Chapter Text
You're a fisher. You've always been a fisher. Your family has been fishers for generations. It's not something you ever got a choice in… but you don't hate it either. The smell of sea water, the sight of the sky just before sunrise, even your dinky fishing boat are full of memories of your family.
Memories are all you have left of them now.
The cabin you live in is a twenty minute drive from the nearest village. Every morning you rise before the sun and sail out on the sea, making sure to take your family heirloom lantern. It was something you never questioned; a fact that your parents had burned into your little skull before they prematurely passed.
Never sail without the Lantern.
It was one of many superstitions your parents had told you of in between lessons on knots and navigation. They were as natural to you as anything else on the sea. In fact, it was weirder to imagine that others sailors didn't have such traditions.
On a day like any other, you stood on your small fishing vessel and gazed at the horizon. The sun was beginning to peek over and paint the sky in pinks and oranges. Time to pack up and head back. You sorted through today's catch and picked out the biggest and best of the batch. Without a second thought, you tossed them all back into the water. It was another rule.
They never had the chance to explain it, but you liked to think it was to say 'thanks' to the sea. Like if someone made you a cake, and you left the best piece for them.
"Thanks again for all the fish," you said to one one in particular.
It wasn't easy manning a vessel all by yourself, (you had tried to hire help once, but they didn't understand your family's rules) so you were thankful for modern technology. After a few button presses, the boat began to navigate back to port on its own, and you used the time to sort and pack your catch of the day.
The morning market in town was as noisy as ever. You set up your stall with practiced ease, saying 'Good morning!' to your usual customers who were lining up before you were even done. It wasn't even like you were the biggest or fanciest stall, but the population here was small. Everyone knew everyone, including you and your family, and they all knew the superior quality of your catch. It was rare that you ever had stock to spare by noon.
Someone called your name. You looked up from the fish you were wrapping and smiled at your old friend. Ruggie was hunched over your stall, theatrically pretending to steal some of your stock.
"Please, ser," he gazed at you with big puppydog eyes, blinking rapidly. "Have pity on this starving orphan."
"Screw off," you chided with a big grin on your face. "I know you have disposable income now. You can't fool me."
"I haven't had a shift in weeks…"
"You're running errands right now. Leona always sends you at this time."
Ruggie clicked his tongue and stood up straight, folding his hands behind his head. "Fine. You got me! Now gimme some of the good stuff."
"It's all good."
"Hey, you're the one pawning 'em. I'm not gonna listen to you." Ruggie turned to the old woman next to him in line and gave her a big, toothy smile. "Madame, what's your opinion on the product sold by this stall?"
It's a familiar song and dance, one that the two of you had been doing since you were young. Your parents were kind; they would occasionally give Ruggie a fish or two without charge. The boy took it upon himself to act as free advertising
Then after your parents had passed, and the townsfolk were questioning whether someone so young could still haul in a good catch, Ruggie put in twice as much effort to hype up your stall. Even when you couldn't afford to spare him anything extra.
"Just paying it forward," he'd say.
As usual, everything was sold fast. By noon it was only you and Ruggie left. Leona's order, plus a couple for himself, were wrapped in newspaper and sitting in the ice box. Both of you worked to pack everything up and placate customers who got there too late.
Suddenly, the peace was broken as a loud crash rang out across the marketplace. You whipped your head up to check. There, so far down the harbor it was almost out of view. You caught a glimpse of a wrecked stall, with seafood spilled all over the ground. There were several large men–
But then Ruggie stepped into your view. He shook his head quickly. "(Y/N), don't get involved."
"Isn't that where Crabitha sets up shop?" you asked. It was a harmless nickname you gave her, since she was your competitor. She had one for you too. You remembered her because she specialized in shellfish.
Ruggie didn't answer you. He spun you around and marched you back onto your boat, haphazardly tossing the remainder of your equipment in after you. His hands were quick as he unmoored the boat. "I'll tell you about it later. You need to go– now."
Your eyes trembled and flicked back once to the source of the commotion. You wanted to check– but more than that, you trusted Ruggie's instincts. It took less than a minute to sprint to the cabin and fire up the engine. You turned on the autopilot and then looked out the window facing the docks. Ruggie gave you a two-finger salute before turning on his heel and walking away, hands folded behind his head.
Questions swam around your skull for the rest of the day. What happened in the market? Why did Ruggie rush you out of there? You tried to focus on busywork, but your mind wandered no matter what you did.
It was several hours later when Ruggie finally knocked at your door. The atmosphere was heavy as you made some instant coffee.
"So…" you said, putting your drinks on the table. "What's going on? Did the mafia move in?"
Ruggie didn't laugh or smile, so you knew you hit some sort of nail on the head.
"Kinda, not really…" he gestured a bit before returning both hands to his warm mug. "You know how big time companies are."
"Ah yes. Capitalism."
"Capitalism…"
You both shook your heads disapprovingly. Ruggie continued, "Ever since they moved in, they've been trying to snatch up or scare away all the local fishermen. Of course, the goons they send never have any badges or uniforms, but we all know it's them. If someone doesn't agree to join their fleet, bad stuff starts happening. Your equipment gets ruined, your stall gets trashed. There's even a rumor that someone's ship got rammed into… but I haven't been able to confirm it."
A shiver ran down your spine. "How long has this been going on? Why haven't I heard about it before now?"
"Cause you're usually in and out before anyone shows up. Today they started earlier than usual." Ruggie took a large swig from his coffee. "No one's gonna snitch on ya. This town's dealt with big wigs before, we can hold our own."
"Does your boss know about this?"
"Yeah. He's been sending a few guys into the market undercover - burly ones. They jump in if things get heated, make it look like an upstanding citizen is keeping the peace. But the company tries to sue anyone who gets in the way. They fake injuries and everything. No one's volunteering anymore."
The conversation petered out, neither of you knowing what to say. Silence descended upon the room. The only sounds were the lapping of ocean waves outside.
Ruggie chugged the last of his drink and then stood up. "I gotta go. Be careful, yeah? Maybe try getting in and out of the market earlier. I'll ask Leona to hire muscle for you."
Quick goodbyes were exchanged as you escorted him to his beat up, old car. You watched him drive off, your mind digesting this new information as you stared into the distance.
You follow Ruggie's advice. You go out to sea earlier, you get to market earlier, and pack up your things even if you're not sold out by 11AM. A few hired muscles are introduced to you, the biggest one being a guy named Jack. You'd always save some extra fish for whoever was helping you out.
But it couldn't last forever. The harassment was getting worse. Local fishers who had been there almost as long as your family were packing up and leaving, younger ones were buckling under the pressure and joining the company to save their livelihoods. Your guards stopped showing up one by one as the company threatened to sue anyone who scratched one of their goons. Jack was loyal and stubborn, he stayed even after being served papers… but he wasn't omnipresent.
"What do we have here?"
Someone was waiting for you at the pier as you pulled into the dock. Your instincts told you to steer away, to sail back home and hope they wouldn't be there tomorrow, but you knew it wouldn't be that easy.
The goon continued, confident and cocky. He had two others behind him. "Do you have a permit to set up a stall here?"
"I do," you called back from a safe distance.
"We're gonna need to see it."
"Show me your papers and I'll show you mine."
Their lackadaisical expressions turned cold. You weren't reacting in the way that they wanted you to, and that was getting on their nerves. Your patience had worn thin over the past couple of weeks. Dancing around these people, getting up earlier, losing sleep over being caught… You had enough.
"Show some respect, boy," warned one of them.
"You first."
The head honcho growled. "Enough! You better turn this dinky skiff around before something happens to it."
Your blood was boiling. This ship belonged to your parents. This lifestyle was all you had left. How dare these people go around ruining livelihoods? How dare they try to take over your home?
You climbed back into the cabin, looking as if you were following their advice… until you gripped onto the chain up above and let the fog horn rip. It was a bylaw violation, for sure, but you didn't care. Hopefully there wasn't anyone else nearby to get their eardrums ruptured.
The waters under the dock rippled.
But then you felt the boat shift. Your grasp on the chain wavered as you watched a man hop the distance to your unmoored boat. In a rush of panic you let go and ran outside.
"Get off my ship!" you cried. Your instincts pushed you to grab the nearby broom and start waving it at them, threats of being sued in the back of your mind. It was all the guy could do to fend off your frenzied flailing. He tried to grab the weapon from you.
But you were only one person. The other two goons joined their friend aboard your vessel and began to trash whatever was closest. Your catch was thrown overboard… your nets were slashed… Every time you switched targets, the one you left behind would pick up the slack.
One of them grabbed your family's heirloom lantern. You froze, your stomach dropping into your feet. "No, wai–!"
Glass flew across the deck in tiny shards, too small to ever put back together. As the cage rolled across the floor, you caught sight of its bend and broken shape. Something that looked like fuel leaked out of the bottom. Your eyes prickled as fat, hot tears began to well.
You heard someone spit, and you flinched as you felt it hit your shoulder.
"Learn your place, kid."
The boat shifted again as they left, but you could barely feel it. Your vision tunneled to the wreckage of your family's lantern on the deck.
'Always be careful with the lantern, sweetie. Make sure it never breaks. It's very special.'
Your throat closed up as you choked on a sob. "Mom… Dad… " you could only whimper. Why had you fought back? What was the point? It was ruined. Everything was ruined.
On autopilot, you climbed back into the cabin. With an ugly sniffle, you wiped your face with your sleeve, and began to turn the boat around.
There was a voice outside, calling you. You slowly turned to look out the window, feeling exhausted, and saw Ruggie on the dock. He waved his arms frantically, gesturing for you to come back. Jack stood a few feet behind him. He had an arm in a sling and a black eye.
You turned back to the console and set course for home.
By the time you docked, you were feeling even worse than before. Your head felt like it was full of cotton and your chest like there was someone sitting on it.
It was only decades of muscle memory that made you tie the boat down before stumbling into your house. Inside was dark, to save money on electricity bills, but somehow it felt darker than usual. Emptier. You had never put much effort into interior decorating before, but now you were regretting it. What had you done with your life? You were glad to carry on the family business, but it was ruined now. What did you have left?
You staggered into the bedroom, falling to your knees at the edge of your bed. Your arms reach underneath the frame until they brushed a small wooden box. Inside was your mother's necklace. Jewelry was ill-suited for a rough journey in the water… but you didn't have to worry about that anymore. You slipped it over your head and crawled under the covers.
Sleep came to you then, with your hands gently cradling the golden seashell hanging from your neck.
"Wow! That's a huge one!" Jumping up and down, you point excitedly at a fat sea bass caught in the net. Both your parents smile at you warmly.
The net was released onto the deck, floppy fish spilling everywhere. You waded through to try and grab the fat sea bass. It was difficult, being only seven years old as of yesterday, but you managed it. The fish was even bigger up close.
"Good eye, sweetie." Your mom waded through the fish in half the time you took. "This'll be perfect to throw back."
You pouted. "Why do we have to throw away the best ones?"
A warm hand ruffled your hair. "We're not throwing them away. We're giving them back."
"Why? We could get twice as much money for this one."
Fond laughter from both of your parents. "You're so business-oriented," she said. "But some things are more important than money. The fish we catch are a gift from the sea, so we want to make sure She knows we're thankful."
"Okay… but why the best ones? Can't we keep some?"
"You wouldn't want to receive a gift of small, sickly fish, right?"
"No… I'd want the best ones."
"That's right. And the sea gives us such a big catch every day because she knows that we always return the favour."
Your pout transformed into determination. With as much strength and dexterity as your seven year old body could muster, you heaved up the sea bass and waddled to the side of the boat. With a loud grunt, you tossed it over the side. Your cheeks flushed with exertion and pride as your parents cheered for you.
"Thank you, Sea!" you called, waving your arm as you leaned over the railing.
To your delight, the sea answered you. A small face, the same size as yours, hovered just below the surface of the water. You almost didn't catch it. It was the same color as the water, a greenish-blue. The only reason you could see it at all was because of its heterochromatic eyes. It's one piercing, yellow eye glinted at you like sunken gold.
It smiled at you and waved back before sinking back into the depths.
You told your parents about the sea waving back at you, and they laughed at your pun. It hadn't been the last time you had seen the face… or faces. Sometimes it looked different from how you remembered, like it was flipped around or mirrored. Other times it was a different face entirely.
You had forgotten about it until now, waking up from your dream. As an adult you chalked up the faces to your childish imagination.
Groggily, you pushed yourself up from your bed. There was a loud and constant knocking at your door. That must have been what woke you up. You wrapped the blanket around yourself and shuffled to the door. "I'm coming, I'm coming…"
Unsurprisingly, Ruggie was the one on the other side. "(Y/N)! You're o–! Woof. Nevermind. You don't look so great…"
"Thanks, Ruggie."
"Are you sick? You look like sh–"
"Get to the point, Ruggie." Your head was throbbing.
"Yeah, yeah. No mood for kidding around. I get it." The boy raised his hands placatingly. "I was worried about you, okay? Is that what you wanna hear? We hadn't seen hide or hair from you for two days, and then–"
"Two days?!" You looked out behind Ruggie. Looking at the time of day, it couldn't have been more than a couple of hours, but he had said… Is that why your throat felt so parched? Were you actually sick?
Your head throbbed again. There was… There was some sort of rule about this. Your parents had told you about it before, a long time ago. A lifetime ago. Something about it you weren't able to go out to sea for several days…? You were supposed to do something… It was hard to remember, your head was filled with cotton. You wanted to go back to bed.
"Yeah," Ruggie continued. "And all the boats that go out have been attacked. We were worried that you went out and got wrecked, but you were just napping."
Napping for two whole days apparently. You frowned deeply. "What kind of attacks? Is it that big company?"
"No, not this time. There's… something out there in the water. Sailors are coming back with gashes down the side of their boats and chunks taken out of the rudder. The locals are refusing to go out now, but the company is still trying. If this keeps going on, they might give up on the town. Who knows."
Well, that was… good news. Right? The attacks were bad, but anything that scared those rich assholes away couldn't be evil.
Either way, it wasn't your problem. Your equipment was smashed, your nets were sliced, your lantern… Well, you wouldn't be going out on the sea any time soon.
Ruggie was still talking. He looked sort of nervous. You knew he had never been one to believe in any of the local's superstitions, so it was strange to see him glancing at the sea nervously. You followed his gaze. The water was a cloudy green, its choppy waves matching the grey sky overhead. Bad conditions for a pleasure cruise.
"Hopefully whatever's in the water moves on before you finish repairing your nets," Ruggie said.
Your face sank and your head throbbed again. You didn't even want to think of fixing anything. It all seemed so tiring and useless. What was the point?
In your altered state of mind, you never questioned why you felt so shitty, nor why you were so depressed about an old lantern. You never thought twice about your gut-churning anxiety for the weird rules your parents had. It all seemed… right.
But now everything was wrong.
"Yeah… Sure." You said to humor him.
Ruggie's nervous smile fell. He was always good at reading the mood. It helped him survive this far, as he sucked up to guys like Leona. He sighed. "I'll let you rest, you look like you need it. Text me if you start feeling worse okay?"
You nodded, knowing that he'll be back tomorrow with soup or something. Ruggie gave you an awkward pat on the shoulder and went back to his truck. You watched him sit in the driver's seat for a minute, wondering what he was doing before you heard the familiar ding of your phone. You checked it to see a text from Ruggie.
lmk if u need some1 to help w/ repairs
i know a guy
A small smile snuck its way onto your face, despite wanting to remain grumpy. You waved to your friend and he waved back before pulling away. Your eyes wandered from the departing truck to the sea. The waves were getting worse. You watched the foamy water try to climb up the legs of your dock. Your poor boat looked like it was barely hanging on, rocking back and forth.
There was nothing you could do about it. You closed the front door and resumed your sulking.
No matter how sick and tired you were, you still needed to eat. You ate some leftovers out of the fridge without warming them up, your gut giving you confused gurgles, and then trudged back to bed without washing the dishes.
As your addled mind sank into unconsciousness, it mused on the faces it had seen in the waves, staring at you like when you were a child.
Your sleep was interrupted by a loud crack that immediately sent ice through your veins. You shot out of bed, pushing through the agonizing joint pain and feverish headache, leaving your blanket on the floor. Looking out the window wasn't any help at all. The rain was coming down so hard that you could barely see anything.
But you could still hear it. The sound of wood creaking and cracking under stress. It was the sound of every sailor's nightmare. You threw your waders on and didn't bother with a coat before sprinting outside. The door didn't close behind you properly, you heard it slamming in the wind, but you didn't care. Your boat. You had to check on your boat.
The hand you used to shield your eyes from the rain barely did a thing and the wind was trying to throw you sideways, but you somehow managed to fight your way down the slippery dock.
Your boat was struggling. The hoist you used for the fishing net had been snapped clean in half, like something huge had fought against it and won. Claw marks ran down the sides and made a mess of the already worn paint. And in the railings… were those teeth marks?
Another sickening sound– a crunch– and your boat groaned as it began to take on water. Something had just taken a chunk out of the hull…
You didn't have time to think, you needed to beach the vessel before it took on too much water. If you were lucky, you could salvage her in the summer when the tide was out. Cursing, your calloused hands struggled with the rope mooring your ship to the dock. By the time it slipped free, your hands were red and sore from the friction and freezing rain.
You vaulted over the railing and fought your way towards the cabin. As your hand landed on the doorknob, the boat groaned and tilted to the side.
Something heavy landed on the deck with a wet thump.
You turned back. There was a man laying on the deck of your ship– no. It was the wrong color to be a man. Its skin was the same color as the stormy sea, an alien blue-green hue that covered it from head to toe… except it didn't have toes. The creature pulled itself up and you noticed how its legs were fused into one long appendage. Your mind immediately went to the slimy eels you had snagged in your net over the decades.
"You're even shorter up close…" said the eel-man. "Just a little shrimp, ain't ya?"
Your mouth opened and closed dumbly, like a fish out of water. Before you could gather your wits, the boat tilted again, and an identical creature heaved itself onto the railing.
It rested a webbed knuckle against its chin; its eyes were locked on the seashell pendant around your neck. "It seems that we've found the right one, Floyd."
'Floyd' licked his lips, showing off his serrated teeth. "You have no idea how hard we worked to find you, Shrimpy. You better be worth our time…"
The one on the railing was smiling as well, far too calmly. You shivered, but it had nothing to do with the rain. "It's time for you to come home, dear sir."
"I… My home is right here…" you protested weakly.
The creature's smile morphed into an expression of curiosity, as if you were a bug in a jar. "... I see. It seems that you do not know what is truly going on."
Your grip tightened on the doorknob. If this thing was going to go on some tangent for you, you could use the distraction to slip into the cabin and lock the door behind you. But as soon as your feverish brain came up with that plan, 'Floyd' foiled it. He groaned and tilted his head. "But Jaaaade, I'm sick of being up here."
'Jade' chuckled to himself. "Alright, I'll save that for later. Do what you do best."
Your instincts were a fraction of a second faster than Jade's order. You ripped open the door to the cabin, but your sickly body was no match for these things. Floyd crawled towards you over the deck much faster than anything ever should. A scream was ripped from your throat as a slimy hand grabbed your ankle and yanked you backwards. You braced yourself to hit the deck, but to your surprise you landed in a soggy embrace.
The eel-man must have been more than twice your height in length. His muscular tail wrapped around your chest despite your struggles. The only thing it earned you was a squeeze, forcing the air out of your lungs in a pathetic wheeze. You could feel your ribs creaking from the pressure.
You couldn't do a thing as Floyd crawled back to the railing with you in tow. He and his doppelganger shared a look before Jade dropped back into the water. As Floyd followed him, you mustered the last of your strength to wrap your arms around the railing and hold on for dear life. Facing the house, you could see the tiny speck of a truck speeding down the road towards you. It must be Ruggie. All you had to do was hold on for a little longer and–
"You put up a big fight for such a little guy," Floyd slithered up behind you, boxing you in against the side of the boat. "Say bye-bye to the surface world, Shrimpy."
You realized then that he must have been toying with you. There was no way that you could hold out against such a monster.
The last thing you saw was Ruggie's truck slamming on the breaks a few meters from shore and a humanoid sprinting towards you, before you were dragged into the watery deep.