Work Text:
Fujimoto was tired.
It was the middle of the night, and all he could think about was how long the darkness had been pervading the world. The moon was gone, the stars invisible for the blinding street lamp above his head. The night was cold, bitterly cold, and no amount of bundling in his coat fortified him against the frigid ocean winds. He let out a shivering sigh as he gazed up at the sky with a bitter, angry scowl.
Pathetic.
The sidewalk was cool against his cheek. He had no blanket, no sleep, and the night was only getting colder. He couldn't go home.
He shook at the thought, at the images seared into his eyelids from earlier that night. Shouting noises, his father raising that stupid fucking beer bottle, his mother's cowering frame...And then his father leaving, walking out. And his mother, limp and bleeding on the floor, barely breathing, but breathing enough. And he'd just- he'd just left her there.
No. He couldn't go home. What was there to go back to?
The air grew colder. He could see his breath in an icy fog in front of his face. It was a strange sensation. Fujimoto could feel the cold physically - his fingertips and face felt each sting of each microscopic icicle in the chilling ocean wind - but inside, he felt nothing. It was like the heat of his anger at life hadn't thawed his body, and he was just...
just numb.
He looked up at the sky again, searching for the moon's silhouette, wondering of his mother was alright. Probably not. She'd probably died because he left. He couldn't go back to her after he abandoned her. And his father didn't care about either of them. He loved his drink and his sex, and there was no room in his heart for either his wife or son. Fujimoto couldn't forgive him for that. He was no father. He never wanted to see that man again.
But who else could he see? What was there to go back to?
He glanced around, wincing against the cold, as more and more of that dreadful grey spread throughout his body. There was nothing. Nothing to go back to, nothing to move forward for, no purpose. There was nothing.
Fujimoto searched the sky one more time. The moon was gone. She wasn't coming back. No one was.
Neither was he.
He stood, squinting against the street lamp above his head, and scowled. Maybe if it weren't for this godforsaken city, the stars would give him something to live for, something to look at. But there was never a chance to see them, not with all that was wrong with this place. Everything overshadowed the beauty of nature. The pollution of man destroyed everything good.
He glanced toward the bridge, and the numbness overtook his body.
He began walking, step by freezing step, toward the bridge. The night was cold. Hardly any cars were here. Good. Perhaps that was a positive sign. Maybe he was doing the right thing.
As he walked along the sidewalk of the bridge, glancing down at the water, Fujimoto wondered. He wondered why such beauty was so easily tainted. Why had the world been allowed to reach this point? The ocean had blackened like a bruise, throbbing and crying out for help. He felt pity for the nature around him and guilt for his helplessness. How could he save anything? Man had ruined all that was beautiful.
His hand grazed the metal bridge rail gently. The shock of the cold metal ran through his body, igniting some of the sparks dulled by the coldness inside and outside him. He let out a soft huff. The coldness of nature, he could handle. But the bitterness of man's amplification of pain...he couldn't fight against that. He was helpless. He couldn't do anything to stop the bridge rail from growing colder than he was.
How could he save anything?
His mother laying on the floor of the kitchen, bleeding out from glass cuts. How could he save anything?
Fujimoto reached the peak of the bridge, gazing down into the blackish-blue water. The foam of the sea frothed into bubbly grids, outlining each scar of the winds and waves. It was enchanting even as it was haunting. It called to him and warned him. The siren song of the ocean, crying for help and crying for comfort and crying a warning to turn away while he still could.
He stepped up onto the railing, unafraid to slip. He could hear wheels approaching, could see the headlights of a vehicle coming his way. He would be heartless to jump now. He could spare them the pain of witnessing his pathetic light flickering out.
His heart was pounding, but he felt at peace. He couldn't disappoint or fail anyone ever again. His mother would never have to look her son in the eye as the man who could have saved her and never did.
He could hear someone yelling from inside the approaching car, could hear the car come to a screeching halt, the cries of the woman leaving the car and telling him to come down from the ledge, that it would be okay, that they could talk things out, and he just had to get down from there. He felt a pang of something. The woman almost sounded like his mother.
Fujimoto took a step out onto nothing.
How could he save anyone?
How could anyone save him?
Somebody save him, please-
He hit the water and he felt nothing but cold and pervasive darkness. He felt himself travel down, down, farther and farther until he knew there was no way for him to reach the surface in time even if he wanted to. The water was impossible to see through. His eyes were wide, searching the sea for something, anything to ground himself to.
His heart was pounding in his chest. He had a heart. He was alive, still alive, still in the ocean that hadn't really died yet. Maybe he could save things, maybe he could do something with his life-
what life.
He was dead already, floating as a carcass in the ocean. And yet he was in pain. Why was he in pain? His chest hurt from the air he was scared to release, knowing it was the last air he'd feel in his lungs.
He was scared.
He was scrambling for the surface, unable to see it without the moon's light reflecting off the surface of the water. He was falling, slowly, arms waving in slow motion. He was dead already.
He closed his eyes, panic setting in. Dead already.
He was floating. He was nothing. Dead already.
And yet....
And yet he felt warm. He never thought death would feel warm, like a hand holding you in its palm, breathing life into you even as you released your final breath.
Fujimoto opened his eyes, and he let out a startled cough as water flowed out of his lungs. The ocean was alight around him, and it was glowing like the moon itself had gone liquid and flooded his senses, and he could breathe.
More importantly, he was being held in the hand of a giant woman.
He let out a startled cry, scrambling away from her, terror seizing his lungs as he coughed up more and more salt water. The woman holding him in her hands was staring at him gently, a look of pity and intrigue in her eyes. She was beautiful. He stared back at her, wishing he could shrink away but unable to. He stared at her, and he felt very, very small.
"Fujimoto," she murmured, and it was like the heavens themself had been given voice. Fujimoto had never heard his name said with such grace, such tenderness, such beauty.
"Who- who are you?" he stammered, staring at her helplessly, terror striking into his heart even as he was cradled like a china doll. His heart was pounding, and he'd never felt so alive. It was primitive, the fear inside him. "Let go- let go of me!" He squirmed in her hand violently.
"I am Granmamare," she answered gently, looking at Fujimoto with such a tenderhearted pity that he stilled instantly. And yet, the name struck a new chord in his heart. He knew who she was. She was the goddess of mercy.
He'd been granted mercy.
"Why have you left your world?" she asked softly, tipping her head and bringing Fujimoto closer to her. He stared up at her, tears falling from his cheeks at the realization of it all. The goddess of mercy took pity on him. The queen of the ocean was cradling him in her hand. He couldn't bow, he couldn't pray, he could only answer her questions and face the reality of his foolishness.
"There- there is nothing for me in that world anymore, oh great Granmamare," he spluttered, tears running down his face as the shame crashed through the numbness in his heart. He was mortified. He was given mercy because he'd tried to take his own life, and the goddess of mercy knew that and was looking at him and holding him like the most precious thing in the world, and it was just so much to handle.
"Oh my dear Fujimoto," she sighed piteously. Gently, she brought Fujimoto close to her face, embracing him comfortingly as a tear fell from her face.
Fujimoto gasped, heart pounding as he felt more tears running down his face. He felt ashamed, and he looked away as he cried harder, sobs racking through his body. He hadn't really meant to do anything wrong, he didn't want to be in trouble, he just wanted to be done with everything. He didn't mean for her to take pity on him. He didn't mean to, honest.
"Shhh, rest your eyes, my dear," she whispered, and in an instant Fujimoto was drifting into a sleep-like trance, tears still falling of their own accord but pain absent from his chest suddenly like a weight lifted that he didn't realize he was holding.
The light faded from his sight as he fell into a deep sleep, and he fought his fear and shame.
When he woke again, Fujimoto was lying on a boat. His boat. He gasped, scrambling upward and looking around frantically. The horizon around him was bare, the waves calm, the sky cloudless. The stars gazed down on him, and the wind blew with a pleasant warmth. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he was dry already.
He looked beneath him. The boat seemed functional enough, but the engine was off, and the water around him was unobscured by the boat, as if it wasn't there at all.
Fujimoto stared at his hands, stared out into the sea. Had it been a dream, then? Or had he never truly been saved? Was his mercy...
Was his mercy death?
He let out a breath, looking around him at the ocean surrounding his boat. The water was beautiful and blue, untainted by the harsh expulsions of ships or the fumes of cars or the litter of man. He could see down dozens of feet despite the darkness of the night. Fish swam through the water, healthy and vibrant, and he could almost see anemones growing on coral shelves close to the ocean floor.
Fujimoto lay on his stomach, hanging his head over the edge of the boat to look farther down into the ocean's beauty. It was so alive, so gorgeous. He'd never seen ocean life this vibrant and active. This, this is what the ocean was supposed to be, not the black and blue mass around his town. If these were the waters of heaven, he was content to die. Why, this ocean was practically glowing.
The dull illumination of the sea grew brighter and brighter, until Fujimoto could have sworn he saw it moving toward him, a figure or silhouette of moonlight. His heart raced as the light drew closer, and he sat up quickly from the edge of his boat. The light flowed beneath his boat, igniting the sea around him in a swath of pale blue, almost white light. The fish swarmed excitedly, drawn almost magnetically to the giant figure of light beneath the boat.
Fujimoto scrambled back so he was in the center of the front deck of the boat, as far away from the ocean as he could be. He watched the light swarm to the front of his boat, and then it emerged from the water, and Fujimoto was faced once again with that beautiful woman. Granmamare.
He fell to his face immediately, bowing reverently before the goddess of mercy. "Oh great and merciful Granmamare," he called out shakily. "I-I am humbled by your presence."
"Please, my dear Fujimoto, rise," she murmured, voice low and silky. Fujimoto immediately stood, head lowered, peeking out timidly from behind his scruffy bangs. He was terrified to look her in the eye. He was in the presence of a goddess - standing felt like sacrilege. He gripped his pant legs in tight fists, trying to control his breathing.
A soft, cloud-like chuckle fell from Granmamare's lips as she leaned forward. The boat shook as she cupped it in her hands. Fujimoto yelped, flapping his arms out for balance before pinning them back to his sides self-consciously. He could feel the goddess's eyes observing him gently, curiously, lovingly.
"Why does my presence humble you?" she asked, tipping her head gently to the side. It was like she was studying him, but when he glanced at her eyes, she held no true curiosity, only a patient wonder. She was not asking because she did not know; she was asking because she wondered if Fujimoto knew the answer. He swallowed hard, insides feeling all hot and uncomfortable.
"Because you granted me mercy when I did nothing to deserve it," he answered timidly, voice shaking. "And- and how can I stand here and give you nothing in return?"
Granmamare hummed silkily, leaning forward farther, reaching a hand out and gently cupping Fujimoto in her hand. He let out a faint helpless sound, almost a whimper, as her warm golden light engulfed him. He scrunched himself up, wanting to be smaller, to avoid this unconditional grace she had bestowed upon him. He didn't deserve it, he didn't deserve any of this.
"Fujimoto, you have already given me enough. There is no material thing you can offer me that would mean as much as what you've already given me," she murmured, rubbing her thumb gently over his head, ruffling his shaggy chin-length hair.
He opened his mouth to ask what he possibly could have given her, he hadn't even done anything but tried to take his own life, but she smiled at him and he was melting in her hand. "Shh, say nothing, my dear," she cooed. "The most you can do for me now is to keep living. Life is a beautiful thing; your life is a beautiful thing."
"But my lady," Fujimoto stammered. "My life, it is nothing but pain and- and I help no one and mean nothing to anyone! My father hates me and my m- my mother, she-"
And then the hand was gone and Fujimoto was instead engulfed in a warm, bright embrace. He took a sharp breath, staggering backwards as Granmamare held him, now just barely taller than him. The transformatino was sudden and disorienting, but suddenly her hands were cradling the back of his head and he was crying into her arms.
"Shhh, I know, my dear Fujimoto," Granmamare murmured, her voice soothing and piteous and full of such compassion that Fujimoto's tears only intensified. He clenched his fists at his sides, afraid to touch the goddess even as she clutched him to herself like he was her own child.
And then all he could think of was his mother and her bleeding frame and her home cooking and the warmth of her embraces, and then Fujimoto was clinging to Granmamare as if letting her go would kill her. He was lost in the sea of his tears, and this goddess was his anchor. His body was racked with sobs as he buried his face in her shoulder. He clung to her tightly. Her skin was warm and smooth. It was as though he was feeling her skin from underwater.
It felt like sacrilege to know these things. It felt like sacrilege to know the touch of a goddess. And yet...
And yet, in this moment, it was the touch of a friend, of his mother, of mercy, of love.
So Fujimoto let himself cry, let himself hold her, let himself be held by this embodiment of mercy. And he was cradled by her, loved by her, revered by her, even as he melted into a pathetic pile of tears and pity. She held him together. She had strength enough for him to weaken completely, and still they did not fall.
It was a long time before his tears finally dried on his face. Fujimoto did not want to let go of her. To let go of Granmamare felt like letting go of life, of beauty. He had already cast it away that night. He was reluctant to make that mistake again.
To his dismay, Granmamare pulled away gently, looking down at him slightly. With one hand, she cupped his face and gently whiped a tear away with her thumb. He looked up at her reverently, his mouth thinning into a nervous line. Despite the vulnerability on both their parts, he felt a mild terror in his soul as he looked at her.
"Fujimoto, you must promise me you will live on," she commanded gently. There was no sharpness to her speech, but there was no room for argument. He knew in his soul that he had to keep living. If he didn't, he would be disappointing Granmamare. He would rather die than disappoint her.
"I will, but-" Fujimoto paused, wondering if he could request anything of a goddess. He had already received salvation - perhaps that should have been enough of a favor.
Granmamare tilted his face ever so slightly upwards with the hand still on his cheek, tipping her head in a silent request for him to continue. Fujimoto's legs felt like jelly. "But can- can I ask a question?"
"You may," she granted, giving him a soft smile as her hand held its place on his cheek. He nodded, taking a breath, averting his eyes as he gathered the courage to ask her this question. He had to know, he had to understand, or he would be back on the bridge tomorrow night, convinced this had all been an all-too-wonderful dream.
"Why did you save me?" he asked, furrowing his brow fervently. He had to know. What about him had caught her attention? What made him deserve this unconditional mercy?
The question hung between them. Why him?
Granmamare smiled, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Fujimoto's cheek. He let out a small sound, eyes widening as his whole body tensed at the touch. He tried not to concentrate on the fact that he had just been kissed by a goddess, and instead focused on her expression, her coming words.
"Because you asked me to," she answered with a soft smile. "Even if you did not realize, something inside you called to me. I heard it across the ocean. Not many have the courage in their hearts to ask for salvation. And yet, you did."
"But I don't understand," Fujimoto whispered, shaking his head. "I tried to take my own life. I didn't want salvation, I wanted to die!"
Granmamare's smile did not waver, but a sadness crept into her eyes as she gazed at him. "Oh my dear Fujimoto," she whispered, clutching him to her again in a warm embrace. "No you didn't. You wanted to live a different life."
Fujimoto stared out into the sea around them, clinging to Granmamare once again. The embrace was a shorter one, but he relished the feeling of being surrounded by her once again. When they parted, she pressed another soft kiss to his forehead, holding his face in both of her delicate hands. "I saved you because you wanted the opportunity to live another life. I have granted that wish. Now, please."
Granmamare brushed the hair away from Fujimoto's face. "Live another day. For me."
Before he could answer, Granmamare pressed a kiss to his open lips, and then he was back on the sidewalk under the street lamp.
He raised a trembling hand to his lips.
It was so clear to him now. Everything that had happened, that was a different life. When he jumped from that bridge, he had ended his life, and Granmamare had given him a new one, a better one, one that was his to control and his to live out. He could make a difference, he could save others the way he'd been saved. He didn't know how, he didn't know why or what he would do, but he knew he could.
He had another day to live. Another life to live.
Another life to love.