Chapter Text
The bay was slick with salt spray and ash. The ocean below rolled dark and endless, its surface broken only by the dying sunlight and drifting debris.
Zuma sat at the overlooking the waves, paws hanging just over the water, staring down into the black, koru spirals clawed into the dirt around him, a carved wooden figure from dog knows which island beside him
He hadn't gone inside with the others. None of them had.
The waves rose and fell, steady, indifferent. The same rhythm they'd always had. The same rhythm they'd had that night.
"Why'd you have to take him?" Zuma whispered.
His voice shook, swallowed almost immediately by the wind..
"I've loved you all my life," he continued, quieter now. "always trusted you."
He swallowed hard.
"Why couldn't you have taken me instead?"
The ocean answered the only way it ever did — with motion, not words.
Zuma clenched his jaw. His reflection wavered in the water, breaking apart with every swell.
"I'm the water pup," he said, the words sharp with accusation. "That was my job. I should've stopped it."
The image wouldn't leave him: Lazarus slipping beneath the surface. Zuma had dived without thinking, cutting through smoke and waves, lungs screaming as he searched.
He'd reached the spot.
Too late.
The current had pulled Lazarus down, into cold and darkness that didn't care how strong Zuma was or how hard he tried.
Zuma pressed his paw to his forehead, his breath hitching.
"I failed him." My mana wasn't enough.
Footsteps sounded softly behind him.
"Zuma?"
Ryder's voice was careful, like he was afraid the moment might shatter if he spoke too loudly.
Zuma didn't turn. Did I break some taboo?
Ryder knelt beside him, close enough to feel but not touch. The ocean air clinging to the two of them.
"You've been out here a while," Ryder said.
Zuma swallowed. "Didn't wanna go inside."
"I figured."
Silence stretched between them. Easily broken by the waves .
Ryder reached out at last, scratching gently behind Zuma's ear — grounding, familiar.
"Zuma," began Ryder, "this wasn't your fault."
Zuma's shoulders tensed. "You didn't see it."
"I saw enough," Ryder replied. "You did everything you could. More than anyone could ask."
Zuma shook his head. "It wasn't enough." the words cracking as they left him.
Ryder exhaled slowly. "No. It wasn't."
"But that doesn't mean it was your fault," Ryder continued. "Sometimes… sometimes the world just takes more than we're able to give."
Zuma stared out at the water again.
"The ocean didn't care," he muttered. "Didn't slow down. Didn't stop."
Ryder followed his gaze. "The ocean doesn't punish," he said quietly. "And it doesn't reward. It just… is."
Zuma's paws curled against the dirt.
"I trusted it," he said. "All my life."
Ryder nodded. "You did."
Zuma waited for the rest — for correction, for comfort. Ryder's words had felt like a lie.
Instead, Ryder said, "If you've loved it all your life… maybe it loved you back."
Zuma finally looked at him.
Ryder met his eyes. "Maybe that's why it gave you the strength to save as many as you did."
Zuma's breath stuttered. The tension in his chest eased, just a fraction — not gone but loosened.
The waves rolled on.
Zuma didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Ryder stayed with him, saying nothing more, until the ocean quieted and the sun sank lower, and all grew still.