Chapter Text
Six months ago, Song Qingshi couldn’t claim to have known much about eels. Having spent the majority of his burgeoning career till recently, happily tucked away in the lab; researching and developing new methods for growing sturdier strands of coral from their wild-caught samples. To hopefully breed the beginnings of new, resilient coral reefs all around the world.
Others his age may have found the task boring, preferring work that took them out to sea. But Song Qingshi was perfectly content allowing others to dive for new coral samples, giving himself more time to monitor the temperature fluctuations within the tanks of his precious seedlings.
Of course, as was required, he was scuba certified.
Though…he wasn’t a very strong swimmer, tiring easily. Which added to his reluctance to go.
Even for the monumental occasion in which one of his painstakingly maintained specimens was mature enough to be released. What- with the yearly growth rate of coral ranging from around half an inch up to 8 inches.
But that day, roughly six months ago, an incident had occurred not far from the institute's designated research area. A mistake on the part of a local oil company had sent a bunch of material for building a new oil rig tumbling into the sea. The heavy metal crushing part of a reef bed in the area they’d been told to avoid sailing through to prevent exactly this from happening.
But, placing blame hadn’t been the priority.
No, they had to quickly salvage what they could before the coral died. And that required everyone who knew what they were doing to be down in the water, below average swimmers included.
Song Qingshi had collected multiple fragments of Boulder Star Coral and was preparing to return to the boat when something white shot out of the depths, visible just out of the corner of his eyes. Grasping at him from behind.
Immediately, he stilled.
Panic was easily the leading cause of injury among experienced divers.
Racking his brain, his first guess was an octopus. Though attacks were rare given their shy temperament, perhaps this one had been startled from the crash and simply latched onto him seeking to flee.
Maintaining a steady breath, he looked down- and was surprised to find a pair of small, human arms locked around his waist. Connected to the body of a frightened child with long, silvery white hair. Their face free of any diving equipment, so Song Qingshi could see the way their lip trembled, eyes tightly shut. And…their white, eel-like tail curling anxiously around the diver’s legs.
His finned feet still kicked gently in the water, but he was now supporting the weight of two along with his oxygen tank.
Happening upon a once-in-a-lifetime, chance encounter with a creature many had written off as myth, Song Qingshi began to worry. For he was not a very good swimmer.
Then he wondered if it was alright to comfort the child or not, knowing the laws against handling endangered species without a license. So he was afraid to touch.
Finally- reaching out a hand anyway, he suddenly recalled his last interaction with a group of school children touring the facility. And how he’d made more than one of them cry with his unfriendly, unapproachable look alone. He pulled back his hand, realizing—
‘Oh no, I’m terrible with children. Someone, anyone, please- take this child.’
-~~˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐠｡˚✧˖~~-
The child, Xiao Bai - as he’d come to call them, refused to let anyone else take him. Digging the beginnings of sharp claws into the fabric of Song Qingshi’s wetsuit when others got too close, and made a low, growl of a screech. Refusing to be separated from his savior.
And that opinion hadn’t changed since then. Forcing Song Qingshi into the role of primary caregiver.
It caused much heartache for the team supporting him, as they too wished to be involved in the study of this new species. Some of his seniors complained. Citing their more relevant fields of interest working directly with marine mammals or fish (of which eels were classified as such), as being more beneficial over someone who studied coral with near-exclusivity.
Although…debates on exactly where the newly named siren species fell between those two options was still being hotly debated among those in the know. With the medical findings on the deceased adult female and injured male, found in the wreckage, coming back as inconclusive, thus far. So he was mostly left out of it as they fought amongst themselves.
Either way— research on the young siren had to be done through Song Qingshi or Xiao Bai would cry: small, misshapen pearls of little luster, that’d drip from the corners of his eyes. And refuse to do any more research for the day. Pushing back any progress to be made on that inquiry even further.
…so they eventually stopped complaining.
Song Qinghsi himself had little to say against the mandated change in his research subject. As in truth, he felt it was quite beneficial to him.
As the only area with unoccupied tanks big enough to house sirens on such short notice, just so happened to be within the coral research center. In a section near the back that’d been financed by Song Qingshi’s late-mentor, where they raised the most delicate of endangered coral species. Ones that required a stable, ocean-like environment and were yet unsuitable for the farmed-release program.
And aside from the addition of regular feedings to his schedule, as required by the resident marine nutritionist, his work remained basically the same. Recording growth and keeping an observation journal, until the specimens were deemed ready for the next stage of study.
Only now he wouldn’t be scolded for spending all his time at work, monitoring the corals’ progress. And be forced to go home. Which made him very happy.
It helped that the two were very good research participants. Which he made sure to tell them often, as praise was important. Despite the barrier in language, he liked to believe they understood.
Because, at the very least, they seemed to understand the word ‘no’.
“No, drop it.”
Xiao Bai growled playfully, latching on tighter to the metal portion of the measuring stick he was using. Having been asked to run trials on how far the eel-siren’s mouth could stretch.
“Xiao Bai, no.” He said again in a clear, measured tone. The way his marine mammal coworkers had taught him to. Gently stroking his gloved thumb against the swell of device beneath bulging cheeks, reasonably impressed by just how much they held.
Eels sure could fit a lot in their mouths, couldn’t they?
He watched their red iris contract into a slit at the touch, before it rapidly expanded a moment later. ‘Contentment, security, happy-’ he noted mentally, as the siren leaned into his touch. Allowing Song Qingshi to guide them off it, in exchange for more tactile engagement between them.
This was something he’d noted quite early on: the importance of frequent handling in establishing positive connections among sirens.
Song Qingshi lifted his gaze from Xiao Bai’s blissful expression at a ripple of water to his left. Noting a familiar, large dark shadow beneath the waves before An Long surfaced, half-hidden behind one of the many rocky outcropping brimming with coral seedlings. His large, black colored tail inert with his muscular, human-half holding him upright as he stared.
Since his recovery, the adult siren had shown frequent apprehension toward initiating contact where Xiao Bai did not. Yet was always perfectly content to accept food directly from the marine biologist, gaping his mouth wide when Song Qingshi walked by.
So perhaps tactile traditions varied by age. Which called for a socialization expert rather than a biological one. Requiring more input before coming to any conclusions.
Pausing in his petting, he extended an arm out to signal An Long to join them. Waving him closer with a careful, neutral expression. It caused the other to run when he smiled.
Instantly the siren dove back beneath the waves, reappearing shortly after. Closer now.
“An Long,” he greeted him warmly. And the siren’s long fin-like ears twitched before he lifted himself higher out of the water. The tip of his tail flicking against the thick glass separating them from the researcher.
Song Qingshi’s fingers reached forward to brush along the base of his jawline. Enjoying the way the black moray raised his chin to present more of his neck, gills fluttering. It was very cute, reminiscent of a cat. As was Xiao Bai’s sudden hiss; at having his special playtime interrupted. Gnashing his teeth together irritably, butting the back of their head against An Long’s chest behind them to push the other siren away.
Then the door to the lab slide opened. And Song Qingshi was the one forced to pull away. Giving the younger siren one last head pat as an apology before he stood up.
“Good morning,” he greeted the facility director. Asking bluntly, “do you need something? I was just finishing their morning routine.”
The facility director, Yan Yuan Xianjun, smiled apologetically. Believing the young biologist was upset at being interrupted, when really Qingshi didn’t mind at all. Looking to make conversation, he peered over his shoulder to look at the sirens in question. Hopeful to catch a glimpse.
But the two had no interest in the surface if their caretaker wasn’t involved. Preferring to hide away in the naturally formed tunnels around the tank, as eels tended to do.
The older man sighed, resigned to get straight to the issue at hand. “I know it hasn’t even been a year with them yet, but another siren’s been found. And…it isn’t in the best shape. We’ll likely be asked to take it on.”
By ‘we’ he certainly meant Song Qingshi. And while the potential new data was enticing, he needed details. More on the siren’s condition; if it was an eel, like his current research participants, or something different, along with its presumed sex. In case he needed to keep it away from An Long.
But Song Qingshi understood the importance of being diplomatic with one’s elders. Especially those that had a say on the coral department’s yearly budget. Right now, the director clearly only wanted to know if they had the space.
“There’s a second tank where we grow Elkhorn Coral,” he explained. Along with details on the other coral grown there and the exact conditions in which they were kept, much to the director’s confusion.
”Xiao Bai, the siren juvenile, had trouble catching live prey and would knock into the rock formations, disturbing the coral. So I was against placing him there. And An Long expressed a clear desire to share a space, so the tank is currently unoccupied.”
“So there’s an isolated tank free?” Director Yan asked.
“...yes.”
“Oh that’s perfect! We’ll bring him in as soon as the medical team gives the okay. Here’s a copy of the report we received- don’t worry about the handling requirements. We have the equipment needed. It’ll come with him, alright?” He gave an appreciative clap to Song Qingshi’s shoulder and then, just like that, he was gone.
Leaving Song Qingshi to question just what exactly he had inadvertently signed himself up for.
-~~˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐠｡˚✧˖~~-
Yue Wuhuan did not have a name prior to his encounter with the humans on the pleasure boat. When they’d first fished him out, still tangled and thrashing in the lines of multiple spears embedded in his sides, they’d called him a ‘lionfish’. And before that, there had been the stupid eel - who’s colony called him any combination of ‘devil’, ‘firefish ’, or ‘you’.
Spoken as if it was his fault the fish knew to flee their cavernous encampment into the vibrant, dense coral reef that made up his territory.
It was well within his rights to scare the hunters off. Spreading the venomous spines along his upper back and shoulders in a threatening display. And claim their prey as his own.
Now only half of his spines remained, the smaller ones cut from his tail to reassure the guests he was safe to handle. And the ones on his back had been bound so tightly, for so long, that the muscles twinge painfully at the slightest provocation.
Constantly being dragged out of the water for entertainment had certainly done a number on his lionfish-half, but the ambush predator’s spirit refused to be broken. Simply waiting for the chance to escape. Or better yet, to bring his captors down with him.
Lionfish were known for being patient hunters, relying on camouflage.
So he’d taken cues from the humans around him. Mimicking the provocative movements of the females that flocked around his primary captor and his friends, batting his eyes enticingly, until one of the fools had lowered their guard around Yue Wuhan. Thinking him tamed.
Appearing, one night, in the siren’s chambers…alone …
Blood staining his lips, Yue Wuhan smiled all the while. As the men attempted to drag him off, hitting and pelting him with empty bottles of glass, until he let go of the arm in his grasp. Thinking perhaps, that it could be reattached. Among…other severed limbs.
Leaving the siren to either dry out or succumb to his injuries, in favor of getting their friend immediate medical treatment.
He wouldn’t know it then, but that emergency trip to the hospital was what landed the group in prison. And what alerted the right people about Yue Wuhuan, people who just wanted to help.
…
Being shoved into a cylindrical upright tank, a size too small for him, and tormented for months apparently came with some benefits.
For his miserable experience on that ship, he’d gained a decent understanding of the human language. At least when it came to words concerning Yue Wuhuan and his safety.
The humans in the odd, brightly lit room he’d woken up in were difficult to understand with the fabric covering their mouths. But he managed to pick up bits and pieces of their conversation from the table he strapped to.
Words like; ‘broken’, ‘cut’, and ‘hold here’ as they assessed his injuries. Applying a dab of some sharp, stinging substance over a cut above his eyes that made him want to hiss and thrash uselessly against his bindings. But the feeling faded quickly, being replaced by the light tugging of some instrument moving beneath his skin. Pulling the wound shut.
It was less painful than the strong-smelling red liquid and metal claws that’d been used to close his wounds previously, so he allowed it. Letting the women dress the wound, and slip a thick stretch of bandage around his tail. Before they pricked him again, followed by the words, ‘Stop, that’s enough.’
And Yue Wuhuan fell back into unconsciousness.
-~~˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐠｡˚✧˖~~-
The thick branches of bright, yellow coral overhead nearly convinced him he was still dreaming, upon waking. But as he gingerly tilted his to one side…he felt…sand brush against the tips of his pointed ears, his gills fluttering in the gentle movement of water around him. Stagnant and wrong, no longer. And all of that combined to assure him that, this time, it wasn’t a dream.
Immediately his tail jolted, propelling him forward. Flinging up a cloud of sand behind him.
He darted into the protection of the reef, digging his claws into the rough, sea-worn stone as if- like the coral, he too wished to remain rooted there. Safe from the elements.
His pounding heartbeat slowed, just a little. Letting him take in this new stretch of water with a clear mind.
The “reef” (small as it was, and yet too healthy to be natural), cut off abruptly at a continuous vertical stretch of concrete. Which Yue Wuhuan recognized as a human-built ‘wall’. Following that wall, he then hit a corner that connected to another wall. Parallel to this wall was another, on the opposite side of the enclosure. And finally, a thick wall of glass that completed this newest tank.
‘Ah, it had been a nice dream while it lasted,’ he’d thought to himself. Preparing himself mentally to simply slip back into that near-mindless, survival state he’d developed to survive in captivity. When something unusual caught his attention.
A complete impossibility.
Past the glass walling him in, he could see other sirens. Eels, the two of them. A well-built adult with a dark-colored tail, and a smaller juvenile that appeared to be completely white. But that wasn’t the surprising part.
No, what surprised Yue Wuhuan was the human in the tank with them. Holding out a hand underwater to push the overeager child away so he could chip at the coral for whatever inane reason.
With his sharpened hearing, better than any measly human, he could hear them chirp and chitter questioningly. Wondering aloud what game their parent was playing and if they could play too. Only to be scolded by the older siren. A siren that the lionfish recognized.
It was that stupid eel!
Involuntarily, he growled. The sound bubbling out of him caught him by surprise, it being ages since he’d last made the sound.
But it came to him easily when the moray growled in return, his eyes turning to slits as he pressed himself against the glass. Finding himself funneling his repressed anger into what was frankly, an unwarranted territorial dispute. Seeing as they were both trapped here, in their respective puddles across from one another.
The sudden aggression startled the human, Yue Wuhuan could tell. As they gasped. Bubbles clouding their vision as they reflexively pulled off whatever tool they were using to breathe underwater. Leading them to scramble upwards, despite still wearing their mask. All because of some stupid, instinctual need to have their heads above water.
Unlike Wuhuan’s kind, who managed just fine above or below the surface.
Which made the human’s choice to drag the little one up with them all the more baffling. Was it stupid?
The eel fry was fine. They had an older pod-mate protecting them.
One that had butted heads with Yue Wuhuan frequently in the past. He wondered briefly how the two ended up here, knowing that the other wasn’t the type to be caught off guard. Being able to scent a shark an entire chasm away. And the kid being held hostage wouldn’t explain the sudden tolerance towards a stranger handling their young, let alone a human, if humans had been involved.
Perhaps it was that familiarity they shared that had his spines lowering. Maybe the oddity of the scenario had his interest peaked, outweighing his anger? Or, the more likely reason, was that his back began to ache. The muscles still atrophied.
Either way, it gave the impression that Yue Wuhuan forfeited this fight.
So he turned tail, as was customary. Settling himself stomach-first into the artificially warmed sand at the bottom of the tank, nestled between rows of coral. His arms crossed, laid out in front of him to cushion his head. Tired of everything, everyone.
But not before catching sight of the eel twine and wiggle his long, inky black tail around the human’s legs. Brushing against the bared skin of their feet, that stood out bleached coral white against their darkly colored wetsuit just- so, lovingly .
As a mate would.
‘Well, now I've seen just about everything. Haven't I?’ He thought, bitterly.