Chapter Text
◤☵◥
Hues of red and purple paint the sky above towering peaks, shades of black and grey challenging to overtake them as they sprawl over seemingly endless waters, creeping in like a blanket spread high overhead and ready to drift down to settle soundlessly below. Water kisses sheer cliffsides and rocky outcrops, their layers and remnants of old beaches telling a story of ages past. Dotting the panorama of cliffsides are small holes, worn around the edges and sheltering seabirds. Beneath the watery surface, tucked behind a mirage of coral and flora and invisible to the naked eye, deep caves home another kind of life settling in for the night.
A long tunnel, sloping slightly upward and just roomy enough for someone to swim through comfortably leads to an irregularly-shaped single room, built slightly above the water line at high tide. The rock within is carved in various shapes, from a low table to nooks in the walls bearing various natural trinkets and tools, to a circular pool that takes up the majority of the space in the middle, its depth no longer than the average height of a door and wide enough in any direction for anyone to stretch out without touching two opposite edges. The mouth of it meets the tunnel, the water fed at high tide. Four beds have been shaped in the rock around the pool, leaving them half-submerged. A moderately-sized hole sits in the low ceiling, cutting through dense rock like a vein and ushering in fresh air from above, the birds housing at the entrance providing a symphony of calls every evening they seek refuge.
“Tell me about when the surface was as high as the mountains again,” a young voice demands, excitable and clear. “The ones near us.”
A woman’s voice chides in response, clear like the last, but warmer and mature. “You've heard that story more than enough times to know it never reached half that high. How are you going to tell it properly when you're an adult and proper storyteller if you don't stop exaggerating?” A long, webbed hand reaches out and touches one of a few strings of glowing sea plants surrounding the interior, the light fading away slowly after. The sound of a heavy weight shifting on wet stone echoes dully in the small room, a light splash following as the end of a lengthy tail drapes over the edge of the floor into the warm pool.
“Then you'll just have to tell it to me again.” A knowing smirk paints a young face, large eyes giving away that the child is sure he has cornered his mother.
Eyes that mirror his narrow, framed by loose threads of matching brunette whose curls escaped being tied back with their comrades. The older woman—though still possessing plenty of youthful features—responds to her son's smirk in kind as she leans closer, one elbow propping up on reddish stone as her chin rests on her palm. She looks down her nose at the young one in his bed. “Convince me you deserve a reward after not cleaning the pool today.”
He falters, seemingly surprised at his own guilt. It lasts only a moment, however, before being washed away as though it never happened under a natural, assured smile and waving hands. “But I did clean the tunnel. I meant to start with that and make my way up, but I worked so much that by the time I was done, everyone was already coming home with today's catch! I'll clean it tomorrow, promise! I'll scrub it and change the water perfectly, and it'll make up for not doing it today!”
There's a brief moment of silence as she studies the youth, his fins beginning to swish anxiously in the water. There's no doubt that he did what he said, even though she has strong suspicions that it didn't take nearly as long as claimed, even accounting for him taking extra free time beforehand. There's a light sigh, and she moves her hand from her chin to ruffle her son's hair gently. “All right. Because you promised.” She squints a little as she leans in, tone shifting to something smooth and assertive, the undertone of a grin pulling at the corners of her lips and creases of her eyes. “But if you don't keep it, I'm not telling you another story for twenty tides.”
The boy sits up straight, the idea so preposterous to him that the shock is clear on his face. “Twenty?! That's–”
“No arguing, love. Take it or leave it. But with such a promise, there's nothing for you to worry about anyway, right?” She's caught him and he knows it. She smoothes his curls down as he leans back to his resting spot, every inch of his features resisting an open pout.
“Yes, Mother.”
The older of the two shifts her smile into a fond one, volume dropping. “Good. Now get some rest, Tooru. You have a busy morning.”
◣☷◢
“And where are you off to in such a hurry?” Age-worn, suntanned hands wipe themselves clean of potting soil as a petite woman stands, flower clipper temporarily set amidst vibrantly-colored grass.
A toothy smile—although missing some teeth—flashes back, small fingers gripped around a camera too big for them to hold comfortably. The verdant ground beneath half-tied, dirt-stained sneakers reflects in eyes brimming with excitement. “I'm gonna go take lots of pictures today! It's finally so sunny, Mom. Please? May I??”
Dark, bobbed hair bounces lightly with a laugh. “I wasn't about to stop you. Go have fun, don't stray too far. I'll have a lunch waiting for you when you come back.” There's hardly a pause between the last of her words and the sounds of footsteps pounding over the still-damp earth. “Oh, and Hajime,” Iwaizumi Akiko calls out after her young son. He half-turns back, momentum interrupted, his energy already out in the field beyond the gate. She gestures to her collarbone, smiling. “That camera has a strap for a reason. Keep it on, now. Your father won’t buy you a new one if you break that one.”
Comprehension dawns on tanned and freckled features, that same grin back again as the boy drops the camera strap over spiked hair to rest around the back of his neck. “Thanks, Mom. Bye!”
And he's off, racing across tall, yellow grass, headed for a nearby copse, stride never faltering.
◣☷◢
Hot water sits cooling next to a stove, a cup of coffee nestled on the only clear space remaining on a desk filled with papers, pictures, magazines, old and new sketchbooks alike, old rolls of film, and CDs full of digital photography. The room is illuminated by light filtering through the window and the nearly burnt out bulb of the only desk lamp in the small study. Iwaizumi Hajime, now 26, waits in his humble 2LDK, hand unmoving on the handle of his mug, eyes blinking only as they really need to as they focus intently on the silver flip phone resting on some papers. Birds chirp close to his window, but he doesn't hear them. He's too aware of the silence within the room and the slightly elevated pulse of his own heart.
Ten minutes later, the small screen lights up and the device begins to vibrate. His hand flies for it, forgetting that it was resting on the mug as it’s nearly dragged off of the desk, a small curse leaving him as a few splashes scald his skin. Iwaizumi pushes the cup back a little and grabs the phone with his free hand, resting it between his ear and shoulder as he uses his sleeve to dab up the drops of coffee on his papers. “Hello, this is Iwaizumi.”
“Good morning, Iwaizumi-san,” a familiar voice rings through. A new but fast friend at the company he just got hired into, professional but relaxed. “I know I'm a little late, sorry about that. Good news or bad news first?” Iwaizumi’s blood runs cold for only a split moment, though his expression remains unchanged.
“Don't worry about it, Hanamaki-san. Let's go with the bad news.”
“Bad news is that I was late calling you because I spilled coffee all over my shirt. Matsukawa has an extra, soooo I'm waiting for him while he gets it. It's kinda rough playing gopher and then spilling someone else's order all over yourself on your way back in. The intern called out today, I volunteered...” A loud sigh. “Half of my arm is red.”
Iwaizumi registers this with an almost flat look, the adrenaline in his veins cooling quickly. Today seemed to be coffee's day of revenge. “You're okay, though, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, I'm good.” There's a laugh on the other end of the line, apology in his coworker's voice when he speaks again. “Now that I've made sure you're perfectly awake, time for the good news. Listen carefully, okay?”
“Mm.” Iwaizumi waits.
“You got the assignment you wanted, but it changed a little. You aren't leaving the country, but you also don't need to get a bunch of vaccines. Boss moved you to the Sendai area, and there's a place near the coast where you get to stay on your own.”
He takes this in all at once, but still finds some confusion in this turn of events. “So I'm not leaving, but the location changed so drastically? Sorry, but how is that the same assignment?”
“I don't know all the details, but something about something falling through with the magazine we were going to publish it in. Dates weren't right or something, like I said, I don't really know all of the details. Not to spoil the surprise, but we got lucky with a deal with ERA . You'll get the details sent to you soon. Surprise! Your time to get your photos internationally recognized is here!”
The photographer blanks. Now it's too much to take in at once. A deal with ERA? And he was still chosen, just like that?
“Iwaizumi-san? Hello?”
“Aa. Sorry. I'm here.” He takes a quiet sip of coffee, trying to ground himself. “Sendai, huh. Haven't been there in a long time.”
“You'll have a great time, I'm sure. They want you to focus on some of the quieter places near the area. Really show how the ocean is looking locally now. Boss says he wants everything, but you'll get all that in the email and briefing.”
Everything. The word hangs in his mind heavily, so used to having to photograph only the beautiful and positive. To avoid the obvious evidence that the oceans were disappearing at an alarming rate, had been for hundreds of years, and no one had a concrete answer why. Science managed to explain almost everything but why the oceans were shrinking, when it didn't seem like something that should have taken this long to explain, especially when everything depended on it. As far as anyone could guess, even if an answer came now, it was probably too late.
Capturing images of this very thing was something Iwaizumi Hajime had wanted to do for a decade, something he'd only been able to explore briefly in his spare time or in an attempt at freelance. Something that no companies or organizations wanted from him until now.
“Yeah. Thanks for letting me know, Hanamaki-san. Good luck with your shirt. Talk to you later.”
“Thanks,” the deep voice on the other end draws out. “Take care, have fun. See you soon.”
Everything, huh. Iwaizumi takes his nearly-full cup to the sink and rinses it out, going to change for a run. Fresh air would do him some good, he figures, especially before figuring out how to time his trip with visiting his mom near the area. His mind was too full with too many things and he needed to truly breathe.