Chapter Text
The October breeze bites at Rei’s ears as he steps out of the ship’s cabin. Winters in Iwatobi Bay may be mild, but the fall air still has a bit of a bite, especially on the open sea.
It’s also a sign that their observation period will soon end, so Rei’s got to make the most of it before it does.
Picking up his binoculars, Rei uses them to scan the rocky outcrops to look for a figure they’ve become very acquainted with for the past two years. After a moment, he catches a glimpse of silver-gray tail draped over a algae-encrusted rock, attached to a slim, muscled torso and a head of black hair that’s currently pillowed on two strong arms, napping as if the chill air was a warm spring day.
Rei finds a smile quirking his lips. Seriously, some things never changed.
“Rei-chaaaaan! Don’t start observing without me!!”
The smile morphs into a wince. Indeed, some things didn’t change at all, and the over-exuberance of his study partner is one of them.
He sighs and turns as the blond bounces into view. “Nagisa-kun, please not so loud. You’ll disturb the environment.”
“What environment? We’re here to study Haru-chan, and Haru-chan never minds!” Nagisa grins brightly, before grabbing the railing and leaning over it, shading his eyes as he looks for the aforementioned ‘Haru-chan’. “Oh, he’s on his favorite rock again!”
Rei resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead just adjusting his glasses in habit, handing over the binoculars when Nagisa gestures eagerly for them and pulling out his audio recorder instead. They’re lucky to find Haru this early in the day, as while he frequents these rocks for sunbathing often he’s not always so easy to find, and sometimes entire days are wasted boating around the bay looking for one little glimpse of dolphin-tail or glossy black hair. Iwatobi Bay is deeper than it looks, and Haru knows every nook and cranny and is quite adept at hiding from them when he doesn’t want to be watched.
Thankfully, today doesn’t seem to be one of those days, as Haru continues dozing on the rocks and ignores the small boat as it gets closer, finally dropping anchor some fifty meters or so away. It’s actually rather fascinating, as most members of the species Homo maris are rather skittish of human interaction and flee at the slightest movement.
Their subject, though, seems to be one of the rare individuals who lacks any fear of anything, including the pair of humans who like to stare at him for hours and write things down. Rei doesn’t think he’s seen any other expression on Haru’s face other than apathy, even if the boat is right beside him and Nagisa is chattering loudly. It worries Rei sometimes about what it means for Haru’s survival instincts, but he’s also secretly thankful, since it gives them a chance to study one of the most fascinating species on this planet up-close and personal.
Homo maris, commonly known as mermen or mermaids even though Rei hated the term, were known for centuries in myths and tales but only within the last century were they properly discovered and documented. Intelligent, secretive creatures, they evaded study for decades, and only recently has any progress been made with newer technology and individuals like Haru who aren’t as skittish of their land-going relatives as most.
Rei feels privileged to be on the study team for these individuals, and already they’ve learned heaps of material through the individual they’ve nicknamed “Haru”. There’s still so much more to learn, though, and Rei is excited that every day could lead to some new discovery. Why, after a century of study, it was only ten years ago that they finally discovered that there were two separate subspecies! The thought of what else is waiting to be discovered about these creatures makes Rei wake up early every day it’s observation season.
Rei checks his watch, noting the time, and starts setting up to record.
“Oooh, ooh, Rei-chan, are you going to record? Me too, me too!”
Rei sighs and tries to ignore the blond, clicking his recorder on. ”Ryugazaki Rei, October the second, approximately nine forty-three and seven seconds in the morning.”
"That’s not approximate at all, Rei-chan!"
"Beginning audio observation log number fifty-seven," Rei continues as if he hadn’t heard. "Subject, Haru—"
"Haru-chan!!"
"Subject, Haru." Rei can feel his teeth starting to grind again, he’s going to have to have a dentist look into that. "Gender, male. Species, Homo maris, subspecies syreni—”
Nagisa bursts in yet again. ”Subspecies lazybumicus!”
Rei really can’t let that one go. ”Will you please stop trying to name our research subject random things?”
Nagisa blinks his wide eyes, looking completely innocent. Rei doesn’t buy it for a millisecond. ”But Haru-chan’s so lazy! I’ve never seen a mermaid sleep as much as him! He’s got to be a new subspecies!”
"Please don’t use that word, it’s an unscientific gendered noun applied to myths and fairytales, not the natural creature we are studying." It’s a losing battle, but Rei always fights it. "And Haru is not a new species, he’s simply a very laid-back individual."
"No way! I’m gonna file the name when we get back, do you think lazybumicus will fly? Oh, or maybe since I found him, I should name it after myself! Homo maris nagisa, has a nice ring doesn’t it?”
"Nagisa-kun, please stop trying to create a new subspecies from one individual completely identical to his fellow species just because he’s a bit of a couch potato." Rei’s voice has attained the specific high pitch it only acquires when he’s forced to deal with Nagisa for any length of time. Why were they partners again?
Well, honestly it was because they did make a good research team, as Nagisa’s spontaneous and quick-witted nature nicely balanced Rei’s own methodical planning ways, but sometimes Rei feels it’s not quite worth the exasperation.
Well, it’s useless recording now. Besides, Haru is napping, so it’s not like it would have been ground-breaking researching material anyways. ‘Subject Haru has yawned, subject Haru has rolled over, subject Haru hasn’t moved for the past thirty minutes and appears to be drooling on himself’…
Sighing, Rei flicks the recorder off and shoves it into his coat pocket. Still, he wishes Haru was doing something other than napping. It’s getting close to the date that Haru seems to disappear for a month and Rei hopes to gain a little more data before Haru vanishes. Researching Haru is more difficult in winter. While Iwatobi Bay is fairly secluded and protected from the elements, storms do occasionally roll in, and of course standing on a boat in freezing weather drains anyone’s strength. Haru himself stays in the bay year-round, but during winter he doesn’t surface nearly as often and days can go by without seeing him at all. Rei and Nagisa generally consider observation season over after the beginning of October, as, for unknown reasons, Haru vanishes completely from the bay for about a month.
They haven’t been able to find out where he goes yet, though. But generally one day during the first week of October he’s gone until sometime early November. It’s strange, as dolphin-morphs like Haru aren’t known to migrate any great distances. Rei once again wishes he and Nagisa had the funding to get proper tagging equipment. If they could just afford to tag Haru, then they could figure out where he goes during this mystery month.
The best guess is that he’s going to mingle with the group of dolphin-morphs that live in the southern end of the bay, more secluded from humans and hard to observe. They must be his relations somehow, but for some reason Rei and Nagisa haven’t been able to fathom yet, Haru tends to swim alone away from the rest of the group.
Nagisa just calls Haru a loner, but Rei wonders sometimes.
“Oh! He’s moving!”
Nagisa’s excited exclamation makes Rei look up from his ponderings. Indeed, Haru finally seems to be stirring, sitting up and stretching. A brief yawn shows a flash of conical teeth, almost identical to the dolphins that Haru’s color morph takes after. After he rolls his shoulder, Haru looks over at the boat, face as indifferent as ever.
“Oh, he’s looking at us! I wonder if he’ll come close today? Do we still have some mackerel to treat him if he does?” Nagisa chatters excitedly, pulling up the camera hanging from around his neck. Even Rei holds his breath a bit as he watches Haru, waiting for what the merman will do.
Haru blinks once, twice, very slowly, watching the boat with deep ocean-blue eyes. And then, without any warning, he launches himself off the rock and slips into the water. The arc of his form is perfect, leaving barely a ripple, and once again Rei is struck by just how beautiful this species can really be. Even Nagisa is wide-eyed and silent, basking in the wonder of the world’s natural beauty as Haru vanishes into the deep gray waters with no trace left that he’d ever been there.
Then he takes a deep breath and cries out, effectively shattering the moment. “Awwww, that’s away from the boat! He left us! How mean, Haru-chan! Come back!!”
Rei’s shoulders slump and he winces, adjusting his glasses again. He definitely should look into a new research partner sometime. If only to preserve his ears and sanity.
The surface of the ocean is unbroken, dark waves refusing to give any clues, and he feels that research is over today. They’re not going to find Haru again. Indeed, probably the whole season is over. Rei has a feeling that it’s time for Haru’s mysterious month-long vacation once again.
Rei sighs. Oh well, at least they’ve gotten a lot of data this summer. They’ll just have to wait until next season comes along. He pats Nagisa’s shoulder, who is pouting.
“Come on, let’s go back to shore, Nagisa-kun.”
Blue eyes watch from behind a rock as the boat holding the two researchers pulls up anchor and starts chugging back to shore. When he’s certain they’re gone, he submerges again and kicks off, heading for a direction he knows by heart, by deep instinct thrumming through his veins.
Haruka doesn’t mind the Splittails much. Most of his fellow silvertails complain about their giant floats and their strange nets and how they make the water messy, and various other complaints, but Haruka’s found that once you learn how their stuff works, it’s easy to maneuver and live around. He’s certainly never had any trouble in all of his years of life. If you were dumb enough to get hurt by the Splittails then it was your own fault.
The elders like to sing songs about how dangerous they can be, about how they used to viciously hunt down Haruka’s kind, but those days are long-gone. He hasn’t heard of a Splittail actively killing one of them for generations. He’s even learned that floats with a little image of one of their own somehow colored onto their bottoms means that if he pokes his head above the surface he can sometimes get free food. Certain floats even specialize in mackerel, and he tags them religiously.
The float carrying the two Splittails that like to watch him is one of them, they always seem to have a bit of mackerel on hand for him if he comes close. He’s normally tempted, but not today.
Today is Important.
Silvertails don’t migrate. Haruka and his fellows have lived in this one area for generations, and Haruka isn’t going to bother leaving this bay for the rest of his life. However, he makes an exception whenever this season comes along, when the Waterswell and the Palecircle cycles are just right. When the air feels just this cold, when the Palecircle is in just this right position in the sky, Haruka leaves his bay to head out to more open water, looking for a certain current.
Because, this time of year, it’s the time for the blacktails to come through as they follow a seasonal run of fish. The run ends just north of Iwatobi Bay, and once the fish run out, the blacktails leave. And for as long as he can remember, Haruka has met the migration and stayed with them until they left for the colder waters of their home.
More specifically, he comes to meet the migration for just one individual.
At the thought of who’s waiting for him, Haruka swims just a little bit quicker. He doesn’t remember how they met, or even how he had learned of the blacktail migration in the first place, he just knows that every year hehas to meet the gentle blacktail with the soft green eyes and gentle smile. Meeting him just once a year and spending all Palecircle with him makes the rest of the year more tolerable.
Haruka doesn’t get along with his fellow silvertails well. They’re flighty, flirty, and prone to following whatever was amusing at the time rather than appreciating what they already had. Haruka hates how superfluous they all are. He doesn’t like how they whisper behind his flukes that he should’ve been born a blacktail if he loves them so much, and then in the same breath giggle and flirt with the migrating blacktails for casual flings. He doesn’t like how they go in packs just to bully the Straighttails who hide in the deeper waters of the bay, even if the Straighttails are a little weird.
Ever since his Elder-mother died, Haruka hasn’t much liked spending time with other silvertails. It’s why he’s glad they don’t like humans. He gets most of his bay to himself to swim and play in without having to maneuver around dozens of other swimming tails chasing away all the mackerel.
But he does like being around Makoto. Everything about the green-eyed blacktail makes Haruka happy. From his soothing voice to his gentle smile to how he treats his little twin siblings. Haruka really really likes Makoto.
And this year is different. This year, he feels even more of an urge to be with Makoto. He’s finally maturing into true adulthood, and it’s time to take a mate. He feels it in his blood, in how restless he’s been lately, how he’s even less tolerant of the flirty females who sometimes try to get him to come back and swim with the pod. He doesn’t want anyone else than Makoto.
So this year he’s going to take Makoto as his mate, whether he has to leave with him or get Makoto to stay here in Haruka’s bay. It’s time, he’s ready.
Haruka lets a rare smile slip onto his face as he swims for the current as fast as he can and counts the tailstrokes until he’s together with Makoto again.