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Chapter Text

“Uncle!” A young boy, no older than seven, called out as soon as he saw the small fishing boat settle onto the beach. He ignored the chiding “Makoto”, and sprinted ahead of his father before he could be tugged back and made to wait. His short legs kicked up wet sand as he ran, causing one of his waraji to slip and be left behind. He reached the water, but two strong arms hoisted him up in order to prevent him from splashing further into it.

“Is that Makoto?” the man asked, seeming to know the answer already- eyes sparkling from his weatherworn face as he removed the straw, coned hat from his head, revealing bright red hair, to place on Makoto’s own. “You’ve grown since I saw you last,” he considered, and Makoto nodded his head vigorously, happy that the man had noticed.

“I’m a big brother now,” Makoto volunteered, pride lacing his voice and he lifted his head up quickly only to lower it to prevent the large hat from sliding off.

“So you are!” the man agreed, settling the boy down and onto his feet. He took Makoto’s hand and guided him back toward the boy’s father who cast him an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, he just couldn’t wait to see you.” Makoto’s father chuckled, bowing his head in greeting. He had recovered the lost waraji and quickly grabbed a hold of Makoto’s leg to slip it back on before his son ran off haphazardly again.

“It’s no problem. My son, Rin, is around his age.” The man waved off with his free hand, turning back to Makoto. “I have something for you. A congratulatory gift to the new, big brother.”

“Really?” Makoto’s eyes gleamed with excitement, and his hands came up to grip either side of the coned hat.

“Hold on now,” the fisherman instructed with a laugh, giving Makoto’s shoulder a fond pat. He gingerly eased his way back to his little fishing boat, reaching in for a blue and white ceramic vase, almost like a bowl, but tall enough to place flowers in. He handed it carefully to Makoto who held it carefully with both hands to keep from dropping it. “What do you think?”

“Fish!” Makoto jumped, accidently swooshing the fish around in the bowl with the movement. There were three fish in the vase and they were small and white, with blue dots above their gills.

“Easy now,” the fisherman reminded him, halting Makoto’s antsy form with a hand to his arm. “They’re fish I found today in the traps. Best to be gentle with them.”

“Oh!” Makoto’s mouth opened slightly and he took great effort to keep still and not jostle the vase any more than necessary. “These fish are from the sea?”

“That’s right, I caught many more where these little ones came from.” He pointed to the large, hand-woven net filled with flailing fish. They were all bound together in a pile kept near the back of the boat. “It’s thanks to the Sea God that my catches have been plentiful.”

“Sea god?” he asked. He had heard the name occasionally come up in conversation when going with his parents around the small harbor village. He also knew that his parents presented a large offering of their rice crops to the sea at the end of every harvest, loading packages of it onto a raft and having the village elder bless their home with strong smelling incense and whispered ancient words.

He never understood just what it was all for, but it was a reoccurrence in his village since he could remember. On his last birthday, his parents had brought him to the shrine and the village elder had rubbed warm fish oil onto both his cheeks and forehead, beseeching the ocean to protect him and guide him as he got older.

It was then, on the walk back home and with his hands held in both his parents’ own, that he asked them. His parents had both smiled quietly, indulgently patting his head and promising that he would one day understand too. And here, the uncle he had befriended was giving him that same smile. A smile that knew but couldn’t tell, eyes looking at him and contemplating on whether to pass it off or to answer as simply as possible for a child to understand.

“Yes, the Sea God, Lord Nanase,” the old man answered quietly. “He is the one who provides us with all that our village needs to survive. Without him, we would have no fish, no rain.”

The line between Makoto’s brows wrinkled as he listened, mouth puckering slightly. “He is…He is good?” he managed nervously, still not really grasping just what this Sea God meant to the village, or to himself. But if the Sea God gave all these things to his village, then it would reason for the Sea God to be good. Right?

The old man laughed, prompting quiet chuckles from his father beside them. “Yes, Makoto, Lord Nanase is very good.” He knelt by the boy, grinning and patting Makoto’s shoulder. Makoto didn’t understand just what was making them all smile at him so big, but he returned theirs with a big, answering grin of his own.

“But remember Makoto,” his father was then saying, smile faltering slightly when the wind began to pick up, whipping at the sleeves of his kimono. He guided Makoto by the hand to stand in front of them so that the boy was shielded from the strong gusts. “The ocean is very big and deserves our respect.”

Makoto stared at them with puzzled eyes, not sure what they meant and the two adults fixed him again with those indulgent smiles.

“Yes,” the old fisherman agreed, his next words cryptic and mystifying to young Makoto’s ears. “The water gives, and water takes away.”

“You understand Makoto?” his father asked.

Makoto nodded, looking down at his feet nervously-- still no closer to finding the answer he needed to put everything together. But he knew now, something inside him was changing. A strange inkling in his heart that made the blue, deep water around him seem ominous somehow. Strange and dangerous.

He cast his eyes to the sea and watched the white caps atop of the waves collide into each other when a strong wind blew by. Hearing the story of the Sea God had made him anxious, and he wondered just how such a being could exist. Neither his father nor the old fisherman noticed his discomfort and Makoto nearly sighed in relief when his father was saying goodbye and pulling him away.

When they arrived back to the village, Makoto soon forgot about the anxiousness he had felt that day hearing about the Sea God. Makoto did his best to take care of the fish the fisherman had sent him home with. He fed them, changed out their water and visited with them every day. He did his very best, but they only lasted a few weeks before he was preparing a burial for them behind his family's home. A small vase of flowers and a large rock for a grave marker the only indication that they had existed.

He didn’t know it then, but looking back, he should have recognized it for the strange foreboding feeling he felt before hearing about the good uncle’s disappearance. The old fisherman had gone out one day as he always did, but he never returned when the skies grew dark and the ocean became rough. It wasn’t until a few days later that another fisherman had chanced upon wreckage of the old fisherman’s ship and when news came of no body being found, Makoto and his father knew at once that their old friend was gone.

The words the fisherman had told him echoed in his mind from then on, “The water gives, and the water takes away.”

Makoto never went near the ocean again, and the only swimming he ever did was in the controlled knee-deep expanses of his family’s rice farm. He barely ever went near the river, except to indulge his young brother and sister and to collect water for drinking. But he still stayed far away from where the river mouth met with the sea, and vowed to never go in for fear that he too, would be taken away.

Chapter Text

Ten years later…

“What if something happens to us?” Ran had asked, clutching tighter onto the back of her oldest brother’s kosode. Ren, beside her, seemed to have grown alarmed at her words and did the same, causing both of them to drag behind him like a plow, leaving curved grooves in the path from where the backs of their waraji dug into the dirt.

The action caused the front of his clothing to give under the loose cotton belt at his waist and he pressed a hand to keep it in place as he turned around. “It’s alright,” Makoto assured, immediately stopping to kneel between them and clasp both their hands. A scattered bunch of people passed them by, casting curious glances and whispers their way, but he didn’t acknowledge them. “I will be with you. As long as we stay together, we’ll be fine.”

The twins both stared at him dubiously, their eyes flickering over to the shrine up ahead. A large crowd of the other villagers had already started to assemble and they could see the priests and village elder preparing for an announcement.

He moved his head so that his face blocked the ominous scene entirely and continued in a soft assuring tone, “Nothing will happen to us. And if something does, we’re family. Family always finds each other, no matter what. Alright?” he said, removing a worn strip of linen from the front flap of his clothing to wipe the dry dirt away from their bare feet.

He hoped the warm smile he gave them coaxed away the fear that had no doubt been slinking around their village for weeks. Their village of Iwatobi had caught very little fish and squid that summer, their main exports being from the nearby sea; and the lack of rain made maintaining his family’s rice farm nearly impossible.

They barely had any food in their own home. Even with both himself and his parents working out in the fields, it wasn’t enough. The future seemed too uncertain. What if the situation surrounding their village continued? How could they guarantee both Ren and Ran a successful future if they did not receive an education? Arithmetic and calligraphy were a growing necessity in Japan now that there was increased trade with the Western world. Ren would need to learn to read and write to hold his own in this new age. He’d need skills that neither Makoto nor their parents could teach him.

And Ran. Sweet Ran. How would Ran find a good husband with her family’s poverty holding her back? They had nothing to offer for her. No soft silks, no money for classes to learn skills and etiquette. No impressive lineage. Makoto knew that Ran would grow up to be beautiful, just like their mother. But beauty wasn’t enough. Even her cleverness and wit was valueless in this society. You were only as valuable as what you owned or what you could buy. And he feared for both his siblings and the unknown future ahead of them.

When the twins had calmed, he stood up, keeping hold of both their hands. “Let’s go,” he urged, tugging them both forward gently. They stepped with him easily. “We just have to be present for the announcement. As soon as it’s over, we can play with the little white cat near our house,” he promised, earning a small, subdued smile from them both.

They reached the crowd, but could not move further up because of their earlier straggling. Ren and Ran could not see anything from where they were beside him, but Makoto was tall enough to make out the village elder standing on the platform in front of the shrine. Dressed in expensive silks, her long hair was coiled high atop her head and she looked out at them all with her painted, pale face.

Ran tugged at the cloth leggings around his shins. “Has anything happened?” she asked, glancing around and using her hold on him to steady herself as she stood on tip-toe.

He shook his head, about to reply but stopped when the two priests beside the elder moved forward, each holding onto the side of a large basin full of water. The two priests slowly carried it together and placed it in front of her.

“I have had a vision,” the village elder announced when they moved away, and the crowd hushed in their murmurings, giving her their complete attention as they all waited in silent anticipation. Their only hope was that she could offer answers for the long drought and lack of food.

“We, of the Iwatobi Village, have long been selfish. We have spurned the Sea God’s good graces and have not properly shown our gratitude for his protection and his blessings. Our village’s suffering is surely punishment for this and we will continue to carry out our penance until we offer him a sacrifice worthy enough of his magnitude,” she added and stepped forward until she was right in front of the large basin. The water in it rippled, distorting her reflection as she stared down into it.

“One of our own will be chosen to fulfill that honor. Lord Nanase’s spirit will guide me in choosing the stone marked with the chosen one’s family name,” she told them and a few gasps and fearful curses came from the crowd at the realization. The elder meant for a human sacrifice this time.

Instantly, the crowd reacted. A woman in front of them was already sobbing, clutching her young daughter to her and whispering hurried prayers to the sea god that they would be passed over. A few of the people nearest to the platform were screaming in outrage, demanding another course of action but the elder bluntly refused. “This is the only solution. The family of the tribute will be compensated,” she told them, ignoring any other outburst as she turned her attention back on the basin.

The crowd’s panic instantly affected Makoto. His breaths came out uneven as he glanced around frantically, watching as a few people in the crowd began backing away from the platform, as if to run off and resist. But before they could bolt, they were intercepted by priests who had surrounded the crowd during the elder’s announcements. Each of them holding a weapon in their hands to stop any fleers from escaping. And while the villagers were too intimidated by the weapons to confront the priests directly, that didn’t stop them from jostling each other and moving around the outskirts of the crowd like a school of fish caught in a drifting net.

Nowhere to run. They were caroled like sheep before the wolves waiting to know which one of them would be devoured.

A large man collided into his back, and Makoto forced himself to remain upright as he guided both Ren and Ran to his front, intent on shielding them from any harm.

“Oniichan?” Ren asked, his voice thick with worry and Ran mirrored his fear and confusion as they both looked up at him. But Makoto couldn’t bring himself to answer as he watched the village elder kneel before the basin and dip her hand beneath the water.

A few seconds was all it took before she pulled out a small stone and turned it over to examine the name carved onto it.

Makoto felt his body tense instinctively when she turned her head and caught sight of him and the twins. Her eyes were different now, the gray in them appearing fierce and raging like the sea during a storm.

She smirked at him knowingly and Makoto’s heart trembled as he pushed both Ren and Ran behind him protectively. She raised the stone in the air, and he knew that it was fear that made his blood run cold, the first true fear he’d felt since that day ten years ago.

“The candidate will come from the Tachibana household.”

~

Makoto’s last night in the village was spent in suffocating and unforgiveable heat. They had opened the shoji doors in their house to allow the night breeze to flow through, but it didn’t make it any more comfortable. Instead, the aggravating heat only made the atmosphere laden with despair seem more tangible and hopeless.

He sat across his parents at their small, battered chabudai near the irori. The bamboo bowls and wooden trays from their dinner still remained scattered in front of them. It had been a simple meal, pathetic by most standards. Yet, to the Tachibana family, it had been the biggest meal they had had for weeks.

“They will come for me in the morning,” Makoto had told them, staring ahead. He was so focused on keeping his voice steady that he didn’t register that his hands had reached down to grip at his ankles anxiously. Neither he nor his parents could bring up the subject during dinner, knowing that the twins could hear. It had been an unspoken agreement between the three of them that they would address it as soon as the twins were put to bed. He only hoped that the extra helpings he had given them from his own bowl had left them feeling full and sleepy enough that they wouldn’t eavesdrop.

“Maybe they’ll reconsider,” his mother added, bringing a hand to her chin worriedly. “We’ll reason with them. Have them send away your father or I instead.”

“No, they had wanted…” he paused for a moment, his words faltering at being unable to express it so bluntly. He turned his face away, aware that his cheeks were burning from embarrassment. “They wanted the candidate to be unmarried.”

“A virgin,” the village elder had insisted when she had barged into the home after the gathering, stone carved with the Tachibana name held tightly in her hand. “The candidate must not have lain with another.”  

His hands tightened on his ankles as he continued with, “We are lucky she agreed that it could be me and did not insist on taking Ran.”

His parents had been dismissed as choices immediately, and the village elder had been intent on taking Ran and sacrificing her as a bride to the Lord Nanase, but Makoto had thrown himself before her.

“Please!” he had said, taking great care to position himself between the elder and the back room where the twins were hiding. “Do not take her. Take me, instead.”

The elder was momentarily taken aback by his outburst, surely she expected resistance, but she hadn’t expected to get a volunteer.

“And what can you offer to a god?” she had demanded, looking down her nose at him when he had knelt to the floor in a deep bow.

“I am young and strong,” he had told her. “I can offer my servitude to the god for the rest of my life.” The elder eyed him critically, taking in his broad frame and the strong shoulders underneath the plain, thick work clothes. When she didn’t speak further, he plowed on with, “Would I not be the better choice instead of sending my sister, who is still much too young to serve as an adequate bride? He would have no use for her and the other villagers would not stand for another family to be chosen based on default.”

He raised his head enough to look up and she met his gaze, her dark eyes hardening as she knelt to lay the stone with his family name in front of him. “Your observation is a valid one. The candidate has been decided then,” she had announced to the quiet room, acquiescing to his request. “Priests from the shrine will come for you in the morning. Should you leave and try to avoid your commitment to the village, you will not be the only one to be sacrificed.” She gave a pointed look over his shoulder towards his parents and Makoto’s chest tightened in understanding at the implied threat.

When she left to go back to the shrine to make preparations for the ceremony, she slid the shoji door hard behind her; causing the frame of the old house to rattle in protest. Makoto remained where he was, kneeling on the floor and taking in everything that had just happened. His parents did not move from their side of the room immediately, both too petrified from fear and horror at having heard their oldest son’s fate.

“You don’t have to do this,” his father leaned forward, slamming his hand down hard onto the chabudai. “We can go. We can all leave the village tonight.”

“It’s too late. I already agreed,” Makoto argued, shaking his head sadly. “They promised compensation at the gathering for the family chosen and forgiveness of debts. Use the money for clothing and food. Hire tutors for Ren and Ran-.”

“What good are those things if we lose you?” his mother burst out, bringing the hand at her chin up to cover her eyes. She couldn’t hold back her tears anymore. “And the sea! How can we send you to be thrown into the sea, when you…” His father moved to put his arm around her and pull her close when she continued to cry.

Makoto hadn’t missed what she had meant. “…when you fear it so,” was the rest that wasn’t said aloud. 

“It’s true, that I am afraid,” he admitted, casting his eyes down to where the fingers around his ankles pressed hard into his skin. He wondered if there would be bruises in the morning. And though he knew he should move his hands away, he couldn’t find it in himself to stop. “The sea has always been frightening since that day. But I can bear it. If my thoughts are with all of you then I can bear it all.”

“We did not want this for you,” his father said, arms still around his sobbing wife. “This life. Your mother and I have only wanted the best for you. We should have been able to give you everything.”

“You have given me everything,” Makoto insisted, raising his head up and facing them both directly. “Every day, you’ve shown me that I was loved.” He smiled, and it was a bit easier now because what he was saying was the truth. He was proud of them, his family. He wanted them to always know that.

“Makoto,” his mother whispered, her tears halting and she looked at him with a mixture of awe and pride. His father mirrored her expression and Makoto wondered just how he appeared in their eyes. They certainly must think he had changed in the last ten years.

But Makoto knew that he hadn’t changed so much that he didn’t hug his parents when his mother turned to him with a watery smile and opened her arms to him. Nor did he change enough to not want to sleep in the same futon as his siblings for the last time.

Makoto closed his eyes and hoped, that no matter where the sea took him, the things he loved the most would always remain close to his heart.

~

Makoto was pulled from his futon before the dawn when the priests came for him. They whispered to him in hushed tones as they forced him to dress and leave the house. But he did not hear them, walking slowly and listlessly behind them. His mind was in too much of a haze from having hardly slept the night before.

When he reached the shrine, the priests began the purification process. He did not have time to be embarrassed as four priestesses stripped him of clothing, even going so far as to remove his fundoshi and jerked him around the changing room, each woman moving so fast and abrasively that Makoto did not know where to focus his shame from being naked.

They bathed him, and rubbed sand collected from the seabed over his body, before scraping it off. Oils were rubbed into his skin. His nails were trimmed and polished and his hair was furiously brushed and combed through. They painted words and symbols along his forearms and spine with soft, calligraphy brushes. He had thought of asking the priestesses what they meant, but before he could, they forced him to dress. In robes that were far more expensive than anything he had ever owned or seen. When it had reached midday, the priestesses left the room, and allowed his family in to say their last goodbyes.

“Makoto,” his mother called to him the minute they were let inside, pressing a hand to her mouth in an attempt not to cry. His father stood by her side, his eyes narrowed in pain as he kept his hand on her back in quiet support. The twins were with them, looking anxiously from their parents to their brother.

“Mother, Father,” Makoto said as he approached them, his eyes closing briefly to allow himself a shaky breath. He did not hug his parents right away, but first he bent down to draw the twins into his arms. “Ran, Ren, don’t be sad.”

“You’re going away, Oniichan,” Ran whispered when he drew back from them, eyes wet. “You promised we would be together always.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” he answered quietly, trying to keep his voice from growing tight. He placed a hand to her hair, touched her cheek. “We will be together.”

“But you won’t be here,” Ren piped up from beside her, his hands clenching at his sides as he stared angrily at the floor. Unlike his sister, he refused to meet Makoto’s gaze as the tears from his eyes trickled down his cheeks. “You’re going away. How can you keep your promise if you’re going away?”

“Ren,” their father said softly, but neither he nor their mother could bring themselves to further admonish his outburst. Makoto’s mother chocked back another sob, her shoulders shaking as she forced herself to hold it in.

His heart broke for them all.

“Yes, I am leaving,” he answered calmly. “But didn’t I tell you? Family always finds each other.” He shifted, and pulled Ren into a hug, not letting the boy stubbornly pull away when he tried to and eventually, the anger on Ren’s face caved to the sadness he had been hiding behind it.

Ren latched onto Makoto’s shoulders and held on, sobbing into his shirt loudly. Ran hurried into his arms right after, and he held them both for as long as he could, knowing it was a matter of minutes now.

He reluctantly pulled away from his siblings and looked at his parents. Both of them seemed at a loss, but his mother was the first to approach him and touch his face tenderly, cupping his cheek.

“Makoto, you look so handsome.” His mother’s smile twitched and she swallowed. “Such a handsome son I have. I always hoped one day that you would get married. It feels like the gods are giving me one last gift to see you this way. I only wish it could come along with you having a bride.”

Makoto laughed softly and took her hand. It was smaller than his own now, and he hoped that by holding it he could pay back all the strength and love she had given him through the years. “Next, you’ll be wanting grandchildren.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” his father said dazedly, reaching out to grasp his shoulder. “The twins would like it too.” Makoto didn’t have to glance at the twins beside him to know that they were smiling approvingly at the idea. He nodded, trying his best to smile genuinely at them all in turn. He couldn’t bear to say anymore false assurances. The broken promise that they would find each other again was enough to eat at his insides. Instead, he pulled his parents into a hug and the twins joined in too, clinging to his sides as his parents clutched desperately onto him from the front. They stayed like that, all together until a rapping at the door caused them to break apart.

“The procession for the ceremony is beginning,” one of the priests called to them, insistently. “You must lead us along with the village elder.”

“Yes, I’m coming,” Makoto answered and stepped backwards so he didn’t have to lose sight of his family until he had to. The twins’ faces were becoming distraught again, and Makoto knew that prolonging his departure would only hurt them more. “I will make you proud,” he blurted out before he realized it, and internally scolded himself at having made another promise.

Just another one that you won’t be able to keep, his mind whispered, as he shoved the sliding door behind him open.

“You already have,” his father answered, and Makoto forced himself to exit the changing room and slide the door shut behind him before his last ounce of resolve broke.

He followed the priest out of the shrine and tried to ignore the loud wailing from the twins still in the room. And even though he succeeded in joining the village elder at the head of the procession line, he felt a piece of his heart chip away with every heavy step he took.

~

It was time.

The priests hurriedly waved fumes of purified incense over his robes, his face, and his hair with feathers and dried river reeds. It smelled so strongly that he coughed several times when he accidently inhaled some of it – earning an unhappy growl from the priests before they knelt to check his waraji and make sure there was no dirt upon the soles of his feet. Rough hands smoothed out visible wrinkles from the expensive robes that hung off his broad back.

When they were satisfied that he was presentable enough, they let him go to face the gathered crowd. The whole village had assembled around the river, anxiously waiting to see what would become of him. And even though he had grown up knowing every single one of them, not one of the villagers looked upon him with pity or sympathy.

Hunger and desperation had long since changed them. He could see the relief on their faces to know that the one to be sent to the sea god was not them or their loved ones. Makoto didn’t blame them; there was no way he could bring himself to. Relying on the benevolence of an unknown god was all they knew, and all they could think to do. He let out a nervous breath and scanned the crowd for his family.

His parents were there; in the very back. His mother’s face was in anguish, already lost to sorrow and despair. His father stood beside her, supporting her with an arm around her shoulder. His face a blank mask, but Makoto could see that the warmth had left his eyes when he looked up at him. The only thing in them now was grief. The twins were not there, and he decided he was happy they weren’t. They didn’t need to see this. He just hoped that they could forgive him for leaving, could remember the happy times they spent together.

It made his heart ache to know that he would never tell them he loved them ever again.

“It is time,” announced the village elder, signaling one of the priests to silence the crowd with a series of loud banging on her gong. Two priests that were built larger than him, escorted him on either side. A single cry came from the crowd and a woman fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Makoto wanted to break away from the men beside him, and call out to his mother, but instead he clenched his hands at his sides. A quick glance at the village elder told him he had made the best choice to not resist. He had no doubt his parents and siblings would be punished if he were to stop the ceremony now.

It took all his willpower and self-control to allow himself to be lead to the middle of the bridge. They turned him to face the river mouth, where he would be sent directly into the sea. They tied two heavy cotton bags filled with food around his torso and made him stand up straight to support the weight of it all.

“Oh, great Lord Nanase,” the elder began, chanting along with the slow tapping of the shrine drums. “Acknowledge our offerings. Make our catches plentiful with fish and our skies abundant with rain. Deliver us from our hunger and suffering.”

The other priests joined in with the chant and a few voices rose up from the crowd of villagers, also pleading with the god to listen to their prayers. It continued for several more minutes before the elder turned away, her eyes were dazed and she was panting slightly from being out of breath. She nodded at the two priests beside Makoto and they both took hold of each of his arms and bodily pushed him up against the ledge of the bridge.

Their hands gripped his wrists so tightly that he didn’t think he could fight them off even if he wanted to.

“The ceremony is finished. Send the servant to Lord Nanase and to his fate.”

Makoto heard a heart-wrenching cry from the crowd as he was hoisted over the railing. And then, he fell into the river, the fast current pulling him down and forward to the sea. The further the water moved him, the farther away from the light he became and soon he couldn’t tell the difference between what was up and down anymore. The last thing he remembered before becoming part of the darkness was the taste of salt upon his lips.

Chapter Text

When Makoto had reached his thirteenth year, his mother dressed him in his finest clothes and took him to a matchmaker in the neighboring village as was the custom. The matchmaker, Miho, was said to have been blessed with the gift of divinity, and could see the red strings of fate on one’s fingers. Red strings that were given out by the God of Love and Marriage, himself.

“Interesting,” Miho said, her dark hair falling over her shoulder as she stared directly at Makoto’s left hand. The way she examined it made Makoto grow nervous, but she didn’t seem bothered when his fingers twitched involuntarily in her grasp. “You have two.”

“Two?” his mother asked, shifting closer and peering at her son’s hand as well. As if her staring at it would make the fated strings of legend appear before her very eyes.

“Two,” Miho confirmed, her hands sliding over the pinky of his left hand with practiced ease. Like she could feel them. Makoto wouldn’t have been surprised if she could. “Your son has two strings tied around his finger.”

“What does that mean?” his mother asked cautiously.

“It means, your son will fall in love with two different people at some point in his lifetime.” Then, Miho turned to him with a sly wink and said, “How exciting for you. I haven’t read a fortune this interesting in a long, long time.”

Makoto stared at his hand in both wonder and trepidation. Could such a thing be possible? “But how will I know that I’ve met them? ” Of all the questions he could ask her, he felt like this one was the most important.

“You’ll find them by taking risks. Love does not just fall into one’s lap,” the matchmaker fussed, turning stern eyes on him. “You must search for it. It may be difficult but you must persevere.” She raised a pointed finger in the air and smiled brilliantly, however, it did nothing to make the tense feelings that had coiled in his chest fall away. “After all, ‘talk about things of tomorrow and the mice inside the ceiling laugh’. If you keep looking, you’ll find it.”

She released his hand and Makoto could only nod dumbly at her while his mother paid for the reading. When they had stepped outside and onto the path that led back to their village, his mother abruptly stopped.

“Makoto.”

The tone had Makoto halting in his steps, his back straightening as he looked up at her. His mother was speaking to him in the voice she only used when something very serious had happened and he worried a little, wondering what it could be.

“Yes?” he asked, head ducking timidly.              

With a smile, his mother touched his hair. “I’m not upset with you,” she promised, clasping his hand in hers and squeezing it for a moment. A small reassurance that had him visibly relaxing and squeezing hers in return. “Do you remember what the matchmaker told us? About your love fortune?”

“Ah, yes,” he answered shyly, his face flushing a little. It had been a strange experience and a little scary, considering what the matchmaker said about his future. Thinking about it made the fingers of his left hand tremble anxiously.

Her smile waned, and her next words came out forced. “I want you to promise me, Makoto. That when you fall in love with someone, you’ll be sure.”

“I will!” he spat the words out before he realized it, because he would say or do anything to put his mother’s worries to rest. “I’ll be careful.”

“I’m glad,” she said kindly, patting his hair again and Makoto couldn’t help the small smile that came when he tipped his face up to look at her, his eyes bright with relief. “Remember, when you love someone, you give away a piece of your heart.”

A curious tilt of the head. “Heart?”

“That’s right. Your father has a piece of my heart and I have a piece of his. We will carry it with us until the end of our days. That’s why, Makoto, you must treasure the piece you receive and be careful with who you give your own to. A heart is a very fragile thing and your heart is so gentle,” she studied him, taking in how much he had grown. How much he resembled the name he’d been given. Her sweet boy. “I worry for you. The fortune the matchmaker told us does not sound like an easy one and I don’t want for you to give a piece of your heart away only for it to break.”

Shakily, Makoto looked down and stared at his hand, where not too long ago the matchmaker had declared she had seen two strings tied around the smallest finger. He was afraid of difficulties. He feared the idea of pain, loss, and separation. The only world he knew of centered on his home and family.

Anything else was unfathomable. Even falling in love.

‘Love does not fall into one’s lap. You must search for it.’

Makoto decided then, that if difficulties were inevitable on the path to love, he would avoid them by choosing not to take a path at all. For his fate could not be fulfilled if he did not make a move to meet it.

~

Makoto woke to something cold dripping down his neck.

Groggily, he moved away from it on reflex, curling in on himself. He tried to go back to sleep, to return to the peace of dreams but the dripping was hitting his shoulder now and it was so very cold.

It was water, he registered and Makoto wondered idly if his siblings had woken before him and were playing a trick. He considered it the case when he heard a gentle rustling from above his head. Or what he thought he heard. He shivered when cool air touched his damp shoulder and his hand groped around for some kind of covering. His fingers brushed against something rough and grainy and he jerked his hand back, nose wrinkling in disgust. Sand? Had they forgotten to wipe off their feet again?

“Ren, Ran,” he whispered, still in a haze. “Stop. Let me sleep.”

No reply came and when the dripping continued again, Makoto grumbled, “Enough. No more games.” He raised an arm to nudge away the source of where his annoyance was coming from but his arm only met air.

Frowning, dazed, Makoto rolled onto his back in resignation and slowly opened his eyes.

Where he expected to see the worn, thatched roof of his family’s home, he saw a school of small silver fish floating just overhead.

Makoto stared, completely stunned, before rushing to his feet. The action caused him to suffer a moment of vertigo and he pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes, trying to suppress the nausea and fear that rose up in his stomach. I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming, he chanted to himself while sucking in deep breaths through his mouth. When I open my eyes, everything will be better. I’ll be awake and back home-

Hands falling away from his face, Makoto looked up.

This time, instead of fish, he saw the white, exposed underbelly of a large shark swimming lazily above him.

Panicked, Makoto covered his head and fell back onto the ground as the creature’s massive shadow passed over him. A spray of sand flew up at the abrupt impact of his fall and he became aware that there was no floor. Underneath him was only sand. An endless stretch of it with scattered seashells and sea glass. A cotton bag lay a few inches away from his leg, one of its sides had been torn open and soggy grains of rice were seeping out of it and onto the damp sand. He stared at it in disbelief, his palms brushing against his thighs in an attempt to relieve his anxiety.

He remembered, now—the gathering and the sacrificial ceremony. The distraught faces of his parents as he was hoisted over the bridge and drawn out into the sea—but drowning?

He gazed upward, and saw that no roof or sky hung over him; what could be called a sky had been replaced by the recede and flow of gentle ocean waves, held up by an invisible ceiling. The waves were a deep, cool shade of blue that came from the sunlight fighting to pierce through the sea’s thick, reflective surface. Here and there, small pockets allowed the concentrated beams to flood through. But instead of shining down like a beacon through a hole, the light seemed to curve and bounce off the sand that covered the floor where Makoto sat. The light was beautiful, but Makoto couldn’t find it in himself to admire it. It only added to the fear nipping at his frayed nerves.

The last thing he remembered was being pulled down underwater and the world going dark. The rational voice in his head told him that all he was seeing wasn’t possible. He should have died, and yet, he was very much alive. But that did not explain the water suspended high above his head, or the reason he was able to breathe and move freely beneath it without struggle. It all conflicted with his sense of reality. Such wonders only ever existed in stories, like the ones the kind, old uncle told him of the sea spirits, or the recounting of warriors who sought out vengeful shamans and yokai during the summer festivals.

‘The ceremony is finished. Send the servant to Lord Nanase and to his fate.’

The memory of the village elder’s last words jarred his thoughts, causing him to visibly flinch in realization and dread. It can’t be…

The ceremony had worked. He had reached the water realm of the Sea God. Makoto shook his head ruefully at the irony of it all. From the moment he had stepped onto the bridge, Makoto hadn’t expected to survive. In fact, Makoto was sure that no one from his village expected it either. He had not witnessed any other human sacrifices before his own, but every year the village would offer an ox to the Sea God, along with a percentage of crops that had been harvested. While it was unknown if the ox ever reached Lord Nanase, its drowned remains would always find their way back to the shore – pulled apart, limb torn from limb. Makoto had assumed the same fate would befall him.

All his life he had heard stories of Lord Nanase, who ruled over their village and sea. However, this was the first time he was ever presented with evidence that it was real. For there he was, in the deep, clear depths, awaiting what the Sea God planned to do with him.

At least they’ll be taken care of, he thought wistfully, knowing that the compensation his family received would support them for years. He wondered what they would think if they knew he was still alive. He glanced down and saw that the ceremonial white robes he wore were now torn and ripped, exposing part of his upper shoulder and chest. No traces of the ink remained on his skin and one of his waraji were missing.

“You’re awake,” a deep cool voice called from behind him. Head jumping up, Makoto twisted around in a tight circle, eyes wide, and what he saw had his heart stuttering in his chest. Standing before him was a young man around his own age, dressed in a blue kimono with intricate silver designs, watching him intently.

“H-How?” Makoto gaped, voice stuttering as he tried to reason the unexplainable appearance of this other person. Hadn’t he been alone in this water- limbo the entire time? “How are you here?” he asked.

At the question, the boy’s face hardened, his lips flattening out, and a moment later, he was standing right in front of Makoto. Makoto let out a startled yelp, jerking back in surprise and thudded onto his back in the sand.

When did he…? Makoto swallowed hard, unnerved at how the boy quickly crossed the distance between them. He blinked up from his place on the ground and seeing those blue, sharp eyes up close made the hairs on his arms stand on end.

“Your name,” the boy demanded coldly.

“Ma…Makoto,” he answered uncertainly, trying to keep his words from faltering under the intensity of the other’s gaze. “My name is Makoto.”

“Makoto,” the boy echoed, nodding to himself and the tenor of his voice took on a veil of approval. Like the name was agreeable to him. His eyes flicked down Makoto’s body and up again. “Why are you here, Makoto?”

Makoto flushed and fiddled with his hands in his lap, feeling oddly self-conscious that he was being scrutinized by a stranger who was so breathtakingly beautiful. With the state of his clothes as they were, he was sure he looked like a fool. “I was sent here as a sacrifice to Lord Nanase.”

The boy scowled and the next time he spoke, his words were harsh and unforgiving. “Why would the Sea God want you?”

Makoto blinked, shocked at the question. He had been prepared for pain and for death, but not for this. Why would Lord Nanase want him?

For a moment, Makoto struggled to speak. He was unable to find an answer. He hadn’t even been the village elder’s intended sacrificial candidate from the start. He had taken the role upon himself, accepting the responsibility for his family without any resistance. He had drowned in the sea willingly in order to protect them and appease his village. But the entire time, he had not once considered the potential desires of the Sea God, himself. His only thoughts had been focused on his family’s wellbeing and the shock of waking up in the water realm.

Makoto’s hands clenched together in his lap, ashamed, as he considered the boy’s question. What had made himself or all the villagers believe that he would be enough?

“I don’t know if he would want me,” Makoto finally answered at length, and his mind fretted at not knowing of any eloquent words to better explain himself with. “I have no accomplishments, virtues, or talents. But my village had hoped that in sending me, I could please Lord Nanase with my servitude. It was the only solution my village could come up with in order to end the drought and fish shortages.”

The boy regarded him in an unimpressed manner, as if he had heard that very explanation before. “Lord Nanase has numerous servants at his disposal already. He is a free god who chooses not to interfere with the surface world. He will not fulfill your request so easily.”

“I... Even so...I have to try,” Makoto’s voice refused to level, but he just had to make this stranger understand. He rose up enough to half-kneel before the boy, carefully taking hold of the end of the silk kimono and pleaded, “Please, take me to him. If I can speak with him just once, maybe I will have a chance of convincing him.”

An eyebrow arching, the boy’s expression smoothed out, but his steadfast countenance kept Makoto from being able to tell what he was thinking. “You truly wish to meet him? Even if he would only send you away?” The boy lowered himself, crouching down low and when his body was level with Makoto’s, he crawled forward with agile grace. Makoto let his hands fall away as the boy moved closer and soon, the boy was practically looming over him. His face was so close to Makoto’s that their noses were nearly brushing.

“I…Y-Yes,” Makoto chocked, feeling the heat rising up from his chest to his neck. He tried to turn his head away and avert his gaze, but those large, piercing eyes pinned him, pulled him in. He felt like a rabbit caught in a snare and the pulse in his neck scrambled briefly. Makoto tried to remember that this boy must be a resident of the water realm. He was not human and the awe Makoto was feeling in his presence was not normal. He had to be careful. He could not know for certain if the boy intended to harm him and he did not want to be swept away and fall into a trap. Makoto cleared his throat and inhaled sharply, willing the rapid beat of his pulse to calm. “If I can speak with him, I’d do anything,” he said, easing the words out with great care.

“Do not offer loaded promises so easily,” the boy warned him and his warm breath fanned lightly over Makoto’s mouth. Their lips were only an inch apart and Makoto’s body tensed at the knowledge. But there was something different about the boy’s eyes now, they were darker than before. Makoto knew he should be afraid, but he found them stunning. “Deals operate differently here than in the human world. They’re binding, and once an offer is accepted, you cannot take it back. Do you understand?”

Makoto swallowed, still conscious of their close proximity, and nodded hesitantly. “Yes.”

“Good,” the boy said quietly. He drew away from Makoto, scooting back until he was kneeling himself, a foot away. “It is almost night. You cannot stay here.” He pointed a finger up at the suspended water ceiling above them. “The spell that maintains the barrier will collapse once the sun has fallen and everything you see here will be flooded.”

Makoto’s face slackened and he immediately scrambled to stand. “It can’t! I’ll drown.”

“You won’t,” the boy assured, rising to his feet, but still staying fairly close to Makoto. “The gate to the Sea God’s palace is just behind you.” He directed the way, and Makoto turned, frowning only to have his jaw dropping from shock at the sight.

Before them now was a large, underwater palace, shining and bright as if it was made entirely of pearl and coral. Two, tall marble columns braced the arch of an open doorway leading into it, with blue and silver dragons carved into them to look like their tails were winding around them. The gate was large and black, and unlatched, hanging open. “A servant will greet you once you enter,” the boy continued. “They will prepare you for an audience with the Sea God. He’ll be expecting you. I imagine he will want a proper explanation regarding your arrival.”

Makoto felt his eyes rolling to the back of his head at how odd the water realm was. Things and creatures appearing and disappearing at will. Was that normal here? “He…He knows I’m here?”

The boy gave a stiff nod. “Lord Nanase knows everything that takes place in the water realm. Go inside now, before the water comes down.”

 Makoto listened attentively, nodding his head as he cast furtive glances between the boy and the gate. “May I ask you one thing?”

“Yes,” he allowed, lifting his chin expectantly.

“Lord Nanase –the Sea God—is he as the stories say? Does he appear before humans in the form of a giant, blue koi fish with long whiskers?” He asked hurriedly, seriously, arms flailing before pantomiming the last descriptive with his fingers over his own face.

The boy stared at him blankly, for several long seconds. In that next moment, so quickly that Makoto almost didn’t hear, a soft snort forced its way out past that stoic mouth and the corners of the boy’s lips slanted up in a faint glimpse of a smile. The boy stretched up and placed a cool hand against Makoto’s cheek, rubbed the soft pads of his fingers against Makoto’s jawline.

“Perhaps I should prevent you from entering the palace – if the barrier collapses and I help you breathe under the currents, maybe you’ll eventually grow gills on your own and I can keep you,” he mused before withdrawing his hand, and Makoto thought he saw the markings of blue ink on that slim, thin wrist before it disappeared under the boy’s kimono’s sleeve.

Makoto’s hands immediately reached up to clutch at his throat, patting along the column of his neck as if expecting them to appear. “Would that really happen?!”

The boy shook his head, his dark hair ruffling slightly from the motion. A flicker of humor crossed over his face again and those cold, blue eyes were now shinning up at him strangely. “You really must go now,” the boy reminded him softly, though he made no move to step away.

Makoto watched him, his head feeling pleasantly fuzzy. He knew he should turn around and go through the gate, but there was a strange pull at his heart keeping him locked in place. “Will I see you again?” he asked.

“I wonder.” The boy gave the brunet an unreadable look, lips pursed together in set determination. He reached for Makoto’s hands, taking them both gently in his own, and lifted them slowly up. Makoto caught sight of the ink on that one wrist again, and could vaguely make out the outline of a blue dragon before his own hands were covering his eyes. “Remember why you’re here, Makoto,” the warm breath brushing against his ear said in a low whisper. “Go and meet with the Sea God. Show him the gentle courage that lies within your human heart.”

The pressure resting over his wrists withdrew and Makoto’s hands slid away slowly from his eyes, leaving him to stare out into the empty expanse of water and sand. The boy was gone and once again, Makoto was alone.

~

Just as the boy had predicted, Makoto was greeted by a servant the moment he stepped through the gate. The servant guided him further into the palace and Makoto’s mind boggled at the size of everything. Walls carved from coral and marble stretched out into long hallways before him lined with several woven tapestries. Statues of sea creatures spotted the spaces between the tapestries and Makoto marveled at them, not recognizing many of the creatures at all. But what was more surprising then the extravagance of the palace, was how relatively quiet and empty it was. Except for the occasional servant and bobbing sea creature, Makoto and his guide were very much alone.

Once they had reached the end of one hallway, the servant stopped and directed him into one of the rooms. The room was to be his quarters during his stay, the servant had said. It was small, but Makoto was taken by surprise at how lavishly decorated the room was. A tall, tansu cabinet stood in the corner, made from cedar and stained a dark red. It had a single, long deep drawer and several small locking doors, with iron handles to open them with. Next to it, was a black wooden stand, and a deep green kimono rested upon it. The obi was resting on another stand nearby.

The kimono’s back was entirely visible from how it hung over the stand. The bottom had been dyed a darker shade of green and flecks of gold were scattered over it, and along the runners on either side. His fingers itched to touch it, to trace along the seams of the expensive silk, but it was much too lovely. He couldn’t recall seeing such a beautiful kimono and he doubted anyone in his village owned one like this either.

“Is this really all for me?” Makoto asked in disbelief, turning to face his guide again.

“Yes, the kimono has been aired out for you. Please dress quickly, Lord Nanase’s adviser will be here shortly to collect you,” the servant said, taking a moment to incline her head to him before leaving swiftly.

Makoto dressed with great care, but couldn’t stop his hands from shaking knowing he would soon meet with the Sea God. When he was finished, he deposited the torn ceremonial clothes into the woven, straw basket next to the door. He sunk down into one of the large cushions, adjusting the kimono so not to wrinkle it as he stared resolutely at the doorway. He found himself fiddling with his hands again, trying not to let himself be pulled deeper into a pit of distress.

This is what you wanted after all, the voice in his head scolded him. This is how it was supposed to be. Makoto knew his fate was one he had brought onto himself, but it had been a lot simpler when he had expected to drown instead of recalling the protocol on how to properly greet the Sea God. Now, things were different. His family was relying on him and now that he was a guest in the Sea God’s palace, he had to do his best to appeal to the god. To convince Lord Nanase enough to make it rain and bless his village with bountiful fish. He feared that if he didn’t, the village elder would grow impatient and send one of his siblings into the sea next. If he failed, he would doom them both and it would be all his fault.

Makoto grimly examined the green kimono’s sleeves that covered his arms. At least he was presentable now, he thought sorrowfully and dropped his face into his hands. Please, let me be enough.

A loud rapping on the door startled him, and Makoto jumped up, hand pressed tightly against his chest. “Hello?” he asked timidly, but the door slid open wordlessly with a loud clack. Makoto winced, hoping it didn’t break from the force.

“Are you the human?” the intruder asked, standing bodily in the doorway. He had dark hair, with an unusual blue hue and purple eyes framed by red spectacles that rested atop a slight nose. Like the boy Makoto had met before and the servants living in the palace, this other boy was also beautiful. However, the unearthly beauty was subdued when the boy frowned at him, his eyebrows pinching together sharply.

“I said, ‘Are you the human?’” the boy repeated, frown deepening as he brought a hand up to cup his jaw, studying Makoto curiously, who was still too surprised to form a response. “Oh my,” the boy shook his head sadly, almost with pity. “Could it be that you are mute?” he sighed. “That would be problematic.”

Comprehension dawned and Makoto rushed to speak, mentally chastising himself for making another lackluster impression. “Ah, no, I-I mean -- Yes, I am the human.”

“Indeed,” the boy said, giving Makoto another once-over before pushing the spectacles further up his nose. “Come along, then. Lord Nanase is waiting for you.”

As soon as he finished his sentence, the boy turned and briskly walked out the door and Makoto panicked, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach. Very soon, he’d be standing in front of the Sea God. He took a deep breath, and when Makoto stepped out the door, he found the boy already at the end of the hall and passing into another corridor.

“Wait for me, please,” he cried out, but the boy showed no sign that he had heard him and kept advancing through the corridor at a fast pace. Hurriedly, Makoto chased after him, but when he reached the corridor, the boy had suddenly disappeared.

“He’s gone…” Makoto moaned aloud, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He had no idea where he was, and his only guide had vanished out of sight. How was he to meet with the Sea God now?

Makoto dropped his hand from his hair and decided to take the only doorway in the hall. He inhaled shakily and saw that the doorway led into another corridor. “Maybe it’s this way…” he murmured to himself, his shoulders tensing as he hurried forward. He was aware that his hands were twitching while he bumbled around blindly-- trying to navigate through the palace-- and when he entered into the next hall, he was met with a dead end.

Makoto stared at the wall in front of him, shaking his head and turning in a circle, searching for anything that would look vaguely familiar. Or anyone. However, the empty stretch of the hallway was his only company and he could hear no footsteps of any servants or passersby.

The sinking feeling settled in his stomach again. He was lost.

“No,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut and fighting to control his breathing. “No,” he said again, brokenly. It was just too much. Everything had just become too much. He was lost and the Sea God was waiting, probably growing angry that Makoto still hadn’t appeared. There would be no hope for him now, or for his village. Wet pinpricks formed at the corners of his eyes and he wiped at them with the back of his wrist. It was over, all that he had endured until now, wasted. His jaw clenched, and he sniffed hard, pressing his lips together as he struggled to remain in control of himself.

Suddenly, a hand grasped his shoulder and Makoto turned his head with a slight jerk, and found himself looking into sparkling violet eyes, and a pretty face framed with light, pink hair.