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In a small cafe two blocks from the ocean, in the southernmost part of the Water Territory, a man gazed out the window. He had been doing that a lot lately. With his eyes fixed on the darkening sky streaked with the oranges and reds of sunset, he lifted a cup of hot chocolate to his lips. They had nothing like it where he had grown up, and the silky rich drink chased off the chill from walking the sea wall. He could have purchased a cup of it from any of the shops on this street, but only this one had a table against the window where he could see the sky over the ocean, and only this one had Eiden.
Yakumo had met him on his second day in town when he’d gotten lost looking for his hotel and wandered into this cafe before opening hours, near tears and his fingers white from holding his bag too tightly. Bells tied to the door had clanged as he’d pushed through it. From the back, Eiden had appeared with a white dish towel in one hand, a long glass he was drying in the other, and a heart-stopping smile that had shifted to concern as Yakumo swayed on his feet.
The vertigo had mostly been in response to Eiden’s appearance, which continued to astound him every time Yakumo looked his way, and he’d been here for two weeks already. At first glance there had been nothing remarkable about him. He was average, as humans went, a bit shorter than Yakumo stood with legs, with light brown hair long enough that he’d pulled it back with a chartreuse clip shaped like a star above his left eye. As far as clothes, he’d worn a starched white shirt tucked into black slacks, a pocket apron tied at his waist. Standard for servers in a place like this. But as he'd dashed forward to pull out a chair and insist that Yakumo sit, the beauty had spilled from him, in the way his fingers curved over Yakumo’s shoulder, in the relieved smile that he had not stopped thinking about.
He was watching Eiden wait tables from his seat beside the window. Not wanting to add to his workload, on Yakumo's first proper visit to the cafe, he’d ordered only one drink and sipped it slowly, then left a coin that exceeded the cost and waved on his way through the door. But his curiosity had won out and Eiden didn't seem to mind when he lingered.
He was cleaning a nearby table. When he’d finished, he walked over with a smile.
“Sure, you don’t want anything to eat?”
Returning the smile, Yakumo shook his head.
“How much longer are you in town?”
“Two days.”
“But you’ll be coming back this way, right?”
“I can’t say for certain,” Yakumo said. Although he had no plans to return to this part of the continent, never returning here meant never seeing Eiden again. “You see, I visit a new place every year.”
“Where are you from, if you don’t mind my asking? Is it on Klein?”
“Ah, no.”
“Oh, then you’re from Saia! That’s a long trip across the ocean.”
Eiden’s guess, while incorrect, made for a good lie. Folding his gloved hands together out of guilt, Yakumo smiled.
“I come for the snow. It doesn’t snow where I live.”
“You must be disappointed by the weather this year. We haven’t seen a single snowflake and they say we’re not getting any. Well, I’m gonna miss you once you’re gone. You’re the only sober person in here for me to talk to besides Umi behind the bar. Stop by and say goodbye before you go, okay? I work tomorrow afternoon.”
“You won’t be here in the evening?”
“Nope, day shift,” Eiden said, sounding a little sorry about it. He glanced around them and lowered his voice. “Any chance you’d want to hang out?”
“Hang…out…?”
Eiden blinked rapidly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. Did I misunderstand?”
Worried that he’d upset him somehow, Yakumo said quickly, “I’m just not sure what you mean. What would we be hanging?”
Eiden’s laughter made Yakumo feel like he was floating in a warm tide. “It’s an expression. I meant, would you like to spend some time with me? Maybe we could get dinner.”
Yakumo, who had never been invited to hang out before, held back a sob.
“Thank you,” he said, pressing a hand over his heart. “I would very much like to have dinner.”
“Awesome. Can I get your number?”
“I don’t have a phone,” Yakumo said apologetically.
Eiden’s eyes opened a fraction wider but he didn’t question it. “Well, if I don’t see you in here around lunchtime, I’ll just call the guest house where you’re staying when I’m done with work. We can figure out the details then.”
Yakumo’s cheeks tingled. Afraid that he might say or do something foolish if he stayed any longer, he nodded and slid a coin across the table.
“Are you headed back to the guest house?”
“I thought I’d take a walk first. I like the street that runs along the ocean.”
“Be careful. Someone who was in here earlier claimed he saw a serpent offshore a couple days ago.”
“Oh, is that so?” Yakumo tugged at the cuff of his glove. “Are they dangerous?”
“The people around here seem to think so. They grew up on the water, so I figure they know better than I do. I’m from the Royal City. Better safe than sorry, right?”
“Yes.” Yakumo smiled faintly as he stood up. “Thank you for talking with me, Mr. Eiden. I’m looking forward to dinner.”
As he walked along the sea wall, Yakumo removed his gloves and let the salt air revive him. He rarely came onto land for more than a day or two, and the two weeks he’d spent in this town had dried his scales to the point they itched with every move. He couldn’t risk another swim. If the fishermen were warning the townspeople about his presence, it could mean a boat waiting to snare him. He’d take a long soak back at the guest house with some borrowed salt and return to the ocean in two days.
He wasn’t upset about the misunderstanding. Many years ago, when he’d still been a snakelet and ignorant of his own power, he’d capsized boats while trying to greet the crew and been mistaken for a predator when he’d crawled onto a beach to meet a gull. Adulthood had given him better control over his body. Yakumo could maintain a human form for up to three days at a time, just long enough for an occasional holiday on land. But when he stayed longer—as he was doing now—it was necessary to soak in saltwater every few days, otherwise his scales reappeared, starting with his wrists and the back of his hands. Gloves hid those but could do nothing about the ones that would appear on his cheeks and nose when he got excited.
And he was constantly excited with Eiden around.
Dinner! They were going to have dinner! Yakumo had never been asked to share a meal with a human before. He knew how to behave from studying them over the decades, but he was not certain of remaining calm once he and Eiden were seated at the same table, if he could behold him for more than a few minutes at a time. It was a miracle he had not burst into his true form when Eiden had stopped him from falling.
It would need to be a dark restaurant, someplace with candles and shadowy corners. He would leave his hair down. Scattered over his forehead, it would conceal the most obvious scales. If Eiden noticed the ones across his cheekbones, Yakumo would mention a skin condition and hope he was too polite to say anything further.
He tossed and turned all night, falling asleep once the sun had broken the horizon and flooded his room with light. He slept until after sunrise, roused by the maid knocking on his door with fresh towels. After he’d apologized profusely for interrupting her work, he hurriedly dressed and went out to explore the town, stopping first at a bakery for a chocolate roll and sweetened tea, flavors he was unlikely to taste until this time next year.
He’d go to a new town, of course. He picked a new place every year, always a spot along the coast. There were places inland he longed to see—sand dunes as vast as the ocean, great forests so massive he’d been told they took days to cross on foot—but they were impossible until he could learn to suppress his inner serpent entirely. Returning to a town was a bit delicate. Whenever he visited an area, rumors of a serpent followed, and it was only a matter of time before someone connected the rumors with his presence. Yakumo liked humans. He didn’t want to frighten them.
He thought of Eiden’s face when he had warned Yakumo about the sea serpent offshore and sighed.
To fill his morning, he visited a museum that exhibited watercolor paintings of the sea and simple wood sculptures by a local artist: shore birds, merfolk, the stinging jellyfish that lingered offshore. One depicted his true form with the tail extended and he was so touched, he asked about the cost and jumped a little when given the number. He carried plenty of gold—it was easy enough to take from wrecks, and he always brought exotic catch on land to sell—but the little statue was out of his price range. Since it was made out of wood, he couldn’t display it underwater, anyway.
But just knowing that someone had thought about him enough to make the carving left him in a cheerful mood. At lunchtime he sat in the cafe by the window, watching contentedly as Eiden smiled at other people. And the few times he came to Yakumo’s table to bring him a refill and, later, his bill, he felt a prickling sensation on the bridge of his nose.
“Any idea where you’d like to go tonight?” Eiden asked with a grin.
“Anywhere is fine as long as you’re there, Mr. Eiden.” Yakumo flushed at his own boldness, feeling his eyelashes brush his cheeks, and added, remembering his predicament, “But perhaps someplace quiet would be best. There’s a restaurant near the guest house…”
He had peered in earlier while the staff had been setting up for dinner and spotted candles on every table.
“That one’s not bad, but if it’s good food you’re after, there’s a better place along the water. How ‘bout I come by your hotel around six and we can walk over that way?”
“Yes.”
“Then…” Eiden glanced down for a breath and back up at him. “See you in a couple hours.”
“Yes,” Yakumo said again, gazing at him languidly. His cheeks tingled to the point of pain and he shot out of his seat. “I’ll let someone else take this spot.”
He was so flustered, he tripped over his shoes and stumbled, but he righted himself on his own and dashed out the door before Eiden could touch him.
For the next two hours, Yakumo sat by the ocean with his shoes off, optimistic that a partial soak would be better than none at all. The shaker of salt he’d borrowed from the breakfast tray had scarcely flavored his bath water last night. He scooped a handful of sea water and splashed it on his face, sighing as the tingling eased. From a small bag on his hip, he withdrew a pouch that he filled with saltwater. If his skin acted up at dinner, he’d dab a little onto it to keep it from worsening.
One night. He just wanted this one night with him. If he could have that, Yakumo was certain he would be happy.
When it was nearing the time for Eiden to come for him, he returned to the guest house for a quick wash. He hoped his clothing would be appropriate for wherever they were going. He only owned two sets of clothes and they were the same: black pants and a matching jacket, and a deep red shirt he kept buttoned to the throat. The same thing Eiden had seen him wear daily for the past two weeks. Most of the time, he stored them in a stubborn clam shell that kept them dry even at the depths he called home. As long as he could pass for human, his appearance had never mattered to him. Today was the first time he’d ever desired another outfit.
With fingers already trembling with excitement, he fixed his hair and went down the carpeted staircase to a sitting room, where he had tea—another land delicacy he would miss—until Eiden arrived. Yakumo met him in the entry. He had only seen him in his work uniform and was delighted, when Eiden passed through the guest house’s front door, to see him in jeans and a red jacket he wore a bit baggy, with the zipper pulled down halfway to expose a gray tee.
“Hey,” Eiden said with a smile that was a little more alluring than usual. “Ready?”
Momentarily forgetting how to use his legs, Yakumo gripped his hands together in front of his chest, which suddenly seemed to contain a typhoon. “You look beautiful.”
He was surprised that Eiden blushed and ducked his chin. Yakumo had overheard people say scandalous things to him at the cafe that Eiden had not reacted to at all. His surprise grew when Eiden lifted on tiptoe to kiss the corner of his lips.
“I hate when that part’s hanging over the whole evening,” he said. “Now we can just relax.”
Yakumo, who had never been kissed in his life, had no idea how to react. Drunk on the possibilities and swaying on his feet, he delicately touched his lips to Eiden’s in return.
The next thing he knew, he was being pulled through the door and onto the street. Eiden kept a tight grip on his hand.
“Sorry,” he said, “but if we’d kept that up, I would’ve asked to see your room and we’d never make our reservation.”
“If you’d like to see it, I’d be happy to show it to you after dinner. It’s a very nice room, if a bit small.”
Eiden laughed. “I’m not sure we’re talking about the same thing.”
Yakumo thought about it while they walked and, suspecting he had landed on Eiden’s meaning, felt his entire body heat up.
Their destination was a two-story building that faced the water. Lanterns flickered on either side of the door, and a cheerful man with greenish-blond hair welcomed them inside. It was not the dark restaurant Yakumo had hoped for. Large candles danced on each table and in sconces on the walls, and at the center of the room was a roaring fireplace.
He would run out of saltwater before they ordered food.
But the man—Olivine, he said his name was—led them through that room and up a set of stairs to a lone, shadowy table beside a window and wished them a good meal.
“He owns this place with his partner,” Eiden explained once Olivine had gone downstairs. “I thought you’d like the view from up here.”
They were high enough that he could see over the dunes to the dark stretch of ocean. The moon was up and cast a white path along the water’s surface that led to the horizon.
Yes, I know, Yakumo thought, feeling for the pouch of saltwater. I’ll be going home soon.
They dined for almost two hours and stumbled out absolutely stuffed following a sour fruit tart Olivine had presented as a surprise. Without the sun, the air was cold enough that Eiden had zipped up his jacket and kept his hands in his pockets.
“Would you like my jacket as well?” Yakumo asked, hands already fluttering over his buttons.
Eiden’s laughter escaped as white fog from his lips. “Thanks, but I’m not going to let you catch a cold because of me.”
“Then should we go back to my room? Or—oh! You have your own home you’d probably like to go back to. After all, you worked all day and have been kind enough to accompany me when you must be tired.”
Tugging on a fistfull of his shirt, Eiden pulled Yakumo’s mouth down to his and kissed him more firmly than earlier.
“This is me accepting your invitation, but there’s something I want to show you first.” Eiden wiped his mouth and took Yakumo’s hand. “You’re freezing. Would you rather go back?”
“I’m not cold.” He was, by nature, but it wasn’t the sort of cold Eiden was worried about. Thinking he might burst with joy from touching him, Yakumo squeezed his hand. “What are you going to show me?”
“It’s this way.”
Eiden gestured to a paved path that ran between the restaurant and the building next door. They followed to its end, a rectangular courtyard strung with white globe lights. Dried flower stalks and grasses swayed in clay pots that had been pushed to one side. Across from them, tables and chairs were stacked against a fence. Yakumo imagined the courtyard as it must look in warm weather, flowers in full bloom, candles flickering on evenly spaced tables beneath the stars.
“Okay, stay right there.”
Eiden crossed the courtyard and knelt down beside one of the flower pots. Uncertain what he was supposed to do, Yakumo took out the pouch to relieve the stinging in his cheeks, but in his excitement he fumbled it. The precious saltwater bled into the stones around his feet, and he moaned in quiet dismay as he swooped down to retrieve it.
Only a few drops remained. He swiped them across his face and clutched the pouch to his chest. What was he supposed to do? They were close enough to the ocean, he could refill it and come back, but what excuse could he give for leaving the courtyard before Eiden had finished whatever he was doing? Yakumo had already used the washroom in the restaurant, and if he left without explanation, Eiden could misunderstand.
If he didn’t leave, though, Eiden would have a very different reason to be upset.
Something whirred, like a large insect or distant boat motor. Trying to find the source, Yakumo’s eyes scanned the courtyard and settled on a black device in Eiden’s hands that he placed on one of the flower pots. From an opening on the device came a flurry of snowflakes. They caught on the breeze, scattering overhead to tumble in clusters to the ground, landing on Eiden’s shoulders, his hair. He stood and faced him.
“I know you were sad about not seeing the snow, so I borrowed this machine from a photographer I used to work for. What do you think? It looks pretty realistic, huh?”
Feeling that he was about to cry, Yakumo, nodding, watched the snow fall. No one had ever given him such a lovely gift. He would remember it for the rest of his life.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Eiden, I—”
Gasping at the sibilance in his own voice, he covered his mouth. As his eyes welled, a prickling fire spread along his knuckles, behind his knees, down his spine. His cheeks turned to scales beneath his fingertips. When he blinked, the light shifted and he knew his eyes had changed as well, the pupils elongating.
What was happening? He’d never shifted forms so suddenly.
He took a terrified step backwards toward the alley. If he ran, he would just make it.
“I’ll be right back!”
He didn’t wait for Eiden to respond, only turned and sprinted as fast as he could in the direction of the ocean. With the shift in his eyes came an increased awareness of his surroundings that got him safely across the street and onto the sand. It slowed his movements, dragging down his legs that were already struggling to maintain his human form. Dropping to the ground, he used his arms to crawl.
He had to reach the water. He had to reach the water! All he needed was a handful and he could stall this. If he could just get his body into the surf, he could see him again.
From the street, he could hear Eiden calling his name. The water line was only a little farther, sparkling in the moonlight. He clawed his fingers into the sand and pulled his body forward as the sound of tearing fabric drew a sobbed hiss from his throat. His tail dragged behind him where his legs had been. He curved it, propelling himself forward as he lost strength in his arms, as sounds dulled, as sound became vibration. The pounding of feet on sand, a voice he couldn’t quite make out, someone’s hands on him, the shudder of a wave onto the beach, breaking over his body.
Then cold, a relief from the stinging. The hands had withdrawn. Yakumo lay unmoving in the surf, choked with despair. What form was he in just now? What had Eiden seen? Would he call for help to kill the serpent that had deceived him?
From the way the water sloshed around his head, Yakumo determined that he’d regained human form. He rolled onto his back and opened his eyes, gazing up at the full moon, the stars, at Eiden staring down at him through wide, wide eyes.
The torn remains of his pants floated around his legs, but Yakumo felt too ashamed to move. Despondent, he focused on the stars.
“Yakumo, are you okay?”
Eiden was panting. He’d knelt down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey. Hey, Yakumo, can you hear me? We need to get you out of the water.”
Slowly, Yakumo shook his head. “Your shoes are getting wet.” His voice sounded human again. “Please go back now, Mr. Eiden. Thank you for a wonderful evening, but you’ll get sick if you stay here any longer.”
“I’ll go back as soon as you do.”
Hearing his conviction, Yakumo sighed and sat up. He accepted the hand that Eiden held out and got to his feet. Since the jacket was still in one piece, he tied it around his waist so they wouldn’t be arrested for indecency, and kept his head down as he followed after Eiden off of the beach. He must be freezing, but he didn’t complain about the cold. In his head, Yakumo went over what he would say, how to apologize, so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t realize, until they were standing in front of a house he didn’t recognize, that they had stopped walking.
“This is where I live,” Eiden said before Yakumo could ask. “It’s closer than where you’re staying. You’re coming inside to warm up, okay?”
He flashed the same friendly grin he had the day they’d met and unlocked the door. It opened to a long hallway that ended in a staircase. Yakumo left his shoes near the door and trailed after Eiden with his head bowed.
“My roommates are at work,” Eiden said as he started up the stairs. “So it’s just us.”
At the top, he switched on the light for the first door on their left and disappeared inside. Supposing that Eiden expected him to follow, Yakumo lurked in the doorway, greeted by an unmade bed with a blue coverlet, books spilling from a shelf built alongside the window. It looked out over the roof of the neighboring building. Eiden had opened a closet and threw a thick sweatshirt over his shoulder, a similar pair of pants.
Understanding, Yakumo stripped off the remains of his clothes and was about to step into the dry ones when Eiden turned, catching him, and blushed through his laughter.
“I was hoping to get your clothes off tonight, but I thought I’d have to work harder.”
Yakumo felt the heat rush from his feet to the top of his head. Biting his lower lip, Eiden nodded toward the hallway.
“Why don’t we take a bath first?”
“To—together?” Eiden was being courteous. He probably assumed that Yakumo was as cold as he was, so the fastest way to get him warm was to go along with his idea. At this point, it didn’t matter if the scales were still visible. He’d already seen everything on the beach. Yakumo squared his shoulders. “Yes, a bath is a good idea.”
The change in attitude seemed to surprise Eiden, who blinked twice, then shook his head. While Yakumo watched, he removed his jacket, the gray shirt, grinning as they hit the floor. When he stepped out of his pants, he licked his lips.
“It’s across the hallway.”
Unable to speak, Yakumo nodded enthusiastically and stumbled toward the door. A few minutes later, he was sitting in chest-high water abundant with bubbles. Eiden leaned back against his chest.
“Well, now that we’re not at risk for hypothermia, mind telling me what that was about earlier?”
“What…” Yakumo gulped. “What exactly did you see?”
“It was kinda dark, so at first, I thought the serpent was dragging you under. I tried to pull it off but a wave came and the next thing I knew, I was holding onto one of your legs.”
“Weren’t you afraid?”
“Sure, that you were hurt. Mostly just confused. I wasn’t expecting you to run off like that and worried you had food poisoning. Definitely didn’t expect the tail. I must’ve offended you when I warned you about a sea serpent. I’m really sorry.”
“Mr. Eiden, aren’t you concerned at all?”
“Not really, unless you’re planning to eat me. I knew a fox yokai when I was working in the Wood Territory, and Umi from the cafe? He’s actually part merfolk.”
Yakumo took a few seconds to let that sink in. Gulping down his nerves, he said, “I can only stay out of the water for a few days at a time, otherwise I transform.”
“Does your whole body change?”
“Not anymore, not since I was a snakelet. It’s mostly my legs—oh, but my scales reappear, and my senses are very different.”
“And that’s why you only visit land for a couple days each year.”
“I tried to stay longer this time, but I was spotted in the ocean.”
“So you couldn’t risk going back into the water.” Eiden sighed and swished his hand through a mound of bubbles. “Why stay so long in this town?”
“I was watching something very beautiful.”
Eiden laughed. “You sure do like the stars, huh.”
“I also like the stars,” Yakumo said and hugged Eiden to him. “This is the happiest I’ve ever felt.”
Eiden’s voice, when he spoke again, sounded thicker. “Are you still leaving tomorrow?”
“Yes. My grandparents will be expecting me home. I don’t want to make them worry.”
“Any chance I can convince you to return here for a while? If the townspeople know you’re the one in the water, they won’t bother you. I’ll go with you if you want. You really ought to stay until it snows for real.”
“But you said it isn’t going to snow this year.”
Turning in his arms, Eiden gave him a look that was at once sultry and soft. He trailed a wet hand down Yakumo’s cheek.
“I wonder what we could do about that,” he murmured. “This is the part where you kiss me again, by the way, and show me that other serpent that’s been poking my back.”
And though he gasped from both shock and delight at such a daring request, the little sea serpent happily complied.