Chapter Text
Salty ocean water and wind bit at the barnacle-ridden side of the ship. Harsh waters. Sails towered over the moist wooden deck, and the two feet that were planted firmly into that deck belonged to none other than the peculiar cabin boy, Mike Wheeler.
His short black hair, tied down by a raggedy stale bandanna, whipped against his freckled face as he stared off into the cloudy beyond, mind running wild with thoughts of the future that him and so many others longed for.
Find a kind lady, settle down, raise a family, live humbly, die peacefully.
Find a kind lady, settle down, raise a family, live humbly, die peacefully.
Find a kind lady, settle down, raise a family, live humbly, die peacefully.
It was a mantra he recited constantly while doing his chores. It was a prophecy. A manifestation. The more he repeated it the more he believed it would come true.
Mike desperately wanted to get as far away as he could from the rotting ship he was tied to because of his job. He was tired of the bad mouthed, disgustingly smelly and small crew that stumbled through the large ship they didn't deserve. He didn't even know how he ended up as a badly treated chore boy, when the whole crew was low status. Deep down he knew that most of them just wanted someone to pick on so they could feel better about themselves.
His thoughts were cut off midway through by a harsh voice.
"Michael!!" It boomed. But when Mike turned his head to see just who was speaking — even though he knew very well who it was (Billy, the second in command to their Captain) — he was met with a cracked palm, dry skin slap to the face, jarring and quick, burning through his face like fire. It was only when he opened his eyes again that Mike realized that the First Mate was still speaking. What he was saying? Mike had no clue. It was a mashup of incoherent babbling. Something like: ' Ay, boy. Ya ain't even doin' ye're job! Wha''re ye bumblin' about o'er here anyway?? ' He was speaking so fast with such a thick accent, voice worn down from years out on the ocean that it was impossible to pick his words apart.
Before Mike could even respond, the disheveled man in front of him spit on his shoes and walked away, slurring ' ya best watch yerself ' quietly. It was insane, Mike just stood there for a few moments. It was crazy to him how casually Billy could walk away after that. It irked Mike in a certain way, The way Billy and so many others got to push him around with no consequences. As if they were not in the exact same spot he was in when they were his age. It annoyed him to no end. But he knew that he would just have to shut his lips and forget about it, as speaking up would only result in more harsh slaps, more incoherent pirate talk, and more pain in his back as he crouched down to wipe up sticky messes of alcohol. So, Mike only inhaled sharply and went back to mopping the deck.
~
He must've been out there for an eternity.. scrubbing at a particularly stubborn stain in the wood til it shone with that very same brown, dirty shine it constantly had. Til his loose pants were grimy and filthy. Til his palms ached. Mike stretched and decided to take a small break to watch the ocean while he had time to.
He inhaled.
Exhaled.
And then opened his eyes.
Mike looked down, eyes following the rough white waves crashing against the outer belly of the ship.
A moment of calm… Interrupted.
When Mike spotted the pale gray— almost blue-ish streak of movement in the water, suddenly every part of his body was on high alert. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he stiffened. Head lowered, he inspected where that same streak had disappeared. And Mike saw it again, wading in and out of the water like a shiny blue ribbon lost at sea.
It wasn't like he was so simply afraid of something that could've easily been a dead fish or piece of debris stuck under the boat. No, he was afraid because that piece of debris was a boy No— a fish?
But there was a fish tail. Mike could've sworn there was a fish tail..
And— how could this boy so efficiently swim against the waves?
How was he keeping up with the boat?
How did he have a tail??
Did he even have a tail? Was mike seriously losing his mind?!?
And just as quick as the boy was there, he disappeared into the water again.
Mike swallowed a gasp. He didn't have time to gawk at what he saw. But he didn't quite know just what he could do. If he told the captain, would he be called insane? Treated worse than he already is? Mike had no idea. But a part of him felt that the figure had malicious intent, and not informing anyone would certainly be putting the whole ship in danger.
~
Mike was darting through the lower parts of the ship. Through the smokey gally, stuffed with burning hot brick ovens and the smell of rotten meat and fish. All the way until he reached the stern— where most officers and the captain resided. He wasn't supposed to be there… and he knew he had to hurry to the navigator's room before anyone of high power found him.
He burst in, only to see a tired-looking Dustin Henderson sat on the stiff bed.
Dustin's head snapped up.
"'Ey— what's your problem?" He said, studying Mike's shaken demeanor.
Dustin was possibly Mike's only friend on the ship, (That is... other than one of the cooks, Lucas, who had disappeared a long while ago.) even though he was in a much more valued position than Mike was in. He often questioned how Dustin scored the position so young, and assumed that he was related to someone else in power. Dustin had been there much longer than Mike after all— and he was possibly the smartest person on the boat.
"Sorry." Mike muttered sheepishly as he shut the door.
Dustin simply stayed silent, his expression asking a million questions at once without him even speaking.
"I saw somethin'. In the water" Mike explained frantically, pacing back and forth in Dustin's quarters like a madman.
"Oh ya?" Dustin narrowed his eyes.. squishing the scars on his brow together. "What's that?"
"A boy. I saw a boy!"
Dustin very suddenly stood up.
"A boy? What on earth are you doing? Tell the captain! We have to-"
"No! It wasn't just a boy it-"
"It??"
"He! She? I don't know, okay!? You have to listen! He was swimming and he- he had a tail! A tail, Dustin!!"
Dustin's expression shifted.. sitting back down on the bed , burying his face in his hands and shaking his head.
"You. Have truly lost it this time, Michael. My…"
"I am not daft! I swear—"
"That makes no sense."
"That's exactly why I'm freaking out!" Mike quipped, dragging his hands down his face.
Dustin just looked at him with a face he only made when he was tired of Mike's antics. "This is the second time."
"That was a fish! I know that, obviously. But I'm sure this time!"
"Sure."
Mike wanted to say a million words, explain. But he didn't know how to start... and he wouldn't be able to any time soon.
"Go. Just go rest or drink some water or something. I don't have time for this."
Mike tried to argue. But he was unable to continue as he was dragged out of the room and thrown out… landing with a thud. His bandanna landed in front of his eyes.. but he didn't bother putting it back on. He tore it off of his messy hair and walked away.
~
That night, he sat awake in his cramped cabin, drilling holes into the roof with his eyes. Thoughts constantly drifting back to the strange boy he saw in the water. Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore.
Mike stood up, brushing his hands on his slacks and swallowing.
He made his way (as quietly as possible) through sleeping cooks, powder monkeys, and other random buccaneers. Once he was out of the stuffy cabins, he stepped onto the deck to look out at the inky black sea. The only sources of light were the tiny oil lamps on board and the lights from the nearby outpost they were anchored next too. It was a small outlet, bustling with merchants and a tavern by the outermost part of the rocky island. He prayed no one would stir and see him out.
No one did though, and Mike simply walked up the stairs to the poop deck and exhaled. He laid down on his back and faced the stars. Something about being outside was much more peaceful than the sweaty cabins below. It was free, it was quiet, it was like he could close his eyes and pretend he was somewhere on a peaceful beach. Living a happy and fulfilled life. And the melody that rung in his ears only fed his sweet daydreams. The melody… soft humming.. singing maybe...
Ships return now, heavy laden.
Mothers holdin' bairns a crying.
They'll return yet, when the sun sets.
Sailing homeward.
Just where was that coming from?
Mike opened his eyes, standing up and going down to the main deck once again. He peered over the edge, only to be met by piercing eyes and bright orange flowing hair, flashes of color through the milky black shadows.
He let out a yelp, but it somehow came out so quiet and cracked it sounded like a young boys scream. He futilely attempted to step back, look around for a weapon, but the figure that was clinging to the side of the boat had a hand on his bicep, and he was already being dragged off the ship. It all happened so fast, he had no time to think.
Mike was plunged into freezing cold water… a rush so loud in his ears, a slap so harsh to his skin that it felt like he had just landed directly on a blade. He grappled and struggled through the thickness, felt his nails desperately cling to bubbles, tried to scream but when he opened his mouth he immediately realized how dumb that idea was.
And as he drifted farther and farther away from the ship, deeper and deeper underwater, he felt his dreams, his mantra that he repeated desperately everyday on that ship slip through his fingers. He felt death's hand grip around his body and drag him down into the water… he felt death's hand—
Hands?
No.. arms.
Caring, almost warm arms around him. Carrying him up. He opened his eyes.. adjusting to the feeling of water directly on them. He looked up and saw a sweet-faced boy with brown hair that floated in the water above him. He looked down and saw..
a fishtail.