The ocean, Elisa realised, could be a very nice place.
This was a bit of a change of heart from her previous attitude, which, after a long while of limping from one murky, polluted bay to another, she had decided that the ocean was terrifying.
A few nights previous, sheltered in a forgotten seacave half grown over with seaweed, she had told to her river-god her thoughts. He had laughed, which was a curious huff sort of noise, and looked her in the eyes. This, he signed very seriously, is not the ocean.
She had frowned, confused. What?
Not true ocean, he elaborated. Not real ocean.
She hadn't entirely gotten his meaning, not until they made it a little farther south. Now, as her prince cut through the warm, tropical water, excitedly taking in the colourful corals, she understood.
He wheeled in a broad circle in the clear, sunlit prism of the ocean, trailing excitable trills, pops, and whistles. Come fly with me, he signed. Come fly.
She smiled, to let him know that she'd try, and because she was happy. She was getting better at swimming, although she still had human limitations.
They shot through vibrant reefs, and as they glided, his song sounded truly beatific. It didn't take someone as attuned to him as Elisa was to tell that this was the happiest he'd been in a long time.
He slowed down from his position at the lead, and, privately, she was glad, because so much joy had made him quite fast. Look, she motioned, pointing to a coral. Flowers.
This may have seemed like a gross oversimplification of things, but the coral did look an awful lot like a bouquet.
Flowers, he repeated. He swam closer to the polyp. Then, in a somewhat surprising move, he picked it out of the rock. It was still trailing little bits of crumbly rock off of its end. Coral is difficult to pick.
The river-god handed her the coral, which she took with mock-demureness, grinning a schoolgirl grin. Thank you, she motioned.
Flowers, he said again. Like you.
How? she asked.
Beautiful. Clever. Alive. Strong. He bent one of the stems for emphasis.
She threw an arm around his shoulder and planted a kiss on his cheek. It wasn't entirely clear to her how a coral was clever, but it was the thought that counted.
She began to sign a compliment in return. You are… She trailed off. A thought so big, so all-encompassing as that was hard to express with motions of the hand and expressions of the face.
I am…? he prompted.
You are many things to me. she finished. Many good things. All good things. He purred his approval.
An idea began forming in her hands at the same time as her head. You need a name.
He looked puzzled.
A name, she repeated. What you are called?
He hummed in consternation. I am called many things to many people, he said. God. Monster. Creature. He looked at her. What would you call me?
She shook her head. Not to describe, she tried to explain. A name.
He huffed in frustration. It was obvious he didn't fully understand. After a pause, he looked at her again. If you want, he began, listen to the ocean. She blinked confusedly at him. Call me what it tells you.
They swam through the tropic waters a few hours longer, until the sky turned to the skin of a ripe peach, and the sand seemed softer than any feather mattress.
When Elisa woke the next day, her river-god was not by her side. Panic started to rise in her throat as she scoured the bright cerise horizon.
In front of her, she saw him surface, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She slipped into the water beside him. Good hunt? she asked.
Good, he answered. Follow me.
She brushed off the remains of sleep as she swam behind him. They followed the coastline's sandy edge until it faded into soil, and they came to a place of cool water and dark roots.
See, he motioned. Fruit. And there was indeed fruit, ripe mangoes fat with syrup.
Elisa reached up and picked one, where the branches bent low over the water. She handed it to the river-god. Taste it, she told him. It's sweet.
He eyed it curiously, before taking a bite. His expression lit up, figuratively.
Good? she asked.
Good, he said.
She got one for herself, and started trying to separate it from its stone. She'd only had a mango twice before, so this was very nice, especially after days of nothing but fish, shellfish, and kelp. When they'd finished breakfast, Elisa decided that this was as good a time as any.
Last night, she said, the ocean whispered to me. He cocked his head to one side. Your name, she began, is-
And then, she made a shape with her hand, a shape that rose and fell and spoke. It spoke of waves, and pain, and power, and joy. And he spoke along.
Rrrraaaaaaaaiiiiiii.
Rraaaiii.
Rai.
This, he was sure, was the sound the shape made. The sound she would've made for it, if she could.
She heard his song, and nodded. R-a-i, she spelled. Rai. Like waves, and pain, and power, and joy.
His markings pulsed brightly, and he pulled her into an embrace.
Rai, he sang.
Rai.
A/N
I've had the idea for this floating around in my head since I saw this wonderful movie, but the recent congregation of a fanbase, not to mention the recent Oscar win, spurred me on to write it. I know the trick thing about giving the Asset a name is that no one's going to agree, and I've seen a few authors shy away from it because of that, but I just wanted to, you know?
~Cheers, Dashiell Mirai