Chapter Text
Pannacotta Fugo knew at an early age that he was special, compared to the other people who made up his social circles. For one, he was adopted into the Fugo household barely a year old, fished up in a fisherman's net after a terrible stormy week and sold to the family with deep enough pockets to afford the discovered babe. It was a rare occurrence, but not uncommon for fishermen to encounter merfolk in such a way.
What was unique, was the type of merfolk they would fish up or encounter, as each species fell in different Tribes that dictated what sort of traits the merfolk carried over from their family tree. Not all were known, even in recorded logs that Pannacotta was allowed to read, as the hardest to record tended to be the species that either ate human flesh or were so elusive that some tended to sound more like fairy tale or myth.
Pannacotta's species... was the elusive yet known Silverfish Tribe, documented due to their species' traits being a dead give away on land, but extremely hard to hunt when in water. Everything about the Silverfish were a given based on the name, with their silver fins and white hair and pale skin, many mistook them as angels in the past, and albinos in the present. But the dead giveaway tended to be three traits; their ruby red eyes, gemstone tears, and biological makeup of appearing male from waist up, but being female waist down.
The latter two were what made the Silverfish Tribe so desirable, as their gemstone tears, known as Mermaid's Tears, sold for a small fortune, increasing in value based on size, color, and translucency to opacity quality. And with their ability to reproduce with any fertile male, capturing just one was like falling into a goldmine.
When the Fugo family purchased Pannacotta from that simple fisherman, they had planned to use him as a golden ticket to be sold to the highest bidder, not only for money but for a chunk of recognition by marrying their “precious son” to a fellow wealthy, famous figurehead. But when they discovered Pannacotta's intelligence... he was no longer just an object to be auctioned off, but a young child they could mold into a career that would earn them more profit than just his tears.
Pannacotta's classes of proper etiquette to become a good trophy wife were placed to the side, still on his daily schedule but spaced out with smaller pockets of time devoted to the lessons, education taking up the full front with math equations, literature, history, and language. His dance and ballet classes were removed, though piano lessons remained, as his mother had said, “It's good to have at least one musical talent, if not for your future husband but to keep our guests entertained during galas.”
It became the norm, the lessons and expectations, to get better, absorb as much information as he could within a small time frame. They wanted Pannacotta to excel farther than a mere merfolk has ever been granted, with their barbaric lifestyles in the sea. They wanted him to enter a high-end school, be accepted into a college at a young age to prove that their son was truly special, meant to receive all the respect and praise that the Fugos deserve for raising such an impressive son. Selflessly raising a merfolk's child.
Because of this, it was no secret that Pannacotta wasn't human. Even with his lack of fins, walking upright on human legs, Pannacotta stood out with his white hair and alabaster skin and ruby red eyes. So when his parents bragged about their son, their mermaid son, no one doubted their words.
It put a target on Pannacotta's back, he was quick to realize when at the parties his parents would throw—or attend—he was approached by many men who wished to get to know the Fugos' “precious son” with hopes of catching his eye as a possible match. Not a single one Pannacotta found worth his time. Mothers were a lot more crafty, aiming directly at his parents with offers to marry their sons, though most were unremarkable young men with barely an impressive mark to their name outside of being born with a silver-spoon in their mouth. The Fugos wanted someone of higher standards, a nobleman, a prince or king in the makings.
After all, with the extra effort his parents were putting into his education, the Fugos wouldn't settle for less than Pannacotta deserved.
When Pannacotta was accepted into college at age 13, he hadn't expected much to change in his education. Private classes were now on campus, surrounded by young men and women also in pursuit of a higher education, people who didn't see Pannacotta as a prize to win over but to ignore or scrutinize for being too young and not human. Only a few of the professors seemed to keep their eyes on Pannacotta's every actions, studying their new unique student to make sure he was following along with the lessons in a group setting unlike his normal one-on-one sessions. He had assumed most were possibly eager to help their young student, to support him in continuing strong with his current grading, however...
Many only seemed interested in Pannacotta the mermaid, not Pannacotta Fugo, the student. And the ones who weren't, who saw him more as a joke, that his education was being wasted upon such a child...
Well. All Pannacotta needed to do was continue onward with his schooling, graduate with a degree in law, and get his foot in to begin his career as a lawyer. He would just need to pick up the slack those teachers refused to offer in assistance, use the library to its fullest, and request the help from professors who did care enough for his future.
At least that was the idea...
The man Pannacotta had believed was on his side, was supportive of his education and comfort in this new environment without his parents hovering overhead at a constant, who was kind and friendly and honest, turned out to be nothing of the sort. He was no better than the men who had approached Pannacotta at a socialite party, nearly drooling at the prospect of getting their greasy, slimy hands on a mermaid in the flesh, to claim and dominate and breed. They only saw Pannacotta as a prize to win over, nothing more of an object, a trophy to snag up before anyone else—
Professor Monello was absolutely no different from those faceless men. He had the same goal, the same twisted, sick, desires, but the one thing he had over them all, was Pannacotta's blind trust in a man who his parents seemed to recommend, an old family friend who even the Fugos had assumed was worthy of their time, of their son's space. That Pannacotta had assumed just as much...
He was a fool, a complete idiot, despite his 152 IQ his parents praised so much. Pannacotta didn't feel like a young genius at that very moment, body aching after... after—
Tears ran down Pannacotta's cheeks, wetting his pale skin around his eyes before they solidified into the familiar Mermaid's Tear that legend used to tell of an old sailor's myth—of a beautiful mermaid, who saved a drowning man during a rough storm, her tears falling around him and sinking into the sand until one hit him in the head, jolting the man awake and falling in love with the beauty and kindness; he collected all the gemstones, gathering them in his sailor cap and requested to use them to afford a wedding ring to gift to her—it was a silly love story, one that negated the true greed of humans, of the lack of consent, of how little they truly care about this “beloved” mermaid and only see her as something to claim and not respect.
Humans only cared about property, and who owned said property, and if they were the owners of said property. Pannacotta had read how far people would go, to slit the throats of fathers, of mothers, of siblings, or aunts and uncles and grandparents, all in the name of obtaining the fortune and power of that now-deceased person. Land was fought over, and daughters stolen to become wives, broodmares, nothing more than a pretty little thing to use and abuse and continue the line of the winners, of the thieving humans who forced their way to the top of the food chain.
Blinking away the cloud of tears still falling, plopping in wet sand and rolling waves, hands digging painfully into jagged stone and rough coral, Pannacotta wondered if there was any hope for him in this world of humans. His tears, murky and blood red, the stones looking eerily pretty rolling around in the ocean, sparkling in the low moonlight like tiny little stars, it was no wonder why they were heavily desired.
Of all the known merfolk documented in the logs Pannacotta had read over, Silverfish were the most desired to capture, next to the elusive myth of the Coral Exocoetidae, better known as Coral Flying Fish, for their flesh that grants eternal life—or so the legends say. But they were so fast, the quickest swimmers known to man, and extremely difficult to catch to prove if such a rumor was true or not.
But Silverfish—Pannacotta's Tribe were slow, terrible swimmers for quick escapes, perfect for fishermen to capture in their nets if spotted on land before they took to the ocean, using their silver fins and white skin and hair to blend in with the water, like a mirage, a trick of the light—
But Pannacotta wasn't like the Silverfish Tribe he was born as. Glancing down at his bare legs, alabaster thighs now a bright crimson red fin, transformed by the salt water of the sea—there was no way he could hide in the rolling waves like his brethren.
“No wonder I was cast out of the sea,” Pannacotta mumbled to himself, throat clogged and tears blurring his vision from the smooth scales of his mermaid tail. There was no strength in his fin, no power to push through the ocean's waves to force his way deeper out into the wild unknown of the sea. Was it due to Pannacotta's lack of experience with his tail? Or was it due to his Silverfish blood?
Choking out something between a sob and roar, Pannacotta thrust his fist into one of the obscuring rocks making his attempt to flee to the sea impossible. As soon as his legs touched the ocean, he felt himself crumble under his own weight, mermaid tail heavier than the rest of him. Even if Pannacotta wanted to, he wouldn't be able to make it...
He was trapped on land, forever meant to lead the life of a mermaid meant to be used and abused until his worth was no longer—
“—HEY!”
Snapping his head up with violent speed, Pannacotta first looked behind him, a sandy shore just as barren as when he had snuck out of the college's campus, racing on shaky legs to reach the sea. He had wanted to jump in, dive into the depth of the ocean he had been forbidden to approach in the past, to forget what had happened in the place he had seeked refuge within up until—
“HEY!!! Are you okay?!”
Confused when no one appeared on land, Pannacotta cautiously turned back towards the sea, blinking past his tears at the dark ocean waves, rolling and constantly moving, trying to spot who, or what, was calling out to him. A fisherman? Another student, playing hooky? Squinting his eyes, Pannacotta suddenly caught a movement outside of the water, an arm raising in a wave, and then a head of black hair and large, glowing purple eyes—
“Are you hurt?!”
Blinking in surprise, Pannacotta watched with bated breath as the boy swam closer, diving under the current before reappearing again, closer, yet still at a distance. Cautious. Pannacotta took a moment to breathe in, sniffling in the process and erupting in a hacking cough as mucus blocked his airway, startling a shout from the boy in the sea to call for attention, asking if Pannacotta was okay, if he was dying, if—
“You're bleeding! Where are you bleeding from?!”
Shaking his head in confusion, Pannacotta refocused his attention on the mysterious boy, who was now close enough to touch the jagged rocks blocking him in from the sea. The boy looked normal, human, with his wild wet locks of black hair and skull shape and flat teeth—a herbivore or omnivore, by the looks of it—but his eyes were glowing like that of a cat's when caught by a light in utter darkness, and his arms was sprinkled with flecks of scales, a dark hue that Pannacotta couldn't pinpoint in the dusk of night. And then, as if rising from the sea to wave hello, was a long tail, shiny and dark with caudal fin broad and wide and forked, with a thick, lengthy pectoral fin on either side.
Before Pannacotta could collect himself mentally to articulate his thoughts into words, the boy of the sea reached out and grabbed one of Pannacotta's hands, pulling it closer to give the palm a critical stare down as his wet finger pads rubbed against the cut up sections that had hit the jagged rocks and coral. The pressure he placed into his fingers were soft and warm, a tingling sensation sparking up from nowhere before it faded and when the boy released his grip, Pannacotta noticed near instantaneously that the scabs and opened cuts were suddenly gone.
Eyes wide in amazement at his healed palm, Pannacotta whispered, “You're a merfolk...”
“Merman,” the boy corrected without missing a beat, hand still outstretched in a silent request for Pannacotta's other hand, fingers wiggling when he caught the other boy's red eyes, “Merfolk is just a broad term for us in general... You're better off saying merperson until you know a fellow mer's gender pronouns.” Pausing when Pannacotta made no move to speak or offer his still wounded hand, the black haired merman heaved himself forward against the outcrop of rocks, using his new leverage to grasp Pannacotta's hand and fill it with that same tingling sensation of warmth.
“...Your ability is healing,” Pannacotta voiced, flexing his now healed hand still wrapped in this merman's grip, watching in silent awe as he observed his flesh seal up with an invisible force.
“Neat, right?” the boy cheekily replied, smile wide as he tapped the center of Pannacotta's palm with his other hand not holding onto his, “It's super useful when other's get hurt, but the downside of my ability is I can't heal myself. Usually it's not a problem if I'm with a pod of my Tribe, but...”
“...You're alone?”
“Kinda,” he shrugged, finally releasing his grip on Pannacotta's hand to settle his own against the rock he was half laying across. Using his thin yet sinewy arms to bodily lift himself up and back into the deeper depths of the ocean, the merman paused to glance around the shoreline, keeping an eye out for any movement and after a beat of silence... “I don't have a pod of my species anymore, but I'm not completely alone.”
“Oh,” Pannacotta breathed, sounding oddly disappointed to his own ears. What train of thought his mind was about to lead was cut short when the merman reached forward and slapped the water where a handful of his gemstones floated and bobbed, like a cat toying at a fish too close to submerging in a fish tank.
“I didn't notice there were pebbles,” the merman said, shiny purple eyes observing one of the Mermaid's Tear drops captured between his fingers before dropping it back into the rolling waves, uninterested as his focus returned to Pannacotta while declaring, “I thought it was blood, sparkling in the water... I'm glad you only had a few scrapes and not a large gash somewhere from the rocks.”
“Uh, yes... Thank you,” Pannacotta nodded curtly, unsure how else to respond to this mysterious boy of the sea. A merman, of all things... Pannacotta never thought he'd meet another, even if it was quite clear this person wasn't of the same Tribe as himself, not aware of the Mermaid's Tears value to humans. It was... kind of refreshing, actually. Pebbles, he called them, bloody pebbles and not gemstones. Not lovely pearls of the sea, or jewelry or anything with a flattering word attached. Pebbles.
Feeling a small smile quirk his lips upward, Pannacotta released a soft scoff of a laugh, amused by the terminology this merman had used. A plop of more of these pebbles fell, unbidden as Pannacotta hadn't realized his tears still continued to leak, the anguish lessened but not muted with the arrival of this black haired boy. But unlike the rest of Pannacotta's tears, which were all murky and crimson red, this lone gemstone was transparent and pink, light and clear as the small blip of amusement the merman had brought him.
This caught the merman's attention, large eyes widening at the unique pebble floating in the water with its brethren, and remarked, “Oh, that one's cute..!”
Pannacotta waited a couple seconds before picking up the gemstone, palming the pale pink thing with a curious stare of his own as it truly was an unusual color from the rest of his tears. Not one has ever been so clear, or so pink... They usually varied from a light red to a deep crimson, blood-like or candy bright, and never so transparent. Was it a fluke? The red color pallet bleeding out like an ink pen that ran dry? Or, was it more internal, an emotional reaction, as his angry tears tended to be more cloudy and dark, ashened compared to the sadness of his others, murky and crimson and warped? Pannacotta knew people could cry from happiness, at weddings and proposals, it was a common thing... but he never recalled crying such tears in his lifetime. Up until...
Tearing his eyes away from the unique pebble in his hand, Pannacotta locked onto those purple eyes of the merman before him. The chances of meeting another merfolk—merperson—was unlikely, surely... Was this his golden ticket to freedom? Or a moment of reprise, to remind himself he wasn't really alone in this cruel, human-centric world?
Well, it didn't matter much... Grinning lopsided, weak to his own muscles, Pannacotta held out the gemstone, offering to the merman who had brought some amusement to his aching heart and said, “Here, this is for you.”
“Huh?” the merman flinched, eyes flashing brighter in the darkness as the irises darted from the offered tear gem to Pannacotta himself. “Y-you're sure? I mean, we barely know each other, and...”
“It's unique from the others, because of you,” Pannacotta half-lied, uncertain if that was truly the cause for the near-white color of his usual gemstones but wanting to believe either way, “It's only fitting you keep it.”
Even in the darkness of night Pannacotta could catch the darkening of the merman's cheeks and shoulders, a blush, he realized as the boy reached forward, fingers warmer than before as he silently accepted the stone, cradling with utmost care unlike the other pebble he had fished up before dropping into the sea.
The merman frowned, eyebrows tightening with pinched worry, and voiced, “I'm not sure if I can hold onto it well like this... Um.” Glancing up to meet Pannacotta's eyes, he asked, “Do you have something I can carry it in, without it falling out?”
Pannacotta was about to say no, he had nothing of value to give away like a purse or bag, but jolted as he recalled the now waterlogged pocket watch buried in his forgotten pants that floated to the surface due to the air trapped in the fabric, rolling with the waves and pebbles. It was a gift from his father, one of the few items given to Pannacotta as it would come in handy to always have a clock in reach when no other forms of telling time were available. Certainly now it was broken, fine cogs unable to withstand the salty liquid of the ocean from damaging the intricate device. Twisting himself bodily with minor difficulty, still unused to his new mermaid appendage, Pannacotta fished into his pants' pocket and pulled out the golden locket that housed the ruined clock. It was a gaudy thing, large and round with a clasp, but just big enough to hold one of his tears—it was perfect.
Twisting back around to face the merman, mid-motion to hand over the pocket watch, Pannacotta didn't notice the expression of surprise in the other boy's eyes until he was suddenly pulling himself over the rocky alcove and into Pannacotta's space. Water splashed loudly as the merman flopped into the shallow pockets of land, larger fin dwarfing Pannacotta's in width and length and wrapping around his odd strawberry scaled tail like a snake. Pannacotta released a startled squeak, ready to punch the merman in the face if he got any more grabby but halted mid-swing when the other squawked;
“You're a merperson?!”
“Uh... yeah?” Pannacotta almost added, “You didn't notice?” but found himself silenced yet again as the other boy rolled away, flopping about in the shallow end as he tried to find his footing—so to speak.
“No wonder you're out here so late at night, did you get beached?”
“...This is actually my first time in the ocean,” Pannacotta answered honestly, watching the merman cautiously as he twisted about against the jagged rocks and bumpy coral before finally finding perching with the grace of a bird with no balance.
“First time?!” the merman gaped, expression honestly flabbergast and oddly refreshing for Pannacotta. “How'd you survive all this time on land? Is your mom still on shore? Your dad? Most merpeople don't feel safe on land for so long, especially when you have a hard time passing as human—”
“I've... always been on land,” Pannacotta interrupted, fingers fiddling with his pocket watch as a nervous twitch, the metal chain jingling with his movements. Frowning, he added, “I was fished up as a babe, and adopted by a human family... I wasn't allowed to come to the shore before.”
“So you got newborn fish tail strength?” the merman asked, eyeing Pannacotta's red fin with a curious stare. There was a period of silence as Pannacotta shrugged, helpless in the knowledge of his Silverfish half, wondering what he was even attempting to do with himself now that he realized swimming out to sea to forget everything of his human life was impossible for someone like himself to accomplish—until the merman asked, “Are you trying to run away?”
Swallowing a nervous gulp, Pannacotta debated on saying no, that he had simply wanted to try to see what it was like in the sea for once, before his freedom was stripped away, sentenced to life as a trophy wife to the man whom he had once seen as a kind professor—but with that reminder, nerves jolting to life with a buzzing undercurrent of discontent, Pannacotta answered with a blunt and simple, “Yes.”
The merman didn't ask for Pannacotta to articulate further, simply nodding his understanding before flopping his way back over to Pannacotta's side, sinewy arms carefully encasing the other boy in a loose half-hug before pausing again as he seemed to realize just what he was doing and asked, “Want help?”
Shakily nodding, Pannacotta didn't have much time to compute what took place next as he felt the merman's arms tighten around his thin frame, tugging Pannacotta bodily close before pulling the two over the rocky alcove, long tail wiggling almost violently when the jagged rocks and coral proved to be just as nippy and grabby onto the other boy's fish half. But unlike with Pannacotta, this merman had the stamina and strength to persevere, struggling the remaining distance to successfully plop into the deeper end of the shoreline, submerging Pannacotta in the process as he dragged them both in deeper and deeper before finally twisting back up to the surface.
Gasping as they broke through the ocean's depth, still unused to breathing underwater without holding his breath—as was trained into him during bath time or swimming practice, water that didn't bring out his fish fin—Pannacotta glanced rapidly back and forth from the shoreline and the merman still encasing him in his arms, keeping the two buoyant as if knowing Pannacotta couldn't keep himself afloat if he didn't assist... But that didn't matter now, not as Pannacotta's mind raced with realization that he was now free, honestly free to do as he so damned well pleased with himself, with his future. Out in this water, in the moving sea and living ocean, Pannacotta could make his own path and not fall in line with what his parents—no, his captors' wanted of him.
The merman must have felt his racing heart against his chest, as his grip comfortably tightened and when Pannacotta turned to lock his eyes onto the friendly grin on the black haired boy's face, he chirped, “Congratulations! Welcome back home.”
Blinking in surprise at that declaration, Pannacotta realized... he was home, wasn't he? The ocean is where he was found, where he was born. He wondered what sort of life awaited him, now that he had returned...
Only time would tell. And with a small smile of his own, shy but hopeful for the future ahead, Pannacotta agreed, “I'm glad to be back.”
To Be Continued...