"You're giving me the look."
"What look?" He asked in confusion.
"Your 'I really wanna kiss you' look."
~
Grief-stricken, aspiring hero, Costa Miriara's life flips upside down when she transfers to UA High-school after a rough first year at Shikets...
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{As Good as Dead}
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Word Count; 4,866
One week earlier...
A man was standing out by the shore, smoking a cigarette, wearing a freshly ironed suit and a wide-trimmed, black hat. He didn't move, staring out at the ocean with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a long wooden cane with a raven carved into its head.
Dabi made sure his descent onto the beach was slow, allowing him enough time to scope out his surroundings in case the meeting went awry. But he caught no suspecting individuals nearby and pinpointed at least five different escape routes, giving him clarity.
The beach was clean and the water was so clear, you could see the sea creatures swimming around in the waves. The horizon was beautifully violet, blending into the hues of yellow cast out by the setting sun.
Dabi walked onto the sand, glaring at it as it stuck to his shiny, black shoes. He despised sand, as well as its ability of stick to everything. It lingered, like an unwanted guest and he hated every single speck of it.
The man pulled his hat higher up on his head, exposing the dirty blonde locks poking out over his tanned neck. He wore round-framed, black sunglasses, and was drawing his brows in- causing a crease to form deeply on his forehead. Dabi made his last steps rather noisy, trying his best not to sneak up on his most valuable potential partner.
The man did not look over at him, he only continued staring off into the sea. Dabi waited a moment before breaking the silence, checking to make sure that this man was the person he was meant to meet. "Sharkhead?"
A breath of a laugh escaped the man's lips, "You could say that."
Dabi took another few steps, allowing himself a better look at the man he was dealing with. The wrinkles showing at the corners of his eyes told him his age, not to mention the strokes of grey crowding the sides of his hair.
"You want a piece of the cake," He said and his voice was a bit woody, as if he'd lived longer than he'd actually been on the earth. It was also laced with something foreign, an accent that was most definitely not home to Southern Japan. He let out a little 'hmph' sound, his lips turning up at the corners. "You know, a long time ago, this used to be my view every time I walked out my front door."
Dabi already knew that. He knew everything about this man, and his history. Every bit of information he'd gathered and researched had fueled an ancient anger deep inside of him, the same type of anger he felt toward his father.
