ningyo 人魚 blue eye samurai

Chapter Two: Impossible Desire

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CHAPTER TWO: IMPOSSIBLE DESIRE

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Up on the boat, the demon's blue eyes shook like a quivering flame, bewildered by the naked woman caught in her net. Down in the freezing waters, the ningyo's gaze mirrored the golden brilliance of the sun above them, just like the water was the sky's personal mirror.

Mizu had the fleeting thought of being able to see herself in those clear, lightning-like eyes, even from this vast distance.

Then, the maiden's face contorted. Her drenched lips parted, and her body convulsed. Choking on water. Panicked, Mizu pulled and pulled the heavy net, putting all her frantic strength and energy behind her.

With the net halfway to the deck and the fish and ningyo suspended in the air, she suddenly stopped. The power behind her sore muscles refused to continue as if the reality of the situation dawned on her.

Hesitating, Mizu stared below the deck. The woman's violent shaking calmed considerably, more and more with each tremor. The worst of it was over. Death can be quite peaceful after that point. Resuscitating would be another event of unbearable pain.

Smarter to leave her there and go about my voyage alone.

But then, the beaming face of Ringo burst into her mind. That hopeful, doting expression of her only disciple. She remembered his words of grave disappointment when he told her — you are no samurai.

Mizu swallowed the blow of that bitter, bitter memory with a clenched jaw.

Yelling for power, she pulled the net all the way up in three, violent yanks. On the deck, the fish spilled out, floundering up in the air in panic. The naked woman laid on her side, the toes on her feet poked from under the fish, and her back faced Mizu.

The samurai went down on her knees, turning the mysterious woman over. She was deathly pale, and the bruises on her battered skin looked like stormy galaxies. Gleaming under the sunlight, the blue-green discoloration of her wet bruises looked like fish scales.

Mizu pinched the woman's nose shut and pressed her warm, sunburned lips onto her cold, salty mouth. She blew air into the woman's mouth, blowing life — whatever life an onyrō could possibly give someone. She offered the fullest of her lungs.

Mizu pulled away from her cold lips. A string of saliva and water connected their mouths as she leaned back, gasping for more air. Focused, she pressed onto the woman's chest, right where her heart was. With each chest compression, the woman's breasts trembled. Her drenched, jet-black hair stuck to the pulpy skin of her stomach.

Her rigid body seemed more and more lifeless with each attempt. Mizu felt it was increasingly futile to continue. She should've stopped. She should've saved her energy, but the haunting vision of those golden eyes. Those otherworldly, burning suns Mizu saw caught in her fishing net.

Like moths to a flame, the samurai wanted to see them again to know if she was like her, too.

Then we could both be here, no tinted glasses, wide hats, no disguises—

She snapped out of her delusions. Whatever Fowler had was rubbing off on her. Holding her composure once more, she kept herself together.

With one final plea, Mizu pinched the ningyo's nose closed and pressed her lips against hers, blowing air furiously, again and again. Taking deep, long breaths of oxygen and pouring it all back into her limp, parted lips.

Are... you...

a demon like me?

As if hearing her thoughts, the answer came with a violent jutting of water. The ocean water filling the woman's lungs came spitting back up, hitting Mizu's face. She pulled back, watching in shock as more and more water gurgled out. It worked.

The woman's head leaned to the side as she coughed, and Mizu held the back of her head with one palm, keeping her head elevated so the water would drip off her chin.

"... that's it. Good. All of it."

Less and less water sprayed out, and she coughed and coughed until it was all air, and she could breathe. The woman tried to open her eyes, her head in Mizu's hand.

Anticipation swelled inside of the samurai. Her fingers curled in anxiety, clenching the dark locks of the woman's wet hair.

Eyes like liquid gold.

The blinding light of the sun made her squeeze them tight again. Groaning, she brought her sunburned hand to wipe away the salty sea water burning her delicate eyes.

Mizu's grip tightened on the back of the woman's neck. She bit her lip, looking down at her face. Her light, small head weighed nothing in her hand.

She finally opened them. Standard, essentially black eyes. Ache pierced through Mizu as her face fell by the revelation.

The shadow of Mizu's head covered half her face, and the other was directly under the sun. That eye appeared to be lighter as it reflected the golden sky, but it was nothing like the striking yellow eyes Mizu thought she saw.

There... there is...

Then - the woman shot up and vomited out the water in her stomach. Her hands gripped the dead fish surrounding them on the deck. Her pointed nails squished through their cold bodies.

The coughing wasn't stopping. Mizu gave her some help, patting her bare back with a slow, heavy hand.

Finally, her throat cleared. Confused and queasy, the woman slowly turned to the person responsible for saving her and dragging her body onto their vessel.

Alien blue eyes not of this world stared back at her. A shaking, feeble gasp escaped her lips. Her throat was still terribly sore from the violent coughing.

She'd never seen anyone with those eyes. Striking.

With a darkening expression, Mizu defiantly raised her chin. She knew that look very well. It came in many forms: fear, shock, awe, disgust, and hate.

The woman's look reinforced what she already knew about her kind, but Mizu realized she needed to be reminded in order to destroy that new pesky part of her. A rouge part that grew from the naivety of her blissful solitude at sea.

Of course this woman never had demon eyes like her. It was her own subconscious painting an image of desire. It came from that tiny part of her screaming like Fowler to not be alone in this world. Didn't she kill it so long ago?

No matter. She could do it again, and again, and again. The woman's stunned expression made her want nothing more. It closed the noose her silly subconscious hung its neck on. It tightened the leash she needed to hold back her impossible desire.

There is no one like me.

人魚 。