Chapter Text
The black waters of the harbor were a murky soup of human filth and waste. Grocery bags floated aimlessly through the darkness like the plastic ghosts of jellyfish, tumbling away as He Xuan cut between them. His gaze darted to each movement, no matter how slow and unassuming, a makeshift spear gripped tightly in both hands. He had fashioned it from a warped, narrow piece of driftwood and a rusty knife with a broken tip, held together with a combination of shoelaces and plastic twine.
His empty stomach gnawed itself. Over the last few days, the nausea had worsened. He could no longer sleep to escape his hunger and his mind had even begun to play tricks on him, fabricating shadows and noises that kept him on edge. He Xuan no longer had the strength to hunt, forcing him closer to the shore to scavenge for human garbage.
After trailing the bottom of the harbor in search of a small gray crab or some tiny mollusks, he huffed a stream of bubbles through his nose and swam to the surface for a breath of air. His long black hair plastered over his eyes, which he pushed back with an irritated growl to glare at the soft lights of the boardwalk. A faint strain of live music came from one of the restaurant patios and wafted with it the smell of warm garlic bread. Humans walked and talked along the water’s edge, blissfully unaware of their ugliness. Just the sight was enough to fill him with fresh contempt, fueling the strength for another dive.
He swam hard away from the lights and music, away from the happy sounds, and away from the easy meal that had been his last hope. Perhaps it was just as well. He had too many close calls with divers, fishermen, and regular beachgoers recently to risk an encounter now. Last time, he had to hide in the deep sea for two weeks because some drunk university students saw him and refused to unbelieve it, laying out bait and cameras on the beach in case he returned. Idiots. How could raw fish sitting out in the sun tempt him when he could just as easily catch fresh fish on his own? If only they had put out pizza instead…
He Xuan shook his head, scattering the distracting thoughts of human food. It had been a long time since he hunted in this direction. The shoreline here was full of jagged rocks and a sharp cliff face, except for a small beach frequented too often by tourists. A dark spot between the rocks caught his eye. At night especially, it could be impossible to distinguish between types of darkness, but He Xuan knew a shadow from a silhouette with just a glance. What he saw now was a hole.
He swam towards the cave entrance with slow, small strokes of his tail, careful not to create a wake that would disturb the sand as he approached. It was the perfect sized home for an eel or a stingray, maybe even a turtle. He Xuan held the spear in front of him and peered inside. Empty.
His heart sank. He thought he had become immune to disappointment years ago, but tonight it covered him like a net and weighed down his whole body. At least he could rest here tonight. He jabbed his spear into the sand.
A tentacle shot out of the sand and grabbed He Xuan by the arm, yanking him away from his weapon. He thrashed his tail, stirring up the sand in a thick cloud. His eyes stung but he fought to keep them open. The octopus morphed into a dark red, no longer camouflaging with the cave floor. Another arm wrapped around his waist. The suckers tightened on his skin and erupted in fiery pain as he fought the hold. He Xuan lashed out with his claws and teeth, biting and tearing in a blind panic. His pulse pounded in his ears but the rest of his body felt sluggish and weak. He was going to drown here in a matter of minutes.
More arms latched onto his tail, pulling him deeper into the cave. One coiled around his neck. He Xuan froze, afraid his own resistance would strangle him. He growled and grabbed the arm with his remaining free hand. Yanking himself forward, he elbowed the octopus in its beak and lunged for his spear. The octopus yanked him back.
He Xuan turned and stabbed it. Blue blood clouded the water. The octopus writhed and released its arms to wrap around the spear. He Xuan raced out of the cave. His vision darkened at the corners. He had no strength, no oxygen in his lungs, and no time to look behind him. Nor did he care what lay ahead.
The water shallowed beneath him until his tail dragged in the sand. He Xuan dragged himself onto shore, his arms trembling beneath him. He collapsed onto the sand in a fit of coughs that wracked his whole body. Everything ached, everything spun around him. Even the voice seemed to swirl, the words faint and distorted.
He Xuan hissed weakly, not sure if he was imagining the sound or if bad luck really did throw him onto the path of some damn humans. But the voice persisted in a frightened tone. He Xuan exerted all his strength to look over.
It was not a human. She had a slim, beautiful tail the colors of jade and sea foam. She struggled to move out of the water, her dark brown hair dragging on the beach as she crawled toward him. Her arm caught on her hair and she faceplanted in the sand.
He Xuan laughed, though it came out as a weak rasp. He had no cause to laugh for so long that it seemed like a pitiful crime for it to happen now in his darkest hour. It had been years since he had seen a mer. In all his life, he had only met two, and the first had appeared on the worst day of his life. Now, long after he had given up searching, another finally appeared on the second worst day of his life.
“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” hushed the light, sweet voice, sounding far from okay.
Perhaps his mind was playing a cruel trick on him. He Xuan forced his eyes open again, blinking hard to keep his vision from blurring. A pair of cool hands rolled him onto his back and his entire body throbbed. He clenched his teeth, trying not to make a sound.
Bright green eyes gazed into his, wide with fear. “Oh my god, you’re real. This is really happening. I can’t believe—Hello? Do you understand me? Oh god, what should I do? I think you’re dying. Hold on, I’ve got to get out of this thing. I’m really good at this actually, it’ll just be a minute—”
She pulled back as if to leave and He Xuan grabbed her arm without thinking. She flinched, leaning away from his hand as he reached up weakly. “Um, what—”
He Xuan cupped her cheek. A mixture of relief and restlessness washed over him, something akin to coming home after a long and unsuccessful hunt. Finally, here was someone who could understand. Finally, he might have answers. Finally, he could allow himself to hope.
And yet her hair was dry, as if she had not come from the water at all.
His vision blurred no matter how many times he blinked now. The mermaid’s lips moved soundlessly. Her hands grasped at his, shaking it as if trying to keep him awake. But he was too tired. Against his will, He Xuan descended into darkness, cursing both land and sea.