The beach wasn't warm. It wasn't sunny. And it definitely wasn't the kind of beach you see on postcards.
But it was empty.
And that was enough.
Ryota stood with his shoes off, toes in the freezing sand, arms crossed like that would help against the wind. "Who decided this was a good idea again?"
Junpei was crouched near the waterline, poking at a shell with a stick. "You did."
"No, I distinctly remember Sota suggesting it."
Sota sat up against a rock a few meters away, hood pulled over his head. "I said it was a place. Not a good one."
"Well, it's cold and I can't feel my toes," Ryota said.
"You took your shoes off."
"For the full experience."
Junpei tossed the shell into the surf. It made a soft splash and disappeared. "You know what's weird? Even though it's cold and kind of miserable, it's still… nice."
Sota nodded. "Quiet. Empty."
"And the air smells clean," Junpei added. "Like salt and nothing else."
They sat like that for a while. Just three guys scattered across a cold beach, the waves pulling in and out like they were thinking.
Ryota eventually dropped down next to them, hugging his knees. "If we were in an anime, this would be the part where someone says something super meaningful and everyone stares at the horizon."
"No one here's that poetic," Junpei said, walking back up the sand. "I'd say something, but I just stepped on a rock and my foot's frozen."
"You could cry a little," Ryota said. "Really sell the moment."
Junpei flopped down on the sand with a grunt. "I'll pass."
They watched the sky change slowly from gray to a dull orange.