Chapter Text
“Seishirou!” A shout pulls Nagi out of his otherwise peaceful slumber. He keeps his head down refusing to open his eyes under the bright lights of the classroom. Slowly, he begins to register all the sounds mixing together around him. Desks and chairs squeak against the floor. People chatter about some new assignment and other gossip that Nagi has never cared to pay attention to. But, clearer than anything else, is the sound of a shoe tapping away against the wooden floor right beside him.
“Mm?” he groans, shoving his face further into his crossed arms in hopes that he can continue sleeping before he feels a hand collide against the back of his head, “Get the hell up! The lunch bell just rang, you lazy ass.”
“Ow…” Nagi complains and looks up, blinking out the blurriness in his eyes. Above him, Shouei’s glowering—most likely ready to drag him out of the class himself. His eyes are squinted and his hand hangs in the air, ready to strike once again. Despite the hatred and violence that Shouei seems to emit on a daily basis, they’re friends of some sort. Nagi slacks off. Shouei yells at him. It seems he’s the child of not just one, but two overbearing mothers.
“I don’t wanna move,” Nagi whines, slumping back onto his desk. “Carry me.”
Shouei weighs him with an unimpressed look, “I’m gonna drag your ass to the field if you don't get up.”
Nagi lifts his head to glance at him. Getting dragged doesn’t seem so bad to be honest. He sets his head back down, deciding he'd rather be manhandled than exert any effort walking himself, but the iron grip that quickly encircles his wrist is anything but preferable. Within seconds, Nagi's body is halfway out of his seat and the lack of fight he gives results in him falling limply to the ground.
“Ow…” he mutters, doing nothing to get out of Shouei’s grasp. The floor is kinda nice, actually.
Shouei scoffs and lets him go, “If you don’t like it, walk your damn self!”
Nagi sighs, pushing himself up from the floor, “What a pain…”
“Yeah, yeah. What a pain, I get it,” Shouei says as he rolls his eyes. He walks away toward the door but stops to glance back at Nagi once he reaches the threshold.
Nagi follows him out begrudgingly. He doesn’t really care to leave the classroom during lunch. Truthfully, he prefers staying inside and eating by himself, but Shouei claims he needs sun exposure, and when it comes to health and cleaning, there’s no one who can—or is willing—to argue with Shouei. He guesses he appreciates it. Someone has to care for his health, afterall; God knows he can barely take care of himself. Still, it’s such a pain to walk to and from the field everyday.
“You can’t always just sleep through every class, you know?” Shouei says, turning to look at him.
“I pass either way, who cares?”
“I have no idea how,” he grumbles. “If the teachers call your parents again it’s gonna be a problem.”
“He hasn’t done that in a while,” Nagi reasons with a shrug. He knows Shouei is just concerned. It doesn't make the conversation any less annoying and repetitive, though. Bored of the nagging, Nagi pulls out his phone and opens one of his several games. This time he opts for an idol rhythm game since he still needs to get his dailies done. With all the games he has, it’s honestly a miracle his phone still has space.
Soon enough, they get to the field and he automatically settles under the same tree as always, not bothering to pause the song he's currently playing as he gets comfortable. It’s a bit cold out today but the sun is still bright as ever. If he leaves the shade his screen won't be visible in the slightest. Fortunately for him, he always wears a hoodie under his blazer, so he can stay warm even in the shade. Nagi listens as Shouei approaches Isagi and Bachira over the sound of his game. No matter what time they go outside, those two are always kicking a ball around. He’s almost convinced they've never attended a single class, probably too preoccupied with soccer to care about their grades. He’s heard from Shouei that both of their grades are less than ideal. Bachira’s are apparently even worse than Isagi’s, who Shouei says no tutoring can save.
“Nagicchi!” Bachira exclaims, eyes lighting up when he spots Nagi from where he sits behind Shouei. Speak of the devil. Bachira tackles his side immediately and Nagi watches in despair as beats fly past his screen and the ‘song failed’ screen appears on his phone as he himself topples over.
“Hey…” he greets glumly.
Bachira pushes himself back up, looking at Nagi with a hint of concern. “You weren’t here yesterday! What happened?”
“Ah, I slept through my alarm,” he explains, pushing himself into a sitting position. He's briefly reminded of the hours of scalding insults that followed, but he pushes it to the back of his mind.
“Of course you did,” Bachira giggles, pushing him a bit too hard and causing him to fall limply to his side once again. “You might be worse than me!”
“Bachira, leave him alone,” Isagi—his apparent savior for the day—says, holding out his hand for Nagi to grab. “You’re just as bad. Didn’t you get to school late twice last week because of that?”
“Whoops,” Bachira says, sticking out his tongue. “Maybe, you’re right.”
Nagi’s lip quirks up ever so slightly. Maybe it’s a good thing Shouei forces him out here. He can’t say he’s particularly close to these two. They’re friends to some extent. At the very least, they don’t annoy him like most of the other people at this school. Plus they can be entertaining at times. Isagi drags Bachira away to play some more soccer and Nagi spends the rest of his lunch playing his game, looking up from time to time when Isagi or Bachira want to show off some new skill they learned. Shouei, the most normal of them all apparently, is actually eating his lunch, only stopping to make fun of Isagi every so often.
When the lunch period is over, Nagi waves goodbye to Isagi and Bachira and follows Shouei back into the building. Their next class is arguably the worst of them all; It has a boring topic and an even more boring teacher. It’s no wonder he practically falls asleep the moment he gets his head on his desk. In the back of his mind, he can hear Shouei’s scolding voice, but he can’t bring himself to care. The voice of his teacher only serves as soothing white noise, nothing he says actually processing in his head.
Faintly, he hears the bell ring once again. He opens his eyes groggily, squinting to adjust to the light. There’s no way the entire class has passed already, is there? His question is answered when he hears the shuffling of everyone getting out of their desks to leave. Then, he hears footsteps that he’s become quite acquainted with approach his desk.
“I’m awake, don’t hit me,” he says groggily, lifting up his head. Shouei is glaring at him, but the hand he was holding up to strike with falls.
“You slept the entire class. Again.”
Nagi simply shrugs and gets out of his desk. “Like I said, I’ll pass anyway.”
“Nagi-kun.” Another voice fills the room. Shit.
His teacher’s voice catches him off guard and his posture unconsciously straightens. He turns to face him. “Yes?”
“Stay here for a moment?” His teacher asks, as if it wasn’t an order. “Barou-kun, you can leave.”
Shouei glances from the teacher to Nagi and quirks a brow. He moves to leave and turns back to Nagi, mouthing I told you so.
Nagi suppresses a groan and sits in the chair his teacher motions to.
“Are you having issues with sleep?” His gaze weighs heavy on Nagi. Nagi tries to avoid his eyes. They seem to bore into his face. He understands that he’s probably just concerned, but he finds it more troublesome than comforting.
“No,” he answers, which is partially the truth. He wouldn’t call it an issue with sleep. He could sleep if he wanted to—probably. Sure, sometimes he lies awake for no reason at all but most of the time he just gets too distracted with his games at night or whatever new series he’s watching.
“If there’s no issue, why are you always asleep in my class?”
Nagi shrugs. There's nothing for him to say. It won't matter eithr way.
“I’m gonna have to call your parents,” his teacher explains with a sigh. “I’ve let you sleep with little consequence, but no matter how many times I ask you to pay attention, you don’t.”
A sudden sense of dread creeps over his body, hair raising up as if it can ease the chill of something that has no physical source. He can't look at his teacher in the eyes. Instead, he focuses distantly on the wall behind him and lets everything else around him blur. Maybe he should’ve listened to Shouei. Maybe staying awake for at least one period in the past week would’ve been a good choice. He scratches at the fabric of his slacks. The rest of his teacher's words don’t register at all. Nagi only realizes he’s in the middle of calling his home when he notices his teacher bringing the phone up to his ear. The sound of his voice is cloudy and unclear as Nagi traces invisible patterns across the empty wall. He wonders if he can crash at Shouei's place and maybe avoid the inevitable rage of his mother. Her voice is already clear in his head, droning out the one in front of him.
You’re an embarrassment, Seishirou, she’ll say and sometimes he's inclined to believe it's true.
“Nagi?”
He flinches, eyes focusing back on his teachers. “Huh?”
“You’re dismissed,” he says. “I expect you to come back ready to pay attention tomorrow.”
“Oh,” Nagi says, the words don’t register right away. He feels stuck in his seat. He’d rather be here than home at this point, anyway. When his teacher is about to speak once again, he gets up and bows quickly, “I will, goodbye.” Then, he walks away, unsure of what his teacher says as he leaves. He doubts it’s that important anyway.
The walk to his house is completely driven by motor memory. Nagi crosses streets and passes blocks without keeping track, and by the time he’s at his door, his only regret is not walking a little slower. He sullenly pulls out his house keys and sighs. His parents are such a pain.
Nagi walks through the door and toes off his shoes. The moment he looks up, he sees his mom waiting for him in the hallway, arms crossed over her chest and eyebrows furrowed.
“Your teacher called,” she says, rather dully. He knows. He was there.
“Mm.”
“You’re sleeping in class again?”
He opts to stay silent. He can’t exactly argue, she obviously already knows.
“You’re not going to explain yourself?” His mom questions, throwing out her arms in rage.
“I’m tired,” he responds plainly, although he knows she won’t accept any explanation he gives. From behind her, Nagi can see his dad’s eyes trained onto the floor. Maybe he if looks hard enough, he can ignore what his family has come to.
“You’re tired?” His mom asks, exasperated. “From what? Being on your phone all day?” Her voice rises and he stays silent. Nothing he says matters when she’s like this. “I work all day, and come back here just to work more. I do everything in this house with no help!”
Her voice raises and Nagi continues to watch her blankly, finger toying with a loose string of his hoodie. “You are an embarrassment to our family name! What are you going to do with your life, huh? You think playing games all day is going to get you a job?” She begins to walk up to him, pointing accusingly in his face. Nagi’s expression doesn’t change.
“Do you understand how embarrassing it is for me to hear that all my son does is sleep in class? They’re going to think I’m a horrible mother, do you only care for yourself?”
“No.” His voice is barely above a whisper.
“Obviously you do! You don’t even look guilty right now. What do I have to do to get through to you?” She shoves him back, but he hardly stumbles. He’s far outgrown her at this point. He says nothing as she continues to berate him, but her words have already been drowned out.
“Stop.” He watches as his dad grabs his mom’s arm. Finally deciding he should do something. It was more than he expected from him, to be honest, usually he just watched. His mom swings her arm out of his grip and begins to focus on his father instead.
Oh well. Nagi takes the chance to leave without detection and goes back to his room, locking his door. He listens as his parents' fighting gets louder. He begins to play his game, uninterested in listening. It’s most likely the same as always. He tries to get lost in the sounds of shooting and explosions. Somehow they're less grating to hear than the sound of his mother’s voice. Then it stops, and Nagi somehow finds that more unnerving than the screaming.
A loud knock rings against his door. “Seishirou!”
He doesn’t respond.
“Seishirou, if you don’t open this damn door, I’m kicking you out of this house.”
I hope she will. Some part of him prefers to never see her again. The knocking gets louder and he half expects his door to break. But, he assumes his dad interferes again because the knocking stops and he hears his voice muffled through the door.
“Stop defending him, he’s going to be a nobody if he doesn’t shape up!”
Nagi wants to be a nobody. He has no desire to be someone special, he just wants to be well off. Maybe he’ll get a decent job, a cozy apartment, and he’ll retire early. What’s wrong with that? He vaguely hears his dad say something in his defense. Then, their voices seem to get further away, but not any quieter. They’ll be fighting the rest of the night.
He switches his attention back on to his game. So what if that’s all he’s good for? It’s the least bothersome hobby he can have. Unlike most things in his life, it doesn’t exhaust him. He taps away at his phone, successfully engrossed in the game. He hardly hears his parents anymore, nor does he think of their words, at least for now. Eventually, it’ll come back and hit him. He shouldn’t care. On the surface, he doesn’t, but in the back of his mind, it still hurts. Nagi hasn’t felt a real connection with his parents since primary school. He witnessed their fights, was a victim of his mother’s violence, and eventually any familial love he felt for them faded into contempt. His mother’s words don’t hurt as much as they would if he loved her the way he did when he was young. Instead, they serve as an unwelcome reminder of his inability to care, even when he wants to.
The game over screen flashes on his phone, immediately submerging him back into his thoughts. Over the sound of his fan, he can still hear his parents argue. Nights like these make Nagi wonder where exactly he went wrong. When did he wake up without the urge to do anything? When was it that things he found fun became bland? He assumes the feelings developed slowly. Perhaps every new argument he shared with his mother added another weight to his body. While his dad’s inaction added an extra feeling of apathy.
Perhaps his life was predetermined from the moment he was born. He's never believed in fate before. Believing such things seems to just be a way to cope with inadequacy, but at this point in his life, he can’t imagine himself turning out any other way than he already has. His parents are their own people, and their actions, of which he has no control over, formed someone like him; A void of a person, with no hopes and dreams to name.
He remembers watching his mother berate his dad as a child. Yelling and screaming while Nagi hid behind the nearest object and covered his eyes, scared for his father, and scared for himself. Living in his house feels like walking about an active minefield. He wishes he could say he feels that his dad tries his best, but he is a pushover. Still, when his parents aren’t fighting, his dad is okay. He's even good to him at times, but he's never good when it counts.
Nagi has to be impassive to get through his days. One slip and the house falls apart. He spent his nights listening to his mother's yelling and his father's bargaining. Soon enough, it became white noise. And at some point, he stopped being scared. He just listened. Sometimes, he questions whether his mother is right. Did he lose his empathy? Shouldn't he be upset?
Some days he imagines waking up to find his parents gone and he smiles for just a second. All of his troubles temporarily go right along with them. On other days, he imagines himself dead. He imagines not waking up in the morning at all and finally feeling at peace in an eternal slumber. His mind is at rest, and his body slowly withers away. He doesn’t believe in a god, nor an afterlife, and somehow that’s comforting to him. Still, whether he dies or his parents disappear doesn’t matter—he just wants out. Out of this situation, of this world. This isn't living. He's in hell.
Then, it happens. Well, not really. He leaves. He doesn't know why. It’s not like their fighting is any worse than usual. He hears his mother drone on about their son being a failure. Maybe he is. Before he can even catch up with his thoughts, his hand is on the handle of the front door. His eyes quickly gloss over the entrance to his parents' bedroom before looking away, turning the knob, and walking out of his house. He doesn't bring anything other than his phone and charger. He might be able to camp out somewhere. Maybe he’ll go to Shouei’s house. He doesn't have much that he needs, anyway. Nagi’s content to wander around and do nothing for the rest of his life if it comes to it. And if he dies from lack of nourishment, he doesn't really mind, either. There’s nothing he wants to do with his life.
Nagi steps out of his house and closes the door. He wonders how long it’ll take his parents to notice he’s gone, though he doesn’t really care. He walks through his neighborhood, the sound of his steps almost like an echo once it reaches his ears. Nagi’s entire body feels as if it’s not truly him controlling it; As if his body is a puppet and his mind is the detached puppeteer, leading him somewhere he'll be safe.
He continues to walk, unknowing of his destination. His feet ache, but his brain hardly registers the pain until he finds himself facing the ocean. The beach is empty, as it usually is at this hour. He stares at the full moon, wondering where the waves would reach without its pull. It looks pretty at night. Undisturbed. Quiet. Everything that Nagi's house is not. He wonders how far he can go before he can no longer touch the ground.
He walks forward. The shock of the water soaking through his shoes not doing much to rid him of whatever cloud of reasoning fogs his brain. It feels nice, somehow. The waves caress his body. They pull him towards something greater. Something more enticing than the life he lives now. He continues walking forward, and the water level seems to rise rapidly. It's nearly to his chest before he fully realizes he's walked so far. He doesn't want to stop. He knows he should, but the ocean is so calm. He walks further. He wonders if there are sharks in the water. In the distance, he thinks he sees a fin. He’s always wanted to see a shark.
If this is how he's meant to die, he'll accept it. He stands in the ocean, staring up at the moon. He feels the gentle current plea for him to continue on. The waves welcome him in. Nagi allows himself to fall beneath the water. It's freezing, he thinks absentmindedly. He'll probably be dead in the morning. When he comes back up, his body floats precariously above the waves. He becomes one with the water. Its waves take the place of his limbs, carrying him along its current. His eyes fall closed. He finally understands what led him here. Back at home, he would listen to the sounds of the ocean to sleep. When his insomnia got the best of him, and the sounds of fighting got too overwhelming, he'd listen to the sounds of simulated waves crashing against the shore, and he’d imagine he was anywhere but home. He imagined he was one of the people rich enough to live on the beach. Someone who worked a fancy job and made six figures and didn't think about death every day. He thinks he could fall asleep like this. It wouldn't be a bad way to go.
A sigh escapes his mouth. Then a gasp. His eyes shoot open and he can vaguely make out another face staring at him with wide eyes. He thinks if he were to be anyone else he would scream, but somehow this feels normal. He blinks at the man, well he thinks it's a man, his eyes fall to the person's chest, which is fully bare. Yeah, definitely a dude.
"Are you okay?" The man asks, voice barely louder than the water surrounding them.
"What?" Nagi asks, unsure of why anyone would be out here. And why they would approach someone who probably looks like a corpse.
"Are you okay?" He repeats again, slower this time.
Nagi just stares, not even sure of his answer.
A groan escapes the man's mouth, and Nagi feels himself being dragged toward the shore. He doesn't find it within himself to care. He does, however, miss the feeling of the water as soon as he's practically thrown back onto the sand. It's a lot colder with the wind hitting his skin.
"Who are you?" He asks, finally finding it within himself to talk.
"Wow, you speak! Thought you'd gone dumb from hypothermia after swimming in the ocean during Autumn!"
"I'm Nagi Seishirou."
"Great, and you almost died," the guy responds, seemingly unimpressed with Nagi's lack of explanation. "I'm Reo."
Nagi glances down at where the other's legs should be, instead coming face to face with a tail, "You're a mermaid?"
As if this is news to him, Reo's eyes widen just a fraction, looking ready to run— well, swim away.
"Wait," Nagi reaches forward, taking a hold of his wrist. He doesn't know why he does. He has a bit of a guess, which is the fact that the guy in front of him is a fucking mermaid. Or maybe he is some weirdo who likes to put on a tail and swim around at 2 in the morning. Either way, Nagi is curious. When's the last time something's interested him?
"What?" Reo asks, eyes fleeting from side to side.
"Are you really a mermaid, like from the movies and stuff?" Nagi conjures up an image of the mermaids he's seen in fiction. They're always portrayed differently. He thought they'd look more fish-like than anything, but now he's face to face with one, and he realizes he genuinely looks like any other human. Aside from the, you know, entire lower half of his body.
Nagi watches as the other snorts at his questions, shoulders slightly shaking with laughter. "Like from the movies'?" he teases, "I haven’t seen any of the movies or whatever, but I’m sure mermaids came before someone decided to make movies about us."
"Wow, this is so cool, do you always look like this? Can you change forms? I wonder if the movies are accurate." Nagi doesn't think he's said this many words all at once in years.
Reo's eyebrows furrow at the barrage of questions before he shakes his head with a chuckle, "I’m not exactly sure what you mean, but yeah, I'm always like this. Why would I change forms?"
Nagi places a hand on the back of his neck and looks away, a little embarrassed, “I mean, in some shows mermaids can, like, dry off and become human…”
Reo laughs, this time a full-bodied laugh, and raises an eyebrow at Nagi curiously. “I’m not sure how that would scientifically work, but it’s interesting.”
“Yeah…”
They sit in silence for a few seconds, Nagi in awe of the creature in front of him and Reo seemingly amused by the situation, his lips quirked up ever so slightly.
“Why are you out here, anyway?” Reo questions, breaking the silence. “Have a death wish or something?”
“Uhm,” Nagi freezes, unsure of what to say. “I just needed a breather?”
“And you do that by drowning?” Reo asks incredulously.
“Wasn’t my intent...”
Reo nods slowly. “Okay, well you should be more careful, then.”
“What about you?” Nagi asks.
“Huh?” Reo’s eyebrows scrunch together, confused by the question.
“Why are you…up here?” Nagi clarifies, vaguely gesturing to the shore.
“Oh.” Reo looks away and then back with a small smile, but something about it seems off. If Nagi was better with emotions maybe he could put his finger on it. “I like to get away sometimes.”
“From what?”
“My parents,” Reo says. His voice comes out quieter than it did before.
“Oh.” Somehow he didn’t think mermaids would have issues like that, but apparently even the life of a mermaid isn’t a fantasy.
“Sorry,” Reo apologizes, smiling awkwardly. “That kinda hurt the mood.”
“No. I came here to get away from my parents, too,” Nagi explains.
Reo’s eyes seem to light up, “You did?”
“Yeah?” Nagi feels insecure under the weight of Reo’s gaze. He’s the one fully dressed and somehow he feels he’s laid himself bare.
“Hm,” Reo looks Nagi up and down. “You’re interesting.”
Interesting? That’s a first. He’s standing in front of a mermaid right now, and somehow he— the person who lives his life only completing the basic functions required to survive— is the interesting one. Nagi thinks this might be the first exciting event in his otherwise monotonous and tedious routine. Meeting a mermaid is surely the most interesting thing about his life, or about him in general.
“Why?” When’s the last time someone has made him so curious?
“You just are.” Reo shrugs before quickly looking behind him. His eyes seem to scan for something in the distance. After a few seconds, he turns around to face Nagi once again. “I have to go, but come back here tomorrow, okay?”
Did he have to leave so soon? He has so much more to ask him. Nagi tilts his head but ultimately nods, “Okay…”
“Good. Oh, and don’t tell anybody, okay?” A smile graces Reo’s face, “Bye now, Nagi.”
Nagi watches as Reo goes. Body dipping under the water with his tail following soon after. For a moment, he wonders if he’s hallucinating, but the ripples of water as Reo swims away remind him that he’s really here.
“Bye, Reo.”