Chapter Text
It was Utahime’s fault.
All of it.
And you made damn sure she knew it.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Utahime Iori?!” you snapped, running a shaky hand through your damp hair. “Do you even know where the fuck we are right now?!”
Utahime shot you a glare that could curdle milk. “No, I don’t. But it’s not my fault! You wanted to come just as much as I did!”
She spun on her heel and jabbed a finger toward Shoko, who raised an unimpressed brow.
“ Both of you did,” Utahime added hotly, like she hadn’t just been the one driving the metaphorical—and literal—boat into disaster.
“Okay, yeah, but we weren’t the ones who thought it was a good idea to take a low-on-fuel jetski toward some sketchy-ass island no one knows we’re on!” Shoko fired back, pointing her own finger at Utahime with equal menace.
“Oh, boo-freaking-hoo,” Utahime scoffed, crossing her arms. “I’m sure the jetskis have tracking—”
WHOOSH.
All three of you whipped around.
The jetski was now several yards offshore, bobbing lazily like it had never been yours to begin with.
“Oh fuck me ,” you breathed, already sprinting toward the surf. Saltwater splashed against your legs as you plunged in, the others hot on your heels.
The water was colder than expected. And deeper. You swam hard, eyes locked on the retreating silhouette of your only ride back to civilization. But it kept drifting farther, like something was pulling it—mocking you.
No matter how hard you kicked, how fast you paddled, it was just… gone.
You gasped for breath, treading furiously in the open water. “We’re not gonna make it,” you choked out. “We have to go back. Now. ”
The three of you turned—barely making out the shore you’d left behind.
Shoko muttered something that might’ve been a curse or a prayer.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
By the time you all dragged yourselves back onto shore, you were heaving, coughing, and fully convinced you'd swallowed at least half the ocean.
Shoko collapsed next to you with a winded grunt, arms splayed out like a starfish. “I hate cardio,” she wheezed, eyes fluttering shut.
Utahime stumbled a few steps past you both, muttering curses and kicking angrily at a shell. “There better not be, like, snakes or weird crabs or whatever on this island. I swear to god, if something crawls on me, I’m committing an act of violence.”
You sat up slowly, still catching your breath, and glared at her. “If something crawls on me , I’m blaming you. And then beating the living daylights out of you. In that order.”
She huffed but didn’t argue, which said a lot about how tired she was.
You brushed sand off your legs and turned to them with narrowed eyes. “Okay. Please tell me one of you told the boys where we were going.”
The beat of silence that followed was… telling.
Shoko opened one eye. Utahime blinked. The shared look between them screamed guilt in full surround sound.
“I thought Hime was going to do it—” Shoko said flatly.
“I thought Shoko was doing it!” Utahime shot back, voice climbing.
You dropped your head into your hands and groaned. “Brilliant. So much for emergency contacts.”
Utahime dropped onto the sand beside you, arms hugging her knees. “They probably think we’re just ignoring them.”
“Or dead,” Shoko offered helpfully.
“Wow,” you muttered. “Soothing. Very helpful.”
You sat up, squinting at the dense tree line just ahead. The sun was starting to dip, casting everything in amber and shadows. The island didn’t feel right. Not just the fact that it was abandoned—no boats, no tourists, not even driftwood. It was too quiet. No birds. No bugs. No breeze.
“…Does anyone even know what island this is?” Utahime asked suddenly.
Shoko turned her head toward her. “You mean you don’t?”
Utahime shrugged. “It was on the map.”
“What map?” you asked sharply, heart lurching.
“…the one on MySpace.”
You actually screamed into your hands this time.
“Fantastic. We’re stranded on a maybe-uncharted, MySpace-discovered island, with no fuel, no signal, and no backup plan.”
You laid back in the sand again, staring up at the sky as it began to shift — the blue fading into something darker, tinged with the pinks and golds of early evening.
The moon would be up soon.
A chill danced over your skin, like the sea was brushing her fingers down your spine.
Shoko sat up suddenly. “Do you… hear that?”
You stilled. Utahime froze.
There was something — faint. Like a hum. Or a whisper. Coming from deeper inland.
A rhythmic sound. Gentle. Almost… calling.
Your eyes met Shoko’s, then Utahime’s.
Then, as if pulled by the same invisible thread, you turned toward the center of the island.
Deep in the trees, something shimmered. Just once.
“…We’re not going in there, right?” you said.
Pause.
Silence.
Utahime stood. “I’m going in there.”
Shoko groaned. “Of course you are.”
And like three idiots with no way to contact civilization and questionable judgment, you followed.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
You didn’t speak as you moved, stepping over roots and ducking under low-hanging branches. The trees grew thicker the deeper you went, their leaves casting long shadows that swallowed the last bits of golden sun. The air changed—cooler, heavier, filled with that humming sound that buzzed just under your skin.
You didn’t know what you were following.
Only that something wanted you to find it.
Utahime was in the lead, with Shoko second, and you bringing up the rear. The night was settling in quickly, and the forest was getting more and more menacing by the minute.
Branches snapped underfoot, and the canopy above grew denser, blocking the sky. The moon had risen somewhere behind the clouds, but its light barely touched the forest floor. Everything smelled wet—earthy and strange. Like moss and saltwater and something older. Something that hadn’t been disturbed in a very, very long time.
It should’ve felt peaceful.
But it didn’t.
Somewhere behind you, a branch snapped.
You froze, whipping around—but there was nothing. Just trees. Just dark.
“Don’t do that,” Shoko said quietly, not even turning. “Don’t stop walking.”
“I heard something.”
“You’re hearing everything. It’s too quiet not to.”
She had a point. The deeper you went, the more your senses sharpened. You could feel every shift in the air, every twig under your shoe. The forest wasn’t alive exactly—but it was watching.
Utahime muttered something ahead, but it was too low to catch. She sounded uneasy, though. And that was enough to make your stomach twist.
“Are we sure this is a good idea?” you asked, hating the way your voice sounded—thin, uncertain, too loud in the stillness.
“Absolutely not,” Shoko replied.
“But we’re doing it anyway,” Utahime added, pushing a branch out of the way with more force than necessary.
That’s when it happened.
Maybe it was because she was distracted by the small stream winding across the path, or maybe the dark had gotten too thick to see—but Utahime took another step…
And vanished.
There was a snap of twigs and a rustle of leaves as she dropped straight through the forest floor, her sharp shriek echoing for a half-second before being completely swallowed by the earth.
“ HIME! ” you cried, rushing forward.
You hit the ground hard, knees skidding through damp leaves as you scrambled toward the spot she’d disappeared. Shoko was right beside you, eyes wide, scanning for anything—a branch, a rope, something.
“Utahime?! Can you hear me? Are you okay?!” you called down, voice echoing slightly in the silence that followed.
No answer.
Just silence.
Just the hum.
“Utahime?!” Shoko yelled, louder this time. “Say something!”
A groan—soft, hoarse, and very dusty-sounding—rose from the pit.
“ I’m okay… ” came Utahime’s voice, muffled and groggy. “Just… cough ... dusty. And possibly… in a cave? I think?”
You exhaled like your lungs had just remembered how. Shoko visibly relaxed beside you.
“Oh good,” you muttered. “She didn’t die. I’d have been so pissed if she died..”
Shoko leaned forward. “Can you climb up?”
Utahime made a noise that sounded like a very sarcastic cough. “I don’t even know which way is up. ”
“Well,” Shoko said dryly, “that’s promising.”
You looked at Shoko. She looked at you.
You both sighed.
And then you heard it again—faint, but unmistakable.
That humming again. Louder now. Coming from below.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
“I think there’s only one thing to do,” you murmured, staring down at the dark, gaping hole like it might suddenly blink back.
Shoko crouched beside you, brow furrowed. “Yeah. I agree.”
There was a beat of silence. You both nodded like brave idiots about to make the worst decision of your lives.
“…You first,” Shoko added immediately.
You gave her the flattest look you could muster. “Wow. So gallant.”
“I have asthma,” she deadpanned. “You go first.”
You rolled your eyes but held out your pinky. “If I die down there, you better avenge me.”
Shoko smirked. “If you die down there, I’m taking your hoodie. It’s comfy.”
The two of you linked pinkies—tight, solid, like it was armor.
Then you turned, took a deep breath, and lowered yourself into the hole.
The fall wasn’t far, but the landing sucked . You hit the ground with a solid thump , immediately choking on a cloud of ancient dust. It coated your mouth, your throat, your clothes. You coughed violently, waving a hand in front of your face as your eyes adjusted to the gloom.
The space was small—barely tall enough to stand without hitting your head, and the walls were crumbling dirt and tree roots.
“Hime?” you whispered.
“I’m here,” came Utahime’s voice from the opposite end. She was crouched near what looked like a narrow crevice—just big enough to crawl through. In the dim light, it shimmered slightly, like it wasn’t just a crack in the rock.
Before you could say anything, another thump echoed behind you—and Shoko landed with a grunt, swearing softly as she sat up and brushed dirt off her shirt.
“I hate this,” she muttered.
You offered her a hand. “Welcome to the pit.”
She took it, hauling herself up. Her gaze followed yours to Utahime.
“Took you long enough.” Utahime muttered, crawling over to you both.
“You fell through the forest floor and didn’t die,” Shoko deadpanned. “We didn’t exactly rush.”
You moved closer, squinting into the opening. The air that blew from it was cold—damp. But not rotting. Clean, like water. The faint sound of that hum was stronger here, thrumming through the rock like a heartbeat.
“Is that a tunnel?” you asked.
Utahime nodded slowly. “I think it goes deeper. I tried yelling, but it just... swallowed the sound. But, I haven’t actually checked it yet. Figured we’d do the stupid part together.”
You glanced back at Shoko, who gave you a resigned look.
“Well,” you said, stretching out your arms with false bravado, “let’s do something really stupid then.”
Shoko sighed. “You’re lucky I hate you slightly less than most people.”
Utahime smirked. “You love us.”
“I tolerate you guys.”
And one by one, you crawled into the dark.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
Utahime was the first to see it.
“…Holy shit,” she whispered, coming to a sudden halt.
You nearly slammed your face into her ass.
“ Move, ” you hissed, squinting around her shoulder. “What are you—”
Then you saw it.
And the words died in your throat.
The narrow tunnel gave way to a vast, circular chamber, impossibly smooth and symmetrical—too perfect to be natural. It felt carved by intention. By something. Magic, maybe. Or memory.
At the center of the space was a pool—clear, crystalline, glowing faintly in the moonlight that filtered down through a jagged opening in the ceiling. The surface was mirror-smooth, as if it hadn’t been touched in a thousand years. It reflected the moon perfectly, casting silver light in every
direction.
Symbols were etched around the pool’s edge—curved, looping, tide-like markings. Not in any language you knew. Not anything decipherable.
“Well don’t leave me back here with my thoughts,” Shoko muttered dryly, scooting forward behind you both.
You and Utahime tumbled into the clearing, landing hard on the soft, silty ground. Shoko followed with considerably more grace, brushing dirt off her knees as she rose. Her mouth parted slightly as she took in the sight.
“…What is this place?” she asked, voice quiet. Too reverent for sarcasm.
You didn’t answer. You were already walking toward the edge of the pool, drawn by something you couldn’t name. You crouched, leaning close. The water shimmered, too perfect to be natural. And there—just beneath the surface—you saw it:
A tunnel. Leading out of the cave. Or maybe into something.
Deeper.
You reached out slowly, fingers hovering just above the water.
Then— yank.
Utahime grabbed your wrist and yanked your hand back so hard you stumbled. “Are you crazy?! Why would you touch that?” she hissed, gripping your hand like you were about to dive in headfirst.
“I wasn’t gonna dive in, Jesus,” you muttered, shaking her off—but your eyes stayed locked on the pool.
Shoko crouched beside you, expression unreadable as she stared down at the pool. “It’s just… beautiful,” she said softly. “Like it’s not even real.”
You swallowed, still shaking. “We could at least—”
And before either of them could stop you, your free hand reached out again. Just barely grazed the surface.
The water reacted.
A deep, resonant hum echoed through the chamber like a whale’s call. The surface pulsed once—soft ripples rolling outward in a perfect ring.
And then the ground shuddered.
“ Whoa— ” Shoko gasped, steadying herself on your shoulder.
You all fell backward as the ground gave a low, warning rumble, like something far below had just woken up.
You stared at the pool, heart hammering. “Guys…” you whispered. “This is it. This is where the sound’s been coming from. This place—this pool—it’s alive.”
“Let’s not use the word alive when we’re standing next to something glowing,” Utahime muttered, rubbing her arm.
“No seriously,” Shoko said, barely above a whisper now. “Do you feel that?”
You did.
A pressure in your chest. Heavy. Cold. Like the longer you stood aboveground, the harder it was to breathe. The air felt wrong —too thin. Too dry. You coughed, swallowing nothing.
“I can’t… catch my breath,” you said hoarsely, clutching your stomach.
Shoko bent double, coughing hard. “Something’s wrong. FuckI, I—I can’t—why does it feel like— air hurts?”
Utahime stumbled forward a step, blinking rapidly. “I don’t—I feel dizzy. My head’s ringing.”
You turned your face upward—saw the opening in the cave’s roof.
The moon had risen fully now, massive and silver, staring straight down like a god with no mercy. Its light bathed the pool in a new glow—too bright, too alive.
Then the pool changed.
The glow intensified. The water swirled slowly, hypnotically, as if it were spinning around a center point you couldn’t see.
You gasped again, but no air came in.
Only that pressure.
That sound.
That need.
Utahime swayed on her feet. “My skin is burning. Like—it’s too dry. I need—I need —”
She didn’t finish.
None of you had to.
It wasn’t a thought. It wasn’t a choice.
It was instinct.
Your bodies moved before your minds caught up.
You felt drawn to the water like it was home. Like it was necessary . Like it was your only salvation from this sudden angst.
You stumbled forward, toward the pool, even as your body screamed at you to stop. Your fingers tingled. Your vision blurred. Something ancient and alive coiled in your chest, rising up like a wave about to crash.
You were drowning.
On land.
And as the full moon climbed higher through the jagged hole above, its light struck the pool’s surface.
And the water exploded with color.
Not light. Not glow.
Color.
Blues and purples and iridescent silver, swirling like liquid galaxies. The runes around the pool lit up, one by one, casting a soft chime through the air like wind through glass.
Your ears rang.
Your blood surged.
And then— you plunged in.
🌊𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆡 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆡 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆡 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆡 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆡 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆡 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆡 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆡 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆡 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 🌊