Chapter Text
The beginning of the death of Ash’s childhood had started with a baseball match gone awry, and ended with the words that left his father’s mouth upon discovering him in the aftermath.
If some asshole tries anything like that again, just shut up and let him. But make sure he pays up for it.
It was both a eulogy for Ash’s lost innocence, and a curse to damn the rest of him to hell.
Jim had never asked for the money that Ash would sometimes return home with, bills crumpled up in his shaking seven-year-old fists – then again, he barely acknowledged Ash for at least day after that, despite how hard Ash would try to catch his eye and impress upon his father the gravity of what his words had done to him. No, what did happen instead, was this: Jim would stay at the bar and drink heavily into the night, and Ash would run home on unsteady legs and vomit bile into the toilet bowl, wishing for nothing more than the comforting touch of his brother’s hand on his head – any touch, really, as long as it was kind.
That was four years ago, but it’s a routine they keep to this very day.
Ash swallows hard, feeling his eyes burn the way they always do when he allows himself to linger on his thoughts for too long. Scrubbing at his face with the heel of his palm, he scowls; Griffin had told him not to cry, so he won’t, because those were effectively the last words his brother had said to him, and Ash intends to follow them through – but it’s hard, sometimes. Really hard.
Sighing, Ash shoves his hand back into his coat pocket and swings his legs over the side of a branch, jumping down from the tree he’d been sitting in. It’s a lot colder now that winter is here. Ash is sure it’ll be difficult for him to stay out as long as he’d like now, with the short, dreary days and long, icy nights making Cape Cod feel even more inhospitable than usual.
Picking out a path along the grassy hill, Ash casts his gaze to the horizon. The ocean is deceptively calm today, as it laps gently at the coastline – definitely a far cry from the storm that had raged on the night before. Without thinking too much, Ash changes course and allows his feet to carry him down towards the shore instead of up the hill and to the house. He doesn’t want go back there, not until he has to, at least.
The sun has already set, though it’s only just past 5pm – its dying rays glinting off of the crests of the waves in warm, amber hues. The wind is much stronger now that Ash is on the beach, and with nothing to break its momentum, it buffets readily against his body. Tucking his chin down, Ash pushes through it, beginning to make his way along the coastline. He hadn’t expected anyone to be out here, not at this time of day and certainly not right after a storm, but the complete lack of any kind of life is a little eerie at twilight; even the incessant caws of the seagulls are absent.
Continuing along, he takes stock of the havoc the storm wreaked. The sand is filthy, covered in all sorts of debris; seaweed, rocks and other such natural litter that was dredged up from the seafloor.
Something does catch Ash’s attention, though.
There are a cluster of tidepools dotted about halfway down the beach; Ash remembers them from the summers he spent exploring the shallower ones with Griffin at his side, fishing net in hand. What he doesn’t remember, though, is there being a rocky outcrop quite as white as that. But if not a rock – then what? A plastic bag? Cape Cod is rural, for sure, but that doesn’t mean the sea surrounding it isn’t polluted.
However, as Ash gets closer, he realises that, no, that white thing is definitely not a rock formation, nor is it a plastic bag.
Because,
As he begins to make out the shape of a torso, head and arms,
Ash realises that, half submerged in one of the tidepools,
is a person.
It takes Ash a couple seconds to process what he’s seeing, and then – he’s running, heels kicking up sand behind him with every step.
“Hey!” Ash shouts, as he nears the figure, “Are you okay?!”
Obviously not, he thinks, dropping to his knees beside them when they don’t respond.
The person – the boy – is shirtless, and his back is facing Ash; his arms are braced loosely against the edge of the tidepool, like he’d been trying to pull himself out before exhaustion took over. His skin is pale – almost translucent, and it’s as cold as ice when Ash touches his shoulder. He briefly wonders if this boy been here all night, because if he has, then Ash knows with a terrifying certainty that he has just seen his first dead body.
He supposes there’s only one way to find out for sure.
Contrasting his body, the boy’s hair is jet black. It almost looks like ink, spilled over sand and skin, and – Ash knows it’s stupid, but for a moment he truly believes that his fingers will come away stained if he touches it. Still, Ash tentatively brushes away the strands from his neck, pressing two fingers below the boy’s jaw in the hopes that he’ll find a pulse. However, instead of the smooth skin he’d been expecting, Ash’s fingers brush up against ridges of hard cartilage. Hand shooting back, Ash frowns. It had felt… like sandpaper, if he had to describe it, and the sensation was so unexpected that goosebumps have started to rise along his arms. Keeping his fingers firmly to himself this time, Ash ducks his head down and tries to get a better look at – whatever it was that he touched.
Ash thinks they’re scars, at first, when he sees the three pale lines that seem to be carved into the side of the boy’s neck. But – they’re moving. Very slowly, and only barely, they pull away from the boy’s neck, and then flatten back against it a moment later. A memory of his brother fishing comes to Ash unbidden – a caught fish, flopping on land, his four year old self giggling as he watches its silly dance – as he watches it struggle to breathe –
Ash feels dread pool like liquid lead in the pit of his stomach as the realisation dawns upon him, that what he is looking at right now are not scars, but gills.
He screams.
As if that was the trigger the boy had been waiting for, he shoots back, lightning fast, and falls into the tidepool with a weighty splash that causes a mini shower of seawater to rain down. Ash feels his heartbeat rabbit in his chest until it’s the only thing he can hear, thudding maddeningly loud in his ears. He needs to move – every cell in his body is screaming at him to get up and get away from here as fast as possible, but Ash can’t, he cannot. Whether from the cold or the fear, Ash’s joints feel like they’ve been locked into place, and he can do nothing but watch the way the bubbles float up from the depths of the water where the boy had sunk.
It’s dusk now, well and truly, and the lack of light available to reflect on the water in the tidepool is terrifying, because while Ash would usually be able to see straight down to its bottom, right now it’s as if it is an abyss. It feels like an eternity before the boy shows himself again, though in reality he probably only stayed submerged for a few minutes. Silently, he appears at the opposite end of the tidepool, his gaze dark and locked unwaveringly on Ash.
And, Ash feels like he should have noticed it sooner – is stupid not to have – but the adrenaline that had flooded Ash’s senses upon finding a body on the beach had created tunnel vision didn’t allow him to focus on much else. Now though, the fear has cleared Ash’s mind to an almost perfect blankness, and he sees it – distorted by the water, but unmistakable for what it is.
A tail.
“What the hell,” Ash breathes, “What are you?”
The boy – merboy’s pupils dilate until only a thin band of his irises are visible; curling back his lips to reveal needle-like teeth, and he hisses lowly in response.
Biting down on a yelp, Ash exhales in a shudder. The only thing grounding him somewhat is the knowledge that this merboy is probably just as scared as he is – no, definitely just as scared – the fear on his face right now is like looking into a mirror.
“I won’t hurt you, okay? Not if you don’t hurt me. Look,” Leaning forward incrementally, Ash puts his hands out, palms to the sky. He’s not sure how effective this will be, but he’d read it in a book once, about the way wild animals respond best to a calm voice and open gestures. The merboy doesn’t react positively to Ash’s minor movement forward, though, and tries to keep the distance exact between them – but there’s only so far he can go in an enclosed space. Realising this, the merboy sinks down until only his eyes are visible above the waterline.
Ash sits back, chewing on his lower lip. That hadn’t worked as well as he’d hoped.
Trying a different tactic, he forces the tone of his voice to soften, and then begins to speak. “Hey. I’m Ash, I’m eleven years old, and my favourite food is avocado shrimp salad. I know this is dumb, but I need you to calm down so that I can calm down, because if I stand up right now I’ll fall into that tidepool and you’ll probably kill me.” Saying it aloud hadn’t been as grounding as he thought it would be, and he feels his lower lip wobble as he tries to keep his voice calm. “I don’t want to die. Not like that. Your teeth look really sharp which isn’t fair, but you’re stuck in this little tidepool, so I guess that isn’t fair either.”
Ash’s mini speech seems to have piqued the merboy’s interest – or at least confused him – because his hissing has stopped and the fear-induced hostility has abated from his face somewhat. He releases a cautious hum instead, and Ash is thrown off by how human it sounds.
“Sorry,” Ash offers uncertainly, “I don’t speak… mermaid?”
At this, the merboy narrows his eyes, and Ash’s jaw audibly clicks shut when he catches sight of those razor sharp teeth from behind half parted lips once more; unfairness of being semi-stranded on land be damned. And, as if to frazzle Ash’s nerves even more so, the merboy moves.
Time holds its breath as the merboy glides through the water, leaving a trail of ripples behind him until he’s directly in front of Ash. Bringing his hands out of the water, he rests them on top of the rocks, and from here Ash can see clearly how his fingers are webbed; his curved nails, faintly pearlescent, scrape lightly along the ridges of the sandstone.
The merboy’s mouth opens with intent, and Ash wonders briefly what kind of noise he will make this time – but nothing could have prepared Ash for the way he begins to speak.
“I am not a mermaid.” The merboy’s voice is oddly melodic, but disjointed – his vocal chords clearly unused to forming sounds in this particular way. Clearing his throat, he speaks again, “My name is Eiji and I am a selkie. Surely that is obvious?
“U-Um.” Ash stutters, then falls silent. He tries to make a second attempt at speech, but coherency has left him and his voice only comes out croakier. “Uh.”
Apparently deeming Ash not a threat – and honestly, he isn’t one, not right now – the merboy selkie, Eiji, rests his chin in his hand, head lolling to the side in a questioning tilt. “Did you not understand me?”
“N-No,” Ash splutters, and then forces himself to elaborate, “I mean, yeah, I understood you, but – you can understand me?”
“I can.”
Ash blinks. He reiterates, “You can speak… English?”
Eiji blinks back. “Well, yes. My Japanese is much better though.”
“Oh,” is all Ash can mumble in response. He’s talking to a Japanese selkie in English – man is this a weird dream.
“You are strange,” Eiji says, bluntly. The corners of his lips quirk up, and it takes Ash a moment to realise that he’s smiling. “Are all humans like this? I have never met one up close before, so I would not know.”
Ash feels warmth heat up his cheeks, and it’s all he can do to look off to the side, huffing indignantly. “Well, excuse me for being weird. I’ve never talked to a mermaid-selkie thing either, y’know.”
Eiji gasps. “You – take that back! I am not one of those… those scales-for-brains!”
He looks so genuinely offended that Ash feels a weird sensation bubble up in his chest in response – which he realises a split second later is laughter. Ash is laughing.
“‘Scales-for-brains’?” Ash repeats with a giggle, “What the hell is that?”
Eiji tries to hold onto his mask of annoyance, but in the face of Ash’s unexpectedly joyful outburst, smiles even wider than before. There’s a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he insists, “It’s true!”
Ash is about to reply, when a particularly sharp gust of wind makes the words freeze in his throat. The sky has darkened significantly, now, the clouds a dusky purple against a backdrop of greyish-blue. Ash’s hands and legs are starting to feel numb, as well, and he knows that if he stays out for much longer he’ll get sick. Ash needs to leave, and soon at that, but the thought makes his stomach twist into knots because – for a reason unbeknownst to him, he really doesn’t want to.
Ash can admit that he’s been feeling off all day. Maybe he’s already ill, because that might explain why returning to the oppressive silence of that empty house feels like a death sentence. At least out here Ash is in the company of the whistling winds, the crashing waves – a boy who shouldn’t even exist, and who made him laugh. Ash can’t remember the last time that happened since Griffin left, if it even happened at all.
To leave or to stay, it’s really a no-brainer when Ash thinks about it.
Tugging up the hood of his coat, Ash prays that his body can withstand the cold for a little longer as he asks, instead, “What’s the difference, then? Between a mermaid and, uh, a salekee?”
“It’s sel-kie,” Eiji repeats, enunciating the syllables – but he’s still smiling, so Ash doesn’t think he’s that mad. Then, he cocks his head and hums thoughtfully. “Hmm, well, to start, there is our tails.” Eiji shifts backwards as he says this, allowing his own to float to the surface. “Theirs are stiff, and if they do not polish their scales with jellyfish, they get dirty!” He rolls his eyes, like the very thought is inconceivable. Seeing such an indignant expression on Eiji’s face once more makes Ash snicker into his hand; taking that as a sign of encouragement, Eiji continues, “Ours may not be as beautiful, but they are practical. And soft. Who needs beauty at sea anyway? This is much better.”
Ash makes a soft noise of agreement as he peers down to get a clearer look. It’s true that at first glance Eiji’s tail doesn’t stand out much, appearing to be a solid dark brown and nothing more – but after a longer look, the clusters of bronze speckles that are dotted along the underside of Eiji’s tail become much more obvious. Ash isn’t sure about ‘soft’, but his tail definitely looks strong. It’s clear, even from where Ash is sitting, how muscular it is, and he can only imagine how fast Eiji can swim when he’s out in open water. Freedom like that is nothing but a pipe dream to Ash, but he can’t help but ache for it all the same.
“You can touch it, if you wish.” Eiji’s voice interrupts Ash’s thoughts. He looks smug as he says this, smirking up at Ash. “It is obvious you want to. You have very good taste!”
Ash stares at Eiji uncomprehendingly, and it seems that the silence is enough to make him falter.
“Unless… I was mistaken? I am sorry, please ig –”
“No – I do!” Ash blurts out, then feels himself become flustered at his own overexuberance. Repeating himself more calmly, he says, “Yeah, I’d – I’d like to touch it. Come closer?”
Eiji scans his face, likely looking for any signs that Ash is lying. Upon finding none – because Ash was absolutely telling the truth, how could he not want to touch a mythical creature’s tail? – Eiji twists his body so that he is lying flat in the water, parallel to where Ash is sitting. Even though Eiji lifts his tail up, Ash still needs to stretch well over the edge of the tidepool to get at it. The wind is proving to be a formidable foe today, because one sharp burst is enough to skew his centre of gravity; as Ash lurches forward, certain that he’s about to fall face first into darkened waters, a pale arm shoots out to steady him.
“Are you alright?” Eiji asks, brows furrowed.
Nodding his head, Ash sends Eiji a grateful smile. “Yeah, thanks.”
Keeping a grip on Eiji’s arm for balance, Ash reaches down with his free hand and tentatively runs a palm along the length of the tail.
“Woah,” Ash murmurs, eyes wide. Eiji flicks his tailfins, and Ash can feel the way the muscles flex under his hand in response. It’s almost silky to the touch, which takes Ash completely off guard – but it makes sense once he realises that it’s actually covered in short, fine hair; the waterproof kind, like that of a seal.
Ash carries on petting Eiji’s tail until the icy burn of the water proves to be too much, turning his fingers an unsettling shade of blue.
With Eiji’s help, Ash manages to sit back, breathing out in awe, “That was so cool.”
Eiji positively preens at this, returning to his upright position. “I apologise for what I said before, you are not strange.” He reaches for Ash’s hand and grasps it in both of his, enthusiasm making his eyes glitter like obsidian in the post-dusk darkness. “We have always been told that humans were dangerous, but now I am not so sure. If all humans are like you, surely there is worth in coming to the surface!”
“Whoever gave you that advice was smart,” Ash mutters, focusing on what he has to say instead of the way his heart is beating staccato in response to Eiji’s words. “A lot of humans are dangerous.” Probably all of them, at least around here.
Eiji frowns a little, and although Ash was only telling the truth, he still feels bad for being the reason behind his change in demeanour. But – as if Eiji heard Ash’s thoughts, he returns to grinning – possibly even more earnestly than before.
Aligning his hand with Ash’s own, Eiji links their fingers together. “Then I am glad my first human was you.”
The rush of heat that floods Ash’s cheeks is dizzying, but Ash brushes off his embarrassment, resisting the urge to hide his expression as he stares at the point where their hands are joined. Eiji’s skin is even colder than it was earlier, having been submersed in the water this entire time, and his nails are uncomfortably sharp and dig ever so slightly into Ash’s skin. The lump in Ash’s throat is almost suffocating, and when his eyes begin to sting, he does nothing to stop the tears from spilling over onto his cheeks as he thinks that this touch right now is the warmest and kindest he’s felt in four years.
Eiji is alarmed by this development, near-instantly. He untangles their hands, and Ash feels a little pathetic at how keenly he misses the contact. He doesn’t have time to dwell on the feeling, though, before surprise takes over as Eiji pulls himself up out of the water to touch his face. Bringing his fingers back down, Eiji cautiously sniffs them, and then licks them – and Ash grimaces because yeah, that’s kind of weird.
Eijis pupils dilate as the taste registers in his mouth, and then he exclaims, comically distressed, “You – Your eyes! They are leaking the sea!”
Ash is confused only for a moment before he gets it; when he smiles it’s a little watery – a little wobbly – but probably the most genuine one he’s had all night. Shaking his head, Ash explains, “That’s not it, I was just crying.”
“Crying?” Eiji repeats, obviously unfamiliar with the word. “I do not know what that means. But you are okay? You are not in pain?”
His hands are fluttering about uncertainly, hovering over Ash’s own but hesitating to make direct contact. Being at the receiving end of such heartfelt concern makes Ash’s throat close up again, but he just sniffles hard and swallows past it, because he has a feeling that any more tears will only result in panic.
“I’m fine,” Ash says, drying his face with his coat sleeve. (He can’t quite feel his fingers anymore, but he ignores that – this is more important.) “Crying is just a thing humans do sometimes, usually when they’re sad. It can happen when they’re happy too, though.”
Eiji doesn’t seem entirely satisfied with Ash’s explanation, gnawing on his lower lip so much so that Ash is worried he’ll draw blood. After a moment of silence, he finally asks, “Then, which one were you?”
“Th – That’s not,” Ash stumbles over his words under the weight of Eiji’s gaze, and he feels himself waver. “Does it really matter?”
Eiji doesn’t respond in a verbal manner, only nodding solemnly in response.
Ash ducks his head down, waiting for his hair to obstruct his face before he admits, “Well, I wasn’t upset, so…”
It takes Eiji a second to put two and two together, and then he’s grinning; he hums a short melody, the notes lilting up and down, and Ash doesn’t need to be told to know that he’s being teased.
Pouting, Ash remarks offhandedly, “I was gonna come see you tomorrow, but I don’t think I’ll bother now.”
Eiji’s tune comes to an abrupt end like Ash had expected, but he focuses on the wrong thing. Excitedly, Eiji asks, “Are you returning to your shell?”
Faux anger forgotten, Ash’s brows furrow. “My what?”
“Your shell!” Eiji repeats. “I have heard that humans live communally in big shells, and that they can only leave for a certain amount of time before they have to go back.” Eiji raises his arms up, miming feeling out the walls of a dome above his head. “Is that true?”
Huffing out a laugh, Ash says, “I guess that’s one way of describing a house.”
“A house,” Eiji repeats, almost reverently. “I see… So that is what they are called.”
Ash hums in agreement, then focuses on the task of standing up – which, after sitting cross-legged for what feels like an eternity – seems quite literally impossible. Only after a helpful push from Eiji to get his momentum going does Ash manage to rise to his feet, though his legs scream their discomfort the entire time.
“Are legs always this unstable?” Eiji asks, watching as Ash tries to slap some feeling back into his thighs.
“No,” Ash huffs, straightening himself up. Bringing his fingers up to his mouth, he exhales over them slowly. “But the cold doesn’t help.”
“I see…” Eiji murmurs, “You will have to let me examine yours tomorrow! It is only fair since I let you touch my tail.”
Ash is a little wary at the thought of what Eiji’s examination could entail, but – the promise of a tomorrow, of something to look forward to when the sun rises, makes Ash think it might just be worth it.
“Yeah,” Ash mumbles, “I guess so. See you tomorrow, Eiji.”
Something delicate has planted itself in the centre of Ash’s chest, and he only realises it’s there when Eiji’s answering smile sets it off to bloom.
“Mm, see you tomorrow, Ash!”