Chapter Text
The young Thresher swam around aimlessly. Looking for something to eat, or somewhere he could hide. Gaster had told him that shark mers were supposed to be territorial. But he had no territory. And what would he even do with it once he had it? Defending an area seemed like it would take a lot of energy and time. Very inefficient.
Gaster had told him that mersharks usually defended their territories as part of a shiver.
He didn’t have a shiver. Maybe he should find one?
Oh one hand, it could be better to keep moving. He wouldn’t attract the attention of other, more dangerous mer. And he wouldn’t deplete the food supply and disrupt the ecosystem.
But on the other hand, that was dangerous in and of itself. If he kept moving, he wouldn’t know where to hide, where all the threats were- and on the flipside, where to get the good food.
Each option had its appeals.
He’d just decided to try and scout out the area, find another crevice to make a temporary base in when he ran into someone that would disagree with that plan.
Another young mer that had seemed to come out of nowhere to take a nip out of Cross’s tail from behind. “This is my place! Go away!” The attacker called. Cross quickly whipped around to face his attacker-
…A small shark mer. A bullshark, maybe? He looked a little too small for a great white, though maybe that was just his age... He wasn’t much bigger than Cross was. With weird liquid running from his sockets, and an exposed soul. An easy weak spot.
Cross’s chest puffed out a bit. He could take this guy! And prove himself! Although to whom he was proving himself to was a different question.
Cross flicked his hand, summoning his weapon. His knife pressed into the other pups bone, prompting a growl from him. The other pup suddenly flew forwards, pressing the thresher mer against the rock and grazing against his scapula with his teeth.
Cross responded by headbutting the other pup as hard as he could. The other shark backed up a few paces, both of them dazed by the blow.
It was the strange looking boy who recovered first, rushing at Cross and taking a chunk out of his pectoral fin with his teeth. Then he yelled out as a slice was cut out of his own tail.
It was almost ten minutes of this before both youngsters were too exhausted to continue.
They lay on the sandy seafloor. The weird looking pup had begun pressing seagrass over his wounds to stop the flow of magic and blood wafting through the air. He didn’t want to attract anyone bigger.
“What was that thing you were using? The red thing?” He asked. Now he was laying on his belly in front of Cross, propping his head up with his arms in a casual manner like they hadn’t just been fighting minutes beforehand.
“The…red thing?” Cross summoned his knife again. “This?”
“Yeah, that! What is it?”
“Uh…a knife.”
“Why don’t you use your teeth?”
Cross, who was beginning to feel a bit embarrassed at his reliance on the tool, huffed. “Because it keeps my teeth clean.” He lied. Sharks were supposed to use their teeth. Maybe he needed to just get used to it. Would his reliance on the tool hampen his chances of survival?
“It’s like teeth you carry in your hand. That’s cool!” They stretched out on the sand. “What’s your favourite fish?”
“I don’t have one.” Cross admitted honestly. He’d just been eating whatever he could catch.
“I like tuna. They’re hard to catch, but I can catch lots.” The other pup boasted. Maybe this new guy would accept that he was the better hunter and just leave his territory alone even without winning? Not that he lost- it was a draw. But still.
The other boy kept it up with the questions. Not about anything important. ‘Do you like night or day? How do you like splitting shellfish best? How fast can you swim? Should we have a race?’
And Cross willingly answered each and every one.
It had been..weeks, at least since he was dumped. And all that time he’d been hiding in the shadows, sleeping in crevices and hunting alone. But now- talking to someone, having a proper conversation- it filled his soul with joy.
“Hang on a second..” Cross mumbled, shuffling closer to the other pup and placing both his hands on his injured fin. The boy yelped and went to move away, but went still when he felt the soothing sensation coming from Cross’ hands.
Though he was constantly practicing for the doctor, Cross’s healing magic wasn’t super strong. But it was enough to pull together a shallow wound and ease the pain.
Once Cross moved his hands away, The weird boy flicked his tail close to his body to inspect what Cross had done. He looked up to the other youngster with an inquisitive look. “What was that?” He demanded.
“Um- I healed you. Your tail.”
“Why?”
Cross shrunk back at these words. The sting of his imminent rejection already hurting. “Um- because we can hunt better together, right?”
“Pff. What kinda weird shark are you? Shark mer don’t do that working together stuff.” The strange boy crossed his arms over his chest, very careful to avoid his exposed soul.
“Nuh uh! Sharks totally do work together! Uh- shark mers often hunt and- and protect their territory in packs called shivers.” Cross insisted. Repeating what the doctor had told him, though he had no idea how much of it was true. “You can watch each others backs so no one gets hurt. And help with grooming the spots you can’t reach. And take down way bigger stuff that way!”
The other pup thought about it for a moment, his posture softening. “Like whales?”
“I think so!”
His grin grew even bigger at the thought of taking down a whale. That would be so cool! And they could have food for AGES and even use the skull to scare off anyone who wanted to get into their land!
Even if he had to share with someone else…it seemed like a pretty good deal.
He stuck his hand out for Cross to take. “Okay! We can make a shiver! I’m Killer.”
Cross couldn’t help the way his face stretched so his smile matched Killers when he went to grab Killers hand. He wasn’t going to be stupid X anymore. He was going to use his real name in his real home with his new real friend. “Cross.”