Chapter Text
Although there are two crewmen keeping watch, Rin is also out of his quarters and up on the deck. He’s not the type to let his men do all the job; if he can help, he does it. But he’s also up here because he likes breathing in the gentle sea breeze at night and relax while everyone else on the ship is asleep.
It’s not so hot that it’d be uncomfortably humid as it would be during daytime; it's nice and cool for a change and a lot calmer. There’s no one to bother him with reports about the ship’s situation or their whereabouts… Just him, and the quiet sea.
Quiet, at least until Rin notices a strange noise—a mixture of rustling and slipping—coming from somewhere downstairs. Rin whistles a low crescendo, a signal for the other awake crewmen to gather where he is, a call for attention.
Rin is the first to go below deck. He notices the trail of water and the traces of blood and flesh along with it. A victim already? As the others notice as well, alarm fills them. There’s only one reason why this kind of trail would be here.
Merfolk.
The hostile kind.
They’re the only ones that would dare breach into a peaceful merchant’s ship in the middle of the night and wreak havoc.
The trail leads them to the lower levels, into the hold, where the wares are kept. More specifically, the galley storage room.
It’s a bit odd. No hostile merperson has ever not gone straight for the kill, taking down every living being on board. They always attack in coordinated ways and planned paths; first the watchmen, then the captain, and then all who dare cross their way.
There are blood and gore, so it's possible someone was taken. But it doesn’t add up. The night watch is accounted for and there haven’t been any screams. Merfolk attacks are never quiet.
Rin knows that better than anyone else.
The ship used to be his father’s.
More men wake to the sounds and join the search party. They finally find… him, among the fish stock, stuffing Rin’s expensive fresh mackerel cargo into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten in years.
Now, Rin would be the first to admit he’s no expert in merfolk healthcare and the like, but this merman looks sickly pale and anxiously avoids eye contact. And he is also using his legged form in a weird, suspicious manner. Rin hesitates, doubt flooding his mind with questions that may or may not be answered. His men don’t hesitate, though. They charge in and apprehend the intruder and carry him to the brig, where they chain him up, throw him a long coat so that he has something to cover himself up with and lock the door.
A strange unease burrows in Rin’s chest. Something feels wrong, and he has the feeling that this merman may know a thing or two.
However, before heading to the brig, Rin orders the men to run an immediate inventory check; he doesn’t want to wait until morning. As a merchant ship, they cannot afford to have anything to be missing or damaged and a merfolk assault is the number one reason merchants lose valuables these days. Rin is steadfastly decided on not letting his men get any less than what they’ve worked for. All the merchandise they have, they will get the full earnings from them.
Thankfully—shockingly—all that’s missing are the fish the merman ate.
It’s almost dawn when Rin finally stands before the cell that contains their aquatic prisoner.
A bit irritated from lack of sleep he snaps, “Oi.”
The merman slowly looks up.
And the moment they look into each other’s eyes, Rin feels a shift. He cannot name it, but it’s suddenly harder to breathe.
Eyes as blue as the ocean itself, just as cool. So clear Rin can almost see what darts through the merman’s mind.
So primordial, so… natural.
Something’s changed, yet it’s still the same.
Rin forces his voice to work through the tightness that squashes his throat. “What business do you have on my ship?” He’s surprised at how level he sounds.
The strange light in the merman’s eyes wavers and is soon replaced by anger, which he hides behind long hair. But no sound comes out from his small mouth.
A sigh escapes Rin’s lips, both in exasperation and confusion. “I don’t have time to deal with your bratty attitude. I know you can understand me; you merfolk know many languages.”
Rin knows he’s getting to the merman, his set jaw and tense muscles give him away. He stubbornly keeps quiet, and Rin is quickly losing patience.
With his blood pressure rising, Rin barks, “I will not free you! Whatever you were trying to do to me with your eyes won’t work.”
The merman presses his lips tighter together before parting them slightly. “It already has.” His derisive mutter has a reluctant quality that takes Rin off-guard.
Rin finds himself making mistakes. The sort which routine and habit have already weeded out of him years ago: a loose knot (or rather, more than a few), a miscalculation on the direction of the ship by a few degrees, he’s cut his fingers more times in half a day than in half a year. It’s frustrating. But he can’t ignore the weight crushing his chest that tends to make itself more noticeable whenever his mind veers to blue eyes. It feels as if he’s drowning in them from a distance.
He finds himself in the excruciating need to understand the merman, to be privy to his motives, his thoughts. Like a moth to the flame, Rin mindlessly ends up on his way to the brig, as if he can’t help it.
He chastises himself. He’s old enough that his curiosity no longer takes control of him, and it’s been too long since he had to hold himself in check.
And yet, here he is.
The merman has the decency to look surprised at Rin’s arrival—which Rin utterly enjoys—but even that is swiftly replaced with contempt.
“What’s with the look,” Rin jeers, “I brought you fish. You like that, right?”
However, his “guest” has the gall to make a face and turn away from him.
Rin knows his eye is twitching. “It’s not poisoned. What do you take us for, animals?”
Somehow Rin manages to catch the tiny twitch of the merman’s lips through the inky locks. He’s suppressing a smirk.
Somehow, it makes him feel satisfied. As if bringing the prisoner food personally is the best idea he’s ever had.
Somehow, it feels like some sort of permission. Like a wall has crumbled down.
Somehow, Rin finds himself spending more and more time talking to a merman from whom getting responses is like pulling teeth. Terse and infuriatingly scarce, but whenever he does get a response, it’s a small victory.
(He also notices that the merman has an accent and that his language is outdated—a little something he decided to not point out since they weren't going to spend much more time together.)
They soon reach port. Rin’s hometown.
Nostalgia floods Rin chest. He’s missed home so much…
But he knows that there is another heaviness in his chest.
Rin also does not want to acknowledge it.
Acknowledging it means he accepts it, and he positively does not want it.
Sounds of struggle interrupt Rin’s reverie. He heads to the stairs that lead below deck. He’s only able to take two or three steps from the landing when the merman comes barreling into him, colliding and knocking the air out of his lungs as they both fall down.
In his debilitated state, Rin can only focus on the merman’s eyes, how they shine with panic, but are also steeled with determination. Rin can’t breathe, and he’s not sure if it’s because of the crash or because the merman’s long hair is trapping him like seaweed to the bottom of the sea.
The merman struggles to get back on his clumsy feet and nearly crawls up the steps.
Rin’s men pause to assist him and as soon as he’s able to breathe again, they resume their pursuit. Rin follows, but the merman’s already jumped ship.
“It’s alright,” Rin calls hoarsely. “Let him go.”
“B-but, sir-”
“No… He’s no longer our problem.” Rin tries to ignore how the words feel as if they’re tearing open a hole in his chest.
“Brother, are you done unpacking?” Gou asks while leaning on the doorframe of his room.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Mom wants us to have supper together, so hurry up!” Gou directs her toothy smile to him and then turns around and leaves.
Rin feels his facial muscles relax into a fond smile, and sighs. He’d seriously missed home.
Once his mother and sister are in bed, Rin heads out.
One of Rin’s favorite places at home is the cave formation at the back of his house. It’s quiet, private, and has a perfect atmosphere; it’s pleasantly cool in the summer with the background sounds of waves crashing into the rocks of the outcrop and some seagulls crooning in the distance. Sunlight filters through a small series of skylights that light up the soft sand under his feet. At night it’s far quieter, and the stars are visible through the skylights; if he’s lucky, it’s the moonlight that shines through. Some water also comes in through fairly small openings in the cave wall, so there’s a shallow pool illuminated by the light that filters along the water. All in all, it makes Rin want to stay here forever.
Tonight, there’s enough light that Rin knows he won’t need a lantern.
Except the cave isn’t unperturbed anymore. There are splotches of blood on the sand following drag marks. Rin’s stomach bottoms out, immediately he wishes he had brought a light.
The small knife he always carries feels painfully inadequate unsheathed in his hand because he doesn't know who interrupted in his sanctuary, he doesn't know what awaits him further inside in the shadows.
His heart beats a nervous marathon.
Finally, he forces his voice out of his throat as he walks slowly forth, stance guarded. “Who’s there?!” He manages to speak loud and clear, with minor to no wavering. “I will make you regret deciding to intrude my place.”
“...Do not kid thyself,” the amused whisper flows into the space of the cave.
The voice feels like ripples, sending confusingly pleasant shivers down the length of Rin’s spine, and he knows who it is. He doesn’t re-sheathe his knife, deciding to remain on the cautious side of familiarity, and stops walking. “I knew you were injured, merman. Is that why you came here to hide?”
“So long as thou keepest quiet about our whereabouts, we will not disturb thee.”
Rin is once again aware of this specific quirk of the merman. “Your language is ancient,” he points out amusedly. “There's no way you're passing off as human like this.”
“...We needn’t pass off as human, we will only remain here until we recover.”
“Oh, yeah? With the amount of blood you’re losing, I’d say you’re not faring that well on your own.”
“We did not attack thee or thy crew; we request thou leavest.” The merman’s voice sounds oddly calm, as if there's something else underneath his words.
Rin makes a face, there’s no way he’ll do nothing, he’s not letting this whole ordeal end just like that. “How about this, you’re tired, and you need help. So I help you as thanks for not attacking us. Deal?”
He’s met with silence. Terse, annoyed silence.
How stubborn. “Even if you didn’t attack us, you did make some trouble for us, taking our goods and all. So take this as some sort of payback.”
Quietly, the merman huffs. “We would say thou were intruding in our home, but alas. Very well, human. Only thee.”
“Sure thing.”
Rin finally continues to follow the merman’s trail, and after rounding a boulder, he finds his new dubious friend in his merman form, trying to keep pressure with his hands on five large, deep gashes resembling claw marks that run along his light blue scaled tail, as an attempt to stop the bleeding.
A lump forms in Rin’s throat and a breathy whine escapes his lips, suddenly aware of the tired cadence of the merman’s voice. “H-hey, how’d you get that hurt?”
The merman’s eyes narrow. “Thou needn’t know.”
Rin sighs as he re-sheathes his knife. “I’m gonna go get some supplies, I’ll be back in ten.”
The merman seems hesitant to let Rin go that easily, given that he now has important information about him, but Rin ignores it. After all, he is a man of his word.
Sneaking in and out of his own house at night is quite easy, so long as his mother and sister are asleep.
“Rin?” His mother’s voice calls from upstairs.
Rin curses quietly. “Yes? What’s up?”
Light steps approach the rail, “What are you doing up?”
He debates for a second and decides for the truth. Or at least half of it. “It’s a bit hard to sleep. ‘M too used to staying up late at sea.”
“Oh, Rin. Do you want me to keep you company?”
Geh. “Nah, I’m going for a walk. You need to sleep.”
His mother sighs quietly, out of exasperation or relief, Rin doesn’t know (but he sure as hell isn’t complaining). “Fine. Don’t stay up too late, though.”
“Yeah, don’t worry.”
When Rin returns to the cave—this time with a lantern, the merman is dozing off.
Rin smiles. It figures that the merman would be tired. “What the hell,” he whispers.
The merman startles, almost as if he's a light sleeper, except Rin can tell that the merman is too tense. "Thou hast returned."
Rin quirks an eyebrow, as a show of innocence. “Of course I did, why wouldn’t I?”
The merman stays quiet, and his face takes a somber expression.
It does nothing to dispel Rin’s intrigue. On the contrary, Rin wishes he could read minds.
“Goddamnit! Stay still!” Rin tries his best to endure the merman trashing and scratching his hands off. “I can’t patch you up if you won’t let me touch you!”
“Stop using that burning water!” The merman hisses.
“Hell no, the alcohol is so that you don’t go getting an infection!”
“What is ‘alcohol’?!”
That takes Rin aback and he pauses. “...You don’t know what alcohol is?”
“...Maybe it’s just not a part of my knowledge of this tongue.”
“...It’s, uh, a liquid that can clean up a wound with so that you don’t get… uh... sick?”
Light dances in the merman’s eyes, his lips form a small oh (and yeah, Rin might have thought that maybe the merman’s face is kinda attractive—distracting. Maybe). He then proceeds to spout some sort of gibberish in some unknown language based on trills, whistles, and squeaks.
Rin blinks. “What the heck was that?”
The merman hesitates. “...My tongue. That is what our kind uses to clean wounds.”
Suddenly it makes sense to Rin that the merfolk language would be something like that, since dolphins and whales also use that sort of communication.
Rin blinks again, shrugs, and gets back to trying to clean the wounds.
Emphasis on “try”, the sting makes the merman jerk violently again, and the struggle continues.
Rin hisses as he dabs the scratches on his arms with an alcohol-soaked cotton. "I can't believe this."
“I told you it hurt.” The merman sighs, his eyes closed in exhaustion as he lies down.
Rin perks up a little at that, finally catching up on this new development as if a fish was pulling on a fishing line. “Hey, you’re ditching ye olde tongue.”
The merman huffs and turns his back to Rin (he realizes exactly just how distracting the merman is as his eyes follow the way the merman's back curves, soft lines and powerful muscles beneath tanned skin, and the way long strands of hair that remind Rin of seaweed slip on said tanned, smooth skin).
Rin smiles, also tired.
After he finishes patching himself up, Rin realizes he doesn’t want to leave.
The third time he steps into the cave that night, he carries a quilt with which he gently covers the merman.
The merman doesn’t stir.
His mother and Gou left to do who knows what, so Rin takes advantage of their absence and heads to the cave formation with some food for the merman.
He finds him asleep, soaking in the little pool that comes into the cave. The merman has regained some color, Rin notices.
“Mornin’.”
The merman curls up into himself, tight and small, and continues sleeping.
Rin smiles in amusement and sighs, deciding to sit near the edge of the water and lose himself in his thoughts (whether those thoughts veered to merman territory, Rin will never confess).
It’s after a while that the merman stirs. He gently uncurls himself and yawns.
The movement catches Rin’s attention, and his brain once again gets stuck on how small the merman’s mouth is and how soft his lips look.
Bewilderment fills Rin’s chest. Why is he thinking these things, why can’t he keep his mind from latching onto every little thing? Bewilderment. Frustration. Confusion. Warmth.
Better to focus on the discarded quilt where the merman slept when he left last night, better to focus on the wound dressings he worked so hard to put on the merman’s tail that now lay discarded on the sand by the pool.
Better to focus on how clean the wounds look, and that there are no traces of blood in the merman’s wake.
“…What.” Blue eyes peek at Rin from just over the water’s surface.
Rin finds the action so childish that he bursts out laughing. And after a few moments, he notices the merman sinking in annoyance. "Wait, wait. Sorry," he snorts, "I'm sorry."
The merman stills, brows tightly furrowed.
With a grin, Rin wipes a tear from his eyes. “How’re you feeling? How’re the wounds?”
“…Better.” The merman raises slightly to speak and then sinks back to eye level.
Rin feels like they’re back in his ship’s brig, getting answers from the merman as if he were pulling teeth.
The thought reminds him of a probably important issue.
“…Hey. What’s your name, merman?” He half mutters.
The merman seems taken aback, not expecting the question. He averts his eyes away and purses his lips.
Rin knows to recognize reluctance in its prime and tries to not feel frustrated. Instead, he sighs quietly and softens his expression. “Mine's Rin.”
The merman looks back to him, surprised, then averts his eyes again.
As hard as it is, Rin shoves his disappointment away and starts to get up.
“Haruka.” The merman sighs, “…It's the closest I can manage.”
Rin freezes. Then looks at the merman—Haruka.
He grins so hard it hurts. “Pleased to make your acquaintance...” and he considers it for a tiny moment, “Haru.”
Predictably, Haruka frowns.
But he doesn't say anything.
Rin quietly takes it as the victory it is.
Watching Haru tuck long, stray strands of hair behind his ear, Rin's tongue itches, wanting to ask Haru about whether he wants to cut his hair or keep it that long, but he guesses Haru would've mentioned if the hair was an inconvenience. Rin thinks it must be an inconvenience if it is that long, Rin's own hair gets in the way at times, that's why he gathers it into a low, small ponytail.
Haru has already refused Rin's offer to bring him some clothes; using only the long coat Haru stole from Rin's ship must be cold and uncomfortable, but he doesn’t complain.
Maybe Haru's reasoning has to do with why he is in this situation.
“Hey, Haru,” Rin starts.
Haru looks at him as he reaches for one of the fishes Rin brought him.
“Why did you get on my ship?”
It's not what Haru expects, he stops mid-bite and leans back from his fish, and he casts his eyes downward.
Rin waits, but when Haru stays as he is for a couple of minutes, he prompts, “Is it something you can't say?”
Haru presses his lips tighter for a moment. “We were betrayed.” He looks at Rin and holds his gaze, “Surely you understand why I can't trust you.”
It stings, Rin flinches a little, but he tries his best to stand his ground and not give himself away.
He knows he didn't succeed when he sees Haru's face twist with guilt.
It's obvious that this secret is hurting Haru, and Rin wishes he could help somehow, but he doesn't know how.
For now, he lets it go.
Haru's wounds are almost completely healed.
Rin feels... He isn't sure how he feels. He is glad, Haru will be okay. But he also feels something ugly and heavy; if Haru is well, he will leave. That is what has been his goal since the beginning.
Both are facts he can't deny. Can’t deny either his feelings, nor Haru's.
Haru perks up in his pool during the night, just as Rin is debating whether he wants to go back to his house or stay a little longer.
“Wh-what's up?” Rin prompts.
“One of my kind is here.”
He says it as a simple monotone. He's containing the whirlwind his heart must be.
Rin knows this much—he himself is conflicted—although Haru hasn't told him any more than what he said nights ago, we were betrayed.
It could be a friend as well as it could be an enemy.
“What are you gonna do?” Rin regrets asking the moment the words are out of his mouth. He doesn't want Haru to leave. It hurts.
But Haru doesn't notice his turmoil, focused on whatever he sensed from outside the cave formation.
Haru chirps after he sinks into the water.
There is an answering chirp.
Haru races to the small openings of the pool and chirps again, whistles and squeaks. His vocalizations have a desperately relieved quality that makes Rin's heart ache.
“Do you... Do you want me to take you out?”
“I can do it myself,” Haru answers immediately, but they both flinch. “...But I guess changing forms right now might be too much of a hassle… you may help me, then,” he amends.
Rin wants to say so many things, but his tongue is heavy and there's a knot in his throat. He wants to cry.
He wants to scream and kick and punch something. He knows rationally that he'd be throwing a tantrum, but he can't understand why his chest feels empty, why his heart beats in his ears, why there's lead in his stomach.
He moves, only because Haru is waiting.
Rin crouches and opens his arms, motioning Haru to come to him and make himself comfortable so that Rin can carry him with ease.
He keeps quiet because he knows that saying a word will make his tear ducts open. It's not what Haru needs right now.
Haru accepts Rin's assistance and lets himself be carried.
But as Rin sets him down on the shore, Haru clings to him a moment longer.
Rin swallows as a tremor travels through his back. “Wha-”
“Wait here,” Haru whispers, then releases Rin and swims off out of sight.
A lone tear falls from Rin's eye. He tries to keep the others from falling, but his lips tremble and it all overflows. Haru is leaving and all Rin knows is that there's a gaping hole where his chest used to be. He doesn't understand how or why he is so attached to Haru, it's a mystery and he hates it, but it hurts and he can't ignore it.
Wait here. For how long? Minutes? Days? Years? Wait standing here or wait here on land?
But the truth is, Rin knows he'd wait, however long it takes. Somewhere in his heart, he knows.
It only takes some minutes for Haru to return to the shallow waters of the shore, but Rin shivers with relief, and a toothy grin shapes his lips. He cleans his face, steps into the water and crouches to Haru's level.
“My people need me," Haru says quietly, almost sadly.
Rin refuses to believe it, though. “I-it's okay, you don't have to explain a-”
"Rin.”
Somehow, Rin ended up averting his eyes, but Haru's stern tone has him snapping his eyes back.
(He doesn't focus on how it's the first time Haru has called his name. Much.)
“My parents have been imprisoned and I'm the only one who can lead the people into battle.”
What made Haru open up remains unknown to Rin, but he suspects this is Haru's goodbye. He's not ready, but he keeps quiet.
He is, however, startled when Haru reaches for his face with both hands and color floods into Rin’s skin.
Haru looks into his eyes with a burning determination that leaves Rin breathless.
“I don't know how long it'll take me, but...” Haru opens and closes his mouth a few times. He looks down and presses his lips tight together. “I want to come back.”
Rin can't make sense of what Haru is saying, his heart beats too hard in his ears. But then it clicks in his head, right as a wave comes rushing up on the sand and knocks him out of balance, falling back into the water and somehow dragging Haru along, on top of him.
Although he hadn't been too far into the water for him to be completely covered by it, it still soaks him to the bone, but Haru feels warm in his arms, pressed against his chest, tail between his legs. Rin can’t help but notice just how perfectly they fit together.
It feels like the world has stopped.
Rin reaches for Haru's face with one hand and his finger follows the path a drop of water has left across his cheek.
It feels right.
Haru leans in and the proximity makes Rin’s heart renew its frantic beating, but Haru pressing his forehead to his catches him unprepared, as well as all the feelings flooding into his heart that don’t exactly feel his.
With the way Haru’s eyes look into his own—so intense but, oh, so vulnerable—Rin knows that somehow this gesture means a lot to Haru. It now means a lot to him, as well.
There's no more turmoil in his heart, Rin doesn't feel empty. Everything is okay.
“I'll wait,” Rin whispers.
Haru leans back and off of him slightly flushed (leaving Rin slightly confused, weren’t they going to kiss? ...Oh well, it’s not he’ll complain, anyway), and sinks to his eyes. He didn't take his eyes off Rin the whole time. It makes Rin feel like he's spontaneously combusting, quite self-conscious.
“I'll explain everything when I return,” Haru mumbles when he raises momentarily above the water's surface.
“Okay,” Rin replies, breathless, with a smile he hopes is encouraging.
Haru smiles too.
And he’s gone.
Looking at the faraway edge of the sea, Rin waits.
He knows it’s starting to worry his mom and Gou. He knows, and he feels guilty for not being able to tell them anything.
But he can’t help himself, always zoning out eyeing the water, always somehow ending up on the shore near the cave’s entrance, never really dipping his feet into the water.
He waits.
And he waits.
Rin wishes he could stay longer at home. But it’s been a month and duty calls, many sailors depend on him to make a living. So he embarks on a new journey into the sea and to distant lands.
There’s always a weight on the pit of his stomach, an itch on a corner of his brain. Blue eyes follow him inside his head, and the thought is somewhat comforting.
He goes on, but with his eyes cast down on the water.
Waiting.
Expecting.
After some months on the ship, during one of his customary escapades on the deck at night, Rin notices a new habit he has acquired.
He always finds himself following a gut feeling—an anxious longing—a pull to a specific general area beyond the horizon, sort of like a compass. He also no longer looks up to the stars and the moon and the clouds. He looks downwards into the sea.
Rin turns his back to the sea as means of mentally preparing himself to go back to his quarters, it’s already very late and his eyes are begging him to give them sleep.
As he stretches against the stiffness of his back, he hears a splash, distinctive from the splashes of the water against the hull, and turns around so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash.
Against the dark of the sea and the dark of the sky, he cannot distinguish anything, until there’s another splash directly underneath him.
He looks down and Haru is there, skin bleached white with moonlight, contrasting against the blackness of the sea. A dazzling smile adorns his face.
Relief courses through Rin’s veins like fire and a sob pushes its way out of his lips.
“G-give me a sec, I’ll get a rope,” he calls quietly, not wanting to alert his men.
“What about the ladder?” Haru calls back in an equally hushed tone. “That’s how I got on the first time.”
Rin can’t help the amused snicker that rakes him. “Alright, you got me there.”
When Haru finally reaches the rail and is climbing it, Rin wraps his arms around him and pulls him on the deck, but he can’t balance their combined weights properly and lets his legs fold to soften their fall.
Haru’s arms wrapped around his neck for support and their foreheads touching—it feels so much more special, like light, all warm and peaceful and healing, as if Haru himself shined—feel like a dream, the long strands of inky black hair don’t feel like seaweed imprisoning him but rather cocooning them. Rin feels all his happiness bubble up and just kisses Haru.
Softly.
Tenderly.
Haru tenses momentarily, not expecting the gesture. But not one to back down, he reciprocates the kiss.
Shyly.
Determined.