Chapter Text
Chapter 1
The sun hung low over the endless horizon, golden light dancing like fire across the rippling ocean. It looked almost as if the sky itself was melting into the sea—an eternal moment of breathless beauty. Waves lapped lazily against the shore, brushing against scattered shells and forgotten footprints.
A ripple broke the surface.
Droplets scattered like diamonds as a pair of luminous blue eyes slowly opened beneath the water, catching the light like polished crystal. Their gaze, unblinking and wide, stared upward toward the glimmering veil above. Reflections shimmered in those eyes—reflections of a world just out of reach.
A head emerged, crowned with fiery ginger hair that spilled over pale shoulders in wet strands, gleaming like molten copper kissed by starlight. The colors of the sea and the sky paled in comparison. The boy rose from the water with a gentle grace, water sliding down his frame as though reluctant to let go.
Blue-green scales caught the sunlight for a brief, dazzling moment before vanishing under soft, peach-toned skin. Where once fins shimmered, there were now bare legs. He stepped onto the sand with quiet wonder, each grain warm against the soles of his feet. Black, slim yoga pants clung to his legs, soaked but soft. A loosely fitting white blouse floated around him, fluttering in the sea breeze, clinging in places to his damp frame.
Behind him, laughter echoed from the water—a couple, still swimming, oblivious to the fact that their clothing, once folded neatly on the sand, had vanished.
The boy didn’t look back.
He took a step forward, then another. His walk was cautious at first, as if unsure whether the world would accept him, whether the ground would hold. But as the wind gently tugged at his blouse and the sun dipped lower into the sea, a quiet strength grew inside him.
He began walking beside the road, leaving the ocean behind. Each step forward was a step away from something ancient, something calling. A dull ache pulsed in his chest—a tug from the sea, an instinctive voice whispering that he did not belong here. That he was leaving too soon. But he didn’t stop. The further he walked, the quieter that voice became. Not gone. Just... fainter.
He didn’t know how long he walked. It felt like half a purple bubble’s time—an odd measure only he would understand, though he couldn't quite explain it himself. The sky turned indigo, stars peeking out shyly one by one.
Then, a light.
Blinding, harsh, unlike the soft glow of the sea. He flinched, raising a hand over his eyes as a deep growl echoed nearby. A strange metal creature, all sharp edges and hollow roars, pulled up beside him and stopped with a hiss.
A man stepped out.
The boy took an instinctive step back. The man’s voice cut through the air, concerned and quick, but the boy only caught pieces. His ears were still filled with the hush of the sea, muffling everything. It took a few moments before his senses adjusted.
“What are you doing out here all alone? Did you get lost?” the man asked, concern etched into every line of his face. His voice, though foreign, carried a warmth the boy didn’t expect. He felt it clearly—it was yuenen. Genuine care.
The boy opened his mouth to respond, hesitated, then gave a small nod.
“Do you need a ride home?”
Home.
That word struck something inside him. Home was far beneath the waves, in the coral-lit caverns where the water sang and memory lived. But he wasn’t going back. Not yet. Maybe never. He shook his head.
The man’s brow furrowed. “Do you know where you live from here?”
A small lie won’t hurt, the boy thought, and shook his head again.
A deep sigh escaped the man’s chest. He looked tired but thoughtful. “Well, it’s already late. How about you stay at my place for the night? Tomorrow, we’ll figure it out together.”
The boy considered. He felt no threat from this man. Only a quiet, patient worry that reminded him a little of the caretakers in his old home. Slowly, he nodded.
The man extended a hand. For a moment, the boy stared at it, hesitant. Then he reached out, placing his fingers in the man’s palm. It was warm. Grounded.
The man led him to the metal beast. A part of it opened with a strange click. The boy climbed inside. When the door shut behind him, a sharp sound echoing through the hollow interior, he jumped, eyes wide.
The man got in on the other side. “Fasten your seatbelt or I can’t start the car,” he called.
The boy tilted his head. The words made little sense.
“You’ve never been in a car before, have you?”
He nodded again.
With another sigh, the man got out, circled around, opened the door, and pulled a strange strap from the side. The boy watched, fascinated. It was short, but when the man tugged, it stretched—like magic. It clipped into place with a gentle snap.
The man leaned in close to do it for him, and the boy wrinkled his nose. The man smelled... strange. Thick and heavy. Like iron and bitter things. Not like the salt and sunlight of his home.
Then the man returned to his seat. The car growled to life, the sound vibrating through the boy’s body. His nails dug into the seat, tense. The world outside began to blur, the sand fading into green fields and distant lights.
As the last traces of sunlight vanished, so too did the tension in the boy’s limbs. His eyelids drooped. The motion of the car, oddly rhythmic, lulled him. The noise became a murmur. The lights turned into stars drifting past his window.
He didn't notice when the car stopped, or when strong arms lifted him gently from the seat. He didn’t stir when his head rested against something soft.
The boy slept, far from home.
And for the first time since stepping onto land, the sea's call did not reach him.