Shaking hands cut through the water of the flooded cavern. Naoki can barely feel them, pushing himself forward by willpower alone. He doesn’t know how long he’s been swimming — only able to guess the time by the tangible ridges on his fingers and rough goosebumps littering his skin. With a strong kick, he breaks the surface, water lapping against the walls as he does. Heaving for breath, his bleary eyes flit between the stalactites, unfocused. In the phone light, the white-blue rays, the cavern shrinks in on itself. Like some unseen calamity, it stalks him; constricting around his airways the same way his shirt clings to his expanding chest.

There’s no way he is fast enough to escape the cave in time, let alone get to higher ground before it catches up to him. 

In a crumb of time, the black water behind him rises and falls again; calmness long forgotten. Naoki swivels around, heart pounding. Is it too late already? Kicking his feet, he feels the telltale drag of the current in the waters beneath. There’s no time to debate the right decisions — he’s dead anyway. He sucks in a breath just as the shadow of a fin bounces against the pale orange light of the crystals below, and dives down.

The tail splashes against the surface as it follows.

The blaring alarm throws Naoki out of an already-restless sleep, the tale-end of stormy dreams clinging to his waking conscience. Untangling his legs from the mess he’s made of the sheets in his sleep, he reaches around and turns it off with a decisive thwunk. He lies back on his bed, mattress bouncing softly as he does. 

With his eyes closed, the world around him comes into focus. 

The chirping is what he notices first — the Cotaes singing loudly right outside his window. It is only when he concentrates, aiming his senses at the horizon, that he hears the too-familiar sound of the ocean waves lapping at the shore outside his home. After a few more moments of blissful rest, he sits up. There’s a weight on his chest today, some nervous current flowing through his veins, making his head sting. 

“Annoying,” he mumbles as he rubs a hand against his sternum.

His eyes catch onto the remaining light of his phone screen; the silvery streaks a stark contrast against the dark colour of his bedside dresser. He swipes away the messages, lingering only a moment above the call this weekend? before closing his phone with a sigh. Numbers illuminate the dark screen. Absent-mindedly, Naoki finds himself tracing them with his eyes. He follows the angular lines of the boxed symbols; the square base sitting atop the— He shoots up as his mind catches up with his eyes, nearly flinging himself off the bed with muted curses.

“Qixa,” he spits as he tries to get into his diving kit without stumbling, “the tide guard.”

In a matter of moments, he’s out of his door, disregarding the shrine in his hallway to bolt down the dirt path to the shore. It only takes a few more minutes for his feet to hit the cobblestones on familiar turf, the citrus smell of fresh Bemoaes infiltrating his nostrils. Tempted to steal one off its wooden peak, Naoki slows momentarily and stretches up. His hand has just closed around the fruit when a high-pitched squeak makes him jump and messily rip it from its stem. 

“Xi’a,” Naoki scolds as he turns around. 

The Qomiat slings around his feet as it continues to squeak, fur moist against his hand. Another squeak and it sits down on its hindlegs, webbed paws reaching up towards Naoki in a silent plea. “Xi’a,” Naoki sighs again, “stop begging. These aren’t for you.”

“They’re not for you either, dear.”

Naoki starts, dropping the Bemo as he does. The fruit falls to the floor, the dull thud an audible proof of his just perceived crimes. He turns with a wince. “Hey, Cytau,” his hand rubs at the back of his neck.

“Cais, Naoki,” a bemused smile is playing on his Cytau's lips. Wrinkled lines adorn the sides of her mouth, joined by the crinkles forming around her slanted eyes. Her hair is pulled up today, Naoki notes, Piaat stones weaved into the intricate patterns of her braids. There’s something comforting about the way the morning sun reflects off the white strands on her head. Her eyes follow the fruit as it falls, eyebrow raising when Naoki shrugs. 

“I got up late,” he tries, rubbing his thumb against his pointer finger, “no big deal.”

“You haven’t had breakfast yet,” Laulis concludes, lips turning downward. Naoki deflects her concern with a wave.

“It’s cool,” he shrugs, body moving into the direction of the shore again, “I’ll just eat on the boa—”

“Naoki,” her voice is stern and it stops him in his tracks, “breakfast.”

With that, she makes a sharp turn and moves back into the house. Her absence is followed by the sound of paws trotting back towards the door — big orange fruit held tightly in its mouth as it jumps up and disappears behind her. Naoki glances back towards the path just once before taking a long, deep breath. There’s that pang in his chest again as he regards the open door; a feeling reminiscent of lost contentment. He leaves his shoes standing on the right, ignoring the boots that still remain at their usual spot just next to the altar. 

“Mi zikoob,” he mumbles as he crosses the threshold. Immediately, he is hit by the smell of freshly ground nuts, earthy and sweet. He rounds the corner and for a moment, he expects to be greeted by booming laughter and the sound of fishing equipment, assembled just in time to go out to sea.

Instead, the television blares the latest news as his aunt stands in her kitchen, alone.

He swallows.

“Vaob qegaib,” she says as he pauses at the door of the kitchen. The wood feels old against his palm, splintered in places. “I prepared some Onubae earlier,” she grinds seeds into the big pot of warm fruit paste on the counter, “get another bowl and eat.”

Naoki sighs. It’s been nearly a month since he’s had her home cooked meals and he feels his stomach gurgling in anticipation. Still, the air feels stifled in his Cytau's place, the life nearly sucked out of it. Even the screen is gradually crystallizing at its edges. He makes a grab for his old bowl, stopping for just a moment when the television screen switches to a news broadcast, words flitting over the screen at lightning speed.

AIXEWOS TO START OPERATIONS AT COASTLINE -- XA. ZIWA ANNOUNCES NEW COMPANY MISSION TO PREVENT THE TREMORS IN FAR OUT DISTRICTS

“What bullshit,” Naoki mutters as he sits down, watching as the person on screen smiles into the camera. 

“This is our island,” they say, lips turning downward, “the wellbeing of our archipelago determines the wellbeing of our people, our home. Aixewos knows this - the connection between the Kaozesys and Kalypso has proven it many times before. We have always lived by the principle of following the directions given to us by these lands. This is why we have launched Operation Coastline in Nauwai. We are confident that we will find the cause of those tremors, preserve our way of life, and do so by trusting in Kalypso.”

“You’re not preserving anything, you stupid Noca.”

“Naoki.”

“What?” Naoki flicks his spoon into the air with visible incredulity, “It’s not like these people have ever actually cared about any of us.”

“Some have,” she throws a glance towards the empty plate on their right as she takes the seat on the other side of the table. Naoki's fists clench. “Your food is going cold, Naoki.”

“I don’t— ,” he stops when she taps her spoon against his bowl. Sighing, he shoves a spoonful of Onubae in his mouth and takes a moment to survey the rest of the kitchen. Tidy, unlike his own home, except for the growing pile of post thrown carelessly onto the chair next to him. He almost skips them entirely, expecting the same addressee as usual. Then, he spots the name Laulis Nauwaikau printed out next to a familiar looking logo. He swallows heavily, the action making him sputter. “They’re still contacting you?”

“Hm?” 

“Don’t let them force you into anything, Cytau,” his fingers press against the wood, “The only thing they’re going to do is harass you about Ohy.”

“Naoki,” she sighs, dropping her spoon into a half-empty bowl, “You don’t know what they— ”

“Whatever deal they’re trying to cut you is not something he would’ve accepted without a fight.”

Naoki watches her mouth snap close, food long forgotten. He recognizes the sadness in her eyes — that deep set grief that has been haunting her for over a year now. He’s gone too far; he knows that. 

He watches her rest a hand against her chest; her long, thin fingers looking more frail than he’s ever seen. Subtle tremors showcasing the months of stress and anxiety, the kind of existential fear that would shock even the strongest person. Naoki’s own lip begins to shake. He doesn’t know how to help.

A squeak and there’s a brightly-coloured Qomiat on the table, frantically clicking as it rubs its head against his Cytau’s hand. “Oh, Xi’a,” she coos, scratching behind its fin with gentle fingers. The animal continues its clicking, soft little sounds echoing through the kitchen. “You always know what to say.” 

Lowering his gaze, Naoki attempts to take another bite, but finds his appetite gone. The oh-so delicious dish looks stale now; the once sweet smell resembling something rotten. Nose scrunching up, he turns to take another look at the abandoned chair next to his, varnish worn down and dulled.

He swallows.

“I better go,” Naoki mumbles, placing the bowl down with a clang. 

His aunt doesn’t look up as he leaves, so he shuffles out of the door while avoiding the creaking floorboards. The moment he reaches his shoes, her voice resounds throughout the hallway. “Make sure you light a candle for yourself before you head out.”

Naoki’s shoulders tense. The pressure travels down his spine as he turns to look at the protruding stones on the other side of the door. His aunt’s altar hasn’t changed one bit. Except for the newly lit candle in its centre, clearly replaced earlier that day. His gaze remains there just another moment, lip worrying between his teeth. Then, he sighs, before lighting up his own. 

There’s some peaceful quality to the way the amber flames illuminate the darkening rock, climbing up the ore of the monument. The large stone owl regards him with black eyes — unseeing and yet accusatory. Shaking his head, Naoki stands back up and stops.

“Love you, Cytau,” he calls and climbs down the steps of the house.

He makes it to the boat in a dash. It’s lower than it was the last time; the entrance being  more of a jump than usual. “Fucking tide,” he mumbles as he directs it out of the bay. Accelerating, he lets the breeze hit his face with familiar vigor, eyes falling close. 

Then, he hears a horn.