Lungs expand as he pulls himself back up. Unmistakable. Too big to be anything else. His knee hits the metal. The sting brings a grimace to his face. He pulls himself to the railing. What does he do? There’s no way he can dive down there. Not with the siren still in the same—

He blinks.

The light ripples against the rocks in front of his boat. The water foams up against the edges. Out of its depths, red rope protrudes and winds around the stone. 

“A casting line?” Naoki’s voice rises with the waves. Of course. “It’s still here,” he says, “days later and it’s still in the same spot. Qixa.” 

Scrambling up, he crashes against the cooler. Water drips off his body and gathers on the ground. How would a predator hunt without being able to move? “Of course, it attacked me,” Naoki mumbles, pulling another fish out of the box. If he aims correctly, it should work. The last thing he wants to do is dive down.

He draws back his arm, torso bending; fingers flex around the fish, weight heavier than it should be. He glances up. No seagulls. One more stretch and he jerks his arm forward. The fish flies through the air.

He sees the seagull out of the corner of his eye.

“No,” Naoki shouts, jumping forward, “No, that’s not for yo—”

A ripple scatters the calm surface of the sea.

Naoki just manages to jump back, eyes never leaving the sight before him. In a sudden burst of strength, a figure breaks the surface. The movement carries it upwards. The sun glistens against its claws as it reaches up. Naoki’s feet slip on the wet floor. He stares in horror at the red line winding around the creature’s arm. What is he seeing? A webbed hand closes around the seagull. Fangs snap. Almost there, almost got it.

Naoki’s breath hitches as the line draws taut. The pull is too strong, yanking the siren back down. It slaps onto the surface with a deafening screech. Seagulls scatter; the water parts. The force of the crash lifts the waves around it. Next thing he knows, the water ascends, colliding with the boat. Naoki yelps as the ground shakes beneath his feet. It’s too much, too fast. He quickly scrambles to the edge, hand shooting out to grab onto the railing. But gravity tears at him. The steel burns his palm as he tries to hold on. Fingers slip. His feet skid across the floor with a squeak. Rocked by the force of the impact, scorching pain flares up his back.

Then, silence.

Pulsing with adrenaline, Naoki draws his legs together and pulls them tight to his chest. As soon as the rocking stops, vertigo still clutching at his mind, he kicks out with both feet to push off. He swings his body to the side; then he jumps back towards the stern, shoes skidding across the wet floor. Flailing once again, his hands find the cooler and grip onto it. It’s just enough to slow him down. He ignores the burn at his hands and skids to a halt. Panting uncontrollably, he stares.

The waves settle where the creature disappeared — it is almost eerie, too quiet to be reconciled with what Naoki has just seen. His eyes remain trained on the water, watching as the foam slowly rescinds back into the sea.

In its stead, startling crimson bubbles onto the surface.

Naoki’s eyes widen. He stares in horror as the redness spreads, painting over glimmering blue. This can’t happen, he thinks, not now. He’s only just found it.

A different string of red sparkles at the edge of his vision.

He moves without conscious thought. Adrenaline rushing through his body, he stumbles backwards, grabbing the bag at the front of the boat. “Gotcha.” His voice sounds victorious as he finally finds his knife.

Gripping it tightly with his still hurting hand, he pushes away the fear and jumps into the water. The current thrusts against his back, propelling him forward as he swims. A burn flares up in his arms; his chest constricts. The moment he is close enough, he plants his foot against the rocky ledge. It slips, scraping against the edge. Naoki yelps, pushing his body weight against the rocks. Without a second to spare, he reaches over, pulling the casting line taut. Then, he starts sawing away at it. 

The fabric frays, red fibers coming apart at its edges. More and more it unravels, thinner and thinner, until it is merely a string, holding tight. In the corner of his eyes, a bird circles overhead. Gritting his teeth, Naoki pushes the knife down further. He’s almost through, almost done.

When the string threatens to come apart, a hand closes around Naoki’s foot.

He gasps as the creature yanks him down into the sea. The knife slips from his fingers, sailing through the water in front of him. Kicking down, his foot connects with something solid, flesh digging into his heel. A screech rings within his ears. Instinctively Naoki knows what he has to do. Heart pumping within his chest, he pushes himself forward, towards the slowly falling knife. There’s a pressure behind him, a heavy weight moving through the water. Without having to look behind him, he knows it is gaining on him, not deterred at all with his measly kick. His fingers stretch, gracing the knife. He’s so close, he’s so close. Just as his hand wraps around it, claws dig into his shoulder.

At the last second, he turns, holding out his weapon.

The siren stares back at him.