Chapter Text
To others, the waves were like melodies of the sea, how they would sing and clamor rigidly like a song on the beach. To Makoto, it was merely a warning that the ocean makes to advise people like him—to warn him of the rage, of the capriciousness, of something so unpredictable and vast.
Vast was an understatement. No one had sailed the entire ocean yet. And he was sure no one would willingly want to. Makoto let out a sigh, causing a misty breath to come out of his mouth.
Makoto.
Tachibana Makoto.
The fisherman’s son who was afraid of the ocean.
It was a name familiar to the people of Iwatobi—a fishing town hiding west beyond ridges of mountains and lush forests, and then descending visibly towards a peaceful secluded coast. Despite coming from a family of fisherfolks, they did not live near the shore. It was due to his fear that lead them to live in a house adjacent to the shrine steps, where Makoto could admire the seascape from afar. He just couldn’t bear to hear the waves at night, so they had to move much farther, and much higher from their original home.
Makoto had woken up too early that day, and despite his growing fear still trekked down from his home toward the place where land met water. And he just stood there for a while. A cold Tuesday in September and the ocean reflected hazily in his fearing green eyes, so he stared back at the cosmic horizon of stale blue. From the far east of the coastline was the main dock, seemingly hidden by a thin layer of mist. Makoto had to squint his eyes to watch the fishermen prepare their nets and fishing vessels for their early morning catch. His feet curled when the cool water that crawled on the sand touched him, making him step back in reflex.
The sun hadn’t risen up yet, so there wasn’t enough warmth to counter the daybreak’s cold fog. He wished he wore a quilted jacket over his short kimono coat before going out. From Makoto’s point of view, the fishing village of Iwatobi came in as some sort of woodblock painting that had been abandoned for years, based on the scenery’s washed-out colors.
“You’re not coming?” Makoto heard someone ask from behind and he turned around.
It pained him that he had to fake a smile towards his own father. Looking down, Makoto muttered a quiet, “Sorry.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I shouldn’t have asked,” The older Tachibana said. His father beamed at him, regretfully, Makoto noticed. “I know you’re scared, son. But it would be nice to have you around during hauls every now and then.”
“Maybe…” His words trailed off and disappeared into a morning mist. He looked back at the ocean, which was beginning to shine brighter as the minute passed. “Maybe I’ll go with you one day.”
His father sighed in what seemed like hopeful delight, nodding his head. “That would be great.”
“Yeah,” Makoto said as he watched his father head to the docks. “Have a safe trip.”
Before the sun would even rise, the fisherfolks were already stationed on their boats. They were the ones who could wake up before the sun could, and that was something worth admiring. When dawn breaks, his father would wake up with full energy, despite his exhaustion from the previous day. And Makoto would sometimes envy him, how his father could wake up willingly every day to work.
Because Makoto was the opposite. He despised mornings. He hated having to wake up so early. And unfortunately for him, his younger siblings got the ‘morning person’ genes from their father, and would regularly function as a wakeup call.
An annoying (but loveable) pair of wakeup calls.
When the walking figure of his father disappeared, Makoto headed straight back home, leaving the ocean with its wayward songs on the beach.
“Brother! You’re already awake!”
The shrill voice came from above the shrine’s steps and looked up to see the merry face of Ran, his little sister, while the male twin followed soon after, both running down the steps which left Makoto to brace for impact.
Makoto let Ren latch onto his back when the younger boy spoke a little too loudly, “We didn’t wake you this time!”
Which was obviously a good thing. Getting one’s blankets snatched away from while the futon was being dragged across the room wasn’t Makoto’s ideal morning routine. Or anyone else’s for that matter.
“Ren,” Makoto droned warningly. “Don’t shout, you’ll wake up the neighbors.”
The smaller brother playfully covered his mouth when Makoto set him back on the ground. Ran grabbed his hand and began steering him up the stairs. “Even when we shout, brother still doesn’t wake up.”
Makoto laughed. The two were still in their evening kimonos. He wondered how they could handle the cold morning weather with just that.
“Is mom awake?”
“Yup!” Both twin replied in unison.
The instant Makoto got home, the delicious and salty aroma of fish being grilled filled his nostrils. Breakfast was almost always fish, or some other form of seafood. Squid was also frequent, since his father’s forte was fishing for squid. Makoto would grow tired of it sometimes, and they would instead buy meat from the markets.
Makoto stared at the meal before him, which consisted of sea breams simmered with soy broth and ginger. A bowl of cooked rice was prepared for each sibling by their mother.
With a warm smile, her mother said, “I never thought you could wake up this early, Mako-chan.”
It was such a rare occasion for him to wake up by himself that even his mother was surprised. “I was thinking maybe I can go to town with Ren and Ran before they go to temple school.”
The twins had never looked happier.
The town, was, in a sense, superstitious. Being near the ocean led them to believe that there was some god up in the sky that could control the weather, and they prayed every day for the skies to be clear and for the sea to remain serene.
“Don’t run off too far!” Makoto said with frustration. His siblings ran ahead of him when they arrived in town, stopping in front of shops and stalls every now and then.
It didn’t take long before Ran approached him with eyes brimming with interest. “Brother! Look!” Before he could ask, Ran was already dragging him inside a small shop.
“Ran, what is it? I only brought a few spare of coin…”
“I want this,” Ran said, holding up an intricately woven temari—a handball. “It has a ningyo on it!”
“Ningyo?”
“You know, the woman with the tails of a fish!”
Iwatobi was a stash of supernatural beings. A ningyo was one of them. Makoto had heard from other fishermen that they caught one before. A person with tails of a fish. Makoto shrugged it off. It was too ridiculous.
The hand ball that Ran held was blue and green and orange in color, its threads so vibrant that it seemed like it was dipped thirty times into vivid colored dyes. The patterns formed some image in the center—a woman’s curvaceous body, and a tail as its lower limbs woven with green threads.
“Please, can you buy it for me?” Ran said sweetly. It was convincing enough that Makoto bought it the minute Ran looked at him with eyes similar to a puppy.
“That’s not fair, why’d you bought Ran a toy and nothing for me!” Makoto regretted ever bringing some money. Now he was obliged to buy one for Ren too. It was always like that for the twins.
“Look, Ren, a ningyo!” Ran said, showing her round toy to Ren.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a woman with tails of a fish.” The voice didn’t come from Ran but instead from a fish merchant right next to them. Ran stopped in curiosity. Makoto had to stop, too. The man continued, “The fisherfolks have seen it. They had beautiful long black hair and violet tails—”
Ren gasped. “Just like the fighting fish in the paddies!”
“That’s right, lad! They say eating their flesh and drinking their blood can turn you ageless! You'll stay as a child forever if you ever ate their tails.”
Makoto sighed as the man continued its telltales. He argued, “My father’s a fisherman for more than twenty years. He had never seen one in his life."
“Because they only let themselves be seen by the young sailors and fishermen, and they would sing to them, enchanting them, and afterwards dragging their spellbound bodies down to the depths of the sea, not knowing that us humans drown.”
There was this chill in his spine that made Makoto shudder. The imagery that surged through his brain almost made him panic. Being dragged to the blue ocean floor wasn’t a very pleasant thought. Makoto looked at the fish vendor one last time before walking away, trying to stop the shaking in his hands.
“Brother, are you okay?” Ran asked when she tried to hold Makoto’s hand, her usual high-pitched voice lowering with concern. She had noticed Makoto’s hand was trembling.
Makoto smiled at her. “Of course.” He breathed in deep, before exhaling audibly. They walked together again.
“Ningyos are scary,” Ren said, who was holding Makoto’s left hand. He stopped shaking by now.
“I think they’re pretty.” Ran peeked from Makoto’s leg to stare at Ren.
“You’re not scared because they won’t try to drown you because you’re a girl!”
“Well, there are boy ningyos, too, I’m sure of it!”
“Can we stop talking about this… ningyo thing. It’s creeping me out.”
It was a bit warmer when Makoto brought the twins to temple school. Ren made him buy a top for him, to respond to Ran’s hand ball. And Makoto didn’t know how he could tell his mother about their impractical expenditures. By sunrise, Makoto left the twins at the temple, which was right next to the famous gemsmith’s house.
His short journey back home didn’t help in ceasing Makoto’s thoughts about the ningyo. He wondered if they were real, wondered if they truly swam the waters that the fisherfolks would sail in. Were they clueless or were they just playing clueless of the fact that human couldn’t live underwater?
Makoto decided to stop by the old wharf to see what the fisherfolks were doing. And maybe talk to some about the mythical creature he had been imagining all day. Though he was afraid, he was just as curious. Most of the fishing vessels were old but sturdy, and had distinctive craftsmanship. The hulls of the ships were evidently weather-stained by both the seasonal typhoons and the stillness of the ocean. Masts remained dark and dirty, but still operated like they were new.
It didn’t take long for Makoto to spot the tall figure of his father amongst a crowd of fisherfolks, gathering on one of the ship decks. His father spotted him also, and beckoned him to climb aboard the ship for a little talk. It took some courage for Makoto to cross the brittle wood bridge that connected the dock to the ship.
The helmsman greeted him first then some other seamen until he steered his way through his father.
“Makoto, why don’t you sail with us?”
Simply standing on the uneven blocks of wood beneath his feet was enough to give him a panic attack. Gritting his teeth, he tried to talk without looking like he was about to pass out.
“I’ll pass,” Makoto said with a forced smile and pitched himself toward the safest spot on the deck.
“What brings you to the dock, boy?” the man standing next to Makoto’s father asked with a grin. Makoto turned to the man. He was a Matsuoka, a family of pearl merchants. He was also the father of his childhood friend, Rin, so Makoto knew him well.
“I wanted to ask about ningyos,” Makoto asked in a hollow tone, mostly due to the fact that he was nervous being on a ship.
Matsuoka eyed him inquiringly. “All you need to know about those things is that they are foul, foul creatures waiting for a prey to catch.”
“Some of the men say they’ve seen one. They’re desperate to catch one. But of all the years I’ve been fishing, no one had ever caught a ningyo. I’m starting to think they’re not real,” Makoto’s father said, shifting his eyeglasses a bit.
“They’re real! My grandfather and his men caught one before!” said one of the fishermen who had heard them and butted in.
Another seaman said, “You mean ningyos? They say they’re beautiful and their singing lures men underwater.”
“Are you kidding? They’re ugly as hell! They look like monkeys bred with a carp!”
“My great uncle caught one before but it got away, said ningyos did look like monkeys, not beautiful women.”
“It’s said that drinking their blood will make you immortal.”
“Don’t they drown men? I heard before that they hate us humans because we have legs.”
“Some say that if you hear their voices underwater, you’ll immediately go after it and drown.”
“Can’t they talk? Ningyos screech so loud you’ll end up deaf!”
Makoto, alarmed by the sudden outbursts of opinion from the fisherfolks, didn’t notice soon enough that the wooden platform serving as his only exit from the ship was already removed.
Green eyes had never been so wide before. While the fishermen were bickering on the deck, Makoto rushed to the side of the ship and realized that the boat was moving.
“No way…” Makoto muttered to himself as he watched the dock gradually vanishing from his sight. “No, no, no, no…” He chanted as he ran to his father.
“Makoto? You’re still here?” his father asked in worry. Makoto was breathing heavily now. He could feel his heartbeat quicken and his eyes blurring. His father quickly grabbed his shoulders and helped him get inside the cabins.
Makoto could hear the ocean. It was so close. It was so close he couldn’t handle it. The waves were like loud eruptions in his ear every time they would waver and bellow.
“Are you okay? Do you want to stay here? Or in the deckhouse?” His father asked out of concern. His son was slowly reaching his limit.
Feeling nauseous, Makoto shook his head. He didn’t want to get in the way of his father’s work. “Dad, I’m fine. You should go back to the deck.”
“You sure?”
He nodded his head. “I’ll stay here. I can’t see the ocean from here.”
But he could hear it.
“If you need something, just ask one of the men here, okay?”
The minute his father left, Makoto dropped to the ground, sucking in short intakes of breath, almost to the point of hyperventilating. Even if he was on a ship, it still felt like he was stranded in the middle of the ocean—stranded, stranded, stranded…
Makoto was unsure of what actually made him so afraid. It wasn’t really the water, rather, it was the mysteriousness of it. Thousands and thousands of feet of nothing but darkness and water and silence. No one could hear him scream. No one but the open vastness of nothing. He couldn’t imagine swimming in it, thinking of the possibilities that some thing will grab his foot and pull him down from the surface, that some thing will bite into his limbs and eat him. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe slowly. He attempted to stop picturing every terrifying likelihoods of him drowning or being eaten.
The ship swayed ruggedly as Makoto staggered toward a cot on the edge of the room. And very soon he fell in an abysmal deep sleep, unaware of the approaching typhoon that was about to turn his life around.