Suspicious knick knacks in antique shops are terrible buys. Moldy, rotten, infested with evil spirits -
"Three visions for my scale. Fair?"
Water splashes gently, the mermaid's ('they called me takumi', he'd breathed, sung, the notes of his song still clinging onto every nerve of souma's, 'what is your business with me, human?') delicate lips twitching into a smile.
Razor sharp teeth just barely hidden behind those taut lips. Eyelids hanging lazily half-shut. Dusty sunbeams catch in his hair, sucked into the murky water bath.
Breath trapped in lungs, (beauty cannot be contained, only displayed; in the finest museums, in art galleries, in glass boxes and iron cages - a dilapidated apartment room does not, cannot do justice to this ephemeral creature) unable to conjure even a single syllable, Souma nods.
When Souma stumbles through the front door of his house, the whispery laughter of the mermaid continues to ring in his head.
Mermaids, sirens, mythical creatures that eat human flesh and thrive in their agony - Takumi is all of it and then none.
How mysterious and strange and odd and - ("one. you will marry her." takumi speaks before souma asks. not even turning his head to acknowledge the presence of the redhead. fingers swirling the bath tub's water, movements bored, restrained.) - Souma doesn't understand.
Not the omniscient thoughts that tumbles out, not the way Takumi looks at him (longing, resigned, cold), not the manner of which Takumi speaks with an ancient tongue as if Souma should already understand.
Words scratchy, convoluted, every roll of tongue an extra effort made. The language is tired and worn out and -
Nostalgic.
Tipping the scale in the sun, Souma winces as he's momentarily blinded by the glare of reflected light.
It's white, a slow gradient of blue creeping from the wider end. Catches light at every chance, glimmering dully.
Beautiful, but - ("two. you will die peacefully." locking eyes, takumi's smile is satisfied, warm, despite the morbid fortune. a shudder runs from the top of souma's head to the tip of his toes, icy chill racing through veins like blood; because of fear or exhilaration, it's unclear. strangely, that thought isn't unsettling.) - incomplete.
An uncomfortable feeling, like seeing a jigsaw puzzle with the last piece missing, an oddly placed brick in a wall, a singular orange leaf amongst thousands of green.
Like hollow, empty, sharp breaths unable to fill punctured lungs.
Souma hears the mermaid before he sees him.
Voice lulling, foamy. Chalking up Souma's mind with steam, drawing him closer, closer till his knees knock against the bathtub. Thoughts sinking, anchored by the captivating song.
Notes hitting non-existent pitches, dipping into unnamed octaves. Lyrics spilling, trailing, spinning, suffocating. Tune dragging lower and lower into the bottomless sea.
Crumbling to the floor, enveloped by the ( (un)forgiving, crystal, haunting) song - ("three." takumi leans over the chipped edge of the porcelain tub, lips curling upwards. end of tail - a mangled mess of winding legs and scales clumsily carved into flesh - peeking out of slopping water; almost painful. reaches out a loose hand, sharp-edged fingernails gingerly tracing along the shape of the fallen man's face. carefully plucking the scale from souma's hand that's landed near his face. "you will be happy." the prophecy sounds almost like a prayer. the quiet smile goes unnoticed.) - Souma sleeps.
(sharpened knives dig their way through souma's chest, torso, torn flesh dangling, blood gushing.
in another life, another time, it isn't the mermaid's breathy songs that flood his ears, soaking into his mind.
it's his screams.)
Days later, Souma still cannot fathom how and why he fell asleep in a room of a rundown, abandoned apartment building, next to an empty, filthy bathtub.
His head rings with an unfamiliar laugh.
Strangely, he is not unsettled by it.