a/n: did the watgbs archive ask for angsty fukawadas? no? have some anyway, you glorious bastards
watgbs content belongs to Deep-Sea Prisoner
It's just not home anymore.
It's a sick joke of some sort, Fukami's sure. Wadanohara didn't deserve to disappear, and surely she couldn't have done so of her own accord. This is the work of the Sea of Death, surely- that accursed Sal and the sacred sword. Only he could have done this. Only he would have had the sheer temerity to snuff out a girl who was, for many, the last remaining beacon of hope left.
But the water he's surrounded with, the water that he breathes in, is a grim reminder that it was not so.
Wadanohara gave her life for this water. Fukami didn't even get to say goodbye. Sal was gone, Mikotsu was gone, so were the rest of the denizens of the Sea of Death- what were their names? Tsuribari, Stella, Sheep, Old... but that didn't matter. While they may have been vanquished, and the scarlet that plagued the ocean lifted, it had taken Wadanohara's sacrifice to accomplish that. It wasn't worth it.
Fukami isn't sure he can stand the colour blue for much longer.
Blue was Wadanohara's colour. It glittered faintly in those mostly-grey eyes, it lined her clothing, it was prominent in all the drawings of her by Memoca and Dolphi, it was in the scarf that made up Fukami's ensemble when becoming her familiar. It was still Wadanohara's colour. Now Wadanohara was all around him. The light from the sun above still dappled in spots and flecks on the ocean surface, reaching down to the depths below, and ever since Wadanohara's sacrifice the blues had been ever more richer, azures and ceruleans and sapphires.
It's a sick joke.
The scarf still stays, although it's been bereaved of its purpose, as how can Fukami be a familiar any more at all? He doesn't have a witch to assist; neither do Dolphi, Memoca or Samekichi. Dolphi just cries and cries and scrunches up sketchbook paper all day, tears welling in her glossy black eyes; Memoca sits outside with her lip trembling, the quiet one for a change. Samekichi can only be seen on occasion on the rocks, muttering, a strong contender for the most mournful. Both of them lack the energy to pursue their rivalry like they used to. The only exchanges they have now are weak nods, lacking smiles, as now maybe it's pointless to contend over Wadanohara when she's never coming back. For once, maybe they have common ground.
Fukami's chosen the boat as his place of dwelling. Remaining with Dolphi and Memoca is crippling, as it was always Wadanohara who held hands and offered comforting smiles and assurance, and he knows he nor anyone else could do the same. Samekichi is out of the question. The Sea of Stars feels worse, as the soft lights that descend so frequently in the distance offer unfortunate implications. The boat is the most agreeable, as it's the furthest away from all the blue that Fukami can go when he sits at the table in the cabin, doing nothing in particular. He can't see the waves in there. Their crashing and lapping feels almost like white noise.
Sometimes he goes onto the deck. The boat is forever anchored to one point, with only one place to look out to. He peers over the edge on occasion, seeing his own face reflected back at him, unshifting as ever, just like the water doing the reflecting.
It's remained blue ever since her sacrifice, and not once has Fukami looked into the waters and seen another colour. Always blue. Blue, like Wadanohara.
Forever in one spot, never changing or moving. And in that way, she is like the sea.
Sometimes Fukami looks into the sea, and doesn't see himself.
He sees Wadanohara.