A/N:

Hails: This is just an idea I'm playing around with. I only have the first 5 chapters planned out for this one, so don't expect much. I recently am running with KingOuma's story The Rogue Half-Demon, but that's in the midst of some extensive planning, and I'm not sure what to do with Saiai and I'm dealing with crap while writing Soul of the Fairy. Not to mention there's a contest going on on DeviantArt, but I've got a massive case of Writer's Struggle (my term for crap writing) for that. So, I'm going to take some time away from all that and blow steam off with this story.

I think it'll be fun, and a nice break away from my normal stuff. Might as well!

My father always said the ocean was filled with endless possibilities and he loved to go out and invent such things. To the beaches in Southern True Cross Town, he was a role model, a beacon of light for some blooming water athletes. He always claimed that sitting on the sand and watching the rookies turn into novices turn into intermediates was inspiring, but got boring after a while. He couldn't sit still for very long, so instead, he'd snatch the nearest cleanly waxed board, his or not, and go surf the waves.

Everyone on the beach would say the same thing about my father. "That one Shiro Fujimoto is the epitome of awe-inspiring insanity." And it was true.

He was the Akuma Kahakai Champion five years in a row.

It the most intense surfing contest this side of Japan. Not that my father was frightened. He dominated the competition every year, and everyone admired him for that. But just thinking about how he won is what brings me fond memories. One year he pulled the last opposing finalist off his board and onto his, and the duo surfed the winning wave a solid eight seconds. He broke a local record and won that contest at the same time. The opposing finalist, Johann Faust, became his best friend.

But it wasn't just surfing that brought him joy.

It was also teaching others about the flow of the waves and balance of the board on the water. About the feel of the ocean coursing through you, the crash of the waves thrumming in your body.

Shura Kirigakure was one of his best students. I should know, she picked on me all the time. Still does, actually. Though she was very devil-may-care and holier-than-thou, she worked hard under my father's care. She had an iron strong will and determination to show him up on the waves. She never did, but Shiro Fujimoto never let her quit. If he had nothing then at least he was a good teacher and father, even if sometimes his training methods were questionable best.

Most of them ended with the trainee getting soaked in water while he screamed: "Wipeout!"

Outside of Shura and a few others, the only students who trained intensively with him was me and my twin brother Rin.

Ever since we were little, we would watch our father surf every morning at sunrise. In both of our eyes, our father was like a god. He could tame the thundering waves and ride them. He could dual surf with any person due to his perpetual balance, and hold both himself and them right where they were for eternal periods of time. He could do the impossible. He was relentless and he never tired, and he never frowned. He always had a smile on his face. We loved our father.

One day, Rin looked him straight in the eyes - this little four-year-old looked at our father with big, passionate eyes and demanded: "Teach me." And so Shiro Fujimoto took on his eldest son and taught him about the ocean. A few days later I worked up the courage to become a student alongside Rin. Of course, my brother practically forced me into learning, but once I got my first taste of the water, there was no going back.

School hardly mattered in that case.

Well, to Rin it didn't. I still tried to work hard and I got straight A's. Like that ever mattered.

After about six months we could surf with adult supervision, but we didn't need help getting up on our boards. Our father watched us about waist deep in the water just to make sure we didn't drown. After another year, our Father trusted Shura and Johann to observe us. As an adult, of course my father had things to do. He was a surfer but he also a priest with too little time on his hands. He had to make sure we could make a living somehow. We were still a family, albeit a small family of three, but a family nonetheless.

When Rin and I reached seven years of age, we were trusted to be out there alone. We picked up tricks and taunts, dodges and recoveries, things that'd earn points in a competition. One thing that had never been done casually performed by a couple children.

It was eventually dubbed Okumura Waving by our father.

Truthfully, it happened by accident. My brother had attempted to steal my wave like he had been doing successfully for the past half hour. When he tried again, I snapped and the normally programmed objective changed. I didn't take it that time. We collided, stuck like glue with no control. It was just a few seconds too long of something no one else had managed to do.

Everyone who tried to replicate the move failed miserably. Even my father. Even Shura. Rin and I eventually tried again with almost perfect results, though fashionably off balance and with ensuing nicknames right around the corner.

Everyone said the same thing: "Those twins. They're definitely Shiro's kids." And I believed them.

Little did I know. That year, everything would change.

The annual Akuma Kahakai surfing contest would be happening soon, and my father would be aiming for his sixth year as the champion. Like every year, he outdid the competition, and by the fifth day, he had won the judges favor. So had another surfer by the name of Kishi Israel, but the beach knew him as Egyn. Everyone knew Fujimoto and Egyn rivaled each other—experience versus raw skill. Although Egyn took it more seriously on the first date than my father ever did. On the fifth day of the contest, Egyn jacked a clean wave from my father and scored massive points. My father only had one chance for victory.

A Maverick.

Only professionals surfed Mavericks, those who have been training fervently for months, even years. Only a select few surfers were capable of such a feat. My father was among those few. But riptide messed up the current of the wave, and pulled him towards the Devil's Teeth, a collection of sharp and jagged rocks our father forbid us from ever going near. He always put restrictions to stay at least half of a mile away from them so Rin or I weren't hurt, or worse. He didn't want us to die. The competition just so happened to step over those boundaries. My father hit one of the rocks and went under.

He never resurfaced.

And they found the body three hours later.

That was the year Egyn was named the Akuma Kahakai Champion. And also the year I lost my father.

I nor Rin touched our surf boards for months, adrift in a grey, placid sea. Surfing had lost its shine, the one that drew me. Shura and Johann would take care of us, and we'd juggle between their houses at irregular intervals. Sometimes we'd even stay with the priests from the monastery. But nothing could ever take our pain away. We mourned, lost in a towering labyrinth with no end in sight.

We were just little kids.

I focused on my schoolwork and building a mask so no one could see the mess I had become. I proceeded through my studies at the top of my class and eventually moved onto higher privileges, earning empty praise from all my teachers. I worked hard everyday, forgetting about the beach, and about surfing, and about Okumura Waving, and about my brother. I skipped a grade in junior high and was eventually admitted to an ever prestigious boarding school mile away from the place I called home.

My brother found solace in his memories, in the joy they brought him, in the joy surfing brought him. Like a bright sun reaching out at dawn, he grabbed a board and dazzled the people once more, following the waves with a blade in hand to carve a place for himself next to the legends, next to my father. He vowed that once he was old enough, he'd participate in the Akuma Kahakai competition. And he would win.

I, on the other hand...

Wanted nothing to do with surfing, ever again.

A/N:

Hails: Like I said, just a little idea I'm playing around with. All feedback is appreciated! Let me know how you feel in the review section.