Chapter Text
Rin waited until the last possible moment to appear. From out in the stadium, the audience had already started its clapping and chanting. They hollered for each swimmer taking the field, murmuring when the reigning champion hadn’t yet approached his lane. It was tradition, and one that the lesser swimmers resented—as if the victory of the previous year hadn’t been enough, like the victor was riding the last moments of fame.
Stupid, Rin thought, peering out from behind the coral. I’ll be this year’s champion, too.
Perhaps he’d waited too long. The crowd was fidgeting now, his competitors floating idly in their lanes. Rin grinned as he poked his head out farther, waiting for the first merperson to spot him.
To his delight, it was the announcer. “Is that our reigning champion I see?”
A wave of applause surged through the crowd as Rin bolted to his lane, not bothering to conserve his energy. He’d never needed to bother with energy conservation—he could swim faster, harder, longer than the rest. Today’s race was a mere formality. He’d be wearing the gold bands of victory again in the coming year.
The announcer waited until the audience had died down again. “Let the one-hundred fifty-first North Pacific Reef races begin!”
Rin stretched with the other merpeople, snapping the end of his tail as he got into position. He was in the last possible lane, per tradition, but that was all right. He was closest to the crowd; closest to his mother and sister, who sat front row and center. Gou had fashioned imitation gold armbands to mirror those of her brother’s, as children were oft to do as they dreamed of one day entering the races themselves. His mother waved wildly, which he pretended not to notice—he had to wait for the conch that would signal the start—but he flashed a radiant smile, one he knew his family wouldn’t miss.
They were deep beneath the waters but the midday sun shone bright, sending streams of sunlight over the lanes and across the swimmer’s faces.
First blow of the shell, and the competitors hovered closer to the start line.
Second blow, and they were off.
Rin always had a good start, even in practice. He had a strong kick; Sousuke claimed Rin’s tail was smoother than the others, helping with the drag that slowed the rest down. Rin still wore the victor’s bands high on his arms, as if the entire Pacific didn’t know he was reigning champion.
“I’ll get you this time,” Sousuke had said, the day before the race.
“Nah, see?” Rin held an arm up, flashing one gold band. “This says I’m better than you.”
“Don’t get so full of yourself, Matsuoka.”
Now, they were first and second in the race—constantly swapping positions, neck and neck, a sharp turn or an updraft slowing down or speeding them up.
I’m not losing, Rin though, using his arms to push him forward. Sousuke had the same secret though—they both had the same style, having raced each other countless times since their merchild days.
Sousuke kept glancing at him, but Rin refused to look over. It would distract him from the race—from winning, from his goal. He swam so fast that his vision blurred; he squinted against the oncoming rush of water, wishing there was something he could put over his eyes so he could see better. But he knew exactly where to turn, and where he could speed up again. He’d swam this route countless times and could have won with his eyes closed.
But he kept them wide open. And in that moment he saw Sousuke beside him, pushing his body harder as they approached the finish line. Rin snapped his tail in one final boost, arms pressed to his sides as his fin madly whipped behind him.
He had no idea who’d finished first.
Neither did the judges—they huddled together as the crowd fell silent, as Rin and Sousuke panted at the finish line. Rin rubbed the gold band on his arm, his tail twitching as one of the judges turned around.
“Sousuke Yamazaki is the winner!”
Forfeiting the armbands was a humiliating tradition—removing them at the end of the race, fiddling with the complex lock that kept them locked tight high on his arm. Sousuke would wear them temporarily—seldom did the bands fit all merpeople the same—and Rin knew he’d get them back the moment Sousuke received his own. Rin could store them away, or display them in his home, as long as he didn’t wear them in public again.
Until he won the next year.
Sousuke’s arms were bigger and the lock wouldn’t clasp shut, so he wore them around his forearms instead. He lifted both hands high, slowly turning as he waved, and Rin extended an arm to receive his silver armband from the official.
“Better luck next time?” Sousuke said, holding a hand up to Rin.
Rin smirked as he met his high-five. “You won’t be keeping ’em for long.”
Silver wasn’t so bad, he thought. It was a nice change. Rin attended the post-race reception wearing a permanent smile, one that he had to force as the night went on. He was getting tired, and some merpeople were acknowledging his loss rather than his near-victory, but he’d simply laugh and praise the victor. The entire North Pacific Reef knew that he and Sousuke had been attached at the hip since childhood—and if anyone was going to take his first-place spot, there was no one better than his best friend.
Next year, he thought, grinning at Sousuke, who couldn’t even see him through the mass of public attention. Rin quietly slipped away from the festivities, but not unnoticed—Gou met him at the outskirts of the reef.
“You okay, big brother?”
“Hmm? I’m fine.”
She looked up. The water’s surface was hardly visible from where they lived, far below where humans thought to tread. And their reef was concealed, too, even from the most daring divers. Now, the sun in the outer world was setting and their watery sky was dim, the unspoken signal that sleep was upon them. Gou sighed a little sigh, then looked back to her brother. She touched the cool silver band on his arm. “It fits you perfectly,” she said, studying the clasp on the underside of his arm.
“Yeah, I probably won’t need to get it adjusted.”
She kissed his cheek, a habit of childhood she’d never dropped, despite them growing older. “If it wasn’t you, I’m glad it was Sousuke.”
Rin smiled. “Yeah. Guess I’ll let him have the spotlight for a bit.”
She lightly smacked his arm before going back inside, needlessly reminding him not to stay out too long.
As much as the North Pacific Reef was isolated from the surface world, it was dangerous to venture out at night. Merpeople prided themselves on their vision—they could spot a school of mackerel from a mile away—but it wasn’t enough for the night predators, the ones skilled at lurking in the bottomless depths of the sea. Rin tilted his head up, trying to discern what his sister had been looking at. There was nothing of interest up there, not now. Sometimes a ship would pass, or the occasional human swimming on the surface, but he avoided them. In fact, there were few merpeople who ventured out of the reef at all. Only the best swimmers dared to explore the world outside.
Rin smiled. He and Sousuke had been swimming outside the reef for as long as he could remember. Their parents were nervous at first—especially right after Rin’s father disappeared—but it didn’t thwart their sense of adventure, their need to race in open water. Rin would bring home trinkets to his mother and sister, too, things they assumed were from the human world. Necklaces and glass bottles and pointed objects that didn’t look like combs, but worked great on Gou’s long hair, anyway. Sousuke claimed humans used them to eat, but there was no way he’d know something like that.
A ship passed overhead, blocking out the last of the sunlight. Rin watched, waiting until it was long out of sight, until he slipped back into the reef.
“Your hair is getting too long, brother.”
“Don’t pull it! And stop using that stupid thing!”
Rin slumped as his sister sat behind him, poking at his head with the so-called eating contraption. With his constant movement underwater and all his races, his hair was always a tangled mess. She ran her fingers through his hair, starting at the nape of his neck and working upward, massaging out the knots in the back.
“It is not long,” he murmured, in a delayed response.
It was long—longer than most teenage merboys, long enough to brush his shoulders on the rare occasion he was sitting still. But he loved the way his hair felt when he swam, flowing behind him, whipping around his face on a fast turn. Sometimes he’d tie it back with a string of seaweed, though Gou complained about that, too; she was the one who had to later pick seaweed out of his hair.
“There,” she said, smoothing down his hair. “Perfect.”
“It’s always perfect,” Rin replied, tossing his head. “Thanks, little sis.”
He heard her exasperated sigh as he darted off, his hair flowing out behind him and soon destined to be tangled again.
In fact, Rin was bored. Sousuke was still riding the wave of fame, attending luncheons and interviewing and going through all the motions that Rin had the previous year. In years past, the second and third place winners would be bombarded as well, but one victor (Not me, Rin thought to himself) complained that he wasn’t getting enough attention. So while the majority of the North Pacific Reef was fawning over their first-place winner, this year’s wearer of the silver armband was slinking out of the reef and into open water.
I’ll go to the feast later, Rin thought, as he breathed in the clean water of the ocean. He had to, being second, but also wanted to be there for his friend, and knew they’d sit beside each other at the victor’s table. He couldn’t resist teasing Sousuke all through dinner.
But now, he wanted to swim. He wanted to explore, to see what treasures the humans had thrown away. If he found something gold, he’d give it to Sousuke. He wouldn’t have minded something for his sister, too, to hold back her hair, and maybe he could find something for himself that was more durable than seaweed . . .
“Eh?”
The sun was bright overhead, but there was a small shadow blocking his view. Rin squinted, but it was unmistakable—that was a human on the water’s surface. Or, at least, a human’s body.
It had its back to Rin, face-up toward the sun, arms and legs spread out like it wanted to touch as much of the water as possible. Rin didn’t make a habit of going too close to the surface, but he was curious. He looked around for a boat, but didn’t see one. There was just the human body, floating like it was dead, in the middle of the ocean.
He crept closer. He felt the gentle bob of the waves on the surface, and watched the body move with them. They were too far out for the crashing waves of the shore, so it was only a gentle rocking motion. Rin had learned enough about humans in school—how they had “legs” instead of a tail, and wore “clothes” to cover their skin. This human didn’t wear a lot of clothes. He was bare from the waist up, and there was a tight fabric on his legs that only reached his knees.
“What is it?” Rin murmured, swimming closer. He watched the body for signs of life—a twitch of his hand, a wiggle of his . . . what was that? Feet. Toes. One of those; he couldn’t remember.
When he didn’t move, Rin crept closer still. He was right underneath the human’s body, under his . . . well, wherever his tail would start, if he had a tail. The fabric it wore was shiny. It looked like good fabric for swimming. It would make him fast.
Rin lightly touched the fabric with his fingertips, surprised by how smooth it was. He was surprised even more when the body twitched to life.
“Crap!” He quickly turned, accidentally hitting the body with his tail in his descent. It slowed him down a little, but not much—he whipped down, down, until the surface was far above him, until the stupid human was a pinprick in his vision. Rin curled behind a coral reef, hoping he was far enough and hidden enough that he couldn’t be seen. Distantly, he could see the human’s legs in the water. Then, the body sank down, until even his head was submersed.
Did I kill it? Rin fretted, watching. But no—his head was moving, and he was looking under the water, and Rin curled tighter into himself. It was too late to move now; he couldn’t risk being seen. And though he was far away, Rin thought the human had something over its eyes. Could it see underwater? Could it see Rin?
He breathed a sigh of relief when the head disappeared above the surface. I thought they couldn’t breathe underwater, he thought, belatedly amazed over how long the human had held its breath.
Rin rubbed his fingertips, still feeling the smooth fabric on them. It had to be some kind of uniform for swimming, he decided. But why was it only on the human’s lower half? Did it want to be a merperson?
And was it a boy, or a girl? Rin wasn’t sure how to tell.
“Whatever it was,” Rin said, turning for home, “it was pretty.”
He was distracted all through the celebratory feast. The more he thought about the human, the more he remembered. He’d gone home and checked his schoolbooks, and sure enough—the human was a boy. Details came to him at random. He remembered how muscular his back looked, and how his hair flowed like seaweed in the water. He remembered the swimming uniform and how it felt under his fingertips. When he’d checked his book, he learned that he’d touched the human’s “gluteus.” It had been a little soft, and kind of nice.
For a human.
But what had he been doing out there? Humans were not found in the middle of the ocean without a boat. Was he lost? Was he stupid? Was he a really good swimmer?
“Oi, Rin.” Sousuke nudged his shoulder. “You okay over there? The mackerel just came by and you didn’t take any.”
“What?” Rin snapped back to attention. “Hey! Come back!”
Humans were dangerous. According to the human world, the merpeople were myths, legends. They didn’t exist. Rin had been taught since he was a merbaby: There’s nothing for you on the surface. Only humans, and they’re nothing but trouble. Everything you need is in the reef.
But Rin had learned early on, too, that the North Pacific Reef didn’t have all he needed. He found his treasures in the open water. There was more space to swim. There were other fish, other places to explore.
They weren’t forbidden to leave the reef, but it was definitely looked down upon—especially alone.
Rin glanced at Sousuke, who was waving down a server for more fish. He couldn’t tell his friend that he’d touched a human. Sousuke would probably grow up to be part of the patrol, those merpeople who watched the reef and warned for approaching outsiders. The patrol didn’t have a lot to do—few humans dived down far enough to see the reef—but Sousuke was so adamantly against the human world, so determined to keep them separate. There is nothing on the surface, he’d say, conveniently ignoring the origins of the treasures they’d found in the open water.
I’ll just go by myself, Rin though, tearing off a piece of mackerel with his teeth. Because he already knew—he’d return to that spot, in hopes of seeing the stupid human again.
But the next day, getting off the reef was problematic. Now that Sousuke was done with his public attention, he wanted to hang out. Rin wanted to spend time with his friend, but he also wanted to see the human. There was no way to do both.
“I’m just going out for a bit,” Rin said, hovering near the edge of the reef. “We’ll hang out after.”
“Huh? C’mon, Rin. I’ll come with you. I need to get off this reef.”
It took little for Rin to relent. The moment Sousuke challenged him to a race, they were off. He didn’t even have to specify the finish line—there was an inactive volcano not far from North Pacific Reef, which had felt much farther away when they were merchildren. But it was still their unspoken spot, the end to all their races. There was a tunnel through the side of the volcano as well, which led to the interior. As they approached the looming mountain they jerked their bodies upward, tails wildly flapping behind them as they swam up the side. It used to take some calculation to find the tunnel but they turned for it without thinking, at the same time, bolting side-by-side into the volcano’s interior. They broke water at the same time.
“I won,” Sousuke said, rubbing his gold armband for emphasis.
“It was a tie!”
In the volcano, they could safely breach. They swam to an outcrop and pulled up on the rock, exposing their tales to the sunlight. They couldn’t stay out long, especially in the midday sun—they would quickly dry out—but Rin loved the heat on his skin, marveling at how quickly his skin dried when he was on land.
In a previous visit, Sousuke had found some surface vegetation—a nearby bush with tiny red berries, which tasted sweet. Now, he lounged across the rock, reaching for the bush and plucking off a few. Rin grabbed a couple from his hand before he even sat up again.
In all their years, they’d never seen another merperson at the volcano. Some fish would invade the waters, which they’d scoop up in their hands to eat, but larger animals couldn’t fit through the tunnel. And, as far as they knew, other citizens of North Pacific Reef didn’t know about the hidden entrance, either.
Sousuke dropped a berry into his mouth. Rin sat beside him, soaking in the sun, flicking the water with the tip of his tail. “Hey, Sousuke . . . you ever wonder about humans?”
Sousuke raised a curious eyebrow. “What about them?”
“Anything.” Rin shrugged. “How they’re different from us. Why we don’t see them much.”
“We don’t see them,” he said, “because they’re stupid creatures who can’t breathe underwater.”
“They have those things,” Rin pointed out, vaguely motioning to his face, “with the thing.” He pointed to an invisible tank on his back.
“That doesn’t count.” He leaned back for another handful of berries. “Why do you care, anyway?”
Rin looked away. He stared at the top of the volcano, at the birds crossing overhead. He didn’t get to see birds a lot. “I don’t care. Just wondering.”
But Sousuke didn’t look away. He held his handful of surface fruits, studying the side of Rin’s face. He rubbed the gold band on his arm. “They’re the reason your dad’s not here,” he said.
Rin grit his teeth. “I know that!”
But Rin had never believed the story. His dad, getting caught by humans? His dad was a vicious hunter. He helped find the food for all of North Pacific Reef. He was a strong swimmer—a fast one—and it was completely stupid to think he’d get caught up in a net. But that was the tale the reef stuck to, the one his mother remembered when she mourned her husband. Rin sighed and shook out his hair, which was now partially dry. He slid down the rock to dip his tale in the water, but kept his torso exposed to the sun.
“You ready to go?” Sousuke asked, sliding back down into the water. “It’s my turn for dinner tonight.”
“Nah,” Rin said, leaning back against the rock. “I’m gonna hang out a bit.”
He listened to Sousuke dip back underwater, and the whoosh as he swam down toward the tunnel. Rin lifted his arms up, stretching his chest out toward the sun. They didn’t spend as much time at the volcano as they used to. But it was a good spot. They could breathe the open air and feel the solid ground, and still stay hidden from human eyes.
The human boy. Rin wondered if he’d be back, or if he’d just been lost. He didn’t look lost, though—he didn’t thrash about, and he seemed confident just floating there. Comfortable, even. Rin waited a long moment, long enough that Sousuke should already be back at the reef, and then slipped into the ocean himself.
The tunnel felt too wide swimming alone. He was used to squeezing through its walls, laughing as Sousuke bumped his tail. He was used to ducking to prevent grazing his head on the ceiling. Now, he stretched both his arms out as he swam, propelling himself forward with just his tail as he came back out to open water.
“Human!”
Rin spotted him instantly. He could only see his bottom half, which was again covered by that soft, shiny fabric as he floated near the side of the volcano. Rin felt suddenly warm, a different warmth from when he lounged in the sun. He watched the human’s legs kick as he tread water, watched how his gluteus moved. “Cute,” he mumbled, realizing he’d never actually seen the boy’s face.
But then, he began to swim.
Rin ducked down, in case the human could see him. He had that thing over his eyes again, which Rin guessed made it easier to see underwater. He swam out away from the volcano, his arms and legs moving at the same time, and he was really fast.
He couldn’t help it—against his better judgment, and against the warnings of all the merpeople at North Pacific Reef, Rin bolted up toward the surface. He could quickly disappear again if needed, but he had to watch the human. He had to see how he swam. The water was clearer, warmer, brighter as he swam upward. It was a different ocean, one filled with more creatures and more treasures from the surface.
And the human.
Only Rin’s eyes poked out from the water’s surface. He stayed behind the human, just in case. He could always duck down again if he turned, hiding in one of innumerable spots beneath the surface.
The human was a really good swimmer. Rin wondered how he would look swimming underwater. How could he swim with those legs? How could he be so fast without a tail? Rin watched in wide-eyed wonder as the boy turned around and swam toward him again. Well, the human couldn’t see him yet—he kept his face in the water, turning sometimes to breathe. It seemed impossible that this boy, this human, couldn’t breathe underwater. He swam like a merman, so smoothly, that Rin almost forgot he didn’t have a tail.
Until, of course, the human stopped.
Rin froze. The human hadn’t seen him yet, so he could still get away—
The boy’s eyes widened from behind their protective cover.
When the human removed the cover, pulling it down around his neck like jewelry, Rin couldn’t move from his spot.
His eyes were so blue. So blue. Bluer than the water, brighter than the glass bottles Rin found near the surface. He’d never seen a blue like that, not anywhere.
He’s pretty, Rin thought, as they stared at each other, piecing together all he’d seen of the boy. His legs, his eyes, his gluteus, his shoulders. Really pretty.
“When did you get here?” the boy asked.
Rin thrashed in surprise, partially because he spoke, but mostly because he understood the boy. He flicked his tail behind him, trying to keep it hidden, hoping the water wasn’t too clear around them. “Huh?”
He looked around, swinging his arms under the water to stay afloat. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Me?!” Rin cried. “You’re swimming in the middle of the ocean!”
The boy showed no surprise. He tilted his head slightly, staring steadily at Rin. “So are you.”
“I— I’m supposed—! Never mind!”
Shut up, Rin. He returned the boy’s icy stare, but inside he thought his chest would explode. He’s a really good swimmer, he thought.
And really pretty.
“You swim?” the boy suddenly asked.
“Ha!” Rin smirked. He came up a little out of the water, exposing his muscular chest. He didn’t fail to notice how the boy glanced at it before meeting his eyes again. “See this?” he said, holding up the arm bearing the silver band. “Second place in the North Pacific Reef races. I’ll get first next year again, for sure. You just wait—”
“Pacific Reef?”
Dammit! The human had to go talk about swimming, and Rin couldn’t stop himself from yammering. What was next? You’re pretty. I’m a merman. My mom says your people killed my dad.
“Hmph.” Rin crossed his arms. “You wouldn’t know.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I know all the races.”
“Well, not this one!”
The human shrugged. “Whatever. Want to race?”
Rin broke into a grin. “What, you think you’re faster than—”
His breath caught when the human came closer. You can’t swim against him, he thought, holding tighter to his tail. Rin backed up slightly, dipping back under the water to his shoulders. “Can’t,” he said, keeping the distance between them, backing away just as quickly as the human was advancing. “Next time! I’ve gotta help my mom with . . . dinner. Yeah.”
The human boy looked unamused. “You’re scared.”
“Am not! I’d definitely beat you.”
He smiled. Not a big smile, but it was subtle, a small twitch of that tiny mouth. Rin had never felt fire—he’d only read about it at school—but he thought this is what it felt like, the really warm sensation on his skin, even those parts that were underwater. He wondered if the human’s skin was hot, too . . .
“I gotta go,” Rin said suddenly, about to dip beneath the water, but he froze again. He couldn’t disappear under the water; the human would know. He had to swim like the boy had, using his arms without the benefit of legs. He turned around, figuring he’d just go around the volcano until he was out of sight. He spun his arms around as the human curiously watched, trying to propel forward without the use of his tail.
“I swear I’d win!” Rin cried, flicking his tail underwater, trying to using only his arms to move forward. “I’ll show you next time! When my mom doesn’t need me! Moms are so needy, huh?”
“What do you call that stroke?” the boy asked. To Rin’s astonishment, he began to follow.
“Don’t follow me!”
It was futile. Rin was trapped. Either he swim normally and use his tail—by the gods, he looked ridiculous right now—or he disappear completely underwater, never to see the pretty human again. Either way, he’d learn Rin’s true nature. He’d know he didn’t have legs or feet or whatever other parts humans had that merpeople didn’t. He felt even warmer when he remembered touching the boy, how soft he had felt . . .
“Did you touch my butt?”
Rin flailed, grabbing his tail so it didn’t thrash about. “Your what?”
Dammit. That must be a common human word. Even if the boy never saw the tail, never saw him sink beneath the water, he was done for. He was dead. The boy would tell his parents and Rin would be dragged ashore and probably eaten or put on display or—
“You have a tail.”
Dammit! Rin hadn’t realized how firmly he clutched his tail, and his fin had poked out from under the water. He pushed it down, as if he could conceal the fact, as if he hadn’t already given all his secrets away. If this pretty human doesn’t kill me, he thought, my mother will!
“I—” Rin swallowed around a lump of fear in his throat. “I’ve gotta—”
The boy’s eyes sparkled. “Amazing.”
“Huh?”
“You— you’re part fish . . .”
“I’m a merman,” Rin scoffed. “Not a fish.”
“Since you touched my butt,” he said, “can I touch your tail?”
Rin huffed. “Fine.” He lay back on the water’s surface, exposing his red, glittering tail to the sunlight. But the human didn’t move at first. He only stared, one hand outstretched, suddenly nervous. “Go on,” Rin said, his fin twitching. “I won’t attack you or anything.”
The human was right beside him now. Rin watched him set careful hands right below Rin’s belly, where the flesh turned into scales. The boy’s breath was visible in his pulsing chest as he slid a hand down his tail, careful not to damage the scales, running his hand in only one direction. He came back to the top and did it again, and Rin felt that fire-like feeling again, his skin nearly matching the color of his scales.
“Amazing,” the boy whispered, holding onto the tail.
“That’s enough,” Rin said, sinking his bottom half beneath the water again. Above the surface, their bodies looked the same. He could pretend they were the same. “You’ve got a name?”
The boy was staring at his hands, now coated with the shiny residue of Rin’s scales. He looked up. “I want to race you.”
This was common territory. Rin laced his fingers behind his head, leaning back and flicking the end of his tail so it made a brief appearance at the water’s surface. The boy didn’t miss it—he watched, in case Rin did it again. “I need to know your name first.” He grinned. “I’m Rin.”
The human looked up. Such a pretty human, with eyes bluer than the water, hair blacker than the deepest depths of the ocean. And he was muscular, though not as much as Rin. But a good body, a body suited for swimming. That small smile spread on his face again. Such a pretty face. “Haru.”