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Geto never believed in myths. He was the kind of person who kept his feet firmly planted on the ground, skeptical of anything that couldn’t be explained rationally. But as he walked along the coast that evening, with the cool ocean breeze against his skin, he found himself thinking about the legend his history teacher had recounted earlier in class—the legend of the white-haired merman with the piercing blue eyes. Supposedly, the merman had powers that could control the water, bending it to his will, making it glow, freeze, and change shape. The townspeople had named him "Gojo," which roughly meant "five powers"—an unimaginative name for something so extraordinary.
Geto had laughed along with the rest of the class, brushing it off as one of the many stories that old towns had, meant to keep kids in line or scare off curious wanderers. But now, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sea in shades of pink and orange, Geto couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it than just a tale.
He wasn’t supposed to be this far along the coast. His house was in the opposite direction, but somehow, he had gotten lost in his thoughts and wandered further than usual. When he finally stopped to look around, the landscape was unfamiliar—rugged rocks and untouched sand, far from the well-trodden paths he knew. He sighed and turned to head back when a soft sound caught his attention.
A hum. Low and melodic, blending with the sound of the waves. It was haunting, beautiful, and completely out of place. Geto’s heart skipped a beat as he scanned the shoreline, and that’s when he saw him.
Sitting on a rock near the water’s edge was a man—or at least, that’s what he appeared to be at first glance. White hair gleamed in the fading light, contrasting sharply with his pale skin. His eyes—bright, captivating blue—were fixed on Geto with an intensity that made him freeze in place. And then there was his tail, shimmering in shades of silver and blue, the unmistakable sign that he wasn’t human at all.
The merman.
The legend.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Geto’s breath caught in his throat, and his mind raced, torn between disbelief and awe. The merman, Gojo, broke the silence first.
“Well, well. Looks like I’ve finally found you.” His voice was smooth, teasing, with an undercurrent of something deeper, something that sent a shiver down Geto’s spine.
Geto blinked, trying to find his voice. “Found me? What are you talking about?”
Gojo smiled, and it was a smile that was both playful and knowing, as if he had all the answers and was simply waiting for Geto to catch up. “It’s not every day you meet your soulmate, you know. I’ve been waiting for this moment for… well, longer than you’d think.”
“Excuse me?” Geto finally managed to say, taking a step back. “Soulmate? That’s… no. I don’t know who you are, but this is insane.”
Gojo tilted his head, his smile never faltering. “Is it really? You’re here, aren’t you? You heard my voice. Felt the pull. You might not want to admit it yet, but we’re connected. It’s fate.”
Geto scoffed, though his heart was racing. “Fate? You sound ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” Gojo conceded with a shrug, “but that doesn’t make it any less true.”
There was a pause, the tension thick between them. Geto felt like he should walk away, laugh this off like the legend it was supposed to be, but something kept him rooted to the spot. His rational mind told him to leave, but his gut—his heart—whispered something else entirely.
“You expect me to just… believe you? Just like that?” Geto asked, crossing his arms defensively.
Gojo chuckled softly, sliding off the rock and into the water with an effortless grace that only made him seem more ethereal. He swam closer, but not too close, keeping a respectful distance as his eyes—those impossibly blue eyes—remained locked on Geto’s.
“I don’t expect you to believe me right away,” Gojo said, his voice gentle now, as if he understood the weight of what he was asking. “But I want you to give me a chance. I’ve waited a long time to meet you, and I’m not going to force anything. Just… talk to me. Get to know me. That’s all I ask.”
Geto hesitated. Everything about this situation was beyond reason, but there was a sincerity in Gojo’s eyes, something that made him stop and reconsider. He didn’t seem like the kind of creature from the stories—seductive and dangerous, leading sailors to their deaths. He seemed… real. Vulnerable, even, despite his confident exterior.
“I… don’t know,” Geto admitted, feeling the weight of his uncertainty. “This is all too much.”
Gojo nodded, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I get it. Really, I do. But I’m not going anywhere. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”
Geto opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. Instead, he just stood there for a moment longer, watching Gojo, before turning and walking away, his mind spinning.
---
Days passed, and despite his best efforts, Geto found himself returning to the same spot by the coast, again and again. Each time, Gojo was there, waiting for him with a smile that was equal parts amused and patient. They would talk—about the ocean, about life, about the legend that surrounded Gojo and his family. Slowly, Geto began to realize that there was much more to the merman than the myth.
Gojo wasn’t just some magical creature with powers beyond comprehension. He was a person—a person with thoughts, dreams, fears, and desires. He was charming, witty, and surprisingly vulnerable at times, especially when he spoke about the isolation that came with being what he was. Despite his confidence, there was a loneliness in him that resonated with Geto, a loneliness that he hadn’t expected to find in someone so seemingly larger than life.
And slowly, Geto found himself softening. It wasn’t something that happened overnight, but as the days turned into weeks, he began to look forward to their conversations. He began to look forward to seeing Gojo’s smile, hearing his laugh, feeling the easy camaraderie that had formed between them. There was a warmth to it, a connection that felt… right, even if Geto still struggled to wrap his mind around the idea of soulmates.
One evening, as the sun set and painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, Geto sat on the sand beside Gojo, their conversations having turned quieter, more comfortable with the passing of time.
“You know,” Gojo said softly, his voice carrying over the sound of the waves, “I wasn’t sure you’d ever come back after that first day.”
Geto glanced at him, surprised by the admission. “Really? You seemed pretty confident.”
Gojo chuckled, running a hand through his wet hair. “Oh, I was. But I was still nervous. You’re different, Geto. I knew from the moment I saw you. But I wasn’t sure if you’d ever see me the same way.”
Geto looked down at his hands, feeling a strange mixture of emotions. He hadn’t expected to get this close to Gojo. He hadn’t expected to feel anything beyond confusion and disbelief. But now, sitting here, with the ocean stretching out before them and Gojo’s presence beside him, he felt… something. Something undeniable.
“I don’t know if I believe in soulmates,” Geto said quietly, his words almost lost in the sound of the surf. “But I do believe in… whatever this is.”
Gojo turned to him, his blue eyes softening, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence between them—heavy, meaningful silence.
“Whatever this is,” Gojo echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. He reached out then, hesitantly, as if asking for permission, and Geto, after a brief pause, let him. Gojo’s fingers brushed against Geto’s, cool and soft, and that simple touch sent a warmth spreading through Geto’s chest.
It wasn’t a grand declaration, or a sudden epiphany. It was slow, like the tide rising steadily along the shore, inevitable in its own way. And as they sat there, hand in hand, the unspoken truth settled between them.
Maybe Geto wasn’t ready to admit it yet. Maybe he still needed time to fully understand what it meant. But as he looked into Gojo’s eyes—those impossibly blue eyes that had once seemed so alien and now felt so familiar—he knew one thing for certain:
He didn’t want to leave.