaven. It was a happy scene, yet it left a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

After all that time, he'd lost track. He wasn't sure how long it had been. He'd forgotten family and friends. He'd forgotten the feeling of camaraderie and of love. It was his way of life. They said it was "Ride or Die," right? By then, contact had become scarce, on an as needed basis. Yubel had once implied that the "as needed" simply meant that he'd never speak to them again. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps it wasn't. Only time would tell.

After all that time, after all those experiences, perhaps he was still the least mature of them all. Perhaps he was the one stuck with ridiculous illusions of the past and future. Perhaps, of all of them, he'd become the idealist, chasing the hollow dream, the intangible utopia. Just because he didn't speak to them, it didn't mean that he didn't check up on them every so often. He'd often detour on his trips around the world. They had all moved on, living their own lives. As long as they were happy, it seemed that the world was good. At least he'd be able to sleep at night.

"They've gone and tied the knot. And they've even started a family," Yubel observed from beside him with a small smile. "It's hard to believe that he'd be able to do such a thing, ne Judai? Better yet, it's just as hard to believe that they'd ended up together."

He chuckled lightly, leaning against the side of the black, classic muscle car parked over the vista point, cocking his head up to the sky once more. If he strained, he could see the faint gleaming of the stars in the sky. It was pointless to try, however, so he glanced at Yubel, who was still watching the family on the beach, their dark figures retreating toward the other side. "They're not the only ones who've gotten married, you know. It's an inevitable part of growing up, right? They'd all do it eventually. Soon, I'll be the only one left…"

"Does that mean that you'll be doing it too?" she asked, her eyes finally turning to the horizon. The three finally disappeared in the distance. By then, the sun had disappeared from the horizon, leaving the last rays of light in the mid-summer sky. Judai remained silent. "Do you regret what you've chosen?"

"Should I?" he replied ambiguously. His voice lacked any sort of discernible emotion. The wind combed through his red jacket and brown hair as his brown eyes watched until the final lights of day had vanished, reminding him that he too would soon disappear.

Yubel smiled as she shook her head. "I dreamed that they couldn't find you, so they could never send you the invitation for the wedding," she offered humorously. He laughed. "They said that it was like you were running away from growing up." This time, his laugh was reduced to a snort.

"I suppose we should head out, huh? The road's not going to wait for us," he said suddenly, climbing into the car. The change of subject meant that Judai no longer wanted to talk about it. And, as his companion, she could only comply. The dull roar of the V8 motor shook the ground as bright light nearly blinded him. The lighthouse had been turned on. He was really late now.

The car rolled off the gravel and back onto the dark road. A sad song played on the radio as he pressed forward, his mind straying to thoughts of the past. Soon, he'd reach the nearest town, where he could find some lodging for the evening and maybe a good meal. It wouldn't hurt to sample some of the local cuisine. He'd been craving some New England clam chowder. They didn't have things like that back in Japan.

She couldn't believe her eyes. After all those years, after all the undelivered letters and unanswered messages, he was there, in the flesh. He was alone, despite the sideways glances of a passing group of adolescent girls. It was about the time that their crew had all assumed that he'd settled down somewhere and forgotten about them, or, at worst, died. Yet, there he was, all those years later with the same travel bag filled to the brim with the necessities. It struck her that he still looked the same. His face was the same. His eyes still had their guarded disposition. His hair was still brown. It was still in the same style. His jacket was still bright red. It was as if Judai hadn't aged, after all those years. It was, as if, time had stopped on Yuki Judai.

Her husband hadn't yet noticed his presence in the restaurant, too occupied with their toddler son on a coloring activity. She couldn't bring herself to tell him. It hurt enough to see him in front of her, yet so far away. Knowing her husband, he'd probably start a scene that would only make Judai dash away as fast as possible. He was the elusive kind, after all, forever disdaining the attention of the masses.

As she watched him from a distance, he seemed different from her memories. His demeanor was calm and exuded an otherworldly wisdom. He seemed more mature, wearier as he stirred absently at the soup dish before him. She noticed the bracelet on his wrist, rather it wasn't a bracelet. It was the collar of a cat, the fat tabby cat belonging to Daitokuji. So he's still sentimental, she thought to herself.

Mere minutes later, she saw him leaving. Judai politely thanked the waitress, deftly avoiding her advances as he tipped her generously. She watched as he checked for anything left behind before walking past their table. Whether he'd ignored them, or didn't recognize them was anyone's guess. "E-Excuse me, miss?"

She turned to the same waitress, who was now standing before them. Her husband was now watching curiously. "The gentleman who just left… He left a message congratulating you two on your marriage and said that it was nice to see you both," the waitress said. Her husband looked at her curiously. "He said that you should take care and tell everyone that he was fine." The husband and wife quickly turned out the window in time to see Judai's faintly illuminated face turn back to them. Wordlessly, he produced the victory pose that had disappeared from their lives for so long.

The entire diner stopped as the two stood up, dishes crashing onto the floor. They stood there, frozen as the sound of a car faded into the dark road. Soon, the lights had disappeared, yet neither could get over their shock. When they were finally able to think, they noticed that their son was holding a card with a napkin attached to the back. Slowly, they plucked the napkin from the boy, unable to retrieve the card. There was a single word written on it.

Gaccha.

And... Transparentchaos signing out!