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The siren in the dark water
Minoru was often left unsupervised beyond the eyes of the village mothers. He didn’t much think they liked him, always whispering among themselves that he was a wicked and devilish boy, but he found he didn’t mind.
His mother always told him to stay within the village circle, where all the young ones were told to stay or else they’d be carried off by all manor of creatures, but Mineta had never found reason to fear the beyond. Today he was bored, so bored even the ants seemed to be moving in slow motion. The older kids of the village shook off his attempts to follow and his big sisters just shooed him away.
“Why can’t I play?” He asked his older sister closest in age. Jirou sighed, ruffling his wild curls their mother only tamed through tight knobs of hair. They were free for now due to his hasty escape that morning before she could tame them, and it made him look like all the mess he was.
“You’re too little, Noru. Go play by yourself.” She turned him around by his little shoulders and pushed him towards the fields. The men rolling and planting always jeered at his little size, that he’d never be able to be a proper man, but sometimes they were nice enough to let him pick up and keep the spare grain that had fallen from their baskets. His mother always appreciated the extra food for the many mouths she had to feed.
He knew Jirou often skipped out on her sewing and baking to an unknown place. He’d asked her before if she was a witch, but she’d just shushed him something awful and told him to never speak such lies again, lest he get one of them hurt. He hadn’t asked since, but he often wondered.
He gave her a hug before departing, tripping over the dusty ground with his bare feet so hardened by the ground he forewent shoes. His mother always scolded him, shaking her head and calling him ‘Little Devil’ like she always had done. He know his mother loved him, but she was a lonely and tired woman.
The older boys of the village had gathered in the field to help their fathers, curling their lips at the young boy who ran up. Many of the children of the village, most all much older and with no time for little kids, didn’t like him much. They absorbed their parents distrust.
(He’d heard his mother once cry to his oldest sister, wondering aloud if a place in the village would exist for her boy once the new generation took their parents place, or if he was doomed to be exiled. He wasn’t old enough to know what it meant yet.)
“You aren’t needed here, devil child.” An older boy spoke down at him, eyeing his dusty little cheeks and dirty feet. “You’ll only get in the way.”
Minoru didn’t listen, he never did. Minoru lived in his own little world beyond their hate and prejudice, and in this world his only focus was the spare grain. He began to scurry about like the mouse he was, looking for pieces missed by last harvest. If they were no longer good he’d make a broom to sweep the porch like mum did each morning. He was sure she’d appreciate the help.
“Listen to your elders wicked boy!” Another boy jeered, giving the frail boy a shove.
Minoru had been born small, a babe so tiny and weak the midwife told his mother to say her goodbyes as he wouldn’t make the night. Minoru was never supposed to live, and sometimes the villagers seemed to blame him for proving them wrong. He never seemed to grow, but he was alive, and surely it was the work of the devil himself.
His size also meant he went flying from a shove that would only make a boy his age stumble, and he fell face first into freshly tilled earth.
His fingers sank into wetted dirt where new seeds had just been planted, eyes screwed shut against stinging dirt he tried to rub away, only making his eyes burn worse. A wail built in his throat, eyes growing wet with fat tears that rolled down and left tracks of pale skin on his muddy face.
“Get lost little devil.” The oldest boy said once again, and Minoru left them behind. Older kids were mean. He wanted his sister, she always hugged him despite her exasperation with his ways and would surely clean him up before his mother could scold him for dirtying his clothes again. He didn’t know where she had went off too, but he knew she’d gone towards the creek to gather the herbs that grew there.
Technically the creek was outside of the circle, but most older kids went off to fish or gather around its banks. He was too small to go alone, but he’d be careful.
He reached the bank of the creek after running for far too long, dipping his muddy hands in the cool rushing water and scrubbing his wet hands against his muddy cheeks. He sniffled, feeling very alone.
He was startled from his pity by a hum. It reminded of his mother, how she’d hold him to her chest and hum him a lullaby in her grandfathers language when he was a babe. It filled him with warmth.
He followed the hum, humming along with it as he climbed over gnarled roots and mossy rocks until the water grew dark and thick. Minoru hadn’t known the creek fed into a bog, but he did now! The water was muddy and brown, with lily pads and reeds that grew taller than him. It was like a magical place, with little frogs and fish that darted from the surface with swishes of little tails. The branches above shielded this place from the sun and light, long spanish moss hanging down like curtains around him. Deep in his heart he knew this was a place no other kid from the village had ever seen.
A girl sat on a tree stump protruding from the muddy water, knees drawn to her chest as she hummed a song that rang with loneliness. Mineta knew he wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers, but this girl was sad!
She was surely older than him, a head taller with green hair that laid across her shoulders and down her back into the water where it became indiscernible from the silky algae. Her hands were large and green, much like a frogs as they gripped her boney green knees. In fact, she was largely green, up to her neck where she had skin like his, if paler.
“I love your song!” He yelled, and with a loud splash the girl disappeared.
Oh, he must have scared her.
“I’m sorry.” He said, sitting on the bank and rubbing his eyes where the mud had started to dry. “I didn’t mean to.”
Eyes watched him from the water of murky depth, sharp and curious.
He watched all the frogs that had been resting on lily pads and on the bank jump into the water and bury themselves in the muck, silencing the croaking that had before surrounded him. It left him alone with only the sound of his own sniffling.
The inky water rippled and he stepped closer to the edge of the bank, wandering if the girl would come up for air. He didn’t know how to swim yet, there was no water beyond the creek and well in their village and baths were short and he was always last because he was the dirtiest of all his siblings, so he had to be careful.
With that thought a green hand wrapped around his ankle, and he tripped into the black water below.
The water was cold as night, stinging his eyes and nose and throat, dragging him deeper than the water should go. He felt hands on him and felt relief through the panic, help! He wrapped his tiny arms around a slimy torso and held his breath.
They breathed the surface with a crash, his tiny body hitting the muddy bank before he coughed and gagged up the disgusting water. The girl, who was definitely a frog of some sort, was perched next to him.
“T-thanks.” He choked out, sure to be polite just as mother taught him. The girl tilted her head, telling out a croak.
“Just who are you?” She asked with a ribbit, brushing stringy wet hair from his eyes.
“I’m Minoru!” He managed once he stopped coughing, now covered in pond scum over the mud from before. “Are you a seerin?” His mother used to tell him stories about a place called the ocean, a far away place where water existed for longer than he could imagine, where grand boats carried people and supplies. He’d never seen a boat, but the men who brought supplies back from long journeys had such tales.
Mother told him about beautiful women who lured sailors into the water with beautiful songs.
The girl looked startled, shuffling back so she could crouch in the mucky water, now stirred up from his fall.
“A siren? Why would you think that?”
“You’re a pretty lady who sings pretty songs, and you live in the water!” He was proud of himself for figuring it out, rubbing muck from his face and missing the girl’s confused blinking and the slight pink on her cheeks.
“I’m a river nymph who guards this swamp, you aren’t supposed to be here, Minoru.” Her voice was gentle and nice, even as she glared into the dark woods around them. Minoru was used to being told he didn’t belong places, so it didn’t mean much.
“That’s cool! Are you part frog?” He watched as frogs of all sizes, but none nearly as big as her, poked their heads out of the muck. He’d always loved frogs, especially their funny eyes. He liked to blink back at them and copy their noises. Toads were cool too, even if he didn’t know the difference between them yet.
The girl blinked at him, and he blinked back.
“I guess you could say so?” She finally answered him, looking at her webbed hands and feet.
“That’s cool, I love frogs! Do you eat bugs? How old are you? Can we be friends?” He prattled on, jumping from one question to the other as he sat on the bank. He hoped she wanted to be friends, he didn’t have any of those yet! Some of the village kids didn’t act mean and his siblings loved him, but he wanted a real friend his age he could play with! He bet she knew lots of cool frog person games she could teach him!
“…I do sometimes, I’m older than I look, and I don’t know. You don’t even know my name or what I am.” She looked away from him, that sadness returning.
“What’s your name then?” He asked, folding his hands in his lap and trying not to fidget.
“You can call me Tsuyu or Tsu.” She croaked. Somewhere deep in his heart he knew that wasn’t her real name, but he didn’t mind using a nickname if she wanted. Maybe it was a second name like Mineta was his.
“Nice to meet you Tsu! We can be friends now?” He was eager to make a friend and chase away her sadness, and maybe it would chase away some of his own too! She still seemed reluctant, but nodded.
“Great, can we play a game?”
They ended up playing a searching game, calling out an item and both hunting for it, but the thing kept being frogs and the frogs liked Tsu better, so they ended up chasing one another through the bog. She had a pretty laugh, hopping after him as he shrieked and darted around. He was absolutely filthy with black mud and green algae, but the frog girl looked the same even after diving through the mud, so not fair!
“I like you Tsu, I hope we’re friends forever.” He told her when they took a break, his tummy starting to rumble making him wish he’d brought a snack. Tsu offered him half the fish she was eating, but he wasn’t supposed to eat it raw. Tsu also had super sharp teeth that easily crunched the bones up, while he just had baby teeth.
“I’m sure we will be.” She smiled back at him, pink watery blood dripping down her chin and yellow eyes glowing.
“Noru! Noru where are you?” He heard his sister calling from beyond the thick brush that hid the bog. He stood hurriedly, only for a sticky hand to wrap around his arm.
“You have to go?” She asked, her sadness returning and her grip tight as she looked towards where his sister’s voice had come from.
“Yeah, or else Mama might be mad. I’ll come back though! I don’t have any other friends!” He smiled, patting her mucus-y hand lovingly. She laughed, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek that made him turn pink.
“You better. Here.” She handed him a few rocks, watching his face light up in joy before she disappeared with a splash and his sister poked her head through the thick brush.
“Minoru! Get out this instant! You are filthy!” He followed her out, still staring at his speckled river rocks in wonder as she pulled his clothes off to bathe him in the river, muttering about his wickedness as she scrubbed his clothes.
Minoru spent the time carried back to the house telling his sister about the frog girl he’d met and how she’d given him rocks. She just sighed, shaking her head at his imagination and sending him in the house while she hung his clothes on the line.
Oh what a wicked boy he was.