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“Baby girl, you better not be gettin’ water on the vinyl! It’s got cracks, and I’m hearin’ an awful lotta splashing. You get too much water on the floor, and we’re gonna be in a world of hurt.”
Magne’s voice rings down the hall, loud as a horn but warm as the summer sun.
Flicking her tail fin, Himiko chitters softly, amber eyes flashing with mirth and mischief as she sinks deeper into Magne’s avocado green bathtub.
A little water never hurt anyone, and the bathroom’s floral print flooring has survived worse. There aren’t even bloodstains from that time before! So really, Auntie Magne shouldn’t worry.
“Sweetie, Peaches and Cream are here for ya. Will you be long?” This time, Magne’s voice comes from just beyond the bathroom door.
So they found a chance to slip away, after all.
Beaming, Himiko hoists herself out of the tub. Water runs down her body in a cascade of rivulets that funnel into the crease that splits her tail in two. Even now, at summer’s end, fledgling wonder fills her chest fit to burst at the sensation of wiggling her toes . It’s one sensation she hopes she never acclimates to here on land.
“Coming, coming, coming!” Himiko yells, stumbling in excitement.
It takes considerable effort to coax her legs into her jeans, and she nearly goes down when she steps on the bell-bottoms’ frayed hems.
‘Fashion’ isn’t something she understands, no matter how much her new friends have tried to explain it to her. Still, she’s rather fond of these peculiar pants that flare so dramatically at her ankles it appears as though she has fins.
As expected, Peaches and Cream wait for Himiko out on the gravel drive, their longboards in hand. The silly nicknames belong to Magne; Himiko has her own for the pink-cheeked teen from the peach grove and the freckled farmhand from the lakeside dairy.
“Chako! Izuzu!” Himiko grabs her board as she dashes through the front door, calling back through its screen, “Be back late!”
“Be safe! Don’t get into too much trouble!” Magne shouts from inside.
“You guys came,” Himiko hums, blushing happily.
“Of course.” Ochako grins, readjusting the strap of her bag. “We can’t leave without saying goodbye.”
“And summer isn’t over yet,” Izuku adds, bumping fists with Himiko before the trio begins their trek down the gravel drive. “Not until tomorrow.”
“Mm.” Himiko nods. “Well, let’s not waste our last night, ‘kay? If you guys are leaving me for coaledge—”
“College,” Ochako corrects with a giggle.
“Hey!” Himiko snorts, shouldering her friend. “If you’re gonna leave, the least you can do is leave me with enough memories to last until we meet again. It’s only fair, ya know!”
“I think we can manage that,” Izuku laughs, threading a scarred hand into his curls.
When gravel becomes asphalt, the teens throw their boards down, hooping and hollering as they coast down the hill. Wind tears at their hair and golden hour dusts their cheeks with summer’s parting kiss—a goodbye so sweet it makes Himiko’s heart swell.
In front of Himiko, Ochako hunkers over her board, one knee tucked nearly to her chest, her arms thrust behind her. She’s always loved going fast, and Himiko admires her for it. All that strength and focus—that power. It reminds her of darting through currents and racing dolphins.
Izuku is much the same. However, he’s only just had his most recent cast removed, so today, he hangs back, letting the girls race ahead. Himiko understands the regretful gleam in his eyes. A broken bone here and there could never phase him, but his mom will blow a gasket if he ends up in the hospital—again—right before he’s meant to leave. So he holds back because he has to—because he loves his mom. Even if that means gently gliding down to the beach instead of racing there.
Safety has never been something Himiko troubles herself with, much to Magne’s dismay. No amount of scraped knees has changed how the mermaid feels about flying down the hill on nothing but a board with wheels and dreams of soaring. Nothing back home compares to this sensation: not the way the road’s roughness shakes her board so violently she feels the vibrations all the way up to her knees, the freeing feeling found in the wind’s embrace, or the way her heart drums in her chest, her glee burning through her veins until her blood hums.
The only remotely comparable sensation comes from the moments she shares with Ochako and Izuku, down on the docks at sunset, their toes in the water as they watch the clouds and waves roll by, coming and going like gulls.
Lost in thought, Himiko doesn’t see the upcoming fissure—doesn’t notice the broken asphalt with bits of root poking out until her wheels have already snagged on them, sending her flying.
“Ack!” Himiko lands hard on her knees and palms. Pain sings through her body, and when she scrapes herself up, she spots blood welling from fresh abrasions.
Swiping a finger over a skinned knee, Himiko giggles, popping it into her mouth and sucking it clean.
Copper and iron. Tastes like summer, she thinks. A summer full of skating with new friends, darting through forests, climbing cliff sides, and testing how far legs can carry her.
“You okay?” Izuku asks, his board slung over his back as he approaches Himiko. Leaning over her, he appraises her torn knees and hands.
“Never better.” Grinning, Himiko loops her arm through his when he offers her a hand.
Careful not to brush her bleeding palms, Izuku rights Himiko, then jogs off to pluck her board from a nearby bush.
Ochako’s long gone, a dot on the horizon, leaving Izuku and Himiko alone as they make their way down to the beach by foot. Without missing a beat, Izuku falls in step beside Himiko. It’s just like him to keep her company like this. He could easily skate ahead, but he doesn’t, instead content to let Himiko hang off his arm before eventually offering to carry her on his back.
Wrapping her thighs around Izuku’s waist, Himiko clings to his shoulders with one arm, her other occupied with their boards. He grunts when she shifts her weight, but he doesn’t complain, even when she accidentally bonks him with a board.
“I’m gonna miss you, Izuzu,” Himiko whispers into his forest green curls, her cheek resting in the curve of his neck. “Chako, too.”
“Mm,” he hums. “I know. It’ll be weird being apart.”
“You’ll have her, though.” Himiko pouts.
“She didn’t tell you?” Izuku’s tone is wry, his amusement laced with heartache. “We aren’t going to the same schools.”
“Huh?”
“It’s sadder if we’re all apart,” Izuku explains. “She probably didn’t want you to worry about us.”
“It’s not sadder.” Himiko shakes her head gently. “It’s sweet. This way, we’ll all ache the same.”
Izuku’s grip under Himiko’s knees tightens. “You make it sound beautiful.”
“That’s ‘cause it is,” Himiko insists. “Don’t you know, Izuzu? Love is like the moon. It wanes and waxes, but it never leaves. Even when you can’t see it. Even when the sky is dark. The moon is always there, watching over the tides—and us. So even when we can’t see each other anymore, we’ll feel the same.”
“Is that so? I’ll have to take your word for it.”
Izuku’s voice is low, but Himiko can hear his smile.
Boards and bags abandoned, the trio sprawl on the dock. Izuku lays on his back, feet in the water and eyes fixed on the emerging stars. Beside him, Himiko and Ochako huddle together, fishing peaches out of an aqua Mason jar.
“Mmm, Chako,” Himiko moans happily, sucking on a peach slice. “Who’s going to bring me peaches when you’re gone?” Juice dribbles down her chin, but she can’t be bothered to care.
“Give my mom a ring.” Ochako smacks her lips and crams her hand into the jar’s depths. Her fingers reach desperately, just out of reach. Abandoning the effort, she turns the jar on its side, giving it a calculated shake and working the remaining slices into reach.
“Here.” Grinning, she offers Himiko the last slice. “Don’t worry. We canned loads of peaches. Just call her, and she can send some over. I’ll have her save some for you.”
“Canned?” Himiko’s eyes grow wide.
“Um…” Ochako taps the corner of her mouth, lips scrunched. “Canning is a way to preserve fruit once it’s out of season. That way, you can have as many peaches as you want, even when I’m not here to bring them to you.”
“But, Chako, it’s not the same if you don’t bring them yourself.”
“Ah, well.” Ochako looks down at her hands, then out across the ocean. “There’s not much I can do about that, but…” Turning back to Himiko, she smiles, her deep brown eyes shining. “I’ll be sure to write and call you. We can stay up talking, and it’ll be like I’m here, okay?”
“Promise?” Himiko extends her pinky, the way Ochako and Izuku taught her months back.
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Ochako hums, linking pinkies with Himiko. The human’s lip trembles, but before Himiko can point it out, she’s dragged into a crushing hug.
“How about this?” Izuku pushes himself up onto his elbows. When his gaze flickers over the girls, it’s full of warmth, though tinged with sadness. “First chance we get, we meet up here.”
“Agreed.” Ochako nods, still clinging to Himiko.
“What do you say, Himiko?” Hope dances behind Izuku’s eyes. “We’re leaving, but you are too, aren’t you?”
He’s not wrong. Himiko will stay a bit longer, lingering in the place she’s come to call home, splish-splashing in Magne’s tub and playing in her garden. She’ll eat as many peaches as she can. She’ll skin her knees a few more times, and with Magne’s help, she’ll write letters to her friends.
But, before long, she’ll return to the sea.
And Ochako, Izuku, and Magne will become the ones she leaves behind, rather than the other way around.
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Himiko echoes Ochako. “No matter what, we’ll meet again.”
She means it with every fiber of her being and says it with all the passion she can muster. After all, love is like the moon, and as surely as it orbits Earth, Himiko will surely return with the tide.
