Chapter Text
(the woman, turtle beach)
==
She opened her eyes. Shut them, quick— too bright. It’d been storming, before, but that must have passed while she was—
Stop. Do it in steps.
There was sand in her mouth, in her hair. She ached, head pounding, and her legs were numb which was—
Was—
Not as bad as it should have been, probably. Just. Keep going.
Legs numb, arms prickling, back sore, tongue dry and heavy in her mouth. Her throat felt like sandpaper.
She licked her teeth, wincing at the lack of moisture and the texture of sand on the enamel. It was… unfair, she decided, that she’d nearly drowned (is that right?) and wound up dehydrated for the trouble.
Her eyes cracked open, enough to peer out through her lashes. Not a cloud in the sky. That’s unfair too— it couldn’t have been like this earlier, while she was…?!
“Mmph— ff—”
Talking was not a good idea.
She coughed. Opened her eyes a hair wider. Adjusted to the light. The beach was pretty: the sand white and picturesque, and turning her stiff neck to the left netted a view of crystal blue waves lapping gently at the shoreline. She hadn’t known the beaches on this part of the west coast could be so pristine, beautiful, but this surprise is more welcome than the storm that had–
(…is that right…?)
She coughed again. Let her eyes fall all the way open. Twitching her fingers was a successful experiment: with some maneuvering (owch) her arms quit tingling quite so badly, and she could curl her hands into fists.
Her legs…
Well. They hadn’t gotten less numb. That was probably a bad sign.
She wiggled on her back, trying to prop up onto her arms— winced— and briefly couldn’t even ignore the elephant in the room, that she’d lost her bathing suit top in the storm, because certain parts of her anatomy were less wiggling then flopping—
Not now.
She propped onto her arms.
Inhaled. Exhaled. Looked down.
….
==
What the fuck.
==
“Oi. Oi. Oi. Oi. Oi—!”
The next time she opened her eyes— she’d sensibly decided to close them until, well, fuck, until— the sun was lower on the horizon, she felt exactly as shitty as she did the first time, and a teenaged boy was poking her face with a stick.
She blinked. The boy didn’t vanish. Neither did his stick.
He cocked his head (must have noticed she was awake-aware-alive) and grinned— too wide, all his bone white teeth bared, lips stretched far past the gum line. Giggled, weird, the sound whistling past those goddamned tombstone teeth. Shishishishishishi. She flinched.
Too wide, wrong wide, wrong– everything, what is it, what’s the problem, why can’t she…?!
Stop.
Black hair. Brown eyes— an old scar curved across his left cheek. Perfect teeth. He sat cross legged to her right (but HOW are his legs BENDING like–) sand wedged between his toes and embedded into the leather of his simple flip-flops, worn blue jeans patched and terminating just below his knees.
Instead of a shirt, he wore an equally worn red vest (unbuttoned), and an old straw hat with a matching band.
It’s perfectly familiar. Why? It’s perfectly strange. Why? Has she met him before? No, absolutely not– so why…?
The boy’s smile faltered— he poked her square in the forehead, this time, answered her flustered-hoarse squeak with something derisive and… and…
Oh, fuck.
She can’t understand him.
==
It did not take the boy long (she thinks, between the newly apparent fucking language barrier and her— the ta— the everything else— she started to zone out, well, a bit) for the boy to notice she couldn’t understand a single goddamned word that left his too wide mouth.
It’s not English. (Fluent). Or Spanish. (She could recognize it). She didn’t think it was Japanese, either, but by ear it sounded closer to that than a, there was a word for it– whatever. The details didn’t matter.
(Dammit!)
She vaguely noticed him switching to something else, similar, but… clumsier on his tongue…? But she still couldn’t understand him so he might as well be speaking in tongues. Or to a brick wall. Or a— haha, ha— dead fish.
Maybe that’s funny. Maybe she’s having a stroke.
…A stroke would explain a lot.
She closed her eyes. He made a whole bunch of strange-odd-frustrated noises she honestly couldn’t care less about because, BECAUSE, she was… done. Dealing with it. Done and done and done and done and who gives a shit about steps when she has a FUCKING–
Maybe, she thinks, somewhat deliriously, if she waits long enough, the sun will dry her out, and she won’t have to deal with… any of this. With the– situation, what else is she going to call it, she has a fucking— a fish’s fucking– it’s not impossible.
No… not impossible.
…
==
(makino, foosha village)
==
“Makino! Oi! Makino!” Luffy tumbled through the doors of Party’s Bar, rebounding off a table hard enough to knock it over– but Makino couldn’t feel anything but relief, and the smile that crept across her face was entirely genuine. Behind the counter, she set down her cleaning-rag. An almost impossible fondness overwhelmed her.
“Good morning, Luffy!”
Luffy put on a brave face, but it was difficult not to see how hard Ace’s departure had hit him. He was, despite everything, only fourteen years old.
…Though… hm… It was probably for the best that it was Sunday (her day off, usually) and since Shanks had left (bless him) even the most stalwart of her drunken regulars wasn’t around to scrape off the floor.
Luffy’s particular brand of enthusiasm was not for everyone. Especially when he was knocking over her furniture. Or picking himself up off the ground by an inhumanly long arm, latched onto the edge of the bar and rattling her all of her glasses and bottles with the impact when he was launched to his feet.
(Though he didn’t break anything, this time!) (His aim really was getting better!)
“I gotta borrow a shirt,” he said, “—and a brazzy-thing.”
Makino blinked.
“A,” wait, did he mean, “…bra…?”
“Yeah! That!”
“Well…“ She chewed on a reply. This wasn’t all that surprising, honestly— maybe Ace leaving wasn’t entirely a bad thing. Garp (as much as she loved that old man) had filled that boy's head with frustrating ideas, and where Garp’s opinions bounced off Luffy like blunt objects, Ace’s had an unfortunate track record of sticking. “I have some old things that might fit you?”
“Huh?” Luffy stared at her, gears visibly turning in his— his?— head. Jolted. “I don’t have boobs!”
Ah. Well. “Wait,” she asked, mystified, “…then what do you want my clothes for…?”
He replied– slow, like she was stupid. Makino exhaled. It’s not one of Luffy’s most charming personality traits, especially in a conversation about her undergarments. “Cuz, that weird naked fish lady—“ uh!? “—will probably be less sad when her boobs aren’t flopping everywhere.”
Oh, wow. Her eyes might fall all the way out.
“Unless she’s a pervert, I guess? Ehhh…” he cocked his head “...she did seem pretty weird.”
“...Fish… lady…?” she tried, grasping onto the strangest part of the sentence.
“Yeah!” Luffy’s eyes glittered. “She’s got FISH BITS instead of legs! Hey, Makino, how do you think she poops?”
“Don’t ask her that.” That was instinct. Then– “Luffy, you– you found a mermaid?!”
“Eh, is that what the weird fish lady is?” He shrugged. “I dunno! She washed up on the beach where all the turtles like to have their babies, but… I think she was with that ship that sank further up. Cuz she has fish bits. And not turtle bits. And there’s some ship parts on the beach, too.”
Best to cut him off. “Is she injured?”
Makino isn’t much of a medic, but Doctor Holiday (the only one in town) is a good man… and discreet. If a mermaid washed up off a ship– and Luffy’s hunches are usually correct about those things– then the last thing the poor girl needs is those people in the city hearing about it.
“...Hmm…” Luffy shrugged again. “A little. I dunno. She doesn’t talk local, so I tried like Gramps–” Garp communicated near exclusively in the ‘correct’ language of the world government and pirates alike, local edges sanded off “--and she didn’t get that either, so maybe she only talks fish? She got real upset about it. And then she closed her eyes and wouldn’t move, even when I poked her a bunch. She’s not dead, though.”
“Well…” not good, but not terrible, either. Poor girl. “Take me to her, please? I’ll bring some clothes that might fit.” She paused, thinking about it. “...And a wheelbarrow.” Not to be presumptuous, but if she was injured, it was best to cover all their bases.
Luffy grinned: pleased, it seemed, with that course of action. Their boy was kind, rough edges and all. “Yeah! Let’s go!”
==
(the weird fish woman, turtle beach)
==
Someone new was here.
The boy was back as well (why couldn’t he just leave her alone?!) and with him he’d brought a woman, wheelbarrow in tow. She was pretty. Her face was almost doll-like in its proportions, and she wore a simple but practical dress and an orange kerchief that complimented her green hair.
And still– so maddeningly familiar, why?!
…Whatever…!
The woman had scolded the boy when he’d tried to go back to his poking, which she could– at least– faintly appreciate, but the words that spilled from her lips as she did so were as incomprehensible as anything the boy tried to say. Now: she stared at the woman. The woman stared at her.
…She seemed to come to some sort of decision.
“Ma-ki-no,” she said. Pointed at herself. “Makino.” Again. “Makino.” Pointed at the boy. “Loo-fee.”
(That name– she’s heard that before, hasn’t she?)
The boy rocked back and forth on his heels, grin once again pulling his face in uncomfortable directions. He pointed at himself. “Luffy!” And then, still pointing, “Monkey D. L–”
(Something clicked.)
But, no.
No, that was stupid. She wasn’t calling him that.
Wasn’t calling him anything, actually. Even if she could unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth– she wouldn’t humor this situation. That would be insane, and she didn’t think she was insane. Maybe having a stroke. But not crazy. Even if she did have a– fuck, whatever, even if she had a goddamned fish tail–
(Stroke. Or maybe she’s dreaming? That would make sense. She wanted it to make sense. But even if she is, dreaming, that is, she’s not humoring it.)
That boy can stay ‘the boy’. It was a very nice costume, now that she recognized it.
…And he was staring at her. “Sakana!” he smiled, pointing. The woman– Makino– stupid but not as bad as the boy– pursed her lips and scolded him again, she thought, before turning towards her with an apologetic sort of expression on her face.
“Sakana? …Kana?” she asked, then– something else. Waving her hand in a circle, like so-and-so or… no, she doesn’t think she gets it. Pointed at herself. “Makino?” Then, back at her. “Kana?”
Oh.
No, that’s not…? But– it’s not like she can correct them. It’s not like she really wants to, either. Her name is for real and serious situations, not… near death experiences and stroke induced fever dreams and boys in costumes.
She exhaled. Shrugged. Kana shrugged.
“Sakana!” the boy cheered.
==
(makino, turtle beach)
==
“Fish”, Makino sighed, “still isn’t very nice.”
“But she’s a fish lady?” Luffy looked at her blankly, then down at the poor mermaid girl— woman? It was hard to tell, other than Makino’s vague awareness that she was probably still in her twenties. “Are we gonna call her ‘pervy lady’ instead?”
“Luffy!”
Still, she couldn’t say much more on the subject. She’d gone with his idea, after all, and ‘Kana’ had accepted the moniker without correcting either of them. Makino suspected she might be mute. She hadn’t spoken a word in whatever her native tongue was— Luffy had been right, there was no indication she understood them at all— and that was strange, too. Though Makino’s confusion might just be ignorance. Shanks hadn’t mentioned merpeople speaking with words that weren’t common, even amongst themselves, but Shanks was prone to fanciful stories that glossed over petty details.
Makino sighed. Again. Glanced down at the young woman in their care, folded not at all gracefully into her wheelbarrow as they trundled through the jungle. (Thank god for Luffy: Makino wouldn’t be able to push the thing, let alone lift the young woman into it).
Her features were strong– the shape of her jaw, her nose, heavy lidded eyes… but the impression was undercut by how unwell she looked. Too skinny to be healthy, and her skin had a gray cast Makino didn’t like. Her blue hair seemed limp and stringy, too, even if it hadn’t been coated in sand and who knew what else.
But the worst part was the tail.
Makino couldn’t say she knew what it was supposed to look like– if, like she suspected, the pattern should be more vibrant than muddy red-tipped-blue– but she knew what fin-rot was. Seeing that attached to a person and not an ill-fated pet housepet was…
But there wasn’t a brand. And– though she was roughed up– it was the generalized sort of bruising that could be reasonably attributed to a crashing ship, however a mermaid had found herself in that situation, and assuming Luffy had called it correctly.
…She would bet on him, anyway.
By all accounts lacking the strength to dress, Kana had allowed herself to be wrapped in one of Makino’s old T-shirts– it was for the best that she'd decided against bringing any of her bras. While they might fit, it wouldn’t have sat right with her to touch the other woman so familiarly. Luffy had hoisted her into the wheel-barrow, and off they’d went, trundling through jungle-paths the rubber boy knew better than anyone else, save Garp or maybe Ace.
“Fish lady’s asleep,” Luffy announced.
“Hm? She wasn’t, before?” She’d closed her eyes and gone limp the moment they’d gotten her into the ‘barrow’ part of the wheelbarrow.
Luffy shook his head, staring at Kana with one of his trickier expressions– interest, but whatever else was going on behind his eyes was unreadable even to Makino, who’d known him since he was a babe on her aunt’s hip. (Party’s bar without Party was still a bit strange, but the ache of loss had faded with the years). “Nah, she wasn’t.”
The poor woman. There had been something strange— distant— about her, an expression that worried Makino even more than the state of her body. Like she was somewhere else. “…Hm… And you said a ship crashed? Earlier?”
“Lord of the Coast got it,” Luffy shrugged, eyes still wide and staring. “Saw it from the cliffs! Ah, but it was weird!” He shook his head– lost that look. Grinned. “He’s a coward.”
“That’s true.” Dinghy’s and small children were an easy target. Neither of them brought it up.
She hoped that didn’t mean the Lord was getting bold enough to target larger vessels flat out. Foosha did well enough for itself, but if the fisherman were at risk…
“But there were a lotta little fish around the big ship,” Luffy added, “…so maybe he was just stupid. And hungry.”
He drooled a bit, and eyed their guest with sharp interest, so Makino was quick to interject— “I have stew ready back at the bar.” Mentioning meat now was the best play. She didn’t need him thinking about sashimi.
“Yay! Makino stew!”
…Not that he would actually do anything!
(Scaring the poor woman, though…)
==
(kana, ???)
==
I’m done, I’m sorry, I’m done, I’m sorry, I–
She (Kana–?) blinked. There was something strange about her surroundings, like she was looking at the world through a pane of glass, but the strangeness was also… familiar, and she floated (swam, she was swimming) without having to pay attention to the way the light bent around her.
…Please, I can’t do this anymore–
In front of her was a woman with a fish’s tail. She might have been pretty (or handsome, maybe) if she hadn’t looked so wretched.
The top she wore was fine, gauzy and iridescent, and the delicate gold bangles around her wrists looked expensive… but the scales of her serpentine tail were dull and faded where they should have been bright, the fin tattered and rotted where it should have flowed like a banner. And she would have been crying– was crying– except that they were underwater, weren’t they? The tears couldn’t take shape on her trembling face.
Kana opened her mouth. Nothing escaped.
I’m sorry, the woman wept, but I can’t stay, I just– can’t, I’m so sorry–
Sorry for what?
I don’t know how this happened, I just wanted out so badly and you– you don’t want to die, do you? Isn’t this better? Isn’t it?
And Kana remembered–
gasping-choking-drowning
–no, she didn’t want to die. Why would she…?!
Called the bait to feed I wanted to join them I wanted that so badly AND THEN–
gasping-choking-drowning but she didn’t want to die she WANTED
–there was you.
goodbye.