Chapter Text
“Tadashi! Congratulations!!”
Her scream is so loud that he has to pull his cell phone away from his ear.
“Thanks, Hitoka-”
“When are you moving out here?!”
Her enthusiasm is infectious, and he smiles. “My lease starts in June, so probably then. That’ll give me some time to adjust before school starts.”
“We can spend the summer together! I’ll show you the best spots for beaches, food, hiking, all of that! I can’t believe we’re going to go to school together!”
“Who would’ve thought, after all this time of seeing each other every few years and now we’ll live across the hall,” Tadashi says brightly, and Hitoka giggles in response. “Talk to you later?”
“See ya!” she answers, and the line clicks off.
🌊
His plane lands on the tarmac of David K. Inouye International Airport in the early evening, and after five hours of flying away from the nighttime he’s treated to a beautiful Hawai’i sunset over the ocean. He only gets slightly lost on his way to baggage claim, wandering past gated terminals and security, a lone sign pointing him in the right direction every few minutes. Baggage claim itself is confusing to navigate, with several carousels spread between different rooms. He’s lucky enough for the announcement of which carousel San Diego’s bags will be on to chime right then, and he hurries across the linoleum floor.
The entirety of his life that he’s picking up and moving halfway across the Pacific is in two suitcases, his backpack, and a carryon. There were a lot of things that couldn’t make the trip - like most of his books, sentimental knickknacks, or arts & craft supplies. He and his mom had gone through the painstaking process of organizing his closet before he left, many of his old clothes now in a box to be donated. The rest, minus a few coats and scarves, were packed away into one suitcase, now sitting upright by his side.
Tadashi spots the second suitcase, carrying his shoes, swimsuits, goggles, flippers, and wetsuit. He pushes through the crowd waiting around for their luggage and grabs the suitcase with two hands to haul it off the belt. He’s panting with the effort but manages, and lounges against both the suitcases as he picks up his phone to call Hitoka.
She’s already texted him. “Outside, on the pickup curb! Second floor!”
He likes the message and hauls his goods to a map of the airport layout on the far wall, where he learns he’s currently on the first floor.
He walks out the sliding doors and gives a cursory glance around to find there’s no immediately obvious way up to the second floor. Maybe he’s blind.
Well, shoot.
Rolling back inside, he walks to his left and looks for an elevator or escalator nearby. There are none. He’s gotta be missing something, right? Airports are not designed to work against the traveler, in most cases. Yet he finds himself stuck to the bottom floor.
Four minutes later Hitoka texts again, asking if he needs help. Just as he’s sent the message that he’s lost, and how the hell does he get to the second floor, an elevator appears from thin air in front of him, and he could cry.
“NVM!!!!” he texts Hitoka. Her typing bubble disappears.
Sure enough, Hitoka Yachi is sitting with the car door open and her feet hanging out and swinging side to side. Her mother sits at the driver’s seat and is the first to see him, poking Hitoka in the shoulder so she looks up and breaks into a wide grin at the sight of Tadashi.
“Hi!!” she yelps, leaping onto the sidewalk and running at him. She has him gripped in a tight hug before he even realizes it, swaying them side to side on the pavement. He’s a full foot taller than her and she’s strong enough to throw him off balance.
“Hi Hitoka,” he hugs her back, bags forgotten. She squeezes him, shrieking with glee, before grabbing one of his suitcases and beckoning him to follow her to the car. She’s babbling a million miles a minute and he catches every third word. Something about dinner and catching up and surfing . Sounds just fine to him.
Hitoka’s mother takes them to his new apartment first. He registers with the building, receives his keys, and Madoka Yachi insists he write her as his first emergency contact. He complies sheepishly, a little embarrassed being lightly scolded in the lobby by someone he considers his second mother. From there they take the elevator upstairs to floor 8, track down Tadashi’s apartment, and he turns the key in the door for the very first time.
It’s very nice for as small as it is. There’s a full kitchen packed into one corner, the dining table pressed to the wall. The kitchen flows right into a living room space with a loveseat and a coffee table, lit by the moonlight through the window that takes up most of the far wall. To the right is the hallway to the four bedrooms and two baths. All things considered, it was cozy but functional, and more than enough space for Tadashi to live.
“It looks just like mine,” says Hitoka a little obviously. She had already moved into the same building, just down the hall.
Madoka wheels his suitcases to Tadashi’s bedroom, exits, and shuts the door behind her. “That’s about enough work for today, hm? Let’s go eat. Tadashi? You pick.”
“Honestly, I’m dead tired from traveling,” he replies, the second half of his sentence cut off by a yawn.
“Alright then, c’mon,” Hitoka chimes in, holding the door open for him. “There’s a Cane’s downstairs.”
🌊
With Hitoka and Madoka’s help, setting up his apartment is simple. He’s there before any of his roommates and so doesn’t have to worry about the three of them taking up too much space. Hitoka, much more design minded than he, arranges his photos on the wall with double sided tape. He hangs his clothes in the standing closet, and Madoka helps him organize his shoes into a bin that fits under his bed. Tadashi considers himself neat, but he never would’ve been able to use the space so efficiently without them.
He and Hitoka lounge on his couch, eating their leftover Cane’s.
“Are we going surfing tomorrow?” she asks excitedly, through a mouthful of french fries.
“I’m down,” answers Tadashi, pausing to sip on his iced tea, “Though I’ll be the first to admit I’m rusty, I haven’t had much time to make it down to the beach this past semester.”
She waves him off. “You’ll be fine. You’ve been in and around the water all your life, and surfing for half of that.”
“What about a board?”
“Since I have mine, I can borrow one from the store for you. I have an old one but it’s almost certainly too short. You’ve shot up like a weed.”
He scrunches his nose lightheartedly at that. “Sounds like a plan then.”
They finish lunch soon after, and Hitoka invites him to wander around.
“Actually, I might just go to sleep. But I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“See ya!” she smiles, and heads out the door and back down the hall to her own apartment.
Tadashi takes the rest of the afternoon to fix his room up to his liking. He arranges his plushies on his bed, his mini whale shark taking the spot closest to his pillow. His desk is too bare right now, so he gets out the few drawing supplies that made the trip and places them towards the window. Feels more homey already.
After a shower and his nightly routine, he’s ready to crawl into bed. He lies on his back and stares at the ceiling, counting fish instead of sheep.
🌊
His alarm wakes him bright and early at seven. Hitoka is knocking on his door by eight.
“Tada~shi! We’re burning daylight!”
“Give me a second!” he calls back, shoving a towel into his backpack and filling his hydroflask in the sink. He yanks open the door to be greeted by Hitoka’s bright smile. Her tote is slung over her shoulder, hair tied up in a ponytail. She has on denim shorts, slippers, and a yellow t-shirt with a manta ray decal that says Just a Ray of Sunshine! It’s fitting for her.
“Ready? Mom said she’d pick us up.”
“Oh, awesome,” Tadashi says, a little out of breath. He slips out the door and closes it behind him, following Hitoka down the hallway.
They’re both quiet in the elevator but it’s not uncomfortable. The number above the door slowly counts down from 8 to L , dinging at every floor along the way. Hitoka leads him through the lobby, passing the front desk and swiping open a side door with her keycard.
The door leads into a huge storage room, two levels of bike racks bolted into the wall. There’s few open spots, most of them occupied by bikes, but a few surfboards are balanced in the racks.
“Is yours in here?” Tadashi asks as he looks around. Hitoka walks with purpose, and Tadashi is nearly distracted enough to lose her.
“Nah,” she says, swiping open a second door and holding it open for him. “I keep mine at the shop.” The second door leads into the far side of the garage. Hitoka leads them both towards the main entrance, turns the corner and her mom is already waiting in the family van.
“Thanks for the ride, Mrs. Yachi,” Tadashi says after buckling in. Hitoka is all excitement, her energy taking up all the space in the car while Tadashi shrinks into his seat, hands crossed in his lap.
It’s a short drive, and Tadashi spends the whole ride looking out the window. The highway underpass serves as their gateway to the city; above them, a road stretches its way to North Shore, and the other curls around to cut through Honolulu proper. They pass the quiet strip mall nearest his apartment, the line of people at Leonard’s Bakery, the hotels gradually becoming grander as they near main street. Madoka pulls the car to the side near an ABC Store before they merge with the rest of traffic. Tadashi and Hitoka tumble out of the car, slippers flopping on the pavement.
Hitoka wastes no time and leaps into the fray of tourist town, winding between shirtless, sunburnt beach-goers. Tadashi trails behind her. Eventually they reach the east side of the beach, where the hotels aren’t built on top of each other and the occasional mom-and-pop shop can thrive. The surf shop is just that — owned and run by locals, and going strong for a few decades now.
Inside, the walls are stacked with surfboards of different shapes, colors, and sizes, as well as any kind of surfing or beach gear one could want. At first glance it’s no different than the surf shops in San Diego, yet the atmosphere feels different.
San Diego is foggy, old, industrial. The ocean is cold and heavy, suffocating like a wet blanket, imposing. San Diego feels like the wind on the pier and tastes like Coldstone ice cream at the marina.
But Honolulu slopes from the green mountains right into the green sea. Everything is green and blue - the mountains, the ocean, the humidity, the heat. It isn’t the bright, orange fire of the sun beating down, it’s the warmth and weight of the air holding him slightly above the ground. Honolulu has a Pacific ocean he feels like he’s never seen before. A brighter, livelier one, and that same energy is what fills the surf shop and radiates off Hitoka.
He blinks and realizes he’s lost Hitoka. She reappears quickly from the back room, a white binder in her hands.
“Tadashi!” she calls, “How tall are you?”
He’s not as comfortable yelling across the store, even though the only two customers at the moment seem to be regulars, completely unfazed by Hitoka’s behavior. He hops the few steps across the store to the register.
“Five feet eleven inches,” he answers.
“Alright… cool,” she says, sticking out her tongue as she scribbles into the record-keeping book. She waves over her coworker to sign the form, then points at the wall closest to them.
“Pick any of those, then give Kanoka here the number on it.”
Tadashi picks out a blue surfboard with a gold marbled pattern. It reminds him of the sunlight on the water.
From the back room, there’s a few banging sounds. Hitoka emerges once again, her pastel orange surfboard in tow.
“Ready?”
🌊
Side by side, he and Hitoka paddle out into the surf, bobbing along with the shallow swells. Waikiki is famously tourist-ridden and one of the more classically tame beaches, but here on the eastern edge they manage to find more open space. About thirty yards out is where the open ocean feels more like wilderness, and the waves gradually become taller and taller. They’re not great for surfing, but they’re fine for a casual outing.
Sure enough, he feels the ocean under him pull back into a swell. Tadashi starts paddling along with it, hoping it picks him up. He slides up to his knees and then up on his feet, looking for balance, finding it just as the wave crests and carries him towards the shore.
He wipes out only a few short seconds later, the surfboard flying out from under him as he falls backwards into the wave. It’s a small one that passes over him without much fuss. He surfaces with a smile, shaking excess water out of his hair, eventually opening his eyes to see Hitoka several feet away, cheering.
The rest of the waves are similar to that first one in size, holding them up for a few exhilarating seconds before washing away. The morning comes to a close and the tide shifts, the sun illuminating them from directly overhead. They’re about ready to call it a day and find lunch when Tadashi feels that telltale swell again, and looks back to see the largest wave of the day fast approaching.
He really has no choice but to hope to catch it, and so he starts paddling furiously, leaning his weight into the momentum of the wave and hoping he’ll find his balance in time.
Instead, the wave tears his surfboard from him, crashing over Tadashi.
Thrown head-over-heels, eyes shut against salty water, Tadashi is lost to which direction is which. He searches blind for the light of the surface, only to be buffeted by the water and shoved further from the sun. His lungs are screaming as he desperately fights the urge to open his mouth and breathe. Distantly, he feels the tug of the board’s velcro leash against his ankle, but it’s not enough to pull him up.
Then there’s something else tugging at him, stronger than the buoyancy of the board, hauling him up. The light behind his eyes gets brighter and brighter until he feels the surface tension of the water break around him, and he gasps for air.
By the time he’s opened his eyes against the sting of saltwater, all he catches is a faint grey, silky fin swimming away.
Hitoka is calling for him. One arm treading water, he retrieves his board with the other and climbs back on to make his way to shore.
“Are you alright?” Hitoka asks him, as close as she can get without their boards touching.
“I’m fine,” he says, a little shaken, the memory of the fin still etched in his memory, “Good thing I had the surfboard leash.”
🌊
They wade out of the water and up the shore, finding a place to prop up their boards and rinse the caked sand off their feet. Back at the surf shop, Hitoka sneaks him into the employee bathroom to change out of his swim trunks and rash guard. He runs his fingers through his shoulder-length hair while he waits for her to change, pulling out the most offensive knots and leaving the smaller ones for later.
Hitoka returns Tadashi’s board and puts away her own. They walk together down the sidewalk of the main road, Kalakaua Avenue, passing by some of the fancier shops and luxury hotels. Tadashi rolls his eyes at a group of shirtless tourists jaywalking barefoot between a Rolex boutique and a Häagen-Dazs. The duality of man.
“What’re you hungry for?” Hitoka asks, and Tadashi hums in thought even as his stomach growls.
“No clue, honestly. You can pick.”
She takes this responsibility very seriously. They find a seat on a planter outside the International Market Place and Yachi studies the map on her phone, zooming in and out. Eventually she finds whatever she’s looking for and, without telling Tadashi, stands up quickly and walks towards their destination.
“Wait!” Tadashi demands, slippers flopping uselessly on the concrete when he attempts to run after her.
Hitoka turns over her shoulder and laughs at him, pausing momentarily to allow him to catch up.
International Market Place is a sprawling, multi-level outdoor mall centered around a grove of trees and a winding stream. They pass a handful of bronze statues nestled under a treehouse, the stylized welcome sign rising just above the ground-level foliage. Hitoka passes this without much fanfare, however, walking right through the rest of the marketplace and turning sharply once they reach the next street.
Tadashi realizes where they’re going once it comes into view. It’s a tiny corner shop advertising homemade onigiri, and his stomach growls again at the thought of soft rice and salty nori.
Hitoka treats him to lunch, getting two orders of her favorites. They sit at the bar by the window and people-watch in comfortable silence.
The rest of their day is just as leisurely. Tadashi doesn’t remember much of Waikiki from his childhood summers spent visiting the Yachi family, his memories instead focused on the beaches and marine life that inspired him to undertake his degree in the first place. What does feel familiar is this quiet existence next to Hitoka, calm and unambiguous, picking up like they were never separated in the first place. They walk together, smile together, laugh together.
Tadashi is happy.
An afternoon of meandering finds them at the far end of the Waikiki district, nearly to where Ala Moana begins. It’s here that a banner catches Tadashi’s eye, and he stops to investigate it, Hitoka pausing ahead of him to see what grabbed his attention.
“Do you really think there’s only one PADI-certified dive shop on all of O’ahu?” he wonders out loud, referring to the claim on the sign.
“Dunno,” Hitoka replies. “Doesn’t hurt to look.”
The dive shop is on the plaza level of a large hotel, various signage guiding them to it. It’s not very big either, just a square room filled with fins, masks, and other assorted dive gear. A flatscreen on one wall plays a looping video of sharks exploring a coral reef.
“Aloha!” calls the man behind the counter, looking up and waving as they enter.
“Aloha,” they both answer.
“Just browsing?”
“Is this really the only PADI shop?” Tadashi asks bluntly, unable to hold back his curiosity.
The man laughs. “Yep! Do you dive?”
“I do,” answers Tadashi, a little sheepishly, “I got my basic certification a few months ago.”
“Congratulations!”
“Thank you.”
The man sticks his hand out over the counter and smiles. “Keishin Ukai. I’m the owner and manager.”
Tadashi pales, bowing his head slightly and shaking Keishin’s hand. “Tadashi Yamaguchi. This is my friend Hitoka Yachi.”
“Nice to meet you!” Hitoka calls from the other side of the store.
“You too,” says Keishin. “Are you students?”
“Mhm, both at UH. We’re freshmen.”
“What do you plan to study?”
“Marine Biology for me,” Tadashi declares proudly, “And Hitoka is a prospective Renewable Energy and Island Sustainability major.”
“Best of luck to both of you.”
Hitoka isn’t quite paying attention — she’s not trying to be rude, she’s just enamored with the majestic manta ray gracing the flatscreen — so Keishin turns his focus to Tadashi. “Being dive certified will be a serious leg up for you.”
“That’s what I hope. I’m not sure what I want to do yet, but getting to dive and see marine life up close is super inspiring.”
Keishin grins at him. “You know, Tadashi, I’ve been looking for help here around the shop. If you’re interested, you could shoot me an email with a resume and a little about your goals with diving.” He reaches under the counter and retrieves a business card, flipping it over to scribble a personal email on the back.
Tadashi takes it graciously, his eyes lighting up.
Two other people walk into the store at that moment, one of them coming up to the counter as if to ask Keishin a question, and so Tadashi nods his head once more as he backs away and grabs Hitoka’s arm on his way out.
🌊
Three weeks later finds Tadashi a mile off the coast of Honolulu, long flippers helping him balance on a little dive boat. He’s listening intently as the dive master — Keishin’s father, in fact — explains the plan of their dive. It’s his third one of the day, and after its successful completion, he’ll be awarded his advanced diving certificate.
The process of setting up is near muscle memory at this point, but he goes over the steps in his head just to make sure. He grabs his BCD and places it within easy reach, looping the regulator over his shoulders and kneeling by the air tank. The regulator is hooked to the air tank, and he double checks all the hoses are secure. His psi monitor reads 2800, a full tank. The test breath he takes into his main regulator is no deeper than a normal one, but it calms him just the same.
The boat’s pulled directly over the wreck. He hears the splash of Ukai Senior jumping into the water, probably to hook the boat to the buoy. Tadashi stands to his full height, pulling the other half of his wetsuit over his arms and torso and zipping it up to his neck. His weights are set, BCD hooked over his shoulders, and air tank strapped securely to his back. His mask is the last thing to go on.
The boat captain is a lovely young man named Daichi, just a touch shorter than Tadashi, a bit stocky, and with a contagious smile. He effortlessly picks him up by his air tank, depositing him on the edge of the boat. Real toes to the edge, fins hanging over the side. Underneath him is just blue ocean, and for a moment he wonders if the schools of fish are actually in his stomach, swimming around.
“Ready?” asks Keishin, at Daichi’s side.
Tadashi has one hand holding his mask, the other his regulator, and he nods.
“Three… Two… One…” Daichi counts down, and as he says “Giant stride!” Tadashi takes a big leap.
The mere second that it takes him to hit the water feels like a millenia suspended in the air, on a thin line between air and sea. He’s entering sacred territory, at the whim of something both precious and dangerous. The water is your friend, he reminds himself, feeling it mold around the shape of him, ears ringing with the hearty splash.
Under his wetsuit, a piece of seaglass and a piece of aquamarine hang on simple twine necklaces, gifts from Hitoka. Sea glass is supposed to connect you with the ocean, she’d said, and aquamarine to protect you as you travel it.
He gazes back up at the boat, where Daichi and Keishin watch him expectantly. He throws up the okay! sign with his right hand, followed by a shaka.
They holler for him supportively, returning the shaka , and then it’s time to start his descent.
Hand on the line, just in case there’s a current, he slowly sinks down to the bottom of the sea. The Sea Tiger wreck, an O’ahu landmark, sits just 110 feet below sea level on calm, flat sand. At about 60 feet the wreck comes into view, a dark silhouette crossed by schools of fish passing through his vision. He moves his jaw to let the pressure in his ears equalize.
It takes a full minute and a half until his feet touch the ocean floor, and then he’s staring up at the bow of the boat.
The Sea Tiger was sunk deliberately, as both an artificial reef and an opportunity for divers like him to get experience. The inside is gutted, any potentially harmful equipment or chemicals stripped. The animals of the ocean have since made it their own. Bright tropical fish swim in small groups around the safety of its hull, following invisible winding paths. Three spotted rays pass to his left, their wings barely disturbing the sand’s surface, and he watches them disappear into the blue.
As he rises level with the boat, he sees a sea turtle taking a leisurely nap on what’s left of the deck. It’s massive, its shell likely the size of a small car. The sight of such a gentle giant puts him at ease.
Then there it is again — the grey fin, darting deeper into the ship.
Tadashi knows he can’t swim into the wreck, not at his current level of diving, but he does have an idea.
He swims carefully to the stern of the ship, where a piece of the hull has broken off and fallen away. As he gazes into the dark, he sees the reflection of two golden eyes, and the matte shine of a grey, shark-like tail.
Floating gently in the still ocean, surrounded by the empty hull of the Sea Tiger, is the boy he saw so many years ago on Waikiki’s beaches, a little older, a little taller, but the same boy nonetheless. Tadashi stares.
“I thought it was you, surfing that day,” Tsukki says quietly, and Tadashi gapes, bubbles falling freely from his regulator before he can catch himself.
He flounders for a moment, wondering how he could possibly talk back, then settles for tapping his regulator and gesturing at Tsukki, hoping the message gets across.
“We’re underwater,” Tsukki replies, as if that answers everything. “Hey, will you distract the other divers so I can slip away? I’m not supposed to be out here.”
Tadashi throws up an okay , then nods his head for good measure.
“Thanks.”
His eyes dart to the side, and Tadashi turns to see Ukai glancing at him.
Stay together, he motions, making a fist with two extended index fingers and tapping them together. He then holds up the okay , waiting for Tadashi’s response. When he returns it, Ukai motions to follow, swimming away to an open spot so they can practice navigation.
Later, after nearly half an hour underwater and an eight minute ascent, after putting away his tank, regulator, equipment, and stripping out of his wetsuit, Tadashi wraps a fist around the aquamarine and pulls it from around his neck. The twine snaps, and he tosses it as far as he can throw into the ocean, watching it hit the surface with a plink and sink to the ocean floor.
🌊
Aki notices something is up almost instantly.
Kei almost floats into the house, his movements relaxed and graceful, his long tail sweeping from side to side. One of his hands idly fiddled with a gem on a piece of twine around his neck. Aki was already aware of his scavenging habits, and how often he went closer to the shores than was recommended, but the necklace didn’t seem like something to have been picked up off the ocean floor.
Kei darts off to his room, and Aki’s narrowed gaze follows him. He has a long moment of trying to decide between leaving him be and questioning him — and eventually decides to rap on the rocky wall that separates Kei’s space from the rest of the house.
“Yes?” Kei deadpans, turning over his shoulder to glare at his brother.
“C’mon, spill,” pleads Aki. He gives his best seal pup eyes. “What’s up?”
“Nothing’s up, ” Kei insists, but his defensive tone tells Aki everything he needs to know.
“Keiiii. You can trust me! Is it a secret?”
“It’s not a secret-”
“Oh, oh oh, is it a boy ?”
“It’s not a boy- ”
“Aha!” shouts Aki, and Kei quickly shushes him. “It’s a boy.”
“Please. Shut the fuck up.”
“Mom isn’t home, don’t worry,” Aki waves him off, settling down on the floor of the room with his tail tucked neatly underneath him. “Now tell me. Does he live around here? What’s he like? How’d you meet?”
Kei suddenly goes quiet, staring at his long, lanky fingers.
“Remember when I was younger, and I told you about getting stuck in that tide pool?”
Aki’s stomach flops. There’s no way that’s what his brother is about to say. “Yeah?”
“And the kid who helped me?”
“Yeah, I do.”
Kei’s hand goes to the gem without thinking, rubbing it with his thumb. He freezes once he realizes what he’s doing, shoulders slumping and his hand coming back to his lap. “I saw him today. That’s the second time this month.”
“But didn’t you-”
“No, I didn’t see him again after that night,” says Kei, “Until now.”
His brother exhales, the very tip of his tail flicking in thought. Kei mistakes it as agitation.
“Look, I know he’s human-”
“That’s not my problem,” Aki starts carefully, deliberately.
“Which is…?” prompts Kei.
“There’s precedent for visiting the surface, it’s just not common,” he explained. “Have you heard of Nanaue?”
“Yeah. He was the son of Kamohoali’i, the king of sharks, and a human.”
“Yes. And though he was raised as a human, when he entered the water he was able to take the form of a shark.”
“What’s your point?” asked Kei, his brows pulling down. “We’re half-sharks, not shapeshifters.”
“Nanaue was the most famous, but there were others like him. Over eons the lines between shapeshifter and half-being blurred, and eventually half-sharks like us were born. We’re more similar to sharks as we are now, but there’s some human part that lives-” he pokes Kei’s chest, “-in you.”
“You’re saying I could go. Up on the island.”
Aki nods excitedly, then grimaces exaggeratedly. “There’s just one problem.”
“Hm?”
“The magic you need requires something. It needs, uh… blood.”
“Blood?”
He looks away, as if almost embarrassed. “You have to have tasted human blood.”
Silence. Then, Kei is chuckling. No, he’s giggling , and then he breaks into full out laughter.
“What? Kei, what’s so funny?”
It takes a few minutes for him to calm, but once he does, Kei explains, “When he freed me from the tide pool he must’ve cut himself, and he got a little blood on my finger. I licked it off because I didn’t know any better.”
“You DID? And you never TOLD me? Are you okay? You haven’t had any hunger for flesh, or bloodthirsty urges, or-”
“Aki, relax please. I’m completely normal.”
“Oh, okay, good.” Aki huffs out a laugh. “That’s just luck. I was worried we’d have to go nick some poor unsuspecting surfer in the leg to get you a taste.”
There’s a moment of silence between them, the gentle current in the water pulling them back and forth.
“So is the necklace from him?”
“I saw him throw it off the boat,” Kei says quietly, his lips turning up into the barest of smiles.
“Oh.”
Another beat of silence.
“Kei?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think you’ll go?”
His brother sounds sad.
Kei turns to face him. His eyes are downcast, staring at the ground. “Why do you say it like that?”
“If you go up there… Well, I’m not really sure what’ll happen. In the legends, they all turn human. If that happens I’ll never see you again.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t want to stop you, but I also don’t…”
“Aki. Hey.”
He finally turns to look at him.
“I’m not going to leave you.”
To Aki, who knows his little brother struggles expressing his emotions, it’s akin to an I Love You.
He unfurls himself from the floor, throwing his arms around Kei, who freezes.
“This is a bit unnecessary-”
“Love you too, Kei.”
“Y-yeah, yeah.”
“Just be careful up there for me, okay?”
🌊
Tadashi and Hitoka both find themselves with a rare and well-deserved day off the following day, and had been planning to visit Diamond Head Beach since Tadashi had moved to O’ahu. They’d done the hike already — several times as kids, and once at the beginning of the summer — but the beach had eluded them yet, and it was the quietest one within easy distance of their apartment building.
The road around the volcanic crater of Diamond Head (or Lēʻahi, as it was first named) sat on a ridge several dozen feet above the shoreline. Tadashi and Hitoka trekked down the paved switchbacks in their slippers, seabreeze rising to meet them.
Above them, the sky is darkened but not gloomy, light rain clouds drifting over the waves. Tadashi had worried about being rained out at the beach, but the forecast predicted no lightning, and Hitoka insisted any gentle rain would come and go quickly. The island was only so big, after all.
This beach is startlingly empty. Even nearer to the few smaller hotels and resorts that hug the edge of Lēʻahi, they have the entire shallow, rocky beach to themselves. They can see a few surfers in the far distance, nearer to the west side and Waikiki.
“So, how’d the dives go yesterday?” asks Hitoka, laying a beach towel across the sand, “Three in a day can be a lot.”
“I’m a little stuffed up and tired is all,” Tadashi insists.
Hitoka levels him with a worried stare. “Are you sure? You seem like something’s off.”
He doesn’t answer for a moment, wondering if it’s wise to say his thoughts out loud. Finally he decides on, “Hitoka, did I ever tell you what happened when I was a kid? At Waikiki?”
Her eyes narrow, brows furrowing. “No?”
Big sigh. “So I, uh, saved a mermaid from this tide pool. His tail was caught. Or I think it was a mermaid, or something like it-”
Hitoka gapes at him, and then bursts into laughter, clutching her stomach. It’s not malicious at all, but Tadashi blushes furiously.
“Hitoka!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just,” she gasps in a breath, “Are you sure this happened? You’re a scientist, Tadashi, and studying to be a marine biologist. You of all people should know mermaids are just manatees and sea monsters are just oarfish and whale penises.”
Tadashi stutters, “Yeah, I know, but this was real, okay? It really was a half-boy half-fish. I talked to him!”
She crosses her arms and sits back on her heels. He heaves a sigh.
“The point is that I hadn’t seen him since that incident, and then yesterday, on the dive — he was at the Sea Tiger. I swear.”
Hitoka lets her arms fall to her sides, and leans down to retrieve her goggles from her bag. “I want to believe you. I want to believe in mermaids and magic. But I just don’t know, I don’t want to believe in it now and be disappointed later.”
“Yeah. I get it.”
He’s obviously disheartened, so she nudges him with her elbow.
“Wanna go swimming?”
Lēʻahi’s Beach was ringed by rocks and reefs, protecting the face of the crater from erosion. The reefs kept the shore calm, but also meant that they had to trek between the small gaps in rocks in order to reach the deeper part of the water.
Hitoka, anxious to get her feet off the ground, falls into the water as soon as it’s deep enough, and comes face to face with two golden eyes and a mop of short blonde hair.
An explosion of bubbles obscures the small space between them as she screams underwater, splashing her way backwards and away from the face. Tadashi hears her distress and looks up immediately, meeting the gaze of two eyes just above the water.
The golden eyes stare at him, squinting. Then they apparently recognize him, because the face darts back below the water and swims quickly to him, popping back up a few mere inches from Tadashi’s.
Tsukki opens his mouth to speak, and when nothing comes out, all of his excitement instantly deflates.
He rolls his eyes and sinks down with a sigh. When Tadashi doesn’t immediately follow, he sticks his hand up and gives a thumbs-down.
It’s dive lingo. Tadashi takes a deep breath and crouches down.
Tsukki floats freely in the shallow water, suspended halfway between the surface and the seafloor. His long tail wraps around behind him, chin resting on his hands. Tadashi’s a bit taken aback by the sight.
“I can’t talk up there. Doesn’t surprise me,” bemuses Tsukki, blinking lazily at Tadashi. “Mind giving me a hand?”
Tsukki pops back above the surface, Tadashi right after. Before he can ask what’s going on, Tsukki extends his hand for him to take, and then hoists himself up above the water — on two suspiciously human looking legs, clad in a pair of slim grey jammers.
“Oh my god,” Tadashi breathes. Tsukki stares down at the tide going out, leaving him standing unsteadily on the sand.
“What the fuck!” Hitoka yells, splashing over. She rips her goggles off her eyes and shakes the hair out of her face. “What is g-”
She sees Tsukki and her jaw goes slack. Her head swivels to Tadashi, and she asks quietly, “This him?”
“Yeah,” Tadashi replies breathlessly.
Hitoka manages to close her mouth, closing and reopening her eyes to see if he’s still there. Her eyes scan him but once she gets to the jammers she looks away abruptly, focusing on anything but him.
“Jesus. At least magic had the decency to give him some pants.”
“I can’t see for shit,” are the first words Tsukki says.
“What?” Tadashi holds up three fingers and waves. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Three,” replies Tsukki, deadpan. “It’s just blurry. I’m not blind.”
“Oh.”
They stare at each other for a long moment, and Tadashi hopes Tsukki’s bad eyesight prevents him from seeing how his cheeks flush.
“Introductions?” Hitoka prompts, in her best lovingly-exasperated voice.
“Oh! Uh, yeah. This is my friend Hitoka Yachi. Hitoka, this is…” he gestures to Tsukki, then freezes. “um.”
“You don’t remember?” Tsukki questions, and it sounds more than a little hurt.
“Of course I do! I just figured you had a name, and I didn’t know if you still wanted to be the nickname I gave you when I was eight-”
“You can call me Tsukki,” he says quickly, and is that embarrassment on his face? “Name’s Kei, though.”
Tadashi nods, swallowing. “K- Tsukki, Hitoka. Hitoka… Tsukki.” Both his friends (friends!) nod in greeting to one another.
“ Yoroshiku onegaishimasu ,” stutters Tsukki, and it sounds practiced (it is, Aki was the one who taught him to say it) but Hitoka looks pleasantly surprised.
“ Hajimemashite! Yoroshiku onegaishimasu ,” she parrots, smiling.
Tadashi beams at the display, until he notices the new silence and remembers one very important fact about his first meeting with Tsukki — he never introduced himself .
“And I’m Tadashi Yamaguchi,” he says quietly, because he’s never been so embarrassed in his life, and in front of Tsukki, no less—
“Nice to finally meet you, Tadashi,” Tsukki says gently, and he could just melt right there.
There’s a rumble in the air, and they look up to see clouds rolling over the ocean, splitting the sky in two between clear and overcast.
“We should get home,” Hitoka says, “You brought an extra shirt, right Tadashi?”
“Huh?”
“We’re going to have to drag him into an Uber to get back, and I also just don’t want to look at him shirtless anymore,” she sighs.
Tadashi did thankfully bring an extra shirt. It’s a little short on Tsukki, but it does the job. The three of them look like they were just leaving from the beach anyway.
They start to herd Tsukki back up the beach, and the tall boy barely takes a step before he almost falls flat on his face. Tadashi catches him on instinct and Tsukki looks away quickly, face flushed. “This shouldn’t be this difficult,” he complains.
“Don’t mind,” says Tadashi, “Just one foot in front of the other.”
It takes a minute or two, but Tsukki gets the hang of it, wobbling his way to the more stable asphalt path.
“Are you good?” Tadashi asks. He’s been holding onto Tsukki this entire time, and the last thing he wants to do is make him uncomfortable.
Tsukki pauses, but then sputters out a, “Yeah, I’m good.” Tadashi lets go and Tsukki stands up straight on his own two (brand new) feet, taking a confident and surefooted step.
He walks all the way to the top of the hill with them, only barely stumbling once or twice. Tadashi startles but hesitates to reach out to steady him, and regrets it both times.
Tsukki shows some extraordinary self-restraint in the Uber. The three of them crowd into the backseat of a little Nissan Rogue, and Hitoka can tell from his eyes he wants to touch everything. Instead he sits silent in the middle seat, hands folded neatly in his lap, and Hitoka breathes out a sigh of relief. The less they have to explain the better.
“Going to the apartments?” asks their driver.
“I know that’s what I put on the map, but could you actually drop us off at the Long’s right next to it?” Hitoka says, and the driver shrugs his shoulders and stops in the Long’s parking lot, two blocks from their apartments.
“ Mahalo !” Hitoka calls as she shuts the door behind her, Tadashi helping Tsukki out of the other side of the car.
“Why here?” Tadashi questions. She points to Tsukki, looking around with squinted eyes.
“That. Also, I don’t have any food at my apartment. I’ll get some ramen, you go see if any of the reading glasses help.”
“Ohhh. That’s actually a really smart idea.”
“You think so?!” she chirps, surprised at the compliment. “I just figured his prescription isn’t too bad, it’s just an adjustment from the water. So it might not even work. Meet back here?”
“Sounds good.”
Hitoka takes off for the grocery section of the store, and Tadashi barely stops himself from reaching out to grab Tsukki’s wrist and lead him to the reading glasses display stand. Instead he gently taps Tsukki on the shoulder and the other boy gets the message, tearing his confused glance away from Hitoka and following Tadashi.
His expression as he watched Tadashi spin the display was nothing short of amazement , but he said nothing. Tadashi finally picks a pair of frames off the rack with two hands and gently places them on Tsukki’s face.
“Here. Try these.”
Tsukki blinks twice, his eyes slightly magnified behind the lenses. “It’s better.”
“Still blurry?”
“No, it’s good.” He pushes them up the bridge of his nose. “Thank you.”
“Tadashi! Kei!” Hitoka’s voice and the floppy sound of her slippers appears behind them. In her arms are three Ramunes, three packages of instant ramen and two cans of Spam. She takes a good look at Tsukki, face now framed by a pair of rectangular, black glasses. “Ready? The rain’s only going to get harder.”
They check out all together, Tsukki temporarily blinded for another twenty seconds while the cashier scans his glasses. If she’s wondering why a gangly college-aged kid is wearing reading glasses like normal ones, she doesn’t comment.
Hitoka scoops her haul into her backpack and slings it around her shoulders. Tadashi and Tsukki follow her through the automatic doors and out into the rain. She was right — it’s already coming down much harder than it was before.
They run across the parking lot and down the street together, Tadashi pulling his lanyard out of his backpack and unlocking the door with the key fob in one smooth motion. Tsukki almost eats shit on the lobby’s wet concrete floor, but otherwise, they make it to the elevators in one piece.
“Okay,” Hitoka breathes. “What next?”
🌊
Tadashi peeks his head out the window as he closes the blinds, whistling at how the rain is now pouring down in sheets outside. Lightning crackles somewhere in the clouds, low and dark enough that they obscure the tops of the mountains, and Tadashi startles.
He turns back to Tsukki and Hitoka and opens his mouth to comment on the weather, but abruptly shuts it when he sees the water dripping out of Tsukki’s hair — and the scales adorning his cheeks.
“Tsukki?!”
“Yes?” the other boy asks, brow furrowing, only to shoot up when Tadashi swipes a thumb across his cheek. “What are you doing?”
“You’ve got scales on your cheeks. Is it just where the water touches?”
Tsukki’s hand flies up to his face. His mouth quirks when he feels the scales, scrubbing away at the water with his palm. “Maybe? I feel fine though. Mostly human.”
“Can you feel the difference ?” Hitoka butts in from the kitchen. She already has a large pot of water boiling on the stove, and is working on de-loafing one of the cans of Spam.
“Hm. I guess not.”
Tadashi returns from around the corner and throws a bath towel over Tsukki’s head. “Here!”
Tsukki grumbles, pulling the towel away from his face and rubbing his hair dry. Tadashi giggles at his annoyed expression.
“You eat meat, right Kei?” Hitoka is cutting the Spam into thin slices and laying them on a frying pan.
“Yeah. Mostly fish. The occasional seal. That doesn’t look very appetizing, though.”
She squints at him. Tadashi quietly reminds himself of the circle of life. She turns back to her task with a sigh. “It’s not going to look appetizing after it’s cooked, either, but it’ll taste good.”
“Okay,” Tsukki says simply.
“Tadashi, give me a hand?”
He stands up to help Hitoka, leaving Tsukki alone at the dinner table. He’s no more than three feet away from them in the tiny apartment and it still feels like he’s being babied, just a gangly six foot kid with his long legs tucked neatly under the chair, waiting for someone to put food in front of him.
Tadashi appears, sets a steaming bowl of ramen in front of him, and then sits at the chair to his left. The bowl is presented rather nicely, chopped onions, corn, and the slices of Spam lying on a bed of curly noodles. It smells like something Tsukki can’t put his finger on, but mostly like salt.
Hitoka sits opposite the both of them, sliding two packets of disposable chopsticks across the table. Tsukki watches Tadashi tear open the paper and split the chopsticks, and clumsily tries to imitate him. It takes a few tries for him to get the hang of holding them (with Tadashi very subtly holding his hand in Tsukki’s peripheral vision) but eventually he catches a piece of Spam in his chopsticks and takes a tentative bite.
“Well?” Hitoka prompts.
Tsukki scarfs the rest of the Spam down in a single bite, then looks up and says casually, “It’s really good.”
“He likes it, he likes it!” Tadashi chants through laughter.
He later pretends not to notice when Tsukki snags two of his pieces that he didn’t finish, adding them to his own bowl.
Tsukki finishes his dinner first and starts falling asleep at the table. Hitoka looks up to see him with his cheek resting on his hand, blinks getting longer and longer.
“Do you want to sleep on the couch?”
He doesn’t respond, so Tadashi shakes his shoulder gently. “Tsukki.”
“Hm?”
“Are you sleeping on the couch?”
“Okay,” Tsukki says sleepily, and as soon as he hits the couch he’s out.