Shaking his head, Naoki attempts to rid himself of the blurriness that has taken over his sight.

When he does, another scar comes into view.

Unlike the other one, this one has not yet faded. It seems older, but still worn into his skin with an almost uncanny precision. The cruciform scar appears to be at home in his skin, clearly visible as it is. 

“How is-,” Naoki mumbles, fingers itching towards the raised skin, “How does this one look so much worse?” A fight, maybe? But why would it be any different than the hook that was buried so deeply underneath its skin? Eyebrows furrow in deep-set confusion as Naoki’s fingers brush against the seemingly older wound. “The other one’s healing so fast...,” his voice is barely a whisper, as if too afraid to give his thoughts a form, “How deep was this one?”

A click.

Naoki flinches back, thrown out of his musings by the sound alone. Crimson floods his cheeks, heat crawling all the way up to his ears as the creature slinks away from his touch. He schools his features, wills himself to drain away the emotions just as he’s done so many times before. It doesn’t matter anyway. Nothing matters.

He watches as the siren raises a webbed hand, gesturing towards its shoulder in an unnecessarily drawn out pace. Wait a second; that almost looks like—

“Begentle.”

“I—,” Naoki stutters, eyes widening, “What?”

“Begentle.” The siren’s words are slurred, hands gesturing again and again.

“Begent— Be gentle?” Naoki says, pitch of his voice rising as he laughs nervously, “Are you parroting me?”

“Begentle.” The words are accompanied by a loud thump.

“Alright! Okay,” Naoki says, own hands rising, “I’ll be gentle. Wa lomali.”

With the softest of touches, Naoki’s fingers brush scarred skin once again. They skim over the creature’s wound this time, mindful of its request, and instead follow the dip of its shoulder blades, up to his dorsal fin. It shivers at his touch; the torn up pieces of tissue rough beneath the tips of his fingers. Something heavy settles in his stomach, strange anxiety crawling all the way up to his lungs. There’s so many of them, Naoki thinks, bumps and shreds lining the entirety of its fin. What’s happened to this siren? Weren’t sirens renowned for their flawless beauty?

Another brush of skin and the creature flinches, just slightly; the movement barely noticeable. Hesitating, Naoki hovers. What does he do, what does he do? When the creature chuffs, he shakes himself out of this strange panic and jumps up. “So, uh,” he croaks and clears his throat to get rid of his nerves. “How about more fish?”

The creature’s head tilts as it watches him walk back to the cooler. Its eyes are more alert than he expected them to be, picking up on the mood almost instantly. Almost as if it could feel the weight lying on Naoki’s heart — the gravity within the air heavy, nothing like the weightlessness of a dive beneath the waves. A strange sense of camaraderie; one that Naoki doesn’t linger on; doesn’t want to linger on. Instead, he throws another fish and watches as the siren catches it with its hands this time.

Okay. Weird.

“I don’t know how much more of this I have in here,” Naoki mumbles as he turns back to the cooler, wiping his sweaty hands down his trousers, “but you’re in better shape than I thought, so I guess you could hun— EUGH.”

A heavy pain blooms between his shoulder blades as he tries to get the air back into his lungs. When he turns, he sees the fish, lying on the ground before him.

“What—,” clicking laughter rumbles up behind him. What. “Did you just throw that at me?” 

More laughter, the creature nearly doubling over in obvious joy at his misery. “Alright,” Naoki scoffs, voice high, “okay, alright. That’s how it is.” In a near nonchalant gesture, he reaches down, as if to sort it back into the box, but then shoots forward to throw it right back. 

Without missing a beat, the siren’s hand dashes up and closes around the fish. Naoki gulps. “Oh,” he laughs nervously, “you’ve got fast reflexes. Of course you do.”

A moment; eyes stare. Then, the siren’s hand flashes forward again.

This time, Naoki ducks.

“Haha!” He exclaims as the fish sails over his head, “I’m not useless. See!”

A click. Disappointed. Turning, Naoki sees the fish floating on top of the water behind the boat. “Well,” he says, “shit.” That one’s lost.

The last thing he sees when he turns back is dilated eyes, a thumping tail, and the shadow of a siren jumping off his boat, rocking the whole thing in an almost violent manner. Naoki’s hands just manage to hold onto the railing to avoid another fall when there’s more clicking behind him. 

As if it were a triumphant kill, the siren holds the fish high above its head as it bobs in the waves. Naoki almost chuckles. “You can keep it,” he says, hands held out in front of him, “it’s yours.”

A rumble. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Shrugging, the siren opens its mouth. Naoki watches as its jaw unhinges to swallow the fish whole, only to dive back into the depths right after. He shivers. “Guess that’s goodbye,” he mumbles, “for now.” There’s a strange pull at the very edges of his lips, a tingle in his cheeks, muscles straining in a way they haven’t for a long time. It takes Naoki a moment to realise just what it is that his face is doing, but when he does, he pulls his lips back into a grimace. “Ugh,” he breathes, the weight of his monotonous reality returning to his shoulders, “I better get back.”

And yet, the smile at his lips remains even as the sun rises over the horizon.

At dawn, the city of Nauwai has just yet awoken. The energy crackles as more and more people find themselves strolling the streets, their vibrant clothing shining in the morning light. Soon, it’ll be filled with all kinds of life; the crowds like a flowing river, swirling around the shops and visiting the Maemaut. Naoki is glad to be here during the early hours of the morning when people are still scarce, the shopkeepers occasionally greeting him with an enthusiastic Kaulao. He swallows down a grimace as he returns it, fingers bouncing off his cheek and into the air with casual flippancy.

He’s never liked it. 

The next time he is forced to return the gesture, it dies halfway through. What the— “An Aixewos carrier?” 

The white paint of the vehicle nearly bleeds into the bright wood of the stall behind it. If not for Naoki’s stay in Gos, he wouldn’t have noticed it at all. But the familiarity of that particular colour scheme is startling; and disconcerting. Too close for comfort. Hurrying into his Cytau’s shop, he drags his eyes from the strange machine only after the bell above the door rings to announce his arrival. 

When he does, he is greeted by the same colour once again; the white cut of their uniform unmistakable. Nope. He’s not doing this. Hand shooting backwards, he halts the door’s descent and turns to walk right back out. 

“And where do you think you’re going?”