Chapter Text
The smell of the sea was altogether unique, liable to shifting moods from one moment to the next, as fickle as a turn on a bird's wing. In one breath, it could be putrid, lingering in the air like a stagnant weight with the scent of dead fish floating on the slowly rocking shelves of foam by the docks, and in the next, refreshing and exhilarating, bringing with it the undeniable promise of rain, charged ions flying in the air with each violent spray of salt.
Eijun wasn’t quite sure what it was about the sea that was so special, and couldn’t even hope to begin describing just how much it meant to him, but he knew that he was tied to it in an irrevocable way that had nothing to do with his father or his grandfather or the multitude of other ancestors he never got to meet. It was in his blood, running just as fathomless and deep as the ocean itself, but that didn’t mean he was obligated to it. He was drawn to it for another reason, one he couldn’t exactly define. It enchanted him, the way the waves eternally ebbed and flowed, masking the depths through sheer force of magnitude. It was so huge and expansive and mysterious, and he felt like an infinitude of opportunity could lay out in those waves.
One of his earliest memories was of being on the trolling boat with his father, feeling the lazy heat brush through his bangs, and his legs turning to jelly at the insistent swish and sway of the waves. The foul odor of bait slush was swept behind him at the front by the bow, and his hands were carefully guided around a fishing rod, the low whir of the electric reel vibrating against the underside of his forearms. He caught his first fish that day, even proudly posed for a picture with the thing hanging clear from his hand down to his knee. His dad had to help him hold it up of course, but it was a fresh pride and joy that would forever be burned into his soul.
After that, he would frequent the piers, rod and basket in hand, making personal bets as to whether he would catch more crabs or fish that day. Some days he caught neither, but the sea would always reward him with her fickle scent, at times revolting, others entrancing. She ground her way into his skin, his hair, his nails, until he would come home, his mother wrinkling her nose and ordering him straight to the shower, muttering something about men of the sea under her breath.
And like every day before that, he would kiss her on the cheek and leave a trail of clothes on the way to the bathroom. If he hadn’t managed to bring home something, his dad would always eventually show up at his heels, bringing the modest dregs of his haul from the weeklong excursions he took with his crew. The sea provided for them without fail, and as such it was almost like an extended family member.
That wasn’t to say he had any interest in fishing professionally, despite his pride about the family boat that had seen more trips past the sandbars than most. He had seen firsthand just how exhausting and dangerous life could be on the water, and had no aspirations to join the Sawamura line of fishermen. No, he had gone on to higher education, fully intent on another endeavor altogether.
Eijun almost hadn’t gone, to be honest. It was only after much heckling and needling from his grandfather that he ducked his head sheepishly and asked his neighbor and childhood friend if he could drive into the city with her to join her classes at the local community college. He hadn’t meant to be obvious about his absent and faraway stares, seeking that mystery over the flat, undulating horizon. Just – it was so amazing sometimes.
Be a man, his gramps had said. Chin up and do us proud! It was his final words that sealed the deal. The sea will always be waiting for you.
So he decided to live a little, and pursue something he had always thought about. The depths. Not the fish or the crabs or the forests of seaweed they sometimes had to navigate around, lest they tangle in the ship engines. No, what he wanted to know was at the absolute end, where the sun ceased to shine and the pressure was so crushing that few machines could dare venture there before succumbing. It was a mystery he half-romanticized, musing that if he could go there, he could find the very soul of the sea itself.
So he entered college, struggled through the requisite university studies with a grimace on his face – and more than a little help from Wakana – until he was able to enter the courses he went there in the first place for. Marine studies, specifically physical oceanography and marine geology. He got to dangle his toes in the teal waters off the coast for the first time in his third year, taking in the frigid, damp air, and thrilling under the clear contrast between the color miles from shore to the brownish green back at home. Winter currents were always the most dangerous but notable, which is why his class had taken the short trip out to observe them. It was only a day trip – four hours out, four hours study, four hours back – but it made Eijun absolutely certain he was where he was supposed to be, bouts of vomit aside.
There were also the great friends he managed to make during his time in school. Wakana had always been there of course, but he got especially close to his team when the summer internship stole away his time to go home. It was worth it in every sense of the word, because it would be his first real chance to stay out for weeks, breathing, feeling, soaking in the sea from right there on her surface. Under it.
His mouth cracked into a blisteringly bright grin, duffle bag slung over his shoulder, as he spied the faded paint of the boat he would be calling home for the next month.
Akagi.
Eijun bounced nervously on his toes, eager for the docking process to finish so he could bound onboard and explore. Would it be bunk beds like in larger ships, or super old-fashioned hammocks? Were there going to be two-person rooms, or four? Who would be his roommates? How much fishing were they going to do to maintain their food supply, and who would be in charge of cleaning the decks? So many questions that were partly gleaned from his own experiences aboard his father’s rickety ship, and he just couldn’t wait to see who the captain was going to be. Would they be as stiff and rigid as his gramps, or would they be the kind to let everyone just do the things they knew they had to?
Not to mention the actual study portion of this entire excursion. He’d spent an entire semester in the training pools with the submersible they would be piloting, and was eager to see the actual ocean with his actual eyes, even if the peephole was a mere hand’s width wide, six inches deep, and hardly able to afford much more than a glimpse of blue or darker blue. Still, that was enough. He’d gotten really good at looking out that tiny crack in the hull, unable to contain the thrill of being underneath the surface, where humans were never meant to tread.
“Would you calm down, Eijun? You’re going to make me sick, and we aren’t even onboard yet.”
His grin faltered a hair, and he turned to see Wakana giving him a cool look through half-lidded eyes that oozed promises of righteous fury that he had long ago learned to avoid through the instinctive drive for self-preservation. He obeyed. “Sorry Wakana, but I’m just really excited!”
She was in the same internship, but she was more interested in marine biology. She would stay top side, and examine the samples that were brought to the surface. Her expertise was in the makeshift lab, thumb sore around the knob of a microscope, and focus narrowed to the tiniest of details. He lacked her patience and eye for the miniscule, but knew it was ultimately his part to bring those precious samples up for her to look at.
A sharp slap to his shoulder jolted him forward a step, and Nobu stepped aside and to the front where he could look at the pair. “You’ll forget about it as soon as you get up there. You were never able to handle the sickness very well.”
Eijun widened his eyes, looking aghast and partially betrayed. “That was just one time!”
“- the only time –” someone else interjected.
His head whipped around to find the rest of his study buddies – his team – standing in a small group with varied degrees of smiles on their faces.
“Okay, so yea, it was the only time, but I’ve been out to sea countless times on my dad’s ship, and that was never a problem. I am a man of the sea!” Heck, his mom said it all the time, even if it was something that sounded mildly distasteful under her breath for reasons he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. His chest puffed out, and he propped a hand on his hip, the other one otherwise still occupied with his bag. “I’m practically a fish! A master of sea legs!”
“You hardly know how to swim.”
“That isn’t something you need to go diving,” he huffed. So what if he couldn’t do anything other than the doggy paddle? It wasn’t like it would matter at the bottom of the ocean.
Tires squealed then, and everyone looked over as the ship nudged to a gentle halt alongside the dock, ropes flying in the air to secure her spot in the marina. Everyone stood their distance, waiting until the screeching sound of the docking plank slid out and thudded against the wood. It was more a formality, considering the modest-to-medium size of the vessel, but since several bags of equipment had to be hauled over, it would help ease the transition a bit.
Several men were on the deck, loosening the binds of empty crates that had been secured, ready to be taken ashore and replenished. He knew this drill quite well. Others had flittered to the stern, catching the tail end of hoses tossed at them, and beginning the brief hose down of the storage tanks. He figured maybe an hour before they would finally depart.
More than enough time to familiarize himself with this magnificent ship and all she had to offer.
Captain Oota was a heavyset man, not quite overweight, but certainly not spry. He was also somewhat short, appearing about on par with most of the younger guys, and sporting a thick frame of scruffy growth down the side of his cheeks that looked like a callback to the seventies. While hard to tell right off the bat, he looked friendly enough, weathered and wrinkled smile lines crinkling from the corners of his eyes, so Eijun postured himself into a textbook bow, his bag flying off his shoulder and thudding heavily on the pier. “Thank you kindly for allowing me the honor of calling your humble vessel my home for the next several weeks! I will do my best to be faithful to Akagi’s code of conduct and not besmirch her beautiful name!”
Silence.
Eijun lifted his eyes, only to see Oota staring at him with a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks, and hands waving in front of him. “No, no, that is fine! I just sit back and watch Kawakami do all the work. He’s the one you should be thanking. I just pay for this girl to keep running.”
Slowly straightening, he cocked his head, confusion swirling in his head. A much younger man drew up from behind Oota, looking meekly at the ground. “I’m not the captain here, I just drive the ship.”
Eijun lifted his eyebrows and gaped. He was so young! Nearly his own age, if he had to wager a guess. “Kawakami… san?” It felt so weird addressing someone who looked like he should be in his class so properly. Such a round, baby face… Maybe he was even younger.
“Ah, you can call me Nori. Everyone else does.”
His face slowly drew up into a beaming smile. “Wow, you guys are all so nice!”
“Nori, you dumbass, you scratched the hull again! What the hell kind of guy crashes a ship into the dock? You call yourself a pilot? You should go back to the galley before you sink us all into the water.” His smile froze, pinching his cheek muscles into a pattern of spasms. A huge gorilla of a man stood glowering from the side of the ship, railing firm under his fingers as the ship bobbed in the water.
Nori flinched, smiling weakly. “Sorry Azuma-san, I will do better next time.”
Darkly glowering for several more moments, he turned on his heel and vanished back to the rear of the ship. Which was nowhere near the actual dock, what the heck. Turning, Nori’s cheeks were a bit strained.
“Who the hell does that guy think he is? Steering a ship takes a lot of nerve and instinct, and not anyone can do it!” Eijun turned an impassioned look at the weary looking guy he just learned was responsible for the smooth coast into the bay. His hand reached out to grasp Nori’s. “Don’t listen to that guy! I could see from here just how much gentle care you put into steering. I put my safety into your very capable hands!”
Nori, if anything, looked even more weary, and turning a bit pale. “Uhm.”
Captain Oota laughed, and nodded. “Great choice! While Azuma is like that, he will be christening his own boat as soon as it’s finished. He’s a great deckhand. Kawakami is the best helmsman anyone could ask for, though.”
Wakana politely cleared her throat. “I understand you have docking checkups and resupply to address, so may we board our things?”
“Oh, I’ve held you up! My apologies, do go ahead. I have some business on shore, but I will be back before we cast off. Miyauchi can show you where your group will be bunking. Make yourselves comfortable!”
With a boisterous laugh he barreled through their group and left them all probably wondering the same thing – who the heck was Miyauchi? Eijun didn’t quite know what to think about such an absentminded captain, but he was nice, and he was friendly, and Nori seemed really capable, so despite the grouchy pants in the butt of the ship, he still figured it would be an enjoyable trip.
Besides, the sea was beckoning. It buzzed in his bones and hummed in his blood.