Chapter Text
"Wow. Do that again."
You look. And look. And keep looking. At the child that suddenly appeared out of nowhere, tiny and unafraid and right eye shines bright like pure amber. You can't remember the last time you've heard another living being's voice anymore. You don't even remember your own voice. It's been so many moons since you last used it, for what use of a voice when there's no ghost to listen?
"How did you find me, child?"
"I don't know. I was just playing with this crab. Was going to eat it, too." The child - no, not just a child, a mer-child to be exact - shrugs, his long body twists and turns subtly to the sway of the ship you sunk moment ago. "Then my skin felt tingling. I was like 'Oooh, what's that over there?' So I just followed that direction." He vaguely gestures to the way he came from, before turning back to you and smiles innocently, all sharp teeth and double jaw. "And bam! Somehow I found you!"
It takes effort to resist the urge to laugh at something, someone so insignificant and ridiculous. One does not just simply find you somehow. Many sought you before. All with purpose. Some wanted to satisfy their curiosity. Some wanted a piece of fame and wealth and sense of control. Some wanted revenge. Some wanted peace. Whatever their goal might be, only your demise could fulfill them. And most of them weren't lucky enough to come back.
Only one did. But they spared you. And took your beloved away, instead.
"Child, do you know who I am?" One does not just simply find you somehow. Because you are Leviathan. You are sin and you are salvation. You are creation and you are destruction. You are death and you are rebirth. You are hell and darkness. You are nightmares and despair. You are the sea and storm and vortex and tsunami. You are light and fire. You are dawn and you are dusk. You are time and space. You are constant and yet ever-changing. You are the deadly sin envy and chaos, according to Yahweh. You are one of the most magnificent creations and display of supreme power, said God the day he brought you to this world.
"Shouldn't you know who you are?" A tilt of his little head and genuine wonder in his bell-like voice, and suddenly you are hit with a primal desire, foreign and familiar, to kill, to crush him, to show him his place, to watch that carefree smile crumbles as dread fills those young eyes.
"You have trespassed this sacred place of mine. You have opened the Davy Jones's locker. And for that, boy, I shall put an end to you."
"...Okay. Can you sink another ship first?"
You blink. And blink again. And he blinks back, twice, watching, waiting. Staring right into your nonexistent soul as if he isn't gazing straight at a thousand suns that humans have been avoiding for millennia.
"Have I not made myself clear? You are going to stay here forever."
"Yeah? It's not like there's going to be anything fun soon. So, can you?"
"...You are too brazen." And just like that, you feel tired. Empty. Nothing left inside of you except for boredom and slight disappointment. "Go home, child."
"What? No! You said you would sink another ship!"
"I promised no such thing." It's ridiculously effortless to take care of this little nuisance. A flick of claws and he will turn into shreds. A mere breath of yours - hot as hell fire and burns like lava - will make him nothing more than some petty molecules, becoming one with this vast body of water, never to be seen again. Yet- "And I'm not inclined, or obligated to entertain you, boy. Go home."
"...Eh. Fine." The elver agrees so easily that you ask yourself if he's the same brazen child just moment ago. He starts to swim back wherever he came from, before looking back and waves. "Later, Umihebi-san."
You watch his silhouette, getting further and further, until he is but a small unassuming teal dot in the middle of the ever blue of the ocean. You doubt you would ever see that boy again, given his personality from that brief encounter of yours just now.
Distantly, you muse over his words, wonder how long his 'later' truly is.
"You are an unusual one, boy." Because there's no way the boy doesn't know of your nature and still coming back, two weeks after your first encounter, given the moniker he chose to call you. That, or he's just plain foolish. "I'm not someone you would want to, or should associate with."
"Why? Do your armpits smell?" He's momentarily distracted from your scales. What's so fascinating about them, you don't know. He's been playing with them for a while now, whispering 'rough' and 'feels funny' every so often. You note how a scale is as big as his whole head, and how small his hands are on them. "Do you even have armpits?"
"...Come again?"
"Or do you have some kind of dermatology disease? Oh heck." He immediately pulls his hands back, examines them with intense focus as if they hold every answer in the universe. "Will I catch it? Did I catch it? Will I die? When will you die? Will I die before you even if I just catch it because you live longer than I do?"
"...Child, what are you even talking about?"
"Or have we all caught it already? Because we're in water, right? The sea was long contaminated with your bacteria."
"...No, boy. Just... no. I don't have any so call dermatology disease."
"...Oh." He has this faraway look in his eyes, staring at seemingly nothing, hands still occasionally rub your scales. You unconsciously hold your breath, already dreading his next stream of intrusive thoughts.
"...Anyway, the other day, I found this skeleton inside this ship, and there was this pretty fish swimming inside it. Actually, it was swimming inside a fishbowl, which was inside the skeleton. Don't know how that happened, but who cares, right? And-"
Truly unusual, indeed.
"...Child, you are too thoughtless."
"...You're being too loud..." The child drowsily mumbles. He seems sleepy. He always seems sleepy and drowsy, you notice, even more so with his droopy mismatched eyes. But he seems tired today. He's been sleepy and drowsy since the moment he carelessly flopped onto your neck, curled into a ball and stayed there, small and quiet, looking comfortable and at peace and right somehow. As if he just came home. As if you are home.
"You've been here for almost two days. Your parents are bound to worry about you."
"...It's not like they will notice just one missing child anyway. And there's nothing fun back there lately." And aren't you aware of that cruel fact also. You are aware just how... selective Mother Ocean is, how cutthroat she can be. And you can understand that. There is no purpose in sparing the weak, in showing mercy to those who don't have what it takes.
What you couldn't understand, still hasn't been able to, is what it's like to be broken-hearted parents, having to witness their offspring being picked off one by one, not knowing whoever that child might be, but knowing they're not there anymore.
Something must be wrong with you. It has to be so, for there's no other reason for you to ask him "...What has you so worn out, boy?" with a voice much lower than before. He giggles, quiet and soft, seems to enjoy the vibration from your larynx, before yawning widely, showing off his rows of tiny sharp teeth.
"It's hard to sleep these days." He says, nimble fingers tapping evenly on a scale near his face, tired and distracted still. "The rocks are cold even when I lie on them for hours. The night is too loud. The whales talk too much and the trenches are always wailing." He brings a hand up to scratch his ear, and you can't help noticing small trails of crusty red coming out of it. "I just want them to stop."
He's making no sense. He never does. "So you decided to come here to be a menace instead of resting at home?"
"It's quiet here. Except for you, I hear nothing." That statement alone isn't supposed to sound reassuring like he clearly thinks it is. It's quiet here. No living creature has the courage to breathe your way and then hopes to escape your grasp. It's always quiet here. No a single soul dare have the slightest idea to put a foot on the perimeter of your domain.
"And it's very warm here. You are warm." Because a mere exhale from you can boil this entire body of water. Because all you breathe is fire. Because you are hell, in and of itself. People look at you, and the last thing they know will be coldness, so bone chilling when every nerve in their bodies burns into oblivion.
Warm. What a foreign word it is. You rarely hear it, let alone be described with it.
"...Boy, you-" He's sound asleep, even breathing, chest rises and falls with every breath he takes. The boy is serene like this, young, innocent, vulnerable and strange because all you know about him are his ever-changing mood, his odd way of thinking and a bizarre nature that you don't know whether to call it fascinating or off-putting. And you are reminded with the fact that he's just a child, who is forced to grow so fast to adapt and survive and somehow still unbroken, still unapologetically himself.
Something must be wrong with you. It has to be so, for there's no other reason for you to keep silence and breathe evenly, hoping that you're quiet enough, that the temperature of the water is just right and stable.
"Who are they?" He asks, clear curiosity in his features, perching on your horn, observing the line of beings down there as they vanish into the bottom of the sea.
"Just some poor unfortunate souls." One soul, two souls, three souls, and counting. Some by suicide. Some by weather. Some by sharks and sirens. Some by you. Whatever their reasons are, their final destination is all the same. Into the waiting arms of Mother Ocean. She gives life to many, and she takes back just as much.
"Then what are you doing?"
"...Simply my duty, child." It's almost poetic, you always think. That whether their blood dyes your claws or not, the last thing they see will always be your sunlit pair of eyes, as you see them off to the other side.
"Hm..." He's contemplating something. You've known him not long, but enough to recognise the signs. He's looking at something that's only visible to him. You don't press. He will says his thoughts eventually. He always does. The boy is strangely open like that, there's nothing for him to hide, but you still can never grasp him anyway.
"That's nice." He says after a long pause, and once again, you're thrown by his words. You shouldn't be surprised anymore.
"Care to elaborate, boy?"
"It means you will see me off someday, too. It's nice to see a familiar face before I really go."
...How in Seven Seas can you forget something so obvious? Mermen live long. Their life expectancy is greater than that of normal human, but nowhere near your own. Not to mention those who won't even survive long enough to reach adulthood. In all your life, you've seen off generation after generation, so much that you can tell if one is a descendant of a ghost you once saw off hundreds years ago.
But what's the matter if you forget that fact, you wonder. The boy is just that: a boy. Just another passing face, another child of Mother Ocean. Random and mortal. Another soul to add to the queue, the very same queue down there, some day like any other, in the future.
Isn't he?
Is he?
"...That I will, child." You says, once there's no one left to see off and he's already gone home. "That I will."
He hasn't come here for almost four months.
You've never known how long four months can feel like until now.
You spend day after day, watching the line of ghosts, afraid to spot familiar golden and olive eyes and wild teal hair.
You see him again, after another two months. Sudden and surprising, just like the day he bursted into your life.
He talks. And talks. Haphazard yet intriguing. Just like always. As if he didn't disappear for almost half a year.
There's a new light in the boy's eyes.
His name is Jade.
The boy comes to you less and less. From about once a week or a month to once every two or three months.
You're never measured time in weeks and months. There's never been a reason to. Until now.
When the boy is around twelve years old, he disappears, again, and comes back half a year later, again.
His name is Azul.
You are hit with that primal desire, foreign and familiar, to kill, to crush him, to show him his place, to watch that carefree smile crumbles as dread fills those young eyes. Again.
"You know," You offhandedly says, when he's playing with the jaw of a killer whale skeleton, turns it up and down and around. "I am in the mood to commit some... slaughter, today."
"That's cool."
"Your brother and friend, to be exact." He stops whatever he is doing with the skull, before turning to you, slowly, wordlessly staring at you. His moonlit eye burns, hot and bright, more blinding than a thousand suns.
It's always quiet here. But somehow, it's even quieter now.
"...Okay."
"...Okay?"
"Okay." He resumes playing with the skeleton, rubbing the teeth now. "Can you kill me next when you're done with them?"
Why gave me my beloved, you once asked God, if you were going to take her away eventually?
God didn't answer you.
What's the point, you ask God again, if he is going to be taken away from me?
How could he ask that of you?
"...Go home, boy..."
"..."
"I want some time alone."
"...Okay. See you."
"..."
Alone in your domain, you muse over his last two words.
If you love someone, The Almighty Creator once said to you...
"...'See you' he said?" You smile to yourself, completely drained and powerless.
...let them go...
"I won't come here so often anymore." He starts, spreading out like a starfish on your neck, colorful sparks popping out of his fingers and dancing on his open palm.
"I heard." Words travel fast, after all. "Congratulations. Your brother and friend, too."
"Eh-heh." He smiles that toothy smile of his, sharp and double jaw, still childish and bell-like and innocent after all these years. The child seems proud - no, not a child anymore, you correct yourself. The young man. Thirteen years are not long, but they aren't short. Thirteen years to you are nothing more than the blink of an eye, fleeting and unremarkable. But you've spent thirteen years with him, watching him bloomed and flourished into who he is now. You remember when he was but a tiny elver, barely as long as three scales of yours, and now he barely fits in your palm when curling up. He's bigger, and longer, and stronger, having grown into a capable young adult but still unapologetically himself: ever-changing and bizarre and off-putting and fascinating.
The young man seems proud of himself, and so do you. "We will go ashore tomorrow. Azul said that we would have to go through some land training course." A pause. "I wonder if human dwellers put fishbowl inside skeleton." You can't help a snort escaping out of you.
"Try not to overwhelm them too much, boy."
"That's uncalled for. I'm not going to do anything."
The day passes quickly, like any other day he's here with you. Before you know it, the sea was already dark.
"I gotta go now." The boy gets up and starts to swim back wherever he came from, before looking back and waves. "I will visit whenever I come home."
"And I will hold you to that."
"Later, Umihebi-san." You watch his silhouette, getting further and further, until he is but a small unassuming teal dot in the middle of the ever blue of the ocean. Alone in your domain, you whisper.
"...Until next time, my child."
...for if they return, they were always yours.