They shared the bed every night after that, both falling asleep much easier and much quicker than before, and seeing as the storm lingered on and off for the next week, it seemed necessary anyway.
But the more the days went by and Haru fell into a frightful comfort next to Makoto, the more that his chest tightened with anxiety — to the point that he began waking in the middle of the night just to stare at Makoto while he slept and feel the yank of both guilt and a scarily intense affection.
He had never ever embraced such intense feelings for another person before, and it made him honestly sick. Even with as much as he loved his grandmother and had been destroyed when she was gone, no amount of care that he had for her compared in likeness to whatever this was that was growing in his closeness with Makoto.
He didn't know what to do with it — didn't know how to express it, how to hold it, how to truly appreciate it without being interrupted by the ghastly dread of carrying something he knew Makoto had to be made aware of. But even as the broken sandal sitting in the cave like a haunting phantom plagued him so badly that he randomly felt like he couldn't breathe throughout the day, he also still couldn't convince himself that it was real.
He made up stories in his head, pretended so thoroughly that that shoe, and the dolphin's story, and the story on the news were completely unrelated to Makoto's appearance on his beach that there were moments that he sometimes fully believed it, and was able to bask in just being with Makoto and wondering only what he would do if/when Makoto wasn't there anymore.
There was one morning during which they had a break from the storm and the sky was mostly clear again, save for puffy white and unthreatening clouds. And it seemed that with the return of the sun came Makoto's rejuvenated determination to get over his fear, so he declared that he wanted to try wading in the water, and Haru did not argue with him.
They took their time getting to that point though. They ate breakfast in the open doorway of the bedroom, since the sand was still damp, then spent a slow hour cleaning the kitchen before they ventured outside and started with their regular walk from one end of the cove to the other, drifting gradually closer to the shoreline as they went.
Haru glanced repeatedly at Makoto all the while, and was as unbothered as he was half-expecting it when Makoto silently reached out for his hand. Their fingers slotted together automatically, something that hadn't been a thing before, but neither of them thought much of it, and then they were there, standing at the tide's edge as it washed calmly over their feet. Makoto's grip tightened, but outside of that, he seemed calm — ready even, and so Haru took the first step forward and turned his back to the water, reaching out with his other hand, which Makoto took with ease.
Haru broke the tension of the waves with his body, creating a path for Makoto to walk through, and he said nothing out loud, but he asked the sea to be kind with all the desperation he had in his heart to.
He hadn't known how to feel about the sea ever since he realized what it was that it had done to wash Makoto up on his land. But he knew there would never be an instance in which he would have no respect for it. It was still the entity that had given him life, still the home in which he thrived most thoroughly and would not survive without. His commitment to it was something that ran through his very veins like blood and was as much a part of him as both his tail and his legs. No matter what feelings of betrayal may have surfaced, the sea was omniscient and still in control of all things, so he asked in full reverence — because there was no other way to do it.
Be kind with him. Be gentle. Show him there's no reason to fear you.
And the sea was calm, warm even, which was surprising after so much rain. The waves settled even more, passing by them moderately, barely jostling them an inch. Makoto's grip was tight, but he watched Haru with determination, and Haru watched him back, and they kept wading further out until the water was at their waists, and then they stopped — simultaneously and in silent communication. They kept each other's hands for a good long while, focusing solely on each other, until Makoto was comfortable enough to turn his eyes over Haru's shoulder to the ocean beyond, and Haru saw the weight leave his chest as he exhaled.
His fingers were cold, and there was a distant strain in his eyes, but he smiled and it was genuine.
He said nothing. Just pulled Haru close and wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly to his chest, and Haru was so thrown off by this that it took him a while to lift his own arms and tentatively hug Makoto in return.
It was at first alarming, because he hadn't expected it, nor could he say that he truly understood it at all. But then there was a tiny string of tension that snapped so cleanly, he was surprised that he felt only the wave of relief, which was so enveloping that his arms curled with more sureness on their own and he buried his face in Makoto's warm chest, sinking into the hug like Makoto's embrace was the safest and surest place that he ever could be.
No one had ever hugged him.
"Haru …"
"Hm?"
"I couldn't do any of this without you."
Haru nodded. He felt his heart beating wildly when Makoto's nose touched the top of his hair.
"I want to come back here," Makoto whispered, "after I see my family."
It was probably the sharpest pain his heart had ever endured since his grandmother's death. He tried to breath it out quietly, and his arms were tight, only allowing for his hand to ghost across Makoto's spine. Though he wasn't sure if that was to comfort Makoto or himself.
He didn't know how to say to Makoto that he didn't want him to go anywhere at all, just as much as he didn't know how to tell him that he might not have a family to see anymore. And his denial of the very idea was somehow even more upsetting, and he knew in that moment that he had to go and see for himself — or else he was never going to say anything.
So after breaking apart, and walking back to the cottage hand-in-hand, and forcing the inevitable away for the rest of the day, he lay down with Makoto and watched him fall asleep, far too tempted to reach up and brush the hair out of his face, stroke the softness of his cheek, draw a line along his jaw with his fingers. He just watched, for most of the night, knowing he would never be able to sleep like this, but also dreading the moment he would be getting up to leave him there and coming back to break his heart.
It was unavoidable and he knew it, so he got up just before the sun could announce the dawn and wrote Makoto a note. Then he slipped quietly out onto the sand and eased into the water, already shifting forms as he submerged.
The orca was still hovering, and the bottlenose was with him. Haru no longer had any questions about why, and he didn't want to separate the pair again anymore than he wanted Makoto's guardian to leave him without protection. They both greeted him happily, and he patted their noses and stroked their heads.
"Watch over him while I'm gone," he said to the orca, then to the dolphin gave a nod and added, "I'll be back."
The bottlenose nuzzled his neck affectionately, and that was all that Haru needed. So he started on his way, confident about where he needed to go, because he knew Makoto's scent by now, was as familiar with it as he was the salt of the ocean, and he had the sea to guide him.
The current was easy and gracious, carrying him along kilometers of open water, past shark territory, through mile-wide schools of fish, and across endless empty blue. He had to navigate carefully through a cloud of jellyfish, and gratefully absorbed the affection of another pod of dolphins, as well as giving his respect to a massive humpback that passed. Her song was deeply reverberating and beautiful to listen to, something that left him more emotional than he wanted to be, but he was thankful to have heard it, and it gave him the boost of nerve he needed to continue his journey.
He wasn't swimming exceptionally fast, but he also wasn't taking it leisurely, and even still it took him roughly eight hours to reach the Tottori waters. It didn't look any different from the nearly two-hundred kilometers of ocean behind him, but he knew he was close to where he needed to be by a simple ripple in the current around him, and he slowed, focusing closely on that familiar scent and waiting for it to appear.
In the deepest parts of his being, he hoped that he never found it. He hoped that he would just simply waste the day wandering in circles only to be shown nothing, or to be led to the shore and poke his head above the surface to find Makoto's family there, pacing back and forth across the sand, calling out Makoto's name. He had dreamt of that and willed it to be true, even though the scenario was ridiculous. Nothing would have given him more relief than being able to swim back and tell Makoto that his family was waiting for him — even with as much as he officially wanted Makoto to stay in the cove. He would much rather face that dilemma than the one that was more pressing and most likely.
The ocean pushed, carrying him several meters forward, and he perked his chin up, stomach immediately dropping when his nose did indeed catch that scent. There was no way to describe what it smelled like, it was just simply Makoto. It was his natural, human, warm-bodied musk that was more enticing to Haru than any human had ever smelled before. He already longed to be back next to it, in bed where it was warm and Makoto was safe from reality, and they were both tucked into a pocket of time that never moved. He wondered how long he could get away with ignoring it.
He stopped abruptly and turned in circles on the spot, eyes searching around at the clear ocean in every direction before he looked below him and saw the point of that same sailboat. His heart was already sinking, but he dove down for a closer look, only just aware that there was no longer any debris — most likely because it had all been collected by the humans during their excavation of the wreckage. They'd left the boat though, without any sails. Most of it was still in tact, but a missing chunk of the stern was the reason the boat was now at the bottom of the ocean. It had more than likely been torn so thoroughly to pieces that there was nothing left of that bit to find anymore, and a sailboat couldn't float without all of its parts.
Haru ran a hand along the side, taking in the scrapes and scratches along what was otherwise white paint. Even after nearly a month, it was clear by the lack of sea life that the wreck was rather recent, though there were crabs beginning to make a home in the gaping hull. There wasn't much to find by way of lost items — a water-logged cellphone, a piece of jewelry, the other sandal — the humans seemed to have gathered everything that they could from the sinking boat, including the bodies. And Haru wasn't sure if that was a relief or not.
The last thing that he wanted was to poke his head into the cabin and find a decaying body that could have possibly been one of Makoto's family members, but without that direct encounter, he would just simply have to go by what he'd seen on the news — assuming of course that this was the right boat. And even knowing that he'd seen that exact bow on the television, and that Makoto's scent was all over the place, he wanted to deny it … all the way up until he rounded the starboard side, where the name of the boat stayed intact with clear black letters.
Namiko.
Haru's hand lifted on its own, brushing the font, half wishing it would wipe away under his fingertips, never to be seen as evidence again.
The hurt rushed up his throat, and his jaw clenched shut on its own. His fingers curled into a fist and he found himself leaning forward, touching his forehead to the hull, shoulders shivering. He could feel the vibrations in his veins and was alarmed by the amount of anger that came with it — the amount of grief.
He'd never known these people. And would never know them now — but they were Makoto's family. They were the people that he cared about most in the world, the ones he was adamantly trying to get back to, his very motivation for trying to overcome his fear, and they were all gone. All snatched away by the might of the sea, leaving only Makoto behind to carry whatever burdens were to come when he finally knew, and Haru didn't understand.
He pounded the side of the boat with a shaking fist, teeth clenching.
"Why?"