mizuxfem!oc
The Ningyo (人魚, "human fish") is a creature with both human and fish-like features.
Many fishermen who find these creatures caught in their nets throw them back into the ocean.
For if a ningyo is caught, she will bring misfortune and cal...
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CHAPTER THIRTEEN: SHE IS MY WIFE _______
七夕
『CLOSED IN OBSERVANCE OF
THE EVENING OF SEVENS』
"Oh, come on," Mizu groaned.
After asking around, and going in circles and other shapes, the pair finally found the headquarters of the Dutch Officials. It was here the women would inform them of eight wanted Ryujin pirates, present the corpses back on their ship as proof, and collect the bounty.
But.... it seemed like there was roadblock after roadblock, making Mizu's stay in this bizarre, melding of an island where cultures swirled and mixed up together longer than she wanted.
The Euro-Asian mix of Formosa was too close for comfort... was this the path of the world now?
Sogo, on the other hand, was thrilled.
"Awww man," she groaned, playing up her fake disappointment to please her companion, "...guess we have to stay in Formosa longer, huh?"
Mizu's blue eyes glanced over, sending her a look that said don't even.
She giggled, but then remembered she was still mad at Mizu, and forced herself to stop.
A native citizen came forward with a slip in his hand to pay an unfair fine of some sort, and he kissed his teeth in annoyance when he realized they were closed.
"Closed, huh?" the man complained (and to Mizu's relief, in Japanese) "...those devils."
"I'm also looking for an official," she responded, pleased to have found someone who shared her language. "Where are they?"
"Pfft. Where everyone else is on this day, brother. It's bad luck to work on the Double Seventh, don't you know? Because then it's seven years bad luck... if you know what I mean."
He winked at her as if in some kind of code between men, and to spare the lady she was with their vulgar locker room talk.
She paid it no mind. "And where is that?"
The man pointed with his thumb behind his shoulder. A scar from the butt of a gun was forever etched on his face like railroad tracks. "The hot springs."
The women went in that direction and in doing so passed wooden festival stalls of tea, white spirits, and food. There were unlit lanterns with floral arrangements painted in a variety of colors. It was still daylight, so their candles weren't lit yet, but by sundown, it would surely be a majestic sight.
