Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue

wWw

The sun filtered through the canopy in flickering gold, dancing across the surface of the lake. The water was glassy, still and silent, a perfect mirror to the summer sky. A little girl with pink hair stood at the edge, barefoot in the mud, her toes curling with delight as the cool earth squished between them. Her dress, pale yellow and smudged with grass stains, fluttered around her knees in the breeze.

Sakura reached out toward the water, a soft, almost instinctive motion, her fingers yearning for the shimmer just beyond her grasp.

A sudden, sharp voice shattered the stillness.

“Sakura!”

She flinched. A woman came rushing through the trees, her heels crunching over twigs and leaves. Sakura barely had time to turn before her mother seized her by the wrist.

“How many times have I told you not to go near the water?” her mother snapped, eyes wide; not with anger, but something more urgent. “It’s dangerous. It’s dirty. It’s not safe for you.”

Behind her, Sakura’s father emerged more slowly, but his face was tense. He glanced at the lake as if expecting something to rise from its depths. His voice was quieter, but firm.

“Come away, Sakura. That place isn’t meant for us.”

Sakura blinked, confused, her small hand clutched in her mother’s. She looked back at the lake, then up at her parents with furrowed brows.

“But why?” she asked. “Why isn’t it safe?”

Her mother hesitated. Just for a second. But it was enough. The silence between the question and the answer stretched, heavy and brittle.

“Because it’s full of bacteria,” her mother said quickly, kneeling to meet her eyes. “Algae and parasites and things that can make you very sick. You’re not like the other kids. Your body... it’s more sensitive, remember?”

Her father’s gaze lingered on the water, distant and grim. He added, almost under his breath, “And some things in this world are best left alone.”

Sakura didn’t fully understand, but something about the way they looked at the lake, something about the fear in their eyes, made her chest tighten. Her curiosity warred with a budding sense of unease. The lake hadn’t felt dangerous. If anything, it had felt warm and safe, like it had been waiting for her.

But she said nothing more. Just nodded and let herself be led away, her small footprints fading in the mud as the lake vanished behind a curtain of trees.

wWw

The overhead lights buzzed softly, casting a cold, clinical glow over the hospital corridor. Footsteps echoed in quiet rhythm, the scent of antiseptic sharp in the air. Nurses wheeled carts, patients rested behind drawn curtains, and doctors moved briskly through their routines. Among them, Dr. Sakura Haruno stood out, not for her bright pink hair, which was neatly tied back, but for the calm precision she carried in her every movement.

She walked with purpose, white coat pristine, clipboard in hand, eyes focused. Her nameplate gleamed beneath the fluorescent lights: Dr. Sakura Haruno, Surgical Resident . Fourth year. Top of her class. Unshakable under pressure.

In Room 214, a child was recovering from a recent surgery. Sakura entered with a warm smile and greeted the boy’s mother by name. Her voice was soft but steady, her presence reassuring.

“How’s he feeling today?” she asked, already reading the vitals displayed on the monitor.

The mother answered with tired gratitude. The boy offered a faint smile. Sakura adjusted his IV, checked the incisions, made a note on her chart. Her touch was gentle, practiced. She had a way of making people feel safe.

By the time she stepped back into the hallway, the rhythm of her day had already resumed; consults, charting, a brief round of post-op notes, and a quiet discussion with her attending physician before the shift turned over. She kept her head down and her work sharp.

But later, when the ward had gone still and the buzz of activity dulled to a hush, she stood in the locker room, untying her bun as steam from the showers drifted lazily in the air.

She turned on the sink and let the water run hot, flexing her sore fingers beneath the stream.

She glanced toward a poster taped to the wall behind her locker. It advertised a beach clean-up event next weekend. A smiling group of volunteers posed on the sand, the ocean stretching out behind them in sparkling blue.

Sakura’s gaze lingered on the waves.

Her throat tightened.

A memory flickered; trees, mud between her toes, the quiet hush of a still lake, and her mother’s hand yanking her back with trembling urgency.

She blinked it away.

She wasn’t afraid of water. Not really.

Pools, showers, even the rain, those never bothered her. But open water was different. Lakes, oceans, anything without a visible edge or bottom. As a child, her parents had spoken of them in hushed, anxious tones, warning her about the dangers of murky depths and hidden currents. Their fear had seeped into her slowly, disguised as caution, reinforced by every firm hand pulling her back, every story whispered to keep her away.

She had grown up believing open water was something to be wary of, something that wasn’t meant for her.

Even now, she wasn’t sure if the fear was truly her own, or something inherited, worn like a second skin.

She shut off the faucet.

“It’s nothing,” she murmured, drying her hands briskly. “Just tired.”

She gathered her things and left without looking back.

wWw

Chapter Text

wWw

The morning sunlight filtered weakly through the half-closed blinds, casting pale slats across the floor of Sakura Haruno’s apartment. The air inside still held the lingering scent of antiseptic and lavender oil, the remnants of a long overnight shift at the hospital and the bath she had taken afterward to calm her nerves. Her body was draped across the couch, wrapped in a fleece throw, hair still damp from the night before. A steaming mug of untouched tea sat on the coffee table beside a half-read medical journal, long gone cold.

The sudden trill of her phone cut through the silence like a scalpel. Groaning, Sakura reached out blindly from beneath the blanket and fumbled for it. She didn’t even have to look at the caller ID.

“Ino,” she mumbled, voice still raspy with sleep. “It’s my day off. If this isn’t life-threatening, I swear—”

“Good morning to you too, sunshine!” Ino's voice practically sparkled through the receiver. “Guess who just won a cruise for two?”

Sakura blinked, slowly sitting up. “A cruise?”

“Yes! Seven days, all expenses paid, private cabin, open bar, ridiculous buffet options, exotic islands, you name it. And I’m taking you!”

Sakura’s heart stuttered. Her fingers tightened around the phone. “Ino, that’s really sweet, but... I can’t.”

“Oh, come on .” There was a rustle on the other end as Ino moved, probably pacing in her studio apartment. “You’re always working, your social life is practically comatose, and you finally have a full week off. What better way to spend it than letting loose on the ocean?”

“I don’t do well around water,” Sakura said quickly, too quickly. “It’s not a good idea.”

There was a pause. Ino sighed, more irritated than concerned. “You’ve been saying that since we were kids. Don’t you think it’s time to get over it?”

“It’s not something I can just flip a switch on.”

“Sakura,” Ino snapped, her tone softening just enough to sound exasperated rather than cruel, “you take care of everyone else but you won’t let anyone take care of you. And you never let yourself have fun. Just this once, say yes. Say yes to being human.”

Sakura stared out the window. A beam of sunlight danced across the wall, golden and warm. Her chest tightened.

“Ino…”

“No excuses,” Ino said, gentler now. “We leave in three days. I already submitted the names. You need this. I know you do.”

Sakura closed her eyes and pressed the phone to her forehead, willing her pulse to calm. The thought of the sea, deep, endless, unknowable, clenched something ancient in her gut. She swallowed hard.

“I’ll think about it,” she whispered.

“No. You’ll pack.”

The line clicked, and Ino was gone.

Sakura sat still for a long moment, the silence crashing down again like a wave. Somewhere in her chest, something cold and buried stirred.

She drew her knees up, clutching them close, and whispered to the empty room, “I shouldn’t be anywhere near the ocean.”

Sakura let the silence linger long after Ino hung up. Her phone rested face down on the couch beside her, blinking softly with a missed call notification, but she paid it no mind. A yawn slipped past her lips; long, deep, and dragging the fatigue from her bones. Her limbs felt heavier than usual, weighed down not by sleep, but by the echo of Ino’s words.

Just this once, say yes.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Sakura pushed herself off the couch. The blanket fell around her ankles as she shuffled toward the kitchen, stretching her arms overhead until her spine popped. She poured out the cold tea and started boiling water for a fresh cup, then paused.

Something tugged at her.

A strange restlessness.

Her apartment was spotless, as always, but there was one corner she hadn't touched in months: the narrow hallway closet packed tight with old boxes from her childhood home. She had brought them with her after her parents moved out of the country, never bothering to open most of them. Dusty, sealed, forgotten.

Sakura padded over to the hall, her footsteps quiet on the wooden floor. She pulled the string that lit the narrow space and eyed the stack of labeled containers: photos, school projects, seasonal clothes, random trinkets from a childhood she barely remembered clearly.

One unlabeled box sat crooked at the bottom.

Curious, she crouched down and tugged it out. The tape gave with a brittle snap. Inside were loose sketchpads, half-finished doodles, a cracked snow globe, and a few sealed envelopes she didn’t recognize. But at the very bottom, wrapped in an old sheet, was something framed.

Sakura lifted it gently and peeled back the fabric.

It was a painting.

The ocean, wild and vast, under a lavender sky. The waves crashed against black rock, and foamy mist lifted into the air like breath. The paint was slightly faded, but the brushwork was smooth and practiced. Almost haunting in its detail. It felt familiar in the strangest way, like hearing a song she’d forgotten the lyrics to.

But she didn’t remember painting it.

She didn’t remember owning it.

Her throat tightened as she traced the soft curve of the waterline with her eyes. Something shifted in her mind, an ache, a flicker of sound she couldn’t place. The rushing of waves. A high, distant call. Her fingers trembled slightly.

“Where did this come from?” she murmured.

She turned the frame over. No signature. No name. Nothing.

The sound of the kettle boiling snapped her out of it. She blinked, as if waking from a dream, and carefully set the painting on the couch before heading to the kitchen. But even as she poured the water and dunked the tea bag in, her mind stayed in that ocean.

Still and endless and waiting.

She cradled the warm mug in both hands and walked back to the living room, her gaze immediately drawn to the ocean painting lying against the cushions. The brushstrokes seemed to shimmer in the morning light, giving the illusion that the waves were moving, churning just beneath the glass.

Sakura sat down slowly, setting the mug beside her. She reached out, fingertips barely brushing the painted surface.

She couldn’t remember ever standing in front of the sea.

No childhood vacations, no beachside memories, no clumsy swimming lessons. The closest she had ever come was a school trip to the aquarium in middle school, and even then, she had felt unsettled by the giant tanks, uneasy at the way the light filtered through the water like it was hiding something.

It was only now, years later, that she had begun to wonder if her fear was ever really hers to begin with.

Her parents had always made water sound dangerous.

“Don’t get in the pool, Sakura. You don’t know what’s in that water.”

“Don’t drink from fountains, they’re filthy.”

“Lakes are full of bacteria. Oceans are worse.”

Even as a toddler, she remembered them yanking her away from splash pads and hose games at neighborhood parties. She had been the only kid in rain boots when it drizzled, the only one banned from water balloon fights in the summer.

At the time, she had thought they were just overly cautious. Her father was a medical researcher, her mother a strict nutritionist. Germs, toxins, infections, they had a warning for everything. But water had always carried a special kind of fear. Not just caution. Not just health. It had been something deeper. Like they were afraid of what it might do to her.

Now, years removed from that house and their rules, she could see it more clearly. Her fear hadn’t grown on its own.

It had been planted.

Tended.

Reinforced, again and again, until she believed it was a part of her.

She stared at the painting, a tightness growing in her chest. If it was someone else’s memory, why did it make her feel like crying? And if it was hers... why couldn’t she remember it?

Outside, a breeze stirred the trees lining the street. A faint smell of rain was in the air.

Sakura sat in the quiet, the painting on her lap, her tea forgotten. The idea of boarding a cruise ship made her stomach twist. But for the first time in her life, she wondered if the fear wasn’t a warning.

But a cage.

wWw

Three days passed in a blur of anxious preparation.

Sakura packed and repacked her suitcase more times than she cared to admit. She left her apartment spotless, made arrangements to have her plants watered, and even sent an out-of-office notice to the hospital’s administration team, though she was still checking her messages up until the night before. Each step felt surreal, like she was walking into someone else’s vacation.

The painting of the ocean remained on her bookshelf, facing the door. She had almost packed it. Almost.

Now, dressed in a lightweight sweater and a pair of pale linen pants, her hair pinned loosely at the nape of her neck, Sakura sat on the edge of her bed, hands folded in her lap, listening for the sound of Ino’s car.

She didn’t have to wait long.

A sharp knock came at the door followed by the unmistakable sound of Ino’s voice, muffled through the wood but still brimming with impatience.

“Sakura! You better be ready. I swear, if you’re hiding under the bed, I will drag you out by your ankles!”

Sakura allowed herself a small smile as she stood and grabbed her suitcase. She took one last look around the apartment, her gaze briefly catching on the ocean painting.

Then she opened the door.

Ino stood on the landing in a pair of oversized sunglasses and a wide-brimmed straw hat, dressed like a poster girl for resort season. She beamed the moment she saw her.

“Finally!” Ino exclaimed, snatching the suitcase handle out of Sakura’s hand before she could even protest. “Look at you, all packed and present. I was half-expecting to find you halfway through a cancellation email.”

“I thought about it,” Sakura admitted.

“I’m sure you did. But the important part is, you didn’t send it.” Ino’s grin softened. “You’re actually doing this.”

Sakura gave a nervous shrug and followed her friend down the stairs toward the waiting car. “Let’s just hope the ocean agrees with me.”

“It will,” Ino said confidently. “Besides, we’re not swimming across it. We’ll be sipping drinks on a deck chair and watching the waves from a safe distance. No swimming required. Not unless you want to.”

Sakura didn’t answer right away. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her carry-on bag.

It wasn’t the swimming that frightened her.

It was the water itself. The way it pulled. The way it called.

She slid into the passenger seat as Ino loaded the suitcase into the trunk. The engine purred to life, and with it came the creeping sensation that something was shifting beneath her skin. Like the tide rolling in, quiet but relentless.

As they pulled away from the curb, Sakura glanced back at her apartment, at the sliver of the ocean painting visible through her window.

The car ride to the terminal passed with a strange quietness. Ino filled the silence with easy chatter; about the ship’s amenities, the themed dinner nights, and how she was determined to get a tan even if it killed her. but Sakura only half-listened. Her attention drifted to the horizon as the city slowly gave way to the glimmering coast.

It wasn’t until the terminal came into view that she felt her heart truly begin to race.

The cruise ship was massive, its towering decks stretching high above the port like a floating city. The sun gleamed off the white hull, and long lines of passengers moved toward the boarding zone, dragging colorful suitcases and snapping excited selfies.

Sakura stepped out of the car and was immediately met by the sharp scent of salt in the air. Her breath hitched.

She could see the water now. It lapped gently against the dock, clear and glittering under the morning light, looking deceptively calm.

Ino didn’t seem to notice her hesitation. She was already pulling their bags behind her, sunglasses perched on her head and her phone in hand.

“Come on,” she called over her shoulder. “I checked in online, but we still have to get our IDs verified and pick up our room keys.”

Sakura followed a few steps behind, her shoes clicking against the smooth pavement. Around her, people laughed, talked, pointed toward the ship with wide-eyed wonder. For most of them, this was a vacation. A celebration. For her, it felt like standing on the edge of a cliff.

At the check-in counter, Ino handled everything with the practiced ease of someone who had booked a hundred trips before. Her voice was bright as she confirmed their names, handed over their IDs, and accepted two slim boarding cards from the cruise attendant.

Sakura lingered off to the side, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She could hear the distant cry of gulls and the low hum of the engines. Her eyes were drawn again to the water just beyond the railing. It sparkled in the light like shattered glass.

She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until Ino turned around and pressed the boarding card into her hand.

“There,” Ino said with a smile. “We’re officially cruise passengers. Cabin A-527. Oceanview suite, baby.”

Sakura took the card, her fingers brushing against Ino’s. “You really went all out, huh?”

“Of course I did. You only confront a lifelong phobia once, right?” Ino winked, then slung her bag over her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go see our temporary floating paradise.”

Sakura forced a smile, pocketed the card, and followed her friend toward the gangway. But even as she walked, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the water was watching her.

Boarding the ship felt like stepping into a dream, or a stage set built to distract guests from the fact that they were about to drift into open water.

The moment Sakura stepped onto the deck, the hum of the terminal vanished behind her. She was surrounded by polished railings, sparkling tile floors, and smiling cruise staff dressed in navy uniforms. Warm music played over unseen speakers, soft and jazzy, and the scent of sunscreen and citrus cleaner floated in the air.

Ino took the lead, maneuvering through the crowd with practiced ease as they made their way toward the elevators. Sakura followed, clutching the strap of her bag tightly against her shoulder. The steady sway beneath her feet was subtle but constant, like the ship was breathing.

Cabin A-527 was located on one of the upper decks, just past a quiet lounge with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the sea. The hallways were carpeted in soft beige with gold trim, and each cabin door was framed with brass numbers and a digital panel for key access.

Ino tapped their boarding card to the scanner. A soft click sounded, and the door slid open.

“Welcome home for the next seven days,” she said cheerfully as she stepped inside.

Sakura followed, her gaze sweeping slowly across the cabin.

It was surprisingly spacious. The walls were painted a soft ivory, with gentle curves and rounded corners that reminded her of seashells. Two twin beds were nestled beneath a circular ceiling light shaped like a rising sun. Pale blue linens were folded crisply, with small decorative pillows arranged in precise symmetry. A built-in desk lined the far wall, above which hung a large framed photograph of a coastline at dusk.

But it was the window that caught her breath.

The oceanview was more than just a porthole, it was a wide, ovular pane of reinforced glass that stretched from wall to wall behind the beds. The sea stretched endlessly beyond it touching a horizon that felt impossibly far away.

Sakura moved toward it slowly, her reflection faint in the glass. The water rocked gently beneath them, waves rolling like a great living thing just beyond reach.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, though the words came out uncertain.

“It’s perfect ,” Ino said, flopping onto the nearest bed with a sigh. “Better than the photos, right? I told you we’d be in good hands.”

Sakura nodded, but didn’t move from the window. The décor was designed to calm, to soothe, sea-glass blues, driftwood tones, soft lighting, but it all seemed carefully curated, like the room was trying too hard to make the ocean feel safe.

But it wasn’t safe. Not to her.

And yet... the fear didn’t feel as sharp now. Instead, it was more like pressure beneath her ribs. A heaviness. Like something waiting just below the surface, biding its time.

She reached out and touched the cool glass.

Her reflection stared back.

Half-shadowed.

Almost unfamiliar.

After a short rest in the cabin, Ino was already tugging Sakura back out into the hall, energized and ready to explore every corner of their floating home.

"Come on," she said, looping her arm through Sakura's. "If we don’t scout the best cocktail bar now, we’ll end up stuck with the overpriced tourist trap by the pool."

Sakura gave a soft laugh, grateful for Ino’s familiar energy. It grounded her, kept her thoughts from drifting too far into the deep. She let herself be pulled along as they made their way toward the central atrium.

The heart of the ship was a soaring, multi-deck space filled with natural light from an overhead skylight. A glass elevator moved up and down one side like a silver capsule, and lush greenery spilled from planters built into the railings above. There was a gentle sound of trickling water from an indoor fountain in the shape of a spiral shell, and the floor sparkled beneath their feet like wet sand.

Sakura took it all in, her mind naturally cataloging the details as if reading one of her medical texts.

Lounge seating, live music stage, welcome center. Smooth traffic flow. Central elevator hub. No visible emergency exits, but probably behind those unmarked doors near the stairwell.

They wandered the Sky Deck next, where an infinity pool gleamed under the sun. Guests were already reclined in rows of loungers with colorful drinks in hand. The pool curved around a hot tub framed by bamboo walls, and a retractable canopy hung above for shade.

Moderate crowd. Deck slippery when wet. Glass barriers around the edge, not high enough to prevent someone from falling over. No lifeguard on duty.

They moved down to the strip lined with specialty shops, cafes, and a gelato stand that Ino immediately bookmarked for later. The promenade led to the Sea Garden Spa, where soft music and lavender-scented air drifted from the entrance. Across the corridor, the Coralstone Theater loomed with a neon marquee advertising nightly performances.

Shopping, dining, spa services, entertainment. Multiple options for distraction. Easy to lose track of time here. Engine vibration faintest on this level, midship stabilizers probably nearby.

Sakura’s thoughts trailed as they passed an art gallery where ocean-inspired sculptures gleamed behind glass. One piece in particular, a twisting silver spiral resembling a wave mid-crash, made her pause. There was something about it that tugged at her, something familiar in the movement.

But Ino was already ahead, tapping on a digital map near the elevators.

“Okay!” she chirped. “So far we’ve got three restaurants I need to try, one rooftop bar that looks suspiciously exclusive, and a late-night karaoke lounge on Deck 4 that I fully intend to drag you to.”

Sakura smiled faintly, catching up. “Sounds like a full itinerary.”

“Please, this is me being restrained.”

They stepped into the elevator, and as the doors slid shut, Sakura glanced once more at the sculpture in the gallery window.

The wave, frozen in time, almost looked like it was about to move.

The low sound of the ship’s horn echoed across the terminal, deep and commanding. It vibrated through the floor beneath Sakura’s feet and settled into her chest like a second heartbeat.

They had made their way to one of the open-air observation decks on the starboard side, joining the crowd gathered along the railing to watch the departure. The sun was dipping low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the harbor. The light danced across the water in golden streaks, softening the hard edges of the port and bathing the ship in a warm, dreamlike hue.

Ino leaned against the railing with a grin, sunglasses pushed up into her hair, a plastic cup of something neon and citrusy in her hand.

“This is the best part,” she said, lifting her drink toward the horizon. “That feeling when the world slips away and you’re suddenly gone …in a good way.”

Sakura stayed a few steps back, her hands wrapped around the strap of her shoulder bag. The sea breeze lifted strands of her hair and cooled the back of her neck. It smelled of salt and distance. Her gaze fixed on the water below, watching as the deep blue waves lapped against the dock.

Then, slowly, the great ship began to move.

The departure was nearly silent, save for the faint churn of the engines and the collective murmur of the passengers. The dock drifted away as the vessel glided forward, effortlessly parting the water like a blade through silk.

Sakura’s breath caught.

There was no going back now.

She moved closer to the railing and rested her palms against the cool metal, her reflection faint in the glass barrier. The harbor began to shrink behind them: cranes, warehouses, and office towers receding like memories. The coastline curved away, replaced by open water. Deep, dark, endless.

The farther they moved from shore, the stronger the breeze became. It carried a weight she couldn't explain. A sound, even, low, rhythmic, like a voice underwater.

She looked down at the sea below. The light no longer danced there. Instead, the water looked darker, more restless, as if aware that she had finally returned to it.

“Hey,” Ino said gently, nudging her with an elbow. “You okay?”

Sakura nodded, though her voice came out quieter than she intended. “Just… adjusting.”

“You’re doing great,” Ino said, leaning closer. “Seriously. I know how hard this is for you.”

Sakura didn’t respond right away. Her fingers tightened on the railing.

The wind stirred again, cool and briny, wrapping around her like an embrace. She closed her eyes and felt it settle in her lungs, like something familiar had slipped into her without asking.

When she opened her eyes again, the coastline was gone.

Only the ocean remained.

By the time they returned to the cabin, the sun had set, leaving only a sliver of fading light along the horizon. The sea outside their window was nearly black now, reflecting the golden glow of the ship’s lights as it cut smoothly through the dark water.

Sakura sat on the edge of her bed, toweling off her face after a quick rinse. She had changed into a soft mauve blouse tucked into a flowing skirt that brushed against her calves. Simple, understated, comfortable. She stared at herself in the mirror for a long moment, adjusting her sleeves and smoothing the fabric over her waist.

She looked normal.

Like someone ready for dinner, not someone still battling the quiet churn of unease inside her.

Ino emerged from the bathroom in a backless navy jumpsuit, her makeup freshly applied and her earrings catching the light with every movement.

“Ready?” she asked, slipping on her heels.

Sakura nodded and rose to her feet. “As I’ll ever be.”

The walk to the dining hall took them through softly lit corridors and an open lounge where a live string quartet was setting up. The closer they got, the more the air changed, rich with the scent of roasted meats, warm spices, and freshly baked bread. The low hum of conversation echoed from the dining room ahead, mingling with the soft clink of glasses and silverware.

When they arrived, the dining hall itself took Sakura’s breath away.

It was two levels tall, with a domed glass ceiling showing the night sky overhead. Tiny lights mimicked stars in constellations above the chandeliers, while a grand staircase curved down into the main seating area below. Crisp white tablecloths and polished silverware gleamed under the gentle lighting, and servers in tailored uniforms moved fluidly through the crowd like dancers.

Ino gave an appreciative whistle. “Remind me to thank the universe again for those tickets.”

A hostess guided them to a table near the curved windows lining the outer wall. From their seat, Sakura could see the sea stretching into darkness, the gentle pulse of moonlight reflected in its surface.

She tried not to stare at it for too long.

Menus were placed in front of them, but Ino was already scanning the room instead.

“Okay, don’t look now, but there are at least three guys over there that have been eyeing our table,” she whispered, grinning as she sipped her wine. “I told you this trip would be good for your social life.”

“I’m here for the food,” Sakura muttered, unfolding her napkin onto her lap. “And the existential terror.”

Ino laughed. “Fair. But you look gorgeous, so if someone offers to buy you dessert, you better not run.”

As they placed their orders, Sakura let her gaze wander. The people here were carefree; laughing couples, families passing bread baskets, groups of friends clinking glasses and snapping photos. For a moment, she almost forgot where she was.

Until she looked back toward the window. For just a second, she thought she saw something move in the water.

A flicker. A shift in shadow. Something far beneath the surface, gliding past the ship with impossible speed.

She blinked, and it was gone.

Her breath caught in her throat.

“You alright?” Ino asked, cutting a piece of seared fish with expert precision.

“Yeah,” Sakura said quickly, reaching for her water. “Just… thought I saw something.”

“You and your overactive imagination,” Ino said, smiling.

Sakura forced a smile in return and tried to focus on her plate, but her eyes kept drifting back to the sea.

It looked peaceful. But something inside her whispered it wasn’t.

After dinner, the dining hall gradually began to empty as guests filtered out toward the bars, lounges, or back to their cabins. The lights dimmed slightly, and the soft notes of a jazz trio playing near the entrance gave the room a warm, golden haze.

Ino dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin and leaned back in her chair, clearly satisfied.

“Ten out of ten,” she declared. “I would absolutely befriend that pastry chef if it meant a lifetime supply of that lemon tart.”

Sakura managed a small laugh, her appetite only partially satisfied. Her eyes kept drifting back to the dark sea beyond the window. The ship’s gentle rocking felt more noticeable now, like something deeper was shifting beneath them.

Ino noticed. “Hey,” she said, nudging her foot under the table. “Still with me?”

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Nothing important.” Sakura set her fork down and pushed her plate aside. “Ready to head back?”

Ino opened her mouth to respond, but paused as two young men approached their table from across the dining hall. They were both casually dressed but clean-cut, sun-touched skin, slightly windblown hair, the easy swagger of people who had vacationed before.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the taller one said with a charming grin, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks. “But we couldn’t help noticing you two from across the room. Thought it’d be a crime to let the evening end without introducing ourselves.”

Ino leaned back with a smile, clearly amused. “Oh? And what are the names of these brave conversationalists?”

“I’m Tai,” the taller one replied. “This is Daisuke.”

The second man gave a polite nod, more reserved than his friend. His gaze flicked toward Sakura for a moment before shifting back to the room.

“I’m Ino,” she said smoothly. “And this is my friend, Sakura.”

Sakura offered a brief nod and a polite smile, but her posture remained slightly guarded. Tai didn’t seem to notice, his attention was still focused on Ino, which was fine with her.

“We were heading to the Sky Deck bar for drinks,” Tai continued. “There’s live music tonight, and we figured, why not see if you two wanted to join us?”

Ino glanced at Sakura, clearly gauging her mood. “What do you think? Just one drink? We can leave if it’s weird.”

Sakura hesitated. The idea of a loud bar, more strangers, and the open sky above the ocean all at once made her stomach twist, but at the same time, the thought of sitting alone in the cabin with nothing but her thoughts and the endless view of the sea was worse.

“One drink,” she said finally.

Ino grinned. “One drink it is.”

Tai offered his arm, which Ino accepted without hesitation. Daisuke fell into step beside Sakura, silent for a few seconds before speaking.

“First cruise?” he asked, voice quiet.

“Yeah,” Sakura replied. “You?”

He nodded. “Same. Honestly didn’t think I’d like it. But it’s... different.”

“Yeah,” she said softly, glancing toward the glass corridor as they exited the dining hall. Beyond the wide windows, the ocean stretched out into the night; dark, glassy, endless. “Different is a good word.”

They continued walking in silence for a moment, the muted sound of waves brushing against the hull keeping rhythm with their footsteps.

The Sky Deck Bar shimmered under strands of soft string lights that crisscrossed above the lounge chairs and glass-paneled railings. A light breeze drifted in off the ocean, cool against flushed skin and the warmth of half-finished drinks. Music pulsed softly from the live band at the far end of the deck; jazzy, relaxed, with the occasional soulful croon that lingered like smoke in the air.

Sakura sat on a low-backed stool at the curved bar, cradling a glass of something fruity and barely touched. She’d lost track of how long they’d been there. An hour, maybe more. Enough for the deck to thin out, for laughter to fade to murmurs, for the stars above to shine clearly through the open sky.

Ino was still mid-conversation with Tai, both of them leaning close, heads tilted together as they laughed at something neither had bothered to explain. Daisuke had taken a call earlier and never returned, which suited Sakura just fine. She was tired. The kind of tired that crept into your bones, heavy and strange, like the world was tilting ever so slightly off balance.

She stared out at the water.

It was beautiful, in a way that made her uneasy. The kind of beauty that hid something.

“Sakura?”

She turned as Ino approached, her cheeks faintly flushed and her heels now dangling from her fingers. Tai lingered a few steps behind her, casual but clearly hopeful.

“I think I’m going to call it,” Sakura said, giving her friend an apologetic look. “It’s been a long day.”

Ino frowned, torn between concern and reluctance. “Are you sure? The night’s just getting started.”

“I’m sure,” Sakura said gently. “The ship isn’t going anywhere. We’ve got six more nights.”

Ino sighed but nodded. “Okay, okay. I’ll walk you back.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Shush. I want to.”

Before turning to leave, Ino stepped back toward Tai. She exchanged a few words with him under her breath and took his phone, tapping something in quickly before handing it back.

“Text me,” she said, with a flirty little smile. “Unless you’re terrible at texting. Then I revoke your privilege.”

Tai grinned and saluted her with his glass. “Noted.”

Sakura watched the exchange quietly, then turned her eyes back toward the sea. Her reflection flickered in the glass railing, half-shadowed, swaying faintly with the movement of the ship.

She felt dizzy for a moment. Not from exhaustion or drink, but something deeper.

“Sakura?” Ino called gently.

She tore her gaze away and followed her friend across the deck, her footsteps slow but steady. The bar faded behind them, the music softening with distance.

The cabin was dim when they returned, lit only by a small wall sconce near the door and the faint shimmer of moonlight spilling through the wide ocean-facing window.

Ino kicked off her heels with a sigh of relief and collapsed onto her bed, one arm flung over her eyes.

“Remind me not to wear stilettos to sea level,” she mumbled, already halfway to sleep.

Sakura smiled faintly and moved through her evening routine on autopilot. She changed into her sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt, washed her face in the compact bathroom, and folded her clothes neatly over the chair in the corner. Her body was tired, but her mind still swam, thoughts tangled with ocean waves, the lingering music, and that feeling from earlier on the deck.

She climbed into bed and pulled the blanket up to her chest. Ino was already breathing slow and steady, her body a motionless silhouette across the room.

Sakura turned her head toward the window.

The ocean was still there. Always there. Watching.

The dream came quietly.

One moment she was staring at the ceiling, the next she was drifting, weightless, warm, and utterly still. The water around her was crystal clear, colored in hues of green and blue that shimmered like sunlit glass. Her hair floated around her like silk, and her hands moved without resistance, graceful and slow.

She wasn’t drowning.

She was breathing.

Beneath her, glowing spires of coral rose from the ocean floor like a city carved from living stone. Transparent walkways curved between towers, where strange sea creatures glided alongside glowing lanterns made of glass or jelly. Figures moved within the buildings, tall and elegant, their forms not fully human, not fully fish. Voices echoed through the water, not spoken but sung , a sound that vibrated through the very bones of the sea.

She recognized none of it, and yet, all of it.

The warmth of belonging bloomed in her chest. A home she had never seen. A name she had never heard spoken aloud.

And then. A pulse. Sharp. Deep. Like a call.

Sakura turned toward it—

She jolted awake.

Her heart was pounding, her skin damp with sweat despite the chilled air in the cabin. Her breath came fast, uneven, like she had been running.

The room was quiet. Still. The ship swayed gently beneath her.

She sat up slowly, brushing damp hair from her forehead. Ino remained fast asleep, undisturbed, curled beneath her blanket with one leg hanging off the side of the bed.

Sakura pressed a hand to her chest.

That dream had felt too real. Too vivid. Too close.

She let out a breath and gave a weak laugh, sinking back against her pillow.

“Well,” she whispered to herself, eyes fixed on the shadowy ceiling, “that was... very Little Mermaid meets Atlantis. How cliché.”

She chuckled again, this time quieter. But it didn’t erase the feeling that clung to her skin. Like she had just woken from something old.

Something remembered. Outside the window, the sea shimmered under the moonlight.

Silent. And waiting.

wWw

Sakura woke to the scent of brewed coffee and the sound of Ino humming along to music playing from her tablet.

Sunlight spilled through the wide ocean-view window, bright and warm. The dream from the night before had already begun to fade, tucked somewhere into the folds of her subconscious like a storybook half-remembered. She stretched beneath the sheets, her body sore in that pleasant way that followed deep sleep.

Ino stood by the desk in a breezy white romper, sipping from a to-go cup and scrolling through the ship’s daily itinerary.

“Oh good, Sleeping Beauty lives,” she said with a grin. “Hurry up and get dressed. We’ve got a full day ahead.”

Sakura sat up slowly. “Do we now?”

Ino turned the screen toward her. “There’s sunrise yoga on the Solstice Deck, cooking classes at ten, a watercolor workshop after lunch, and then I’m dragging you to the afternoon mixer. You’re not spending the whole cruise napping or staring out the window like a ghost.”

Sakura blinked. “That’s… oddly specific.”

“Because I know you.”

Despite herself, Sakura laughed. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Alright. Just promise me there’s food somewhere between all that fun.”

Ino grinned. “Bottomless brunch, deck twelve.”

That was all it took.

After a quick shower and a light breakfast, they headed out. The ship was livelier in the daylight, filled with laughter and the scent of fresh fruit and sunscreen. Children raced down the carpeted halls with pool towels slung over their shoulders, and couples strolled hand-in-hand, eyes reflecting the sea beyond the railings.

True to her word, Ino dragged Sakura to nearly every scheduled activity.

Yoga on the upper deck was surprisingly refreshing. The ocean breeze cooled her skin as she flowed through poses, and for the first time since boarding, Sakura felt the tension in her shoulders begin to ease.

The cooking class had them elbows-deep in dough, where Sakura’s attempt at folding dumplings earned a sarcastic round of applause from the cruise chef. Ino had flour on her nose, and for once, didn’t care.

Lunch was taken outdoors on a shaded patio, where waves lapped gently against the ship’s side and seagulls followed in their wake like tiny, feathered guardians.

Later, at the watercolor workshop, Sakura surprised herself by slipping easily into rhythm with a brush in hand. Her strokes were rough at first, but her body remembered the feel of motion. Color. Movement. Without thinking, she painted blues and greens. Swirls of water. Light breaking through the surface.

She didn’t know what it was supposed to be, but it felt natural. Soothing.

Ino leaned over her shoulder with a smirk. “Wow. Look at you. The cruise is healing you already.”

“Hardly,” Sakura muttered, though a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

By the time the afternoon mixer rolled around, she wasn’t even pretending to resist. They stood with fruity drinks in hand beneath an open canopy, mingling with other passengers over appetizers and light music. Tai waved from across the deck, and Ino waved back, though this time, she didn’t rush to his side.

Sakura leaned against the railing as the sun began to dip again, casting gold across the sea.

She had laughed today. Moved. Breathed.

It felt good. And for a while, the sea seemed just like water again. But beneath all the color, laughter, and warmth, something inside her still stirred.

Dinner that evening was quieter than the night before.

The dining hall still glowed beneath its domed ceiling, the chandeliers twinkling like starlight, but the crowd had thinned just slightly. Most guests had begun to fall into their own rhythms; some opting for specialty restaurants, others ordering room service, or lounging in quieter corners of the ship.

Sakura and Ino were seated at the same window-side table, plates half-full, the low murmur of conversation surrounding them like a soft current. The sea outside was calm tonight, painted with the dusky lavender of twilight.

Sakura pushed a piece of grilled squash around her plate absently, though her mood was far from dour. The day had been good, better than she’d expected. Her shoulders were looser, her breath came easier, and for the first time since boarding, she wasn’t keeping one eye on the horizon.

Across from her, Ino glanced toward the entrance and then back again, trying not to look obvious.

Sakura caught it.

“Waiting for someone?”

Ino gave her a crooked smile. “Maybe.”

As if on cue, Tai appeared at the edge of their table, freshly showered and wearing a pale button-down shirt that managed to look casual despite how clearly it had been ironed. He gave a polite nod to Sakura before turning his attention to Ino.

“Hey. Sorry to interrupt. I was wondering, if you’re free tonight, if you’d like to grab a drink? There’s a live band playing on the Serenity Deck. Pretty chill. No pressure.”

Ino hesitated, her smile faltering for just a moment. Her eyes flicked to Sakura, uncertainty written plain across her face.

“I don’t want to ditch you,” she said quietly. “We’ve been together all day. And I don’t want you to think I’m abandoning you for some guy I’ve known for like five minutes.”

Sakura blinked, then let out a small laugh. “Ino, go.”

“But—”

“Seriously. You’ve been looking forward to this all day. And I’m perfectly capable of entertaining myself for one night.” She raised her glass lightly. “Maybe I’ll order dessert. Read. People-watch from the deck like an old woman.”

“You are such a liar,” Ino said, though she was already sitting up straighter.

Sakura gave her a meaningful look. “You deserve to have fun.”

Ino exhaled slowly, then turned to Tai with a grin. “Okay. Let’s go before I overthink it.”

Tai smiled and held out his hand, helping her from her seat with easy confidence.

“Don’t wait up!” Ino called over her shoulder as they walked away, her gold earrings catching the light.

Sakura waved her off with a smile, then leaned back in her chair, the sea at her side whispering against the glass. She stayed there for a few minutes longer, finishing her drink and letting the stillness settle around her.

She wasn’t sad to be alone. But she was aware of the quiet now. Of the way the water seemed a little darker after nightfall.

Still, she rose calmly, left a tip on the table, and began the slow walk back toward her cabin.

The ship creaked softly beneath her feet, gentle and steady. But as she passed the long hallway lined with windows, she paused.

The ocean was vast out there, deep and endless, its surface gently rippling beneath the moonlight.

She stared at it for a moment, her reflection faint in the glass.

The cabin was cool and dim when Sakura returned, empty in Ino’s absence.

She didn’t mind.

She showered slowly, letting the warm water rinse away the salt-kissed air and long day. Her muscles ached pleasantly from yoga and walking, and her skin still held traces of sun despite her best efforts to stay shaded.

Wrapped in a soft towel, she stood by the window for a while, brushing her hair with quiet, methodical strokes. Outside, the ocean stretched endlessly, black and smooth beneath the starlit sky. The ship’s lights reflected off the surface in scattered gold flecks that disappeared with every small ripple.

There was something beautiful about it. Something that pulled at her. But the longer she looked, the more she felt that pull wasn’t entirely her own.

She turned away, dressed in her sleep shirt, and climbed into bed. The sheets were cold at first, but the ship’s gentle rocking lulled her quickly. Within minutes, her breathing slowed, her body sinking deep into stillness.

The dream returned.

She was underwater again. But this time, it wasn’t open sea.

She stood, stood , on smooth stone beneath a pale blue current. All around her, glowing structures curved upward in impossible arches, formed of coral and polished crystal, their windows like pearls. Plants with luminous tendrils swayed in the currents overhead. Schools of translucent fish darted between them.

The colony pulsed with life.

She could feel it, not just around her, but through her. Every wall, every ripple, every voice that moved through the water felt like it was touching something inside her. As if she belonged to this place, and it belonged to her.

People passed by, graceful and serene. Some swam above, their silhouettes trailing fins and bioluminescent light. They nodded to her as they passed, their eyes glowing faintly in the watery haze.

And she... she nodded back.

She recognized their faces. Their names lingered just out of reach.

She moved through the square toward a raised platform, where a large shell-shaped structure sat open like a throne. A woman waited there; tall, with silver hair that flowed like ribbons through the water. Her gaze was steady, familiar. There was sadness in it. Pride, too.

The woman reached out a hand toward Sakura.

“You’re not ready yet,” she said softly, though her voice rang like a bell in the deep. “But you will be.”

Sakura stepped closer. “Where am I?”

The woman smiled, and everything around her began to ripple, like the dream itself had become water.

And then—

Sakura gasped awake.

The room was dark. The window showed only black sea and the faint reflection of her face. Her skin was clammy with sweat, her shirt clinging to her back, breath coming fast.

She wiped her face with both hands, trying to steady herself. Her heart felt too big for her chest.

It was a dream. It had to be. But it had felt too real. Too familiar.

She let out a shaky laugh and fell back against the pillow.

“Okay,” she whispered to the ceiling, “that’s it. No more seafood before bed.”

She snorted quietly, then sighed.

Still, the woman's voice echoed in her ears.

You’re not ready yet.

She stared at the ceiling long after the dream faded, feeling something shift beneath the still waters of her mind.

The next morning arrived with a heavy sky.

Clouds had crept in overnight, layering the horizon in dark grays and blue-violet streaks. The ocean looked different now, less like silk and more like glass. Still and waiting.

Sakura woke later than usual, surprised to find Ino already dressed and seated on the bed opposite her, legs crossed and scrolling intently through her tablet.

“Morning,” Sakura mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “You’re up early.”

Ino looked up, her expression unreadable. “You were talking in your sleep.”

That made Sakura pause. “Was I?”

“Yeah. And you were moving, like…twitching. Breathing hard. It was creepy.”

Sakura offered a tired smile. “Maybe I was dreaming I was back at work.”

Ino didn’t return the smile. “You said something. I couldn’t make it out, but… it didn’t sound like Japanese. Or anything I’ve heard before.”

Sakura’s stomach tensed. She sat up slowly, brushing her hair out of her face. “Probably nonsense. You know how dreams work.”

Ino didn’t push it, but the look in her eyes lingered.

After a quick breakfast in one of the smaller cafés, they decided to walk the lower observation deck, a narrow pathway wrapped in glass just above the waterline. Most guests had retreated indoors as the wind picked up and the clouds continued to thicken.

Sakura paused halfway along the corridor, placing her hand gently on the cool glass wall. The water beyond was murky now, darker with depth. Shadows moved beneath it, shoals of fish or tricks of the light. She wasn’t sure.

And then she heard it.

Singing.

It was faint at first. Gentle. High and distant, like it was carried through the hull of the ship by the tide itself. A single voice, wordless and slow, trailing notes like pearls on a string.

It wasn’t coming from the speakers. Not from another guest.

It was coming from the sea.

She turned toward it instinctively, heart beating slower now instead of faster. There was something familiar in the melody. Something that bypassed her mind entirely and went straight to her bones.

“Sakura?”

She blinked and turned. Ino stood just a few paces behind her, worry creasing her forehead.

“Are you okay? You just zoned out.”

“I’m fine,” Sakura said, her voice steadier than she felt. “Just... thought I heard something.”

Ino took a step closer, eyes narrowing. “You’ve been acting weird since last night. And I mean weirder than usual. Is something going on?”

“No,” Sakura said too quickly. “I just didn’t sleep well. That’s all.”

Ino didn’t look convinced. “If something’s wrong, you need to tell me.”

“I’m fine, Ino. Really.” She forced a smile. “I think I just need some air.”

They were already surrounded by windows, but Ino didn’t press her further. Still, the tension remained between them like static in the air.

As they turned to head back toward the central stairwell, the lights above flickered once.

Then again.

And a distant rumble rolled through the ship, low and heavy.

“Storm’s rolling in,” a passing crew member said to another, not noticing them. “Told the captain it was moving faster than predicted.”

By the time they reached their cabin, the ship had started to sway more noticeably. Rain struck the windows in quick, scattered bursts, and the ocean beyond had turned a dull, stormy green.

Ino pulled the curtains closed with a sigh and flopped onto her bed.

“Great,” she muttered. “No pool, no sun, no social stuff for the rest of the day. Love that for us.”

Sakura stood at the window a moment longer before drawing the curtain shut. But behind her eyelids, the melody still echoed.

Night had fallen hard.

The storm had worsened, bringing with it sheets of rain that lashed against the windows and gusts of wind that howled through the narrow corridors of the cruise ship like distant voices. The ship rocked gently beneath the force of it; controlled, steady, but ever so slightly disorienting.

In the cabin, the lighting was soft and low. Sakura sat curled on her bed, a thick cardigan over her sleepwear, thumbing absently through a paperback she had barely touched since boarding. The words blurred. Her eyes kept drifting to the window, where shadows danced behind the curtains with every flicker of lightning.

Ino’s phone buzzed on the desk, and she scooped it up with practiced ease.

A beat.

Then a grin spread across her lips.

“Well,” she said lightly, turning toward Sakura. “Guess who wants to brave the storm for drinks under the covered bar? Tai’s either bold or stupid, but I like a guy who’ll risk mild weather-related injury to see me.”

Sakura smirked and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Probably stupid. But go.”

“You sure?” Ino tilted her head. “I’ll stay if you’re not feeling okay. Seriously.”

“I’m fine,” Sakura said, waving her off. “Go make terrible choices. I’ll be here with tea and my extremely uneventful love life.”

Ino laughed, grabbing her coat. “Text me if the ship capsizes.”

“I think I'd pass out.”

That earned her an eye roll before Ino slipped out into the hall, letting the door click softly behind her.

Sakura sat still for a few minutes after she was gone, the room falling quiet again. Only the wind and rain remained. She stared at the closed door, at the now-lonely silence of their shared space.

She should have felt content.But something was calling her.

Not in words. Not in a voice. In feeling.

Her gaze shifted to the window.

The curtain swayed slightly. Not from wind. From the ship’s gentle movement. Still, it felt like an invitation.

Sakura stood slowly.

The floor felt cold against her bare feet as she padded toward the window and pulled the curtain aside.

The ocean was wild now, waves dark and roiling, lit in flashes by distant lightning. But even through the storm, the water glimmered faintly, pale silver beneath the chaos, like something beneath the surface was glowing softly, waiting to be seen.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She didn’t remember making the decision to move, but the next thing she knew, she was pulling on her shoes, shrugging into her coat, and stepping out into the hallway.

The ship’s lights flickered as she passed, but she didn’t pause.

She walked with purpose, like someone answering a call they didn’t know they had heard.

Down one hall. Then another. No crowds now. Just the storm, the creaking of the ship, and the pulse in her veins leading her forward.

Finally, she reached the outer deck.

The moment she stepped through the sliding door, the wind caught her hair and tossed it around her face. Rain struck her cheeks like needles, cold and sharp. The air smelled of ozone and sea.

But she didn’t flinch.

She walked to the railing and placed both hands against it, leaning slightly into the wind.

Below her, the ocean surged and heaved, vast and untamed. Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the churning waters in a brilliant white flash.

And in that instant, just for a second, she saw it.

A shape in the water.

Massive.

Not a whale. Not a shipwreck. Not something she could name.

It moved.

Gone in the next flash.

But Sakura didn’t run.

She stayed.

The wind screamed around her, and rain soaked through her coat. Her fingers clenched the railing as her heart beat faster, not from fear, but from recognition.

Like she had finally come home.

Rain whipped across the deck in wild sheets, turning everything slick and silver. The ship groaned beneath the pressure of the wind, a low sound swallowed by the crashing of waves below.

Sakura gripped the railing, rain running down her face, her hair clinging to her skin in damp strands. Her heart thundered in her chest, but she couldn't move, not away, not forward. Her feet felt rooted to the deck as if the sea had found her and refused to let her go.

Then she heard it again.

The singing.

It was clearer this time. Closer. Sweet and mournful, drawn out like lullabies sung to the tide itself. It threaded through the wind like silver thread through dark fabric, weaving into her thoughts and unraveling reason.

Her breath hitched. Her fingers loosened.

The rain no longer stung. The cold no longer bit.

The voice was inside her now, slipping between the ribs, pressing gently against the oldest parts of her.

She stepped forward. One foot over the base of the railing. Then the other.

She leaned.

The metal was slick beneath her fingers. The wind howled, the sea below churned, but none of it mattered. The voice called, and the rest of the world blurred.

And then—

She fell.

Time fractured into stillness.

The storm above raged on, but all she felt was the icy slap of the ocean as it rose up to swallow her whole. The water enveloped her like a living thing, rushing past her ears, pressing tight against her chest. The shock of the cold shattered the trance, and suddenly she was awake , blinking against the darkness, flailing, limbs heavy.

She kicked hard.

Her boots dragged.

The coat. Too heavy.

She clawed at it underwater, shrugging it from her shoulders. It slipped away like seaweed into the dark. Her eyes burned from the salt, her lungs screaming.

Above her, she could see the faint glow of the ship lights. Distant. Blurred.

Getting smaller.

Her arms ached. Her legs slowed.

The surface seemed impossibly far.

She opened her mouth to cry out, and saltwater rushed in.

Her last thought wasn’t fear.

It was why does this feel familiar?

Then darkness took her.

wWw

Kisame drifted in the deep.

The storm churned far above, its fury reduced to vibrations that rolled through the water like distant thunder. The ocean was colder here, darker. Quieter. A world untouched by the chaos of the surface.

He welcomed the silence. Preferred it.

But then it shattered.

A pulse ripped through the sea like a lightning strike. It wasn’t a sound. Not exactly. It was a feeling , an echo that slammed through his skull and sank deep into his chest, stealing the breath he didn’t need to take.

He jerked upright, gills flaring. His eyes, dark and unblinking, narrowed toward the surface.

He had felt things before. Movements. Shifts in the current. The chatter of whales or the distant songlines of his kind, long exiled. But this was different.

And it was close.

Without hesitation, Kisame launched himself upward, hands slicing through the water as his powerful tail propelled him through the gloom. He moved fast, faster than most surface creatures could ever see. The light of the ship bled into view above, a smudged halo against the rain-soaked sea.

Then he saw her.

A figure falling slowly, pale and delicate in the dark. Hair drifting like seaweed. Arms limp. Lips parted. A coat slipping away like dead weight.

Human?

No, not quite.

Something in her called to him.

He didn’t understand it. He didn’t like it. But he couldn’t ignore it.

His body moved before thought could catch up. He reached her just as her descent began to slow, her limbs sluggish and uncoordinated. Her eyes fluttered open, just for a moment, panic glinting in the depths.

She’s drowning.

He wrapped one arm around her waist to steady her. Then, hesitating only a heartbeat, he pressed his mouth to hers.

Warm. Too warm. Soft.

His jaw clenched as he pushed air into her lungs, steady and controlled. He tried not to think about the shape of her lips, or the feel of her breath brushing his skin. This was survival. Nothing more.

But something in him reacted.

Her eyes opened as the air reached her.

Green, bright, unnatural green , met his. His own, black and inhuman, narrowed in surprise.

She stared at him in dazed confusion. For a moment, they were suspended together in the void. No words. No sound. Just heartbeat. Just sea.

And then her lashes fluttered again.

Her body went limp in his arms.

Unconscious.

Kisame held her tightly, gaze flicking toward the ship above, then back to the face of the girl who had somehow called him.

Whatever she was, whoever she was, he couldn’t leave her here. And for reasons he couldn’t explain, he didn’t want to.

wWw

Chapter Text

wWw

Kisame swam through the darkness with Sakura held carefully in his arms.

The water parted effortlessly around him, each kick of his tail silent and sure as he descended away from the storm-churned currents. The ocean stretched vast and endless in every direction, but he knew these waters, knew how to vanish into them.

She was light in his grip, fragile in a way that made something inside him shift uncomfortably. Her skin was cold, but not as cold as it should have been. Her pulse, slow but steady, thrummed faintly beneath his fingers.

Her presence still pulsed through the water, faint, flickering, like an ember barely protected from the wind. Whatever she was, it was buried deep. Sleeping. But it had stirred. And he had heard it.

So had the sea.

He dove deeper until the ship lights were nothing but a fading haze above, the storm muffled into a distant pressure. Rock formations jutted upward from the seafloor like the bones of some ancient creature. Beyond them, hidden behind a veil of kelp and the natural camouflage of stone and coral, was the place he called his own.

An underwater cave, tucked inside a cliff face worn smooth by centuries of currents.

He slipped through the narrow entrance with practiced ease. Inside, the pressure eased, and the darkness softened. The chamber opened wide into a hollowed space of calm water and smooth rock, lit faintly by patches of glowing algae along the walls. Air pockets clung to the ceiling, where the waterline dipped just enough to allow breathing.

He surfaced gently, cradling her head above the water as he guided them both to the edge of a shallow ledge. Carefully, Kisame laid her there, half-submerged, her head resting on a smooth slope of stone.

The moment his hand left her, he hesitated. She didn’t look like she belonged here. Not among the mossy walls and silent tides.

And yet, she did.

He restedbeside her in the shallows, water rolling off his shoulders in rivulets, gills pulsing slowly as he watched her. The rise and fall of her chest steadied. Her hair floated around her like coral silk, and small beads of light clung to her lashes from the bioluminescence scattered across the cave.

She was human. But something else lived beneath her skin.

Something that called to him.

He clenched his jaw and turned away, shaking off the thought. He didn’t want to feel anything. He didn’t need to. And yet he had brought her here.

Saved her.

Chosen not to let her drown.

Kisame stared at the cave wall, his expression unreadable in the soft light.

“What are you?” he murmured, voice rasping low beneath the hum of the sea.

Behind him, she stirred.

wWw

The world returned slowly.

Warmth came first, unexpected after the cold bite of the sea. It spread across Sakura’s limbs like rising sunlight, though her body still felt slow to respond. Her fingers twitched against smooth stone. Damp fabric clung to her skin.

The first thing Sakura registered was the sound of water. Soft, steady. Dripping from stone. Lapping gently against the rock she lay on. It should have been calming.

It wasn’t.

She sat up fast, gasping, her limbs heavy and uncoordinated as the world tilted around her. Her palms slipped on the wet stone and she scrambled backward instinctively, heart racing, chest tight.

Where was she?

The last thing she remembered was falling, sinking , into cold, black water. Her chest burning. Her coat dragging her down. Darkness swallowing everything.

She should be dead.

Instead, she was in a cave.

Half-submerged. Breathing.

Her breaths came quick and shallow as her eyes darted around the space. The walls glowed faintly with patches of bioluminescent moss, casting strange shadows across the rippling surface. The air was damp and thick with salt. She didn’t know this place. She didn’t belong here.

Her hands flew to her neck. No wounds. No oxygen tank. No mask. Nothing.

She was alive. And then she saw him.

Just across the water, barely more than a silhouette at first, eyes dark and still, fixed on her. The top of his head broke the surface, lit faintly by the glow along the walls. Blue-gray skin. Hair swept up into a mohawk that somehow held its shape in the water.

He wasn’t moving.

Just watching.

Her breath caught. “Wh—what the hell—”

She pushed herself farther back onto the stone shelf, hands slipping behind her as she tried to put distance between them. Her foot splashed in the shallow water and she yelped, skittering sideways on her hip. Panic surged hot and fast through her limbs.

He remained half-submerged, like a creature unsure whether to reveal itself or not. His hands gripped the rock in front of him; broad, human-shaped, but unfamiliar in the way they held tension.

Sakura’s chest heaved. Her vision narrowed. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears so loud it nearly drowned out the sound of the tide.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t blink.

That almost frightened her more.

Because despite the rising panic in her blood, part of her brain, some deeply buried part, recognized him.

Why do I know those eyes?

Her body trembled, soaked to the bone and aching all over. She pressed the heels of her hands against her forehead, trying to focus. Trying to breathe.

“You saved me,” she whispered, half to herself.

He didn’t deny it. Didn’t nod either. Just watched.

She looked up at him again, blinking water from her lashes. “Why?”

Still no answer.

Her chest still rose and fell in ragged waves, hands braced behind her on the slick stone as she stared at the figure across the water.

He didn’t approach. Didn’t vanish. Just stayed there; half-submerged, eyes steady, head barely breaching the surface. Watching.

Like a predator. Not like a rescuer.

Sakura swallowed hard, her throat dry despite the wet air. Every instinct in her screamed to keep her distance, to run if she could, but there was nowhere to run to.

So she steadied her voice the best she could and said, “Can you… speak?”

A pause.

Then, slowly, very slowly , the figure nodded once.

Sakura’s breath caught. It wasn’t much. Barely a movement. But it was a response.

So he understood her and could talk.

She looked down, trying to focus, trying to breathe around the swirl of adrenaline still burning in her limbs. Her hands were trembling. She clenched them into fists, digging her nails into her palms until they stopped.

This wasn’t a dream. Her brain kept reaching for that possibility, but everything felt too real. The cool sting of air on her wet skin. The ache in her lungs. The taste of salt at the back of her throat.

She looked back up. The figure hadn’t moved.

His eyes met hers. Still. Sharp. Unreadable. But not unkind.

Sakura blinked, her voice dropping to a whisper, ragged but honest.

“I don’t understand what’s happening.”

And this time, something shifted behind his expression.

The silence stretched again, filled only by the soft echo of dripping water and the distant thunder outside the cave.

Sakura’s heart had begun to slow, not completely calm, but no longer gripped by panic. Her breathing steadied as her mind adjusted, trying to stitch logic to the impossible.

Then the water rippled.

He moved. Slowly, carefully, he rose higher out of the water.

Sakura tensed, unsure of what she’d see. Her fingers flexed on the rock behind her, ready to retreat if she had to.

But when his upper body emerged into the bioluminescent glow, she found herself staring, not out of fear, but something closer to stunned awe.

Broad shoulders broke the surface first, followed by powerful arms and a chest sculpted by the strength of a life lived in motion. His skin, pale slate-blue in color, shimmered faintly beneath the wet sheen of seawater. Scars cut across one shoulder like old battle marks, and water ran down the hard lines of his torso, muscles shifting beneath the skin with every breath.

There was something ancient about him. Raw, elemental. Like the ocean had shaped him itself.

Sakura swallowed hard, her eyes trailing across his chest before flicking back up to his face in sudden embarrassment. Her cheeks flushed, hot even in the cold cave air.

Oh my god, what is wrong with me?

She quickly looked away, heat rising up her neck. “Sorry, I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to stare.”

He tilted his head slightly at her reaction, as if not fully understanding it… or maybe finding it amusing in his own unreadable way.

Then finally, finally , he spoke.

His voice was low and quiet, rough like the scraping of waves across stone, but it held a strange calm.

“You’re safe.”

Sakura blinked, startled not by what he said, but by how he said it. There was no threat. No warning. Just quiet certainty. Like it was a truth that required no defense.

She looked back up at him cautiously, brushing damp hair behind her ear. “Where... am I?”

He hesitated, as if considering how much to say. Then he answered:

“An underwater cavern. South of the cruise route. Hidden by reef and current.”

His dark eyes held hers. “You were sinking. I brought you here before the current could take you.”

She nodded slowly, trying to absorb it. “So this is real.”

He nodded once.

“You’re real.”

Another nod.

Her voice came softer now. “You’re the one who pulled me out of the water.”

His gaze remained steady. “You weren’t breathing.”

Sakura pressed a hand to her chest, suddenly aware of the subtle ache there.

She stared at him for a moment longer, then let out a shaky laugh; dry, nervous, and barely holding together. “I’m either hallucinating, or I owe you my life.”

Kisame didn’t answer.

He simply stayed where he was, the cave light casting shadows across his face, the storm’s pulse echoing faintly through the sea outside.

Sakura pulled her knees to her chest, arms loosely wrapped around them, as she stared across the pool at the man, creature—no, the being , who had just told her she was safe.

Her heartbeat had slowed, but her mind was still racing. Questions crowded behind her eyes, jostling for space, too large to ask all at once. But one came first.

The obvious one.

The one she couldn’t ignore.

“What… are you?”

Her voice was quiet, almost reverent, but not afraid anymore. Just tired. And curious.

Kisame didn’t look away. He seemed unsurprised by the question. But before he could answer, Sakura’s vision swam slightly at the edges. The glow of the algae pulsed too bright for a second, and she closed her eyes.

A wave of lightheadedness washed over her.

She blinked, swayed slightly on the rock, and caught herself with one hand.

“Whoa…”

A dull ache pressed against the base of her skull. Her limbs felt heavier than they had a moment ago.

Then her stomach growled, loudly and insistently, echoing off the cave walls like it was mocking her.

Kisame tilted his head, the faintest crease forming between his brows.

Sakura flushed. She sat up straighter, though the movement made her head throb again. “Sorry. I, uh, haven’t eaten since lunch. Maybe earlier. Kind of lost track.”

Kisame didn’t respond right away, but he did shift, gently, smoothly, receding slightly into the water, like he was preparing to move.

Sakura blinked. “Wait, where are you—?”

Then he sank beneath the surface with barely a sound, the water swallowing him like he had never been there at all.

Sakura stared at the spot where he disappeared, her hand still pressed to her stomach, her body trembling faintly from cold, exhaustion, and whatever was happening beneath her skin.

She leaned back against the cave wall and exhaled slowly, voice soft.

“I’m seriously losing it.”

But she didn’t move. And deep down, a quiet part of her already knew—

He was coming back.

wWw

The sea welcomed him back like an old, possessive lover.

The moment Kisame slipped beneath the surface, the cold embraced him, sharper now than before. The storm had pushed deeper currents through the lower levels, stirring up silt and scent. Schools of fish darted away at his approach, sensing the shift in pressure and power.

He moved through the water like he belonged to it, because he did. But his mind was not on the hunt.

Not entirely.

He should have been angry.

The girl was a problem. She didn’t belong in his world. She shouldn’t have been able to summon a pulse strong enough to wake him. Her presence had pulled him out of his chosen exile, pierced the quiet depths he had earned through blood and solitude.

And yet…

His jaw clenched as he cut through the reef, muscles flexing with each push of his tail. The memory of her voice echoed in his head, not in song, but in question.

What are you?

He hadn’t answered. Couldn’t. She didn’t need to know what he was. Not yet. But she’d looked at him like she wanted to.

Really looked. Not in fear. Not in revulsion.

Curious. Alive. Blushing.

Kisame’s mouth curled into the faintest smirk as he remembered the way her eyes had flicked across his chest before she caught herself. That quick flush in her cheeks. The way she immediately looked away, like the shame embarrassed her more than the staring.

She liked what she saw.

That shouldn’t matter to him. But it did.

It stirred something unexpected, an old, buried pride. Not the arrogant kind. Something deeper. Something possessive. She had looked at him and not turned away.

He was no stranger to how others viewed him: monster, freak, shark, killer. Even among his own kind, he had been cast out, feared more than trusted. And he liked it that way.

But her?

She looked at him like he was real.

Not just a shadow in the deep.

Kisame darted into a narrow ravine beneath the reef. The flicker of movement caught his eye, a cluster of spiny fish sheltered beneath a rocky ledge. He lunged, fast and silent, and speared one cleanly through the gill with a sharpened tooth of coral he’d carved long ago.

He harvested three more in short order, wrapping them in a length of kelp fiber knotted at his hip. Primitive, but functional. They would be enough. She would eat. She needed to.

He wasn’t sure why he cared that she did. But he did.

His thoughts turned back to the cave. To her voice. Her trembling hands. Her stubborn attempt at control even when she was lost in a world not her own.

She wasn’t like the others. And that unsettled him. Because part of him already wanted to keep her.

The fish twitched once against his hip, then stilled.

Kisame sank to the sea floor and knelt there in the dimness, the soft glow of distant bioluminescence catching along the edges of his shoulders. But his thoughts refused to settle.

He shouldn’t have brought her back.

He knew that.

It would have been easier, cleaner, to let the current take her. Or better yet, not go to her at all. The ocean was vast and hungry. People disappeared all the time, especially during storms.

No one would’ve questioned it.

And yet… here he was. Fishing for her. Tending to her needs. Watching her like something fragile he didn’t know what to do with.

Pathetic.

She’s human, he reminded himself. She doesn’t belong here. You’re not some hero in a fairytale.

He wasn’t noble. He wasn’t kind.

He’d done things; things she wouldn’t understand, things that would make her tremble if she knew. Things he didn’t regret.

And still…

Still, the way she had looked at him. He hated how much that mattered.

If she had been one of them, if she’d been born of the sea, scaled and strong and fearless, he would have taken her.

Without hesitation.

Dragged her down. Kept her beneath the waves, where no one else could ever look at her again. Made her his. Claimed her. Would make her his queen of exile.

But she wasn’t.

She was warm-blooded. Fragile. Curious. Human.

And that was the only thing keeping her safe.

For now.

Kisame’s grip tightened around the bundle of fish until the kelp fibers strained. He closed his eyes briefly, jaw clenched, letting the cold of the deep bite through him like a warning.

He wasn’t a good man.

But he was something worse when he started to want.

With a sharp exhale, he turned and swam back toward the cave; toward the girl who didn’t belong in his world, but had somehow already cracked it open.

wWw  

Sakura sat with her back against the cave wall, arms loosely wrapped around her knees, and tried to make sense of… everything.

The glow of the algae cast shifting patterns along the water’s surface, reflecting across the curved walls in soft blue and green. The storm outside had faded to a dull hum, still present, but distant. The cave felt like its own little pocket of the world, suspended outside of time and reason.

She’d stopped shivering.

That should have been a good sign. But all she could feel now was the buzz of adrenaline fading and the rising heat of pure mortification.

She dropped her head against her knees with a groan. Her cheeks burned, even in the cold.

Out of everything, nearly drowning, waking up in a cave, being watched in silence by some deep-sea… person , the part her brain decided to fixate on was the fact that she had absolutely, one hundred percent ogled his torso like some shameless tourist in a tropical romance novel.

Broad shoulders. Scarred chest. Skin like polished stone. And the way the water ran down his—

Sakura let out another groan and buried her face in her arms.

He’s not even human. You don’t know what he is. For all you know, he has a giant squid tail or something.

But still…

There had been something strangely beautiful about him.

Not in a delicate, soft way, but raw, powerful, otherworldly. Like he belonged to the sea. And somehow, the sea listened to him.

She hadn’t seen all of him, just his upper half, just enough to register how solid he was. How unnervingly composed he had been, even when she was falling apart.

And the way he watched her…

Not cruelly. Not lustfully.

Just… like she was a puzzle he hadn’t decided whether to solve or sink.

She exhaled and tilted her head back against the stone, closing her eyes for a moment.

“Great,” she muttered. “You nearly die, and your brain short-circuits over the first half-naked man you see… who also happens to be blue.”

The sound of water shifting made her eyes snap open. Her body tensed.

She sat upright quickly, her gaze snapping toward the far edge of the pool.

Ripples moved across the surface.

He was coming back.

The ripples grew stronger.

Sakura scooted back instinctively as the water stirred near the far end of the pool. A dark shape moved beneath the surface, growing larger as it approached the ledge.

Then he emerged.

Kisame surfaced with practiced ease, his powerful frame rising smoothly from the water until he was chest-deep once more. The glow of the cave caught along his skin, casting strange, luminous shadows across his torso. The bundle of fish was gripped tightly in one hand.

Without a word, he tossed them onto the rock between them.

The dull thump of wet scales hitting stone echoed louder than it should have.

Sakura blinked, startled.

The fish, sleek, silver-blue, and very dead , lay in a crumpled heap, their eyes glassy, their gills still flexing faintly from residual reflex. A faint trail of water ran from their bodies down the slope of the cave floor.

Sakura stared.

Then she looked back up at Kisame.

He was watching her again, expression unreadable, but those sharp, black eyes flicked briefly to her face… and paused.

She flushed.

Immediately.

Her hand shot up to touch her cheek, as if she could physically push the color away. Why does he always catch me at the worst times?

Kisame tilted his head slightly. Not smug, but… observant. He noticed the flush. Noted it. Filed it away in that deep, unreadable mind of his.

Sakura cleared her throat and pointed toward the fish, one brow lifting in disbelief.

“Um… is this dinner?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at her like she’d asked a strange question.

“Yes,” he said simply.

She blinked again, glancing between the pile of fresh catch and his stone-serious face. “Right. Of course. Dead fish in a sea cave. How very… rustic.”

Kisame’s jaw twitched, and she wasn’t sure if it was from amusement or disapproval.

She gave a half-smile, nervous, but genuine. “Do you have a fire pit tucked behind one of these rocks, or are we just going full sushi experience?”

He reached for the fish again, ignoring her sarcasm, and began preparing one with a short blade carved from coral. His movements were sharp, precise, almost ritualistic. There was a quiet efficiency in how he cleaned the fish; this wasn’t the first time he had fed someone.

And that made her pause.

She shifted on the stone, drawing her knees up again.

“Have you… brought others here?” she asked softly.

Kisame looked up. Met her gaze. And said nothing. Which was, somehow, more unsettling than a yes or no.

The sound of the blade cutting through fish was rhythmic.

Wet.

Final.

Sakura watched in silence, hugging her knees to her chest as Kisame worked with a calm precision that felt almost clinical. He hadn’t spoken since confirming the fish were dinner, and she hadn’t pushed him.

But now, as the glow of the algae pulsed gently against the wet walls and the silence thickened again, a different kind of awareness began to settle into her chest.

A darker one.

She looked down at her bare feet, at the cuts she hadn’t noticed until now, small scrapes across her ankles and toes from the fall, from the rock, from flailing through coral or something sharp in the black. They stung faintly, a whisper of pain beneath the cold.

She didn’t know how deep they were. She didn’t know how long she had been unconscious. She didn’t know anything .

Her eyes drifted toward the pool of water, black and endless, leading back to the sea. The only way in or out of the cave.

And it hit her. She couldn’t leave. Not without him. Not without swimming into darkness. Not without drowning again. Not without dying.

A hollow, icy feeling spread in her chest.

I could die here.

He could decide to leave her. Right now. Just vanish beneath the water and never come back. She’d starve. Alone. Trapped in a cave at the bottom of the sea.

And honestly… she hoped he’d have the mercy to kill her before that happened.

Or worse—

Her stomach twisted.

He could drown her.

Just… drag her under. No more breath. No more light. Just the pressure, and the dark, and that strange, whispering voice she’d heard in the water.

Her pulse climbed. It wasn’t that she thought he would . But he could.

She glanced toward him, studying the lines of his back as he worked, the curve of his spine, the way the muscles moved beneath the blue-gray skin. He wasn’t just strong. He was built for the water. The kind of strength that didn’t rely on brute force. The kind that waited.

A creature designed for drowning. And she was completely at his mercy.

Her throat tightened. Her breath hitched. The fear she thought she’d shaken off the night before began to crawl back up her spine, slick and cold like seawater seeping into her bones.

What are you doing, Sakura? You don’t know him. You don’t even know what he is.

Her gaze flicked again to the black pool at the edge of the cave. It looked smaller now, darker. Like a mouth waiting to swallow her whole.

She hugged her knees tighter and forced herself to stay still. She didn’t speak. She didn’t cry. But inside, the fear was back.

And it was louder than the water.

Kisame worked with clean, practiced movements, the blade in his hand flashing briefly under the cave’s eerie light. Strips of pale fish were carved away from the bone in neat, symmetrical cuts. No hesitation. No waste.

When he finished, he picked one up, raw, glistening, and clean, and crossed the shallow water toward her.

She tensed instinctively but didn’t pull back.

He lingered beside her without a word, holding the offering out in one hand. His other arm rested casually at his side, completely at ease in a space that would’ve made anyone else shiver.

Sakura blinked at the fish in his palm.

Her stomach grumbled again, loudly, traitorously. But her face twisted slightly. Not from fear.

Discomfort.

“I… uh…” she cleared her throat and looked up at him. “I prefer it cooked.”

There was a pause.

A long one.

Kisame’s expression didn’t change at first, but something shifted in his eyes. A twitch of his brow. A slow exhale through his nose.

Annoyance. Not fury. Not insult.

Just plain, exhausted annoyance.

He pulled the fish back slightly, tilting his head at her like he couldn’t believe she’d just said that.

“Cooked,” he repeated flatly, his voice rough and deep.

Sakura gave a helpless shrug, a sheepish little smile tugging at her lips despite the tension. “Sorry. It’s not you, it’s centuries of culinary evolution.”

His jaw tightened.

The silence stretched.

She bit her lip, sensing the edge in his presence now. like a current she hadn’t noticed until she stepped too far into it. He wasn’t angry in the way a man would be. It was quieter. More dangerous. Like a shark circling once before it decided whether or not to bite.

Kisame turned away near the flat stone ledge at the center of the cave, saltwater still trailing from his torso and down the ridges along his sides. The sleek fins along his forearms twitched slightly as his jaw clenched.

Sakura watched him warily from her place across the water.

She hadn’t meant to offend him. She was just human . With human tastes. Human weaknesses. Human stomach.

But now, with his shoulders squared and his dorsal fin barely visible above the waterline, she was painfully aware of just how not human he was.

His shark-like features, though subdued when he was still, were more prominent now. The rougher texture of his skin along his spine. The faint webbing between his ribs that shifted when he breathed. The predatory stillness in his gaze when she’d refused the food.

She had the sudden, ridiculous thought that she’d just told a merman with shark DNA that his dinner wasn’t good enough.

And somehow, she was still alive.

He grumbled something low under his breath, too low for her to catch, and then reached toward a pile of stones and driftwood stacked neatly near the edge. With a flick of his coral blade, he struck two together.

Sakura blinked.

Sparks.

Her eyes widened slightly as she realized he was building a fire.

Not well . It was begrudging. Clumsy. Clearly not something he did often. But it was deliberate. Not to mention the dampness of the driftwood.

A few more strikes, then a shimmer of heat, and the algae around the stones flickered as orange light joined the pale green of the cave.

He lit the fire.

For her.

Sakura's heart sank a little under the weight of it.

She stood slowly, stepped to the edge of the shallow pool between them, and sat again on a smoother section of rock near the warmth. The fire crackled as the smoke curled lazily upward, trapped in the dome of the cave. It smelled of salt and charred wood.

Kisame didn’t look at her.

He just tossed one of the fish across the stone near the fire and muttered without facing her, “Wait.”

She folded her arms over her knees, watching him from the corner of her eye. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said flatly.

She paused. “You’re annoyed.”

“I know.”

Sakura smiled faintly, lips pressed together. “You’re also kind of dramatic.”

At that, he glanced at her, just briefly, and the sharp glint in his black eyes almost looked like amusement.

Almost.

They sat in silence as the fish began to sizzle, the cave warming slightly from the flame. And despite everything, the storm, the fear, the raw fish, the fact that she was trapped in a sea cave with a predator, Sakura felt… a little less afraid.

Just a little.

The scent of seared fish and damp stone hung heavy in the air. For a few minutes, it almost felt like a truce; Sakura perched near the warmth, Kisame half-submerged just a few meters away, his coiled tail resting on the stone shelf beneath the water’s surface.

But the air was thickening.

Quickly.

Sakura’s nose wrinkled as smoke began to curl higher than she expected. The upper half of the cave was trapping it, sealing it in like a lid. Her eyes started to sting.

She coughed once.

Then again.

The warmth was giving way to a new discomfort; cloying heat, sticky lungs, a faint throb in her temple.

She stood abruptly and grabbed a small, flat piece of driftwood nearby, waving it frantically to direct the smoke away. It didn’t help.

“We need to put it out. Now ,” she coughed.

He didn’t move.

His dark eyes watched her from where he floated, arms resting loosely on the ledge of the pool, his massive tail shifting idly beneath the surface.

She turned and kicked water over the base of the fire, steam hissing up around her feet. A few more splashes and it was out, the faint glow of embers fading quickly into gray ash.

The smoke thinned, but the silence that followed was thicker than anything the fire had produced.

Kisame’s expression hardened. The glow from the algae cast sharp shadows across his face, and for the first time since pulling her from the sea, there was a definite edge to his stare.

“You complained it wasn’t cooked,” he said, voice quiet but cold.

“I know,” Sakura said quickly, waving the remaining smoke away, her breath coming short. “But I can’t-- we can’t have a fire in here. There’s no ventilation. I need oxygen.”

He didn’t respond.

“Look,” she said, turning toward him fully, “you’re not the one breathing stale smoke. I’m already dizzy. And I need sunlight. I can’t live in a damp cave at the bottom of the ocean. I’ll get sick. My body—” she hesitated, then added more quietly, “—it wasn’t made for this.”

His black eyes narrowed.

“I know what you are,” he muttered.

She looked at him, uncertain what he meant. “Then you know I’m not built like you. I need clean air. If I stay in here long enough, I’ll get weak. I’ll lose consciousness. My immune system will crash.”

He didn’t argue.

Didn’t confirm.

Just stared.

A long silence passed between them, broken only by the soft sound of water lapping against the stone.

Kisame’s massive form remained half in the shadows. He couldn’t come up onto the rock with her. His powerful merman tail shifted slowly in the water behind him, twitching like something barely restrained.

He didn’t belong on land.

She didn’t belong in the sea.

And yet here they were, trapped between both.

Finally, she added, gentler this time, “I know you were trying to help. But this cave… it’s not enough for me.”

His jaw clenched, and he sank deeper until the chill of the cave wrapped fully around him, cloaking his body in stillness. Only the top ridge of his mohawk and the surface-slice of his eyes broke above the waterline; dark, unreadable, fixed on her as she busied herself fanning the smoke away, muttering about vitamins and oxygen.

Sunlight. Clean air. Weak things.

His tail curled tighter beneath him, the wide, powerful fin twitching once. The slow churn of his muscles echoed the churn in his mind.

She didn’t belong here.

He knew that.

Every second she spent in this cave was a reminder of her fragility; her pink skin, her land-made lungs, her need for warmth and air. She was soft. Mortal. Cracking at the edges already. And even now, after he had spared her life, given her food, tolerated her strange, bright presence in his sacred quiet, she was still finding fault.

Ungrateful.

He could feel it rising in him like the tide, an old instinct. The predator inside him.

He should have left her in the black. Let the current carry her. Let her last breath drift into the sea and vanish like all the others who wandered too far from shore.

Instead, he’d dragged her back here. Fed her. Shared his silence with her. And now she wanted to leave.

Needed to.

She was right, of course. She would die here. Slowly. Painfully.

Not from violence, but from the steady, creeping rot of a body denied what it needed. She’d fade. Starve. Suffocate.

And part of him, part of him, wondered if that would be better.

To let her stay. To keep her here. Watch the light leave her eyes inch by inch. No one would know. No one would come for her. No one ever had.

He could stay just beneath the water, inches from her, and let her rot like the others. But then he remembered the way she looked at him.

Not when she was afraid.

When she was embarrassed.

That soft flush. The way she’d looked away. The startled, flustered twitch of her voice when she saw his body for what it was, not just powerful, but worthy of being seen.

It had lit something in him he hadn’t felt in years. And it was that flicker of heat, more than duty, more than instinct, that made him hesitate now.

She wasn’t a prisoner.

She was a catch.

And part of him still didn’t want to let her go. But another part of him, a quiet, hateful thing, didn’t want to see her wither either.

He growled low under his breath, bubbles rising around his gills as the pressure behind his temples built.

Then he sank deeper, until his eyes vanished below the surface.

He needed to think.

Because he couldn't promise what came next would be mercy.

Sakura sat in silence, her breath shallow and sharp as she watched the pool settle.

The water, which had been stirred by his movements just moments ago, was now still.

Too still.

“Hello? Shit. I didn't even ask for his name,” she muttered.

Nothing.

She stood slowly, hugging her arms around herself as she stepped closer to the pool’s edge, eyes scanning the water for even the faintest shadow of movement. Her reflection stared back: pale, anxious, trembling.

“Shark-man,” she said again, louder this time. “Are you seriously gone?”

Still no answer.

The fire was out. The warmth was fading. The air felt heavier again, the dampness pressing against her chest. And the only exit was a narrow shaft of black water that she couldn’t navigate; not in the dark, not alone, not alive.

He was the only reason she was still breathing. And now he was gone?

Her hands curled into fists. Panic flared in her chest, hot and fast, but this time, it didn’t spill over into fear. It hit something sharper. Deeper.

Anger.

“Unbelievable,” she snapped, pacing back from the water and spinning on her heel. 

Kisame hovered in the water just beneath the surface, unseen in the shadows, his sharp eyes trained on the girl pacing along the rock shelf above.

He hadn’t left. Not really.

He’d only sunk deeper, to think, to decide. But now? Now he couldn’t tear his eyes from her.

That fury, burning bright and defiant in her chest, it lit her.

She was angry. Pissed. Swearing at the water like she thought it would listen. And all of it, the way she moved, the fire in her voice, the raw pulse of life behind every breath, stirred him.

He shouldn’t want her.

She was too fragile. Too loud. Too alive. But gods, when she was angry, she was magnificent.

Unaware, unafraid now, pacing like a caged thing refusing to die quietly.

He hovered there, the sea humming low around him, his tail still, every muscle tight with instinct.

Predatory tension coiled in his gut, and something darker curled behind his teeth.

Not hunger. Not quite.

But want .

A dangerous, quiet kind. And she had no idea. Not yet.

Sakura paced along the stone, bare feet slapping against the damp rock, fists clenched and jaw tight.

“Fine,” she snapped, voice echoing against the curved walls. “Just leave me here. Let me rot in your little tidepool like a trophy you forgot about.”

She spun around, glaring at the still, black pool like it had personally offended her. “Should’ve known. Should’ve known you’d vanish the second I wasn’t docile and grateful enough. Guess I’m supposed to bow or stay quiet or eat the damn fish raw like some helpless little—”

The water rippled. Just slightly.

She froze. A shift near the center of the pool, soft, barely perceptible. But it was there.

Her breath caught as she slowly stepped back toward the edge.

“Hello…?”

Nothing answered her. But the surface shimmered again. And this time, she saw them.

Eyes.

Just the top of his face peeking above the waterline, slick and silent. The mohawk ridge of his head crest breaking the surface like a dorsal fin.

Watching. Listening.

He rose slowly, deliberately, the water sliding down his skin in thin sheets. Not enough to fully reveal himself. Just enough to remind her he was there.

Her stomach dropped.

She wasn’t sure what disturbed her more; that he’d come back without a sound… or that he had been there the whole time.

“How long have you been—?”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t blink.

Just stared.

Sakura’s breath came faster, heat rising to her cheeks, not just from anger now, but something more vulnerable. More exposed.

He heard everything.

Her words echoed in her own ears now, sharper than she intended. The pacing. The fury. The quiet, bitter confession.

“I should’ve drowned.”

She looked away, jaw tight, arms folding across her chest.

Still he watched. Unmoving.

The cave had gone silent again, but the tension in the air was thick, like the pressure before a wave broke.

She swallowed hard.

“I thought you left me.”

And finally, after a long, pulsing silence, he spoke, his voice low and measured, rippling with something unreadable beneath the surface.

“I considered it.”

Her heart skipped.

He didn’t elaborate. Didn’t apologize. Didn’t lie. He had considered it.

She stared at him, pulse loud in her ears, her anger cooling into something quieter. Something that unnerved her more than fury ever could.

He was dangerous.

The water rippled softly around him, lapping against the edges of the stone shelf. The glow of the algae shimmered across his skin, highlighting the rough contours of his shark-like features and the deep shadows beneath his eyes.

I considered it.

The words still echoed in Sakura’s mind. Cold. Honest. Final.

She hugged her arms tighter around herself, not in fear this time, but to keep from shaking. From giving him the satisfaction of knowing just how hard that sentence had landed. But she didn’t step back.

She stood her ground at the edge of the water, staring into those dark, still eyes.

“So you thought about leaving me to die,” she said quietly. “Good to know.”

He said nothing.

Sakura exhaled through her nose, slow and steady. Her voice was calmer now, thinner but level.

“Then I guess I should at least know the name of the person who pulled me out of the ocean… and then almost changed his mind.”

Another long silence. She didn’t flinch.

“What’s your name?”

For a moment, she wasn’t sure he would answer.

Then he shifted slightly, the water moving around his chest as he rose just a bit higher. His voice, when it came, was low, rough as ever, but with the faintest thread of intrigue beneath it.

“Kisame.”

The name cut cleanly through the air between them.

It suited him. Sharp. Unfamiliar. Heavy with unspoken weight.

Sakura tasted the word in her mouth for a second before nodding, just once.

“Kisame,” she repeated, quieter. “Alright.”

He studied her for a beat longer. She still looked small to him, fragile, cornered, human, but her spine was straight, and her chin held steady.

He respected that. Even when he wanted to break it.

She met his gaze with something tired, something honest. “I’m Sakura.”

He didn’t echo her name. Didn’t offer a nod in return. But she saw the way his eyes narrowed just slightly.

He’d remember it.

Kisame lingered just beneath the surface, watching her.

Sakura had gone quiet again, arms folded, posture stiff but composed. Her courage still surprised him, not because it was loud, but because it was persistent. Even now, weakened and trapped in his world, she faced him like she still had a choice.

And maybe that was why he made the decision.

She could die here. Slowly, quietly, and not without bitterness. He could let her wither. Could watch the light leave her eyes day by day.

But that would be a waste. And despite everything, he hated waste.

His home wasn’t far.

Deeper. Warmer. With open air pockets, a skylight of filtered sun, and enough food to keep a fragile surface dweller like her alive.

Barely.

She didn’t need to know it wasn’t the surface.

He drew in a breath through his gills, shifted his weight beneath the water, and said quietly, “I’ll take you out of here.”

Her head snapped up.

“Out?” she asked, stunned. “You mean… out of the cave?”

He nodded.

Relief bloomed across her face in an instant. Her posture eased, her breath caught.

Then—

“Oh.”

He saw the flicker of dread behind her eyes.

“Oh no.”

Kisame tilted his head. “Problem?”

She hesitated. A long pause.

Then, mortified, she muttered, “Yeah… um… so. I have this thing.”

He just stared.

She rubbed the back of her neck, eyes flicking to the dark pool and then back at him. “About… water.”

Kisame didn’t move.

She rushed to explain. “It’s—it’s not like normal fear. I wasn’t even allowed near water growing up. My parents told me it was dangerous, full of bacteria and parasites… I didn’t learn to swim. I still can’t swim. I panic. I shut down. My body just…freezes.”

Still, Kisame said nothing.

Sakura’s face flushed deeper. “So… I can’t go through that tunnel. Not conscious. I mean, unless you want me flailing and screaming and maybe biting you in sheer terror.”

At that, something in his face twitched. A brow arched, ever so slightly.

Not angry. Not amused.

Just... incredulous.

Though in truth, a small, private flicker of heat stirred through his body.

Biting him.

The image struck him with surprising force, her mouth against him, even in fear. Small. Desperate. Defiant. And for reasons he didn’t care to analyze, the thought pleased him more than it should have.

Humans were delicate. But she was far more dangerous than she realized.

“You want me,” he said slowly, voice low, “to knock you unconscious.”

She winced, looking away. “Yeah. I know. It’s insane.”

Kisame stared at her for a long moment, the water rippling softly around his chest.

Then, dryly: “Humans are delicate. But you may be the strangest one I’ve ever met.”

Sakura gave him a tired, sheepish smile. “It’s mutual.”

Sakura’s embarrassed smile faded slowly when Kisame didn’t respond.

Not at first.

His black eyes narrowed slightly, not in frustration but in thought, some private calculation working behind the silence. The kind that made her nervous again.

Then finally, he spoke.

“I can’t.”

The words were clipped. Flat.

Sakura blinked. “What do you mean you can’t?”

“I can’t carry you if you’re unconscious,” he said, voice cool and matter-of-fact. “You’ll breathe in water. You’ll drown for real this time.”

She stiffened.

Kisame continued, slowly drifting closer to the rock’s edge, his massive tail flicking lazily beneath the surface.

“I need you to hold your breath. Keep still. I’ll do the rest.”

Sakura backed up a step, a sharp twist of panic threading back into her chest.

“I—Kisame, I told you, I can’t. I’ll panic.”

His gaze didn’t soften, but it shifted, just slightly. A subtle calculation in the way he watched her. Not cold. Just… measuring.

After a pause, he said, “Then you won’t look.”

She blinked, confused. “What?”

“I’ll blindfold you.”

He motioned with one hand to the fabric belt still tied loosely around her waist, the one she’d used to keep her thin cardigan closed. “It'll be easier if your eyes aren’t feeding the fear.”

Sakura stared at him.

It wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t gentle either. But it was the closest thing to compromise she’d heard from him yet.

“No sound. No light,” he added. “Just water. And me.”

Her heart thudded at the final word. She didn’t answer right away. Didn’t move. But slowly, almost reluctantly, she reached down and untied the belt from her waist. The cloth trembled faintly in her hands.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered.

Kisame said nothing.

She looked down at the water, then back at him. And finally, she whispered, “You won’t let me go?”

His voice was deep and steady when he answered.

“No.”

Not a promise.

A fact.

She swallowed hard. Then, without another word, she tied the blindfold around her eyes.

Darkness.

Total and absolute.

Sakura’s breath hitched. She stood motionless at the edge of the stone shelf, the last threads of warmth from the dead fire fading behind her. Ahead, she heard the water shift, deep and soft, and knew he was waiting.

Every instinct screamed against this. But her feet moved.

One step. Then another.

The cold touched her ankles first, then her calves. Her breath quickened.

She barely registered the motion before strong arms slid beneath her legs and behind her back, lifting her from the stone as if she weighed nothing.

She gasped softly, startled by the sudden contact, but didn’t resist.

Kisame cradled her against him, the hard planes of his chest cold and slick with seawater, the steady thrum of his body a strange comfort. She curled instinctively toward him, arms tucked close, the blindfold keeping the terror at bay.

No light. No horizon. Just water. And him.

His massive tail coiled beneath them, adjusting his weight as he hovered in the pool’s center. The motion was smooth, natural, he didn’t struggle to support her. If anything, he seemed designed for this.

Kisame exhaled quietly, his face close to hers as he looked down.

So soft in his arms.

So vulnerable.

So his.

He had carried lifeless bodies before. Had pulled limp corpses from bloodied tides and dragged enemies to the trench without a thought. But this was different.

She was warm. She moved. She breathed. And she had looked at him, not with worship or terror, but with nerve.

He tilted his head, letting his eyes trace the curve of her face, the pulse at her throat, the way her hands clutched quietly at his chest, seeking something to anchor her.

He didn’t speak aloud. But deep within his chest, the words echoed like a vow.

Mine.

With a final flick of his tail, he slid beneath the surface, the water closing over them in one silent breath.

And the cave was empty once more.

wWw

Chapter Text

wWw

She didn’t know how long they had been underwater. Time stretched strangely in the dark, each heartbeat drawn out like the silent thrum of the ocean around her. There were moments she could almost forget the blindfold, lulled by the rise and fall of his movement, the warmth of his arms, the strange stillness of the deep.

But when they finally surfaced, she felt it instantly. The water grew shallower, quieter. The pressure around her ears eased. Cool air swept over her wet skin, and her body stirred with cautious hope.

Then her back touched something solid.

Kisame lifted her gently, setting her down with deliberate care. She remained still for a beat, disoriented, waiting to hear the cry of gulls, the distant rush of wind through trees, the crunch of sand beneath her.

None came.

All she could hear was the echo of dripping water and the low lap of waves in an enclosed space.

Her fingers curled against the surface beneath her.

Not sand. Not earth.

Stone.

Her pulse began to rise. “Is it safe to take this off?”

There was a long pause before he answered, voice low and unreadable. “Go ahead.”

She pulled the blindfold free and froze.

They were in a wide, dim cavern, not unlike the one she had left, but this one was far larger, bathed in the soft glow of bioluminescent moss that clung to the walls and ceiling. Pools of water shimmered across the stone floor, feeding into an underground inlet that stretched out beyond sight.

It was beautiful. But it wasn’t land.

Her mouth opened, and her voice came out tight. “This isn’t the shore.”

Kisame remained in the water, hovering nearby with his arms resting casually on a flat shelf of rock. His expression was unreadable.

“No,” he said simply.

Her heart skipped. “You said you’d take me out.”

“I did.”

“To land,” she pressed, stepping back. “You said—”

“I said I’d take you somewhere safer,” he cut in. “This is it.”

She stared at him, the walls of the cave closing in. The moisture in the air clung to her skin, but the warmth of hope was gone, replaced with the cold flush of betrayal.

“You tricked me.”

Kisame’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I saved your life.”

“I didn’t ask to be saved like this.”

“No,” he said, his voice sharpening just enough to draw her attention. “You asked to breathe. You asked to live. You asked me to carry you and I did.”

Her throat tightened, but she didn’t look away.

“I can’t stay here,” she said, softer now. “I need sunlight. I need—”

“I know,” he said before she could finish. He turned, water rippling around him. “But you can’t go back yet.”

The silence between them deepened.

Sakura stood motionless as the truth settled in. She wasn’t free. Not really. He had made a choice for her.

Her fingers curled into fists.

Kisame didn’t apologize. He didn’t explain. He only watched her, eyes half-lidded, his tail slowly drifting in the water like a predator biding its time.

“You just changed the cage,” she said bitterly.

He didn’t flinch.

“Then scream,” he said calmly. “If it helps. Fight me. Curse me. But don’t pretend you were ever going back tonight.”

She turned her back to him, anger burning beneath her skin.

He watched her in silence, then sank slowly beneath the water, his form disappearing once more into the depths.

Sakura stood in place long after Kisame disappeared beneath the water.

The dim glow from the moss overhead cast pale reflections across the cavern walls, wavering like ghostly hands each time the tide lapped against the stone. It was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that wasn’t peace, but distance.

She took a slow breath, tasting minerals and salt in the air. Her skin was damp, her clothes clinging to her. The weight of it all made her feel smaller somehow, like she had shrunk in the space between trust and truth.

This wasn’t where she thought she’d be.

Her bare feet padded across the smooth rock as she moved farther in, taking in the contours of the cave. A natural tunnel curved up along one side, leading into a second chamber. Pools shimmered between the cracks, and the ceilings vaulted high above her, webbed with veins of light-emitting fungus that glowed a soft, melancholy blue.

It wasn’t ugly. In fact, it was strangely beautiful. But it wasn’t freedom.

She let her fingers trail along the wall as she walked, grounding herself, forcing her breath to steady. Her mind should have been focused on survival, on finding a way out. But instead, a single thought kept rising to the surface, unbidden and bitter.

He lied to me.

She could still feel the way his arms had cradled her, so careful, as if she mattered. The way his chest had rumbled quietly as he held her. That possessive, wordless claim in his silence.

And yet, he had brought her here.

Another cave. Another prison.

Her jaw tensed as she stepped into the next chamber. This one was smaller, more intimate, almost like a den. Smooth ledges had been carved by centuries of water, forming natural shelves and shallow basins. There were signs of habitation here, items collected and placed deliberately. Coral fragments. Bits of driftwood. A heavy, sea-worn cloth slung across a stone recess that might have passed for a bed.

She moved closer.

A large shell rested atop a flat rock, polished and hollowed into a crude bowl. Another held something wrapped in seaweed, dry kelp maybe. She didn’t touch anything. But she looked.

Someone used to live here.

She turned, crossing back toward the water’s edge. The faint ripple of movement told her he was still below, lurking somewhere in the quiet depths. Watching. Listening.

Her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke, unsure if he’d hear it or if she even wanted him to.

“I trusted you.”

She waited.

The water stayed still.

With a quiet breath, Sakura sat down on the edge of the shelf and drew her knees to her chest. Her eyes stayed on the entrance to the cave, the only place where light ever changed, where hope might still filter in.

And for the first time since the cruise, since everything had gone wrong, she let herself feel the weight of her fear. The loneliness. The betrayal.

She didn’t cry. But the ache in her chest throbbed quietly, steady as the tide.

wWw

The water around him was still, but Kisame was not.

He floated just beneath the surface, his arms crossed loosely against the cavern floor, tail swaying in slow, agitated motions behind him. The dim outlines of the cave above shimmered faintly through the surface. He could hear her footsteps, the soft scuff of skin against stone, the hesitation in her movements. Every sound she made stirred something restless inside him.

She was angry.

Of course she was.

He hadn’t lied, not really. He had taken her out of the first cave, just as she asked. But he knew what she had meant. Knew it from the way her breath caught when she pulled off the blindfold. From the silence that followed. From the accusation in her voice when she said he had tricked her.

He had, in a way.

Because the truth was… he couldn’t take her to shore. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Kisame pushed off the rock with a growl and swam deeper, into the cooler black. Here, where the light didn’t reach and sound was swallowed whole, he could think.

She wanted the sun. Air that didn’t reek of salt and stone. And she needed it, he could see that. Her skin was pale, not in the way deep-sea creatures were, but in the way fragile surface-things looked when they were deprived of warmth. Her breathing had grown shallow. Her movements slower. She hadn’t been made for this world, not yet.

But if he let her go...

He clenched his jaw.

The thought sat wrong in his chest. Not just because she was vulnerable. Not because she might drown or vanish or be taken. But because she was his . Not in chains. Not in name. But in the way the ocean sometimes claimed shipwrecks and never gave them back.

He had felt it the moment he touched her. Felt it again when she curled close without even thinking, like something ancient in her knew he was safe.

Or dangerous.

Maybe both.

His tail kicked harder now, driving him toward a shallower tunnel branching off from the main inlet. He swam upward until he broke the surface in one of the higher caverns he rarely used.

This one opened near the top of a jagged sea cliff, hidden by thick rock columns and overhangs. It had a narrow break in the stone ceiling where beams of sunlight poured in during the day. The air here was cleaner. The sound of waves echoed in through cracks in the stone. Sometimes, if the tide was low enough, he could even smell pine trees from the forest that grew along the upper coast.

Kisame gripped the edge of the stone shelf and hauled himself partway out, chest heaving slightly from the swim. His gaze moved across the cave, assessing it with a new eye.

She could sit here during the day. Let the light touch her skin. Breathe real air. But the opening was too small to climb through. The walls too steep to scale. The tides only rose high enough to reach the surface for a few hours, and even then, only with help.

She wouldn’t be able to escape. Not unless he let her.

It was perfect.

And yet, a dull throb pulsed behind his ribs, something more than pride, more than hunger. She had looked at him like he was a monster. Not with fear, but with disappointment.

As if he had broken something between them.

He growled low in his throat, disgusted with the feeling.

He was not a man used to being doubted. He did not answer to guilt or shame or human softness. But he had taken her. He had kept her. And now, whether he liked it or not, he was responsible for what came next.

Kisame slipped silently back into the water and began the slow return to his home.

He would bring her here in the morning. And maybe then, she would stop looking at him like he had stolen something precious from her.

Maybe she would start seeing that he had given her something too.

wWw 

The glow from the cave’s ceiling had dimmed sometime in the night. Sakura lay curled on the flattest part of the stone ledge, a thin layer of moisture clinging to her skin. Sleep had come fitfully, the cold making her joints ache, but exhaustion had eventually dragged her under.

Now, something shifted.

A sound, subtle but distinct, echoed through the chamber. A ripple. The soft slosh of displaced water.

Her eyes snapped open.

She pushed herself upright, groggy and annoyed, blinking away sleep as she sat up.

“Kisame,” she muttered, voice hoarse. “You couldn’t let me rest?”

She stood and crossed toward the water’s edge, rubbing at one arm. The surface rippled faintly in the pale light, disturbed but calm. Still, she could feel him. Watching again. Silent and smug.

She scowled.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” she said sharply, crouching near the ledge. “You kidnapped me, lied to me, and left me to sleep on rock . So if you're expecting a thank-you—”

Something fast and cold shot from the water.

In an instant, a hand clamped tight around her ankle and yanked.

She screamed as the world tilted, her arms flailing for balance, but there was nothing to catch. She hit the water with a splash, her breath torn from her throat as icy salt surged over her head.

A second hand seized her waist.

Not Kisame.

This touch was different. Rougher. Possessive. The grip bruised her skin as it dragged her deeper, down past the pool’s shallow entrance and into the open water beyond. Sakura kicked hard, her lungs burning with panic. Her fists beat against whatever held her. She twisted, writhed, screamed bubbles into the deep, but it didn’t stop.

The shape before her was large. Muscular. A shadowed form with webbed fins at the arms and an armored chest like scaled bark. His face was obscured by the water and darkness, but jagged teeth flashed in a cruel grin as he pulled her closer.

Sakura snarled, twisting violently. She bent her head and bit his shoulder with all the strength she had left.

He didn’t even flinch.

A sharp crack of pain bloomed across her ribs as he retaliated, tightening his grip and jerking her downward even faster. The pressure built around her ears, her heartbeat thundered, her vision blurred.

She reached for anything; rock, kelp, even her own nails against his skin, but nothing gave her leverage.

Her scream was silent now, swallowed whole by the deep. And above them, the light of the cave was disappearing.

The water was colder now. Darker.

Sakura’s lungs screamed.

The deeper they went, the less she could see, just shadows folding into more shadows, the faint bioluminescence from the upper cave long gone. The pressure pushed in on all sides, squeezing her chest, her head, her thoughts. Her body convulsed with the urge to breathe.

She couldn’t hold it much longer.

The merman’s grip was unrelenting. One arm pinned her waist, the other braced to steer them downward with smooth, practiced force. His tail moved like a blade behind him, cutting through the water with terrifying ease. He hadn’t looked at her again since she bit him. He didn’t need to.

She was just a prize. A catch. A message.

Her pulse thundered in her ears, frantic and distant. She was going to black out.

No.

Not like this.

Summoning the last of her strength, Sakura twisted in his hold and lunged forward, her hands clawing up his chest. She reached blindly for his face, searching for something soft, something human .

Her fingers found it, flesh. Cheekbones. Skin slick and ridged with gills.

And then his eyes.

She pressed her thumbs against them without hesitation. The response was instant.

The merman reeled back with a silent roar, bubbles erupting from his mouth as his grip loosened just enough. His tail thrashed wildly, rocking the current around them. Sakura tried to tear away, but she was too far down, too weak, too slow.

Spots danced in her vision. Her mouth opened reflexively. Saltwater flooded in.

She reached one hand upward, the other still locked against his jaw, eyes wide with raw, panicked defiance.

Even drowning, she fought.

Even here, she refused to be taken without a fight. And as the darkness closed in, her last thought wasn’t of the surface or the sky.

It was of Kisame.

Please…

wWw  

The moment Kisame surfaced, he knew something was wrong.

The water in the cave was stirred, unsettled in a way it never should have been. Not just from current or tide, but from motion. From struggle .

He shot forward, breaching the pool in a sharp, fluid arc. His eyes scanned the rocky ledge where she had been resting.

Empty.

His pulse spiked.

“Sakura.”

There was no answer. Just the distant drip of water from the ceiling, the echo of his voice against stone.

He surged onto the ledge in one powerful motion, inspecting the ground. The stone was wet, more than it should have been. Scattered grooves scratched the surface, like heels dragging across rock. A trail of displaced pebbles leading toward the edge.

His hands clenched into fists. Someone had taken her.

He dove back into the water without hesitation.

Kisame moved like a torpedo, slicing through the narrow channels branching from his territory. Every current, every shift in the water, he read like a trail of blood. The scent in the water confirmed what his instincts already screamed, another merman had passed through here. Male. Fast. Sloppy.

He followed it down, deeper into the darker trenches, where coral grew jagged and the bioluminescence took on a more hostile hue.

Then he found it, a strand of pink hair , snagged on a splintered shell.

The moment he saw it, something dark flared behind his eyes.

His tail lashed with renewed fury as he turned sharply and rose through a crevice to a plateau of smooth, dusky stone. The reef here was sculpted, controlled, marked with carefully arranged bone and coral to signify one thing.

Territory.

And not just any.

Mei Terumi.

Kisame’s jaw tightened.

Her name hadn’t crossed his path in years, but he hadn’t forgotten it. She was a diplomat, a strategist, and a queen in her own right among the sea clans. Her charm was as dangerous as her poison, and her court, secluded in a high cavern of warm currents and filtered light, was home to the fractured remnants of a once-great faction.

He reached the threshold of her domain and slowed, senses flaring.

Two guards lurked in the arch ahead, half-hidden in the sea fans, watching him.

He didn’t flinch.

“Tell her I’m here,” he growled. “And that I’m not in the mood.”

They didn’t move.

Kisame advanced one more tail-length before baring his teeth.

“She has something that belongs to me.”

That made one guard shift, flicking away through the corridor.

Kisame waited in silence, arms crossed, water humming around him like a heartbeat. He was barely holding himself in check. If he thought Sakura was hurt…

But he didn’t let the thought finish.

Moments later, the water ahead shimmered and she arrived.

Mei Terumi emerged with her usual grace, a flowing mantle of kelp-silk drifting behind her, bioluminescent streaks gliding along the edges of her fins. Her long auburn hair curled behind her like a ribbon, and her eyes, green as polished jade, settled on him with amused curiosity.

“Kisame,” she said, smiling faintly. “You always did know how to make an entrance.”

His expression remained stone. “Where is she?”

Mei’s brow lifted. “You’ll need to be more specific.”

“You know damn well who I mean,” he snapped. “Human. Pink hair. She was here.”

A flicker of recognition lit her eyes, then calculation.

“So that’s who Suigetsu dragged in,” she murmured.

Kisame’s muscles tensed. “He’s here?”

Mei nodded, slowly circling him like a curious eel. “He brought her to my gates just before dawn. Said she was something special. That he found her near your territory. I thought it odd he survived the attempt.”

“He won’t survive much longer.”

Her smile widened, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Now, now. Let’s not dirty the court. She’s safe, for the moment. But I would suggest retrieving her quickly. Suigetsu is... excitable. And your little treasure made quite the scene.”

Kisame’s eyes narrowed. “Where?”

“In the northeast chamber. Guarded. For now. ”

He didn’t wait for her permission.

With a single kick of his tail, he darted past her, deeper into the court, leaving only the echo of his fury in his wake.

Mei watched him go, lips curling.

“Always so dramatic,” she whispered to the current.

wWw 

The first thing she felt was the weight.

Not heavy like stone, but wet , the sluggish pressure of water pressing into every part of her body. Her limbs ached. Her chest burned. Her lungs stuttered as her body remembered it had nearly drowned.

The second thing was the cold. Not just temperature, but absence of safety, of warmth, of him .

Sakura opened her eyes.

Blurred light filtered down from above, casting distorted patterns on the stone floor beneath her. She was lying on a smooth slab of coral-polished rock in a cavern that smelled like rusted salt and old minerals. Kelp hung from the ceiling like curtains, and thin chains of mollusk shell beads dangled across the archway behind her, clinking with the current.

She tried to move.

Her arms were free, but weak. Her legs, sore and scraped, twitched in protest. She pushed herself up slowly, vision swimming. Her throat felt raw.

And then she saw him.

Sitting on a high shelf across from her, one knee drawn up casually, his posture as relaxed as if they were old friends meeting by chance, was a pale-haired merman with a pointed grin.

His eyes were the same color as the moonlit shallows, sharp and glassy, and they followed her with open amusement as she stirred.

“Took you long enough,” Suigetsu said.

Sakura’s hands curled into fists against the stone.

“You—” Her voice cracked. She coughed and tried again. “You dragged me.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yeah. You weren’t exactly cooperative.” His smile grew. “Fiesty little thing. You even tried to pop my eye. Got a good grip, too. Respect.”

Sakura sat up straighter despite the pain. “Where am I?”

“My quarters. Inside Lady Mei’s domain.” He gestured lazily to the chamber around them. “Safe. Sort of. Depends on your definition.”

She stared at him, the echo of his grip still fresh in her bones. “Why did you take me?”

He shrugged. “Curiosity. Profit. Instinct. You screamed real nice, by the way. Sound carries like music in deep water.”

Disgust twisted her stomach. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

“Oh, I think I do.” His grin widened, teeth gleaming. “See, you’re not just some shipwrecked girl. You smell like the sea. You move like it’s calling you. I don’t know what you are yet, but I know enough to know you’re not supposed to be with him.”

Her blood chilled. “With who?”

Suigetsu gave her a mock look of surprise. “Kisame, of course. You think he rescued you out of the kindness of his heart?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t know him at all, do you?”

She said nothing.

He leaned down now, voice low and deliberate. “He doesn’t save things, sweetheart. He claims them. And if he’s put his scent on you, well... that makes you valuable to some and very dangerous to others.”

Sakura didn’t flinch. “Then you should’ve left me where I was.”

“I could have.” He tilted his head. “But I thought it’d be more fun this way.”

A flicker of movement caught her attention. Behind the bead curtain at the mouth of the chamber, a shadow stirred.

Suigetsu didn’t notice. Sakura’s heart leapt.

He was here. He came. But she didn’t call out. Not yet.

She met Suigetsu’s gaze squarely, forcing her voice to steady. “If you think he won’t come for me, you’re a fool.”

Suigetsu’s smirk faltered for just a second.

Then the curtain exploded inward as Kisame stormed into the chamber, eyes blazing.

“Get away from her.”

Sakura blinked.

Hard.

Kisame stood in the threshold, seawater still rolling off his body in thick rivulets, eyes locked on Suigetsu like a storm about to break. But what arrested her more than his fury was the form he now wore.

Gone was the long, powerful tail she had grown accustomed to. In its place were two legs, thickly muscled, steady, and far too human. His skin remained the same pale slate-blue, marred with old scars and ridged lines that ran like tectonic plates across his chest and shoulders. His hair, still styled in that unruly mohawk, dripped seawater down his back.

But he wasn’t just humanoid. He was completely naked.

Sakura’s mouth went dry.

Every part of her brain screamed to look away, and yet, like a ship drawn into a whirlpool, her eyes refused to obey. Her breath caught somewhere between awe and alarm, her cheeks already heating despite the cold.

She yanked her gaze up toward the ceiling, the wall, anywhere . Kisame didn’t seem to care. His entire focus was on Suigetsu.

Suigetsu, for his part, raised his hands in mock surrender, a crooked grin sliding onto his face as he leaned back casually.

“Well, damn. I forgot you could do that.”

Kisame didn’t answer.

“Still as modest as ever,” Suigetsu added, waving a hand lazily in Kisame’s direction. “For the love of the ocean, man put on some pants . There’s a lady present.”

Sakura gave an involuntary sputter, her face fully flushed now.

Kisame didn’t so much as glance her way. His voice was low, guttural, and carried with it the weight of a silent vow.

“Touch her again, and I’ll tear your arms off.”

Suigetsu snorted. “Touchy. I was just keeping her safe while you were off sulking.”

Kisame’s eyes narrowed, unreadable. “Is that what you call dragging her down into the dark until she nearly drowned?”

“Semantics,” Suigetsu said, grinning wider. “She’s breathing now, isn’t she?”

A sharp step forward, and Kisame was in his space.

Suigetsu tensed, the humor fading just slightly beneath his bravado. “Alright, alright. You win the intimidation contest. Again.” He jerked his chin toward Sakura without taking his eyes off Kisame. “She yours?”

The words made her throat tighten. Kisame didn’t answer immediately.

Then, flatly, “She’s mine to protect.”

A promise.

Sakura sat frozen, her heart pounding in her ears. She didn’t know what startled her more, that Kisame had found her, that he was standing here in that terrifying, powerful form, or that somewhere in her chest, amid all the confusion and fear, was a strange, unsteady sense of relief.

He came for her, and yet, she couldn’t help noticing—

He still hadn’t bothered with pants.

Before either man could move again, the beaded curtain rippled.

A new presence swept into the chamber like warm current meeting cold tide.

“Now, now,” came a voice as smooth as silk and just as sharp. “Isn’t this a bit early in the morning for a turf war?”

Both Kisame and Suigetsu turned.

Mei glided into the chamber with the effortless confidence of someone long used to commanding attention. Her long hair floated behind her like a trailing veil, and her lean, scaled form shimmered with subtle golds and greens that caught the low light. A circlet of polished shell adorned her brow, and twin sea-serpents, coiled loosely around her arms like living jewelry, shifted lazily as she moved.

She glanced at Kisame, her jade-green eyes gleaming with open amusement.

“And still naked, I see.”

Sakura felt her face burn all over again.

Kisame didn’t so much as blink. “I didn’t come here for etiquette lessons.”

“No,” Mei said, stepping closer, “you came here storming through my court, making demands and threats under my roof. And now you’re standing half-dressed like an offended sea god.” She turned slightly, offering him a small, deliberate smile. “It’s quite the look.”

Suigetsu chuckled, and Kisame growled low in his throat.

“I came to take her back.”

“And you may,” Mei said, unbothered. “But next time, knock.”

She turned her gaze to Sakura then, softening the sharp lines of her expression. “You must be the girl who’s caused such a stir.”

Sakura swallowed hard, still seated on the coral slab, her hands pressed to the stone as if it might hold her steady.

“Yes,” she said cautiously.

Mei tilted her head, studying her. “You’re fortunate, you know. Few people ever have someone like him tear through my court for their sake.”

“I didn’t ask him to.”

Mei’s smile turned wistful. “Even better.”

The cave was silent for a moment, tension thick in the water.

Then Mei clapped her hands lightly, as if dismissing a meeting. “Well, now that introductions are out of the way, perhaps you’d all like to resume this conversation somewhere less confrontational, and more clothed.” Her eyes flicked to Kisame again. “Though far be it from me to interrupt your... aesthetic choices.”

Kisame grunted but stepped toward Sakura at last, not bothering to argue. His movements were controlled, protective, as he extended a hand toward her.

Sakura hesitated.

Not because she didn’t trust him. But because something inside her was still trying to keep up with the pace of it all; the kidnapping, the chase, the transformation, and now this woman with eyes like reef fire and a voice that twisted the room around her.

Still, she reached up and placed her hand in his. His grip was steady. Grounding.

Suigetsu sighed dramatically behind them. “Guess I’ll go polish my fins or something.”

Mei raised a single finger without turning. “Try not to touch anyone else’s property without asking next time, Suigetsu. Especially if it bleeds.”

He gave a lazy salute and disappeared out the curtain.

Mei looked back at Sakura and Kisame, her tone more composed. “There’s a grotto above the western chamber. Private. Sunlight. Fresh air. No guards. You can recover there before returning to wherever you’re squatting these days, Kisame.”

He didn’t thank her. But he nodded.

And as he led Sakura out of the chamber, Mei watched them go, her eyes lingering on the girl longer than they did on the monster beside her.

There was more to that one. And the sea always claimed its own.

wWw 

The grotto was unlike any part of the sea Sakura had seen before.

Nestled within the upper chambers of Mei’s sprawling domain, it opened to the surface through a narrow gap in the stone, allowing sunlight to filter in in gentle golden shafts. Warm air drifted in on a faint breeze, stirring the strands of her damp hair as she stood near the ledge, soaking in the light.

It was small. Quiet. Peaceful.

A perfect illusion of freedom.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there before she finally turned to look at him.

Kisame had followed her in silence, his massive frame now perched on a sun-warmed slab of stone near the pool’s edge. He had finally thrown on a rough wrap of sea-woven fabric around his waist, likely at Mei’s insistence, if not Suigetsu’s taunts, but otherwise he remained as he was: broad, wet, and watching her.

His eyes were calm again. But not unreadable. There was something in them now that hadn’t been there before.

Regret, maybe. Or worry.

She took a step closer. Then another. Finally, she stopped a few paces away, her voice quiet but certain.

“So... you can grow legs.”

He didn’t answer at first. Instead, his gaze shifted away, toward the sunlight slipping in through the jagged ceiling above.

“I can,” he said finally.

Sakura’s brow furrowed. “So you’ve been able to this whole time?”

He gave a slight nod, still not looking at her. “It’s… difficult. Painful, sometimes. Drains energy. I don’t do it unless I have to.”

She took a moment to absorb that.

Sakura looked down at her hands, then back at him. “Why didn’t you tell me you could?”

He shrugged, slow and deliberate. “Didn’t think it mattered. I don’t live on land. I don’t belong there.”

“But I do.”

A beat passed.

“Do you?” he asked, voice low.

The question sent a small chill up her spine. Because he wasn’t just asking where she lived. He was asking what she was . And deep down, she didn’t have an answer anymore.

Sakura sank onto the edge of the pool, her knees pulled up close, sunlight warming her damp skin. She stared into the water, not at her reflection, but at her silence.

“You didn’t have to come for me,” she said at last.

“I know.”

Her eyes flicked to his. “But you did.”

Kisame leaned back slightly, bracing himself on one arm, his expression unreadable again, but softer. Less guarded.

“You’re mine to protect,” he said again, but this time there was something quieter in his voice. Something less possessive.

Something almost gentle.

They sat like that for a while, surrounded by light and water and the ache of things unsaid. And for the first time since the ocean took her, Sakura didn’t feel like she was drowning.

The breeze carried hints of salt and something unfamiliar, like crushed coral and deep currents. She wasn’t cold anymore, but she couldn’t shake the tremor beneath her skin. It wasn’t fear exactly.

It was awareness.

Everything was shifting.

Kisame remained quiet nearby. His eyes were half-lidded, distant, but alert. Always alert.

Sakura turned to him slowly. “Who was that woman?”

He didn’t answer right away. She let the silence stretch, watching the way his fingers absently skimmed the water’s surface, the muscles in his arm coiled with restrained thought.

Finally, he said, “Mei Terumi. She’s a highblood. Old blood. Runs one of the larger factions of merfolk in the midwaters. Dangerous.”

Sakura blinked. “She didn’t seem... hostile.”

“No. Mei doesn’t show her teeth unless she means to bite.”

She frowned. “Is she a queen?”

He gave a short grunt. “More like a warlord who smiles.”

Sakura’s thoughts swirled. Mei had carried herself with such grace, such confidence. She hadn’t threatened anyone, but everyone had listened. Even Kisame.

“And Suigetsu?” she asked, brows furrowing. “He said your name like he knew you.”

“He does, unfortunately,” Kisame muttered, his tone low. “He’s from the Hozuki clan. Shapeshifters. They can dissolve their bodies into water. Most of them died off after the last purge, but Suigetsu survived. He works for whoever’s willing to let him live in exchange for favors.”

“Like Mei?”

Kisame shrugged. “Sometimes. Sometimes others. He moves with the currents. No loyalty. No spine.”

Sakura stared into the water again. “So there’s... clans? Courts? You’re not all just scattered?”

That finally made Kisame look up.

His eyes locked with hers, and she saw something flicker behind them, something old and quiet and heavy.

“No,” he said. “There’s a whole world beneath the surface. Some of us hide from it. Some fight for it. Some rule over the bones of what it used to be.”

She stared at him, her breath catching. “And you?”

“I left it behind.”

“Why?”

He looked away again, this time at the break in the stone ceiling, where the sunlight filtered through in gentle, moving ribbons.

“I don’t like leashes,” he said finally. “Or crowns. And they don't like me.”

Sakura let that settle, her mind racing to catch up.

There were kings and warriors, power struggles and purges. There were courts that operated in shadows, factions that ruled territories like underwater kingdoms. She had grown up fearing water, never knowing that an entire civilization had been just beneath her feet.

She wrapped her arms tighter around herself.

“And what about me?” she whispered. “What does this world want with me ?”

Kisame didn’t answer right away. But his voice, when it came, was low and certain.

“More than you’re ready for.”

Her heart gave a slow, steady thud in her chest. Because somehow, she knew he was right.

Kisame exhaled, slow and heavy, and let his head rest against the stone behind him. His legs, still unfamiliar in their human shape, stretched out into the shallows, half-draped in water. For the first time since charging into Mei’s court, the fury had left him.

In its place, only fatigue.

“I need to rest,” he muttered, closing his eyes. “Changing form takes more out of me than it used to.”

Sakura turned toward him. He wasn’t looking at her, his face was relaxed, his breathing slowing, but there was no mistaking the strain beneath the surface.

She watched him for a moment longer, surprised by how… human he looked like this. Not just the shape of him, but the honesty in his stillness.

She gave a small nod. “Okay. I’ll keep watch.”

Kisame made a sound that might have been approval or just exhaustion before slipping deeper into sleep, the water lapping softly around his waist.

Alone now, Sakura stood and drifted through the grotto.

It was small, but there was something sacred in its simplicity. Mussel shells clustered in the cracks of the walls. Algae with opalescent threads grew along the far edge, glowing faintly in the dim. At the center of the chamber was a stone basin, shaped by the tide over generations, where water pooled in shimmering blue-green light.

She touched the edge of it, her fingers trailing along the cool surface.

It felt ancient.

As if the ocean itself had shaped this place for moments just like this.

Her mind wandered, back to the cruise ship, to Ino’s laughter, to the panic in her chest the night she fell. She tried to reconcile the girl who couldn’t stand near water with the one who was now standing in a sunlit sea cave, watching a merman sleep.

What am I becoming?

A soft sound broke the quiet. She froze. Not from the pool. From the entrance.

The shell curtain shifted.

Sakura turned sharply, heart already quickening, but it wasn’t Suigetsu.

It was her .

Mei stepped inside with quiet, fluid grace, her form still humanoid but fully clothed in woven strands of kelp-silk, deep green and bronze. Her sea serpent adornments were gone, but the sharp, commanding energy around her remained.

She glanced briefly at the sleeping Kisame, then back to Sakura.

“Walk with me?” she asked softly.

There was no demand in her voice. Just invitation. But beneath it lay the unmistakable weight of power.

Sakura hesitated, her instincts prickling.

“Is this... safe?”

Mei’s smile curved slightly. “Safer than most things down here.”

Sakura looked back at Kisame, still motionless in the water, breath steady. She wasn’t sure what drew her to nod.

Maybe curiosity.

Maybe the need for answers.

Or maybe, somewhere beneath it all, she wanted to understand the world she had just fallen into.

Sakura stepped toward the entrance, the shell curtain brushing against her shoulder as she followed the sea queen into the unknown.

The path they walked was smooth and winding, carved by centuries of water erosion and careful handcraft. Pale lights glowed softly from the stone, guiding them past delicate coral gardens and thin waterfalls that streamed from above like liquid silk. Schools of translucent fish scattered as they passed, shimmering like glass.

Sakura kept close behind Mei, her steps careful, her eyes scanning everything with the curiosity of someone waking in a dream she didn’t quite believe was real.

The silence between them stretched, not uncomfortable, but weighty.

Finally, Sakura spoke. “How many colonies are there?”

“Three main ones,” Mei replied without breaking stride. “And several smaller enclaves: unclaimed territories, drifting cities, outlaw havens. But the core of our society rests in Mizu, Uzushio, and Suna. You’re currently in Mizu.”

Sakura glanced around again, trying to understand the scale of what she had stumbled into.

“And you’re the leader?”

“Yes,” Mei said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “We are known as Kage. I’m the Mizukage, ruler of Mizu. The other colonies are governed by the Shiokage of Uzushio, and the Kazekage of Suna.”

Sakura absorbed that silently, the titles echoing in her mind.

They have a system… an order. A world that runs deeper than anything humans ever knew.

She hesitated before her next question. “How are the leaders picked?”

“That depends on the colony,” Mei said, finally glancing back at her. “In Mizu, we prize strength. Whoever is the most powerful takes the mantle. In Uzushio, the people vote. A council is held, and leaders are chosen through debate and consensus.”

“And Suna?” Sakura asked before she could stop herself.

Mei’s expression shifted subtly, something more reserved. “In Suna, it is blood. A royal line. Their leaders are born, not made.”

They turned a corner into a narrow hall flanked by open shells, each holding offerings: strands of pearls, carved driftwood talismans, fragments of bone. Sakura walked slower now, eyes trailing over the objects with quiet awe.

Three colonies. Three ways of rule.

She chewed her lip thoughtfully, a dozen more questions pressing at the edges of her thoughts. But Mei did not speak again. She only waited, patient as the sea.

The corridor narrowed, the glow of the water lanterns painting soft patterns along the walls. Sakura’s footsteps echoed faintly against the stone, but Mei moved like she was part of the current; graceful, deliberate, untouchable.

Sakura’s mind was still spinning with everything she had learned. Colonies. Kage. Courts and factions that humans had no idea existed. But one question tugged at her more than the others.

“So… if someone were to take your place?”

Mei didn’t slow, but her smile sharpened slightly.

“They’d have to kill me.” She glanced over her shoulder, eyes gleaming in the half-light. “Or I could hand it to someone I believe deserves it. But that’s rare. Power isn’t often given freely in Mizu. You earn it. Or you take it.”

Sakura’s fingers brushed the edge of a hanging seaweed curtain as they passed beneath it, her voice thoughtful.

“How do you know Kisame?”

This time, Mei paused. She turned to face Sakura fully, folding her hands loosely in front of her as she regarded the girl carefully.

“Kisame is a complicated case. He was once part of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist, Mizu’s elite warriors. So was Suigetsu. Before the council disbanded them.”

Sakura blinked. “ They were on the same side?”

Mei smiled faintly. “Briefly. Until they weren’t. Kisame left in self-exile. Killed two of his own, vanished into the deep. I never found out why. He refused to speak of it. But…” She tilted her head, a curious light in her eyes. “…it does make me wonder where Samehada is.”

“Samehada?”

“His sword,” Mei said, and for the first time, her voice dipped with a hint of reverence. “No ordinary weapon. Alive, in its own way. Covered in scales and spines. It drinks the life force from anyone foolish enough to touch it directly.”

Sakura stared. “So it… feeds?”

Mei nodded. “Yes. And it only allows itself to be wielded by Kisame. Try to take it from him, and it will take from you .”

A chill swept through Sakura’s limbs at the thought. A sentient sword that could drain a person’s essence just by being held. Her stomach twisted slightly, remembering how easily Kisame had carried her, how steady his hands had felt.

She had only seen glimpses of his strength. Now she realized he had been holding back .

Mei watched her with keen interest. “Still want to pretend he’s just your rescuer?” she asked gently.

Sakura didn’t answer.

Not yet.

They stood at the edge of a shallow tide channel, where translucent eels wove lazily between coral arches. The quiet here felt different, less like peace, more like a breath held just before a shift.

Then Mei spoke, voice soft and edged like a knife gliding through water.

“But the real question is…” She took a step closer. “What does he want with you ?”

Sakura’s breath caught.

Mei didn’t look away.

“You’re not like the others he’s fought beside or against. You’re not a warrior. Not a weapon. You don’t belong to this world, not fully. And yet he risked a diplomatic breach by charging through my court for you. Transformed for you. Left his cave unguarded and his secrets exposed.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Why?”

Sakura opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Because she didn’t know. Because she’d been asking herself the same thing ever since he’d rescue her.

“I…” she started, but the words dissolved before they reached the air.

Mei’s gaze softened just a fraction, not out of pity, but understanding.

“You don’t have to answer. Not to me. But you should ask yourself. Sooner or later, he’ll want something in return. They always do.”

She turned and continued walking, her steps as fluid as before. And Sakura remained still, her heart drumming against her ribs, Mei’s words echoing through her mind like the slow pulse of the tide.

Sakura followed in silence, Mei’s words still circling in her mind like sharks beneath the surface.

What does he want with you?

The hallway opened suddenly into a cavernous room, lit not by sunlight, but by slow-turning globes of bioluminescent light suspended in the water above. The chamber was wide and circular, with carved shelves of polished stone lining the walls like ancient archives.

But these shelves didn’t hold books.

They held artifacts .

Sakura’s steps slowed as her eyes swept over the room. Ornate spears etched with coral symbols. Stone tablets crusted with gold-laced barnacle. Helmets, glass spheres, bits of broken ships. Necklaces made from shell, pearl, obsidian, and things she couldn’t name. Some looked ancient. Some looked human.

“This,” Mei said, her voice reverent now, “is our vault. Our memory. What the sea doesn’t forget.”

She walked slowly to one of the inner shelves, her fingers brushing the edge of a carved arch.

Sakura followed her, drawn forward despite herself.

Mei stopped before a pedestal. Upon it sat a small, delicate necklace. A twisted silver chain, aged and darkened by time, strung through a pendant shaped like a teardrop of pearl encased in coral filigree. It glowed faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat.

Mei didn’t touch it. She only looked to Sakura.

“Come here.”

Sakura hesitated then stepped forward. The moment she stood in front of it, the pendant glowed just slightly brighter.

Sakura’s breath hitched. “What is this?”

Mei tilted her head, watching her with unreadable eyes.

“It belonged to the last mermaid to leave the ocean and live among humans. She vanished decades ago. We believed her lost. But the line of her family…” Mei trailed off.

Her eyes moved to the pendant again.

“…is not so easily erased.”

Sakura stared at the necklace, her chest tightening with something she didn’t understand. Her pulse beat in her ears, matching the soft thrum of the pearl’s light.

“You think this belonged to… my family ?”

“I don’t think,” Mei said softly. “I know .”

Sakura took a slow step back, her mouth dry.

“That’s not possible. My parents were—”

“ Human? ” Mei interrupted gently, but with the faintest hint of skepticism. “They raised you, yes. But what did they tell you about the water?”

Sakura’s lips parted.

They told her it was dangerous. Dirty. Sickening. She had never been allowed near lakes or pools or oceans. They wrapped her in towels like bandages after a bath. And they never explained why.

Not really.

Mei’s voice turned low, like the hush of waves in a cave.

“The ocean always calls back what it’s lost.”

Sakura’s fingers hovered inches from the pendant. The glow pulsed softly beneath her hand, like it knew her. Like it remembered.

She pulled her hand back slowly, her breath shallow. Her voice, when it came, was quiet.

“Why did they flee?”

Mei didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she turned, walking slowly along the curve of the chamber, her fingertips grazing a mosaic of pearl and mother-of-pearl set into the wall, a depiction of an ancient mermaid, her long hair coiled around waves, her hands raised toward the surface.

“When I was young,” Mei began, “I heard stories of a family from the deep whose bloodline was blessed, and cursed, with something old. A voice that could stir tides. A presence the ocean spirits recognized.” Her gaze drifted toward Sakura. “Rare. Dangerous. Sacred.”

She let the words sink in before continuing.

“But something happened. They broke tradition. One of them fell in love with a human. Against every law, every oath. She left the ocean behind. Went to live on land. Vanished.”

Sakura’s throat tightened.

“And the child she bore was said to be marked. A soul split between the sea and the surface. Neither fully human nor fully mer.”

She shook her head, trying to anchor herself to reason. “But why would they run? If they were part of something sacred, why not protect it?”

Mei’s expression shifted, sorrow creeping into the edges.

“Because the ocean isn’t kind. Especially not to those who are different. You think exile is something rare? No. It is tradition that kills. Tradition that hunts its own.”

Her voice dropped lower.

“Your family fled because staying would have meant death. For them. And eventually, for you .”

Sakura felt the world tilt slightly beneath her feet.

“I don’t even know what I am.”

“You will,” Mei said softly. “In time. The ocean remembers.”

She stepped closer, her hand brushing lightly against the edge of the pedestal.

“This was meant for you. Whether you accept it or not.”

Sakura stared at the pendant again. It shimmered faintly beneath the weight of her thoughts. Not just a keepsake.

A key.

A symbol of everything she didn’t understand yet.

Sakura stood motionless for a long moment.

The pendant waited, pulsing softly in its coral cradle, like the heartbeat of something ancient and patient. It didn’t call to her, it simply was , steady and expectant, as though it had always known this moment would come.

Her hand moved before she could second-guess herself.

Carefully, almost reverently, Sakura reached out and curled her fingers around the chain. She held it for a breath, eyes flickering toward Mei.

The Mizukage gave a faint nod, saying nothing.

Sakura slipped the necklace over her head. The chain settled gently against her collarbones. The pendant came to rest just over her heart.

And in that instant the glow faded.

Not violently. Not with a flicker. Just… quietly. As though its purpose had been fulfilled. As though it had found its way home.

Sakura looked down in surprise, touching the smooth, now-dull surface of the pearl. “It stopped glowing.”

Mei tilted her head, her expression unreadable, but there was something knowing behind her gaze. “It’s not meant to shine for you , Sakura. It shines to find you .”

Sakura swallowed, her fingers tightening around the pendant.

“So… what now?”

Mei looked past her, toward the entrance of the chamber where filtered light shimmered against the tide.

“Now,” she said gently, “you decide who you want to become. Before the others try to decide for you.”

The words settled over her like a tide returning to shore. And deep in Sakura’s chest, she felt it.

Not fear. Not clarity. But a quiet, undeniable pull.

wWw 

The shell curtain parted with a soft whisper as Sakura stepped back into the grotto.

It was quieter now.

The sunlight had shifted in the time she’d been gone, falling in thinner beams through the jagged opening above. The warm light danced across the pool’s surface, glinting like melted gold, and the faint gurgle of water filled the silence like a lullaby.

Kisame was still asleep.

He lay on his side atop the flat stone ledge that served as the grotto’s only bed, if it could be called that. A mat of woven sea silk had been pulled beneath him, likely provided by Mei’s court, but it was barely more than a thin layer separating his massive frame from the stone. His arm was draped loosely over the edge, fingertips trailing in the water, and his breathing was deep and steady.

For once, the lines of tension around his eyes were gone.

Sakura hesitated at the entrance.

The necklace felt heavier now that it was hers, the dull pearl resting warm against her skin. Mei’s words echoed in her mind. So did her own doubts.

She stepped closer, careful not to disturb the water.

There was no second bed. No cushions, no blankets. The only other spot to rest was the stone floor near the edge of the pool; hard, uneven, and still damp from where Kisame’s transformation had soaked through.

Sakura stood at the foot of the ledge, looking down at him.

The bed was wide enough. Barely.

He looked almost peaceful. The harshness of his features, the sharp lines of his jaw and shoulders, all seemed softer in rest. There was still a kind of wildness to him even now, something feral that sleep didn’t quite erase, but it no longer scared her.

In fact… it comforted her.

She glanced once at the floor, then back at him.

Then she sighed softly and made her choice.

Sakura climbed onto the edge of the bed, careful not to make noise, and settled down on the farthest corner she could claim. Her back pressed to the cool stone wall, knees tucked up beneath her, arms wrapped loosely around herself.

Kisame didn’t stir.

The quiet lapped around her.

She let her head fall back against the wall and looked up through the crack in the ceiling, where pale blue sky bled through layers of stone and light.

The necklace sat still against her skin.

And beside her, a sleeping creature of the deep breathed like the sea itself.

wWw 

Chapter Text

wWw  

The first thing Kisame felt was warmth. Not the warmth of sunlight or water, but something softer. Lighter.

He shifted slightly, the muscles in his back instinctively tensing, but then paused as his senses caught up.

A head rested lightly against his upper chest, just below his shoulder. A hand curled loosely near his ribs. And soft, rhythmic breathing ghosted over his skin.

He cracked one eye open.

Sakura.

Her body was half-curled against him, legs tucked beneath herself, her upper torso having slid closer during sleep. Her weight was barely noticeable, but the contact… was . It pulled his awareness sharply to the present, and for a long moment, he didn’t move.

He could have nudged her off.

He didn’t.

Instead, he tilted his head slightly to look at her face.

She was still sleeping, eyes closed, lashes dark against her cheek, her mouth parted in a soft, even breath. Whatever tension she usually held around him was gone now, melted in sleep. Vulnerable. Unaware.

And then he saw it.

The necklace.

It rested just over her heart, the pale pearl nestled in coral, now dull and still. But he recognized it instantly.

His brows drew down faintly.

He remembered it from the vaults long ago, from whispered stories passed between old bloodlines and half-drunk warriors around volcanic vents. The Pearl of Return , some called it. A relic of a forgotten princess. A lost daughter of the sea.

Claimed by no one. Recognized by the ocean itself.

It should not be here. It should not be with her.

He stared at it, the line of his mouth tightening, his thoughts sharpening like reef teeth beneath calm water.

The necklace didn’t glow now. It had found its place. And that meant one thing.

She wasn’t just some girl from the surface.

She was born of the sea.

And for all his strength, all his instincts, he hadn't seen it until now.

His gaze flicked back to her face. And for the first time in a long time, Kisame felt something stir in his chest that wasn’t hunger or rage or possessiveness.

It was a sliver of fear.

Sakura stirred.

At first, it was just a faint shift, her fingers twitching against warm skin, her breath catching as her awareness returned. Then her eyes fluttered open, the gentle light of the grotto easing her out of sleep.

She blinked slowly.

Her head was no longer against the stone.

It was against him .

Her cheek rested on Kisame’s bare chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing like a living tide beneath her. One of her hands had drifted up in the night, curled near his shoulder. His skin was cooler than hers, but solid. Comforting.

She froze.

Kisame’s eyes were open, watching her. He said nothing. Neither did she.

A flush crept up her neck, but for once she didn’t move. She didn’t pull away. She wasn’t sure if it was the calm in the grotto or the way his gaze held no judgment, only quiet consideration.

Her voice came softly, a whisper in the stillness.

“…How long have you been awake?”

“Not long,” he murmured, low and even.

Her hand twitched, then fell back to her side. She sat up slowly, the cool air brushing her back where it had been warmed by his skin.

He followed her movement with his eyes but didn’t sit up. His gaze dropped for a brief moment, just enough to make her glance down.

The necklace.

She touched it instinctively.

“I spoke with Mei,” she said, voice tight with lingering sleep and nerves.

“I figured,” Kisame replied, still watching her. “That necklace doesn’t find people on its own.”

She met his gaze. “You know what it is.”

“Yes.”

She hesitated. “Do you know who I am?”

Kisame sat up then, slow and deliberate, the silk mat rustling beneath him. His expression didn’t change, but something behind his eyes sharpened.

“Not yet,” he said. “But I’m starting to.”

Before Sakura could respond, the soft clink of shell beads broke the silence.

They both turned.

A young merfolk servant slipped through the curtain, small-framed, gill-slit along his jawline, fins folded neatly against his arms. His eyes flicked nervously between them, then bowed slightly in the water’s current.

“Forgive the intrusion,” he said. “Lady Mizukage extends an invitation for dinner in the upper court. At sunset.”

Kisame’s expression darkened slightly, but he said nothing. Sakura nodded, her fingers still curled over the pendant.

“Tell her… we’ll be there,” she said.

The servant dipped again and vanished through the curtain.

Silence returned.

Kisame leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, watching the ripples where the messenger had gone.

“Careful, Sakura,” he muttered. “Mei doesn’t set a table unless there’s a game being played.”

She looked over at him, her heart still unsteady.

“Then I guess we play.”

The servant who returned for her was quiet and graceful, a woman with deep blue hair that drifted like silk behind her. She spoke little, offering Sakura only a serene nod and a murmured, “I am to help you prepare. Follow me,” before gliding ahead through the winding halls of Mei’s upper court.

Sakura had only managed a faint smile before being led away, her necklace cold against her skin.

They reached a side chamber carved into rose-colored stone, a private bathing grotto lit by golden globes and vines of glowing algae. The air was warm here, tinged with floral salt. A steaming basin of deep, crystal-clear water waited at the center, rimmed in smooth shell.

“You’ll find a dress waiting for you after,” the servant said, bowing slightly. “Shall I stand watch?”

Sakura shook her head. “No. I’ll be okay.”

The woman left without a sound.

Sakura undressed slowly, folding the simple fabric of her wrap beside the pool. She dipped a toe into the water and sighed. It was the first truly warm thing she’d felt since the cruise. She stepped in, sinking into the basin until it reached her shoulders.

The warmth was soothing. But something felt… off.

The water shimmered strangely against her skin, too light, too thin in places, as if it was shifting around her unnaturally. The hairs on the back of her neck rose.

She sat up straighter, her eyes scanning the chamber. Then, directly across from her, the water rippled.

And shaped itself into a man .

Sakura’s breath caught.

In the span of a heartbeat, a familiar face emerged from the wall of the bath, pale violet eyes and a mouth already stretched in a mocking grin.

“Hey, princess.”

“SUIGETSU!”

Her scream echoed through the grotto.

She scrambled back in the water, one hand instinctively covering her chest, the other splashing wildly as Suigetsu’s form solidified further, no longer just a trick of water, but real and leering, his body half-submerged across from her like he belonged there.

Before he could say another word, the curtain of water behind her exploded .

Kisame barreled into the bath with a growl of displaced steam and fury, the air charged with something primal.

His gaze locked on Suigetsu. Sakura barely registered her own gasp as Kisame lunged.

Suigetsu smirked, hands lifting in mock surrender. “Easy, big guy. Just saying hello.”

The water surged as Kisame lunged, a blur of muscle and rage cutting through the bath. His arm swung low, aiming to crush Suigetsu’s chest into the marble wall, but the smirking bastard was already moving.

Suigetsu’s body rippled like water struck by a stone, his features distorting with liquid ease. His form collapsed backward, dissolving into a puddle that slithered toward the far end of the grotto.

“Catch you at dinner,” he called, laughing.

And with a final mocking wink, he vanished, right into the waterfall that fed the pool, his body absorbed into the falling sheet of water like he had never been there at all.

Silence slammed into the room, broken only by the trickle of the waterfall and the frantic slap of Sakura’s heart against her ribs.

She blinked, panting slightly from the shock.

Then she realized—

She was still naked.

And Kisame, dripping, seething, water trailing down his torso in furious rivulets, was half-dressed, standing in the pool like a vengeful sea god, eyes blazing and chest heaving.

And they were alone .

Sakura inhaled sharply and pressed back against the curved edge of the bath, submerging herself up to her chin.

Kisame didn’t look away. Didn’t even blink.

His chest still rose and fell like a storm barely held in check, his eyes sweeping over the water, searching for any sign of Suigetsu’s return.

“He was in here with you,” Kisame growled, voice like crushed stone. “Alone.”

“Yes,” she hissed. “And so are you , now!”

That finally seemed to get through to him. He looked down, at the water, at her, and at himself, and his brow twitched in realization.

Still bare-chested. Still soaked. Still very much not wearing a full set of clothes.

“…Tch.”

Kisame turned with a frustrated grunt and stormed from the water, muscles taut with restrained fury as he grabbed the cloth wrap from the side of the bath and tied it back around his waist with a rough tug.

Sakura sank a little deeper in the water, both mortified and fuming.

Kisame shot her a glare over his shoulder, exasperation in every line of his body. “You know he can liquefy, and you bathed alone ?”

“I thought I was in a safe palace !”

Their eyes locked. Neither spoke.

The water between them rippled with heat and tension, embarrassment, anger, adrenaline, and something else unspoken, lodged beneath every breath.

Sakura crossed her arms under the water and looked away.

“…So,” she muttered darkly. “Still going to dinner?”

Kisame sighed through his nose and grabbed a second towel from the stone ledge, tossing it over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

After the incident in the bath, a second servant arrived, thankfully unaware or too professional to comment, and led Sakura to a preparation chamber just off the main court. The room was warm and softly lit, with coral-colored silks draped from the ceiling like streamers and shallow pools that shimmered with low, glowing lights.

Sakura stood barefoot on a raised shell platform, a soft towel wrapped securely around her, as two attendants worked quietly around her without a word. Their fingers moved with practiced grace, gentle but swift, as they began readying her for the formal dinner.

Her damp hair was combed out with a polished bone comb, the strands pulled into loose waves that flowed freely down her back. The salty knots from the cave and bath vanished under their careful touch. A faint oil, smelling of hibiscus and crushed sea mint, was worked into her shoulders and arms until the tension began to melt.

When they brought the dress forward, Sakura froze.

It was unlike anything she had worn.

Light as sea-foam, the gown shimmered in hues of pearl, blue-gray, and a faint green that shifted when it caught the light. The bodice was shaped from delicate woven strands of coral silk, soft but structured, clinging to her shape like a second skin. Tiny shells, bleached smooth, were sewn along the collar, forming a graceful frame around the neck. From the waist, the fabric spilled like falling water, thin, layered, and weightless. When she moved, it flowed as if underwater.

It looked too elegant.

Too regal.

She hesitated, one hand pressed to the pendant resting against her chest.

“This was made for someone else,” she whispered.

“No,” said the older of the two attendants, meeting her gaze with a small, knowing smile. “It was always meant for you.”

Sakura swallowed, her throat tightening.

She let them dress her.

The gown slipped into place, cool and perfect, molding to her body as if it had waited for years to find its shape. The back fastened with a series of coral clasps, and a sheer shawl of silk webbing was draped lightly across her arms like mist.

When she looked in the polished shell mirror, she barely recognized herself. She didn’t look like a lost girl anymore.

A whisper passed through her memory, Mei’s words, spoken in the relic chamber:

“The ocean always calls back what it’s lost.”

Sakura pressed a hand lightly to her chest, feeling the pendant beneath the fabric. And for the first time, she wondered if maybe… it wasn’t a mistake that she had fallen into the sea.

The servants then led her to coral-paneled doors and they opened with a slow, graceful sweep, revealing the heart of Mei’s court.

Sakura stood on the threshold, the attendants behind her fading away like receding tide. The air was warm and heavy with the scent of brine, salt-laced incense, and something floral that reminded her faintly of crushed petals under moonlight.

The court was vast, an open space domed with polished shell and bioluminescent vines. Soft lights flickered like fireflies along the ceiling, casting gentle reflections across the walls. A grand table stretched across the center, carved from deep reef stone and adorned with plates of shimmering fish, sea fruits, and delicacies she didn’t recognize.

Every head turned when she entered.

Merfolk of all kinds, nobles draped in ceremonial silk, guards with scale-plated armor, advisors with shell-braided hair, watched her with careful, curious eyes. Not cruel. Not unkind.

But observant.

Mei sat at the head of the table, composed and radiant in a gown of emerald and gold, her long hair gathered behind her like a royal banner. Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

And beside her, standing with arms loosely crossed and eyes locked on Sakura, was Kisame.

He had dressed for the occasion, barely.

A dark wrap had been secured around his waist, the fabric more formal than his usual sea-worn cloth, and a sleeveless mantle of reef-woven leather wrapped his upper torso, leaving his arms bare. His hair had been pulled back at the base of his neck, though a few strands clung to his cheek.

But it wasn’t his clothes that caught her breath.

It was the way he was looking at her .

Still. Sharp. As if the sight of her had struck something in him that even he couldn’t name.

He hadn’t seen her like this before. Neither of them had.

Sakura’s steps were slow but steady as she approached. Her dress flowed behind her like water, and the dull pendant against her chest rose and fell with every breath.

When she reached the table, Mei stood and gestured gracefully to the seat beside Kisame.

“Welcome,” she said. “The ocean has waited a long time for you.”

Sakura met her gaze, then glanced at Kisame, who hadn’t spoken, hadn’t moved, but hadn’t looked away.

She sat beside him.

The clinking of coral utensils and the soft murmur of conversation filled the chamber, but it all seemed to dim when Mei turned her eyes to Sakura.

They were mid-course, small glazed fish served with glowing fruit that shimmered like pearls in the candlelight. Sakura had barely touched hers. Beside her, Kisame ate with casual indifference, his massive hands careful around the fragile cutlery. Occasionally, his eyes flicked to her, as if making sure she was still there. Still breathing.

But it was Mei who finally broke the quiet.

Her voice was smooth, pleasant, just loud enough for the court to hear, but soft enough to make it feel like a private conversation.

“You speak well,” she said, her head tilted slightly. “There’s poise in you. Education.”

Sakura blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. “I… guess?”

Mei’s smile widened a little. “Tell me, Sakura. Before the ocean found you… what kind of life did you lead?”

The room quieted. Even the nobles stopped pretending not to listen. Kisame tensed beside her, just slightly.

Sakura hesitated. But then she lifted her chin and answered.

“I was a doctor,” she said.

Mei’s brows lifted with interest.

“In the human world?”

“Yes,” Sakura nodded. “Emergency medicine. Trauma care, mostly. I worked in a hospital, long shifts, fast decisions. I studied for years. It wasn’t easy.”

Mei leaned back in her seat, fingers steepled beneath her chin. “A healer. Rare trait among merfolk.”

Sakura blinked at her in surprise.

“Even now,” Mei added, “your fingers twitch when someone winces. I imagine instinct like that doesn’t fade easily.”

Sakura glanced down at her hands, resting now in her lap, folded, but she could still feel it. The muscle memory. The way her body would automatically scan a person’s posture, skin tone, breath rate.

“Do you miss it?” Mei asked, her tone still soft, but more pointed now.

Sakura didn’t answer right away.

She thought of the clean scent of antiseptic. The hum of fluorescent lights. The weight of a scalpel in her hand. The exhaustion. The purpose. The control .

And then she thought of the sea. Of the cave. Of falling.

“I miss what it gave me,” she said at last. “But I don’t think I can go back.”

A ripple of understanding passed over Mei’s expression. Kisame remained silent, his eyes on her, not surprised, not judgmental.

Just listening.

Just there .

Mei raised her glass. “To those who change and survive it.”

Several murmurs of agreement followed, and goblets were raised around the table. Sakura lifted hers, fingers firm despite the tremble in her chest.

The ocean had asked her to become something else. She didn’t know what that would be yet. But she was still here. Still breathing.

And that had to mean something.

wWw

The walk back to the grotto was quiet.

The soft murmur of the court faded behind them, replaced by the distant sound of water echoing through coral channels and the occasional flicker of bioluminescent moss lighting the stone walls.

Sakura didn’t speak.

Not because she didn’t have thoughts, she had too many. But all of them were tangled, overlapping and pulling at her in different directions: Mei’s questions, the weight of the necklace against her chest, the unfamiliar eyes watching her at dinner, the tension in Kisame’s silence.

Her body ached, but it was the kind of ache born from emotion more than effort.

When they finally reached the grotto, she crossed the stone threshold and exhaled hard, kicking off the soft sandals the attendants had given her. The sound of them clattering to the floor echoed like punctuation.

“I’m so tired,” she muttered, voice hoarse from holding herself too carefully for too long.

She stepped toward the stone ledge and sat heavily on its edge, then lay back with a long, weighted sigh, one hand flung over her eyes.

“Like, soul-tired. I didn’t know talking could wear me out more than getting kidnapped.”

She didn’t see Kisame move behind her, but she heard the quiet splash of his steps through the shallow end of the pool.

He didn’t answer her. Didn’t need to.

Instead, he stood a few feet away in the water, silent in the low glow of the cave, and looked at her.

She was stretched across the edge of his bed now, still in the ceremonial dress, the soft shimmer of it dulled slightly by the humidity. Her hair was starting to loosen from its styled waves, and the pendant she now wore lay just off-center over her heart, like it had always belonged there.

She looked exhausted. But she also looked real. Untouched by court polish. Raw from truth. And still willing to be next to him after it all.

He didn’t understand it.

How someone like her, a healer, a surface-dweller, someone with kindness in her voice and logic in her spine, could adapt so quickly. Could look at a monster and not flinch. Could share his cave. His space.

His quiet.

His eyes lingered on her face, her mouth slightly parted with sleep-heavy breath, her hand draped carelessly across her ribs.

She trusted him enough to collapse. That should have annoyed him. But it didn’t.

It stirred something deeper. Something quieter. Something that whispered, mine , and didn’t mean it like ownership.

He turned away slowly, slipping beneath the water to let it cool his thoughts before he let them reach his mouth.

Behind him, Sakura murmured something unintelligible and shifted slightly, but didn’t sit up. And in the quiet of the cave, the two of them drifted into silence once more.

Side by side. Not quite touching. Not quite apart.

The glow from the algae above had dimmed into a soft, moonlike blue, casting slow-moving shadows across the cave walls. The pool lapped gently at the ledge.

She lay on her back, staring up at the stone ceiling. The pendant rested on her chest like a weight.

Like a question.

Her voice came out suddenly, startling even herself.

“…What happens to me now?”

The words drifted into the dark, soft and uncertain.

Kisame didn’t answer right away. She didn’t look at him, she just kept staring at the ceiling.

“I’m not a doctor anymore,” she went on, her tone almost dazed. “I’m not even… human , maybe. Not entirely. And I don’t know what that makes me.”

She sat up slowly, arms resting on her knees, the shimmer of her gown folding softly around her.

“Mei talks like I’m important. Like I’m some kind of lost heir. But I don’t feel like one. I feel like a girl who fell overboard and forgot how to breathe on land.”

She laughed once, short and breathless.

“This all feels like something out of a story. Magic necklaces, hidden bloodlines, sea kingdoms. I keep waiting for someone to wake me up. Or for it all to fall apart.”

Her hands tightened into the fabric at her knees.

“…I didn’t ask for any of this.”

Kisame sat down, his eyes met hers, steady and dark in the low light.

“You think stories ask permission?” he said.

Sakura blinked. He didn’t move closer. Didn’t offer her false comfort. But his voice, rough as it was, softened slightly.

“You’re in it now,” he said. “Whether you believe it or not.”

She looked at him, truly looked at him, this creature the world would call a monster, whose very name made warriors flinch. And yet he sat here, listening. Watching her fall apart without flinching.

She swallowed.

“But I don’t know where it’s going.”

Kisame tilted his head just slightly. “No one ever does.”

Another silence fell, but it wasn’t hollow this time. She reached up and touched the necklace again, the pearl cold beneath her fingers.

“Do you think I can handle it?”

Kisame didn’t answer right away.

Then, quietly, without drama, without weight, he said:

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Sakura’s breath hitched, caught off guard by the simplicity of it. She nodded slowly, as if trying to convince herself to believe it too. And for the first time since she fell into the sea, she didn’t feel like she was drowning.

Just floating.

Still lost, but not alone.

The cave was quiet again.

The air hung heavy with salt and silence, the kind that wrapped itself around your ribs and slowed your breath. Sakura didn’t return to lying down. Instead, she remained seated on the ledge, legs pulled up, arms looped around her knees. Her hair clung in gentle waves to her back, and the ceremonial dress had lost its pristine folds, but she didn’t care.

Across from her, Kisame sat near the shallows now, resting against the stone edge, legs stretched out in front of him, arms braced loosely at his sides.

Sakura watched him out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t speak, not at first. Just breathed. Just let herself feel this version of reality, where monsters guarded her and the water no longer threatened to swallow her whole.

Then, finally, her voice broke the stillness.

“…You stayed like that.”

Kisame looked at her. “Hm?”

“Your legs,” she said softly. “You didn’t shift back.”

He looked down briefly, as if just remembering. “Didn’t feel like it.”

She studied him. “Is it uncomfortable?”

“Yes.”

“And you did it anyway?”

His eyes met hers again, and this time he didn’t look away.

“Yes,” he said.

Sakura’s heart thudded once, heavy and slow. She looked down at her hands. “I don't want to be alone tonight.”

Silence. Then movement.

She looked up as Kisame shifted, rising slowly to his feet and stepping up onto the stone with her. His presence filled the space like a wave, not oppressive , just… large. Solid. Real.

He moved carefully, not towering, not looming, just close enough .

“You don’t have to be,” he said.

She stared at him, her breath catching again, not from fear. Not anymore. But from something quieter, something that bloomed slowly in the space between them.

She reached out without quite thinking, her fingers brushing lightly along his forearm.

His skin was cool. Damp. Ridged with the faint traces of his transformation, but firm beneath her touch.

She didn’t pull back.

“Will you sit with me?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He did. Without question.

He settled beside her on the bed, both of them facing the pool now, their arms brushing lightly as they sat in silence. The heat from his body was faint but steady. She leaned just slightly into it.

And he didn’t move away.

Her head eventually came to rest on his shoulder. Kisame exhaled slowly, the sound soft and unfamiliar.

Sakura let her eyes drift closed. The cave faded around her.

The warmth of Kisame’s shoulder, the hush of the grotto pool, even the faint light of the moss above, it all dissolved like mist as sleep pulled her under.

But what met her wasn’t rest.

It was water .

Endless, silver-blue water, stretching out in all directions like a sky flipped upside down. There was no surface. No bottom. No walls. Just light that shimmered from nowhere and everywhere.

Sakura floated. She wasn't drowning. She wasn’t even breathing. She simply… existed.

Suspended. Weightless.

Her hair drifted around her like strands of coral silk, the ceremonial gown she’d worn to dinner now transformed into flowing threads of pale light. The pendant at her chest pulsed softly, like a heartbeat, hers , but not.

She reached up toward it—

And the light changed.

The water darkened, not with shadow but depth . Shapes moved below her, too distant to see, but felt , old things, watching. Waiting . A low sound vibrated through the currents, not a voice, but a call .

Familiar. Her body responded before her mind did. Her legs tingled. Then burned .

She gasped but no air escaped.

No pain followed. Only warmth, swelling beneath her skin like ripples through still water. Her toes stretched, merged. Her spine arched as something shifted, lengthened , pulling from her hips down in one long, graceful sweep.

She looked down—

Her legs were gone.

In their place, a salmon-red tail adorned with swirling gold designs. Fins shimmered like velvet flame, catching light with every flicker of movement. Her skin glittered faintly, kissed by scales that hadn’t been there before.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t panic. She moved . And it felt like remembering something she had never known.

Sakura swam without effort, her body slicing through the water as if it had always belonged here. Her hands trailed currents. Her heart beat with rhythm.

Above her, the water parted, not with air, but with light . A voice, her voice, rose from the deep like a song.

“I am not lost.”

And something in the dark smiled.

Sakura awoke slowly, the kind of waking that felt like rising from deep water.

Her body was warm, limbs heavy. The grotto was quiet around her, bathed in the soft gray light of morning. The moss on the ceiling had dulled to a sleepy glow, and water trickled lazily at the edges of the pool.

She blinked, adjusting to the dimness.

The stone beneath her back was cool now, and the air held the scent of salt and damp silk. But something was… off.

She sat up.

Her hand reached out instinctively to the space beside her.

Empty.

Kisame was gone.

No splash of water. No footprints. No sign he had ever been there, except for the slight depression in the woven mat where he had sat beside her last night.

Sakura frowned. Her heart gave a soft thump of unease.

She stood slowly, the ceremonial gown slipping from her shoulder as she moved. She pushed it back into place absently, her mind still clouded by the dream.

The water . The tail . The way it had felt to swim , not like fantasy, but memory.

She crossed to the pool, kneeling at the edge, staring into the water’s surface. Her reflection rippled back at her, familiar.

But not completely .

Her skin looked different. She leaned closer.

Faint shimmer. Just beneath the collarbone. Barely visible in the dim light.

Sakura leaned in further, brushing her fingertips over the skin just above her heart, where the edge of the gown dipped low.

There.

A delicate pattern of tiny, translucent scales. No bigger than grains of rice, iridescent when the light hit just right. They weren’t rough. They were smooth, like they had always been a part of her, like they were finally surfacing from beneath.

She froze, breath caught in her throat. She rubbed at them. They didn’t fade. A tremble moved through her hands.

It wasn’t just a dream.

She stood quickly, heart pounding, wrapping her arms around herself. The pendant on her chest pulsed faintly with warmth, not glowing, not reacting. Just there .

Like a silent witness.

She looked around the cave again, scanning the shadows. Still no sign of him.

“…Kisame?” she called out, voice cracking slightly.

Only her echo answered. She didn’t know what scared her more, that her body was changing…

Or that she had woken up without him.

wWw  

The water here was colder.

Older.

It swirled with silt and silence, untouched by light or life for what felt like centuries. Even the currents avoided this place, skimming around it like instinct knew better.

Kisame cut through the stillness with quiet precision, his massive tail brushing along smooth, untouched stone. Barnacles and algae clung to ancient carvings around him, symbols from a language even he couldn’t fully read. He knew enough to recognize the warnings.

Do not enter. Do not wake what was buried.

He ignored them.

The temple loomed ahead, half-buried in a trench wall, its arches warped by time and pressure. Long pillars, broken, crumbling, reached upward like grasping fingers. Coral had consumed parts of it, reclaiming it in silence, but beneath the overgrowth were doors of blackened shell and bone, sealed shut with twisted chains of volcanic rock.

Kisame’s eyes narrowed as he floated just above the seafloor, scanning the threshold. The seal, etched in jagged reef stone, was cracked.

Barely. But cracked. And through it, he could feel something leaking.

Not power. Not rage. Something older . Slower. A hum beneath the bones of the ocean. A presence that felt disturbingly familiar.

He shifted, the blue-gray scales along his arms rippling as his tail swept a lazy circle. He circled the entrance once, then again, watching the way the water pulsed here, how the strands of current curved inward as if drawn.

He hadn’t been here in decades.

Not since the last time the old swordsmen had dared each other to touch the temple’s gate, just to prove they could.

Even back then, it had felt wrong.

But now…

He brought a hand to the carved coral seals, brushing his clawed fingers along the stone. The crack widened, only a hair’s breadth, but enough. And in that moment, a single, sharp pulse surged through the water.

Kisame reeled back, not from pain, but recognition. The same energy that had touched him when Sakura first awakened beneath the sea.

His jaw clenched, gills flaring.

She’s connected to this.

Not by chance. Not by blood alone. By something older than either of them.

He turned from the gate, tail flicking hard, sending a shock of silt spiraling behind him as he shot away from the temple. He didn’t need to go inside.

Not yet.

But whatever had been sealed here…

Was waking.

wWw

Sakura sat curled on the edge of the stone bed, her fingers absently tracing the tiny patch of scales beneath her collarbone. They hadn’t faded. She’d washed them. Scrubbed gently. Pressed cloth to her skin. Still there.

Kisame was still gone. And the silence of the grotto was starting to feel like abandonment.

She stood, pacing the edge of the pool, arms wrapped around herself as if trying to keep from unraveling. A dozen questions crowded her mind, none of them with answers she wanted to face.

When the curtain of shell beads parted behind her, she nearly jumped. But it wasn’t Kisame.

It was Mei.

The Mizukage entered the grotto with her usual elegance, her gown trailing like sea mist, her hair pinned in polished coral. She carried no guards, no servants, only a small, carved shell box in both hands.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said gently, her voice echoing just slightly in the quiet chamber.

Sakura straightened. “No. I—Kisame’s not here.”

“I know.”

Mei stepped closer, her expression softer than usual, though her eyes still held that ever-watchful glint. She stopped just in front of Sakura and extended the box.

“One last gift,” she said.

Sakura hesitated. “Why?”

Mei smiled faintly. “Because the sea isn’t done with you. And I’d rather you face it breathing.”

Sakura slowly opened the box.

Inside, nestled in sea-sponge padding, was a delicate object, half ornament, half device. A collar-like necklace of smooth ivory-colored shell segments, barely thicker than a ribbon. In the center was a blue opal embedded in silver coral.

“It’s called an Iki Stone,” Mei explained. “A relic of the old colonies. It helps surface-born hybrids like you adjust to deeper pressure. More importantly, it filters oxygen through water for you, so you don’t drown while your body decides what it wants to become.”

Sakura stared at it. “This will let me breathe… down there?”

“Yes,” Mei said. “For now.”

Her eyes fell to Sakura’s collarbone. The small patch of scales.

“And soon, you may not need it.”

Sakura felt her throat tighten. “Why are you really giving this to me?”

Mei tilted her head, considering her carefully.

“Because you’re not the first to be born of two worlds. But you might be the first to choose which one to belong to.”

That answer lingered between them like salt in the air.

Mei closed the box again and pressed it into Sakura’s hands.

“When you’re ready,” she said softly, “put it on. And don’t wait too long. The sea has a habit of coming to collect its own.”

And with that, Mei turned and vanished through the curtain, leaving only silence, and the weight of the ocean, in her wake.

The shell box sat in Sakura’s lap, its weight light but loud . Her gown now wrinkled and forgotten. Her hair had started to dry in loose waves, and her pendant rested silently against her chest.

Just that quiet, pressing reminder.

The sea is waiting.

And Kisame was still gone.

She didn’t know how long it had been. The moss lights above shifted slowly, glowing dimmer as the day waned. The silence in the grotto was deeper now, the kind that seeped into the bones. The pool was still. Untouched.

She had wanted a moment of peace earlier. Now it just felt like abandonment .

Her fingers curled tighter around the box.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she whispered to the cave.

She looked down at the shell segments through the slight crack in the lid. The Iki Stone pulsed gently, like a sleeping heart. Waiting.

Everything in this place felt like it was waiting.

She stood suddenly, the box still in her hands, and began pacing the length of the grotto. Her bare feet whispered over the stone.

She couldn’t rest. Couldn’t breathe. She had seen the dream. Felt the scales. Tasted the water without choking. But she wasn’t ready.

And he should have been here. To calm her. To stay . Her voice cracked against the cave walls.

“Kisame…”

Still nothing. Not even a ripple in the water.

She closed the box and held it against her chest, pressing it to the necklace already there like she could fuse the two together, logic and magic, medicine and memory.

Her shoulders dropped. Her breath trembled.

“…Please come back.”

She didn’t know if she meant from wherever he’d gone. Or just back to her .

The sound of water broke the silence first. A low surge, fast, deliberate. Familiar. Her heart leapt, halfway between hope and panic, as ripples fanned across the surface of the grotto pool.

Then he appeared.

Kisame surfaced from the water in one smooth, powerful motion, his massive form rising from the depths with hardly a splash. His merman shape had returned, long tail sleek and dark, gills open and steady at his neck, water trailing from his mohawk in thick rivulets.

He didn’t speak at first. His sharp gaze found her immediately. Sakura approached, nearly stumbling in her rush to reach him.

“Kisame.”

He exhaled through his nose, the sound part frustration, part something else, relief, maybe. He pulled himself halfway onto the ledge, arms bracing his weight. Up close, she could see it in his expression, he was tense. Frowning. But he was here .

“You’re back,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “You didn’t say anything. You just… left.”

“I had to check something,” he said roughly, eyes never leaving her face. “Something important.”

Sakura’s shoulders sagged with relief, but she didn’t press. Not yet. She reached toward him slowly then stopped when she saw the way his gaze dropped, not to her eyes, but to the skin just above her chest.

His eyes narrowed.

Her hand instinctively rose to the spot, fingers brushing across the faint shimmer of salmon colored scales that had bloomed overnight: pearlescent, delicate, no bigger than coins.

He moved before she could speak. One large hand rose gently, deliberately.

She held her breath. And then he touched them. Just the pad of his fingers, rough from the sea and the weight of years, brushing lightly across the scales at her collarbone.

Sakura gasped.

A shiver shot down her spine, not from fear. Her knees weakened slightly, her body reacting with an intensity she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t painful.

It was like being claimed by the sea all over again.

Her eyes met his, wide and startled. He didn’t pull away.

He stared at her like she had changed form right in front of him. Like she had stepped into something sacred. His fingers lingered against her skin for a second longer than they should have, then fell away with slow precision.

“…It’s starting,” he said quietly.

She nodded once, her voice caught in her throat.

“I know.”

Kisame pulled back slowly, the image of her scales still burned into his mind. Not just shimmering skin. Not just evidence of bloodlines.

They were markers. Signs of awakening. Signs of readiness . The temple’s pull. The pulse in the water. Her transformation. It wasn’t coincidence. It was alignment . And he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

He straightened slightly, the tension in his body shifting to resolve.

“We’re leaving,” he said.

Sakura blinked. “What?”

His tail swayed behind him in slow, controlled motion. “There’s something I need to show you. A place. It might be connected to this—” his eyes flicked to her collarbone, “—to you . I wasn’t sure before. But now…”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to.

Sakura stepped back slightly, heart pounding. “You want to take me underwater?”

Kisame nodded once.

She hesitated for a breath, then lifted the small box from where she’d set it earlier on the ledge. With a quiet flick of her thumb, she opened it and revealed the stone inside, the blue opal in its center pulsing faintly with a calm, rhythmic glow.

“Mei gave me this. Said it would let me breathe,” she said softly.

Kisame’s eyes narrowed in surprise, but after a moment, he nodded with quiet approval.

“Smart of her,” he muttered. “She’s expecting you to go deeper soon.”

Sakura lifted the device from the box and fastened it carefully around her neck. It molded softly against her skin, warm and snug, clicking gently into place like a lock being sealed.

Kisame watched her for a beat. Then his eyes dropped to her dress.

The ceremonial silk still shimmered, but it was long and layered, built for walking, not swimming. When wet, it would tangle. Weigh her down. Slow her.

He moved. Fast. Before she could react, his clawed fingers hooked into the hem of her gown.

“Wait—Kisame, what are you—”

She let out a startled breath as, in one swift, practiced motion, he ripped the lower half of the dress away with a tearing sound that echoed sharply in the quiet grotto.

Sakura stood frozen, mouth parted in disbelief, her now-exposed legs bare beneath the remaining fabric that now hit mid-thigh.

Kisame glanced up, utterly unbothered.

“You’ll swim faster,” he said simply.

Her cheeks flushed instantly.

“You could’ve warned me.”

He arched a brow. “Would you have let me?”

“…No.”

“Then you’re welcome.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but found no words. Just the feel of his gaze, steady and deliberate, as he turned and slipped into the pool again, his long tail cutting through the water like a blade.

He looked back at her once.

“Come on,” he said. “The sea’s waiting.”

And this time, she didn’t hesitate. She followed him in.

The moment Sakura slipped beneath the surface, the world changed.

Sound dulled. Light bent. And everything that had weighed on her, thoughts, fears, the sting of uncertainty, lifted like it had been waiting to dissolve in salt.

She didn’t move at first. Just floated.

The stone at her neck pulsed gently, a rhythmic vibration that spread down her throat and into her chest. She expected pressure, tightness, the need to gasp. But there was none. It was like the water just… welcomed her in.

Kisame hovered a few feet away, his powerful tail keeping him steady in the current. He didn’t rush her.

She opened her eyes. And they didn’t burn.

The salt didn’t sting. It didn’t blur her vision. Everything was clear, sharper than it should’ve been, like the sea had polished its world just for her. The light from above filtered in long beams, and schools of silver fish darted between them, flickering like falling stars.

She kicked forward cautiously, her legs now bare and free to move, the short hem of her dress fluttering behind her like a trailing ribbon.

The first few strokes were awkward. Her arms cut the water wrong. She forgot how to hold her balance, let her knees bend too much. It wasn’t graceful, but it wasn’t fear anymore, either.

It was learning . It was freedom .

She turned toward Kisame and grinned through the water.

Then she remembered— She wasn’t breathing.

Her chest tensed.

Panic surged up her spine, but before it could bloom into alarm, the stone thrummed again against her skin.

Breathe.

Sakura exhaled. Tiny bubbles escaped her nose and floated upward, tickling her cheeks. Then, carefully, she inhaled.

Cool water slipped through the filter, warmed and entered her lungs like air. Not exactly the same, but close. Softer. Denser. Like breathing through velvet.

She shuddered slightly from the unfamiliar sensation, then did it again.

“I keep forgetting,” she murmured, but Kisame heard her anyway. He tilted his head, motioning for her to follow.

They swam.

Down and forward, deeper through coral spires that curled like skeletal hands, past long stretches of seagrass that moved like whispers. The deeper they went, the more the light changed; softer, dimmer, bluer.

Sakura stayed close.

And Kisame, always just ahead, glancing back every so often to make sure she hadn’t fallen behind, never let the space between them grow too far.

She didn’t know how long they traveled. The current was steady. The pressure, manageable. And every breath she took reminded her that she was still here. Still transforming.

Still herself . But not the same. And somewhere in the vast quiet of the deep the sea began to feel less like a barrier and more like a home .

The deeper they swam, the colder the water became.

The sunlit coral gardens gave way to long stretches of black rock and shifting silt, the light above thinning like a distant memory. Sakura’s arms ached. Her legs kicked unevenly. The stone kept her breathing steady, but her body wasn’t used to this, wasn’t built for it .

Not yet. Her strokes grew sloppy. Her movements sluggish.

She clenched her jaw and pushed harder, trying to keep pace with Kisame’s powerful strokes, his long tail cutting clean through the current ahead of her.

But then he stopped.

Sakura realized too late and drifted forward with the inertia of her last effort, brushing lightly against him. She winced, pulling back.

Kisame turned in the water, eyes narrowed. She didn’t need him to speak to know what he was thinking.

Her hands floated up between them.

“I’m fine,” she said.

His stare said otherwise. Then, without asking, his arms moved, fast and decisive. One arm wrapped around her waist, the other slipped beneath her knees, lifting her like a bundle of seaweed caught in the tide.

Sakura flinched, caught off guard, bubbles escaping her mouth in surprise.

Her hands pressed lightly to his shoulder. “Kisame—”

He glared. Hard.

The message was clear: You’re slowing us down.

And also: I’m not letting you fall behind.

He turned without further comment and resumed swimming, his powerful tail slicing through the deep water with renewed speed. The current pulled against her hair and gown, but she remained cradled against him, held with ease.

Sakura didn’t protest again.

Not because she couldn’t, but because, somewhere beneath the embarrassment and breathless fatigue, there was something comforting in the way he held her.

Not gentle. But sure. Like she wasn’t a burden. Like he had expected to carry her all along.

Her fingers curled lightly into the edge of his shoulder, and she let her head rest briefly against his collarbone, the rush of water slipping past them like wind.

She was still changing. Still learning. But for now, she let herself be held.

The water around them began to shift. It grew denser somehow, cooler despite the depth, as though the ocean itself sensed what lay ahead and quieted in reverence. Faint outlines emerged through the gloom, towering spires of ancient stone wrapped in coral and time. The ruins loomed like a forgotten palace carved into the seabed, each pillar a monument to something older than either of them could name.

Sakura blinked as the glow of her necklace began to shimmer with new intensity. Soft at first, like moonlight, then pulsing with slow, deliberate light, casting a halo across her collarbone and Kisame’s arm where it touched her.

She felt it before she saw it: a gentle hum against her skin, thrumming with recognition.

“Kisame,” she whispered, instinctively placing her hand over the pearl.

He slowed his pace, eyes narrowing as he followed the light. “It’s responding.”

“To what?”

They drifted closer, until the grand archway of a gate revealed itself in full. The entrance was massive, circular, and completely sealed, carved from dark stone etched with patterns like scales and wave crests. Barnacles clung to the grooves, and seaweed framed the threshold like tattered curtains. It looked untouched by time and completely impassable.

Kisame floated before it in silence, his gills flexing slightly as he studied the seal.

“It’s been closed for since I can remember,” he muttered. “I’ve been here before. It never opened. Nothing ever did.”

Sakura’s eyes were drawn to the intricate carvings. Her heart beat faster with every pulse of light from her necklace. The pearl had grown warmer, the glow more insistent now, as if calling.

She slipped from Kisame’s arms without thinking. Her feet touched the ocean floor in slow motion, her gown drifting like petals around her. As she took a step toward the gate, the current stirred, circling her ankles, brushing her calves like unseen hands guiding her forward.

The glow intensified.

Kisame reached out instinctively. “Wait—”

But she was already moving.

Drawn forward by something she couldn’t name, Sakura raised her hand. The water stilled around her, and the moment her palm met the stone, everything shifted.

A flash of light burst outward from where she touched, the carvings on the gate igniting in soft turquoise lines that rippled outward like veins of bioluminescent energy. The stone vibrated beneath her hand. Then, with a deep, echoing groan, the seal began to turn.

The gate opened.

Not with force, but like it had simply been waiting.

Kisame stared, lips parting slightly. His hand fell to his side, forgotten.

Sakura stepped back, awestruck, as the doorway yawned open, revealing a corridor of shimmering blue stone within. Faint light poured out, not from the sun, but from within the ruins themselves, as though the place had remembered what it was.

The pearl at her throat dimmed again, its duty complete.

She turned slowly to Kisame.

“I think it was waiting for me.”

He didn’t answer right away. His expression was unreadable, eyes fixed on her not the pearl, not the gate, but her .

Finally, he swam closer, stopping just at her side. “Then I guess we’re going in.”

And without waiting for her response, he moved forward into the forgotten city, where secrets long buried stirred to life once more.

wWw  

The soft hum of the control room was broken only by the rhythmic blips of sonar and the gentle sweep of monitors that circled the main deck. Rows of holographic panels reflected against the reinforced glass overlooking the trench. Light barely penetrated this far below, leaving the world beyond the window a pitch-black void.

Madara stood at the edge of the glass, hands clasped behind his back, staring into the abyss. His cloak swayed slightly with the artificial circulation. Everything down here belonged to him. The silence. The pressure. The secrets. All of it.

Then came the voice.

“Sir,” came a clipped tone from behind, one of the sensor technicians. “We’ve picked up movement near Ruin Sector Theta-7. External seismic pulses. Coordinated, not random.”

Madara turned slowly, face calm but sharp. “Specify.”

The technician tapped a panel, pulling up a projection. “Seabed tremors localized to the sealed structure. Minor temperature fluctuations. More importantly, there was a resonance spike. A brief electromagnetic field with an exact match to Signature-019.”

Madara’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The Pearl of Return.”

He stepped forward, coat trailing over the smooth floor. The hologram expanded, casting faint blue light across his face. The doors to the command deck hissed open behind him.

Footsteps approached. Unhurried. Controlled.

“Signature-019 was inert,” Madara said, more to himself than the room. “We’ve tracked dozens of false positives over the years, and none of them could open the gate.”

“Until now,” said a second voice, low and calm.

Itachi.

He stopped just beside the display, sharing his uncle’s gaze without fully meeting it. “If the gate has opened, then the subject has awakened.”

Madara didn’t look at him right away. His gaze remained locked on the image of the ruins now glowing faintly on the projection.

“I thought she was unprepared,” he murmured. “No record of full submersion. No training. No conditioning.”

“Perhaps,” Itachi said, “that’s why it worked.”

Madara finally turned to him. “Explain.”

“The Pearl responds to instinct and bloodline, not intellect. If she was thrown into crisis… fear, pressure, the brink of death… it may have triggered the dormant genome. The ruins would recognize that signal.”

There was a pause. Madara studied him for a long moment.

“How convenient,” he said softly, voice edged with suspicion. “You’ve been unusually invested in her development.”

Itachi met his gaze evenly. “Only to ensure she survives long enough to be useful.”

“Useful.” Madara echoed the word like a test. “And yet Kisame still lives.”

There was no visible change in Itachi’s expression. Only the flicker of annoyance beneath half-lowered lids.

“He’s unpredictable,” Itachi said. “But his attachment to her may keep her alive. At least until we can retrieve her.”

Madara gave a small nod, turning back to the screen. His reflection stared back at him in the glass, eyes colder than the ocean outside.

“Send the drones,” he ordered. “Deploy a retrieval unit to the sector and activate failsafe protocols. If the ruins are truly responding, I want them under my control within the day.”

“Yes, sir,” said the technician.

Madara’s voice lowered. “And monitor Itachi’s communications. All channels.”

There was no response. Not from Itachi, nor from the technician who glanced up in alarm. Itachi had not moved. But his gaze was no longer on the ruins.

It was on Madara.

wWw  

Chapter Text

wWw  

The corridor opened into a vast chamber that seemed carved from the very bones of the sea.

Massive stone pillars, worn but still regal, rose like kelp stalks into the darkened ceiling above. Glowing moss clung to their edges, casting soft teal light across the floor. Symbols traced in coral and pearl shimmered faintly along the walls, forming patterns that looked almost like language or music.

Sakura stepped forward slowly, her bare feet brushing the mosaic tiles beneath her gown. Each one bore the faded imprint of scales, fins, and flowing forms; merfolk, dancing in a spiral that led toward the center of the room.

There, at the heart of the spiral, stood a statue.

A mermaid.

She was tall, poised, and ancient. Her tail coiled in a flourish around her pedestal, eyes closed in eternal serenity. Her arms were lifted to her chest, and around her stone neck hung a necklace, its centerpiece empty, but unmistakably shaped to hold something round.

Sakura’s breath caught. Her hand went instinctively to her own throat.

The Pearl of Return pulsed once against her skin, brighter than ever.

Kisame’s hand came to her shoulder in warning. “Sakura. Don’t.”

She turned to him. “It’s calling me.”

He moved closer. “That’s the problem. You don’t know what it wants.”

But her fingers were already rising, brushing the cool, ancient stone of the statue’s necklace. The slot was the exact size of her pearl, crafted with impossible precision.

She pulled the chain from around her neck and, before Kisame could stop her, pressed the pearl into the socket.

It clicked.

A perfect fit.

And then pain.

Blinding, immediate, and sharp.

Sakura gasped, her back arching as energy surged through her chest, through her limbs, through her blood. A ring of light burst outward from the statue, bathing the entire chamber in luminous blue. The ancient carvings along the walls ignited one by one, filling the room with rippling pulses like sonar.

Her hands trembled. Her knees buckled.

“Sakura!” Kisame shouted, catching her just before she fell limp.

Her eyes rolled back. The pearl glowed violently, then faded into the necklace with a final pulse. And then everything went black.

There was no sound at first. No breath. No heartbeat. No ocean. Only weightlessness, and darkness.

Then light.

It bloomed around her like the unfurling of a deep-sea flower, soft and golden, illuminating the water she now floated in. She could feel it… but not as she used to. It didn’t sting her eyes or claw at her lungs. It welcomed her.

She turned slowly in place, suspended in a shimmering void. Her gown drifted around her like petals, and her hair moved with the current, longer and silkier than she remembered.

A voice, distant but familiar, echoed all around her.

“You are not lost.”

She turned. No one was there.

The light ahead began to shift, revealing silhouettes, dozens of them. Merfolk. Some with crowns woven from kelp and coral, others cloaked in silvered armor, their expressions regal and mournful.

She reached toward them. Her fingers shimmered, her nails glinted with a faint iridescence, no longer human.

Her chest tightened, not in pain, but in release. Something had been bound inside her for so long, held under by fear, by denial, by the lie of being just a girl born on land.

Now that seal was breaking. Pain pulsed through her legs.

She looked down.

Her feet dissolved first, scattering into particles of glowing light. Then her calves, her thighs, all of it blending into a single, elegant form; scales of scarlet and salmon shimmered outward, wrapping her in something ancient and beautiful.

Her tail emerged, sweeping beneath her with gilded fins that curled like ink in water. Gold-threaded tips fanned wide behind her, glittering like starlight in the deep.

Her heart beat once, loud and strong.

The merfolk around her bowed.

“Princess,” the voice whispered.

And suddenly she remembered. Not everything, but enough.

A cradle of coral. A lullaby sung by someone with eyes shaped like hers.

She had lived this before. And now, she was waking into it again.

The pearl, no longer a charm, pulsed from where it now sat at the center of her chest, embedded like a sigil, its glow steady and alive.

She opened her eyes.

Her breath caught.

Not because she was drowning, but because she was breathing. The Iki Stone was gone. Water filled her lungs, cool and pure, flowing in and out with ease.

Her eyes opened fully to the chamber around her, its light now soft and quiet.

Kisame stared down at her, stunned. His hand gripped her arm, his mouth slightly parted, his gills flared.

She followed his gaze.

Her gown was gone, replaced by an elegant top of seashells and coral filigree, and below her hips, her human form had vanished.

In its place, her tail, red and gold, regal and radiant, curled with effortless grace beneath her.

Sakura blinked. Her voice trembled as she asked: “…Kisame?”

He didn’t speak.

But his hand moved slowly, reverently, to touch the shimmering new scales that adorned her side.

Her hair fanned out behind her, silk-pink and weightless, framing a face that no longer looked lost.

She looked like she belonged here.

Kisame’s throat tightened, a low heat rising in his blood. His gills flared wider, a deep instinct clawing its way to the surface. Something primal. Something he had drowned long ago in solitude and bitterness.

She sang to it.

To the part of him that had lived in darkness for so long it had forgotten how to hope. To the part that had once believed no one could look at him without fear or disgust. But now…

She had become divine.

Not delicate. Not human. Not fragile.

Powerful. Noble. His.

He could smell her scent differently now. Not the faint sweetness of human skin, but something ancient and clean: salted coral, crushed pearl, and a whisper of memory that reminded him of tide pools and sacred waters. Her presence in the water vibrated against his skin like a current, drawing him closer, louder with every heartbeat.

And her voice, when she’d said his name…

Even trembling, even unsure, it had curled around his name like a song meant only for him.

His grip on her arm eased, hand slipping lower until it rested lightly over the edge of her tail, where human skin became shining scales. His fingers traced the new pattern as if memorizing it. Claiming it.

Mine.

The thought came unbidden, dangerous.

He clenched his jaw.

No. He couldn’t afford that weakness. Not now. Not with enemies watching, closing in. Not with her heart still half-caught between wonder and fear. But the truth throbbed beneath his skin.

Her new form stirred something in his blood he hadn’t felt in years; need .

Not just desire. But the instinct to protect. To possess. To draw her into the depths and never let her go. It terrified him how deeply it ran. How easily he could give in to it.

But she wasn’t ready.

Not yet.

Kisame exhaled slowly, forcing the hunger down, even as he leaned closer. His forehead brushed hers, their breaths mingling in the water. And if anyone tried to take her from him now…

They would drown in their own blood.

Sakura watched him closely.

She had expected a reaction. A scoff, maybe, or one of his cold remarks. But this, this wordless reverence, unsettled her more than silence ever could.

His eyes were fixed on her tail, the way it shimmered red and gold in the shifting light of the ruins. There was something wild in his gaze. Hunger, maybe. Awe. But also something possessive, primal, restrained only by the thinnest thread of self-control.

Her heart thudded once, painfully aware of the way his thumb slowly dragged across the scale at the seam of her waist. It sent a shiver through her, not of fear, but of something she couldn’t name.

She swallowed.

“This… this is real, isn’t it?” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Kisame’s eyes finally lifted to hers. There was no mockery in his face. No smirk.

“Do you feel like it’s a dream?” he asked.

Sakura hesitated. “No. It feels… right. Too right.”

She lowered her eyes to where his hand still lingered against her tail. She should have pulled away. She knew that. But she didn’t. Instead, she placed her hand lightly over his.

“I didn’t think I’d ever be something… like this.”

“Something like this ?” he echoed, voice low. “You look like you were carved from the sea itself.”

The way he said it wasn’t gentle, but it was honest. It struck something deep in her, something that had been quietly breaking since the day she fell overboard.

His hand tightened just slightly beneath hers.

“I thought I’d be afraid,” she admitted. “But I’m not.”

“You should be.”

Sakura blinked, startled.

“Not of me,” Kisame added after a moment, voice even quieter. “But of what this means.”

The moment stretched between them, heavy with things neither of them was ready to say.

Then, from somewhere deeper in the ruin, a faint tremor rippled through the water. Barely noticeable, but it was enough to shift the current.

Sakura looked toward the hallway they had entered through, brows drawing together. “Did you feel that?”

Kisame was already moving, his hand reluctantly leaving her scales.

“Someone’s coming,” he said, voice hardening.

Her fingers hovered briefly over the embedded pearl at her chest, still warm, still pulsing like a second heartbeat.

Whatever she had awakened, it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

wWw

The drone moved like a ghost through the ocean.

Silent. Sleek. Designed to navigate tight trenches and crumbling ruins. Its fins adjusted with perfect precision, propellers silent against the current. Bioluminescent filters kept it hidden from biological eyes, and its lens glided from pillar to pillar as it entered the main chamber of the ruins.

From its optic feed, a scene unfolded in brilliant, high-definition clarity beamed directly back to the dark control deck of the Uchiha research facility.

Madara stood in silence before the central screen.

The chamber was alight with unfamiliar energy. Symbols along the walls pulsed faintly, as if remembering a language they had not spoken in centuries. Stone and coral breathed with life that should not have been possible.

Then the drone turned. And it saw her. Madara’s eyes narrowed.

She hovered effortlessly above the floor of the ruin, completely transformed. Her tail gleamed like fire and silk, coiled beneath her like a banner of blood and royalty. The pearl, his pearl, glowed at her chest, nestled perfectly into the ancient artifact’s core. She was calm, alert, glowing with newfound power that even the best bio-modeling projections had failed to predict.

Madara’s lips pressed into a thin line.

He watched as Kisame swam beside her, protective, close. Possessive.

The shark.

“Zoom in.”

The technician beside him obeyed instantly, fingers tapping over the interface. The drone's lens tightened focus, scanning Sakura’s vitals. Heart rate elevated but stable. Neural synapse activity spiking. The embedded pearl was resonating not only with the ruin, but also with her , creating a closed energy circuit.

The system pinged once. A warning.

[Genetic Marker Identified: MATCH - 99.72% ROYAL SEA-LINEAGE]
[ACTIVATION LEVEL: OMEGA]
[SOVEREIGN SIGNAL TRANSMISSION DETECTED]

Madara inhaled slowly.

“She's a key,” he muttered.

Itachi stood to his left, unreadable as ever. His arms were crossed, eyes on the screen, posture calm, but Madara didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly when Sakura appeared.

“She completed the circuit with no external conditioning,” Madara said aloud, more impressed than angry. “No training. No neural modulator. The Pearl responded to her . And now the ruins do too.”

His voice darkened, deep and resolute.

“She belongs to the ocean. But that doesn’t mean we can’t own her.”

He turned slightly toward the technician.

“Deploy the retrieval unit,” he ordered. “Full capture protocol. Use tranquilizers calibrated for deep-blood physiology. I want her alive.”

“What about the other one?” the tech asked.

Madara’s eyes never left the screen as Kisame moved closer to Sakura, speaking something low enough the drone’s mic couldn’t catch.

His voice was quiet. Final.

“Kill him.”

wWw  

The glow in the chamber had begun to dim.

The ancient energy that had surged when Sakura placed the pearl was now slowly receding, like the tide drawing back to sea. The carvings no longer burned with brilliance but with a gentle pulse, as if watching her, waiting.

Sakura floated beside Kisame, the water no longer resisting her. Her movements had grown smoother, instinctive. Her tail swept beneath her, quiet and elegant, each stroke guided by muscle memory she had never learned but somehow remembered.

She turned to Kisame, her voice soft.

“We should go.”

He gave a short nod, his attention already shifting toward the hall from which they’d come. His eyes flicked sharply through the shadows, gaze narrowing.

Then he stilled.

Sakura noticed too late the faint red glint in the far archway, a light that didn’t belong.

Kisame surged forward.

In a single, explosive movement, his powerful tail coiled and lashed him toward the shimmer. The red blink tried to retreat, but Kisame was faster. His body slammed through the wpater like a torpedo. The drone pivoted in panic, mechanical limbs twitching to escape, but it didn’t get far.

His hand clenched around it.

A sharp twist. Metal crushed. A pulse of electricity fizzled uselessly into the water. The lens cracked, then imploded in his grip. The pieces drifted downward like ash.

He turned back, eyes hard. “They found us.”

Sakura’s heart jumped. “Who?”

He swam back to her fast, already scanning the chamber’s walls for an exit.

“The Humans.” Kisame didn’t pause. “They’re the ones funding a project called Naiad. Rich. Old. Rotten to the core. They fund programs like this, cloaked labs, illegal biotracking, kidnapping merfolk just to see if they glow .”

Sakura recoiled slightly. “You’re saying… they experiment using merpeople?”

“They want power. They think the ocean holds something they missed on land.” He grabbed her arm, not rough, but urgent. “And now that you’ve awakened, they’ll come for you.”

Her fingers brushed the embedded pearl at her chest. Still warm. Still pulsing.

“Then we have to run.”

Kisame’s grip tightened. “No.”

She blinked.

“We don’t run,” he said, voice low. “We disappear . I know places they can’t reach. Tunnels they don’t even know exist.”

“But they’ll keep coming—”

“Let them,” he snarled. “I’ll kill every last one of them if I have to.”

The water vibrated around them. Far above, distant and growing, the faint drone of propellers echoed through the trench. More were coming.

Kisame met her gaze.

“You ready to see what the deep sea really looks like?”

Sakura swallowed hard and nodded.

Together, they turned and vanished into the ruins’ hidden paths, shadows swallowing them whole as the hunt began.

The narrow passage behind the statue led downward, deeper into the ruin’s belly. The walls pressed closer, the glowing carvings fading with every turn, until only the natural light of the water and their own bodies remained.

Kisame pulled her quickly, his hand wrapped tightly around her wrist.

Sakura stumbled in the water behind him, no longer human, but not yet fluid in her new body. Her tail moved powerfully, but not with precision. She tried to match his pace, tried to follow the way he cut through the current like a blade, but she kept falling slightly behind.

Her breath came fast, not from lack of air but from disorientation.

“Kisame—” she called, her voice fractured through the water.

He didn’t stop.

“Move,” he barked over his shoulder. “Faster.”

“I’m trying !”

Her tail flicked with more force, but it felt awkward, like running on legs that didn’t belong to her. Her hips rolled too much, her balance twisted, and every stroke dragged slightly to the left. But Kisame was relentless.

He yanked her with him, not cruelly, but like there was no time for hesitation, no space for weakness. The ruined halls twisted around them, crumbled archways leading into narrow tunnels that curved like ribs through a long-dead beast. Each turn brought colder water and darker stone.

Above them, faint echoes of machinery filtered down from the entrance. The retrieval unit was closing in.

Sakura gritted her teeth and kicked harder, forcing her tail to move in long, controlled arcs. She followed the pull of Kisame’s hand, anchoring herself to his strength.

“I can’t keep—”

“You can ,” he growled. “Feel the current. Let it do half the work.”

“I don’t know how!”

“Yes, you do. This water is in your blood.”

They dipped into a chasm between two collapsed pillars, coral bursting with color along the edges. Kisame turned sharply, then dove into a slanted crevice that descended into blackness.

Sakura faltered.

Kisame yanked her again. “Now.”

Trusting him more than herself, she followed.

The darkness swallowed them.

wWw  

The abyssal drop beyond Sector Theta-7 was pitch black, untouched by sunlight, saturated in pressure, and deathly quiet.

A team of five retrieval operatives moved in coordinated formation, each clad in sleek, pressure-armored dive suits laced with reactive plating. Their helmets flickered with pale blue light, illuminating the jagged walls as they descended.

Behind them drifted a larger drone, oval-bodied with sensor arms and a relay array affixed like wings, its central panel pulsed with steady rhythm.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

The leader of the unit, checked the frequency scanner on his forearm. A soft red icon blinked in the upper corner of the display.

Target Lock: PEARL SIGNATURE-019A – Active
Resonance: 86% Stability
Distance: 142 meters.

“Confirmed,” he muttered into comms. “Signature-019 is emitting. The girl’s still in the sector. She doesn’t know how to shield.”

A voice crackled through the channel, a handler back at base. “Engagement protocol?”

“Non-lethal on the girl,” he said. “Containment field first. She’s not trained. She won’t run far.”

Another operative drifted closer to his side, helmet turning. “What about the other one?”

The man's mouth tightened beneath the respirator. “Eliminate.”

The team shifted formation, moving faster now. With the pearl still active and implanted, its resonance acted like a beacon in the deep, a low-frequency hum that none of them could hear but the drone could feel . It was ancient technology, reawakened by something far older than their machines could fully interpret. But it worked.

Another ping echoed through the scanner, closer this time.

Distance: 88 meters.

“They’re moving,” the second operative said. “Downward. Sector shelf is unstable there.”

He toggled the map. A narrow trench extended below the ruins, an ancient fault line from when the temple had first sunk. Forgotten tunnels and collapsed spires littered the base like bones.

He spoke to the drone. “Keep tracking her signal. Direct line. Cut the noise from the ruins, filter for delta waves only.”

The drone emitted a soft chime in acknowledgment.

“Prep the net gun,” the man continued. “Target will be stunned by pressure change. Get the collar ready.”

A third operative scoffed. “She won’t know what hit her.”

The man's eyes narrowed behind the visor as he stared down into the black.

The team dove into the trench, lights flickering along their gear as they followed the call of the pearl, unaware that something far older than they imagined was watching them back.

wWw  

The corridor narrowed the farther they went, stone walls slick with age and pressure. Their path twisted through the remains of a collapsed water channel, ancient architecture half-swallowed by reef growth. The glow of the ruins had faded entirely by now, leaving them lit only by the dim bioluminescent haze clinging to the walls.

Every corner they turned only led deeper.

Until they stopped.

Before them was a jagged wall of stone and coral, a dead end.

Kisame swam forward and tested it with a hard shove. It didn’t budge. “Collapsed. Too thick to break through.”

Sakura hovered behind him, her tail drifting uncertainly. Her breath came in short, controlled gasps. She was learning how to breathe, how to move, but she was still new to this body, still foreign to the world around her.

And they were being hunted.

“We have to go back,” she said, anxiety building behind her voice. “Find another path—”

“There is no other path,” Kisame snapped. Not at her, but at the situation. His tail flicked sharply in frustration. Sakura pressed a hand to the wall, her pulse racing. Her tail stirred restlessly in the water.

She turned to him. “Then what do we do?”

Kisame was quiet a moment. Then his eyes met hers, intense.

“What?” She asked.

He swam closer, voice low but urgent. “This place opened to you. It responded to your presence, your touch. If anyone can get us out, it’s you.”

Her brows drew together. “You want me to… talk to the wall?”

“No,” he said. “I want you to listen .”

She stared, unsure if he was mocking her, but he was serious, deadly so.

Kisame floated back slightly, giving her space. “The water carries memory. Emotion. It’s old and alive in ways landfolk never understand. You’re not a surface girl anymore, Sakura. You're not just wearing a tail, you are part of this now.”

Sakura turned back to the wall.

Everything felt quiet. Not the absence of sound, but something deeper, like holding her breath in a world that always breathed for her.

She closed her eyes and placed both hands against the cold stone. The pearl embedded in her chest gave a faint pulse, warm against her skin.

She let go of her thoughts, her fear, her panic. Let herself feel the water, not just around her, but within her. How it moved. How it watched. How it remembered.

And then, softly, distantly, she heard it.

A vibration, like a song. A thread of current curling through the stone like a vein.

Her voice emerged barely audible. “There’s a tunnel. Behind the stone. Small… but passable.”

Kisame’s eyes sharpened. “Where does it lead?”

Sakura didn’t answer at first.

She reached farther into the sensation, her fingers spreading against the wall. Her tail shifted as if in response, the current wrapping around her limbs like it recognized her.

Then, softly, “Away.”

Kisame was already moving. “Good enough.”

He grinned, a flash of sharp teeth. “Step back, Princess. I’ll handle the digging.”

He swam closer, pressing his palm to the stone. His eyes narrowed as he ran his hand along the surface, knuckles dragging slowly through the silt.

“It’s old,” he muttered. “But brittle.”

Sakura hovered a few feet back as Kisame positioned himself, bracing one arm against the ruined support behind him. With his other hand, he curled his fingers into a fist and drew it back.

Then, he struck.

The sound rippled through the water like the snap of bone. A web of cracks bloomed across the surface. Silt exploded into the water, clouding it in a burst of pale grit.

Sakura shielded her eyes.

Another blow, harder, deeper. His fists struck like underwater cannonballs, driven not just by strength but by something instinctual. He growled under his breath, a low sound that vibrated in his chest and carried into the stone.

One more punch and the wall gave.

It didn’t explode, but peeled , a portion splitting and folding outward, dislodging with a groan like an old wound tearing open. A rush of darker water poured out from the passage behind it, pulling debris with it.

The tunnel had been sealed for centuries. And now it breathed again. Kisame exhaled, shaking the tension from his arm.

“Tunnel’s narrow,” he said, inspecting the entrance. “But it runs deep.”

Sakura floated closer, her fingers ghosting over the jagged edge where stone met sediment. Cold current curled from the gap, laced with salt and silence.

“What’s down there?” she asked.

Kisame gave a crooked grin, teeth sharp and catching what little light remained. “With our luck? Something older than us.”

She hesitated.

He extended his hand.

“Stay close. I’ll pull you through.”

She took it without question this time.

Kisame led her into the dark, his grip firm, his movement sure. Behind them, the collapsed ruin faded from view. The tunnel narrowed fast, forcing them into single file. Sakura’s fins brushed the walls, her tail adjusting, learning. Each flick of her muscles became more fluid, more precise.

Ahead of them, the current guided the way, slow and insistent, as though the sea itself wanted her to follow.

The tunnel narrowed to a final curve before the stone around them gave way, abruptly, like an open throat leading into freedom.

Sakura blinked against the sudden shift in light. A pale glow filtered in from above, diffused through layers of open water and clouds of plankton. The pressure eased slightly as they emerged into a wide ravine, one carved naturally between two sloping coral cliffs. The stone above was overgrown with kelp that rippled like banners, swaying in a slow, reverent rhythm.

They had made it out.

Sakura surfaced within the trench first, tail curling beneath her as she steadied herself. She took in the vast space, no longer confined by ceilings or corridors. The water was still deep here, but it felt open, expansive. Free.

Kisame surfaced a second later, rising beside her with a low grunt. He glanced around, sharp eyes scanning the currents for shadows, shapes, threats.

None. For now.

“They’ll find that dead end eventually,” he muttered. “But we bought time.”

Sakura looked over at him. “Where do we go now?”

Kisame turned, locking eyes with her. “We head back to Mei’s palace.”

“You think she'll let us back in?”

He nodded once. “Yes. She’ll know what to do next. And if she doesn’t… hopefully she'll get you out of here.”

Sakura hesitated. “But won’t they expect that?”

“They’ll expect us to run somewhere safe ,” he said. “They won’t expect us to swim right into the lionfish’s den.”

He reached for her hand again, less forceful this time, more deliberate.

“Stay close. No more detours.”

Sakura nodded, heart still pounding.

And with that, they dove into the current, weaving between reef walls and through winding gullies, heading toward the shifting warmth of the southern waters, toward the palace in the deep, where answers, allies, or ambush could be waiting.

wWw 

A crimson warning flare blossomed across the main display. Columns of data stuttered, then scrambled into unreadable symbols. The drone’s map blinked out, replaced by static snow.

Madara’s jaw locked.

“Diagnostics,” he ordered, voice low.

The sensor technician’s fingers flew. “Sir, signal interference is spiking. The retrieval unit reports loss of target lock and suit telemetry. Their comms are fragmenting.”

A second flare pulsed. On a side monitor the heart-rate feed for Operative Two flat-lined, then vanished. Suit status screens flickered to black one after another.

Somewhere on the deck an engineer swore under his breath. Madara did not miss it.

“Explain,” he demanded.

The technician swallowed. “Unknown frequency burst. Could be environmental resonance from the ruins or a counterpulse from the pearl. Our shielding should have filtered it but—”

“But it did not.” Madara’s voice, soft as silt, cut the man off. “And now my operatives are flying blind.”

A sharp crack rang out as Madara struck the console edge with his fist. The reinforced alloy dented. Silence fell over the deck; only the hum of turbines remained.

Across the room Itachi watched, expression unreadable. A faint red shimmer danced in his eyes, but he said nothing.

Madara straightened, cloak settling like a shadow around him. “Prep the Abyssal Frame,” he said coldly.

Several technicians froze. The Abyssal Frame was designed for extreme depths. Six-inch alloy plates, dual propulsion fins, full feedback mesh. It was meant for command demonstrations, never actual deployment.

“Sir, the pressure at that depth—”

“Is precisely what it was built for.” Madara cut him off. “Load anti-mer bio-nets, compressed torpedoes, and a stasis tank. I will retrieve the girl myself.”

He turned to Itachi. “You have command of the station until my return.”

Itachi inclined his head. “As you wish, Uncle.”

Madara ignored the subtle undertone. “Maintain perimeter scans. If the ruins send another pulse, triangulate instantly.”

The technicians scattered to obey. Madara strode toward the lift, the deck lights chasing after him in a cascade. Halfway there he paused, glancing back at the blank feed where Sakura’s image had once glowed like a ruby in the dark.

“A key does not slip from my grasp,” he murmured. “Not when I am the one who built the door.”

wWw  

The water grew warmer as they neared the palace.

Faint golden light filtered upward from the reef bed, outlining the sprawling coral towers that spiraled like seashells stacked into the depths. Bioluminescent strands draped across the structures like glowing kelp, and graceful silhouettes moved through the currents, guards, messengers, citizens, all unmistakably merfolk.

Sakura drifted beside Kisame, her breath steady, her body growing more confident with each flick of her tail. The sting of fatigue still clung to her muscles, but the sea didn’t fight her anymore. It welcomed her.

And yet, as they crossed into the outer courtyard, something shifted.

A hush.

Merfolk paused in their movements, their conversations fading as their eyes turned toward her. They didn’t look at Kisame. Not first. Not this time.

They looked at her .

Dozens of gazes followed her as she passed. A mother cradling a child stilled, fins fluttering with tension. A pair of guards in iridescent armor dipped their heads, not in alarm, but in something like reverence. Even the old merchant stationed near the coral arches bowed slightly, his scaled hand brushing the edge of his chest.

Sakura’s fingers instinctively drifted to the pearl embedded at her collarbone. It was dim now, but she could still feel it pulsing faintly. Like a heartbeat. Like a name being whispered that she didn’t yet remember.

Kisame swam a little ahead of her but glanced over his shoulder. His voice was low.

“They see it.”

“See what?” she whispered.

He gave a slight nod toward the nearest watchers. “Your blood.”

Sakura’s brows furrowed. “What does that even mean?”

“They recognize what you are. Or what you used to be.” His tone was rougher now. “There haven’t been many like you. Not since Mei.”

The coral gates ahead began to part, pulled open by two armored attendants with long tails and pearl-tipped spears. Beyond the threshold, the inner sanctum glowed in warm pinks and golds, with massive spiral columns rising from the seabed floor.

And there she was.

Mei.

Floating regally above the steps of the central hall, her sea-green tail coiled like silk beneath her. Her hair drifted behind her like a flowing veil, and her eyes sharpened the instant they fell on Sakura.

A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips.

“So,” Mei said, her voice smooth as tide-warmed stone. “You have awakened.”

Sakura slowed, tail brushing the reef-stone beneath her.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Intent is irrelevant,” Mei interrupted gently. “The ocean chooses when it is ready. And it has chosen you.”

Sakura’s heart beat faster.

Around her, more merfolk gathered. Some curious. Others in awe. None of them hostile.

A quiet rippled through them as Mei descended and came to float just before her. She reached out, placing two fingers lightly over the pearl at Sakura’s chest. The current shifted.

“Ancient blood,” she whispered. “Not since the last sovereign lineage was broken.”

Sakura’s throat tightened. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Mei said, eyes luminous, “you are not just a child of the sea, Sakura. You are of royal blood . And the ocean has begun to remember you.”

Mei extended her hand with quiet authority, the gesture simple but firm.

“Come. There are too many ears out here.”

Sakura glanced briefly at Kisame. He gave a short nod, unreadable as always, but present, steady.

She reached out and placed her hand in Mei’s. Her fingers barely touched before the current itself responded, swirling gently around them like a silent escort. Mei’s tail flicked once, drawing her into motion, and Sakura followed, gliding behind the sovereign into the deeper chambers of the palace.

They passed under archways formed from ancient coral that shimmered with colors Sakura couldn’t name, deep indigos, molten golds, shimmering silvers shot through with living light. Schools of translucent fish flitted past in tight spirals, darting into carved crevices of the walls. Everything here felt alive.

The corridors weren’t straight; they spiraled like shells, leading her downward through chambers supported by spiraled pillars grown rather than built. Sculpted alcoves adorned the walls, some holding relics, others small murals telling stories in pearl and sandglass.

It wasn’t just a palace. It was a sanctuary. And as Sakura passed through it, something stirred in her.

A sense of belonging she didn’t understand. Her tail moved more easily here. Her body responded to the subtle rhythm of the currents. Every breath of water through her lungs felt… right.

“This place,” she murmured, unable to keep the wonder from her voice. “It’s beautiful.”

Mei glanced back at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

They reached a set of double doors crafted from overlapping fan-shells. Mei placed her hand against a glowing coral node embedded in the wall, and the shells retracted silently.

The chamber beyond was private and softly lit, draped in long strands of light-spun algae that moved like silk. A large basin pool in the center reflected their silhouettes as they entered. The floor beneath them was smooth reefstone, embedded with lines of crushed pearl that formed sigils Sakura didn’t yet understand.

Once inside, Mei turned and spoke gently, though there was no mistaking the weight in her tone.

“You’ve only just awakened. I imagine your head is spinning. And yet here you are, alive, whole.”

Sakura hesitated, drifting to the basin pool, gazing into her reflection. The girl who stared back wasn’t the one who had boarded a cruise ship days ago. Her skin still glowed faintly, like moonlit porcelain. Her hair flowed in soft tendrils, longer than she remembered. And the tail, the red-salmon and gold tail, moved with calm purpose behind her.

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” she said quietly.

“No,” Mei said. “But your blood did. And now that it’s begun… there’s no going back.”

Sakura looked over her shoulder. “You said I’m of ancient blood. What does that mean, exactly?”

Mei floated closer, her expression tightening with gravity. “It means you’re not just a mermaid, Sakura. You’re descended from one of the first royal lineages, the ones who governed before the seas fractured, before we went into hiding. The Pearl of Return chose you because your line carries a signal only the ocean remembers.”

Sakura's voice caught. “Then why don't I remember?”

Mei paused, considering her.

“Because someone didn’t want you to.”

Sakura stared down at the reflection in the still basin pool, her thoughts churning just beneath the surface.

She looked like a mermaid. She even moved like one now. But beneath that graceful exterior, she still felt like the girl who panicked at the edge of a swimming pool. The girl who didn’t understand why her parents always kept her away from water. The girl who never knew she came from anything .

But now… everyone looked at her like she was something ancient.

Something important.

She glanced up at Mei. “You said I’m of ancient blood. That I come from a royal lineage. But… what does that actually mean?”

Mei’s expression shifted, still composed, but heavier somehow. As if Sakura had finally asked the question that mattered.

“Among merfolk,” Mei said slowly, “there are those born with strength of body, or clarity of voice, or affinity with the tides. But ancient blood… grants more than that.”

She drifted past the pool toward a low, open hollow carved into the reef wall. A thick mineral deposit jutted from the center, pulsing faintly with deep red veins. Sakura could feel the warmth radiating from it even at a distance.

“Ancient bloodlines,” Mei continued, “are bound to elemental forces that predate the split between land and sea. They were said to be the first rulers, not because of politics or armies, but because the ocean listened to them. Because nature bent for them.”

Sakura’s breath caught as Mei extended her hand over the mineral spire.

At first, nothing happened.

Then, the water began to vibrate.

A glow sparked in Mei’s palm. Faint, then brighter, then fierce. Bubbles swirled upward as steam hissed through the chamber, forming a slow spiral around her. From her fingertips, molten light bloomed, curling and swirling like liquid flame, hovering weightless in the water.

Sakura backed up instinctively. “What’s that?”

Mei’s eyes shone with controlled fire. “Volcanic energy drawn from geothermal seams. Passed through my family line for centuries. The sea does not burn, but I can make it burn.”

The glowing mass twisted into an elegant loop, then cooled instantly into a strand of hardened black glass, which shattered with a flick of Mei’s hand.

Sakura stared, heart pounding. “I… I don’t have anything like that.”

“Not yet,” Mei said gently. “Your body is still changing. Your blood has only just been awakened. Abilities tied to the old bloodlines don’t always appear immediately. Sometimes they emerge in dreams. Or under stress. Sometimes they come in whispers, years apart.”

Sakura looked down at her hands. They looked the same. Pale, delicate, human. But something inside her pulsed in answer to Mei’s display.

Not lava. Not heat.

Something quieter. Calmer.

“Each royal line was different,” Mei added. “My people once lived near volcanic vents. Yours may have come from the reef-kings, or the glacial depths. Wherever your power comes from, it will not stay silent for long.”

Sakura looked up, her voice steadier. “How do I know when it’s coming?”

“You’ll feel it,” Mei said. “Like the sea itself is breathing through you.”

The image of lava dancing in Mei’s hand still lingered in Sakura’s mind, but the awe it stirred was quickly replaced by the cold knot forming again in her stomach. The beauty of the palace, the revelation of ancient blood, it all felt like it existed in another world.

One that wasn’t being hunted.

Sakura looked toward the arched doorway, where pale currents moved through the algae strands like nervous breaths.

“They’re coming,” she said quietly.

Mei’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Who?”

Sakura turned back to face her. “The Humans. Or whoever they are. They sent something after us… a drone. It tracked us through the ruins.”

Mei’s calm expression shifted, just slightly, but enough to reveal something cold beneath it. She straightened in the water.

“Describe it.”

Sakura nodded. “It was small. Fast. It didn’t make any sound, but it scanned everything.”

Mei swam toward her, her movements suddenly sharper, less fluid. “Of course. The Pearl of Return resonates with your bloodline. That’s how the ruins identified you. And if they tuned into it before it fused with your body…”

Sakura’s heart dropped. “Then they can follow me.”

“They already are,” Mei said. “If they sent one drone, more will come. Possibly retrieval units.”

Mei turned sharply and swam to a glowing node embedded near the archway. With a gesture, she pressed her palm against it. The pulse that followed rippled outward like a sonar call.

“Reinforce the outer reef,” she ordered, voice firm. “Deploy the guardians. If they breach the trench perimeter, I want to know.”

From somewhere beyond the corridor, movement stirred, swift, organized. The palace was waking up.

Sakura floated in place, her arms wrapping slightly around herself. “This is my fault. I led them here.”

Mei returned to her, her tone calm but without softness. “No. They’ve been looking for you since long before you knew what you were. You are not the reason they hunt. You are their excuse .”

Sakura’s hands curled into fists. “Then we can’t wait for them to come to us.”

Mei arched a brow. “No. We can’t.”

The call Mei sent through the coral node had stirred the entire palace.

As they moved through the inner corridors, the once-peaceful sanctuary had taken on a sharper edge. The warm currents now buzzed with purpose. Merfolk emerged from alcoves and hidden doorways, warriors in armor etched with tide runes, couriers bearing glowing scrolls, and sentinels whose fins had already darkened in warning colors.

Sakura swam silently behind Mei, close but out of the way, watching everything with wide, focused eyes. She didn’t understand all of what she was seeing, how commands flowed between hand gestures and color changes, how coral responded to touch, but she memorized every detail.

Mei spoke to her people with quick, decisive authority.

“Fortify the outer trench,” she ordered one commander. “Deploy the spine eels near the southern pass. No foreign tech leaves this reef alive.”

Another approached, helmeted and silent. Mei turned. “I want a current field cast over the palace. Make us look smaller, like a silt bloom, or a migration pod. Mask the heat signature.”

The warrior nodded and disappeared into the dark.

Sakura followed her through a tall arch into what looked like a tactical command chamber. The space was circular, with a translucent table in the center glowing faintly with the map of the surrounding reef. Sakura couldn’t take her eyes off it.

She hovered near the edge, watching as Mei traced her fingers over the projection. She watched currents shift with each stroke. Points of defense repositioned in glowing light.

“This is how you fight them?” Sakura asked, her voice soft. “With illusion and tactics?”

Mei didn’t look up. “The ocean teaches patience. The surface teaches war. We’ve learned to use both.”

She paused briefly, then met Sakura’s gaze.

“You’re watching closely.”

Sakura blinked. “I want to understand. I don’t want to be the reason people get hurt.”

“You’re not,” Mei said, voice firm.

She gestured, and the table zoomed out, revealing the distant jagged outline of the ruins, and beyond them, a faint red shimmer pulsing in the water.

“That,” Mei said, pointing to the shimmer, “is foreign tech bleeding into the deep. They’ve begun to scan the water around us. It won’t be long now.”

Sakura stepped closer to the map. “Can we stop them?”

Mei gave a slow, dangerous smile. “We can drown them before they see us coming.”

Then she turned to one of her commanders. “Alert the Tideguard. Position in fan formation around the lower reef ring. I want their nets ready. No metal leaves these waters whole.”

The commander vanished into the passageway.

Sakura lingered near the map a moment longer, then turned toward Mei, her voice hesitant but growing stronger.

“What do you need me to do?”

Mei studied her, really studied her. The glow from the map lit Sakura’s face, casting her in the same royal light Mei had once worn when she was young.

“Stay close,” Mei said at last. “And keep listening to the water. When your blood calls again… we’ll need what it has to say.”

wWw  

The wind at the docks stank of salt, oil, and humanity.

Below the rusted metal cranes and docking rigs, a sleek black vessel sat moored at the far end of the harbor, silent, cold, and impossibly advanced. The Abyssal Frame. A submersible war-body wrapped in pressure-resistant plating, equipped with filtration mesh and predatory intelligence systems. It didn’t need a crew.

It only needed him.

Madara stood on the lower platform, watching as technicians loaded the last of the gear into the entry hatch. Everything was in place.

Until he heard the voice.

Not the voice of a soldier. Not a dockworker. A civilian. A woman; frantic, sharp, and trying very hard not to cry.

“I told you, she wouldn’t jump! Not Sakura. Not her . She was terrified of water. Pools, lakes, the ocean, it made her panic. Someone must’ve pushed her. Or taken her.”

Madara turned his head slightly, one booted foot still on the boarding ramp. The sound came from the next pier over, where a cluster of local authorities stood near a frazzled young woman with long blonde hair. Her voice was tight with restrained grief and fury.

She paced in tight circles, her hands moving as if trying to push back the chaos around her.

“I’ve left messages everywhere. Cruise security did nothing. No one takes it seriously because they think she just jumped. But I know her.”

A clipboard officer offered something useless in reply.

“I’m sorry, Miss Yamanaka, but we’ve searched the surrounding waters. If she fell overboard and wasn’t recovered in the first twelve hours…”

“She wouldn’t have jumped!” the woman snapped. “You don’t understand, Sakura never went near water. Never. She said it made her feel wrong . Like something was going to crawl out of her skin.”

Madara’s gaze sharpened.

He took a single step away from the boarding ramp, his presence immediately shifting the atmosphere. Ino stopped mid-sentence as he approached.

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” he said smoothly, his voice warm but distant. “You’re looking for a missing friend?”

Ino blinked at him, startled. “Yes. Sakura Haruno. She went overboard two nights ago.”

Madara’s eyes lingered on her face, scanning for something; guilt, connection, usefulness.

He found it in her desperation.

“I’m currently chartering a private research dive into the trench near that cruise route,” he said, offering a faint smile. “We’re studying a seismic anomaly that matches the timeframe you described. If your friend survived... she may have been pulled into one of the lower current tunnels.”

Ino stared. “You’re saying she could still be alive?”

“There are… possibilities,” he said carefully. “If you’d like to join the expedition, I can arrange accommodations. It’s not a luxury vessel, but it may give you the answers these officers can’t.”

Ino hesitated. Her eyes flicked to the clipboard-wielding officer who was already turning away.

She looked back at Madara. “Why would you help me?”

He smiled faintly. “I once lost a very dear friend of mine. I would hate for you to lose the opportunity to search for yourself.” His eyes sharpened ever so slightly.

Ino swallowed. “Alright, I’ll go.”

“Good.”

He gestured, and one of the boarding technicians stepped aside to guide her toward the submersible.

As she followed, Madara turned back to the ramp, his thoughts darkening with satisfaction.

Nothing like bait to catch a fish.

wWw 

Chapter Text

wWw  

The water in Mei’s palace was warmer than the open ocean, heavier too, somehow. It pressed around Sakura like a protective veil, comforting and suffocating in equal measure. Soft light filtered in through coral-laced windows, casting amber streaks across the polished stone walls and gilded columns. The silence between her and Kisame had stretched long enough to become brittle.

They sat across from one another in a chamber carved into the heart of the palace, adorned with curling seaweed tapestries and a floor of pearl-inlaid mosaics that shimmered with every movement. Kisame hadn't stopped scanning the shadows since they arrived, his tail curling tightly beneath him in a coil of restrained tension.

Sakura floated nearby, her red-scaled tail stirring gently in the current. She studied him, then glanced down at her hands, which still bore the faint iridescence of scales brushing her skin. A hundred questions spiraled inside her, but one rose louder than the rest; quiet, aching, necessary.

“Why would they leave the sea?” Her voice was soft, hushed. “My parents, I mean. If this is where I’m from… if I belong here… why would they take me away from it?”

Kisame’s eyes flicked toward her, sharp and unreadable. “Maybe they didn’t have a choice.”

She frowned. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s all you’ll get until we know more,” he muttered, looking toward the open archway that led deeper into the palace. “We’re being watched.”

Sakura tilted her head. “You’re always being watched down here, aren’t you?”

Kisame’s expression didn’t shift, but something in his body relaxed just slightly at her teasing. He folded his arms across his chest and exhaled a long, bubbling sigh. “There were whispers, years ago. That certain bloodlines were...targeted. Especially ones with dormant gifts. Ancient blood, like yours. If your parents knew what you were, and they likely did, leaving might’ve been the only way to keep you from being used. Or worse.”

Her brows pulled together, trying to wrap her mind around it. The silence returned, heavier this time. Somewhere deeper in the palace, a song drifted through the halls, low and mournful, the call of a conch blown for reasons unknown. Kisame turned toward it instinctively, shoulders tightening.

Sakura floated a little closer to him. “You trust Mei, don’t you?”

“I trust her,” Kisame said, but there was no relief in the words. “I don’t trust what’s following you.”

She frowned. “You mean the drones?”

He gave a grunt. “Those are just fingers. I’m worried about the hand.”

Before she could press further, the water shifted and Mei entered, flanked by two guards in obsidian coral armor. Her expression was composed, but her movements had purpose. Intent. Sakura could see it in the way her tail cut through the water like a blade.

“They've pulled back,” Mei announced, her eyes flicking briefly to Kisame before settling on Sakura. “Seems they lost signal.”

Sakura felt the weight of the pearl at her throat, the Pearl of Return, resting like a heartbeat against her chest. “For now,” she murmured.

Mei’s gaze sharpened. “We don’t have long. Come with me. There’s something you need to see. Both of you.”

Kisame moved first, rolling his shoulders as his tail unfurled, his wariness sharpened rather than eased. “What kind of ‘something’?”

Mei didn’t smile. “Answers.”

The deeper corridors of Mei’s palace were older, less polished, more like the bones of something that had grown around them. The carved walls bore symbols that glowed faintly as they passed, responding to Sakura’s presence more than to the flickering lantern-jellies that lined the path.

Sakura trailed one hand along the carvings. Her fingertips tingled where they touched the stone. Kisame swam close behind, broad and silent, his presence a steadying weight. Though he said nothing, Sakura could feel the tension rolling off him like a current. He didn’t like secrets unless they were his to keep.

At last, Mei paused before a sealed chamber, its doors etched with concentric spirals and markings that shimmered gold. Her fingers moved in practiced gestures, tracing runes that pulsed once, twice, then the stone split down the center, parting with a low groan of displaced water.

The chamber beyond was a crypt of sorts. Quiet, reverent. Dozens of statues lined the walls, merfolk in regal poses, their tails gilded, their eyes made of polished pearl. In the center stood a pedestal cradling a fractured mirror of obsidian and coral, surrounded by a ring of bioluminescent moss.

Sakura floated closer, drawn to it before she could stop herself.

“This is where we keep our records,” Mei said softly, coming to rest beside her.

Sakura stared at the mirror. “What am I supposed to see?”

“Look.”

Sakura hesitated, then leaned in. At first, all she saw was her own reflection, pink hair swaying, sea-glass eyes wide with questions. Then the image began to ripple.

The mirror shimmered, revealing a young woman with similar features, but her tail gleamed gold, longer and more ornate. Her eyes were brighter, her presence commanding. She stood in a temple surrounded by others, some bowing, some standing in fear or awe. And beside her, a child. A girl with pink hair and frightened eyes.

Sakura’s heart stuttered. Her reflection returned, pale and wide-eyed, but the weight of what she’d just seen lingered like pressure in the depths.

“My mother…” she murmured. “She wasn’t from here, was she?”

Mei hesitated, then gave a slow shake of her head. “No. That kingdom fell long before your time. What you saw… that was older still. A realm forgotten by most. Buried deeper than ruins, sealed away by blood and silence.”

Kisame’s eyes flicked toward Mei. “You mean the Lost Throne.”

A hush fell over the chamber at those words. Even the water seemed to still.

Sakura looked between them, confusion tightening her brow. “The what?”

“A kingdom that predated all others,” Mei explained. “Its name has been lost to time, but its legacy hasn’t. Not entirely. Its bloodline runs through you, Sakura.”

She turned toward the mural on the far wall, a depiction so weathered with age it was hard to distinguish details. But Sakura saw hints of it now: a great city carved into the ribs of a leviathan skeleton, light spilling upward through bioluminescent spires. And in the center, a woman standing alone with a raised trident, her tail etched in gold.

“She was the last sovereign of the deep,” Mei said softly. “A queen who held dominion not just over merfolk, but the ocean’s old magic. When the surface first began to rise and challenge the sea, she vanished. Some say she died. Others… that she sealed herself away to protect her child.”

Sakura’s voice caught in her throat. “That child was me?”

Mei met her gaze, firm. “There’s no longer any doubt.”

Sakura backed away from the mirror, the memory of her mother's face etched in her mind like salt on skin. She had always felt like a ghost of something, adrift, half-formed, unmoored. Now she knew why. She wasn’t meant to fit on land. She was born of something ancient. Something the ocean hadn’t forgotten.

“I don’t feel like royalty,” she muttered.

“That’s because it’s not about crowns,” Kisame said, floating beside her. “It’s about what’s in your blood.”

Sakura’s hand drifted unconsciously to the Pearl of Return at her throat. It pulsed softly, as if in agreement.

“You said the kingdom was forgotten,” she said to Mei. “But if it was so powerful, so sacred… how could everyone just forget?”

“Because some wanted it that way,” Mei replied. “Especially those who feared what it represented. Unity. Sovereignty. Power without reliance on land-dweller science. If Project Naiad knew you were a descendant of that line…” Her jaw tightened. “They wouldn’t just want to study you. They’d want to break you.”

Sakura clenched her fists, a flicker of fire threading through the chill in her veins.

“So what do we do?” she asked. “Wait until they come knocking again?”

“No,” Mei said. “We prepare.”

She swam to a sealed archway at the back of the chamber and touched her palm to a hidden panel. With a hiss of ancient gears and pressure release, the stone parted.

Beyond it lay something luminous, a vault of relics and artifacts that shimmered with dormant power.

Mei turned toward her, expression grave but respectful. “Your ancestors left behind more than legend. They left tools. And if you’re willing, it’s time you learned how to wield them.”

The glow from the open vault bathed Sakura’s skin in pale gold, casting soft reflections across the scarlet sheen of her tail. She hesitated at the threshold, the cool water filtering out in gentle currents around her ankles, before glancing over her shoulder.

Kisame hovered nearby, arms crossed, tail swaying in lazy arcs. His shark-like features remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something smug.

She arched a brow at him. “You knew this was coming?”

He offered a grin, all teeth and mischief. “I didn’t know it’d come with a treasure room, but I figured being royalty would eventually get interesting.”

Sakura huffed softly through her nose, though her heart fluttered at the easy confidence in his voice. She didn’t feel like royalty. But the way he looked at her, like she was already something worth following, gave her a strange kind of courage.

Mei’s voice drew her attention back to the chamber. “Come. These artifacts are relics of a time before our recorded history. Many have been dormant for centuries.” She drifted deeper into the vault, gesturing toward the softly glowing relics arrayed along ridged coral stands and shelves carved from fossilized shell.

Some were weapons: tridents, curved blades, and bows strung with kelp sinew. Others were adornments: circlets, cuffs, necklaces carved from translucent shells, or shards of preserved runes etched into shimmering scales. A few items pulsed with faint energy, the water around them subtly shifting in rhythm.

“Most will ignore you,” Mei said, trailing her fingers across the hilt of a crescent-bladed spear. “But if anything calls to you, if something stirs, tell me. These artifacts are bound to blood, to memory. If one recognizes you, it may awaken.”

Sakura looked around slowly, the pressure in her chest rising. She wasn’t sure what she was meant to feel. She’d never touched a weapon, let alone one humming with old magic. She drifted past a coral-wrapped gauntlet that tingled faintly at her passing, but the sensation faded before she could place it.

Her eyes caught on a necklace of sea-glass beads nestled beside an open fan of iridescent scales, but when she reached toward it, nothing happened. No tug. No warmth. Just quiet.

“It doesn’t mean anything if nothing reacts,” Mei said gently from behind her, reading her expression. “Some of these haven’t responded in generations.”

Kisame drifted to her other side, tail flicking absently as he eyed a jagged blade that looked as though it had been chiseled from the tooth of something massive. “If one does wake up,” he muttered, “stand back. These things don’t always play nice.”

Sakura rolled her eyes. “Comforting.”

But as she turned away from the necklace, her gaze caught on something tucked deeper into the coral, partly obscured by a curling plume of sea moss.

A strange spiral shell.

No larger than her palm, it shimmered faintly, dull at first, then brighter the longer she looked. Something about it felt... familiar. Not in her mind, but in her chest. A quiet ache. A memory she couldn’t name.

Drawn by instinct more than logic, she reached out. And the moment her fingers brushed its surface, the water shifted.

A low hum reverberated through the chamber, the kind of sound that made the bones feel hollow and the heart beat slower. Mei’s eyes widened.

Kisame straightened, tension snapping into place.

The shell pulsed once in Sakura’s palm, warm and strange, then settled into a low glow. Not blinding, not aggressive. Just… aware.

Sakura stared at it, breath caught in her throat, half-expecting something to happen. A flash of memory. A rush of power. Anything. But after that single pulse, the stillness returned. The glow faded, though it didn’t vanish entirely. It now shimmered like a slumbering ember, waiting.

Kisame shifted beside her, peering at the shell with narrowed eyes. “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Sakura whispered. “It felt…”

Alive. But the word died in her mouth.

Mei moved closer, brow furrowed as she examined the shell in Sakura’s hand. “I’ve seen this artifact before, but I can't remember what it does.”

Sakura looked down at it again, cradling it gently. The spiral shimmered faintly, but it gave no answers. No clues. Just a sense of quiet recognition, like the first breath of spring after a long winter.

“What do I do with it?” she asked.

Mei didn’t answer right away. “Keep it close. Whatever it’s bound to, it recognized you. That means it may wake again… when it’s needed.”

Kisame’s frown lingered, but he didn’t argue. “Or it could be a warning.”

Sakura gave him a sideways glance. “You’re very comforting, you know that?”

He flashed a grin. “Just trying to keep expectations low.”

Mei held out a hand, and from a woven pouch at her side, she drew strands of what looked like silver kelp, thin, luminous threads that shimmered like starlight suspended in water. With deft fingers, she began to braid them together, each motion slow and deliberate, as if weaving meaning into every twist.

“This is moonspun kelp,” she said softly. “It only grows where the deep currents cross ancient ley lines. Durable as coral, soft as silk. It will hold whatever you bind to it.”

Sakura watched in silence, the spiral shell still warm in her hands.

Mei didn’t look up as she worked. “Some relics… choose proximity.”

The braid was finished within moments, elegant, glimmering, and crowned with a small clasp of polished drift pearl. Mei took the shell gently from Sakura and anchored it at the center of the chain, her touch precise but reverent.

When she handed it back, the necklace shimmered with quiet dignity. No fanfare. No glow. Just presence.

Sakura slipped it over her head.

The shell came to rest just below her collarbone, right above the pearl. Something inside her had stirred, like a current turning deep beneath the surface, quiet but impossible to ignore. She didn’t feel any different. Not yet.

But she also knew… she wasn’t the same.

wWw  

The Abyssal Frame cut through the ocean’s layers like a blade, silent, sleek, and merciless. Deep-sea thrusters purred with muted menace as it descended past the twilight zone, its reinforced hull deflecting pressure that would crush lesser vessels.

Inside the command chamber, Madara stood alone before the main console, one hand braced on the edge of the control panel as streams of data flowed across the holographic display. His eyes, sharp, cold, and focused, narrowed at the flickering image of the last recorded blip.

Gone.

The Pearl of Return had vanished from their scans nearly thirty minutes ago. No degradation. No trail. Just… silence.

Madara’s jaw clenched.

"Recalibrate the sweep. Focus on geothermal anomalies and frequency distortions. I want every trench, every vent, every current within a hundred-klick radius lit up like a damned sunrise."

A nervous technician scrambled to obey from across the chamber, fingers flying across glowing controls. Still, the results remained empty. No sign of the signal. No sign of her .

Madara’s fingers twitched against the console. First Kisame and now the girl.

His eyes narrowed to slits.

She was the key, whether she knew it or not. The dormant blood. The ancient signal. He had seen the resonance charts himself. The moment she fell into the sea, it was like a ripple through time, raw, unshaped power awakening in the deep. He had almost had her. Almost.

Then she’d disappeared. And now, as if summoned by his growing irritation, a voice pierced the tense silence behind him.

“Wow, it’s really dark down here,” Ino said cheerfully, peering through one of the reinforced side viewports. “Like, creepy dark. Do you guys not believe in overhead lights or—?”

“Ino,” Madara said without turning. “Breathe through your nose. And be silent.”

She blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

His eyes remained fixed on the screen. “If I wanted noise, I’d turn on the sonar at full blast and let the abyss scream back at me.”

Ino folded her arms with a huff, floating slightly in the low-gravity interior of the sub. “You know, for someone who offered to help me find my friend, you’re incredibly unpleasant.”

“I offered to help,” Madara said coolly, “so you would stop screaming at port authorities and drawing attention to something delicate. Now you're here. And in the way.”

Her mouth opened, indignant, but he held up a single finger without looking, and she snapped it shut, gritting her teeth.

Madara leaned closer to the console. “Run spectral imaging across the last known vector. I want any movement in the water density. Currents don’t just shift on their own at that depth.”

A fresh wave of scans began to pulse across the screen, faint outlines building into a rough 3D model of the ocean floor. There. A change. A tunnel? No, a breach. Recent. Forced open.

He stared at it, and for the first time in hours, a glimmer of satisfaction touched his eyes.

“You’re not gone,” he muttered. “Just hiding.”

He turned from the console, his coat swaying behind him in the weightless current of the chamber. His gaze landed briefly on Ino, who was busy pretending she wasn’t watching everything like a hawk.

Madara’s voice was soft, almost amused. “Curious how you found yourself at that port, looking for her.”

Ino blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I wonder if the girl you’re looking for is really who you think she is.”

And with that, he stepped into the corridor, his presence vanishing like a shadow swallowed by the sea.

Ino stood in the control chamber, arms still crossed, her jaw clenched tight as the door sealed behind him with a quiet hiss.

She hadn’t missed the way he’d looked at her just now. Not just with annoyance; no, there was something beneath that. A warning. And Ino Yamanaka didn’t back down from warnings.

She waited two beats, then turned on her heel and drifted after him, silent as a ghost. The corridors of the Abyssal Frame were dimly lit, sleek, and hushed, designed for stealth over comfort. Everything about the place reeked of secrecy: curved walls muffled sound, doors required codes she couldn’t read, and the further she moved from the bridge, the colder the water circulating through the vents became.

She kept her footsteps light and her breath shallow, ears tuned to the echo of Madara’s heavy boots landing against the metal floor ahead.

What was this place?

They weren’t just exploring. This was a warship masquerading as a research vessel. Even she could tell. The walls were too thick. The security too tight. The crew didn’t smile. They didn’t blink .

And the man leading this expedition? He didn’t act like someone helping a lost friend. He acted like someone on the hunt.

I wonder if the girl you’re looking for is really who you think she is.

His words echoed through her mind like a dropped stone.

Ino’s grip tightened on the edge of a support rail as she turned a corner. She should’ve been terrified, some part of her was . But her gut told her that whatever Madara was chasing... it was tied to Sakura. To her disappearance. To the unanswered questions gnawing at Ino’s chest every time she thought about that night on the cruise ship.

She remembered Sakura’s fear of water. How she avoided the pool. How her hands had trembled even touching the railing. Sakura wouldn’t have jumped.

And yet she was gone.

Vanished into the sea like a ghost.

Or like something was calling her.

A muffled sound ahead snapped Ino from her thoughts. She froze behind a reinforced bulkhead as Madara’s voice rumbled low in another room, too soft to make out. But when she peeked carefully around the edge, she saw him standing before a tall, tank-like containment pod built into the wall.

Inside floated a humanoid figure suspended in fluid. Pale skin. Gills along the neck. Faintly glowing eyes, closed in a trance-like state. Long, floating hair swayed like seaweed in the current.

Ino’s breath caught.

It wasn’t a costume. It wasn’t a rumor. It was a mermaid . And she was real.

Her heart thundered in her chest, mouth going dry. All those childhood stories, all those myths, true. But the awe twisted quickly into dread as she took in the details: the restraints at the wrists. The bruising around the collar. The oxygen regulators not meant for comfort but control.

Madara wasn’t protecting them.

He was holding them , trapped, displayed like specimens.

Ino backed away from the bulkhead, one hand covering her mouth. Her thoughts were a mess of fear and disbelief. This wasn’t some exploration. It wasn’t even about Sakura anymore.

This was a prison. And if Madara had taken this one…

What had really happened to her best friend?

Ino returned to her room Madara’s crew had offered her earlier; a sleek, windowless cabin with a rounded ceiling and a sterile bunk. The lighting was dim, the air just a little too cold, and everything inside felt… wrong now. Like the walls were listening.

She locked the door behind her.

Her breath shook as she leaned back against the wall, heart pounding in her ears. A mermaid. A real one. And Madara, he had her locked away like some kind of experiment.

And Sakura…

If she was somehow connected to all this…

Ino turned in a slow circle, her eyes flicking to the tidy desk, the folded blankets on the bed, the blinking standby light on the in-room communicator.

A sharp trill cut through the silence.

The wall-mounted communicator flared to life, its screen dark, its voice-only channel active. The phone beside it began to ring, soft and precise.

Ino moved slowly, instinct coiling tight in her chest. She picked up the receiver with trembling fingers.

“Hello…?”

A pause.

Then a voice came through, quiet, low, calm.

“Ino Yamanaka,” it said. “Listen very carefully. You don’t have much time.”

She froze. “Who is this?”

“My name is Itachi,” the voice replied. “I’m not your enemy. But if you want to stay alive, you need to follow my instructions exactly.”

Ino’s knuckles whitened around the receiver. “Why should I trust you?”

“Because Madara brought you here for one reason,” Itachi said, his tone like water sliding over stone. “To use you. He knows the girl is alive. He’s hoping she’ll come for you, or that you’ll lead him straight to her. You’re bait, Ino. That’s why he let you aboard.”

Her mouth went dry. “No… no, he said he’d help—”

“He lied.”

Itachi’s voice sharpened slightly. Not cruel, but urgent. “You saw what he’s keeping in that tank, didn’t you?”

Ino swallowed hard, too shaken to deny it.

“Then you already know the truth. He’s not studying them. He’s collecting them. And if Sakura is what we believe she is…” A beat. “He won’t let her go. Not ever.”

Ino’s free hand clenched into a fist.

“Then tell me how to help her.”

“You stay alive,” Itachi said. “And you stay quiet. Don’t confront Madara. Don’t mention what you saw. Keep acting like the scared, desperate girl looking for her best friend. He’ll expect that. It’s what’s keeping you alive.”

Ino’s breath hitched. “What about Sakura?”

A pause.

“I’m working on that,” Itachi said quietly. “There’s a way to tip the scales. But it has to be the right moment. Until then, I’ll be in contact. But only through this line.”

She pressed the receiver tighter to her ear, heart pounding. “Why are you helping me?”

There was no answer for a moment.

Then, almost too softly to hear: “Because she still has a chance. And so do you.”

The line went dead.

Ino stood there in the cold silence, the receiver still pressed to her ear, heart thundering like it was trying to escape her chest. Her fingers trembled, part from fear, part from rage. She stared blankly at the wall for a long, breathless moment.

Then she hissed through her teeth and slammed the receiver back into its cradle.

“Shit . ”

wWw  

The sea at night was a different kind of silence, deep and endless, as if the ocean itself held its breath. The currents had slowed, and moonlight filtered down in thin silvery beams, faintly illuminating the path through the rock arches and coral-studded cliffs.

Sakura followed just behind Kisame, the quiet swish of her tail disturbing the sand below as they glided through familiar waters. The tension of the palace, the vault, the shell, Mei’s revelations, still clung to her like a second skin, but this place, at least, offered a reprieve.

The grotto entrance was almost invisible if you didn’t know what to look for. Inside, the water stilled completely, the air trapped above forming a breathless dome across the ceiling.

Kisame swam in first and pulled himself upright just beneath the surface, motioning for her to follow.

Sakura surfaced beside him, brushing her damp hair from her face as she rested her arms on the smooth rocks lining the inner edge. She glanced down at her glimmering tail beneath the water, crimson and gold, still unfamiliar, and then up at him, brows raised.

“This is where you want me to learn how to walk again?”

Kisame leaned against the edge, watching her. “No better place. It’s quiet. Remote. If you mess it up, no one will laugh.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He gave a sharkish grin. “That includes me, by the way. I’ll be respectful. Probably.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled faintly.

A soft breeze filtered in through a gap in the stone, stirring the water’s surface. The air felt cooler here, tinged with salt and moss, reminding her just faintly of early autumn evenings above the shore. Her gaze drifted to her tail again and the thought of giving it up, even temporarily, sent a strange ripple through her chest.

“What if I can’t do it?” she asked quietly.

Kisame shrugged. “Then we’ll try again. And again. And again until you do.”

She blinked, surprised by the lack of sarcasm in his voice.

Kisame rested his arms on the rocks, expression thoughtful now. “The change back isn’t just physical. It’s tied to identity. Memory. Will. You have to want to be human.”

Sakura’s mouth went dry. “What if I don’t?”

A silence settled between them, thicker than before.

“You still need to know how,” he said finally. “In case you ever have to run.”

She didn’t like that answer, but she understood it.

Kisame motioned for her to float closer, his voice low. “The transformation works like breath, like a muscle you forgot you had. You focus on the part of yourself that remembers being human. Your legs. Your lungs. Your weight on the ground. Let it rise. Picture it.”

Sakura hesitated, then nodded.

She closed her eyes, letting her body drift near the stone ledge, the cool air brushing her face. She tried to recall the feeling of her feet against a floor. The ache in her calves after walking too long. The press of her shoes. The way fabric felt against skin instead of scales.

The memories were faint, but they were there.

A tingle started in her core, low and warm, winding through her muscles like a coil tightening. Her breath hitched. Something stirred in her tail, an itch beneath the scales, a pressure building, and then, nothing.

She gasped, eyes flying open.

Kisame had caught her as she faltered, his hand steady at her back, claws just grazing her spine.

Sakura exhaled in frustration. “It stopped.”

“That’s normal,” he said calmly, though his eyes flicked to her tail as if half-expecting it to unravel. “It’s not like flicking a switch. You’re pulling against your nature now, not with it.”

“Then how do you do it?” she asked, voice sharper than intended.

Kisame’s gaze turned hard for a moment. “I was forced to learn early. It’s not something I want to remember.”

She flinched, immediately regretting the question. But after a beat, his tone softened. “You’ll get it. You’re not the type to sink.”

Sakura looked at him, really looked, and for a moment, she didn’t feel like a lost girl trying to remember who she was.

“…Again?” she asked.

Kisame grinned, all teeth and challenge. “Again.”

Time slipped by in the quiet hush of the grotto, measured only by the changing currents and the slow drift of moonlight across the cavern ceiling.

wWw  

Sakura surfaced with a sputter for what felt like the hundredth time, hair plastered to her face, her breathing sharp and uneven. Her tail slapped the water behind her, sending droplets against the stone ledge with a wet smack.

“I don’t get it!” she growled, pushing herself upright against the edge. “I remember what legs feel like. I remember walking, running, shoes that never fit right, shin splints, everything. And still…nothing.”

“Try remembering something positive,” Kisame muttered from where he lounged on a sloping rock just above the waterline, arms tucked behind his head, one foot lazily kicking in the air.

Sakura whipped a glare at him. “You think I didn’t try that?”

He didn’t even open his eyes. “Maybe the fish side of you doesn’t want to let go.”

She groaned and let her forehead fall against her arms. “That makes two of us.”

Kisame tilted his head toward her at that. “Really?”

She hesitated. “…No. Yes. I don’t know.” She turned and looked down at her tail. “It’s not that I hate it. I just hate not having a choice.”

Kisame’s sharp eyes cracked open at last. He stared at her for a moment, unreadable, before sitting up slightly and propping his elbow on his knee.

“You’ve been trying too hard,” he said. “You’re swimming against yourself.”

Sakura gave a weak laugh. “That’s poetic. And also wildly unhelpful.”

“I’m a creature of depth,” Kisame deadpanned.

She shot him a look. “You’re a creature of sarcasm .”

Kisame grinned. “Same thing.”

They fell into silence again, her floating near the edge, sulking with wet hair in her eyes, him lounging with his usual half-lidded indifference, spinning a smooth pebble between his fingers like a coin. The low echo of dripping water was the only sound.

After a beat, he let the pebble drop into the pool with a soft plunk.

“Wanna try again,” he asked lazily, “or you wanna throw something and scream?”

She gave a deep sigh. “Can I pick both?”

“Sure. We’ll call it aquatic therapy.”

Sakura floated near the ledge, still catching her breath, cheeks puffed out in stubborn frustration.

“This is stupid,” she muttered. “I’ve focused on memory, instinct, willpower, what’s next? Moon phases? Magical chants?”

Kisame raised a brow from his perch. She let out a short, exhausted laugh. “No. Maybe you just need to hold my hand.”

He blinked. Then shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

Sakura blinked back. “Wait—you’re serious ?”

He held out one clawed hand toward her, expression unreadable but calm. “You’ve tried everything else. Might as well try the stupid idea too.”

Sakura hesitated. Then, slowly, she slid her hand into his.

It was warmer than she expected. Rougher, but solid, grounding. His fingers curled around hers, gentle despite their size and the danger she knew they could wield. The current between them shifted, faint and unspoken.

Her eyes fluttered closed. She didn’t focus on her legs or lungs this time. She focused on him.

On the way his voice always rumbled low when he was amused. The way he watched her like she was a puzzle he couldn’t quite stop solving. The way his presence made her feel... not quite safe, but seen. Like a creature too used to shadows finally stepping into moonlight.

Warmth spread from her chest, curling through her stomach and down her spine. It was soft at first, like the flicker of a match, then it surged.

A ripple pulsed from her core.

Her tail began to shimmer, scales vanishing like embers caught in wind. A sharp twist of sensation crawled up her bones, intense, unfamiliar, electric.

She gasped and lurched forward onto solid stone. Her legs collapsed beneath her.

Legs.

Sakura blinked down in shock, dazed and breathless. Pale skin. Knees. Toes. Real, solid legs.

“I… I did it,” she whispered. “Kisame, I—”

She looked up.

He was frozen a few feet away, eyes wide and very, very focused.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Kisame cleared his throat roughly, still not meeting her gaze.

“You’re… uh…”

Sakura followed his line of sight, then yelped and scrambled to cover herself, a flush of crimson racing up her chest and neck.

“Seriously?! You couldn’t look away ?!”

“I wasn’t expecting it to work! ” he snapped back, spinning around with a sudden swipe of his arm toward the pile of cloth he'd brought. He snagged a folded pair of dark pants from his stash and tossed them over his shoulder at her without turning. “Put something on before I start seeing stars.”

Sakura caught the pants with a squeak, tugging them on as fast as her shaky limbs allowed. “You're such a pervert. ”

She huffed as she fumbled into the rest of her makeshift clothes. “Unbelievable. I bare my soul and apparently my butt in the same minute, and you—”

“—should be congratulated for not jumping you on the spot?” Kisame muttered under his breath.

“What?”

“ Nothing. ”

Sakura sat heavily on the rock ledge, still panting, but a grin slowly tugged at her lips despite herself. She looked down at her familiar now in a different way. Grounded. Human.

“I did it,” she murmured again, more to herself.

Behind her, Kisame risked a glance over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low. “You did.”

Sakura barely had time to enjoy the moment.

The rush of victory faded faster than she expected, giving way to something heavy, like all the breath had been wrung from her lungs. Her limbs, once trembling with excitement, now quivered with exhaustion. A coldness seeped into her skin, not from the grotto’s chill, but from within , as if something deep inside her had been stretched too far too fast.

Her arms gave out beneath her. She slumped sideways against the stone, the rough edge pressing into her shoulder as her breath came in shallow bursts.

Kisame was at her side in an instant.

“Sakura—?”

“I’m fine,” she said, but it came out slurred. She tried to push herself up, but her body didn’t listen. Her newly returned legs trembled uselessly beneath her.

Kisame crouched beside her, his fingers hovering just above her skin, uncertain for a fraction of a second, then settling firmly on her back to steady her.

“You’re not fine,” he said, voice low and tense.

“It just… took more than I expected,” she murmured, eyelids fluttering. “I feel like someone drained my blood and filled me with cement.”

He didn’t answer at first. He simply adjusted his grip, lifting her gently from the stone and cradling her against his chest. She was light in his arms, lighter than she should’ve been. Her breath was warm against his neck, but weak, too shallow for his liking.

“I told you the transformation pulls from deep,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “But I didn’t think it would take this much out of you.”

“It was worth it,” she whispered, barely audible. “Even if you got to see my butt.”

He gave a sharp exhale, not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh.

“You’re lucky I have restraint,” he said under his breath, but there was no edge to it now. Just a quiet protectiveness, threaded beneath the usual roughness.

She curled slightly into him, her hands clutching faintly at his chest. He looked down, gaze flicking over her pale face, the way her lashes fluttered but never quite opened. His arms tightened around her.

“I’ve got you,” he said softly. “You don’t have to push so hard next time.”

She didn’t answer. Her breathing had evened, soft and slow. Asleep now, or close to it.

He stood there in the half-light of the grotto, holding her against his chest while the water lapped gently at the rocks around them. Her transformation had succeeded, but at a cost.

And in that quiet, pressing dark, Kisame stared at her, this strange, stubborn, radiant girl who was no longer just a curiosity, no longer just a complication, and wondered what he would do if she broke herself trying to hold onto both worlds.

wWw  

The air in the grotto hung heavy with moisture, the silence broken only by the occasional drip of water from the rocky dome overhead.

Kisame sat on the stone floor near the pool’s edge, his back against the cavern wall. Sakura lay beside him, wrapped in a dry cloak he’d tugged from his satchel, her breathing steady but faint. Her transformation had succeeded, but whatever strength she’d summoned to do it had left her drained, her skin pale and clammy in the low light.

He watched her quietly, arms resting on his knees, shoulders tense despite the stillness.

Footsteps echoed softly down the stone corridor.

Mei stepped into view a moment later, dressed in a fitted tunic of layered sea-silk and leather plating that clung to her like flowing armor. Her long, damp hair was swept back, droplets glinting at the tips as she surveyed the scene with a sharp gaze.

“She did it,” Mei said softly, taking in the sight of Sakura’s sleeping form. “I didn’t expect it to happen so soon.”

“She pushed herself,” Kisame replied without looking up. “Too hard.”

Mei nodded, her expression unreadable. “That’s in her nature, I think.”

Kisame finally turned his head, his voice flat. “You didn’t come all the way down here just to check in.”

“No,” Mei said. “I didn’t.”

She motioned for him to follow, stepping quietly across the slick stone toward the mouth of the grotto. “Walk with me.”

He cast one more glance at Sakura, then rose to his feet and followed her a short distance down the corridor, far enough that their voices wouldn’t disturb her, but close enough that he could still hear her breathing if he strained.

When they stopped, Mei crossed her arms.

“The Abyssal Frame is moving,” she said without preamble. “They’ve begun sweeping the deeper trenches. They’re not broadcasting openly, but our scouts picked up a distortion trail. Stealth-grade submersibles, fast-moving, heavy displacement.”

Kisame’s expression darkened. “How close?”

“Too close. They’ve begun circling the ruins you passed through. If they get one more trace of the Pearl’s signal, or hers, they’ll stop playing subtle.”

Kisame leaned back against the stone wall, jaw tight. “They’re ahead of schedule.”

“Likely spurred on,” Mei said grimly. “He knows she’s here. He just doesn’t know where. Yet.”

A long pause stretched between them.

“She’s not ready,” Kisame said.

“No,” Mei agreed. “But she’s not helpless either. And we can’t let her get caught in the open.”

She stepped in front of him, voice lower now, quieter. “There’s a fallback shelter, carved into the side of a dormant thermal vent, shielded from sonar and satellite imaging. Not even my own council knows the exact location. I built it for emergencies like this.”

Kisame met her eyes. “You want me to take her there.”

“I want her safe, ” Mei said. “And you’re the only one she’ll let close enough to carry her if she can’t walk.”

He exhaled slowly, pushing a hand through his damp hair. “She’s going to hate this.”

“Probably,” Mei said, tone neutral. “But she’ll still be breathing.”

He didn’t respond right away.

Mei softened slightly. “She needs time, Kisame. Time to learn what she is. What she can do. And she won’t get it if Madara throws her in a tank before she even finds her feet.”

Kisame’s eyes flicked back toward the grotto. Toward the girl sleeping in borrowed clothes, her brow still furrowed even in dreams.

Finally, he nodded.

“I’ll take her.”

wWw  

Ino kept her head down.

She moved through the sterile halls of the Abyssal Frame like a shadow trying to blend into steel, quiet, careful, eyes wide and always watching. The uniformed crew members barely acknowledged her presence now, their expressions blank behind tinted visors, their movements precise and wordless. She had stopped trying to make small talk after the third unanswered question.

She stuck mostly to the living quarters, venturing only where she had explicitly been given permission to go. Her assigned room. The observation corridor, if escorted. No locked doors, no sudden detours. She played the role of helpless tag-along perfectly.

At least, on the surface.

Inside, she was all adrenaline and sharp edges.

The image of the mermaid, floating helplessly in that fluid chamber, restrained and barely conscious, burned behind her eyes every time she blinked. And Itachi’s warning repeated over and over like a mantra:

He brought you here as bait.

Ino didn’t want to believe it. Part of her still wanted to believe that Madara cared, at least a little, about finding Sakura. That he was just cold and efficient, not cruel. But the evidence was piling up layer by layer, forming a cage she couldn’t ignore.

She needed answers.

She just had to survive long enough to find them.

She lingered now in the lower corridor that curved just above the engineering bay. A long row of reinforced windows ran along one side, offering a panoramic view of the sea outside, distant trenches, the faint flicker of bioluminescent life, a scattering of motion sensors drifting like jellyfish sentinels.

She kept her hands tucked into the oversized sleeves of the uniform they’d given her. It wasn't much protection, but it helped her feel invisible, at least.

Two technicians passed behind her without pause.

She waited until their footsteps faded, then quietly slipped around the corner and down a short flight of stairs leading to the auxiliary lab. She’d memorized the patrol patterns. Knew exactly when this hallway would be empty for ninety seconds.

Not enough to do anything. But enough to look.

She passed sealed doors labeled in cold, clinical lettering:

Specimen Containment
Genomic Analysis – Sublevel 3
Naiad: Data Purge In Progress

Her pulse quickened. She reached for one of the locked consoles, but a soft click echoed down the hallway.

Footsteps.

Ino tensed and backed away quickly, sliding into a shallow alcove near a storage chamber. A shadow passed the glass of a side door, tall and gliding. For one horrifying second she thought it was him , but it wasn’t Madara. Just a junior researcher with a clipboard and dead eyes.

Still, her heart wouldn’t stop pounding until the sound of footsteps disappeared again.

Too close.

She exhaled slowly, eyes scanning the terminals again. She couldn’t do much yet. Not without access. Not without triggering something.

But she was learning. What doors were watched. What rooms were scrubbed daily. And most importantly, what wasn’t on the map they’d shown her.

The hallway cleared again. Ino waited five full seconds, counting the beats of her heart before creeping back to the console she had hovered near earlier. The screen was dark, but a faint red glow blinked at the base.

She reached out, fingers trembling just slightly, and brushed the edge of the terminal.

It stirred.

The interface flickered to life. It didn’t demand a passcode, just displayed a generic inventory screen. Ino squinted, scrolling through the list of meaningless item IDs, chamber numbers, and preservation logs.

But one line caught her eye.

PERSONNEL: DEEP-ARCHIVE/UNREGISTERED

Name: [Redacted]
Blood Signature: Verified anomaly (X-187)
Origin trace: Unknown reef / unknown maternal line
Current Status: Unrecovered
Last Resonance Event: [timestamp] — Maritime Incident: Civilian vessel ID 09-SR Haruno

Ino’s breath hitched.

Haruno.

Her finger trembled as she tapped into the file again, trying to pull up more details, anything. But the rest was blocked behind locked layers she didn’t understand. Just one image was accessible, low resolution, black and white.

She clicked it.

A still frame from a grainy sonar capture. The outline of a figure falling through water, barely visible, hair fanning around their head like a halo. A timestamp from the cruise ship’s disappearance date.

The moment Sakura fell. Ino covered her mouth with a shaking hand. They had a file on her. They knew about her.

She backed away from the console, breath ragged.

The document hadn’t been labeled under Sakura’s name, but the clue was undeniable. Haruno. Maritime incident. Verified anomaly. They were tracking her from the start. Which meant Sakura hadn’t slipped through the cracks.

She had something. Something Madara had been waiting for. And they wanted her back.

Or worse.

Ino turned quickly, moving down the hallway with as much calm as she could manage, each step faster than the last, the panic starting to rise. She needed to get this information to someone. Anyone.

But deep down, she already knew the truth.

She was too deep in now. And Madara would never let her walk away.

wWw  

Chapter Text

wWw  

The air was warm, dry.

Sakura stirred beneath the soft layers wrapped around her, her limbs heavy but her breath steady. The firelight flickered gently across the hollowed stone ceiling, casting golden shadows that pulsed in rhythm with the waves breaking somewhere beyond the vented grotto walls.

She blinked, her vision adjusting. She was no longer underwater. No longer cold. Still human. The ache in her body told her the transformation hadn’t been a dream.

Slowly, she turned her head.

Across the fire, Kisame sat shirtless on a smooth slab of rock, his back to her, broad and marked by deep scars that told more stories than he ever would. His thick fingers moved with surprising care over the jagged surface of a massive, cloth-wrapped shape resting across his lap. He was methodical, threading oil between barbed scales, brushing grit from the weapon’s sharp, breathing surface.

It wasn’t just a blade. It was alive.

Samehada.

Sakura’s breath caught quietly in her throat.

She’d only heard about it in hushed tones, Mei had once mentioned it with caution, describing it as a weapon that “feeds,” and whose loyalty was as fickle as a storm current. Even Mei hadn’t spoken of it lightly.

Sakura pushed herself upright, the blanket slipping from her shoulders as she sat forward.

“So…” she said softly, voice still raspy. “That’s the infamous Samehada?”

Kisame didn’t flinch, just gave a quick nod.

“Mei called it a parasitic sword. Said it doesn’t obey anyone unless it wants to.”

Kisame gave a low grunt. “She’s not wrong.”

He didn’t look at her right away. Instead, he traced the edge of the blade’s spine with a cloth, the firelight catching on the exposed teeth. “Samehada’s not a sword. It’s a creature. It doesn’t slice, it feeds. Blood, pain, conflict. It likes the taste of battle. But it hasn’t had much of that lately.”

Sakura slowly crawled to the fire’s edge, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself as she studied the weapon from afar. “It’s… more brutal-looking than I imagined. You really used to fight with that?”

“For years,” he said. “I was the one it chose. Or maybe it was the other way around.”

She tilted her head, watching him. “But you don’t carry it anymore.”

“Not for war,” he said. “I keep it close, but I don’t use it.” He paused, then added, “I don’t want to be the kind of man who needs to.”

The fire crackled.

Sakura was quiet, her gaze fixed on the jagged outline of the blade. She could feel it from here, the hum beneath the stone, the thrum in the air. It wasn’t just a weapon. It was hunger made form.

“But it still listens to you,” she murmured.

Kisame glanced over his shoulder at last, meeting her eyes. “It listens when it wants to.”

“And you still have it,” she said. “Even if it reminds you of who you were.”

He leaned back, resting the weapon carefully against the rock behind him. “It’s like a scar. You don’t throw it away just because it hurts.”

Sakura’s voice was quieter now. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said something about your past without deflecting.”

Kisame’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, intense but unreadable. Then he stood and walked around the fire toward her, barefoot and silent on the stone. He crouched just across from where she sat, elbows on his knees.

“You always wake up this nosy?” he asked, one brow raised.

“Only around mysterious, emotionally constipated shark-men,” she said, tone dry.

He gave a low chuckle. “Lucky me.”

They sat in silence for a long moment, the fire casting shadows along the stone and across their faces. The warmth of the flames danced between them, but it wasn’t the only heat in the air.

Sakura looked at him again, not the way she had before, with uncertainty or caution, but with something slower, steadier.

“You really didn’t have to carry me here,” she said softly.

“You’re right,” Kisame said. “I didn’t.”

She opened her mouth, unsure how to respond, but the look he gave her said enough.

“You don’t have to understand it yet,” he added. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

A beat of silence passed between them, long and still.

And then, quietly:

“I’m glad it’s you,” she whispered.

Kisame’s brow furrowed slightly, caught off guard by the softness in her voice.

She tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear, avoiding his gaze now. “You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like this… like I’m not broken.”

His voice came slower this time, gentler. “You’re not broken, Sakura. You’re becoming.”

They didn’t move closer, not yet. But the space between them was thinner now. The air warmer. The silence heavier. And for the first time, Sakura didn’t feel like she was drifting in two worlds.

She felt like she’d finally found someone who could exist between them with her.

Sakura sat with her knees pulled to her chest. Kisame remained crouched, silent for a long time as he studied her face; calm, but distant, like he was weighing something.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, even.

“We need to go.”

Sakura blinked slowly. “Now?”

He nodded once. “Soon. Before the signal pulses again.”

Her stomach sank. “The Pearl.”

Kisame reached toward her, fingers brushing aginst it. It still faintly glowed, like it dreamed beneath her skin.

“Madara lost signal once,” he said. “But he has tech that can catch the faintest flicker if we don’t move.”

Sakura’s breath caught. “You think he’s close?”

“I know he is.” Kisame stood fully now, Samehada already strapped across his back.

“Mei’s sending us to one of her fallback shelters. Hidden, deep. Shielded from sonar, from satellites. From everything. It’s the best chance we have to keep you out of his hands.”

Sakura looked down at her legs, bare beneath the blanket, still pale and fragile. “You want me to transform again.”

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary.”

She bit her lip. “The last time I did, I passed out.”

“And now you know what to expect,” he said gently. “You have to remember, legs are your other form. It will be easier for you to transform back into a mer.”

He stepped closer, then crouched again, this time less guarded, more open.

“We’ll go slow,” he added. “I’ll be with you the whole way. But we can’t stay here. You know that.”

Sakura hesitated, staring into the fire as doubt rippled through her. Her body still felt weak. Her mind tugged in two directions, fear and defiance. But then she looked up at him.

Kisame, scarred, dangerous, unwavering. Not just her protector.

Hers.

She took a breath and nodded.

“All right,” she said. “Just… stay close.”

His hand reached out, an offer, not a demand.

She took it.

The fire crackled behind them as they stepped toward the water’s edge together. She shed the blanket and stood at the lip of the pool, her pendant warm against her chest, Kisame’s steady presence like gravity at her back.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured. “And this time… don’t just remember who you were. Remember who you are. ”

She did. And with the next breath, the transformation began, slow, shimmering, powerful.

This time, she didn’t reach for memory, she reached for presence. For the feeling of the sea around her. The weight of water against her skin. The heartbeat of the ocean that had pulsed through her chest ever since she first fell into it. The girl she’d been on land no longer felt like a stranger, but neither did the creature beneath the surface.

She could be both.

A deep warmth spread from her ribs outward, trailing down her spine. Her legs tingled, then prickled, then folded with a sudden rush of pressure as crimson scales bloomed like petals across her thighs.

Sakura gasped and stumbled forward, but Kisame caught her. His arm slipped around her waist with ease, pulling her close just as her tail replaced her legs in a shimmer of scarlet and gold.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured.

Her fingers dug into his shoulder as she adjusted to the shift in balance. Her body ached, but not like before. This time, it was familiar. Manageable.

She looked down at her tail, the way the edges flicked in the water like a ribbon caught in wind.

It was beautiful.

She met Kisame’s eyes, breathless but steady. “I did it.”

He grinned. “Told you.”

With one more shared glance, they dove together.

They surfaced some time later just outside the coral-bladed gate of Mei’s palace, the blue structure rising like a crown from the seabed. The palace shimmered with soft lights flickering along the towers, signaling a quiet watchfulness. The city beyond was quieter now, subdued beneath the tension of what everyone suspected was coming.

Mei was already waiting for them.

She floated just beyond the gate, regal in a dark sea-silk robe, her long hair drifting like a veil behind her. Her eyes scanned Sakura first, searching, assessing, and then softened with approval.

“You didn’t pass out this time,” she said.

Sakura gave a tired smile. “No. I had a good anchor.”

Mei’s gaze flicked briefly to Kisame, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she drifted forward and placed a firm hand on Sakura’s shoulder.

“You’ve come further than most do in years,” she said. “That blood in you, it’s waking. You’ll feel the pull more now. Dreams, instincts, abilities you haven’t touched yet. Don’t fight them. But don’t let them control you either.”

Sakura nodded. “I’ll try.”

“I know you will.” Mei turned, speaking now to both of them. “The shelter is tucked beneath a thermal vent shelf two kilometers west of the Trench of Silence. You’ll find a cavern mouth guarded by red reef and spiral stone. No one outside my bloodline knows the path. It’s shielded, insulated from Naiad’s tech. You’ll be safe there.”

Kisame nodded, serious now. “And if they follow?”

“They won’t find you,” Mei said confidently. “Not unless they tear the sea apart. And even then…” Her eyes narrowed. “They’d better be ready.”

She reached into the folds of her robe and withdrew a carved token shaped like a pearl within a dragon’s jaw. It shimmered faintly.

“For you,” she said, pressing it into Sakura’s palm. “It’ll open the barrier if you ever need to leave quickly. But more importantly, it marks you as one of us. ”

Sakura clutched it tight, something raw catching in her chest.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Mei gave a quiet nod, then turned to Kisame. Her tone shifted, cooler, but not unkind.

“Take care of her.”

Kisame didn’t hesitate. “Always.”

Without another word, they turned and began swimming away, side by side.

Sakura glanced back once, just in time to see Mei, arms crossed, her eyes on the sea beyond as if already watching for the storm. And somewhere in that deepening dark, they swam toward their next unknown.

Kisame swam ahead, his powerful tail slicing silently through the pressure-thick currents, his silhouette a steady beacon in the gloom. Behind him, Sakura followed with practiced strokes, her red-and-gold tail shimmering like embers flickering in ash.

The deeper they traveled, the colder the water became. The sunlight vanished entirely after the first half-kilometer, replaced by deep-blue shadows and the faint pulse of bioluminescent life drifting in and out of reach. Jellyfish with long glowing tendrils glided by like spirits. Eyeless fish flashed and vanished into crevices. Ancient coral structures, choked with age, loomed like the ribs of sunken titans.

The world down here wasn’t just quiet, it was ancient. Untouched. The kind of place where time forgot to move forward.

Sakura’s breath came evenly, but her pulse quickened as the water pressure thickened. Her necklace rested heavily against her collarbone. She kept her fingers curled protectively around it, just in case.

Up ahead, Kisame slowed.

He turned slightly, gesturing for her to follow him through a jagged wall of basalt towers rising from the seafloor like teeth. Beyond them, the water shimmered faintly, a distortion, almost like heat on stone.

They had reached the Trench of Silence.

Sakura paused as she passed through the stone teeth. The water itself changed. She could feel it; dense, still, like sound couldn’t quite form here. Her own movements felt muffled. Even her heartbeat grew faint, as though the trench swallowed anything it deemed too loud.

Kisame turned, his voice a hush even through their comm link. “You feel that?”

Sakura nodded. “It’s like the ocean’s holding its breath.”

“This trench is saturated with pressure and backward currents, it plays tricks. That’s why Mei chose it.”

They drifted lower, the walls of the trench growing taller, sharper. 

Then she saw it.

Nestled between two spiraling pillars of coral, one red, one stone-gray, was a cave mouth framed by curling growths of fire sponge and luminous moss. The entrance was shaped like a nautilus shell, half-hidden behind thick drapes of seaweed that shimmered silver when disturbed.

The shelter.

Kisame swam forward and placed his palm against the outer wall. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the stone pulsed, recognizing the token Mei had given them.

The barrier shimmered once and parted like a curtain, revealing the passage beyond.

They entered together.

The tunnel was narrow at first, forcing them to swim close. It opened into a series of wide chambers carved into the stone shelf itself, lit by soft, glowing moss and bioluminescent flora. The air trapped in pockets above allowed for partial surfacing, though the shelter remained completely submerged. Smooth resting platforms had been shaped from mineral-stone and coral, fitted with old bedding and relics, clearly maintained, but long untouched.

It was hidden. Insulated. Silent.

Safe.

Sakura surfaced slowly in one of the upper chambers, brushing hair from her face as she looked around. “It’s like a dream,” she whispered.

Kisame surfaced beside her, already scanning the walls for structural weaknesses, exits, escape paths. Always the soldier.

“You’ll get used to the quiet,” he said. “Most people find it too loud after a while.”

Sakura turned to him, searching his expression. “How long do you think we’ll be here?”

His golden eyes met hers, unreadable.

“As long as it takes.”

And in that silence, the deep, still kind that only the ocean knew, they both understood that time was no longer something they had.

wWw  

Sakura floated near the surface, arms resting on the edge of a smooth, stone platform that jutted just high enough out of the water to be used as a bed. Her tail flicked slowly beneath her, crimson scales catching glints of the ambient light like rubies.

Kisame stood nearby, scanning the upper ledges of the chamber with that ever-watchful tension in his shoulders. Samehada was strapped to his back again, a silent threat slumbering at his spine.

When he turned to her, his voice was calm but steady.

“Settle down here for now,” he said. “Get your strength back. I’ll scout the perimeter, make sure no currents have shifted since the last check. If Madara’s tech sweeps this far, I want to know before we feel it.”

Sakura furrowed her brows. “You’re going alone?”

He smirked faintly. “I’m not asking.”

She rolled her eyes, but the worry didn’t leave her voice. “Be careful. If you pick up any trace of a drone—”

“I’ll handle it.” He paused, then added more gently, “I’ll be back before you even start to miss me.”

She raised a brow. “Bold of you to assume I would.”

He turned at the entrance tunnel, grinning over his shoulder. “You already do.”

And just like that, he slipped into the current, his silhouette vanishing through the moss-curtained archway like a shadow drawn back into the deep.

Sakura let herself sink slowly into the sheltered basin, resting her head on the curve of a coral pillow embedded in the stone platform. Her body was still sore from the second transformation, but it was a manageable ache now, like something stretching into place instead of tearing apart.

Still, her hand drifted to the shell around her neck. The spiral talisman was faintly warm. Not glowing. Not pulsing. But… waiting. Just like her.

She closed her eyes, the sound of her own heartbeat echoing softly in her ears. She trusted him to come back. But more than that, she trusted herself to be ready when the time came.

wWw  

The artificial lighting aboard the Abyssal Frame buzzed faintly overhead, a cold white glow that gave no hint of time. Morning, night, day, it all blurred together in steel and silence.

Ino sat stiffly at the edge of her cot, fingers pressed to her temples as if she could force her thoughts to quiet. She hadn’t slept since she found the file.

She couldn’t.

The image of Sakura’s name buried under layers of redacted data… the silhouette of her falling… the term “ verified anomaly ” stamped over the entire record—

It all clawed at her, louder than the hum of the ship.

Itachi’s voice still echoed in her memory, soft and grim:

You’re bait.

She hadn’t seen Madara since that warning call. She hadn’t wanted to. But she knew he was watching. Always. Whether through cameras, sensors, or just the unsettling intuition he seemed to wield like a blade.

She couldn’t stay still much longer. If she did, she’d start screaming. Her eyes flicked to the sealed door. No guards outside.

Not visibly.

Ino stood and crossed the room, heart pounding as she cracked the door open and peeked into the corridor. Empty. The technicians must’ve rotated shifts again. She slipped into the hallway, moving quickly and quietly.

This time, she didn’t go toward the labs.

She went deeper.

She remembered seeing a corridor on her “tour”, barely mentioned, brushed over as “restricted for calibration purposes.” But the layout in the hallway panels told a different story. She found it again now, half-shadowed and unlit, nestled between two pressure-regulated hatches.

She reached for the door panel.

Locked.

She pressed her hand lightly against the side casing. The metal was warm, recently touched. Someone had come through here not long ago.

Just as she turned to retreat, a click hissed behind her. The door slid open.

Ino spun around, stunned and staring directly into the dark corridor beyond. It was silent. Empty.

Either a stroke of luck. Or a trap. She swallowed hard and stepped inside.

The hallway sloped downward slightly, the temperature cooling with each step. Unlike the rest of the vessel, these walls weren’t lined with metal plating, they were insulated with something else. Something dull and pale, almost like stone.

And then she saw it: a heavy vault door half-open, just far enough for her to slip through.

She hesitated, then stepped in and stopped cold.

Inside was a holding chamber. Stark. Seamless.

On the far wall was a massive screen displaying vital stats: pulse, oxygen saturation, weight. And floating in a reinforced stasis tube in the center of the room—

Another mermaid.

But this one looked… different.

Her hair was short. Dark. Her tail was dull silver-blue, with fins shaped more like wings than a typical tail fan. And her eyes, half-open, unfocused, glowed faintly even in sedation.

Ino’s stomach turned.

There were others . Not just the one she’d seen before. Not just Sakura. This one looked younger, maybe no older than a teenager.

They’re collecting them, she thought, heart sinking .

She backed away from the stasis tube, careful not to touch anything, every instinct screaming at her to move. But before she could retreat, she heard it:

Voices.

Muffled, but growing closer. Echoing from the corridor beyond the chamber’s side door.

She froze, ducking behind a storage pillar embedded into the wall. Cool condensation soaked into her uniform as she pressed her back against the metal, holding her breath.

The door opened with a low hiss, and two figures stepped inside. One of them, tall and  unmistakable, was Madara. The other man she didn’t recognize.

He was slightly older than her, leaner, with pale skin and silver hair tied at the nape of his neck. His coat bore Naiad’s insignia, but it was darker, trimmed in crimson, a rank she hadn’t seen before. His presence felt… colder. Clinical.

They stopped in front of the tank.

Madara’s gaze lingered on the unconscious mermaid, unreadable.

“She hasn’t reacted to the conditioning,” the silver-haired man said quietly. “No biological transformation since initial extraction. If she doesn’t trigger soon, we’ll need to shift her classification.”

“She’s not the one I want,” Madara replied.

The other man’s brow furrowed. “You’re referring to the Haruno girl?”

Madara’s expression sharpened. “Yes.”

Ino pressed a hand over her mouth.

“They’ve shielded her well,” the stranger continued, pulling up a projection screen. “Last resonance pulse was weak, but she’s in motion. Somewhere near the Trench of Silence. We've begun scanning current fractures near the outer reef.”

“We're close,” Madara said. “And the Yamanaka girl—” he paused, his tone colder now, “—is still serving her purpose.”

Ino’s blood ran ice cold.

“They trust too easily,” he continued. “Sakura will come looking for her. Or at the very least, worry. Sentiment always clouds logic. That’s how we’ll win.”

The silver-haired man looked thoughtful. “And if she doesn’t come to us?”

“She will.”

Madara stepped closer to the tank, one gloved hand brushing along the reinforced glass. His voice lowered to something almost reverent.

“She can’t run forever. And when we bring her in…” He smiled faintly, chillingly. “We won’t just study the anomaly. We’ll recreate it.”

The other man nodded. “And the shark?”

“If Hoshigaki interferes, he dies.” Ino felt her knees go weak.

They weren’t just after Sakura. They were preparing to replicate her. She didn’t dare move. Didn’t breathe.

The men turned to leave, their conversation fading as they exited through the far door.

Only once their footsteps disappeared down the corridor did Ino let herself move again. She turned, leaned heavily against the wall, and swallowed back the rising nausea.

She needed to talk to Itachi.

The corridor outside the containment chamber was empty.

But Ino didn’t wait. Her footsteps were soft but fast, heart hammering behind her ribs as she slipped back toward the residential deck. Her mind spun with everything she’d just overheard.

Recreate her.

She reached her quarters, locking the door behind her like a final barrier between her and the truth she’d stumbled into. The soft hum of the ventilation system was the only sound as she crossed the room, grabbed the wall-mounted communicator, and hit redial.

There was only one number in the call history. It barely rang once before connecting.

“Ino.”

Itachi’s voice; low, steady, and focused.

“I heard them,” she said quickly. “Madara. And someone else. A man with silver-white hair, glasses, pale skin. He had a red-trimmed Naiad coat. They were in the lab… talking about Sakura. About recreating her abilities.”

There was a pause. Then Itachi’s voice shifted, lower. “You said pale, with glasses?”

“Yes. Creepy. Smiled too much.”

“Kabuto.”

She blinked. “Who?”

Another pause.

“He’s the one behind Naiad’s biological arm. Gene manipulation, hybrid theory. Quiet. Dangerous. Most of the staff don’t even know he exists.”

Ino’s skin crawled. “I believe that.”

“He’s been working on something for years,” Itachi continued. “But if he’s speaking openly about replication… they must believe they’re close to stabilizing the genome.”

“Genome,” Ino repeated. “As in…?”

“As in they want to make more of her,” Itachi said. “Or take her apart trying.”

Ino swallowed hard. “And they’re using me to lure her in.”

“Yes. But that’s still their plan, not their victory. Listen. You need to keep your head down. Let them think you’re still playing along. Kabuto and Madara will get reckless if they believe you’re docile.”

“I don’t feel very docile,” she muttered.

“You won’t have to be for much longer,” Itachi said. “When the time comes, I’ll contact you. But for now, you’re safer pretending.”

She nodded slowly, though he couldn’t see it. “What if they move before you do?”

“They won’t.”

He said it with such certainty, like he’d already seen the ending.

“And if they do?” she asked anyway.

“Then I’ll stop them.”

Click.

The line went dead.

Ino lowered the receiver slowly. The hum of the ship returned to her ears, mechanical and cold. She didn’t know who Kabuto was, or what he’d done, but she knew one thing:

He looked at people like tools. And Ino Yamanaka was about to make sure he remembered she was far more dangerous than that.

wWw  

The shelter was quiet.

Too quiet.

Sakura floated near the upper alcove of the stone-walled chamber, her tail lazily trailing behind her in the gentle current. The soft light from the bioluminescent moss pulsed at regular intervals, like a heartbeat buried in the walls. It might’ve been calming, if the silence didn’t press so heavily around her.

Here in the trench, even her thoughts felt hushed.

She sat on one of the coral shelves, fingers running absently over the spiral-shell pendant hanging near her collarbone. There was a strange hum inside her chest, like the feeling of remembering something important just before waking up.

She didn’t know if it was the trench, the aftereffects of her transformation, or something else entirely. But she felt different.

Like something beneath her skin had started to stir.

I’m changing, she thought. And she wasn’t sure if it scared her or if it was the first thing that had ever made sense.

A shift in the water drew her attention.

She turned just as Kisame emerged through the seaweed-draped entrance, his silhouette cutting through the soft glow like a shadow returning from battle.

He didn’t look injured, but his expression was tense, alert.

Sakura straightened, tail coiling slightly beneath her. “You’re back.”

“Yeah.” His voice was quiet as he drifted down beside her, scanning the chamber before settling on the stone lip near her side. “No drones. But the currents are growing unstable.”

She frowned. “You think they’re tracking us?”

“No,” he said. “Not yet. But they’re looking.”

He leaned back against the wall, exhaling through his nose.

Sakura studied him for a long moment. “You look tired.”

“I’m fine.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He gave her a sidelong look, half warning, half amused, but she didn’t flinch. Eventually, he relented with a soft grunt.

“I'm always tired when I scout the deep. You never know what’s watching you back.”

She was quiet a moment, then asked softly, “You think they’ll find us?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

Then: “Not here. Not unless the Pearl pulses again.”

Sakura looked down at the pendant, her fingers tightening slightly around it. “I can feel it doing something. Not… actively. But like it’s holding something in reserve. Waiting for something.”

Kisame nodded. “It’s bound to your blood. Same as that shell. Mei told me it wouldn’t wake until you did.”

“I am awake.”

“Not all the way.”

That made her blink.

Kisame turned toward her, watching her closely. “You’ve only scratched the surface of what you are. That shell, it’s reacting because something in you is stirring. Maybe memory. Maybe instinct.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore. It was warm. Trusting.

Sakura shifted slightly, moving closer to where he sat. Her tail brushed his briefly, intentional, but barely.

Kisame didn’t move away.

“You really believe in me,” she murmured.

He looked at her, serious now. “I don’t believe in many things. But I believe in you. ”

Her breath caught. For once, there were no sarcastic deflections. No teasing grins. Just his voice, low, steady, and utterly sure. And it meant more than he probably realized.

Kisame leaned back slightly, bracing his arm along the wall behind her. His eyes were still scanning the chamber like he expected something to shift, something to come crawling out of the dark. He was always alert. Always ready.

Sakura watched him in the quiet, her gaze drifting across the scars that marked his skin, older ones, long-healed, faded into rough patches that ran over his shoulder, across his ribs, some trailing down beneath his belt.

She wondered how many of them were from enemies. And how many from the people who were supposed to be on his side.

“Can I ask you something?” she said quietly.

He didn’t look at her, but he nodded. “Go ahead.”

She hesitated. “Your past. You’ve never… really talked about it.”

“I know,” he said simply.

“You said Samehada reminded you of who you were.” Her voice softened. “But who was that?”

He exhaled slowly through his nose, his head tilting slightly against the wall. His voice was quieter when he finally spoke.

“I was a weapon. Raised as one. Trained in blood and silence. I was good at it, too good. So they gave me power. Let me kill in their name.”

She didn’t interrupt. She let him speak at his own pace.

“But after a while,” he continued, “you stop killing for a reason. You just kill because you’re told to. Because it’s all you know. And when I realized that, I left.”

He finally turned his head, his eyes meeting hers.

“I thought the ocean might teach me how to forget. But it didn’t. It just… gave me more space to be alone in.”

Sakura’s chest ached.

He wasn’t confessing out of guilt. He wasn’t asking for pity. He was just telling her. Trusting her with a truth that felt carved into bone.

“You’re not that man anymore,” she said softly.

“No,” Kisame agreed. “But he’s still in here. Waiting. Watching.”

“Then I’m glad I met the version who left.”

He smiled faintly, the kind that barely reached his eyes, but it was real. “You’ve never been afraid of me.”

“I was,” she admitted. “At first. But now…”

She looked down at where their hands rested on the stone, close, but not quite touching. Then, slowly, she lifted her hand and let it fall gently over his.

His fingers twitched under hers. Just once.

“Now you’re the only one who makes me feel safe.”

His gaze sharpened, but not in the way it did when he was scouting danger. It was deeper. More vulnerable.

And when he turned his hand over to thread his fingers with hers, his touch was careful, like she was something fragile, even though they both knew she wasn’t.

Neither spoke. They didn’t need to. The trench held their silence like a promise. And in that moment, wrapped in stillness, warmth bloomed between them, not sudden, not overwhelming. Just there . Quiet. Certain.

Their fingers remained loosely entwined, neither of them moving. Not away. Not closer.

Just... together .

Sakura looked at him through the soft blue light, his features partly shadowed, but his eyes watching her, steady, unflinching.

“What?” she asked, voice a whisper. “You’re looking at me like I’ve grown another fin.”

Kisame exhaled slowly, lips twitching. “You wouldn’t believe what I was thinking the day we met.”

“Try me.”

He looked down at their hands.

“When I saw you floating in the water… I thought you’d die.”

His voice was even, but low. Honest.

“I didn’t know who you were. Just a girl, a human girl, I thought, tumbling into water too deep for breathing. It should’ve been a footnote in someone else’s story. Something I'd typically ignore.”

“But you didn’t,” she said gently.

“No,” he admitted. “I didn’t.”

He was quiet for a moment, watching the current flicker against the chamber walls like candlelight.

“I told myself it was instinct. Something primal.”

Sakura’s breath caught. His hand tightened slightly around hers.

“I’ve never wanted to keep anything before. Not like that. Not someone.”

Sakura’s throat went tight. “You barely knew me.”

“I didn’t need to,” he said simply. “You were chaos. Magic. Wrong in all the right ways. I could feel it, like the tide turning.”

She blinked fast, emotion rising too quickly to name. “And now?”

Kisame leaned just slightly closer, voice lower, rougher. “Now it’s worse.”

A small laugh escaped her, breathless. “You mean better.”

“Worse for me,” he murmured, “because I actually care what happens to you. And I’m not built for that.”

Sakura shifted closer until their foreheads nearly touched, her voice softer than the water surrounding them.

“Then let’s build something else.”

Kisame froze for a moment.

Then, very quietly, he said, “You’re dangerous, Sakura.”

She smiled. “You like dangerous.”

His grin was faint but helpless. “That I do.”

And for a long moment, the rest of the world fell away, the pearl, the trench, even the threat they both knew would come crashing back soon.

The stillness between them lingered like the afterglow of something sacred, unspoken, but deeply felt.

Sakura leaned slightly into Kisame’s side, her heartbeat finally steady in the quiet. She didn’t want to break the silence. Not yet.

But he did.

His voice was gentle, but carried a different weight now. Grounded. Purposeful.

“You need training.”

Sakura blinked, tilting her head to look at him. “ Now? That’s what you’re thinking about?”

He gave her a half-smile. “You don’t get many chances to rest down here. And rest doesn’t mean go soft.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Well, I don’t exactly have a sword like you.”

“I’m not going to train you in swordsmanship,” he said, his voice already shifting into that low, instructive tone she was starting to recognize.

“Then what?”

“Hand-to-hand,” he replied, stretching his arms overhead. His muscles rippled with the motion, the flick of his tail steady as he rose off the stone shelf. “Close quarters. Grapples. Holds. What to do when someone’s in your space. Because Naiad won’t come at you from a distance.”

Sakura straightened a little, interest piqued. “Why not a weapon?”

“Because you’re not ready to wield something that feeds on blood,” he added with a sharp glance toward Samehada, resting against the wall like a slumbering beast.

She followed his gaze, then looked back at him with a slow smile. “Afraid I’ll outshine you?”

Kisame chuckled. “You already do. But you need control.”

Sakura pushed off the ledge, floating in front of him now, arms folded. “So what, you’re going to spar with me? Teach me how to wrestle a six-foot shark with claws?”

He flashed his teeth. “If you’re lucky.”

She snorted. “You just want an excuse to throw me around.”

He floated closer, golden eyes gleaming. “If I wanted to throw you, I would’ve done it already.”

Her pulse jumped, but she didn’t back away.

Instead, she smirked. “Fine. Teach me. But don’t hold back just because I’m new.”

“I won’t,” he said. “But I’ll make sure you get stronger. Fast.”

She nodded once, serious now. “Okay.”

He stepped back and motioned for her to follow. “First rule, never wait for your opponent to make the first move.”

Sakura narrowed her eyes.

Then lunged.

Kisame caught her easily, but there was a flicker of surprise in his expression and something else.

Pride.

Kisame deflected her third strike with ease, turning her forward momentum into a light push that sent her spinning clumsily through the water.

Sakura caught herself mid-roll, breath uneven, hair fanning around her like a pink halo.

“You’re leading with your shoulder,” Kisame said from across the chamber, arms folded. “You drop your balance every time.”

“I don’t have balance,” she snapped. “I have a tail. ”

“You also have control over that tail,” he replied calmly. “Or you’re going to. Come on.”

He motioned her forward again.

Sakura swam at him with a sharp burst, throwing a right hook the way he’d shown her. He slipped past it, grabbed her arm at the elbow, and flipped her, again, back-first into the stone wall behind him.

The impact was gentler than it felt. He’d held back.

Again.

She hissed and pushed off the wall, more frustrated than hurt.

“I’m trying,” she muttered.

“I know.”

“Then why are you still going easy on me?”

Kisame’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Because you’re thinking like a human who just grew a tail. Not like a fighter.”

Sakura flushed, embarrassed and angry. “Then maybe you should teach me.”

He didn’t respond. Just gestured again. “One more time.”

She surged forward, furious now, not just at him, but at herself. Her fists clenched, and she threw a wide punch aimed straight for his shoulder.

Kisame moved to block it like before, routine now, muscle memory.

But this time—

Something shifted.

A rush of warmth coiled through Sakura’s arm like a current of heat and light, trailing from her chest to her knuckles. The spiral-shell pendant flared faintly.

And when her fist connected with Kisame’s forearm—

A deep, concussive pulse of force erupted from the impact. The water shuddered. Kisame’s block shattered as he was sent flying backwards through the chamber like a torpedo.

He hit the far wall hard , crashing into the trenchside with enough force to split stone. A crack spidered out around his impact point, and a tremor passed through the chamber as chunks of rock loosened and drifted down like underwater rubble.

“Kisame!”

Sakura shot forward, panic flooding her chest.

He was partially obscured by the dust and stone fragments, his body suspended in the dim light, one arm slack against his side.

She reached him in seconds, heart hammering. “Kisame—! Oh gods, I didn’t mean—are you okay?!”

His eyes opened slowly, dazed but focused. “Damn,” he muttered, blinking hard. “What the hell was that ?”

“Kisame…” she murmured again, voice soft but trembling. “I didn’t know I could do that. I—”

“I told you,” he said, low and rough, “you’re waking up.”

Their eyes met in the slow drift of the water, hers still wide and searching, his steady, unreadable, but burning just beneath the surface.

She felt her heart thudding faster than it should in this depth. “Are you really okay?”

Instead of answering, Kisame reached up, his fingers brushing her cheek, just barely, almost testing her permission. When she didn’t pull away, he let his palm cup the side of her face, rough thumb stroking the line of her jaw.

“I’ve taken hits that could split stone,” he murmured. “But that? That was the first one I didn’t mind.”

A tremor ran through her. His hand was still on her face. Her own remained pressed against his chest. The current between them thickened, charged, alive.

“You’re playing with fire,” she whispered.

Kisame leaned closer, his voice nothing but gravel and salt and heat. “You’re the one who lit it.”

She didn’t know who moved first, maybe both of them, but in the next breath, they were closer , foreheads nearly touching, mouths just a breath apart.

“You scare me,” she said, truth pouring out before she could stop it.

“Good,” he whispered. “You make me feel something.”

Her eyes searched his. “Like what?”

“Like I’d kill anyone who tried to take you,” he said simply. “And not feel bad about it.”

Sakura’s breath caught. And then she closed the distance.

Their lips met, not clumsy, not frantic, but deliberate , like a question that had finally found its answer.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was heat and tension and release. A clash of two people who didn’t belong to anyone but had somehow found a home in each other.

His hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, and she pressed into him, tasting salt and breathlessness and the quiet fury he carried like armor. He didn’t hold her like something fragile, but something worthy. Something his.

When they finally broke apart, just slightly, both of them still catching their breath, Sakura’s voice was barely audible. “So much for keeping things uncomplicated.”

Kisame grinned, sharp and real. “Nothing about you has been uncomplicated since the second you hit the water.”

She let her forehead rest against his. “Do you regret it?”

He didn’t answer with words. Just leaned in again, slower this time, with the kind of hunger that promised this was only the beginning.

Their bodies pressed closer in the gentle flow, tails coiling in a slow spiral as heat rose between them, heavy and consuming. 

Sakura's fingers tangled in his hair as she breathed his name, lips parted, heartbeat hammering through her chest and into the water between them.

She wanted to drown in this, in him. And she could feel that he did too.

Their tails brushed again, the contact raw and electric, and Kisame's voice rumbled low against her throat. “If you keep looking at me like that…”

Her smile curved, flushed and breathless. “Then what?”

But before the answer could leave his lips a low, rhythmic thrum pulsed through the water. Not loud. Not sharp. Just like a distant heartbeat that didn’t belong to either of them.

Sakura froze, breath catching.

The spiral-shell pendant resting near her heart warmed suddenly, then cooled. No glow. No flash. Just a moment of tension, like something deep below them had stirred.

Kisame pulled away just enough to scan the chamber, brows furrowed. His instincts flared like a blade unsheathed, but no danger presented itself. No drones. No sonar.

Just that pulse. And then... nothing.

Stillness.

He hovered in place a moment longer, jaw tight, then slowly turned back to her. “That wasn’t them,” he said, voice low.

“Then what was it?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know.”

After a moment, he drifted closer again, brushing his hand along her arm, not to restart what had sparked between them, but to anchor her.

“You’re changing faster now,” he said softly. “Your energy, it’s waking things up.”

“But we’re safe here,” Sakura said, almost to remind herself. “Mei said no one could find us.”

He nodded. “We are. This trench… it’s protected. It’s one of the last true blind zones. Whatever that was, it didn’t come from above.”

“Then where?”

He hesitated. “…Below.”

They both looked down, into the abyssal dark, where the trench dropped off into uncharted cold.

Kisame’s hand found hers again. “We’ll deal with it. When the time comes.”

Sakura nodded, her breath finally settling again. But the moment, the intimacy, the heat, had shifted into something else now.

Not gone.

Just suspended.

Like everything else in the deep.

Later that night, the trench had gone utterly still.

Even the moss had dimmed to a deep blue-green glow, casting soft shadows across the shelter walls. The world outside the stone chamber was silent, heavy with depth and pressure, like the ocean itself was holding its breath.

Inside, the warmth between them remained.

Sakura lay nestled against Kisame’s side, his arm wrapped loosely around her waist, her head resting on the curve of his shoulder. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, slowed even more by the ocean's depths, like he’d finally found a place calm enough to sleep.

And she dreamed.

It came slowly, like light under water, rippling through her mind in flashes and pulses. The warmth of Kisame’s body fell away. So did the weight of the sea. She drifted; weightless, breathless, timeless.

A shape began to form through the darkness.

A woman.

Hair like flowing ink, eyes glowing faintly gold.

She was suspended in the deep, unmoving. Regal. Familiar.

Sakura tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. The woman only lifted her hand, and between her fingers, Sakura’s spiral shell pendant glowed.

“Daughter of the tide,” the woman’s voice echoed, not spoken, but felt in the marrow of Sakura’s bones. “Your blood remembers.”

Sakura reached toward her.

The shell between them pulsed, once, twice, faster, and light spilled out in shimmering threads.

“The sea is not just water. It is memory. It is will.”

The image changed. She saw a kingdom of coral towers, spiraling spires that shimmered like living gemstones. And at the center, a throne. Empty. Broken.

“They erased us. Buried our name. But you were hidden, not lost.”

Sakura’s chest tightened.

The ruins. The shell. It was all connected.

“You carry the last light.”

The woman's hand reached out, hovering over Sakura’s heart.

“Wake.”

And then the light flared—

Sakura gasped .

Her eyes snapped open, lungs dragging in seawater. She was still in the shelter. Still pressed against Kisame’s chest. But her pulse was racing.

Her necklace burned faintly warm against her skin.

And from deep within the trench below them…

She felt something stir.

wWw  

Chapter Text

wWw  

The shelter was silent again.

Kisame slept, arms slack where they’d been wrapped around her, his breathing deep and undisturbed. But Sakura was no longer beside him.

She floated just outside the arching mouth of the stone alcove, her eyes half-lidded, her face strangely serene. The pearl glowed like a captured star at her collarbone, faint at first, then brighter, pulsing in time with something far below.

Something was calling her.

The melody was distant, and yet it wound through the water like it was being sung just beside her ear; low, mournful, beautiful. Impossible to trace.

It echoed with old syllables, layered in harmonies that made her chest ache with a longing she didn’t understand. It wasn’t human… but it wasn’t not.

The pendant flared again. And her body moved without thinking.

She drifted downward, deeper into the trench, arms slack at her sides, hair trailing behind her like silk caught in the current. She passed over jagged rock shelves, coral that had never seen sunlight, and crevices blacker than ink.

Bioluminescent creatures flickered in and out of view, some with eyes too wide and teeth too long, fins like razors and glowing spines, but Sakura didn’t flinch. She didn’t even see them.

The song held her.

As she descended, the glow of the pearl grew stronger, becoming a beacon, a pulse that seemed to draw something out of the very walls of the trench.

Stone etched with forgotten symbols trembled faintly. Shapes moved beneath the silt. Schools of deepwater fish scattered, disturbed by a rhythm older than the current.

And she kept going.

Deeper. Deeper still.

Far above her—

Kisame stirred.

His gills flared first, reacting instinctively to the change in the water pressure. Then his eyes snapped open. His arms met only empty water.

He sat up in an instant, scanning the chamber. “Sakura?”

No answer.

He shot toward the entry and looked out into the trench, and far below, barely a pinprick of light shimmered like a falling star.

“Shit.”

Without hesitation, he grabbed Samehada, slinging it across his back, and launched downward, arms slicing through the water, tail snapping powerfully behind him.

He didn’t call her name. Didn’t shout. Whatever had pulled her into the deep, it didn’t want to be seen. And if it had her, it wouldn’t let her go without a fight.

The song grew louder the deeper she went.

It no longer sounded distant, it filled the water around her, saturated every current. Not just melody, but memory, voices folded atop one another like waves layering over the ocean floor.

Sakura’s eyes were wide now, glowing faintly from the light that poured off the pearl. The spiral-shell gleamed like moonlight made solid, its rhythm syncing with her heart.

And still, she descended.

The trench opened around her in a hollowed cathedral of stone and shadow. Stalactites jutted like teeth from above, and the walls were lined with markings engraved into the mineral. Glyphs older than language. Some shimmered as she passed, the pearl's light stirring them from dormancy.

At the very bottom, the current stilled completely.

There, nestled into the base of the trench, was a circular platform half-swallowed by coral and time. It was sculpted from dark stone veined with glowing threads of gold and violet. Symbols spiraled out from its center like a sunburst, broken in places, but unmistakably deliberate.

Sakura hovered above it, eyes drawn downward. Her breathing slowed.

The pearl burned white. As if responding to her presence, the glyphs around the platform lit, one by one, rippling outward like a tide returning home.

At the platform’s center stood a pedestal.

Upon it rested a crown.

It wasn’t made of gold. It looked carved from pale shell and bone coral, laced with strands of deep sea kelp dried to silver. It pulsed faintly, responding not to the pendant, but to her .

Sakura drifted forward, entranced.

As she approached, ghostly outlines flickered at the platform’s edge, figures of merfolk long gone. Women and men in elegant, royal forms, their faces vague but sorrowful. Some bowed their heads. Others watched her with eyes that glowed like glass.

The voices in the song grew layered again. Her voice. Their voices.

“The last daughter returns.”

The crown glowed faintly.

Sakura reached toward it—

And just before her fingers touched the coral edges, a blur of motion tore through the water.

“Sakura!”

Kisame’s voice, sharp and very real, cut through the spell like a blade.

She blinked as the song snapped silent. The platform faded into shadow. The ghostly figures vanished, their presence folding back into the stone.

And the crown was gone.

Sakura gasped and turned just as Kisame skidded through the water, grabbing her by the arms.

“What the hell were you doing?” His voice was more panic than anger, his hands gripping her shoulders as he scanned her face.

“I…” she blinked, dazed. “I heard singing.”

“There’s nothing down here but bones and pressure,” he growled, his tail flicking hard behind him. “You shouldn’t be able to breathe this deep.”

“I think…” Sakura swallowed hard. “I think it called to me.”

Kisame stared at her, face unreadable. Then his eyes drifted upward, toward the hollow darkness above.

“We’re not alone down here.”

And somewhere in the trench behind them, a glyph flared back to life. A low hum rippled through the stone beneath them.

Kisame turned sharply toward the glyph, his hand instinctively resting on Samehada. The glowing symbol, nestled in the side of the platform's outer ring, pulsed once, twice, then fractured like ice under pressure.

A thin crack split through the trench wall, releasing a slow swirl of silt.

Sakura and Kisame both drifted backward, the light from her pearl flickering in warning.

Then, a sound. Low. Metallic. Groaning.

Not from any living creature. The platform began to shift. Not collapse, but open.

Stone sank inward, the ancient spiral rotating with an impossible, clockwork precision. The pedestal where the crown once sat retracted, revealing a spiral staircase carved downward into the seabed itself, deeper than the trench should logically go.

A pocket of impossible space.

Kisame narrowed his eyes.

The pearl was glowing brighter now, casting streaks of gold across the glyphs. The water didn’t press on her anymore. She could breathe , even here, like the trench itself recognized her.

As they hovered near the entrance of the descending spiral, a slow current pushed outward, cool and laced with energy, like breath from a sleeping beast.

Something ancient had been sealed here. And the glyph had released the lock.

“It opened for you,” Kisame said, voice hushed.

Sakura stared into the abyss below, her voice barely audible. “I think I'm supposed to go down there.”

Kisame looked at her. She wasn’t guessing.

She knew.

The staircase spiraled downward in perfect, ancient symmetry, its steps formed not from loose stone, but polished shell-glass etched with the same sigils that had pulsed to life above. Glowing veins of marine crystal pulsed dimly in the walls, casting the water in soft shades of aquamarine and gold.

Sakura and Kisame descended slowly, side by side.

The pressure changed around them, not heavier, but quieter. Like they’d passed through a veil.

Sakura could hear her heartbeat again. And under it, the faint echo of voices. Not the haunting song this time.

These voices whispered in fragments, memories that had never belonged to her… and yet she knew them. Words spoken in a language her lips didn’t remember, but her blood did. The pearl glowed brighter the farther they went.

Kisame stayed close, eyes sharp, one hand near Samehada but not drawn. He didn’t speak.

He felt it too.

Finally, the stairs opened into a great chamber, wide, domed, and impossibly intact. The walls arched overhead like the inside of a sea cathedral, held up by pillars shaped like curling coral trees. Schools of glowing silverfish drifted through broken windows, undisturbed by their presence.

At the far end of the chamber was a massive relief carved into the wall.

Sakura’s breath caught.

It was a mural. A massive one, stretching from floor to ceiling.

It depicted merfolk unlike any she’d seen, tall, regal, their tails long and ornamented with gold-threaded fins. At the mural’s center, a queen stood holding a spiral shell in one hand and a trident in the other. Her face was sharp and strong, but kind… and hauntingly familiar.

Sakura floated closer, her fingers grazing the edge of the stone.

“She looks like you,” Kisame said behind her.

“I think it’s my mother,” she whispered.

More figures surrounded the queen, scholars, healers, guardians. And at the bottom corner, almost overlooked, a cradle shaped like a pearl.

Inside it, a child with wide sea-glass colored eyes.

Sakura’s pearl pulsed once. And the chamber answered.

The water grew warmer, the mural glowing faintly along the etched lines, as if recognizing her. Behind them, a sealed doorway cracked open, revealing a smaller chamber within.

Kisame glanced at her. “You want to see what’s inside?”

Sakura nodded slowly. “I have to.”

They entered together.

The inner chamber was quieter still. At its center stood a raised dais covered in ancient runes, surrounded by eight carved statues of merfolk elders. The stone glowed faintly beneath Sakura’s presence.

Hovering in the middle of the dais, a crystal sphere filled with swirling, silver-blue mist. Inside it, faint flashes of memories flickered. Not visions, but recordings . Echoes.

A memory archive. Sakura approached it reverently, one hand lifting toward the sphere. As her fingers touched it, a vision unfolded in the water around her, clear as glass:

A palace under siege. Merfolk scattering. Her mother, crown slipping from her brow, holding a bundled child, Sakura , in her arms. An elderly man talking to her.

"Hide her. She must not fall into their hands."

Then darkness. Screaming. Collapse. The vision faded, leaving Sakura breathless.

“I was hidden,” she said softly. “They erased everything to protect me.”

She looked around the chamber, heart heavy, eyes wide. And the pearl at her throat began to hum again, stronger now, resonant with the chamber itself. The magic in her blood was waking fully at last.

But they wouldn’t be alone for long.

Not with that kind of power stirring in the deep.

wWw

The control chamber of the Abyssal Frame was cold, lit only by the glow of holographic screens and steady pulses of sonar scans feeding in from the sea floor. The air felt thicker here, as if even the machinery was holding its breath.

Madara stood at the center of it all, arms clasped behind his back, eyes locked on the sweeping topographic map before him. The trench had remained dark for too long. Silent. No signals, no movement. He had begun to think the Pearl’s resonance had simply gone dormant.

Until now. A sharp ping echoed through the room.

“Director,” a technician called out, voice tight. “You’ll want to see this.”

Madara turned slowly.

On the central display, a soft pulse bloomed outward from the trench; small, controlled, but unmistakably unnatural. The sensor readouts recalibrated, decoding the signature.

“Resonance spike,” the tech confirmed. “Localized. Deep trench floor. This pattern matches the earlier anomaly… but stronger.”

Madara’s gaze sharpened.

“Is it the Pearl?”

“Possibly. But the energy’s different. We think… the source is her. ”

Madara stepped closer, eyes narrowing to slits.

“So… she’s alive. ”

His voice was calm. Too calm.

A second technician added, “We also detected an environmental shift, but we can't be sure what it is yet.”

Madara didn’t move for several long seconds. Then, almost absently, he smiled. “Good. Then it’s time to prepare the dive team.”

The room snapped into motion. Orders flew. Lights dimmed red. Drones were deployed. But in the corridor just outside, where the steel walls hummed with the Frame’s engine…

Ino pressed herself silently against the bulkhead, just around the corner from the chamber entrance. Her heart thundered behind her ribs as the voices filtered through the partially open door.

“She’s alive,” Ino whispered under her breath. She clenched her jaw, hands curled into fists. 

Sakura.

A bitter chill ran down her spine, but she didn’t move. She kept listening. One voice caught her attention, a new one, filtered through static, projected from a secure channel:

“This is Kabuto. The vitals are stable, but if the seal is weakening, you’ll lose control. Shall I prepare a specimen hold for the subject?”

Ino’s brow furrowed. Subject ?

Madara answered coolly. “No. She’s not a subject. She’s a key. And I intend to use her before the others realize what she can unlock.”

Her blood ran cold. She had to get to Sakura before they did.

She returned to her room and twisted the lock with trembling fingers. The sterile lighting hummed above her, casting sharp shadows on the metal walls. Her heart still hadn’t slowed from what she’d heard.

Sakura was alive. They were going after her.

She crossed to the bedside console and yanked the phone receiver free. Without thinking, she redialed the last secure number, Itachi’s line. Her knuckles were white around the handset by the time it clicked.

There was a pause.

Then, his voice, low, calm, and as impossible to read as always.

“Yamanaka.”

“They’re going after her,” Ino hissed. “They picked up a signal from the trench, something’s awakened. They’re mobilizing a dive team, now. You didn’t tell me they were going to—”

“I know.”

That stopped her short.

“You… you knew ?”

“I felt the resonance spike before they did. I’ve already enacted countermeasures.”

“What kind of—? Itachi, if they reach her before—”

“I won’t allow that.”

His tone was quiet steel. Confident. Cold.

Ino gritted her teeth. “Then what do you want me to do? Let them parade me around until they figure out I’ve been listening in?”

There was the barest pause. “You’re not to get involved, Ino. Not in this. Your only task is to stay out of Madara’s way. Do not draw attention to yourself. Lay low.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but—

Click.

The line went dead.

Ino stared at the receiver in stunned silence. Then slowly lowered it back into the cradle.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered.

She paced once across the room, jaw clenched, hands twitching. Every instinct in her body screamed that she should run, break into the server room, sabotage something, do anything.

She wasn’t built to wait. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to let them reach Sakura without doing something to help.

“Lay low,” she repeated under her breath, voice laced with sarcasm. “Sure, I’ll do that. Right after I figure out where the hell they’re diving.”

Her eyes flicked to the terminal across the room.

Time to go hunting.

wWw  

Sakura hovered in still water, eyes locked on the mural.

Her mother stood tall at the center of it, surrounded by attendants, guardians, and the spiral of ancient glyphs. But it wasn’t the crown that drew Sakura’s attention now. It was the trident.

It was held not like a weapon, but with reverence. Power. Purpose. It wasn’t just ceremonial. It meant something.

“What do you think this is?” she asked quietly, not looking away.

Kisame had been floating along the perimeter, trailing a hand along the walls, checking for anything hidden, or dangerous. He glanced over at her voice and drifted closer.

He followed her gaze to the depiction of the staff. “Could be a symbol of rule. Royal lineage. Most merfolk kingdoms used relics like that to unify the bloodline with the magic of the sea.”

Sakura frowned. “So… not just for show?”

He shook his head. “Not likely. If it’s anything like the Pearl of Return, it’s probably bonded to your family line. Maybe even channeling.”

“Channeling what?”

Kisame’s expression turned thoughtful. “The old kings and queens weren’t just political rulers. They wielded something. The oceans themselves used to answer to them in ways even I don’t understand. Tides. Currents.”

Sakura floated closer to the mural, placing a hand over the etched staff. She could almost feel something hum beneath her fingers, like the stone remembered.

“My mother used this,” she murmured.

Kisame came beside her, voice softer now. “Then maybe it’s still somewhere in here.”

She turned to look at him, eyes shining with a strange hope. “Would it help me control all this?” She gestured vaguely to herself, to the pendant, to her magic, to the weight of a kingdom crumbling on her shoulders.

Kisame was quiet for a moment. Then: “If it’s waiting for you, yeah. It might.”

Sakura glanced back at the mural and for just a second, the carved eyes of the queen seemed to shimmer. Like she was watching .

Sakura and Kisame moved slowly through the grand chamber, past crumbled arches and coral-wrapped pillars, deeper into the quiet ruins of the forgotten sanctum.

Though dust and silt swirled around their movements, the water inside remained oddly still, as though it watched , but did not resist.

Kisame swam ahead slightly, scanning the walls. “Most of this place has held up better than I expected,” he muttered, trailing his fingers along carvings partially reclaimed by barnacles and soft polyps. “No signs of collapse. Just abandonment.”

“It doesn’t feel empty,” Sakura said quietly, following behind him. “It feels… paused. Like it was waiting.”

They reached the far wall of the sanctum, unassuming at first. It was tall, clean, without the usual murals or offerings. But right at its center, a spiral engraving.

Identical in shape to the one around her neck. Sakura’s breath caught in her throat.

She drifted toward it, her shell pulsing faintly in response. It grew warmer with every inch she closed between them.

Kisame, slower now, watched her carefully. “That can’t be coincidence.”

“No,” she murmured. “It’s like… a key.”

The wall bore no handle, no seams, no symbols. Only the shell. She removed the shell necklace and held it up.

Kisame moved to her side, speaking low. “If it’s anything like before, it’s probably tuned to your blood. You should be the one to touch it.”

She positioned the shell over the engraving and pushed it in. The pearl flared bright in answer, casting light through the water in golden waves.

The embedded shell pulsed in kind.

Then— click.

The wall groaned.

A deep rumble rolled through the stone beneath them as hidden mechanisms began to turn. The shell rotated slowly in its socket, and the wall, once smooth and seamless, began to split down the middle, parting like ancient doors.

Silt billowed out in slow spirals.

Behind the wall lay a long corridor bathed in soft violet light. Along its walls, carvings depicted a different kind of story, not of rule, but of power passed down. Of sea-creatures bowing in reverence. Of hands glowing with light drawn from the ocean itself.

Sakura stared, breath caught in her throat. She drifted toward the newly opened corridor, drawn forward by instinct and something deeper, like gravity bound to memory. The soft violet glow from within spilled across her face, illuminating her features with an ethereal shimmer.

She barely heard Kisame move behind her until his hand curled gently around her wrist.

“Sakura.”

She turned to him, surprised by the softness in his voice.

He hovered close now, Samehada slung across his back like a silent sentinel. But his eyes, usually sharp and distant, held only her.

“You don’t know what’s in there,” he said quietly. “But I'm not sure I'm meant to follow.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he stepped in close, closer than he had earlier, and gently cupped her cheek with his free hand, thumb brushing along the curve of her jaw. His fingers were rough, calloused, but his touch was careful. Devoted.

“I’ve seen kingdoms rise and fall,” Kisame said, voice low. “Watched war burn down to ash. But none of that ever made me hesitate.”

His gaze searched hers.

“Until you.”

Sakura’s breath caught, chest tight, throat thick. The warmth in her face had nothing to do with the shell at her throat.

“Kisame, I’ll be okay—”

Before she could finish, he leaned in and kissed her.

Slow. Certain.

No fire, no urgency this time, just the weight of something real. Something that had grown between them in the silence, in the fights, in the way he never looked at anyone else the way he looked at her.

She melted into it for one long, perfect moment. When he pulled back, she blinked up at him, cheeks flushed a soft coral pink, heart thundering behind her ribs like a trapped wave.

“Well,” she managed, voice a little breathless. “That’s one way to make sure I come back.”

Kisame’s smirk returned, shark-sharp but softened around the edges. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Sakura exhaled slowly, brushing a few strands of hair back from her face. “If anything tries to eat me in there, I am punching it.”

His grin widened. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

With a final glance, Sakura turned and slipped into the glowing corridor, shoulders squared, heart still racing. Behind her, Kisame lingered just a second longer, eyes never leaving the place where she disappeared.

The door sealed with a quiet thud , cutting off the dim light and distant sounds of the outer sanctum. The sudden silence was immediate and complete, no current, no movement, only the steady thrum of Sakura’s heart pounding in her ears.

She stood in the center of a narrow corridor bathed in violet light, its glow emanating not from torches or crystals, but from the very walls, etched with pulsing glyphs that whispered through the water in flickers of meaning just out of reach.

Her breath caught as she swam forward.

The water here felt different . Thicker. Still warm, but heavy with intent, like the pressure of eyes that were long gone but still watching.

Each swish of her tail sent a ripple along the seabed, disturbing silt that had not been touched in a couple decades. The corridor’s floor sloped gently downward, curving ahead into shadow. She moved slowly, carefully, trailing her fingers along the glowing script that lined the walls.

It shifted beneath her touch, glyphs unfurling like blooming anemones, revealing flowing depictions of merfolk unlike any she’d seen before. They weren’t warriors or royalty, not this time. They looked like doctors.

Hands pressed to wounds, to water, to coral blooms. Shells cracked and reassembled. Fins restored. Eyes opened. The ocean itself parted for them. And at the center of many of these carvings—

The same spiral shell. Her spiral shell.

She paused, one hand pressed over where the necklace had rested.

It wasn’t a weapon, she realized. It was a conduit. A sacred link to something older than the kingdom itself.

The corridor turned again, and as Sakura rounded the curve, a circular chamber opened before her; quiet, radiant, untouched.

At its center, resting atop a raised platform of smooth shellstone, stood a slender pedestal. Floating just above it was a faintly glowing construct, like a hollow orb of drifting water, suspended in a ring of luminous runes.

Within the orb… something pulsed faintly. A light. A heartbeat not her own.

Sakura’s throat tightened. The glow of the pearl answered again, pulsing in perfect time.

She took another step forward.

Her voice, uncertain but clear, whispered into the water, “What am I supposed to be?”

And for a breathless moment—

The orb responded. It pulsed once, then bloomed open like a flower.

The water around Sakura shimmered and thickened, becoming light, becoming memory. The runes surrounding the orb spun slowly, weaving together the strands of a recording not seen in centuries. She held her breath as the light within resolved into a shape.

A woman.

She was young, graceful, and striking, her hair long and flowing, deep brown like kelp, her features refined and familiar. Eyes gentle, sad, and steady. She hovered barefoot in the water, wrapped in a robe of flowing blue coral silk. Her hands were clasped at her waist, and when she looked up, directly at Sakura, her expression softened into a small smile.

“Sakura,” she said, and the sound of her voice brought tears instantly to the corners of Sakura’s eyes.

Not an echo. Not a ghost. Her mother.

“This message is only to be awakened by my daughter, born of the tides and hidden from the ocean’s enemies. My name is Ameno and if you are hearing this… then the seal has broken, and your blood has remembered.”

Sakura floated there, motionless, one hand over the pearl, heart aching.

“I was queen of a kingdom now forgotten. Not by accident, but by design. We were healers, protectors, bound to the life of the ocean itself. But when the war came, the other kingdoms fell silent. The sea turned cruel, and those who feared our power sought to end us.”

Ameno’s image flickered, her hands tightening at her sides.

“We were betrayed. Hunted. Even the ones we called allies turned their backs on us. I couldn’t let them take you.”

The projection stepped forward slightly, her voice trembling beneath its calm.

“I placed you in the care of two kind humans, your mother and father in the world above. They knew what you were. They knew what you would become. They agreed to protect you at the cost of never knowing the whole truth.”

Sakura’s lips parted. “They… knew ?”